#and yet we see him break down again and again over his past mistakes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skbeaumont · 8 months ago

Text

Just a Graze | Joel x Reader oneshot

One-shot Joel/Reader. Previously posted in two parts but thought I'd make a masterpost for this one.

Summary: Joel comes back injured, and while you patch him up the tension that's been building for several months threatens to break.

Tags/warnings: dirty talk, explicit content, language, injury detail (not explicit), MDNI, sexual tension, PIV, oral (F receiving), FILTH

Word Count: 4.3k

Joel’s bleeding when he gets back. The screen door clatters shut behind him, wire shuddering against the wood, and you look up from the table. His face is set, a solid frown painted across his features – nothing unusual – but there’s a downward turn to his mouth that you recognise as a pained expression. He steps in and leans against the counter, one hand on the warped wood, the other pressed against his shoulder. Blood seeps through his fingers, clotting around his knuckles, staining his jacket red.

“I’m okay,” he says as you spring up from your place at the dusty kitchen table, “it’s just a graze.”

“Bullet?” You ask, ignoring his attempts to wave off your concern.

“Barbed wire,” he says, letting you lead him further into the cabin, toward the misshapen couch, “stupid mistake, I didn’t see it.”

The shotgun clatters onto the floor at his feet as he collapses onto the couch with a groan. He doesn’t protest as you pull his fist away from the wound, your hand warm against his wind-chilled fingers. The cut isn’t deep, but the wire has torn through his jacket and shirt down to the flesh of his shoulder, leaving a jagged cut that’s oozing blood.

“You must be getting old,” you say, standing to search through your pack for the first aid kit, “your eyes are going as well as your ears.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with my eyes. Or my ears.”

“Sorry?”

“I said, there-” he notices your grin, the glint of mischief in your eye. He sighs heavily. “You’re a damn pain in my ass.”

You huff out a laugh and pull a kitchen chair across to sit opposite him. You open the first aid kit – which is really no more than a small washbag stuffed with a bottle of Lysol and a handful of bandages – on your lap, pull out the disinfectant and start unscrewing the cap. “Can you take your jacket off?” You ask, and he nods, starts unzipping it and pulling it off of his uninjured arm. He winces a little as he peels it past his bad shoulder, shakes it down his arm and lays it over his lap, frowning at the gash in the fabric.

“I can patch that up when we get back to Jackson.” You say.

“Ain’t going back ‘til we’ve something to bring back.” He replies, and now it’s your turn to sigh.

“We’ve got two deer and a whole family of rabbits, Joel. There’s nothing else out here for us to get.”

“We both saw that clinic complex, and I ain’t arguing with you about this again. Winter’s well on its way, and we need as much medicine as we can get to make it through. I almost got in today – would have, if I hadn’t got caught on that damned barbed wire. We’ll both go back tomorrow.”

He fixes you with a hard stare, one that makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, though whether it’s through fear or something else, you’re not sure. You’ve been partnering up for a couple of months now, going out on hunts and supply runs, growing slowly closer over long hikes and cold nights camping out under the stars.

At first, he intimidated you. He was cold, harsh; a solid bulk of a man who never smiled and rarely spoke, except to tell you to keep your voice down or stop walking so loudly. But then, gradually, he’d started loosening up around you. A few weeks ago he’d cracked a smile at a joke you’d made – something stupid about a bird in a tree, the kind of joke your dad used to make when you were a kid – and then that smile had grown into a deep chuckle a couple of days later, and then a conversation, whispered and illusive, under a starry sky last week.

This latest trip outside Jackson had been the most enjoyable yet, conversation flowing easily between you, and you were starting to suspect that the strange swooping feeling in your stomach that arose each time he looked at you, or bumped against you as you walked had a lot less to do with how intimidating he could be, and a lot more to do with him.

Now, locking eyes with him over the opened bottle of Lysol, his eyes dark and with an argument boiling up between you, that feeling blossoms into something hot and delicious, stirring a fire in your belly that makes you bold.

“From where I’m sat,” you say, tipping the bottle of Lysol so that the disinfection pours out onto a clean swab, “you don’t seem to have much choice about what we’re doing next. You’re hurt, and I need to patch you up, so stop arguing and take your shirt off.”

He opens his mouth to argue but shuts it again, eyes flicking up to your face. A hint of red creeps up his neck, settling high on his cheeks, tinging them scarlet in the low light of the cabin. You keep glaring at him. He lets out a long breath through his nose and moves to unbutton his shirt. The shirt is old, vintage, even – probably older than you – with mismatched buttons and a crumpled, frayed look. It comes apart easily, Joel’s fingers working down the buttons nimbly until he reaches the bottom. He pauses there, looks up at your face. You look away, because heat is creeping up your own neck now, hot and unbridled, as he pushes the shirt off of his shoulders and lets it fall open onto the couch behind him.

After his dark eyes, the most notable thing about Joel is his stature. He’s tall, and broad enough to fill any room he’s in. You’ve seen him lift grown men like they weigh nothing, watched him pick up a dead deer and throw it over one shoulder without so much as a stumble. Last month you went out on horseback to scope a potential hunting ground, and, sitting behind him in the saddle, you couldn’t see anything past the triangular bulk of his shoulders, your hands clasped easily around his waist. So, yeah, you know he’s strong, could tell anyone that the man is built. But when you look at him in the half-light with his shirt off, uncovered by layers of leather or plaid, the sight still sends blood rushing to your face.

His shoulders are broad, curving into thick biceps that tense as he raises a hand to scratch, self-consciously, at the back of his neck. There are small scars littering his chest, running down in narrow white slices to his belly, which is softer than the rest of him, sloping and scattered with coarse hair that continues below the buckle of his belt. You want to press your face into it, kiss the contours of his bellybutton and the plains of his chest, up to the juncture of his throat, which bobs as he swallows, eyes shifting to catch yours.

“You gonna patch me up or just stare?” He asks, and there’s something teasing in his voice, something that causes heat and slick to pool in between your thighs. “I- you’ve got a lot of scars.” You say, stupidly, tipping more Lysol onto the cloth you’re holding.

“Had a lot of run-ins with barbed wire.” He replies, the words turning to a hiss when you press the wet cloth to the cut on his shoulder.

“Should be more careful.”

“Now where would the fun be in that, darlin’?”

Oh, that’s new. You’ve heard him call Ellie pet names before, laughed when she rolls her eyes and shirks away from his affections, all fifteen years old and too cool to be coddled. But he’s never called you anything but your name – never so much as shortened it to a nickname like almost everyone else does. You flick your gaze from his wound to his face. His eyes are dark, expression unreadable, but the intensity of his gaze makes you look away, cheeks reddening. You pull the cloth away from his arm and start wrapping a clean bandage around his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he says, after a pause. “I forget, sometimes. Recently.”

“Forget what?”

“That you’re young enough to be my-” He cuts himself off here, “that you’re a hell of a lot younger’n I am.”

This makes you laugh out loud, a huff of breath exhaled. You’re still opposite each other, him on the sofa, knees spread wide, you in the kitchen chair. If you inched forward only slightly your own legs would be between his.

“Old days I’d have been old enough to drink and drive, and more than old enough to flirt, Joel.”

“That what you want? You want me to flirt with you?” His voice is low, almost a whisper.

You shrug and hold his gaze. “I think it’s what you want too. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I can’t see you.”

You have. He thinks he’s being discrete, but you’ve seen how his eyes linger on your legs, how he can’t help but drop his gaze to your chest when you wear something low cut. A few weeks ago you’d seen him adjust himself in his jeans when you stripped down to your underwear to bathe in a stream you’d come across after two days out searching for supplies.

“And how’s that?” He asks. You have to hold yourself back from leaning forward and kissing the worried crease of his mouth.

“Like you’re a man dying of thirst and I’m an oasis.”

He scoffs at that. “Shoulda been a writer, sweetheart.”

“And how does this story end?”

“Ends with you walking away from me like you should’ve months ago. This,” he flicks a finger at himself and then you, “ain’t happening.”

“Why not? You want it, I want it. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Problem is,” he slides his arms off the sofa, reaching back to pull his shirt back up over his shoulders, “you think you know what you want, but you don’t.” He starts buttoning the shirt, fixing you with a stern look. “Trust me.”

He tries to stand but you put your hands on his knees, holding him in place.

“No way,” You say, your heart thumping in your chest, “you don’t get to decide what I do or don’t want.”

“What do you want? You want me to fuck you? Want me to spread your pretty little legs out across this couch and make you come on my tongue?”

Yes. God, yes.

“What if I do? What if that’s exactly what I want you to do?” You slide your hands further up his legs, holding him down on the couch. If he wanted to, he could push you off easily, but he doesn’t. When your fingertips reach the tops of his thighs he slides his hands over your wrists and pins them where they are, stopping you moving any higher.

“Find someone your own age, sweetheart. Someone whose knees don’t creak when the stand up. Someone who can make you happy.” And then he’s standing up, moving your hands off of him with ease, stepping around you in the kitchen chair to stride to the other side of the room, the tension collapsing in on itself as he tells you to get some sleep, that there’s more work to do tomorrow.

*****

The next morning brings rain. It hammers against the walls of the cabin and drips in through the leaky roof. Joel stands at the window, one hand on his hip, silently looking out at the downpour.

“Tell me you’re not considering going out in this?” You say, moving up behind him to peer out at the lashing rain.

“Might ease up later.” He says, turning to face you. “There’s enough to do in here to keep us occupied, anyway.”

“Guns?” You ask.

“Guns.” He agrees.

Joel’s fanatical about keeping the guns clean and working. It makes sense, you suppose. You don’t know much about his past, about how he and Ellie ended up in Jackson, but what you’ve heard, the snippets Ellie’s confided in you over quiet conversations, makes for grim listening. To Joel, those guns mean the difference between life and death.

And so you both sit at the kitchen table, meticulously cleaning Joel’s shotgun and your pistol, passing cloths and gun oil between you. You make casual conversation as you go, neither of you touching on the events of the previous evening. After he dismissed you last night you’d gone straight to bed, tucked yourself into the dusty single bed in the bedroom while Joel took the couch. Your dreams had been hazy and pleasant, and you’d woken up flushed.

You’re sliding the magazine back into your pistol when Joel jumps and swears, pulling his hand back from where he’s trapped his finger in the loading mechanism of the shotgun. A tiny bead of blood wells up and spills over his fingertip and he sighs heavily. You reach out and take his hand in yours to examine the cut. It's tiny - you've seen paper-cuts do more damage - but Joel's frowning like he's in pain.

“You’ve gotta stop being so clumsy.” You say.

“I’m not clumsy.” He replies, letting you turn his hand in yours, watching you watch his thick fingers, take in the breadth of his knuckles.

“No?”

“No. It’s-”

You're not sure what makes you do it - maybe it's frustration still boiling over from yesterday, maybe it's the way Joel looks at you as you clasp his large hand in your own smaller one - but before he can finish speaking you pull his arm across the table and wrap your lips around his finger. You snake your tongue over the pad of the digit and the noise he makes then - a breathy, broken groan - sends fire surging through you, heat coiling between your thighs.

“Distraction.” He finishes.

When you pull your mouth away and place a wet kiss to the palm of his hand, he slides his fingers across your jaw and up into the mess of your hair. His hand is hot against your scalp, curving around the back of your neck, leading you forward so that he can fit his mouth against yours across the table.

Pleasure flutters out from the pull of his fingers in your hair, and his lips are soft and dry until he opens his mouth to you, guiding your tongue into his mouth, pressing his into yours. It’s slow at first. Tentative, as though he’s waiting for you to push him away. But you’ve never wanted anything more, and when you moan against his lips he stands, bracketing your face with both hands to pull you up from your own chair.

It’s a messy walk backwards from the table. You bump against the broken coffee table, pull away from his mouth to curse and rub your shin, but then he’s falling back onto the couch, pulling you down into his lap so that your thighs are bracketing his legs.

You pause like that, looking at each other, both breathless and dazed, lips bruised.

“This what you want?” He asks again, placing his hand at your jaw gently. His fingers are thick, hand so large that his thumb rests at your temple and while his index finger sits under your chin.

“I want you, Joel. Please.”

When he kisses you again, it’s hungry and animalistic. All pretence of hesitation is gone. He presses his mouth to your throat, lets his teeth scrape the delicate skin below your ear.

“This is still a bad idea.” He says, voice breaking when you roll your hips against his. ”Shit.”

“Please, Joel.” Your voice sounds tiny, shrill to your own ears, desperate and pathetic, but Joel bites at the juncture of your neck and it doesn’t matter, nothing matters except the feel of his hands on your hips, guiding you against him, pulling your clothed cunt against where he’s impossibly hard in his jeans.

“I’m gonna take this off.” He says, pulling at your shirt, tugging it up over your head. “And this.” He runs a hand over your covered tit, pinches your nipple beneath the thin fabric of your bra, rolls it between his finger and thumb while his other hand slides up your back and unclasps it. It falls between you, forgotten immediately.

“Fuck, darlin’, look at you.” He says, running the knuckle of his index finger over the swell of your chest, down along your ribs and across one hip. He lets his hand fall away, brings it back up to the side of your face, pulls your lips back to his and drags your bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth.

Pain and pleasure blossom through you, make you scrabble at the buttons of his shirt, fingers shaking as you try and get them undone. He helps, slides the shirt off of his back, careful where his shoulder is still sore. He balls it up and casts it across the room, then grips your hips and lifts you, turning you onto your back on the sofa, pressing himself between your open thighs. The change in angle presses the seam of your jeans against your clit, a jolt of pleasure rocking through you.

“You ever done this before?” He asks, hovering over you, dipping down to press a chaste kiss against your collarbone.

“I ain’t that innocent, Joel.” You reply, gasping when he pulls your nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. “Have you?”

This earns you a deep chuckle, a hushed whisper against the back of your neck, “I’ve been doing this since before you were born, baby.”

And, fuck, that shouldn’t turn you on so much but it does. It has your hips lifting up, seeking out friction. Joel notices and slides down your body, dropping onto his knees on the floor. He runs one hand up the inside of your thigh, presses his thumb expertly against your covered clit.

“I’m gonna take these off now, and then you’re gonna come on my tongue. That sound okay?”

You nod, voice lost as he undoes the button on your jeans and pulls them down in one motion, pushing them away in the direction of his discarded shirt.

“Look how wet you are for me already.” He glides two fingers over the front of your soaked underwear, up to the waistband to hook them off.

And then he leans forward, presses light kisses up your thighs until he reaches your cunt. He pauses, blows a cool strip of air against you that has you trying to close your legs, but his hands are there, pinning them open for him. When he seals his lips over your clit and drags his tongue over it you thread your fingers through his hair, pull at the black-grey strands. You squeeze your eyes shut but he pulls away, chastises you gently.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.” His voice is like molten chocolate, rich and dark, pulling you back so that you gaze down at him.

He swipes his tongue over your slit, gathers the slick that’s pooling there. He’s like a man possessed, eyes dark, hair standing up on end from where you’ve run your hands through it, cursing and moaning as he slides his tongue over your clit, starting up a firm and consistent rhythm that has you bucking against him. His hands are gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises, his forearms corded with muscle, biceps flexing up to those impossibly broad shoulders.

“You gonna come on my tongue?” He asks, hardly breaking away from you to grunt out the question.

“Yes, Joel, fuck, please.” You can’t seem to form a coherent sentence, can hardly force yourself to keep your eyes on him where he kneels between your thighs like you’re an altar and he’s a lonely priest begging for repentance. It’s this thought – the idea of him worshipping you, tongue lapping over your clit, his eyes blazing with lust – that tips you over the edge. Your cunt clenches around nothing, body wracked with pleasure as you come, hard, on his tongue. He grins into your cunt as he feels you come apart against him, continues pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your pussy as you come down from the high, limbs shaking. When you finally push him away, overly sensitive and buzzing with pleasure, he rocks back on his heels, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Your pleasure is painted across his face, his greying stubble wet with your slick.

He crawls back up onto the couch between your thighs, dips his head to kiss you. You taste yourself on his lip; on his tongue when he sweeps it against the back of your teeth, heady and sweet. He presses himself against you, drags the front of his jeans over your bare skin. The buckle of his belt catches against your bare stomach and you hiss into his mouth, reach down to unbuckle it. It comes off easily, falls to the floor with a dull thud, and then you slip your fingers through the buttons of his jeans, undo them quickly, desperate to get them off. He stands briefly, pushes them the rest of the way down his thick thighs and then kneels back between your legs. Immediately you slide your hand into the waistband of his briefs. He feels like velvet wrapped around steel, hot and delicious in your fist. He groans into your mouth as you palm him desperately, sliding delicate skin over the head of him, feathering the pad of your thumb against his slit. When you draw his cock out you break away from his needy mouth to look. He’s big: thick, curving slightly to the left, head already weeping precum.

“Fist feels so good wrapped around my cock, sweetheart.” He tells you, “You gonna let me fuck you?”

It’s the easiest yes you’ve ever given. He chuckles darkly at your needy reply, pushes his briefs the rest of the way off and wraps his own fist around his cock. He slides himself over your cunt, coating himself in your juices. Then he’s notching the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, sucking in a breath as he pushes in gently, slowly, stretching you out deliciously.

“Good girl,” He murmurs, easing himself deeper, feeling you flex and clench around him, “good fucking girl.”

He stills when he’s fully seated inside you, sucks at a spot under your jaw that makes you gasp with pleasure, runs one big palm up your body to paw at your breast, trying to collect himself, twitching inside you with the effort of staying still.

“Cunt’s so goddamn tight, baby.” His voice is broken, pitchy and breathy against your ear.

You run your hands over his back, feeling out the breadth of his shoulders, the thin scars that lace across them, his muscles bunching and flexing beneath your fingers when he finally – finally – starts to move inside you, rocking his hips into yours, dragging himself all the way out and then gliding back in. The head of his cock hits something inside you that sends white hot pleasure jolting through your belly. The cabin is silent now – the rain has stopped – the only sounds are your frantic breathing and low, breathy moans, and Joel’s whispered praises as he rocks against you.

Good girl, so fucking good for me, letting me fuck you like this, cunt so tight around me, could come just thinking about it.

It’s dirty and sloppy and fucking incredible. The power you’ve seen him exert on infected and drunkards and raiders suddenly coiled over you, his muscles pulling you taunt against him when he changes the angle, sits up, pulls you with him so that you’re riding him, his cock somehow buried deeper in your cunt, your thighs bracketing him. You can feel yourself growing closer to release again, pleasure notching up in your belly like fire spreading. Joel shifts slightly again, makes space for his hand to come between you, places his thumb against your clit and presses, draws out slow, gentle circles that match the pace of his thrusts.

“Need my thumb on you clit while my cock’s buried inside you, sweetheart? Gonna come again just like this, huh? Dirty fucking girl.”

His words are like fuel on the fire and within seconds you’re moaning and shaking, cunt clenching around him as you come, harder than before, on his cock. Joel fucks you through it, keeps the steady pressure on your clit.

“Gonna make me come in this tight little pussy,” He says, and you know you shouldn’t, know you should make him pull out, but he feels so good inside you that you grind down on him telling him yes, please, fist your hands into his hair to pull his mouth against yours. The kiss is desperate and messy, all teeth and tongue. He hisses into your mouth as you buck your hips and drive them down on him, and then he’s swearing, fingers digging hard into your hips.

"Jesus, you feel so fucking good, baby, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna- shit.” He pulses inside you, painting your cunt with his come, hot and wet inside you.

You continue rocking against each other, slowly, coming down from the high. When he slides out of you and shifts away the old sofa groans out in protest, springs creaking. It makes you laugh, breathless, racking laughter than drives away the sudden realisation of what you’ve just done, of how you’ve indelibly changed the way you look at each other, the relationship between you.

“That was… fucking hell, Joel, that was incredible.”

He’s looking at you sideways, his hair still a mess, stubble still coated with your slick. He’s naked and vulnerable and you think it might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. When he leans across to slot his lips against yours you grin against him, trying not to think about what happens next.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel x you #the last of us fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic

2K notes · View notes

yazmarina · 24 days ago

Text

in my drafts

for the love circuit series

—that message wasn't for you but paul doesn't mind as long as you don't, either.

paul aron (f2) x gn!social media admin reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex, lewd photography, office sex, fingering, creampie, accidental nude sending, mild dirty talk

a/n: sorry i disappeared again!!! pls take this as my apology

It was supposed to be just pictures of him during the break. You expected innocent, somewhat average snapshots of how Paul spent his past two months. You knew he took that trip to Italy, attended his sister's graduation, did some training. It was your job to be at least a little updated on the drivers' whereabouts, in case the head of comms needed you to capitalize on it for content.

So when you received a few photos from Paul through iMessage of all his fall whereabouts, you didn't think much of it. You messaged him a few days earlier asking if he could send a few more unreleased pictures that he hadn't posted on his personal account yet, stating that it was for a post you were putting together for the Hitech Instagram. He was delayed in his reply, as usual, but that's something you expected. He was busy, after all.

Perhaps too busy to notice the outlier in the stack of photos displayed in your message thread. Everything seemed to be normal at first; Italian architecture, gym photos, the cheesecake he made. Typical day in the life photos.

And lastly, a photo of him in dim lighting, taken in front of a mirror, with nothing but shadows covering most of his naked body.

You stare at your phone, dumbfounded. Your first instinct is to wait to see if Paul has anything to say, an apology, maybe, or a half-assed excuse. Anything to indicate that he noticed how he sent you a full-on nude. You prepare yourself for the three dots that show he's typing, the frantic scramble to delete the photo from your exchange, but it never comes. Heat rises up your neck as you realize you're going to have to confront him about it. This was, after all, a professional exchange and you'd hate for HR to come knocking at either one of your doors.

-Paul, please review the photos you sent. Thanks.

You regret it as soon as you send it. Was that perhaps too snippy? Too callous? It was as embarrassing for him as it was for you, maybe even more. But come on, how hard is it to distinguish your nudes from your vacation photos?

The loud throb of your heartbeat reverberates in your ears as you wait, cursing under your breath as a full minute passes and then another. You lock your phone, getting up to pace around your room. You're most likely going to see him tomorrow as he'll be at HQ for sim work and other things and you just so happen to have a lineup of meetings at the very same time. You're going to have to face the fact that you'll have to look each other in the eye after you've seen the outline of his dick.

Wonderful.

You unlock your phone, resigning to just delete the photo from your side. You can claim plausible deniability or whatever legal term it is, if it comes down to it.

Just then, Paul starts typing.

You yelp, setting your phone down on the desk harder than intended.

You realize belatedly that you're holding your breath, fingers pressed into your mouth as if suppressing any more potential noises. He stops then starts again then stops, as if he's unsure of what he's typing out.

