#i cried watching this- i thought i had it bad for the marbles but BOY | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blossom-hwa · 2 years ago

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the things we lost along the way | k.th

remember when I was crying over rewriting lavender mist for my writing workshop? this is the rewrite that nearly killed me. hope y’all enjoy this as much (read: cried as much) as I did writing it

Pairing: Taehyun x Beomgyu (can be read as romantic or platonic, it’s up to your interpretation really)

Genre: angst, apocalypse!au

Warnings: cursing, character death, mentions of blood and guns, zombies

Word Count: 5.9k

As the world around him falls, Taehyun keeps moving on.

Lavender Mist | TXT Masterlist

The end of the world isn’t as barren as Taehyun thought it would be.

Every apocalyptic movie he remembers—and to be fair, his memory has gone a bit fuzzy after years of trudging along cracked sidewalks and empty streets, not a single movie to be seen—painted the world as something gray, dusty, bleak, as though with the collapse of humanity, the earth would collapse too. Taehyun would watch, heart in his throat as survivors did everything they could to continue living even though the warm embrace of Mother Earth had long turned cold as marble. With the loss of her favorite children, the human race, it seemed she had lost the will to live as well.

Taehyun thinks about this some nights, staring up at the glittering expanse of stars in the dark sky. In the absence of artificial light spilling through the abandoned cities, they sparkle playfully, cheerfully, a milky expanse of jewels against the blanket of night, oblivious to the destruction that haunted humanity just several years prior.

And that’s how Taehyun knows the Earth doesn’t care.

Which makes sense. The Earth survived perfectly well on its own for millions of years before humanity decided to encroach on its territory. One glance around at the overgrown grass and flowers and trees, greenery shooting up from sidewalk cracks and tangling around abandoned cars and homes, tells all. As soon as humanity was ruined, Mother Earth took her territory back with a vengeance.

She never needed humans. Probably never wanted them either.

The few stragglers left in the disasters’ wake bow to her will and turn their attention to survival—slogging through the vines that choke the streets, hiding from the predators who have grown bold at the sight of their mother’s beckoning hand, fending off the creatures of their own creation, cannibalistic flesh-eating monsters with no way to satiate their hunger. They forge on, trying to survive and perhaps trying to live, but the two are not equivalent and the Earth has certainly tried to make the latter more difficult than the first, so more often than not the first comes without the second and the remnants of humanity become zombies of another kind—jaded, weary, husks of what they once were.

And yet day by day, night by night, when Taehyun wakes from his slumber under a blanket of diamond stars, he only rubs the aches out of his neck, slings his bag over his shoulder, and continues trying to live.

. . . . .

There was a time when he wasn’t alone. When he was not one but one of a group of what felt like many, those who’d survived the initial outbreak and banded together in the beginning. It was a long time ago but Taehyun remembers it anyway, a time when he could still pretend things might be okay.

But as the weeks passed, their numbers grew fewer and fewer. People set out to search for food and disappeared. Sometimes they returned as the undead. Others left of their own accord while even more became sick, and without the aid of hospitals and medicine they wasted away. Slowly, the group dwindled, until Taehyun remembers being one of three—him, and two boys he’d known in the time before. Beomgyu, a boy he saw at school. Kai, his best friend since they were four.

It’s Kai who leaves first.

Taehyun remembers him clearly—for his bright, wide smile that never failed to cheer Taehyun up, for his dolphin laugh that had helped him through many a bad day in class. For the way Kai’s fingers could waltz across piano keys in the most enchanting dances, serenity painted in every feature of his face.

For their close friendship even before the apocalypse took everything from them, and for the bullet hole Taehyun shot into his forehead when he finally died.

It happens like this. Kai grows close with two boys in the days when they number more than three, Yeonjun and Soobin. Taehyun likes them. So does Beomgyu. Together, when they’re five, it sometimes feels like things won’t always be this bad.

But Soobin falls ill one day, racked with fever and chills they can do nothing to get rid of. Yeonjun sets out to find something, anything to help—some water in a ruined supermarket, a can of soup from someone’s pantry, a yet unexpired bottle of ibuprofen—and promises he’ll be back in a day.

He never returns.

Soobin goes soon after, his forehead burning in the last moments before he turns cold under the unforgiving night sky. And for a while, it feels like—betrayal, almost. Soobin’s terrible fever, easily treatable in a hospital but deadly in the then-wasteland of an earth. Yeonjun’s broken promise, spoken with so much certainty but disavowed anyway. It’s bullshit, obviously. There was no betrayal there. Soobin and Yeonjun would have stayed if they could. They just…couldn’t.

But then Kai leaves, and that’s real anger. Real betrayal.

I’m sorry. But everyone’s leaving, and I can’t take it anymore, so I have to leave first. Don’t look for me.

That’s it. That’s all he leaves behind, familiarly messy handwriting scribbled in pencil on a scrap of dirty paper. Taehyun doesn’t have the note anymore, having crumpled it up and thrown it as far as he could once he could process the words, but he couldn’t forget those three sentences if he tried.

Taehyun wonders, sometimes, if things would have happened the same way if he’d been more observant. Less consumed in his own grief. Able to see Kai, really see him in the days after Yeonjun and Soobin left, if the emptiness of Kai’s silences had been able to permeate the dull gray of his thoughts. Would Kai have come to him? Would he have been convinced to stay?

Would Taehyun still have had to kill his best friend, been the one to hold the smoking gun as a bullet bore a hole in Kai’s brain?

It had been a month or so since Kai left. They looked for him in spite of his plea not to, combed the neighborhood for days as the undead roamed and the sun burned fiercely overhead. But then Beomgyu had a close call—too close—with a zombie, and Taehyun forced himself to clear his sight. Kai chose his path. He wouldn’t be coming back. So they moved on—as five minus two minus one.

And then, on a day as hot as an inferno, a shadow moves in the corner of Taehyun’s eye.

For a moment, he almost marks it off as a hallucination, as a mirage in the heat shimmers rising from the ground. Not real, not worth his attention. But then Beomgyu gasps.

“Kai.”

Taehyun whips his head around, and there’s his old friend in the shadows, staring back at them with shattered eyes.

Everything in Taehyun screams for him to sprint forward, to grab Kai and shake him and hug him and maybe punch him a few times. Say a garbled mix of something like fuck you for leaving and how did you find us and I’m so glad you’re back and what happened to you—

But from the black veins creeping up his neck, Taehyun knows exactly what happened to his friend.

