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rockingbytheseaside · 6 hours ago

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✦ You test out a new lipstick

(Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia)

Tw: smooches! Shield your eyes!

Oh, would you look at that, you bought a new lipstick. You just need to test whether it wears down quickly or leaves any mark.

✧ Pierro is in a haste. You blurt out that you need a new lipstick once, and the next thing you know, he purchases several high-quality ones for you. Offering you swatches of colors, makeup removers, different shades, and lipstick textures, he observes with analytical admiration as you sit in front of a mirror and apply the lipstick carefully.

One last step is missing – to try its imprint. The Jester is ready to reach for a napkin to let you try. But you only smiled. Before he can comprehend, your hand reaches to turn his head and gently guides him closer to your lips until you sweetly capture his. It’s not often that The Jester experiences a complete blank out, but when you deliberately trace your lips across his skin and start preparing his face with kisses, how else is he supposed to react? Hold in his hitched breaths? Not deepen the kisses to relish the ambrosia of your lips?

Suffice it to say, you are proud of the imprints on his pale skin. He seems even prouder, wearing them like a badge of honor, despite his stoic appearance.

✧ You asked Il Capitano to evaluate the new shade of lipstick you bought. Like any loving partner, the honorable Captain stated honestly that any hue suits you elegantly. Even if his knowledge of cosmetics is minimal, he felt delighted and proud of your looks.

But that wasn’t the issue. Now you were standing in front of him, smiling menacingly.

“What is it, my treasure?”

You stepped closer.

“Dear…?”

You stepped even closer. Oh no, thought the Captain, he’s in danger. His pleas for reason and mercy went unheard. Instead, he faced a bigger battle—a battle that left his helmet not with scratches but with various imprints of your kisses. You stood triumphantly, happy with your lipstick and the numerous marks on his helmet and neck.

Il Capitano lost the battle that day.

✧ At last, Il Dottore mused to himself, the perfect hue of lipstick designed scientifically for you. You voiced your issue in finding a suitable shade of makeup for yourself, hence you asked none other than your beloved to find a logical solution. So he took matters into his own hands to find the best chemical solution and accurately create the best shade to match your skin.

Naturally, it was a success. With his gloves stained in various colorful substances, he proudly handed you a slender tube with a delicate black cap from the table as if it were a casual concoction he could make on a whimsy. Hence, you thanked him and blithely applied it on the spot.

“Dottore, it turned out magnificently!” – you said as you looked into the reflection of your face. But when you turned to look at him, Dottore’s complexion went vaguely blank. “Hm, what is it? Isn't it good? You made it matte, too.”

He silently stepped forward; even behind his black mask, you could sense his full attention zooming on the beauty of your lips.

"Well, true... I formulated it to be stain-proof, so it won't smudge as you go about your day. However," - he hummed, his hand cupping your jawline warmly. "Every product requires assiduous testing. We could conduct a few tests of our own to ensure its performance. If I may,"

Of course, he would test it personally. Of course, he then captures your lips in a kiss, his hand on the back of your head, his touch an ardent mix of passion and desire. He explores your mouth, his tongue caressing yours with a fervor, wanting to test how long the lipstick will last under the pressure of his kisses. You should've expected this, as his other hand encloses around you to press you flush against him.

"Ah... interesting. It's held up quite well. There's no transfer on your skin or mine, but I do think further testing is necessary."

“Enough, enough! That’s plenty of testing from you!”

✧ Scaramouche dislikes shopping. It’s a hassle, truly. You requested him to accompany you on a leisurely stroll, oblivious of your trap to drag him to some quick shopping. Except this quick shopping turned into a full-blown shopping spree. The question is: was he here to accompany you or to pull you away from wasting all your Mora on fleeting indulgences?

“No, you don't need any more clothes. You have plenty of unworn ones.”

“No, we don't need any more plushies, your bed is already littered with them.”

“And no, you already had some snacks on the way here. Stop buying more!”

You couldn't escape his stern reminders, even if they were practical. However, there was still one shop you left as an ace up your sleeves. Before finishing today's trip, you encouraged The Balladeer to join you in cosmetics shopping. Your innocent smile spoke promises of letting him choose your new lipstick color if he so desired, and the allure of it caused him to halt.

“... Me? Why must I choose? Can't you pick a simple color and call it a day, huh?” - Scaramouche feigned annoyance when, in reality, he quickly grabbed your arm and led you hastily to the boutique. “We'll quickly buy one, but don't get any ideas that we're staying here for any longer.”

Poor Harbinger; he didn't have to lie to himself so cruelly. The two of you stayed in the boutique for a long while, not because you were indecisive, but because Scaramouche suddenly took the matters with utter seriousness. Should he suggest a carnelian shade? It would match with his own red eyeshade. Or perhaps a darker one would suit your complexion? Especially if you decided to leave contrasting lipstick imprints all over his porcelain skin-

Scaramouche shook his head. Your voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Um… Scara, sweetie? Could we decide already? We spent the whole day in this shop.”

“We'll buy all of them, then,” - he held up your face, his full focus on you as you timidly averted your gaze. “Here. Now let me help you apply it.”

✧ Pantalone sat behind his desk, fingers intertwined thoughtfully. Silver glasses cast a shadow upon his already darkened gaze. His expression, unfortunately, was far from pleased.

“L-lord Harbinger Regrator,” – the Fatui subordinate uttered. “It is with utmost sorrow that I must inform you that- that the cosmetologists you hired have not finished their work. They are still in the process of creating the products you requested.”

The silence of the office was deafening. The Harbinger granted no mercy with his prolonged pause.

“... I commission the best cosmetologist in all of Teyvat, and they still dare to waste my Mora and time? Is this some frivolous matter for them?” - The Harbinger's hands sternly pressed against the table, his voice raised “My beloved requested a new lipstick! They deserve the best of the best, as soon as possible!”

“Uh, honey… I am still here in the room.” - your voice interjected awkwardly. Indeed, it's true; you are sitting nearby, blinking in confusion. You waved at the Fatui subordinate to take it easy, signaling sympathetically that your partner was having another one of his ambitious episodes.

“Honey, my love, this is no fleeting matter! I wanted you to get the highest, custom-made quality for cosmetics. You rarely ask for anything, but when you do, I can't just let you down!”

“It's just lipstick…! I didn't even say what color or kind I wanted.”

“And that's precisely why you shall get all of them. You there,” - he signaled back to the subordinate swiftly. “Quick, send the letters to those cosmetic chemists to hurry up if they want to make themselves worth the Mora. Delays are not negotiable.”

With the Fatui worker scurrying away in a hurry, Pantalone sighed deeply before plopping down beside you on the sofa of his office. You patted his back, amused by his sudden precedence over something so mundane.

“There, there, Pantalone. You know it's nothing urgent. It's just lipstick.”

“Not any lipstick. Your lipstick, darling! I need to see you don the most dazzling color on your lips.” He turned to gently trace his thumb across your jawline, his voice softening. “...The lips that should be showering me with kisses and leaving lipstick prints on my skin.”

You laughed heartily – “Oh, so that's what it's all about? You know, makeup or no makeup, I can still kiss y-”

You didn't register how The Harbinger's head bowed lowly in reverence. “I would pay you any amount of Mora for you to do so.”

Pantalone truly knows how to blow up over the most bizarre things. Either way, as the weeks passed, the newly ordered cosmetics did arrive as instructed. How did people know? Because Pantalone didn’t shy away from flaunting the traces of your delicate lips on his neck and blouse. A testament to stolen kisses and intimate moments behind closed doors. His triumphant grin says it all.

✧ Your ever-observant boyfriend, Tartaglia, noticed you mulling something over by the mirror. You seemed in deep focus, a new item in your hands as you inspected your visage. You tried on a new lipstick!

Childe, being the endearing goofball that he is, complimented your new purchase with delight. You appreciated his knack for noticing even the smallest changes, even if you didn't directly tell him you tried on something new. All was well!

Or was it? For beneath his easygoing smile, in the deepest recesses of his soul, Tartaglia was begging, crying, screaming. He wanted to hold your face in his palms and kiss you senseless. He wished to taste the sweetness of your lips until this adorable color of your lipstick was smeared on both of your faces. He wished to soak in the warmth of your pecks and kisses, dreaming for your touch to litter his face with imprints.

Did he say all of that? Of course not. He kept beaming at you in adoration, his smile tender while his thoughts devouring. Yet, after days of wrestling with his unspoken desires, Childe devised a plan – a very, very subtle plan.

“Oh nooo,” - he lamented dramatically, leaning against the doorway with a hand draped theatrically over his forehead. “If only my beloved was here to bestow me some loving kisses, especially when they look so alluring in their new lipstick! If only!”

You raised an eyebrow at Tartaglia’s shenanigans as if asking him: Really? What is this damsel in distress act? Nonetheless, luckily for the 11th, his oh-so-subtle hints hit the mark, because you happily cupped his cheeks and smooched them with fervor, feeling his warm skin under your lips as he chuckled.

Needless to say, your lipstick didn’t stand a chance.

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spiderfunkz · 1 day ago

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I'M SORRY, SWEETIE, PLEASE, DON'T GO

pairings. cho hyun-ju x f!reader

cw. heavy angst, death, canon violence, sad themes, the use of y/n once.

author's note: my requests for hyun-ju are still open! also this doesn't really match up to the canon events during the mingle game, but i tried my best to make it make sense. reader is sort of young-mi in this position, lowkey..

everything felt so suffocating recently. aside from the bills that are continuously pilling up, you are thinking about every possible outcome that could happen.

see, you thought you would be dead meat by the first game. but growing up in tough environments helped you to be still, quiet, frozen. you still hid behind someone the entire time though. a very tall, at least from your angle, woman. she seemed very brave, and that was fact checked when she went out to help somebody. she didn't seem much older than you, that was noted in your head.

later on, you would introduce yourself to her. keeping your calm, you kept your posture straight whilst talking to her. she was looking around for a team, everybody was bickering about what this game could be. so far, from your observation, men were keeping to themselves, rejecting the women offering help. even when they are sometimes bigger than them.

"excuse me, um, would you like to team up with me?" you looked at her, she looked really pretty, you noticed how her hair was very well kept, even in situations like this. her name is cho hyun-ju, you will forever remember her name.

after a while, you made it through the game. you two managed to find three more people. a mother with her son, and a very shy girl named young-mi. you all formed a bond since then.

you got to know hyun-ju better. why she was here, why she wanted to continue the games, she opened up, and you reassured her that she was beautiful, twice.

hyun-ju brought a sense of comfort, it made you feel at ease. she was equally as curious with you. you opened up as well. by the end of it, smiles were exchanged, jokes were tossed around, she was nice.

she wanted to go to thailand. it made sense, people were more accepting there than in korea. you knew some places in thailand, well you heard from close neighbors that went there once.

