#but still ominous with strings

[kandicon]

Avatar of the Web who keeps getting mistaken for an avatar of the Stranger because nobody cares to understand the nuance between marionettes and mannequins.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Too Sweet

Logan Howlett X F!Reader

Summary: you tell Logan not to hold back anymore. And who is he to deny his sweet girlfriend anything? This is just porn without plot

Wrote this with Xmen/X2 Logan in mind but you may picture whichever Logan suits your needs

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it my children), oral (f receiving), fingering, soft rough sex, Logan talks you through it, creampie, choking, the claws make an appearance (duh), Logan is obsessed with his girl, established relationship

WC: 3.2K

A/N: SOMETHING SHORT SHE SAID. I need to be put down. I am feral over this man. Seeing DP&W got me acting tf up. It put me back into my Logan obsession so I rewatched all of his movies. And now I need him. So here you go. Might write more with him soon. For now is this.

Follow my reading blog to stay updated with my works if you’d like to see more @midnightreadinglibrary

You were sweet. You were, oh, so sweet. Such a pretty sweet thing. You were so going to be the death of him. Playing with the strings of his sanity, of his composure. Worst of all, you were doing nothing at all to make him go insane. Other than love and care for him that was.

He tried, he really did, he tried to keep himself under control when he was with you, and he was doing a pretty good job of it so far. But god, today, today you were going to make him loose his fucking mind. He had decided to visit you, unannounced he stopped by your apartment. And what did he find? You, in the kitchen, in nothing but a red flannel, his red flannel. Speechless, he was. 

Logan stood in silence, blinking slowly as his eyes took in every part of you with growing intensity. Your legs were bare, your ass barely covered by the length of his shirt and you seemed rather happy like this. Is this what you did when he wasn’t around? And why did the sight of you suddenly wake deep within him an overwhelming need to ruin you? 

Almost as if the intensity of his presence got your absentminded attention, you turned your head to find him standing in the entryway with an unreadable expression. And though a little bit flustered by his unannounced visit, you welcomed him with a soft smile.

“Hi Logan.” You greeted him with glee, all but skipping over to him to greet him properly, of course. You were standing on the ends of your toes and throwing your arms over his broad shoulders while he just stood in ominous silence, only a deep exhale leaving his lips. “Are you okay baby?”

“Yeah.” His voice strained with restraint as he fought the deep urge to throw you over the nearest flat surface. Instead he simply placed his hands on your hips, squeezing unevenly as he gave you an eyebrow raise. “New shirt?”

“Oh,” Your lips fell open in a bit of embarrassment and you laughed softly, flustered as you looked down at the shirt that was clearly not yours. It kind of smelled like him still. “Yeah so, my washer broke, I don’t know what happened to it, and I couldn’t find anything comfortable so… Does it bother you?”

Did it bother him? The only thing that was bothering him was his already hard cock straining against his jeans. 

“A pretty girl in my clothes? I would be fucking stupid.” 

The way his words left his mouth made you laugh. But the look in those hazel eyes was anything but humorous. Animalistic and full of need. Your lips curled up into a smile as he leaned down to crash his lips against yours. Messily and intensely his lips moved against yours as his hands squeezed and touched everywhere he could, as if he didn’t know which part of you he craved to feel more. 

“You’d look prettier on your back though.” He muttered against your mouth, lightly nipping at your bottom lip. You were more than happy to comply.

A string of giggles left your lips as his lips tickled over your stomach. You laid flat on the soft covers as Logan settled between the warmth of your thighs. He pried your legs open, fingers digging into your skin as his sharp canines lightly nipped at the plush flesh on your inner thigh. You gasped, though overwhelmed with excitement.

“Logan.” You scolded him, knowing you would have a mark there, but the sound of your voice turned into a delicious whine when he pressed his nose into your panties, inhaling that oh so intoxicating scent of yours. 

An almost animalistic growl rumbled in his chest, “I’ve been thinkin’ about this sweet pussy all day.” He pressed a hard kiss to your hole, the bridge of his nose bumping your clothed clit. The sudden pressure had you gasping for air, your chest pounding with anticipation.

Your panties were off your body and thrown over his shoulder in a split second, his lips latching on to your clit with reckless urgency. One would think this man hadn’t seen you in weeks, when he had seen, and taken you only two nights ago. Alas, that was one the things you loved the most about Logan, his unending need to touch you, to feel you, to be all over you. You thought he would get tired eventually, but his drive was almost animalistic. He never had enough, though he often held back for your sake. 

His tongue lapped at your pussy with abandon. From your hole to your clit, circling and sucking before diving back into your walls. Squirming, you were chasing his mouth with your hips, body overcome with pleasure as he worked your walls. It annoyed him at times, the way your hips moved and lifted off the mattress with sensitivity as he fucked you with his tongue, when his nose brushed against your clit. With a frustrated grunt, he grabbed a hold of your thighs and pressed your knees against your stomach, holding you down and spreading you open for him to do as he pleased. 

“You squirm too fucking much.” He huffed, but there was a slight bit of amusement laced in his tongue.

Your response came in the form of a whimper, a pathetic sound that only grew louder when two thick fingers replaced his tongue inside your wet hole. He looked up at you with pure primal need as his fingers worked your tight walls, crooking against that one spot that had you crying.

“Please, please Logan.” You didn’t know what you were pleading for. Mercy? Sweet release? To be ruined? You didn’t know. 

Logan raised an amused eyebrow at you, wet lips curled up into a tiny smirk as he moved his tongue back to your clit. He licked and sucked to match each delicious drag of his fingers. The sounds leaving him were just as filthy as the things he was doing to you, groaning and grunting into your pussy as he ate you like a starving man. 

It was no surprise that he had you shaking and crying, overcome with pleasure, eyes blurry with tears, your release rapidly approaching. You latched on to his hair, tugging and pulling at the strands as your pathetic sounds filled the room. 

“That feels so—ugh—feels so good—please.” Were you making any sense? No. Did he care? Fuck no. Seeing you so desperate, so consumed with pleasure, a complete and utter mess for him, it snapped something in him. Deep inside the most perveted and secluded corner of his mind, he liked it. And though he shouldn’t, he wanted more. 

Your release was hard and sudden, your loud sounds were almost as overwhelming as the feeling of his tongue still lapping at your sensitive clit. You were writhing on the mattress, nearly crying as you had no option but to take it, it wasn’t like you could run away, not with the way his free held you down, one hand of his was stronger than all of you combined. All you could do was sob and pull at his hair as he dragged out your orgasm. 

“L-Logan.” You pleaded weakly, throat dry as you pushed yourself up on your elbows, chest glistening with a layer of sweet, lightly clinging to the fabric of Logan’s shirt. All you could see was his dark hair before his eyes met yours. The look behind his eyes was indescribable but it had you clenching you around nothing when his fingers left you. 

Your thighs twitched in aftershock when his mouth left you. You felt him press his forehead against your thighs, his hardened breath fanning against your hot skin for a long second. He needed a second to calm down, keep himself under control, he couldn’t let his primal instincts get the best of him.

You ran your fingers along his face, threading through the hair along his cheek and you silently ushered him up. He complied, in an instant settling between your open legs to find your mouth again. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, it was all so much for your clouded mind. His fingers were on your hair as his mouth took yours with growing urgency. You could feel him through the roughness of his jeans, brushing against your clit in ways that made you dizzy. You needed him, and you needed him bad. You reached down, trembling fingers fumbling with his belt, but before you could undress him he was pulling back, rough fingers holding your wrist.

“Hold on, just hold on a minute.” He was breathing hard, chest pounding as he looked at your confused face. 

“Wait, why? What's wrong?” God, you were too sweet, too kind for him, he couldn’t do it. 

“I just… Shit.” He closed his eyes, jaw set as tried to control his clouded mind, but he could only do so much to restrain all of the filthy things he craved to do to you. The way you were looking up at him, eyes big with concern, gentle hands holding his face, preventing him from going anywhere. “I think we should stop. I should stop.”

“Oh… I mean.. We can stop whenever but.. Why? Did I do something wrong?” You were sitting up, and the sadness and disappointment in your pretty eyes made him curse at himself.

“No. No. Fuck, no. I’m the problem. I don’t think I can hold myself back anymore.” He finally admitted it, words leaving his chest with heaviness. Your face remained the same, confused.

“Well, why would you? I never asked you to.” It finally dawned on you what he meant, and you were unbothered, if anything the look on your face was of eagerness. With malice, you threw your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “I don’t want you to hold back with me.”

“Sweetheart..” He was warning you, voice rumbling in his chest as he closed his eyes, one last attempt to keep his composure before it was inevitably too late.

“I won’t break Logan. I trust you. And I want it.” Your last words came out with sharpness, a grueling intensity that had him groaning under his breath. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, almost as if to emphasize your point. And it was like a switch flipped in his head. 

With an uneven breath he was sitting up on his knees, white undershirt thrown to be forgotten somewhere in your room. And you were happily delighted as you watched him toss his belt aside and undo his jeans. He pulled his cock out of his pants with a strained groan and you were holding your breath in anticipation, legs open and welcoming him. His eyes were dark with pure raw desire as he settled between your legs, cock hard and heavy as he kicked the rest of his clothes off like it had insulted him.

“Don’t fucking hold back.” You snapped at him as he held himself up on his forearm, his other hand holding himself against your entrance. Your words shot straight to his cock and his lips curled up into a grin.

“Hold on, pretty.” He rumbled, chest heavy as he sank himself into your wet cunt in one single thrust.

Your lips fell open, eyes instantly rolling at the delicious feeling of his thick and heavy cock splitting you open. It was an intoxicating feeling you couldn’t get enough of; you were fucking sure he had ruined every other man for you. Not that it bothered you. 

The pace he set was grueling from the start, one hand braced on your pillow beside your head and the other on your thigh, rough fingers feeling up and down the skin as he drove his cock in and out of your walls. Sounds of pleasure left your lips almost immediately as the sting of his cock had you dragging your nails up and down his back, leaving red angry marks that healed in a split second. He absolutely adored the burning sensation your nails left on his skin, over and over. 

It was brutal, the way his hips drove you into the mattress as he fucked the life out of you. You did ask him to, you realized that perhaps your lack of restraint when it came to him would indeed be the end of you today, but at least you’d die happy by his cock. His forehead touched yours, eyes on your chest as he forced the buttons of his shirt open. His hand immediately cupped your breast, squeezing and he forced your body up and down on the mattress with each relentless snap of his hips. You cried out, head thrown back as your cunt squeezed his cock, unable to do much other than take everything he had to give you. His hand traveled up your chest to your exposed neck, fingers sprawled over your throat but not putting pressure. 

“Yes. Please, yes, do it.” Delirious, cock-drunk, fucked out, you might have been all of those things, but you were perfectly aware of him surrounding you, caging you in, consuming you. And you wanted all of it.

“Fuck, pretty.” His lips brushed yours as his fingers lightly squeezed your throat. He could feel the air leaving your tightening throat, and the way you squeezed his cock in response had him creasing his eyebrows with pleasure. “This what you wanted? You just wanted it rough, huh?”

You were nodding your head, breathless as blood rushed to your face, the lack of blood flow making you all the more delirious. Absolutely lost, so deep within your pleasure that your brain wasn’t working anymore. All that was consuming your mind was Logan, his scent, his sounds, the tip of his cock brushing that spot that had you squirming. You didn’t even realize tears were coating your cheeks, so lost that your moans had turned into cries. 

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” The hand on your neck moved to swipe away your tears as he leaned down to kiss your cheek in an attempt to bring you back to reality, the gentle gesture a juxtaposition to the ruthless drag of his cock. “There’s not a single thought in that pretty head of yours, huh?”

He adjusted himself above you, his chest pressed against yours, thick hairs tickling your skin with each deep stroke. There was a bit of smugness on his pleasured expressions, seeing you so utterly out of it, his cock being the reason. Seeing such a sweet little thing coming completely undone by his hand gave him a sense of satisfaction that made his cock twitch. 

He held your face, watching the way your eyes rolled back with pleasure, the crease in your eyebrows and your soft lips parted as filthy sounds left you. It was the prettiest of things.

“It just feels so good, huh? Can’t even talk.” he huffed a laugh, his nose brushing against yours as his free hand found your swollen clit and you were gasping as your thighs shuddered, sweet release building. “Talk to me, pretty girl. Tell me how good it feels. ‘Cause this sure feels so fucking good to me.” 

“Mhmm!” It took your brain a long minute to register his words, it was damn near impossible to focus on anything when his cock was making you feel so good, when you could feel your release so close. “Feels so good—Please, need it. Logan please.”

Who was he to ever deny his sweet girl anything? 

Logan moved his free hand to one of your thighs, holding it and bending it so that one of your knees was damn near next to your head. He drilled into you, fucking you into the matress and rubbing harsh circles on your swollen clit until you were nothing but a shaking, sobbing mess, filled with the neverending bliss of your release. 

“That’s it, atta girl.” He pressed his lips to your bruised lips, swallowing the pathetic sounds of your orgasm as he continued to chase his own. Your release seeped through his cock as his hand left your clit. He braced himself on the pillow beside your head he continued to fuck you into his release. “You’re doing so well sweetheart, take it just like that.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you sobbed, the hairs at the base of his cock grazing your clit as he abused your hole. Desperate hands latched on to his hair as you held him, simply taking everything he had to give you. He was close, so incredibly close, composure completely gone from his body as he chased his release with selfish abandon. He dropped his face into your neck, sharp canines nipping at the soft skin, surely to leave a mark or two.

“Please Logan. Come in me. Please, I need it—” Though broken, in between pathetic whimpers you pleaded to him. And if he had any self-restraint left it was fucking gone.

The sound that rumbled in Logan’s chest was purely animalistic, a feral growl and the sound of metallic sharp claws rang in your ears next to your head. You gasped in pleasant surprise, moaning at the thought of him losing control like this. It should concern him, it should. But he couldn’t give one fuck. He coated your insides with his release, eyes closed and eyebrows creased into this twisted expression of rapture. With a couple final thrusts he pumped you full of himself until you were leaking around his cock. Only then did he still his pistoning hips. 

“Fuck.” You heard him grunt in your ear, followed by the sound of his claws sheathing back into his knuckles. Your eyes widened with aftershock and your wash chest was heavy as you panted. 

Logan lifted his head from your neck to look at you, heavy breaths leaving his chest as he tried to bring himself back to reality.

“I… I didn’t mean to..” He trailed off, though slightly apologetic as he caught a glimpse of the three punctured holes on your pillow, he did not regret it one bit. You were quickly shaking your head at him, a tired smile on your face.

“Don’t be. That was like, so hot.” You bit your lip, throwing your arms over his broad shoulders as you pulled him into a kiss. He hummed, hand beside your head as he brushed your hair out of your face. “You owe me some new pillows though.”

“Yeah? Might owe you more than that then.” A smug smirk replaced his concern as he rolled his hips, making you aware of his still hard cock, hot and heavy in your walls. You gasped, wide eyes meeting his own. “What? You thought I was done with you?” 

With a hold of your arm he flipped you on your stomach, the sudden movement making you whimper. But the thought of him taking you over and over sure had you eager in anticipation. Though as his cock sunk into your cunt once more you were beginning to wonder just how much your curiosity was going to cost you. Surely a whole day in bed tomorrow would be in order. He was so going to be the death of you. Little did you know, you were already going to be his.

[transgaysex]

before i go to sleep. the other day my sibling and i found the song performance we had when we were in elementary school which fucking haunted us as kids and thought was lost to time. its La Maîtresse En Rouge by Moulin À Musique and apparently thats a performance they did in Many Many schools and may still do it to this day ?

[dixons-sunshine]

Just Because | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

“What’s this?”

You shrugged at your partner’s question, a small, excited smile painted across your features. You kept the wrapped box extended towards him. “I don’t know. Why don’t you open it and find out?”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed at your ominous tone of voice, but he still reluctantly took the box from your hands. “There ain’t some spider in here that’s gon’ pop out and crawl all over me, s’there?” he questioned slowly, turning the box over in his hands a few times. “‘Cause if there is, m’gon’ catch it and then m’throwin’ it down yer shirt.”

You laughed and shook your head at him. “I promise there’s no living thing in there.”

Daryl’s eyebrow cocked at that. “So s’the head of a walker, s’it? Since it ain’t a livin’ thing?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “It’s an object, not something that’s alive or used to be alive. Trust me.”

Daryl hummed, sent you one last scrutinizing look and reluctantly opened the gift. When he peeled back the wrapping paper and opened the box, he couldn’t help the look of surprise that flickered across his face. He looked at you, a disbelieving look on his face. “S’that—”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a smile, walking forward to peer into the box. “It is.”

Daryl couldn’t believe his eyes. There was no way it was real. He gingerly reached into the box and pulled out the item—the one vital piece he needed to fix his bike. A piece he had struggled to find for weeks at that point in time. “Why?” he finally spoke up after a few moments of silence.

You instantly knew what he meant. Why did you do that for him. It amazed you that, even after five years together, the archer still struggled to comprehend that you did things for him just because. However, when it came to the man you loved, you’d remain patient for as long as he needed. You were aware of the fact that he hadn’t experienced much love in his life, and over the course of your relationship, you had been correcting that wrong.

“Just because,” you replied to his question, a smile on your face. “I had to pull some strings with the blacksmiths at the Hilltop, but I pulled it off. Now you have what you need for your bike. Now you can get your true love up and running again,” you joked.

Daryl chuckled at your joke. He shook his head, his hair framing his face in a way that thankfully hid the blush on his face. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? It was just you. He didn’t have to be nervous around you. However, his racing heart seriously contradicted his line of thought. “Yeah? Didn’t realize there was somethin’ ‘bout ya that needed fixin’.”

You chuckled fondly. “Touche, Dixon.” You looked up at him questioningly. “So I’m guessing you love it?”

Daryl nodded and placed the part down on the table, before moving forward and capturing you in a hug. “I do. S’amazin’. Seriously, jus’... thank ya.”

You wrapped your arms around him and placed a kiss to the side of his head. “Of course. Anything for you.”

A few beats of silence passed where the two of you simply stayed in one another’s embrace. That was, until Daryl muttered something into your ear. “How did I get so lucky with ya?”

You giggled and shrugged. “Must’ve cast a spell on me or something.”

Daryl chuckled. “Yeah, s’prolly it.” Another beat of silence passed. “I love ya, Peach.”

“I love you, Daryl. So, so much.”

[driaswrld]

it's raining outside, and yuuji is sharing his earphones with you.

there's an occasional rumble of thunder that has him subconsciously tucking you tighter into his side, you want to tell him it's fine, we're on a bus, on our way home, nothing is going to swoop down from the sky and take me from you.

his playlist is on shuffle, hood pulled over his head and bubblegum hair resting against the window, watching the dark clouds shift above.

yuuji thinks, if he tells you he loves you right now, in such a dark and gloomy setting, if you'll even believe it.

but it's always when skies are dark and rain pours and his vision is cloudy and his knuckles are bruised does he feel the urge burning in him to say, i love you, i love you, i love you.

“i think it's gonna be a storm.” you murmur into his shoulder and he hums, careful not to shift too much — you glared at him the first three times he kept fidgeting and made the earphone fall out of your ear — “you still afraid of lightning?” he asks, big brown eyes full.

he could just say it right now.