“Taehyun.” Kai’s voice cracks on the syllables of Taehyun’s name, but his shattered eyes are clear, so clear. He doesn’t step forward, but Taehyun has to fight the urge to step back. “Please.”

Please. His head spins. Please. Please what—

Kai’s eyes drop to the gun at his side, and Taehyun understands.

“No.” He shakes his head wildly, finally taking the step back. “No, no—Kai—I can’t—”

“Please.”

The word pierces Taehyun’s skull.

“For me.”

Beomgyu puts a hand on Taehyun’s shoulder. He barely feels it, but he does hear when Beomgyu’s whisper flutters past his ear. “You don’t have to.”

In a way, Beomgyu’s right. Taehyun doesn’t have to—in the strictest definition of the word. He doesn’t have to raise the gun, put Kai out of his misery the way Kai wants him to. The world will move on if he doesn’t. He could turn around and walk away and nothing would be any different. Besides, Kai was the one who left first.

But—he does, though, in a sick, twisted sort of way. Because Kai’s been bitten and if he doesn’t die, he’ll live forever in the worst way possible. Because if Taehyun does turn away, he’ll be condemning Kai to a fate they’ve both agreed is worse than death. Because Kai is still his best friend, no matter what, and who is Taehyun to resist a dying boy’s last wish anyway?

Taehyun’s hands are cold. He doesn’t shrug off Beomgyu’s grip, the only true warmth on this blisteringly hot day, but he does manage to shake his head. “No,” he replies, numb fingers wrapping around the barrel of the gun. “No, I do.”

Kai stares up at Taehyun as he readies the weapon, shattered eyes almost whole as a little smile glimmers on his face. “Thanks,” he whispers, and for a moment, Taehyun can’t do it. Won’t do it. This Kai looks too much like the old one, the one with a bright smile and a dolphin screech laugh and dark eyes that glittered with mischief—

Dark eyes marred, now, by blackened veins crawling across his pale, burned skin.

Almost on reflex, Taehyun pulls the trigger. Bang.

What remains of Kai slumps over, blood and brains pooling in a deep red puddle on the dusty ground.

Taehyun stands there for a while. A second, a minute, an hour—he’s not sure, even now. All he remembers is feeling cold, so cold despite the sun burning his skin, unable to tear his gaze away from the remnants of his best friend.

“Taehyun.”

When he finally reacts to his name, Beomgyu has definitely said it more than once. His grip has tightened on Taehyun’s shoulder but when Taehyun twitches, the warm hand slides down to his wrist. “Come on,” Beomgyu says quietly, tugging slightly. “We need to go.”

Blood and brains, still open eyes. Taehyun doesn’t move.

“Taehyun.” The grip tightens. “Let’s go.”

Go.

Let’s go.

“Taehyun.”

Taehyun forces his eyes away from the bloody hole blown into Kai’s head. Vaguely, he feels the gun being peeled out of his hand, hears the safety clicking back on. Beomgyu tugs at his arm again and with a final whisper of his name Taehyun follows, numbly, Kai’s bloody face all he can see.

. . . . .

How do you remember the dead?

Even now, Taehyun isn’t sure of the answer. The internet is gone along with electricity—pictures on devices are inaccessible, phones useless without their chargers and cameras useless without a battery. Photos are easily crumpled and ruined, soaked by rain or marred with dust and grime, and the time it takes to properly sketch and color a scene to remember is a luxury no one can afford anymore. It’s not as if Taehyun ever had the skill for it anyway.

Memory, then. But the brain is a fickle thing, impermanent and messy compared to the printed photos he once held in his pocket, the pictures he had saved on his phone. It remembers what he wishes it wouldn’t, and it lets go of what he holds most dear. The voices of his family, his friends. Their smiles, their laughs. Ghosts, all of them—so faint, so pale compared to the horrors that haunt him now. These are the things that leave.

Kai’s bloody face is one of the things that stays.

It haunts him in the days after, the vision of blood and gore. The gun barrel between his hands. The broken look in Kai’s eyes. The trigger beneath his finger, the shot exploding through the air, Kai’s body falling in an almost graceful arc before it thudded to the ground. Beomgyu’s shaking fingers wrapped around his wrist as he pulled Taehyun away. It’s so vivid in the way Kai’s last smiles aren’t. It isn’t right. It isn’t fair.

Which is why—why, when Taehyun’s ears finally stop ringing, when he finally starts breathing, when he stops seeing Kai’s bloody face in every one of his dreams—why he can’t take it when Beomgyu finally tells him how.

Beomgyu. It’s hard to believe he’d barely known the boy before everything fell to pieces—just another kid he’d seen hanging around at school, loud and playful and endlessly kind in an almost careless way as though he didn’t realize he was as thoughtful as he was. He’d scared Taehyun a little, so brash and cheerful all at once, sweet chaos personified in his lightning sharp smile and laugh. Never did Taehyun think they could become close—he was quiet, reserved, a little cynical, nothing like Beomgyu’s joyous raucousness and optimism. At least not until Kai died, and there was no one left.

It had been five days. Five days after the gunshot, five days during which Beomgyu kept their one gun wide out of Taehyun’s reach despite the fact that he was probably a better shot than Beomgyu would ever be. It didn’t matter. He barely remembers those five days, but he does know he wasn’t thinking much. Just seeing. Feeling. Reliving. A faint smile, a whispered thanks, the trigger beneath his finger…

He’s lucid. He had to have been or he wouldn’t have heard Beomgyu’s words, the words he’d probably been saying for several days to unhearing ears. But he hears this time. Hears it when Beomgyu says—

“They’re still with us.”

Anger. Or something. Taehyun remembers that much. Anger isn’t the right word, but whatever it was it took hold of him and wrenched the grief from his chest and he remembers thinking how dare you, how fucking dare you try to say that now when there’s nothing left to substantiate your stupid hope—

“How do you know?” He had Beomgyu’s dirty shirt collar in his grip, the older boy looking up at him with eyes wide in confusion, surprise, burgeoning anger of his own. “How do you fucking know? How could you say that to me, how could you try and say that after I killed him with my own damn hands?”