-I'M SO SORRY!!!! It was an accident I promise 🥹 Don't report me

-Please I'm so sorry it's totally my fault ______ 😭😭😭

-______ please I'm so sorry

Somehow, despite everything, this coaxes a chuckle out of you. Paul was always open and easy around you, and you know he knows you won't report him for an honest mistake. He's probably just red in the face right now, fighting his inner demons.

You type out a reply to ease his nerves.

-I'll just delete it off my phone so no one can say we were fraternizing inappropriately 🥲

The response from Paul is almost instant.

-YES please I'm sorry again

Your finger hovers over the photos when another message comes in.

-Unless you want to save it for a rainy day that's okay too

-I WAS JOKING its a joke I'm sorry I'm sorry

You groan, throwing your head back against the backrest of your office chair.

He's done this on occasion. Flirt. Compliment you on your hair, your outfit (despite it being the team uniform), your smile, even. You brushed it off as typical driver behavior. Nearly all of them had that kind of nerve about them, a confidence that only comes with driving cars that are closer to rockets than actual cars on the street.

Bringing the phone up to your face, you gingerly scroll back up to the photos Paul sent, opening the accursed photo. Your breath hitches as you take it in more carefully, the light cutting sharply between the shadows of whatever hotel room Paul was in. Your eyes trail down and your fingers pinch at the screen, zooming in.

"No! No, no, absolutely not," you admonish yourself, swiping the photo away and typing back a slightly crazed reply.

-Whoever that photo was meant for might not like it if I do

"________!"

You freeze on your way out the door from the conference room, Paul's figure jogging toward you from the other end of the hall. The presence of some execs and the head of comms looms from behind you and you quickly shuffle out of the way to let them pass, all of them greeting Paul as he sidles up to you.

"Hi!" You say a little too brightly, turning to Paul, arms coming up mechanically then stopping, your brain reminding you that a hug might be too awkward but standing around without greeting him in some way would be just as weird. A flurry of butterflies erupt in your stomach as Paul stops in front of you, his cologne coming off strong as always. Just the way you liked it.

"How's the meeting?" Paul asks, gesturing to the room. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, a nervous habit he has that you've observed over the time you've worked with him. He has his hands shoved deep in his jeans, too.

You shrug, forcing out a laugh. "Same old, just going over social media plans and PR."

Paul nods, a little too eagerly perhaps. His eyes shift to the retreating personnel, all of them turning a corner, leaving you and Paul alone in the vicinity.

"Were you waiting for me?" You ask before he can say anything else.

Paul swallows. "Yeah. Look–"

"Paul," you cut him off, raising a hand between the two of you. "It's okay. It's no big deal. Happens to the best of us."

He raises an eyebrow at that. "Have you ever sent a nude to the wrong person before?"

Your cheeks flare up in a violent blush.

"Well, no. And keep your voice down," you berate lightly. Paul looks around and shrugs as if to say, 'Nobody's here'.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "But what I meant was, like, messages are sent to the wrong people all the time, I'm sure you didn't mean any harm, and besides, no one else knows. I promise I haven't told anyo–"

"Okay." It was Paul's turn to cut you off. "Okay, I believe you."

He smiles at you good-naturedly, opening his arms and coaxing you into a hug. It takes you a second, but eventually, you let yourself laugh in relief, wrapping your arms around his strong frame.

"I missed you over the break," Paul admits, pulling away and holding you at arm's length. You blush again, masking it with a chuckle.

"Well, the break isn't over yet. We still have three weeks to go," you remind, your own hands coming up to settle on Paul's outstretched arms, making it look as if you're holding him in place. To anyone who didn't know, you two would look like a couple deep in discussion.

"At least you get to see me more," Paul offers with an easy smile. nudging you lightly.

You scoff. "I think I've seen enough of you, thank you very much."

A heavy silence settles over the two of you as you realize what you just said. Paul lets his arms drop from where they held you, an apology ready at your lips but Paul gets to it first. He runs a hand through his unkempt hair, blonde strands tugged between his fingers.

"You haven't deleted it, have you?"

No, you haven't.

"I was going to, but I got distracted with other things." Not entirely a lie. You really meant to do so, but thoughts you'd rather not share took hold and there were matters you needed to attend to. Matters that could only be solved with your fingers and a vibrator.

You should feel guilty, getting off to a picture of a coworker that wasn't even meant to be sent to you in the first place. Maybe you're terrible, maybe you should be fired, sued by the Aron family.

Memories of you gasping out Paul's name in the quiet of your room come flooding back and you pray that Paul doesn't notice the irregularity in your breathing.

"I'll delete it now, in front of you, so you can see that I did," you offer, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Paul shakes his head, catching you by the wrist, his hand large and warm against your own skin.

"I mean if I was going to send it to anyone, it would have been you," Paul says lowly, as if afraid someone would hear him, despite the entire expanse of the hallway void of any people other than yourselves.

"Consensually, of course," Paul adds in a hurry, eyes widening. "If you wanted to receive them. It. Receive it."

Your eyebrows shoot up, your mouth curling into a smirk. "You have more you want to send?"

Paul's lower lip slips between his teeth and it seems the two of you are finally on the same page. You try to suppress the smile threatening to break out, clearing your throat and avoiding his eyes.

"Until when are you staying here?" You ask casually. You didn't mean 'here' as HQ. Here as in, in town, close to you.

"Next week," Paul replies, stepping closer. "I won't see you until Qatar after that."

"Shame," you mutter, tilting your head as you meet his gaze once more.

"Maybe," Paul begins, slipping his hand into yours and twining your fingers together. "I can add one more thing to my break to-do list."

"Now?" You ask incredulously. Paul nods immediately.

"You know that one storage closet inside the sim room?" He asks, winking at you.

"What? Paul!" You whisper-shout, but he's already leading you down the hallway. The two of you make a sharp turn to the right where big blocky letters spell out 'SIMULATOR' on the large double doors of the sim room.

You squint, immediately plunged into darkness as the only source of light inside is the curved screen, dimmed as well as it sits on standby.

"What if your engineer walks in? Your teammate? Doesn't he have a session soon?" You continue to protest, even when Paul gently pushes you toward the storage room door at the very corner. He flings the door open and you see that it's filled mostly with spare sim components and monitors.

"Babe, that's why they call it a quickie," Paul reasons, flipping the light switch on inside. The lightbulb offers little respite in the darkness and shadows still play along the lines of Paul's face. He shuts the door behind him.

"It doesn't lock? Paul, I swear–"

You gasp but barely any sound comes out as Paul presses his lips to yours, hands settling on your hips. He maneuvers you toward a shelf, pushing you against it and pressing himself fully on you.

You can feel how hard he is through his jeans.

"Did you like it?" Paul asks as he breaks away for a second. He kisses your jaw, tracing its outline as you sigh, your head falling back. He takes his opportunity to kiss along the column of your neck, his tongue smoothing over your skin.

"Did you get off to it?" Paul asks again and your breath catches in your throat. It's as if he knew all the dirty, deplorable things you did over that one picture.

"I know you did," Paul concludes with a breathy laugh, reclaiming your lips and driving a knee between your legs. You groan in response, grinding against his thigh while your fingers tug at his belt.

Paul pulls away and takes over for you, undoing his jeans and slipping them down to his knees. You silently thank whatever god is listening for the fact that you so conveniently decided to wear those easy cotton office pants, slipping them off in one quick swoop along with your underwear.

"I'm tempted to get on my knees right now so I can eat you out," Paul teases, hiking your shirt up and exposing your chest.

A snide remark forms in your brain but it's cut off when you feel the cold press of fingers on your clit. You clamp a hand down on your mouth as Paul gently flicks at it, feeling yourself getting wetter by the second.

"Maybe later after work," Paul says, rubbing harder. Your elbow spasms at the sensation, hitting the shelf behind you.

"Ow, fuck," you curse, meeting Paul's eyes. You two burst into muffled laughter just as Paul slips a finger in.

"What happened to a quickie?" You demand, hips moving along with Paul's hand. He adds a second finger and you whine, fingers digging into Paul's shoulders.

"I have manners," Paul informs with an easy smile, face impossibly close to yours. You can see the shift in his bright blue eyes. "I need you wet and ready for me, no?"

You bite down on your lip, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Paul curls his fingers inside you. A shiver runs through you and you feel yourself clenching down and around his digits.

Paul retracts his hand, much to your dismay, but you don't get to complain before Paul kisses you again, rough and heated. His tongue dances against yours and you grip at his Hitech team kit for purchase.

"Bend over," Paul commands and you're more than happy to oblige, turning around to do just that.

You brace yourself against the shelf behind you, gripping at the wood as you lower the front of your body. Paul grabs your hips and your back arches almost automatically. You can feel him pressing up against you and you sneak a peek behind you to see Paul with his phone in hand.

"So I can 'accidentally' send you another one," Paul jests before slowly sinking in. You whine, head dropping down between your shoulders. The thought of him documenting your little tryst sends a shiver up your spine which only intensifies as Paul grabs one side of your hips. He sets up a hard, steady pace that has the shelf in front of you creaking.

"Paul," you gasp out, your whole body shuddering at the force of how hard he's fucking you.

Both of his hands grip at your sides now so you can assume his phone has been put away. You try to stay upright which proves challenging considering Paul is ramming into you ferociously.

Contradictory to it all, you feel the soft touch of fingers through your scalp, smoothing over your hair. In a moment's turn, your head is yanked back as Paul tugs at your hair, arching your back even more.

A garbled sound escapes you, part moan, part sob as the sting in your scalp shoots straight down to your core, pushing you ever so closer to your release.

"The social media person," Paul begins through gritted teeth. "Always so pretty behind the camera. Making me do trend after trend. I'd do anything for you, baby."

You mewl in response, reaching back to grip at Paul's wrist, pushing back against him, urging him to go faster. Paul gets the memo.

"Funny how that photo was taken only because I was about to jack off to the thought of you," Paul continues. "You sent me a message and I was missing that pretty face of yours so I went through your Instagram. Looks like you had fun in Mallorca, tiny swimsuit and all."

"Sorry, baby," Paul says close to your ear. "Couldn't help it."

"Inside," you plead. "P-Please, I'm close. N-Need you to cum inside me."

Paul merely grunts, letting go of your hair so he can pull you flush against him. His thrusts grow erratic, barely pulling out of you each time. He pulls you back to him, your back against his front as he bites down on your shoulder.

"Yes, yes, right there." Your voice comes out raspy, walls squeezing around Paul's throbbing cock. He reaches over and resumes his movements from a while ago on your clit and you yelp, hips spasming pathetically.

You cum with Paul deep inside you, his groans filling your ear as he follows soon after. He stills and pulls you even closer to him, arms encircling your torso. He kisses the spot where he had bitten you, pressing his lips almost reverently to the indented skin.

You're both breathing hard and you're perfectly content to stand around while the two of you gather your bearings. But Paul momentarily disentangles himself from you and reaches down. You see him pull his phone out from his jeans from where they've presumably fallen down to his ankles.

"Smile," Paul prompts, his lips planting a soft kiss behind your ear as he angles the camera toward the two of you.

He snaps a blurry photo, just in time to capture your hand coming up to rest against his cheek as he grins into your skin. Emboldened by the somewhat artsy, flirtatious nature of the photo, you turn around and land a proper kiss on Paul's lips, savoring each second his tongue passes over your mouth.

"Send all the photos you want," you whisper, smiling up at him.

"Or we could just take them together," Paul offers, kissing the tip of your nose.

#f2 x reader #f2 fanfic #f2 smut #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #paul aron x reader #pa17

296 notes · View notes

iburnedmyselfalive · 10 months ago

Text

SEX THERAPIST.

nsfw! -- lowkey got the idea from some wattpad book i read a couple years ago LMAOAOA someone lmk what its called if yk what im talking about.

this was so rushed, but I wanna make more parts to this soooooo, should I ?? + not proofread sorry for any mistakes

Over the past few weeks, challenges have emerged in your relationship with your boyfriend, including a sexual issue. A friend suggested seeking the help of a relationship therapist, specifically a sex therapist.

Following this advice, both of you attended therapy sessions, which have been generally positive. The sessions have been conducted by Mr. Skywalker, and you couldn't help but notice his flawlessly attractive presence.

Today, Mr. Skywalker invited you to a session alone, as your boyfriend was away on a work trip and couldn't attend. Despite the familiarity of being in therapy sessions with your boyfriend, you found yourself unexpectedly nervous about being in Mr. Skywalker's office alone.

This uneasiness contrasted with the usual sessions where he sometimes appeared agitated when you had discussed certain relationship issues.

You subtly pushed open the door to his office, finding him absorbed in his laptop. His intense gaze lifted as he noticed your entrance, and he grunted, "Good to see you," shutting his laptop without breaking eye contact.

Taking a seat across from him, you couldn't help but feel a mix of intimidation and attraction as his penetrating eyes swept over you, especially when they almost hungrily traced the lines of your pretty skirt.

"Hey," you greeted, adjusting yourself and placing your purse aside.

"How are you today?" he inquired, the discussion soon shifting towards your boyfriend, and he cut right to the chase.

"Any differences?" he demanded, a hint of authority in his tone. "Or just the same?"

With a sigh, you reluctantly nodded, "Just the same."

"hm, I see, today, we're going to try something" he declared, taking a pause before continuing, "different from our usual sessions,"

"Alright?" he asked, his gaze holding yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

And with that, you nodded.

"Now, hun, you know better than that, use your words," he advised, raising his eyebrows with a subtle challenge, making you gulp at the underlying intensity.

Despite the unease, you nodded again, confirming, "Yes, it's alright."

He nodded in approval, a sly smile playing on his lips. "There we go, that's better," he cooed.

You struggled to maintain composure as he rose slowly from his seat.

Fuck, he looked too good.

It felt almost wrong to acknowledge, but he exuded a captivating mix of intimidation and raw appeal. Giving you a piercing look, he wordlessly gestured for you to stand.

You complied, standing mere inches from him, reveling in the sizzling height difference that fueled your desires.

"Relax, you're nervous," he spoke in a low, commanding tone, his massive, yet surprisingly gentle hand tracing along your shoulder.

"Remember the breathing activities Nadia taught you?" he questioned, referencing a previous therapist.

You nodded.

"I want you to do those for me right now," he demanded, and you obeyed.

Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, you followed the practiced routine. Anakin's intense presence lingered, making your transformation into a calmer state palpable to both him and yourself.

"Good," he cooed, a low rumble in his voice.

"Very good," he continued, his unwavering gaze fixed on yours.

"You mentioned that when he touches you, he tends to rush things and doesn't take his time, right?" Anakin inquired.

You nearly choked on your words, but you managed to nod. "Yes, he rushes it," you concurred, and he nodded, trailing his fingers down your shoulders.

"You don't like that," he stated, and you just shrugged.

"If you want my help, you're going to have to talk to me," he asserted, his tone firm.

"So, I'm going to ask you again. You don't like it, correct?" he demanded, and without hesitation, you responded, "yes, It's not even enjoyable for me now," you explained, having this weird feeling inside of you.

Your eyes threatened to lose focus as his commanding lips left a trail of kisses along your neck.

"He doesn't get you squirming like this, does he?" he demanded, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

"He doesn't even bother to kiss me," you breathlessly responded, almost whimpering when Anakin abruptly halted his assault on your neck. Gripping your face with his two hands, he sneered, "Well, it's his loss."

Before you could fully process his words, he forcefully pulled you into a fervent kiss, his tongue asserting dominance while his hands explored your body. In response, your hands navigated the contours of his physique. Standing on your toes, you seized his shirt, pulling him in for more.

"I'm going to teach you," he growled between kisses, his voice dripping with intimidation and promise.

"I'm going to show you what it truly means to feel good."

He was making his intentions unmistakably clear.

You offered no resistance, the unfamiliar sensations captivating you entirely. A low whimper escaped your lips as you looked up at him with pleading eyes, your voice adopting a desperate tone.

"Do whatever you want to me, please," you begged.

In response, a grin spread across his face, his gaze growing more intense. He effortlessly lifted you, carrying you to his desk and placing you on the edge without a care for the paperwork that might have fallen.

Unconcerned about the potential mess, he kissed you again, deliberately slow and enticing, leaving you craving more as his lips reluctantly pulled away. Descending to your neck, he gradually knelt on the ground, spreading your legs apart.

Inhaling your scent, he groaned as his fingers teased the material of your skirt.

"Cute," he murmured before his tongue traced over your damp panties.

"He's never made you this wet, has he? This all f'me?" he cooed, and with a whimper, you nodded. Your hands tangled in his hair as his tongue continued to trace circles over your panties.

"Raise your hips for me, baby," he murmured, standing up slightly. Complying, you lifted your hips, allowing him to smoothly pull down both your skirt and panties, discarding them carelessly on the floor.

Returning to his previous position on his knees, he watched you with an intensity that left you feeling exposed.

Shyly attempting to close your legs, he intervened without hesitation, forcefully parting them. Biting his lip at the revealing sight before him, his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge.

He planted a couple of kisses on your inner thighs before his tongue skillfully lapped over your drenched core. His eyes remained locked onto yours, never wavering for a second, intensifying the heat of the moment.

Your body quivered at his sudden actions, and soon enough, he began sucking at your clit, causing your head to arch back in pleasure.

"fuck ani, 's good" you cried out, legs shaking from how good it was, how good he was.

He never let anyone refer to him with the nickname, 'ani', but an exception was made for you.

"Louder," he demanded, and you complied, moaning and whimpering in response to his skilled ministrations.

Your breath caught as you almost moaned at the sight of his chin glistening with your arousal. His nose grazing your clit with each rhythmic motion elicited loud moans from you. His unyielding grip on your thighs persisted, and he skillfully positioned you to allow the subtlest rocking of your hips back and forth.

"oh my gosh" you cried out, your hand clutching the lamp on his desk for dear life as your legs trembled uncontrollably.

"mmm," he cooed, continuing to suck on your clit. "Such a good pussy this is," he murmured appreciatively.

"Want all your damn juices in my mouth. Come on, baby, cum," he grunted, and with those words, and his absolute torture going on with your cunt, you made a mess all over his face.

He persisted in his relentless actions even after you reached your peak, a smirk playing on his lips as he finally stood up. Grabbing your trembling hand, he guided it over to the bulge in his pants.

"Feelin' me, baby?" he sneered, and with a pout, you nodded.

"Where do you want this, here, hm?" he taunted, using his other hand to press down on your lower stomach.

Again, you nodded.

"Yes, please," you begged, and he chuckled, a menacing tone underscoring the sound.

Sealing his lips to yours, he tasted you through the kiss, reveling in the control he held. His hands roughly palmed your breasts through your shirt before pulling away for the slightest second to take off your top, following your bra.

"Off," you whined, eyeing his pants as you undid the buttons on his shirt. Soon, both of you had discarded clothes, each piece carelessly thrown around his office.

"Such a pretty pussy, been denied for so long, huh?" he jeered, removing his boxers.

You found yourself almost intimidated by his size, and as he brought it to your slit, he chuckled while deliberately teasing it against your folds.

"Lay down," he demanded, and you whined.

"But your desk, what if it��" you started expressing concern, but he cut you off.

"Do you think I give a damn about my desk, love? I don't give a single shit if it breaks. I'm going to fuck you," he spat out.

"I'm going to fuck you just the way you deserve it."

875 notes · View notes

slu7formen · 8 months ago

Text

luke castellan x fem!reader

Luke has been making fun of your ‘unnecessarily absurd beauty routine’ —as he liked to call it— for the past week, so, you decide to drown him in it, just to see how much he can handle.

warnings: just a single use of the word b1tch, fluff at the end <3, little use of yn

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

i. the eyebrows

“Ow, ow, ow! That hurt!”

“No it didn´t!”

“Yes, it did!”

“Shut up and hold still”

“Ow! You´re pinching my skin, you bitch!”

“That was fully on porpuse”

A chorus of laughter erupted from the nearby bunk beds. Most of the boys, Luke´s half-siblings, gathered around you both, enjoying the show, eyes gleaming with mischief as they witnessed their usually stoic and confident counselor reduced to a whiny mess. Luke´s head was leaning on your thighs as you plugged his eyebrows with some dangerously sharp tweezers.

“See, that´s what you get for making fun of a girl” Travis Stoll, the elder of the Stoll brothers, joined in, a smirk on his lips. "We all warned you about messing with her” he pointed towards you.

“Shut up, Travis!” Luke spat.

You enjoyed the way his face was turning red, from embarrasment and because he was trying so hard to hold back his tears.

“You know, Luke” you started, plugging on another thin hair which earned you a little curse whispered from his lips. “You can always just, give up on the bet”

You found yourself enjoying the sight immensely. The perfect Hermes´ cabin counselor who'd spent the past week mocking your beauty routine,– here he was, sprawled across your lap, a prisoner of your tweezers.

“There´s no way in hell I´m letting you beat me that easily" he declared, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.

You couldn't help but smirk. The bet had been born out of sheer frustration. For the past week, Luke had been relentless in his teasing about your beauty regimen. He'd mocked the meticulous way you cared for your eyebrows, the endless battle against unwanted body hair, the whining about the occasional pimples even when you spent a good twenty minutes locked in the bathroom cleaning your skin. He'd called you high-maintenance, a slave to societal expectations, and everything in between.

Finally, you'd snapped. "Alright, Castellan" you'd declared, eyes blazing. "How about a little bet? If you can handle a full day of 'girl stuff,' I'll clean your cabin for a week"

The look of surprise on Luke's face had been priceless. He'd scoffed, of course, overconfident and utterly clueless about the sheer torture involved in waxing, tweezing, and mud masks. But fueled by his arrogance, he'd readily agreed.

Now, here you were, watching him squirm on your lap like a fish, a testament to his underestimation of the situation. A wave of satisfaction washed over you. It wasn't just about winning the bet, though that was certainly a perk. It was about showing him, in a slightly sadistic way, that there was more to "girl stuff" than he thought. It was about proving that self-care wasn't about vanity, but about feeling confident and comfortable in your own skin.

“As you wish, little baby”

Chris suddenly appeard in your vision, the satisfaction on his face plagged as if he was enjoying this more than you did. “You know, yn” he called out, you momentarily stopped, accidentally giving Luke a break. “Luke has a little hair situation going on under his arms”

“What!?” Luke blurted out. His siblings laughed again.

“He does?” you asked Chris, looking down at Luke and patting his head like a little kid.

“Oh, yeah” Chris smirked. “Maybe that could be the next step, don´t you think?”

“I´m gonna-” Luke tried to get up from his bed, hands reaching out towards Chris. He took a step back just as you grabbed Luke by his shoulders and pushed him down again towards your lap.

“I´m not done with you yet, tough guy. But Chris´ right. Get your hairy armpits ready”

ii. the waxing

You pulled out a box of waxing stripes. Luke, oblivious to the impending torture, was too engrossed in examining his newly sculpted eyebrows in the hand mirror you'd provided. A satisfied smirk played on your lips. The eyebrows looked fantastic – perfectly groomed without being overly feminine. Because yes, he asked you to keep them as close to their natural shape as possible.