“i'm not— i wasn't ever afraid of lightning...” you argue and yuuji laughs, raising a palm in defeat. if you told him the sun was blue, well, he trusts you enough to know you know better than him. plus, he wouldn't mind living under a blue sun with you.

there's a sudden crackle, and a strike of lightning. an echoing boom of thunder follows.

his arms are already wide open before the chill runs down your spine and you dive into him, face buried in his chest — i'll protect you, i'm here.

( i love you. )

“not afraid of lightning?” yuuji dips his head to whisper, you groan into the fabric of his hoodie, and out of pure spite you pull hard on the drawstring and he chokes out a giggle. “look at my brave girl... so pretty.” his voice is muffled, and you release your grip on the twin strings.

“don't make fun of me—”

“m’not making fun of you, i swear!”

the soft rumble of thunder is near ominous, but you don't hear it, not over yuuji's sickeningly sweet songs that remind me of us playlist and his cackling in your ears.

he likes this, being the one you turn to.

he wonders what you might've looked like back when you were scared by yourself. and just as he wonders it he promises himself, that you'll never be scared without having him to run to.

“why're you afraid of lightning?” he asks, soft yet unsure. would you tell him everything that scares you if he asked? “told you, m'not afraid—”

“okay! why do you... not like lightning then?”

yuuji watches the way your brows furrow, the twist on your lips. i love when you think, he wants to say, but that would sound weird out loud wouldn't it?

“it can kill you, for one. plus, it comes with thunder and it makes this stupidly scary crackling noise—”

“i thought you said you weren't sca— okay, m'stopping, for real this time!”

there's another crackle and pop! of lightning, a drumroll of thunder, it's so sudden that your eyes squeeze shut immediately, but the rest of the noise comes muffled— the hum of bass in one of your ears louder now.

better? yuuji mouths to you, both of his palms cupped over your ears, blocking out most of the sound from reaching you.

you nod, and his heart flutters when you mouth back thankyou, i love you.

it takes yuuji a minute, just as the rain pours a little harder, his gaze fixed on yours before he lowers his head, tip of his nose tickling your own and mouths,

you're safe with me, i love you.

[tteotlma]

Whiskey and Wishful Thinking

-- unrequited love and misplaced desires

Logan/Wolverine x Reader 6.2kw(😵‍💫)

a/n: this idea has been in my head for a while now and i didn’t really edit —

TW: 18+ MDNI AFAB!Reader, alcohol abuse/intoxication, sexual content (explicit), Emotional manipulation, unrequited love, mild violence (Logan crashing into things), infidelity (emotional), sexual encounter under the influence, emotional distress/angst, mild language, p in v

—

The quiet whirring of the air conditioner filled the cavernous space of the library, its cool breeze a stark contrast to the sweltering August heat outside. You circled the poster board laid out on the worn wooden table in front of you, your fingertips ghosting over the glossy photos and carefully cut-out newspaper clippings. Your chin rested on your hand as you examined the display closely, brow furrowed in concentration.

The new semester at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was starting in a week, and you were determined to be prepared. This wasn't just about having a visually engaging classroom; it was about proving yourself. Your second year as a teacher here was right around the corner, and you still had people to impress—or maybe overshadow. The pressure to live up to the legacy of the school's illustrious faculty weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You were in the middle of rearranging a faded photo of Richard Nixon next to a more vibrant one of Mystique—a stark visual representation of the complex history you were trying to convey—when something caught your eye. A small tear in the corner of the Mystique photo made you frown. It was barely noticeable, but you knew it was there. Much like the small imperfections in your own mutation that you tried so hard to hide.

As you reached for the tape to add more photos, a thunderous crash erupted from the direction of the front door, reverberating off the mahogany bookshelves and causing the chandeliers to tinkle ominously. You startled, your elbow catching the edge of the poster board and sending a cascade of photos fluttering to the floor like autumn leaves.

"Dammit," you muttered under your breath, dropping to your knees to gather the scattered images. Each one represented hours of research and careful curation. There was Erik Lehnsherr in his prime, Charles Xavier before the wheelchair, headlines about the Mutant Registration Act—pieces of a puzzle you were trying to fit together for your students.

As you collected the last of the photos, another crash followed, accompanied by a string of muffled colorful curses that could only belong to one person: Logan.

You rose to your feet, brushing dust from your knees and straightening your top. A part of you wanted to ignore the disturbance and return to your work. After all, you weren't one of the X-Men, just a history teacher trying to make a difference in your own small way. But another part, the part that had brought you to this school in the first place, urged you to investigate.

With a last, longing look at your unfinished project, you began to walk down the corridor, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The warm wood paneling and lush carpets couldn't quite muffle Logan's gruff voice, slurred and aggravated.

"Who the hell locked the damn door?" he growled loud enough to be heard through the mahogany, followed by another thud that sounded suspiciously like a body hitting solid wood.

You rounded the corner just in time to hear Logan slam against the door again. Sighing, you approached, your hand hovering over the ornate brass doorknob.

"Logan?" you called out, trying to keep your voice steady. "The door's always locked after midnight. You know that."

There was a moment of silence, then a muffled grunt. "Oh. Right." You heard him fumbling on the other side, likely searching for keys he didn't have. "Must've... must've forgot."

You leaned closer to the door, lowering your voice. "Did you lose your keys again?"

"Didn't lose 'em," Logan grumbled, his words slurring together. "Just... misplaced 'em. Temporarily."

Rolling your eyes, you turned the lock. "I'm letting you in. But please, try to keep it down. Some of us are trying to work."

As you swung the heavy door open, the full impact of Logan's state hit you like a wave. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, more disheveled than you'd ever seen him.

His usually wild hair was a mess, matted in places as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. His leather jacket was askew, one sleeve pushed up to the elbow while the other hung loosely at his wrist. The strong scent of whiskey wafted from him, mixed with something earthier – had he been in the woods?

His eyes, usually sharp and alert, were unfocused as they landed on you. For a moment, they seemed to look through you rather than at you.

"Work?" he scoffed, stumbling slightly as he entered. "It's summer, kid. Live a little."

The irony of his statement, given his current condition, wasn't lost on you. But as he brushed past, the scent of alcohol growing stronger, you couldn't help but wonder what had driven him to drink so heavily tonight. Logan had his demons, sure, but this seemed excessive even for him.

"Logan," you said softly, reaching out to steady him as he swayed. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He paused, turning to look at you. For a brief moment, his tough exterior seemed to crack, revealing a glimpse of raw pain underneath. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual gruff demeanor.

"I'm fine," Logan grunted, his voice rough as gravel. He shrugged off your hand with a forceful jerk that nearly threw him off balance. "Just need to sleep it off."

As he stumbled towards the stairs, you stood frozen in the foyer, a war of emotions raging within you. Frustration at the interruption of your work battled with genuine concern for your colleague. The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, each thud against the hardwood punctuated by a slight scuff - clear signs of his unsteady gait.

BAM

The sound reverberated through your chest, jolting you into action. "Oh my- Logan!" The twisting knot in your stomach unraveled, replaced by a surge of adrenaline as you found yourself on your knees beside the fallen giant. The polished wood floor was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Logan's body.

"Are you okay?!" Your voice came out higher than intended, tinged with worry. You gently turned his body, your hands careful but insistent. Logan's face came into view, his rugged features slack, eyes roving aimlessly. They passed over your face without a flicker of recognition, unfocused and glassy.

"Clearly not," you muttered, answering your own question. The words tasted bitter on your tongue, worry and frustration mingling in equal measure. You patted his stubbled cheek, the coarse hair rough against your fingers. The familiar texture grounded you, a tactile reminder of the man beneath this drunken exterior.

"Come on, you big lug." Your fingers curled around his jacket collar, the worn leather an old friend under your grip. You could smell the years of use on it – a mixture of tobacco, whiskey, and that indescribable scent that was purely Logan. You tugged, your muscles straining against his dead weight. It was like trying to move a mountain, and you felt a bead of sweat trickle down your back with the effort. "I can't get you up those stairs, but we can try to find something else."

Logan stirred under your hands, a low groan rumbling from deep in his chest. You could feel the vibration of it through your palms, like the purr of some great, dangerous cat. Keeping a steadying hand on his arm, you helped as he struggled to his feet. His muscles were taut under your touch, coiled with a strength that, even in his inebriated state, was intimidating.

The scent of whiskey hung heavy in the air around you both, an almost visible miasma. It mingled with the earthy smell of his leather jacket and something so distinctly Logan – a heady mix of cigar smoke and pine that usually brought a sense of comfort and safety. Now, it just emphasized the bitter truth that in trying to distance himself from his pain, Logan had simultaneously distanced himself from the man you once knew.

He was mumbling, disconnected words tumbling from his lips like scattered puzzle pieces. You caught fragments – "Jean" and "Summers" among them – each name landing like a small stone in the pit of your stomach. But you weren't really trying to piece it together, not now. Your mind was already racing ahead, calculating the logistics of moving him, wondering if you could manage to get him to the nearby study with its comfortable couch. And, if you were being honest with yourself, a small part of you was wondering how soon you could get him out of your sight and return to the normalcy of your work.

You watched, as if in slow motion, as Logan threw a heavy arm around you. The sudden shift in weight knocked you off balance, causing your body to shove even closer to Logan's as you struggled to support his swaying form.

You closed your eyes, trying to distract itself with thoughts of your discarded project in the library. You tried to reimagine your pre-arranged photos and timelines, hearing them calling to you like a siren song of productivity and purpose. But it was hard to focus on that, not with the heat radiating off of Logan's body making your skin feel like it was sizzling, every point of contact between you a livewire of sensation.

You could feel every hard plane of his body pressed against you, the heat of him searing through your clothes. The closeness was both thrilling and terrifying, and you quickly shook your head, pushing the confusing thoughts away. Right now, Logan needed a friend, whether he (or you) realized it or not.

"Alright, big guy," you said, your voice sounding strained even to your own ears as you adjusted your grip on his arm. Your fingers dug into the solid muscle there, seeking purchase. "Let's get you somewhere you can lay down before you fall again and cause some damage." You began to guide him, every step a careful negotiation between his unsteady feet and your determined support. It was like trying to direct a landslide – Logan's bulk and uncoordinated movements making each step a precarious balancing act.

"I-I'm fine," he slurred, his words thick and syrupy. His head bobbed with each trudging step, reminding you of those drinking bird toys. "Jus' needed a break." The words were punctuated by a hiccup that shook his whole frame, and by extension, yours.

"A break from what?" You grunted, the words coming out breathless as you strained to keep him walking in something resembling a straight line. The carpet runner in the hallway bunched under your feet with each step, creating small obstacles you had to navigate around. "It's the last week of summer."

The reminder seemed to hit Logan like a physical blow. He let out a loud groan, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours where you were pressed against him. Suddenly, his body went limp, all semblance of cooperation vanishing in an instant. He stumbled again, but this time, anchored to you as he was, he dragged you with him.

"No, no Logan," you gasped, your muscles screaming as you struggled to keep both of you upright. Your feet scrambled for purchase on the polished wood floor, sliding dangerously. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought you were both going down, but somehow – through sheer determination or dumb luck – you managed to keep moving.

With a final, herculean effort, you maneuvered Logan's bulk towards the library. The giant sofa loomed before you like an oasis in a desert, promising relief from your burden. And of course, because the universe seemed to have a twisted sense of humor tonight, it was right next to your craft table. The carefully arranged materials – your planned escape from this chaos – now stood as silent witnesses to your struggle.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the leather creaking under his weight, you couldn't help but wonder how this night had spiraled so far from your quiet plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving you feeling oddly bereft despite your earlier desire to be free of him. You stood there, catching your breath, watching the rise and fall of Logan's chest as he settled into the couch, already half-asleep.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the aged leather creaked in protest under his substantial weight. You couldn't help but marvel at how drastically this night had veered from your meticulously laid plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving behind a peculiar sense of absence. It was a feeling that caught you off guard, considering your earlier desperation to be free of his burdensome presence.

For a moment, you stood there, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Your eyes traced the rise and fall of Logan's broad chest as he settled into the couch, his features already softening with the onset of sleep. The furrows in his brow, usually so pronounced, began to smooth out, giving him an almost peaceful appearance that seemed at odds with the tumultuous events of the night.

Shaking your head, you turned back to your project, eager to lose yourself in the familiar comfort of organization and creativity. Each piece fell into place with a satisfying click, the world narrowing down to the careful arrangement of photos and timelines. Time seemed to slip away as you worked, the rhythmic sound of Logan's breathing fading into white noise.

Despite the rhythmic process you had created, your mind managed to stray to the man beside you. Logan's presence, even in his unconscious state, was impossible to ignore. Your eyes drifted from your work to his sleeping form, tracing the rugged lines of his face that you'd memorized long ago.

A familiar ache bloomed in your chest, a bittersweet mixture of longing and resignation. How many days and nights had you spent like this, stealing glances at Logan when he wasn't aware, allowing yourself to imagine a reality where his eyes would light up at the sight of you? But that was a fantasy, and you knew it.

Your fingers absently toyed with a photo of Jean Grey that had fallen from your timeline. Even in this candid shot, her beauty was undeniable. Logan's voice, slurred with alcohol, echoed in your mind: "Jean." Of course, it always came back to Jean.

You couldn't blame him, not really. Jean was everything - brilliant, powerful, compassionate. And you? You were just... you. The history teacher who helped patch him up after missions, who listened to his rare moments of vulnerability, who silently loved him from afar.

A soft murmur from the couch drew your attention. Logan's face had contorted, his lips moving soundlessly. Was he dreaming of her even now? The thought sent a pang through your heart.

"She's with Scott, Logan." You shook your head.

The words tasted bitter on your tongue. Because that was the cruel irony, wasn't it? Jean was utterly devoted to Scott Summers. Her love for him was as clear as day to everyone - everyone except Logan. He clung to hope like a drowning man to driftwood, blind to the fact that Jean's heart belonged to another. Just as he was blind to your feelings for him.

You turned back to your work, trying to lose yourself once more in the familiar task. But your eyes kept drifting to the leather jacket draped over a nearby chair - Logan's jacket. How many times had you imagined him placing it around your shoulders on a cold night? How many times had you dreamed of being the one he looked at with that intensity, that raw need?

But those were just dreams. Reality was this: Logan, passed out on the couch beside you, murmuring another woman's name in his sleep. A woman who would never return his feelings. And you, silently loving a man who would never see you as anything more than a friend.

The spell was abruptly broken by a loud, guttural grunt from the couch. Startled, you whirled around, your heart leaping into your throat. Logan's peaceful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a mask of distress. His forehead was creased, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling as if grasping for something just out of reach.

The realization hit you like a splash of cold water: he was having a nightmare.

Pushing your chair into the table with a soft scrape, you rose to your feet. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as you approached Logan. Years of living in a school full of mutants with varying degrees of control had taught you the value of caution, especially when dealing with someone as potentially dangerous as Logan in a vulnerable state.

You positioned yourself at the head of the couch, carefully staying out of range of his arms - and more importantly, his claws. Your eyes flicked nervously to his hands, half-expecting to see the glint of adamantium at any moment. Swallowing hard, you steeled yourself and reached out, your hand hovering uncertain over his forehead.

For a heartbeat, you hesitated. The man before you was a far cry from the intimidating, gruff Logan you knew. In sleep, trapped in the throes of a nightmare, he looked almost... vulnerable. It was a side of him you'd never seen, never even imagined existed.

Taking a deep breath, you gently placed your fingertips on his temple. The skin there was hot to the touch, almost feverish. You could feel the rapid pulse of his temporal artery beneath your fingers, a testament to the intensity of whatever visions were plaguing him.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible even in the quiet of the library. "It's okay. You're safe." He let out a soft moan. Your fingers comb through his unruly hair, something you had never dared to do before. His usual gruffness is stripped away, and what remains is raw, untethered vulnerability—both his and yours.

His breath is uneven as he shifts under your touch, but your movements remain steady, soothing him. The weight of unspoken feelings that have built up over the years presses down on you. The sight of Logan up close so troubled and lost pulls at your heartstrings in a way you can’t ignore anymore.

"Logan," you whisper again, this time more firmly, urging him back to reality. His eyes flutter open, hazy and disoriented. For a moment, they lock onto yours. There's no Jean, no Scott, no X-Men—just the two of you in this quiet, dimly lit room, the air thick with unspoken tension.

His hand moves up to catch yours as it rests on his hair, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the strength behind it. "Why... why are you here?" he mumbles, voice still hoarse and thick with sleep, but there’s something else beneath the surface.

"I'm here because you needed me," you reply softly, the words feeling far too loaded but still true. The tension in his grip tightens, and for a split second, you wonder if you're imagining the way his eyes darken, the hint of desperation and something else swirling within them.

"Don't you have someone else to take care of? I'm not worth the trouble..." His words are a mixture of bitterness and regret, and it cuts deep. You shake your head slowly, heart pounding in your chest.

"You are worth it, Logan," you whisper, barely able to believe the words have left your mouth. Maybe it’s the weight of the years you’ve spent suppressing your feelings, or the heavy air filled with alcohol and desperation, but something shifts between you two in that moment.

Without thinking, Logan sits up, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you closer to sit beside him, bodies pressed together. The sudden movement leaves you breathless, your body leaning against his, faces only inches apart. His breath is warm and carries the sharp, smoky scent of whiskey, but beneath it lingers something else—something raw, unspoken, and heavy between you. The proximity feels electric, the tension between you simmering just beneath the surface.

For a split second, neither of you moves. You can feel the thrum of Logan’s pulse where his chest presses against yours, and his eyes, dark and stormy, search your face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe an answer to a question neither of you has dared to ask aloud. The weight of unrequited love hangs between you, an invisible thread that pulls you closer even as you hesitate. You've both been running from this, denying it, but now it feels inevitable.

Logan's hand lingers on your arm, his rough fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. His jaw clenches, and you can see the battle raging inside him, the unspoken words on his lips threatening to spill out. "I—" he starts, his voice rough and hesitant, like he's about to confess something too heavy to bear, but you don’t let him finish. You can't, not when you're both teetering on this razor's edge.

You lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative press. For a heartbeat, Logan freezes, his body going rigid with surprise, but then something in him snaps. His right hand snakes down your left side pulling you even closer, as his other hand cups the back of your neck, and he pulls you deeper into the kiss, his lips urgent, almost desperate. It's not gentle—it’s raw, filled with the intensity of everything he's never said. The kiss is a release of all the years spent pining for someone else, all the nights spent wishing for what he could never have.

You know this isn’t love, not the kind either of you have been hoping for. It’s about filling the hollow space left by the people who’ll never look at you the way you want them to. You’re both seeking something that’s just out of reach, using each other to drown out the ache of unrequited love that’s settled deep in your bones. Jean's name might as well be carved into the air between you, but tonight, that pain is dulled, replaced by the heat and urgency of the moment.

His grip on you tightens as the kiss deepens, a silent understanding passing between you. This isn’t about forever. It’s about right now—two people grasping for something real, even if it’s fleeting, even if it doesn’t fill the spaces you need it to. You know that come morning, things will be different, but for now, you both allow yourselves this escape.