And then he was crying, and his grip on Beomgyu’s shirt was gone, and every single tear he hadn’t been able to shed over the death of his best friend apparently decided it was the perfect fucking time to release itself, and he was crying, and crying, and crying—

Beomgyu’s face swam in his vision. It’s one of Taehyun’s clearest memories now, that blurry view of Beomgyu’s face drawn tight with a pinched expression Taehyun recognized from his own few encounters with a mirror since it all started. Because that was when he remembered that Beomgyu was grieving, too. That he wasn’t the only one in pain.

Yet despite that grief, Beomgyu’s eyes had turned soft. No longer angry. And Taehyun didn’t understand. Because he’d killed someone, killed someone they both knew and loved, so why was Beomgyu still here and trying to comfort him of all things when he was still in pain?

“He’s dead,” he’d sobbed. “He’s dead, and I killed him.”

“He asked you to,” Beomgyu had said quietly.

It’s true. Kai’s eyes had been so clear, so lucid when he asked, despite the blackened veins. Nothing like the glazed grief when Yeonjun and Soobin went. Nothing like the empty silence he’d held the night before he left. But even then…

“It wasn’t fair of him to,” Beomgyu continued, just as quiet. “But he did.”

Not fair. Not fair—not fair not fair not fair not fair—

“None of this,” Taehyun had gritted out, “is fucking fair.”

“It isn’t,” Beomgyu agreed. “And they know that.”

Clear as day, unsaid words had hung in the air.

None of this is your fault.

Then Beomgyu’s words, quiet, carrying like a gunshot through the silence.

“That’s why I think they’re still with us. And that’s why I dare to say it.”

. . . . .

So maybe it isn’t remembering, then. Just…a sort of knowing. Knowing that they were there. Knowing that they lived. Knowing that he loved them, and knew them, and that they loved and knew him too. Because he was touched by them when they lived, and so long as he lives too, a part of them will still be alive.

That’s what Beomgyu says, anyway, when Taehyun asks. It’s a dark night and they’re lying in another abandoned house, desperately trying to ignore the picture frames of a happy family haunting the walls. Some of them have fallen to the floor, probably knocked over by some ransacking survivor too worried about food to care about a few smashed picture frames and panes of glass.

Or maybe the photos just unsettled them as much as they unsettle Taehyun, and they actually gave in to the urge to throw them on the ground.

“How can you think that?” Taehyun asks, and there’s no venom this time. He wants to know. Because he still sees Kai’s face whenever he closes his eyes, blood and a smile and stifling smoke rising from a gun in his hand, and he needs it to stop. He’d like to think that way. He just needs to believe in it.

“I don’t know,” is Beomgyu’s first response, voice almost snappish and uncharacteristically sharp. He softens, though, as he looks back at Taehyun. “I just…” He swallows. “I don’t think I’d be able to live if I didn’t believe in it.”

They sit in silence for a bit as Taehyun mulls over Beomgyu’s words. I don’t think I’d be able to live if I didn’t believe in it. He relates. It feels like if he doesn’t believe in something, the grief will drown him alive.

But for some reason, he still isn’t convinced.

“I feel like I’m dying,” Taehyun says quietly. “Every moment, even when I’m not.” Drowning in what was, what is, what could have been.

“So do I,” Beomgyu replies. “But believing it makes things easier.”

“How?” Taehyun asks again, because for all he tries he can’t seem to understand. “I just—”

Beomgyu nudges his shoulder, cutting him off. “Look at the stars.”

Taehyun looks out the window. The black night glitters with little diamond stars, so bright and so beautiful that his breath catches for a moment. How had he never noticed them before?

“Sometimes, when it’s my turn to watch, I look at them. And I pretend.” Taehyun follows the line of Beomgyu’s finger as he points to the sky. His eyes glitter in the starlight, soft and shining, all-knowing, so full of a lovely foreign hope. “Like, maybe that’s my mom. And my dad, and my brother in that little cluster over there. And maybe Yeonjun and Soobin and Kai right…there.” His finger shifts slightly before it lowers. “That’s how, Taehyun.”

Taehyun keeps staring out the window, at the glittering expanse of starlight streaking across the night. He stares, and stares, and tries to summon the hope that sparkles so beautifully in Beomgyu’s eyes.

Instead, all he can think is that the stars shouldn’t shine so bright when everyone he loves is dead.

. . . . .

It’s not the only fancy of Beomgyu’s that Taehyun doesn’t understand. Beomgyu sees so many stars in the sky, finds hope in weird little things—a tiny flower by the side of the road, a single whole lollipop in a dusty convenience store, wind breezing past his face at night as it sweeps through his long, unkempt hair. It’s fascinating to Taehyun, really—that Beomgyu can go through so much, can see Kai’s bloody face in his memories every day, and still find something in nothing and believe it matters. Patient, relentless optimism, even as the world grows harsher and more unforgiving with every day that passes.

(“We still have good in this world,” he says one night under the moon and stars. “We’ve survived this long, Taehyun. I have to believe that someday, things will come back.”)

There are so many strange things Taehyun remembers about Beomgyu, so many of those twinkling stars in the night sky. Humming melodies of old songs to empty air. Breathing in the scent of flowers so deeply he choked. Making bracelets of five colors of string braided together one night as Taehyun slept, then looping one around his wrist when he woke.

“I found the stuff in a random room and remembered making these when I was a kid,” he says by way of explanation when Taehyun asks, shrugging almost carelessly as he ties off the braid. “Got bored when you were sleeping.”

It feels strange, the soft, thin braid tickling Taehyun’s wrist, shifting against his skin as he turns it this way and that. Five threads messily twisted and turned together. Five colors, five boys, five friends…

He looks at Beomgyu, raising an eyebrow to hide the lump welling in his throat. “You sure this is a braid?” he asks, and neither of them says anything about the way his voice catches on the last word.

Beomgyu sticks out his tongue and Taehyun has to hide a smile at how ridiculous the older boy looks, eyes narrowed and glinting with mock hurt and mischief. “You don’t need to wear it if you don’t want to, jerk.”

Even as Beomgyu says the words, though, Taehyun knows that nothing could induce him ever to take it off on his own. Because for all he doesn’t understand Beomgyu’s stars in a dark, dark night, there’s still something about the stars in Beomgyu’s own eyes that makes Taehyun want to listen to everything the loud-mouthed boy has to say. A candle lit in the dark, a rope thrown to the drowning.