"i know a spot. in thailand. it's a hidden gem, that's what they told me. they say they have the best food. the place is surrounded by cats and they say the atmosphere is great!"

she smiles, "we should go. when this is all over."

"like a date?" you joked, she seemed serious, "yes. like a date."

you knew your chances of surviving was low. but you made the pinky promise anyway.

"hyun-ju!" you yelled, the lights were burning your sight. the platform you were standing on wasn't stable, you already tripped a few times.

you tried looking around, trying to spot anyone you knew. but it felt hopeless for you. the time was ticking, the screen glowed the number 4. unlucky bastard, you whisper.

that's when your hand was grabbed, it was hyun-ju. you felt safe with her touch. she ran towards a door, the mother and son you teamed up with earlier was ahead of her, where was young-mi?

stepping into the door made you feel secure. but it wasn't right, that's when you heard young-mi's voice pleading for help.

"unnie!" the door was closing, you have to think quick.

without much hesitation, you let go of hyun-ju's hand. pushing young-mi into the room just in time. you were out.

your forehead was pressed against the door, the small opening letting you see hyun-ju just one last time. she banged loudly, it was too late however. the timer went out.

you didn't regret what you just did. you knew young-mi wanted to go home more than you, she was younger. you would feel worse if you let her be the one in your position.

"hyun-ju," your voice croaked, the shots were loud.

"y/n!" she was inches away from you. the door blocking what could've been. her eyes seemed glossy, she was on the verge of tears.

"i guess that date to thailand has to wait, yeah?" you give her a sad smile—

thud.

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lucygraysboy · 1 day ago

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billy has to refrain from laughing or even grinning as he watches lucy gray’s award-worthy performance, trying to stay in character and loving every second of their shenanigans. she’s just so fun to be around. “i had no idea mermaids existed,” he gasps, feigning surprise as pale blue eyes take in her tail. he only lowers his voice when her small hand finds his mouth, hiding his smile. “is it real?” making sure not to touch her tail again, hearing he might get ill if he does so, billy restores to using his chin to point to things. “it’s so beautiful. i’ve never seen anything quite like it.” he doesn’t really know what color her scales should be, but for some reason he imagines them as a rainbow — each one painted a different shade, thousands of colors shimmering in the sun. she did tell him that she didn’t have just one favorite color, after all. it makes sense in his head. “you don’t have to be scared of me, little mermaid. i don’t hurt the innocent,” he proudly brags, puffing out his chest. he carries her to the shore, where the water’s barely reaching his knees and lowers her onto the soft sand below so that the lower half of her body’s still submerged. just in case there’s a rule that says mermaids can’t survive on land or stay out of water for too long. he kneels beside her, fingers tenderly stroking her hair. he doesn’t have to feign infatuation, his gaze gentle and loving. “how can i help you without touchin’ your tail? what about the fin? is it torn or broken? i’m so very sorry that you’ve only met unkind humans before, but your secret’s safe with me. i won’t ever tell anyone about what i’ve seen, and my crew over there, will never cause you or your friends any trouble.” he plays along, enjoying the combination of warm breeze and cool water, and the way she’s looking at him… his heart forgetting how to beat.

“my tail fin! my fin!” splashing feet pressed together up and down, “and a human?” pretending to just notice him then a gasp. “oh no, a human can’t see me!” shaking her head, pretending to writhe in attempt to get away before the human can get to her. “i’m scared of humans.” pretending to say to herself before a gasp escapes at suddenly being picked up and whisked away from the awful rock pinning her tail between it and the ‘ship’. “i’m…i’m…” feigning shock on her face even if she’s trying not to laugh because he’s ADORABLE, and it’s killin’ her. “don’t do that,” hand grabs his running up her tail, “you, a human, might get ill if you touch this… you weren’t supposed to see me. don’t tell anyone. if they know i’m a mermaid, they’ll try to catch me.” gently covering his mouth with her hand. “my tail does feel some pain… but you saved me.” playful surprise wells back in her eyes, “a human? who… saved me? i can’t believe it! i’ve always known unkind humans…” voice going softer but still skeptical. imagining she’s a mermaid so she should definitely be in awe of him. well, it’s not hard to express something that she’s been enchanted. a boy who really did save her in this lake, who plays with her like they’re children, a gentleman who helps her with things like breakfast and cleaning up… there certainly is something to in awe of. she’s glad she can blame it on her mermaid fascinated by a human role, as she gets lost in staring at him.

#billysgirllol

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insidekatmind · 1 day ago

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Rainy day~Jobe Bellingham

The rain was softly drumming on the window panes, creating a soothing melody that enveloped the room in a sense of peace. The gray clouds outside made the atmosphere cozy and perfect for a day of cuddling at home. You and Jobe Bellingham were on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket, while the aroma of hot tea filled the room.

“I can’t believe we finally have a day all to ourselves. No training, no commitments… just you and me.”

You held him tighter, resting your head on his shoulder. His strong arm wrapped around you, offering you a feeling of security that only he could give you.

“It’s perfect like this. I missed spending time with you without rushing.”

You heard him sigh, while his fingers gently brushed your hair.

“I know… Sometimes I think time flies too fast. I want to be able to stop every moment with you, enjoy it without thinking about anything.”

You looked into his eyes, your heart beating faster for that sweet and sincere smile.

“I wish time would stop too. With you I feel safe… I feel at home.”

He slowly approached you, placing a light kiss on your forehead. That simple but loving gesture made you smile.

“I promise that I will always try to find time for us. Even when life gets hectic, even when I’m far away… you will always be my priority.”

Those words warmed your heart. You looked at him with affection, moved by how sincere he was.

“You don’t have to promise anything. I know how much you love me, I see it in your gestures, in the little things. And I love you for who you are, with your commitments and everything else.”

Jobe smiled and held you tighter. After a moment of silence, he got up from the sofa.

“Where are you going?”

He turned around, with an amused expression.

“I have an idea.”

He disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes and returned with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate and a tray of cookies. He put everything on the coffee table and sat down next to you again.

“There’s nothing better than a hot chocolate on a rainy day.”

You took your cup and smiled sweetly at him.

“You’re too sweet.” you say softly

“Just for you.” Jobe replies with a sweet smile .

As you sipped the chocolate, the conversation flowed naturally. You talked about your dreams, your fondest memories, the future you wanted together. Every word made that day even more special.

At one point, Jobe took your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Do you know that every time it rains I think of you?”

You looked at him with surprise and curiosity. “Really? Why?”

“The rain makes me think of how you bring calm into my life. You are like a sweet rainy day… relaxing, enveloping, and incredibly beautiful.”

Your heart seemed to burst with emotion. His words were sincere and full of love. You slowly approached, placing your lips on his in a sweet and delicate kiss.

“I love you, Jobe.”

“I love you too, more than words can express.”

The rain continued to fall outside, but inside the house there was only warmth and love.

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trippinsorrows · 2 days ago

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ltye: before the fall

authors note: this is part a requested/suggested short as well as something else. takes place between chapters six and seven of the story.

warnings: none

suggested listening: can't help falling in love by kina grannis (def recommend listening to this one towards the middle of this and onward)

words: 3.5k

**gif belongs to @romanreigns

There’s a lot of thought that goes into it. Too much. Textbook overthinking. But all so necessary.

She’s never done it before. Always resulted to texting to communicate with him when he’s in there. His office. Door closed. The place he’s been for the past two hours.

But unlike previous times, he hasn’t acknowledged her text. A text she sent almost half an hour ago. Something that wouldn’t be a major issue but not for the fact her message is….time sensitive.

Meaning, she’s on the 6th hour of the eight hour limit one has with tampons, and no other remaining ones in the box. It’s a stupid, silly thing she keeps mentally berating herself over. How she could forget to pick up another box at her last grocery store visit? But berating herself doesn’t do anything to help the problem. She needs to go out, needs to buy some more.

However, without Roman responding to her text letting her know if she can leave out or not, it’s hard to do.

Impossible, even.

Which is why she’s left with only one choice.

A deep breath, a quiet prayer, and a big risk.

Solana has only knocked, quietly, three times when his deep voice barks from the other side, “what!”

Eyes shut, she winces but manages to answer, “it’s—it’s me.”

A noticeable pause followed by a quieter, slightly calmer, “come in.”

Slight hesitation followed by acquiescence. Immediately, Solana readies her apologies for interrupting him, but is interrupted herself when her eyes land on him.

As expected, he’s sitting at his desk, laptop open in front of him, stacks of manilla folders and paperwork surrounding it and him. But, what’s unexpected are the black rimmed glasses that sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose as well as his hair, so black, silky and beautiful, free and hanging, not in the typical neat bun he sports majority of the time.

And Solana can’t bring it in her to look away, too stunned by the almost….normalcy of it all. In this moment, he looks nothing like the man whose name strikes fear among most. He just looks like….a man.

A beautiful man, but a man, nonetheless.

“Yes?”

His deep voice, still surprisingly calm, finally pulls her from her trance. Looking away, her body suddenly much warmer than she recalls, she answers, “I’m—I’m sorry to bother you. You just—you didn’t reply to my text—” Realizing how accusatory that could sound, she moves to damage control. “I just mean—”

“You text me?” A glance at Roman reveals furrowed brows. She watches him grab his phone, eyes surveying the lock screen that most likely holds her unread message. “Shit, I’m sorry. Been busy.”

His apology feels unnecessary and also takes her back. Why should he apologize to her? It doesn’t make any sense.

“Where the hell do you need to go this late at night?”

Despite the wording, the tone of his question is more curious than annoyed. It doesn’t stop her from nervously fiddling with the cotton of her sweatpants.

“I—I need to go to the store.”

Roman looks at her, brow raised, repeating. “You need to go to the store?” He glances at his computer screen. “Solana, it’s almost midnight. What the hell do you need from the store that can’t wait unt—” He stops, clearly noticing how her eyes shut, her face turned up in pain as she moves her hand over her stomach. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking her head, she waits for the sharp pain to, somewhat, subside, before answering. “I just—I don’t feel good.”

His eyes narrow, studying her. “Then you shouldn’t be going out.”

It’s a logical response that doesn’t necessarily apply to this situation.

Solana does her best to hide the pain and discomfort she’s in, subtly rubbing her stomach. “I—I have to—”

“Do you want me to call the doctor?” His question causes her eyes to widen. She shakes her head, ready to protest when he continues, “you’re obviously sick, so—”

“No, I’m—it’s not…it’s not like that.”

Wrong answer.

She watches his face shift into something of a scowl, his irritation undeniable as he demands. “Solana, would you just tell me what the hell is wrong with y—”

“I got my period.”

Oh.