Logan’s tongue licks tentatively at your lips, you give him the permission he’s silently seeking as your lips part. You feel lightheaded as his tongue slides into your mouth, and your groin feels hot as Logan lets out the filthiest groan into your mouth.

You let out a soft whine as you grab at his shirt, his muscles hot and firm under the fabric. As Logan continues to indulge in the taste of you, fingers trail down the front of his shirt all the way to and under the hem. Your fingers lightly drag across the thin sliver of skin and you feel Logan’s hip twitch, and he pulls away sighing lightly into your mouth.

He adorned the sexiest look on his smug face. Granted he still looked inebriated but this time instead of being drunk on whiskey.. he was drunk on you. Mother of all that is good and well, you know you should say something, be reasonable, smart, but dammit if there’s one thing you will stick by it’s that you will always help a friend in need…

You bring him close, hands clasping behind his neck and pulling him in as you swing your leg over his lap straddling him. His hands immediately meet the small of your back, and he leans in to kiss you again pulling you flush to his chest.

Now its your turn to take control in the kiss, Logan pliant as you lap at his mouth. He lets you think your in charge until he takes you by surprise and uses one hand to grab the hair at the back of your head. You lose your rhythm for a second and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue along yours, saliva pooling in your mouths and melting in the middle. He begins to suck on the slick pink muscle and you give in.

Whatever ounce of worry, hesitation, anxiety, any reservation whatsoever you could have had left your body and you gave in to desire. That bitch, that deliciously sinful demon had got her way as the muscles in your legs gave in and you relax onto Logans lap. He continues to slurp at your mouth, and you mewl. Never in your life had anyone done this to you before. Not only was it filthy, it was incredibly hot.

The heat in your groin burned your insides leaving you with an ache you needed to relieve. Your hips buck reflexively as you feel a wetness pool on the fabric of your underwear. You let a moan slip out of your mouth, and Logan let out a deep and throaty chuckle. His fingers go back beneath the waistline of your pants, fingers gripping the flesh of your hips and grinding you down against his pelvis.

You threw your head into the crook of Logan’s neck as he began to buck his hips into yours at a steady rhythm. His fingers digging harder into your skin, as he applied more pressure. You could feel the thin fabrics of your underwear and sleep shorts soak the more you rubbed against Logan. You began to gyrate your hips in tighter circles.

“Ah, fuck.” You breathed out as you pressed your forehead to the brute of a man beneath you. “Logan, Logan, come on, stop teasing.” You panted between breaths. Logan shifted a bit beneath you causing your neglected clit to get caught during your motions. Your head lolled to the side and then back as a whimper turned into a full cry of frustration. God, you wanted this pain, this ache you were feeling to go away and you’d do anything to make it stop.

Logan’s grip tightened on your hips, as he stilled your body for a second.

“What the fuck,” You hissed, trying to slide your wet heat on Logans definite show-er and grower but the man loved to tease. Logan continued to hold your hips and you began to grow frustrated. The feeling of his smirk against your neck causing tears to come to your eyes.

“Logan, please.” You whimpered, your voice shaking. You feel him freeze and you mentally shoot yourself in the foot— You didn’t want this to be a thing with emotions, it was bad enough that the first time you’re having sex with the man you’ve loved for five years is as a one night fling. You didn’t want to have to think about the emotional repercussions before having what you’re pretty sure is going to be the best orgasm of your life.

In a moment of panic, and wanting to shift the focus you lean forward, and your hands find the button of Logan’s pants. You unbuckle the belt, and he peppers kisses along your shoulders, your fingers fumble with the button, and he noses your jaw, you slide down the zipper and he pecks your neck. All of a sudden the intimacy becomes too much so you trail your hands at the band of his underwear and you begin to pull the fabric down. Coarse hair grazes your fingers, and before you can stop yourself your hand runs up his stomach, and down back to his groin— his breath shudders against the nape of your neck as he begins to nip at your skin.

Before you can fully expose the man he grabs your hand and puts it on his shoulder as if saying to let him do the work. You obey and lift your hips to give him space. Next thing you know your being guided back close to him, hovering over his groin.

While you hadn’t seen his dick fully yet, you knew the mutant was big. You could tell regardless of the scenario. The way he walks, the way he sits— legs spread so wide it’s like he’s constantly inviting you to kneel between them. Missing the opportunity this time didn’t make you think any different though, this man was massive. The heat within your body was already painful enough, but now the heat you feel outside your cunt was unbearable.

Your right hand slid between your bodies as you reached for Logan's thick dick. He let out a low growl as your fingers wrapped around his shaft. Logan's fingers reached for the fabric between your thighs, moving the soaked cloth to the side urging you to put his cock inside.

You guide the tip to your entrance and you can feel your cunt clench around nothing in anticipation. You feel heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but the aggression in Logan’s breathing gives you relief that you’re not the only one desperate. But for who it was is a different story.

Logan got impatient and lifted his hips to push the tip past, and your mouth fell open as a silent moan possessed your body. God, you were right. He was so thick, the stretch was borderline unbearable but before you could fully adjust Logan began to thrust up even further. His dick going so deep, the tip hit the spongy part.

He let out a strangled grunt as he held your hips down, and you squirmed.

“You needa stop that.” He barked, as he rolled his head back against the couch rest, trying to control himself as he felt your hole clench around him.

“I’m sorry,” You sob, trying to adjust but the pain and pleasure were too overwhelming you could feel yourself losing focus.

“I just–” He shushes you by cradling you against his shoulder, arms enveloping you in a tight hug, and just when you think you’ve calmed down he devours you like you’re his last meal. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you from his lap before he brings you down and he thrusts up.

A sob escapes your lips as his hips fire off like a pistol, thrusting in and out, brutal but so worth it as your desires are finally being satiated. He’s holding onto you like if he let go you’d float away. A string of curses fill the air as he continues to pump into you.

“Fuck, fuck, Logan.” You mumble, words slowly leaving your mouth.

“Awe,” Logan tuts as his hips fall into a normal pace, his hand coming to caress the back of your hair. “Don’t tell me this pussy is lightweight, we’ve only just started and you’re already acting like this?” You don’t respond, and instead let out soft moans as he continues to fuck into your abused cunt. Logan uses the opportunity to pull you back by your hair (again) to examine your face. It’s flushed red, glowing with perspiration, your chest panting as you try to catch your breath.

“No baby that won’t do.” He caresses the hair out of your face and nuzzles his face against yours. His facial hair prickling your skin. He places a kiss on your forehead before he pounds into you faster, deeper than before. You can barely keep your eyes open and all the sounds that leave your lips are just pathetic little whimpers and sobs.

"M'close." He grunts and you can't help but agree. "You gonna come, sweetheart?" You can't find the words and nod, pliant like a ragdoll in his arms. He groans.

"C'mon. You can do better than that, can't ya? Tell me."

"Fuck yes," you pant, your voice barely audible between gasps. You writhe beneath him, desperate for something to anchor yourself to, but with his hands pinning your wrists, the only thing you manage to grab is the rough hair on his lower abdomen, the friction of it grounding you as much as the heat and slap of his body. "Please… don’t stop."

His grip tightens on your wrists, the pressure pushing you to the edge as he moves faster, his breath hot against your skin. Each thrust sends a jolt through your body, every nerve alight with anticipation and need.

"That's it," he growls, voice thick with control as he watches you fall apart beneath him. "Let go."

You can feel it building, the tension coiling in your core, and with one final snap of his hips, you shatter—your body arching, toes curling, a strangled cry escaping your lips. The world blurs, everything outside this moment fading as you hit your peak, wave after wave crashing over you.

But even through the haze, you feel him reaching his own release. His pace becomes erratic, his muscles tensing, and as he finally falls over the edge, his body tight against yours, he groans—a low, guttural sound—before the name slips out.

"Jean—"

The word cuts through the air like a knife, your euphoria draining in an instant, replaced by a sharp, hollow ache in your chest.

Your heart plummets, and the warmth of his body that moments ago felt so consuming now feels like ice against your skin. The name he whispered isn’t yours. It echoes in your head, louder than the pounding of your pulse, louder than the ragged breaths you're both still catching. You feel like you’ve been struck, yet somehow, you’re not surprised. You always knew this wasn’t really about you. But it doesn’t stop the ache spreading through your chest.

You close your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat as the reality of it all comes crashing down. This was always going to hurt.

For a few seconds, neither of you moves. The weight of the moment lingers, heavy and unbearable. His body relaxes, but the guilt etched into his expression is unmistakable, and you can feel the shift in the air. The intimacy that just moments ago had been raw and consuming has evaporated, leaving behind only an awkward silence and a sense of regret so thick it’s suffocating.

You disentangle yourself from him slowly, the warmth of his skin now foreign, a reminder of what you never really had. You sit up, your body still trembling, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts. The room feels stifling now, every breath you take thick with the weight of everything left unsaid.

Logan’s eyes open, still clouded with the haze of pleasure, but they widen when he realizes what he’s done—what he’s said. Panic flashes across his face, but it’s too late. You’ve heard it, and you can’t unhear it.

“Shit…” he mutters under his breath, his hand reaching out as if to apologize, but you’re already pulling away, slipping out of his grasp like sand between his fingers.

“It’s fine,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, though the crack in it betrays you. You force yourself to keep moving, pulling your clothes back into place, each motion slow and deliberate, as if trying to hold yourself together with every button and clasp.

He doesn’t say anything, and for once, you’re grateful. You don’t want to hear an apology, you don’t want to hear him stumble over words of regret. You don’t want to hear him say her name again.

You stand up, back turned to him, your chest heaving not from passion, but from the pain you can’t quite swallow down. Your hands are shaking as you adjust your clothes, but you refuse to let him see it. You knew this was a mistake. You knew this wasn’t love.

“This was never meant to fix anything,” you finally say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I was just… trying to help.” The words taste bitter, but they’re true. You’d gotten caught up, you’d let yourself believe—if only for a moment—that maybe it could be more. But it never was.

Logan sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking at you with something that could almost be remorse. But it doesn’t matter anymore. He made his choice long before tonight.

With one last glance over your shoulder, you meet his gaze. His eyes are still shadowed by the weight of his unrequited love, and you can see it all too clearly now. You were never the one he needed. You never stood a chance.

“I’ll be fine,” you lie, turning back to the door, your footsteps heavy as you leave the room, abandoning the project you had started earlier that night, each step pulling you farther away from the moment that should’ve never happened.

But even as you walk away, you can’t shake the feeling that for a second, despite knowing better, you let yourself believe it was real.

———

a/n: i thrive off of feedback and criticism.

[loupy-mongoose]

Lil speech guide: Randy's speech Jamie's speech (Pokespeak will be in parentheses.)

It got pretty long, so under the Bar it goes!

PREVIOUS NEXT

~~~~~~

Jamie, the Gardevoir, and the three Lindens stood locked in tense silence. Randy fought to string together an explanation that wouldn't give away too much, while also trying to gauge Akoya's stance.

Jamie was the first to break the silence. Her expression hardened, her eyes displaying a sharp fury. Well? I'm not letting you a step further until I know it's not a threat.

The pointed stick in her hand lowered to point toward the family, and her authoritative tone chilled Randy. She meant business, which didn't help ease the man's racing mind.

Akoya answered before Randy could, her voice a bit too defensive in his opinion. It's none of your business what's in our bag. It's stuff for travel! What's wrong with that?!

Jamie clearly didn't believe her for a second. Her icy eyes bore into the white haired visitor. I won't tolerate a threat at my home. Tell me what's in there, or you WILL leave. Her eyes flashed ominously. Or worse.

Feeling a wave of protectiveness, Randy shuffled to stand in front of Akoya and Lavender. He hoped they couldn't feel the surge of utter dread that coursed through his body.

Listen, Jamie. He tried to keep his voice low, level, and non-threatening. What's in that bag is very precious to us, and we can't show you out here where others might see it. If we can go somewhere private, then maybe we can work something out.

He felt the sharp jab of Akoya's disapproval from behind him. Between her and the protesting red-head in front of them, he felt his resolve being wringed out of him.

Jamie stood still, her glare unwavering. After a moment, her head lifted slightly as she addressed their Pokemon company in an strong bark. (Darren, Sheila, Percy, please hide us with your wings.)

Percy and Darren gave startled, bewildered looks, while Sheila tilted her head and chuffed questioningly. But they did as she asked, reaching out to their widest wingspans, touching tip-to-tip with each other.

The Lindens hesitantly shuffled to adjust their positions as their space shrank.

There. Jamie eyed them all closely You wanted somewhere private; this is it. If you still won't show me, you'll have to leave.

Randy and Akoya glanced nervously at each other.

What could be done?

They came to a silent agreement.

Akoya turned back to Jamie, giving her a glare that verged on desperation. We're showing you because you forced our hand. NOT because we trust you. If you try anything...

To Randy's surprise, he caught a falter in Jamie's resolve, and something changed. A new expression slipped into her demeanor, if only barely.

Curiosity.

The look on Jamie's face turned from shock to determination.

Swiftly she addressed her three winged Pokemon. (Spread the word; we need to find a little pink Mew with blue accents. It is to be brought back to these three safely and secretly.)

The three beasts nodded in sincerity and took off.

Persim poked his head of of the bag, his face etched in horror, while Momo was shrieking. Stay in there for now, Perzi. Randy's voice was shaky, but reassuring. We'll handle it. Could you please try to calm Momo down?

The orange feline nodded uncertainly and ducked back into the bag. Randy saw a green bubble form in it as he zipped it shut. Momo's screams went quiet, but he knew it was just contained by the bubble. Poor Persim...

The red-headed girl looked solemnly at the devastated family, her expression softer than any of them had seen from her yet. I'm truly sorry about that... I promise you all, this is the best place for a Pokemon like them to be lost at. There will be lots of good Pokemon looking for them, and any humans will be curious at worst. It might scare them, but nobody will hurt them.

I would've done things differently if I'd known they were in there...

Akoya gave up looking nearby for her son and took a breath. She turned to Jamie, for once without venom. Listen, Jamie, with all due respect, we'll be able to find him easier than your little... network, or whatever you have here. He's gotta be terrified! He might just keep teleporting away if strangers find him, human or Pokemon...

Jamie folded her arms with a hesitant nod. You're free to search too, if you think so. Maybe you're right, and he'll only show for you guys. But if anyone spots him, I'll hear of it, so I'd best stick with you.

Akoya gave an uncertain look and opened her mouth to speak. But, feeling her about to protest, Randy interrupted her. We can talk later. Let's go find Midas.

~~~~~~

PREVIOUS NEXT

New skill acquired~

And just for the fun of it, I'm uh... gonna share some of the (very) rough sketches I did for this part, because I find them hilarious.

Luna (my cat) randomly decided to leave the comfort of her cat tower to come lay on my arm. The trouble was, it was my drawing arm. So I made due. XD

[irisintheafterglow]

Parley? (opla!zoro x you)

summary: a stranger arrives to disturb your peace and you have no choice but to negotiate with him.

wc: 2.57k

cw/tags: first meeting, swearing, mentions of canon-typical violence including blood and swords, zoro doesn't know how to express his feelings

note: i'm so nervous posting this ngl because i really like zoro as a character but i'm scared that i'm not gonna do him justice since i don't know him as well as gojo or geto or bakugo etc etc etc. hopefully all yall zoro girlies like this because i've been itching to write for him since my explore page became nothing but mackenyu. enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

You hear the chimes first. The melody is soft, nearly imperceptible to the untrained ear, but you sense it. After all, you were the one who tied the string under the walkway floorboards in such a way that the bells above your window would clink if something pressed down on the wood. Over time, you learned to identify where outside was being pushed based on more strings and bells. It made it easier to find the Lady, on the rare occasion she stepped into open air and you weren’t with her. However, whoever was now setting off your makeshift alarm system had footsteps unlike the usual occupants of the house. The quietness of the notes was unsettling, in a way, because it meant they were creeping around the house. Someone didn’t want to be heard. 

It was the flowers next, the roses with uniquely reflective petals that were especially good at bouncing moonlight precisely through your window. The Lady commented one day in the market that she’d taken a liking to that particular flower, and you bought the vendor’s entire stock to plant around the house once you realized how it could be used. Not before you built a crow’s nest-like window, first. The glass structure jut out of the house in just the right way that you received colors from the left, right, and front of the house. Had an intruder approached from the back, your only blindspot, you would hear the more insistent clicks of the typewriter keys attached to the outside deck panels. The nearly noiseless bells and the ominous shadow sneaking across your wall were enough to snap you wide awake. 

The soles of your feet meet cool stone as you slide from under the covers, wrapping the sheath of your saber around your waist and slipping out of your bedroom. Despite the darkness of the hallway, your legs move by memory to the Lady’s chambers only to find the door already ajar. 

Shit. Were you too late?

Slinking into the room in one graceful stride, words leave your mouth without thinking when you see him standing over your Lady, holding two deadly-looking swords. 

“Taking a life halfway gone is immoral no matter the bounty, pirate hunter.” His head snaps in your direction and you have your blade on him before he can blink, resting the point lightly but threateningly against his throat. His eyes narrow on you challengingly and you put ever so slightly more pressure into your hilt, forcing him to surrender and sheath both swords. The third, you note, remains undrawn on his hip. “No better targets to pursue than a retiree? I expected better from the demon of the East Blue.” His gaze remains unchanging while you step forward, inching him backward until his head hits the wall with a soft thud. You were thankful, for once, that the Lady was starting to lose her hearing and was always a deep sleeper. 

“She’s wanted,” he says in a low tone. 

“She’s withered,” you retort. “Killing her advances justice no more than leaving her alive.” His face is still unreadable, void of any emotions just as the rumors conveyed. Many tales circulated of the infamous pirate hunter, but you chose to believe the Lady to be far too irrelevant to pose any real threat to the Marines. As one of the last known powerhouses of the Gold Roger era, it was more likely her wanted poster would be drowned out amongst younger hotshot pirates than for her to become an actual target. And yet, here was the most feared bounty hunter in the seas, hunting down a myth that many assumed was already six feet under. And for what, fun? 

“It doesn’t matter. Honor is a courtesy denied to killers.” He speaks in a way like you wouldn’t understand his ideas, and it sends a white-hot flash of anger racing through your veins. 

“Ooh, yes. You’re being so honorable by julienning a defenseless old woman while she sleeps.” To your surprise, he flinches, unwillingly bringing your eyes to corded muscle and flexed biceps. It’s a bit of a struggle to refocus on the task at hand. “Enlighten me on how this makes you feel vindicated.” 

“I kill pirates for a living,” he states simply, nodding over to the slumbering mass under the thick comforter. The tip of your sword follows every movement he makes, careful not to give him an opening to strike. Unexpectedly, he seems almost relaxed, like the weapon at his throat was the least of his worries. “That woman is a pirate.”

“That woman was a pirate. She is no longer the ‘Captain Indigo’ you seek.” 

“Who is she now, then?”

“Lady Lavender, adored by her constituents and far removed from a life of piracy. If I weren’t on the verge of spilling your organs on the carpet, I’d say visit the farmer’s market on Tuesdays. You’ll see just how different her life is now.” His chin tilts in disagreement.

“The Marines say otherwise.”

