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badgerbl00d · 5 months ago

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you've reached situationship central!

☆ characters: law, kidd (pt. 1)

☆ up next: TBA

☆ summary: being stuck in an on again off again (very indulgent) relationship with either the surgeon of death or captain eustass kidd requires a great deal of patience

☆ content: angsty, happy ending, nsfw, smut, complicated relationship drama, kidd is scottish, 18+ mdni

☆ a/n: hellooo i am finally settled at my uni and hoping to begin writing regularly again and start going through my requests (thank you for all of them by the way).. please enjoy me writing about my top two op crushes rnn <3

law:

#i’d forgive him so fast oops | 3.3k words

With Law, all of your meetings are at midnight or after, he’s painfully careful to ensure that no one has even the slightest clue of what your relationship has begun to blossom into– He’s scared of course. Anything could go wrong; his rationality is placed at risk every time you walk past him and he allows himself to indulge (even if for just a second) in the smell of your perfume– strong and floral. It lingers even after you’ve walked past him, ignoring him just like he asked you to do during the working hours on board the Polar Tang. Law does what he can to suppress the sting he feels when you, oh so obediently, listen to him. You do your job too well, he thinks, not even sparing him a glance if you’re not being directly addressed. ‘This is your own fault’, he has to remind himself. It pains him when the crew stays up late playing poker and cards and drinking alcohol, talking about all your hopes and dreams, when you entertain your crewmates with stories and he hears about how you’re there for them all in times of difficulty, a listening ear, a supporting friend, an emotional anchor to the crew.

Maybe, he thinks, I should end it. He knows that that’s the right answer, if you’re just friends he might allow himself to be welcomed into the radiance and warmth around you that he denies himself and has instructed you to deny to him. He’s too scared to lose you now.

On late nights, Law lays in bed, his room hazy from the cigarette he lets burn in an ashtray you gifted him and he thinks about the few direct conversations you’ve had about your… situation. That’s what you had called it, “Law,” you had said, “We have to talk about…”

“About what?” He still beats himself up over how he delivered that question, biting and poisonous. He can’t shake the memory of the frown it elicited on your face.

“Y/n, we don’t have to talk. Please, let’s not talk. Talking means we have to confront the reality of the situation.”

That was what he should’ve said. Instead his tongue betrayed him, acting faster than he could register. About what? Idiot, he thought.

You took a deep breath before answering him, “About us, Law. Our… situation.”

He had scoffed at you. Let out an indifferent huff, as though the matter was beneath him. His chest aches when he thinks about it now. The hurt on your face was so obvious.

“So talk.”

It was dark that night. He can’t remember if tears pooled on your lower lashes, or if it was a trick of the slight bit of light pouring into the dark room. He chooses to believe the latter option.

“What are we doing? I can’t… I don’t want to continue like this. Secret and hidden– I want to, I want to be able to talk to you during the day. To tell you about how I am and ask you about yourself I want to help you and be there for you. To kiss you whenever and hold your hand–”

“So do I,” he should have said, “I want that too.”

“You are there for me,” was his reply, instead, “As my trusted crewmate. And I never said you couldn’t talk to me, but I maintain my position. We can’t be discovered, the risks are-”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, sighing, “The risks? Our entire life is a risk. You think the crew would care? And what does it matter what you’ve said– it’s how you act. I’ve tried talking to you and you treat me with such an awful indifference Law. I respect your intelligence and leadership so please don’t act stupid.

What am I to you?”

He paused. Wrong move.

Your bottom lip trembled as you closed your eyes and inhaled. His memory doesn’t serve him very well but if you did cry that night it was now that the tears flowed.

“Okay,” you said, your voice incredibly soft. You had accepted defeat. He wanted to tear his skin off. This was agony. Why couldn’t he just say what he felt?

“I want you,” he says to himself now, picking the cigarette back up, placing it between his lips, “I love you.”

Three weeks too late, he thinks. The cigarette burns in the back of his throat, his chest filling with an uncomfortable warmth.

The last few weeks had been uncomfortable to say the least. You refused to talk to him, and he didn’t blame you. He barely saw you, the last time he’d gotten a proper look at your face was six days ago now. You looked beautiful, maybe he should have said something.

He lost track of time. An hour has passed now since he laid down to smoke, or has it been two? His head is spinning, never has regret gripped his heart so aggressively.

The aching in his chest tugs him out of bed and into the hallway. He finds himself walking toward the library where he knows you’ll be.

Where less than a month ago you were sat on his lap, soft arms gently wrapped around his shoulders as he kissed up and down your arms, buried inside you.

He missed your warmth, the way just being in your presence felt like sitting next to a fireplace, drinking a cup of tea. Your touch soft and reassuring, Fuck, he thinks, fuck.

The coolness of the metal floor jolts him out of his daze, he’s moving with a purpose now.

It’s not too late, he reassures himself.

The library door is closed, a warm light pours out into the cool, blue hallway from underneath the door. His hand hovers over the door knob for a moment, listening. Silence.

Law gently opens the door, and is welcomed by the sight of you fast asleep on Shachi’s shoulder, your crewmate’s arm wrapped around you.

Law pauses, Shachi looks up. He subdues the jealousy that quickly spreads throughout his body.

Shachi shoots him a look, as if to say, “I’m doing my best.”

Law’s throat hurts, speaking is too risky. He sends back a puzzled look.

Shachi beckons him over, placing his free hand up to his lips, “Shh.”

Law’s head feels like it’s about to explode. He can’t do this right now. His stomach twists at the sight of his crewmate’s arm around you. He was always so mesmerized by how you slept– envious, even, at how gently your eyes closed, how your soft lips parted once you were out, how deeply you slept.

His mind slips from him, replaying memories of how you’d cling to him when spending the night in his room, your arms securely around his neck, your face tucked into him. The sound of you giggling in the morning when he’d wake you up with kisses peppered all over your face and neck, trailing down and down your body. He inhales, trying to recollect himself– The memory of your body is overpowering. His hands clench into fists at his sides.

“She’s been asleep for about two hours,” Shachi started. Law’s chest tightened, two hours?

“I didn’t know what to say to her. She’s so… sad. Some guy, I think, broke her heart. Or, is currently breaking it. I don’t want to pry. Maybe you should talk to her?”

Law concentrated all of his efforts on answering his subordinate to avoid collapsing to the floor and begging you for forgiveness right then and there, Shachi be damned. His worst crime, in all of his life, he thought, is to have done this to you.

The thought of being ‘some guy’ that broke your heart nauseates him, he has to fix this.

“Captain?” Shachi seemed to have picked up on Law’s distress.

“Shachi,” Law started, his eyes fixed on you– his expression must have been something pained, or regretful, “Leave her here. Go to bed.”

Shachi’s brows furrowed. Law tore his eyes away from you to look at him, “I’ll take care of her.”

The redhead quickly picked up on the subtext and inhaled, about to say something but bit his tongue. Shachi gently removed his arm from around your shoulders, propping your head up on the sofa behind you and stood quietly, making room for Law.

“Captain,” he started, shooting him a look that wasn’t quite placeable. Disappointment? Anger? It wasn’t either, perhaps something in between, he decided you were capable enough to handle this yourself, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Law sat down next to you. He wanted to laugh. You had a way about you, even in such a moment of difficulty for Law, that made him want to give into you completely. God knows he had spent every second he’d known you fighting that urge. You slept on, completely undisturbed by any of the commotion around you. A strand of hair fell across your face, an obstruction to an otherwise perfect view. He brought a hand up to it, gently pushing it to the side, tucking it behind your ear. You stir, slightly.

He hates himself, he thinks as he brings a firm hand to your arm, and gently shakes you to a conscious state.

You wake with droopy eyelids, sleep still generously distributed throughout your body. It pains him to wake you, he knows you need the rest. He watches your lashes touch your rosy cheeks as you blink your eyes open, gathering your surroundings. You yawn, stretching your hands above your head, your shirt rising just enough to show off your lower tummy. Law curses whatever devil placed you in his life.

“Mmm.. What time ‘s it, Chi?” you ask. Jealousy rears its ugly head in Law’s chest at the use of a nickname for Shachi.

Law clears his throat, “One twenty three in the morning.”

You jolt, straightening your posture, upon recognizing your captain’s unmistakably deep, tired voice.

“Law,” you say, looking at him, “I was just leaving, actually. Shachi was supposed to wake me up an hour ago..” You adjust the hem of your shirt and push your hair out of your face. An awkward silence filled the room– an awful reminder of how fucked up your… situation had become.

You can’t bear it, Law can tell, any more than he can. Your discomfort is obvious and he hates to be the root of it.

“Well, goodnight,” you say standing. Your voice wavers.

“Y/n,” Law says, “Sit. Please.”

You wanted nothing more than to tell him to fuck off. You’d even rehearsed it with Ikkaku.

“Fuck you Law,” you’d practiced, “Fuck you and never speak to me again I never want to be around you. You’re so…”

That was usually where Ikkaku would have some suggestions:

“Immature? Selfish? Mean? Evil? Misogynistic? Fuck that guy.”

“Yeah,” you’d agree, “But I don’t think I can say that to him directly, he is the Captain after all.”

“He’s also a doctor,” she’d observed, “But you don’t seem very healed to me.”

These conversations replayed in your head as you sat down, following his orders.

You kept your gaze focused downward, your bare feet shuffled awkwardly against the carpet.

“We should vacuum this,” you said, “Feels kinda dusty.”

Silence settled between the two of you. It was unbearable.

You continued, “I’ll mention it to Penguin, um, I know he likes stuff cleaned a certain way. And, oh, right, I meant to tell you about the books we’re picking up at the next port. They ran out of the edition of the Watson book you ordered–”

“Y/n.”

You shut up. You could feel the tears start to well in your eyes. No, goddamnit, you thought, Don’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’m… sorry.”

You looked up at him, a puzzled expression on your face.

“No, you’re not,” you said. If there were any other noise coming from anywhere on the ship he would not have heard you, you spoke so quietly.

“No, you’re not,” you repeated.

Law inhaled, guilt had never had such a physically debilitating effect on his body.

“Y/n, listen. I am. I can’t sleep, or eat, or think, I can’t–”

“Neither can I, so, thanks for that. It’s been a great few weeks for me.”

He swallowed.

“Please look at me.”

You look up, your cheeks coated in two parallel streaks of tears. His eyes are red, the bags under them a deep shade of gray. He really hasn’t slept. You curse yourself as you reach a hand up to his face, and scoot yourself into his lap.

His strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into him, chest to chest, and he places his forehead against yours.

You feel a small string of tears fall into your lap. He’s crying, you realize.

“I fucked up,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

He runs a hand up and down your back, it’s unfortunately soothing. You want so badly to push him off of you- deny his touch and affection, but as his hand slows and his grip on you tightens, as he pulls you into him even further and allows himself to indulge in the feeling of your body against his you know that you’ve once again fallen into his trap.

“I can’t keep doing this, Captain.”

There was a time when hearing his title come from your lips elicited an unspeakably sinful desire within him. Hearing it from your mouth was such a delicious indulgence. Now he knows you use it to distance yourself from him- to avoid using his name.

“I know, baby,” he says, “I know.”

You sit up in his lap, wiping your tears.

“I can fix this,” he reassures you, “I promise.”

“How? What is there to fix?”

He’s silent.

“I thought about what you said, that night,” you continue.

‘That night,’ he wants to blow his brains out. That terrible night when he started this, when he couldn’t answer a simple question, when he started the downward spiral of the past three weeks, the tension between the two of you getting worse with each passing day.

“You’re right, Law,” you went on, “To not have answered my question. We aren’t anything. You’re my captain and I’m your crewmate– nothing more, nothing less.”

You both knew that was a lie. Here you were in the dim candlelight on the library couch, the navy blue ocean stirring just outside the glass window behind you, sitting on his lap letting him hold you. He pulled you into his chest, laying your head down onto his shoulder. You let him. It was a delicate thing, to play such a game of cat and mouse, your roles always shifting back and forth. You let yourself be pulled into him, sinking into his touch, arching your back into his chest doing whatever possible to be closer to him for even just a moment.

He brought a hand up to run through your hair, and rested his cheek on the side of your head.

The silence was less bitter this time. You both sit in it for several minutes, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck.

You try to resist the urge for a split second, and then, as usual, cave into his touch. You place a soft kiss on his neck (a spot of complete and absolute weakness for Law). He responds with a kiss on your head.

He inhales, and you brace yourself.

“Y/n.”

You don’t respond.

“I love you.”

Your cheeks immediately are covered by an onslaught of tears you hadn’t even felt forming. You sniffle, wrapping your arms around him tighter. He squeezes you harder, before making you sit up and look at him, face to face.

He’s given up. He’s never been more fucked than he is now. He watches you, your expression, for a moment. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, he thinks, cheeks pink from his body heat, lashes damp from the tears.

“Y/n, I am sorry,” he wipes away your tears with one hand, the other tangling itself into your hair. You sniffle, a frown settling on your face.

“I want you,” he confesses, “Always. I think about you always and I can’t sleep and I’ve been telling myself that it’s because of work but it’s you. I can’t sleep without you. I can’t think without you. Everything reminds me of you, my pillow still smells like you, your clothes show up in my laundry, you have jewelry on my desk I can’t escape you. I don’t want to.”

You softened at this admission, but with Law there was always a catch.

“But?” you ask.

He sighs, “If anything were to happen to you I’d be responsible. It felt better, safer to end, or deny things and keep you safe than keep going and risk your safety.”

“I’m a pirate, Law, I’m at risk anyway. Don’t lie to me, that’s not the only reason.”

He kisses your forehead, “I know, I know. I am worried about the risks of another crew finding out or, god forbid, the navy. But I can’t… be without you. I haven’t slept or eaten or… worked, really. I’m scared you don’t feel the same.”

You don’t what overcomes you in that moment, but the next thing you know your lips are attached to his, his hand pulling you into him by your neck.

You whine when he pulls back, ignoring the tears flowing down your cheeks.

He kisses your nose, your forehead, your cheeks as he wipes your tears whispering, “It’s okay, it’s okay… I’m sorry.”

His lips find yours again, and he kisses you more aggressively this time– it’s carnivorous and hungry, his grip on your waist tightens enough to bruise and you wince.

“L-Law, be gentle,” you whimper.

His grip softens slightly and he pulls away from your mouth to start planting sloppy, wet kisses on your neck.

You mewl, arching your back into him completely melting at his touch. Soft moans escape you as you tug at the hem of his shirt, helping him pull it off.

You run a hand over his abs, savoring the view as he helps you take your own shirt off.

“Wait, Y/n, wait,” Law manages to get out, his breath heavy and fast, “What are we?”

You laugh, kissing him, slipping your tongue between his lips. He moans and you ignore his question. You pull away a sticky string of saliva connecting your puffy pink lips to his. You can feel how hard he is beneath you, and grind down on it ever so slightly.

Law bites back a moan, throwing his head back on the couch leaving his neck wide open for you. You gently bite down on his neck, kissing it after.

You missed him so badly, no one had ever brought out in you what Law did. His confession immediately healed all the previous wounds he’d inflicted on your heart, wounds that only he would have been able to heal anyway.

“Law, I need you,” you cry.

“I’m here, baby, I’m right here,” he coos, holding you.

“I need you, always. Not conditionally. Not after midnight. Always.”

He sighs, a silent acknowledgement of his wrongs.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I’ve never… felt like this. I didn’t want to mess up, I suppose. Or ruin things between us. I’d rather stop this and still be able to see you every day than have you be mine and lose you for it.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Law. I promise.”

He places another kiss on your forehead, sleep begins to take over in Law.

“Law,” you pout, sitting up, “It’s cold.”

He blinks, taking a moment to process your words, savoring the way you say his name, “Okay, baby, let’s go to my room. Stay the night? Please?”

You think about it for a second, “Okay.”

“I love you,” he says.

You pause. His chest tightens.

“I love you, too.”

Law picks you up, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as he walks back through the Polar Tang, toward his room.

He smiles, you’re going to be upset about the smell of smoke.

“Baby,” he says.

“Hm.”

“Let’s tell everyone at breakfast, tomorrow.”

You perk up, “Tell them what?”

He laughs, and kisses the top of your head, “That you’re mine.”

kidd:

my fav scottish #pussypounder | 3.9k words

Your vision begins to blur at the edges, as Kidd’s grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly. You’d complain if you were able to form any thoughts other than enjoying the rhythmic slap of his hips against your ass, your mind numb as you begin to drool from the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your clit. You yelp at the sudden sharp pain of Kidd’s metal hand slapping your ass, it energizes you to match his thrusts halfway. Kidd loves watching you fuck yourself on his big, fat dick in doggy-style, his chest swells with pride at his ability to reduce you to such a pathetic, whiny personal slut for him. The sound of sloppy, wet slaps fills the room, a consistent tempo of plap, plap, plap.

“Feel good, lassie?” Kidd laughs, his pace never faltering.

“Mmmff, fuckkk Kidd, please don’t stop!”

“I‘m getting close, love,” his voice now slightly strained, “Where should I finish, hm?”

“Inside,” you beg, “Please, inside!”

You yelp as his metal hand once again makes harsh contact with the fat of your ass, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you let bliss take over, now approaching your own end.

“Kidd,” you whine, “Gonna… cum!”

“That’s right, lassie, cream all over me,” Kidd growls.

His thick accent makes your clit throb, and he can feel you tightening around him.

“Ya like when I talk to ya like that?” his hand moved from your neck to the base of your scalp where he roughly grabbed a generous handful of hair, yanking your head back as he bent over to kiss you.

“Mhmmm,” you moan, your mind completely hazy from the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, “Mmf mmm-”

Kidd pulls away, a deep laugh filling the room, “What’s that, love?”

“Gonna.. cum, daddy!”

Your captain’s pace slows ever so slightly, he savors every inch of pleasure he can draw from your drooling pussy– you know he’s close.

“Cum with me, sweetheart,” he commands.

It only takes a few more strokes before you oblige, sinking further into the mattress as you release your orgasm and feel Kidd finishing inside you. He indulges you in a few more strokes; he loves watching the creamy, wet mixture the two of you produce whenever he cums inside of you.

“Good girl,” he says as he slowly pulls out, before collapsing on the bed next to you.

“C’mere,” he beckons you toward him, patting his chest for you to lay on. You obey. He brings a hand to your neck, and kisses the top of your head before closing his eyes. He starts snoring a few minutes later.

To say sex with Kidd was amazing would be the understatement of the year, it was heavenly, divine, rough, passionate, wonderful. He knew your body better than his own, being with him was indescribably delicious. The sex you had filled your mind for days and days after, so much so that Kidd had begun to recognize it on your face when you were thinking about your latest encounter. A dazed, hazy look would cloud your eyes during meetings, dinner, days out in the towns you stopped at. It drove Kidd insane, knowing you were thinking about him that much– and, for the most part, he was always happy to indulge.

Pulling you (and your panties) to the side whenever he had time, Kidd was a very generous man when it came to you, always happy to give you exactly what you needed. After all, he’d tell himself, he needed you functioning at full capacity and if this was how he needed to remind you of that, who was he to complain?

He was just as entranced by you, though he’d never admit it out loud. More than once he caught himself seeking you out just to talk, to spend time in your presence. He’d come up with poorly thought out, half-assed excuses to be near you.

“Y/n,” he’d say, “Come help me in the workshop lass, you have small enough hands to fix this screw.”

Or, “Come hold this light while I work, love.”

“Come read with me, sweetheart, I need your opinion on the best kind of metal to use.”

“Grab me an apple from the kitchen, will ya, lassie?”

It was obvious to you, of course, given that it was a fault you yourself echoed through your own actions.

“Kidd, can you zip up my dress for me?”

“Kidd, could you fasten my necklace for me?”

“Kidd, taste this, tell me if it’s good.”

“Kidd, Kidd, Kidd…”

Everyone else on the crew found it endearing, you brought out something mature in their Captain– which they greatly appreciated.

“Looks like he just needed to be having sex regularly,” Wire joked.

You couldn’t disagree.

You and Kidd worked so well together, you’d found yourselves fighting back to back a handful of times now moving in sync with one another, not having to communicate, simply understanding how the other thinks, moves, works.

You lost count of how many nights you’d spent in his room, and vice versa. It was terrible to admit but you were attached. You slept better with his chest against your back, strong arm wrapped around you. Your day was better when you woke up to his snoring and got to kiss him awake.

You laid now on his chest, sweat drying on your forehead and back, wincing internally.

This wasn’t great.

Yes, you worked well together and the sex was amazing– but you hadn’t quite worked your way up to admitting that maybe there was a deeper attachment brewing, and you knew your Captain was definitely not thinking that way at all.

Besides, there was something freeing about the casualty of it all. Kidd was there when you were unbearably horny (which had been often, as of late) and you were there when he was (which, again, had been quite often as of late).

No strings attached! That was a good thing… Right? You were free to do as you wished, see other people, reconnect with old flames you crossed paths with on the open ocean, and there were no worries about childish feelings or getting hurt.

Right?

Kidd had fallen asleep, you could hear his soft snores and his hand that had been rubbing your back had fallen limp by his side.

Fuck, you thought. This wouldn’t do. You liked Kidd, but he was the last person on Earth you needed to fall in love with.

You slowly sat up, inching your way to the edge of the bed. You went to stand, when you were jerked back by a metal finger pulling you by the hem of your panties.

“Where’re ya goin’?” He asked, voice deep and raspy with sleep.

You ignored the heat between your legs.

“To bed, Kidd. Goodnight.”

He laughed, “Come lay down then.”

You were silent. Why shouldn’t you? You’d slept with him hundreds of times before.

No attachments.

“I… sleep better in my bed,” you said. Awful excuse, you noted.

“Alright then,” he sat up, yawning, “Let’s go to your room, then.”

“Kidd…” you started. You didn’t know what to say. What were you feeling? Attachment? Love? Had you ever really been in love before? What did that even feel like?

The nature of your relationship was unspoken but mutually understood. This, whatever this was, was casual, no strings attached, sexual, non-exclusive.

He sat up, making his way to the edge of the bed to sit next to you, “Somethin’ wrong?”

This wasn’t supposed to be hard. It was supposed to be fun, easy, a stress reliever.

“Um, yeah, I just– I started my period so I have to go wash up and stuff. I’ll see you in the morning,” you lied.

Something’s wrong, Kidd thought. Say something, he urged himself.

“Let me take care of you, lassie,” he said, gently placing an arm around your waist, “Think a bit of blood bothers Captain Eustass Kidd?”

You let out an unconvincing laugh, “It’s alright Kidd, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You stood, making your way to the door.

“Alright,” he sighed, lying back down on his bed, sure now that something was wrong with you, “But give me a kiss before ya go.”

You paused at the door, back to your Captain.

A moment passed.

Another moment.

“Goodnight then, Y/n.”

You walked out, closing the door behind you, cursing yourself.

Kidd lied back down, fully awake now. His stomach turned, something resembling nausea settled in his abdomen. Was he too forward? It hardly seemed likely that asking you to stay the night was out of bounds, especially when he had just been buried nine inches deep, emptying a load in you. He sighed, and rolled over onto his stomach as his mind sought a possible explanation.

You weren’t on your period, that much was certain. Not that he was tracking your cycle, of course. He definitely didn’t go to significant lengths to make sure his schedule was freed up when you ovulated.

Maybe, he thought, the feeling of nausea increasing, There’s someone else.

He dismissed the thought quickly, but it ate at him. You leaving so suddenly, not even offering him a kiss goodbye… You didn’t even look at him.

Kidd, despite the recent calmness he had, was still Kidd and the more he ruminated on the sickening possibility the more real it became.

That must be it, he convinced himself, What obligation does she have to me anyway? We’re not… together.

His chest ached, it infuriated him. He spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, contemplating whether he had any right to kick down your door and demand you give him the name of your lover or if he should simply never speak to you again. Should he ask the other members of the crew? He didn’t want to involve them; it was his problem, he decided.

When inspiration did finally strike around five in the morning, just before the sun had started to rise, he ignored the gut feeling that had begun to indicate that it wasn’t the best idea.

Tomorrow, he decided, when we stop for supplies I’ll find and flirt with a pretty girl. Give her a taste of her own medicine. With this resolution (that he had absolutely convinced himself was the best approach to the situation) he fell asleep, hard.

It was too cold, you thought as you lounged in the library of the Victoria Punk, cuddled up by the fire you’d had Heat set for you before he left. You had opted out of going into town, and since you weren’t able to cite lovesickness as a reason you stuck with the period excuse. You didn’t miss how Kidd rolled his eyes at you when you offered the excuse again to him.