“Shirt off” you declared.

His head whipped towards you, eyes wide with horror and disbelief. His half-brothers, mirrored his action, erupting in a chorus of whistles and catcalls.

"Excuse you?" he sputtered, h is voice a touch higher than usual.

"Damn," Connor drawled to you. "at least ask the guy out first"

You rolled your eyes. Luke shot him a withering glare, but beneath the bluster, you could see a flicker of nervousness.

You held up the waxing strips. “It´s time for your armpits, champion” you announced with a playful lilt in your voice. You began rubbing the strips together to warm the wax.

He whined, pulling his camp t-shirt over his head, revealing his well-toned torso, and throwing it over a nearby bunk. You stole a glance at his body for a microsecond, a slight red blush coloring your cheeks. His brothers were quick to start a echo of whistles.

He flopped down heavily on the bed, one arm raised awkwardly above his head. To your surprise, there wasn't as much hair as you'd anticipated. But that didn't diminish the sheer terror radiating from him. You stifled a laugh. "Relax, Luke" you said, your voice gentler now. "The tenser you are, the worse it'll be."

His brothers leaned in closer, their eyes glued to the scene unfolding before them. You carefully pressed the strip against his skin, smoothing it down with the practiced ease. He held his breath, his entire body tensing in anticipation.

You inhaled sharply yourself, then you ripped the strip off in one swift motion. Luke let out a yelp that would have made a banshee proud. His face contorted in pain, and his free hand clenched into a fist. His brothers erupted in laughter, their amusement fueled by his pain.

"Alright, alright" you said, trying to sound sympathetic despite the laughter bubbling in your throat. "Deep breaths, Luke. If you don´t relax, it´s gonna hurt more"

He glared at you, his voice laced with a hint of betrayal. "Easy for you to say."

Ignoring his grumbling, you ripped off another strip. A chorus of gasps filled the room, and Luke let out another yelp, his face turning an even deeper shade of red.

"See?" you said, holding up the strip adorned with a few stray hairs. "Not so bad, right?"

He wanted to murder you.

"Don't you use anesthesia for this?" he wheezed after a particularly harsh pull on his other armpit, his eyes watering slightly.

“We´re not babies, Luke” you replied, shaking your head. "Just good old-fashioned grit and determination. Besides, you wouldn't want to miss out on the full 'girl stuff' experience, would you?"

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity —at least for Luke—, you finished. His armpits were as smooth as a baby´s butt. His brothers, unable to resist themselves, reached out and slapped the freshly waxed skin, earning them a swift kick each from a now-furious Luke.

iii. the skincare

"Skincare? Seriously?" Luke asked, sitting down on your bed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You all went to your cabin to continue his so claimed ‘girl´s day´. You would´ve paid to take a picture of your sisters´ faces when they saw you walk in with a bunch of boys following you behind.

“Just lay down, princess” you declared “I´ll bring my stuff”

He leaned back against the your pushy pillows, getting comfortable.

“First time on a girl´s bed?” Chris asked, earning a few laughs from his siblings.

“Shut up” Luke spat.

You came back with your washbag, full of different products that nearly gave Luke a heart attack. You had to assure him that this time, this wasn´t gonna hurt. At least not the first part, but you kept it a secret.

"Alright, beautiful” you teased. “Let’s get started. First thing’s first. “Cleansing”

You dipped a soft washcloth in warm water and began gently wiping away the dirt and sweat from his face. Luke closed his eyes, a look of unexpected serenity washing over his features. You noticed him get loose under your touch, a slight smile playing on his lips, and crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture of surprising compliance.

“Wow” he said. “This is actually quite nice”

"See?" you said softly. "This isn't so bad"

He opened one eye, a playful glint mirroring your own. "Not bad at all" he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice “Guys, you should try this."

The Hermes´ cabin boys leaned in closer, their usual boisterousness replaced by a quiet attentiveness. They watched as your fingers moved with a practiced ease, cleansing Luke's skin with a tenderness they hadn't seen before. They saw you take some cleanser, and rub it softly against Luke´s skin.

They all exchanged glances, a new kind of curiosity flickering in their eyes. Usually, the sight of anyone touching Luke, let alone his face, would have elicited a barrage of teasing. But seeing you, your movements gentle and practiced as you gathered a gentle cleanser, they found themselves strangely mesmerized.

"Well, he looks chill" Connor added. "Could you clean my face sometime, yn?"

You chuckled, throwing a playful glance thorwn at him. "Maybe later, Connor. Right now, it's all about Luke's glow-up."

Next came the toner, followed by a light moisturizer. Luke remained surprisingly still, his eyes closed, a contented sigh escaping his lips from time to time. His brothers, bored by the lack of drama, started to get bored.

Just as you were about to get some eye patchs, your eyes drifted on a little tool inside your washbag; your blackhead remover. An idea came up to you.

"Alright, Luke" you announced, a hint of warning in your voice. "Time for the fun part."

You reached for a steaming hot towel and pressed it gently against his nose and forehead. He inhaled deeply, the steam opening up his pores.

"This feels so nice" he mumbled, his voice muffled by the towel.

A slow grin spread across your face. "Oh, it gets better" you said, an evil spark in your eyes.

You grabbed the blackhead extractor and, with practiced ease, began gently removing the unwanted blemishes.

Suddenly, Luke's eyes flew open, a look of pure horror replacing his previous serenity. "Wait! What are you doing?" he shrieked.

"Shh" you hushed him playfully. "Relax. These little guys gotta go. Trust me, it'll be better for your skin in the long run."

"But it hurts!" he whined, swatting your hand away with a surprisingly weak attempt.

"Just a little pinch" you reassured him, your voice a mockery he hated. "Besides, if you don't remove them now, they'll grow bigger and poppier, and that will hurt even more."

Luke opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips as you expertly extracted another blackhead. This bet was getting a little harder to beat than expected. He winced slightly, then a defeated sigh escaped his lips.

“So, Connor” you called. “You wanted to be next, right?”

iv. make up

"So," you began, a sly smile playing on your lips as you settled into the chair across from Luke, "you think makeup is easy, right?"

"Shouldn't be that hard, I guess" he mumbled, trying to sound confident. Inside, however, his stomach churned with fear and worry.

You gestured towards your desk, which was now overflowing with an array of colorful tubes, palettes, and brushes – an arsenal of beauty products foreign to the boys' eyes. "Alright then," you declared, a playful lilt in your voice. "Here's a little game. I'll show you each product and you have to guess what it's for. Every one you get wrong? Goes on your face."

Luke's eyes widened in horror.

"Wait, what?" he sputtered, a nervous tremor in his voice. "You can't be serious!"

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "But Luke, you just said makeup was easy. This is your chance to prove it!"

"This is cheating" he mumbled, looking betrayed. "You never mentioned makeup in the bet!"

"Technically," you countered, holding up a finger, "it's still 'girl stuff’, as you call it”

A groan escaped Luke's lips. He shot a desperate glance towards his brothers, hoping for some kind of intervention. Charles Beckendorf, who allegedly decided to join the fun, just grinned towards him.

"Don't chicken out now, Luke" he said, arms crossed over his chest. "You can always give up on the bet and let her win”

Luke glared at his friend, silently cursing the day he ever agreed to this ridiculous wager. He sighed dramatically, slumping back on the bed. "Fine" he mumbled, defeated. "At least try your best to make me look decent."

“That´s not gonna be on me, dear”

You couldn't help but laugh at his misery. You reached across the desk, picking up a sleek black tube with a silver cap. It felt cool and smooth in your hand.

"What do you think this is?" you asked, holding it up for him to see.

Luke squinted at the tube, his brow furrowed in concentration. He recalled seeing something similar in movies, actresses applying it with a flick of their wrist. An idea flickered in his mind.

"Eyeliner?" he ventured, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.

You arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Huh, correct”

You set the eyeliner aside, a mischievous glint returning to your eyes. Next up, you picked up a thin, wooden-looking tool with a pointed tip. There was a small, round piece of what looked like colored chalk attached to the end.

"Alright," you announced, "round two. What is this?"

Luke studied the object carefully. It did resemble a pencil, but the colored tip threw him off. He wracked his brain, trying to recall anything similar he'd seen in the vast array of makeup products on your desk.

"Uh… a pencil?" he finally ventured, his voice lacking conviction.

You burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the cabin. Tears welled up in your eyes quickly, blurring your vision slightly.

"A pencil, Luke?" you wheezed, wiping a tear from your cheek. "It’s a lip liner"

Luke's cheeks flushed crimson.

"Lip liner?" he echoed, his voice barely a whisper. "For what? Do I need to draw on a bigger mouth?" He gestured to his own lips, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into his voice.

You shook your head, stifling another giggle. "No, no need for a bigger mouth. Lip liner helps define the shape of your lips."

With a shake of your head, you said, "Now the fun part begins. Bring those lips here, handsome."

Luke leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his face hovering a few inches from yours. The air got filled with a strange tension, probably because his brothers walked closer so they could get a better look. His breath hitched slightly as your fingers brushed against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You´re lucky this is the same shade as your natural lip color” you whisper.

“Yeah” Chris adds. “Maybe you should wear it more often, handsome” he reaches out his hand to squeeze Luke´s cheeks, but he´s quick enough to slap his hand away.

“Shut up”

The minutes that followed were filled with a more lighthearted energy. You continued the game, Luke surprisingly getting a few things right – foundation, and even a surprisingly good guess on a shimmery eyeshadow palette.

But he wasn't without his misses. The concealer, a light, creamy formula designed to camouflage blemishes, ended up being applied liberally under his eyes, leaving him with a ghostly pallor that had his brothers doubled over in laughter. Then came the blush. A delicate peach shade, turned his cheeks a comical shade of fuchsia thanks to your deliberately exaggerated application with a fluffy brush.

His brothers, fueled by this new display of comedic gold, howled with laughter. Charles, wiping tears from his eyes, wheezed, “He-, he looks like a baboon in heat”

"Oh man" Travis howled, clutching his stomach. "This is even better than the armpit wax"

Next came the eyelash curler, that strange-looking contraption that promised to create dramatic, fluttery lashes. The moment you held it up, Luke's eyes widened in suspicion. He snatched it from your hand before you could ask him what he though it was.

"What the hell is this!?" he exclaimed, his voice laced with a mixture of disgust and fear. "You girls like torturing yourselves with these things?"

You reached out and gently took the curler back. "No torture involved" you replied. “And since you know absolutely nothing about it…"

He tried to look defiant, but a flicker of uncertainty betrayed him. "I know what it is" he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

"Oh really?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Then what is it?"

You handed him the curler and watched as he fumbled with it, his big hands clearly not designed for such delicate work. He eventually gave up with a defeated sigh.

"Okay" he grumbled, handing the curler back to you. "Do your worst."

The final touches were a disaster, a glorious, hilarious disaster. Every fiber of Luke's being screamed in protest as you handed the brushes over to his merciless brothers.

“Come here, Lookie-Pookie” Travis cooed, his voice dripping with mock sweetness as he leaned in with a thick brush loaded with sparkly eyeshadow. Luke recoiled, swatting his hand away with a glare.

"Don't touch me!”

“Come on Luke, give us those pretty little lips. We need to make sure they're nice and kissable” Beckendorf joined, opening a little lip product tube he wasn´t sure what it really was.

Luke wanted to melt into the floor, his face burning hotter than the volcanic eyeshadow now smudged across his eyelids. The audacity, the betrayal! His own brothers, the supposed bastions of masculinity, were gleefully participating in this humiliation.

“Maybe some of this highlighter will make him look prettier”

He couldn´t believe his own brothers knew what highlighter was except for him.

As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, a mix of horror and amusement washed over him. He never thought he'd feel so violated by makeup. But somewhere amidst the frustration and embarrassment, a strange sense of camaraderie bubbled up. His brothers, usually his biggest tormentors, were doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down their faces. And you, the leader of this whole mess, were practically glowing with barely suppressed mirth.

Despite himself, a smile tugged at the corner of Luke's lips. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. Sure, he looked like a technicolor disaster, but the shared laughter, the fun, it felt strangely… good. He glanced at you, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Gods” he breathed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "This is the best day of your life, isn't it?"

You couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that filled the cabin. "Hell yeah it is" you replied as you offer him make up wipes.

v. the reconcile

Night had fallen, painting the sky with shimmering stars. The campfire illuminated the campers´ face, its flames dancing higher as the Apollo cabin filled the air with joyful camp songs. Laughter mingled with the strumming of guitars and lyres, creating a symphony of pure summer camp bliss.

The fire itself danced in response to the campers' emotions. It roared a little higher with every burst of laughter, dimmed momentarily during a quiet story, and flickered with a playful intensity as the Hermes boys, fueled by their mischievous exploits, recounted their version of the day's events.

You sat by the fire, poking a marshmallow with a stick, watching the scene unfold. Their narrative, of course, focused heavily on your supposed "torture" of Luke. Specially the Stoll brothers; they painted a picture of you as a ruthless makeup artist, a waxer who pealed Luke´s skin off and left his face shining like marble. Meanwhile, Luke simply sat there, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You noticed the Hermes boys regaling other campers with their story, punctuated by bursts of laughter. And yes, you didn´t like to admit it but, you'd lost the bet. Technically. But watching Luke handle their teasing with surprising grace, a hint of amusement in his eyes, filled you with a strange satisfaction.

You were there by yourself for a few more minutes. The camp sounds filling your ears as you tried your best not to stuff your face in all the toasted marshmallows your sisters offered you. Your hands felt tired, because yes, even though what you did was not too much for you to handle, Luke squirmed and behaved like a worm covered in salt, which only made your work harder.

Just then, a figure settled in front of you. Luke. He held two sticks, each crowned with a perfectly toasted marshmallow. He offered one to you, his usual smirk replaced by a genuine smile.

"Truce?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge.

You couldn't help but grin, accepting the marshmallow with a playful jab. "Truce"

He sat beside you, the marshmallow on his stick disappearing in one swift, hungry bite. Suddenly, you leaned in closer, feigning seriousness. "Oh dear" you said, your voice laced with mock concern.

Luke raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "What is it now?"

"You've got a blackhead. Right, there" you declared, pointing to a non-existent imperfection on his nose.

His eyes widened in mock horror. "No way! I´m not letting you touch my face again" He swatted at your hand playfully, but you were quicker.

"Hold still, you wriggly worm" you teased, pretending to grab his nose. A playful fight ensued, a flurry of limbs and laughter. You managed to land a swipe at his cheek with a gooey bit of marshmallow.

Finally, breathless with laughter, you both settled back down, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the quiet camaraderie. As you bit into your marshmallow, a comfortable silence settled between you.

"So, about that bet" he began, wiping his marshmallow-streaked hands on his cargo pants.

You turned to look at him, still chewing on another marshmallow and a piece of melted chocolate. "Yeah?"

"I don't want you to clean my cabin" he explained.

"Why not? I lost the bet" you replied, surprised by his sudden declaration.

He looked at the sky, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. "Yeah, but… We're kind of a mess, actually. I would feel bad if you did it alone."

"Aww, Castellan, are you worried about little ol' me?" you teased him, squeezing his cheek playfully. He blushed a deeper shade of red, looking positively flustered.

"Maybe" he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

"Okay, here's a deal" you continued, trying to cover your own blush. "I'll clean your cabin, but you have to help me. I really don't wanna get into dirty-underwear-business."

Luke considered this for a moment, then a grin spread across his face. "Deal. But I'm warning you, there might be some things you shouldn´t even try to touch with bare hands. And I mean Travis´ and Connor´s bunks”

From a distance, a group of campers — a mix of Hermes, Apollo, and Hephaestus cabins —watched your exchange with keen interest. The playful teasing, the way your hands brushed as you made your deal — it was all too much for their already overactive imaginations.

"I bet you fifteen bucks he's gonna ask her out by the end of the week" an Apollo camper, Lee, declared.

Chris snorted. "That's weak. Twenty bucks says he does it tonight."

hiiya, just thought I could write something different to what I usually do. hope you enjoyed <3 🩷

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #pjo series #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x reader #pjo x you #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x yn

1K notes · View notes

luci-in-trenchcoats · 2 months ago

Text

Liar, Liar

Summary: When the reader catches Dean in a big lie, she questions what the hell is going with her husband...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,100ish

Warnings: language, lying/angst, eventual fluff

A/N: Enjoy!

_________

“Sweetheart,” said Dean, standing over a frying pan, not glancing up when you wandered into the kitchen. “Dinner’s not ready yet.”

“I have writer’s block again,” you said, slumping into one of the barstools, resting your head on your arms.

“Quit for the day. You’re past working time anyways,” he said, holding up a spice shaker and sprinkling some in the pan.

“I wrote like half a page all day and it’s crap,” you said. “I think I’m all out of good ideas.”

“You better not be. I like being a trophy husband,” he teased.

“You are far from a trophy husband,” you said, lifting your head up, resting it in the palm of your hand. “You’re too smart for that.”

“Oh, I know it,” he said with a smirk. “I’m a genius, aren’t I?”

“Don’t push it, Einstein,” you said, Dean chuckling as he stirred the meat around. “Maybe I should quit and go back to an office job?”

“No way,” said Dean. “You were miserable.”

“I’m miserable now,” you said, Dean chuckling again.

“You’re in a rough patch,” said Dean. “Plus now, you get to wear sweatpants all the time.”

“Sweatpants are pretty great,” you said, Dean humming in agreement. “But I think I really might be out of ideas Dean.”

“You need a vacation,” he said. “Recharge yourself.”

“But you have work this week,” you said, Dean shrugging. “I don’t deserve a vacation.”

“Have a Staycation then. Just don’t go in your office. It’s not like you need to request time off from the boss,” he said, carrying the pan over to a few plates. “Take a week off. I’m sure the ideas will come back.”

“Can I go to work with you?” you asked.

“With me? Why?” he asked, dishing up the food, letting it cool off to the side.

“Your job is interesting,” you said.

“I’m a tax lawyer. Yes, my life is just riveting,” he said.

“Maybe I need to write a story about a tax lawyer. Maybe a thriller or a murder,” you said.

“No,” he said, pushing a plate in front of you.

“Please? Like one hour on your lunch break?” You asked, Dean’s face scrunching up.

“I said no,” he said, grumpily taking a seat beside you, stabbing into his dinner.

“Alright. Sorry I asked.”

You waved Dean goodbye the next morning, watching him pull out of the driveway and down the street. You tried to take his advice and ignore your office, settling for watching TV instead but by eleven you were already antsy.

You decided to surprise him at work, bring him in a nice lunch with his favorite sandwich. You’d driven by the building his office was in before but the place was huge and you were more than a little lost when you got to the reception area.

“Hi, is Golden and Bash law firm on this side of the building or the other?” you asked, the receptionist pointing you down a hall and through a pair of double doors.

The lobby was quite grand and you had to hide your laugh that your Dean worked in a place like this.

“Can I help you?” asked the woman behind the desk.

“Yeah, I’m here to see my husband. I brought him lunch,” you said, the woman offering a smile.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that. What’s his name? I can call him up to the desk,” she said.

“Winchester,” you said.

“I didn’t know little Sam was married,” she said, standing up with a wave. “He’s right-“

“Sorry, I meant Dean Winchester,” you said with a wince. “Sam’s my brother in law.”

“Miss we only have one Winchester in employment here. Sam Winchester. He started on Monday,” she said.

“That’s some kind of mistake,” you said, the receptionist looking back at her computer.

“No, it’s not,” she said, your head shaking.

“Can you take me to Sam? I need to speak to him. Now,” you said. She didn’t say another word as you followed her back to a small office, boxes all around.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” asked Sam. “Is something wrong?”

“Dean said he worked here,” you said quietly.

“What? No way. I just got this job and he definitely isn’t here,” said Sam. “He’s at Greenwich, isn’t he?”

“No. He said he got a new one here a month ago,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“He definitely doesn’t work here, Y/N,” said Sam.

“Then where has my husband been going all day, Sam? I know he gets a paycheck, insurance...what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know,” said Sam. “I have to finish up a couple things here but I’ll be over the house in an hour.”

“Thanks,” you said, tossing the sandwich in the trash. By the time you got home, the Impala was in the driveway, Dean wearing a big smile in the kitchen.

“Hey! I decided to come home for lunch,” said Dean, holding up a pair of wraps he must have picked up along the way.

“Really,” you said, Dean nodding his head.

“Super busy morning down there. Had to get out of there and see a friendly face,” he said.

“Busy at the firm?” You forced a fake smile, your blood boiling as he hummed.

“Oh yeah. You know how busy tax time of year is. Everyone freaking out,” said Dean.

“That’s interesting,” you said.

“What is?” asked Dean.

“Your super busy morning at the law firm...considering you don’t work at the law firm,” you growled. You saw Dean about to shake it off but he took one look at your face and knew he was screwed.

“How long have you known?” he asked quietly.

“Oh I have plenty of questions and I think-“

“How long?” asked Dean, your eyebrows raising.

“About twenty minutes. Now how about-“

“Does anyone else know?” he asked.

“Sam. Now-“

“I’m not a tax lawyer,” he said with a sigh, setting his wrap down on the plate. You scoffed, crossing your arms.

“No shit,” you said.

“I can’t tell you what I am,” said Dean. You cocked your head, Dean’s jaw clenching.

“Why the hell not?”

“It’ll…scare you.”

“Try me,” you said, getting in his face, Dean taking a deep breath.

“I’m a professor,” he said. You shook your head, holding up your hands.

“Okay? Why is that such a big secret?” you asked. Dean looked away, grimacing.

“At a…private school,” he said.

“Still not understanding the secret part,” you said.

“It’s a unique school,” said Dean.

“Is it fucking Hogwarts?” You scoffed. “Tell me the truth.”

“It’s called Hunters,” said Dean. You grit your teeth.

“You are this close to me walking out-“

“You want a divorce? Fine. Divorce me,” he said. You grabbed his shoulders, Dean’s gaze turning harsh.

“Dean, talk to me,” you said. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve said all I can,” he said.

“You being a teacher doesn’t scare me so what exactly is it you do at this school,” you said.

“You will never ask me about it again,” he said.

“Tell me the truth!”

“Hey,” said Sam, walking in through the front door, both your heads turning towards him. “I took care of the secretary.”

“Good,” said Dean, Sam barely looking at you.

“You killed-“

“No, he didn’t kill her,” said Dean with a sigh. “Just made her forget. Just like how you’re going to forget real soon.”

“Dean,” said Sam. “We can’t keep doing this every time you slip up.”

“I’m not telling her,” said Dean, grabbing your arm, pulling you over to the couch. “Just help me with this.”

“Dean, I don’t really think we’re solving the problem here,” said Sam, Dean forcing you to sit down.