Solana immediately regrets it the moment it's thrown out there. She slaps her hand over her mouth, eyes widened in horror.

Shit.

“I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean—”

Roman clears his throat, also clearly caught off guard by her answer, even if an answer was what he was wanting. “So you need stuff for….that.”

Her cheeks must be a reddish, ruddy mess. “Y–yes.” Desperate and eager to be past this conversation, she bargains, “I won’t be lon—”

“No.”

Silence.

Speaking continues to be a battle that Solana is, so far, not losing but not excelling at either. “I’m—sorry?”

Roman shakes his head, leaning back in the chair. “It’s too late for you to be out the house.”

She doesn’t necessarily disagree, but given the situation, she doesn’t see how she has much of a choice. “I—I’ll have security with m—”

“I’ll go.”

More silence.

“You?” It’s a whisper, her voice weighed down with shock and some shade of embarrassment. “No, no, you—you can’t—you’re working.”

“I’m always working,” is his easy counter. Standing up, Solana watches him roll his shoulders. “Better me than you. You don’t feel good.”

And she doesn’t feel any better knowing that she’s most definitely bothering him. “It’s fi—”

“Solana.” Something tells her this is a good point to stop protesting—and pushing—him. “I said I’ll go.”

His voice reeks of finality, and the fear of upsetting him is enough to silence her. “O–okay.”

He nods, walking over and tasking her. “Just text me what you need.”

Solana also nods, nervously pushing back some of her hair. She’s an embarrassed, flushed mess, offering, “umm, I can send pictures of…of the…the product, if that…if that’s easier.”

He shakes his head, objecting, almost politely. “I don’t need all that.” And now she feels both an inconvenience and a nuisance for unintentionally insinuating he’s incapable of picking up a single item from the store. “Just text it. That’ll be enough.”

—-------

Turns out texting was not, in fact, enough.

It’s not very often, far and few in between, but something that can happen. Is happening as Roman stands in the feminine products aisle confused as all the outdoors. He does his best to match the words from Solana’s text to the words on the boxes, but the shit all looks the fucking same.

“Why is everything fucking pink?” He asks no one but himself, growing more and more annoyed by every second that passes.

For a brief moment, he’s annoyed with Solana. Annoyed that she even has him out there. But, that irritation is shoved away when he remembers the look of pain on her face, the discomfort she was poorly trying to hide. It would be wrong to send her out when she obviously isn’t feeling well.

Not to mention, like he said, a safety thing. With them still being essentially newlyweds, that target on her head is nice and fresh. He won’t take any chances.

Which is why he’s standing in the fucking drugstore at midnight looking like a dumbass.

Feeling it, too.

Roman’s just about to go against his better judgment and call Solana when irritating humming hits his ears. Looking to his right, he sees a sales associate, a female sales associate approaching him.

A tiny little redhead, smaller than even Solana, wearing an undeniably flirty smile. Any other time, he’d tell her to fuck off. But, this is one of those rare occasions where Roman is out of his league and could benefit from assistance.

She’s close enough to fall in the hearing distance range, green eyes scanning him up and down. “Can I help you with—”

“I need this,” he cuts her off. Roman shows her his phone that has the texts from Solana pulled up. The texts that must be girl speak or something, because Annie takes his phone and nods to herself with an immediate sense of knowing. “Do ya’ll have it or not?”

Her eyes flicker up, a surprisingly friendly and annoyingly cheerful, “yup” leaving her mouth as she hands him back his phone.

Roman watches in silence as she grabs two boxes off the shelf, boxes he never even fucking looked at, and walks toward him. “Is it her first night?”

Again, a strange experience that he doesn’t know how to handle. “I—I guess. I don’t fucking know. She just needs shit.”

The girl, who Roman realizes can’t be over 21 seems undeterred by his harshness and even his refusal to acknowledge to obvious flirty eyes she was trying to send his way. Good. Let her focus on her fucking job.

“I was just gonna ask if she has a heating pad. They help a ton with cramps—”

“She has those,” he cuts in. Finally. Something he knows. "Cramps."

She nods, asking, “so does she have one already?”

And there goes the fucking knowledge. “I don’t know. I’ll just buy one.” Because even if she has one, it’s probably not new, therefore it might not be as effective. So, it only makes sense he replaces it. and since she's already here, clearly able to offer the assistance he won't outwardly admit he needs, Roman decides to take full advantage of it. “You’re a woman.” Green eyes gives him a strange look before he asks, almost awkwardly. “What—what else does she need?”

—--------

Solana expected Roman to come back with a single box of tampons.

What she receives, however, is more than just a box of tampons.

That’s included, yes. Included amongst three bags of various items ranging from tampons, pads, chocolates, over the counter pain pills, bubble bath, bath bombs, a heating pad, and more.

Her jaw is dropped the entire time she’s going through the bags he’s laid out on the kitchen counter for her.

“This…..” She’s truly at a loss for words. “Roman, this is—”

He shrugs, explaining, “I told the woman there to tell me what you might need.” Solana glances at all the items. Need is certainly a subjective word. Clearly.

“Thank you, but—” She shakes her head. “You didn’t��you didn’t have to spend so much money—I can pay you back.”

“Solana.” His deep voice cuts her off and demands her attention. “I’ve tipped more than what I spent on this. It’s fine. I don’t need your money.”

She nods, still quiet. It’s understandable. Roman Reigns seems like a man who doesn’t need much of anything from anybody, to be honest.

Still, she's not used to people doing things for her.

Especially men.

Roman studies her, asking almost skeptically, “so, are you good now?”

It takes a moment for her to answer. It takes her a second, because she’s overwhelmed. Countless times she’s been in pain before, struggled with horrific cramps and heavy bleeding, and not once did her dad or brother ask about how she was feeling. Did they even care.

They just wanted their dinner fixed.

And now, here’s her husband. Roman Reigns, of all people, leaving out late at night to pick up essentials for her. Beyond that, because the majority of the items he didn’t even need to get.

He didn't need to do it. Any of it, but he did, and she’s immensely grateful.

Overwhelmed, slightly, too.

“Solana?”

Breaking from her thoughts, and her emotions, she manages to answer. “Y–yes.” She clears her throat, holding and hugging the box of tampons to her chest. “Th—thank you, Roman.”

There’s something in his eyes as he looks at her. Something she doesn’t recognize but something that makes her feel something just as foreign and uncomfortable.

Safe.

“You’re welcome, Solana.”

—---------

At nearly 3 o’clock in the morning, Roman expected to leave his office to silence and darkness. And both of those are partially true. There is some element of silence and darkness, but it’s not holistic. It’s not holistic, because Roman walks into the living room to find his wife still awake, sitting on the sofa, watching TV, her puppy sleeping peacefully on the floor next to her.

That part isn’t surprising.

All that damn dog does is sleep, eat, and piss/shit.

What a fucking life.

Solana is smiling, an almost unfamiliar sight, at whatever is on the television when she notices him and sits up. Roman is unsure why he feels some sort of way watching her smile disappear.

“I’m sorry, is the TV too loud?”

He shakes his head, disliking seeing and hearing the fear in her voice and on her face. “No.” Roman asks the real, relevant question. “Why are you still up?”

He starts to ask if she's still not feeling well, but then he sees the flash in her eyes, the sadness, and something deeper, something he knows all too well, he knows exactly why she's up.

“Couldn’t sleep,” is the quiet answer she settles on. One he’ll accept.

And suddenly, he feels slightly bad. Bad for making her revisit whatever it was that kept her up.

Clearing his throat, he gestures to the TV. “What are you watching?”

He’s pleased to see her smile return. Just a bit. But still, it’s there. “Pretty Little Liars.” His nonverbal response must give away his obliviousness. “You—you’ve never heard of it?”

Unintentionally, he gives her a look that screams, ‘does it look like i’ve heard of it?” and he feels bad all over again, especially seeing how she looks embarrassed almost.

“What’s it about?” He asks, taking a spot on the opposite side of the same sofa where she sits, mindful of the distance between them, wanting to keep it at a respectful length. For her sake. He’s also relieved to see the embarrassment waning away.

“It’s….it’s kind of hard to explain, but….” Solana sits up, playing with her fingers, trying her best to explain an incredibly complex show. And she does the best she can, gesturing to TV at certain points, somehow pressing play for Roman to see for himself. From there, it ends up being less her explaining and more him watching. With her.

And it’s a newfound experience, sitting with him watching a show she’s certain he wouldn’t dare entertain in any other scenario. But, he is. With her. Without any protest.

It’s definitely strange but also….nice.

“So wait.” Her smile is already forming. He’s, understandably, had questions throughout, questions she’s enjoyed answering. It’ll probably be the first and last time someone is explaining something to Roman Reigns, because she has no doubt he’s used to it being the other way around. “I thought he was her teacher?”

Solana chuckles, answering. “He is.”

“He is?" Roman looks between her and the TV. “So they was both messing with the teacher?” His eyes are widened slightly, clearly taken back by this information. “And he knew one of them was underage?”

Solana nods, biting on her bottom lip. “Yeah.”

He scoffs, his next question more than valid. “Where the hell are the parents on this damn show?”

Solana giggles. Roman being unintentionally funny is an experience she could certainly get used to. “They don’t really find out about everything and start to get involved until later seasons.”

Roman's focus is on her, watching her adjust the blanket covering her body that slightly spills over into his lap. “How many seasons was it?”

She has to think for a second. “Seven, I believe.”

“Seven?” Solana laughs again. Roman’s surprise and borderline horror at just a tip of the iceberg of information is hilarious. “You watched seven seasons of this just to find out who B was?”

“A,” she corrects, hand over her mouth to cover her smile.

“Close enough,” he dismisses. Shaking his head, Roman seems to watch as she uses the remote to navigate to something else as they've reached the end of the episode. “You feeling better?”

His question takes her off guard and reignites that strange warm feeling from earlier. “Y–yes.” A rushed, quiet, “thank you” follows as she shifts on the sofa and finds herself asking, “have—have you ever seen Crazy Rich Asians?”

He gives her a look that’s equally puzzled as it is quietly amused. “Crazy Rich Asians?”

The way he almost punctuates each word makes her laugh quietly. “I know….I know the title is kind of off-putting, but it’s—it’s one of my favorite movies.” And where this comes from, she hasn’t the slightest clue because it makes no sense from any angle, but she’s asking him nonetheless. “Do—do you want to watch it with me?”

Solana immediately regrets it the moment it leaves her mouth for a lot of reasons. The main one being he’s already sat here and watched almost 45 minutes of a show he clearly has no interest in. Not to mention that it’s the middle of the night, and he has to be exhausted.

The man has early mornings and late nights almost every day. She truly doesn’t know just when he sleeps.