The windows were icy, the temperature continuing to drop as it got later and later. It had quickly heated up in the library, you fanned yourself with an old copy of your favorite book. You passed multiple hours on your reading chair, in a hoodie Kidd had let you borrow months ago. Too bad he’s not here, you thought. You faded in and out of sleep, drowsy from the hot fire and the poor quality of sleep from last night. The sun was set when the peace and quiet was disturbed by the sound of a woman’s light and airy laughter. It carried through the ship, leading you to sit up and turn to look for the source of the sound.

Your chest tightened at the sight that greeted you, and you were never more desperate for something that could hide the expression of disgust and hurt you felt forming on your face.

Kidd sauntered on board with his hand around the waist of a woman you’d never seen before. She was wearing a dress notably similar to one you owned that he had complimented multiple times. The longer you looked (though you tried to keep it short) the more you noted similarities between you and her. Similar height, hair color, facial features, bodily assets. The moment you felt your bottom lip tremble you turned back in your chair, standing quickly and gathering your things, making a beeline to your room.

Kidd made eye contact with you on your way out, eyes slightly widening upon seeing your sweater.

Heat and Wire walked up on board the ship a few minutes later, and shot you a sympathetic look. It was no surprise to them that Kidd was being immature over a simple misunderstanding (he disclosed last night’s events to them in more detail than was necessary) and despite their advice to not follow through with his idiotic plan, he did anyway.

Kidd immediately knew he had fucked up, bad. The look on your face was enough to tell him that he had crossed a line and clearly had suffered a severe lapse in judgment. He immediately dismissed the woman, leaving Heat and Wire in the extremely awkward position of having to walk her off the ship– they made a mental note to make sure Kidd was on bathroom duty for the next month. He ran after you, but the door to your room was already shut and, he wiggled the handle for a few seconds, locked too.

He knocked every few minutes, growingly increasingly agitated at your refusal to talk to him.

Knock, knock.

“Y/n, c’mon lass, you misunderstood– I don’t even know her!”

“I was just… I was– ugh, I don’t know what I was thinking!”

“I wanted to make you jealous, lass, just open the door so I can explain.”

After the third hour of knocking to no avail Kidd resolved that he would simply wait you out, you had to come out eventually.

It was another three hours, nearly midnight, by the time you opened your door. Kidd was half asleep when you opened the door, and snapped back to full consciousness when he saw you.

Your brows were furrowed and you looked at him with more disgust and contempt than usual. He crossed his arms and blocked your path.

“Get out of my way.”

“Talk to me,” he responded.

“About?”

He laughed, your blood boiled, “So you’re not upset? About… anything at all?”

“No, dearest Captain, why on Earth would I be upset?”

“Just tell me what’s wrong.”

You scoffed, “Really, Eustass I didn’t take you for such an idiot. Get out of my way.”

He sighs, a smirk still settled onto his face, and moves to the side, gesturing for you to go ahead.

You walk past him, making your way toward the kitchen. You don’t fail to notice how he tags along beside you.

“Ugh, Kidd! What? What do you want from me?”

“Tell me why you’re upset.”

“You know why I’m upset, moron.”

“Tsk, tsk, that’s no way to talk to your Captain.”

You bite your lip, “I’m sure she’d talk to you exactly how you want. Stop following me.” You go to take another step, but he grabs your arm pushing you toward the wall of the hallway. He pressed his chest into your back, pinning you against the wall as he bent down bringing his lips to your ear and teasing you with a few kitten licks.

He grabbed your wrists, holding them against your lower back with an uncharacteristically gentle grip. Like he was daring you to fight back. You relax into his grip, arching your back to rub your ass against his bulge.

You hate how weak he makes you.

A deep breath escapes Kidd, sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. Your thighs are starting to get sticky. A soft moan escapes your lips as he presses his hard cock into the curve of your ass.

“Mhm,” Kidd teases, “Somethin’ else ya want to tell me, lassie? Go on, use your words.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you, asshole,” you snap back, trying to suppress the urge to give him the attention he so desperately needs.

“But how often do you keep yourself busy with other women?”

You break. His grip slightly tightens, his confidence faltering for a split second.

“Ohh,” he remarks, an infuriating smile settling onto his face, “You’re jealous.”

“No, I’m just bored.”

He moves your wrists into his left hand, his right wrapping around to the front of your hips and under your skirt. He runs his thumb along your slit, your panties dripping with arousal.

“Doesn’t feel like you’re bored, love,” he says, pressing harder against you, “Please, darling, tell me what’s wrong. I already miss you.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, “Right. And you really think I’m stupid enough to believe that? I’ve already told you what’s wrong.”

“I do miss you,” he laughs, “And, no you haven’t. You’re too smart to be truly bothered by my little stunt earlier. Somethin’ else is bothering ya– and don’t say it’s your period I know that’s not true.”

You pouted, refusing to answer the question.

He ran a thumb over your lips, bending slightly to be able to gently kiss you. You don’t fight back.

He lets go of your wrists and you turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders bringing him in for another kiss.

He picks you up and you wrap your legs around him, he presses you into the wall, slipping his tongue past your lips.

This is hell, you think, Just tell him you’re done.

But, then again, you weren’t. That was the issue.

Your chest was tight and your brain foggy as you pulled away from the kiss.

Kidd’s chest heaved with heavy, deep breaths as he began the process of regaining his composure. He slowly lowered you down the wall until your feet touched the floor. He leaned against the wall, his metal arm resting above your head, caging you in. He placed a kiss on your forehead, and cupped your face with his right hand, bringing it up to his own. You stood on the tips of your toes and he bent lower to more easily pepper your face in kisses.

“‘m sorry lassie,” he said, between kisses, “I’m an arse.”

A huge one, you thought.

You kissed him back, his lips salty with the taste of sweat.

“Forgive me? Please? I… You mean a lot to me. Don’t be upset, I can't take it.”

A smile crept onto your face. You placed a hand on his chest, it felt like touching marble. He was so difficult to resist– but your mind flashed you the image of his arm around another woman and you steeled yourself. You pushed him back, slipping out from beneath his grasp walking out of the hallway back toward your own room.

He followed after you like a dog on a leash.

“Y/n, bonnie lass, hear me out, baby” he pleaded; You walked just fast enough to stay out of his reach, “I am sorry, love.”

You kept walking, your poor Captain trailing behind you uttering pleas, “Y/n, slow down lass, let me explain. She doesn’t mean anything to me, I just wanted to make you jealous.”

You stopped, finally having arrived at your destination.

“Make me jealous?” you repeated, turning to look at him, an expression of disgust settling on your face, “By bringing her on to OUR ship, hm? That was your genius idea, Captain? How did that work out for you?”

He sheepishly looked down at the floor, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. His cheeks were pink with embarrassment.

“Why on Earth would you ever pull some bullshit like that with me? I’d have never done that to you.”

This did get a rise out of him, “Oh, you’d never? So leaving me last night the way you did– with no explanation and a half-assed excuse is any better? You couldn’t even look at me, you refused to kiss me! Kiss me. It only makes sense you have another man on your mind.”

Your expression slightly relaxed, “Another man– that’s what you really think? That’s what this is all about?”

Kidd was silent, his stubbornness had gotten the better of him.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to offer him an explanation.

“Last night,” you started, “I got scared–” “Scared? Of me?”

“Kidd!”

“Right, sorry, go on then.”

“I realized…” you paused, it was harder to say to his face than you expected, “I like you.”

Kidd’s countenance softened, “Well, lass, I’d hope you like me by now.”

“No, Kidd, I like you– I love–,” you bit your bottom lip, cutting yourself off.

Your captain’s eyes widened, before a sly smile began to spread on his face.

You ignored it, “I get that you don’t feel the same, I know this isn’t anything… serious, but–”

His arm shot out to wrap around you and pull you into him, you brought your own hands in front of yourself to push against his chest, maintaining the distance between the two of you.

“C’mere, lassie,” he laughed, easily overpowering you and hugging you into him, “You’re a stubborn little thing, ya know?”

You huffed, tears pooling on your lower lash line, this was all so frustrating.

“Look at me,” he said, lifting your gaze with a finger under your chin, “I love you, Y/n.”

You looked up at him and the sight of your pink, pouting lips and watery eyes made him dizzy.

He kissed you, squeezing your cheeks with his warm hand and squeezing your waist with the metal one. You deepened the kiss, slipping your tongue past his lips, reaching behind you to open the door to his bedroom.

Kidd understood your request plainly, picking you up and walking to his bed with you. The door shut with a harsh bang, drawing you both out of your momentary reverie.

Your captain gently placed you on the bed, pulling back to admire you.

“You’re the most beautiful woman on the ocean, you know?”

You smiled, blowing him a kiss. Kidd turned to lock the door and started undressing, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Your anxieties had completely evaporated since his lips touched yours, you took a deep breath to process your confessions to each other.

A smile made its way onto your features and your cheeks darkened.

Kidd made his way back onto the bed, and pulled you into him, where you laid on top of him resting your chin on his chest.

“I do love ya, lassie, I wasn’t joking,” he said.

“I know, Captain,” you said, visibly reassuring him.

“Shall I help you get these off, sweetness?” he asked, tugging at the hem of your shorts.

You nod but hold up a finger, you weren’t quite done reprimanding him.

“Captain,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Yes, lovely?”

“If you ever pull some shit like that again, I’ll kill you.”

His smile dropped for a split second before he started laughing, and rolled over to pin you against the mattress.

He bent down to kiss and suck at your neck.

“Eustass,” you said, voice flat, “I’m serious.”

“Mmm,” he left one more kiss before answering, “I know you are, trust me.

Now let me make it up to ya.”

669 notes · View notes

claramelooo · 16 days ago

Text

WOVEN FATES (16/20)

I bet you're so anxious, right? Haha we will have more revelations uhhh.

A beloved nonny asked me so politely to back with the warnings before each chapters and I'll do it for sure 💕

Warnings: manipulation, cnc, humiliation and depravation, angst and kidnap (you don't read it wrong) proceed with caution.

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio x Fem Reader

Summary: Distorted feelings take hold of you as you delve deeper into the mire you've been thrust into.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

Selfishness

The sweet scent of Agatha—the one that used to wrap around your senses like a safe embrace—now burned in your nostrils, nauseating.

Your feet were steady on the floor, yet it felt like you were falling.

The grip around your throat wasn’t tight enough to hurt—not yet. But it was a warning. A reminder of who was in control.

Agatha’s gaze held you like an invisible spell—intense, commanding. You recognized that gleam in her eyes. You knew what came after it.

Behind you, Rio slid her cold fingers along your damp nape, a wicked contrast to the heat rising in waves through your body, fueled by adrenaline. She leaned in, so close that you could feel the ghost of her breath against your skin.

“Tell me, honey,” Agatha whispered, her lips nearly brushing yours, a phantom touch lingering between a promise and a threat. “What did Alice say?”

The question coiled around your throat as tightly as her fingers.

Your mind spun.

What to say? How to escape? How to make them believe you were still theirs?

Your throat locked up. Air felt scarce—not because of the grip, but because of their suffocating presence. Rio was behind you now, her cold fingers gliding down your neck, playing with the damp strands of your hair.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, breathless.

“You really think you can hide something from us?” Rio murmured, her voice sweet, dangerous. Her hand trailed down your shoulder, slow, deliberate.

You swallowed hard. Your muscles were tense, your mind a chaotic blur.

“N-nothing. She didn’t say anything.”

Agatha laughed. A low, disbelieving sound. “Oh, really?”

Her fingers traveled up to your face, gripping your chin firmly, forcing you to look at her.

“You’re not very good at this, sweetheart.” She tilted her head. “You’re so transparent, so easy to read... That’s why we chose you.”

The word felt wrong in her mouth. Like honey-coated poison. Tears welled up in your eyes, your lips trembling, the knot in your throat scratching as you swallowed it down.

“She poisoned your mind, didn’t she?” Agatha leaned in even closer, her dark eyes devouring you. “That little nobody put foolish ideas into your dumb little head.”

Outch.

The insult struck your heart, your ego crushed beneath her words, your brain melting under the weight of them.

“You thought you could trust her more than us?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, confusion spiraling in your mind, driving you insane. You wanted to scream. You wanted to run. But you couldn’t. The walls felt like they were closing in around you.

“M-mama…” Your voice came out weak, pleading, powerless.

Rio cradled your face in both hands, her eyes an endless, unreadable ocean. “We won’t ask again, sweetheart…”

The grip on your throat tightened. You gasped, feeling the pulse of your blood beneath Agatha’s fingers, her floral perfume invading your senses, making everything even more suffocating.

“She…” You could barely form words, your breath shallow and erratic. “She said you’re… witches.”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Then, Agatha laughed. Low, husky, laced with mockery.

“Witches,” she echoed, as if savoring the word. Her thumb traced lazily along your throat, feeling the faint spasms of your struggle to breathe.

Rio exhaled a quiet chuckle, but her expression shifted… Something dark and stormy flickered in her eyes before she yanked at the chain of your collar, forcing you down onto your knees against the plush carpet.

“And you believed her, didn’t you, pet? Every single word she fed you.” Agatha whispered, crouching down to meet your gaze. “I wonder… are you really that innocent, or just stupid?”

Heat rushed to your face. The way she said it made your stomach twist. She knew exactly where to strike. She knew how to dig into your pride, how to make you feel ridiculous.

Rio knelt beside you, her fingers gliding dangerously through your hair. The touch was too gentle to be affectionate—but there was something else hidden in it.

Something sharp. Something that kept you frozen.

“Go on, pet,” Rio murmured, her voice low, controlled, but vibrating with something just beneath the surface. “What else did that little whore say about us?”

You licked your lips, your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

“She said… you only want to use me.” Your voice trembled into a whisper. “That I’m just a source…”

The air in the room shifted.

Subtle. But undeniable.

Rio’s breath paused for a second. Her fingers curled tighter in your hair, almost pulling, almost digging her nails into your scalp.

Agatha’s grip loosened slightly—not out of kindness, but like a predator stepping back to get a better look at its prey.

The silence was different this time. Heavier.

Agatha’s eyes glinted with something unreadable, as if she was carefully considering her next move. As if she was deciding how much fun she wanted to have before breaking you apart.

She tilted her head, lips curving into a slow, cruel smile, studying your expression like a cat toying with a wounded bird. The pressure on your throat wasn’t as tight anymore, but the threat still lingered—thick, charged, like electricity before a storm.

“A source…” Agatha murmured, as if tasting the weight of the word. Her thumb traced the line of your jaw, a touch almost tender—almost deceptive. “How curious.”

Rio didn’t speak. Her fingers were still tangled in your hair, but the way she held you now felt different. More rigid. As if she were holding something back. As if something inside her had stirred.

Your throat went dry.

“That’s what she told you?” Agatha continued, her voice too soft to be soothing. “That we only want to use you?”

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. Your entire body was stiff, every muscle tensed, instinct screaming that one wrong move could send you plummeting.

Agatha sighed, and then her fingers tightened in your hair. A sharp, sudden yank—pain flaring through your scalp as your head was pulled back, your throat laid bare. You gasped, wide eyes meeting hers, but there was no mercy there.

“And you believed her?”

You had no time to answer.

Suddenly, a rough shove sent you stumbling back, your knees nearly giving out. Your heart pounded, panic tangling with something deeper, something heavier, something you didn’t want to name.

“Hm?”

Agatha’s heel pressed against your chest, digging between your ribs, knocking the air from your lungs. Your body jerked under the weight, a strangled sound escaping your lips as your chest burned from the lack of oxygen.

And then came the fear.

It slithered inside you like a wild thing, whispering that this was a hunt.

That you were nothing but prey.

A prey running through a forest was alive all around you, shadows shifting between the trees, eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Wolves.

Encircling, guiding your steps to where they wanted you to go—because they knew this terrain better than anyone.

Then, at some point, you stopped running.

The woods fell behind. Ahead of you, an endless cliff.

The wolves drew closer, pressing your body to the edge of the abyss. Jump, or be devoured.

Fear pulsed in the pit of your stomach, burning like embers.

But it didn’t come alone.

Something else slithered alongside it, seeping into your muscles, your flesh, coiling deep between your thighs.

Adrenaline became something else. Something utterly twisted and dark.

You didn’t know if you wanted to run or sink further into it.

“Yes! I believed it!”

The confession slipped out in a sob, your fingers instinctively grasping at Agatha’s ankle—not to push her away, but silently begging for relief.

Agatha tilted her head to the side, as if watching a small, struggling creature. Her smile was cold, cutting.

Rio let out a low chuckle—but she didn’t seem truly amused. Her eyes remained fixed on you, analyzing every detail of your reaction.

You blinked, trying to clear your thoughts, but it was like trying to escape one nightmare only to fall straight into another.

This was definitely not normal.

The way your skin responded to their touch, the way your mind wavered between fight and surrender—it wasn’t normal. You knew that. But you also knew that normal had ceased to exist for you a long time ago.

How the hell had you not realized it before?

“Then tell me, pet,” her voice was a silky whisper, yet laced with something sharp. “If you think we’re so bad… why are you still here?”

The chain of your collar stretched in a slow tug, forcing you to lean forward, submission growing more and more evident.

Your heart pounded.

“I…” Your voice came out weak, almost unrecognizable to yourself.

Agatha smiled.

“That’s it,” she encouraged, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Speak, my dear.”

But you couldn’t. Because confusion burned inside you, a knot of fear and excitement tightening around your throat just as much as the chain.

“Because you are my mommies who have always protected me.” Your voice was small, hoarse with the struggle for air.

Shit.

That wasn’t what you had planned to say.

The words that left your mouth—you didn’t know if they were truly yours or some fucking of twisted spell they had placed on you, trapping you once more in a golden cage you weren’t sure you wanted to leave.

Agatha takes her foot off your chest, satisfied.

Rio caressed your cheek with the back of her fingers, the touch almost too gentle given how the tension in the room wavered.

Her fingers trailed down your neck, pressing against the skin still marked by the previous grip.

“Protection doesn’t come without discipline, pet,” Rio murmured, the collar’s chain still firm in her grasp.

You swallowed hard, knowing this wasn’t over.

“On your knees,” Agatha commanded—no rush, no raised voice. She didn’t need to.

Rio released the chain, but there was no relief—because the moment you hesitated, even for a second, Agatha’s gaze darkened.

“Now.”

Your body moved before your mind could process it. You get up from the carpet, placing yourself in a kneeling position.

Agatha stepped back slightly, and for a moment, you thought the weight of the situation might ease.

But then she extended a hand to Rio, who removed your choker without asking for permission.

Without it, you felt bare.

Empty.

Agatha brought out the bigger collar—the leather one with a leash. If you had a tail, it would be wagging wildly.

You knew what that collar meant, and you hated yourself for it.

For despite everything, still wanting it.

Still needing it.

The woman wrapped the leather leash around her fingers, testing its resistance before pulling it back slowly, forcing your chin up.

“Look at me,” she demanded.

You obeyed, wide eyes locked onto hers.

“Do you want this?” The question was ridiculous, you knew. Agatha seemed to know it too.

You tried.

Tried to find something within yourself that was only yours—something untouched by them, something that wasn’t a reflection of what they expected you to be.

Somewhere you could see your own reflection, not the perfect doll they had chosen to weave and use for their own gain.

But where was it?

What was left of you before Agatha and Rio? Before the touches that shaped your skin, before the words that slipped into your mind like promises too sweet to refuse? Before you learned to see your own will as something small, insignificant, compared to what they demanded of you?

It was hard to say.

Because, without the choker, you felt exposed. As if something essential had been torn away. The absence of the accessory weighed more than its presence ever should have.

It didn’t make sense.

It wasn’t right.

And yet, when Agatha fastened the new collar around your neck, something in you settled.

The leather was thicker, heavier. Made to hold you better. To keep you contained and obedient.

You should hate this.

You should...

But then, she asked again:

“Do you want this?”

Her voice was pure silk, but her gaze was iron.

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

Your stomach twisted.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

You should hate this.

Feel disgusted and repulsed.

But you were on your knees, surrendered to something you shouldn’t feel guilty for. And yet, you did.

This was a game.

A game where they knew all the rules.

A game where, every time you tried to resist, they pulled you back so hard that even the mere act of fighting seemed ridiculous.

As if trying to escape was just a performance you staged for yourself—to pretend you still had a choice.

The truth burned on your tongue, but you refused to let it out. Because admitting you wanted it was admitting you needed it.

And admitting you needed it was admitting that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t know who you were without it anymore.

And if you were nothing without it?

The thought sickened you.

And thrilled you.

And consumed you.

Agatha’s gaze never left yours. As if she already knew the answer before you even found it within yourself. As if she was simply waiting for you to accept it.

Because deep down, they had already won.

The leather brushed against your skin, tight enough to remind you it was there.

Rio’s cold fingers slid over your nape, moving slowly up to your jaw, tilting your face as if you were something precious.

As if you belonged to them.

And maybe you did.

Your heart pounded.

Breath short.

The knot in your chest tightened.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to run.

But more than anything, you wanted to kneel and never have to think about it again.

The words escaped. Low. Weak. Almost unrecognizable.

“Yes.”

Agatha smiled.

Slow. Triumphant.

Rio sighed, as if she had just heard something inevitable.

“That's a good girl,” she murmured, and the shiver that ran down your spine was uncontrollable.

And there, in that moment, in that silence laden with everything you could no longer deny.

You knew.

You knew that, no matter how much you tried to deceive yourself, no matter how much you fought against it.

You needed this.

"You disrespected us today," Agatha continued, her fingers sliding to the base of the chain, toying with the cold metal. "You let a stranger plant doubts in your little idiot head. Doubts about us."

Rio knelt beside you, her hand resting on your thigh in a way that should have been comforting, but only made your body vibrate with anxiety.

"And that," Rio added, her voice low, "can’t happen again, can it, pet?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could make a sound, Agatha pulled the chain back in a precise, short motion—a sudden reminder of who was in control.

You gasped, your eyes welling with tears.

"It can't," you whispered, your desperate eyes seeking them, seeking their approval. You were already feeling enchanted by their aura.

You saw Rio step closer, standing in front of you while your knees burned, aching from the position.

“That missed you, little thing,” she said, looking down at you.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. But instinctively, your gaze dropped. Her perfect feet.

The scar.

The tattoo.

The damn tattoo.

Faded black roses. Wilted.

They looked… dead.

Your mouth watered at the sight of them in this state. As if, suddenly, your life's mission was to keep them alive and well, blooming as they should.

To keep them alive.

To make them flourish.

"Come on—" She moved her foot, and you followed it with your eyes. "Pet."

That was enough.

Your tongue attacked the woman’s foot, tracing the weak lines, and it was incredible how you could feel it pulse beneath your tongue.

Your tongue glided over her foot without hesitation, following the faded contours of the roses. You felt something pulse under your tongue.

Something alive.

Rio threw her head back, lips parting in a drawn-out sigh.

You were lost in her.

The texture of her skin beneath your tongue, the way Rio’s muscles tensed and relaxed with every glide. The taste, the heat, the weight of her against your absurd devotion.

Rio leaned on Agatha, her delicate fingers digging into the other woman’s forearm as her breath came out in a satisfied sigh.

And then it happened.

The tattoo vibrated.

A shiver ran down your spine, a hot, wet shock between your legs. You felt it. You felt when the roses filled with color again, when the lines became strong, alive, blooming beneath your tongue.

It was insane.

It was magic.

It was them.

And it was you.

Agatha watched everything with sharp eyes, a satisfied smile curling at the corner of her lips. She knew what was happening. She always knew.

Rio sighed, fingers playing with your hair.

"Just like that. Good girl," she murmured, her voice low and indulgent.

And that was enough.

Your chest swelled with warm pleasure, a contentment so deep it was almost ridiculous. You should feel ashamed. Humiliated. Outraged for having been molded to this point.

But you didn’t even get a chance to breathe. Steps behind you, and then—your vision was taken from you.

The black satin blindfold heightened every sound: Agatha’s lazy steps on the wooden floor, the rustle of Rio’s silk nightgown as she knelt, the involuntary whimper that escaped your throat when the leash on your collar was pulled.

"Foolish girl," Agatha whispered, the surface of the riding crop sliding along your collarbone. "Did you really think you could keep secrets from us?"

The first strike came without warning—a sharp snap against your thighs that made your back arch, fingers clenching against the velvet cuffs.

"Fuck!" you cried out before the pain even faded, the protocol ingrained in your body. “I’m sorry.”