“Thirty minutes of her life gone, she’ll think she took a nap,” said Dean, swallowing hard when you stared up at him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Do I even know you at all?” you asked, Sam crossing his arms off to the side. “Who are you?”

“Dean, just tell her,” said Sam. “I’m tired of hiding this.”

“I am not telling her all that crap,” said Dean. “I’m not gonna lose her over this.”

“You’re losing me already,” you said, Dean rubbing the back of his neck. “Tell me the truth.”

“I can’t!” said Dean, stepping away. “I have to protect you.”

“Tell me,” you growled.

“Sam, give it to me,” said Dean, holding out a hand.

“I didn’t bring it,” said Sam.

“You what?” asked Dean, eyes blinking rapidly.

“Didn’t bring it. I’m tired of making her forget. She’s your wife. Stop lying to her,” said Sam.

“Sammy, considering I’m the one that volunteered for this, you don’t get a say,” said Dean.

“I didn’t ask you to do that!” said Sam.

“I know. But I have to live with it so I get to choose how,” said Dean.

“What about Y/N’s choice? Does she not get one of those?” asked Sam.

“Apparently not,” you said, Dean running his hands over his face. “You know what. Forget it. If you don’t trust me enough to tell me whatever this is, fine. Don’t expect me to be here when you get home from your fake job.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, catching your arm when you stood up. “I trust you. I need you to trust me right now. I am not doing this to hurt you. The exact opposite really.”

“Then trust me that I can handle whatever this is,” you said.

“I can’t take it back after this. You’ll know and if you leave, I won’t make you forget again. I can’t if I know that’s how you really feel,” he said.

“Dean, trust me,” you said. He closed his eyes.

“I teach at a special school...our grandparents taught there and people before them. Someone from the family line always has to teach there after a certain age...once they have experience,” said Dean.

“Experience in what,” you said, Dean barely meeting your eye.

“Hunting…monsters,” mumbled Dean.

“You hunt monsters,” you said.

“Hunted. I haven’t been in five years. Not since I started teaching,” said Dean. “That’s right around when I met you.”

“Is that why you keep a shotgun full of salt under the bed?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“And the symbols on the subfloor when we put in the new hardwoods you said were just scratches,” you said, Dean nodding his head. “And the matching tattoo of yours you convinced me to get on my hip?”

“It means a demon can’t possess you,” said Dean. “I know, I’m nuts.”

“I think you were a dumbass for being scared to tell me but not nuts,” you said, Dean’s head snapping up. “You read my first book. The horror one that sold like two copies? Yeah, that might have happened to my dad for reals. At first I thought it was a scary story but he told me to be careful out in the world. So vampires are real, huh?”

“Yeah. A whole bunch of other stuff too,” said Dean quietly.

“Told you so,” said Sam, Dean ripping a pillow off the couch and chucking it at him. “If you’re not going to kill each other, I have to get back to work.”

“Are you really a lawyer?” you asked.

“Yeah. Dean kept me out of the family business so I wouldn’t have to deal with that stuff,” said Sam. “I’ll catch up with guys later.”

“So…” said Dean when it was just the two of you. “Are you still going to divorce me?”

“How many times did you make me forget?” you asked.

“Twice. I never gave you a chance to talk really before, just sort of did it as soon as you knew I lied,” he said. You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “You’re going to leave, aren’t you.”

“I would not advise lying to me again,” you said. “Or making me forget. Understand?”

“Yes,” he said. “You hate me though. For lying.”

“If I didn’t know you so well, I might. But I also know your head is twisted up with stuff I never pushed but hoped you knew you could come to me with. You beat yourself up enough. I don’t hate you. Be honest with me is all I ask,” you said.

“Okay,” said Dean, pausing a beat. “What do you want to know?”

_________

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester

374 notes · View notes

orshii · 6 months ago

Text

Did I cross the line?

➼Author: orshii

➼Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x female reader

➼Word count: 4 k

➼Summary: On Valentine's Day in Paris, a romantic trip with your boyfriend, takes a painful turn when unresolved feelings about his ex-girlfriend, who was once your best friend, resurface. Despite the love between you, the past threatens to tear you apart. Through heartfelt conversations, you confront your insecurities and reaffirm your commitment, realizing that to move forward, you must leave the past behind.

➼A/N: Well...here I am again with a Hongjoong drabble, and this little something was born because of Billie Eilish's new song. And it was completely inspired by it, so please please, listen to the song and pay attention to the lyrics so you will understand the story more. I just love it, it's such a beautiful song and I can't get it out of my mind...just as well Hongjoong haha...Anyway, I am not sure this is what I wanted, but this happened so enjoy! Byee...--also, sorry for any mistakes :'(... (divider)

Things fall apart, and time breaks your heart, but it also heals your soul, allowing you to feel like a normal human on this chaotic Earth. It's much harder when you're alone, but if you find someone who is always by your side and supports you unconditionally, you become unstoppable. Nothing can come your way when they are next to you and cheering for you on the side to chase your dreams. When you find the mate of your soul, you think nothing can stop you from now on.

Except... sometimes, despite everything, you grow farther apart because of a tiny reason, turning what was once promising into something that couldn’t bloom or burn with passion.

This is the reason why I am crying in a hotel room in Paris, the city of love on Valentine’s Day, with my heart broken into thousands of pieces. How ironic life can be. It's the day of love and I'm in the city of love, yet I never felt more disappointed in love ever. The broken pieces of my heart are cutting me from the inside, I want to scream from the pain, but I have never been quieter in my life, my voice got lost between the sharp pieces of my heart.

Our trip to the city of love started like a cliché straight from a romantic movie. We decided with my boyfriend, Hongjoong, that we were going to travel to Paris for a little break, as we both needed it, we were overwhelmed with work, and we barely saw each other. And Valentine's Day was a perfect excuse for both of us, to celebrate our love, that just started to bloom. Our relationship began six months ago, and it was a maze until we finally understood each other and found our way through the dark, complicated labyrinth of each other's hearts.

We wandered around the city with our hands interlaced, never letting go for even a minute. We felt locked together, forever. Throughout the day we visited a lot of museums and the typical sights of Paris, that being the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. When the both of us were on top of the Eiffel Tower, the wind was so strong up there, that we could barely see the city down there. The air was chilly, as it was mid-winter. The clouds were gone, and the snow had already melted away, leaving behind only the cold.

I stared at Hongjoong, my hair in my face, giggling as he took pictures of me. The photos came out blurry but full of happiness. The sun that slowly approached its lowest spread an orange blanket over the city, lighting it with all shades of orange. I looked next to me, where Hongjoong was smiling. I saw him in slow-motion, as he was looking down at the orange city, the sun's beams lighting his beautifully shaped face, his jawline sharp, his cheekbones high, his eyes in the shape of a crescent moon as he was smiling. The wind blew very slightly on his brown hair alongside his elegant black clothes.

And his smile... that was why I fell in love with him so deeply that I couldn't escape. His smile was so perfect and wide, full of humanity, with sincerity that immediately caught me off-guard because I didn't believe in the fact, that perfect humans on this Earth existed. But as soon as I saw him, I knew it was just a lie, because with time every human being finds their perfect mate for their soul, no matter if someone sees them as imperfect. For you, they are always going to be perfect.

After coming down from the tower, we wanted to do one last thing: put a padlock on the famous bridge where people place padlocks to symbolize their love, as the saying goes, 'Lasts until forever'. And as it was Valentine's Day and we were in the city of love, to make it cheesier we bought a red padlock to put it on the bridge.

"So did you enjoy yourself today?" Hongjoong asked looking at me with his adoringly beautiful smile, as we were walking towards the bridge.

"This was the happiest day of my life Hongjoong." I looked at him with loving eyes, tears almost appearing in my eyes as I was very overwhelmed by the fact of how much I loved him. "Thank you."

"Come here, my little bun." He pulled me by my hand that was interlaced with his and hugged me strongly I felt like he might break my bones, as we were at the end of the bridge. He pecked the top of my head and slowly separated from me, leaving little distance between us, just to cup my face into his warm hand. Chills ran through my body as I felt his warm hand on my cold and red face, he immediately warmed me up with only one slight touch.

"I love to see you happy." He said his voice a little childish as he was saying it adorably. He tugged my hair behind my air. "I'm happy if you are too."

"You are too cheesy, what happened to you?" I looked at him suspiciously.

He chuckled at that. "You happened; I can't help it." He slowly leaned closer to me and slightly pecked my lips with his. Then he looked at me and smiled like I was the only human being on Earth.

"So, it's my fault?" I whispered onto his lips, that still hovered over mine.

"Yes, it is." His eyes were on my lips, as he whispered the words sweetly.

Then he closed the distance again between our lips and kissed me more passionately, putting his heart into the kiss, giving it to me so I could keep it safely in my imaginary safe made out of unbreakable metal, but sometimes that metal can get infected and it can crack and that hurts. As I kissed him back my lips slowly moving against his, the world was gone around us, and I did the same with my heart, giving it to him, so he could keep my heart wherever he wanted to. I hoped our hearts belonged to the other and no one else.

"Let's put that silly padlock on." He said as we separated from the kiss, caressing my cold cheeks.

I just nodded and took his hand to lead him through the bridge's middle.

"It's nice to be back in here." He said as we were looking around, observing the padlocks people already left there.

"Have you been here before?" I asked him surprised with a frown.

Suddenly his expression changed, as we stopped in the middle of the bridge, people around us walking and smiling, the sky had already gone dark, and only the street lights showed the way.

"Well…yes." He scratched the back of his head, averting my eyes.

"I didn't know, when?" He acted strange all of a sudden and I didn’t know why.

"Last year—with… Hana." He slowly looked up, to see my reaction.

I gulped and my heart started to race quickly as I heard her name. I really wanted to stay calm it wasn't the time to argue again as he knew it was an uncomfortable topic between us.

I nodded barely visible. "I see…" I looked down on my hands. "And did you like—were here?" My voice came out strange, it lost its power as I pointed at the padlocks.

"Y—yes," Hongjoong said noticing as my expression changed very quickly. He stepped closer to me to hold my hands. I just looked down at our hands and then at the padlocks. "But it was in the past and you know it, Y/N. I want to do this with you." He reached his hands towards my face, but before he could touch it, I stopped him.

"Well, I don't want to anymore." My voice came out serious, my face looked hurt and disappointed. I stepped back, putting distance between us.

"C'mon, Y/N. You can't be serious." He stepped closer to me and I stepped back again on that. He scoffed at that. "Why can't you put it all behind you? It was a long time ago."

"Because she's everywhere I go, Hongjoong, anything I do with you has to do something with her." Tears started to well up in my eyes.

"It's not, you just made it up here," He pointed at his temple."…because you can't get over it, Y/N." He seemed upset as his voice got more serious.

I scoffed at that in disbelief. "So, now you think I'm crazy?"

It is very unpredictable how everything can change from heaven to hell.

"No, you are not crazy, but you definitely can't let go of the past and be in the present…with me." Hongjoong said running his fingers through his brown short hair.

"What can I do, when all the time I see her face, everywhere." I lifted my arms helplessly. "In our daily life, in our home…in your eyes." One tear slowly escaped my left eye.

"When will you understand she is nothing to me now?" He stepped closer to me, disappointment showing on his face. "When will you understand you are my everything? That I love you and no one else." His voice got lower, weaker.

"I know that you love me, you don't need to remind me like it's an obligation." I looked at him already feeling so far away from him.

Hongjoong scoffed at that. "What are you talking about?"

"You always sound like you have to assure me you love me." I looked down at the ground, where our shadows melted into each other. I just wanted to hide from him. "I am sure you love me. But…it's just a feeling I can't shake."

"You have no idea what are you talking about. Can't you get that you are my fucking world Y/N?" I felt as he stared at me with deadly eyes, growing more furious.

Stressed, I ran my fingers through my hair, tears streaming down my face. "But you aren't mine," I barely said out loud, knowing he could hear me.

I couldn't see his expression as he stood there in silence for a moment.

"You think so?" he asked, his voice calmer.

I just nodded, unable to look up.

He chuckled and came closer to me, his breath close to my face. "So, let's make it fair, then. Shall we?" His voice was like a threat. Then he grabbed the padlock from my hand and threw it away into the water. I stared at him, my eyes wide in shock. "I wanted to make you happy, to do cheesy things like this. But if you can't understand, let's just stop."

"I never wanted to fight," I mumbled.

"But we always do, Y/N." He lifted his eyebrows as he looked at me, disappointed. "It wasn't like this before."

"What do you mean?" I asked him, confused.

"I mean, when we started, it was nice. We were happy, no arguing. But you kept looking into my past and everything changed." He looked into my eyes, tired of the arguments.

"Because she was always there in the back of my mind." I sniffled and wiped away a tear.

"She isn't now. But you can't see it." He shook his head slightly.

"Honestly…I don't know if I can be with someone who can't let go of the past…" I snapped my head up at that, his face was nothing but serious without any emotions. My heart started to race more quickly than before.

"Hongjoong…" I stepped closer to him with regret on my face.

"No." Now he was the one who stepped back, and my heart started to crack. "I am tired of this, you have to let go of our past and be present completely, not only with half of your heart." He said those words like it was venom and it flew right into my lungs poisoning it so I couldn't breathe anymore.

"We will talk when you finally manage to do that." He put his hands into his pockets and just passed by me like we suddenly became two strangers, leaving me there on the bridge where we could've locked our love forever, he left me with a heart suddenly broken into millions of pieces.

Did I cross the line?

The thing is Hana was Hongjoong's ex-girlfriend and my best friend.

My best friend and Hongjoong got together three years ago and broke up last summer. And it wasn't particularly because of me, well I played a little part in that as well, but they just always argued about little annoying things and I was the one who reconciled them. I'm not sure when it happened, but the more I was hanging out with my best friend and her boyfriend the more I felt something wasn't right. I started to feel something towards Hongjoong and I knew it wasn’t right so I quickly buried it deep down into my soul, so no one would know it.

I watched them through these years when they were arguing and when they hated each other, but they always made up at the end of the day and everyone was happy.

Not until one day, Hongjoong found out Hana cheated on him. That day was a disaster because the more time I spent with Hongjoong, the closer I grew to him. I considered him a friend and liked him. I could talk about things with him, that I didn’t even tell my best friend. It was hard to take sides, to be honest, it was cruel of my best friend but at the same time she was my best friend and I needed to be by her side. She was crying on my shoulder even though she fucked all of this up. Slowly, Hongjoong walked out of our lives, and it didn't feel right for some reason. Not seeing him every day, not knowing what he was doing, made my heart ache for some reason and I was so confused.

Not until July.

We accidentally ended up at the same event connected to our work and started talking. We talked, but like we just met, like we didn't know each other before like Hana didn't even exist. I felt guilty of course but sometimes people have to be selfish, for their own sake. We had a deep connection with Hongjoong and I didn't want to let it go. I just couldn't.

From then on, we grew closer to each other, and got to know each other. And one night, Hana saw us, of course, I didn't tell her about Hongjoong, that we were talking. And of course, the universe loved us and Hana saw us exactly that summer night when Hongjoong kissed me for the first time. When he kissed me, I felt like I was finally complete, like I found the missing piece of my lost soul. But when I saw Hana's face, my soul immediately burnt into specks of dust.

Until then, all I could see was her face when he saw us, the hatred in her eyes, that I could understand. I haven't see her since then, but she lives in my head rent-free. I hated myself because this was the cruelest thing a best friend could do. But I stayed selfish and chose Hongjoong because he made me happy and made me feel alive.

And now I fucked up everything because I can't get through our past. What happened is happened, but when he touches me all I can think of is how she felt, I always compare myself to her.

As I was standing on the bridge and trying to somehow organize my thoughts, I just started to walk in the city that was full of couples and happy people. The city was alive, restaurants were open, and people were celebrating, and laughing together. Yet, I was there walking past them with my eyes crying out, slowly losing myself in the dark. When I passed by a lucky charm seller, the old lady beckoned me to go there. I frowned as I slowly approached her.

"My daughter, you look sad, did somebody break your heart?" She asked me putting his hands on my shoulders.

I nodded tears appearing in my eyes again. "But… it was my fault…so I deserve it." My voice came out weak.

"No one deserves a broken heart, sweet girl." She slowly wiped off my tears. "These lucky charms will tell you what to do, I am sure." She pointed at the little papers with green trefoils on them.

I just shrugged, I didn't believe in these things, but at least I could make someone happy by buying one. I chose one randomly and paid for it, thanking the lady.

"And don’t forget, sometimes before loving someone else, we have to learn how to love and how to receive it." She smiled at me and let me keep going.

I put the lucky charm in my pocket, not even bothering to read it, and walked forward without any destination. All I could think about was Hongjoong and how much I fucked up. It was a perfect day…why did I have to fuck it up? As I walked next to the river my palm was itching in my pocket so I stopped to read the paper. I slowly opened the decorated paper.

"I fell in love with you because you loved me when I couldn't love myself.

And then you realize it was all real."

I read the lines with my heart slowly warming up and pumping quicker. I never believed in things like these, but these lines hit me hard in the chest just so I could realize how stupid I was, how stupid I was to think Hongjoong didn't love me. I mentally face-palmed myself and tried to stop myself from jumping straight into the cold river and turned around just to run back to our hotel, hoping Hongjoong was going to be there.

Hongjoong wasn't there and he will never come back. He will never come back, because I made myself believe he had anything to do with Hana and that he always compared me to her. But the truth is I compared myself to her and it made my brain a fool, so I believed every cruel thing it whispered to me.

I collapsed on the bed, hugged myself and here I was, crying my soul out with a broken heart, on Valentine's Day, in the city of love.

Hours or just minutes passed by, and I lost track of time when I heard the door closing. I opened my eyes quickly; I was facing the door to our room laying on my right side. Hongjoong slowly stepped inside and took off his winter coat his eyes on me the whole time. I couldn't tell what was he thinking.

I sat up as he approached me and sat on the bed, just to cup my cried-out face into his, now cold, hands.

He leaned his forehead against mine as he whispered. "Oh, my little bun. You make my heart break, seeing you like this."

Probably I looked like hell, my eyes red, my cheeks puffy, my make-up smashed from crying.

I slowly held his wrists that cupped my face. "Hongjoong I—" Tears found their way out again; I didn't understand how I hadn't dried out by now. I started to sob.

"I'm sorry, my love, I shouldn't have talked to you like that." He hugged me, his fingers running through my hair, trying to calm me down.

I slowly lifted my head from his chest. "No, you were right, Hongjoong." Words could finally leave my mouth. "I was living in the past, that hurt me, but at the same time healed me…you healed me. I was so broken, but you managed to glue together the pieces of me. But this Hana thing just hunted me and I couldn't run away it’s like she cursed me just so I could feel his revenge." I looked down at my hands sniffing.

Then I looked into his eyes and the mate of my soul looked at me like I was the most vulnerable creature on Earth. And that was the moment I got reassured about everything.

"I'm so sorry for making you feel like it was all your fault when it was just my fucked-up mind. You are my everything Hongjoong, and I couldn't spend even a minute without you in my life. Please, don't leave me…" My tears flew down my cheeks endlessly.

He sighed and slowly reached for my hands, holding them like a treasure. "You are a fool if you think it is an obligation for me to say I love you. I say it because I mean it with all my heart, and to let you know that Hana is in the past you know I never really loved her. Not like I love you. You are my partner in life, my future and I never want to let you go." He wiped my tears away as his eyes watered and a little teardrop escaped his eye. I immediately wiped it away, not wanting to see him cry because of me. Ever.

"I love you so-so much!" I whispered weakly as I cupped his face.

"I love you endlessly, bun." He smiled at me adoringly, his smile that cured everything inside me and his lips on mine that slowly put the broken pieces of my heart into its place, my heart being whole again, in one piece, just so I could give it to him, into his hands to do whatever he wanted to it, because I just belonged to him and he belonged to me.

He kissed me slowly, like never before, his soft lips moving along mine leaving a sweet taste behind. I slowly crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. His hands found their place on my waist like they belonged there and squeezed it like he never wanted to let me go. Our kiss got more hotter as I parted my lips letting his tongue inside, discovering every hidden place of my mouth, like he wanted to taste every inch of me. My hands crawled into his hair squeezing it as a moan left his mouth. His hands slowly got their way under my clothes, running his fingers up and down my back, like he couldn't get enough of me.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N." He whispered onto my lips between hot kisses. He looked at me like he couldn't believe his eyes. "You are my beautiful girl." His lips traced over mine as he firmly bit my lower lip.

I chuckled at that, as he quickly flipped us over and he hovered above me, supporting himself with his hands on both sides of my head and he just looked at me. I got impatient and quickly lifted my head so I could kiss him, but he pushed me back to the bed and kissed me harshly, my body felt hot, and I felt like I could burn alive.

Everywhere he touched me burned my skin down to my bones. But I didn’t care because I knew he was the love of my life, that one person who was always beside me and supported me no matter what. The past needs to be locked in the past and the present needs to be lived just so I can build a strong future alongside the emotions I feel, alongside Hongjoong, now, on Valentine's Day and in the city of love, Paris.

187 notes · View notes

uzuitengensfourthwife · 5 months ago

Text

Home - Atsumu x reader (fem reader)

You dated in Highschool, but broke up after Atsumu lost against Karasuno. 6 years later, you meet again.

Warnings: bit angsty, otherwise none! Just fluff hihi.

Word-count: 2411

Author’s note: Well hi there! I’m back from the dead. So….. i haven’t written sth in a long time so I apologise in advance if it’s badly written or contains tons of mistakes! But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

---

Atsumu never made life easier for you. Back in Highschool, when you two dated, the girls always gave you dirty looks whenever Atsumu and you walked down the hall, hand in hand. But it only worsened over time. The longer you dated Atsumu, the worse his fangirls acted towards you. Insults were thrown at you, judging looks were shared whenever you walked past them and even shoving you out of the way whenever they felt like it.

What you regret most, was stopping with your hobby to become Inarizaki's manager, of course upon Atsumu's request. You were once a very talented ice skater, but due to your relationship with Atsumu, you had stopped.

But even though all of this had hurt you, you stayed for him. His love towards you was so pure, he made sure to let you know he loved you. He was never too busy to not see you, even if it meant he had to sneak out his house to meet you at your place late at night.

However, that changed as well after Inarizaki lost against Karasuno. The once long nights you spent together, were suddenly spent alone. The Atsumu that once made sure to squeeze you in whenever, was suddenly long gone. His ego was more than hurt after this match, you remember it so well. He pushed you away even weeks after that match, he barely saw you and during practice nothing more than a little kiss was placed on your cheek, followed by a half assed "Sorry, love".

And when summer came, you've had enough. You've spent months alone. So you've asked Atsumu to meet up with you in front of the Convenience store you've usually hung out in during late nights. Surprisingly, he agreed to meet you at 4 p.m.

You waited patiently, well aware of the fact that he'd be running late. 15 minutes later he then appeared, still in his gym clothes.