And her asking him to stay up with her to watch a damn rom-com is just—

“Sure.”

Solana is certain she’s staring, certain she looks just as caught off guard as she feels. “Wh–what?” She sits up a little, noticing that Dulce continues to sleep away peacefully. Despite minimal anxiety, her smile is small, revealing Solana's inherent satisfaction at his answer. “R–really?”

And if Roman is at all annoyed or feeling upset at being asked to stay up later than he already is, he does a damn good job at hiding it. His big shoulders lift for a shrug. “I’m not really tired anyway.”

A part of her wonders if he’s just saying that to save face. The other part of her feels a sense of excitement, regardless.

“Okay….”

Solana doesn’t waste any time in starting said movie, and as much as she enjoys the film, it’s a bit more difficult than she anticipated to focus on the TV with the man sitting so close besides her. And not even for the reasons of attraction, maybe to some extent, sure, but she’s more engaged and almost moved by the small smiles, quiet chuckles, and even light laughter at certain scenes.

She studies him, unable to look away. Not wanting to. Because this man, almost relaxed, is such a stark contrast from who she’s used to.

Who the world is used to.

He just seems so at ease, and selfishly, she soaks and absorbs it all in. Appreciates it. Wants it to last for as long as it can.

Especially because it’s certainly an anomaly. Come morning, even after the conclusion of the movie, the same, stoic, unreadable Roman Reigns will return.

Because at the core, that is who he is.

It’s truly only when one of Solana’s favorite cinematic moments occurs that she’s fully invested in the movie her husband has been more invested in than she has.

“I love this part,” she sighs in awe. Roman turns to see his wife is now sitting up on the sofa, head tilted slightly, eyes glued to the TV.

He doesn’t allow himself to think about how much closer she suddenly is to him in this new position.

He instead also follows her line of vision, watching as the wedding scene finally arrives, the tone almost completely shifting as music plays.

Wise men say

Only fools, only fools rush in

Oh, but I, but I, I can't help falling in love with you

Roman recognizes the song as an old Elvis tune, covered by the singer in the movie whose soft voice, soothing almost, reminds him of the woman next to him. The woman whose side profile is suddenly something he can’t seem to turn or look away from. A sight that’s significantly more exquisite than he realized. Solana has always been beautiful to him, objectively and subjectively.

But in this space, where she’s doing nothing more than existing, he finds that beauty immensely captivating, alluring, hypnotizing almost.

Shall I stay?

Would it be, would it be a sin?

If I can't help falling in love with you

Solana has seen this movie at least a dozen times. This scene in particular even more than that, and each time never fails to bring unshed tears to her eyes. The layout of the wedding, the bewitching voice of the singer, the love practically felt between Rachel and Nick, it’s all been so overwhelming in the best way.

But, there’s something different about this viewing. Something that feels a lot more personal than she’s ever experienced.

A lot more real.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things, you know, are meant to be

Emotion betrays her, Solana unable to keep her comment to herself. She shares, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s so beautiful….”

Roman continues to focus on her, on this woman who both confuses and intrigues him in ways he can’t understand. A woman whose kindness so starkly contrasts all of the dark edges that make him who he is. And he too is captivated.

Just not by the scene.

His eyes never leave her, his focus never so keenly devoted to a sole person than in this very moment.

“O oe….”

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can"t help falling in love with you

—----------

Translations:

"O oe...." = "You are...."

93 notes · View notes

luvologyy · 2 days ago

Note

After reading your request rules page and your Anya relationship hc.

Can we get Mutual Masturbation with Anya x fem reader?

Also-...I like the idea of Anya getting shy during this and can't make eye contact with the reader. She's too cute^^

A/n: hai anon!! Ty for reading my rules and anya headcanons! And she would get shy tehehe..

Shared love ⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩

Anya x F reader ᝰ.ᐟ꩜

˚ ༘ .˚⋆ ౨ৎ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

CONTAINS: mutual masturbation, fingering, clit rubbing, voyeurism, exhibitionism, orgasms, body worship, reassurance, anya being shy, squirting?

Nsfw mdni!

the both of you are naked, sitting on the bed, and she waits for you to make the first move, to show her what you like, to show her what makes you writhe in pleasure.

Anya can't help but feel embarrassed with you being able to watch and see her pleasure herself. Her being naked with you sitting in front of you, her face heats up at the thought of it.

But here the both of you are..

"Do I look pretty like this?" Anya asked,

the world around you seems to fade, leaving only her bathed in the soft silk of your guy's bedsheets and her soft curves,

"you’re… breathtaking," you whispers, your tone of choice an octave lower. "So so beautiful.."

pleasure rolls through your gut, and you sigh as you keep rubbing at your clit, keeping it a nice steady pace and just riding the pleasure rising within you.

"Cmon dont be shy hon, it's okay.."

You say, your head throwing back from pleasure as you rub your puffy clit at a steady pace.

sensing her hesitation, you gives her a soft smile and not wanting her to worry, that or to think you'll wont’ judge, and anya gave you a slight nod and take in a slight breath before finally trailing her fingers down her her body, reaching down for her arousal.

Anya glides her fingers across her wetness, whirpools of pleasure swirled in her lower tummy as she glided her fingers across her slick pussy, carefully slipping her 2 fingers in her warmth, a soft moan slipping through anyas lips.

"Follow my pace sweetie."

Anya nodded her head, inserting her slim fingers in a back and forth motion, her gummy walls squeezing her fingers as she moved in a jerking motion. overwhelmed by the pleasure of her strokes, how she sees you fondling your body just like how she is with hers.

Seeing Anya touching herself like that makes you even wetter than you’ve ever been before. Making you pick up your pace rub your sensitive clit faster. Your slick is literally dripping on your fingers and smearing on your inner thighs.

“Oh— just like that.."

You moaned, feeling a sense of pleasure build-up in your tummy, a sign that it would only take a few more thrusts before you come completely undone.

“ffuck go faster-”

your gentle, lustful voice traveling through anyas ears, making her thrust her fingers faster and deeper inside her. Seeing her filthy movements cause your eyes to roll to the back of your head. Anya felt her orgasm building up, she let out a small whine, pushing her fingers deeper and faster, her pussy starting to drool with need, and you struggle to keep quiet as you chase your own high, gliding your fingers across your sensitive bud with need.

"I'm so close!-"

Anyas moaned out in ecstasy, her head tilting back, she whined as her hips grind against your fingers desperately, your thighs slightly tremble as you feel yourself closer to sweet release.

"Cum with me baby-" you whined as your orgasm rips through your body. Your juices mixed with your sticky release gushes out of your cunt onto your fingers, anyas slick splashing onto her wrist and other parts of her skin that aren’t covered.

Ripples of pleasure run through anyas body, her hands shaking from the intense orgasm, small whimpers slipping through her lips. Strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead.

"Shhshhh, it's okay, I gotchu.."

You said, crawling up to her and hugging her, cradling her head in your arms as she clung onto you.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #anya mouthwashing #mouthwashing anya #anya x reader #anya x you #wlw #mouthwashing smut #i love anya sm my baby #𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩

89 notes · View notes

amyispxnk · 19 hours ago

Text

AUGHHH MY GOD THIS SERIES MAKES ME SCREAM AND SOB SM ISTG. I LOVE IT.

Notes from reading as always 🙏..

He’s always so supportive, so gentle, so easy with you. It makes your heart clench, makes it beat a little more just for him.

“Yeah, guess I am.” He turns his head toward you and gives you a heart-stopping smile. “I guess I see all the potential in those pretty eyes of yours.”

Turning back toward the fogged-up passenger window, you lean against the door and smile. A smile that’s bigger than you’ve ever smiled before. You’re completely smitten by the handsome Texas man with big brown eyes. And he’s just continuing to show you how much life is worth living. Telling you how far he thinks you’ll go. But you don’t want to go far in distance. No. You just want to stay right here beside him. You think you’d follow him anywhere.

these two are SO FUCKING CUTE UGHHHH THE YEARNING. THE YEARNING, PEOPLE. ITS KILLING ME

...smile like your whole heart is right there in his eyes. “Thanks for seeing the potential in me.”

THAT WAS SO SWEET UGH

He slows to a halt at a stop sign and turns to face you, eyes sparkling with promises. “Then I’ll be there every single time you need me.”

Literally screaming, crying, throwing up.

Also when he says he has to go - I love how respectful and mindful he is of her, not touching her despite wanting to, when wanting to comfort her. Your writing and the way you show so much character and depth through even the subtlest of actions like that is honestly incredible. I literally adore your writing so much

Ok I know I keep going on about it but genuinely Joel's characterisation is so well done. I love him so much in this fic, istg, like the way he picks up on things like when her hand gets shaky? So sweet

You’re about to get up, run out the door, but Joel senses your worry. He slides the back of his hand against yours, brushing your skin gently, a way to say ‘Hey, I’m right here.’ And when you look up and see those big brown eyes gazing softly down at you, you instantly quiet down inside. Your knee stops bouncing, and you’re left with this overwhelming peace that seems to radiate through every part of your body. Like a quiet forest that soothes your soul, that’s what Joel does to you. He makes everything else around you so still, so quiet.

IM CRYINGGGGGG.

Ellie… That little girl tonight looked just like his lost daughter—the one he saved all those years ago. But he never fully saved her. Not after… not when he let her go…

Oh my god??? It's the way I'm about to start sobbing again if I was right(?)

Don’t let go. Never let go.

IM. SCREAMING. AND CRYING. SO MUCH.

And the ending was so beautiful as always.

Wow.

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 7: Your Hand In Mine✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Get ready to meet soft, angsty Joel in this chapter. I would like to give him a big hug 🥺

Chapter Summary: Your first day of therapy is a little scary, but Joel helps you through it.

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 4.7k

Chapter Tags: Soft! Joel, so much angst, yearning, reader goes to therapy, dual POV, age gap (reader late 20’s, Joel late 40’s), mentions of violence and kidnapping, grief

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“You nervous?” Joel asks from the driver’s seat, hands locked around the leather steering wheel.

You nod while your hands fidget with your leggings. “Mmm, a little.” But a little’s a lie. You’re downright terrified. You’ve never been to therapy, never talked about yourself before like that. Well, Joel was the closest. You’ve talked to him, and you’re oddly comfortable with that now. But other than that? You haven’t done this.

He must see the lie on your worried face and the terror ringing through your wide eyes. Giving you a gentle smile, he turns his focus back to the road ahead that’s shrouded in mist from the December rain. “Don’t be. Tess is great. You’re going to be great, sweetheart. I know it’s scary, but just know you’re taking that first step into the unknown. That first step of healing, and you’re going to do so well. I jus’ know it.”

He’s always so supportive, so gentle, so easy with you. It makes your heart clench, makes it beat a little more just for him.

