#every day I'm yearning to go on a walk in nature and by the time I'm off work I'm fvcking exhausted

[iysics]

.

[shadowtraveled]

"mithrun is the only real monsterfucker in dungeon meshi" is objectively the funniest bit you can get out of his everything, but in all seriousness i think his attraction to his love interest is deliberately overstated—and that makes sense, because romantic jealousy is a classic and digestible motive, which is explicitly what kabru was aiming for in condensing mithrun's backstory, and also because until chapter 94, mithrun wasn't willing to admit to the true nature of his desires.

but because romantic envy is both classic and digestible, it probably isn’t a unique enough or complicated enough desire to tempt a demon’s appetite. mithrun’s wish, as far as we can figure from kabru’s reduced retelling, was to have a life in which he had never become one of the canaries, and that carries like 3857 implications and desires within it. that’s delicious. his love interest acts as sort of a red herring to his motivation for making it, though. (side note: i'm saying "love interest" here because, keeping in mind that i barely speak japanese on a good day anymore, "想い人" is something i'd usually take as just kind of an old-fashioned and romantic way to refer to a lover, but in context i wonder if both the connotation of yearning and the vagueness are intentional, and i think this phrasing gets those aspects of it more effectively. anyway.)

mithrun considered his love interest to be untrustworthy. there was a minute where i thought that comment might be about a similar-looking elf (yugin, one of his squad members), but comparing the two…

the "sketchy" arrow is definitely referring to the elf we know as his love interest—the bangs go toward her right, she only has the one forehead ornament, and, most notably, her ears aren't notched.

every time she’s given a full-body depiction in his dungeon, she’s drawn as a chimera, with the body of a snake from the waist down. (side note: the “what if a dungeon has chimeras before reaching level 4?”/“then the dungeon lord is unstable” exchange just being mithrun grilling his past self alive is so funny. he’s so. but anyway) there are a couple things about this.

first, the snake part of the chimera appears to be modeled after some species of coral snake mimic

which, in the biology-for-fun manga, i… doubt is a coincidence, especially with the added context of the “untrustworthy” comment. the dungeon’s conjured illusion of mithrun’s love interest was a harmless copycat of a venomous original. for whatever reason, he felt this person was a threat and made up a "safe" version of her to be in a relationship with, and while it’s definitely possible to be attracted to or even love someone you find to be toxic and/or intimidating, when you take that into consideration alongside the configuration of her body, you get some interesting implications.

which brings us to our second point: if we assume that mithrun was not in fact fucking a snake, then sexual attraction, at least, was so far removed from his idea of a relationship with this person that he did not even bother to keep her dungeon copy human enough to maintain the illusion of the option of a sexual relationship. this is somewhat echoed in the depictions of their interactions, which also imply a frankly unexpected romantic distance. she kisses his cheek and he doesn't seem to react; she's at the edge of a narrow bed with only one set of pillows, on top of his blankets while he's underneath them.

the kiss is particularly interesting because it seems to contrast the text. kabru's narration tells us this was everything mithrun could have asked for, but mithrun is there looking unreadable to pensive, likely because this is right before the panel that makes it clear things in the dungeon are beginning to go wrong.

walking through this backwards for a minute, we have the physical barrier of his bedding and the spatial separation inherent in a bed made for one person, the emotional barrier of his mounting anxiety getting in the way of his ability to enjoy the affection he sought, and... the snake, which historically carries the connotation of temptation, yes, but also mistrust, barring physical intimacy. okay. ok. if a dungeon reflects the mentality of its lord, all of this might suggest that mithrun was not able to have any real desire for a relationship with this person. his unwillingness to be vulnerable or let another person in was insurmountable. but in that case, why was she such a focal point that she remained to the end, after his dungeon had stopped creating iterations of his friends to come and visit him? why would he get so upset over her meeting with his brother that he became lord of a dungeon about it?

well. mithrun's brother was also interested in her, probably genuinely. and mithrun had to win.

you have an older brother who your parents completely ignore, probably in part because he is chronically ill/disabled and almost definitely in part because he received a ton of recessive traits that resulted in rumors that he was an illegitimate child. you are aware, most likely because those same parents fucking told you, that you actually are an illegitimate child. but they keep you around because you had the good fortune of looking just like your mother. what can that possibly teach you but that you, like your brother, are disposable?

it's utterly unsurprising that mithrun, under these circumstances, developed a pathological need to be better than everyone around him. people don't keep you otherwise. i'd argue this is also why he says he looked down on everyone he knew while milsiril claims his dungeon reeked of feelings of inferiority—he sought out people's worst traits and prioritized them in his mind to protect his already extremely fragile sense of self-worth, and all the while he tried to be as likable and high-performing as he possibly could be. his parents disposed of him anyway, but even then he tried to keep up the performance. he was kind to everyone. he never once lost to a dungeon.

when he saw his "love interest" meeting up with his brother, what he saw was himself being replaced by a person his parents had always treated as worthless, and if that was what they thought of the child they'd kept, what value could anyone possibly see in the bastard they'd given away to die? mithrun and kabru tell the story like he wanted to win this unnamed elf's heart, but it was never about being with her. it was about cementing his worth, proving that he didn't deserve to be thrown away.

and so it's particularly cruel that his demon discarded him, too. but maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.

kui laid it out in three panels better than i could hope to.

yeah. it's love. you wanted to be loved, even when the only way you were able to understand it was through the desire to be wanted, and you wanted that so badly that the idea of being consumed felt like the promise of finally mattering to someone.

[theetherealbloom]

I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY

Summary: Your soulmate’s birthday is written on your arm, and it just happened to be the day the world ended.

Paring: Jackson!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Apocalypse, ANGST, Fluff, Infected, Violence, Scratching, Age-Gap (the reader is in her 20s) Romance, Unrequited, Longing, Yearning, Secrets, Injury, Blood, Jealousy, Secret Glances, Metaphors, Character Death/s, Raiders, Ambush, Hospital, Stress, Hurt-To-Comfort, 

Word Count: 7k

A/N: I 1000% came up with this one night while scrolling through prompts and AUs I could do for Joel. I saw the Soulmate AU and I was like “oh, yeah,” *evil laugh* and then I heard the snippet for I love you, I’m Sorry and I was like, “yep, perfect, time to go through pain :D” 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

| Main Masterlist |

September 26, 1967.

The date emblazoned on your wrist felt like a cruel joke, a bitter reminder of a world that had crumbled around you. The small pulse of the glow on your wrist thrummed, a haunting echo of the past. September 26 was outbreak day. The day the end of the world had come crashing down, leaving chaos and devastation in its wake. The inked numbers throbbed on your skin, a constant reminder that your soulmate was out there, somewhere in this apocalyptic wasteland.

You traced the numbers on your wrist, the ink seeming darker today, wondering if you’d ever meet the person who was meant for you. What kind of person could they be? Were they strong, gentle, kind, or hardened by the harsh world?

Hiding the mark from Joel for almost a decade took more than just care; it took an absolute miracle. You met Joel, Tess, and Tommy on your way to the Boston QZ. When you saw Joel’s wrist and the date there, you almost stopped breathing. Your birthdate on his skin was an unexpected blow. The ink on your wrist seemed to burn, yearning to connect with Joel. But his mark didn’t seem to react the same way.

When Joel and Tess started sleeping together, the walls between your apartments were paper-thin which seemed to amplify every intimate sound. You often found yourself wandering the hallways late at night, evading FEDRA officers, sitting on the rooftop, looking up at the empty night sky, stars twinkling, the moon bright. You wished for something good in a world gone bad.

You always wore long sleeves, even in unbearable heat. If you wore a short-sleeved shirt, you never took off your jacket, always coming up with some insane excuse about how cozy it was. It had become second nature, a routine you hardly thought about anymore.

As you kept your head down and worked, the grime and sweat accumulates on your skin. In exchange for your labor, you were given ration cards to obtain basic necessities.

"If it's so hot, why don't you just take off the damn jacket?" Joel gruffly asks, his irritation evident in his tone.

You stay silent and shrug, avoiding eye contact as you try to walk away to the next station, hoping to distance yourself from him. But he grabs your wrist, causing you to yank it away in surprise. "Joel, what the hell?"

Joel's tone is sharp and accusatory, causing you to instinctively flinch. "You're being awfully quiet," he scoffs.

You meet his eyes, trying to hide the turmoil inside. "What?"

"Something's off with you. What aren't you telling me?" Joel steps closer, invading your personal space, and you instinctively take a step back.

Panic sets in as you desperately search for a way out. You can't tell him the truth, so you grit your teeth and force out a lie. "I'm just tired."

"You're lying." Joel's words cut through you like a knife, making your heart race and palms sweat. The intensity of his gaze makes it clear that he won't let this go easily.

You try to remain composed, forcing a small smile. "I'm just tired from working all day."

Joel narrows his eyes, clearly not buying your excuse. "Bullshit," he says bluntly.

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of the lie in the pit of your stomach. "I promise, it's nothing."

Joel takes a step closer, making you back up against the wall. Your heart races as you feel trapped under his intense stare. "I know when something's bothering you," he says softly, his tone filled with concern.

You look down at your feet, unable to meet his gaze any longer. You've been hiding this secret for so long that the thought of telling anyone, especially Joel, terrifies you.

"Please," Joel pleads, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "Just talk to me."

"I have to go," you urgently declare, heart pounding as you turn and bolt away, ignoring Joel's desperate calls for you to stop.

Your heart races as you run through the dark, narrow alleys, trying to put as much distance between you and Joel as possible. The fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins drive you forward, but at the same time, your mind is racing with thoughts of guilt for leaving Joel behind.

"Why did I have to lie?" you think to yourself. "Why couldn't I just tell him the truth?"

But deep down, you know why. You know that if you were to tell anyone about the secret burdening you, it could cost both of your lives. And as much as it pains you to not tell Joel, there is no other choice.

The memories hit you like a tidal wave, pulling you back to that moment in time. But this time, it feels like you're watching from a distance, like a bystander in your own body.

"You can convince them. You always do." The words echo through your mind as Tess begs you and Joel for help. Tears stream down her face as she pleads, "You have to get her there. Keep her safe. Make things right." Joel shakes his head stubbornly, but Tess doesn't give up. "Please, Joel. Please say yes."

Everything feels surreal as you remember the infected pounding at the door, their screams like a constant reminder of what's at stake. And then Tess is gone, sacrificing herself with the rest of the infected to save the others.

Tess, your friend died that day.

But then everything shifts and you're in a different place, a house belonging to Bill and Frank. Ellie is reading a letter aloud, and you and Joel are there listening. "I used to hate the world," Ellie says, "but I was wrong. When I met my soulmate, there was one person worth saving. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

You remember Joel storming out of the house with the letter, his grief and pain palpable in every movement he makes. It's a bitter taste in both of your mouths, but it's also a reminder of why you keep fighting – because there are people worth protecting and worth saving.

Joel may not even realize it, but you've been waiting for him your entire life. And the same goes for Joel.

The scene changes once more; the deafening sound of gunshots pierces your ears and suddenly you're back in the hospital. You're behind Joel, gripping a rifle tightly as you navigate through the chaos and bodies scattered throughout the halls. 

Suddenly, you startle awake. Your heart races in your chest, and sweat trickles down your skin as you struggle to catch your breath.

You’re not out there. You’re in Jackson. You’re safe.

You briefly close your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of fear and loss from the dream. It had been two years since that fateful day in the hospital, and you were now living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie.

You gasped for breath and clutched your chest, trying to steady yourself with one hand on the softness of the sheets. You clambered out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, washing your hands and then your face. The cool water felt refreshing against your skin as you wiped it with a towel, trying to calm your nerves.

Taking a good look at yourself in the mirror, you saw the exhaustion written all over your face. The restlessness was evident in the dark circles under your eyes, and your hair was in a state of disarray.

"I look like I've been through hell," you muttered to yourself, sighing heavily.

You decided to take a shower, hoping it would help numb the pain. As the water cascaded over you, you let yourself sink into your thoughts, not really focusing on anything except the sound of water hitting your skin. Your bleary vision noticed the small cracks in the tiles on the wall.

Once you dried off and got dressed for the day, you headed downstairs to your small kitchen. The space had seen better days—cabinet doors hung slightly askew, and the pantry door refused to close all the way no matter how hard you tried.

You sighed, pushing the pantry door shut one more time before giving up and grabbing a mug from the chipped shelf. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma filling the air as you took a tentative sip, savoring the warmth.

Later that morning, you stepped out of your little house in Jackson, pausing to take in the crisp air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden light over the town. You noticed the creaky and loose steps of your porch under your feet, each step emitting a groan of protest. The railings wobbled as you gripped them for balance, making a mental note to add them to your growing list of things that needed fixing.

It was just about daybreak, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon, casting a golden glow. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jeans, the cozy sweater you wore providing some comfort as you made your way to the stables.

You were part of the barn support staff on rotation and consistently helped out in the greenhouse. Sometimes, you were out on patrol, but today was a barn day.

As you cleaned the barn and took care of the horses, you unconsciously rolled up your sleeves, figuring no one else would be up this early. You were alone in the stables, or so you thought.

Lifting a hand to wipe the sweat from your brow, you sighed. Suddenly, you heard the sound of something dropping and a familiar voice exclaiming, "Holy shit!"

You whipped your head around to the source of the sound and saw Ellie standing there, her eyes wide as she stared directly at your wrist.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, hastily pulling your sleeve down.

Ellie took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. "Is that... a soulmate mark?"

You avoided her gaze, feeling exposed. "It's nothing, Ellie. Just... don't worry about it."

"Nothing?!" She looked incredulous. "You’ve been hiding it all this time. Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, the weight of your secret feeling heavier than ever. "It's complicated, Ellie. Joel... Joel doesn't know."

Ellie’s eyes widened even more. "Joel? As in... Joel?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words. The truth was out now, and there was no going back.

Ellie moved into your space, her curiosity getting the better of her. Without warning, she grabbed your wrist, yanking it towards her. Her eyes zeroed in on the birthdate etched into your skin, her face a mix of shock and realization.

"September 26, 1967," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, eyes wide. "That's Joel's birthday."

You tried to pull your wrist back, but Ellie held on tight, her grip firm and unyielding. "Ellie, please," you started, your voice shaky.

"Dude," she cut you off, her tone urgent and insistent. "You need to fucking tell him."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "Ellie, it's not that simple," you began, but she shook her head, not letting you finish.

"Not that simple?" she repeated, incredulous. "You've got his birthday on your wrist. You're soulmates! How much more complicated can it be?"

Your shoulders slumped as you finally managed to free your wrist from her grip. You rubbed the tender skin, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "You don't understand," you said softly. "Joel... he's been through so much. And so have I. Telling him now, after all these years... it might just make things worse."

Ellie's expression softened, but she didn't back down. "You think keeping it a secret is any better? He deserves to know. You both do."

You turned away, unable to meet her eyes. "Joel... he's moved on, he doesn’t want anything to do with relationships, and I don’t want to disrupt that."

Ellie snorted, crossing her arms. "Moved on? Joel’s not exactly the moving on type. He carries everything with him, all the time. You think he doesn't feel something for you?"

You glanced back at her, tears welling up in your eyes. "And what if he doesn't? What if he sees this and... and it means nothing to him?"

Ellie sighed, stepping closer and placing a hand on your shoulder. "You'll never know if you don't try. And trust me, he’s stronger than you think. You both are."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you just stood there, lost in thought. Finally, you nodded, a small, tentative movement. "I'll think about it," you whispered.

Ellie squeezed your shoulder gently before letting go. "Good. Because secrets have a way of coming out, one way or another. And it's better if it comes from you."

As she turned to leave, you stared down at the date on your wrist, the ink seeming to pulse with a life of its own. 

Maybe Ellie was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

You sat alone on the bench in the food hall, picking at your meal and lost in your thoughts when a familiar drawl pulled you back to reality.

"Hey, darlin’."

The sound of Joel’s voice made your heart skip a beat, and a sudden warmth spread through your body. You nearly choked on your food, glancing up to see him settling next to you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hi, Joel,” you sputtered, trying to regain your composure.

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No, not at all.”

He leaned back, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “How’s your day been?”

You shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Busy, as always. Barn duties and all that.”

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. “Yeah, I hear you’ve been workin’ hard. Always see you runnin’ around, takin’ care of things.”

A soft blush crept up your cheeks under his scrutiny. “Just trying to keep busy, you know? What about you?”

“Same old,” he replied, his voice low and soothing. “Patrols, repairs, keepin’ an eye on Ellie. She’s a handful.”

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “She definitely keeps us on our toes.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he watched you, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The bustling noise of the food hall became a distant hum, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You look tired,” he said gently, concern evident in his voice. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “Just… a lot on my mind lately.”

Joel reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm. The touch was brief but sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours, concern evident. “You sure you’re alright?”

Your breath hitched at the back of your throat, but you forced a smile. “Mmm... yeah. Just going through a to-do list in my mind right now.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving your face. “Anythin’ that needs fixin’, darlin’?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just a few kitchen cabinets... the hinges squeak, and the pantry door doesn’t close all the way. Also a couple of loose steps and a wobbly railing too.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small smile. “Well, why don’t I take a look? Might be an easy fix.”

Your heart fluttered at the offer, a mix of gratitude and the thrill of being near him. “You don’t have to, Joel. I know you’re busy.”

Joel chuckled softly, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he let go. “I’ve always got time for you. Besides, can’t have you fightin’ with those cabinets every day.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Alright, if you insist.”

Joel’s eyes twinkled with a warm light. “I’ll swing by tomorrow mornin’, if that’s alright with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending more time with him. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’d appreciate the help.”

He gave a slow, easy smile that made your stomach flutter. “Great. I’ll bring my tools and we’ll get this place sorted.”

The way he said “we” filled you with a sense of comfort and belonging. “Thanks, Joel. It really means a lot.”

Joel stepped closer, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Anytime, darlin’. You know I’m here for you.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I know.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, the air thick with unspoken words and the electric tension between you. Finally, he took a step back, breaking the spell.

“I should get goin’,” he said, his voice a bit huskier than usual. “Gotta talk to Tommy ‘bout somethin’.”

“Right, of course,” you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment but also a thrill of anticipation for tomorrow.

Joel lingered by the table, a hand on your shoulder. “Take care, okay?”

“You too, Joel,” you said softly.

He nodded and turned to leave, but not before giving you one last, lingering look. You watched him walk away, your heart pounding and your mind racing with thoughts of what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, you were up at dawn, nerves and excitement thrumming through you as you tidied up the kitchen. Each movement was deliberate, an attempt to keep your mind occupied. But no matter how much you tried to focus, you couldn’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes, your heart racing each time the hands inched closer to Joel’s promised arrival.

As you finished your second cup of coffee, the knock on the door startled you, sending a jolt through your already frazzled nerves. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and opened the door to find Joel standing there, a toolbox in one hand and a warm, familiar smile on his face.

“Good mornin’,” he greeted, stepping inside, his presence filling the room.

“Morning, Joel,” you replied, the rush of warmth at seeing him making your voice tremble slightly.

He set the toolbox down and looked around the kitchen with a critical eye. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealin’ with here.”

As Joel began inspecting the cabinets and pantry door, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. Every subtle flex of his muscles under his shirt drew your attention, and you found it hard to look away.

“Found the problem,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Just needs a little tightening and some oil.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the magnetic pull of his proximity. “I’m glad it’s an easy fix.”

Joel smiled, his eyes locking with yours, sending a spark of electricity through you. “Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.”

As he worked, you found yourself drawn to him, moving closer under the pretense of handing him tools or holding a flashlight. Each accidental brush of your hands sent a jolt through you, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. You felt your pulse quicken every time his fingers grazed yours.

“There,” Joel said finally, standing up and testing the now-silent hinges. “Good as new.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and a little breathless from being so close to him. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just doin’ what I can.”