"Hey love, how ya doing?" he pulled you in a hug, squeezing you tightly. "I'm fine 'tsumu.., how bout you?" you hugged back, knowing well this would be your last hug. "Ya know, good als always." He smiled as he let go of you again. However, his smile faded upon seeing you nervously fiddling around with your hands. He raises an eyebrow. "What's wrong with ya? Yer nervous as hell."

You sigh loudly, trying to keep yourself from crying. "I.... I think we should break up." - "Yer not serious, right?" He's staring you down, his eyes clearly showing that he hoped for it to be just a silly joke. "I'm very serious Atsumu. I'm moving to Tokyo next week and you need to concentrate on your career anyway." He laughs out loud, he's not believing you one bit. "I've already talked about it with Kita and Suna. They're well aware of this." - " Tokyo or not, we'll still be able to date." You shake your head. God, you should've known this would happen. "No, Atsumu we can't." - " But we haven't even tried yet. How would ya know we wouldn't make it?" He said, his pleading eyes trying to read you. "We're done Atsumu Miya." And with that you turned away and just ran. You ran away from him and the fact you still loved him very dearly.

----

6 years. It had been 6 years since you've moved to Tokyo. You've only kept contact with Suna and Kita, both of them still texting you regularly. Suna himself even moved to Tokyo, after joining a Volleyball Club within Tokyo, which led to you both meeting up regularly.

Outside of meeting your friends in your free time, you were working. A well paid job within a law firm and a nice apartment, which was close to Shinjuku. You were leading quite the normal life.

Until Suna asked you to join him at a party on a random Friday.

"You free after work?"

"Yeah I am Rin, why?"

"There is a party in Shinjuku, wanna join?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes :) I'll pick you up at 8 p.m."

And with that, you knew you had no choice but to join Suna Rintarou to this party. You yourself weren't really into parties, however Suna always dragged you to go with him, since he didn't want to go alone.

So when you came back from work at 7 p.m. you took a quick shower and made sure you got ready by 8 p.m. And on 8 p.m. your doorbell rang, so you quickly grabbed your purse and ran to the door to open it. "Ready to go?" - " Good Evening to you too Rin, and yes, let me just put my shoes on!" you chuckle, grabbing your pretty black high heels. "I'm warning you, I'm NOT going to switch shoes with you again." - " Yeah yeah, don't worry. I'm not planing on staying for long anyway." He raises an eyebrow und holds your purse so you can put on your heels. Once you're finally ready, you take back your purse and both of you make your way towards the subway.

On the way to the club, both of you exchanged about your day. You exchanged some laughter and without really realizing, you had already arrived at the subway station. Within 10 minutes you had already made it to the doors of the club.

As you wanted to get in line, Suna grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the VIP entrance. And wishing seconds you were inside the club, marked as VIP guests with a wristband. "I keep forgetting you're quite the star within the Volleyball scene." He grins at you as the loud music surrounds you both. Without even telling you, he starts dragging you towards a lounge, solely reserved for VIP's. As you were let in, he starts looking around frantically.

You nudge him, letting him now you want to say something. He bends down, putting his ear towards your lips. "Looking for someone?" - "Yeah." he answers immediately. You thought it was just the two of you, however it turns out that he was dragging you to meet some friends of his with you.

Suna then seemed to have spotted the people he was looking for, which led to him dragging you towards a table with a few seats. They all greeted him with big grins. But before you could say anything, he pushed you forward, so you were able to see who was really sitting there. You greet them all kindly with a little bow, before your eyes met with dark brown eyes that you knew too well. Your smile immediately vanished.

It was none other than Atsumu Miya.

You froze in place, not really sure what to say. It has been 6 years since you've last seen Atsumu. This must've been some bad joke, you thought. Yes of course, Suna was trying to pull a mean joke on you, nothing else.

"You okay?" One of Suna's friends asked, pulling you back into the harsh reality. "Uh.. yeah!" You put on a forced smile, trying to hide behind Suna, but before you could do so, he disappeared to get all of you some drinks. Without any other choice left, you sit down as far away from Atsumu as possible. "I'm Bokuto!" One of Suna’s friends says. He was quite big and had a very well built body. His big eyes looked at you, while he flashed you a grin. "I'm Y/N." you answered, smiling slightly. The others also introduced themselves. So Sunas friends were called, Bokuto, Hinata, Kageyama and Wakatoshi, and turns out they were all part of the Japanese national teams.

"I'm Atsumu. 'Tsumu for short." Atsumu said, shooting you a quick but forced smile. He was pretending to not know you.

Before any of this could get more awkward, Suna appeared with some drinks for everyone. Everyone grabbed a drink and that's when the conversations started to strike. Since it was your first time meeting them, besides Atsumu, you just sat there quietly listening here and there.

"What do you do for work?" Wakatoshi suddenly asked, looking at you quietly. "I'm a Lawyer!" you answered , smiling proudly of your profession. "Woahhh! No way!" Bokuto exclaimed excitedly while slapping Suna's back harshly. You chuckle lightly at Suna's slightly annoyed face. Atsumu looked at you, slightly amazed.

The conversations continued and you kept listening to them all. You definitely enjoyed your time there. Yet, after some time you just needed to get a drink by yourself at the bar, but to still be polite you asked everyone if they wanted a drink at the bar as well. They refused, so you made your way to the bar and sat down on a stool to order a drink.

However, you were disturbed by a male presence next to you. It was a man that seemed quite drunk. "Hey there cutie..." He smirked, watching you up and down. You just shook your head and ignored him. Giving him attention would only fuel his ego. Yet, ignoring him was not enough. He leaned closer towards you. "Oh come on... don't ignore me princess..." He groaned, totally frustrated. Glaring at him, you got up to see if there was another seat possible, but he grabbed you by your wrist. "Let go." you said. "Beg." He grinned disgustingly. You were aware, that he had no good intention with you.

Before anything could happen, someone appeared behind you. The presence strong and dangerous. "She said let go." Atsumu's voice rang in your ear. The man instantly let go, mumbling something incoherent. You looked up at Atsumu, who was watching the man disappear amidst the people. "Ya should be careful, ya know?" He said, sitting down where the man sat before. He watched you quietly, before nodding towards the seat, indicating for you to sit down next to him. And so you did.

Atsumu ordered you both a drink. You decided to stay quiet, not sure how to even talk to him after all that happened between the two of you. On top of that, you never talked again after the break up.

"How have ya been?" He asked you, breaking the silence. "Been well... what about you?" Nodding at your question he answers "Can't complain, 'm part of the national team after all." - " Congrats, by the way." you said, smiling sincerely this time. "Thanks." he replies, handing you your drink. You take a sip, making a face as you taste the strong alcohol within the drink.

He chuckles lightly, observing you from the side. "M glad Suna made me come today." He suddenly said, looking at his drink. " It feels good knowing yer doing well." His words took you by surprise. You were expecting everything but this.

Atsumu slightly smiled to himself, while taking a sip from his drink. "Atsumu..." - " I've thought of ya every day... just wishing ya would be doing well." He turns back to you with a big grin. " Ya should be thanking me!" This was all an act. You've known him long enough to know that something inside of him hurt.

"How 'bout we get some fresh air?"

And suddenly you both were sat outside, barely covered up in midst of the cold autumn night. You tried to warm yourself up by rubbing your arms, but it barely helped. "Here." He said, while wrapping his Jacket around you. "No, you'll be cold yourself." You say, taking off his jacket, but he immediately reacted wrapping it around you again. "Such a gentleman." you chuckle, wrapping his jacket around you tighter.

Like. every other night, Shinjuku was lively. Lots of people were walking past you, enjoying the night for the time being. You watched the people passing by, while holding on to Atsumu's jacket. "You've really become even prettier." You turn your head to him with flushed cheeks, you weren't sure whether it was because of the cold air or him.

"I.... I'm sorry for what happened 'Tsumu." You said quietly, looking at the ground. You were ashamed at how everything ended back then. "Don't apologize. It was my fault... I.. I was an asshole." He stuttered. "I shouldn't have pushed you away. I was just.... broken I suppose." - " I know Atsumu..." You whispered, sliding closer to him. "I was an asshole too. I should've tried to talk to you before even making such a harsh decision."

He shakes his head. "No..it was best for ya. See how successful you've become without me?" - "I would've been happier if you were with me." You didn't even mutter. It was the truth after all. Yes, you were successful but you were more than sure that you would have been happier on this journey if he would have been part of your life. But you had cut him out of it, out of stupidity.

He looked at you surprised. You knew he didn't expect an answer like this from you. But it was the harsh truth, even to you. "I never stopped loving you Atsumu. I was just... scared. Scared you'd leave me if I had said anything. I was scared of conflict." His eyes widened in shock while you tried to stop yourself from crying. It didn't work. Suddenly tears streamed down your face.

Atsumu immediately pulled you into a hug. "God no.... I would've never left ya love...!" He whispered while pulling you closer. You've never felt better before, it felt like you were home again. You've found your home within Atsumu again.

"I... I still love ya... and never stopped loving ya while ya were gone.. Ask 'Samu, he's heard all about it.. " he joked, laughing slightly while rubbing your back in a calming manner. A chuckle escape your lips.

You felt inner peace, as if you've been lost for an eternity and then finally finding back home. Your home was Atsumu and nothing else mattered to you at the moment.

You pulled away slightly, looking up at him. His cheeks were red and before you could make a funny remark, he placed a sweet but quick kiss on your lips.

"I see you two lovebirds have made up, hmm?" Suna was leaning against a wall, watching them with a big smirk on his face. "Oh shut up Rintarou!"

You were more than thankful that Rintarou dragged you here, if he hadn't, you wouldn't have found your home again.

#atsumu scenarios #atsumu angst #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #hq atsumu #msby atsumu #atsumu miya #atsumu fluff #miya twins #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader

289 notes · View notes

mx-pastelwriting · 6 months ago

Text

Redamancy

Lee Russell x GN! Reader

Summary: Standing up for Lee against his sisters.

Warnings: Slight Fluff, Established Relationship, LOTS of Confrontation, Yelling, Married to Lee, Slight Angst, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Heated Kiss, Mention of Lee being turned on

Wiping away the fuzz of the morning from your eyes while stomping down the steps, annoyance built from the banging on the front door. Having left Lee to sleep in on his day off, leaving you with an almost giddy feeling of getting to yell at your porch guest.

Taking notice of the two silhouettes through the frosty French door windows before swinging open the door, ready to unleash hell. "What!" you say angrily, not ready to yell just yet, looking at the two women who stood on the porch who looked more annoyed than you.

"Does Lee live here?" one said, but the other cut in, "Of course he does." The comment was not clearly meant for you, as she pushed past you.

"Lee, get your ass down here!" She yelled with the other following in, "What the fuck!?" you say, turning to watch them stare at the stairs. Watching as Lee flew down the steps, looking confused and scared while still putting on his shirt.

"Look at you, a fucking mess," she says, laughing, causing the other to do the same. "I'm sorry, I don't know they were coming." He says to you first, then turning to them, "Why are you here?" he asks, making them laugh harder.

"You're lucky we even came out here, Lee," one says before the other chimes in. "We're staying here for a few days; mom's watching the kids, so we need a break," she says, looking around in disgust. "Don't be rude, Lee. Introduce us," the other says, arms crossed.

Taking a deep breath with an extended arm to your back, he introduced the two who welcomed themselves into your shared home: "These are my sisters, Lacey and Lynn," pointing to the both of them. Lacey being the one who pushed past you earlier.

"Where's the guest rooms?" Lynn said walking to the stairs, pushing past Lee. "No," you said, causing all of their heads to snap in your direction. "You're not staying here," you say, laughing lightly at the ridiculousness, yet they turn to Lee. "Look at you—no balls, no calls, no emails, not even welcoming us in." Lacey starts seeing real fear fall on Lee's face, breaking your heart.

"ENOUGH!" You yell, making them turn to you once again, "Get the fuck out of our house!" seeing as fear lay on all of their faces. "I did not wake up in the crack of fucking dawn just to hear two strangers bitch and moan at my husband!" Continuing your unleashing of hell watching as the two step back from it.

Your rant didn't stop one of them from turning to Lee. "Nuh uh, don't even fucking look at him," you warn before yelling once more "OUT!" watching as they rush out of the house.

Keeping up with them, sadly having missed them with the door, you slammed it shut, then locked it, taking a few breaths to calm down before looking over to Lee, stunned by the events that just unfolded, his hazel eyes staring at you.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly while rushing over to him. "Yeah," he says breathy, "No wonder you never told me about-" cutting you off as his lips smashed against yours, quickly feeling your back hit the wall. Breaking the kiss, allowing you both to catch your breaths, "I fucking love you," he says, voice deep while pushing against you, feeling just how much he loves you for defending his mere existence.

A/N: I wrote, proofread, and edited this while having double vision. Hope you enjoyed!

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @danveration

#lee russell x reader #lee russell x you #lee russell #vice principals #lee russell fic

159 notes · View notes

barcaatthemoon · 7 months ago

Text

lonely nights || leila ouahabi x reader ||

you let leila back in again for a night.

leila's hands knocked quickly and quietly against your front door. if it wasn't for her texting you earlier, she wouldn't have even thought to come over. you hadn't answered her, but she could see that you read each of her messages. that meant you had to be awake, which also meant that leila had a chance of seeing you.

she hadn't considered that someone else might have come over. not until a man opened up the door instead of you. you were still living here, trapped by your lease. a flare of jealousy shot through leila before she remembered the fact that you didn't date men.

"who are you?" leila asked, extremely accusatory. this man was bigger than her, but she was now prepared to fight for you. she had made the mistake of not doing so before, and it resulted in a broken team and two shattered hearts.

"ian," he answered curtly. his voice was gruff, complimenting his rugged look. leila didn't recognize him, so she doubted that he was a soccer player. however, it was obvious that he was an athlete.

"ian, who is it?" you asked as you stepped into leila's view. for a moment, ian was blocking her from you, but once you saw her, you let out a little squeak. "what are you doing here?"

"i saw that you were up. i miss you, please let me come in," leila pleaded with you. ian glanced between the two of you, ready to push leila away at the first sign of a fight. you had called him over to stop you from letting her back in, something that nobody else had succeeded in yet. "please, mi vida."

"leila, we can't keep doing this. both of us have to move on. don't you have alanna?" leila shook her head at this as she stepped forward. ian did step in, pushing her back a bit. "it's not what you think. she does not want me, um, kept?"

"i thought you wanted casual again leila, you told me that you missed it," you reminded her. leila's head fell as she slumped against your doorframe. "it's starting to feel a lot like you're trying to rope me into casual."

"no, no! i want you to keep me." leila had never been so quick to tears. "i want you to keep me and never let me go. please don't make me go, i want to stay."

"fine," you sighed. you turned towards ian, who seemed to understand his part now. he left, locking up your apartment behind him as you guided leila inside. unlike the times before, she pulled you into a tight embrace instead of going straight for the kiss.

"thank you," leila mumbled against your skin. she repeated herself again and again until you kissed her. it did the trick in keeping her quiet. the groveling made you a little uncomfortable, like she was trying to convince you of something despite already being let inside.

leila let you keep control of the kiss as the two of you moved through your apartment. for a moment, you believed that she really was just there to see you again. leila cuddled up next to you in bed, which was when you felt her fingers begin to drift a little bit. it was subtle at first, but then you couldn't ignore the way they dipped beneath the elastic band on your underwear.

"leila, what is this? what are you doing? can't you stay for one night without fucking me?" you asked her. leila shifted so that she was hovering over your body. the redness from her eyes was gone, replaced by the darkened look of lust. you sighed, knowing that you had been played again.

"i can't just lay here with your body pressed against me and behave myself, mi amor. you don't have to do anything, i just want to feel your skin beneath my fingers. i want to taste you on my tongue, please." leila pouted as she stared down at you. you hated how easily leila managed to break down your walls. "please."

you sighed as you grabbed leila's face, pulling her down for a kiss. neither one of you tried to move slowly, leila's hips pushing forward to grind against you. your mouth fell open as you let out a small gasp. leila slipped her tongue past your parted lips, hungrily lapping at the inside of your mouth so that she could taste some part of you on her tongue.

leila ignored the whine that escaped from your lips as she pulled away from you. you felt her hand push your head to the side, opening up your neck for her to pick a spot. leila always went to the same place, the little ticklish spot right above your shoulder. your united teammates always knew whenever you and leila had gotten together because there was always a mark on that patch of skin.

"i love the sounds you make," leila complimented you. you felt your body heat up along with your cheeks from the attention. she knew exactly how to work you up with praise and some less than subtle touches.

you didn't miss the way that her thumbs brushed over your nipples through your shirt. leila knew that you didn't ever really wear much to bed, so she made quick work of pushing you to take off your clothes. she'd let her fingers tease you until you were tugging everything off on your own. it was infuriating sometimes, but leila had her reasons.

"leila, please. please, i need you. i need you to touch me, fuck me," you begged her. leila's focus was momentarily broken as she stared off in your direction. it had been a long time since she had heard you beg, things usually progressed quicker than this. still, leila acted quickly as she pushed herself away from your chest to lay in between your legs.

"what do you want from me, hmm? do you want my fingers?" leila grazed her fingers over your cunt. you watched closely as she dropped her head down and spread your lips with her tongue. "or my mouth?"

"fuck, i don't know. can i have both?" your head felt so clouded already. leila smirked as she nodded her head, dropping a kiss to the inside of your thigh before she spread you open with her fingers. leila licked her lips as she took you in, making you feel absolutely filthy in a way that you didn't completely mind.

leila started with her fingers, teasing you until you were literally dripping. your chest was heaving with each breath that you tried to suck in. leila moved her hands up onto your stomach, arms pinning down your hips as she finally placed her mouth on your cunt.

you could feel the vibrations from her moans as she tasted you. leila was a very dramatic lover, something that you had come to love during your time spent together. it was like literally everything that you did gave her pleasure in some way, shape, or form. she could go an entire night without being touched, but have spent half the night moaning like she was cumming.

"leila, i want you to hold me," you told her. she lifted her head, obviously a little taken aback by your request. leila knew exactly what you wanted. she hadn't offered it since the breakup, nor had you asked for it.

leila was a bit sheepish, but she lifted herself up and laid next to you. she hooked her leg around one of yours, keeping your thighs spread as her fingers made their way in between your legs. this time, her thumb moved to rub over your clit gently as she pushed one of her fingers inside of you.

"d-do you want me to kiss you?" leila asked hesitantly. you forced the frown from your face as you shook your head. you didn't like how she was suddenly hesitant about being in your bed the moment that you asked her for something a little different. leila had never had a problem kissing you while she got to fuck you before, and you wondered for a moment if maybe she was having feelings.

you didn't have a chance to ask her as another one of her fingers entered you. leila seemed to be pushing you harder now, trying to get you to cum. leila kept her focus on what her hand was doing, completely ignoring the way that you clutched at her other hand to ground yourself.

"scream my fucking name. i want to hear it," leila whispered dangerously in your ear. your body was already shaking, and if it wasn't for her leg hooked around yours, your thighs would be squeezed shut around her hand. leila kept her fingers going as she tried to coax her name out of you.

"stop, please," you pleaded with her. leila withdrew instantly, not wanting to cross a line with you physically. she had always been afraid of that with you, claiming that she was leagues ahead of you in strength. you had indulged her in agreeing that she was stronger, but you didn't agree with how much.

"i'm sorry," leila apologized as she stared at you. she was at a loss about helping you. there had once been a time whenever she had known exactly what you needed, but leila had forced herself to forget everything. it was supposed to help her get over you quicker, but leila kept finding herself back at your place when hers felt too lonely. "i have to go."

"no, you don't," you told her. it was too late though, and leila seemingly disappeared into the night on you once again. "i just want you to stay."

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso smut #leila ouahabi imagine #leila ouahabi x reader #leila ouahabi smut

239 notes · View notes

heartofsol · 3 months ago

Text

Elise & the Duke

Elise's relationship with her father isn't discussed very much. I think it's actually one of the most interesting aspects about 06.

In a flashback, he's shown telling a young Elise "Don't cry" and "Become a strong queen who doesn't cry no matter what happens" in response to her grieving over her mother's death, which is...not great. A child should be allowed to grieve over their deceased parent. Although the Duke means well and says this because he genuinely believes strong leaders never cry (which is far from the truth), that doesn't make what he's doing okay. It doesn't matter that he's saying it in a soft and gentle tone, either. To a child, it's likely gonna seem like a dismissal of their feelings (which it is). This also shows that he was telling Elise to never cry before he used her as a vessel to seal Iblis.

Another thing I find interesting is that Elise says "I understand everything my parents said to me now." It could imply that Elise's mother held the same sentiment as the Duke, but we don't know for sure.

Now, onto the Solaris Project. Some time before the project began, the Duke told Elise that Solaris' power would allow them to travel through time and rectify past mistakes. The main reason the Duke began the project was so Elise could see her late mother again. Once again, good intentions, but the Duke experimenting with supernatural forces beyond his understanding cost him his life and hurt many people, perhaps his daughter most of all.

So long story short, the project goes wrong and the Duke is fatally wounded in an explosion but shortly before his death, he sealed the Flames of Disaster in Elise and pretty much left her clean up his mess. She was cursed to never shed a single tear, had to rule an entire kingdom at a young age, is relentlessly pursued and kidnapped by a madman who wants to harness her power, and when she makes a single friend, he gets murdered right before her eyes by the creature that her father experimented on all those years ago. Elise is suffering the consequences for her father's actions.

And how does Elise feel about her father after all this? She still loves him deeply. She doesn't express any anger towards him or angst about the way he treated her, or that he inadvertently caused her suffering, even though she has every right to do so. You get the sense that she doesn't realize her father's "love" was actually quite abusive, which is just really tragic. At the start of the game, Elise lacks confidence, is unsure of what she can do in her situation, and even blames herself for the things that are happening. Her attitude gradually changes when she meets Sonic, who encourages her to be more proactive and truly enjoy life instead of being restricted by her role as a princess.

Yet people get on Elise's case for breaking down once at the tail end of the game over the fact that she'd lose the memories of her only friend and would be separated from him?

Elise doesn't mean what she said in this moment, and blows out Solaris' flame to save the world seconds later. She had to bottle up her emotions for a decade and now has to say goodbye to the person whom she grew to love over the course of their adventure. Her reaction here is more than justified.

Elise is such a good character 🤍

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic series #princess elise #sonic 06 #sonic 2006 #sonic next gen #The Duke of Soleanna #Duke of Soleanna #sonic analysis #my posts #Princess Elise positivity

68 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 11 months ago

Text

Sinful Lust | ch 5 (myg & jjk)

☆summary: On a rainy night in May, everything is bound to break. Hearts that once beat as one, now break in time with the tide. What will be left in the end?