You take a good look at him. Watch as he cards a hand back through his tousled curls, watch as his green flannel clings to his flexed biceps, watch as that easy smile melts across his plush mouth. He’s just so nice to watch, so easy to keep your eyes trained on.

Darting your tongue across your bottom lip, you tilt your head toward him and give him an easy smile. “You’re always so sure about me.”

“Yeah, guess I am.” He turns his head toward you and gives you a heart-stopping smile. “I guess I see all the potential in those pretty eyes of yours.”

Your mouth parts, cheeks redden as you repeat that sentence over in your mind. He thinks you have pretty eyes. He’s always so sure of you.

When he stops at a red light, you brave another stare at him and smile like your whole heart is right there in his eyes. “Thanks for seeing the potential in me.”

One side of his mouth curls up into a crooked smile, and his cinnamon-brown eyes sparkle against the windshield. “You’re so welcome, sweetheart.”

When you catch your breath from melting, you ask, “Sarah said you see Tess, too?”

He nods as the truck’s engine revs to life again. “She’s right. See her every couple of weeks or so. She’s patient and understanding and she really helps, I think. Helps when the nights get a little too dark for me.”

The way he says the last sentence, his low voice sounds a little weary like maybe he fights the nights as much as you do. And you don’t miss the flinch in his right eye or the way his hand tightens on the steering wheel. He must get them too. The nightmares that haunt your dreams every few nights. You wish you could just scoop them up, replace them with dreams of ocean tides or snowy mountains filled with deep green trees. You wish you could take away his pain, whatever’s hurting him so deeply. He hides it well—the pain. But sometimes it creeps up on him, and it spills in different shades across his shadows that slip in his brown eyes. That’s something you don’t miss.

Steady rain pelts against the windows, making the few trees in the distance look like monsters with tangled vines draping low to the ground. You flick your gaze back to Joel in the driver’s seat and another slow smile brushes against your lips. “Thanks again for driving me.”

“It ain’t no trouble, sweetheart. I’ll drive you till you don’t need me to.”

Another skipped heartbeat, another butterfly flitting through your stomach. The man is so sweet.

Biting your lower lip, you brave a question, mildly testing the waters. “What if I always need you to?” It comes out quiet, but not so quiet that he doesn’t hear you.

He slows to a halt at a stop sign and turns to face you, eyes sparkling with promises. “Then I’ll be there every single time you need me.”

“Promise?”

Another smile. “Cross my heart.” He folds a hand over his chest, promising once again.

You giggle under your breath, your eyes never leaving his. “Well, looks like I can trust you then.”

“You can always trust me, sweetheart.” And he means it. You can always trust him, and you know that. God, you know that.

When the tires start spinning again on the damp pavement and the low sounds of an old Western song plays through the speakers, he clears his throat and speaks. “It’s gonna be a late night for me.”

You flip your eyes back to him and give him a worried stare. “Do you have to go somewhere?” You already know what that means. He’s got an important job to do. One where he might be gone all night, maybe till morning.

He nods subtly. “Got an important run I gotta do with Tommy. So I might not be home till mornin’…” His voice cuts off. He knows you hate it when he’s away so long.

“Gone the whole night?” Your voice is a meek whisper because you’re afraid what his answer will be.

He’s silent a beat. “Afraid so, but hopefully that ain’t the case. But still, even if I am back earlier, it’ll be well after two o’clock in the mornin’.”

Your stomach churns just thinking about it. When he’s not across the hall when you’re sleeping, when he’s not just mere feet apart from you, it’s like something’s missing. There’s a void in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t seem to unravel that feeling till he’s in your space again. “I hate when you’re gone all night…” Your words falter, they break like your voice shakes.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His right hand drops to the center console, just inches from yours. He seems conflicted, seems like he wants to reach out and graze his calloused skin against yours, but he doesn’t. But he’s trying. He’s still hesitant to touch you because you’re still so unsure of touch. He doesn’t want to scare you, and you know that. He’s just being careful. And maybe you’re still scared of physical touch, but his touch? That warm, gentle, soft graze he sometimes gives you. Well, it feels like sunlight skimming over you.

Carefully, you move your fingers in his direction. Just enough where you can feel the heat of his skin. You don’t touch him, not quite. But this is enough. This is your middle ground. “I umm… I worry about you at night when you’re not home. I’m always scared that… that...” You can’t even speak it out loud. You’re scared he won’t come back one night. And you can’t bear the thought of that.

His brown eyes soften. “I’ll be alright, sweetheart. I’ll come back. I can promise you that.” You give him a small smile and nod, keeping your fingers right by his just so you can feel the heat cover your own skin.

Physical contact is still something you’re struggling with, but you think Joel understands that. And he does. Always so careful around you. Never one to put you in an uncomfortable situation because he does understand your situation. He knows exactly what you’ve been through, and he wouldn’t dare make the wrong move because he doesn’t want to scare you. And you appreciate that. You appreciate him. So this is enough. Right now in this truck—hands centimeters apart, heat gliding over your fingers, a whispered promise that he’s going to take care of you.

Yes. This is enough.

After a few more minutes, Joel’s pulling into a little parking lot, right in front of a tiny building with a lit-up white sign that says "Essence of Healing.” Your heart starts beating faster, your breath tightening in your chest as your eyes scan the brightly-lit sign. “Well, here we are. You ready?” He turns off the ignition and pulls the key out, his brown eyes flitting over to you.

You swallow once and nod, an array of emotions spinning in your head. “Yeah, I think so,” you breathe out as calmly as you can.

He gives you an encouraging smile and pushes the door open. “C’mon, then.” You open the passenger door slowly and close it with a bang, your knees shaky, legs wobbly with every step you take toward the door.

This is it. You’re actually going to talk to a therapist for the first time in your life. What if you’re not ready, what if you choke, what if you burst out into tears and can’t sputter words from your choked-up throat? These are all valid questions, ones you never really considered, but you’re here. You have to do this. You have to do it for yourself. You owe that much to yourself. You are worth it.

When Joel goes up to the front desk with you, the one covered in green succulents and a calming, trickling desk fountain running the corner, you collect all the paperwork you need to fill out and in exchange give her your photo ID. Joel was kind enough to go with you to get a new one since your old one was lost somewhere in Washington. As for health insurance, Joel was paying out of pocket for you to be seen. But he promised he was working to get you on your own health insurance plan. You still don’t know why he’s being so nice to you, but without him, you’d probably be dead by now…

After a few minutes of fighting with the paperwork and scribbling out wrong information, you’re about to break out in tears. They’re swelling in the backs of your eyes, making your lips quiver and the words blur on the page.

“Hey. You’re alright,” Joel coos, taking the pen from your shaky hand. “Let me help.” And you do let him. He fills out the questions you couldn’t answer yourself—his home address, your phone number you still haven’t memorized, emergency contact information, insurance details, even going as far as helping you fill out medical questions you’re having trouble with.

As you look up at him all focused and intent on getting your paperwork done, a little spark sizzles in your chest. You study him—eyes glued to the page, jaw flexed as his rapt attention is on each question, tousled curls a little disheveled as he cards his fingers attentively while he thumbs through the pages. You’re a little mesmerized, a little surprised he didn’t just leave you to shovel through the numerous papers. Instead, he chose to stay right by your side, saving you from breaking down from the weight of so many unknowns.

You’re scared, a little overwhelmed, a little more nervous than you’d like to be. But with Joel, it seems like you can get through anything.

When the paperwork is all completed and he’s back at your side, waiting patiently for them to call you back, you feel a little better—like you can do anything if he’s there next to you. Call him your knight in shining armor, but he truly is. He keeps saving you, and you hope he’ll never stop.

The nervous jitters start up again when you glance up at the clock. Five till noon, right when your appointment is supposed to be. Your knee is bouncing up and down in tandem with your flexed fingers against your leggings. Fear trickles down your spine, slides into the deepest parts of your veins. And suddenly, you’re downright terrified.

When you’re about to say something to break the trance you’re in, you faintly hear your name being called from the open office door.

You sit up straight and look toward the door, up at the woman that just called your name. “That’s me,” you call out with a shaky voice.

“Ahh. There you are.” She strides up to you and holds her hand out. You slowly take it. She has long light brown hair, strong cheekbones, welcoming hazel eyes, and a smile that instantly soothes you. “I’m Tess, by the way. It’s so good to meet you. This one’s told me a lot about you.” She flicks her eyes to Joel.

When you take her hand, it’s warm. “It’s nice to meet you, Tess. And of course he has.”

Joel shakes his head and lets a low chuckle leave his lips. “Guilty as charged.”

“You got lucky with this one. He’s one of the good ones,” Tess nods as your hands disconnect.

“He is…” you repeat back, getting lost just for a second in his syrupy brown eyes. He seems to get lost in yours too.

“You ready?” Tess asks.

“Oh, uhh. Yeah.” You take a second to push yourself up off the cushioned leather chair, let your legs stop wobbling beneath you.

When you’re just about to follow her back, Joel’s low voice serenades your ears. “I’ll be right here waitin’. You’re gonna do great, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Joel.” You give him a lasting smile, until Tess beckons you back to her office.

“Come on. This way.”

With one last glance his way, you watch the front office door shut and what awaits you is a long hallway with mint-green wallpaper. Pictures of oceans, fields of wildflowers, and open spaces fill the painted walls. A small white table sits in the middle of the hall with multi-colored flowers hanging over the table that are tucked inside a cream-colored pot.

When you make it to the fourth door on the left, Tess nods inside and lets you go first. “Welcome to my office. Hope it’s cozy enough for you.”

Gasping, you take in her array of rocks and seashells on her back wall. Dozens of colorful shapes and sizes fill the expanse of it. But what really catches your attention is all the little sand dollars spread out by her computer monitor. Her walls are almost the color of sunlight, and she’s got a massive portrait of a west coast beach framed with love behind her desk chair. A white leather couch sits right across from her mahogany desk, and the scent of soothing lavender fills the air.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, amazed by all the decorative details of her office. It’s so inviting and welcoming. It instantly calms you down.

“Glad you like it,” she smiles. “Well, have a seat. Get comfortable.” You comply as she gets situated in her chair and pulls up your paperwork. Sifting through it for a minute, she looks up at you with a bright smile lit across her face. “So. This is your first session, is that correct?”

“Yeah. I… I’ve never done this before,” you answer honestly, a little scared of what she might say, but she only gives you another encouraging smile.

“Well, you came to the right place then. We’re just going to take this slow, take it one session at a time. Healing is a journey. There’s no one single path to it. We’ll do what works for you, what you’re comfortable with. That sound okay to you?”