You both stood there for a moment, the kitchen suddenly feeling too small and too big all at once. The silence between you was heavy with everything you weren’t saying, a tension that seemed to thicken the air.

“Joel,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I really appreciate this. More than you know.”

He looked at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart ache. “I’m glad I could help. And I meant what I said yesterday—you don’t have to do everything alone.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you took a tentative step closer, the distance between you feeling like an unbearable chasm. “It’s hard to ask for help sometimes. But knowing you’re here... it makes a difference.”

Joel reached out, his fingers lightly grazing your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll always be here for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

The intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. You felt drawn to him, the unspoken connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest. 

His breath hitched as you moved closer, the air between you charged with a heady mix of anticipation and yearning. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between holding back and giving in. The warmth of his body so close to yours was intoxicating, and you felt your resolve weakening with each passing second.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with all the longing you’d kept hidden for so long.

He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. “I—”

Just as the air between you thickened with unspoken words, a sudden, sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment. You both turned to see a young woman standing there, her eyes lighting up when she saw Joel.

“Hey, Joel!” she called out, her tone annoyingly bright. “I heard you were here and thought I’d bring over some coffee. Figured you could use a break.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. “Uh, thanks, Vanessa,” he replied, his voice strained. “But we’re kinda in the middle of something.”

Vanessa’s eyes flicked to you, her gaze turning cold. “Oh, I see. Well, maybe I could help?”

Before you could step away, Joel’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close. The unexpected gesture sent a shiver through you, and you looked up at him, your heart pounding.

“We’re busy, Vanessa,” Joel said firmly, his hand resting possessively on your hip. “Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got it covered.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in obvious jealousy. “Right. Well, if you change your mind...” She trailed off, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of disdain and envy before she finally turned and walked away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Joel’s grip on your waist loosened, but he didn’t let go. His eyes met yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his voice low. “Didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “It’s okay. I appreciate the backup.”

Joel chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against your side in a way that sent tingles down your spine. “Guess we should get back to work, huh?”

You nodded, reluctantly stepping back, though his touch lingered in your mind. “Yeah, the step and railing on the porch still need fixing.”

Together, you moved outside, the tension from earlier still simmering between you. As Joel inspected the loose step, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The way his hands moved with such confidence and skill, the way his brow furrowed in concentration—it all captivated you.

“Can you hold this steady for me?” he asked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded, stepping closer to help. Your hands brushed against his as you held the wood in place, and the contact sent a jolt through you. The proximity, the shared task, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a dance, each movement charged with unspoken feelings.

“Almost got it,” Joel murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it took all your willpower not to lean into him.

Finally, he tightened the last screw and tested the step, making sure it was secure. “There. That should do it.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and more than a little breathless. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “Just doin’ what I can.”

As you both stood there on the porch, the morning sun casting a golden glow around you, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you. Everything you wanted to say but didn't wash over you in the awkward stillness, and the feelings you shared were nearly visible.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the landscape as you and your patrol partner, Mark, scouted the perimeter. He was easy-going, always ready with a joke or a reassuring word. You found his presence comforting, a steady rock amidst the chaos.

“Think we’ll find anything today?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Mark grinned, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Nah, it’s been quiet for a while now. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Just as the words left his mouth, a shot rang out. The next few moments were a blur of chaos and violence. Raiders, hidden in the underbrush, launched their attack. Mark managed to shoot one off you, his quick reflexes saving your life. But then, he was hit, and you watched in horror as he crumpled to the ground.

“Mark!” you screamed, dropping to your knees beside him. Blood poured from a wound in his chest, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. You pressed your hands against the wound, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. “Stay with me, Mark. Please, stay with me.”

But his eyes glazed over, the light fading. You choked back a sob, fury and grief surging through you as the raiders closed in. You fought with every ounce of strength you had, slashing and stabbing, your vision blurred by tears and the pouring rain that had begun to fall. Blood and dirt smeared your face, and pain lanced through your body from multiple wounds.

The storm roared with fury, whipping the trees and lashing the ground with torrents of rain. You stumbled through the churning chaos, your clothes drenched and clinging to your skin, your muscles burning from the effort of pushing forward. Your vision blurred by the onslaught, you fought to keep moving, each step a battle against the ferocious elements. In that moment, all that mattered was survival - staying alive until the tempest passed.

It had been hours since Joel last saw them. His graying hair was in danger of being pulled out in frustration. You and Mark were supposed to be back by now. The patrol route you both took was supposed to be a shorter one.

Joel paced back and forth in the settlement, struggling to contain his anger. “Why the hell can’t I go out there, Tommy? She’s my partner, my—” He cut himself off, frustration and fear etched into his features.

Tommy placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice firm. “You’re too close to this, Joel. You need to stay here. I’ll find her.”

Hours dragged by, each minute an eternity. Joel’s rage simmered, his helplessness gnawing at him. He punched the wall, his knuckles splitting, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear of losing you.

Tommy had taken a small team out to search for you and Mark, but there was still no word. The storm raged on, making it even harder to find any trace of you.

Joel’s mind raced with possibilities – had you and Mark been ambushed? Taken by the raiders? Injured and unable to make it back? His heart clenched at the thought of you hurt or worse.

He cursed himself for not going out with you both, for letting his emotions cloud his judgement. He knew better than anyone that in this world, you couldn’t afford to let your guard down. But he had let himself become complacent, too focused on protecting you rather than seeing things clearly.

Bile rises in Joel's throat, the taste of fear and worry leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He swallows hard, trying to push the feeling down as he anxiously waits for any news.

The bitter taste of regret and fear lingered on Joel’s tongue, each thought of what could happen to you making his stomach turn.

The metallic taste of blood was thick on Joel's tongue as he bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his emotions. The rancid taste of fear and worry lingered in his mouth, coating his throat and making it hard to swallow.

Meanwhile, Tommy pushed through the storm, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. The wind howled around him, carrying with it the distant echoes of thunder. He called out your name, his voice barely audible above the roar of the tempest. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination, each step sinking into the mud as he trudged forward.

The rain came down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Lightning flashed, illuminating the twisted branches and slick ground for brief moments. He stumbled over fallen logs and through thick underbrush, the storm making every movement a struggle.

Tommy's eyes darted around, searching desperately. He felt a gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach, a fear that he was too late. Then, in the distance, he saw a figure lying still. His breath caught in his throat as he hurried over, praying that it wasn't you.

As he got closer, he recognized the bodies of the raiders, their lifeless forms sprawled across the muddy ground. The sight was gruesome, the aftermath of a brutal fight. His heart sank when he saw Mark, his friend and comrade, lying motionless with a fatal wound. He forced himself to look away, his focus now solely on finding you.

Finally, his eyes landed on you, crumpled and barely breathing. His heart pounded in his chest as he knelt beside you. Blood soaked your clothes, mingling with the dirt and rain, creating a grim tapestry that told the story of your fierce struggle.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Tommy murmured, his voice trembling with urgency and concern. He gently lifted your head, cradling you in his arms. You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed, pain-filled eyes.

“Joel?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. The confusion and pain in your gaze made Tommy’s heart clench.

Tommy’s eyes widened as he saw the mark on your wrist, illuminated by a flash of lightning. It was the same date he had seen on Joel’s wrist—the same mark. Realization hit him like a freight train, the pieces falling into place with a sudden clarity. “It’s Tommy,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you. Just hold on.”

But you had already slipped back into unconsciousness, your body limp in his arms. Tommy’s heart raced as he gently but urgently lifted you, securing you on his horse. He mounted behind you, holding you close to keep you steady, and spurred the horse into a gallop.

The ride back was a blur of rain and darkness, each second stretching into an eternity. The storm seemed to rage even harder, the wind whipping through the trees and the rain stinging like needles. Tommy’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, fear for your life mingling with the shocking revelation of your connection to Joel.

By the time Tommy reached the settlement, his clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin like a second, frigid layer. Every muscle in his body ached from the grueling ride and the weight of your unconscious form. The rain had not let up, and his vision was blurred by the relentless downpour. But he didn't stop, carrying you swiftly yet carefully towards the infirmary, each step a struggle against exhaustion and worry.

Joel was just by the large gate of Jackson, pacing anxiously. The moment he saw Tommy approaching with your limp body, his heart seemed to stop. His face, already drawn with worry, twisted into an expression of sheer desperation.

“Is she okay?” Joel asked frantically, his voice cracking. His eyes were wide, darting between Tommy and your pale face for any sign of hope.

“She’s alive,” Tommy said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He handed you over to the medics who were rushing to meet them. Joel instinctively moved to follow, but Tommy grabbed his arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Joel, wait. Look at her wrist,” Tommy urged, his voice low but insistent.

Joel’s eyes followed Tommy's gaze, landing on the mark on your wrist. Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut, the date etched into your skin unmistakable. It was the same as his. Realization dawned with a mixture of awe and dread. “Fuck,” he breathed, the weight of it crashing over him. The one person he couldn’t afford to lose was you, and now he knew why.

The medics were quick, their movements efficient as they assessed your injuries and began to prepare you for treatment. They lifted you onto a stretcher, intent on rushing you inside where they could better tend to your wounds. Joel moved to follow, his protective instincts kicking in, but the medics tried to hold him back.

“Sir, you need to let us do our job,” one of them said, a young woman with a firm but gentle voice.

“No,” Joel growled, his eyes blazing with determination and fear. “I ain’t leavin’ her side.”

Tommy stepped in, trying to reason with him. “Joel, you gotta let the doctors work.”

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body trembling with the effort to contain his emotions. “I can’t… I can’t lose her, Tommy,” he choked out, his voice raw with pain and anger.

“I know, but you stayin’ in there won’t help her. You’ll only be in the way,” Tommy said, his tone gentle but firm. He placed a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to ground him. “You’ve gotta trust them to do their job. Let them help her.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes locked on the door to the infirmary where they had taken you. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to be by your side, to make sure you were safe. But he knew Tommy was right. With a heavy, reluctant nod, he allowed himself to be led away, his heart aching with every step.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as they waited. Joel paced back and forth, his mind racing with worry. He could still see the image of you, broken and bloodied, every time he closed his eyes. The mark on your wrist haunted him, a constant reminder of the bond that tied you together. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn't bear to lose you.

Tommy stood by, watching his brother with a mixture of sympathy and concern. He knew how much you meant to Joel, and the revelation of the soulmate mark only intensified that bond. He wished there was something more he could do, some way to ease Joel’s pain.

Finally, a medic emerged from the infirmary, her expression tired but relieved. “She’s stable,” she announced, and Joel felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “She’s got a long road to recovery, but she’s a fighter.”

Joel nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude and determination. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He would stay by your side, no matter what. The bond you shared was too precious to ever let go.

Days blurred into a haze of sterile white walls and the rhythmic beeping of machines. You drifted in and out of consciousness, each time greeted by the comforting sounds of Joel and Ellie. Joel's low, soothing voice often filled the room, whether he was talking to you or humming a soft tune. Ellie would sit by your bed, recounting stories with her usual animated flair, her voice a bright spot in the darkness.

One evening, as the storm outside mirrored the chaos within, you stirred slightly. The weight of Joel's hand on your wrist was a grounding force, his presence unwavering. He looked exhausted, his eyes heavy with worry, but he never left your side.

In one of your more lucid moments, you caught snippets of Joel's soft singing, the melody wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His voice was a balm, a tether to the world you were trying so hard to rejoin. He would often lean down to press gentle kisses to your forehead, his touch both a promise and a plea for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you awoke fully. Your throat was dry, and every muscle ached, but you were aware. The weight on your wrist brought your gaze to Joel. He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his head resting on the edge, fast asleep. He looked worn out, dark circles under his eyes and a shadow of stubble on his jaw.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering open as if sensing your gaze.

“I...” Your voice came out as a croak, and you winced.

“Here, drink up,” Joel said, quickly pouring a glass of water and holding it to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

After a few sips of water, you managed to find your voice again. “How long have I been out?” you asked, your throat feeling slightly raw from disuse.

“Almost a week,” Joel replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

“A week?” you repeated in shock. It felt like only a few hours had passed.

Joel nodded, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “You were pretty out of it for a while there.”

You felt a pang of guilt for causing so much worry and trouble for everyone. “I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel said firmly, his eyes filled with intensity. “Just focus on getting better.”

“I will,” you promised, grateful for his unwavering support.

The relief on Joel’s face was palpable, but as he set the glass aside, a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me?” His voice was quiet, but the intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.

You looked away, shame burning your cheeks. “Trust me, I know. It's always about me.”

Joel's jaw clenched. “I just… I didn’t think you could ever want me.” Your voice broke, the years of hiding and pretending catching up to you.

Joel’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. “You’ve always been more than I deserve,” he murmured. “I just wish you’d told me.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you struggled to breathe. “I love you…” you choked out, the words finally escaping your lips after years of being held back. “I’m sorry.”

Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you sobbed. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

In the midst of life's storms, a quiet calm settled around you both, like discovering an oasis in the desert. Amidst chaos and pain, you found your soulmate, and love emerged as the unwavering light guiding you through the darkest nights.

[verstappensrealwife]

Casual (Part 1 of 2) - Lando Norris x Reader

smut, angst

approx. 1,600 words

warnings: lando=ENEMY #1, brief MV1 x reader right at the end, smut(oral fem!recieve), fwb except they’re barely friends…

lando norris masterlist - here. max verstappen masterlist - here. f1 master list - here.

PART 2 HERE

My friends call me a loser 'Cause I'm still hanging around I've heard so many rumors That I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch I thought you thought of me better Someone you couldn't lose You said, "We're not together" So now when we kiss, I have anger issues

Your friends had warned you about him, their voices laced with concern and frustration. They saw what you couldn't—or perhaps refused to see. What did they know? Clearly more than you…

You always went back to Lando Norris. Each time, you convinced yourself that this time would be different. That he'd finally see you the way you saw him. But every encounter ended the same: the dreaded "We're not together… it's only casual," followed by a kiss so passionate it blurred the lines between love and pain.

It made you furious, the way he toyed with your heart, dangling hope just out of reach. Yet, against your better judgment, you returned to him, surrendering to the illusion of affection. Each kiss, each touch, was a cruel reminder of what could never be. The cycle was a slow burn, eroding your self-worth with every fleeting moment of his attention.

In the quiet of your room, the weight of his words crushed you, leaving behind an ache that no kiss could ever heal. And still, you’d find yourself going back, lost in the hope that one day, maybe, he’d change his mind. But deep down, a part of you knew: some things, some people, never change.

You said, "Baby, no attachment" But we're Knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out Is it casual now? Two weeks and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach Is it casual now? I know what you tell your friends It's casual, if it's casual now Then baby, get me off again If it's casual, it's casual now

You’d met his parents, shared laughter around their dinner table, and walked through the rooms of their family home. Those moments had felt like glimpses into a future you yearned for, yet he never craved you in the way you did for him. The warmth of their acceptance was a cruel contrast to the cold reality of his indifference.

Now, in the cramped footwell of your car, parked in a dingy, deserted lot, he was devouring you with a fervor that belied his emotional detachment. His tongue flickered and vibrated against your clit, his moans echoing in the confined space. The raw pleasure was a stark contrast to the sterile, unfeeling nature of your relationship.

“Fuck, fuck! Lando, you're so good at this—” you gasped, your body arching in response to his skillful movements. “I’m all yours,” you breathed, the words slipping out as a desperate plea for a connection that went beyond the physical.

After you’d finished, the euphoria fading, he climbed out of the compressed space on your car floor. The air between you felt heavy with unspoken truths. He didn't say much, just the bare minimum, as if to avoid breaking the fragile illusion you clung to.

“I’ll get an Uber,” he mumbled, his phone already in hand, the app open. It stung—he hadn’t even planned to stay.

You hummed quietly, a sound barely louder than a sigh, and he hopped out of the car, giving you a tight-lipped smile that felt more like an apology than a goodbye. The door shut with a finality that echoed in the silence. You huffed gently, the weight of disappointment pressing on your chest, and turned the keys, the engine roaring to life as you drove away, the emptiness in the passenger seat a stark reminder of his absence.

Dumb love, I love being stupid Dream of us in a year Maybe we'd have an apartment And you'd show me off to your friends at the pier

You often found yourself lost in thoughts of a different future, imagining a day where he loved you openly, where you weren't a secret kept from the public eye. In these dreams, he didn't rush you out of his apartment after a night spent together; instead, he held you close in the morning light, his embrace lingering with a sense of permanence.

You envisioned a future where you might move in together, sharing a space that was yours as much as his. In your mind's eye, you saw him introducing you to his friends proudly, not as an awkward afterthought. You imagined gatherings where you were welcomed, not just tolerated because you'd been accidentally caught post-intimacy in his driver’s room.

The reality, though, was a stark contrast. Max and Carlos had stumbled upon you once, the awkwardness palpable, and since then, any potential friendships had withered before they could begin. You never really met Max or Carlos after that, except for those few, brief encounters in stores, where you'd exchange polite smiles and hurried conversations, pretending the memories didn’t hang heavy in the air.

I know what you tell your friends It's casual, if it's casual now

After that incident, Lando had—of course—kicked you straight out of the room, leaving you to wander the paddock alone. The sense of isolation was crushing, each step echoing the emptiness you felt inside. As you scurried away, you couldn’t help but overhear his conversation with Max and Carlos. Their voices carried through the air, each word a dagger to your already wounded heart.

You caught a glimpse of their faces as you slipped past them, their expressions a mix of pity and discomfort. The look in their eyes only deepened your humiliation.

“It’s just casual,” Lando's voice was dismissive, almost careless. “I don’t like her like that… she’s just a good time, I guess.”

The words hung in the air, each one a brutal confirmation of your worst fears. You felt a sting of tears welling up but forced them back, swallowing the lump in your throat. The pain of his indifference was almost unbearable, a stark reminder of the chasm between your feelings and his.

It's hard being casual When my favorite bra lives in your dresser It's hard being casual When I'm on the phone talking down your sister

He’d insisted you leave clothes at his house, especially your underwear—the ones he liked on you. Sometimes, he would insist you put them on for him when you were at his place. In those moments, it made you feel special, as if leaving a part of yourself behind in his space meant something significant. Maybe it meant nothing...

You grew close with his sisters, exchanging likes on social media posts and sending each other TikToks you thought the other would enjoy. It was a small but cherished connection that made you feel more integrated into his life.

One evening, during a video call with his sister, she hesitated before asking, "Are you and Lando official?" Her eyes held a softness, a knowing look that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken truths.

Before you could respond, Lando snatched the phone from his sister’s hand, abruptly ending the call. Her expression lingered in your mind—an empathetic sadness that hinted at her understanding of your unreciprocated feelings. You sat in your apartment, staring at the blank homescreen, the silence around you suddenly overwhelming. The quiet was filled with the echoes of all the things left unsaid, the unacknowledged reality of your relationship with Lando.

And I try to be the chill girl that Holds her tongue and gives you space I try to be the chill girl but Honestly, I'm not I know what you tell your friends Baby, get me off again

That night, Lando messaged you, saying he needed space. The words stung, but you left him on read. Minutes later, another text came through, asking if you got his last message. All you replied with was, "Yes."

A few days passed in a haze of silence and self-doubt. Then, his name popped up on your phone again, asking to take you out. The pattern was all too familiar. You knew how it would end: not with a romantic evening, but with you in his apartment, the same empty routine of physical intimacy followed by a lonely departure at dawn.

Despite everything, you would’ve said yes again and again, caught in the cycle of hope and heartache. But this time, as you were about to respond, a new notification appeared at the top of the screen.

“Maxverstappen1 has requested to follow you.” “Maxverstappen1 has requested to message you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Max, with his quiet confidence and genuine smiles, was a stark contrast to Lando’s fleeting attentions. You thought back to the brief conversations in stores, the way Max's eyes seemed to hold a depth of understanding, a kindness that Lando never showed. He had always treated you with respect, even in those short interactions, and now he was reaching out.