Rio laughed, low and husky, her hands firm on your hips. "So quick to humiliate yourself today. Do you really think forgiveness will come that fast?"

You felt something hard and pointed brush against your entrance.

Agatha leaned in, her cold lips ghosting over your ear as the crop teased your stomach. "Repeat after me: Thank you for correcting me, mommies."

"Th-thank you for—" The second strike cut off your words, this time across your back, leaving a trail of fire.

"Louder," Rio commanded, pushing her fingers into your flesh.

Your eyes rolled back as her long fingers hit the softest, most vulnerable spot inside you.

God… You were so fucked.

"THANK YOU FOR CORRECTING ME, MOMMIES!" Your voice rang out, soaked and desperate, mingling with the creak of the chains.

Agatha licked the sweat pooling between your breasts. "Good girl." The reward was brief—the crop hooked under your right thigh, pulling it open. "Now… let’s deal with that traitorous tongue."

Rio didn’t wait. She thrust the strap-on into you in one movement, the cold rubber stretching your already sensitive entrance. You screamed, but the sound was swallowed by Agatha’s ravenous kiss—teeth, tongue, possession.

"Count," she ordered between bites, the crop dancing over your clit. "How many times did you think about her when you should’ve been thinking about us?"

"N-never, I swear—" The lie crumbled as Rio quickened her pace, each thrust hitting the spot that made your vision blur.

Fuck.

How could you make them understand that Alice meant nothing?

"Tsk, tsk." Agatha yanked your hair until your vertebrae protested. "Little lies make the Devil giggle, little one." The crop lashed against your thighs in a waltz rhythm—one for guilt, two for betrayal, three for being such a perfect little slut for them.

"Please!" You no longer knew if you were begging for mercy or for more.

The black rubber invaded you with machine-like precision—unyielding, relentless. Your teeth clenched on nothing, but Agatha captured your chin, forcing your lips to mold around her clit like a sacred relic.

"More," Rio hissed, fingers branding your hips in wine-colored bruises.

You obeyed. Agatha was salty and hot, her juices dripping onto the fabric until they reached your lips. She gripped your nape, guiding your tongue to her swollen clit with a surgeon’s precision.

"There," she purrs, fingers tangling in your hair like a crown of thorns. "Take Mommy."

Agatha’s riding crop finds its mark—your clit—just as Rio thrusts deeper inside you. Pain and pleasure fuse into cruel alchemy. You moan against Agatha, the vibration wrenching a ragged gasp from her.

"So easy," Rio laughs, leaning down to spit on your marked-up back. "Three strokes in and you’re already gaping like a bitch in heat."

Agatha yanks your head back by the blindfold, exposing your trembling throat. "Confess," she orders, the leather of the crop resting against your jugular. "How many nights did you finger this dirty little cunt thinking of her?"

"N-never! I only—"

The strap drives home. Your scream drowns in Rio’s roar: "LIAR!"

Agatha slides off the bed, dragging you up by the hair until you’re forced to face her vanity mirror.

"Look," she commands, wrenching your chin into place.

Your reflection is a grotesque masterpiece—lips swollen from desperate clit-sucking, ass striped red, eyes puffy with shame and ecstasy. "This is what you are. Our desperate little whore."

Rio moves behind you, cold chain links clicking as she curls her fingers further into the leash, pulling against it.

"Repeat," she growls, tightening the leather and snapping her hips forward. "I only live to serve my Mommies."

The words spill out of you, effortless, uncontrollable:

"O-only... live... to—" The first tremors of orgasm hit, forcing Rio to still. "Serve my Mommies."

Agatha kneels, catching your collapse in arms that somehow soothe even as they cage you. "Shhh, our dumb little girl," she murmurs, tongue swiping your tears. "We’ll fix you. Every night. Until there’s nothing left that isn’t ours."

Agatha mounts you again, her tongue ready to receive you in the best way.

Rio resumes pounding into you. "Don’t you dare come yet, slut!" Her fingers pinch your clit, wrenching a scream from you. "We’ve got all night."

Agatha’s thighs clamp around your head, deliberately smothering you, dragging her slick folds over your face.

Marking you.

Owning you.

"That’s it, pet."

She grinds down, turning your mouth into her personal toy. You choke, lips sealing instinctively around her swollen clit, licking in frantic, messy strokes as Rio hammers into you from behind.

"No." Rio grabs your jaw, forcing your gaze back to the mirror. "See what a desperate mess you are? Even after knowing we’re just using you. You love this, don’t you?"

Fuck.

Fat tears roll as you gag on Agatha’s pussy.

You don’t love this.

…Do you?

Rio’s strap rams your G-spot with surgical precision. You shriek, but the sound muffles against Agatha’s wet flesh.

"Wanna come, don’t you?" Rio hisses, twisting your nipple until you arch. "Say it. Say you’re our personal fucktoy."

Fuck.

No!

Your body betrays you, legs shaking violently beneath them.

"I—I’m—" The orgasm builds, but Rio stops abruptly, leaving you dangling on the edge.

Agatha releases your face just long enough to study you—cheeks flushed, mouth drooling, utterly wrecked.

"Open, little one." The command is soft, but you obey instantly, tongue lolling out like a dumb, eager pet.

You’re a fucking mess.

"Look at you…" Agatha sounds almost awed—before spitting directly into your open mouth. "Your whole existence is just a hole for us to use. Isn’t it?"

No!

But your body nods wildly, delirious, as Rio’s fingers circle your throbbing clit. "Yes! I am! I’m just that! Please—!"

"And you don’t even care, do you?" Rio punctuates each word with a brutal thrust. "About any of it."

You know exactly what she means. God. You couldn’t give less of a shit right now.

Fuck your freedom.

Fuck your pride.

You just want—

"Fuck! No! I don’t care if you’re witches or whatever the fuck! Please, Mommies!" You devour Agatha’s pussy like a starved animal.

"Oh. Fuck! Mommy’s coming, honey." Agatha grinds harder, a long, loud moan tearing from her throat.

"Christ. You’re so fucking perfect! Our perfect little hole!" Rio’s hips slam into you, frantic, desperate for her own release.

You hear wet sounds above you—them kissing, filthy and deep—and fuck, you don’t know how long you’ve been trapped here. You’re insane. So insane you might’ve hallucinated their whispered chant:

Quod semel cepimus

Numquam reddetur.

Your mind whites out. Legs twitch uncontrollably.

"Come." Rio orders just as Agatha lifts her hips, letting you gasp for air.

You explode, gushing onto the floor, splattering both women. Your body convulses like a puppet with cut strings.

You tremble.

Muscles scream. Knees ache. Nothing matters but her taste on your tongue, the phantom throb of Rio’s tattoo against your lips.

Rio stares down at you, eyes gleaming with something unreadable—lust, ownership, something darker.

"You’re pathetic." Her voice is rough, savoring each syllable. But there’s pride there. Sick, satisfied pride, curling in your chest like a well-cast spell.

Her fingers slide along your jaw, prying your lips apart. Two fingers, slick with you, push into your mouth without warning.

"But ours," she murmurs, indulgent, cruel. "Only ours."

Your mind spins. You should hate this. Should burn with shame at how easily you break for them. But something stronger than disgust wins.

Need.

The animal, visceral need to belong.

"Understood?"

The question is quiet. Heavy.

You nod. Not because you want to, but because your human shell is too fragile to refuse.

"Yes, Mama." Your voice is a broken whisper.

Then—darkness.

You don’t choose sleep. Your body gives out, exhausted, consumed. Their commands still echo in your skull, tangled with magic and pleasure and worship.

You don’t know if it’s love, spells, or pure conditioning.

But one truth remains:

You need them.

[...]

Your awakening was painful.

Your eyes burned under the sharp rays of light. Your body was exhausted, your mind clouded, as if still trapped in the echoes of the previous night.

Every muscle ached, but you couldn't tell whether it was from physical fatigue or the confusion pulsing inside you.

The silence was thick when you walked into the kitchen.

They were there.

Rio stirred a cup of tea absentmindedly, her eyes fixed on the steaming liquid, while Agatha, leaning against the counter, ran her fingers over her own wrist, as if feeling something beneath her skin.

Neither of them spoke when you sat down. Neither of them looked at you right away.

But your food was already served.

The fruit, cut into small, easy-to-eat pieces. The pancakes, soft and golden, drizzled with syrup. You blinked, taking a second to notice the childish drawing on their surface—a sad face.

Without meaning to, you let out a small laugh.

Rio lifted her gaze. A faint smile threatened to appear at the corner of her lips, but she suppressed it too quickly for you to be sure you had seen it. Agatha, on the other hand, simply tilted her head, watching you as if analyzing something under a microscope.

“Eat,” was all she said.

And you obeyed.

The syrup was too sweet on your tongue, an odd contrast to the tension in the air. As you chewed, your eyes wandered around the room.

That’s when you saw it.

Your clothes, folded to perfection over the couch in the living room. Pressed, neatly arranged, carefully set aside for you to wear. The kind of gesture you should be used to—but one that made your heart slam against your ribs.

If you were nothing more than a meal to them...

Then why all this care?

The question wrapped itself around your mind like a thorn. You knew the logical answer. Manipulation, control, a trap disguised as kindness.

But your chest burned with a truth far more complicated, one you didn’t want to name.

Because part of you liked it.

Liked being taken care of.

Liked the unsettling sense of belonging that came with it.

You lowered your gaze to the pancakes, as if they held the answers. The sad face was still there, staring back at you.

Silence stretched for a few more seconds, until Rio stood up and walked to the sink. She passed behind you, and suddenly, her hand closed around the back of your neck.

A brief squeeze. A touch that was almost casual.

Almost.

Her fingers slid down your nape, light enough to make your skin prickle, firm enough not to be ignored. The gesture carried a strange weight—something between danger and tenderness, something that felt as much like a promise as it did a warning.

You couldn’t tell which scared you more.

A warm touch at the top of your head, gentle but heavy with a meaning that slipped through your fingers like sand.

Her scent followed, and before you could stop yourself, you breathed it in. Earthy, damp, like soil after rain, like something ancient and deeply rooted.

Comforting.

You didn’t want to leave.

"Eat, sweetheart," the whisper came so close it brushed your skin, warm and unsteady. "Aggie wants to leave early."

The words said little. The voice said everything.

You lifted your gaze.

And met hers.

So brown. So deep. Now that you knew Rio wasn’t human—and maybe she never had been. But now, looking into her eyes, something stirred inside you.

There was something there.

They shimmered in a way that felt wrong, moisture gathering at the edges, barely perceptible. A treacherous fragility for someone like her.

As if she were offering you a wordless secret, a part of herself that should never be revealed.

But what?

You swallowed hard, nodding, unsure of what to say.

And breakfast went on.

[...]

The car glided smoothly through the still-sleeping streets of the city. The overcast sky painted everything in shades of gray, as if the day itself hesitated to fully arrive.

Agatha drove unhurriedly.

Unhurriedly, but also without a single word.

Silence wasn’t unusual between you—but today, it felt... heavier.

The low hum of the engine and the distant sound of tires against the asphalt were the only things filling the space between you.

The radio was off, and Agatha made no effort to break the silence—not with idle remarks, nor with one of those sharp observations that always caught you off guard.

She just drove.

And thought.

Her gaze was fixed on the road, but there was something in the way her fingers tensed around the steering wheel, in the deeper-than-usual crease between her brows.

What was she worried about?

You found yourself watching her reflection in the window—the locked jaw, the careful rise and fall of her chest, as if she were controlling each breath.

Agatha rarely let anything show.

But now…

There was something there.

And you decided to test it.

“Why do you want to get there early today?” Your voice was measured, casual enough not to seem intrusive.

You didn’t look at her, keeping your eyes on the scenery passing by the window, as if the answer wasn’t burning beneath your skin.

An invisible knot tightened in the air, thick as the charged stillness before a storm.

Maybe you shouldn’t have broken that silence. Not while Agatha hadn’t yet decided whether she wanted to share it with you.

The car kept moving, tires gliding over the asphalt in steady rhythm. The moment stretched.

And then—

“I need to talk to Wanda.”

Sharp. Unyielding.

The kind of response that cut off any possibility of further questions.

There wasn’t even a glance exchanged.

You simply leaned back against the seat, letting out a slow breath.

But something inside you stirred.

Why?

Why Wanda?

Why now?

You didn’t ask.

But you kept wondering.

The studio felt like a minefield.

Costume designers rushed past, technicians spoke in hushed tones, and the assistant directors seemed to shrink every time Agatha walked by.

She was in a bad mood.

Not the explosive kind, with yelling or slamming doors—no. The worst kind. The silent, razor-sharp kind, like a blade being twirled between fingers.

And everyone knew that when Agatha Harkness was like this, mistakes were not an option.

You watched from the corner, holding your breath every time someone missed a mark or took a second too long to adjust the lighting. Her energy dominated the set—suffocating, unpredictable.

“This is garbage.”

Her voice sliced through the air like a scalpel, making the director of photography flinch. She hadn’t raised her tone, but it was enough to make everyone freeze.

The monitor displayed the last take. Agatha skimmed the scene and let out a low, dangerous laugh.

“You expect me to believe this is cinema?”

Silence.

The producers exchanged glances, dreading the moment her merciless gaze would land on them.

She stepped forward, snatched the assistant director’s clipboard, and held it up, flipping through the notes with open disdain.

“A masterpiece,” she murmured, each syllable dripping with irony. “Truly worthy of the big screen. Maybe even an award.” She turned her eyes to the director. “What’s the new category again? Oh. Best pathetic attempt at capturing the human experience?”

The director opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“No, no,” Agatha continued, turning back to the screen. “Maybe ‘Best Waste of Time and Money.’ What do you think, honey?”

She turned… to you.

You froze.

Her gaze found yours the moment the words left her lips, and you knew there was no way out.

“Do you think I’m overreacting?” she teased, tilting her head. “Tell me—what did you see in that scene?”

Your mouth went dry. Everyone was staring.

You swallowed hard, trying to choose your words.

“Uh… I think it could have more… intensity. The lighting could be a bit darker because—”

Agatha blinked, a lopsided smirk playing on her lips.

“Intensity,” she repeated. “Intensity, of course. But tell me, darling, how do you add intensity to a corpse?”

She turned to the actors on set, who barely dared to breathe.

“Because that’s what I see here,” she went on, her eyes sharp as blades. “Walking corpses. No one believes what they’re doing. And if you don’t believe it, how do you expect the audience to?”

She strolled slowly toward one of the supporting actresses—one of Wanda’s coven witches. She was young but already had a name in Hollywood. And she had never. Never worked with Agatha before. The poor woman? She was already pale.

“I should be feeling something,” Agatha murmured, gaze challenging. “I should be shivering, devastated. But instead, all I can think is…” She paused, pretending to reflect. “I wonder if the coffee’s ready in my dressing room.”

The actress lowered her eyes, mortified.

The silence grew even heavier.

You felt trapped in her line of sight.

As if, at any moment, she might decide the next unforgivable failure would come from you.

Agatha sighed and dropped the clipboard onto the table with a dry thud.

“Reshoot,” she ordered, impatient. “And this time, try to make me feel… anything.”

She turned to leave—but stopped beside you.

Leaning in slightly, just enough for her voice to be a warm whisper against your skin.

“And you,” she drawled, “stop hiding from me.”

She pulled away before you could respond—but left something burning inside you.

"Witch!"

The word sliced through the air like a rusted blade, heavy with hatred and fear.

"Burn her!"

The chorus swelled, deafening, as the villagers raised their torches. Flames danced like hungry serpents, reflected in wide, frenzied eyes, alight with fury and terror. A swarm of shadows thrashed beneath the fire’s flickering glow.

And at the center of it all—

Wanda.

Alone. Her dress tattered, hair wild, skin smeared with ash and dirt. Her gaze fixed ahead, not truly seeing.

Was it fear?

Or something much deeper, something far more dangerous?

Her fingers trembled, hesitant, as if every part of her resisted the inevitability of the moment.

But something was growing there.

Something no one else could see.

The air pulsed around her, as if the earth itself was holding its breath.

She raised her hand.

The villagers screamed.

"Witch!"

A piece of wood was hurled. It struck her leg, and Wanda staggered, gasping, shoulders locked with tension.

You held your breath.

Was it just acting?

Or was it truly happening?

The wind shifted. The torches’ flames wavered, flickering uncertainly. Ash and dust swirled around the village like a storm on the verge of eruption.

Wanda closed her eyes.

The director made a hurried gesture, expecting her to resume.

But she didn’t move.

Above the set, the rigging that held her in place seemed unsteady, groaning against the metal framework. But… what if she didn’t need them?

You could feel Agatha watching.

Her presence burned—piercing, calculating.

Measuring every reaction. Measuring Wanda.

Because Agatha already knew.

Wanda’s eyes snapped open.

And you knew this wasn’t just acting.

The village's screams grew louder, angrier. A man, his face twisted with rage, lifted a torch.

"Burn her alive!"

The air around her twisted, as if reality itself was fracturing. A single second of absolute silence fell over everything.

Chaos.

Wanda.

Bodies were flung back like ragdolls. Bones cracked—a dry, sickening sound swallowed by horrified cries.

Fire spread as if it had a will of its own, climbing walls, devouring thatched rooftops, swallowing the villagers’ screams before they could escape.

Wanda floated in midair. Scarlet energy pulsed around her, forcing everyone to bow before her. The glow of her power was so intense that you squinted, struggling to tell if it was special effects… or real.

Her eyes burned, crimson darkness expanding around her like a bloody eclipse. Her hair lifted, caught in an unseen storm.

What had once been fear had transformed into something else.

Acceptance.

"On your knees." Wanda’s voice reverberated through the air, thick with power, with something primal. "Before your goddess."

She lifted her hands to the sky, and a scarlet bolt tore through the heavens.

The blue was swallowed by red. The world burned at her command.

The villagers screamed. Ran. Fell to their knees, pleading for mercy.

But Wanda didn’t blink.

Hell had been born from her hands.

The scent of charred flesh and smoke thickened the air, suffocating.

And then, silence.

Only the crackling of flames remained.

And Agatha’s gaze, sharp, piercing.

She clapped. Slowly.

"Cut."

Her voice dripped like poisoned silk.

"Wanda Maximoff," she tilted her head, a dangerous smile playing on her lips. "You do know how to put on a show, don’t you, dear?"

Everyone on set seemed frozen.

Except Wanda.

And Agatha.

They stared at each other.

And you realized, a chill running down your spine, that maybe this scene was far more than just a performance.

"Good work, everyone!" Agatha called out, signaling that they were done.

You watched as your colleagues rushed to leave—escaping the oppressive atmosphere, the suffocating aura—and you followed, stealing a glance toward the center of the set—where Wanda and Agatha spoke in hushed tones.

But there was something there.

Something you didn’t want to stay long enough to find out.

Lunch weighed heavily in your stomach, and the heat of the set only made everything more exhausting. You needed a break. A brief moment away from the lights, the cameras, the strange energy that still lingered in the air after the main scene with Wanda.

With a sigh, you stepped out of the studio. You needed air, to feel the afternoon sun on your face and the crisp breeze of late autumn.

Your footsteps echoed against the ground. The noise around you began to fade as you walked away—the murmurs of the crew adjusting cameras, the clinking of equipment being carried.

But the silence that settled around you wasn’t a relief.

It was oppressive.

Your body still carried the aches and marks from yesterday.

You swallowed hard, the memory burning in your mind like a brand. It wasn’t just the physical pain—it was the unspoken warning.

Agatha’s gaze, sharp as a razor. Rio’s lazy smile, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking before you even tried to hide it.

You had made a mistake.

Doubting them.

Speaking too much.

Trusting too much.

Now, you knew better.

They were witches. Or at least… something close to it. You didn’t want to think about it any further.

You didn’t want to face the questions gnawing at your mind since it all began. You were part of something, yes.

But what, exactly?

And more importantly… could you get out of it?

Did you want to?

The wind blew, carrying a distant scent of red smoke and something sweet, almost sickening. Your heart pounded inside your chest. You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the feeling of being watched.

It was just paranoia, right?

Right?

Then—

Something covered your mouth.

Warm, firm hands.

The scream died in your throat as your eyes were covered. Everything turned to darkness. Your body thrashed instinctively, but it was useless. The grip was unyielding.

And then, red threads emerged in the dark.

Red like blood. Like fire. Like witchcraft.

They danced in your vision, glowing and twisting like living serpents. You tried to scream, but no sound came out. Panic clawed up your throat, your heart hammering in a wild rhythm.

Until the ground disappeared beneath your feet.

You felt the world distort around you, a strange numbness pulling your consciousness away. As if you were being ripped out of reality.

Your body grew weightless.

Your mind, hazy.

And before you could understand what was happening—

Everything went black.

The numbness still weighed on your body when your eyes opened.

The first thing you saw was Wanda.

Seated in front of you, legs crossed, an expression of boredom fixed on you.

Confusion took hold before fear even had a chance. You tried to move, to open your eyes fully and figure out where you were.

Your heart pounded.

The room still had the same baby pink paint and the uncomfortable spring mattress of your old bed. It smelled of mold, as if the space had been locked away for a long time.

No. No. No.

This couldn’t be happening.

You were in your old bedroom. In WestView.

Panic twisted into anger.

“What.The.Fuck.Is.This?” you snarled, pushing yourself up, rage flashing in your teeth.

Wanda smirked, watching your despair the way someone watches an animal caught in a trap.

“The little wild puppy is awake, I see…”

Her voice carried something almost amused, but her green eyes—her green eyes were cold, void.

You tried to stand, but your muscles were still weak. The numbness still clung to you like invisible chains, dragging you down.

Your room.

Your goddamn room.

The same suffocating space where you grew up, where you spent sleepless nights dreaming of escaping this town, of never coming back.

And yet—here you were.

“How…?” Your voice faltered. You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “How did I get here?” Your hands ran through your hair, trying to fix your appearance—your ego, in front of Wanda. “We’re thousands of miles away from Los Angeles.”

She sighed dramatically, rising from the chair and pacing the room with her hands behind her back, like she was analyzing the tacky decor she never liked.

“I think the real question is why you’re here.” She turned, crossing her arms. “And I could answer that, but… You already know the answer, don’t you?”

Your stomach turned.

Yes. You knew.

“I know everything.” Your voice came out firm, cutting. “My friends told me.”

Wanda arched a brow, a lazy smirk curling at her lips.

“Of course they did.” She tilted her head, watching your reaction. “Who do you think told them?”

The shock hit like a punch to the gut.

What?

I couldn't help it, yes, I let it get in

The helpless optimism of spring

Worn out and tired, and my heart near retired

And the world bent double from weeping

And yet, the birds begin to sing

She laughed, low, a sound dripping with pure disdain.

“Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you actually think little kids like you could uncover something we’ve kept hidden for centuries.”

The word cut deep.

Centuries.

That was it.

They weren’t just older. They were ancient. Too old for you to even begin to comprehend.

Your body thrummed at the realization, though you knew it shouldn’t.

Daffodil

You cleared your throat, trying to focus on the possible danger you were in.

“This—”

“Did you drink that?” Wanda interrupted abruptly.

What?

Drink?

You blinked, your mind still catching up.

Oh. Right. The dark liquid in the old, elegant flask.

“No,” you admitted, your voice weaker than you would’ve liked. “I… I was scared.”

Her change was instant. The smirk vanished. Her face hardened.

She growled.

“Those little shits… I told them to make sure you drank every last drop.”

Your body tensed.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

What—

Okay. Alright. So you were being played by everyone?

Is that it?

Your lips trembled.

So… Professor Calderu chose Alice as your partner on purpose? Alice knew? Since when?

Thick tears welled at the corners of your eyes.

“Why are you…” Your voice trembled, weak, choked by the threat of tears. You tried to continue, but your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, refusing to form the words. “Doing this?”

You didn’t want to know.

Didn’t want to hear it.

But Wanda smiled.

“Why do you think?” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes glinting with something unreadable.

Then she laughed.

“Beauty. Fame. Success. Youth.”

Each word fell like a sharp blade.

The air grew heavier.

I'm not bad, I'm not good

I drank every sky that I could

Made myself mythical, tried to be real

Saw the future in the face of a

Your chest tightened, and a part of you begged for her to stop. To make this not be real.

But Wanda sighed, running her fingers through her red hair, impatient.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Her voice dropped, but it wasn’t any less cruel. “We’ve spent centuries trapped in the same damn story. Burned. Hanged. Hunted. Killed.”

Your stomach churned.

“Then Rio told us about the sources. We found out there was a way to break the cycle.” Her eyes flickered for a moment, but the hardness returned almost instantly. “And that’s when we realized the truth. No one would ever do anything for us. If we wanted to survive, if we wanted a chance at something better, we had to fend for ourselves.”