“Mhm,” you nod with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You’re so fucking nervous, but this is normal, right? Everyone is scared of something they’ve never done before. But this? It seems like all your secrets will surely be unmasked, and that terrifies you. Sharing your past—what happened to you—isn’t going to be easy. Not one bit.

“I can see you’re scared, but you don’t have to be. This is a safe space. You can talk to me about anything. It’s all confidential. Nothing you say goes out that door.”

Your eyes flit to the closed oak door, and you nod in acknowledgment. “Right… Okay.”

She scoots back and crosses one leg over her knee, leaving the open papers splayed on her desk. All attention is on you now. “How about we start from the beginning. Before… before you were taken. Maybe start with your childhood?”

“Oh… I… Well, that’s a lot to tell,” you gulp out nervously. Your childhood trauma is a whole other monster you still haven’t tackled.

She smiles. “We’ve got an entire hour today. And if you come back, we’ll have many more sessions to unravel your past.”

You bite your bottom lip and nod, your nerves getting the best of you, but you push through. “Okay…” You take a deep breath and dive in head first. “Here goes nothing.”

Four o’clock flashes like an alarm on the oven clock, telling him he’s been gone for hours, but really, it feels like it’s been days. He reaches for the open whiskey bottle and pours the amber liquid over the square ice cubes in the glass. Every drop looks like the trickles of fresh blood that’s stained his flannel permanently. He should’ve fucking known tonight was not the night to wear nice flannels.

He scuffs his leather boots against the hardwood floor, dragging his tired legs from the kitchen to the living room, till he’s collapsed in a heap on the leather couch—one hand curled around the cold glass, the other raking down his face excruciatingly slow.

He failed. He was too late. Just minutes from being on time. Maybe he could’ve saved her. Saved that innocent little girl from her executioners. But he couldn’t…

As he closes his eyes, he sees the flash of red covering the dark walls, serenading the lace of her pink dress. Eleven-years-old, just shy of turning twelve, a daughter that’ll never be able to return home to a worried mother and father.

He curses under his breath, feels the tears pour like droplets of water down his cheek. She didn’t deserve to die, didn’t deserve to be scared and all alone. He was supposed to save her, was supposed to get her out. That was his mission, and he fucking failed.

Three minutes. He was just three fucking minutes shy of saving her life, but he was too late. He misjudged the distance, didn’t realize the captors were early to their destination. He got there right after they smothered her—silencing her terrified screams forever. He can still hear them like shrill sirens blasting through the base of that rundown building. This isn’t the first time he’s been too late, but God. This one hurts like hell because it reminds him of someone he lost along the way. Someone he loved just as much as Sarah.

And so, he did what he did best. He took them out—all the men that had hurt her. Thankfully, he took backup, including Tommy. He smothered their screams, pushed daggers into their throats, shot them dead in a frenzy of rage while his teeth were clenched and eyes were fogged with held-in tears. When he looked at that poor, lost girl—it nearly took him to his knees. Those eyes. Those same lifeless hazel eyes that still haunt his dreams to this day. They were the same shade as hers… The little girl that forever changed his life. The one that he wishes was still here…

Ellie… That little girl tonight looked just like his lost daughter—the one he saved all those years ago. But he never fully saved her. Not after… not when he let her go…

A wave of emotions floods through his chest as he takes another stiff drink of alcohol, letting the whiskey burn through him while visions of hazel eyes and crimson fill his foggy mind.

He was too late. He fucked up. He misjudged the minute hand from the second hand. Time slipped away from him. And before he knew it, everything he planned for was lost to the eerie night. Instead, it ended in bloodshed and turmoil. He hates it. Hates when things have to get extremely violet, but what choice did he have? He had to take them out because they stole an innocent life—a life he was supposed to keep safe.

He’s so lost in the crimson-stained memories in his mind that he almost misses that small, meek voice of yours. “Joel?”

When he opens his eyes, a part of his soul shatters. There you are, a plush blanket wrapped around your shoulders, heartbreaking eyes shining over to him from the staircase. You take in his half-drank glass of whiskey and the dried tears that stain his cheeks. But also, you see the faint crimson that tarnishes his flannel shirt.

Blood. There was so much blood… like a liquid pool of death.

He adjusts his back against the leather cushion and sits up a little straighter, just so he looks less worn down and broken than he already is. You see right through him though. You always do. “Sweetheart, it’s late. Why don’t you…”

“Are you… okay?” Your voice whispers across the room, silences the crackling embers in the fireplace. Your voice… it sounds broken too.

“I, uhh. Jus’ please, go back to sleep.” He tries to push you away, tries to get you to return to your room so he can sulk in peace. He doesn’t want you to see him like this. Doesn’t want you to see just how physically and mentally defeated he actually is. He’s not as strong as you think he is. He’s fragile, grainy sand that gets blown away by the wind. He’s not rock-solid; he’s quicksand.

You slide into the seat next to him, close enough where your knee could brush against his. “I’m not leaving you.” There’s finality in your tone, still soft but firm on your decision. And there’s those eyes. Those fucking beautiful eyes that could silence all the built-up pain he has piled on his heart.

You’re so fucking beautiful.

“Are you hurt?” You ghost your hand across the leather, reaching out just enough where he feels the heat of your skin. It soothes him over just a tad, but nothing can quite wipe away the excruciating weight of agony he’s carrying now.

“No. I’m jus’… I’m so tired.” He pinches his eyes closed and takes a deep breath, his hand clutching the cool glass of whiskey like it’s his lifeline. “This job weighs on me like solid concrete. Some nights are so fuckin’ hard. Some nights jus’…” He pauses, takes a deep breath in and blows another out. He can’t finish. He’s too tired, too strained from the past few hours, months, years.

He’s so fucking tired; he just needs some rest, some peace, some symbolism that he knows he’ll get to the finish line. But he’s been so struck down ever since he met that certain hazel-eyed little girl. Ellie. His little girl…

“What happened tonight?” Your voice comes off as a whisper. Maybe you’re just as scared to hear what he has to say.

He taps the edge of his thumb against the solid glass and takes a deep breath. “We uhh… I lost her. Her name… her name was Abigail. Just a little eleven-year-old, and I was supposed to save her, to get her back to her parents. But I… I was too late. I was too fuckin’ late.” There it is. The pen drops, another tear splashes down his stained flannel, and he’s lost to grief again.

You pause a beat, but you gasp loud enough for him to hear the horror in your voice. He’s a failure. You must think he’s such a failure. “Joel… I’m so… God. I’m so sorry.” There’s only sorrow in your lilty voice, no anger or resentment that he failed yet another soul. You’re just as sad as him, he thinks.

“I failed her… I failed everyone…” He shakes his head, sets his mind a little straighter just so he can grit the words out. “Sometimes I feel like none of this is worth it, like I don’t make a difference. Because when this happens, it makes me feel like I’m already six feet underground.”

“Oh, Joel. No.” He feels it—the couch creak beneath him, the weight of your body sliding over, your hand inching closer to his. “You save so many lives. You make every bit of difference. You change lives.” There’s so much assurance in your voice; you’re trying to soothe him over.

He snaps his eyes shut and shakes his head, anything to stop the burning sensation in his watery eyes. Maybe if he doesn’t blink then he won’t feel the pain of this gut-wrenching moment. “But I… I couldn’t save her… I couldn’t save…”

Ellie…

With his eyes still shut tight, he feels warmth wrap around his hand, feels the soft caress of your skin. And when he opens his eyes wide, he sees the most beautiful shades of softness gleaming from your pretty eyes.

“You saved me. And that… that means everything to me. You saved me. You saved your daughter. You saved so many lives. You are a hero, and don’t you dare think otherwise. Not for one second.” There’s tears licking your lash line, the most sincere look over your pretty face. A desperate plea to get through to him. And in that moment, he believes you for a second. Believes that he is a hero, even when he doesn’t believe it himself.

His bottom lip trembles as tears gather in his watery eyes. Something hits him deep in the gut. Longing, the fear of losing you, and an all-consuming wave of tender emotions. He sees you. He really sees you. Such a beautiful soul. Such a lovely, amazing woman. To think he almost didn’t go to that auction, almost wasn’t able to save you. What would he do if he never found you? It stings to even think about. Because you… Well, you’re everything all at once. And he’s so fucking soft for you.

Carefully, softly, he laces his fingers through yours, holds on for dear life, praying you never let go.

Don’t let go. Never let go.

Your hand is a perfect fit for his. Every line, edge, dip carved specially for his hand to fit in. The weave of your fingers against his, the light brush of your skin, the heat that spirals into complete warmness when your skin slips against his—you were fucking made for him, just as he was for you, he thinks. Because when your bright eyes and soft smile are in his presence, he sees pure sunlight, sees the pure angelic essence you’re bathed in.

He was made to find you. This much he knows. And whether you choose to stay or go—he’ll have this moment to hold on to. Because he got you once. Your hand in his. This right here is everything he’s ever needed. It may just be your hand brushing against his, your fingers intertwined together, but it feels like home. You feel like home.

So, he lets the soft rain pelt outside against the living room windows, lets the dying fire crackle and pop in the fireplace, and savors the feel of your honey-like soft skin sliding against his. And he stays there for several minutes, maybe an hour, and there’s only silence shrouding the room. But your touch? It screams volumes, makes him feel human again.

For a breath of a moment, you’re his.

Texas rain was a rare phenomenon. Misty showers only a once in a while type thing. But you? You made it pour, made the flood waters wash clear through Austin. He didn’t see it coming, didn’t expect anything like you. But it sure as hell knocked him clear off his feet when you bathed him in your electric thunderstorms.

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#amyispxnk fave fics

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monokoitari · 23 hours ago

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We all know my favorite plot here (transmigrating Shen Yuan in random characters), but actually, my favorite plot par excellence is amnesia

So...

Shen Yuan wakes up, he has no System, and no memory of anything. Yeah, okay, some things in the world are... like he already knows them. More like a basic understanding that merges with searching for a phone (what is a phone?) in his pockets randomly or touching the walls in a dark room looking for... light? Weird things

So, he is still the spoiled and slightly weak son of a merchant family very wealthy. In a family of many male children, of course, when Emperor Luo Binghe comes to make their business deals and make profits, it is the weakest son who is offered as a wife to the emperor. Shen Yuan... okay, he accepts it. I mean, he had this weird accident and has no memory, and his brothers are strong and capable of supporting the family and the business, unlike him.

Furthermore, he has seen Emperor Luo Binghe. Beyond the strange feeling of familiarity he gets when he sees him… he is handsome. Tall, imposing, beautiful. When Luo Binghe exchanges a few words with him, Shen Yuan melts and becomes dazed. Okay, he's too okay with that wedding no matter if it's a business deal, thanks!!!