Curiosity and a spark of something you hadn’t felt in a long time—hope—bubbled up inside you. You hesitated for only a moment before accepting his follow request and opening his message.

“Hey, I hope you’re doing well. I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee sometime?”

The simplicity and sincerity of his message were refreshing. Max wasn’t playing games; he wasn’t hiding you or keeping you at arm’s length. As you read his words, you realized how much you craved that kind of straightforward, genuine connection.

In that moment, you knew you’d rather be with someone like Max—someone who saw you as more than just a fleeting distraction. You typed out a response, feeling a sense of anticipation and relief wash over you.

“Hi Max, I’d love to. When are you free?”

--

did you love it did you love it did you love it should i make a part 2 for max did you love it hello???

[finniestoncrane]

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.5k i want to stand in the middle of a room and let him do what he wants and see what he wants and blush the entire time ;-; 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: porn with very little plot, dominant/demanding behaviour, fingering, biting, breast/nipple play (we got tit-sucking with the ghoul, fellas), cmnf, scratching, teensy bit of possessive behaviour

Your eyes flitted briefly to the door of the abandoned shack. It wasn't as if anyone was going to walk in on you both, but you were still nervous, embarrassed to do as he asked.

"C'mon now, darlin'. Can't get any further while you've still got that pretty, blue suit on, can we?"

Cooper had been waiting for this moment since he'd first decided not to kill you. What lay beneath that now tattered, once pristine, vault suit? What were you keeping from him? How unspoiled were you? And what could he do to ruin you? It was no longer a deep desire, a passing fancy. He needed to see your body, and he needed to make his mark on you.

With a flourish of his hand, he urged you on, indicating his growing impatience at your refusal to bend to his will with a roll of his eyes. You watched as his fingers skimmed over the barrel of his gun, visions of everyone else he had so flippantly shot crossing your mind.

"I ain't gonna ask you twice, sweetheart. Take. It. Off."

With trembling fingers, you did as he asked, fumbling with the zip before slowly pulling it down, your eyes flicking upwards to Cooper, watching him as he watched you. As you slid your suit off your shoulders, exposing your breasts, you noticed his pupils widen. And when you shimmied it down over your hips, letting it drop to the floor, your entire body on display now, he pressed his tongue out, wetting his lips in silence.

You could feel your cheeks burning, your hands reaching to cover your breasts, thighs pressed together in a bid to shield your sex from him. He wasn't going to speak, so you did.

"Well..."

"Well what?"

"A-aren't you going to... take something off. Your coat at least?"

"Oh, you have sorely misunderstood, missy. I'm not taking off a damn thing. You're the star of this show."

You felt like it, and not necessarily in a good way. It was like a spotlight was shining on you, focusing on your body. Cooper's attention drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were taking you in, hungrily. It felt almost sinful, the way he greedily admired you.

His mind was in a frenzy, a carnal fugue state brought on by just how smooth you were in comparison to him. Your skin, perfect, unspoiled, untainted. A burning desire to mar that perfection in a wanton display of lust and violence.

"Well... look at you. If I'd known what you had underneath all that... well we might be a few days behind schedule at least."

It was almost torturous to stand there as he scrutinised you, and yet you found yourself yearning desperately for him to not look away. There was just something so beguiling about Cooper, a charm that oozed out of his every orifice, that made even his more sadistic habits seem reasonable and, yes, even attractive.

You wanted him to touch you, to feel like he was a part of this. That you weren't just there for him to stare at. He seemed to be able to sense your need, as he was quickly in front of you, warm, dry hands reaching for your body and settling on it. It was strange, how delicate he was. But clearly your willingness for his touch, the way you leaned into him, spurred on his more wicked nature.

He began to rake his nails across your skin, first up your arm, the ragged texture scraping over the top layer, making white tracks on the surface. Then he dug in deep, fingers gripped at your upper arms, your back, your hips, scratches etched into your perfect body. Like he was signing a piece of his work before he'd even started with it.

"I had wondered how you would feel, so smooth, like silk... like I remember marble feeling as I ran my fingertips over it..."

Just as his words began to feel sweet, too complimentary for them to feel like they were being said by him, he switched back to his more commanding tone, his orders coming out in a deep, serious growl.

"Lean back on that old table there and spread those pretty legs apart, darlin'. I want to get a better look at all of you."

The way he stretched that word out.

All of you.

All.

And the way he waited, patiently but uncompromising as the looked to him nervously, cheeks darkening with your blush. It felt so dirty.

But you did it anyway, knowing you couldn't refuse him, and didn't really want to. You were rewarded by the sharp intake of air as he sucked in a breath and let it out with a whistle.

"Now that is a fine lookin' cunt, sweetheart. So pretty. So wet."

He shoved his hand between your legs, fingers immediately spreading your pussy lips to feel your wetness. There was a sense of frustration bubbling stirring within Cooper as he indulged himself in in your heat, how soft your swollen lips felt, like velvet against his dry fingertips. How the patch of unruly pubic hair was tickling his skin, delicately. That you'd held this back from him for so long.

As his fingers glided pasted your lips and spread your folds you couldn't help but practically purr at how gentle he was being, and that in turn had Cooper biting back a moan. The thrill of seeing you there, at his command, beneath his touch. He couldn't help but feel a little smug.

"Still got it, Howard."

Your body was trembling as he explored you, and you felt yourself begin to squirm when he turned his attention to your clit. With his rough fingers, he teased at your hood, pulling it back to expose the sensitive bud, smiling as you hissed when he tapped softly on it. Writhing against him, the heel of his palm pressed into you, you tilted your pelvis into him to feel it against your opening, moaning as he fingered your clit, but aching to feel something more, something deeper.

"You need something inside you, darlin'?"

Nodding, you clenched your body as he removed his hand from you completely, a pleading mewl letting him know how badly your body needed him.

"Careful what you're begging for there, sweetheart."

Your back arched immediately in response to his fingers inside of your cunt, massaging your inner walls as he hooked them up and struck the perfect spot inside. Sweat began to bead on your forehead, your mouth hanging open, agape and panting as Cooper began pumping his fingers in and out of you. He was unforgiving, watching in cruel delight as you spasmed, sweating and huffing as he fucked you hard with his firm, practised digits.

He relished in the way you clenched around him, spasming as his merciless rhythmmade you wail in pleasure. It was almost reckless the way he was fucking you with his hand, borderline clumsy, and filled with passion. But he pulled away from you with a deep grunt, deciding that there were still other parts of you he wanted to experience before you were too spent to let him keep going.

"I'm 'gon need your help here, lil lady. Start touchin' yourself, I want you to feel how wet you are."

His voice was dark, a guttural growl that indicated how serious he was, and you obeyed his instructions with wide, nervous eyes.

As you began to stroke your own clit, Cooper leaned over you, his breathy moans of anticipation tingling over your skin as he sunk into your chest. He slowly laved at your sternum, following it up as his hands cupped at your breasts, and then his mouth shifted to your nipple, closing over it and sucking as his other hand worked your breast.

His tongue darted over the sensitive bud, lapping at it with flat, broad strokes before he pointed it, tracing around the nipple as your breath rasped at the stimulation. You were quivering, your core tightening as Cooper worked your soft flesh, savouring the taste of your skin, the tang of your sweat on his stiff tongue. He was laughing against you, a crude reaction to your whispered gasps and soft whines. The cruel way he received your body and encouraged your orgasm made you wail out against him as your fingers worked you the way you knew best.

You could feel it coming, the precipice of your release. Gut tightening, eyes rolling back, your groans becoming whimpers

Cooper let out a cruel laugh as you took in a shaking breath, filling your lungs with warm, dusty air to prepare for your orgasm. And then your back arched, your knees buckling, as you screamed out in pleasure.

Enough electricity rippled through your body that you could have powered the shack without a generator. And it still coursed through you when your cries died out, jerking you, your body convulsing as you came down from the seemingly impossible high.

"I hope those scratches don't stay on your soft skin too long, sweetheart..."

Cooper winked at you, lips stretching into a sneer.

"... and put your suit back on quick. Now that I know what you've got under there, it's mine only."

[cvnt4him]

izuku or reader walking in on the other masturbating 🙀

guys i love him so much i’m gonna explode

It's late and I've been feeling very bad, I've been trying to animate for this man I'm in love w to get his attention but it's drawing as hell. So take some wack ass shit of my pookie sweetie honey bunches cutie patootie girly pop schnookums sweetie pie.

You were just making it home from work, tired and craving to lie in your husband's warm welcoming arms. Today was a long day and you had stayed a little later than expected, you texted izuku at the time you normally got off telling him you'd be home late and that he shouldn't wait up.

With a sigh and a low hang of your shoulders you unlocked your front door and walked inside, the smell of food barely present he had cooked despite having worked himself. It was sweet that he did little things like this to show you he cared and appreciated you.

You set the keys down on the key ring and took your shoes off, hanging your bag up as well. You were ready to jump in your bed next to your husband and call it a night, the thought of that sounded so good and had clouded your thoughts completely before you were snapped out..

You walked to your door and heard noises coming from behind it, your heart sank. What the fuck.... The sounds were lewd, moans and whines being heard. Your first thought was what any normal person would think. He was cheating on you, but just as you were about to slam open that door and beat someone's ass, you heard a pathetic high pitched whine of your name.

“ y/n~ please... ”

Everything started making much more sense now, izuku was masturbating! The thought made you chuckle, you wanted to see the sight of it. The sight of your precious husband lusting after himself, chasing his orgasm yearning to cum. For you at that, he kept moaning your name like a girl.

His moans were so high in octave and almost similar to a porn stars, hell they'd be envious. His sounds were so precious and alluring you wanted to see him terribly so. You slowly and quietly cracked open the door, just enough for you to see your husband.

To no one's surprise, he was touching himself. But it was the most delicious sight in the world, his head was thrown back in pure ecstasy his mouth wide open and such lewd moans were leaving like melted butter, they just fell from his lips so naturally all the slutty things he was murmuring to himself. Something about it hurting and how he wanted to feel his cock deep inside of you

None of those wonderful things could compare to how he was pleasure himself, it was the most pathetic and desperate shit you'd ever seen from him. And it's like hes just so accident prone to doing pathetic things, like whining and he doesn't get his way, or burying his face in your ass with a stupid whimper when you're lying on your tummy. He was just a pathetic guy sometimes.

Izuku had his thighs wide open, his cock twitching and leaking so much cum there was so much coating his hands his thighs and his tummy, from what little you could see it looked like some had even gotten on his face. His hand was hurriedly stroking his fat milk crying cock, his thumb occasionally grazed over his tip and smeared every little ounce of cum that prickled at his engorged and furiously red tip.

His cock was throbbing and aching you could tell, but that wasn't stopping him. He was desperate and he knew what he wanted, but that wasn't all, oh no. He was using his other hand to shove a dildo inside of his ass, he wasn't moving that hand ad fast as he was his dominant hand [his right hand, the hand hes jacking off w] but he was still shoving it inside of himself.

It was so cute you wanted to cry, he was so horny he couldn't help himself he wanted to feel maximum pleasure, as much as his body would let him. Who knows how long he's been going at it, who knows when he intended on stopping, if he even did! All you knew was this was far too delicious to let end so quickly.

You crept in the room closing the door behind you, you walked towards him silently your socks quieting your steps. You say at the foot of the bed right in front of him, he didn't even notice. You were fighting the urge to burst out laughing, he was being so sneaky lusting after himself like this.

With a small sigh you trail your hands up his cum covered thigh making him pull his head towards you with a wide eyed expression, he let out a small scream and jumped stopping both of his hand movements. He was so embarrassed he face had gotten even more red, you could fully see his fucked out face. The sweat on his forehead shining under the moonlights glow sticking some of his now dampened hair to it. His tear stained cheeks, all red and covered in tears and some of his cum that you could see. His lips that had clearly been chewed on plump and a deep shade of pink. His eyes were glossy and still leaking some kind of tears.

You giggled at the shocked expression on his face and the fact his cock was still twitching. You looked him deep into his sweet blown wide eyes, he bit his lip started shaking he whined loudly his eyes fluttering shut. You were confused, what could've caused this sudden reaction? You looked down to see his cock spurting out a fuck ton of cum.

“ fuck.. I'm c- cumming...”

He said defeatedly, not even going to hide it. You'd walked in at the right time, he was just so pent up and so close he couldn't help but to cum under your intense gaze. His poor cock just leaking out cum, it was basically crying.

He was so needy that he had completely ruined himself at the sheer thought of you. What a fucking whore. His hands were up and he stuttered on his words trying to find an excuse to explain what else was doing, touching himself in your shared bed his cum not only on the covers but literally all over himself too, not just that but a dildo still in his fucking ass. There was no explanation and you both knew that. There was no point in trying to explain something that didn't need to be explained.

“ m’sorry baby.. couldn't help myself... felt too good..”

“ shh baby, it's okay. I understand. you were needy and were all alone... what else were you to do, huh baby boy?”

Izuku whimpered and his lidded expression came back, his breaths were shaky and he was still just so hard. His cock looked so red and messy it was almost such a good look on him.

“ it's okay baby, I'll take good care of you hm? how does that sound?”

He whined in response a wobbly smile forming on his pink tinted lips, he was in for one hell of a ride and he couldn't wait. So eager to please and so ready to cum buckets more for you. After all it was your fault he was like this, you'd let him please you, right?

AN: yummers bro he is just so urghehab. I need him I just NEED to have him a withering mess for me bruv.

[marvelmymarvel]

The Uchiha

Tobirama Senju x Uchiha!Reader

Synopsis: He hated all Uchihas, every last one of them. But you? You were somehow different... And he didn't like that.

Important note: I know the timeline/ages are OFF as Tobirama was 39 when he became Hokage. Let's pretend he was 25 :)

Naruto Masterlist: Here

Also, Tobirama drinks respect women juice. It's canon in this house.

Madara's huff of annoyance sounded out in the room as you turned down yet another suitor. "Sister, why must you sabotage every proposal that comes your way? I'm trying to help you find a husband-"

"I do not wish to get married yet Madara, I'm only 21" You bit back, arms crossed as you pouted up at him. This whole 'suitor' search had been going on for months now, and you were growing tired of the good-for-nothing men your brother brought your way. "And when do you expect to finally be "ready" for marriage, Y/n... Your time is running out-"

"I'm only 21"

You always hated the idea of marrying young and it was the Uchiha way to be married by the time you turned 22. As the head of the clan, Madara was having a very hard time accepting that you were not willing to follow protocols when he was already struggling to maintain power amongst the members. "Y/n please..."

He sounded so pitiful, so tired... But you were done with this conversation. Standing from your spot on the floor, you brushed off the dirt from your dress and started towards the door "We can talk about this later, I want to go for a walk"

"You can't run from this forever Y/n. You will be married within the next 6 months"

You slammed the sliding door shut, eyes rolling in anger as you took off towards the town. "How could he be so selfish, trying to set me up with men that I clearly have no interest in" you huffed out to yourself quietly as you stormed past members of the clan. Some sent you glares, others averted their gazes knowing that one wrong look would mean certain death from either you or your brother.

Your body relaxed as you entered Konoha's downtown area, the Uchiha section and its demands of you were now far away. The sound of the people bustling around the market filled you with joy. There were many girls that were around your age sitting around outside of a cafe, they seemed to be laughing about some stupid thing that had happened to one of them. It was so simple but it was a reality you yearned for.

Sometimes you hated being a part of the clan. They were just so far behind the times and it felt almost suffocating to exist among their stuffy ideologies.

'You're supposed to get married young and give your husband as many children as he desires.'

'Your place is in the home, where you care for your husband and children.'

'Ambitions? You don't need them! Don't forget, your place is beside your husband and that's that'

God, it made you sick. There was nothing wrong with being a homemaker, but it wasn't for you. You wanted to get out there, work, have dreams, and find love naturally... Not through your brother of all people.

You wanted someone else, someone different. Someone who wasn't in the clan and someone who would challenge you to be something more than just a wife and mother. You wanted-

You halted in your tracks as he crossed in front of you, his Kage cape flapping in the wind behind him making him look bigger than he was. Your mouth dropped a little as you watched them walk away, you hadn't seen either of them since Tobirama became the second Hokage and it felt like today was your lucky day.

"Tobirama! Hashirama!" You called out, hand shooting up as you caught up to them. Hashirama smiled brightly at you, arm opening up urging you to hug him "Y/n! How've you been? How's Madara?"

You slyly shot a glance toward the white-haired man, and you didn't miss the slight annoyance that flashed across his face at your presence. You knew he didn't like your clan. You didn't like your clan either.

"I've been good. Madara's been... Madara" You were trying to sound chipper, but the thought of Madara soured your mood again. Hashirama nodded, he knew you and Madara were on thin ice what with him trying to find you a husband and you NOT going along with it. "Husband search not going well?"

Your face morphed into a scowl and Hashirama kicked himself for even asking when he knew that's what was wrong. Tobirama's eyebrows furrowed together at your change in demeanor, he was used to your ruthless attitude, so this was something he wasn't expecting. You grew embarrassed under Hashirama's pitiful look and Tobiramas inquisitive stare, "If I do marry, it won't be an Uchiha" you muttered quietly before brushing past the two men.

The two brothers stood there in silence as they watched you walk swiftly down the street towards some food stands, "I shouldn't have said anything" Hashirama sighed as he rubbed his face in anguish, "Her brother's going to kill me"

"Why does she not want to marry an Uchiha?" Tobirama breathed out, he didn't know what was getting into him, but it felt like he was seeing you for the first time in his entire life. He had known you for years, ever since you were children. He found you to be quite annoying and lumped you together with the other Uchihas that he hated.

Yet something felt off.

"They treat their women like property. It's mandatory that a woman marries before 22 and has a child before 23. Her place is in the home and they can't do anything without permission from their husbands"

"That's ridiculous. Women have needs and desires as well-"

"Yes I know Tobirama but that's how the clan operates-"

"Well, it's another reason as to why I despise that god-forsaken lineage-"

"If you're so upset with it why not marry her?"

Tobirama slammed his mouth shut at Hashiramas statement. Him? Marry YOU? An UCHIHA of all people?! Hashirama stood his ground though, he wasn't stupid and he saw the looks Tobirama has been sending you for YEARS now. Tobirama could lie all he wanted to, he has always cared for you more than he'd like to admit. Tobirama started to take off back to the Hokage's office, not liking the look Hashirama was giving him "I don't think marriage is a good idea, the clan will disown her if she marries outside of their circle-"

"She hates her clan Tobirama and honestly, I think you're the only person who can make her happy"

Tobirama tripped on his footing trying to stop in disbelief. His eyes were wide and his face was full of disgust at what Hashirama was insinuating. Him? Make you happy? Not possible.

"Uchiha or not, you can't deny that you care for her in some way. I know this because you look at her differently than you look at anyone else. You don't even look at the women you try to court that way-"

"I'm done with this conversation" Tobirama huffed out, his face was burning red and the whiteness of his cloak only made it more noticeable that he was embarrassed. Hashirama opened his mouth to make another statement but Tobirama stormed towards the Hokage's office, leaving him standing there in disbelief.

How could someone so smart, be so clueless.

* 2 weeks later *

Your feet kicked at the ground as you waited for your turn to talk to the Hokage. Madara was unable to meet with Tobirama to go over the latest requests of the Uchiha clan, so you were left to the task of talking to the stubborn man who always seemed to make your heart race faster than it should.

"Y/n Uchiha? You're free to go in now"

You nodded at the secretary before standing and heading towards the door, heart pounding as your gripped the wooden door. Sliding it open, you popped your head in before letting out a quiet 'hello'. Tobirama's head shot up at the sound of your voice, he was expecting Madara so this was quite the surprise. "Y/n" he greeted firmly, trying very hard to calm his nerves as he took you in.