She stepped closer.

“Don’t worry.” Her tone was almost… gentle. “You weren’t the first.”

And then her smile widened, cruel.

“And you won’t be the last.”

Her words struck like a blade, knocking the air from your lungs. The silence that followed was deafening.

Daffodil

A knot formed in your throat, heavy, suffocating.

“You used me.” Your voice was quiet.

It wasn’t a question. It was a fact.

Wanda blinked slowly. And then, she laughed. A sharp sound, like shattering glass.

“Used you?”

She tilted her head, studying you like a predator examining trapped prey.

“Oh, sweet child… I wish I had that privilege.”

Your body went still.

“But Agatha and Rio didn’t let that happen, did they?” Her tone was reflective now, almost distracted.

She started pacing the room, as if organizing her own thoughts.

We practice resurrection every night

Raising the dead under the moonlight

And in the gloaming, I start to cry

You're a perfect pearl hung in the sky

“It was supposed to be like it always was,” she murmured. “Like it has been for centuries.”

Wanda stopped.

Turned to you.

And smiled.

“But instead of enchanting you to drain you like they should have, they made you their little personal plaything.”

The floor disappeared beneath you.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breath erratic. The horror crawled down your spine like ice.

No.

They weren’t just draining you.

They were shaping you.

Like a gem.

Your obedience. Your submission.

With every touch. Every command. Every look.

The air seemed to vibrate around you, an unbearable mix of fear and something else.

Something darker. Something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

The weight of the lock pendant pressed against your chest, a reminder that you were never really free.

You were never just you.

You were always theirs.

There is no bad, there is no good

I drank all the blood that I could

Made myself mythical, tried to be real

Saw the future in the face of a

Your body was trembling—out of hatred, out of confusion, out of something warm growing inside you, seeping through the cracks Agatha and Rio had carved into your soul.

Because they hadn’t split you apart.

They hadn’t let anyone else touch you.

Not Wanda, not Lilia—your partners for centuries.

And what was supposed to be absolute horror, what should have made your stomach turn and your legs buckle in terror...

Fuck.

It turned you on as a fuck.

Her words, sharp as razors, cut into you, but they also held you in place. As if everything was falling into place in some sick, inevitable way.

Daffodil

Your heart pounded against your chest, each beat sending waves of heat down to your trembling legs.

“Oh.” Wanda narrowed her eyes, leaning in slightly. “So now you understand what is the problem here.”

You wanted to deny it.

Wanted to spit in her face, scream that it was a lie, that this had nothing to do with what you felt. With what you were.

But the heat crawling over your skin, pulsing between your legs, said otherwise.

The possession.

The absolute certainty that Agatha and Rio had claimed you as theirs.

English sun, she has come

To kiss my face and tell me I'm that chosen one

A generation soaked in grief

We're drying out and hanging on by the skin of our teeth

Your chest clenched with a twisted pleasure, and before you could stop it, a crooked smile tugged at your lips.

Small.

Unconscious.

Wrong.

I never thought it would get this far

This somewhat drunken joke

Sometimes, I see so much beauty

I don't think that I can cope

Wanda saw it.

And she smiled too, but hers was different. Colder. Crueler.

“They ruined you, didn’t they?” the redhead murmured, stepping closer.

She raised her hand, the light touch of her finger tracing the padlock pendant resting on your chest.

Heavy. Almost suffocating.

“You smell like them.” Her voice dripped over your skin like venom. “Rotten to me.”

Your body was warm.

Warm with shame. Warm with something you didn’t want to name.

Your fingers dug into the old sheets beneath you, as if that could anchor you to reality.

There is no bad, there is no good

I drank every sky that I could

Made myself mythical, tried to be real

Saw the future in the face of a

Wanda grabbed your chin firmly, forcing you to look at her.

Her green eyes glowed, intense, unrelenting, burning something inside you that you weren’t sure you wanted to put out.

“And that,” she said, “cannot happen.”

Your body stiffened.

What?

“We need to take it out of you.”

The air grew thick.

Your stomach twisted.

Before you could speak, protest, beg, Wanda was already walking away, heading toward the door with the cruel calmness of someone who had always been in control.

Daffodil

She stopped at the doorway, not looking at you.

“Welcome back to WestView, darling.”

Wanda gave you an unreadable look, too mystical for you to interpret.

“Welcome home.”

Then, the door closed, and you were alone.

~*~

Here are the answers. And I don't know what to do with all this informations...

Tag List <3

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cjsoleil · 6 months ago

Text

You’re My Angel Baby (Mingi x Reader)

Summary: Y/N goes to a Halloween party and ends up taking care of a cute, drunk cowboy outlaw. Mingi wakes up in the morning with a vague memory of a girl dressed as an angel, and decides he has to meet her.

Halloween night, and somehow Y/N got swindled into joining her best friend, Seonghwa and his boyfriend, Hongjoong, to some party one of their friends planned. It took a lot of convincing, and even more bribery, but she did agree to go. She's dressed in a all white, a flowey long in the back short in the front dress with pure white boots. She put a silver, sparkly and floral headpiece in her hair and beside her sits a pair of fake white angel wings that she’ll put on when she gets out of the car. A cliche yes, but it was a little last minute. She borrowed the wings from a friend.

“Again with the pirate costume Hongjoong?” Y/N teases from the backseat. Hongjoong is wearing a bandana, white jeans, white shirt that is kinda like a blouse and a jacket. Clearly a pirate, “Is that three years in a row now?”

“Shut up.” Hongjoong snaps his usual comeback.

“You should appreciate me more Joongie.” Seonghwa pats the hand resting on his thigh, “I’ve been adapting my costumes to fit yours for years.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want couples costumes!” That’s true, Seonghwa dressed up as a pirate too a few years back, then a parrot, now the mermaid, well, more like siren. He did his make up to suit his look, wearing a sparkly dress with baggy pants and he painted little scales around his ears, neck, and hands. It’s very much a DIY costume, but still very pretty. He’s going to run out of ideas soon. Y/N zones back in to see the car stopped at a red light and the two boys smiling at each other all cute. She groans and wonders how she’s ended up being these two perminate third wheel.

“Do I really have to come?”

“Sorry dear.” Seonghwa coos and looks back at his friend, “But we need a sober driver.”

“Besides. Your a nursing student, you can stop people from dying from alcohol poisoning.” Hongjoong adds.

“I cannot. You better not bring some shit faced frat boy to me and expect me to take care of him. Or her. Anyone. It’s not my job to take care of people outside my placement.” Because Y/N is not interested in dealing with whatever asshole drank too much. If they get alcohol poisoning from being stupid, it’s not anyone’s problem but their own.

“Whatever you say ratchet.”

“I’ll show you ratchet, Hongjoong.”

“Be nice you two.”

At the party, Y/N makes sure to stay close to Seonghwa and Hongjoong, and she smiles pleasantly at the people they talk to. Luckily it’s not all bad, Jongho and Yeosang are there too, so at least there’s some people she knows. She watches over her friends while they drink, making sure they don’t do anything very stupid. She can condone a little stupidity. It’s all very boring. She doesn’t have a lot of people that she can talk to, and she doesn’t have anything to really do. There’s some people dancing on the open floor, but she’d honestly rather die than become involved with that. On the bright side, someone had the decency to provide food. So after telling her friends, she wanders into the kitchen area and looks at what they have. There’s candy in a big bowl on the counter, and obviously a shit ton of alcohol she’s not able to drink, nothing great. She wishes they had cinnamon doughnuts or something, when a plate on the counter further away catches her eye.

“What the hell!” She whispers shouts, going over and grabbing an candy apple. There very clearly bought by an actual place that knows how to make them based off how well made they are. So she eats one. Or four. Who knows. Fuck she wishes they had a caramel apple too. Those are the best fall treats.

Someone else wanders into the kitchen, Y/N ignores him. Then the sound of glass breaking catches her attention. She turns her head to see a boy dressed as a cowboy staring at the broken cup on the floor, the cupboard at his head is open. He’s wearing a hat and a mask that covers the bottom half of his face, a leather jacket and tight pants. Despite not seeing much of his face, the boy is clearly drunk based off his heavy movements and pink ears. He’s also, Y/N must admit, very attractive. Maybe it’s the effect of the mask, but she just knows a pretty face hides under the mask. She watches as he kneels down, about to pick up the glass.

“Stop.” The boy looks up at her, stopping his movement, “Stay still. You're going to hurt yourself.” After making sure the boy is actually listening to her, Y/N looks around the kitchen for a broom or something. She doesn’t end up finding one, but she does find a rag, so she goes back to the boy, rag in hand just to see him with large pieces of glass in his hand.

“What did I just say?” Y/N sighs and cleans up the glass around the man and taking the piece from his hand, throwing it all out. She goes back to the still kneeling cowboy and crouches next to him, seeing his hand is bleeding. She cringes, not because of the blood, she’s used to that, but just because she imagines it hurts.

“Look at this. You should have listened to me.” She scolds, and the boy has enough sense to be ashamed, looking down.

“Sorry Angel.” He says, speech a little slurred and she can tell he’s pouting behind the mask, “Help me? Please?” Y/N sighs, looks like she’s playing caretaker tonight after all. At least he seems to be nice. She helps him stand up, which is a little hard because he’s much bigger than her.

“What’s your name?”

“Mingi.” She introduces herself as well.

“Well Mingi, let’s get to a bathroom so you can stop bleeding all over the place.” Y/N walks with Mingi, keeping a hand on his back and stabilizing him when he stumbles. Mingi cups his good hand under the bleeding one, but a few drops still get on the floor. She just ignores it, not her problem.

Y/N notices that people are watching her and Mingi, but she just gives them a dirty look when they catch her eye.

“People need to mind their business.” She mumbles, looking around for wherever the bathroom could be. She doesn’t just want to open random doors. More out of fear of being traumatized than out of respect for the homeowners privacy. She doesn’t even know whose party this is, it wouldn’t matter if she chose to snoop a little. Well, that’s a little hypocritical considering what she just said.

“There.” Mingi points to a closed door and Y/N opens it to see a bathroom.

“Okay, wash your hand and go sit on the toilet while I look for a bandage.” Mingi obeys and Y/N rifles through the medicine cabinet. She grabs bandages and isopropyl, as well as a cotton ball.

“Hold out your hand cowboy.”

“Outlaw.” She hears him mumble as she dips some of the isopropyl onto the cotton ball.

“Hm?”

“Outlaw, not cowboy.” Y/N smiles, and gently grabs Mingi’s hand.

“Outlaw, this may sting a bit.” She plays into his words, because what is the harm? While she doesn’t know the difference between an outlaw and a cowboy, she’s not about to start an argument over it. Mingi only cringes a little when he feels the disinfectant. Then Y/N grabs the roll of bandages, wrapping his hand. Mingi stares at her as she works.

“Pretty Angel.” He mumbles out, and Y/N just barely catches it.

“What a charmer.” She laughs, not taking the words of a drunk man seriously. After a few more moments, she’s done with the bandage.

“There.” She pats his hand a few times, “Now there won’t be blood all over the place. Well, anymore blood. I feel bad for whoever has to clean that up.” She laughs and he looks up at her, staring with wide eyes. He keeps his hand held out to her, “What is it?”

“Kiss it better.”

“Huh?”

“Kiss it better please?” Now, anyone else and she would’ve said no instantly and walk away. But Mingi seems so genuine. And he’s so cute and sweet. So Y/N gives a quick kiss to the palm of his bandaged hand.

“Better?” Mingi nods excitedly. He’s still wearing his mask. He should probably take that off, what if he throws up?

“Mingi. Take off your mask please.” Mingi nods and lifts his good hand to his face, tugging at the fabric. But he doesn’t actually do anything efficient. Just how much did he drink? Finding this a little pathetic, Y/N decides doing it herself would be better.

“Mingi, how about I help you?”

“Sure.” She gets the mask off quickly, fingers just grazing against Mingi’s hot ears.

I was right she thinks when she sees Mingi’s face fully, he is hot. Okay, the stares make more sense now. She puts the mask on the sink.

“Thank you Angel.” He says, smiling at the girl.

“You do know that’s not my name right?” Based off Mingi’s confused look, it’s clear he does not understand that.

“Whatever. Do you have a friend to watch over you?”

“Yunho.” Mingi answers, a name Y/N is somewhat familiar with, “but he left. Don’t know where he is.” Y/N is irritated hearing that. Mingi’s friend just abandoned him while he’s clearly not in his right mind, what if someone took advantage of him? Or if he drank more and got alcohol poisoning, or made the stupid decision to drive? When this Yunho comes back, she’s going to give him a strong lecture on how to treat your intoxicated friends.

“We can hang out until he gets here then.” Mingi looks happy hearing that, smiling brightly.

“Thank you Angel.”

“You are so polite.” Y/N comments, and gives into her urge to pat his cheek gently. Then she helps him stand up again, but when he’s standing, Y/N notices that he looks a little off. She’s about to ask about it, but then she hears Mingi make a gagging sound.

“Shit!” She lifts the toilet seat and pushes Mingi to sit, just in time. Mingi throws up in the toilet, and Y/N rubs his back sympathetically. She takes off his hat and holds it in her other hand.

Once the sickness passes, Mingi leans back and is panting and sweating a little.

“Poor guy.” Y/N puts the hat on his lap before opening the drawer under the sink, grabbing a rag. She runs it over cold water and rings it out, before going back over to Mingi. She holds his chin and wipes his face gently. He hums in content.

“Feels good.” He hums again, Y/N compares him to a happy cat. When she’s done, she wets another rag and lays it over the back of his neck. She lets him be for a while, wanting the nausea to pass before even trying to move him again.

“Hey Mingi.” He looks over to her, blinking tiredly, “I’m gonna go do something real quick-“

“Noo.” Hands grab her wings, tugging at the fake feathers, “Don’t go.”

“It will only be for a minute.”

“Angel, stay with me please.” Y/N is left standing still. The sentiment means a lot more than it should, coming from a drunk man. She sighs, wondering whatever made her so soft hearted. Seonghwa and Hongjoong will just have to wonder where she is for a while. So she grabs the mouthwash from under the sink and fills the cap half way, giving it as well as a small cup she found for Mingi to spit in. When he does so, she cleans out the cup in the sink. Curse her for being so nice. And curse Mingi for being so cute. If he wasn’t, she probably would’ve just cleaned up his cut and let him be.

Okay, maybe she isn't really nice.

“Okay cowboy- sorry, outlaw.” She then clicks her tongue with though, “What am I going to do with you?”

“Want to go to my room.”

“Your room? Do you live here?” Mingi nods, stretching his neck.

“Yeah. With my roommates.” Well this makes things a little easier. She will simply bring Mingi to his bedroom so he can sleep this off, and he’ll wake up in the morning without any recollection of her, or anything else that happened tonight. As well as a massive hangover. He’ll probably have to skip class tomorrow, if he has any.

“Wait, do you know where you got those candy apples- actually don’t answer that. Are you feeling better?” Mingi nods, and Y/N squints her eyes at him, “Are you sure? Is your head dizzy, stomach hurting?”

“M’okay.” Well, he is definitely looking more alive than before, so Y/N choses to believe him.

“Up we go then.” She holds out her hands and Mingi grabs them, allowing her to hoist him up until he’s standing. Honestly, she’s pretty proud of herself for being strong enough to do that. When he’s stable, Y/N walks him down the hall until he points to a door, and tells her it’s his bedroom. She opens the door, and quickly ushers him to sit on his double bed that takes up most of the room. She understands the need though, he would never fit in a twin bed like her own.

“Tired Mingi?” The boy yawns in response, making her laugh. She helps Mingi with taking off his shoes and jacket, and Mingi takes off his own shirt.

Oh my god. Y/N has to stop himself from saying the words out loud. She can’t help it, he’s just so so hot. Like seriously, his face was beautiful enough as it is and his body- nope she can’t even think about it without feeling like a pervert. So she quickly pulls back the covers of the bed and gestures for Mingi to lay down there. Then she pulls the blankets over him. She stays standing beside the bed.

“There’s a place downtown that makes them.” Mingi says into the blankets.

“Makes what?”

“The apples. I don’t like sweet stuff very much, but I thought they’d be nice.” He yawns, “Expensive though.”

“I thought so.” Y/N laughs, before whispering playfully, “I’m pretty sure I ate like, half of them though. Sorry about that.”

“Did you like them?”

“Very much.”

“Then it was worth it.” Mingi smiles up at the girl, before patting the side of his bed. Y/N takes the invitation and sits.

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Ruining your night.” Y/N smiles, and pets Mingi’s dark hair. She had already put his hat on his nightstand.

“Believe me or not, but this was the best part of my night Mingi.” And really, it was. She’s not into parties, nothing about them is appealing to her. As much as she complained about it to her friends earlier, this was a much more pleasant experience.

“Angel.”

“Yes?”

“You’re so beautiful. And kind.” Mingi lifts a hand, grabbing her arm and really underestimated his strength, pulling the girl on top of him. Letting out a yelp, Y/N plants her hands on the sides of Mingi’s head on the pillow. This leaves their faces only inches apart, and Y/N can smell the alcohol on Mingi. That makes her break eye contact with him and start to push her arms upwards. Before she can get far, Mingi cups her face with one hand, thumb under her chin and fingers splayed out on her cheek. The action puts her in such a state of shock, she doesn’t react in time to move away from him as he lifts his head up, pressing his lips to hers.

Her eyes widen and she quickly pulls away before the kiss can be considered anything more than a peck. Mingi whines when she pulls away.

“Mingi, no.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” She parrots, frowning a little, “You don’t even know who I am.”

“You’re my Angel baby.” He grins, lets out a little laugh before surging forward, kissing her again. Her mouth opens a little in surprise at being kissed again, giving Mingi the chance to push his tongue into her mouth, the taste of cheep beer still present. And Y/N is just disillusioned enough to lean in for a moment, and she probably would have actually reciprocated if her mind was any more fogged up from a simple kiss. But she’s not about to kiss someone who can’t possibly understand what they’re doing. Maybe kiss someone more would be more accurate.

So she pulls away again, this time pushing a hand on Mingi’s chest to keep him laying down flat on the bed. Mingi groans a little, a complaint, but doesn’t say much more. Until out of nowhere, he mutters.

“We should go out tomorrow.” Only a little fazed, Y/N shakes her head at the question.

“Honey, you’re probably not going to be able to stand properly tomorrow. Just go to sleep.” She continues to pet Mingi’s head, until she’s sure that he’s asleep. Standing up, she grabs the trash can in the corner of the room and puts it next to the bed. Then she grabs a sticky note from his desk and a pen. She writes a quick note, puts it on the nightstand before leaving the room, making sure to close the door as gently as he can.

The party is dwindling down, Y/N notes. So she easily finds Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

“Where were you?” Seonghwa asks when he sees her, “I was worried sick!”

“Sorry Hwa.”

“What were you doing?” Hongjoong questions.

“Playing nurse. Are you ready to go?”

“What happened to ‘I’m not taking care of some drunk loser’?”

“I guess he changed my mind.”

“He?” Seonghwa grins, making Y/N get this sudden feeling of dread, “Who was it? Was he hot? Was he nice to you? Of course he was, you would’ve kicked him to the curb if he was mean-“ Seonghwa trips over nothing, Hongjoong just catches him.

“Careful baby.”

“Thanks Joongie.” Seonghwa leans over and kisses the younger boy. Y/N pretends to gag.

“Wait, why is your face so red?”

“Let’s just go! Please.”

“Fine. You have to tell us all about this guy though!”

“Yeah yeah.”

When Mingi wakes up, he instantly wishes to be asleep again. His head hurts, and he feels so sick he can barely move. God, he shouldn’t have drank so much last night. He sits up, only to be hit with a wave of nausea that has him nearly doubled over.

“Fuck…” he takes a few deep breaths before standing up, groaning as he does so. He notices the trash can by his bed, and wonders how he had enough sense to grab that. Yunho must have moved it for him. His jacket, shoes and shirt are off, as well as his hat. Yunho must have done that too. He takes off his shirt and puts on a pair of sweatpants before heading to the bathroom.

When he comes out, he goes to the living room where Yunho greets him.

“Hey man-“

“Shhh.” Mingi holds his head in his hands as he sits on the couch, “Too loud.” Yunho’s voice was really just barely above a whisper.

“How much did I drink yesterday?”

“I stopped counting after the second beer and the third shot.”

“I swear Yunho, I’m never getting drunk again.” He looks down at his bandaged hand, and tries to recall exactly what he did to hurt himself.

“What happened to my hand?”

“How would I know?”

“Weren’t you the one that wrapped it?” Yunho stares at him with a surprised face.

“Damn, do you really not remember anything from last night?” Mingi shrugs.

“Pretty much.”

“Well, I left around half way through with a few others to grab some beer and you insisted that you stay here. You kept on saying ‘I’m feeling great’ so I just told you to be careful and left. By the time I came back, you were tucked into bed and sleeping like the dead.” Mingi nods along, realizing he can’t rely on Yunho to fill in the blanks of his memory.

“Wait actually, I saw a note on your nightstand.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Didn’t read it though.”

“Okay. Can you get me some painkillers or something?”

“Sure.” Mingi goes to his bedroom and there on the nightstand, is a bright pink sticky note. He grabs it and reads the words in black ink.

Hey Mingi,

I can imagine you have quite the hangover today, you were pretty drunk last night. Make sure to clean that cut of yours and wrap it up again, though it will probably be all healed in a few days (The power of a little kiss). Maybe I’ll see you around. Anyways, take care outlaw.

Yours, Angel.

Angel. Images of a woman with no clear face fills his mind. White feathers, the feeling of warm lips on his palm and a hand running through his hair.

Mingi comes out of his room, still holding the note.

“Yunho, did you see anyone dressed as an angel yesterday?”

“It was Halloween. Many people were. Why?”

“The girl that took care of me dressed as one. But I can’t remember her name.”

“What did she look like?”

“Uhh..” Mingi sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, “She was pretty? Look, I’ll know her when I see her.”

“Does that really matter?” Yunho asks, tilting his head, “I mean, yeah, I get that she took care of you. That was very nice of her, but do you have to meet her?”

“Of course I do.” Mingi lays back down on rhe couch, closing his eyes.

“Oh my god you have a thing for her. You have a thing for a girl who’s name you do not know, you don’t know what she looks like and know nothing about her as a person.”

“Not true.” Mingi objects, “I know she’s sweet, pretty, angelic.” Mingi snorts, “Oh, and that she likes candy apples.”

“Whoa Mingi, sounds like it’s time to pop the question to Miss Angel.”

“I wish she would’ve left her number.” Mingi complains, placing a pillow over his face.

“Well, I’ll ask around if anyone knows her, but it’s gonna be hard without knowing anything about her.”

“Thanks Yunho.”

“I’m heading to class, you staying in?” Mingi nods slightly, “Thought so. Painkillers are in the kitchen.”

“Thanks Yunho. See ya.”

“Later.”

The next day, Mingi actually does go to school. He was hoping that miraculously, Angel would be in one of his classes. Unfortunately, this was not the case for him. Yunho, like he said, mentioned her to some people but at last, no luck. Really though, he didn’t expect more. At the moment, he’s at a cafe near campus with Hongjoong and San, doing a little group review.

“Where’s your other half?” San questions Hongjoong, wondering where the older boy is.

“He’s in the library.”

“And you left him alone?” Hongjoong rolls his eyes.

“I would’ve followed, but Seonghwa said that I couldn’t since he and ratchet were studying for biology I think.”

“Ratchet?” Mingi questions.

“Y/N. Seonghwa’s nursing friend.”

“That is so mean of you.” San says, shaking his head at Hongjoong nicknaming this poor girl after a crazy murderous nurse. Mingi finds the name a little familiar, but he can’t put his finger on it, so he doesn’t question it.

“You weren’t in class yesterday.” San states.

“Yeah, i had this massive hangover. Felt dead.”

“What happened with your hand?”

“I don’t remember, but I think I cut it on a piece of glass or something.”

“Damn, you really were wasted.” Mingi can only agree.

“Please please please please-“

“Seonghwa.”

“Y/N please just tell me about this guy.” Seonghwa begs, shaking Y/N’s shoulders. She was supposed to tell him on the way home from the party, but he fell asleep right away. And yesterday they were too busy, “You don’t even need to tell me who it was.”

“Fine.” Y/N relents, shutting her text book, “He was tall, handsome and sweet.”

“Oh!” Seonghwa puts his hands over his heart, “All one could want in a man.”