A single star in Taehyun’s black night, the only one he could ever say was truly beautiful.

Which is why, perhaps, when the bracelet falls apart several months later, Taehyun feels like something in his chest has been ripped open and torn out. It was bound to happen, he knows—the strings were already thin and faded before Beomgyu found them, and the dirt and dust and grime of every day under the hot sun couldn’t have helped in any sort of way. But still, when the broken braid falls from his arm to the dust on the ground, he tries to pick it up, to tie it back where it belonged against his skin, dirty and faded as it is.

It's Beomgyu who stops him, a hand on his wrist. “Leave it,” he says quietly, his fingers wrapping gently around Taehyun’s arm. “It’s done what it can.”

Taehyun cries that night, tears running hot and silent down his cheeks as Beomgyu breathes softly in his sleep next to him. And when Beomgyu wakes up to his quiet sobs, he doesn’t stop the older boy from wrapping his arms around him, bringing Taehyun’s head down to his shoulder, and letting the tears soak into his shirt.

Because for all it seemed Taehyun never understood Beomgyu, it had always felt like Beomgyu understood him.

. . . . .

Material things don’t last. It’s one of the first things Taehyun learned in the days since his world fell to pieces—when the photos he carried of his family fell apart, victims of dust and rain and his sweaty pockets, when the mementos of home he tried to take became more burdens than memories and he had to leave them behind. When Beomgyu’s bracelet broke, leaving his wrist too naked, too bare, as if he’d lost a layer of protection against the weapons of the earth.

Beomgyu knew this. Taehyun was there when Beomgyu’s own photos became too crumpled and torn to salvage, when the braid he made for himself disappeared beneath the dust and dirt of the earth just days after Taehyun lost his. For all his sentimental nature, Beomgyu knows the world around him, knows that despite the hot sun, it is cold and unforgiving to those who have wronged it. There’s no space in their bags for luxuries, not anymore.

So when Taehyun finds the empty can of lavender Febreze in Beomgyu’s bag, he feels like he should be surprised. The last of the scent has long since been dispersed into the air, memories of the smell relegated to the back of his mind, so when it comes out in his hand he blinks a little and for a moment there is some surprise—he’d thought Beomgyu tossed it when it emptied. But then he blinks again, and Taehyun has to wonder how he ever could’ve thought Beomgyu would even think of throwing it away.

It had been a rare cool day when Beomgyu plucked the can off a barren supermarket shelf and shoved it in his bag, despite Taehyun’s raised eyebrows and obvious concern for the state of his remaining sanity. Taehyun hadn’t asked questions then, but when they found shelter for the evening, he’d raised a pointed eyebrow as Beomgyu produced the can from his bag.

“Don’t interrogate me!” Beomgyu had yelped, hands raised in mock indignation as Taehyun fought to hide a smile at his antics. “I’m innocent!”

“I wasn’t going to interrogate you,” he’d replied, giving up on hiding the smile. There was no point anyway, not when Beomgyu looked so carefree, so happy, so unchanged despite the cruelty of the world around him. “I just want to know.”

The hands came down, but Beomgyu’s smile stayed. “I don’t know,” he’d said, shrugging. “It was just there, so I took it.” Taehyun had snorted at that (the most Beomgyu reply ever), but he wasn’t done. “I guess I just…didn’t want to leave with nothing at all.”

Despite the previous levity, Taehyun remembers a tightness in his chest, a pricking behind his eyes as he stared at the almost garishly purple can in Beomgyu’s dirty hand. That was something he could understand.

“Do you even know how it smells?” he’d asked, ignoring the stupid lump in his throat. He’d never quite given up on that habit, not even long after Beomgyu proved he could read Taehyun no matter how he tried to keep his tears quiet.

But Beomgyu didn’t say anything, just looked at the can with a guiltily mischievous expression on his face. His finger rested on the valve as he looked back up at Taehyun, ready to shrug again as he grinned. “Look, it has to be better than everything we smell outside.”

It was better, but mostly because it’s hard not to be better than the stench of rotting corpses mixed with the tang of dried blood and coupled with the scent of blooming flowers in the hot wind that somehow makes it all worse. Strong, too—clearly a year of sitting unused on a shelf hadn’t done much to dampen the can’s scent. When Beomgyu sprayed it, more on accident than anything else, they had to stifle coughs and sneezes for too many minutes as the mist tickled their noses.

And yet they kept it.

Which is weird, because most useless things that Taehyun and Beomgyu, despite his inner child, would put in the same category as questionable year-old Febreze get left behind. It’s a luxury, and there’s no space for luxuries in their bags—not phones, not photos, not dingy string bracelets braided with threads of five different colors. Things like Febreze weren’t supposed to have held a place in their lives.

But as the days pass, Beomgyu carves a place for its too-strong flowery sweet scent. A tiny puff in the air nearby when they’re finally safe from a zombie attack, a small spray to freshen up their latest shelter after sweeping one too many piles of dirt out the door. And as they keep struggling through their barren world, emptying the can on their way, Taehyun begins to wonder—when humanity has completely fallen and another race takes up the earth, what will they be remembered by? Will it be the broken braided bracelets threaded in five different colors fallen by the side of the road? Will it be photos of the dead left in abandoned frames in abandoned homes, or stuffed in dirty bags and soiled by dust and rain?

Will it be an empty can of lavender mist at the bottom of a survivor’s bag, the strong, sweet scent of home still a wisp in the air?

Because for all the tickle of lavender mist grates on Taehyun’s nose at the start, slowly, subtly, it does begin to smell of home. Of rest. Of respite. Of Beomgyu’s comfort on the days when Taehyun can’t hold the gun for fear of seeing Kai’s bloody face in front of him, when Taehyun can only see death and disaster in every street they pass, when he can’t stand without the world crashing down on his shoulders. On these days, there’s always the weight of Beomgyu’s hand in his, the press of his body against Taehyun’s during sleepless nights, the brief dusting of lavender mist into the air…

And one day, the scent isn’t too strong. It isn’t too sweet. It’s a break, a respite, a piece of the old world that miraculously wasn’t lost even in the wake of disaster.

When Taehyun looks at Beomgyu then—really looks at Beomgyu—as he spritzes small bursts of mist into the air of their new makeshift shelter, it only takes him a minute to realize that Beomgyu feels this way, too. That he’s probably felt it for a long time.