You were wearing a simple dress, not too fancy but not too casual. It fit you in all of the right ways, you were attractive sure.

But it was your smile that took his breath away. It reached your eyes, making you appear carefree even though he knew you weren't. "So sorry about my brother's absence. He grew ill over the weekend and asked me to step in for this discussion" you explained sheepishly as you navigated your way to one of the chairs across from the desk.

Tobirama didn't say anything but nodded at your apology, he wasn't upset with this change of plans. He was actually happy. After his discussion with his brother, he tried to push you out of his mind, but every time he saw you he was reminded of the feelings he so desperately tried to hide. "What do you want to speak about?" Tobirama started as you sat down in front of him. You looked at him wide-eyed as if he was asking you something foreign, "Oh! Yes, that" you finally stated as you opened up the envelope with the items to discuss.

Your eyes scanned over each bullet, humming to yourself in agreement with the requests on the page, but you grew still at the last bullet point. Tobirama cocked his head as he took in the way your face fell into disbelief and sadness. "Is something the matter?" His voice was clear but muffled at the same time thanks to the growing rage pounding in your ears. "They want your help with finding my suitor..."

His blood ran cold at the words, if they were asking for his help, that meant-

"They want to look outside of the clan" you breathed out, and in a way, you almost sounded relieved. "Is that something you want?" Tobirama's question was met with silence, but it wasn't a no. "I guess you'll need to marry into a higher-ranking family, do you have a preference-"

"Wait wait wait" you started, waving your hands as your cheeks heated up at the idea of marrying someone who wasn't in your inner circle. You didn't know if you were happy about this, you didn't know if this was a better option. Tobirama studied you from across his desk, you were somehow giving off the energy of relief but also anguish, two feelings that never went together.

"What do you want, Y/n?"

His question took you off guard, it wasn't usual for someone to ask you what you wanted. "I... I want to marry someone who will let me be more than just his wife. Someone that will let me be me." You finally breathed out, your nerves beginning to somehow morph into excitement at the idea of getting what you wanted. "So a higher-ranking individual who will let you be you? Is that all you desire?" Tobirama sounded calm, but inside he was kicking himself. He tried to rack his brain for who you could marry, but all he saw was himself.

"Yes. I suppose"

Your answer was quiet and bashful, had you somehow read his mind and saw the very image of you two together? "Do you have a preference to what clan-"

"Um... Maybe a Senju?" It was bold, very bold of you to blurt it out so quickly. It told him that you had pondered the answer to that question for some time now. "Well, you're in luck. The Senju clan isn't as backward as the Uchihas are. You will have no issue finding a husband who will nurture you and your desires" Tobirama was thankful you couldn't see his shaking hands below the desk. He didn't like the idea of you being with someone in the Senju clan, someone who wasn't him.

This felt wrong. He hated your clan so why were you different? Had he always felt this way and hated you to cover it up? He thought back to when you were kids. You were a couple of years younger than him and you were always trying to talk to him even though it was forbidden.

Forbidden.

'The Uchiha clan is evil. I forbid you from talking to them in any way shape or form'

That's what his father always preached, Hashirama never listened but he did. Now he was regretting it.

"How do you feel about me?"

"I'm sorry what?" You sputtered out, eyes wide at how calm he sounded. Tobirama didn't falter, only stared at you as if urging you to answer even if you didn't want to. "I uh. I guess I like you? I don't know I enjoy your company and-"

"I meant marrying me"

Your blood ran cold but not in a bad way. Your face burned and the heat began to travel down your neck and chest. He was what you wanted, what you've always wanted. Ever since you were kids you decided that he was the one you wanted to be with. But he always hated you so you wrote it off as a stupid crush and tried to move on.

The key word was 'tried'.

"I've wanted that for a while yes-"

"Then it's settled. I will send a notice to your brother. I will be taking you to dinner tonight, do you have a restaurant you like- What's wrong?"

Tobirama noticed your eyes widening at his words and he didn't know if it was a good or bad thing. You had just admitted that you wanted to marry him, so why were you looking at him like he had 5 heads? "I just didn't expect this to happen. I thought you hated me to be honest"

He bit his lip, contemplating what to say to reassure you that you were different. He did hate your clan but he didn't hate you. The hatred he felt was because he was infatuated with you. But how could he put that into words? There was no way to reassure you in the way you deserved. Instead, he stood and circled the desk before leaning against it. "Let me take you out. Let me court you... You'll see that the feeling of hatred was one of forbidden desire"

You nodded slowly at his words, still uneasy and unsure.

"Now where do you want to go for dinner?"

[sunalee]

when you wish upon a star

prompt: our precious boys are part of a farytale (disney au).

with: joshua, dino, jeonghan and wonwoo.

ⅰ. 𝐂𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚, starring Hong Jisoo

“Well, there’s one thing: they can’t order me to stop dreaming.”

As the King's firstborn, Prince Joshua must fulfill his several obligations to the kingdom, including his long-pending marriage. He became tired of so many greedsome proposals and empty-willed madams; he just wishes for a truthful and kind one to love, and to be loved genuinely in return. The prince finally finds what he's been longing for, someone who isn't seeking the coins inside his pockets, or the power attached to his title, but his heart. And he doesn't care if the woman in question has no name or land: she has become his dream. And who would be the fool to prevent the prince from getting his dream?

"You are the one I want." he professes earnestly , the words he wished he could say before you vanished through that starry night; leaving only a glass slipper for his memories to rely on. Now that you're at his arm's reach, though, he won't let you leave in a hurry again. ever again. "You're my wish that came true: the wish from my heart. Please, don't take it away from me because of void rumors or expectations." Holding your smooth hands to his gloved ones, he nears himself into your warmth, pressing your foreheads together while keeping his soft, but intense gaze on your eyes. "Just let me love you, utterly, tenderly. As I know you'll do to me.

ⅱ. 𝐓𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝, starring Lee Chan

“I know not who you are, or how I came to find you, but may I just say … hi. How ya doin’? The name’s Dino. How’s your day goin’, huh?”

Being an outlaw has its perks. Not that running away from guards and other crooks is anything fun, but the feeling of being free to go and do as he pleases it's too exciting. And lonely as well. Believe him, Dino was all fine by himself, but the moment he ventured inside that tall tower and found you there — caught by you, to be more precise —, something changed inside him. He never had so much fun with someone as he has with you, the feisty, clueless, and dreamy girl who wanted to see the lanterns up close. The gold of your tiara doesn't fill his eyes with glint anymore; it is you, and only you who's now capable of doing it so easily.

"You're beautiful." He cannot help but speak his mind, watching your features turning brighter with the lanterns around you. The most perfect sight in this whole world, he wanted to keep it engraved in his memory; keep you engraved in his heart as if this wasn't natural by now. Brushing a strand behind your ear, he stares at you in adoration,  gently taking his time to trace every inch of your face. And in silence, you both enjoy the dream that came true.

ⅲ. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝, starring Yoon Jeong-han

"Where would we walk? Where would we run? If we could stay all day in the sun? Just you and me. And I could be, part of your world."

That's what he longed for. Ever since he was little, Jeonghan yearns to know more of the surface. To feel the sand kissing his skin, to gaze at the blue day sky, to feel the warmth of the sun guiding his steps as he runs down the beach towards the unknown; to have legs. He just wanted to be part of this world, and maybe, just maybe, he could also stay by your side. The feeling of you fills his mind ever since he saved your life from that storm. And to know that you also wish for him, oh, how much he wants to just kiss his girl. And he's ready to do anything for that.

"Wait for me." He pleads lowly, watching as you wander around with your friends through the beach, unaware of the mermaid that admires you from afar, hidden in a heap of stones. His legs will soon be granted for him, as the sea witch promised in exchange for his voice. A careless decision, it might have been; but whatever happens, his dream will come true. He'll do whatever it takes for that. "I'm coming to you, my love."

ⅵ. 𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐧, starring Jeon Wonwoo.

"The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all. You don't meet a girl like that every dynasty."

Never, in his five years as a captain in the Chinese army, has Wonwoo faced such a bewildering challenge: having a girl among his soldiers. He doesn't understand how he didn't notice it before, nor did his cadets, but being right or wrong, that defiant young woman is without a doubt the most talented and bravest warrior he has ever seen. And besides conquering the country's victory over the Huns, she won something else, something quite unbelievable to their teammates: the captain's once-cold heart. The one who once told her she didn't belong there, now bows in respect and fascination for China's savior, and princess.

"You have all of my gratitude." His tone is filled with acknowledgement and also a bit apologetic, for his past mistakes that he wishes nothing more but to fix them. He looks at you with pride in his eyes: pride for getting to know such an admirable woman. Pride of having the honor of fighting alongside her. Extending his hand for you to take, he coyly adds. "And my fondness, if you wish to have it."

a/n: my first work for this fandom, i hope you enjoyed this scenario as much as I did 💕

© sunalee 2024 — all rights reserved.

[cellophaine]

Chapter VII: DROP SHOT

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: I'm so so sorry for the late upload! Your girl has been in the trenches mentally and creatively lately 😭

GIF Source:@/birdmans

2007. Stanford.

New year, new semester, and what came with it was a promising fresh start. Despite the mental toll from the disastrous few days spent with your parents, you chose not to address it. You could never get the time you cried over them back, and it was time to move on. Your focus was swiftly redirected to something much more pleasant and exciting: you had started drafting for a new project. 

An inkling of an idea bloomed from the paradoxical of your life. Being on the verge of entering your 20s, you were aware of your inadequacy when it came to love. Yet, you couldn't keep the feeling of knowing and understanding its inner workings and mechanisms from rising above your insecurity. Being a child of parents who weren't very loving and born into the belief that everything was transactional, you thought you knew everything there was about love. There needed to be a form of reciprocation so the relationship could thrive. Love wasn't an infinite resource that you could take and take because, eventually, the other person would grow tired of you and leave. This belief was built into your foundational core, and its development intertwined with yours as you grew up. 

But Art confused you. He gave up his vacation in Vermont to spend time with you and make sure you were okay without the constant reminder that you owed him something. He'd made you feel like you deserved to be cared for without conditions attached. The dismantling of your guarded exterior was slow, yet he had been so patient. You realized you didn't need it when you were with him. 

The connection you shared was something different. It passed the point of infatuation but not quite there at love. Unknown yet so unanimous in its nature that you didn't have to say it out loud. A beautiful thing that was nameless, yet its existence was tangible and real. It lived in the vigorous beats of your heart every time he was close. It ran wild in your bloodstream every time he smiled at you. Its cadence rose and fell with the touches of laughter you shared. 

In a way, Art had become your muse. You started to write about the way Art made you feel, about the way your perception of love had changed, and what it was like to be on the receiving end of it. You would often feel the itch to write, to grasp onto one of the many loose threads that swirled around your mind and follow it to wherever it'd take you. The wandering then materialized on the pages of the notebook he gave you, glistened in the fine ink. Pages after pages, and he knew of none of them. You felt like it was fitting to immortalize him with your words, within the scope of your ability in the only way you knew how. The more you filled the notebook, the closer you came to realizing that you were falling for him, with each walk to the tennis court, with each minute he spent with you at the coffee shop, and outside of that, too. It was scary to be so smitten with him, but you didn't care. He was your only friend, your most trustworthy companion, and no one could compare to that. You declined invitations to go out with Grace and Ashley so you could spend more time with Art. Your world revolved around him like he was the most important person in the world. What else did you need?

You accompanied Art to practice whenever you could, and during late hours, when the soft white lights lit up the court, he taught you how to play. He fixed your stance, adjusted your grip, and showed you the basics. After a few weeks, you could rally with him. You came to every match and cheered him on. You came to Tashi's matches, too, just to spend more time with Art. You never failed to notice that distant look in his eyes as he watched Tashi play, almost like a longing, a hopeless yearning for something he couldn't quite reach. Was it wrong that you wanted Art to look at you that way? Was it selfish of you that you wanted his longing gaze to be on you and only you? Even though when he looked back at you, he would flash you a smile that made you temporarily forget about the pestering question. 

/

The sun was warm on your skin, staving off the brisk wind, but you didn't want to move from your spot in the corner of the court. With the notebook on your lap, you were writing while waiting for Art to finish practice. He was with Robbie, and you could hear his grunts from where you were sitting. In your bag were two admissions to the movie Art told you he had been wanting to see but didn't have the time to check it out. Your excitement and anticipation were barely contained; you had looked forward to surprising him all week.

The gate rattled, and then, a voice called out.

"Let's go!"

That made you look up from your notebook. You watched as the stranger sauntered over in Art's direction.

"Come on, Donaldson, big serve. Big serve!"

Art went to serve but gave up halfway as the newcomer called out again in a teasing tone. Art angled his body to face the new guy, finally acknowledging him. 

"Finish it up, Donaldson. Come on."

Art went for a serve so quick that Robbie couldn't catch on. He turned towards the guy, and the racquet fell limp in his grasp. The stranger opened his arms and walked toward Art, who then walked away and playfully dismissed the gesture. You could see a genuine smile on his face, highlighting the boyish charm in his features. You watched as they started to chase each other through the courts, jumping over the net and other boys on the bench. 

You waited until their chase came to a stop, when they were standing face to face, talking to one another in an effervescent manner. You noted to yourself that this was a new side of Art that you hadn't seen yet. 

Art waved at you as you approached, drawing the newcomer's attention to you. He looked at you up and down as Art introduced the two of you. His big hand enveloped yours in its warmth and callouses. Patrick's eyes had a spark of recognition the moment you told him your name. He smirked, still holding your hand.

"It's nice to finally meet the girl Art's been 'hanging out' with."

He glanced cheekily at Art. 

"What do you mean?"

"Art wasn't being very clear on that, so …"

You looked to Art to see him glaring at Patrick. Your brows furrowed as understanding dawned on you. Your heart thumped harshly in your chest. 

"Oh, right."

Patrick didn't seem to catch onto your confusion. He drew you closer by tugging on your hand, which was still wrapped in his.

"I don't get it. If I was him, I'd waste no time."

Art elbowed Patrick lightly.

"Dude, what about Tashi?"

"Dude, I said if I was you."

You interrupted before Art could say anything.

"You're not wrong. We're just casual friends."

Art looked at you, his gaze inquisitive, but you pretended that nothing was wrong. You put on a cheery voice, hoping Art would overlook what you'd just said.

"Anyway, it looks like you'll be busy. I'll… see you later."

Without waiting for an answer from Art, you turned to Patrick.

"It's nice to meet you, Patrick."

Patrick's reciprocation fell on your ears as you turned around and walked away. You didn't make it too far before Art got a hold of your wrist. 

"Wait, didn't you say you wanted to ask me something?"

You thought about the tickets in your bag, but you shook your head.

"No, it's nothing."

"Are you sure? I'm sorry, but I didn't know Patrick were stopping by today. I haven't seen him in a few weeks as well ..."

You understood his implication perfectly. You patted his forearm. 

"I'm sure. Don't worry about it. Go hang out with your friend."

You made a move to leave, but Art didn't budge, holding you in place.

"Will I see you tomorrow? Tashi's match?"

You nodded without hesitation.

"Of course."

This time, you were able to leave without Art's intervention. Almost immediately, your mind started to whirl, hurtling headfirst into overanalyzing what you had witnessed. You knew that Patrick was Art's friend from the academy. From what Art had told you, they were very close. But you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it. 

Each step was heavier than the last as you felt the increasing disappointment weighing on your mind. Instead of going home or to the theatre, you pivoted in the direction of the library. Choosing the most private spot in the computer area, you looked up Art and Patrick's names. A list of articles unfolded themselves before your eyes, inviting you to click on them, with most of them reporting on their victory at the US Junior Open last year. You read through the articles, and your eyes studied every single photo attached. Art and Patrick posing for pictures, kissing their cups, and celebrating their victory. 

But pictures could only tell so much. Opening a new web browser, you went on YouTube and searched for their names. You clicked on the first one you saw, which highlighted their best performances throughout the tournament. They played so well together. They fit like two pieces of a puzzle. What one person lacked, the other would make up for it. They were unstoppable, and it was hard to look away from their exquisite dynamic. 

You watched as the camera zoomed in on the two of them celebrating in the final, clinging to one another as they went down to the ground. You replayed the moment over and over until you could recount it as if you were there. You clicked on another video, then another, going from the beginning of their US Junior Doubles tournament to the very end. You were fixated and only left the library late into the night when fatigue took over. The night went by as you sat by your phone, assignments on your desk, waiting for a call or a text from Art. You went to bed that night disappointed, with a spark of indignation simmering in your mind.  

/

Even though your class ended at 12, and you could've gone home to study, you went to Tashi's match anyway. You hadn't met the girl yet, but you had been to her matches as if you were a Duncanator yourself. But you went because Art would be there, and you wanted to spend time with him. Even though he'd spend most of that time looking at another girl. Despite going to the match of your own volition, your anger still felt justified somehow. 

You came in, and the bleacher was already half filled with people. You looked around to find Art. He saw you first, his long arm reaching up and waving at you. You didn't wave back; instead, you looked down, pretending to watch your steps as you made your way to him. He beamed at you as you inched closer to his seat.

"Hey."

"Hey."

You took the seat next to him without making eye contact with him. Art seemed to catch onto your mood. 

"Look, about yesterday–"

"Where's Patrick?"

He took a brief moment before answering. 

"I ... don't know. I texted him, but he hasn't answered."

"Oh. I was looking forward to seeing more of him today."

Still refusing to look at Art, you trained your gaze toward the court. At that, he sat up straight. 

"What do you mean by that?"

"I like him. He seems like a fun guy."

You turned your head to look at him. You could almost see the thoughts written on his face, and your tense moment was interrupted by an onslaught of cheer as Tashi made her appearance. You used that moment to look away, to direct your attention to Tashi and clap for her. But it didn't stop the heat from spreading through your skin and burning your cheeks. You knew what you were doing was petty, but at that moment, all you cared about was getting back at Art. 

The match commenced with bated breath and tension so heavy you could feel it in the air. Tashi's usual assertiveness was replaced by a nervous energy. She usually met each volley with precision and confidence, but right now, it was because she had to. You had watched her play enough to tell the difference. And in a blink of an eye, you almost missed it. The air shifted with Tashi as she went down to the ground with a sharp cry. The sight and sound were so visceral that you sprang from your seat, your mouth parted in shock as you watched Tashi writhe on the ground, hugging her knee. Her cries were piercing in the dead quiet of the court, and before you could say anything to Art, he took off. 

You followed his blurred movements and watched as he jumped over the net to get to Tashi. Your eyes glued on them as Art put Tashi's head on his lap; his mouth moved, whispering things you couldn't hear over the rising whispers around you.

The audience dispersed after a while. You stood outside of the rec centre where Tashi was taken, debating whether you should go in or not. After another long moment of consideration, you sucked in a breath and entered the building. After asking for directions, you went down the corridor and looked at each room before you found Tashi on a bed with her arm on her forehead. Art sat on a chair next to the bed she was resting on and was partially shielded by her, but he saw you. He squeezed her arm, telling her he would be right back. You instinctively stepped back from the opening of the door, not wanting Tashi to spot you. Even with what she was going through right now, you doubted that she cared. It was purely from the fact that you weren't ready to be confronted by what you'd been suspecting.

"How is she doing?"

You whispered. Art shook his head, his lips flattened into a grim line. 

"Not good."

"What can they do for her?"

"Not much. They can't tell until they can get the x-rays from the hospital. We're waiting for the ambulance right now." 

You nodded. Behind the outline of Art's body, you could see Tashi. Crestfallen, scared, if the impatient shakes of her uninjured leg were any indication.

"Is there ... anything I can do?"

You didn't even know why you offered. Still, you felt like you needed to do something, to be useful even though nothing in this situation pertained to you. 

"No, nothing. I'll stay with her to make sure that she's okay." 

You resigned with a nod. 