“What do you say?” A minute tilt of your wrist angles your saber so that the point now resides under his sharply defined jawline. “Hmm, hunter? Any opinions in that thick skull of yours or are you just another mindless government weapon?” 

“You understand nothing,” he mutters like an indignant teenager, looking off to the side woefully. It makes your blood boil.

“Try me,” you snarl at the green-haired stranger. In another life, you’d have thought him pretty handsome, if you weren’t so infuriated by his indifferent sense of justice. He knew nothing about you, or the Lady, or what either of you had to endure to create a sense of safety. Safety, you would add, that you weren’t going to give up easily. 

“This woman you serve, what are you to her? A caretaker? A child?” 

“A friend,” you answer cautiously. “Something your line of work would know nothing about.” 

“The Marines know that your friend murdered the former governor and seized the island in an act of desperation,” he informs you with a note of condescension. “They’ve wanted her gone for ten years, and I am here to collect her head. It’s not personal; it’s business.” The incorrectness of his information is laughable, but what concerns you more is the ease with which he talks of taking lives. 

“You don’t feel any sort of remorse for the targets you kill?” The anger in your stomach starts to rub against a different, unwanted influx of sorrow. After witnessing the change in a ruthless pirate empress, you refused to believe a human could be this heartless. 

“I don’t dwell on them long enough to care. Most of the time, they do something stupid that makes it a little easier to dispose of them.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong about her,” you recover, pressing the blade against his skin on the brink of drawing blood. He winces, squirming against the wallpaper for some sort of relief. You don’t budge. “The former mayor was a half-brother whom she reconnected with after Gold Roger’s execution. His death was caused by a misdosage of medicine used to treat hemorrhoids he’d suffered with since he was twenty. On his deathbed, he made her promise to take care of this city...” You inhale, focusing on the man in front of you. His expression is soft, nothing like you would have expected from a feared killer-for-hire. He was actually listening to you. 

“Go on.”

“And to take care of me. I have the great pirate hunter at the end of my blade, so she must not have done that bad of a job at either request.” He’s silent for a moment and you watch the cogs turn in his brain, hoping he’d find some humanity and realize that killing the Lady isn’t just pointless, it’s fundamentally wrong. 

“It doesn’t change the fact that I need money.” Nevermind, then. Backup plan it is. 

“I understand that,” you concede, and you remove your weapon from his neck. His hands are on the hilts of his swords instantly, but he doesn’t draw them. He could kill both you and the Lady in a single swing, but he doesn’t. Maybe you did reach a different side of him. “That's why I’m willing to cut you a deal.”

“I don’t make deals with pirat–” he starts, but abruptly cuts himself off when you raise your eyebrows in expectation. Did you not learn anything from what I just told you? His face contorts in confusion, as if his mind was at odds with what his body was telling him to do. After carefully schooling his expression into blankness, he stands to his full height, rolling a broad shoulder. “What’s the deal?”

“You’re aware of the Blue Ringed crew, yes?”

“Famous for their poisons, I’ve heard,” he confirms and you nod. “They cover every inch of their ship in toxins and wear special clothing to prevent contact with their skin. Makes it hard to sneak up on them.”

“Exactly. See, you’re not as uneducated as you look,” you tease and you feel your face heat when he sticks his tongue out at you. It’s so boyish and immature, in stark contrast to the handsome, god-bodied man that faces you. “I happen to have a counteragent, enough for you to get on their ship and collect three times the amount if you killed us tonight.” 

“And what would you get in return?”

“The sound of your boots walking off the property and never returning,” you whisper a little desperately, pleading with him to leave your perfect peace intact and forget this altercation ever happened. The quiet in the room as he ponders your offer is suffocating save for the gentle snores of Lady Lavender. Eventually, he takes your deal, inspecting the powder-filled vial when you bring it to him on the front porch. 

“How do I use it if it’s powder?”

“Mix it with lotion to help soak it faster into your skin. When your skin is dry, you’ll have roughly an hour to navigate the boat completely immune to the poison. It’s sweat resistant but will wash off with seawater, so take care not to get thrown overboard,” you instruct him, crossing your arms across your chest against the chilly ocean air blowing in from the south. It was breezier than normal and you regret not grabbing a sweater. Unless you wanted to freeze your ass off, you needed to finish this debacle quickly. “Kill the pirates, get your bounty, and leave us the hell alone. Deal?” 

“Fine by me.” He carefully places the vial in the pocket of his pants and begins his descent down the front walkway. Before you can turn back into the house, however, his voice reaches your ears so lightly you think you’d hallucinated it. “Stay warm.” 

He doesn’t end up keeping his side of the deal. A few days after your initial altercation, he approaches the house again in broad daylight holding a box about the size of your hand. You stare at him in disbelief, reading in the nook of your window and he has the audacity to smirk at you when he spots you looking. 

“I thought we had a deal, pirate hunter,” you remind him when you open the front door of the house. It was infuriating how good he looked for having just returned from a pursuit, dressed up in fine fabrics with his hair combed back nicely. The irony was palpable, the situation not unlike the stories the Lady told you about the numerous men who attempted to court her. They appeared at the same front door with flowers, rubies, and promises of devotion, but none of them actually wanted her heart. In contrast, you wanted to stab the heart of the idiot in front of you. 

“Stop calling me that,” he frowns and you can’t help the laugh that leaves your mouth. “My name is Roronoa Zoro–”

“Oh, sorry,” you interject and his eyebrows furrow at your lack of manners. “Am I just supposed to act like you’re my friend now? After you tried to kill my boss?” 

“I thought we were past that,” he states bluntly.

“That was four days ago.” 

“It’s enough time to move on.”

“You’re impossible.” You shake your head in disbelief, slightly puzzled at the giddy feeling in your chest when the faintest smile appears on his face. “What’s that?” You gesture to the rosewood box in his fingers. 

“Consider it an apology,” he says, holding out the box for you to take, “for bothering you the other night.” 

“How chivalrous.” You eye the box warily, still unsure about the enigmatic bounty hunter before you. “But we don’t need nor want your money.”

“It’s not money. Just open the damn box,” he grunts impatiently and you begrudgingly oblige, sliding back the top panel to reveal a bracelet. It wasn’t like any other bracelet you’d seen before, a gold chain garnished with a single deep green emerald barely the size of your pinky fingernail. It was delicate and elegant, subtle enough not to draw attention but luxurious enough to make you feel spoiled. “Do you like it?”

“I do, actually. The color is pretty,” you reply slowly, still slightly in shock. “Why green?”

“Take a wild guess.” He smirks again and your gaze flicks up to his hair. It was just as vibrant as the gemstone and he watched you carefully as the pieces clicked into place. With the bracelet, you’d be forced to think of him every time you looked at it or anything the color green. What kind of guy buys a momento for almost killing you, you had no idea.

“You didn’t need to bring me this. I thought the deal was–”

“I remember what the deal was, but I felt bad making you stand outside shivering while you explained how the counteragent functioned.” Your eyes widen slightly at his admission. He noticed you reacting to the wind, so how intensely was he watching you that night? If he sees your surprise, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to explain why he brought you the gift in the first place. “The powder worked, by the way. I snagged this from the captain’s chambers on my way out.” 

“You stole this because you saw me get cold?” He merely shrugs, clearly unbothered. 

“I mean, yeah. You looked miserable.”

“I was miserable.” He smiles slightly again, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement. It makes your heart stutter against your wishes. “Does this mean we’re even now, pirate hunter?”

“Call me Zoro and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“You’ll consider it?” 

“Holding a sword to someone’s throat is a major transgression that can’t be forgiven so easily,” he taunts and you roll your eyes. “Let me start over, meet you properly without the involvement of weapons.”

“You really want to see me again?” He scoffs at your question as if the answer wasn't crystal clear.

“What, bringing you a bracelet wasn’t obvious enough? I’ll have to bring the entire ship next time. Might take a little longer to get back to you.”

“Get off my porch, Roronoa Zoro,” you laugh, reaching out to push his shoulder away and feeling every inch of his skin against your fingers in the brief moment your bodies touch. “Don’t come back unless you have something important to say.” 

“I think you’ll soon find out what I prioritize as important.”

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (12)

ー☆ Chapter 12: Shame On Me

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing ー☆ Word count: 5.5k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hiii, my lovelies! Shorter chapter but you won't have to wait too long, I'll update next week again! I don't think there will be any more updates to my other stories this week because I'm going to visit my bestie on Thursday and I only come home on Sunday (can't wait to see you again Orsi *cries*). You know the drill, please listen to Shame On Me before or while reading, thank you!! So, uh, you all will hate me after this chapter, I'm sorry in advance, but you can go scream at me in the notes and reblogs! <3 However, I promise the angst won't last for too long :D Thank you all for reading and always leaving feedback, I appreciate it a lot! I hope you enjoy this chapter, don't hate me pls. divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf @hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss @catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi @mingisbbg

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

            It was quite ominous how well I had slept last night, and despite feeling my eyes burn from staying up too late and not getting enough sleep, I felt well-rested. Perhaps the unusual warmth engulfing my body had something to do with the way my muscles seemed to become one with the mattress, and the comfortable weight around my waist also made me want to give in to the calling of another slumber. I had woken up a few times before, trying to find new comfortable positions as I could hear the birds chirp outside and the sweet cologne that clung to my clothes and the sheets tingled my nose in a way I had to suppress a sneeze. But the sun was high up in the sky already, the blinds open as I felt the warmth of the sunlight on my face. I released a content sigh as my muscles begged for a good stretch, making me groan when I felt a few vertebras pop, tension releasing between them. Gosh, I wish I could wake up feeling this refreshed every morning.

The covers were thick, and thus, the non-existent melody of the bed calling out to me to stay for longer won as I melted back against the pillow, licking my dry lips as I was mildly surprised that there was no impeding headache. I would usually feel hungover even if I drank only a little—hence why I preferred staying away from alcohol—but maybe that hot chocolate I had last night was some magic drink. There was a low groan next to me and I smiled for a second, feeling thick fingers tangle into the waistband of the sweatpants I was wearing, definitely not mine as they rode a little too low on my hips. The strings must’ve come undone in my sleep as I kept shifting around. Not really thinking as I was still under the blissful grip of a good night’s sleep, I sneaked my right arm underneath the covers and gently traced the warm skin of the arm pressing against my torso. There was another low hum and I smiled as I turned my head to the left, eyes protesting as I tried to peel them open. Perhaps that can wait until my brain is fully functioning.

“Good morning.” Mingi’s voice was husky and it covered my arms in goosebumps as I felt butterflies in my stomach, the heath of my cheeks unnatural once again.

“Morning.” I whispered and bit my bottom lip, feeling the bed shift again as Mingi’s hand now held my waist firmly, fingers rubbing circles into the skin where his borrowed t-shirt had ridden up. Feeling eyes on me, I opened one eye and chuckled as I saw Mingi’s puffy face, halfway hidden into his pillow as he lay on his stomach, red lips swollen and platinum blonde hair disheveled in every possible way. Mingi’s cheeks tinged pink and he grumbled something intangible as he hid his face into the pillow, feigning a tickle at my waist as I squirmed and pushed his hand off, heartbeat picking up as Mingi caught my hand before I could pull it away and interlaced our fingers. My eyes were painfully dry but I rubbed them with the heel of my left palm, rubbing my face afterwards as the haze of sleep slowly had started dissipating.

So, turns out all of this wasn’t a dream. I did go to Outlaw to watch Mingi perform, I did get drunk and got into a tiny argument with Mingi, and he did drive me home afterwards. And apparently, I did sleep over wearing his clothes and using his toiletries and we did—we did kiss. I gulped and licked my dry lips again, feeling the butterflies dissipate in my stomach as instead a lump formed in my throat. I released a shaky breath as I felt Mingi caress my knuckles underneath the covers, and then he turned his head to look at me. He looked—content. He looked happy. His face was serene and he looked like he has been waiting for this moment for ages. Something in my chest ached at the thought and I gulped, feeling the blissful morning daze dissipate completely and get replace by a slowly impeding dread. I released a shaky sigh as a heartbreakingly beautiful smile graced Mingi’s lips, mouth forming a boxy shape that showed all of his teeth—the protruding front ones that I grew to adore—his nose wrinkling and eyes creasing. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so good anymore, I felt like I wanted to cry.

Why was Mingi so perfect? Why was he so kind to me? Why did he treat me so well? Why was he so patient with me? Why did he stick by my side for so long? What was it about me that he liked? What did Mingi want from me?

I froze as suddenly Mingi pushed up onto his elbows and started leaning over me, that smile still present on his lips as he released my hand to caress my cheek. My hands trembled as I tried to hold his eye contact, but all of a sudden I felt sick. I felt dirty and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Everything smelled like Mingi, everything felt like Mingi—it was too much. Perhaps he saw the subtle shift in my expression as he stopped for a second, eyebrows slightly furrowing, but then his warm lips touched the corner of my mouth and it made my muscles tense up and send my mind off into an alarmed frenzy.

I couldn’t be here, I had to leave. No. What was I doing? How could I do this when I knew Mingi is Yunho’s best friend? How could I hide something like that from him? Why did I let him kiss me and why did I kiss him back? Why have I—why the hell have I started liking Mingi so much that having him next to me suddenly felt right and being away from him made me anxious, made it feel so wrong?

Unable to control myself anymore, I sprung up from the bed, trying to keep my breaths labored as Mingi sat up alarmed, eyebrows furrowing as he watched me scramble around his room looking for my clothes. I couldn’t remember where he had placed them last night—whether I had left them in bathroom or had brought them to the living room. I heard the sheets crinkle as no doubt Mingi was getting out of bed too, I could feel his piercing gaze follow my every move.

“You—” He hesitated for a second, “You don’t have to leave so early—I mean, it’s not that early, but I want to make us breakfast. I promise I’m not a bad cook.”

I bit my lower lip as my eyebrows furrowed, my body freezing as my heart clenched. I wanted that, I wanted to stay with Mingi and eat breakfast and laugh and just let go of everything and forget every single one of my worries, but I couldn’t. I felt so guilty, I couldn’t even turn around and face him. I had to leave and I had to get rid of him, it would be best for the both of us.

“I’m not hungry.” My voice was barely above a whisper, cold, and distant. I finally spotted my clothes sitting neatly folded on Mingi’s desk chair and I leaped towards them, my fingers curling tightly into them as I cradled them into my arms, somehow hoping that it would bring any sort of comfort. It didn’t because I could still feel Mingi’s eyes on me and hear the way his steps faltered.

“Oh, then…” He fell silent and I felt my hands’ tremors worsen, making me bite into my bottom lip to try and keep myself level-headed. It was hard, and I was failing at it, “We could grab some coffee and—”

“I’m going home, Mingi.” I snapped, cutting off his rambling because I was unable to listen to his warm and soothing voice anymore, now laced with obvious hurt and dejection. I wasn’t only hurting myself anymore, I was hurting him too. And I hated myself. He deserved better. Mingi deserves someone who cherishes him and makes him happy, not someone who brings his hopes up and then stomps on his heart like it means nothing. I didn’t want to do this, but I felt like I had no choice. I had dug my own grave by indulging into his little games—they weren’t games, Mingi has been genuine from the get go—and now here I was, suffering the consequences of my own actions.

“I—Y/N.” I froze as my hand reached for the handle to open the door, I couldn’t face him, “What we did—what happened last night, I—no, the kiss, we can’t just glaze over it, I can’t—I can’t do that anymore. Please, what are we?”

I squeezed my eyes shut at the sudden tears in them and inhaled a long breath, slowly twisting the handle of the door so that I could flee easier, “The kiss was—a mistake. We were both caught up in our feels and I—I didn’t mean to do that. I never wanted to kiss you. I don’t—it means nothing. We are nothing, Mingi.”

If the same words echoed in my mind but sounded a lot more masculine and venomous, puppylike eyes narrowed and glaring down at me, I gulped and repressed the memory, rushing out of Mingi’s room in a panic. I didn’t want to hear the way Mingi gasped nor the way he called out in confusion after me as I made it towards the shoe rack, finding my boots placed neatly next to his. It took everything I had in me to keep it together, to swallow the tears that wanted to escape my eyes, to keep my voice firm.

“What do you mean it meant nothing?” Mingi didn’t even sound angry, he sounded so utterly hurt, that a tear unintentionally trickled down my cheek, “It couldn’t have meant nothing, Y/N, we’ve been dancing around each other for too long for it to mean nothing. You’ve—I’ve kissed you before, not like this of course, but we did kiss and we’ve held hands and you—you can’t just fucking say it means nothing when it means everything to me!”

Fuck.

Perhaps it was good that he was finally showing any other reaction than disappointment and hurt, perhaps I pitied myself less if he was angry at me and shouting—I deserved it. I really did, every mean thing he’d hurl at me, I deserved to hear them because he was right. He was, he had always been. I’m a horrible awful being and I played with his feelings just like Yunho had played with mine. How could I hate Yunho so much when I was just like him?

“We’re both honest and blunt people, Mingi, there’s no reason to dance around this.” My voice sounded leveled, calm, almost as if it was mocking Mingi’s despair and I felt like complete shit, “Quite frankly put, I don’t want to see you again. This everything—whatever the hell we’ve been doing for the past three months, it was a shitshow. I don’t know what your purpose behind your actions was but I know mine and it has nothing to do with—whatever we’ve done last night. There’s no such thing as friendship between a girl and boy, it never works out, somebody always gets heartbroken and that’s exactly what’s happening right now. I think we both mislead each other, which led to this misunderstanding, so yes, it means nothing because I don’t want anything from you, but you clearly want something I cannot give you.”

The deafening silence felt like a slap to my face and it almost made me whirl around to apologize for my harsh words, to tell him that it was all a lie, that I liked him more than who I thought was my first love. I had always thought I loved Yunho with my whole being, that I gave him all of myself, but that wasn’t true. Yunho had never seen me at my lowest, Yunho never tried to fix the issues between us, he never reached out if he knew he did something wrong, he never even tried to pursue me—it was all me, all along. I was the one fighting for us and Yunho just went along with it because it was comfortable, because I was a stable point in his chaotic life, somebody he knew he could come back to. And I was treating Mingi as if he did the same thing to me, as if he was just another replica of Yunho—when he wasn’t. Mingi was so much more than Yunho would ever be, and I ruined everything in the span of five minutes.

I didn’t even bother lacing up my boots as I stepped into them, afraid to look back, but unable to stop myself when the silence just continued to stretch on. I didn’t expect to see Mingi’s eyes bloodshot, nor his bottom lip red and swollen from getting chewed on too much. Fuck, why did my heart ache more than when Yunho left me?!

“I never wanted to be your friend, doll.” The way his tone was emotionless yet his lips uttered the nickname, it made my lungs constrict as the lump got bigger and bigger in my throat, “But I knew you needed time, so I gave it to you. Perhaps—perhaps I shouldn’t have, maybe I should have been cleared with my intentions—”

“Mingi.” I snapped, eyebrows furrowing as we made eye contact. I couldn’t listen to him anymore; I couldn’t bear to hear him make up excuses for the sake of me. Why was he not screaming at me, why was he not hurting me? This is why he was too good for me, why I didn’t deserve him, “Delete my number.”