“You only have two of the three.” Seonghwa kicks her but is still laughing.

“He asked if he could go out with me?”

“What? You said yes right?” Y/N shrugs.

“I didn’t say anything. It was just talk anyways. He was drunk.”

“Either way, you should have left your number with him.”

“No point, he didn’t even know my name. Just called me Angel the whole night.”

“That is so cute but unhelpful.” Seonghwa sighs, “What did you guys even do?” She tells her friend about the boy cutting himself by accident and having to clean up his cut, and tuck him into bed.

“So cute.” He analyzes his friend for another moment, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar. I can tell. What’s up?” Y/N dramatically groans and puts her heads in her hands, mumbling her words, “Excuse me?”

“We may have… kissed.”

“You kissed!” Seonghwa exclaims, Y/N is quick to shush him.

“Shut up!”

“Sorry this is just crazy to me.”

“What is? That guys only want to kiss me when they’re drunk?”

“Ha. Who initiated it?”

“Him obviously.”

“Come on! Give me the details.” Y/N can’t refuse.

“He kissed me, I said that was irresponsible, he kissed me again and fell asleep like five minutes after.” Seonghwa aw’s as Y/N dramatically rests her head on her arms.

“Wait, is this not cute? Were you not okay with it? If not, I’ll find him and beat him up.” Y/N looks up at him, “Fine, Hongjoong will beat him up.” A long pause, “Jongho will beat him up.”

“There you go. But no, it was… fine? Really, If he was sober, I probably would have actually kissed him back.” Though if he was sober, she’s sure neither of them would have paid the other any mind whatsoever.

“You know if you tell me his name I could probably find him and you set you guys up.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Noo.” Seonghwa pulls the girl into a hug, “We love you.”

“If you do, can we stop talking about this and study.”

“Fine. I have to go soon though, I said I’d meet up with Hongjoong later. Would you like to accompany us?”

“Ew.”

“You won’t be saying that when you and mystery boy get together. We can go on a double date!”

“Stop pushing your couple agenda on me.”

After a few hours of studying at the café, the two boys start to back up their bags to leave. San has already left. They hear the bell at the door ring, and Mingi’s sees Seonghwa make his way towards the table.

“Hey Joongie.” Seonghwa greets Hongjoong, leaning down to kiss his cheek before saying hi to Mingi.

“How are you guys?” He asks while sitting down.

“Good.” “Slightly hungover.” Seonghwa snorts at Mingi’s comment. But his laughter stops when he sees the bandage on Mingi’s hand.

“Hey, what happened with your hand?” Mingi looks down at his hand.

“I think I cut it on something, but I don’t really remember.”

“Huh.” Seonghwa hums for a moment before his eyes lighten up.

“Mingi, do you remember anything from your party?”

“A little bit yeah, why?”

“Did you spend anytime with a girl there? She-“

“Angel?” Mingi asks, wide eyed. He was planning to ask Hongjoong about her before they left.

“She was dressed as an Angel yes!” Seonghwa claps his hands in joy, “I’m so smart, I thought this would take longer to figure out.”

“Ohh.” Hongjoong says, just clueing in, “Mingi was the guy Y/N watched over at the party? Man, you didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t know who she was! I was gonna ask you if you knew a girl dressed as an angel.”

“Small world.” Seonghwa smiles, “She said you asked her out, is that true?”

“I really don’t know, sorry Hwa.” Mingi runs a hand through his hair, “But I’d love to actually meet her, thank her in person at least. Could you give me her number?” Seonghwa shakes his head.

“No, she’d be upset if I did that.” Patting the table, Seonghwa thinks, “but… if you did happen to run into her outside class, well that would be fate.”

“Would you?”

“I’ll text you her next class right now.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. You’d be good together.”

“What?”

“Let’s go Hwa, bye Mingi.” Hongjoong and Seonghwa leave, and Mingi choses to ignore Seonghwa’s comment.

He leaves the café and starts walking back to his place. The street he’s on has a ton of little shops and bakeries, so he window shops a little as he makes his way. The a sight makes him stop. There in the window, is a display case of different candy apples. A picture plays in his mind, of a pretty girl in an Angel costume eating the candied fruit in his kitchen. His phone buzzes from his pocket, and he pulls it out and sees a text from Seonghwa. He texted the younger the building, classroom number, as well as the start and end times.

Are you sure she won’t mind?

It’s fine! Tell her I sent you

I’m glad I can blame you

Great. Have fun ;)

Mingi looks at the display case again, before stepping inside.

I hate kinesiology Y/N thinks as she steps out of her classroom. She makes her way out of the building, weaving through the crowd of people. When she’s outside, just a few meters away from the building door, she feels someone tap her shoulder. Turning around, she sees a sight she wasn’t expecting to see so soon.

“Mingi?”

“Hi Angel.” Mingi grins with a small blush on his face, one hand held behind his back.

“Isn’t this a surprise.” Y/N can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, um, I just wanted to thank you for taking such good care of me the other night. You didn’t have to.” Y/N shakes her head, waving a hand in the air.

“No problem. I’m surprised you remember me.” Mingi blushes more, and shifts his feet.

“Well, I kinda didn’t. But I saw your note and remembered a girl dressed as an angel, but not what you looked like.”

“Hm.” Y/N hums, and crosses her arms, shifting her weight to her right leg, “Disappointed?”

“God no.” Mingi answers immediately, “You’re pretty.”

“You said that.”

“Did I?”

“Multiple times. Thank you. How do you know who I am though? If you didn’t know what I looked like.” Mingi looks a little flustered and avoids eye contact.

“I ran into Seonghwa and he figured that you were the one who took care of me because of, well, this.” He lifts his own bandaged hand, “He told me your name and that you were here and that your class would be ending around this time so I came by to see if I could catch you. And I knew I would recognize you once I saw you. Even without the wings.” He spoke so fast, Y/N barely caught all of his words.

“I see. How’s the hand?”

“Good, uh, I was wondering what you meant, by your note?”

“The kiss comment?” Y/N laughs uncomfortably, pulling at the ends of her hair, “Well, um, you did ask me to kiss your hand better…”

“And?”

“You- don’t be upset please- you did kiss me. Twice.” Mingi looks ready to combust from the embarrassment he’s feeling.

“I did? Fuck, Y/N I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You were-“

“Please don’t say I was drunk. That’s no fucking excuse.” Y/N smiles softly.

“Fine. I forgive you.” Mingi laughs.

“You shouldn’t give in so easily. Here.” He pulls the box from behind his back and presents the caramel apple to her.

“For you.” He tells her, watching as the girl gives him an expression of pure joy.

“You-“ Y/N starts, taking the boxed caramel apple from Mingi’s hand, “Are the sweetest.” It seems that Mingi remembered a little more than she thought.

“Seonghwa said that I apparently asked you out.” Y/N nods in agreement, Mingi takes a deep breath, “I wanted to let you know that the question is still open, I’d love to go out with you.” Silence is all he gets in response. He feels a sense of dread in his stomach, but that soon leaves when he actually looks at the girl to see that she looks… flustered?

“Really? Um, yeah that- that would be nice.”

“And…” Mingi takes a breath, stepping closer to the girl. He slowly lifts his hand and rests it in the nape of her neck.

“If it’s not too much to ask, could I get a little reminder of what I forgot?” Blood rushes to Y/N’s ears and her heart beats faster. She brings her hands to his shoulders, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt.

“I suppose I can.” Mingi leans down and brings his face close to the girl. Before his lips can meet hers though, Y/N covers his mouth with her hand, “Not now.” Mingi grabs her wrist and kisses the palm of her hand.

“After an actual date.” Where I don’t witness you throw up. She doesn’t say that know. She doesn’t want to embarrass him too much just yet. With a quick motion of his wrist, Mingi links their hands and brings them down.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“On a date. Duh.” Y/N grins.

“Aw, our first, completely sober date!”

“I’m never drinking that much again.”

When Halloween rolled around the next year, Mingi did, in fact, drink that much again. It’s okay though, he still had an angel to take care of him.

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shdysders · 1 year ago

Text

insecurities

pairing: vada cavell & female reader

summary: in which vada makes an offensive comment about your appearance, knowing you already hated it.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: serious topics, body image, body shaming comment, alcohol poisoning.

author’s note: remember that words don’t define you, you’re beautiful just the way you are and do not need to change yourself.

the ending on this one is rushed, i’m sorry about that. also sorry if you guys don’t like this idea, it was just smth that popped into my mind.

Shopping with Vada was absolutely pointless.

She would complain about everything and nothing. About her feet hurting, about how she didn't have enough money for new things, or how she found it completely unnecessary to buy clothes when she already had enough.

You had spent multiple times with Vada in countless malls, walking through different stores, listening to her complaining all the time, whining like a child and nag about it being boring.

This time you had suggested for Vada to bring Mia along, for company while you tried things on. You thought it would make things easier for you; not having to deal with your child like girlfriend.

However you were wrong.

You were at the local mall alongside Mia and Vada, shopping for dresses who would be appropriate for your birthday party. You were really excited; two people were there to help you pick.

Although they didn't help. They were too busy talking and gossiping about losers at school to even notice the dresses you were showing.

You could understand that this probably wasn't the most exciting thing to do, but you thought they would at least pay attention, considering Vada was your girlfriend, and Mia was one of your closest friends.

You had been gushing about this party for months, so you didn't understand why they were suddenly so uninterested.

"What about this one?" You spoke, trying to drown out their loud conversation with your own voice.

Vada didn't listen for one bit. She only turned her head when Mia did so, only because it ended their dialogue.

"That one's pretty." Mia said, adoring gaze scanning the dress.

The dress was black with floral design that covered the whole fabric. The fabric was lightweight and flowy. You felt pretty, it suited you very well.

"It's alright." Vada said not long after, her lips formed in a thin line, there was frustration in her voice, like she was mad at you for interrupting their talk.

This was the second dress you tried on and Vada was already bored and frustrated, you could tell. She wasn't exactly hiding it.

You decided it'd be for the better to just hurry up, even though that wasn't what you had planned. You didn't want to waste their time.

Nodding your head, taking their answers into consideration, before turning around to get into the next dress.

This one was your favorite.

Navy blue with an open back, glitter decorating the whole dress. It was tight, rather short as well, but you felt sophisticated in it. Pretty. Gorgeous in fact. Which was rare for you.

You smiled to yourself in the mirror, prepared for Vada and Mia to liking just as much as you.

However, when you pull the dressing room curtain to the side, they didn’t even bother to turn their heads to look at you. They were way too busy talking yet again.

They were laughing about something. And a strange feeling in you were saying that it was either about you or the dresses you were showing.

You stood there dumbfounded for a minute, waiting for them to turn their attention to the clothing piece. But they didn't.

"Vada?" You called out, since her opinion was the one that really mattered.

She still didn't turn her head, although you knew she heard you. You could tell by the way her head slightly turned, her eyes not leaving Mia as she talked. You couldn't even bother to listen to what they were saying.

Seconds later she put her hand up, signaling for you to wait for her to finish listening, and for Mia to stop talking. Which at this point, could take ages.

You were starting to grow tired of her ignorance. She always did this whenever Mia was around. Sometimes she would find subjects to talk about that you couldn't be included in on purpose, either that or you just couldn't relate.

Her name fell from your lips again, and this time her head snapped in your direction, nothing but exasperation painting her face. "What?"

The previous smile on your face fell once you heard the harsh tone in her voice. "Could you at least look at it?"

Vada's gaze was burning onto your skin, she was looking at you as if you just told her that she had to be quiet for the rest of the year.

You couldn't put a finger on the reason for why she had gotten this angry, she used to get like this, but when she did there would at least be some kind of motive for it. Now there wasn't.

It was like steam was coming out of her ears. All you did was ask her to look at the dress for like what? One second? And she looked furious.

Vada didn't know what had gotten into her either. She didn't like being interrupted, but when it was you, she didn't care. Now she did.

She cast a discerning gaze over the dress, her eyes revealing a clear hint of annoyance. "It makes you look big. I don't like it." She spat out before she could process her words.

The confidence in the dress was quickly drained away by Vada's comment. It was like a punch to the gut, a lump beginning to form in your throat.

You suddenly felt embarrassed, for even thinking she would like the dress in the first place. Of course she didn't like it. What did you except?

"Oh." You bit your lip, trying to the prevent the layer of tears from falling, which you felt was beginning to coat your irises. "Okay"

You didn't think twice before hurrying back to the dressing room, being quick to pull the curtain back so it covered you. Mumbles from Vada and Mia could be heard, but they were shut out as the ringing in your ears took over, quiet sobs falling from your mouth.

Checking the dress in the mirror one last time, you saw what Vada might've seen. Now all you could see was the body that you used to see back in sophomore year, back to when you used to stand in front of the mirror in tears and panic every day.

There was a few more dresses you had yet to try on, however, you had lost interest in pursuing that particular topic. All because of what Vada said.

You rushed yourself out of the dress, not standing the sight of it in the mirror.

And while you were about to get into your regular clothes, you heard Vada's voice right outside the changing room.

"Y/n, I'm sorry.. I didn't mean it." She sounded regretful. "You looked beautiful in it.. I don't know why I said that."

It was true. Vada had no clue why she said what she said and did what she did. She felt like she had absolute no control over what her mouth was doing. Like always. She always ended up saying something she didn't mean or stuff that was completely inappropriate.

She knew you'd had problems with confidence and self esteem before, which only made the guilt in her chest grow stronger and bigger.

You didn't care for Vada's attempt at solving the problem she caused. Instead you rapidly grabbed all of the dresses on their hangers and rushed out, not bothering to look at Vada's sad expression, filled with remorse and guilt.

You rushed past her, not even glancing at Mia who was standing further away, looking at you in the same way.

"Aren't you going to try the rest?" Vada rushed behind you, almost stepping on your heels for walking so closely behind.

"No." You answered harshly before the full question had time to exit her mouth.

She didn't ask why; because she knew the reason. The reason was her. And her too big of a mouth.

All of the dresses you were carrying were put onto the return racks before you walked out of the store.

You could feel Vada hot on your trails, Mia walking further away, surely not wanting to get into the middle of the situation.

"You should, they would all look pretty." She tried. But it was unclear if you heard her.

Vada's short legs couldn't keep up with your rapid speed, making her groan in frustration. You pushed through people, your only goal being to get out of the mall.

All you wanted to do was crawl into your bed and melt away.

Which was what you did.

***

The party was set two days later. Which felt sooner than expected.

You didn't want to have the party anymore.

That's why you had half a mind to just drink all of the punch and alcohol you had bought for the guests, and tell everyone the party was cancelled. Although it was too late for that.

You weren't sure if Vada was still coming, you hadn't contacted her ever since you left her a good night text the day of the mall 'accident'. She probably was coming though, she probably thought nothing of it.

However, it was everything Vada could think about. Her mind had been clouded by the look on your face when she told you that you looked big in that dress. Her words were echoing in her head.

She hadn't reached out to you because she thought it was for the best to give you space. Also because she didn't know what she would say. Of course she would pour out apologies and excuses, but she knew that wouldn't mean anything. But it hurt her to pieces knowing she had done something so incredibly wrong, to you of all people.

Which is why Vada was now placed on your living room couch, watching dozens of people dancing with drinks in their hands, scanning the people in case her eyes would get in contact with your figure.

She hadn't seen you all night, and it was starting to worry her. You used to run towards Vada the second you knew she arrived, now you hadn't.

The music was so loud the whole house was basically shaking of the vibrations from the speakers.

Vada was about to give up looking for you, when all of a sudden, she saw the top of your head not too far away from the dance floor.

She immediately forced herself up from her position on the couch, leaving her red solo cup in the living room table to approach you. Pushing through all the sweaty bodies on the dance floor to get to you.

You stood at the kitchen island with a beer in your hand, a big smile on your face as you spoke to one of your friends.

You hated beer. Vada knew that.

"Y/n?" Vada called out, almost screaming to be heard over the loud music and chattering.

Your head slowly turned to her, and just by looking at you for two seconds, she could tell you were drunk out of your mind.

Your eyes were almost bloodshot and glassy, your movements were unsteady and your face was flushed. "Hi Vada." And your breath reeked alcohol.

"Didn't think you were coming." You slurred, bringing the drink up to your mouth.

The girl who stood in front of you quickly slipped away from the two of you, joining the others on the dance floor.

As Vada's eyes scanned your figure, she could see you weren't wearing any of the dresses you tried on, the dress you were wearing was one of your old ones, it was loosely fitting so she couldn't see your figure that she admired. But it was her fault, she reminded herself.

"Don't you think you've had enough of those?" Vada asked, about to take the beer bottle out of your hand, but you moved it away so she was unable to.

"Probably" You laughed, putting your free hand on the table behind for support and prevent yourself from falling backwards. Taking another sip of the drink, your face scrunching up in disgust from the bitter taste.

This had been your plan for the whole night. Drinking more than you could handle, so you wouldn't feel like yourself.

You had spent the whole afternoon standing in front of the mirror, understanding what Vada had meant by the comment, understand that she was right. That's what you told yourself.

Vada hated seeing you like this. She was used to having to take care of you when you went to parties together, however she had never seen you this affected.

Hence to why she thought it was a good idea to bring you somewhere where you could be alone.

"Should we go outside?" Vada asked close to your ear, so she knew for certain that you heard.

You let out a scoff, "Why? So you could push me into the pool and tell me how big the big splash was?"

Vada flinched at your remark, and even though she knew the comeback was something you'd make without alcohol in your blood, she tried to tell herself it was just your fogged mind speaking.

She knew you wouldn't come with her just because she asked, you never did when drunk. Hence to why she grabbed your forearm with a firm grip, but not too hard for it to hurt you.

She pulled you through the dance floor, ignoring people cursing at her for pushing through them with her body. She walked you outside to the backyard, and luckily enough, nobody was there.

You didn't protest when she sat you down onto one of the pool chairs, mostly because you couldn't think straight and didn't know what was going on. Your head was spinning from all the punch and alcohol.

Vada sat down on the chair next to you, inspecting your features and how your lips were shaped like a frown.

She was completely aware that you probably wouldn't remember this tomorrow, but she felt like she had to apologize to you at that moment, even though she likely had to do it again when you were clear-headed.

"Y/n." Vada started, not knowing how to continue when your eyes met hers.

"Yes?" You replied quick, voice sounding even more slurry than before.

She let out a sigh, thinking how to form her apology without it sounding forced or sarcastic. "I-I'm so sorry for saying you looked big." She began, her voice feeling shaky; filled with regret from what she'd done.

You looked up at her, eyes sad and hollow with tears starting to form.

"I don't know why I said tha- I was so passionate about talking. I didn't even pay attention to you- You're the prettiest girl I know and I just-...I don't know why I said that." Vada rambled, her hands flying all over the place.

Normally you would smile at Vada's rambling, but now you didn't. And she noticed that.

She exhaled deeply before continuing, trying to think her words through even harder this time, since it clearly didn't work the first.

"I didn't mean what I said. And I'm sorry." Vada spoke up again, trying to sound calmer than she actually was.

You didn't answer, just staring back at her with your beautiful eyes. It was making Vada nervous, her hands starting to sweat. Were you about to break up with her? Oh god, if you did she would never forgive herself.

You licked your lips, looking like you were about to say something, and you did. "Why did you say it then?"

The question made Vada furrow her brows, didn't you listen to her rambling? Were you too drunk to even notice she had been talking this whole time?

"I don't know." Vada sighed, getting frustrated with herself for being such a blabbermouth.

She scooted herself to the edge of the beach bed, taking your hands in hers. Vada had never been great with the physical touch thing, she loved when you would take her hands or touch her face, but she felt like she did it awkward. She thought she made everything awkward.

"You looked great in that dress.. all of the other ones too.. I'll buy them all for you if you ever forgive me." Vada spoke softly, gently rubbing her thumb over your hand.

"Serious?" You grinned.

Vada nodded. "Promise." Putting up her pinky for you to link with.

"You're forgiven then." Your finger joined hers, solidifying the promise.

You knew you weren't sober or in the right mindset, but you did know that you did want those dresses.

Drunk or not.

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #mabel x reader #please don’t flop

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seren1tyhaze · 1 year ago

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poison in my mind

PAIRING: idol!jisung x afab older stylist reader

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

SUMMARY: he has been your poison for years - Jisung with his innocent looking face, steely gaze, and wicked tongue. you do your best to keep a professional relationship with him during your work as a stylist for NCT Dream but his calls of "Noona" on set continue to test your patience.

AUTHOR NOTE: A VERY belated happy birthday to Andy Park and a big thank you to SM for letting us have that Poison live performance at the end of the year. This has been half written ever since the Poison track video behind vlog went up a million years ago but fueled even more by the dance intro at MMA. His more recent lives may have also served as inspiration. I hope you all enjoy this very self indulgent fic made especially for all my friends who also love Jisung <3

WARNINGS: explicit smut, idolverse, pet names (including Noona kink I'm so sorry)

PLAYLIST: Poison by NCT Dream, Quiet Down by NCT Dream, OK! by NCT U

dreaming 'bout you, dreaming 'bout you

~~ The set is buzzing with nervous energy in the dimly lit space, dark blue light cascading over the stage area dressed with large floral arrangements that almost make it look like the ocean floor. Renjun is talking to the camera filming their behind vlog footage and you look up from the shirt you are steaming when you hear his voice.

“Dream will try for the sexy vibe for the first time,” with a sly smirk.

You can’t help but chuckle as the makeup artist next to you elbows your side and you tut at her, waving the steamer to quiet her. It wasn’t a secret that the Poison track video was going to be beloved by fans because of the concept and the way the members were styled. You had been tasked with pulling some of the key looks for the video, taking an opportunity to incorporate different textures like the metal grommets and fringe on the leather jacket Renjun currently was wearing. You watch proudly as he stretches his arms over his head in the center of the flowers, torso muscles rippling under the sheer mesh shirt.

You hadn’t been on staff for very long, a couple years of working under the main stylist under your belt. They had been hesitant to give you bigger opportunities due to your young age and lack of experience, but your boss saw that you had a great eye. It didn’t hurt that you were always the first one to volunteer for less than desirable tasks and always arrived early to shoots and stayed late.

“Sorry, this one’s a little too small, did you have others?” comes a voice behind you and you turn to see Mark, holding out one of the large metal rings you had laid out for him in his dressing room.

“Oh sorry, yes, of course,” you reply, smiling softly at him before kneeling down to dig in your bag for the small pouch holding the extra accessories. He was always so polite to the staff, greeting everyone and even when he was clearly exhausted, doing as many takes as the director needed.

“This one might work better and it’s adjustable,” you reply, taking his hand and sliding the ring on his pointer finger. You squeeze his hand gently before he inspects the rings, holding it out in front of him.

“Noona,” comes a harsh and low voice suddenly, causing you to move your head to the side of Mark’s leather clad legs to see an annoyed looking Jisung with crossed arms, shirtless and barefoot.

“Jisung, where is your shirt?” Mark replies, half laughing as he turns to face him, scratching at the back of his neck.

Ignoring him, Jisung returns his gaze to you and glares at your crouched position on the floor in front of Mark. A curious Renjun walks up at this moment, peeling a tangerine and flicking narrowed eyes between the three of you. Mark shrugs at him before walking away, answering a message on his phone.

“You tailored the crotch of these pants wrong, it feels weird,” Jisung continues, voice even and tinged with frustration.

Your face flushes at this, dropping the pouch back in your bag and grabbing your pins, suddenly on your feet and in front of Jisung.

“How do you know it’s wrong?” you ask, knitting your brows together as you look up at him.

He looks good and you know he knows it. Something has shifted in Jisung in the past year - especially since they returned from tour. He carries himself differently, with a different level of confidence and wears it well. Today is no different and the fact that he just barged onto set without a shirt on is evidence. His dark blue hair is styled perfectly, long strands dangling in his eyes and contrasting beautifully with his sharp jawline.

“Here, feel,” he tells you simply, pulling your hand to his crotch and you almost let yourself palm him through the tight denim until you snap back to reality and pull your arm back. His eyes hold no emotion, dark and still, long eyelashes blinking at you temptingly. His lips are soft and plump and you want nothing more than to close the distance between the two of you and taste the glossy lip mask.

And there it is, your poison, Park Jisung. When you had graduated early from your program a few years ago, you had been focused on your career and hadn’t spent much time dating. You had some people you went out on dates with every once and a while and had your fair share of waking up in a stranger’s bed after a long night out. But Jisung had caught you by surprise. Something about the way he was so forward and aggressive with you made your brain turn to mush around him. Your heartbeat would quicken, palms sweat, and filthy thoughts would swirl in your mind until you could indulge in them with your hand pressed between your thighs later that night.