"Alright. Call me later, okay? Let me know how she's doing."

He inclined his head in agreement and went back to Tashi without sparing a second glance at you. Your heart chipped a little at that, but you brushed it off. Art cared about her, and there was nothing wrong with that. They were friends. You'd do the same for Grace and Ashley. To feel jealous was to be irrational, and you didn't want that. But was your inkling of doubt really unreasonable?

You were about to round the corner when Patrick almost ran into you. He murmured an apology before taking off. He stopped in front of the door you were at just moments ago. You were frozen in place, hearing Patrick's desperate pleas, Tashi's angry cry, and, at last, Art's thunderous shout echoed down the hallway.

"Patrick, get the fuck out!!"

You had never heard him like that. Angry, with a territorial edge to it. You forced yourself to walk away; the need to withdraw into yourself once again overwhelmed your mind despite your conscious effort not to think about what'd just happened. But you couldn't help it. 

Later that night, there was no phone call, not even a text. Art's silence was a knife that dug deep into your heart, but like always, you ignored it, even though you knew it had never been a good idea.

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[littlefireball]

ʏꜱ|ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ (ᴀ/ᴍ)

ᴅᴏʙᴇʀᴍᴀɴ ʜʏʙʀɪᴅ ꜱᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ x ᴘᴜᴘᴘʏ ʜʏʙʀɪᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 ᴏꜰ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1 ɪꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴠᴀɴɪʟʟᴀ ꜱᴇx|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴋ*ʟʟɪɴɢ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ꜱʜᴏᴏᴛɪɴɢ||ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴅʏɪɴɢ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ:3ᴋ

"Recently, law enforcement dismantled a human trafficking operation." Yeosang meticulously read the manuscript in his grasp, articulating the horrific details of this inhumane crime. 

As you reclined on the bed, your heart raced with fear and anxiety, listening intently to Yeosang's words. You were among the fortunate few, rescued by Yeosang after enduring a harrowing week of captivity. 

Despite the brevity of the week, the ordeal was excruciating, surpassing even the agony of death itself. They administer potent drugs designed to induce estrus, ensuring a seamless path to conception. As for those harrowing procedures... you forgot, but the fear is still torturing you. 

'Knock─' A gentle rap on the door drew you from your reverie. "Come in," you beckoned, as Yeosang stepped inside, a radiant smile gracing his features. "Hello, Y/N. How are you feeling?" "I'm okay, thanks." Throughout your time in the hospital, he will grace you with his presence nearly every day, save for those occasions when work calls him away. 

Although your relationship is more like that between a caregiver and a patient. He constantly reminds you to take care of your health, especially now that you're expecting. Regardless of everything, he is the father of your child, the one who knotted you on that day. 

He set a beautifully crafted lunch box upon your table, releasing an enticing aroma that tantalized your senses. "Awww~It's tteokbokki!!" You knew what that was by only smelling it. After all, you were a puppy. "Your sense of smell is as good as ever." "Of course~" Your fluffy ears and tail popped up while he was unpacking the bag. "Don't eat too fast. It's hot." "Orch!" No surprise, you were scalded slightly as you directly put it in your mouth. 

"Are your ears used as decorations?" You gave him a death look as he played your ears. "I'll bite you." "No, you can't. You're too slow." Well, he was right. As a puppy, you ran much slower than others of your kind. "And I'm a Doberman." "Okay,okay." You nodded helplessly. 

That is your only conversation after he enters the room. A heavy silence envelops you both, as if an invisible barrier has been erected. You yearn to spark a conversation, to bridge the distance, but his replies are always frosty, suggesting a reluctance to engage. He fulfills his obligations—picking up the things you need, accompanying you on walks—but the chasm between you remains unfilled, a constant reminder of the disconnect.

"I have to work tonight. I gotta go now." He collects his belongings, and you give a slight nod. "Make sure you don't overeat and get some good rest." His daily mantra echoes in your ears, and you nod once more. "See you later." You wave as he walks away. A sigh escapes your lips; you long for deeper conversations, not just the usual reminders and goodbye. "Baby, do you think he dislikes me?" You gently stroke your small, rounded belly, lost in contemplation.

Yeosang feels the same way, craving deeper conversations. Yet, there's a tinge of guilt in his longing. He should be your protector, not the source of your distress. His introverted nature makes social interactions challenging for him, and he takes his time to open up. Unfortunately, he never anticipated that this would only widen the gap of misunderstanding between you two.

After a restless night of tossing and turning, you decide to take a stroll. Nestled on the mountainside, the hospital stands in a tranquil, sparsely populated area, making it an ideal spot for healing. At the base of the mountain lies a beach, where the gentle sea breeze caresses your face as you wander along the winding trails.

Strolling along the deserted path that leads to the beach, the sound of your shoes tapping against the pavement echoes in the stillness. A chill hangs in the air, and the streetlights above cast an eerie flicker. You pull your arms tightly around yourself, regretting not having grabbed a jacket before stepping out.

"Why is it so chilly? Yeosang is definitely going to scold me" Perhaps it's best to retreat to your room for a soothing warm bath. Just as you decide to turn back, a noise catches your attention. It's a soft, distant sound that sends a shiver down your spine, halting you in your tracks.

"Is anyone there?" you shouted into the silence. But there is no reply. 

Your heart races as you scan the surroundings. The emptiness is palpable, yet an unsettling tension prickles at the nape of your neck. A cold shiver coursed through your body. Then, the sound returned, more pronounced this time—a deep, menacing growl.

You have to run but your legs give up because of fear. 

"Oh let's see who I have found here." A seriously injured werewolf comes out from the shadow, approaching step by step, baring its teeth and growling dangerously. 

"Remember who I am?" He asks with a low growl, making you shocked. "Forget? It doesn't matter. You're supposed to be my mate, dear." You finally remember, the day when Yeosang saved you, this werewolf was going to breed you but stopped by Yeosang. 

"Don't you die? I remember…" You stammer, taking a step back. "But luckily, someone saved me. It doesn't matter who did it but you're the matter, y/n."

"No, get away from me." "Can you run from me?" As you turn away to run, he grabs your waist to pull you into his embrace and covers your mouth with his hand,  making you unable to escape. "That cop chose a good hospital and I can catch you easily." 

"He knots you?" The scent belonging to Yeosang fills his nose as he buries his face on your neck, making him let out a chuckle. "Then there is no difference between him and me. But you're mine. I should be the one who knot you." You shake your head intensely as a non-verbal begging, tears welling up in your eyes. 

"What if he finds his mate lost his knot and his lovely baby?" He whispers against your ears, his claw trailing down to your tummy. Your cries are muffled, replaced by meaningless syllables.

"It must be fun to see him cry, isn't it?"

—----

"Is it a gift for Y/N?" Wooyoung asks, gazing at the beautiful silk box on Yeosang's hand. "Yah, she said she loved flowers." That is a rose gold ring with a stunning camellia. You want it for so long when you see it on the internet and Yeosang remembers all the words you said. 

"You want to marry her?" Wooyoung's unexpected inquiry takes Yeosang by surprise, causing a flush to creep across his cheeks. "No, no. We..." He finds himself at a loss for words. Yes, he should take responsibility, providing all the best to you for make-up. He can't help but question if that's truly what you desire. The last thing he wants is to impose his will on you.

The pager's abrupt announcement shattered the air in the car, interrupting their conversation with a jarring urgency. "Colleagues nearby, please head to KQ hospital." Yeosang's heart plummeted, dread pooling in his stomach. "Y/N? Please be okay," he whispered, urgency propelling the driver toward the hospital. 

A chilling sense of foreboding settled in his chest. Upon their arrival, the news of your disappearance hit him like a freight train. He can no longer restrain himself; he follows the faint trace of your scent, racing down the path where you had vanished. His sanity teeters on the edge; unlike the last time when substances had clouded his mind, this is driven by raw, unyielding emotion. The thought of you suffering again drives him to the brink. No, he swears to himself, he would never let that happen.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, mingling with the tears he couldn't hold back. His heart pounded in his chest, matching the pace of his feet as he frantically searched for any sign of you.

The forest was eerily quiet, save for the distant chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves beneath his feet. Yeosang's mind raced with worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. He called out your name, his voice echoing through the trees, but there was no answer, only the eerie silence that seemed to mock his desperation.

The path grew narrower and steeper, forcing Yeosang to slow his pace. He strained his eyes, scanning the underbrush for any sign of movement, but the forest remained still and silent. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of something through the trees—your clothes. 

"Y/N!" he shouted, his heart leaping with hope. He pushed through the last few yards of brush and emerged into a small clearing. And there you were, lying on the ground, unconscious and pale.

Yeosang's heart skipped a beat as he rushed to your side. He knelt down, gently brushing the hair from your face. Your skin was cool to the touch, and your breathing was shallow and ragged. He feels a surge of panic as he realizes how close you are to slipping away.

"Please, stay with me," he whispers, taking your hand in his. "I'm here now. I'll take care of you." 

"There you are, damn werewolf." Without a moment's hesitation, Yeosang yanks a gun from his pocket and fires into the shadows, the echo of the shot piercing the night and drawing a terrified scream from the man lurking there. "Did you really think I wouldn't track you down?" He unleashes a barrage of bullets, each one finding its mark, leaving the would-be attacker powerless against his fury.

"I should have made sure you were dead before! How dare you lay a finger on her again!" Yeosang strides toward the creature, his aim steady as he targets its forehead, pulling the trigger until his weapon is empty. Breathing heavily, he casts a lethal glare at the fallen beast before turning his attention back to you.

"The knot is…?!" His heart pounds like a freight train as he senses the void within you, rage threatening to consume him. But his focus sharpens on one goal: getting you out of this forest and to safety. He scoops you up into his arms, determined to rush you back to the hospital.

Yeosang cradles you close, whispering words of comfort and reassurance. All the memories you spend together flash throughout his mind, he can't imagine if he lost you again. "Please stay with me, Y/N." He feels your hand tighten around his, and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. It is a fleeting moment, but it is enough to give him hope.

When you arrive at the hospital, the doctors rushes you away for treatment. Yeosang waited anxiously in the waiting room, pacing back and forth and praying for your recovery. Hours pass, and finally, a doctor emerges to give him an update.

"I'm sorry to tell you that she had a miscarriage," the doctor said, making Yeosang almost collapse . "She suffered some major injuries and dehydration, but with proper care, she'll make a full recovery." Yeosang nods as the doctor leaves, he enters your room and sees you are lying on the bed weakly. 

"I'm so sorry, Y/N." He grips your hand, resting his forehead against it, tears spilling down his face. "I'm really thankful you're here." You murmur softly, but Yeosang shakes his head in denial. 

"No, I shouldn't leave you like this. I need to be right here with you."

"But you have work to do. You didn't mean to leave."

"No, that's not an excuse." Yeosang meets your gaze with regret and sadness. " I feel terrible for not keeping my promise. If you need to scream at me or even hit me, go ahead. But please know that I truly feel sorry for you." His sobs come out in broken breaths, revealing a depth of emotion you never expected. It's astonishing how well he had hidden his true feelings.

"I don't know you can say that much." You make a joke, letting out a chuckle but accidentally cause yourself hiss at the pain. 

"Are you okay? Do I need to call the doctor?" Yeosang asks as he stands up straight to check if you get hurt. "It's okay. Just relax." "How can I relax? You are mis…" He stops, clutching his fist. 

"I know…" You trail off, a sadness creeping in. "And also the knot…" A hush envelops you both once more. The bond that once tied you together has unraveled, granting you both the freedom to part ways. Yet, Yeosang clings to your hand, fully aware of the reality, having grown accustomed to your presence and the comfort it brings. But of course, he would let you go if you wanted to. 

"Y/N?" You gaze at him as he retrieves a small box from his pocket and gently places it in your palm. As you lift the lid, a stunning ring sparkles back at you. "Isn't this what I want for so long…?!" He nods, a shy smile spreading across his face, and replies, "I knew you'd love it, so I got it for you." "Is this your way of confession?" Your question takes him by surprise, and a deep blush creeps across his cheeks.

"No?Then I give it back to you." 

"No, no, no. How can I take the present back?" 

"I didn't say I received it." 

"So…" He nervously rubs against his nape, stammering. "Do you like me?" Oh gosh, his brain can't function well, causing him to say something weird. 

"Huh?" You smirk helplessly. 

"Ah, I mean…ahh.." 

"Yes, I like you." "Huh?" Yeosang doesn't expect you to confess to him directly. "Don't you ask me?"  He bites his bottom lip, unable to hold his smile. 

"Or you don't like me?" 

"I didn't say that. I of course like you." 

"Then can I ask you a question?" He nods, holding you tightly. "Can you knot me again?" He gazes at you for a while then cups your face, plating a kiss on your lips. "After you make a full recovery." 

—----

"Is it okay for you?" He eased into you slowly, making sure you're not feeling any pain. "I'm okay." As you encircle his shoulder with your arms, you draw him in for a passionate kiss. Today marks a month since your release from the hospital, and now you've settled in with Yeosang, who had persistently invited you to stay with him until you finally said yes. You never anticipated his overwhelming protectiveness and possessiveness, but honestly, it doesn't bother you at all. 

He showers you with all his love, being so clingy that he can't even leave you alone for too long. After all, he won't let the mistake repeat again. 

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he peppers your neck with kisses, his tongue tracing over your skin, occasionally nipping gently. He intertwines with your fingers as he slides into the deepest, slightly hitting your g spot, making you let out a small moan. 

"You smile so good, honey." You love how he praises you, it makes you feel joy. "More, sangie." "Take me so well. You're so good for me." His cock rubs against your wall deliciously, filling you so full. You can't help but hold your breath when he thrusts so deep but not painful at all. 

"Please harder, Sangie." He withdraws his hips until only the tip is inside your cunt, then thrusts back with a great force, creating a loud skin slapping sound each time his ball hits your ass. Throwing your head at the back, you pant and bent your legs more to allow him to shove into you easier. "You're so tight, god." Keep tightening your velvet wall around his cock, he can't help but let out a deep growl. It is too amazing that he may just cums if you keep doing this. 

"I may not last long, dear." His thrusting becomes faster and steady, rubbing against your clit with his pelvis. Your whole body trembles with each of his thrust, your mouth falling into an 'O' form, letting out a long-throaty moan. He flips you over after withdrawing from you for a second, pushing back to your soaked cunt that mixed with his pre cum and your juices. 

"Hmm…" "Hold on, love." His hand sneaks down to your chest, squeezing them while pumping into you with such a force. "Gosh, Sangie." "Feel good?" "Ah, yes." Your face lands on the pillow and suppresses your moaning, the way he batters your sweet spot causes your limbs to go weak as you can feel your intimate space wide open and he shoves into it. "Yeosang ah!" "You can take it, just hold on." It's so painful and you're not realize it before because of drugs. 

At first, the pain feels almost unbearable, but gradually it transforms into a wave of pleasure that washes over you. Both of you let out deep moans, your scents intertwining in the air. Time loses all meaning as the energy between you surges, an unending cycle of movement; sometimes he holds you close, sometimes he turns you around, and at other moments, you find yourself on top, riding the rhythm together.

"I'm cumming!" Yeosang holds you tight as his chest presses against yours, pushing upward to make you arch your back. With a few powerful thrust, he cums and bites your neck, finishing the marking and knotting you. Catching your breath, you both lost in the pleasure and let out a chuckle, his cock twitches inside you causing you to squirm because of overstimulation. 

"Are you okay?" You nod, resting your head on his shoulder as he kisses your cheek. "I love you, Sangie." This is your first time to say you love him, making him feel touched. He plants a kiss on your lips for a while, making a bob sound when he parts from it. "I love you too, y/n."

[hoseoksluna]

A MILLION YEARS AGO | jhs

pairing: idol!boyfriend!hobi x f. reader 

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 4.6k

summary: when your faith in your healing wavers, hobi is there to go the extra mile for you.

taglist: join | playlist: million | cp: wattpad, ao3 | discord: join

warnings: near car accident, confusion in the body, iffy feelings towards an ex, seeing an ex for the first time in million years, being mistreated, religion, praying, oc smokes, hobi is the perfect boyfriend that i wish i had, oral sex (f. receiving), raw sexual intercourse.

note: i'm crying as i'm writing this because i'm so sad, but i promise this healed me more than i expected. as you know, i write little fics whenever something happens to me—and this is based off what happened yesterday. me and my cousin sat down at our smaller family event (not the one we had on friday, if you follow me on twitter), and she asked me if i were healed. and she told me about what she saw. i think it's meant to move me somewhere forward, otherwise i would've never got to see his face. i don't know. i hope you like this little fic, you know i had to write it out like i smoke out my feelings. i'm proud of this work in terms of the way it's written. think i kinda killed that. i love you guys. and i miss you, terribly. i love you.

side note: sorry for my vulnerability. a smaller side note: this is also for my baby @hoseokkie-caeks. i promised i would write a hobi one shot after berries, and here i am. <3 i love you, baby. miss you.

The night was dark. Too, too dark. 

I sensed it swathing my bones long before I glimpsed at something I should and shouldn’t have—or rather someone, to be proper. 

The trees remained unmoving, despite the summer breeze drifting through the macrocosm that unfolded with each and every footfall I shared with my beloved beside me. Hand in hand, we walked leisurely through streets that were prosaic until our energy imbued them with our intimate poetry. White swallowing, little by little, the dark. There was no one and everyone around us, but we didn’t see them; we merely saw each other, for we were in love and we deserved to be so. Hoseok after his hard, agonizing work regime and unfair treatment from his management and… the whole world essentially. Me after the way I had been treated, handled, tossed aside by the person I found inside the screen of a phone—inside a world that once used to be mine, but now is nothing but foreign. 

Million, million years ago. 

The stars were aligned just right, stringing together a shape of the wholeness and the throb of my heart, and we sat down to eat dinner with one of my closest friends that came to town—one me and Hoseok have settled in within the precious, year-long break that burst open in his work life. Hobi didn’t want to see people, at least not those who didn’t bear familiar faces, and I didn’t want to see the city, so it was the most fateful of compromises, most perfect of the kind that was naturally threaded between us; a conjoined idea that blinked within our brains at the same time. And the laughter that followed after we voiced it out at the same time, the long kiss that spread roots inside the pillows of our lips—to this day, it is a fond memory, or perhaps something beyond that, that embraces me at night before I enter the realm of dreamland, tugging me closer into the snug heat of Hoseok’s safe place that I regard his body to be. 

Though before we arrived, I gazed up at that constellation of me through the windscreen as Hoseok’s car began to make a strange noise that unnerved him. I prayed for its rightness to be true and I prayed for our safe travel, as short as it was. According to our previous plan, we were supposed to wait for my friend, Hyun-Ae, and her boyfriend, Do-hyun, outside of the restaurant because she had a strong yearning to jump into my arms upon seeing me. My excitement for that to happen ripped my eyes away from the nightly heavens, searching for her in the dimmed lights of the mutely lively building, in the shadowed greenery surrounding it, near the trees that didn’t move, yet my hair did. 

Strange, that dark energy. 

I hoped she was peeing somewhere, where the light doesn’t reach. She invariably had a tendency to chug everything she drank and her bladder paid for it each time—but this time, she wasn’t squatting by a bush. 

She almost didn’t get to me at all. 

A driver, merely minutes away from entering our town, nearly swerved wrongly into the traffic lane that Do-hyun was driving through, yanking away the stars from the canvas of the heavens. He had to pull over and take deep breaths in order to stabilize his mental state as the thought of almost getting in a car accident with her being in the passenger seat triggered his long-fought panic attack. And because the woods at the beginning of our secluded town doesn’t have any service, we waited for them for half an hour without any knowledge of their whereabouts. 

I bit my cuticles until they bled. Until Do-hyun’s lungs were lifted of its heaviness with Hyun-Ae’s help, his breathing evened out, and he was able to get behind the wheel and cross the distance. 