“You know your way out.” And I did know it. Without saying anything else, I unlocked the front door and ripped it open, slamming it shut behind me as I raced towards the stairs, hissing as my eyes got blurry and obscured my view of where I was stepping. But I had to get out of the building as fast as possible, scared that Mingi would race after me, that he’d try to reason with me one more time because it would work. It would work and I would give in. I would tell him the truth and then everything would be more painful. I was saving him from the betrayal he didn’t deserve, I was saving him from me, who never treated him right. I thought he was an asshole, an arrogant guy who yearned for attention and validation from every breathing female. But that wasn’t true, Mingi was a selfless and hard-working man who put others above himself, he wasn’t greedy and he wore his heart on his sleeve, ready to offer all the love his body contained without expecting anything in return. And I was a horrible human being because I took advantage of his kindness and goodness, because in the process of trying to get rid of him—I fell for him.

I was gasping for air by the time I stumbled out of the building, the wind harsh and cold as I scrambled to wear my jacket over Mingi’s thin t-shirt. It did nothing to shield me from the harsh weather and perhaps I deserved it, perhaps I deserved to be stared at by the passerby people with questioning or judgmental stares. I had no idea where I was, but thankfully finding my phone in my pocket, I was able to walk myself to a bus station and wait for a bus that would take me home. Mingi lived almost thirty minutes away from my place, but that was fine, I could keep it together for so long. I wouldn’t cry, I refused to cry, this was my own punishment. As I sat on the bench at the bus station, the heather above head lessening the chill that seemed to bite at my body, I closed my eyes and wallowed in the tumultuous emotions I felt.

This was far from how I wanted things to go, I thought I was better, that I could control myself and keep everything in check, but at last, I failed. I failed and now I hurt the guy I had fallen for. I was scared, I was afraid of getting left behind like it previously had happened, and so I wanted to protect myself. I struck before he could. I thought I would be protecting my heart and getting the upper hand, but then why was my heart aching and my stomach clenching so hard that it made me feel nauseous? Why do I always mess things up when they finally go right? Can’t I have something good for myself? Is it so hard to believe that not all guys are like Yunho? But Mingi is his best friend and it started getting easy to spot similarities between them the longer I hung out with Mingi. So could he really be much different from Yunho? I wouldn’t know, now, I would never find out.

            I felt numb, both physically and emotionally, by the time I made it home. The house was empty and dark, rainclouds had gathered outside and I was thankful that I made it home before the downpour. It reminded me of Mingi, everything seemed to remind me of Mingi. I hated it, it made breathing harder as I peeled his clothes off myself and went into the shower, probably staying underneath the spray of the hot water for too long. My skin was all wrinkled by the time I got out and the rain came down heavily against the roof of the house, forcing me to dress up warmly and wear the hood of my hoodie as I was too tired and lazy to dry my hair. I was craving something hot to drink, but when my eyes fell on the hot chocolate in the cupboard I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and had to rush to the bathroom, heaving and heaving without throwing up anything. I felt like I was borderline dying, and I deserved it. I knew I did.

And when I was feeling my utmost worst, there was only one thing that could help. Drawing and painting. I stared at my sketchbook longingly, but decided to use a different one as that one was filled with sketches of Mingi’s eyes, and him performing on stage, him driving or him laughing with his boxy and gummy smile, his hands that were littered with rings, his peaceful face when he had fallen asleep once in the library while we were studying. But something that hasn’t happened before did happen now. No matter how much I stared at the blank paper, nothing came to me. My mind refused to conjure up any images, my hands refused to move. My grip on the pencil turned painful and I hissed as I pushed the sketchbook off my lap, throwing the pencil against the wall in frustration. I pulled my knees up to my chest as I listened to the heavy rain, staring at the window, watching as big drops rolled down quickly. The silence, the darkness, the numbness…it was beginning to be too much. I wished to see Mingi, I wished to talk to him, I wanted to fix this, but I couldn’t. I was an asshole and going back to him just hours later after being a dick and probably hurting him beyond forgiveness was an even bigger dick move. I just couldn’t do it, so, I closed my eyes and waited. For what, I didn’t know until my phone rang loudly, making me jump out of my skin.

I was stupid for feeling a flicker of hope that it was maybe him, but my heart settled when Seulgi’s smiling face greeted me once I grabbed my phone. I sighed and picked up, beyond grateful that she probably had a feeling that things weren’t going so well anymore. I could feel the small smile stretch onto my lips, the greeting on the tip of my tongue, but Seulgi beat me to it.

“What have you done.” I froze, heart falling into my stomach at the harsh tone of my best friend, eyebrows furrowing in worry. Seulgi never spoke like that to me—to anyone—she was a ray of sunshine and she never got angry, she was never disappointed, she never treated anyone roughly, “Y/N!”

I jumped at the way she yelled my name, gulping down nothing as my mouth had gone dry, “I—nothing. I did nothing—”

“You’re full of shit.” Seulgi snapped and I felt my lips tremble as her voice raised in anger, “How can you say you did nothing when Mingi has been at Wooyoung’s ever since noon and hasn’t stopped bawling his eyes out?! He’s not speaking, he’s not eating, he’s not even moving, Y/N. What did you do?”

“I—” I gulped, voice faint as I felt my eyes fill with tears, “I didn’t mean to, I—I told him it was nothing. That I—didn’t want to see him again. I just—I’m scared, Seulgi.”

“You’re the fucking worst, Y/N.” Seulgi’s tone didn’t soften, if anything, it got harsher and I heard someone in the background call out her name in a quiet warning, “How could you say that to Mingi out of all people?! Are you seriously joking right now?! Did you feel good playing around with him when he has made it so fucking clear that he was into you? That he likes you? That he wants to be with you? You aren’t even dense not to see things like this, Y/N, you straight up played with his feelings and then crushed his heart like it meant nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, sniffing loudly as Seulgi scoffed. Hearing everything out loud and getting scolded by my best friend probably was the worst feeling ever. I knew I had fucked up colossally if she was taking Mingi’s side, rightfully so.

“I can’t believe you treated him like nothing,” A slight pause and then her voice dropped to a low whisper, “Like Yunho has treated you. You said the same thing to him, Y/N, aren’t you ashamed of yourself—”

“I fucking hate myself, Seulgi!” I exclaimed, frustrated and panicked and annoyed and wounded, “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but I’m scared! I can’t—what if he leaves me? What if he’s worse than Yunho’s ever been?!”

“We were teenagers back then.” Seulgi sighed and her voice softened the slightest, “And Yunho was an asshole from the very beginning, you just refused to see it. Mingi has always been genuine with you, fair, and kind. Yet you saw that and still threw him to the curb.”

“I’m sorry.” I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away, refusing to cry. I didn’t deserve to cry.

“You should be saying that to Mingi, not me.” There was light shuffling in the background and then I heard different voices talking to Seulgi, “Seonghwa is here too now, I have to go. You better fix this even though I don’t know if you deserve his forgiveness at this point.”

“Don’t say that.” I whispered, but Seulgi hung up without saying goodbye, and suddenly I didn’t know what to do anymore. The phone fell from my hand as I stared with tear filled eyes at my mother’s guitar, flashes of Mingi’s excitement upon seeing it fresh in my mind, making my throat close up. I couldn’t breathe. Mingi wasn’t talking to anyone and it was because of me, I did that. I made him feel like that and I didn’t even know how to fix this anymore. Could I fix it? Or have I fucked up so badly that he’ll never forgive me? I knew for a fact that if I were Mingi, I wouldn’t forgive myself no matter how much he would’ve begged or tried making things right. Just as my head fell onto my knees and I squeezed my eyes shut, annoyed that the unshed tears kept persisting, there was a knock on my door. I hadn’t even heard my mother get home.

She gently pushed the door open and peered inside with a curious look on her face, looking excited as I turned my head to look at her. She grinned and suddenly stepped inside, holding up a small box in excitement. My eyebrows furrowed as I watched her grab a paper out of it, giving me a cheeky smile as she cleared her throat, “‘I hope every time you drink your hot chocolate out of this mug you’ll be reminded of me, doll – S.M.’”

I suppose that was all I needed for the cup to be full, to be tipped over the edge as the tears suddenly sprung free, ripping loud sobs from my throat as I grabbed at my hair, yanking on the strands harshly. My mother gasped in fright and I heard movement behind myself, then I felt hands untangle my fingers from my hair, placing them in my lap with one hand as with her other hand she cradled my head against her chest. She smelled like the sanitizers they used at the hospitals, infused with a little musk as it was my mother’s favorite scent, and I was suddenly so grateful for having her. I turned my body to hug her tightly, crying into her chest like I was a little girl once again. My mother sighed as I felt her pat my head and rub my back up and down, humming a song I knew all too well as we used to listen to it a lot while I was growing up. The weight of her chin felt comforting against the top of my head and I gripped her work clothes perhaps a little too tight, but I didn’t care. I have missed her embrace, I missed laughing with her and crying with her, I have missed talking to her. After Yunho left me, I became closed off. I didn’t let anyone know how I felt or what I was going through, and despite my mother being a nurse, she could only help me if I let her—and I didn’t. I was repulsed by any closeness and I needed to be on my own. Days turned into months and those into years, and it took me this long to realize I wasn’t doing as well as I thought I was.

“Mom,” I was still crying, but my sobs have stopped, “I messed up so bad.”

She hummed as her fingers tried to untangle the knots in my hair, “Does it have to do anything with whom the mug is from?”

I nodded wordlessly and she hummed again, tapping my thigh for me to pull back, “Is it that tall boy with sharp eyes, cute glasses and sweet smile, fluffy dark hair?”

“He’s blonde now.” I muttered as I sniffed loudly and disgustingly as I pulled back, letting my mom wipe my tears off my face.

“You hate blonde guys, though.” She muttered with her eyebrows furrowed as I sheepishly looked up into her eyes.

“I know.”

A beat of silence passed and then she started giggling, prompting me to giggle along, my heart still aching but the relief of being in her arms made me feel like I could breathe once again, “Well, that is no good then. I hope you aren’t crying because this S.M. boy went blonde—”

“Song Mingi, his name is Song Mingi.” I whispered as I chewed on my bottom lip, averting my eyes, “I can’t believe you already forgot his name.”

“Well, I’m particularly bad with names, starlight.” My mother chuckled and I felt a smile tug at my lips. She always found peculiar nicknames to call me by, “And he never came over for dinner, that was my trick to remember his name and well—get to know him better, I suppose.”

“He’s not coming over for dinner—like ever.” My tone was grim as I grumbled, picking at my cuticle as I looked down at my lap, avoiding the look of confusion on my mother’s face.

“So, things didn’t work out…” I hummed and sighed, pulling away completely from my mother’s embrace.

“I’m a fool.” I muttered as I pulled my knees up to my chest again, staring at my socked feet. My mother placed her hand on my shoulder and massaged it softly, “I hurt him and now he hates me. I said what happened between us meant nothing, but I was lying. I think I’m in love with him, mom.”

“Has he said that he hates you?” My mother raised her eyebrows in question and I shook my head, “Then he doesn’t hate you. Yes, you hurt him with your harsh words but if you really love him—what’s holding you back, my starlight? You’re a smart woman and you know how to fix your mistakes, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you. So don’t just sulk and wail and make him hurt for no reason—”

“He’s Yunho’s best friend.” I whispered, peeking up at my mother’s face, surprised to find a smile that looked both comforting and amused.

“And does he know that?”

“What?” I asked confused, making my mother chuckle, “Of course he knows he’s Yunho’s best friend.”

“That’s not what I asked, starlight.”

“No, he doesn’t know.” I muttered and grimaced as my mother shook her head at me, “I never found the right moment to tell him, actually, things were never supposed to get this far, mom.”

“I see,” My mother hummed and leaned closer, “You know, I’m speaking based on many years of experience, but this Mingi boy doesn’t seem like the type to hold grudges for too long or judge you for your past. Sure, it must feel weird knowing your current girlfriend has dated your best friend, but that was like ages ago—and you’re still making a big deal out of it—”

“Mom.” I groaned, giving her an unimpressed look, but she only giggled.

“You know, you didn’t take after me for being so dramatic.” She pursed her lips and suddenly pushed me over, making me fall to my side with a loud gasp, “It’s one of the few reasons your father didn’t stick around for long—he was too dramatic.”

“I thought he left us.” I muttered as I sat up straight, making my mother roll her eyes at me.

“He certainly did after I told him I didn’t need a junkie in my house while I was trying to raise my child—” She rolled her eyes then stood up, extending her hand out for me, “And then he thought I tried to baby trap him—huh, what an idiot. Who wants to baby trap a broke dude who’s doing nothing with his life while I was in school learning to be a nurse and girlbossing my way through life?!”

“Don’t ever again say girlbossing, mom.” I groaned embarrassed as I let her help me up.

“What?!” She chuckled, holding my hand gently, “It’s cool, everyone at the hospital says it—well, the younger generation. Anyways, we’re going to cook yummy dinner together, and then I’ll magically make some ice cream appear from our fridge and I have some really nice wine hiding in the cupboard, waiting for us to consume it while you tell me everything about this Song Mingi guy. We haven’t had a girl’s night in so long, I missed you, Y/N.”

“I missed you too, mom, but,” I frowned as I let her pull me after herself, “you do realize I’m suffering and am on the verge of having another break down, yet you still want me to talk about Mingi?”

“It’s called therapy, honey, even if I’m not a therapist.” She shrugged as we walked down the stairs, “Besides, I’ve got some bomb advice to give you to win this boy over. I can’t believe I managed to raise a strong and independent woman that’s emotionally constipated!”

“Oh, my God.” I muttered under my breath, wondering just how many of her coworkers were too young for her to be hanging around, and why on Earth were they teaching my mother cringey slang.

But she was right. I did need her advice, desperately so, and having a girl’s night while I can talk about Mingi without feeling embarrassed to admit I am into him sounded nice—especially now that I have successfully fucked everything up.

『You run away when you just can't face it

Hide in the dark, but you know you hate it』

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[novelistrry]

Wind picked up, swirling around the two as she approached him. There was a leather riding jacket hooked on one of the stable doors, and as she approached him directly, he unhooked it and propped it around her shoulders. Reaching down, he began buttoning it up, until his eyes met her.

The sheepish look she had on her face nearly brought him to his knees. “How were your dreams?”

Her face felt hot. Was it noticeable? “Are you teasing me?”

A smile danced across his lips, bringing his hand to her hair and softly caressing it. “Of course not, Princess.”

Or

Harry is a prince, Y/N is a princess, and neither of them know how to feel.

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, forced proximity, fake dating, tension, etc.

Warning: Mentions of panic attacks, nightmares, praise kink, deception, an awkward sexual encounter (consensual of course), etc! Also, this is not proofread.

Word Count: 4k, sorry it's so short D:

Part One

II. The Rain

Niall had been growing increasingly frustrated with Harry as the days passed. As Harry’s hand, and his best friend, he knew Harry was not as cruel as he made himself out to be. This plan of his, this deceit was one of the cruelest things Harry had ever thought of.

Everyday, Niall asked him if he really felt that this plan was sound, and everyday Harry would show remorse. Every now and again, Niall wanted to roll the words “you’re acting like a frightened child” off his tongue, but never could bring himself to hurt Harry’s feelings like that.

As wrong as it felt, as wrong as it was, his loyalty was not to Harry, it was to Y/N, which made him feel like scum at the bottom of a sea barrel. He could not imagine the guilt that was weighing on Harry’s conscience. He knew his friend. He knew his heart.

___ 

Y/N was floating on a cloud, the air smelled sweet like the grapes growing on the vineyards just South of the castle, and Harry looked so wonderful walking in front of her. A white linen shirt was loosely tucked into his riding pants, and his riding boots hit just under his knees. She could almost see his back muscles through the shirt. It was mouth watering, really. Y/N chose to walk a few steps behind him to admire what he looked like from the back, how beautiful his silhouette was.

As if he could feel her eyes on him, he turned. “Hello, dear.”

Her stomach coiled, and she nearly kicked herself for it. “Hi.”

Wind picked up, swirling around the two as she approached him. There was a leather riding jacket hooked on one of the stable doors, and as she approached him directly, he unhooked it and propped it around her shoulders. Reaching down, he began buttoning it up, until his eyes met her.

The sheepish look she had on her face nearly brought him to his knees. “How were your dreams?”

Her face felt hot. Was it noticeable? “Are you teasing me?”

A smile danced across his lips, bringing his hand to her hair and softly caressing it. “Of course not, Princess.”

For a second, she thought maybe he would kiss her but when Brad came out of nowhere, Harry’s hand immediately dropped, putting a chunk of distance between them. Y/N couldn’t help the way her face contorted with disappointment. The way he immediately put space between them almost seemed like he was embarrassed to be acquainted with her.

She never understood exactly what they were, exactly where the boundaries were. Sometimes it felt like they were utterly obsessed with each other, and other times it felt like they were merely conversing because they needed to. The winds grew harsher as Brad neared them. The sound of the wind was like a murmur in the air, musical and somewhat daunting.

Dark clouds had surrounded the palace, signifying rain, which was not ideal riding weather. It was much too dangerous. The sound of the wind replicating the kind of haunting music you would hear the string section play in a Royal Theatre added to the ominous darkness.

“Still doing it, Princess? I’m proud of you,” Brad clapped his hands together, in support of her showing up for riding lessons.

Harry’s jaw clenched together, and his eyebrow twitched as he licked across his teeth. If Y/N knew any better, she would have thought this is something he does when he’s annoyed, “Right, she does very well.”

Her mind rushed, flooding with everything Harry had said about letting Brad into his bed. Was he upset that Brad had complimented her, when he should be complimenting Harry? The pair were so hot and cold, it was beginning to give her whiplash.

Brad and Harry exchanged a few pleasantries as Y/N brought her fingers to Freya’s coat, getting acquainted with the horse once more. Freya was so lovely, and strikingly beautiful.

As Brad scurried off, Y/N had Harry’s completely undivided attention once more. 

“I want to get on Freya today.” Y/N spoke the words before she even fully thought them in her head. Her eyes went wide, but she knew why she said it. She wanted Harry to be astounded, to be completely winded with her.

Harry chuckled, tightening the bridle around Freya’s head. When Y/N didn’t say anything in response, he looked over at her and realized she was serious.

“No,” he spoke in a low voice, dancing around the subject with caution.

Anger swarmed her veins, like all of her blood cells had been replaced. Who was he to tell her no? Her ears felt hot, and Y/N’s nose scrunched. It was a habit she picked up as a young child when something didn’t go her way. Whenever she felt her nose scrunch and her eyebrows furrow, she felt like a small child demanding things go the way she wants. 

“What do you mean no?” She grabbed the bridle from Harry’s hand, and he couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his mouth. Y/N was even more endearing when she was angry.

Carefully, he grabbed her by the waist, spinning her around so that their chests were pressed together. Taking a breath as the harsh winds racked through the stables, he smelled the scent of her. Vanilla and cinnamon; mouth watering and sweet.

“It means that you are precious to me,” Harry clicked his tongue, eyes locking with hers as if he were trying to convey everything he felt through his eyes. “And you don’t need to impress me.”

“How do you know that I’m not ready?” Y/N’s jaw clicked again, the scowl still apparent on her face, even with his swoon-worthy words. She would not be swayed by his charm.