☆pairing: bisexual boyfriend!Yoongi x female!reader x Jungkook

☆rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

☆genre: mostly angst, smut, snippets of life!au

☆warnings: mentions of what happened between Jungkook and OC in ch 4, cheating, cursing, momentary trip to the hospital, mentions of bullying and getting beaten up, mentions of alcoholic parent, mentions of domestic abuse, explicit content: protected sex in a semi-public environment, fingering, squirting, anal sex, car sex

☆word count: 8.3k

☆a/n: This one is really sad. We learn more about Jungkook's past, and we see everything crashing down. Please don't hate me for this :') Annnnd thank you @moonleeai as always for beta-ing this fic <3

☆a/n pt2: I do not own BTS or any of the members. I do not know what they are like irl (I do not claim to know their personalities, sexual orientations, beliefs, etc.). This fic is just a work of fiction, so please keep that in mind while reading

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

May is rainy. You watch the world outside – it’s turned grey weeks ago, and the sun has yet to show up. Or at least it feels that way, and you’re slightly annoyed as you once again look out the window, only to be greeted by drops of water racing each other on the glass.

You don’t mind the rain. You never really did. But you don’t like feeling like you’re not doing anything, and the book you’ve been trying to read since you got home from work just isn’t cutting it.

Or maybe it’s the fact that Yoongi is once again going to be home late tonight. You don’t know what project he’s been working on – whenever you’ve asked questions about it, he was super evasive. But like clockwork, every night for three weeks Yoongi got home late after work, claiming that he is too tired to do anything with you.

You don’t blame him. He’s been working crazy hours, but you just miss his presence. Now, whenever you get to actually spend some time together he also invites Jungkook, and you feel like your relationship with Yoongi just isn’t what it used to be.

When you brought it up to him last week, he said that he was too tired to talk about it, and he kissed the side of your head before rolling to the other side of the bed. The dismissal was clear, and it’s been making you feel dreadful, like every breath you take is missing just a little bit of oxygen, making your lungs burn and heart beat harder in your chest as it tries to compensate.

You know what changed everything. You saw it in slow motion – that night you’d woken Yoongi up because of Jungkook. That same night you had fucked Yoongi on Facetime while Jungkook watched and guided the two of you.

Yoongi hasn’t looked at you the same way since then. You hate it, hate the distance that’s wedged itself between you and him, but you don’t know how to fix it.

No amount of cuddling or affection or loving words seem to be enough to bring Yoongi back from the place his mind wandered to when he saw what you and Jungkook had been texting about.

It was a mistake. You know it today, and you wish you could take it back.

Wish you could take the whole ordeal back.

But you can’t, and you’ve been trying to be better. To treat Yoongi better, to make sure you don’t overstep the boundaries, though you reckon that night you went flying over the line at the speed of light.

You sigh, leaning your head back against the couch. You’ve been trying to read your favourite book – the one Yoongi bought for you on your first date, annotated in the margins with all of his thoughts on it. But every time you see his handwriting, every time you read what he left behind, your heart just hurts a little more.

You’ve suggested calling off this whole thing with Jungkook. Yoongi laughed and said that he didn’t want to stop. It was strange to see him like that – like he isn’t the same man you once fell in love with anymore. But then again you reckon you haven’t been the same either.

How could you be the same after experiencing Jeon Jungkook?

Jungkook, too, has changed. He doesn’t smile with you as much as he used to, and sometimes you feel like he’s forcing himself. Like he doesn’t want to be there, but just like you and Yoongi, he doesn’t know how to stop.

It’s a mess. Everything is a mess, and you wish you’d know how to fix it.

But you don’t, and so you force your eyes to skim over the lines of the book, reading words that used to be familiar and now feel like excerpts from a different life.

*****

�� Yoongi likes the rain. It’s calm, soothing, and he feels like the world stops rushing when it’s under the clouds. Like he can sit back, relax and enjoy the coffee on the table in front of him. He’s ordered it black, and though it’s a little too warm, he still enjoys every single sip he takes of it.

Jimin isn’t here yet. But Yoongi doesn’t mind – he likes watching the droplets of water racing on the window. It keeps his thoughts busy, keeps them from running back to you and Jungkook and the night you fucking sexted with Jungkook while he was sleeping next to you.

His first thought had been to be mad at you, but then he’d figured he could twist this to his advantage. Because he knew you and Jungkook both felt guilty, and it now shows in the way you take care of him.

And maybe he is sick and twisted for enjoying the sex life like this, but he reckons he deserves it after you’ve cheated on him.

He’s aware he should confront you. Should tell you how it made him feel, even though you were quick to make sure Yoongi was involved too. The situation just broke some part of him, and he highly doubts it will ever be fixed. For now, he’s just content as he sits back and enjoys what’s left of the relationship before it goes up in flames.

He never knew he was such a petty person. Or maybe getting involved with Jeon Jungkook just brought out the worst of him. Which, he reckons, he should have expected. Because Jungkook has a tendency to do that to all of the relationships Yoongi has seen him involved in.

It’s no wonder he’s never had a girlfriend.

The bell by the doors of the café rings, and Yoongi knows it’s Jimin before he’s even looked towards the entrance. Maybe because he’s too aware of Jimin now – he’s been searching for the man in every room, every crowd, ever since that night that changed everything.

He has to confront you. He’s aware that lying about staying at work late isn’t all that better than what you did. But Jimin is like the rain – he’s soothing, calming, and maybe it helps with fixing the jagged pieces of Yoongi’s broken heart and trust, and he likes keeping that part of his life to himself.

At least for now.

Jimin’s smile is blinding when he sits in front of Yoongi. He’s got a tote bag, and he pulls two books out before he even says hello.

“I got us some reading for tonight,” Jimin finally says, and he shakes the water from his hair. And then the smile falls into the soft one that renders Yoongi unable to think as he says, “Thank you for the coffee.”

Because Yoongi memorized Jimin’s coffee order the first time they got coffee together. It came far too naturally to him – you’re the one he used to remember everything about so easily. But things have changed. You’ve been slipping down a slope, and he knows the end won’t be positive.

“Thank you for the book,” Yoongi says right as he takes the one Jimin offers him.

His blood turns to ice in his veins. He tries not to let it show on his face, even though he freezes right on the spot, as if he’s been suddenly sent straight to orbit with no atmosphere around him to keep his body warm anymore.

It’s the book he and you read on your first date, five years ago. He’d filled it with notes for you, and he knows you keep it in the first drawer of your night table, as if it’s a Bible you like to read to fall asleep every night.

“Something wrong?” Jimin gently asks, his smile slowly wavering until it disappears entirely.

“Sorry…” Yoongi apologizes, though he doesn’t really know what for.

He’s not entirely sure Jimin is the one he should be apologizing to right now.

“It’s just…” he adds when Jimin doesn’t say anything, looking confused. “That’s my girlfriend’s favourite book.”

Jimin looks alarmed. His eyes widen, and he tries to take the book back, though Yoongi holds onto it.

“I’m so sorry,” Jimin says. “I thought… my granddad said it was a good book, so I figured why not?”

“It really is,” Yoongi quickly replies, hoping it would bring back Jimin’s easy smile.

Jimin gulps, looking down at the copy he saved for himself. “Well…” He chuckles, and it’s a little awkward. “I guess we can say your girlfriend has good taste.”

There’s a deeper meaning behind Jimin’s words. Yoongi hears it right away, and something stirs in his chest. Blush creeps on his cheeks, and he tries to push it away, as far away as he can, but he finds he’s too weak to do so.

“She does.”

At that Jimin looks up to meet his gaze again. “Do you still want to read it, though? I know things haven’t been great with her…”

Yoongi has been confiding in Jimin. He hasn’t been able to speak to anyone from his group of friends, mostly because all of them are friends with Jungkook too. They don’t know about what’s been going on, and Yoongi doesn’t want to tell them either.

Though he thinks Namjoon might know, even if he’s never said anything about it.

So he’s been confiding in Jimin instead. Every night that they meet for coffee, or those that Yoongi goes to help at Seojun’s bookstore. It’s been like therapy for him, though he reckons Jimin might not be the person he should be confiding in.

Not when the crush he has for the man feels a little too real.

Another thought that he pushes away, or tries to. He’s not sure that it works, but it does chase Jungkook and you out of his thoughts.

“We can read it if you want,” he tells Jimin. “I promise it’s worth the read.”

Jimin offers him a careful smile. “Sounds good.” He pauses, cheeks tinting with pink as he looks down at the coffee Yoongi got for him. “Next time I’ll let you choose the book.”

*****

Jungkook shifts, keeping his features cool and composed as the shutter of the camera goes off. He tilts his head to the side for the next picture, then looks away. He’s been at it for what feels like hours now, and he frankly can’t wait to be done.

Though the work has been a well-deserved reprieve from his churning thoughts.

He moves into another pose, staring down the camera with a slight frown on his features, head tilted back. The camera shutter goes off again, and he’s about to move into another position when the director yells, “Cut!”

Jungkook breaks into a smile, though he doesn’t really know why. Maybe because he actually likes this – the posing, the modelling, feeling as if he’s the shit for a moment.

It helps him forget that you are Yoongi’s, and not his.

Jungkook walks away from where they were shooting, and the fashion designer that chose the outfits for the day approaches him, a smile on her lips.

A pretty smile that matches her equally pretty features. Boring though – they’re lacking something that he can’t quite put a finger on.

“You did great,” she compliments him as they near a table with snacks and water bottles for the staff.

Jungkook grabs a water bottle, opening it and taking a long, refreshing sip. “It was all you,” he flirts back, though he wasn’t quite sure she was flirting to begin with.

When he notices her features turning a light shade of pink, he knows he hit his mark.

“Please,” she says, scoffing as she shakes her head in a self-deprecating manner. “I barely did anything.”

He smirks. “Give yourself some credit, you did a good job.”

She wets her lips, the tint on her cheeks darkening. “Well then, thank you.”

There’s a silence as he drinks some more, and she grabs a quarter of an egg sandwich that she bites in with her head turned away from him. He imitates her, grabbing some for himself, only then realizing that he’s famished.

So he eats his fill with her next to him, in a silence that ought to be uncomfortable but isn’t quite so. And maybe it’s the way she eyes him, like he’s the dessert, that leads him to suggest heading somewhere quiet.

He sees the debate, the conflict in her eyes, because clearly this would be unprofessional. And she’s pretty, wearing a fashionable outfit that looks like she belongs in a lawyer office more than on a photoshoot. It hugs her frame right, and when she turns he gets a good look at her ass, at how the fabric stretches on her…

And he feels his dick slowly hardening.

“If we get caught, I’ll lose my job,” she answers, voice low as her gaze falls to the floor as if she’s ashamed.

As if she didn’t approach him for this in the first place.

“Then you’ll have to keep silent, mmh?” Jungkook fires back, voice low and sultry.

He sees the instant she folds. It’s in the way she bites her lips, and somehow the gesture is too familiar, sending a pang through his heart as you take over his thoughts.

Yet he follows the woman, watching her ponytail swing left and right with every step she takes. She leads him to an unused dressing room, and he catches sight of the rainy world outside as she locks the door behind them.

A rainy world, to match the rainy thoughts that have been clouding him.

She takes a step towards him, and though he’s faced away from her, she touches him, hand moving shyly on his back. He’s not sure he likes the shyness – he prefers your confidence, the way you touch him like he’s yours.

And maybe he is. Maybe he’s been for a lot longer than he’ll ever admit to anyone.

He turns around, forcing his lips into what he hopes is a lustful smirk. Eyes slightly narrowed, he looks down at the girl, and he realizes he doesn’t even remember her name.

He doesn’t care. He still crashes his lips on hers, pushing her back until she hits the door. And a moment later they are naked from the waist down, and her legs are around him as he pounds into her, her fingers digging in his shoulders as she lets out breathy sounds.

She feels good. He can’t deny it – her pussy squeezes his dick just right. But once again there’s just something lacking, and frustration slowly takes over him until he carries her to a desk, so that he can put her down and fuck her harder, trying to get rid of the frustration.

But it never goes away. No matter who he fucks, the frustration clings to him like a second skin, like he’s been cursed and will forever be haunted.

So he fucks the girl, holds her waist possessively even though he doesn’t give a shit about her. His eyes trail to the world outside – the raindrops are rolling on the window, partaking in a race he’s never understood.

He doesn’t mind the rain. Prefers cloudy or sunny weather over it, only because it makes riding his bike more fun, but he doesn’t mind the rain. He just feels as if the world goes too slow when it’s raining, as if his thoughts are one second away from catching up to him.

They always are. Always are far too close for comfort, as if he’s about to lose the race. And he knows he is – he feels how everything has been shifting between you and Yoongi. It all changed that night you and he sexted while Yoongi was asleep. Yoongi has been more demanding, colder, and Jungkook can tell that Yoongi’s detaching himself from the situation. Perhaps as a coping mechanism, so that he won’t feel the emotions.

Jungkook envies his friend for being able to do so, as his own emotions have been choking him. Until he can barely breathe, until he doesn’t even feel the girl as she squirms under him.

He doesn’t come. He gets bored before he does, pulling out so that he can finger her instead, mechanically. He does it until she comes, until she squirts all over the floor, and then he tells her he has to go. Tells her thank you, and tells her that he’ll reach out to hang out again soon.

He won’t. It’s just something he found helps with ghosting in general. Which, he knows he’ll ghost her.

He’s ghosted everyone that got close to him after he’s started fucking you and Yoongi. Because no one ever compares to you, and he frankly doesn’t even want to find someone else.

He leaves the girl behind, leaves that dressing room to find his, where he takes a quick shower before changing into his own clothes. He grabs his motorcycle helmet, curses the rain as a few minutes later he’s rolling on the streets.

And when he’s home, he immediately uncorks his whiskey bottle, pouring himself a large glass that he drinks watching the rain outside, wondering why is it that he got attached to the only thing he’ll never have.

*****

It’s almost midnight when you realize that Yoongi might not be coming back home tonight. You texted him twice in the evening, and though your messages were delivered he still hasn’t read them.

You know he never checks his phone when he’s at work, but you highly doubt he’s still at work at this hour. And though you’re wearing one of his shirts, he’s never felt as much of a stranger as he does right now.

You try to forget it by looking at pictures of moments passed, of days and nights with him years ago when you believed he was the love of your life.

And though you still believe he is, you’re realizing that he doesn’t feel the same about you anymore. That somewhere between that first night with Jungkook and today, Yoongi changed.

You’re not stupid. You know exactly what caused the change, and you can’t help but hate yourself for it. To hate Jungkook, to hate Yoongi, for accepting to get involved with Jungkook. You should have known better – should have chosen someone you didn’t know.

Fear takes a hold of your heart, and you sit up in bed.

Is Yoongi with Jungkook, doing to you what you did to him weeks ago?

It hurts. You reckon it hurts and it’s hard to breathe, but then again you could never be mad at him for doing something with Jungkook without you being there. You think it’d be normal that the two friends got closer after having fucked – you yourself got a lot closer to Jungkook. But the thought still makes your blood feel like liquid acid, burning up your insides until you force yourself to grab your phone.

You go to your text messages as you worry at your bottom lip, pulling at the bit of dry skin you find there. Even through the anxiety that’s slowly taking hold of you, you make a mental note to do a lip mask soon, to help with the dryness.

It’s the only normal thought you are bound to have tonight, isn’t it? Because you immediately text Jungkook, asking if he knows where Yoongi is. And through a blurry vision you wait for his reply, your teeth now nibbling at your nails in an anxious manner you thought you’d gotten rid of years ago.

To your surprise, Jungkook replies in under five minutes.

[00:07 am] Jungkook: no clue [00:08 am] Jungkook: is something wrong

You don’t know how to answer. You think everything went wrong a while ago. You think Yoongi is sand slipping through your fingers, or perhaps he’s turned into the void between the stars where there used to be light. You think that though spring is reigning over the world outside, winter has found the land of your soul, and you’re not sure it’s ever going to leave.

[00:09 am] You: idk… [00:09 am] You: he said he’d be at work until late tonight but it’s past midnight… [00:10 am] You: he’s just an accountant, wtf would an accountant do at work so late at night

Jungkook’s reply takes a while to come in. As if he too needed to take a moment to analyze the situation, to face the gravity of it. Or you’re the only one that feels like the ground has slipped beneath your feet, and you’re about to go over the edge of the cliff.

[00:16 am] Jungkook: I can pick you up and we can go see if his car is at his job

Your eyes slide to the world outside. You haven’t pulled the curtains shut before lying in bed, as if you’d see Yoongi coming home this way even though you live on the upper levels of the building. But you do notice that rain seems to have given way to fog, though it isn’t thick enough to make driving in the night dangerous.

But would it be a good idea? To go chasing the night searching for Yoongi?

And then an entire other scenario takes a hold of you. Steals the breath from your lungs, makes your whole body hurt as if you’ve been set on fire.

What if he’s hurt? What if he got in a car crash on his way home, and he never made it?

What if he’s lying somewhere in a ditch, just waiting to be found?

You don’t fight the tears. Don’t fight a single one of them as they come pouring, just like the rain earlier today.

[00:18 am] You: would you mind?

Jungkook’s reply comes right away this time around.

[00:18 am] Jungkook: ofc not, I’ll be there in 20

So you get dressed, putting on a pair of black sweatpants along with a thick long-sleeved sweater. You stand by the door as you wait for Jungkook to arrive, almost hoping that Yoongi will be the one to cross the threshold first.

As you wait, you watch yourself in the mirror. You look distressed – eyes bloodshot from the tears that keep coming and going, dark bags under your gaze from the lack of sleep. Because of course you haven’t been sleeping well.

How could you sleep well when you’ve been feeling the love of your life slipping through your fingers?

Jungkook gets here faster than twenty minutes. You don’t want to ask how fast he was driving, especially not as his first reaction when you open the door is to pull you to his chest, holding you tight against him. Your tears free fall again, and you grab a hold of his jacket in your fists, clenching them on the fabric so hard you think it might rip. If Jungkook cares he doesn’t say it, instead lowering his head to rest his cheek on the top of your head.

“I’m sure he’s okay,” he tells you, voice velvety soft in its reassurance. “He’s okay.”

That second sentence feels like it was uttered more for Jungkook than for you. You reckon Jungkook does care for Yoongi. Probably more than as a friend, now that he’s been sleeping with you both.

“He has to be,” you reply, lips trembling.

Jungkook holds you tighter and he turns until his lips softly land a kiss to the side of your head. In the heaviness of the moment, it grounds you, and you pull away just enough to look at Jungkook.

His big eyes meet yours, and you wish you could read him. Though you think you’re starting to be able to, and you don’t want to see what’s in his eyes. So you take a step back, and he sucks on his piercing, before nodding once.

“I brought an extra helmet for you,” he says, and he hands it to you.

You look at it as if it’s a foreign thing to you. And it is – you’ve never ridden a bike before.

“You came with your bike?” you ask, carefully drying the tears that slipped on your cheeks.

He nods. “I do have a car but it’s at the repair shop right now.”

You let out a noncommittal sound as you grab the helmet, testing the weight in your hands, wondering what it’ll feel like on your head. Jungkook watches as you do so, still toying with his piercing mindlessly.

“Ready?”

You take a deep breath, pushing away the image of Yoongi dead in a ditch from your mind, before nodding your head.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

*****

Yoongi didn’t see the time fly. When the café owner told him and Jimin that they were closing for the night, Yoongi’s gaze had widened. He’d been so into the book, rereading it for the first time in years, that he really hadn’t seen the time fly.

But he doesn’t really mind. He should, he knows he should, but Jimin is great company, so he doesn’t. He walks behind Jimin outside, avoiding puddles left over by the rain earlier. The rain has ceased now, but the world smells of it still, and the pavement reflects the orange glow of the streetlights as if it’s a mirror.

“Good thing it’s not raining anymore,” Jimin comments, looking over his shoulder at Yoongi.

Yoongi cocks an eyebrow. “You don’t like the rain?”

“I do,” Jimin answers as he turns back to look where he’s going. “But I don’t like driving in the rain, you know?”

Yoongi mindlessly walks a little faster until he’s able to walk side by side with Jimin, and his cheeks burn as their hands brush against each other. He pretends nothing happened, and so does Jimin.

And even though his heart is thundering in his chest, Yoongi says, “Yeah, driving in the rain does suck.”

“Don’t take me wrong though,” Jimin adds quickly. “It was all worth it tonight.”

Yoongi gulps. “It was?”

There’s silence, and Yoongi thinks about you for a time. He wonders if you’re waiting for him. He’s seen your texts, and maybe he’s an asshole for not replying, but he feels like something changed today.

Or maybe something broke, he’s not sure. He just knows that he can’t bring himself to answer you, and he also doesn’t want to go home right now. It does make him sad, for a fraction of a second. Because once upon a time you meant the world to him. You just don’t anymore.

“I like spending time with you, Yoongi,” Jimin says, voice soft, as he brushes his hand against Yoongi’s again.

Yoongi instinctively pulls his hand away, yet he still answers, “Me too.”

It’s the truth. He does enjoy every second he spends with Jimin. Perhaps because Jimin is easy, easier than you. Easier than this whole mess that is Jungkook and you and the threesomes.

Jimin stops, and Yoongi follows suit a step ahead. He turns around to look at Jimin, and the slightly pained expression on Jimin’s features feels like his heart has been stabbed, and he almost instinctively rubs at his chest, over the spot that aches.

“Why are you staying with her?” Jimin asks.

Why? Why indeed. Yoongi doesn’t even know – maybe he’s just too bad with confrontation. Maybe he doesn’t want to break your heart – though he knows Jungkook would be quick to fix it. Maybe it’s the familiarity of his life with you that’s keeping him from doing it. Maybe it’s the fear of losing something that was once great.

He really doesn’t know.

And as he stands there, holding Jimin’s gaze, Yoongi realizes something. Something he probably has known for a while, but refused to acknowledge. He’s stopped loving you a long time ago. Because you’re not the one that he loves anymore.

No, that person is Jimin.

Even though it breaks him, Yoongi closes the space between him and Jimin, grabbing the younger man’s cheeks softly as he presses his lips on Jimin’s.

Jimin is quick to kiss him back, to sigh against Yoongi’s mouth as he takes even a step closer. Jimin’s hands grab at the lapels of Yoongi’s coat, pulling him flush against him. Yoongi wonders if Jimin can feel the wild beats of his heart in his chest, where his fists rest against him.

When Jimin sighs again, Yoongi slips his tongue between his plump lips, and this time Jimin lets out a breathy sound that electrifies Yoongi as if he’s been hit by lightning.

He doesn’t think about you then. Doesn’t think about Jungkook either. All there is in the land of his mind is Jimin, and Jimin’s kiss is healing.

Jimin’s presence in his life has been healing since the very first day Yoongi saw him.

“Come home with me tonight,” Jimin breathes when they pull away.