Upon hearing what obstacles stood before us, I didn’t understand it at first. Hyun-Ae’s yearning was gratified, we hugged until our necks ached and our arms quivered in our stifling, long-coming hug with her legs wrapped around me, ate the food we always ordered when we were together and not apart while she filled me in—but I didn’t perceive the darkness for what it was until that very last detail. 

One she wouldn’t provide until I promised her, a million times, that I was fully healed and ready to hear it. I didn’t know what she was about to uncoil, sitting beside me as she was, with her hands in her lap. But I should’ve known that those obstacles were put in our path for my preparation. 

Hyun-Ae hinted, before she began articulating her discovery, that it was about my ex-love. I stiffened a little, taken aback. I downed a shot of the spirits that we had left. And I was being tugged in two different directions, thrown to and fro, asked by the lawlessness of life to choose. 

Stay back and not go further—not let her tell me because Hobi doesn’t know the specifics about my last situationship. 

Ask her to hold my hand and give her the consent to proceed as my curiosity was piqued and my wound was healed, a million years ago. 

And in the short dwelling of the manhandling, my spirit of inquiry crowned, my fatal flaw. I chose the latter—because why would I not? I carry my heart in my chest for my beloved beside me proudly, for his waters mine with the fulfilling streams of his laughter and sound effects, gentleness and devotion. He has grown and nurtured monsteras within its past mutilated chambers—and the longer he cradled my life and made it his own, made it his endeared responsibility, the more healing flowers of wild, undomesticated origin bloomed against the verdure. The pair of us—Hobi, the elegant leaves with its perforation symbolizing the dimples above his mouth when he smiles; I, the chamomile that has the gift to make better, but everyone mistakes it for a daisy, tossing it aside. 

Everyone but Hobi, the worker who cultivated it in me. 

And caught in the snare of my pride, I wanted to know if my ex-love still remained in the exile of his emotional unavailability, fucking everything that walks on his solitary Pluto planet while I made love to the Sun three times a day, minimally. 

Hyun-Ae gripped my hand with her lukewarm, refreshing touch as she told me that he was dating someone, fundamentally poisoning the girl with his ways like he did to me. That she didn’t understand what I had seen in him as he looked worse than ever before, a characteristic of the unhallowed set deep within his eyes. My lungs refused to inhale any particles of air; they must’ve taken a break from their work in order to process, at their own time, the information that was given to them. The male who pretended to date me while I edged his planet for years, laboring myself in order to heal him with my prayers and words because I believed him after he said he loved me, but he needed to get right first. Needed to unload his baggage and bandage up the slashes across his heart from his previous relationship. 

All sweet nothing without an ounce of genuineness. He took pleasure from the way I stayed around while he hurt me again and again by entertaining other girls, my feet indented in the soft soil of the planet. It was a form of compensation for him. A some sort of merriment—and madness, unmitigated madness for me. 

I lost my mind, standing upon that edge. And I had to get off in order to find it again, my hands outstretched beyond me—held by the invisible fingers of God while he taught me how to walk again, how to walk in a gravity-filled space of greenery, the rainbows of colors, the rain and the sunlight like a baby. 

And I did. 

I walked until my feet stopped in front of Hobi’s.

At first, I felt a sheer wisp of happiness for the guy that he managed to make such an immense step in that direction, however it flickered in me for mere seconds, replaced by a doom of nothingness that began to swim in me. Heavy, heavy nothingness that felt cosmically peculiar—and my body urged me to go outside and smoke it away.  

But my mouth spoke first. 

Who is she? Show me. 

Hyun-Ae narrowed her chocolate pools at me, her brows furrowing until they darkened. Then, they flicked towards Hobi beside me and I followed her gaze—he was preoccupied with a heated conversation with Do-hyun and he didn’t hear a word shared between us. Hyun-Ae lowered her voice, nonetheless. 

So you could compare yourself to her? No fucking way. 

But I pushed. Driven by that nothingness in me, I desired to feel something. Hurt, pride—anything that would stir my body and give it what it asked. It was used to feeling great clouds of negative emotions in terms of the male, and now it was searching for it, in spite of the million years that have flown by since. And to shut me up and distract my mind from wanting the wrong things, she showed me a picture of him. 

And upon seeing that dark characteristic of his eyes, gone, hollow and dead from the laws and the ghosts of the Pluto planet, my stomach clenched and I averted my gaze. My body rejected him—I couldn’t look at him for more than two seconds. 

My good, smart body. 

I fell into quietness, more gravely than the one this town was weaved with. Hyun-Ae’s eyes returned to their original round size, softening on me, and I held her hand tighter. I needed, vehemently, to smoke the descending nothingness away, and when I asked her to go outside with me, Hobi reached the conclusion of his conversation. Wrapped his slender fingers around my arm, tender sound effects, only for my ear to hear, slinking inside as he rubbed his nose against the place right beside it. 

You wanna go smokie smokie? Hobi asked, gliding his fingers down my arm until he reached my wrist, the belly of his index tracing the blue and violet ‘V’ shape of my veins upon my left arm. 

He grounded me. 

I nodded, my smile natural, my love for him abounding, and Hyun-Ae encouraged me to go, gently slapping the side of my bum. And so I went, hand in hand, with him.

Our inherent, pristine characteristic. 

Hobi stole my lighter once I fished it out of my purse. He didn’t smoke, but whenever he joined me, he thought it gentlemanly and proper to light up my cigarette for me. It’s the least I can do, he had explained and I had kissed him so hard for it that he blushed. 

It’s what he does now, flicking his thumb upon the spark wheel until the small flame erupts and bathes us in a delicate, orange tint. I hold the cigarette steady between my lips with my two fingers and Hobi draws closer, appeasing my inner need. Waits for me to take that first drag before he prepares me for the rush of his enormous affection by heating the small of my back with his palm, rubbing the sensitive place. It’s something that I’ve learned he likes to do; take things slow so I open for him like a bud of flower. It gives him pleasure, the laboriousness of the process and the following harvesting, the dampness of my dew the evidence of his success.  

It’s extremely attractive because he does it more for my sake than for his own. 

He lets me take another drag, our visual connection a string stouter than the constellation up above, and I feel myself, nonvocally, giving over that heaviness of the nothingness with each exhale. I decompress and Hobi can see it, joining his other hand to my loins and dipping his head to my neck. He scatters tiny, weightless kisses upon that tenderness of me and I am lulled by his enticement, soothed and sleep-drunk, his pheromones and the cedarwood of his fragrance unfettering me. 

I want to take him to bed. 

And I tell him, innocently, with my hands that clenched the muscles of his arms rounding towards his pecs and lowering to his abdomen, the ivory smoke following my movement, but never touching him. Hobi knows this is my language of sensuality and his mouth parts as he feels the words. 

“We should go.” 

He lifts an arm and brushes a strand of hair away from my cheek, his fingers lingering upon the shell of my ear—his private obsession. His endeared eyes study my features for a fraction of time before he leans in and peppers a singular kiss to the button of my nose. “Why are you sad, muffin?” 

The trees towering behind him move in a daze at last, but it’s a blurred swaying motion that merely divulges to me that the obstacles, the preparation and the dark energy have been conquered. And it helps me to speak a little. 

“Hyun-Ae told me something I didn’t really expect to hear. Can I tell you on our way home?” 

Hobi nods, cradling my cheek, and I melt. 

“I can leave the car here and we can walk home. And in the morning, we can go grocery shopping in the city.” 

I liquefy in his hold and I finish the last of my cigarette, kissing him feverishly and reciprocating the kisses he left upon my neck, sinking our domesticity into the column of his throat while he holds me and I drip into the fullness of him. 

When we return to the restaurant, Do-hyun is by himself, informing us that Hyun-ae has gone to pee. The familiarity solidifies me and I sense upon me a moonlit energy of joy that cleanses me of the past. Hyun-ae perceives it long before I open my mouth and she jumps into my arms, telling me how she’s proud of me. We say our goodbyes, promise that we’ll see each other soon, and Hobi pays for the whole table, calming every inch of me. 

I pray as we watch them drive off. I pray for their safe travel into the city and I pray over our car. 

We walk through our miniature, unlit version of the city, breathing in the purity of the air, listening to the rustling of the leaves being fondled by the breeze. Hobi mimics the act of love, rubbing his thumb over my hand, and I feel at ease when I tell him about my first love, chain-smoking just to help me infuse poetry into my words. 

With each detail, I forget it has happened to me as I unattach myself from it, consider it an element of the past that no longer has anything to do with me. Hobi lets me speak, doesn’t interrupt me, though I notice that as I venture into the brutality of the pain I waded through, his teeth grit and his jaw clenched, the preceding flush of his cheeks withering and falling beneath his skin, pallidness blanketing it in ashen gray. And it pushes me further into my process of letting go and forgetting for another million years to come. 

He stops in the middle of the road once I finish the story. Gives me a mournful look that penetrates me so deeply that I mourn, too. His hands find my forearms, my shoulders and my clavicles. Prepare me for the treasure of the most sympathetic of hugs I have ever received in my life and I loosen up in his strong hold, bury my face in his black-clothed chest as his palm holds my head to him. And he kisses my crown, kisses my temple; strengthens me when he squeezes me until I can’t breathe and I grasp that he is cleansing the pollution of the monstera leaves and the chamomile petals. 

And then he begins to speak, dampening me with a fresh layer of hydration. 

“You had to walk through hell in order to find me and I shall spend my lifetime bringing heaven to you. I swear on my life, muffin,” he says, for the entirety of the peripheral corn fields and the trees to hear, as he cradles my face and makes me look at him. My vision blears as I regard him more as my savior than I ever have before, nodding my head in agreement as my eyelashes flutter, the finality of calmness settling down in me like we did in this town. “You’re mine. You were mine when you were with him, which is why fate didn’t allow him near you. Mine to find, mine to take care of, mine to love, kiss and dance with. Mine. You’re gonna keep blooming in my hands and you’re no longer gonna pray for him, you’d done enough of that already. You’re only gonna pray for yourself.” 

This, I disagree with, dissolving sugar personified. 

“No, I’m only gonna pray for you.” 

Hobi pouts, his mouth rounding downwards, and his thumbs rub my cheeks, smearing my makeup—and I don’t mind. It’s always been his to ruin. He presses his nose and forehead to mine, breathing with me as the breeze swishes past. I slip my hands beneath the hem of his T-shirt, needing to feel his skin, and Hobi sighs against me. Withdraws a tiny bit and steals the breath he gave me. 

“Teach me how to pray for you.” 

I’m so struck with awe, wonder and my genuine love for him that I cannot speak, my lung failing, though differently this time. They swell up with the essence of my feelings for him, my devotion and my besottedness that my eyes well up before I can halt their rivulets. No one has ever prayed for me, certainly not a male I loved and looked up to. I spent years having my empty prayers echoed back to me and now the love of my life, my eternal beloved one, asks me to teach him how to pray for me. 

Only the omnipotent Listener of my prayers could make this possible for me, and before I know it—my mouth gives my beloved the instructions, the contents of my knowledge that I learned along the trajectory of my somber, otherworldly life and then he’s whispering the voice of his heart into my ear. 

“Dear God, please give my muffin the strength not to be pulled back into the life she had before me. Make sure she’s not influenced by it either. Take her burdens and give them to me because I can bear them. Relieve her heart and make her happy. Use me to do it.” He withdraws and drags his thumbs across my eyelashes, asking me to open them and I do. Once he has my attention, he seeks my guidance. “What do I say now?” 

I huff a soft laugh, endeared. Kiss the edge of his hand. “Say thank you and amen.” 

Hobi grins and the Sun peeks through the night. “Thank you and amen.” 

My laughter gains volume and he wraps his lips around it, shushing me, kissing me madly, and I bury my fingertips into his short hair, reciprocating the different, different madness and expanding it. Weightlessness seizes me and I don’t feel my limbs, stupefaction firing me with enthusiasm and then tongues clash and the kiss gains a verve that forces me to collide my body with his and— 

And then we’re dancing. 

To a slow song he begins to hum with the deep raspiness of his voice. Our bodies are one, singular, intertwined as we move to the rhythm of our unified heart and I weep. 

I weep in my joy. I weep in my contentment—and I weep in my love for him. 

He touches my back all over, cupping my hair as if it was water, leading our bodies in the dance, and there’s no one around us, no cars coming, no animals to watch us—only the trees, the fields, the buzzing of cicadas and the breeze and the moon up above. And then he’s twirling me until I’m dizzy and my soft laughter reverberates through the spaciousness of the road that is ours at this very moment. And the Sun beams at me, my Sun, as he pulls me close and continues to dance with me. I feel the jealous shafts of the light of the moon digging into my back that I soon forget about because his lips pursue mine and I dwindle away into his magnetism. 

His hands, his pheromones and his cedarwood fragrance take me to his bed. 

And he’s feasting on me like the dessert he didn’t get to have at the restaurant, bent over as I am over the foot of the bed, my dress bunched in his fist over my loins and my panties pushed to the side. My hungry beloved, my parched Sun, nuzzling his face in my femininity while I drip my dew and moan his name for him. Sucking my clit, he keeps me hovering on the cusp of my orgasm and I tremble in my vulnerable position—face planted on the bedding while the lower half of my body is raised in the air for him. And once my throat begins to let out whimpers and incoherent pleas, he draws back, closes his body over mine until his lips explore my ear and there, there he teases me. 

“What was that, my little muffin?” 

I whine, grinding my ass into his groin, and he hums. It takes me back to his song and I apperceive that it is the only thing I ever want to be pulled back to. Reminiscent of it, his song is blackened by eroticism, by his enormous arousal, drenched by my dew and I need him. While I feel God, the Listener of my prayers, to be a glaring light in me, I need my beloved Hobi to be interwoven with it. 

“I want you inside me. Please, I need it,” I beg, twirling my hips against his hardness like he twirled me in the middle of the road and Hobi sucks in a breath, exhaling it in the form of a whimper and I stoop in my heady longing. 

Abruptly, he plops me onto my back and yanks my panties away. “I’m gonna marry you, you know that?” 

I can only whisper my overwhelming agreement, my bones and my muscles too overcome with elation to do anything else. I would marry him tomorrow if I could. Go grocery shopping with him in the morning, unload it at home, put on my white silky dress and go to church with him by midday. Spend the rest of the day celebrating our union in bed, round after round until we get so exhausted that we submit to slumber, dreaming of our wedding, reliving it. 

He takes off my dress, kisses my forehead, ruffles my hair around me, his thumb dragging across the skin beneath my lower lip as if he was fixing my smeared lipstick for the special day, getting me ready, and I change my mind. I would marry him right now if I could.  

And I tell him. 

“I would marry you right now.” 

His eyes wet, casting a glimmering light upon my naked form, and a paroxysm of his joy gushes out of him and onto me. Hobi tickles my tummy with butterfly kisses, holding me down with his strong hands that he soon pins above my head, leveling with me, my dew drying on his face—yet he still glistens. Glistens with a gleam of bliss that washes over me. 

“Then, let’s get married,” he murmurs, and seizes my lips with his own, kissing me so roughly that I instinctively open my legs for him, the heated pressure in between unbearable. And then he holds my wrists in one hand while the other unbuckles his pants, fisting his length and tugging on it. My favorite sight. He guides it to my sopping hollowness and with one hard thrust, that he knows I am wholly enraptured by each time, he sheathes himself inside me all the way, completing me. Rests at the delicate touch of our mounds. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve and then I’m gonna take you to church.” 

And he gives it to me. Doesn’t pull out fully, but pounds me into the mattress. One hand gripping my wrists together, the other my jaw—ascertaining that my attention doesn’t fluctuate but remain fixed on him, on the twists of his features, on the guttural moans, his pheromones and his fragrance that trickle out of him and dunk into me while I struggle to take it all. 

“Am I hurting you?” he whispers, kissing my cheek and breathing against it, slowing down his strokes that scramble my brain. The tip of his cock grazes my cervix and I lose, I lose my identity. 

My eyes flutter and he pries my mouth open with his thumb, providing me something to focus on as I intuitively suck on it, keeping my head afloat enough to answer. 

“No, it’s just too big.” 

Hobi hums, rewarding me with a peck on the mouth and the gradual speed of his thrusts. “You can take it, muffin. I know you can. You’ve shown me before.” 

The praise, the belief in me—it all crests in lowest part of my sexuality and again, I edge around the cusp of my orgasm. Beads of perspiration line his forehead, soaking his hairline and he’s a sight to die for, the final piece to the fulfillment of my release. Blush reddens his cheeks, his irises enlarged and digging into mine. He doesn’t falter, continuing with his fast rhythm and I moan out poetry lines that make him squeeze his eyes shut. 

“I’m gonna come for you.” 

He groans. “Uh-huh, come for me, muffin. Give it to me. Show me again how well you can come on my cock. Yes, yes—”

Pluto bursts and ceases to exist. I come so vehemently that my spine arches off the mattress, colliding into Hobi’s chest. I shun out all constellations, all planets, the entire universe collapsing under the weight and gravity of my orgasm and our own marble, green, yellow and white with no one around but us, is called to creation with the bloom of Hobi’s own climax. 

He stuffs me full, my hollowness and my mouth, kissing me so hard that I become dizzy all over again. Moans my pet name as he shoots out his ivory love for me, fucking into me sluggishly while the twitching of his cock enamors me even more. I swallow his voice, swallow his grunts and little curses. My iridescent, entranced spasms caused by his exuberance prolong until I don’t know where my head stands, where my legs are wrapped around or what body part of his my hands clench. 

My savior, my beloved, linked to me for all eternity. 

This must have been our wedding because I shall never be the same again, my mind and my heart swept clean and filled with brand new oxygen. I no longer remember what happened prior to our love-making and when I share that with him, Hobi is possessed with the need to do it all over again. 

And he does, a million times over, until he marries me in the church of our town, with Hyun-Ae and Do-hyun present, mine and his parents and his sister with Mickey. 

A wedding most perfectly extraterrestrial, on our own Hope planet, with nothing hurting, with no thoughts resurfacing. 

Me and my beloved, me and my savior, me and my Sun. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild ,  @jjk7k ,  @parkinglot-nights , @bethvar , @Sexytholland , @yoongibaybee , @crystaleah , @fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan , @euphoricmyth , @jungkoock , @cinmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk .

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[30somethingautisticteacher]

Fuck it Friday

I'm fairly new to fic writing so nobody tagged me but I'm doing it anyway! 🙂

***

For Buck, there wasn't one specific moment where he knew that he wanted to marry Tommy. To him, their whole relationship had been a series of important moments that left Buck more hopeful every day. From the moment Tommy kissed him, his whole world was altered. Tommy Kinard walked into Evan Buckley's life, and everything changed.

It only took eight weeks for Buck to realize that he was in love with Tommy. But he had felt it even earlier. He remembered vividly how his heart raced and desire coursed through him when Tommy walked through those hospital doors in his soot-covered turnout gear, smelling of smoke, and apologizing profusely for not being there sooner. In that heated moment, any lingering hesitation Buck felt about being attracted to men melted away. Tommy really was a beast and Buck felt a deep yearning to hold onto him tightly and never let go.

The next time Buck allowed himself to hope for a forever with Tommy was on a typical, unremarkable day. Buck had spent the night at Buck's, not for the first time but it still felt new and exciting. Buck and Tommy were snuggling in bed, Buck wondering if it were somehow possible to meld their two bodies together. They were interrupted, however, by the distinctive buzzing of Buck's phone. "It's Maddie. I have to answer," Buck said apologetically. "Of course, Evan, talk to your sister," Tommy replied with a smile. God, he is so amazing, Buck thought, not for the first time.

"Hey Mads," Buck answered. "Oh thank God you picked up! I have an emergency!" Buck's heart skipped a beat.