Harry glanced over to where her hand was white-knuckling the bridle. When she followed his glance, she realized that her hand shook slightly, a nervous habit she picked up after her bad experience horseback riding.

He realized that he needed to approach this delicately; she was stubborn, hard-headed, and did not like to be told she couldn’t do something. He, at times, was so similar to her that it was like they were different sides of the same coin.

She dropped her hand, a deep shame washing through her. It was like he knew everything she was feeling by the microexpressions fleeting across her face. 

He took her hands in his. Freya was starting to become an unwelcome third, because everytime he touched her, even in the most platonic way, she craved more.

“Don’t feel shame,” he said softly.

“I…” She trailed off, eyes glued to the ground. It was hard to look at him, and know that he was the picture-perfect prince, and she was so not. “I am not used to being… not good at something.”

Harry chuckled, and when she looked at him, she had never realized how he looked at her with so much delicacy. “I’m the worst sport you’ll ever meet, Y/N. If I am not good at something, it throws my temper. Just ask Niall. I wish I had an ounce of your poise.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” She asked quietly.

“Because… Someone must have told you that it’s not okay to feel fear and I don’t like that.” Harry looped his fingers under her chin, forcing Y/N to take her eyes off the ground and look at him. “We start small, like you did when you were first learning as a child.”

He grimaced at the poor choice of words, comparing her skill level to that of a child’s. Y/N was so easy to discourage, and he felt like he couldn’t say anything correctly.

Y/N saw the grimace and let it go. “So what do we do today?”

“How about today you just sit on Freya. I’ll hold onto her bridle, and you sit in the saddle. No walking, no trotting, just sitting.”

She chewed on the inside of her lip. “For how long?”

“Not too long,” he promised.

And with that said, his hands were all over her, helping her mount Freya. As soon as she was up, her thighs squeezing the horse tightly, he was watching for her micro-expressions that told him he needed to help her off immediately. 

But she didn’t have any. If anything, a small smile formed on her lips, like she was proud she got on in the first place. Usually, she chickened out, but with Harry, she felt safe and cared for.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N.” Harry spoke, gripping the bridle closely. His hand rubbed her leg as she looked down at him. Swallowing, he realized he had been gripping the bridle with all his might, white-knuckling it the same way that she was earlier. Harry was feeling more nervous than Y/N was, and a deep sense of pride had him smiling from ear-to-ear as she confidently sat atop Freya.

She muttered an embarrassed-thanks, but by the way her head turned and her smile got bigger, he knew that she was liking the positive attention from her.

“You’re such a good girl, darling,” Harry said softly, his hands now resting on Freya’s sides to ensure she would not move.

“Me or Freya?” Y/N mumbled.

“Both, but I was talking to you, sweet girl.” She was melting.

Freya, feeling sick of their conversation and not being able to go anywhere, shifted her weight from one leg to the other. The sudden movement threw Y/N, causing a yelp to sound from her throat. Immediately, Harry dropped the bridle and reached for her hands, pulling her off of Freya and into his chest.

Whispering in her ear, he tried to soothe her before it led to a panic attack. “You’re okay, you’re fine. Sometimes they get tired of having all their weight on one side, just like us, so they move to get more comfortable. It’s normal,” he hushed her, “You’re okay.”

She shook slightly, but there were no tears or signs of panic in her eyes. As soon as Freya moved and Y/N yelped, Harry was there, pulling her head into his chest and reassuring her. 

“Thank you,” she muttered.

He pulled her away, enough to scan her face and make sure that she was actually okay.

“I think that frightened me more than it frightened you, Y/N.” He laughed softly, earning a grin from her. “That’s enough for the day.”

Harry led Freya back to her stable, removing the bit and bridle from around her mouth. Y/N overheard him promise to come out a little later and ride her, or let her run wild in the tall grass behind the stables for some extra exercise. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an apple slice he had stolen from one of the breakfast carts in the hallway and fed it to Freya with an open palm. Harry’s intention was to have Y/N do it, to get over the fear of their massive teeth, but he thought she had enough scare for one day and didn’t trust her to set a boundary she was actually comfortable with.

Using her fingers, Y/N unbuttoned the coat Harry had put on her. She was fixing to put it back on the rack, where Harry had originally had it then head back inside, but he stopped her, letting her know that he wanted to stay out here for a while longer.

Walking together, they found themselves in a large tack shed with a bench for removing riding boots. There were so many tools and instruments for the horses and Y/N didn’t quite understand what they were for, but she had a feeling he didn’t bring her in here for a lesson on tools and riding equipment. 

As predicted, the rain began pouring. Pitter patters of rain, hitting the shed pinged off the wooden roof, some of the holes allowing for water droplets to seep in.. It was cold, but she felt cozy nuzzled so closely next to him. Harry was so warm and so safe.

As soon as the door shut behind them, their bodies were pressed together and his lips were merely inches from her own. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

She nodded, but then added, “Why won’t you do it in front of anyone?”

He spoke, now his lips pressed against hers, “This isn’t going to be a gentle peck, Y/N. How would they feel seeing my tongue on the inside of their precious princess’ mouth?”

Harry was so vulgar, sometimes the words that came out of his mouth shocked her, and the gasp that slipped past her lips, Harry used to slide his tongue along her bottom lip and pull her lip between his teeth.

Using the wall made from plywood, Harry moved her so that Y/N’s back was pressed against the wall. His thigh was fitted between her legs as his lips moved against her own. They stayed like this for a while, small moans falling from Y/N’s mouth, and each moan went straight to Harry’s core. He liked earning those from her. He liked being with her.

“I wanna feel you,” Y/N said, and even she was shocked by how outright she said it. With each day, she felt more comfortable expressing her needs to Harry, and when those four words tumbled from her lips, their faces still pressed together, he couldn’t help the vulnerable moan that escaped his own.

“You want my fingers or my mouth, doll?” Harry took a step away, so her body wasn’t smushed between the wall and his own. He wanted to see her face as she answered, as her eyes flickered around the room and she begged for either his fingers or his mouth.

She opened her mouth, then shut it again. That small bead of confidence was beginning to wither away. As if he could read her like the back of his hand, he understood that she was growing too bashful to respond.

“You want both my fingers and my mouth? You don’t have to say it, you can just say yes or no.” Harry tacked on the last end to make this experience as comfortable as possible. They hadn’t been together very much, but he always wanted her to feel safe with him.

“No, no.” She responded, looking down.

His brow quirked upward. “I’m not understanding, Y/N.”

Gently, she pressed a kiss to his neck, her tongue darting over the exposed skin as she suckled softly. It was almost like second nature, wanting to taste him everywhere. The moans that caught in the back of his throat were an added bonus to the sweet taste of his skin.

“You want to feel my cock, love?” He was trying to decipher exactly what she needed from him.

Pulling her lips from his neck, a soft string of spit attaching them together, she nodded her head. “I’m ready for it.”

He shook his head, “Not today, darling.”

She frowned, but he laced his fingers in between hers and led her to the bench against the opposite side of the tackshed. There, he sat, urging her to straddle his lap. She did exactly that, putting one leg on either side of him, so they were touching but their clothes acted as a barrier. 

Y/N’s breathing caught in her throat as she felt the thickness beneath his trousers. A devilish smile that she had seen him use on countless other people before spread across his face. Using his hand, he softly grabbed her by the throat and guided her lips back to his.

Their lips worked together; their bodies in tandem with one another. Naturally, her hips started to buck, begging for some sort of relief. As she felt him against her center, she tilted her head back, exposing her neck. Harry used this as an opportunity to attach his lips to her neck and taste her, breathing in the scent of her bath soap. She was so beautiful and enticing, it made his head spin.

As they moved together, her hips became sloppier and sloppier with each roll. He tasted so marvelous, notes of mint and lemon as their mouth worked together. Y/N hadn’t realized just how much she yearned for him, in every single aspect. Even when he was being so mean, she had longed for his approval. Now, she wanted him in every single sense of the word. With just his fingers, he stopped her hips from moving against him, a displeasing cry sounding from her at the loss of friction.

“You’re doing so well for me, darling,” Harry breathed out, slightly out of breath. “I think you need to take your riding pants off, though. You should be as close to me as you can.”

She nodded, and with much enthusiasm, she stood up and quickly unlaced her boots and removed her pants. As she did that, Harry unbuttoned his own, sliding them down to his knees, revealing his white-colored briefs. The sight of him nearly finished her then and there.

“Can I give a small lick?” She asked, not caring how depraved it sounded.

“Christ, Y/N. Yeah,” he breathed.

Y/N sunk to her knees, the cold ground was somewhat uncomfortable but she was too engrossed in Harry to even realize. Darting her tongue out, she licked him over his briefs. Just enough to wet the fabric of them so much that you could see the outline of him.

“Come here,” he whined, but he didn’t have it in him to be mortified with the whiny tone. Typically, he would be.

Like before, she straddled him, her center pressed directly on the hardness of him. Once more, she was moving against him, the pleasure so much more intense now that layers of clothes had been stripped.

He used his hands to guide her, and she mumbled something about how he was a trained professional. This must have stroked his ego in the best way possible, because suddenly he was bucking into her, begging for her to come with him.

Harry often had a tough time feeling comfortable enough to reach his pinnacle with another person, it was something so deeply vulnerable to him that sometimes he couldn’t do it out of sheer embarrassment for them to see him in such an exposed state.

But when he felt her hit her high, he couldn’t stop himself before he was coming too. With no warning, he finished, come spurting in between them and landing on his white linen shirt. Just watching him finish, made her eyes roll back in her head.

Shock washed through him as her hips halted against him. Gently, he removed her from his lap, standing her up. Frantically, he looked around for a rag, anything to wipe the sticky residue off his skin and before it could stain his shirt.

He didn’t watch her as she dressed herself, completely oblivious to the fact that he had no intention of showing her that part of him.

With a hot face, he asked for his jacket to conceal the stains of his come on his shirt as he walked back to the palace, “Is it okay if I have my jacket back?”

She shimmied out of his jacket, handing it to him. He quickly threw it over his shoulders and buttoned it up before muttering out, “That was really good. Thank you.”

Shuffling through some boxes, he found a pancho they used when it was raining but the horses needed tending. He helped her put the cloak on so when she walked back to the palace, she would be assaulted by the rain and grow sickly.

Y/N just smiled at him as he rushed out, letting her know he had somewhere to be. With very much confusion, she watched him as he hurried out the door, rain pelting him.

____

That night, Harry did not find himself going back to the palace immediately. 

Instead he wandered around the grass fields, too ashamed to face Niall or anyone else for that matter. Especially Y/N.

But as the sun began to set, and he knew Niall was growing more and more worried as each hour passed, he finally made his way back to the comfortable cottage Niall was staying in during their time at Y/N’s family’s palace. He was completely soaking wet when he returned, shoulders shivering. Niall ushered him to the fireplace, looking around for dry clothes that would fit Harry.

“Where have you been?” Niall asked, a clear tone of worry laced throughout his words.

And with that, Harry dropped himself onto the chair directly next to the warmth of the fireplace and spilled his guts. He told Niall about how Y/N made him feel like he couldn’t control himself, like he was a magnet that only responded to her frequency. He teared up as he told Niall what a terrible person he was for using her like this, and how it was going to feel even worse because his heart was already breaking.

And Niall, like the good friend he was, listened carefully and thoughtfully. Only when Harry concluded did he say, “If you like her so much, why don’t you call off this plan? It sounds to me like the plan is still on.”

“It is,” Harry confirmed. “I’m simply not good enough for her.”

Niall, knowing that he could not argue with Harry when he was in a mood as sour as this, rested his hand on his shoulder and offered a reassuring squeeze.

___

That night, Harry found himself sitting outside Y/N’s door, afraid that her scary experience on Freya today might haunt her in her dreams. With his back against the door, and tired eyes threatening to close, he waited to hear her screams.

He wanted to be there, to hold her and tell her it was okay.

Dorothea, hearing the sound of feet shuffling as Harry readjusted himself so that his earshot had a clear line of Y/N’s room, went out to investigate who was lingering in the hallway.

“Prince Harry?” Dorothea asked, wide eyed and confused.

Harry hummed in response, barely flickering his eyes up to meet hers. He was so tired, they were threatening to close.

“It’s the middle of the night, what are you doing here?” She was slightly delirious from just waking up.

“I’m on nightmare watch,” he muttered out and it took a second for Dorothea to comprehend exactly what he said to her.

“Prince, if she has a nightmare and calls out for you, I will come get you again. You do not need to miss sleep to wait outside her door.”

“And what if she doesn’t call out for me?” His tired eyes looked up, “Will you still come get me?”

“Yes,” she promised, reaching her hand out and helping him to his feet. “Go to bed, Prince. You need beauty sleep.”

He nodded his head, rising to his feet with her help and turning to the direction of his own bedchamber. “Can you do me another favor?”

“Hm?” The sound coming from Dorothea was soft.

Harry reached his hand behind his neck, massaging softly. “Please don’t tell her.”

Dorothea only nodded in response, a silent promise between the two of them.

[improbable-outset]

cw sorta dub con

"honey?" you said, your voice trembling. you were terrified. what happened to francis? what was this creature that was right in front of you right now? fucking your insides harder and better than your husband ever did?

"hooon- hoooon," was all the creature said, giving your milky a nice squeeze.

despite it looking like your husband, well mostly anyway. he wasn't your husband, he didn't smell, sound or even *feel* like it was your husband. you felt guilty about having another man fuck you, but was it really another man? essentially it was francis, nobody would see you through the windows and think you were cheating on your husband, right?

he continued to thrust inside of you, harder and faster. the climax in your still swollen belly coming to an end.

"hooon- gonna cum 'nside. knock you up with triplets," he said with that ominous voice of his. it almost sounded like francis.

"francis- what are you doing?" you asked frantically. you can't have another baby just yet. you went through so much already with the one. you weren't ready yet.

"i-im not ready! look at what the first one did to my body! i still look pregnant, my boobs are so sore, i can't even sleep because of the babe crying all the time!"

you wanted a large family, eventually. but you just couldn't picture yourself having any more kids any time soon. it was very tough on your body, let alone the doppelgänger crisis currently sweeping the world. it's no place to raise a baby, let alone bring any more into the world. but then again, wouldn't a doppelgänger husband and children be able to protect you from the dangerous doppels that wanted to hurt you?

your string of thoughts were cut short by you finally reaching your high, riding out your climax as "francis" thrusted his cock into you. obnoxiously squelching as skin slaps on skin. he eventually releases his thick green dark green load into you.

you were so overwhelmed right now.

you think the creature knew that so he gave you a quick peck on the lips, then quickly shoved a pointed, sharp finger into your cunt, scooping his cum that had leaked out of you back in.

-💜anon

ITS A BIT SHORTER BUT LIKE RAHHHH

👀👀

[icarusignite]

the ships have come to carry you home (Kim Hongjoong)

Pairing: Captain Hongjoong x Runaway Princess Reader Summary: Desperate to escape a horrifying marriage to the man who murdered your family and stole your father's crown, you escape your opulent life, only to realize that your longing for freedom has landed you in the clutches of ruthless pirates who are willing to trade your life for one of their own. Determined to prove your worth, you must persuade the enigmatic captain that you are indeed worth keeping after all.

Word Count: 5.7k

Genre/warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, captain is kind of a jerk in the beginning

PIRATE! ATEEZ MASTERLIST

The damp, dark underbelly of the ship seemed to swallow you whole as you pressed yourself into the corner, drawing your knees up to your chest in a desperate attempt to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible. Above you, the reverberating boom of an explosion echoed through the wooden planks, sending shivers down your spine.

Your heart pounded in your chest like a war drum as you prayed fervently that whoever was raiding the ship above had no interest in you, that they would simply pass by without a second glance. But fate seemed determined to thwart your hopes as heavy footsteps clambered down the rickety wooden steps, each one resonating ominously in the darkness.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to disappear into the shadows as the sound drew nearer. When the figure finally emerged into the dim light, you felt your stomach lurch in dread. He was a muscular man with sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through the darkness, searching every nook and cranny for any sign of life.

"Found her, Captain!" the man called out to someone above deck and your blood ran cold. 

Panic surged through your veins, but you remained frozen in place, hoping against hope that somehow, by some miracle, you might escape notice.

But the man's sharp gaze landed on you immediately, you knew your hopes were in vain. He approached with purposeful strides, his every movement calculated and precise. When he reached your hiding spot, he crouched down beside you, his expression almost apologetic. 

"Come on, then,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle despite the urgency in his tone. "There’s no use hiding. You'll only make things harder for yourself."

You shook your head frantically, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You knew you had to fight, to resist with every ounce of strength you possessed, so when the man reached out to grab your shoulder, you recoiled instinctively, fear overwhelming your senses.

He sighed heavily, a sound laden with weariness and regret. "I'm sorry, truly I am," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the din of the ship. "But orders are orders.”

With that, he seized your arms firmly, his grip still gentle despite the urgency of his actions. You struggled against him, your muscles tensing with the effort, but it was futile. The man's strength far surpassed your own, and with a determined grunt, he began to drag you towards the stairs leading back up to the surface. You kicked and screamed with all your might, and in a desperate attempt to break free, you lashed out, your elbow connecting with the man's nose with a sickening crunch.

A string of curses erupted from his lips as he stumbled back, clutching his bleeding nose. "Careful, Captain," he growled, glaring at you with annoyance. "She's a feisty one."

“Thank you, San,” the captain presumably, responded with a sigh as you were unceremoniously dumped at his feet. 

He stood before you, a tired expression etched features, shadows lurking beneath his weary eyes. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, muttering something under his breath as he regarded you with a mixture of exasperation and resignation.

"You're more trouble than you're worth.”

“That’s right,” you nodded frantically. “I’m nobody. I’m irrelevant, and of no use to you, so please…please let me go.”

The captain scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You? Unimportant?" he retorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Sorry, Princess, but I find that hard to believe. You are our most important cargo, and we've been tasked with returning you home."

Home.

That wasn’t even the word you’d call it anymore. Bile rose in your throat once again. You couldn’t return, especially not after what had happened to your family. Not after what they would do to you. 

You had hoped against hope that you could somehow escape that nightmare, that you could slip through the cracks unnoticed and reclaim your freedom, but now, faced with the harsh reality of your situation, you wondered if your fate was sealed.

"Please don't make me go back,” you tried again. “I was going to leave. I promise I'd be no trouble at all. I was going to go away and never come back."

The captain's expression hardened at your words, his frustration evident in the furrow of his brow. He knelt before you, his grip firm as he grasped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Are you really that hopelessly naive to think that these people would have simply dropped you off at the next harbour?" he spat, his voice laced with bitterness.

Your heart sank as you glanced around at the crew of the ship, your stomach churning with dread. They had been subdued and tied up by this new captain’s crew, their faces grim and resigned to their fate. 

"No, they were going to sell you out just the same," the captain continued, his voice low and menacing. "At least this way, you’ll be helping to save someone’s life.”

He seemed to seethe with anger, his fist clenched at his side as he struggled to contain his emotions. But then, a hand rested gently on his shoulder, and he glanced up to see another man standing beside him, his expression calm and reassuring.

"Ease up, Hongjoong," the man said softly, “you’re scaring her.”