Yoongi rests his forehead against Jimin’s, still gently cupping the man’s cheeks. “I can’t.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment, just keeps holding on to Yoongi. And Yoongi wishes the moment could stop – he feels the guilt slowly creeping in on him.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Because he wanted to. Yet Yoongi can’t bring himself to tell Jimin. Not when he thinks of you at home, waiting for him, not knowing that he’s been out at night falling in love with someone else for weeks now.

“I need to go home…”

Jimin bristles, and he steps away from Yoongi. He looks hurt, and rightfully so. Though Yoongi doubts Jimin’s pain even comes close to what you’ll feel when he’ll tell you what happened.

If he tells you.

“Alright then,” Jimin says, and there’s bitterness in his tone. In the way he furrows his brows, features turning harsh, cold. “Go home to her.”

It occurs to Yoongi that Jimin has probably been jealous of you for a while now. Has probably wanted Yoongi for longer than Yoongi has even wanted him.

Would he be a fool to let him slip away?

Would it change anything if he kissed Jimin again?

He tells himself he’s just trying to smooth the lines between Jimin’s brows when he does so. When he pulls Jimin flush against him, and their teeth collide as they kiss languidly. Jimin tastes sweet, even as the taste of coffee lingers in his mouth. It’s not as bitter as it should be – not when Jimin kisses so damn well.

So Yoongi lets himself forget about you for a time. Lets the part of him that’s been aching since that night you and Jungkook sexted take control. Maybe he’s trying to get revenge. Maybe he’s trying to hurt you like you hurt him. He doesn’t know.

Maybe he’s just stupid – he could have broken up with you before getting together with Jimin. But he thinks he’s made his decision weeks ago now, that first time he hung out with Jimin saying that he was staying at work late.

So when Jimin once again asks Yoongi to come home with him, he says yes. He follows Jimin to his car, though they only make it to the backseat. And as Jimin rides his cock, moaning as his fingers dig into Yoongi’s shoulders, rain starts again, drowning out the sounds of their passion.

*****

Yoongi’s car wasn’t in the parking lot of his job. Jungkook refused to tell you what he thought was going on. Not as you started crying again, and asked if he could drive you to the nearest hospital. Because the second Jungkook saw that Yoongi’s car wasn’t there, and you admitted that Yoongi had been coming home later and later every day, Jungkook knew that Yoongi has been cheating on you.

So Jungkook agreed to drive you to the nearest hospital, and you’re halfway there now. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, and you’re a comforting warmth behind him. He wishes he could stop your heart from breaking, wishes he could take the pain away so that you wouldn’t have to experience it at all.

Fuck, even he is hurting. Because Yoongi and you ending means you and him will end too, and he doesn’t think he’s ready to let that go. So when they tell you that they don’t have anyone under the name of Min Yoongi at that first hospital, and you ask to go to another one, Jungkook drives you.

He tries to enjoy your closeness as much as he can, even as rain starts again, though it’s barely even pouring. He drives carefully, slower than he usually does on his bike. And when your arms tighten around him, he hopes you can’t feel his heart breaking in his chest.

You don’t declare yourself defeated until after the fourth hospital. Jungkook waits with you in the lobby as you sit on a bench, head hanging low. You’re not crying, but he can almost hear your thoughts where he’s standing next to you.

They’re even louder when he sits next to you, and you shift infinitesimally closer to him, as if you need his support.

Voice small, you say, “What if he was kidnapped?”

And Jungkook reckons maybe you’re refusing to face the truth. Like a coping mechanism – you’d rather paint Yoongi in a thousand different perspectives instead of one where he’d cheat on you. It shows Jungkook just how much you love your boyfriend, and for a moment he’s struck dumb, wishing that that night five years ago he’d been the one to approach you at the bar.

Even if you had clearly declined giving your number to him. He doesn’t know if you remember, and he’s pretty sure now is not the right time to ask.

“Maybe he’ll answer me,” Jungkook carefully says, and he feels stupid for not texting or calling Yoongi before.

And so he grabs his phone as you watch him, hope etched on your features. He feels like he’s a monster, like he’s about to take your heart and throw it to the rocks at the foot of the metaphorical cliff you’re standing on.

Because he sees it. He sees the pain in your features, sees the way you’re holding onto one last thread. He doesn’t want to be the one to cut it, but then again he’d be there to catch you.

He’s been waiting to catch you. It’s selfish, terribly so, and he looks away from you to call Yoongi.

Yoongi picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?” he lets out, sounding a little breathless.

You freeze. You freeze, unblinking, as if you were on a screen and Jungkook pressed pause.

“Hey, hyung?” Jungkook says.

There’s some mumbling on the other side of the line, all the confirmation that he needs to know Yoongi is indeed cheating on you.

“Why are you calling?” Yoongi asks, and he sounds annoyed.

Jungkook hates himself for what he says next. “Are you okay? Y/n is worried about you.”

There’s a pause on the other side of the line. As if Yoongi is holding his breath, as perhaps he’s faced with the consequences of what he’s doing.

“Yeah, everything is okay. You can tell her I’m heading home.”

Jungkook nods, still not looking at you. He’s not ready to face the destruction head on. “Okay, I’ll let her know.”

And then Yoongi is hanging up, not saying anything else. Jungkook doesn’t move, sitting in silence in the artificial light of that hospital lobby, watching people in scrubs and casual clothing walking around as if the world has not just stopped for you next to him.

“He must have been at work, then,” you murmur. “Maybe we just didn’t see his car.”

Jungkook hears his heart shattering on the tiles of the floor at the innocence in your voice. He says your name like you’re a fragile porcelain, like his hands are too clumsy to ever dare to hold you.

“Please,” is all you say.

He understands. So he asks, “Do you want to head home?”

“No.”

He nods, and he finally looks at you. Finally looks at your pale features, and the utter lack of feeling in your eyes. It hits so hard he thinks he gets a concussion from it, and he watches you, mind spinning in pain and sadness.

And though he wants to apologize, wants to say that it’s all his fault, all he manages to say is, “There’s a place I go to when I need to think. Do you want me to take you there?”

You meet his gaze, and he realizes you weren’t focusing on him before. Because now that you do he feels as if a train just ran into him, and he wishes he wouldn’t be able to feel. Yet he feels – feels for you and your broken heart. For Yoongi, who sacrificed you, and for what?

“Sure,” is all you reply.

So even if it’s raining, Jungkook starts driving you to that place where he went to weeks ago, where the sky meets the ocean and he can just stop thinking for a moment. He makes sure you hold him tight, though when the rain doubles up you’re forced to stop under a bridge, the last one before you’ll exit the city proper.

You climb down from his bike, and Jungkook watches you as you stand to the side. You don’t remove the helmet, as if it’s shelter for your broken eyes, and he doesn’t force you to. He removes his, puts it on the seat and then stands closer to you.

He just now realizes that your clothes aren’t made to ride in the rain. So he removes his jacket, handing it to you.

“Put this on, you’re going to catch a cold.”

You don’t move, and so Jungkook walks behind you, gently draping it over you. He shivers as he moves back in front of you, and he watches the reflections of the streetlights in the visor of your helmet as you just stand there, entirely motionless.

“We’ll keep going as soon as the rain stops,” he tells you. He grabs his phone from his pocket, going to the weather app. “Which should be in about twenty minutes.”

At that you turn towards the pillar of the bridge, and then make your way to it so that you can sit with your back to it. There’s something so defeated in the gesture that convinces Jungkook to make his way to you, sitting next to you even though he reckons it probably is unsanitary.

He can always wash the clothes later. He’s not sure he can afford to wait to keep you from breaking so thoroughly that no amount of fixing would bring you back.

“When I was a kid,” Jungkook starts, not knowing where to go, “I got bullied a lot.”

You don’t react, and he’s not sure if you’re listening. He just needs to fill the silence with truth, and so he decides to give you a piece of himself he’s never given to anyone before.

“Like a lot,” he continues. “It got to a point where older kids would beat me up. And my parents didn’t really want to do anything because they wanted me to fit in. But one day my father told me to punch them back.”

He remembers everything with vivid clarity. He remembers being nine years old, terrified to go to school because he wasn’t sure he’d survive the day. He remembers the stitches he’d needed on his cheek when they’d punch so hard it cut his skin open. He remembers the taste of the blood in his mouth when his lip split with the force of the punches. He remembers everything in such vivid clarity that he feels as if he’s been taken back then.

“And so I did,” he adds. “I punched back, and I quickly realized that I was good at it. So I started boxing.” He pauses, looking towards you. “But I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to paint, or maybe to sing. I’ve always loved singing.”

At that you do move. You take off the helmet, and the sight of your bloodshot eyes as tears roll freely on your cheeks makes him want to reach out, to hold you.

But he doesn’t dare do it, doesn’t want to take advantage of you.

“I’ve never heard you sing,” you say, voice raucous from crying.

He shrugs. “I don’t sing in front of people.”

You nod, and then fall into silence as you just look to the side. Jungkook looks in the same direction, watching the rain fall on and on, endlessly. It doesn’t seem like it’s going to let up anytime soon, so he figures he needs to say something else, to find something that might take the pain away from your eyes. And so he thinks about the rest of the story, thinks about what he left out from what he just told you.

“My dad was an alcoholic,” he admits, and your face turns towards him so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if you got whiplashed. “He beat my mom whenever he got too drunk. Never once touched me or my brother. But when I was old enough, when I finally knew how to fight, I protected her.”

What you do then entirely undoes Jungkook. He feels raw, like everything inside of him opens up, and he’s just left with this downpour of emotions, something that matches the rain beyond the bridge, this safe haven he’s found with you.

You put your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. To hold him, to keep him from breaking. Or at least that’s what it feels like.

It feels like you’re his salvation, and he knows you’ve always been anyway.

“He beat me so hard I ended up in the hospital,” Jungkook continues. “We fled the day I got out. My mom, my brother and I. We never once looked back.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

He shrugs. “Please don’t be. I’m okay now.”

You don’t answer anything to that, just hold him tighter. And Jungkook watches the rain, listens to the soothing sound of it, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He doesn’t know why he chose this moment to reveal his demons to you – why he chose to make this about him. He feels horrible for it, but when you look at him next, he wonders if maybe you needed to hear something of the sort.

Needed to know that though there are horrors in this world, one can always make it out of it if they keep pushing on.

“You’re a beautiful person, inside,” you tell him. “I should have realized before.”

The lump in his throat grows too big for him to swallow it, and a tear rolls down his cheek. You dry it with infinite softness, and then you share a look. It seems to last an eternity, but you eventually glance away, and he thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“Looks like the rain has stopped,” you say as your gaze stops on the street beyond the bridge.

Jungkook snaps out of the moment, looking in the same direction. “Seems so.”

His voice is rough, raw and filled with emotions he never expected he’d face with you. Yet he did, and he’s not afraid. He just hopes he can bring you comfort tonight, so that you aren’t afraid, too. So that you know that, even though the next few days are going to be hell, you don’t have to face them alone.

“Where is that place you wanted to show me?”

He smiles through the emotions, through the pain and the fear and the memory of what you and Yoongi are – were. Of what he and Yoongi are. Of what they will be when you’ll eventually go home to Yoongi. Though he doesn’t think you’ll really go home to Yoongi. After what Yoongi’s done…

The fear doubles up, freezes up his blood. Because what if he’s the one you leave behind? What if you forgive Yoongi, and Yoongi forgives you? He knows you both love each other. Or at least he knows you love Yoongi.

Will you even break up with Yoongi?

And even if you don’t, does he want to leave you alone tonight?

He chooses not to, getting up and offering you a hand. You take it, and he pulls you to your feet. Holds your gaze as you stand right in front of him, not letting go of his hand. He looks at your lips, remembering kissing you. Remembering every searing kiss, every embrace he’s hoped meant more.

Did they mean anything to you? Only time will tell.

You step back, letting go of his hand, and take off his jacket so that he can put it back on. He wants to refuse, but you’re adamant. So he gives in, puts it back on, and then you’re back on the road, heading to the ocean. Jungkook didn’t realize how much time passed until you get to the spot overlooking the sea, and the horizon is slightly lighter than the sky overhead.

You stand by the ocean, wind whipping at your hair, but the rain is entirely gone now. The air is warmer than one would expect for a late night or early morning of May, though the ocean mist is freezing. You don’t seem like you care: you stand by the water, watching the waves hit the rock as if you’re a queen overlooking her subjects.

And Jungkook watches you, unable to tear his gaze away from you, until you start crying again. But you cry in silence, don’t let the sobs shake you, as you stare at the horizon. As you watch the sun as it slowly rises, painting the clouds in liquid gold. You watch the beauty of nature, while Jungkook watches yours, wondering if this is one of his last moments with you.

He’ll let you go if that’s what you want. If, in the end, you and Yoongi choose each other.

So he watches your features, watches you break, watches you compose yourself until the clouds are no longer gold, and you ask him to go home. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of, only that he feels like the clock is about to hit its last second, and he wants to hold on.

But he’ll let you go.

*****

You watch the sunrise from that cliff over the ocean, listening to the waves crashing against the rocks. You understand why Jungkook brought you here – there’s some sort of serenity in the air, like your life is inconsequential.

Like breaking and healing and breaking again are just part of the cycle of nature, of life. Like the sunrise – it doesn’t stop. Every day it comes back, a promise that no pain can last forever. So you embrace the pain. Let it tear at you. You’d expected to break in screams and yells and sobs and curses, but you break in tears, silently rolling down your cheeks. You break in watching the sunrise, peacefully, just an astral body fully unaware of your woes.

And you also break for the man next to you. Who offered you a piece of his soul tonight, so that you wouldn’t be alone. Though his pain is different, older, there’s some sort of comfort in knowing that you alone don’t hold the weight of the universe.

And as you watch the sunrise, you realize that everyone suffers. That the human experience stems from suffering, as it’s the only way you can also know happiness. The only way you can taste the salt on the wind and think ‘Shit, I’m alive’.

The world is beautiful. And though going home will be hell, though facing Yoongi will be hell, you remind yourself that you’re alive. You prepare yourself for the ride home, breathing in the sun and the wind and the ocean. When you’re ready, you turn towards Jungkook, and ask him to bring you home.

He looks troubled, but perhaps he notices the serenity on your features. Perhaps he’s too felt the soothing balm of the sunrise, of endings and new beginnings. Because he brings you home, his bike purring under you as it eats miles and miles to the city, and then some more to your home.

Jungkook drops you off outside, and you give him back the helmet you’ve been using all night. He takes it, putting it safely under the seat. You watch him do so, and ache fills your heart once he climbs back on his bike.

He looks at you, and your gazes connect through his open visor.

“Thank you for tonight,” you tell him.

You think he gulps, but you’re starting to be a little too tired to interpret him. “Of course,” he says. He adds your name, before continuing, “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

You smile at him, though you reckon it’s etched in sadness. Etched in heaviness. You wonder if his heart shares the burden, if he feels just like you do. And you wonder if he too has been breaking all night.

“Thank you,” you repeat.

He nods, and you watch him blink a few times. You’re fully aware he’s blinking back tears, yet you don’t do anything. Just watch him.

“If you need me, I’m just a call away,” he says.

You can’t say anything. Because you don’t think you’d be able to be with him, to find comfort in him. Not when he might have been the catalyst to this whole shitshow. So all you do is nod, and he looks at you for a moment longer until he finally decides to go.

He pulls down his visor, turning towards the street. And then he’s gone.

As you watch him go, farewells hanging in the air, you tuck him into a corner of your heart. Somewhere safe, somewhere nothing ever happened between you and him. Somewhere untainted, pure, and then you whisper, looking at where he disappeared, “Goodbye, Jungkook.”

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

:((((( gosh this one is so sad :') (it might only get worse from here). What did we think? Did we like it? Let me know!

Taglist (add yourself to the taglist here) (strike-through means dumblr isn't letting me tag you):

#sinful lust ch 5 #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #yoonkook x reader #yoongi x you #jungkook x you #yoonkook x you #sinful lust #sinful lust series #btswritersclub #yoongi #jungkook #yoongi fic #jungkook fic

330 notes · View notes

cardansriddle · 2 years ago

Note

Omg congratulations you deserve every single follower ilysm. Can you maybe do 8, 22 and 32 from the prompt list?

Just Once - (tom riddle x reader)

Summary: You encounter Tom Riddle in the Prefects Bathroom while taking a bath...more than once.

Warnings: Implied sexual themes. Not proofread

A/N: Lmk if you horn-dogs want a spicy part 2 to this. Did not intend this to turn so sexual but oh well, couldn't help it.

part 2

༻♛༺

The hot water steamed the air around you in warm comfort while you submerged yourself in the bath. The Prefects' Bathroom was undoubtedly your favourite privilege that was granted to the Prefects. No one could dare disturb you, especially when it was way past curfew— almost midnight.

You hummed, placing your head back against the edge of the pool and shutting your eyes in pure delight. The burdens of the day slowly melted into the water, until you were completely tranquil and serene.

That was until you heard the door to the bathroom being swung open with force, causing you to straighten up and gather bubbles to hide the sight of your body from prying eyes.

"Who is there?" You called but received no reply. Perplexed, you reached out to grab your wand and waited in silence.

The sound of shoes clicking against the marble floor echoed in the vast space, drawing closer and closer until—

"Tom." You recognised. "The bathroom is quite busy as you can see. I urge you to leave at once."

He cocked his head to the side, and you could not help but trail your eyes all over his figure. Despite the late hour, he looked as composed and neat as ever. Robes sitting perfectly on him with no wrinkles and the hair styled perfectly in place. You wanted to scoff.

"As a Prefect, it is my duty to make sure every student out past curfew is fairly disciplined and returned to their dormitories." Came his dry reply and your gaze snapped back to his face.

"Are Prefects not supposed enforce rules? Not break them." This time, you did not hold in your scoff. "You are out way past curfew as well. Prefect duties are over for the day."

In the dimly lit room, the candles illuminated his mildly amused face. "I am also the Head Boy. Those ruled do not apply for me."

You shifted, the action causing the water to slosh slightly, and Tom's gaze briefly dropped to where your chest was hidden underneath the bubbles before his eyes connected with yours. You could not detect the emotion hidden behind his onyx stare.

"Just leave." You sighed at last. "The last time we were here together did not end well for either of us." You reminded, the memories of that night you had stumbled on each other and shared a bath running through your mind. It had been foolish for both sides to engage in each other, yet something had pulled you that night to one another, until—

Well, until he had taken you over and over again against the wall of the giant pool. And the next morning, you had avoided each other like the plague, refusing to speak or mention of what had transpired between you ever again. You both silently agreed it had been a mistake. A lapse in judgement.

"Oh? I remember quite differently." His voice brought you back to the present. You met his eyes once again, and this time there was no mistaking the pool of desire in the black of his eyes. "I remember your screams of satisfaction." He took a step forwards. "I remember you pleading for me." Another step. "Begging for me." He stood at the edge of the bath now, looking down at you with a small, pleased smirk.

You could feel the heat returning to your body, igniting your nerves in fire with his every word. "Riddle stop—"

"Oh it's back to Riddle now, isn't it?" He hummed in displeasure. "I remember you moaning my name for the whole castle to hear."

Your breathing was getting heavier, chest heaving and cheeks flushing under his intense gaze. If he did not stop, you were sure you would burst into flames.

"I hear it all the time. It haunts me." A pause. "You haunt me."

You wondered how the hell you were supposed to proceed with your life after that confession, but your mind was a muddles mess, unable to make sense of anything.

His hand reached to undo the tie at his neck, and you could only watch in stunned silence as he discarded the item on the floor before his hand came up to the buttons of his shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"It seems you need a reminder of just how well that night ended." Tom replied lowly, and your gaze involuntarily fell to his fingers working on the buttons of his shirt.

"This is not a good idea..." You whispered helplessly, knowing you would succumb to him either way despite your verbal protests.

His hands stilled halfway, and he lowered himself until he was eye level with you. Bringing a hand to grab your chin, he tilted your face towards him until you were a mere breath away from him.

"Do you want me to leave?" His lips brushed against yours as he spoke. And as you opened your mouth to form a reply, his grip tightened. "And do not lie. I will know if you do."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and shook your head slightly. "Just once. We can do this just this one time."

Tom brushed his lips against yours in a featherlight kiss, as if to tease you, before he pulled away and got rid of his shirt with a self-satisfied smirk.

"That is what you said last time as well."

༻♛༺

TAGLIST: @bunnyc0r3 @orangepact77 @herfantasyworldd

Let me know if you want to be added to my general taglist!

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle one shot #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle smut #tom riddle fluff

2K notes · View notes

the-winter-spider · 4 months ago

Text

Good Guy Part 2 - S. Harrington

Word count: 2k

Warnings: angst, swearing

A/N: Long awaited part 2, I’m sorry it sucks. I just don’t have that spark anymore, feel free to give me any ideas on how this story should go! Not edited or proofread sooo if theres any crazy mistakes be kind lemme know? 😅

MASTERLIST

Part one

—

“Why didnt you say anything?!”

“We, uh didn't know yet” Your voice was quiet, timid. You felt this pit in your stomach, ashamed maybe? Most likely guilt because now you had added on the pile of crap you and your friends had been dealing with for years, you could see the tiredness in their eyes. You wanted maybe even needed to tell them not to worry about you, to focus on saving Max. But you couldn't find your voice with the way he was looking at you.

Steve ran his fingers through his hair, he was kneeled down in front of you, he was so close his hands on your knees, squeezing gently, you could almost see water threatening to spill over his lash line “It's been 2 hours since we found out” his voice was softer now “Why?”

You shrugged “It's easier to save one of us instead of both”

Steve blinked his eyes going wide “Were you just not going to say anything until it was too late?”

You sighed “I dont know”

He scoffed, his heart shattering, his mood shifting from how nonchalant you were being, he couldn’t believe you would be so reckless, so selfish. He pushed himself off the ground laughing “You don't know” he tossed his head back, he spun around looking at everyone else in the room “She doesn’t know! That's just great, so great, she wasn’t going tell me” He paused briefly “She wasn’t going to tell us that she was cursed” He placed his hands on his hips, moving to look at the ceiling to stop his tears from spilling over “This day just keeps getting better and better”

Nancy took a step forward, her voice soft, her eyes softer “Why?”

You dragged your eyes away from Steve to meet hers, your vision blurring “How many times can I truly escape death” Your memory playing like a timelapse of all of the close calls, from the first time in 83’ when the demogorgon had you pinned to the ground his claws dragging across your stomach, if it wasn’t for Steve that would have been it. To the second time in 84’ at the junkyard when you were too focused on the demodogs in front of you forgot about the possibility that there could be some behind you, which of course happened and of course again if it wasn’t for Steve who knows what could have happened. And to the most recent one of 85’ the summer that this thing between Steve and you finally happened, god you didn't even need to be saved that summer because he was already always there protecting you just in case you got reckless which you always did. “Third times the charm right?” you gave a shadow of a smile trying to make a really bad joke to lift even the tiniest bit of weight off of the room.