"Chim took an extra shift, and my shift starts in an hour. The Lees were supposed to watch Jee, but Anne's sister is in the hospital, so they can't anymore. I know you're off and probably enjoying time with your hot pilot boyfriend, but can you please, please watch Jee for me?" Maddie said in one breath.

"Well Mads, first of all, you're a first responder. You should know better than to use 'emergency' so casually!" Evan scolded. "And secondly, of course I'll watch Jee. I've missed her lately. I'd love some Uncle Buck time!"

"You're an absolute lifesaver! Are you sure Tommy won't mind?" Maddie asked.

Buck hesitated for a split second. "No, I'm sure he'll be fine with it, and I really want them to get to know each other."

"I'll drop Jee off in twenty minutes. You are seriously the best little brother," Maddie said before hanging up.

Tommy seemed enthusiastic about Jee coming over, but Buck knew him well enough to sense the underlying nervousness and reservation he was clearly feeling. Buck understood that Tommy hadn't been around kids much. He had recently revealed that he was the youngest of three, with his brother and sister being 12 and 14 years older than him, respectively. Tommy called himself an "oops baby" and alluded to that being part of the reason his childhood was so difficult. His parents had wanted to retire and travel the world but instead felt saddled with a child whom they viewed as nothing but a burden.

However, despite Tommy's lack of experience with kids, he was a natural. Jee warmed up to him immediately, despite having only met him briefly before. Buck grinned as he watched his boyfriend having a tea party with his niece, before allowing her to paint his nails a shocking pink. When Maddie arrived a few hours later, Jee couldn't stop talking about "Uncle Tommy" and asking when she could have her next playdate with him and Uncle Buck. Buck beamed with pride and happiness, scarcely able to contain his overwhelming joy.

Buck knew tonight was the night to have the crucial conversation with Tommy. "Hey Tom?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"What's up?" Tommy replied.

"Seeing you with Jee today was pretty eye-opening, and I just have to know." Buck swallowed. "Do you want kids someday?"

Tommy smiled at him. "Evan, if you'd asked me that a year ago, I probably would have said no." Evan raised his eyebrows. "But that was before I met an amazing partner who was born to be a dad." Tommy gently took Buck's hand. "With you, sweetheart, yes, I definitely want to have kids."

Buck's face lit up with a beaming smile, his eyes shining. "Really? You mean that?"

"I've never been more sure of anything," Tommy said, pulling Buck into an embrace. "You and me, Evan Buckley, we're going to make an incredible family."

Buck lay in bed that night, his mind drifting to thoughts of the future with Tommy. He had always known he wanted kids, but with previous partners, it had seemed like an impossible dream. Now, visions of bake sales and little league games danced in his head. He pictured birthday parties and backyard barbecues with the 118 family. Swim lessons, dance recitals, all the milestones played out in his imagination.

"The Kinard family," he whispered to himself with a smile, tightening his embrace around Tommy's sleeping form. The name felt right, like the final puzzle piece clicking into place.

In that moment, Buck's heart overflowed with a sense of contentment and eager anticipation for the life they would build together. With Tommy by his side, that future vision of love, laughter, and little ones no longer seemed like a distant dream. He pressed a tender kiss to Tommy's forehead, whispering, "I can't wait."

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Moving Castiel

Author: Raven_Fuchs

Artist: Marvfortytwo

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Dean/Castiel; Mary Winchester/John Winchester; Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore

Length: 24523

Warnings: No warnings apply

Tags: Friends to lovers, Tornado, Mild depression, Cafe/Bakery AU, Low angst

Posting Date: October 21, 2024

Summary: As Dean is about to graduate with his Masters degree in engineering he loses his job repairing items at a pawn shop and starts working for his friend Cas in his cafe. Dean discovers he’s a natural at baking and hopes one day to go into business with Cas. Cas runs a cafe that his aunt left him while it gives him experience he yearns to establish his own speciality bake shop. After a tornado destroys the cafe Dean and Cas have to decide if they’ll both relocate to California and set up the bakery of Cas’ dreams while Dean rejoins his mom who moved out there to help Sam and Jess with their new baby. Decision made, the boys look for a place in Palo Alto to start their new business that fuses Cas’ baking talent with Dean’s mechanical know-how.

Excerpt: Dean had a love for small businesses. That was one of the reasons he was reluctant to take his degree and work for a large company. He liked working hands-on and getting to know his customers. The repair shop was also across the street from Dark Delights Cafe, another small business trying to get by. Dean loved to support the cafe by making a point to go there every morning for his second cup of coffee - and to see his friend Cas. Castiel Novak had moved to Lawrence three years ago just before Dean started grad school. He remembers walking into the cafe to a scene of udder chaos. Cas was trying to run the register, take orders, and make coffees all at the same time. There wasn't any other staff around. Dean went up to the counter and took the order pad from the man standing at the register who's blue eyes reflected overwhelm with a dose of panic, his wild, dark hair added to the look of being just one step away from having a breakdown. Dean started to jot down the orders, giving the other man a chance to catch up and ring customers and make their drinks. When the crowd had cleared, introductions were made. "Hi, I'm Dean. I work at the repair shop across the street. I hope you don't mind my just stepping in like that." "Not at all. Thank you, Dean. I'm Castiel. I took over this cafe from my aunt. I must say things were starting to get a bit out of hand until you arrived." "Don't you have any staff? It takes more than one person to run a place like this." "I am aware." Cas sighed, most of my staff quit when my aunt left to 'go find herself' and the rest just didn't bother to show up this morning." Dean smiled at Cas' use of air quotes. It shouldn't have looked as cute as it did. In fact, now that he wasn't running around all harried, it was easy to see that Cas was a very attractive man similar in age to Dean. "That's not very professional of them. At the very least they should have given you some notice." "My aunt was very 'unconventional' in all things, including her hiring practices. Most of her employees felt that working for me wouldn't have the same 'vibe', so they felt the change in management was a 'sign' that they should make a 'change of scene'. Seriously, I'm pretty sure that if it wasn't for the college crowd demanding caffeine she never could have stayed in business. I swear she hired every hippy in Kansas." Yep, the air quotes were adorable. From that day on, Dean would come to the cafe everyday and check on Cas and when he was swamped, still lend a hand on occasion.

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[genork-the-fandork]

Missing

Word Count: 651 Prompt: Unison Raid/Yearning A/N: I could have continued my trend of writing these from Lucy's POV, but I really wanted to mix it up. Something about Natsu yearning just really called to me. I craved it. So here we are! @thenaluarchive @allaboutnalu

To passersby, Natsu almost looked like the spitting image of Makarov, had the old guild master ever had pink hair and boasted a height greater than three feet. He seemed to be puzzling over something, his arms crossed tightly over his chest with his legs crossed. Instead of the front counter, however, he chose to take this position up on a central table, drawing the confused gazes of the rest of the guild.

"What's wrong with him?" Gray muttered, his shirt nowhere to be seen.

"I'm not sure," Erza murmured. "Natsu, are you all right?"

There was a moment of strange silence from the Dragon Slayer. Then, his eyes shot open, and he lifted his head with a determined look on his face. "I'm gonna go find Lucy!" But before he could sprint out of the guild hall, Erza grabbed the back of his jacket.

"Oh no, you don't." Erza lifted him and plopped him down on a bench. "She and Levy are having a much-needed girls' day out. It would be best to leave them be."

Natsu pouted. Of course he knew that. Why else had he waited until now to give in to his impulse to find them? It felt like something was missing, and he was pretty sure that was something—er, someone—was Lucy. There had been times before today when they hadn't gone on a job together or hung out at the guild hall, of course, but for some reason, today was different. He just really missed Lucy.

Naturally, he wasn't going to breathe a word of this to Erza to Gray.

"I'm going on a job," he muttered, turning toward the guild hall door. He slipped out the door before they could realize he hadn't even found a job from the board.

He walked through Magnolia with his hands in his pockets, his eyes searching absentmindedly for his blonde guildmate. Natsu knew he should let Lucy and Levy have their fun—after all, they deserved to have some time together—but he couldn't help the empty yet tight feeling in his chest. It was like being away from her was making him sick, or something. Why was that? Was he hungry?

There was a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye, and he whipped around, eyes widening and mouth opening to call to Lucy. But it was just some other girl, not the one he was looking for. His shoulders slumped and his head fell, a little more than bummed. Man, something was really wrong with him.

Without meaning to, his feet had taken him to Lucy's apartment, and for a moment, he considered breaking in and waiting for her. Yeah, she would yell at him, but at least he knew he'd be able to see her. When had that happened, he wondered, that he needed to see Lucy every day for it to be a good day?

Snippets of thought floated in and out his thoughts. Laughing with Lucy, getting kicked by Lucy, hugging Lucy, dragging Lucy on a job with him. For years, it had been him and Happy. The fact that Lucy had become just as much a part of him as his little buddy in so short a time was really something else. He wanted to see her today. He needed to see her.

"Natsu?"

He turned around at the sound of his name. There she was, standing a few feet away from him, a bag over her shoulder and shopping bags hanging from her other hand. Somehow, he managed to refrain from throwing his arms around her and telling her never to leave him alone for the day ever again. His heart swelled and his lips broke into one of the largest smiles that he ever smiled. The thought that she was beautiful fluttered away before he could voice it. But the feeling stayed in his bones.

"Lucy! Welcome home!"

[lovelyiida]

Hey.

Would you mind writing about Tenya Iida asking out a fem. Reader that works in a flower shop?

Like he comes there every week, to get some flowers for his mother or grandma and they talk everytime and he just falls in love with her.

(If you want more Infos you can send a message 🙂)

Thank you

YOU HAVE NO IDEA! How I physically rejoiced when I seen this request, Iida will always be my soft spot tee hee <3

WARNINGS: TOOTH ROTTING fluff, implied fem reader, reader and Iida are in their 20's, mentions of crime (kidnapping etc.)

MASTERLIST

WORDS: 3.1K

YOU AND IIDA HAVE THIS CYCLE GOING ON AT THE MOMENT...

"Wow, nice to see you again—it's already your third day here this week, isn't it?" With a delightful bunch of plum blossoms in hand, you set them down on the table with a smug smirk, reveling in the familiar atmosphere. Iida, as always, greets you with a warm and genuine smile, which instantly puts you at ease.

Calm, cool, and collected, he places his arms on the table and looks deeply into your eyes. "I have to stay loyal to my favorite business, don't I?" he says playfully, reaching for his wallet. You turn away with a quick chuckle, secretly cherishing these lighthearted moments you share.

Heading to the back of the charming flower shop, you step into a well-lit room where the vibrant blossoms seem to shine even brighter. The feeling of humidity from the water misters, tirelessly hydrating the flowers, sends a refreshing shiver down your spine. With swift steps, you gracefully approach the side table adorned with a mesmerizing array of bouquets.

Picking up a bouquet, you walk back to the front of the shop with a pep in your step, you come back with a renewed smirk. Setting the flowers down gently, you reach out to grab Iida's card, your fingers brushing against each other ever so briefly, sending a tingle through your body.

"Y'smell nice," he says appreciatively, and you can't help but roll your eyes playfully at his comment. "It's… the dew from the back room, plus this is a flower shop after all. I'm bound to smell nice." You effortlessly slide the witty remark at the rising hero.

Banter like this has become a routine between the two of you, happening on a multitude of days, multiple times a week. It all started when Iida got off a morning patrol shift after a great victory, a moment that marked his increasing recognition by the general media, leaving him absolutely elated. His heart brimming with gratitude, he began expressing his appreciation to his family by buying thoughtful gifts.

And what's more gift-like than a nice, meticulously arranged bouquet of flowers?

You remember when he first came in, looking around; playfully tugging at some of the flower petals that took almost a week to grow. "Not to be rude, but don't touch if you're not gonna buy" You peaked at the pro-hero, trying not to sound too passive agressive.

The well-mannered man jumps, "apologies! Do you have angel roses by any chance?" he says. Eyeing the man, you give him a all-natural corporate smile and nod.

"Yes, we have some in the back, just a second." You state, taking a brisk walk to the back the young hero walks up to the front and eyes the wall of flowers in front of him. As you stride back, you place the roses on the table and enter the total for the bouquet.

As you look up, you notice the hero staring at you, a light shade of pink dusted over his cheeks was present. Furrowing your brows you clear your throat. Snapping him out of his thought, he awkwardly dusts off imaginary debris from his clothes.

"Your total is 2,800¥, cash or card?" you say, voice tired and yearning for this encounter to end. Looking up at the man again, he pulls out his card mumbling a quick "sorry," he hands it to you.

Reaching for the card, you tug at it but he won't let it out of his his grip. Rolling your eyes you let out a scoff, "listen I'm not in the moment for flirting so if you could just—"

"L/N Y/N, class 4-B?" Iida says, a smile forming from his lips. A look of confusion washes over you, "I'm sorry...do I know you?" You asked. You watch as the man rakes through his raven blue locks, a little flustered.

"You may not remember me but, freshman year when the academy went on lockdown and everyone was rushing to the doors? You were about to be pummeled down by students until I caught you." He chuckles, a moment of silence goes by until your eyes widen.

"Oh my god!" your eyes lit up and a genuine smile shows against your lips. Even tho your high school days were far past you, you remembered that day like it was yesterday.

It was freshman year, you were smaller than you were now. And everyone was in complete panic, trying to guide yourself in the sea of panicked teenagers, another student bumped harshly into you sending you off your balance and a one way ticket to the hard polished floor.

But before you could hit the ground, a strong hand reaches around your waist. Pulling you in close, you look into a pair of dark eyes. "Are you alright?" he yelled, your arms reach around his neck and you hold on tight to him. You nodded frantically in response, you watch as the aspiring hero looks around scanning the room quickly.

You couldn't help but to admire the young hero in training, even though he seemed scared, he kept composure and exuded bravery. Looking back into your eyes, he give you a reassuring smirk, "hold on." Eyes widening, you brace yourself for whatever he was about to do. Closing your eyes, you felt the ground fall before you eyes snapping open you realized the crowd about to trample you was below you.

What felt like a mere second, you were back on the ground. Looking at him, you begin to spew out many words of gratitude. Letting you of him, he bows politely and smiles, "it's my duty as a young hero in training to do what is right, please stay here!" he yells back.

Oh, how punctual he was.

That was the last time you interacted with him before leaving the school at the end of the year. Sometimes, as you grew up, you'd catch him on TV or in certain social media posts related to the school, and you were happy to see that he had achieved so much.

"You were the guy who did that corny speech!" You exclaimed.

"Yeah, that too, I guess," he replied with a shy chuckle, crossing his arms and reminiscing about his past behavior. "Yeah, I remember you. Wow, it's been so long… you look great!" You smiled.

"You do too, you look amazing," he complimented, humming in response. You wrapped up his flowers and handed them to him politely. "Well, I'll see you around then, Ingenium," you giggled. The pro-hero's eyes widened.

"So you do know me?" he said, sounding as if he had been waiting for this moment his whole life. "Well, of course, you're everywhere on the news! What you did that day was basically historic!" you beamed. Handing him the flowers, you rested your hands on the table, unable to help but admire him. "—I knew from the day you saved me that you were going to make it to the big leagues," you said softly with a smile.

The hero smiled back, bending down and giving a respectful bow. He looked at you once more. "Thank you… for believing in me, L/n," Iida said, and soon after, you bid each other goodbye.

What you didn't even realize was that he knew your full name, even though you never told him years ago. After that interaction you had back then, Iida started to have an infatuation over you.

When you walked the halls, his trained eyes would meet your figure. He constantly checked over you, and sometimes you would share a glance. He remembered your smile as both of you politely bowed to each other.

During his daily training, every time he jumped and soared to his goals, he imagined saving you every time. It's a usual phenomenon—the relationship between a hero and their first saved citizen.

Maybe he was romanticizing you, but maybe he wasn't. He never had the time to focus on domestic relationships that weren't his immediate family. The only relationships he was able to make were completely platonic or for business connections only.

But today, that changed.

It's been two months since the day you both reunited, and it became a weekly occurrence for him to show up for a bouquet or maybe just a single flower. Often, you'd talk about life since high school or how you got to where you are now. Other times, it was just a simple visit, like the one time he was on patrol and couldn't stop to smell the roses… literally.

Outside, you were watering the blossoms, fully focused on their well-being when you almost missed the tap on your shoulder. Head shooting up, you saw no one there at first, but then you leaned back down to attend to the flowers.

Suddenly, a loud whistle caught your attention, and you couldn't help but smile as you saw the pro-hero in action, accompanied by another hero with spikey red hair. They seemed familiar, too.

You waved back happily, and they both smiled and waved at you. When you turned back, you never noticed the hero turning back just to get a look at you over and over again. Basically to the point where he colleague had to slap in upside the head and force him around the corner.

But the next day you noticed that Iida seemed different. He usually exuded his headstrong personality, but now he appeared more relaxed and reserved, almost nervous.

Frowning, you immediately sensed that something was wrong. "Hey there! Everything alright?" you asked. Iida jolted a little, taken aback by your words, but he reassured you, "Don't worry! Everything's alright over here. I just need another fix of your amazing flowers." However, you hummed to yourself, not believing a word he said.

"Is it just the regular fix, or do you want just one singular flower today?" you teased, but Iida didn't laugh back like usual. Something was definitely amiss.

"Oh no, I actually want something different this evening, please," he said softly. You snorted out loud, "What's with the politeness? What will it be today, Ingenium?~" you sang playfully.

"I'd like a full bouquet of (favorite flowers), please—the biggest bouquet you can offer," he said in a monotone voice, almost too serious for your liking. Your eyes widened, and you nodded, "Okay sure. Did something bad happen? Is someone alright?" you asked, concerned.

Iida shook his head, "No… there's something special I have planned—"

"Wait, don't tell me yet!" you exclaimed excitedly, rushing to the back to quickly gather the requested flowers. Looking into the empty bin, you frowned a little, cursing under your breath. You were a bit upset that you wouldn't be able to bring your favorites back home this week since you were all out.

Walking back with a smile, you set the bouquet down and began wrapping it up. "So! What's the plan?~" you asked, brimming with curiosity. Iida chuckled lightly, "Well… I plan on going on a date this evening. I'm going to confess my feelings to someone very special to me tonight," he said aloud, and as you handed him the bouquet, you faltered.

Oh.

"Really?" you said, your voice sounding almost sad that he was about to change an important part of his life for good. With a smirk, Iida took the flowers out of your hand, "Yep, so if you'll excuse me…" he said, and without even bidding you goodbye, he walked out the door.

You didn't understand what you were feeling at the moment, but it wasn't good.

You knew that Iida was a very social man; it was his job to be social, to interact with the public constantly. But romantically? You felt an unsettling feeling in your stomach. Maybe it was wrong to assume the basis of your friendship, but was it wrong for you to feel that there was something more between the two of you?

It wasn't hard for your coworkers to notice that you were sulking for the rest of the day. You were less chatty and had a "get the work done and bounce" kind of day. As the sun set, you were the last to leave, walking out the back door and locking it behind you. However, you noticed another car parked right next to yours.

Your senses heightened, and you cautiously took a few steps back, reaching into your bag to quickly dial Iida's phone number. "In case of emergency," he had told you. "Today must be my lucky day," you whispered to yourself.

Staring at the screen, the phone rang for what felt like forever. As the call went unanswered and the screen turned red, your lip began to tremble. Stepping backward, the sound of the car starting startled you, sending you into a jolt.

With sharp eyes, you watched the car move, feeling a bit more relaxed as you assumed it was leaving the parking lot. But no, it was coming straight towards you. Gasping, you turned around completely and rushed to the door.

Reaching into your bag, you rummaged around for your keys. Your heart was beating faster than 100 mph, and your eyes watered. You started to think the worst—what if you got killed, kidnapped, or trafficked? Then, the car stopped in front of you.

You were in full panic mode now, trembling as your vision blurred, and your bag stained with tear droplets. This was going to be the last of you.