“I don’t care, Seonghwa. Can you imagine how Jongho must be feeling right now? And to think we’ve sailed halfway across the continent for this pathetic creature, in exchange for his life. It’s ridiculous!”

“I know you’re worried about him…we all are, but this is no way to act.”

Hongjoong sighed, his bruising grip on your jaw easing before letting go completely as if deciding that you simply weren’t worth his energy. He felt the smallest stab of guilt at his behaviour, particularly when he caught the flash of hurt that crossed your wide eyes. It wasn’t your fault that the new king had decided to capture their youngest crew member, holding him ransom until you were returned to your kingdom. By the looks of it, you didn’t seem too fond of the new sovereign either, but he did wonder what it was that you were so desperate to escape from back home. 

He jerked his head to the rest of his crew, “Take what you can of value, and prepare to return to our ship.”

Back on the captain's ship, the crew was abuzz with activity as they prepared to set sail. Your captor, San, seemed distracted as well, and you took this moment of distraction to break free from his hold again and do the only thing you can think of, throwing yourself overboard.

Just as you can though, strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs. You gasp in shock, the world spinning around you as you find yourself ensnared in another's grasp.

"By God, are you insane?" a voice exclaims, the words ringing in your ears. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

It's Hongjoong, his voice filled with disbelief and concern. You thrash against him, your body writhing with the desperate need to break free, but he holds you tight against him, his arms like steel bands around your trembling form. Upon further struggle, he bends to place his arms beneath your knees and sweeps you clean off your feet, and despite your protests, he carries you effortlessly, his stride purposeful and determined.

If you weren’t quite so hysterical, you might have been comforted by the warmth of his frame against your frigid one, but there is no comfort to be found. When he finally places you on your feet again, you are in what you assume to be his personal quarters. 

“Do not even think of doing what you just did again!” he snarls. “You are of no worth if you’re dead.”

“I shall do just as I please,” you return with just as heatedly. 

“If you’re going to cause trouble, I’ll put you in the brig. See how long your act lasts in the company of the rats.”

With that, he stormed out, slamming the door to his chambers behind him, and even as you rushed toward it, you heard the resounding click of a lock being turned, effectively making you his prisoner. 

You spent the next few hours pacing the room, rummaging through his belongings in an attempt to find something, anything, that might aid in your escape. There was a large table strewn about with maps, and he owned an absurd amount of books, which was a little surprising as you didn't think pirates read. Still, when you realized your search was futile, you slumped to the floor in the corner, picking up one of the books to thumb through. 

Eventually, a soft knock on the door came, followed by a familiar click as it opened slowly with a creak. It was San, his frame filling the doorway for a few moments as he hesitated at the threshold. He held a tray of food in his hands, and behind him, darkness swallowed the rest of the ship, by which you assumed night had fallen. 

“Captain says you have to eat,” San mutters, setting the tray down in front of you, but you turn up your head. 

Almost as if he was inside your head, Hongjoong’s voice echoed from outside.

“Tell the snobbish princess that if she doesn’t fancy starving, she had better eat what she’s given.”

Your lip curled in disgust, and you turned away from the tray with an even more aggressive shake of your head. San sighed softly, before settling himself on the captain’s bed to simply watch you. You noticed that he had cleaned up his nose and you felt a stab of guilt. After all, he was simply following orders too, and you had decided that if anyone was to be the target of all your ire and hatred, it would be Hongjoong. 

“I…” you began hesitantly. “I’m sorry about your nose. I didn’t mean to…”

San chuckled, “Yes you did.”

“I…I mean I did but I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” he shrugged. “Hazards of the job, I suppose.”

“Still. I am sorry.”

When Hongjoong finally returned to his chambers, his weariness was palpable, etched into the lines of his face and the slump of his shoulders. But as his eyes fell upon you, curled up in the corner of his room, a pang of guilt tugged at his heart. You were a sorry sight, alone and vulnerable in the darkness, and he knew he could not put you in the brig. A person of your station must have always enjoyed the finest things in life, so being here must be quite an adjustment, and despite his earlier animosity, he did not wish to cause you greater discomfort. 

He approached you slowly, his footsteps echoing softly against the wooden floorboards. The sight of the untouched food on the table made him sigh in resignation. With a weary yawn, he ran a hand through his tousled hair, his exhaustion evident in every movement.

"Hey," he said gently. "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor or something."

You shook your head stubbornly, your lips pressed into a thin line of defiance, but Hongjoong could see your weariness and it mirrored his own. He sighed, realizing that arguing with you would be futile.

"It'll be uncomfortable for you on the floor," he tried again.

Still, you remained silent, your gaze fixed on some distant point in the darkness. Hongjoong rolled his eyes in exasperation. 

"Suit yourself.”

As he began to undress and prepare for bed, peeling off his shirt with practiced ease, you couldn't help but let out a squeak of surprise, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You turned your head away so fast it was almost comical, your heart racing in your chest.

Hongjoong chuckled at your reaction. "Relax," he said with a teasing grin. "It's not like you haven't seen a shirtless man before."

You hadn’t, and it made your face redden even more. You huffed indignantly, refusing to meet his gaze. When he realized, he cleared his throat awkwardly, hurrying to put on something, internally berating himself for such a comment. You were a princess, brought up in refinery, so he should refrain from making such crass comments around you. 

When he settled down for the night, you remained in your place on the floor, eyes wide open in an attempt to evade sleep. However, unfortunately for you, it proved a fruitless endeavour, and eventually, the subtle shifting of the ship on the calm ocean waves lulled you into a restless slumber. 

You dreamt of fire and bloodshed, and the violence that seemed to haunt your every waking moment, following you even to the realm of Morpheus. You had to watch your family be slaughtered in front of you all over again, their blood seeping into the cracks of the pristine marble of your castle’s floors. The new self-proclaimed king, the usurper, grinned manically while the gore dried in the creases of his palms, his sword held aloft as he prepared to deal the final blow. You wished he would kill you, end your suffering once and for all and send you to be with the rest of your family, but he had much crueller plans for you. 

Hongjoong’s sleep was just as fitful as yours as he tossed and turned, and it was only made worse when he heard the quiet sounds of your sniffles. It made him bolt upright, gaze falling to your frame, curled up in a fetal position in the dark. Cautiously he approached you, only to see that your eyes were still screwed shut tightly, but a steady stream of tears flowed from behind your eyelids, and a pained whimper escaped your lips every now and then. 

The captain shook your shoulder gently in an attempt to wake you, but whatever dream you found yourself trapped in seemed to have its claws embedded too deeply and you only flinched at his touch. He sighed, mumbling a brief apology before lifting you from the floor. 

Almost instinctively, you curled into him, tucking your face into his chest, still in the throes of sleep, and Hongjoong froze. With a great sigh, he placed you on his bed, smoothing back the matted tangles of your hair away from your face. Your features were troubled, and he pressed his index finger against the wrinkle between your brows, easing your frown a little. It seemed to help a little, at least to the extent of halting your tears, but your face retained its characteristic pinched expression. 

Hongjoong watched you with fascination. He would not be cruel, he reminded himself. He would be kind to you and hope that wherever Jongho was, he was being treated with kindness in return. He doubted the new king’s ability to be kind, but there was little else he could do besides hope for the best. He was no stranger to the new king’s capability for cruelty, so it made him wonder just what had driven you from home, so desperate not to return. 

The next morning, you woke up with damp cheeks, and a throbbing headache, but much to your surprise, you had been covered by a threadbare blanket, and you were no longer on the cold, damp wooden floorboards. A tray of breakfast had been left out for you, but despite your rumbling stomach, you pointedly ignored it. 

That is how you spent the next few days. Hongjoong no longer returned at night, leaving you the sole occupant of his room, and when eventually your curiosity got the better of you, you decided to settle down with some of his books, biding your time. 

The opportunity presented itself one night when San arrived to bring you your evening meal, and when he left, you noticed that there was no telltale sound of the lock clicking. You crept up to the door and it swung open without much protest. 

The ship was bathed in darkness, and you could hear the distant sounds of the crew members, but they were muffled. Slowly you inched up the steps to the main deck, arms outstretched as you felt your way, holding your breath in anticipation. You hoped that everyone would be too busy with their own endeavours to pay you any mind. 

The surface was bathed in silver moonlight and it was almost ethereal, the way it reflected off the softly lapping waves. The sea was calm, but as you made your way to the edge, you were almost taken aback by its vastness. The murky depths stretched out as far as the eye could see, almost too infinite to fathom, and with a grim sort of resignation you realized that there was nowhere for you to go. No escaping your fate. 

You slumped against the wooden railing, almost listless, as you turned your attention to the stars above, charting the constellations that you could make out in the clear night sky as your father had taught you. You missed him terribly, and the prospect of having to marry the man who killed him made you want to pitch yourself overboard. 

Still, you had some sense of self-preservation because you remained with your feet firmly planted on the wooden deck. There were other ways, perhaps, for you to prove that you were worth more, that you could be of use to these pirates who were determined to return you to a monster. 

“Good to see you aren’t as determined to escape us,” came a voice, startling you. 

You felt a frown pull at your lips when you saw Captain Hongjoong standing right behind you, arms crossed over his chest, a satisfied smirk on his face. 

“What do you want?” you muttered sullenly. 

“Just testing out a theory.”

“I’m not your guinea pig!”

“No, you’re not, but you’re also not as determined to die as I had previously thought.”

“No one really wants to die,” you pointed out somberly. “It is our circumstances that drive the urge.”

Hongjoong hummed thoughtfully, coming over to lean against the railing beside you, and that is how you remained for several long moments, each one of you lost in thought. It was a comfortable sort of silence, one you didn't think was possible between the two of you, but you supposed he wasn’t entirely unpleasant to be around, provided he kept his mouth shut. 

“I am sorry, you know,” he spoke first. “I may have been…”

“I believe asshole is the word you’re looking for?”

“...excessively harsh,” Hongjoong finished sheepishly, still staring straight ahead. “Nonetheless, I apologize. I should have minded my manners, and that was no way to treat a princess.”

“That was no way to treat a person,” you corrected immediately. 

“Yes, you’re right. I was terrible. I’m truly sorry.”

You watched him from the corner of your eye, not missing the way the moonlight highlighted his sharp profile. You found it difficult to resist his apology, particularly due to the sincerity that was so evident in his tone, but you didn’t say anything in return. Perhaps, you’d let him ramble on, giving you the opportunity to figure him out, and see if there was any way to convince him not to take you back. 

“It’s not about the money, you know,” the captain continued, running a hand through his hair, dishevelling it even further, and you resisted the urge to brush a wayward lock away from his face. “It’s been a terribly worrisome few weeks…and it’s all my fault. I should have been more cautious, less naive. Jongho was taken because of me. He’s imprisoned, out there all alone because of me. Who knows what they’re doing to him, and there is nothing at all that I can do.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, although you didn’t know what you were apologizing for. Somehow it felt like it was your fault. 

“It’s not your fault,” Hongjoong suddenly turned to you, his eyes heartbreakingly earnest, and you swore you could see the glint of tears in the moonlight before he blinked them away. “But, you understand why we have to take you back now, don’t you?”

You were taken aback by the intensity of his words, the desperation of a madman almost. 

“I’m not sure I—”

“The king…he said he’d return Jongho to us, if we found you and returned you to your kingdom. It’s the only way we’ll get him back. 

“The new king is a cruel man,” you spat bitterly. “There is no telling he’ll keep his word.”

“But I have to try,” Hongjoong continued desperately. “I owe it to Jongho to try. His life is worth at least that much.”

And what of my life? What is my life worth? 

You closed your eyes, trying to block out his words, guilt and bitterness warring inside of you. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. You didn’t ask to be a pawn in this terrible game of chess. You didn’t ask to be born into such a family. You just wanted to be happy, to be free. Were your dreams worth so little, were you that insignificant to the fates?

Hongjoong pulled away, composing himself and clearing his throat, “It seems I have upset you again. I am sorry.”

“Another apology?” you scoffed. 

“It seems I have many things to apologize for,” he laughed self-depreciatingly. “I am a man of many flaws, and these days there is little I can do right.”

“It wasn’t your fault either,” you blurted, feeling the sudden urge to comfort him. It was strange, you should have despised him, but you felt that you understood him in some way. And besides, it had always been in your nature to be the peacemaker, to always out the feelings of others before your own. 

“Of course it was. I was there. I watched them take him away and could do nothing about it.”

“The…your crew member’s captor. He is a cruel man. I am certain there was nothing you could have done to save him.”

It was Hongjoong who watched you carefully now, “Is that why you do not wish to return?”

You found yourself unable to answer him. There were no words to describe it. No way to speak the terrible things you had witnessed out loud, and if you did, you would only cause the captain further worry, as his crew member was still in the king’s possession. 

“You do not have to tell me, of course,” he amended quickly, finally stepping back to take his leave. “I shall let you get your rest, princess. I do hope you’re finding my bed to be far more comfortable than the floor.”

And then with a polite bow that seemed much too formal on one such as him, he was gone, leaving you to contemplate your pitiful existence. Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong felt your burdens deeply as well. His brief conversation with you made him feel even more guilty, but there was nothing to be done. He had a duty to his crew, to protect them and do whatever it took to ensure their life and safety. His crew had to come before some foreign princess. Jongho had to come before you. There was nothing else to do about it. 

The next morning you were pleasantly surprised to see that the door to Hongjoong’s chambers had been left unlocked again, and when you made your way to the deck early in the morning, no one stopped you. A few of the crew members nodded politely at you as you wandered the ship, and San even granted you a smile. Hongjoong, as usual, was nowhere to be seen, and briefly, you did wonder where he had managed to hole up when you had taken over his quarters. 

Over the next few days, you put your only plan into motion. You learned the names of every member of the crew, attentive in your endeavours. After your conversation with the captain, you realized that he wasn’t entirely cruel and that perhaps there was still hope. If you proved yourself to be a useful enough member of the crew, perhaps he’d let you stay. They were pirates after all, and surely, if they liked you enough, they’d manage to come up with a way to keep you as well as rescue their youngest crew member from the cruel king’s clutches. 

You helped Wooyoung in the galley, and Mingi with polishing the canons. You even offered to mop the decks; anything at all to remain useful. You had been schooled in the arts of diplomacy as a princess, but you found that you did not have to make a great effort to pretend to be interested in their tasks. You genuinely enjoyed hearing their stories as they amicably conversed, and watching them during the night, when despite the subdued air about them due to their missing member, there was a sense of camaraderie to them that you desperately yearned for. The way each of them cared and valued one another was truly astonishing, particularly to someone like you who had never before seen such friendships. 

Hongjoong’s relationship with them in particular awed you. You imagined a captain to be harsh and commanding with his crew, but Hongjoong was anything but. They obeyed him because they genuinely respected him, and valued what he had to say, and in return, he treated every single member aboard the ship with that same courtesy, everyone including you. Sometimes he’d flash you one of his charming smiles, as he’d go about his day, and you found yourself wishing to stay even more desperately. It felt almost pathetic, caring this much about a group of people who surely did not care for you. 

However, what you didn’t realize is that your desperate efforts had indeed endeared you to the crew, the captain most of all, and when the day arrived for the ship to dock at the harbour, the sky seemed overcast in shadow. 

It could be put off no longer. You had to be returned, and they would be reunited with their brother. You supposed you could beg, plead for them to let you stay, but if you were to bear what was to come, and their inevitable denial, you needed to hold on to whatever shred of dignity you had remaining. You would not cry, you would not say a word. With grace, you bid your goodbyes and hoped that you weren’t imagining it when the crew seemed almost sad to let you go. 

Perhaps they might remember you as they set sail on their next adventure. Perhaps your memory would receive the freedom your physical form could not. 

It was Hongjoong who led you to your castle, its towering spires no longer comforting. You held your head high, as the guards led you to the throne room where the usurper sat upon your father’s throne, wearing your father’s crown. To the side stood another three guards who held down a chained young man between them, beaten and bruised. Hongjoong’s fists clenched at the sight of him, so you imagined that this must be the infamous Jongho. 

“You have returned,” the king drawled, slowly descending the dais. “I did not think a pirate capable of it.”

“I am a man of my word,” Hongjoong stated through gritted teeth. 

“As am I,” the king gestured toward his guards who promptly let go of Jongho’s chains. “You may take your scoundrel and be gone.”

Before the king could reach you, and before Hongjoong could move toward Jongho, your hand shot out to grab his wrist. It was an unconscious movement, your body moving against your will. You had promised yourself to show dignity, you had promised that you would not beg, but you could not deny yourself this small act at least. 

Hongjoong looked at you in surprise, his heart hiccupping in his chest when he saw the tears pooling in your eyes. 

“Please,” you mumbled, fingers squeezing around his. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry.”

With great difficulty, he wrenched your hand away from his, lowering his gaze so that he did not have to watch as your expression plummeted at the act. He took measured steps toward Jongho, kneeling to help his crewmate stand, providing much-needed support to the injured man. 

You, on the other hand, swallowed bile as the king approached you slowly. When he was before you, he trailed a single finger down your cheek and you flinched, feeling sick. 

“I did miss you, you know,” he lamented. “You had to know, I’d do anything to have you back.”

Then he struck you. 

The blow was sharp, sending you sprawling to the floor with the force of it, but you pressed your lips together defiantly. You would not cry out. He would not get the satisfaction of watching you come undone. 

“Did you really think you could run away?” he snarled, grabbing you by the shoulder to haul you up. “There is nowhere that you could go to escape me. I would drag you back from the underworld if I had to, and if you are to meet death, it would only be by my hand.”

“You cannot command death,” you spat, despite the blood dripping from your lip. “Not even you are that powerful.”

“I commanded it just fine when I ended your family, and I can do the same to you if you do not silence yourself. We are to be married tomorrow, so I suggest you make your peace with it. There is nowhere to run anymore.”

Before you closed your eyes, your melancholy eyes met Hongjoong’s one last time as he strode out of the throne room, Jongho in tow. Despite everything, you could not bring yourself to hate him, and you hoped that perhaps he did not despise you that much after all. 

It was well past midnight when you heard the knock on your door. You had been moved to one of the towers, a prisoner within the stone walls until your impending nuptials, so you most certainly were not expecting visitors. It could only be one person and your blood ran cold. Having to marry him tomorrow was one thing, but if you had to see him tonight, you would fling yourself out of the balcony that very instant. 

The knock came again, urgent and sharp. 

“Go away,” you whispered. “Please, please, please, go away. I’ll marry you, so please, just go away.”

Another knock and rage bubbled in your chest. How dare he impose himself on you like this. How dare he take and take from you until you had nothing more left to give. No, you would not stand for it, but before you could make a move, the door wrenched open and there stood the last person you expected to see again. 

“Hongjoong?”

The captain was out of breath, and there was a nasty cut on his forehead that bled into his eyes, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. He did not let you utter a word before grabbing your wrist and dragging you down the isolated hallway. A quick glance backward revealed the incapacitated guards that lay slumped at the threshold of your door and your brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Hongjoong, what are you—”

“I couldn’t leave you!” he blurted, still dragging you along, pausing every now and then to duck into a different alcove, or through some hidden passageway. “I couldn't bear to leave you behind.”

And it was true. The sight of you, teary eyes pleading with him as he walked away was the final straw. He would not have been able to live with himself if he had left you to the vile creature you were to marry, especially after seeing how he treated you. 