A heavy sigh comes from Renjun, accompanied by a shake of his head, as he walks out a nearby door muttering something about not wanting to see Jisung’s dick.

You flush violently, grabbing at Jisung’s bicep harshly and pulling him to his dressing room, leaving the door propped open intentionally as you take the layered black tank off the hanger and hold it out to him.

“Please put the rest of your outfit on, I think they are going to be ready for you soon,” you sigh as soon as you’re alone, reaching for the box that holds the platform boots you were reusing from a shoot with Haechan a couple months prior.

You both move silently as he pulls the shirt over his head, staring at the long leather cords before lifting his head back up to you. You move behind him, reaching over his broad shoulders to pull the leather cords around his neck and then letting the ends dangle in front of his toned chest. You try to avoid brushing your hands against his bare shoulders as he steps into the boots and ignore that his ass brushes against your stomach when he bends down slightly to zip them up.

“I just don’t know about these pants, are they the right length?” he asks, tugging at the material at his thighs. His tone is whining and defiant, lighter than how he was in front of everyone, but still slightly combative. He knows you’re weak for this very tone, as he can usually get you to do whatever he wants if he just adds it into whatever he says.

You sigh and move around him, dropping to your knees at his feet, slapping his hand away from pulling at the fabric. You pull the pants leg out of his left boot, pulling lightly and examining the hemline. You’re about to correct him when you suddenly feel his hand soft on your hair.

“You look so good from this angle,” he murmurs, voice low and sultry, causing you to jerk your head up and look at him from the floor.

Your lower lip is instantly caught in your teeth, sinking into the flesh deeply as you try to control your breathing, unable to stop yourself from blinking up at him. You feel drawn into his dark eyes and his hand in your hair is almost overwhelming.

He lets out a groan, tightening his fingertips on your scalp, exhaling audibly and clenching his other hand into a fist at his side.

“What am I going to do with you,” he tuts, dropping his hand to your chin and gripping it gently.

You rise from your knees, glancing at the open door just as Jaemin bounces by, screaming at something Haechan is doing. Suddenly aware of where you are, you step forward, adjusting the cords aimlessly.

“What happened to my sweet, innocent Jisung?” you whisper, staring at the soft skin of his collarbone and wishing you could press your lips against it forever.

“Don’t act surprised. You created this monster, Noona, dressing me in all these sexy outfits. How could you think I would stay your bright eyed baby Sungie forever?” he asks back, tucking loose strands of your hair behind your ear. His words are biting, even if they do hold some truth.

Memories of him dozing off on your shoulder during long bus rides and hastily helping him into heavy jackets and necklaces during quick changes on tour come flooding in, mixed with the heavy, lustful stares you feel on you when you wear a low cut shirt or on hot summer days in Thailand when you wore thin athletic shorts in the airport.

He had kissed your lips gently a year ago after many bottles of soju and when the rest of the members were preoccupied by endless rounds of karaoke. You had stopped him then, told him that as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. Ever since that moment, he had made every effort to get you alone when he could, using every excuse under the sun, today’s outburst nothing new. You still remember how soft his lips felt on yours and the fire under your arm as he held you close after you rejected him.

Back on set, you’re packing up your bag again when you’re called over to check something on the computer from Jeno’s scenes. You give your feedback and suddenly your eyes are drawn up to where Jisung is filming, camera close to his face, light illuminating his beautiful features perfectly.

“Dreaming ‘bout you, dreaming ‘bout you,” echoes across the large soundstage and your heart is pounding in your chest as he plays with the cords at his neck, just as you had earlier, chests pressed up against each other in the dressing room. He makes eye contact with you briefly when the take ends and you look away quickly, embarrassed.

While you had been released to go for the day, you take your time packing the rest of your stuff, helping the makeup artists clean their station and even rearranging some chairs that barely needed adjustment. You watch the way he moves confidently, take after take, adjusting the jacket so his shoulders show boldly against the dark material. His fingers brush through the cords, pulling them up to his teeth at times before dropping them, leaving plump lips open before cracking a large smile at the reaction of the staff. In between takes he shakes his dark hair, casting his gaze down to the floor until someone asks him a question. You watch as he smiles and winks at the makeup artist powdering his cheek and you feel nervous energy stir in your stomach. You can’t bear to watch much more, so you slip out when he isn’t looking in your direction.

When you finally are home, feet pushed into fluffy slippers and sipping on steaming green tea you had just prepared, you peel the sheet mask off and rub the remaining serum into your cheeks and forehead. You are flipping through a magazine your coworker had given you on set, paying attention to the tabbed pages they had flagged for inspiration when your phone buzzes on the table next to you. A message from the head stylist fills your screen as you tap into it.

Jisung left his street shoes at set, did you take them home? He said he “needs them” for tomorrow.

You sigh and go to the shoebox by your door to find his Nike sneakers tucked neatly, laces wrapped nicely. You quickly reply to your boss, saying you don’t mind bringing them to the dorm since you know the managers had a late night meeting tonight. Running a brush through your hair, you dot some perfume on your wrists and behind your ear before grabbing your keys.

You fiddle with the edge of your oversized sweater in the elevator as you climb the floors to his dorm, feeling a nervous pit grow in your stomach. Finally outside, you knock quickly before dropping it down to hold the box with both hands.

The door swings open and Jisung is standing tall in front of you, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hair damp. A dark zip-up hoodie covers his chest and it’s unzipped just enough that you can tell he isn’t wearing a shirt underneath. You can’t help but let your mind wander back to shirtless Jisung pulling your hand to his crotch earlier and wonder if he was just lounging in his room in the sweatpants. Or worse, just his boxers.

“Hi baby,” he slurs out, lips curving up at the edge into a mischievous smile as he props his arm up on the door, leaning down as if he might kiss you. His sweatshirt hikes up on his waist when he does this, revealing a large swath of skin.

You shove the box at him, pushing him back into the room with it, letting it drop into his hands. You fling your bag on the table near the door and step out of your shoes.

“Don’t hi baby me, Park Jisung. I know you left these there so you could see me tonight. Did it really take you multiple hours to realize you weren’t wearing the shoes you came in?” you reply with a huff, picking up a sealed water bottle on the kitchen counter and taking a long sip.

Sweat is pricking at your hairline and you are starting to regret not texting one of the assistant managers or drivers to come get the shoes instead.

Jisung chuckles and sets the shoebox on a chair, reaching out to take the water bottle from you and gulping down the rest.

“Don’t be mad, baby,” he replies, leaving heavy emphasis on the pet name, stepping closer to you and wrapping strong arms around your waist, thumbs instantly finding the hem of your sweater and travelling across your lower back.

You can’t help how your body reacts to his touch, feeling your chest meet his, nipples hardening under the knit fabric now tugged down and exposing your cleavage. Your breath catches in your throat as you try to speak, looking up at him through your eyelashes for the second time today.

“Come on, I’m catching up on our show,” he says softly, lips grazing across your cheek gently. You had been watching the same show for the past few months, texting each other during episodes here and there, and chatting about it whenever you saw each other. He had complained none of the other members would watch it with him and while you would never let him know this, you had lied and said you were also planning to watch it.

Against your better judgement, you let him guide you to his small room, where his large tv is paused on the latest episode of the space docuseries.

“Oh, I haven’t watched this one yet,” you admit, dropping down to sit at the edge of his bed.

He clicks to restart the episode and unzips the sweatshirt, moving to remove it and reveal his bare chest.

“Jisung,” you say sternly and he chuckles, zipping it back up halfway, and plopping down on the bed next to you. He pulls the hood up over his dark hair for good measure before propping himself up against the pillows he has leaned against the wall. You settle back, leaving some space between the two of you and pulling a hamster plushie into your lap to nervously fiddle with.

While your eyes had started to get heavy back at your apartment, you are now wired, your body coursing with electricity and hypersensitive to every movement from the man next to you. He reaches for his phone occasionally, letting out light chuckles at messages from Chenle and even daring to post a couple Bubble messages. You thank whatever higher power exists that your phone was still tucked in your bag at the door, so he didn’t see yours light up when he sent the message. It was a drunken guilty pleasure you had indulged in and ever since receiving the first message tailored with your name, you couldn’t stop yourself from renewing the subscription.

His legs keep brushing against yours when he readjusts his position on the bed and somehow has gotten so close that his shoulder is now brushing against yours. You try to shift away, but he only closes the distance again when you do so. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you’re having a difficult time focusing on the show.

Suddenly the screen is filled with bright colors as they depict beautiful graphics of what scientists imagine the birth of a star looks like and a gasp falls from your lips as you lean forward, eyes flickering across the screen to take in the beautiful scene.

“You’re so pretty when you nerd out over this stuff,” comes his low voice, suddenly close to your ear, hand resting in the middle of your back.

You lean back in reaction, trapping his arm between you and the pillow, turning slightly to face him.

“Coming from NASA’s number one stan, please,” you reply lightly, shoving the plushie at him playfully. You let a chuckle fall from your lips and shake your head lightly, causing your hair to cascade over your shoulders.

He grabs at it and throws it off the edge of the bed, hands suddenly tight on your hips and pulling you into his lap, possessively gripping your ass as you straddle his legs.

Your lips drop open in surprise, both of you breathing heavy at the sudden movement. You feel your responsible self tapping your shoulder but finally decide to let the years of desire bubble to the surface and propel your lips to close the gap with his.

You move your lips across his gently, resisting the urge to push your tongue out immediately or bite down on his lower lip. He tightens his grip on you in response, pushing his crotch up to meet yours. You swear you can feel him through his pants which only makes you want him more.

He pulls away, taking your cheek in his other hand and looking between your eyes as if searching for some sort of silent answer to a silent question. You can almost see his own voice of reason forcing him to pause, if only for a moment.

“You ready to deal with the consequences of that monster you created, Noona?” he asks in a devastatingly low tone before moving his lips down to mouth at your chest, pushing the knit fabric to the side to bite at your shoulder.

A sigh falls from your lips as you let your head roll back, entire body on fire as he marks the skin at your neck, teeth sharp on your skin. You can’t help as your hands slide over the zipper of his hoodie and unzip it slowly, pushing the fabric down his shoulders to expose his toned chest. Running your hands over his hard muscles, you dig your fingernails gently, eliciting a deep groan from Jisung.

“Babyyy,” he sighs out, sliding his hand up to your throat and applying pressure there, pulling you forward to meet your lips again. The kiss is more urgent this time, tongue pressing deep into your mouth and hand gripping you tighter as he continues.

You let your hands slide down his torso, running over his abs and sliding them to his back to pull yourself closer to him. Before you can pull yourself fully flush against his chest, you are being flipped over, head falling back into the pillowy surface.

“Are you sure about this,” you ask, voice wavering despite every intention you had to form a confident question. Your eyes are flicking between his dark ones, as they had many times before, but suddenly holding so much more meaning in this intimate space.

“Are you not?” he asks back, head cocking lightly to the side, thumbs never stopping the circles they are rubbing into your hip bones.

“That’s not an answer,” you quip back, grabbing onto his hands to force him to focus. Unfortunately for you, it did the exact opposite.

You pull your eyes away from his, looking at your hands now pressed up against each other against the comforter. Your hand looks tiny next to his, his fingers could almost wrap fully around the tops of yours and that makes your mind fuzzy. You pulse your fingers, stretching them along his, feeling the length of them and how hot they are to the touch.

“Noona,” he calls, not as harsh and biting as on set, but still drawing you back to reality quickly.

His voice finally softens as he sees your watery blinking eyes, overstimulation creeping up on you before you’ve done much more than make out. He drops his thumb down the side of your face, caressing the space between your ear lobe and jaw tenderly. You want to look away, you want to push up and capture his lips in yours, you want to pull that stupid hamster plushie over your face and hide your burning cheeks.

“You know, I want it, I like,” he states, as if that is a full sentence other than in the context of the song they were filming with all day. His lips turn up in a small, shy smile at the end, showing a glimpse of that quiet boy you’ve always known and your heart settles a little in your chest. You nod rapidly a few times, sinking your nails into the palm of his hand and letting your eyes flutter shut.

His lips are on yours again quickly and that wicked hand that was just caressing your skin is now tightening around your neck again, which forces you up into an arch on the bed, pressing your lower body against his hardening cock. His tongue feels hot and wet in your mouth and you can’t help the moans that are escaping every time you have to pull back for air.

He sits up, straddling either side of your legs, tugging at your shirt and you manage to sit halfway up on your elbows, almost tearing the delicate fabric of your sweater as you rip it off, fumbling with the clasp of your bra as Jisung’s mouth is suddenly latched onto your neck, dropping heated kisses down your collarbone.

He sees you struggling and simply presses a strong thumb to the clasp, letting the cotton fabric slide off your arms and he tosses it clear across the room. This draws your attention to the door, which you realize now is cracked and you pray to every higher power that Renjun isn’t home.

“Hey, eyes on me,” comes the low voice above you again and you’re drawn back in, tuning out the distractions around you. He seems more amused than annoyed, which you have to appreciate given how long you’ve both waited for this exact moment.

Jisung makes quick work of removing his pants and boxers, reaching for a condom from his nightstand as you push down your own sweats, pausing at the thin band of your underwear. He sees you, dropping the foil packet to the bed and dips his head down, teeth dragging the elastic quickly, causing you to jump and let out a giggle.

“SUNG!” you yell weakly, trying to push his dark blue locks away as he continues to drag the dampened fabric down your legs.

He somehow manages to do it pretty easily, without getting too caught up on your knees or thighs, only struggling once he’s at your ankles and ripping them off with his hand, letting them drop to the floor with your bra.

He simply shrugs at you, a smile tugging at his mouth as he smooths those huge hands over your thighs, kneading the flesh there, eyes transfixed on your naked body. Your whole body is on fire and you silently beg for him to get on with it, even as it looks like he is about to swallow you whole.

A creeping monster your in your brain tells you you should feel more self conscious with him seeing you like this, despite both being equally exposed, realizing how many times you’ve seen him half clothed or even less. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he reaches up, covering your breast easily with his hand, thumb teasing your nipple absently. Your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t help but hold your breath as pleasure begins to flood through your body.

You beg your own gaze not to lower, not ready to see the size of him fully hard. You’ve unfortunately seen almost all the members’ dicks but usually in quick, embarrassed, accidental glimpses. Well, except for that one time Jaemin was literally helicopter swinging it around in the dressing room when you walked in with a tray of iced americanos. Both him and Jeno couldn’t speak to you for two weeks while Chenle continued to bring it up every chance he could, even mimicking the motion during sound check at their next stop.

You are startled at the sound of him tearing the condom wrapper, rolling it quickly on and leaning back down, face inches from yours as he cups the side of your face again. You instinctively nuzzle lightly into his hand at the contact, letting your eyes flutter shut as you draw your lips to his hand, smelling faintly of the lube from the condom. You kiss in between his thumb and forefinger lightly and before you know it, he’s slipping his thumb in between your spit covered lips, pad of his finger gently pressing against your tongue.

You gasp but drag your eyes lazily to meet his, knowing your own hunger is visible now not only in your gaze but also in the eager sucking of your lips.

He groans, taking the chance to push into you and you swear you see stars. Your eyes widen but pull his thumb further into your mouth, teeth grazing across the tip of his finger erratically as your hips buck up to pull him impossibly close.

Jisung’s eyes are fluttering shut, thumb dropping from your lips, now flushed red with teeth marks and slick with spit, sliding down to clutch your throat once again. Your own hand flies to your chest, groping at yourself, desperate for something to hold onto as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

He’s quiet, but with deep and passionate groans tumbling from his lips every once and a while. You watch as sweat begins to form at his hairline, perfect face beautiful in the dim light of his room, quiet music floating from his tv’s speakers as the episode is long forgotten and scrolling through the credits screen endlessly. Each noise that bubbles up from his chest equally soothes and paralyzes you, your own personal brand of poison seeping coldly through your veins. Your lips are perpetually hung open, mouth becoming so dry you can barely squeak out your own moans.

You feel your orgasm building suddenly after a particularly strong thrust and you swallow harshly, moving to speak to alert him. He doesn’t need any warning, reaching down to throw your leg over his shoulder and angle his lower body to perfectly hit that same spot over and over.

In seconds the poison is washing over you, lapping first at your feet like waves at the shore, nearly knocking you out as you float high above yourself, almost feeling like you’re having an out of body experience. Your chest is heaving as he slows his movements, as if he’s going to pull out.

A confused look forms on your face, head cocking to the side as you grip his arm, shaking your head wildly. Your hair is sticking to the back of your neck and you feel too hot on his plush bedding, but that isn’t reason to stop.

“Wait…what about…” you ask, confused, knowing he hasn’t come. Your eyes flick to the door again, wondering if he’s heard something while you were swimming a galaxy of bliss post orgasm.

He smiles at you, sliding out slowly and disposing of the condom quickly. He walks back over and takes your hand, bringing you to rise on shaky legs, standing naked beside his bed as he takes both your cheeks in his hands and kisses you deeply on the lips.

“I was thinking it would be better to continue what we started on set,” he purrs against you when he finishes ravaging your swollen lips.

A mischievous look forms in your eyes and you drop your hand to his stiff cock, giving it a few experimental pumps with the mix of lube and pre cum.

“Oh yeah?” is all you can reply, sinking slowly to your knees, still managing to tease him at this moment. You drop your hands to let them rest at your thighs, pressed together in an attempt to cool the burning heat still there.

He hisses out as soon as he can see you below him, bicep flexing as he runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head in feigned annoyance. His lids are heavy and all you can see are the whites of his eyes as they roll up in ecstasy.

You run your hands up your body, fingering the side of your neck and then tangling your fingers in your own hair seductively, never looking away from the man standing above you.

“Show me how good you can be for me, Noona,” he grunts out suddenly, gripping your chin way tighter than he had in the dressing room earlier. You grit your teeth but try to keep your face even as he tilts your head lightly, as if studying your face.

You gulp audibly and take him in your hands, finally faced with what you already knew was going to be stretching your cheeks as you were definitely going to struggle fitting him in your small mouth.

You tongue at his slit teasing it gently before sucking at the tip, letting it rest in your open mouth, eyes flicked up at him menacingly. You can tell from the look in Jisung’s eyes that he is dying to ram his cock down your throat but is trying so hard to let you set the pace.

Without any warning, you're sliding him further and further into your mouth, hands massaging his smooth calves to ground you. He’s getting louder now and one of his hands is playing in your hair, every once and a while gripping it tighter.

It only takes a few gentle thrusts till his voice becomes more strained and he’s tapping you on the head as a poor attempt of warning you he’s close. You resolve to let him spill into your mouth, but as soon as he comes the sudden movement causes most of the mess to land on your cheek and shoulder.

His loud exclamation of his pet name for you still ringing in the air, his hand loosens in your hair and you’re on your feet, hands settling on his broad chest, a hazy look of satisfaction on your face.

He seems mesmerised by you covered in his cum and draws a thumb up to that same spot between your ear and jaw, sliding it down and through the mess he made on your face. It’s as if everything’s moving in slow motion as your bottom lip drops open without a word and he slides his thumb into welcoming lips. You taste him, all of him, as he watches you suckle on the digit and blush form on your cheeks under the shine of your skin.

“Fucking filthy baby,” he whispers out, yanking you towards him as he sits on the edge of his bed and lifts you into his lap.

You can feel him harden under you and feel yourself warm up as his cock brushes against your core. You grind down on his lap which is met by him only gripping your waist tighter and landing a light smack on your ass. You grin at this and lean forward to kiss him, pushing your tongue greedily into his mouth.

“Already wanting more?” he asks with a mild mocking tone when you pull back, breathless and red in the face. He’s fully groping your ass at this point, massaging your cheeks with his fingers and pressing his palms into the thick flesh there.

You nod aggressively as you grind down on his cock again, spreading your thighs a bit more for better leverage. You want nothing more than for him to slide his bare cock into you right here and let you ride him through multiple orgasms, your tits bouncing right at eye level as he groans into your mouth through open mouthed kisses.

He merely laughs, pulling you out of your fantasy and reaches awkwardly for another condom, hand firmly keeping you in place.

“As much as I want what you want right now baby, let’s make sure there’s no-“ he starts out, rolling the condom on with shaky hands.

“SUNG, PLEASE!” you yell, clasping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment.

Even in the midst of it all, all the lustful years leading up to this moment, all the hidden glances and late night drunken thoughts, he is still your poison. Something that worms its way into your mind, into your heart. Normally, you wouldn’t even imagine being this close to someone without protection but somehow, Jisung does something to you that makes you want to be reckless. You want to be reckless with your heart, let it be swallowed whole by him. You want to throw your body on him, let him tear you down and degrade you and use you. You want to give him everything and every bit of love you can offer. You think you can see the two of you growing old together, sitting quietly in a park watching your grandchildren play together in the distance.

But you see, that’s the problem with poison. It gets in your veins, in your lungs, in your heart and slowly sweeps and finally, finally tears you down. You float high above yourself again, seeing stars as Jisung releases into the condom and his head falls against your chest. You are both quiet and unsure of what comes next. The poison of this night will wear off soon and reality will set in, leaving you only the memories of this night to return to in your dreams.

#nct smut #nct fanfic #nct x reader #park jisung #jisung x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #jisung smut #park jisung x reader

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ro-is-struggling · 2 years ago

Text

The Princess and The Wolf || PART 1 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: A look inside the complicated love story between the runaway princess and the lone wolf that saved her.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mutual pining, really bittersweet, heavy narration and not much dialogue, female reader (use of she/her pronouns//reader is a princess), mentions of blood and injuries (reader heals Geralt’s wounds), my shitty titles (I’m so bad at it, I’m so sorry)

English is not my first language

Word count: 5000

Notes: Look, I was in the mood for writing something cute and fluffy and magical (but also it's Geralt so it as to be angsty). I know those are probably not the words that come to your mind when you think of Geralt, but let me change your mind! Also I love writing healers/nature witches. Can you tell my fav character as a kid was Flora from Winx Club?

This is my first time writing something like this (as in this style of narrative and for this character in particular) so be gentle!

PART 2 || PART 3

Geralt was not used to feeling that way. In his many years of living on this earth, he had never missed anyone the way he missed her. He was a lone wolf who, despite having his pack, enjoyed traveling from town to town with his horse as his only companion. He enjoyed the silence and tranquility, and did not tend to miss home too much —finding that his annual visits in the winter were more than enough to catch up with his brothers while healing his wounds.

However, he did miss her when he was traveling. He missed feeling the warm touch of her skilled hands on his wounds as she healed him. He missed waking up to the sound of her laughter, talking to her cat as she prepared breakfast. He even missed her scolding and the look of concern she gave him every time he arrived at the door of her cabin hidden in the forest, injured. She made him feel special, often occupying his thoughts and dreams. He knew what it was, but refused to call it by name —if he did, it became real and he didn't know if he was ready for that.

Such was his longing to see her that he was almost happy to be wounded in battle, finding the perfect excuse to show up at her door once again. His wounds were deep, the beast's venom slowly spreading through his system. Were it not for the fact that he was close to her home, Geralt was fairly certain he would not have reached her in time. His healing skills were limited and only served to make his journey to the hut more bearable. Yet, the closer he got to her, the less his body ached. The promise of her company alone was enough to cure his afflictions.

Geralt was weak when he arrived at her door. From the way her natural cheerful expression turned into a worried grimace when she saw him on the other side of the wood, it was safe to assume he was not looking good. She rushed him to bed, asking him a thousand questions as she paced back and forth, gathering the necessary herbs and potions to treat his wounds. He answered no more than necessary, giving her just enough information to treat him and sparing her the details of his journey.

He was distracted, his mind clouded by the lack of blood and the poison spreading through his body, but also by the sweet floral scent that surrounded him. It was a perfume he could only describe as the very essence of her, a mixture of jasmine, roses and a hint of vanilla that followed her everywhere, leaving a special scent in the air that assaulted the witcher's nostrils, rendering him powerless.

"Drink this," she told him as she offered him a vial of a pale green liquid. It was a potion that would help with the poison, she explained, though he needed no reason to obey her. Geralt trusted her completely and would have drank anything she offered without question.

"Try to hold still, this might sting a little." She warned him, pushing his clothes aside so she could treat the deep gash in his chest. She smeared her fingers with a paste that had a peculiar odor, rubbing it over her hands to warm it before directing them to the wound. Geralt was met with a burning sensation that spread from his wound to the rest of his chest as soon as her fingers made contact with his skin. He let out a grunt, fighting the spasms of his muscles to allow her to work comfortably. However, the burning was soon replaced by a sensation of pleasant warmth as she uttered an incantation in the ancient tongue.