So when Taehyun finds the empty can in Beomgyu’s bag, after the momentary surprise, he blinks once, and twice, and remembers the scent. Remembers the sentiment. Remembers this reminder, however, small, of home.

How could Beomgyu have thrown this away?

He tries the valve, even though he knows it’s empty. Nothing comes out.

It’s been three days since Beomgyu went. Three days since he showed Taehyun the bite festering black and red, three days since he drew the gun at his belt and weighed it in his hand, three days since he smiled at Taehyun, lips trembling, and raised the muzzle to his temple.

(“I won’t ask you to do it. I can give you that much.”)

Only then, with the empty metal can in his hand, does Taehyun finally cry.

For his parents, who were at work when the outbreak got to them and never managed to get out alive.

For his friends who passed first, three of the five strings that frayed over the years until the knotted bracelet fell off his wrist, one ill, one disappeared, one shot.

For Beomgyu, the fourth string and his only family left, his last thread of hope in this heartless world.

For him, Taehyun, the fifth string and the last one alive, so far from home and never to return.

Taehyun cries for the hope Beomgyu carried that was destroyed three days ago with a bullet Beomgyu shot with his very own hands. A bullet that took the last of everything he had, leaving him with—

Nothing.

(What will the world remember him by when he goes?)

When Taehyun wakes the next day, eyes red and cheeks sticky with tears, something in him begs to stay still. What use is there in forging on, in living when everything else has been lost, when there’s nothing and no one left to survive for?

(A crumpled family photo dissolved in the rain?)

Is there even a point?

(A broken braid of five frayed strings, buried under the dust by the road?)

Taehyun stares at the gun by his side. Loaded. Always within arm’s reach. So easy to lift, so easy to position, so easy to use. It would be so simple to mimic Beomgyu’s actions from three days ago. Lift. Point. Pull. Bang.

(Or the trail of bodies left in his wake, one ill, one disappeared, two shot with the very gun by his side?)

But he only rolls over. Stands. Places the empty can back in Beomgyu’s bag, picks it up along with his. Slings them over his back.

And starts walking.

(Perhaps a can of lavender mist at the bottom of a beaten-up bag, the remnants of a scent that came from home.)

In a world lost to monsters and the extremes of the earth, following the base human instinct to survive is all that is possible, sometimes. The dead litter the earth—bodies in the streets, memories in the air. To think of it all is madness. To try and comprehend it might be suicide.

But to forget, completely and entirely…

Many do. Many try. It is easier to shut off the part of the mind that loves and cherishes and remembers, to wither into a dry husk of what once was. But Taehyun remembers, bits and pieces. His mother’s gentle voice. His father’s booming laugh. Yeonjun’s reassuring grip, Soobin’s soft smile, Kai’s musicality woven into everything he ever did.

Beomgyu’s hand in his own under a night sky full of stars, fingers loosely intertwined with a promise of hope he will never understand.

So as others forget, Taehyun remembers, fiercely. Because while there is nothing left for him, there is still something left for those who have gone. A hope. A dream. A wish. A prayer whispered on lavender scented air, too sweet and too strong and smelling so much of home—a prayer that things will be okay.

And if they are, even if it only becomes true in the last moments of Taehyun’s life, he has to see it. For them.

It isn’t easy. It isn’t fair. Some days, his chest constricts so he cannot breathe. Some days, he can’t lift himself from the ground, so he tries to give up. But every day, when the sun sets and the moon rises and the stars come out to play, Taehyun remembers a hand held in his, starlight dancing in a pair of dark eyes. He remembers a cackling laugh beautiful even when it was hushed, the easy weight of a body pressed against his, the warmth of a smile that meant safety. He remembers an empty can of lavender mist at the bottom of his bag, its faint scent still perfuming the air.

He remembers a boy whose smiles never made sense, who found things beautiful Taehyun could never dream of comprehending, but whose hope was perhaps the most beautiful thing of all.

So when morning comes, Taehyun stands. Breathes.

And continues on.

The sun beats harsh on his brow. Branches catch on his clothes. The snarl of animals and the undead alike whisper faint in his ears. But day by day, Taehyun fights his way through the strangling embrace of Mother Nature, slogging through overgrown grass with sweat in his hair, cuts on his skin, tears in his eyes…

And the scent of lavender mist in his nose, no matter where he goes.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 huge hug for Taehyun, and also a hug for me because writing this actually made me fucking cry several times)

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rosalinewintrell · 1 year ago

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Purity, Pears and Hot Chocolate

Okay everyone here is Part 10 of Opposites are a perfect match. There is a bit of Leander in this one, but he isn't as bad, I promise! Hope you enjoy!

Up until now, Rosaline had been able to avoid pureblood politics whilst attending Hogwarts. It was quite refreshing, because while avoided in polite company, it nearly bled through the walls of Beauxbatons, and being of mere political lineage, daily goings-on could suddenly morph into battles fought with silver tongues and won with public humiliation on the turn of a pretty phrase. The pureblooded students here were known, and often ran in their own circle, but never was Rosaline accosted by higher status purebloods with thoughts on her lineage, and lower status purebloods damning her family for its occasional case of inter-family marriage.

Her great-grandparents were distant cousins.

There had been the one moment with Leander, but nothing nearly so blatant had occurred, until today, when Rosaline spotted a Slytherin duo very obviously wailed on a younger student. She couldn’t hear what was being said, and just as she came into hearing range, the taller Slytherin boy set the Hufflepuff student’s book aflame.

“My book!” the younger boy said, furiously hopping from one foot to the other, hands shaking in front of him as he panicked.

“Glacious!” an unmistakable haughty voice called, and a layer of inch-thick ice doused the fire but froze the tome itself to the cold marble floor.

“We’re sorry, Headmaster!” the girl said, a bit of a trembling in her voice.

“Well?” the Headmaster demanded, arms folded behind his back and signature sneer smeared over his face.

“He’s a half-blood, sir?” The boy cried, pointing back towards where the young Hufflepuff was uselessly prying at the edge of the ice. Headmaster Black raised an eyebrow, considering the moment before huffing.

“Risking my reputation for such trivial nonsense!” Black exclaimed, as though he had any reputation left to be ruined in the first place. He levelled the two Slytherins with a shining glare. “The wise rabbit need not seek to outrun the tortoise! It isn’t necessary. Now go!” The Slytherins quickly turned and jogged down the stairs with “of course, Sir” and Thank you, Sir” tumbling from their lips as they went.