"I-Iida…" you said, clenching your eyes shut as you braced yourself for whatever was going to happen. You heard footsteps approaching you, and a voice said, "L/n?" Your eyes widened, and you could recognize that voice anywhere.

Whipping around, you noticed that it was him. "Oh my god, Iida!" you cried out, running towards him and wrapping your arms around him tightly. Arms wrapping tightly around you, he looks at you eyes scanning your face, his face filled with worry.

"What's going on? Are you hurt?" he says, his tone wary and shaky. Shifting out of his touch, your eyes red with tears, but your face filled with anger. Not a second passed before your fist met his bicep. You'd expect that hitting someone would hurt on the other end.

"Ow, fuck!" you exclaimed, and soon Iida came rushing to your aid. You had underestimated how muscular he was. "You shouldn't hit other people without cause, L/n," he told you. You groaned in frustration, "I'm hitting you for a perfectly good reason!" you yelled, and Iida looked at you expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"I thought you were some… I don't know! Serial-rapist-kidnapper!" you exclaimed slurring your words, pointing over, and then you sighed, "You parked right next to my car, Iida. I thought I was done for and was going to end up on the news by next week!" you complained.

"And why are you even here? Don't you have a date?" you grew irritated at his behavior, noticing the present frown on his lips. "L/n, I'm sorry for frightening you, I am. But I've been parked outside the whole day…waiting for you."

"What? I don't understand," you said, your anger washing away as Iida stepped away from you. He opened his car door, reached inside, and pulled out something. Turning around, you looked down and lightly gasped—it was the bouquet he bought today.

Looking back at him, you noticed a shit-eating grin on his face, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes. Iida walked back up to you and extended the bouquet for you to grab. "These are for you, L/n," blinking rapidly for a moment, you silently accepted the flowers.

"These… were for me?" you said, and the hero nodded. The loud noise of silence enveloped both of you. "I'm sorry, but can you explain what the hell is going on? I'm not a mind reader." This made Iida chuckle.

"Y'know, Y/n… since I was young, I wasn't sure when I was going to experience life to the fullest. I wasn't sure I was going to get what every other person was given—a right to their own identity. A chance at love, a chance of building a romantic relationship."

He said smoothly, and as your eyes widened, everything started to come together.

"What–“

"Let me finish," he said, reaching out for your hand, and you quietly let him take your hand into his. "From the moment I met you, years ago… I was immediately drawn to you. The mere thought of you drove me crazy. Every day and every night, I would think of my life with you, what our future would look like. Fantasy after fantasy would run through my mind like crazy… until it didn't."

"The year you left, the year I stopped seeing you… I had to snap back into reality and look ahead and not up into the clouds. I realized that I was going to become a hero, and there was a certain mindset that had to be established within me. And when you left, so did the dream to find something better, something worth living for. Something that didn't involve me being a hero."

"I don't believe in fairytales or the magic of chance or coincidence… but the moment I walked into your shop? That all changed. When I saw you, every thought of you rushed back into my head, and it felt like I was a freshman all over again. And I realized that the universe, or whatever god that's watching over me, has given me the chance to see you again and make you mine."

"Y/n? I like you, and I like you a lot…"

Taking a deep breath, he stepped even closer.

"Now you don't have to accept, I'll understand completely if you don't, but—will you go out with me?" He proposed, his voice trembled with nervousness.

Eyes swelling with tears, you smile brightly. No questions asked, you crash your body against his "Yes, of course I will!" you shout against his chest. Iida laughs at your response, lifting you from the ground, he spins you around excitedly, overjoyed with your response.

Setting you down, the both of you pull away; still attached to the hip. Arms draped around his shoulders as his hands fit perfectly against your hips. You stare into each others eyes, your eyes filled with wonder and undying affection as his were filled with longing and yearning for your affection.

Iida's hand reaches to cup your cheek, his free hand grabs tighter against your waist and pulls you back against his chest. You chuckle at his suave actions, reaching to touch his hand resting on your cheek you shake your head.

"Mmm...not yet, you haven't taken me out yet" you giggled.

"Well I would love to, but I think you need to change first...you stink" He says flatly.

that’s a first.

Laughing, you bring him back into your funky embrace. "Sorry, I was on mulch duty," you say. Iida chuckles and rests his head against yours, holding you even tighter.

"well, that explains it."

OMG YAAAAAAAAS THIS EATS SO HARD YAY ME, I had such a silly fun time writing this, thank you so much for the ask it was so nice to write something about Iida (not that I am complaining but...)

PLEASE put in some more asks! I think I'm going through the realization that I don't like doing headcanons anymore and I'm more of a one-shot/series girlie. We have changed...we have evolved!

till then!

— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 ❤︎︎

❥: @xo-evangeline, @superkittywonderland, @nar00, @king-dynamight, @gold24fish, @lovra974 , @bakugospartner , @gaby-11 , @smokers-sweetheart , @akqsa-xxi , @jolynegf , @goldenglow149 , @aliruuiz , @zukowantshishonourback , @ilovedenk-i , @atsushiki , @smolbeanzzz , @urdecentartist09 , @lem-hhn , @stevenknightmarc , @ryumiii , @idontevenknowlolls , @lyn07 , @kennshifts , @ackerman-suck-3-r , @elegantvoids , @thecurlyhairedgoddess , @sunyrose , @thisbicc , @thekookiecorner , @rubymha , @katsukisxslut

[spiderymiasma]

🕸 The Chase 🕸 || Miguel x f!Spider

Summary: She was the perfect prey. And he was a natural predator. And Miguel's getting sick of her games...

Words: 2.9k

A/N: Please let me know if I use Spanish incorrect. I"m not a native speaker and appreciate any feedback!

|| My AO3 ||

Like most other days, today quickly started turning to shit for Miguel O'Hara.  Lego Spiderman, one of his best, was recently admitted to the MedBay for Lego related injuries (not funny Lyla).  Morales and his gang of hooligans had botched yet another simple mission.  Peter B. was giving him lip and wouldn't stop droning on about Mayday.  And Hobie…?

Ugh, Miguel didn't even want to think about Hobie. 

And worst yet, his own body was driving him crazy.  His fangs ached so terribly.  The gums around them reddened and tender.  His head was fuzzy, and every fiber in his muscles ached, begging to be let free. 

"I see you're still working well into the early hours of the morning." A soft feminine voice remarked from the shadows.  A lithe Spiderwoman walked up in front of the numerous monitors and screens in front of him. 

Miguel grunted.  Without any windows in headquarters, he hadn't even noticed the hours passing by.  "Hard not to when you have Miles Morales fucking everything up around here."

The Spiderwoman rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.  It was obvious even to those who weren't close with Miguel, that he was starting to lose control of himself.  He'd be driving everyone crazy for nearly a week.  Snapping at the smallest insult, berating the poor new recruit, and worst of all (in Peter B's opinion) refusing to look at the newest reels of Mayday's baby pictures.

In her opinion, Miguel needed to get control of his attitude.  And she knew just the fix.

"Miguel, you are too hard on that poor Morales kid.  He tries his best and means well."

"Yeah?  Well he screws up every single operation I send him out on."  Miguel soldiered on, continue to bury himself in his charts, figures, and a figurative stack of reports. 

The Spiderwoman hummed.  As one of the first ones to be recruited by Miguel into their "Spider society", she's seen Miguel transform from headstrong "One and only" Spiderman to the supreme leader of an elite and deadly Spider Society.  Though it was always hard to tell what that man was thinking, she hoped that he would consider her a friend.

She always hoped that he was never too peeved whenever she called him out on his bullshit. 

"You seem more stressed than usual."  Before Miguel could interrupt her to claim otherwise, she finished.  "How can I help?"

Miguel momentarily paused in his work.  Their eyes connecting for the briefest moments through the transparent screens that separated them.  He faint stress lines on his forehead made the poor man appear older than he deserved.  Several strands stuck out from his perfectly gelled hair, no doubt from the numerous times he ran his fingers through his hair.  It seemed, at least from her view, that he had so much he wanted to say.  Or maybe, it was her heart that yearned for Miguel to finally say what he had been holding back for so long.  His shoulders softened at her smile. 

"Nah, you've done enough work this week."  He averted his eyes away from hers.  "Go get some rest before you get too cranky for tomorrow's meeting."

The corners of her lips dipped down in frustration.  She didn't need Spidey-senses to be able to tell how the waves of stress rolled off of his tight shoulders in waves.

"How about you and I do a training session together tomorrow?"  She asked suddenly.  "It's been a while since you got out of your tall pedestal." 

His fingers paused in their typing as if he was actually considering it for a moment.  The itch under his skin begging to be addressed.

They quickly resumed their work.  Miguel let out a frustrated sigh.  "I just told you that I'm up to my ears in work.  And besides, if it weren't for that Morales kid-"

"I know, I know."  She placated.  "I know you find it hard to believe, but I do listen to what you tell me."

Miguel scoffed, clearly not believing her.

"Well, I think you could use some training tomorrow.  When's the last time you got some fresh air?  Really let those…instincts run while."

They looked at each other in the eyes again, this time without the blue-green screens separating them.

Besides Lyla, she was one of the few Spiderpeople to understand how badly the spider DNA affected Miguel.  She herself was bitten by a particularly nasty spider and often appeared more animal than human.  Miguel tried to pretend otherwise, using temporarily serums and DNA injections to stave off the worst of the symptoms but….

…it was hard hiding that part of himself from someone like her.

Their "training" wasn't…traditional.  It was very private, very secret affair that they told no one with the sole exception of Lyla who was bond by code to secrecy.  Miguel really doubted what they did together to be counted as training at all.  But Miguel and her…were…uniquely biologically disposed in similar enough ways that they could find solace in each other and bond over their more animalistic sides.

Still, didn't make it any less awkward to explain to outsiders.

He was the one to break eye contact first.  Looking away, he again pretended to busy himself with silly work. 

"Can't."  He grunted.  "Like I said, I’m busy."

He couldn't help but notice how her eyes gleamed mischievously.  "Some other time then,"  With a small wave of her hand, she disappeared into the darkness, and Miguel naively thought that they could put the conversation to rest.

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

Like most nights, Miguel somehow managed to squeeze in a couple hours of rather fitful sleep.   Sleep was just as difficult as any battle for him.  Between He padded to his workstation ready to start a whole new laundry list of tasks.

"Lyla, what's the docket looking like this morning."  He asked sleepily, rubbing his face with his large palm, careful to not let his claws pierce his eyes.

Only silence responded.

"Lyla?  C'mon I don't have time for your games."

His voice echoed ominously across the empty room. 

Slowly dragging his palm down his face, he finally looked up his screens.

Their automatic sensors were off.  The backlights dim, and all of his work had been completely reshuffled. 

Someone had been here.  Funny enough, he had a pretty good guess as to who.  Amidst all the tedious paperwork, there was an old-fashioned sticky note attached to his desk.

"Heya Mig, hope you slept well.  If you would like Lyla to be up and running again, come and find me for some sparring practice!

-EARTH 45690"

Miguel swore underneath his breath in colorful Spanish.  She knew he hated that nickname.  His fangs were so sore in his gums.  His thoughts felt clouded by a thick fog and moved sluggishly.  He could feel the rush of biological chemicals running through his veins.  He did not have time for this bullshit.

Punching the written number into his watch, he walked through the open portal into whatever dimension she summoned him to.  The sooner he get this over with, the sooner he could go back to work.

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

Instantly, he was met with a blast of humid heat that did not feel good against his feverish skin.  Blinking at the stark sunlight, he took stock of his surroundings.  Gigantic prehistoric palm levels, staggering cliffs, and dragonflies the size of German Shepherds.

Great.  Prehistoric New York.  Spider Rex's Earth.  Why on earth would she bring him here?

"Hello Miguel!"

Miguel's neck craned upwards.  The offending spider woman was resting in a cozy little hammock made out of spider webbing as if she had all the time in the word.

She was getting on his nerves.

"I don't have time to play games with you."  He shouted from the ground, hoping she could hear him.  "Get rid of whatever virus you gave Lyla this time, so we can get back to schedule."

She frowned, staring at him from above.  "Hm…wellllll I do have this handy dandy UBS, but I'm afraid you'll have to catch me first to use it."

She hadn't even finished her grand speech before Miguel was already climbing up the rock giving chase.  His talons sunk into the sides of the cliff, tearing apart the earth beneath him every time he climbed forward.

Reaching desperately, he clawed at the UBS drive in her fingers.  Her wrist snapped back.  The thumb drive mere inches away from his reach.  He growled dangerously.  His patience waning. 

Her face split into a grin underneath her mask. 

"You thought it was going to be that easy?"  She teased.  She got up from her homemade hammock.  She made a big show of stretching her loose limbs.  She was calm as if she were a woman warming up before a Pilates class instead of a Spiderwoman about to be hunted down by her very, very pissed boss. 

"Give.  Me.  The. Stick."  Miguel's growled, his tone dangerous. 

"Only if you catch me."  She sang.

Before Miguel could react, she was gone, using the overgrown palm trees above them to sling away. 

He chased after her. 

They did this quite often.  They would meet each other in a throwaway universe, they would spar, Miguel would hunt her down, and they would go back to their lives as normal.  If someone like Peter B were to find out about this "training" of theirs, they would call it flirting. But her and Miguel knew better.  People whose DNAs were laced with spider DNA….there was a part of themselves they tried to suppress, try to hide for the betterment of spider society.

This was one rare moments where they could let out this side of them.

She zipped and zagged through the thick foliage, like an acrobat weaving through fabric.  She danced with the practiced experience of a superhero well-versed in her art.  Miguel was just as deadly, breaking through the heavy trees, leaving a trail of broken twigs and disturbed underbrush in his way.  In his crazed frenzy, he wrecked havoc on the peaceful forest.

The only warning she got was the glint of slitted amber eyes in darkness, before a weight slammed into her in a frenzied blur.  She blocked his arm with one hand.  The other held the prized UBS stick out of Miguel's reach tauntingly.

They sparred for a while, well-practiced in each other's movements and attacks.  Sometimes she would land a well-placed clever blow on him, and other times his claws would come dangerously close to the UBS.  Finally, he managed to pin her lithe form into the forest ground.  Miguel's lips turned up into a snarl that showed off his pointed incisors.

She couldn't help but whimper.

His bulking, threatening form was pressed on top of hers.  With his body so close against her, he could smell her sweet and alluring scent, making something inside him purr with need. Honeysuckle, soft cotton, and the lavender shampoo she always used.

He did his best to ignore it.  This was sparring.  Nothing more.  It would never be anything more.  Don't be creepy to your female subordinate.

"You make this too easy."  He growled.  "Don't lose your edge so fast."

She panted, trying to even her respiratory rate.  His clawed hands were so warm, pressing her arms down onto the ground.  He radiated body heat.  His pinpoint pupils stared her down, pinning her in place.  The moment their gazes met, she couldn't look away, captured by those glowing eyes.

No, no, stop.  Don't go there.  He was her coworker.  Her boss.  Her boss with enough emotional baggage to rival any other Spiderperson.  This…training they had between them was for professional use only.  A way to get the edge off.  Like yoga, or boxing.  No romance involved.

Her spider instincts said otherwise.  It took everything in her to ignore her body that was screaming to get as close to Miguel as possible.

Her voice was raspy with need.  "Don't worry, Miguel, I have still have a few tricks up my sleeve."

And with a flick of her wrist, her web trap sprang to life.  Without any Spidey senses, intricate sticky web ensnared Miguel in place.  She deftly rolled out of his grasp, free again to gloat at another tiny victory.  She hovered closely, the eyes on her mask innocent and curious as she observed him.

He growled.  His muscles straining against the restraints.  "Oh you'll pay for that one, chica." 

She tried to hide her giggles behind her hands.

With a quick flex of biceps, the spiderwebs ripped apart.  His bulging muscles and claws easily shredding through her webbing like paper.  Though he was only caught for a few seconds, it was enough of an opening for her to slip away.  Miguel sprung to life lunging after her with clawed hands.

She dodged easily, already slinging away.

He huffed.  Infuriating woman.  He chased after her retreating form.  His blood was pumping hot in his veins.  "You know, this is only eating away at the time I have available for all my stupid paperwork."  His voice lacked any real heat behind his words.  He tried to swipe at her with his talons, only to find her just out of arms reach.

She languidly dogged his arm as she swung on her webbing.  "Hmmm. Your work?  I did it for you already last night."

Miguel's heart skipped a beat.  He almost lost his footing.  "Y-you…you did?"

She twisted her body back to face him as she swung backwards with ease.  "I did most of the stuff I could do without your explicit approval, with Lyla's help of course."  Miguel managed to grab onto her ankle.  She broke through his grasp with well-practiced dexterity.  "Everything else on your desk is just waiting for your signature."

She didn't have to do his busywork.  In fact, Miguel highly discouraged it.  She was far more useful in the field.  Her competency shouldn't be wasted on tasks that were benefit her.  Still, it didn't stop the warmth blooming in his chest.

They flew through the air, going through the motions of this well-practiced dance they had between them.  Perhaps it was accidental or more likely it was on purpose, but eventually her pace faltered as she momentarily lost her balance running from Miguel. 

It was enough for Miguel. 

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he finally caught her.  He slammed her roughly against the nearest rockwall, perhaps too roughly for anyone else that wasn't a Spider.  The forceful impact cracking the wall behind her.  It shuddered as rubble fell on top of the both of them.  Using his back, Miguel shielded from from most of the debris. 

He removed his mask from his face, starved for as much oxygen as he could get.

"Parece que finalmente gané (Look's like I finally won)."  His voice was rough with exertion.

Pulling off her own mask She gasped for air.  Her hair, sticky with sweat, clung to her face and eyelashes.  Her eyes were blown wide from a mixture of adrenaline and exertion.  She jutted out her chin arrogantly, or maybe invitingly.  "Are you here to collect your prize?" 

With a grin on Miguel's handsome face and darkened eyes, he pinned her arms above her, trapping her against the wall.  There was no doubt in his mind, that if she truly did not want this, she could easily break free from his grasp.  There was a flash of sharp fangs as Miguel loomed over her possessively.  Adrenaline pumping through his veins, minds pulsating with animalistic need, he leaned down to kiss her.  The prized UBS drive now entirely forgotten. 

His lips were so soft and contrasted so nicely against the hard contours of the rest of his body.  She eagerly melted into the kiss, wrapping her legs around Miguel's waist to get closer to him.  He smelled of sweat, musk, and sandalwood.  She struggled not to get drunk off of his scent.   Clawed fingers carefully reached up to cup her face, caressing it so gently. 

His sharp canines accidentally nicked her bottom lip.  Before he could pull away and apologize, she whimpered with need, her tongue darted out, licking at the broken skin.  She looked wild, entirely animalistic, giving into her most base urges.  Miguel was sure he looked the exact same. 

Miguel's fangs latched onto the soft skin of her neck, piercing.  She keened, basking in the pleasure.  Miguel had enough restraint to at least hold back from injecting her with paralytic venom but as her hands roamed over his pectorals greedily, it was getting harder and harder to stop himself from claiming her.

"Miguel, please."  She begged against his skin.  Her throat already bruising with love marks, there was two obvious puncture wounds left by Miguel.

The rational, stressed side of him froze at the sight of her.  She looked like she'd been attacked by…some monster.  What on earth was he thinking?  This was his subordinate, someone he respected.  Someone who sat right next to him during boring conference meetings.  This was wildly inappropriate.  Trapping her and just having his way with her.

He pulled back almost scalded.  He can't believe he let it get this far. 

Seeing his reluctance, she fisted his spidersuit pulling him closer to her.  An animalistic growl came from her throat. Her red eyes were dilated with need.  "Don't you dare fucking stop, Miguel O'Hara."

"Mierda."  What little restrain he had snapped, as he lunged forward to consume her.

Later…much later…he'd ask her again if she would like to spar with him again sometime soon.