He concentrated on the harmonious sound of her voice, letting the words transport him back to that first time they had found themselves in a similar situation. He had been hired by the king to assassinate the beast that had killed the princess. It was said that it prowled the forest after sunset, it was there that the young girl had met her fatal fate. Her love for nature and the long walks under the moonlight was what had ultimately made her an easy prey for that monster. Geralt did not retain the specific details of that story, only what was useful to analyze his enemy. Had he done so, he might have realized that there were strange things in the story that would make any Witcher suspicious. And perhaps then he would not have been so surprised when he found the princess very much alive and well, wandering through the forest alone.

"Please, don't make me go back there." She had begged him after explaining that she had taken advantage of the beast's convenient appearance to escape from her home. "There's nothing waiting for me back there, only a future of unhappiness and subjugation to a man that doesn't respect me."

"I was hired to kill a beast and that's all I intend to do." Was his reply. He was more than ready to continue on his way, to leave her behind to sort out her fate while he dealt with what he had been hired to do, but the princess did not give him the opportunity. She begged for his help to escape from there, she didn't care where he took her as long as he got her as far away from her kingdom as possible. Her escape had not been planned, but a last minute decision that had not allowed her to pack supplies or even steal a horse from the stable. Still, she had been able to travel a fairly long way on foot, but it was evident that she could not continue like this much longer.

"I can't pay you in coin," she told him. "But I can make sure you survive your battle."

Geralt felt sorry for the young woman and was going to help her without asking for anything in return. He really doubted that she had anything valuable to offer him. He was a Witcher, an assassin highly trained in both combat and the arts of magic, tools he used to keep himself alive in the high-risk situations he lived in on a regular basis. However, his mercy proved useful after the battle, when the young princess demonstrated her healing abilities.

His wounds were deep, he was tired and his skin was painted with the reddish sticky liquid that ran through the beast's veins. But still, he was able to crawl to safety where she waited for him with his horse Roach. When she saw him approaching on the horizon she jumped to her feet, hands full of herbs she had gathered in preparation for that moment. Geralt could see nothing but a halo of light in the distance, a figure of hope running towards him with hair flying in the wind as it called his name.

He collapsed against a tree trunk, his breath hitching as the world around him became blurry and dark. He was not unconscious, but neither was he able to process what was happening around him. His memories of that moment were blurry, like a dream slipping from his mind upon awakening. The only thing he remembered clearly was a sweet female voice calling him back to life as soft hands caressed his skin, spreading their comforting warmth inside him.

Geralt had felt peace for the first time in a long while as her hands worked their magic on him, just as he felt at this very moment as her fingers caressed his skin once again. It always happened, her touch alone flooded his insides with peace and tranquility. Maybe that was why he missed her so much, maybe that was why he found himself visiting her for the simplest injuries that even he could heal. Unlike other healers, she was the only one who could calm his tormented soul, the only one who could quiet his thoughts and remove all traces of bitter negativity from his heart.

"Rest." He heard her whisper in his ear and as much as he wanted to, he didn't have the strength to open his eyes and look at her one more time. Geralt knew he was tired, but only now, in the quiet of her company and wrapped in the warmth of her body, did he realize just how much.

When he opened his eyes again it was morning. The rays of sunlight streaming through the window touched his face in a warm caress. His pupils were forced to adjust to the light as he opened his eyes, narrowing to almost two slits identical to those of the black cat resting beside him. The animal meowed contentedly as he shifted between the sheets —letting out a grunt of pain at the heaviness of his muscles. He stroked the cat as it purred at him, scratching its head and behind its ears as he knew it liked, before making an effort to get out of bed. His body ached and he still felt tired, but given what he had been through, he was lucky to be alive.

Geralt heard the sweet sound of the young woman's voice echoing down the hallway like a melodious murmur that filled his heart with joy. It came from the garden, so that was where he went. He found her having a conversation with Roach, brushing the horse's mane while complaining about him to the animal as if it could talk back. They were harmless comments that he knew she didn't mean, though he'd heard them in the past —complaints about his recklessness and lack of responsibility as a horse owner were never lacking. She was especially fond of animals, so she loved to talk to his horse as if he were a human being. She did it with her cat as well, and with any animal that crossed her path. Geralt found it entertaining, though a bit excessive —especially when they traveled together and she made him stop every so often to pet and chat with every rabbit and squirrel in their path.

"What are you doing out of bed? You need to rest!" She scolded him as soon as her eyes landed on him. As firm as her gaze was, he could see concern rather than anger or annoyance reflected in them.

"I would have stayed in bed if I hadn't felt the need to come out and defend my good name." He played along, the corner of his mouth curving ever so slightly upward in an almost imperceptible movement. "I can't have you filling Roach's head with lies about me."

"They are not lies!" She grumbled, folding her arms in exaggerated annoyance. "You are reckless and you don't give poor Roach enough attention." At her words, the animal thumped its front left paw against the ground as if it understood what she had said and agreed. Geralt huffed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

"You already turned her against me." She laughed and it was like music to his ears, a melodious tone that awakened happiness within him.

"I don't have to, she is a smart creature." She fired back, giving the horse a couple of gentle pets before setting aside what she was doing to focus her attention on him. "But seriously, you need to get back in bed."

"I'm fine." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. She looked at him steadily and Geralt knew she thought she looked intimidating, but with the way the light of the rising sun framed her figure and the gentle breeze moving her hair, he saw nothing more than a forest fairy. The most beautiful and innocent fairy he had ever seen. He was tempted to challenge her just to tease her and make her grumble. She looked adorable when she pointed an accusatory finger at him believing that something she did or said could intimidate the Witcher. In the end he decided not to do so and instead accompanied her back into the house, though he did not lie down again, but sat with her at the kitchen table.

She insisted on preparing breakfast on her own, arguing that he was her guest and that he was badly injured, so Geralt had the opportunity to admire her as she moved about the room, humming under her breath melodies he did not recognize. It made him genuinely happy to see her acting so freely around him, thinking about how far their relationship had come. When he had first met her, she was far from the confident, free spirit she was now. She was quiet and reserved, barely asking him questions from time to time to fill the void of silence and always apologizing for everything.

It was more than mere distrust of a stranger, Geralt could see in her eyes that she was trapped inside herself, a cocoon of fears and insecurities that trapped in its intricate net the beautiful butterfly that lurked within. She would show her true colors from time to time, like when he would catch her talking to Roach when she thought he was sleeping, or when she would make them stop to help a wounded animal. But she always apologized immediately afterwards, as if she realized too late that she had done something wrong, something she wasn't supposed to do. It made Geralt wonder what kind of life she had left behind when she ran away from home.

He was not a man of many words and was used to traveling alone and in silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds and the crunching of dry leaves under Roach's hooves, but when it came to her he felt a strange need to hear her speak. Perhaps it was the harmonious tone of her voice, or maybe the fact that he could tell she needed to express herself, but he didn't mind when she rambled absentmindedly as they traveled, putting into words every thought that crossed her mind.

"I was never meant to be a princess, no matter what my blood says." She had confessed to him one afternoon as they walked through the forest. "The traditions, the politics, the expectations... I was never good at any of that."

"Is that why you ran away?" His question took her by surprise. He barely spoke to her so she assumed he wasn't listening to her most of the time. When she turned to look at him she found his yellow eyes fixed on her, making her feel small under his intense gaze.

"I wanted to be free." She answered honestly. "I refused to live trapped inside a castle for another day, pretending to be someone I'm not, pleasing everybody but myself... I want to forge my own path, build my own destiny. I have no idea what I'm doing or if it will even work, but I owe it to myself to try."

Geralt admired her for that. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she knew what she didn't want and had had the courage to do something about it. That was why he was so glad things were going well for her. She deserved her freedom, she deserved to have the space to find herself and live her life on her terms. Her bravery had been rewarded.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him as she set a plate of food in front of him, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts.

"I'm fine."

"Are you? Or are you doing that thing you do all the time when you pretend not to need anyone's help?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, proud of herself for knowing him so well.

Geralt sighed. "I'm a bit sore and tired, but I'll live." He finally confessed.

"That's normal, you were really hurt. I'm amazed that you got here in one piece."

"You should have seen the other guy." He joked sarcastically and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm being serious, Geralt. The poison could have killed you."

"It didn't."

"Only because of your slow heartbeat, but what if next time you don't get so lucky?" The tone of the conversation suddenly changed as they looked into each other's eyes. The familiar heavy tension in the air, making it hard to breathe.

It was her greatest fear. She feared there would come a day when Geralt's wounds would be so bad that even she wouldn't be able to heal them. She feared it almost as much as never opening the door again and finding him on the other side. The thought of him dying, at home or out on the battlefield, terrified her. She knew it was stupid since he was a Witcher, a being genetically modified to face the greatest dangers, whose purpose in life was to kill monsters. She knew the smart thing to do would have been to get away from him in time, before his absence hurt her as much as it did. She knew there was no point in worrying about someone who had made peace with the idea of dying in battle, but she did it anyway. She couldn't help but fear for his safety the moment he set foot outside her home, worrying until he would eventually show up there again.

"Just... be careful." She muttered after a few seconds of silence, swallowing her emotions as a lump formed in her throat.

Geralt could see the pain in her eyes, the fear and worry shining in them clearly. He felt the need to assure her that he would be all right, but they both knew that was a lie. In his line of work one could never be sure of anything. Things could change very quickly and even he could be surprised with the cold caress of death sooner than expected. The best he could do was to assure her that he would do everything in his power to get back to her.

"I will be."

That wasn't enough to dissipate the young woman's fears, but it was enough to calm her worries for the moment. Instead of concentrating on things she couldn't control, she chose to turn her attention to the things she could. After breakfast she inspected Geralt's wounds once more to make sure they were healing properly. With the help of her magic and the speed with which the Witcher's body regenerated, the deep gash that adorned his chest was now no more than a scratch. The skin was still red and irritated, but it was in better condition than just a few hours ago. The same with the rest of the cuts and scratches that graced the rest of his body, some of which had already disappeared completely, leaving behind a slightly discolored line on the skin.

She sat beside him as she worked, rubbing a healing paste of her own creation over what was left of his wounds. She focused her energy on him, eyes glued to the skin of his chest as she let her fingers work their magic. She knew it probably wasn't necessary, given the rapid evolution of his cuts they would most likely be practically healed in a couple more hours. But she wanted to do it. She didn't like to see him hurt, even if it was something that happened regularly. He always came to her bruised and bloody, but even then she never got used to seeing him like that. She hated to see him suffer, so when he was with her she would go out of her way to heal all the wounds on his body no matter how small or insignificant. She wanted to make her home a sanctuary for him, a place free of pain and danger where they were safe to be together.

Geralt could feel her energy enveloping him, the warmth her body radiated caressing his skin delicately. The scent of her hair flooded his nostrils, filling his lungs with that sweet floral perfume that was so distinctive to him. It was intoxicating, a drug he couldn't quit. He allowed himself to get lost in the moment, enjoying the soft touch of her hands on his chest and shoulders as he admired her work. She was beautiful, like a flower full of color and life that only grew stronger with each of his visits. Her smile, a ray of sunshine that lit up the gray, cloudy sky that was his life. And her eyes... oh her eyes. Geralt could get lost in them for hours, reading in her reflection every little thought that went through her head. To him she was an open book, the most fascinating he had read in a long time.

She became slightly nervous when she looked up and met Geralt's intense gaze fixed on her. They were close, too close to each other for her not to feel intimidated under the watchful admiration of his amber orbs. And yet, she couldn't look away from him. She couldn't help but marvel at the sharp angles of his features, counting the small scars that adorned his skin as her eyes traveled down his face. Those were two traits that people normally found intimidating about him. He had the face of a reckless warrior, a lone wolf with no feelings that augured trouble. But she knew him better than that, she knew the man behind the rumors and knew there was much more to his story and his character. When she looked at him she saw more than the dangerous Witcher. She saw the man who had saved her from her terrible fate, the one she missed and longed for when he was far away, the only man who occupied her thoughts.

Geralt's eyes strayed to her lips as she caressed them with her tongue. It was an innocent act but he felt it as a temptation, a challenge he had every intention of accepting. He leaned forward, feeling her warm, slightly quickened breath colliding and mingling with his own. He held still for a moment, waiting for her to pull back and move away. When she didn't, Geralt moved a little closer to her until he felt the tip of her nose brush against his. When he looked up one last time, he noticed that she was looking at him with half lidded eyes, completely at his mercy. She was in a trance, lost in the deep amber of his eyes, with no thought in her mind but him. It was the moment they had both been waiting for, the culmination of all the tension that had built up.

But before they could join their lips in the long-awaited kiss, the sound of the cat jumping on top of the table interrupted them. The animal's meow broke the trance and she realized what was about to happen. Embarrassed, she pulled away from Geralt immediately, mumbling something about feeding the cat as she disappeared from his vision. He would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, still longing to feel her lips on his, but perhaps it was for the best. If he kissed her he would never want to stop or leave again, and he knew that wasn't possible. His place was out there on the road with his horse as his only companion. He was not meant to stay in one place for long, his profession had taken that privilege away from him long ago.

“Your wounds are almost healed.” She stated as she returned to the room, picking up the cat and setting it down off the table. It was an excuse so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye when talking, something to occupy herself so she wouldn't think about what had just happened.

"Guess I'll be leaving tonight then." He was in no hurry to leave, he would gladly stay another week there with her if he could, but he knew that wasn't wise. He could never stay too long with her since he always feared the effects it might have. The more time he spent with her, sharing moments of domestic intimacy, the harder it was for him to get back on the road. The last time he had been there he had ended up running away in the middle of the night, knowing he couldn't leave if he had to look her in the eye and say goodbye. And now he feared that nothing had changed, so he had to get out of there before it was too late.

"I would rather you stay one more night and rest here." She said in a soft tone, trying to hide the true meaning behind her words. She didn't want him to leave, not yet. "Your physical wounds might be healing fast but don't forget that you were poisoned and you almost died. Witcher or not, that's a lot."

"I'll be fine."

"Maybe, but would it kill you to stay here one more night for my own sake? Because if you walk through that door now, I will spend the rest of my days worrying about you until I see you again." She finally worked up the courage to look at him, pleading with her eyes for him to listen to her. She knew that if he wanted to leave there was nothing she could do to stop him, so she hoped he would have mercy on her. "I just want to make sure that you're alright."

Geralt couldn't refuse her even if he wanted to, not when she was looking at him with big, bright eyes full of love. Not when her voice was almost a whisper, as if she was afraid he would hear her. He understood the feeling, the fear of admitting what he really felt. But it was easier that way. It was the best thing for both of them. Their lives were incompatible as were their personalities.

She was a nice sunny summer afternoon and he was a harsh winter night. She was a ray of sunshine that with her warm touch awakened life in everything around her and he was the cold, cruel snow that buried everything under a layer of ice. Maybe that was why he felt this inexplicable attraction to her, as if they were connected by an invisible thread that pulled him to her every time he tried to walk away. Her warmth melted the ice around him, allowing new things to blossom in the fertile soil. Only he didn't know if there was anything left under the ice that could bloom. If so, he had to be careful because her warmth, though pleasant and comforting, could lead to his doom.

Still, he ignored his brain's warnings, giving in to her pleas. They spent the day together and Geralt allowed himself to lose himself in the intimacy and domestic bliss of the moment. He indulged in the fantasy of a life by her side as he admired her dancing around the kitchen while cooking or moving among the plants as she tended to her garden, talking to the squirrels and birds that wandered by. He delighted in the sound of her voice as she called his name and enjoyed her melodious laughter.

When the sun went down, she lay beside him on the bed, talking nonsense until her eyelids began to feel heavy. She denied being sleepy several times, assuring him that she was just resting her eyes. Geralt snorted, but said nothing, listening intently to the story she was telling him about a deer she had saved from death between masked yawns. She didn't get to finish the story, not consciously at least. She mumbled a couple of almost inaudible gibberish before falling asleep, fighting her last battle against her body's need for rest.

Geralt watched her sleep for a good while, his eyes admiring the peace on her face in the dim candlelight. She had never looked so ethereal, with her hair spread out on the pillow like a halo around her head, and her chest rising and falling slowly with her calm breathing. Her skin was soft under his touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of his fingers bruised from all the fighting and constant use of the sword. She was the most beautiful piece of art, a sculpture carved by the gods themselves. He almost felt unworthy to be by her side, the softness of her features reminding him once again how different they were, how wrong his feelings were.

He got out of bed with a heavy heart, searching for his things while being very careful not to make a sound so as not to alert her. He couldn't stay there one more night, if he woke up in the morning with her by his side he would never want to leave and he knew very well that it wouldn't end well. So, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, just a brush of his lips against her skin as a farewell.

Geralt disappeared into the darkness of the night without leaving any trace of his presence. When she opened her eyes the next morning she was disappointed to find herself alone in bed. She didn't have to leave the room to know he was gone, she could feel his absence in the air. She felt lonely and cold again, already missing the warmth that filled her whenever he was around. Letting out a tired sigh, she dropped into a chair near the door. Her eyes were glued to the wood, her mind filled with thoughts of Geralt. She wondered if he was alright and if he was missing her as much as she was missing him.

And just like that, the cycle continued, his departure leading the way to the stage of uncertainty and worry that grew in her with each passing day as she awaited his return. Her eyes remained glued to the door at all times, her ears attentive to the sounds waiting to hear Roach's footsteps approaching in the distance. She hated this moment. She hated not hearing from Geralt. She hated not being able to hear his low, raspy voice or feel the warmth of his body against hers. She hated the amount of energy she wasted worrying about him. But most of all, she hated knowing that all her suffering would be worth it the moment he came knocking on her door again.

I have more ideas for these two so if you guys like it let me know!

PART 2 HERE

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x fem reader #the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x female reader #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt of rivia angst #geralt of rivia imagine

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vulpixisananimal · 5 months ago

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<Null> {Mal Du Pays} (Siffrin) [Loop] [(???)]

[(Darkest of night. No moon in sight and stars that hide. The curtains were closed. They were closed, they really were closed. Actors milling about back stage, yet here you are, in the dusty forgotten corridors.)]

[(You woke up and couldn't sleep. Didn't want to. Finally, no annoying voices, just, you. Siffrin. Only Siffrin. Nothing more, nothing less. You stood there in the night for a minute, feeling the winds and the biting chill of the seasons turn to winter.)]

[(You walk to The Kids cooking supplies. You crouch down, and start rummaging.)]

[(You take a piece of carrot, and bite. Crunchy, different, tastes okay. You bite into an onion. Tasty, burns, good. Bread, boring, bleh. Garlic, oh that's a fun taste, strong, VERY strong.)]

[(Spices, too. You taste the cinnamon, thyme, ginger, good and textured, flavored, you cough a few time. Next is some drops of vanilla, peppermint-)]

"What're you doing?" [(You turn around. The Kid is there, it looks like having just woken up.)]

". . . Testing for poison!" [(You lie. What, would you say the truth? The truth that you hadn't gotten to taste something like this, REALLY taste something like this, for a long, long time? No. So you lie.)]

[(The Kid squints at you.)] ". . . Who're you?"

"I'm, Siffrin?" [(You reply.)]

"Nuh uh." [(They cross their arms.)] "'Frins weird but not THAT weird."

"But that's my name!" [(Keep your voice down.)] "Regular old helpful Siffrin, just, helping out?"

"Don't lie to me!" [(The Kid's trying to be quiet.)] "I know you're 'Frin 'cause you're ALL 'Frin but you're not the 'Frin I know!"

"Then just. Call. Me. Siffrin!" [(You're smiling.)] "Why don't you back to bed? Big day tomorrow, kiddo."

"Nuh." [(Big pout.)] "You gotta sleep too, not'frin. AND I still dunno who you are!"

"I said I'm-"

"I KNOW!!" [(The Kid barely contained their shout, then paused, then continued.)] ". . . Lulu's 'Frin, Null's 'Frin, 'Ays is 'Frin, you're 'Frin. Sif'frin got that name 'cause they're around a lot. You're 'Frin but you're also, uhm. . ."

[(You stare at them, still smiling. Then to the pack. You grab a bottle.)] "What's this?"

"Huh? Oh, saffron. 's Spice." [(The Kid shrugs, distracted.)]

[(You pause, then take some out and eat it. . . Tasty, floral, earthy, good.)]

". . . You're a weirdfrin." [(The Kid walked closer.)] "Weirdy weirdo weirdfrin."

"Yup! That's me! Weirdy weirdfrin Siffrin!" [(You turn and smile, holding the bottle up.)] "Saffron?"

"Uh huh."

"Do I really need a nickname if I'm Siffrin?"

"Uh HUH!" [(The Kid said insistently.)] "Same body or not you'd need a nickname!"

". . ." [(You hate it. So confident, mean, cooking good, kind now? The Kid was talking to you, talking to you. . . Normally? Fine. You put the cooking things back.)] "Saffron then. I liked it."

"Ok Saffron!" [(Well and just like that, you two were best buddies again. They helped put the mess away, but handed you the onion.)]

". . . . Onion?"

"You took a bite, dummy, eat it."

". . . Oh, right."

[(You take a few more bites of the onion, eye watering, it's, too much. You put it down.)]

"Heh, stupidfrin." [(The Kid looked so smug right now.)] "Punishment onion."

"Punishment onion." [(You agree solemnly, still smiling. You stand up.)] "I'm sleeping. Good night."

"Uh. . . Night." [(You turned away from The Kid. It all felt so alien, even still. . .)]

[(. . . You may never get used to this.)]

>>>

|You bolt upright. It's the middle of the night, you're, you're in a room, an inn room? Are you traveling? You are traveling, aren't you. You remember a lot of, walking. And before, fighting, no, and, before-|

|Red|

|The blanket feels heavy and inviting, and a second body lying in the bed was warm and soft, but, you had to get up. You stand, wobbly, your body feels wrong, very wrong, and small. Your vision is wonky, just, step by step. You walk to a little side of the room, mirror, mirror, mirror, you need, a mirror- there!|

|You can barely see yourself in this light. You, candle, or, crafted lamp, or- you find a small crafted light. With a spark you turn it on, a soft glow in the corner of a room and, and you look, in the mirror. . .|

|. . . . .|

|. . . . . That's not your face.|

|Your're, young. You look soft. You have messy darkless hair with dyed ends. You have one eye, and had scars down the neck. Your arms were short, you were short. You were breathing faster, you, you, this, you, you KNEW this body.|

|You're crying, no, nononono why, what's going on, why are, you, you remember, do you remember? No you do! Because, because it's, this body, it belongs to-|

"Siffrin?" |A soft, concerning voice came from accros the room. You whip around to see that other person, no, Isabeau. Isabeau was looking at you. You couldn't hide your emotions.|

". . . ." |You, couldn't speak. What, what do you do?!? Why are you here?!? You're and in their body, THEIR body, that body, person, someone, you, ruined the life of. Destroyed. Crushed. A-and, and-|

"H-heyyy it's okay, it's okay." |He was talking so softly. Like, like he cared about you?| "Are you new?"

". . . N-new?" |You finally say, your voice feels wrong.|

". . Haaaave you walked around? Like, this? Before?"

|'Like this' does he mean in a different persons body? Or outside of the house? Of frozen time? Just, answer.| "I. . . I don't think so?"

"Okay!" |He smiles at you.| "Don't, uh, freak out? So uh, youuuu're kind of sharing a body with a few people- oh crab are you okay?"

|Huh? Are you- oh. You touch your cheek, you're crying.| "I. . . I'm sorry, I don't know why. . ."

"It's okay, this stuff's confusing, haha. . ." |He looks away, he's worried.| ". . . O-oh! Sif keeps a journal, I think there's some stuff in there about, all this?"