Now Black locked his gaze on the Hufflepuff, his glare darkening from mild annoyance to true, unbridled aggression. “And you!” he admonished, voice sharp enough that the boy flinched where he kneeled next to his ruined textbook, “Stay out of the way.” He then proceeded to walk past the student and down the stairs, students backing out of his moving path.

Rosaline watched him go, an obvious air of satisfaction swirling about him as he moved on with whatever his nightly plans were. Once he had rounded the corner, with no obvious intention to return, she knelt next to the Hufflepuff boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. His ears were flushed pink, poking out between strands of dark hair. He trembled. Rosaline lit the end of her wand with the glow of ambient heat, hovering it over the ice so it would melt away.

“Here,” She said, holding the slightly damp, second year Transfiguration Textbook out to the boy, who darted out of Rosaline’s grip upon noticing the deep green of her blazer. Rosaline just smiled gently and tilted her head towards the proffered book. “If you tell Professor Weasley what happened, she’ll understand. And… for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The boy hesitated for a moment before taking the book and tucking it close to his chest, “Thank you,” he said, his eyes darting around anxiously.

“Where were you headed? I can take you there— if you want.” Rosaline offered, gentle smile still in place, hands clasped behind her.

“I- I was going back to the common room, but it’s pretty far,” The boy replied, scuffing at the floor with his shoe.

“That’s alright, I don’t mind,” Rosaline said, inviting him to take the lead by a couple of steps. “Sorry, I don’t know the way. I haven’t been to that part of the castle yet.”

“Right!” the boy turned to look at her, “You’re the new fifth year, right?”

“Rosaline,” she replied, holding her hand out, “I transferred.”

“I’m Victor, Victor Perrins.” Victor returned her greeting and the two shared a slightly awkward walking handshake.

The two chatted as they walked out of the Astronomy tower. Victor, it turns out, was quite a Transfiguration prodigy. He was actually a first-year, but a combination of intense at-home study and plain-as-day talent for the subject allowed him to study some more advanced techniques. Apparently seeing a first-year half-blood excelling where they struggled seemed to irritate the second-year Slytherins, all culminating to some terrible bouts of bullying.

“It’s not usually this bad,” The boy said with a sigh as they rounded a corner towards a spiral staircase, wrought iron swirls following the curves as it descended further into the castle. Here, they nearly bumped directly into Garreth and Leander, who were nearly jogging, jostling each other as they hurried towards the stairs.

Garreth noticed the pair first, “Oh, hi Rosaline!” he called, stopping so suddenly that Leander smacked into him from behind. “Hey Victor. What are you guys doing here?” The silent together lingered on Garreth’s inquiry, a barely noticeable slip of composure.

“Ah,” Rosaline laid a hand on Victor’s shoulder, “I was just escorting our mutual friend to the Hufflepuff Common Room.”

“The second-years again,” Victor replied at the same time, and burst into giggles as Rosaline tried to brush over his ordeal. “It’s alright, they know. Leander’s my cousin.”

“Oh,” Rosaline said, sending a wry smile Leander’s way over Victor’s head, “I see.” Leander’s face was pink as he approached and stepped into Rosaline’s place, while she stepped to stand next to Garreth.

Leander checked in with his younger cousin as the group descended the stairs, asking all of the standard questions; what happened? When? By whom? Victor brushed off most of his cousin’s concern and was laughing along with something Leander had said when they arrived in a small, warm corridor. Huge wooden barrels were stored against the dense, exposed brick, and it was before one of these barrels they stopped. The Hufflepuff wished everyone goodbye, and thanked Rosaline one more time, before knocking the front of it in a lyrical pattern. The front swung open wide, revealing the warm light of the Hufflepuff common room. Victor waved once more and disappeared inside, the door swinging shut quickly behind him.

“Wow!” Rosaline said, taking a half step forward, before a large, warm hand gripped her wrist.

“I wouldn’t,” Garreth warned.

“Why not?” Rosaline asked, though she returned to where she had been standing, a few healthy feet away.

“Get too close and it’ll spray you with cold vinegar, if you’re not a Puff,” Garreth explained, disgust clear on his face genuine enough to make Rosaline believe Garreth knew from experience just how cold and how pungent the Hufflepuff Barrel’s vinegar truly was. She followed Garreth as he walked a large arc around it. Leander was already further down the hall, a brisk pace to his step.

“Where is he off to, in such a hurry?” Rosaline asked with a prescribed interest. She did not want Garreth to think she was being condescending, given her past with his friend.

“Ah, that would be the kitchens,” Garreth said, a boyish grin overtaking his face, clear excitement lighting his eyes a shade lighter—jade carvings in the morning sun. “One of the school’s more poorly kept secrets.” He jogged a couple steps to catch up with Leander, placing a hand on the other boy’s shoulder, waving Rosaline closer as he did so.

They were stood in front a large painting, a beautiful still life of a silver, tiered serving bowl, overwhelmed by sumptuous amounts of fruits. Shiny red grapes spilled over the lip, tumbling down in tangles, bright pink and inky black berries were snuggled next to a pile of blush peaches, and in the middle, a perfectly plump pear, pinky bottom fading away to a bright green near the stem, which curved just so.

“Watch this, “Garreth said, leaning over her shoulder, wand pointed towards the painting. “Rictusempra!” the tickle charm collided with the pear, and Rosaline swore she could the faintest giggling as it transformed into a large green doorknob. Rosaline looked over her shoulder to find he was already gazing at her, a soft smile pulling at his lips, just the lightest dusting of pink deepening the color of his freckles. Now, in the shade of their bodies, his eyes were darker than the emerald on her mother’s favorite necklace, and just as shining. With a tilt of his head, he encouraged her towards the magically revealed door, grin brightening with renewed mirth.

With a smirk of her own, Rosaline turned the knob, ducking her head to step into the secret room. The sight of high, vaulted ceilings, impossibly high and lit with hundreds of floating candles, and a few lanterns suspended in thin air, and four long tables spread across the floor turned Rosaline’s smirk into a baffled smile, a giggle of disbelief bubbling up from her lungs.