“You have got to be shitting me” Steve through his hands up stomping towards the basement door “I need some fucking air” he grumbled before slamming the door shut behind him.

As Steve slammed the door shut, everyone in the room was left speechless and stunned. The room went silent, only the sound of Steve stomping upstairs and the sound of the screen door closing a few seconds later pierced the air. The room was thick with tension, and everyone was exchanging looks, unsure of what to say or do next.

Nancy was the first to break the silence, her voice soft, but filled with anger.

“What the hell, Y/n?”

“Im sorry, i just….” You paused not knowing what to say, all eyes on you. The room now felt heavy, like it was closing in on you, you pushed off the couch, pushing past everyone and making your way out the basements side door. You needed fresh air. You could longer breath in there.

As you pushed past everyone and headed outside, Robin, Nancy, and Max followed after you. You were walking quickly, moving your legs as fast as you could, trying to put as much distance between you and everyone else. You could feel their footsteps behind you, their eyes on your back, and the tension that still hung in the air.

Finally, you stopped and turned to face them, your breath ragged and heavy. They stood there in silence for a few seconds, waiting for you to say something.

The fresh air filled your lungs, you took a deep breath. Hands still shaking “So how does this change the plan?” you sighed

Your friends exchanged glances, clearly surprised by your response. They were expecting you to break down or apologize, but instead, you were still as calm as ever.

It was Max who spoke up first, her voice soft but firm.

"Change the plan? Seriously, that's what you're Focusing on right now? What about the fact that you could die”

You ran your fingers through your hair “Yeah, but so could you! You’re young, you have more to live for, we focus on you first”

Max's eyebrows furrowed, and she took a step forward, her expression laced with anger.

"What do you mean 'more’ to live for'? Do you think your life means less? Do you realize what you sound like right now?“

“A self sacrificial asshole?” You smiled lightly trying to break the tension “You have people who love you Max, who need you” You gestured to Lucas who was inside with Dustin, giving you girls a minute.

Max's anger softened slightly, but her voice was still firm. "And what about the people who love you? Do you think we want to lose you? Do you honestly think we'd be better off without you?“

“One less problem, one less life to worry about” you shrug “Ill be okay if i know your okay”

You slightly leaned on your left foot, your eyes looking between Robin, Nancy and Dustin, you cleared your throat “Someone should go check on Steve, we need to stick together right now”

Nancy nodded, her expression solemn "I'll go talk to him"

She glanced at the others, silently giving them a look that said "stay here. I'll handle this" before heading off to find Steve.

“We should head back inside to talk about this” Robin suggested, gesturing to the situation, your situation.

Max reluctantly nodded, her expression still laced with concern as the group made their way back inside, heading back down the stairs toward the basement.

—-

Nancy found Steve sitting in his car on the street, his head in his hands. She knocked politely on the window before getting in “You okay?”

Nancy nodded, full understanding the situation that was at hand, the one that escalated from just Max being cursed but now you to “She should’ve said something sooner, i get that but we didn’t full understand what the symptoms were till last night Steve, with everything going on im sure her headaches and nightmares seemed normal given the circumstances” Nancy tried to reason with Steves anger towards you

Steve let out a frustrated huff, his hands moving up to run through his hair, pulling on the ends slightly in frustration. "That's just it, Nancy. I thought her being on edge and having headaches was normal too, but I should've known better. I should've been more observant, more attentive. I should have noticed something was wrong even before all this Vecna crap!” He paused taking a deep breath, his voice cracking “I’m with her everyday, I should’ve noticed something was wrong, maybe I could have helped her, no I know I could have helped her and maybe she wouldn’t be a target”

Nancy nodded “You care about her a lot dont you?” she smiled softly

Steve's shoulders slumped and he leaned back against the seat. "Yeah, more than I probably should. It's just... We have a history, y'know? We've been through so much together. And now this...” He gestured towards the house, towards you. "I just can't lose her, Nancy. I don’t what I would do if I did."

Nancy straightened up “You wont” she reached out placing her hand on Steve’s shoulder “Were going to do everything to save both of them Steve, Max and y/n, i promise”

Steve let out a shaky sigh, his shoulders drooping. "I hope you're right, Nance, I really do. But every time we think we've got a handle on things, another curveball gets thrown our way. It's like for every problem we solve, three more pop up in its place. I just feel like we're fighting against the goddamn universe here."

Nancy nodded full understanding “I get it i do. But right now we should be in there” Nancy gestured to her house “With them, brain storming a plan to keep Max and y/n safe.”

Steve nodded, reluctantly agreeing with Nancy. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before speaking. "You're right. I know you're right. We need to focus on the task at hand. Max and Y/N need us, and we can't waste time moping around." He opened the car door and stepped out, looking back at Nancy with a determined expression on his face. "Let's get to work."

Nancy jumped out “Steve wait” she spoke while shutting the passenger door

Steve paused, turning to face Nancy with a puzzled expression. "Yeah, what is it?"

“I know you said you should push your feels aside but just in case” Nancy crossed her arms “You should tell her how you feel” She smiled softly “Just in case”

Steve's heart skipped a beat, and he felt a pang in his chest at Nancy's words. He had been struggling to keep his feelings for you hidden, trying to deny them even to himself. "I... uh" he stumbled over his words, his heart racing a mile a minute. "I don't know,..Do you really think that's the best idea right now? I mean, with everything going on..."

“I do Steve, Maybe not right at this very moment” Nancy joked “But i think you’ll both regret it if you dont, especially if something happens” Nancy was insinuating in case something went wrong which meant in case Vecna got you.

Steve nodded slowly, his expression turning somber. He knew deep down that Nancy was right. But the thought of confessing his feelings in the midst of this chaos and danger was a scary one. What if you didn’t feel the same way? What if his feelings just made things more complicated?

"Yeah... I get what you mean. But how, and when, am I supposed to do it? Feels like the worst possible time for me to bring all of this up."

Nancy smiled softly walking towards her house “You’ll know when Steve” she paused with her hand lingering on the front door handle “Maybe something good can come out of all this bad” before turning it and walking in her house, heading to the basement to come with a plan to kill Venca and save you and max

Steve stood there for a moment, his mind racing with Nancy’s words. Maybe something good can come out of all this bad. That thought echoed in his mind as he watched Nancy disappear into the house. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he made his way back to the basement, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

You sat there quietly on the couch at the back of the basement while the kids and robin started to put together a half assed plan. Nancy hit the bottom step before catching your eye and smiley softly before joining the group a few feet from you to come up with a plan to stop Venca.

Robin, Lucas, Dustin, Max, and Nancy huddled together, quietly brainstorming and discussing ideas. Every now and then they would glance over at you, checking to see if you were listening or had anything to add. You could see the worry etched on their faces, their expressions clouded with concern and fear for your well-being.

But you remained silent and still, your mind filled with turmoil and anxiety as you sat at the back of the basement, listening to their hushed voices.

Steve finally joined the rest of them. He sighed when he seen you there by yourself, he could tell you were trying your best not to cry. He glanced over at Robin who was with the other group, she nodded her head in your direction. Gesturing for him to go talk to you.

Steve caught Robin's silent message, nodding his head slightly in acknowledgment. He knew that she was right. He couldn't avoid this any longer. He needed to talk to you.

He glanced over at you once more, noticing your attempts to hide your emotions. His heart clenched tightly in his chest, and he took a deep breath before slowly making his way over to you.

“Hey” He mumbled softly “Can i sit?” You nodded still not looking up at him

Steve sat down next to you, leaving a small gap between the two of you. He fidgeted uncomfortably, unsure of how to start the conversation.

He let out a small sigh before speaking again "Listen, I... I wanted to talk to you about something."

Your head felt heavy lifting it up to turn to Steve “Yeah?”

Steve's gaze met yours. His eyes were intense and filled with a mix of emotions, but also a hint of vulnerability.

"Look, I know we're in the middle of a goddamn mess right now. And I know that you've got a lot going on in your head. But I need to say this."

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words to say, this was something he truly didn’t want to mess up, he couldn’t.

Your heart was picking up, this was it you thought. You could see the nervousness in his eyes, his hand was plucking the seams of the old work couch. You watched his mouth open before you heard the clock, you tensed. You turned back to Steve something felt off, his eyes were now dark, he laughed, but it was different it was dark, evil, sinister sounding “Steve?” You questioned

“Steve” He mocked “Did you really think i loved you? Did you really think i could love someone like you?” He chuckled “Your pathetic, i cant wait for you to go, to leave for him to take you. It would be a relief”

Tears were now rolling down your cheeks as you got up from the couch backing up “You dont mean that” He was taunting you, as you looked around you realized this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. Then you heard it, the low growling.

Vecna.

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction

63 notes · View notes

melkyt · 8 months ago

Text

Red String of Fate LawLu soulmate au.

Law takes comfort in the taut and thick string stretching into the distance all his life. He has always taken comfort in it. When everyone was dying around him, talking of how their strings turned white, his stayed red and vibrant in a world of colorless gray.

He would spend days just twisting it around his fingers as he waited for the disease to take him. Always wondering what his fated one thought of having a dying love somewhere out there on the sea.

When Corazon met his end, and his own thread gained strength, he never even started looking. Law never believed that his soulmate would still hang on to such a weak soul as his. He had settled to never find love.

Then he meets Luffy, and their threads connect and fade. Law is silent, stunned. It is too hard to believe. Luffy just grins, taking Law's hands in his. "I'm glad you survived Traffy"

And that's it, despite Law's doubts and tendencies to run from commitment, Luffy does not leave him alone. Always finding him when the Straw Hat crew has time to relax. Law doesn't do as much as he can in avoiding them.

Then, they make their plan to take down Kaido. It is dangerous, and Law worries more than he has in a long time. He knows that fate loves taking everything that he loves. What if something happens to Luffy? His doubts never go away even if he pushes them down deep.

Luffy sees that Law worries and gets clingier than usual, promising that no matter what, they will all survive.

Law holds onto those words, and as Luffy leaves to fight Kaido, he keeps the red string wrapped around his fingers, so it is in view at all times.

This proves to be a mistake that breaks his fragile peace. The thread that has been the strong constant, present, thins and snaps. It disintegrates in a white mist.

Law drops his sword, his knees give out. Luffy's name falls from his lips in a gut-wrenching scream. Kidd is by his side, blocking big mom. He has no time to check on the warlord but understands well enough what happened.

He knew this would happen, why didn't he try harder to be there for Luffy? They couldn't avoid fighting Kaido, not with their honor at stake, but he should have been there on that roof, supporting his fated one.

Again, he has failed. Again, his cursed soul touched something beautiful and watched it fade away. They should have never met. He can't take this. Tears spill, leaving trails in the dirt and dust covering the pale patches left over from his disease.

"Focus, Trafalgar!" Kidd snaps. "We aren't done yet"

Big Mom laughs, raising her sword. Metal sparks with impact.

"Strawhat ain't dead, no way," he growls, putting as much conviction as he can into his words, even if he does not believe it. The sounds of battle from above have disappeared.

Law looks down at his hands, studying each finger, looking for any sign of the string. If he is alive, it has to be there. He digs at his palm, blood spilling. He wills it to come together into a string, he begs whatever fate, whatever god there is in this world to bring Luffy back. "You're not allowed to die, you promised," He hisses. "Please, Luffy, dont do this," he begs, doubling over. His hands shake. It's not too late to use his power. It can't be. Law gets up on unsteady legs. Not paying attention to Kidd, Big Mom, or Kaido's floating goading form. He needs to reach the roof.

The room gets hotter as Kaido readies an attack that will take them all out. Perhaps that is for the best. Law is so tired. He has his own promise to keep to Corazon, but how much longer can he keep going?

He looks up, ready for the fire to reach them. The glow dancing over tear stained cheeks. Law eyes flutter shut. He focuses on the memories he shared with Luffy. It is not enough. He had spent too much avoiding their connection that the few bright moments they shared feel lacking. Law wants more, it can't be over.

He faintly hears a rhythm past the roar of blood in his ears. It almost sounds like a heartbeat, not his own. His is much weaker, fluttering irregular thing. It feels familiar.

Law opens his eyes only to flinch away. The ruined castle is filled with light as bright as the sun. It is not the light of a fire. "Thank You..." he whispers before he fully understands what it means.

Law lifts his hands up to the sky. Clouds twist around his fingers as they solidify into a white soft thread. It wraps around his ring finger, its fibers pulsing with the same odd rhythm. "He's alive, alive." Law feels a weight he has been carrying for so long, lift, just with those simple words. "He kept his promise." Law swallows his feelings. Maybe he can go a little longer. If Luffy can defy death, then so can he.

-end scene-

After they beat Kaido, Law is the one who does not let Luffy go. Not leaving his soulmates' side for anything in the three days that Luffy sleeps.

#lawlu

123 notes · View notes

ilys00ga · 1 year ago

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

pairing: yoongi x female reader.

synopsis: where you meet him during your best friend's wedding. can a heart beat again after breaking to pieces?

genre: best friend's brother!yoongi, actress!female reader, bookshop owner!yoongi, angst, kind of hurt/comfort, there's also some fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, first encounters.

warnings: cheating, heartbreak, slight mentions of depression, failed past relationship, smoking. this is pure fiction ⚠️ !!

A/N: sorry for any typos or mistakes. just enjoy, pls :)! also, I might write a second part for this one. idk, tho.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

- incoming message: "saera <3: are you ditching at the last minute?"

the screen read.

oppening the door to the hall in which everyone was already sat, you made your way into the room as quietly and as quickly as possible. and with your eyes scanning around in an attempt to spot your usual group of friends, a wave of relief washed over you upon finally spotting them.

"finally! was almost certain you won't be showing up." your friend, saera, muttered under her breath and pulled you to sit closer by her side.

"why wouldn't I?" you scoffed at first, but continued with a more serious tone upon seeing the concerned look her face held, "I'm sorry, I... got distracted."

"distracted?" her brow rose in a stern question, before slowly shaking her head in defeat. "right. seriously though, if you feel like it's too much just say the word and we'll leave."

"no, I'll leave and you'll stay and have all the fun here. I won't let my messed up past ruin this for you too." you argued.

"hey-!"

"I'm fine, I promise. I wouldn't be here if I weren't. we need to drop this topic now." you took her hands in yours, looking into her eyes with a serious expression, and she silently nodded her head after a few seconds. you smiled at her in thanks before turning to greet Jimin and Jisung, your other friends from work who were sitting right behind the two of you.

"how are you boys doing?"

"I'd be better if it weren't for this ridiculous dress code we had to follow." Jisung pointed to the pink hat he was wearing with a frown. Soyoon, the bride and your dearest friend, had insisted on setting a dress code for all the guests. everyone had to wear anything as long as it's not black - "black is boring! this is a wedding! MY wedding!" - or crazy-colorful, along with a special piece - a pink hat or a pink hair clip. something pink, you do you.

no one understood this weird dress code, yet no one dared to complain, simply trying to style their options as best as they could. and in her defense, sweet, typical Soyoon said she wanted to play around and test her guests for fun.

"talking as if you wouldn't wear the most ridiculous looking outfits on random work days all in the name of fashion." jimin chimed in to tease the other whining man, making saera laugh. the room fell silent, and the ceremony began shortly after they started their usual bickering war of words.

in your honest opinion, Soyoon was a very gorgeous woman. she was always well presented and beautiful. however, as she stood before the crowd with her smile so big and radiant, she looked like a literal princess. you stared at your best friend in pure awe because you're genuinely happy for her. so, so happy. and you ignored the feeling that weighted down on your heart as your mind clung back to the day you wore your own white gown and your own veil, all to cherish this precious moment. to celebrate with your loved ones.

just like that, the vows were pronounced and the husband kissed his bride. cheers and claps filled the room, and everyone moved to congratulate the newly wedded lovers. yet the party is still very young.

you stood aside for a while, allowing yourself to drink in the beautiful sight of pure happiness and love, reminding yourself that the world is still moving even though you were busy being stuck in the past. you observed until the tornado that's been brewing in your chest grew violent before walking out of the scene, out and towards the small lake situated not far away from the building.

it's been exactly eight months and a couple of days since you've stood in front of your own wedding venue. eight-going-nine months since you got your heart broken.

maybe you were just a coward, too scared to face your own emotions, but it's not like you chose not to attend one all this time. you just couldn't. no matter how hard you tried to overcome the pain, the wound was still so fresh, and it only seemed to be getting bigger than you, swallowing you alive.

the pain of seeing the person you were so bewitched by, to whom you were ready to spend the rest of your life being committed, the one you loved with your entire heart inside some random room in the same venue the two of you chose to finally celebrate your love, all pressed up against the wall with another woman. kissing and doing things you decided not to even attempt to think about or recall.

at the time, it took you a good five minutes to get yourself together, to look closely to confirm that what you saw was indeed real and not just some messed up image your pre-wedding anxiety was trying to print into your brain, before sprinting out of the building and running far, far away from everything. running despite your legs feeling like they could explode at any given moment. you ran until you reached an empty unknown, crouching down and spilling your heart through your eyes and across your cold cheeks as you cried and cried and cried with the wind slapping against your skin.

from then on, you could never attend a wedding. no matter who the loved one was to you, you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. all you could do was smile apologetically as you politely rejected their invitation. and they understood because they knew.

eight months and there you were. numb body sitting on a bench, with a little cigarette between a thumb and an index, pulling and exhaling every now and then as you let the calm of the lake and the green of the grass, along with the color of the flowers do their favorite game of soothing your heart.

part of you wished you were the smoke that rose and flourished in the sky, giving its weight and color up to become one with the wind.

"not a fan of parties too?" a voice that sounded concerned, but very timid and gentle, broke the silence. almost like it was too ashamed of announcing its own presence. and if its deepness startled you, you didn't let it show. Instead, you lifted your head and saw a man standing close by, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark blue trousers and head tilted slightly in question.

"mind if i join you?" the sight of him scratching the nape of his neck with an awkward smile triggered your own smile, but you really weren't in the mood, so you wordlessly nodded towards the empty spot next to you and he didn't comment on that.

"it's more about the event itself rather than the crowd." you took a cigarette out of your purse and extended it to the pale skinned man.

"well, then we're not as similar as I assumed. and for that, I apologize." he mused, accepting your offer with a smile. you watch as he put it between his lips and leaned in towards the lighter you held out for him. "thanks" he nodded, taking a long pull and sighing as he breathed out and goaned in satisfaction.

you didn't know what to say, how to lay it out to him. in fact, you weren't even sure if you should let him know. after all, he was a stranger that you've never seen before. but your heart squeezed with a sudden need to talk, to explain why and how you were so messed up, while your brains insisted no.

you shook your head with a sigh, trying to think of something to say when the man caught you off guard with a question, "do you like playing UNO?"

snapping your head towaards him, you saw him holding a box of UNO cards, waving it slightly and proudly showing it off to you with a smile, and you couldn't help but giggle at that.

"why did you carry UNO cards with you to a wedding?" he chuckled with a shrug before sheepishly admitting that he bought it as a gift for his little niece.

"do you want to play, yes or no?" he smirked and narrowed his eyes in a teasing manner.

"gosh. open it already."

he does as he's told, scooting a little farther than you to make a little space in which the two of you started playing the silly little game.

"how do you know Soyoon?" the man wondered aloud.

"she's my best friend slash co-worker. what about you?"

"her brother, yoongi." he simply answered. you knew Soyoon had a brother before, but you never got to meet or even ask about him.

"it's an honor to finally meet you, then. I'm ___."

"i know you, soyoon talked about you and a couple of other friends before." yoongi smiled shyly, everting his eyes to focus back on the game.

"you seem pretty good at this, wasn't expecting that, to be honest." yoongi hummed at your teasing comment, picking a card, a plus two card, when it was his turn and putting it atop the pilled up ones in the middle. "glad you're having fun. I was afraid you would stick to your frown for the rest of the ceremony and never show us your cute smile."

heat rushed through your face, tinting your cheeks as his words, along with his slick move and the smirk on his face settle in your head.

"you didn't seem happy." he explained further, locking his eyes with yours, and you cleared your throat in an attempt to brush your brush off and continued to play.

"I don't really fancy weddings." you said.

"understandable. I don't fancy parties and public places either."

"yeah, but your circumstances are probably very different from mine."

he snorts "social anxiety is social anxiety."

"did you get your heart broken from an ex fiancé, soon-to-be husband like i did?" you failed to fight the bite in your tone, and your face hardened for a moment before softening again when he didn't respond with anything.

"sorry about that." you apologized.

"it's fine." he smiled.

your little bubble was popped open when a feminine voice called out your name, saera was waving for you to come over. you let out a small "oh" and faced yoongi who scrunched his nose in response, "guess the game's over." he stood up and offered his hand for you.

"for now," you noted, taking his hand and standing up as well, "we still didn't see who's the winner."

for a brief moment, you looked down at the cards you were still holding in your other hand, and then met his eyes again, "it was a lovely game can't wait to see again and beat you at last."

you could feel your hands shaking slightly, hesitating before extending a reverse card towards him with a shy smile. yoongi stared dumbfoundedly at first, then took the card with an equally shy smile.

"I'll be eagerly waiting, then."

you two started towards the building, with you taking rushed steps thanks to the way saera's been signaling for you to hurry up! and you didn't miss her little smirk when you finally reached her, nor the way she discreetly tilted her head towards the other man who was still a few steps far behind.

"I've seen a lot, but playing card games as a first interaction in a ceremony is quite new to me." she linked her arm with yours and guided you towards the main hall, where everyone was still chatting and enjoying their time.

"the party's ending, let's go say bye to the bride!" you ignored her comment with a cheer.

"my girls!" soyoon greeted with her arms open wide for the two of you.

"our beautiful, beautiful bride!" and saera cheered just with an equal amount of joy.

the bride pulled away to look at you with a grateful smile, "thank you so much for being here."

"oh please, did you expect me to really ditch your special day because of some stupid past drama?!" you scoffed.

"I know how hard it's been for you, my dear. I'm so glad you're here."

"it's really nothing." you insist.

"yeah, she was having fun with your brother out there, don't worry about her." saera winked with a mischievous smile, which pulled a gasp from soyoon, startled.

"wait what?!"

"oh my god. stop, you two. we just talked a little bit. I've never got to meet him before." you whined.

"neither did I!" saera fired back.

"well, I'm not gonna lie, you two are a good material." soyoon smirked and giggled with saera. both of them always loved to tease you.

"I'm leaving!"

"don't forget, we're having a sleepover this weekend!" you roll your eyes at saera before bidding you goodbye, hugging the girls one last time and leaving with a weirdly much lighter heart.

#yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #yoongi fic #bts yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi angst #bts imagines #yoongi imagine #bts angst #bts fluff #strangers to lovers #or is it #kinda #lol

363 notes · View notes