"O-okay. . ." |You walk back over to your side of the bed with the lamp. There's a pack, yours? You think? After a bit of looking, you find a book you think is right, and open it.|

|. The inside cover has a couple pictures pressed into it. The first is a childs drawing of five figures, the one in the middle has an arrow with the word "You!" pointing to it. The second one is a smaller one with another figure on it. The first page had a big, bold, "DON'T PANIC!!!" at the top. Too late, but you read on, and, Universe willing, you would feel better after.|

|"If you're reading this, you're probably confused on what's going on." The handwriting was neat and deliberate, if this was to be a message to you, well, it was well crafted. "I'll try and explain things nice and quick, but you'll get the idea soon enough."|

|"You're sharing a body with me (Siffrin) and four other people at time of writing. Don't ask why, the brain just, kinda does this sometimes? I dunno." Ah yes, this was making you very confident. "This book we've been using to try and remember things, and note down who else we're sharing a body with."|

|"You see those pictures? That's our family! We're traveling with them all now, and they all know about our whole "body thing", so feel free to talk to them." Ah, that makes sense. The big, tough looking one must be Isabeau?|

|As if on cue, you turn to see him offer you a glass of water. You take it, smiling. He smiles back.|

|Back to the book. "There's some papers on this stuff in our bag if you want specifics, and at the back of the book we've been writing down who's in our little "system." So feel free to add yourself! It'll save everyone a headache." Can't you just, dissapear for a bit instead? "Lastly, we've also been writing down events daily starting on the next page. Leave a note on the latest entry when you read this. K?"|

|"We're all in this together, okay? Welcome to the club. - Siffrin."|

|. . . . You wanted to throw up.|

|You wanted to scream and cry and run away and dive into the ocean. You wanted to punch something. You wanted to see something break. You wanted to see the stars, you, you, you didn't want this. Right? N-no you, you don't deserve to be here. You SHOULDN'T be here. You felt, strange, like, you're not, who you think you are. . .|

|You remember yourself. You remember fighting yourself. You remember, pain, suffering, tears- Oh stars you can't think about that. You got a headache, and were crying more. You drink some of the water, calm, down. You just need water, and to breathe. Breathe in, hold for 1..2..3.........9..10.. And out. . . .|

"You okay?" |You hadn't noticed, but Isabeau had moved next to you.|

|You nod.| "I am. . . Okay. Just, okay."

"Well, uh, I'm here to help, okay?"

|You nod again, then back to the journal. You flip to the back of the book. At the top of the back page was one big title with stylised stars around it.|

|"CONSTELLATION"|

|. . . Oh, a collection of stars. It is what you all were. So, that's the name of your group? Cute. You look at the entries.|

|"Siffrin. He/they. I'll be in charge of the body the most."|

|"Loop, They/them~ Your wonderful, helpful Loop~"|

|"Mal Du Pays. It/its. Protector. Dont hurt the body and we're fine."|

|"Null. He/him. That's all you're getting."|

|"Saffron. He/they."|

|You were a little curious, or worried, why the last entry didn't have more detail. No matter, there were more in detailed descriptions on the next couple pages, too. . . You, you should add one.|

|. . . . . . . . . . . .|

|"Asterion. He/him."|

|The name just, came to you. You don't know why, but, you knew that was your name. Asterion. Oh. . . Or was it Asterius? You felt both were right, but, the first you. . . Liked more. Either a father of a tyrant king, or monster said king was cursed with. . . You didn't put more details in the journal. You didn't want to. And, if you did, you had a terrible feeling they'd. . .|

|. . . . You look at the latest journal entries.|

|Earlier Today: "Got into town! We'll take a day to relax, Wolworth is just a little bit further. Still glad that talk about Saffron went well - Sif"|

|Yesterday: "Fought sadness. Getting repopulated. Very weak. All is good. - MAL"|

|Two days ago: "Well it looks like lovely our new addition made the decision for us! He woke up in the middle of the night and scared Bonnie oh so badly. Eating an onion? Spices?!? Ugh, at least we have a name, now. Saffron. - Loop<3"|

|. . . How. . . Eventful? You have strange, phantom memories of these events. Remember remembering, like you should know it but don't. . . You leave a note under the latest entry.|

|"Woke up at night, not sure why I am here. Isabeau was able to help." You think for a moment. . . "I will not cause trouble, I am just very anxious about all of this. I may hide, but, thank you for the introduction. - Asterion"|

|You stared at the letters you wrote on the page. Reading and re-reading them a thousand times at least. . . They wont find out. They, can't find out. Please, don't find out. . .|

|You take a breath, and hold it, then release. You close the book and put it to the side.|

"Better?" |Isa asks. You drink the rest of the water he got you.|

"I. . . Yes." |You turn off the lamp and lay back down, staring at the ceeling.| "Yes I, I think I'll be okay."

|. . . Eventually, you close your eyes. Isabeau gets closer to you. As if on instinct, you fit yourself into his arms. He's warm, strong, and protective. . . Oh. . If he knew. . .|

|You had no plan. What WAS there to plan. You, lost. You lost one hundred times, in fact. Your title will live down and be remembered by all as one of doom. Oh. .The man who nearly saved a country. Well. . . Oh would it have truly been saved? Would it not just be forgotten in time as your home was?|

|That made it hurt all the more.|

|You, were not, him.|

|You felt with every bone in your body that you were that tyrant frozen in time. But you know in your soul you were not. The memories you have of those bloodiest of battles. . Oh. . They showed a villain who was cruel. So, so cruel. . Oh you could never do such a thing. It hurt to think about. It hurt to remember. And it hurt, it hurt in your stomach when you, you. . .|

|. . . You need, to sleep. . .|

|. . .|

|Your name is Asterion. And you are The King.|

#isat #in stars and time #isat art #art #isat fanart #siffrin system au #isat au #isat spoilers #sifstem #isat siffrin #Sifstem main story #isat bonnie #isat king #isat isabeau #sasasaap siffrin

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floral-poisons · 2 years ago

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YOU'RE SHADOW BANNED???

i was. i'm no longer shadow banned.

#floral poisons talk #mutuals #cupid 🍄

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sulumuns-dootah · 5 months ago

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Assigning WHB demons plants/flowers based off the vibes: Abyssos

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: I think I need to start attending some botany classes again bc from the way these post are turning into me rambling about plants i can tell I miss it :D

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Nepenthes rajah

I don't think this plant has a common name, but if it did it would be smth like Rat/Mouse eating pitcher plant

Bc that's exactly what the plant does

It's just big enough for the small rodent to climb into and never see the light of day again

This also probably explains why I picked it for Beel

I mean, he literally eats angels whole

(I find pitcher plants really cool bc they're literally just a pitchers filled with digestive fluid, but they're not necessary carnivorous - some life off of animal droppings or insects)

༺☆༻

Venus flytrap - Dionaea muscipula

At first i was gonna include maybe some other pitcher plant or completely different plant...

But then again, Bael is literally catching the King of flies on daily basis

Idk why, but looking at pics of the open leaves is really calming to me

Having them is kinda cool bc sometimes you just walk past and see one of their leaves closed bc it caught a fly and you'll feel kinda proud of your little baby for catching something

From my experience they don't close when you give them dead one, though

They might also be a bit harder to keep alive...

Mine made it few months, but then bloomed and died shortly after I cut the flower off (similar thing also happened to my friend who specialises in succulents and carnivorous plants so I don't think I did anything wrong)

༺☆༻

Poison Ivy - Toxicodendron

At first I was thinking I'll give Stolas something bird-named, but I really wantd somethinig that looks harmless, and the moment you mess with, you're in for a lot of pain

And this plant baby delivers

I've never had the misfortune of meeting it, but I haver heard the stories

For those who don't know: Contanct wiht the plant gives you a nasty rash, sometimes with some blisters

Interestingly, looking it up on wikipedia, there's even what would happen if you smoked or eaten it....

As if you'd wanna do that after getting a rash just touching that thing

(You skin is pretty much reacting to the oil on the leaves, so after you come to contact make sure to wash it off or you'll spread it on other things too)

༺☆༻

Hypoestes

I can only talk about this moody beauty from experience since there isn't much info online

From what I've found there's about 150 scpecies in this family

Doesn't require much sunlight, but needs water

And oh boy, the amount of water...

The reason why I picked this plant for Amon is how easy it is for the leaves to start drooping

Just like him being constantly tired

But oh boy, the drooping... One minute she looks good and then two minutes later she's on the verge of death

It's not good to have planters just sitting in water bc of the risk of mold, but this one might just need it

༺☆༻

Common Ivy - Hedera Helix

Originally I wanted to go again with a plant based off his animal form, but then while writing for Amon, I saw normal Ivy

The ultimate Dark Academia plant that looks so good growing around anything

It's perfect for a demon they sometimes call Class President

I really love Common Ivy bc of how much you can use her for

Amazing use for Ivy is putting her into floral arrangements and the amazing thing is that it'll mostly keep its color as long as it's not left out in the rain or your glue gun set on too high temperature

Fun fact: The leaves of the plant are different on normal branches from the branches with a flower

#what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb beelzebub #whb bael #whb stolas #whb naberius #whb amon #I just need to make it through a year or so of accounting studies and then I can apply to study botany at a college ^^

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jumpywhumpywriter · 6 months ago

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Vampire Captures Vampire Hunter to Use as Bloodbag Masterlist

Warnings: blood drinking, kidnapped human, intimate vampire whump, violence, dominance power move, captive human bloodbag, blood and broken bones, blood drinking

A vampire hunter ambushes a vampire club with his crew -- but little does he know, the tables are about to turn, and not in the human's favor. How will he survive when one vampire decides to turn him into a pet?

This storyline finally has its own Masterlist!

Part 1 - Why Hello, Little Hunter...

Part 2 - Rough Car Ride

Part 3 - How To Shut Up Your Human

Part 4 - Blessed Silence

Part 5 - Fight Me

Part 6 - Playing Cat and Mouse

Part 7 - Would You Look at That... I Win

Part 8 - Dying? Already?!

Part 9 - Help! My Human is Sick

Part 10 - A Brief Reprieve

Part 11 - How to Care for Your Human: A Complete Vampire's Guide

Part 12 - Feeding the Prey

Part 13 - An Attempt at Cooking

Part 14 - Escape Plan

Part 15 - Anticipation

Part 16 - Run for Your Life

Part 17 - Vampire's Rage

Part 18 - Excruciating Pain

Part 19 - You Asked For It

Part 20 - Suffer

Part 21 - Feeding Tube

Part 22 - Carewhumper

Part 23 - Slow Recovery

Part 24 - Drowning

Part 25 - The Company You Keep

Part 26 - Coexistence

Part 27 - Choices

Part 28 - Blood Bargain

Part 29 - Chores

Part 30 - Handicapped

Part 31 - Unwanted Help

Part 32 - Hopeless

Part 33 - Bargain

Part 34 - Blueberries?

Part 35 - No Way Out

Part 36 - Surprise! Didn't See That Coming!

Part 37 - The Unfortunate Truth About Garlic & Vampires

Part 38 - Paycheck Paid in Blood

Part 39 - Relax

Part 40 - Happy Human = Happy Vampire

Part 41 - Intruder Alert

Part 42 - Role Reverse of Predator and Prey

Part 43 - Burn

Part 44 - Take Advantage

Part 45 - My, How the Tables Turn

Part 46 - Mercy

Part 47 - The End

Spinoff Story/Continuation of Vampire & Vampire Hunter

Part 1 - Hemlock & Silver Poisoning

Part 2 - Captured

Part 3 - Anger

Part 4 - Enemy

Part 5 - Shaky Trust

Part 6 - Manipulation

Part 7 - Backed into a Moral Corner

Part 8 - Play With Your Food

Part 9 - Savor It

Part 10 - Talk About It

Part 11 - PTSD & Anti-depressants

Part 12 - Forgiveness Denied

Part 13 - Internal Conflict and Tensions

Part 14 - Newcomer

Part 15 - A New Ally

Part 16 - How Anisa Found Alex

Part 17 - What Were You THINKING?!

Part 18 - Flashback: The Reason Behind Why Alex Never Lies

Part 19 - The Taste of Vampire Blood

Part 20 - Grouchy

Part 21 - Anisa's a Control Freak

Part 22 - Jealousy

Part 23 - For Feedback Purposes

Part 24 - Meet Back in Ten

Part 25 - Ambushed

Part 26 - Alex Gone Feral

Part 27 - Run, Mallory, run for your life

Part 28 - Rogue Vampire

Part 29 - Hunting Anisa

Part 30 - Guilty Feeding

Part 31 - Alex Attack

Part 32 - Make Amends

Part 33 - Fatal Injury

Part 34 - I'm sorry... I lied

Part 35 - First Day of Your Immortal Life

Bonus Alternate Ending: Mallory Begs Alex to Turn Him

CROSSOVER NOVEL!! (This storyline is continued in it)

Fanart for chapter 16, how Anisa first found Alex after he'd been Turned

Fanart of Alex leaving Mallory to drown

Fanart of Alex feeding on Mallory

x3 epic fanart pieces starring Anisa (and one with Callahan)

Anon aks: what are all the characters' greatest fears?

Poll: how should this novel end?

Main Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy @nevermore-ramblings

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @floral-comet-whump

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y2kuromi · 1 year ago

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✶ : ❛ 𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗧𝗨𝗦 : seishiro nagi x reader ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა

˖ ִֶָ𐀔 — contents ⋮ birthday fic for moi <3 fluff, fluff, fluff, fem! reader, established relationship, nagi is literally whipped. reo being a d1 hater. pet names . second person (you/your/yours) and third person pov. w/c : 2.4k

if you told nagi he'd be sitting cross-legged in his kitchen picking thorns off pink roses and counting them under his breath while his best friend reo talked him through this (or at least attempted to), he would've laughed in your face. even more so if you'd told him his cheeks were flushed a shade darker than the soft petals he clutched and his heart hammered loudly in his chest. but here he was doing just that hours to your birthday

"what do you think?" nagi asked reo, bringing the bouquet into view. he was quite proud of the floral arrangement of roses, chrysanthemum, lotus and hydrangea flowers. "’s it too much?"

"it's pretty lame, why don't you just cover (y/n)'s apartment in rose petals instead" reo suggested, he was only kidding

"you just want to see me suffer" nagi grumbled. when he'd facetimed him for moral support, he hadn't expected him to crack jokes at his expense, "cleaning that up would be such a hassle"

"i'm surprised you made the bouquet yourself," reo said thoughtfully, "wouldn't ordering one be more your speed?"

"nahh" the grey-eyed boy shook his head, "(y/n) likes these specific flowers for some reason, florist didn't have any arrangements like this"

"so you just bought four bouquets....? you do know custom orders exist right?" there's a small smirk on reo's lips as he teased. nagi shot him a withering glare as he firmly tied the stems together with twine

"wouldn't be as special that way" nagi muttered. he was blushing again, despite being in the comfort of his own home, he could feel the blush still warming his neck and ears

"you really love her, huh?" reo questioned gently his eyes softening when he saw nagi shyly smile at him

"yeah..." nagi breathed out quietly, smiling softly down at the flower arrangement, "should i bake a cake?"

"what??"

"'ve got this heart-shaped pan, and i bought cake mix and some other stuff after training today. i think i could pull it off”

“are you sure about that?” reo queried, “i’m not gonna help you”

“that’s fine, not like you can bake anyways,” nagi scoffed, setting the flowers down on the counter. “it shouldn’t be that hard right?”

“depends on the flavour” reo affirmed

“what should i do for icing, buttercream?” nagi asked, picking up a bag of sugar and a tub of butter. “’s the easiest”

“buttercream then”

“i wasn’t really asking you, but sure”

“dumbass”

“(y/n)’s dumbass” he grinned, his voice softening at the mention of your name “god i hope she likes this. i feel like i could’ve done more”

“you made her a bouquet, you made her a gift basket and now you’re baking her a cake. you didn’t even get me anything for my birthday” reo said pointedly

“you’re not my girlfriend reo, and you can buy stuff for yourself”

“you’re a terrible friend”

“i’m a good boyfriend though” nagi said softly, “the best in the world”

reo couldn’t argue with that. nagi only put effort in the things he deemed important. you stood at the top of that list, above soccer, gaming and sleeping. he wanted nothing more than to make you happy.

to his credit, he tried his best. he went grocery shopping whenever you asked him to pick up groceries. he made sure you ate enough, and he always made time for you. even if he wanted to spend his entire day playing video games, he still made sure he was by your side.

he would do anything for you. hell, if you asked him to do a handstand and sing baby shark backwards, as stupid as it sounded, he would do it just to see your heartbreakingly beautiful smile

“‘m gonna make (y/n) breakfast in bed” he murmured, he could already see the smile stretching across your face “french toast or pancakes, dunno yet”

“you? cook?” reo laughed, “you’re gonna poison her”

“shut up” nagi scowled, his nose scrunching up in mock annoyance, “i know how to cook, ‘s just a hassle but if it’s for (y/n) i don’t mind” he said as he mixed the dry ingredients until the salt, sugar and cake mix were evenly combined. he cracked two large eggs into the bowl and poured in milk, oil and vanilla extract. the cake mix reminded him oddly of you. sweet and sugary

“you’re whipped” reo said. “you’re too far gone,look at your face all mushy like that you’re making me sick”

“‘s called being in love, not that you can relate” nagi retorted. he gently scooped the batter in the baking pan with a spatula while reo stared at him agape. “‘s obvious” he shrugged, slipping the pan into the pre-heated oven.he ran a hand through his hair as he leaned against the counter with a content look on his face

nagi was still learning what love really was. to him, it looked a lot like you.

loving you felt like breathing, like waking up in the morning after a good night’s sleep. he loved your smiles, your laugh, the sparkle you got in your eyes when you were around him. he loved everything about you. he’d probably never love anyone the way he loved you. and he was okay with that, he wouldn’t trade you for the world

“simp” reo said “ i’m surprised she puts up with your lazy ass”

“you call this moral support?” nagi muttered, “should’ve called someone else”

“who else would sit on facetime with you while you did all this?” reo asked, “i’ll wait”

nagi was deep in thought for a moment but he remained silent. he knew you would, but that would inherently ruin the surprise

"so, nobody, huh? thought as much," reo remarked, rolling his eyes, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. it was a breath of fresh air to not be the one pushing nagi to do something for once

*ding* nagi’s eyes lit up as the timer chimed. the kitchen was filled with the scent of freshly baked vanilla cake. he slipped on an oven mitt before he took the pan out of the oven and placed it on the island. his cheeks were flushed as he glanced over his shoulder to shoot him a triumphant look

“cake’s done” he was slightly giddy with anticipation, once he was done icing it he could finally drive to your apartment and see you. he knew you were already sleeping, he’d called you an hour ago and your voice had been laced with the precipice of sleep. he didn’t really care, he selfishly wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday. even if it meant waking you up at midnight

true to his word nagi slipped into your apartment as soon as the clock struck midnight. to his credit he was as quiet as possible. setting your presents down on the counter before sneaking into your room

the bed dips and suddenly there’s a warm body behind you. nagi wraps an arm around your waist, pressing himself closer to you. you let out a small noise as he pulls you in for a long kiss, his hand reaching up to stroke your cheek.

“sei…” you yawn, squinting at him with your sleepy (e/c) eyes. you’re unbelievably pretty he thinks. even with furrowed eyebrows and a worn-out look on your face. your lashes fan across your face and he can feel his heart melting

“happy birthday baby” he murmurs, placing the sweetest of kisses on your forehead.

“thank you” you hummed, resting your head on his chest, enjoying the warmth radiating from the blankets. “thought you weren’t coming till later…”

“couldn’t stay away” he admitted with a sigh, wrapping an arm around your waist, “‘m sorry i woke you”

“it’s okay” you smiled,you brush a few locks of his hair away from his forehead, leaning up slightly to peck his lips. you pulled back slightly content with blissfully reveling in his presence before you sat up properly, pulling back the covers and climbing out of your bed, “c’mon i want my presents now”

“what makes you think i got you anything?” he mutters. eager to stay cuddled up in bed. his hopes were dashed as you dragged him towards you

you wonder how someone could be as cute as he was, despite his hair being messed up more than ever and his eyelids heavy with sleep. you bring your free hand up to his cheek and smile. his hand comes up to hold yours as he nuzzles into your palm, soft grey eyes affectionate and loving, the everpresent pout no longer visible on his face.

“because you love me” you reply, smiling when he grins lazily at you, a little bit dazed

"i do love you," he mumbles, leaning up and slowly kissing the corner of your lips. “wait here” he tells you softly as he stands up, giving you another quick kiss. you watch him leave the room with a fond expression on your face.

your 6’3 boyfriend returns less than two minutes later, cradling a (f/c) box filled to the brim with your favourite snacks, manga and a fluffy miffy plush. as well as the prettiest bouquet of flowers you’d ever seen.

you practically tackle him, hugging him tightly as he laughs. you pull back to admire the flowers in his hands and you gasp, reaching out to take one of them.

“are those lotuses?” you ask, staring at them lovingly. they almost glow under the light in your bedroom

“yeah,” he nods, “you said you liked them”

you loved lotuses, although nagi didn’t understand why. the soft pink lotus flowers and their dreamy forgetfulness and symbolic unwillingness to leave reminded you distinctly of him

“they’re beautiful, thank you so much” you beam. you took the bouquet from him, eyes widening when you realized they weren’t store bought. tears pricked your (e/c) irises and you sniffle as you tried your best not to lose it.

“ hey!” he says, noticing the tearful expression on your face. he cups your face gently “don’t start bawling on me yet”

“you made this yourself?” you whisper, staring in awe at the bouquet, “for me?”

“do i have another girlfriend or something?” he says, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. you glare at him before laughing

“shut up, i love you” you say. you wrap your arms around his neck and give him a tight hug. or at least you try to, the box slightly gets in the way.

“i love you too” nagi smiles, and it’s one of those smiles he reserves for you, one that lights up his face and makes him shine brighter than any star, “now look at the rest, ‘m sorry i didn’t wrap anything”

“too much of a pain?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. he nodded in response, holding out the next gift. a sleek photo album. the first page is filled with a plethora of pictures. there were candid shots of you, pictures you didn’t even know existed. the one that stuck out to you the most was a picture of you at the arcade on your first date.

“you can fill up the rest yourself” nagi yawned, trailing towards your bed and placing the box carefully down on it. you placed the pink and purple bouquet on your dressing table before joining him

“thank you sei” you said, you honestly couldn’t say it enough. when nagi had asked you out a few months ago you’d never imagined he could possibly make you feel this special. hell, you didn’t even care about your birthday that much. you almost hated him now, he’d ruined your expectations for life by making you feel like this..

nagi’s grey eyes drooped as he leaned against your pillow, “s’nothing, there’s one more thing you’ve gotta see tonight” he lazily pointed at a white box tucked neatly beside the cinnamoroll plush with a striking resemblance to nagi

you opened the box gingerly, the sweet scent of buttercream filled your senses. “a cake?” you exclaimed, “sei, you baked?? you baked me a cake??”

“i baked” nagi shrugged, “’s just a small one, and ‘s not from scratch”

you dipped your finger into the buttercream and licked the sweet (f/c) frosting off, “this is really good,” you tell him

“‘m just good at everything” he murmurs, grinning when you gave him an exasperated glance “‘m glad you like it”

“of course i do” you frowned slightly, “sit up for just a second, you gotta sing while i blow out my candles”

“‘m not singing”

“pleaseeeeee” you pleaded, “it doesn’t even have to be the full song, you owe me sei, since you woke me up”

“fine” he sighed, sitting up reluctantly. he watched patiently as you placed the candles in the centre of the cake and pressed the flame to the wax. once the candles were lit, you reached over and grabbed his hand.

he thought you looked really beautiful like this, with the candlelight casting your features in warm glow and your hair fanned out over your shoulders. you seemed ethereal. he stared at you and smiled softly, watching as the flickering light danced on your face, casting shadows onto your (e/c) eyes

“i don’t hear you singing” you said, giggling when his cheeks flushed a startling shade of pink.

“shut up” he huffed, looking away, but you only grinned wider as he sang for you. you didn’t know why he didn’t want to in the first place, he sounded like an angel. after the song was finished, you blew out your candles gently

you wished for a plethora of things all of which you knew nagi would stop at nothing to give you. you felt like he’d given you the entire world already. so you wished you could give him endless happiness. you wished you could spend day after day falling further in love with him, and you wished you could give him the entire universe

after the cake had been kept safely in the fridge and your breathtaking flowers arranged in a vase, you placed a lone lotus flower on your bedside table, nimbly slipping under the sheets beside your sweet boyfriend

“what did you wish for?” he asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he kissed the top of your head

“my wish won’t come true if i tell you” you hummed.

“‘s not fair” he pouted, “i told you what i wished for on my birthday”

“if i kiss you will you shut up and go to sleep ?” you asked. nagi nodded meekly. you didn’t need to ask him twice. he’d do anything for you

#✶ .. mimi writes ?!#⋆ 𝓫. llk ﹕#𓂃˖ letters from: nagi #nagi x y/n #nagi x you #seishiro nagi x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #bllk x you #I HATE THIS #but i love it sm too ughh #he’s js so!?!?#my man my man my man!

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