“It’s huge!” she gasped, stepping into the room so she wasn’t bowled over by Leander who was becoming impatient, if the tapping of his shoes against the stone floor was any indication. Leander pushed past her into the kitchen proper, gaining the attention of a few house elves that were running about, platters and dinnerware and cutlery in their hands.

“Ah!” one of them exclaimed, “Hello again Master Prewett, Master Weasley!” the small elf unceremoniously dumped his try onto a long counter, a sink at the end of it was charmed, it seemed, and was furiously washing, rinsing, and drying the dishes simultaneously.

“Hello Teap,” Leander greeted, looking around the tables and counters, apparently in search of something. “You wouldn’t happen to have any treacle tarts on hand, would you?”

The elf hummed, stroking a few straggly hairs poking out from his chin, “I don’t think so, but Teap can certainly whip some up!” And then the house elf was off, a flurry of activity as he contentedly gathered ingredients for treacle tarts.

Another elf approached Garreth and Rosaline, a bit shyer in demeanor, hands tangled in the hem of her makeshift sack-dress. “I’m Dossy,” she greeted, voice high pitched and tinkling, “Can Dossy help you tonight?”

“Hello Dossy,” Garreth said, bending at his knees and offering the house elf his hand, “I am Garreth Weasley, and this is my friend Rosaline Wintrell.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dossy,” Rosaline said, also extending her hand. Dossy took her hand and shook it lightly, a disbelieving smile growing on her face.

“The pleasure is Dossy’s” she replied, “Can I make anything for you tonight? A tart or pudding perhaps?”

“Hm,” Garreth hummed, hand coming to rest on his chin, “seems a bit heavy for my taste. Perhaps an apple with a little sugar instead?”

Dossy nodded and stopped another elf passing by to have them start on the snack. “And for you, miss?” she inquired, warm face lifted to look at Rosaline.

“I’m sorry,” the Slytherin witch replied, a bit embarrassed, “I’m afraid I’m not quite hungry at the moment.”

“That’s alright!” Dossy said with a smile, “If you like, Dossy can get you a cup of hot chocolate. It’s a popular late-night treat, and if Dossy says so herself, Dossy’s hot chocolate is quite delicious!”

“It’s true!” the unknown voice of another kitchen elf yelled. Garreth laughed and Rosaline couldn’t help but chuckle along with the genuine mirth in his voice.

“That sounds lovely, Dossy,” Rosaline replied and with a bit of a hop in her step, the house elf scurried away. She stood with Garreth in silence for a moment, simply happy to watch the nighttime bustling of the kitchens.

“We’ll have to come back once exam season kicks up,” Garreth said, tilting his head. “Curfew is extended, for indoor study areas at least, and the elves often pack baskets of study treats to keep everyone happy and motivated.”

“I look forward to it,” Rosaline said.

“Me too,” Garreth replied, but then his face twisted up in a grimace. “At least, I look forward to studying and late-night treats. Not exams.” A boyish shudder passed over Garreth and Rosaline giggled. The sound had Garreth looking at Rosaline’s smiling face, dark, depthless eyes crinkled with delight, and a bit of heat rising in his cheeks.

“I don’t think anyone looks forward to exams,” Leander said, rejoining them with a palm sized treacle tart wrapped with cloth in his hand. It wasn’t long before Dossy returned with a bowl of sugared apple slices and a mug of hot chocolate.

“It’s a bit hot,” Dossy supplied at Rosaline took the ceramic mug carefully, “Dossy suggests letting it cool a bit before trying it. But…” Dossy seemed to turn shy again and she looked up at Rosaline with a hesitant smile, “Dossy would be glad if Miss Wintrell would tell Dossy how it tastes when she can.”

“I’d be happy to,” Rosaline said with a tilt of her head, “Thank you for your help, Dossy.”

“Miss Wintrell is most welcome!”

The three students hurried back out into the hall and back towards the grand staircase. It wasn’t a long walk before the two Gryffindors had to part ways with the Slytherin, they were heading up the moving stairs, she was going down.

“Thank you, for helping my cousin,” Leander said stiffly, nodded his head and swiftly swept up the stairs, treacle tart held gently in his hand. Garreth and Rosaline lingered, the Gryffindor boy scuffing the floor with the toe of his loafer.

“Thank you for showing me the kitchens,” Rosaline whispered, pulling a bit of hair behind her ear.

“I was happy to,” Garreth said with a smile, “Anytime you need a late-night snack, count me in!”

Rosaline huffed a quiet laugh, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two bid each other goodnight and parted ways, Rosaline descending into the dark, cool dungeons and slipping through the common room into her dorm. Imelda was already asleep, eye mask covering her eyes, snores dripping from her slightly parted mouth. Her other roommates were still gone. Nerida often spent evenings by the boathouse, and the other, Grace likely charting the stars in the astronomy tower until well past curfew.

Rosaline quickly threw on her nightdress, a simple cotton shift with some ruffling around the knees and lace detailing around the collar, a pair of thick woolen socks, and a chunky knotted cardigan. She climbed into bed then, content to stare out the window by her bed into the dark abyss of the black lake, hot chocolate in hand. She smiled as she sipped the now drinkable beverage, smooth creamy chocolate bouncing happily on her tongue and just the slightest bit of mint to compliment.

After draining the mug, a slight sleepy stupor overtook Rosaline, and she very quickly settled herself under the blankets, blinking lazily and planning to send a handwritten thank you note to Dossy for her delicious hot chocolate in the morning.

#garreth weasley #hogwarts au #hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley x mc #garreth x mc #garreth x you #Garreth fanfiction

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caparrucia · 2 years ago

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AO3 First Lines Tag Game

Tagged by @garbria!

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Decided to only use main fics, rather than any sidestory collection associated with them:

1. no greater evidence of roses than thorns (FFXV)

Regis gets two assassination attempts per month on average. Or rather, two assassination attempts on his person are planned per month on average. Lyra Argentum leads his Saboteur Corp. So it’s more like Regis reads about two assassination attempts on his person that got horrifically and often murderously derailed per month on average.

2. upon a truth well-known (FFXV)

Later, much later - after a scramble for lunch that stretched out into dinner, though by then the entirety of the village had heard the news and had come in to bring their gifts, good wishes and nosy questions - Cor finds himself following Nyx out the window of his room and onto the roof. They sneak on the sturdy beams holding the sprawling, interconnected labyrinth of roofs all the way across the village - technically, it’s all one house, technically, and it strikes Cor as the kind of technicality that Regis would be delighted by - to then make their escape onto the mismatched, broken marble pillars that lead up towards the massive temple that dominates the entire island.