However, well, Luo Binghe has to proceed with a courtship, as social norms dictate. And even if Shen Yuan wanted the courtship to be more see what those dark robes hide and run his hands through the emperor's dark hair, going on horseback, talking to the Emperor about his adventures is... relaxing. Shen Yuan loves monsters and beasts, and Luo Binghe has an endless amount of stories of fighting them.

However, strange thoughts begin to appear in Shen Yuan's head. Things like, sure, but he wasted the loot on wife 231, or, and now that treasure of gold feathers is part of the jewelry of wife 110.

Shen Yuan doesn't understand where these thoughts come from. The most chilling thing for him is that when he casually asks, he realizes that these thoughts are true. Luo Binghe confirms that some treasure was wasted because he was forgotten for other reasons, or given to one of the flowers in his harem.

... And Shen Yuan's only coherent thought on the matter is that perhaps he is some kind of psychic and prophet. Would that make sense? He doesn't tell Binghe, of course.

The courtship progresses beautifully. They walk with chaperons, chat for hours that seem like minutes, Luo Binghe cooks for him. He gives him expensive gifts, takes him to see the wonderful flora of... what the hell is PIDW? Why he's thinking about that?

Well, the day of The Wedding is getting closer and closer. Shen Yuan is anxious! Those weird thoughts are everywhere, and even when Luo Binghe has tried to kiss him before, a visceral impulse to refuse intimidated him until he pulled away without his kiss.

Something screaming in his head that he couldn't kiss a man was just ????? making it more complicated. Of course he's going to kiss a man, he's going to marry him, and will do more than kiss him! Why is his head screaming to be careful of the Heavenly Pillar? WHAT THE HELL IS THE HEAVENLY PILLAR?

#svsss #bingyuan #fanfic ideas #luo bingge #shen yuan #mxtx svsss #pidw harem #pidw #pidw luo binghe #amnesia plot #amnesia #poor shen yuan #he just wants to be gay with his future husband and his subconscious is agonizing about it #I always find it strange that in the amnesia plot the memories all come at the same time #then we will make the memories come back subtly and eventually #my amusement is usually the slight suffering of Shen Yuan #But I promise he will enjoy it too #eventually

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thewitchblue · 3 days ago

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"Tim, look at me, baby."

You softly said to Tim. Tim turned his eyes away from his computer to face you. He had been so absorbed in a case he had neglected to notice the time.

You gestured for him to join you on his bed, which he reluctantly agreed to lie down with you. The case can wait, cuddling with you cannot.

You held him and played with his hair gently. It's become a bit of a tradition for you to bring him to bed. You set a bedtime that he still has not quite yet figured out the pattern of nor cared to. (it ranges from 11 pm until 2 am and never the same day-by-day), and you know exactly how to get him to fall asleep.

"Talk to me, my love."

Tim grumbled in your ear. He was already feeling sleepy, but he loved to fall asleep to the sound of your voice and heartbeat. It soothed him to hear your soft voice

"Baby, you need rest."

Tim mumbled while burying his face in your neck,

"Humour me, my love. Tell me why you love me."

You smiled. A tired Tim was an adorable Tim. You were so weak for your Timmy. You softly explain,

"I love the sea blue colour in your eyes. I always want to visit the ocean when I look at the waves of blue in your eyes."

He kissed your shoulder from his comfortable location. He was partially on top of you with his arms lazily wrapped around your torso and one of his legs wrapped around your waist. He blushed when you kissed the top of his head.

"There's my pretty boy."

You murmured and captured his lips in an unhurried kiss. You always loved to tease him. To you, he's the stars in the night sky. He is embarrassed now but you said warmly,

"My beautiful boy. I love your timid smile that your silly brain seems to hate."

You kissed his blushing cheeks then his forehead. His eyes flutter shut, and a sleepy smile crosses his face.

"I love your constantly freezing body that needs at least ten blankets to warm you up."

Tim hummed. It's true. He feels bad warming his hands on you, but you never complain. You laugh when he borderline wraps himself around you to soak up your warmth. You call him a warmth vampire with such a fond tone of voice. He swears he falls in love again every time you wrap him in blankets and offered to cuddle because you know he's freezing and needs your heat. You continued,

"I love your kindness and compassion. You managed to befriend Kon when he hated everyone and everything, and you made a group with friends who all have troubles with the goal to help make the world a better place."

You kissed his forehead and pulled him closer to you. You want his full weight on top of you.

Tim, sensing your desire, rolled to lie fully on top of you and relaxed into your warm body. You both love this position. He felt like a weighted blanket to you, and you felt like a crackling fireplace to him.

You snaked one of your arms around his waist while your other hand massaged his scalp. You felt him physically melt into your body.

"I love your silky hair that falls in messy strands every time you run your fingers through your hair."

Tim yawned and nestled his face in the crook of your neck. You smiled fondly at your partially sleeping boyfriend.

"I love listening to your thoughts when you gush over something you are passionate about."

Tim pressed his hand gently against your chest, over your heart to feel the steady pulse.

"Baby, I love everything about you. You would give me the stars if you could, and I'll always love you. You mean the world to me."

Tim fell asleep pretty quickly. He was wrapped around you like a tangled string. His legs wrapped loosely around yours, and his arms securely circled around your waist.

You loved him deeply, and he loved you. You kissed his forehead gently. Tim sleeps like the dead, so you aren't worried about waking him.

You held him with a smile on your face. He was so adorable; the relaxed expression on his face made you want to kiss him all over. He mumbled in his sleep,

"I love you."

Your hold on him tightened as you whisper softly back to his sleeping body,

"I love you, baby."

#gn reader #tim drake x reader

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mim16s · 2 days ago

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Survival in Game

Cho Hyun-ju x Autistic!Fem!Reader

This is part two of Survival in Game. In this chapter, I wanted to explore more of Hyunju and the reader's relationship in a softer, more emotional way. I hope you enjoy it! In the next chapter, we'll dive into the second game of the season.

_____

Part 1:

You held the lunchbox in your hands and, as you walked back to your bed, you saw the woman who had helped you in the last game. Your heart raced a little. You wanted to thank her and also stay close to her. You didn’t fully understand why, but something about her radiated safety. In such an unpredictable place, that was exactly what you needed.

Social interactions had always been challenging for you. Words often got tangled, and people’s expressions didn’t always make sense. But with her, it was different. Something about her seemed calm and welcoming.

Stopping in front of her, gripping your food tightly, you tried to organize your thoughts. She, already eating, paused her meal and looked up at you. There was something comforting in that look of recognition, but now that you were so close, the words vanished from your mind, as they often did in moments of anxiety.

— Do you need something? — she asked kindly, as you looked down at the floor, trying to muster courage.

— I wanted to thank you... for protecting me in the game — you said quickly, bowing in gratitude. Formality helped you organize your speech. When you looked back at her, you noticed a shy smile on her face. It was a soft smile, free of judgment. She looked so beautiful smiling that it made your cheeks flush, something you couldn’t hide very well.

— Don’t worry, you didn’t need to thank me — she replied calmly. You took a deep breath, trying to prepare for what you wanted to say. The anxiety made your head spin.

— I’d like to ask you something — you finally said, seeing curiosity spark in her eyes. — Can I join you? — The question seemed to surprise her, her eyes widening slightly. She was silent for a moment before smiling again, this time more broadly. It had been a long time since anyone sought her company. Since her transition, people preferred to keep their distance. The fact that you had approached her touched her deeply.

— Of course, sit here — she said, moving aside to make room next to her. You sat beside her, still nervous but relieved that you had managed to speak. As you stared at your lunchbox, she broke the silence. — What’s your name? — she asked curiously.

— My name is Y/N. And yours?

— I'm Hyunju — she replied, with another smile that made your mind feel at ease. Unfortunately, the calm was interrupted by shouting. When you looked, you saw three men fighting violently. Your body stiffened immediately, and fear consumed you. Instinctively, you moved closer to Hyunju, seeking the sense of security she exuded. She noticed the fight but made no effort to push you away, letting you stay close.

You had always hated fights. They scared you deeply, bringing back painful memories from your childhood. You remembered when your mother started dating. At first, he seemed like a good person, but he soon revealed his true nature. He not only abused your mother physically but also diminished her emotionally. You watched helplessly, just a child, unable to do anything as she suffered. She tried to shield you, but you always heard the sounds of violence and shouting from your room.

For years, that violence was a constant weight in your life until he tried to do the same to you. That was your mother’s breaking point. She finally realized she needed to protect you and ended the abusive relationship. However, the scars of that period remained. Those years left deep marks, and any sign of violence was enough to make you relive it all.

Now, with your emotions still raw from the game and the deaths you had witnessed, the fight in front of you felt like the last straw. The loud voices, the sudden movements—it was all too much. You covered your ears with your hands, closed your eyes, and began rocking gently, trying to calm yourself and push away the bad memories that kept flooding in.

Beside you, Hyunju noticed your reaction. Initially confused, she observed closely, trying to understand what was happening. Although she didn’t know exactly what to do, it was clear to her that you were scared, and she hesitated for a moment. Then, carefully, she placed a hand on your shoulder, saying nothing but showing she was there.

— Hey, it’s okay. They won’t hurt you — she said, trying to soothe you with her soft voice, but her attempt didn’t seem to help much. You were still caught in your internal storm, hands pressed to your ears, body trembling. Hyunju looked around, trying to think of what to do until an idea came to her.

— Look at me — she said, and you obeyed, your eyes finally meeting hers. — It’s okay, just breathe, alright?

She noticed a slight relief on your face when one of the players intervened and managed to stop the fight. With the commotion settling, she turned her full attention back to you. — It’s okay, repeat after me — she said, guiding you through breathing exercises. She took deep breaths, and you tried to mimic her, following the rhythm she set. Gradually, your body began to relax, but not enough to completely shake off the weight you felt. You instinctively hugged yourself, seeking comfort, which caught Hyunju’s attention.

— Do you need a hug? — she asked in a calm, careful tone. You hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded.

— May I hug you? — she asked again, waiting for your permission. Another affirmative nod. Carefully, Hyunju moved closer and wrapped her arms around you—firm yet gentle. Something about her size and the steadiness of her embrace made you feel safer, as though she could shield you from the world.

You nestled into her chest, breathing deeply as small tears slid down your face. The warmth and protection you felt there gave you the comfort you needed to begin recovering from the episode.

— It’s okay now — she whispered, holding you firmly but without pressure, giving you all the time you needed.

— I’m sorry — you murmured, voice muffled, trying to rein in your emotions.

— There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s okay — she replied softly, tightening the hug slightly, a silent reminder that she was there for you without rush or judgment.

— It’s just... so much has happened, and I couldn’t handle it — you said, sadness evident in every word. The weight of your emotions felt overwhelming, as though everything had built up all at once. Hyunju sighed softly, understanding the depth of the situation.