The two of you emerged into the dark night panting, the cool air soothing against the sting of tears in your eyes. 

“You came back for me?” you could hardly speak the words, lest they turned out not to be true.

“Of course, I came back for you. I had to!”

“But—”

“We still have to hurry. They might not have noticed you are missing just yet, but they soon will, and when they do, we need to have set sail far away from here.”

Only when you had reached the docks did he let you pause, ducking into an abandoned alleyway to catch your breath. 

“But, the others…”

Hongjoong laughed, “In case you hadn’t noticed, they adore you. They may even like you more than me if I’m being entirely honest. No doubt, they’d have threatened mutiny if I did not bring you back.”

Your shoulders slumped, “So…you came back because of them?”

It was pathetic. You should have been grateful regardless, but you couldn’t help the stab of disappointment you felt. 

“No!” the captain frantically shook his head, taking your face in his hands ever so gently. “I came back because of you…because of me…because I could not bear not having you around. I came back because I had to.”

“Oh.”

“And I am sorry I have been such a fool. I should have done something different, planned it so that you did not have to spend even a moment with that wretch of a man who does not deserve one such as you.”

He brushed away your tears, his thumb pausing at your split lip. 

“I’m alright,” you tried to put on a brave smile, but it came out more of a grimace, and he chuckled. 

“No, you are not. And you do not have to pretend to be. Not here, not with me, not ever again.”

And then he was kissing you. It was just a mere brush of his lips against yours as if he was afraid of hurting you further, but he tasted of freedom and possibility and something so distinctly right with the world, that it stole the very breath from your lungs. 

It was over all too soon, and then he was pulling you forward again, eager to return to his crew and to the net adventure that now awaited the both of you. 

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this one. Comment to be added to the taglist. Comments/reblogs are highly appreciated, as I'd love to hear what yall think <3

[thefreakandthehair]

He doesn’t even know the other guy’s name.  Eddie sits at a small, round table fit for two in the local coffee shop, idly sipping his java chip frappe as he waits for the latest in a long string of recent, terrible blind dates orchestrated by Chrissy. For someone who claims to be his best friend, Chrissy sure does seem to enjoy his constant suffering. She must— why else would she practically pry him out of his studio apartment this afternoon herself to make sure that he went on this date?  A date for whom he doesn’t even have a fucking name. Chrissy had grinned like a Cheshire Cat when he’d asked, her reply ominous and terrifying:  “You’ll know him when you see him. Trust me.” All he’d wanted was a quick coffee date: just something to appease his best friend that he can wrap up early enough to still have the rest of the day to himself. Call him a cynical fatalist, but the parade of absolute duds have left him feeling a bit more jaded lately. And the one person he is interested in is—  Well, it doesn’t matter. All that matters right now is getting through another blind date, assuming that they show up.  It's not looking great.

read the rest of cassette tapes and ticket stubs here on ao3! -> playlist!

a special surprise for @stevespookington! for all that you do and how amazing a friend you are! and thank you to @hexiewrites for the beta-read!

[rosyjn]

Jake sully catching you m@sturbating..

NOT PROOFREAD 🚨 MDNI

for @pandoraslxna’s prompt 25!

——————

Jake peeps, his cock slowly pitching a tent in his loincloth. This isn’t right, he knows that. You poor girl, spread like an eagle on your cot, with two fingers stuffed inside your cunt. He can’t leave you here, desperate like this. He knows he’ll feel better, that he can please you better than anything you could ever do for yourself. He ominously stands by the entrance of your tent, the flaps drooping down and hiding him from your view. Not that you would see him anyways, you’re too busy. He opens his mouth to speak, lips parting with a pop sound. He inhales, slowly stepping into your line of sight.

“Need a little help?” he lowly says, barely a whisper. His eyes scan your body, waiting for a response. His erection almost pains him. Your ears perk at the sound of his breathy voice, forcing your eyes open. You close your legs immediately, your fingers leaving your cunt with a sloshing noise. Your heart skips a beat, anxiousness taking over your chest. You body shoots upwards, you sit up straight as your pupils dilate into fearful doe eyes.

It’s a moment of a feeling you can’t describe. Such pleasure in one second, and then flushing shame in the next. Your pulse is already fast. You don’t even know how long Jake has been there. But, you know he saw you. It’s too late to do anything now. All you can do is sink in shame.

“Jake… I-“ you begin, your legs still squeezed shut. You hate how your body differs with your mind. Your mind is telling you how filthy this is, to be caught masturbating by this man. But your body isn’t getting the hint. Your clit still throbs and your cunt clenches around nothing, still needing an orgasm.

“No, don’t explain yourself. I know what you’re doing. Let me help you out,” he takes slow steps towards you, his eyes now meeting yours. His hand reaches back, caressing the entrance of the tent shut, blocking out the view of the forest.

“I don’t, I don’t know if we… should,” you shrug, leaning closer to him as he cautiously sits down on the cot, getting on your level. The eye contact gets more and more intense, as his face gets nearer to you. His features become ever so visible to you, his expression showing an unreadable eagerness. You’re not paying attention to the way he mysteriously closes the distance between the two of you, until he’s right up in front of you, nudging you to lean back. “Are you sure?” you ask, flinching at his big hand touching your shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m positive,” he croons. “How long you been goin’ at it?” he asks, his hands creeping to your thigh and gently pulling your legs apart.

“Don’t know…” you reply. “Didn’t keep track,” you joke, watching for the smile to cross his face, which it eventually does. He shakes his head in amusement, taking a look at your wet pussy.

“My god,” he clicks his tongue at the sight. Your poor little heat is soaked, throbbing, and wet. You need more, not just your fingers, more. “Untie me,” he says, bucking his hips towards you. You lean forward, your eyes locking with the sight of his cock poking through his loincloth. Your fingers fiddle with the strings, the warm fabric gradually slipping down and away from his hips. His erection springs out at you, causing a shared giggle at the sight. You slowly reach for your top, still staring at his throbbing member. Jake’s breath hitches as you lift it off of yourself, exposing your swollen breasts. “Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, now stroking his length.

“Nuh uh,” you grab his hand, pushing it off of his cock. “Here,” you spread your legs further, inviting him to fuck you. He lets out a strained groan, trying to hold himself back as he climbs on top of you. “That’s it,” you marvel, noticing his broad chest beginning to settle over you. It’s awkward for a second, the way he squirms to position himself just right for you. But, his weight feels so good on you. The feeling of his muscular body dwarfing yours only makes you wetter. He lets you gently wrap your legs around his waist.

“Alright, ready?” he asks, grabbing his dick and setting it in front of your slippery entrance.

“Yeah, go ahead.” you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek. His hand travels behind your head, lovingly holding your face against his. He bucks his hips forward, penetrating your tight heat. It starts with his tip, stretching you out gently and preparing your walls to take the rest of him. Your brows furrow, your eyes traveling down to where his cock meets you. “Don’t stop kissing me,” he growls, moving his head to press his lips roughly against yours. You take it well, his desperate mouth on yours as he pushes his dick further into you. Little muffled noises fill up the room, your moans being muffled by the kiss. Somehow, the air quickly grows hot, the tent spilling with the sounds of sex.

“Mmm…” you pull away from his lips, burying your head into Jake’s shoulder as he begins to thrust at a slow pace.

“Feelin’ alright?” he asks, noticing your gesture. You bite your lip.

“Mm-hmm,” you nod, still grabbing his shoulders. He pats your back, encouraging you to go longer.

At that point, the sex is raw. Jake’s ruts are not controlled or consistent, but instead erratic and desperate as his level of pleasure changes. Your body is pressed against your cot, the whole structure shaking as he humps into your pussy. Your mind is foggy, but you remember telling yourself that his weight was okay, even pleasurable, on top of you. But now, it’s overwhelming.

You’re getting crushed as he chases his release inside of you. But, you don’t say anything. How could you? The dick is too good. The sound of his moans and growls keeps you going, it fuels you. The way he’s overcome with the gratification of your body, it puts you in a spell. So, you’re gonna let him use you for as long as he wants, because it makes you feel so good.

“So tight,” he remarks, kissing on your neck. The initial excitement has toned down a bit, and now he has found a decent pace to fuck you at. Of course, it’s not easy to take, and you still grapple onto his shoulders and bury your face into his neck, cursing under your breath.

“Feels so good, Jake,” you whine, finally throwing your head back. He chuckles.

“Gonna cum, hmm?” he teases, using a finger to tap at the side of your face.

“Yeah, yea-“ your eyes roll back into your skull as a wave of anticipatory excitement passes over your body. Your legs, still wrapped around his waist, tighten their grip and begin to shake.

“Wanna finish all over my cock? I know you do.” he speeds up, working hard to keep his ruts consistent. His growls become deeper and needier. He continues fucking your brains out until neither of you can take it anymore. When your climax hits, you arch your back and screw your eyes shut, even though Jake wanted to force you to look at him. It’s okay though, because his tongue invaded your mouth instead. Your bodies go limp after getting shocked with pleasure. You don’t think he realizes how tight his hand is grabbing onto your waist. He doesn’t think you realize how tight your heat is clenching around his cock, milking him dry.

When he finally pulls out and rolls over to lay next to you, he pats your breasts quickly, like one would pet a dog. You laugh.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, turning over to face him.

“Next time you wanna touch yourself, just come to me. Don’t waste your time with those little fingers.” he says.

[attapullman]

Stupid White Car | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: Pretty trees and cozy fire pit nights are all you expected when Robert mentioned wanting to landscape his backyard. And then the architect in the slutty white Benz shows up.

Word Count: 810

Warnings: none except sorry if your name is Alyssa 😬

A Note From Mo: The world's biggest shoutout to my favourite Bradshaw Baddie @roosterforme for coming up with this delicious idea and beta-ing this sake-written, jealousy-fueled oneshot for the neighbor!Bob anthology. Hope this satisfies everyone's appetite until Part III graces your screens.

The project was supposed to be done a week ago. No more white Mercedes in his driveway, no more lemonade on the back patio, no more mulch deliveries outside business hours. No more her.

When Robert announced he was finally landscaping his boring grass lawn while on leave, you had encouraged him. Dreams of sitting out there with him by a fire pit under some string lights danced before your eyes. But now you’re wishing he had kept his patchy lawn that turned into a mud pit at the slightest chance of rain.

Then she showed up.

You were working in your home office, deep into a spreadsheet, when you heard a female voice in the yard next door. Face pressed into the window, turning just so, a tiny postage stamp of his yard visible from your vantage point. Your sweet boyfriend walking around his desolate lawn, pointing out problems, while the most stunning woman followed him, smiling and nodding and jotting down notes. 

It should be illegal for him to look so good in faded jeans with grass stains. Or for her to pull off work boots so well. 

You missed your three o’clock meeting observing them from your hideout, having moved to the laundry room where you could see his yard better. Watched them sit at the little finicky table he needed to replace and go over pages in her catalog, pointing out the design features he liked and what she recommended. 

You didn’t know words like drip irrigation and concept plan could sound so…intimate.

Now it’s been weeks, and that annoying little car is always in his driveway. When she’s not “supervising” the subcontractor, she’s delivering supplies or needing to go over the plans one last time. The 15th has come and gone, and yet she’s still here. And you’re not sure whether it’s your imagination or not that her blouses suddenly have one less button done.

It’s a beautiful spring day outside, and you wish you were out there instead of holed up trying to make sense of this budget. The window is open to allow a soft breeze, tickling the skin not covered by your thin tshirt. An hour ago you shot Robert a text asking if he wanted to have dinner out tonight, try out that new bistro with the cute patio and enjoy the sunshine and some tiramisu. 

Maybe add in an evening walk along the beach? Ending with a night cap and him wrapped in your overstuffed comforter, enjoying his last night of leave blissfully unaware of the rest of the world.

Checking your quiet phone again, you settle down to your computer. And then you hear a perfect twinkle of a laugh. 

You abandon your computer and race down to the laundry, face pressed against the glass as emerald green jealousy licks along your skin.

No wonder you haven’t heard from Robert, his full attention is on his landscape architect as she has him choose between gravels for the stepping stones they’re finally installing. He’s brought out lemonade. Innocent blue eyes trained on her and laughing good-naturedly as she makes a joke about mortar. A joke a little too sultry for your taste.

You didn’t even hear her car pull in. When you talked to him last night he acted like all decisions had been made, one more full day of work and his backyard would be summer ready. It’s not a surprise she has weaseled herself into another visit.

Their hands accidentally brush as they flip between sample pages. Your entire being is rigid, the world in front of you an ominous red. How dare she touch what’s yours!

Before reasoning can interfere, you’re slipping on sandals and racing to the back fence. Pupils wild, heart racing, the green-eyed monster hot on your heels. 

The latch on his fence, newly installed, nearly pulverized in your jealousy-fueled mission. The gate swings open and there they sit, too close for your liking, her manicured fingers gliding along his forearm as she explains costs. 

Robert stands from his chair, shock and surprise written all over his face. He’s never seen this look in your eyes, this possession written all over your features. The woman raises her eyebrows to you, mildly shocked, mildly irritated you’ve interrupted her meeting with her favorite client.

“Alyssa, this is my, uh, neighbor next door…” he trails off awkwardly, realizing he’s never had to introduce you since that fateful night in your kitchen.

You see her smirk. Her revealing blouse. Her eyes that pity you. And from the corner of your eye, you see that stupid white Mercedes.

Rounding the rickety table, Robert’s eyes are filled with nothing but affection. A gentle reminder that she’s had his time, but you have his heart.

Your shoulders relax, returning her smug smile as you complete his sentence. “Neighbor…and girlfriend.”

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[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE YOOJIN(EUGENE) HEADCANONS

I seriously PRAY for you if you have him after you, it's like you've received a death contract from the devil himself. One thing you cannot deny when it comes to him is his determination, when he's set out to do something, he WILL get it done, including of course, stalking you and finding out everything about you. You could either meet him in school when you both are in the same class, you make the unfortunate mistake of standing up for him when he's getting bullied and picked on by the other people and ever since then he decides to know everything about you. It's like the heavens itself sent him an angel, just for him. He lives in his own deluded little fantasy world where you belong to him 

Don't worry if you didn't get the memo, you'll get it soon enough right after he finishes ensuring that silly chemistry partner of yours disappears for good. Male or female, he doesn't give a damn. He doesn't like it when other people are too close to you for his liking. He got absolutely infuriated with that teacher pairing you with someone else other than him, how DARE that happen? You BELONG to him, his mind was working in overdrive, churning with less than savory and unpleasant thoughts but he still maintained his usual calm and stoic manner with his fake smile plastered across his smug face. I'm telling you, this guy is WAY WORSE than a serial killer, he'll have his own sadistic pleasure and fun toying with the person he's after and send the rest of the workers after that poor schmuck where Mandeok will resort to punching them in the face till they're knocked out cold and bloodied on the ground

If you're one of the Worker's and a part of the organization, he doesn't want you finding out about the dark secrets of the organization. He'll specifically warn the others to keep their mouths shut around you and anyone else who dares to slip something by mistake or accident, well... they'll be found dead in the next hour or so. He does NOT want his reputation getting tarnished in your eyes, you do mean a lot to him and he holds you in the highest regard even if he does want you chained up to his bed and be by his side at all times. He gets jealous really fast too but he doesn't really show it outside, he's managed to keep a check and control of his emotions. He'll have that unnerving fake smile plastered across his face as his eyes narrow coldly and he'll give a slight nod to his right hand man Mandeok to deal with the pest which he'll comply 

If you think he won't have files and files of information on you, you're mistaken. He'll send his brother Yuseong after you to find out more about you and he'll make him report EVERY single thing that you in your life, he feels like he's getting a glimpse into the window of your life and he'll use every single bit of information to his own advantage to pull the strings to manipulate you into getting you to be his since that's the kind of guy he is. He's really not above installing secret cameras in your own house either, he'll have a large storage of videos of you along with all your passwords, your search history...everything. When he does his research for you, he leaves no stone untouched, no possibility unchecked 

The other day Mitsuki made a slight joke of you competing in the circus and he almost blew a fuse and was on the verge of forgetting his politeness and was ready to strangle her. His eyes narrowed at her coldly as he spoke "Mitsuki... I do hope you did not forget your position here. You might be the President of the worker's second Affiliate but I am the chairman. Any more unsavory thoughts on the one I intend to pursue...let me assure you that the consequences for you will be dire'' he said in an ominous tone as his expression darkened at her. Mitsuki had no choice but to keep herself from spewing insults at him because he was right. Despite Eugene having a sadistic streak and persona inside him, he doesn't actually want to see you physically getting hurt. He'd rather resort to mind games and emotional manipulation instead of seeing you get hurt physically 

Look, he cares for you in his own twisted way. I'd say you'll be kidnapped by him after a week or two weeks. You'll wake up on a fancy bed with lush and posh furniture around as he enters the room and he'll caress your cheek with a sickly lovesick obsessive look in his eyes. "I'm so glad you're awake sweetheart...there'll be some new changes to your life now. You'll be mine now and there are some rules you'll have to follow'' he said. After your initial hysteria and panicking and demands to be set free, he'll just chuckle softly at you and look at you with an endearing look on his face like you just said something cute and adorable to him. "Let you go, darling, don't be silly...it's a dangerous world out there, I'm doing this to keep you safe. You wouldn't want to make me mad now do you...'' he said as he stared at you in amusement while he could see your will power and determination crumbling slightly as the moment passes by. He would be lying if he didn't like how helpless and scared and vulnerable you looked, on the contrary he actually enjoyed it 

He's going to enjoy breaking you and shaping you like a clay doll that'll obey his every word and wish. The only thing that's keeping you from loving him is your own self which he'll obviously has to deal with. He'll use your family and friends against you and each time you have tears streaming down your face he'll coo at you with mock sympathy and kiss your cheeks and dry your tears. He can't believe he has you in his arms, where you rightfully belong. For the love of god and your sanity, don't even think of trying to escape from him. You do NOT know to what extent he will go through to make your life hell. He'll have you dragged back by his brother Yuseong without saying a word and for the first time, even that fake smile of his disappeared and he'll give you a cold look which will fill you with a sense of dread for what's about to happen 

"This is for your own good darling...you need to learn you NEED me in your life'' he said as you'll be locked in a room and tied to the bed with silk ropes. He doesn't want to hurt you after all. But at the same time he also kind of does so...say goodbye to your friends and family I guess. Don't be too sad when you see their missing or dead bodies on the news channels the next day as he'll whisper in your ear how the whole thing could have been prevented had you not acted like a brat. He does have his soft moments with you at times. He likes talking to you about your day or about anything basically. He likes to spoil you with gifts and forehead kisses and cheek kisses too and pat you on the head like you're some kind of pet when you don't scream at him for 5 whole days. He also likes having you on his lap during his work and he WANTS people to know you're his and you belong to him, that way no one would have the guts to mess with him 

It's not like you can ask someone for help either, all the Workers are strictly loyal to him which makes sense since he IS the chairman after all. Yuseong will be your secret bodyguard, always watching your every move and snitching on you when he feels like you might plan to leave his brother. He would even resort to drugging you or sedating you to make you nice and pliant and obedient for him till your thoughts are occupied of him and only him...he's going to make you his in every way possible...