— I understand — she said gently, her voice calm and reassuring. — There’s so much pressure here. You’ve just seen so many difficult things, and now this fight... it’s completely understandable. You have nothing to apologize for.

Her words, filled with empathy, eased some of the tension you felt. She didn’t blame you for your reaction, and that gave you a little more freedom to process everything in your own time. Her embrace felt like a silent guarantee that she was there to support you—no rush, no judgment.

Later, when it was time to sleep, she lay down on the bed next to yours, her eyes discreetly watching your movements, a silent promise that she would be there for you if you needed her. Despite her exhaustion, Hyunju couldn’t ignore the strange feeling growing within her: an almost instinctive need to protect you.

As the silence of the night enveloped the room, she reflected on everything that had happened. Tomorrow would be another difficult day, another unpredictable game that would put your lives at risk. But one thing she was certain of: she would stay by your side, no matter what.

#autistic reader #squid game #hyunju x reader #player 120 #hyun ju squid game #Hyunju x Autistic!reader #autistic!fem!reader #Park Sunghoon #Squid game x reader

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sleepycoffeecas · 2 days ago

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Puppy love chapter 3 🍨

<previous, masterlist, next>

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@hug4helios @hyunmikim @katchowbbie @chanchansgirly @lo-dssrt @fic-for-readers @minhoie @estella-novella @jisungs-iced-americano @rhonnie23

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I'm midway through making a customer's drink when the café bell rings. I quickly make my way to the register to take their order and spot Yeji and Ryujin approaching.

“Oh hey!” I say, grabbing the drinks I had prepared earlier. “Where's the cute guy?” Ryujin asks, picking up her drink and grabbing a straw. “I think he’s in the back; he should come out soon,” I reply, and she hums in acknowledgment. “We’ll stick around for a bit; I'm curious about him,” Yeji adds, pointing to a nearby table. “Plus, my class isn’t for a while.” I nod and say, “I'll bring you more coffee if you need it.”

After the two girls settle at the table, another customer enters. I finish preparing their order before heading over to them. “Hello! What can I get for you today?” I ask, looking up to see a very handsome man that looks just like yeji?

“Is Seungmin here?” he asks, locking eyes with me. “Who?” I mumble, confused. “Kim Seungmin? He said he was here.”

I stare blankly for a moment before realizing who he means. “Oh, you mean the other person working? Uhm, I can go get him for you.” He gives me a strange look but nods. “Yeah, please, thanks.” “No problem, sir,” I say, turning to find him.

“Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin, that's my name,” he adds. I pause mid-step, processing his last name. “Hwang Hyunjin? As in Hwang Yeji?” I turn back to him. “Uh, yeah, she’s my sister.” I blink in surprise. “You mean THAT Hwang Yeji?” I say while pointing to the table her and ryujin are sitting at.

“Yeah, she's my twin sister.” “Oh,” I mumble under my breath. “Well, I'm going to get my coworker now.” I quickly turn away and head to the back.

When I enter, I see Seungmin? stocking the shelves. “Uhm, Seungmin…?” “Yeah?” I’m a bit taken aback that he responded but quickly gather my thoughts. “Someone is looking for you.” “Oh, okay, I'll be out in a second.” I nod and make my way back to the front.

“He said he’ll be out in a second,” I tell Hyunjin as I approach the counter. “Thanks, but you never told me your name.” “Oh, I’m YN.”

“Nice to meet you, beautiful,” he says with a charming smile. I feel my cheeks warm at the compliment but quickly regain my composure. “Uhm, do you want a drink or anything?” “Hitting on me already?” His teasing makes my face redden further, and he chuckles.

“I’ll take an Americano, sweetheart. Thanks.” I nod and head to make his drink just as Seungmin emerges from the back and approaches Hyunjin.

After preparing Hyunjin's Americano, I hand it to him. “Thanks, sweetheart.” “No problem,” I mumble before turning to Seungmin. “Are you okay taking over for a second?” “Yeah, I got it.” I nod and then walk over to Yeji and Ryujin.

“You didn't tell me you had a brother, Yeji,” I say, and she looks at me, confused. “How didn’t you know? Everyone on campus is obsessed with him.”

“Oh, well, he was just flirting with me.” Yeji sighs and shakes her head. “He’s just like that. Don’t get involved with him. Plus, he has seven other soulmates.”

I immediately freeze at her words. “I’m sorry, how many?” Both she and Ryujin look at me, puzzled. “He has eight, including him-?”

I blink at her in disbelief. “What?” She tilts her head, looking even more confused. “Nothing, sorry. Uhm, anyway, I need to get back to work,” I mumble, feeling a sense of sadness wash over me before I stand up from their table.

“And YN,” Yeji says, grabbing my hand, “that guy who’s working with you? His name is Seungmin. He’s one of Hyunjin’s soulmates.” I nod at her, forcing a slight smile to mask my feelings, before walking back to the counter.

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deviarisa · 2 days ago

Text

take it easy

It’s the morning after Freelancer’s last finals, and Gavin urges them to take it easy.

— notes: This fic is part of Skyside's Holiday Exchange! Hope you enjoy the fic ^^ (the ao3 link, if you prefer)

On the rare occasion they woke up before noon on a weekend, Freelancer sometimes liked pretending they were asleep.

Gavin usually woke up earlier than them — one of the perks of demons not needing sleep — and he takes one of two routes if he found himself awake before Freelancer stirred. He either fell back asleep, making sure to gently pull Freelancer closer, nuzzling into them as he dove back into slumber, or he’d take the time to trace shapes across Freelancer’s skin and whisper sweet nothings into their ear before falling back asleep himself.

On the rare chance Freelancer stirred in the midst of Gavin’s shuffling or gentle ministrations, they did their best to stay awake to enjoy his simple gestures before letting sleep take them again. Gavin could always tell they were awake; they’d shared this bed too many times to count, and the incubus had grown familiar with how they shifted as they stirred awake. Sometimes he would tease them for it, whispering teasing remarks that made Freelancer smile. Sometimes he made no comment, simply enjoying the drowsy stillness of the morning with them.

Freelancer woke up this morning feeling refreshed and... slightly confused.

The first thought that crossed their mind as they sat up was confusion about why they didn’t feel Gavin’s arms around them or his hands tracing their skin. They stretched slowly, sighing as some of the ache in their joints from sleeping in such an awkward position eased.

They vaguely remember the events of last night, recalling the fatigue that dragged at them as Gavin had helped them get ready for bed. With how tired they felt last night, they probably fell asleep the moment their head hit the pillow.

The second thought that crossed their mind? Where’d Gavin run off to?

It was rare for them to wake up alone, and the cold of Gavin’s side of the bed told them he had been awake for a while. They focused for a moment, using their magic to try and sense Gavin’s magical signature. Drowsiness clouded their concentration for a moment before they got a general idea of where Gavin was — either in the kitchen or the living room. The faint smell of pancakes solidified their hypothesis, so they made their way to the kitchen and saw Gavin in all of his beautiful glory. His gaze went from the food on the stove to Freelancer as he heard their footsteps approach.

“Good morning, deviant,” Gavin grinned. “How did you sleep?”

Freelancer smiled, making their way to Gavin’s side, “Pretty good. Would have been better if I had woken up in your arms.”

“You’ll have to forgive me for that,” Gavin said, turning his attention back to the pancakes. “I had to attend to the urgent matter of groceries and breakfast. I was going to serve you breakfast in bed”

Freelancer smiled at the thought, “Breakfast in bed does sound nice. I would much rather have you in my bed though.”

Gavin laughed, “Feeling flirty this morning, aren’t you?”

“You’re usually the one starting the flirting, pretty boy,” Freelancer retorted. They pressed their chest against Gavin’s back, taking their time to wrap their arms around him.

Gavin returned the favor by turning around to kiss them. It was slow, steady, with both of them savoring each moment — slow kisses, hands roaming each other’s bodies, soft sighs. They felt him smile as they kissed him deeper, letting out a small laugh as his hands settled on their hips.

But after a while, Gavin had to pull away, “While I’d love to indulge in your lips, my little deviant, I’d rather not burn breakfast just because I was being distracted by you,” Gavin teased. “Not that you’re an unwelcome one.”

Freelancer would be remiss to simply allow breakfast to burn, so they obliged even if they’d rather be kissing Gavin silly, moving to press themself at his side to watch him cook. They enjoyed the silence, taking in the sunlight as it filled the kitchen with warm light, Gavin’s humming as he turned to watch over the food, the assortment of fruits on the counter to be paired with the pancakes, the roses in the nearby vase. They were fresh, Freelancer noticed. Gavin must have bought them when he was out getting groceries.

“While I appreciate you cooking breakfast, is there an occasion I’m forgetting?”

This gave Gavin pause, “You finished up your finals yesterday.”

“I doubt that’s special enough of an occasion to do all this. I mean the semester is done, so I guess that’s a good enough reason to celebrate.”

Gavin shifted his focus to them. Did they say something wrong?

“Please don’t diminish your achievements like that. It may not be much to you, but I’ve seen how hard you’ve been working these past few months,” he said, concern lacing his voice. “You deserve a break, my love. Let me give that to you.”

Ah. Now that they took the time to really think about it, the last week had felt like a haze. Exams and practicals and projects, one after the other. It was a wonder they didn’t simply collapse last night with how tired they were.

Gavin was looking at them now, his brows furrowed. He must have been worried for them the whole week. Maybe even the whole semester, especially since they had the habit of overworking themself. Overcompensating for being humanborn. It was never easy, but pushing themself felt comfortable. There was a rush in pushing their limits, in not slowing down.

Worrying Gavin like this wasn’t worth it, though, so they did their best to not overwork themself. It hadn’t been easy, with classes being such a large source of stress for them, but Gavin was always there for them to urge them to take it easy. Besides, who doesn’t like being taken care of every now and then?

“Okay,” Freelancer conceded. Their conscience felt lighter when they saw Gavin smile at that. “I must have been really out of it last night for you to worry this much about me.”

Gavin smiled, “It must have been a hell of a practical. You were practically falling asleep on me the moment you got home.”

“Don’t remind me,” they groan, pressing their forehead against Gavin’s shoulder. “Why let professors have practicals so late at night? Not like I’m a vampire.”

Gavin snickered, “You’re cute when you whine.”

“I am not whining. I’m expressing my frustration.”

He hums, turning off the stove and moving to face them, “Sure, we’ll call it that. Are you too frustrated to come join me for breakfast?”

They shuffle to properly bury their face in the crook of his neck, “Ugh, no. Of course not.”

“Thought so,” Gavin kissed the crown of their head. “Come on, my deviant. Let’s eat.”

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted freelancer #redacted gavin #redacted damn crew #redacted fanfic #— pen & ink

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