3. in his professional opinion (FFXV)

The boy came recommended by Regis.

This was worse, in Titus’ humble opinion, than no recommendation at all. Regis only recommended capable people he saw as full of potential…

Or Cor.

4. Mutual Understanding (Horizon: Forbidden West)

“And… yeah,” Erend says, awkwardly, staring at whatever expression had settled on Talanah’s face and wouldn’t budge an inch. “That’s about it.”

“I see,” Talanah says, slow and steady and not at all reassuring, given the way Erend flinches in a way eerily reminiscent of his reaction to his sister’s opinions on his latest stupidity, back before… well.

Everything.

5. the nature of the beast (FFXV)

Nyx hadn't exactly volunteered to go to the mainland.

None of them had, really. The mainland was a nebulous, foreign concept none of them really thought about that often. And why would they? Galahd was Lucian in name only, and they liked it that way. The mainland brought idiots every couple years, with grand plans and ideas to “modernize the islands” and “bring them into a new era," and it was funny watching them set out to try, only to be inevitably worn down by the storms.

6. from the dark, will come a light (Pokemon)

It’s a windy, autumn afternoon, standing in line inside a nondescript coffee shop in Goldenrod City, when the greatest field agent in the entirety of the International Police realizes he needs to die.

It’s a very quiet realization, that, nothing dramatic or overblown, and certainly not something that manages to make a dent in his expression: he remains standing where he is, patiently waiting for his turn, apathetic stare fixated on the display trays full of elaborate, sweet confections to contrast with the subtle flavors of the roast this coffee shop favors.

7. i've battled hard with the face in the mirror (Pokemon)

When his mum saw him standing in the doorway, sheepish grin and all, she’d cried.

It was the good kind of cry, though, so Leon didn’t feel too bad for crying a little himself, when he got pulled into a tight, tight hug. There was something fundamentally comforting about his mum, this vast, encompassing warmth that reminded Leon of being small and scared, and then instantly reassured, the moment she was there to hold him and promise it would be alright.

It would be alright.

8. Of Kings, Knights and Knaves (FFXV)

The Emperor has come to Insomnia.

Nyx watches the news broadcast, curled up in a chair in his apartment, trying to desensitize himself to it. It burns deep in his bones, and he must learn to master it, so that he’ll be able to carry out the job he’s been assigned to perform. He must stand guard in yet another of the fancy parties preluding the farce of a peace treaty, even though he’s got Crowe’s unseeing stare burned into the back of his eyes.

Must. It’s always about must, never could or would or want.

Must.

9. Chronicles of the Storm King's Reign (FFXV)

It’s not, Ardyn knows, a matter of morals. It’s not even a matter of loyalty.

He’s neither moral nor loyal and he knows it. If nothing else, two thousand years of nothing but his own emptiness for company has been enough to let him come to grips with who and what he is. He’s petty and bitter and not really nice. He reckons he never was all that nice, deep down, before the Scourge got hold of him and he was reduced to play his part in his brother’s farce of a fate. He did as he was told and tried his best to make it be enough, because it was expected of him. He didn’t care, back then, about the lives he saved. All those lives were just variations on a theme, the same boring story told over and over again; and they’d been so weak and cowed by everything, that they clamored for him, for letting them endure their miserable, empty existences a little longer.

10. for to end yet again (Pokemon/Witcher)

“Ah,” Raihan said, right before the shaelmaar hit him head on, “fuck.”

It wasn’t his proudest moment by far. Every bone on the left side of his body broke on impact and he felt that, somewhere under the murk of adrenaline that gave him enough time to force his limbs loose and try to roll with the impact. He bounced off the rock floor like a rag doll, and then barely managed to cast quen, hoping against all hope that it would be enough to hold off the follow up, even though he knew damn well it wouldn’t.

A moment passed.

Then another.

Tagging: @darkpuck @pegunicent @misstrips @kheradihr @whostarlockeda03 @phoenix-is-the-hottest-thing @thedancingwalrus-blog @wordsandrobots @awlwren @jonphaedrus and anyone else who wants to try! Show off your stuff!

#shut up rie #tag meme #my writing #sometimes i even finish shit and put it up on ao3 #can you believe that?

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waterfall-ambience · 1 year ago

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Perpetua - Arc 1, Chapter 10 (Old Version)

Dug up the old version of Chapter 10, for when Damien attacks Perpetua the second time. This is the super fucked up version of events, playing with the idea of the Wither King being a voice in Damien's head for the duration of the scene.

Major abuse warning for this one.

[I think this is the most fucked up scene in the story thus far. Warning for abuse and threats of physical harm]

Perpetua

[Damien falls through the sky of Perpetua]

Damien (internal monologue): Let’s try this one last time.

My name is Damien Vexx, and for the past two years, I’ve-

Wither King (in Damien’s head): That’s cute, Little Luna. Don’t broadcast your thoughts to the Audience.

Damien: Uncle?!

Wither King: Yes.

Damien: What are you doing in my head?! I had a plan!

Wither King: And I’m sure it was excellent. But now you listen to me.

[He goes off-course towards a nearby forest rather than the Marble City.]

Damien: This wasn’t part of the plan!

Wither King: Oh, don’t get pissy with me! It wasn’t going to work! We both knew that!

Damien: But we agreed on it! You said I could handle this how I wanted!

Wither King: God, I can’t deal this right now.

Your screaming is giving me a migraine.

Damien: Because I didn’t expect you to be here!

[tip: he is so fucking mad]

Wither King: Fine, I’ll shut up.

But don’t come crying back to me when things go wrong.

[He lands on a tree branch in the forest.]

Damien: What was wrong with my plan?! You said you were just going to watch!

You LIED!!

[He tries pulling the headband off, but it doesn’t work]

Wither King: I wasn’t lying! Honest!

Besides, you need me if you want any hope of being taken seriously. I’m saving you from becoming ‘Villain of the Week’, you just need to trust me!

Damien: Why should I listen to you?! You lied to me!

Wither King: Look, if you’re going to be this hysterical, neither of us are going to get what we want!

So you listen!!

Damien: If you wanted me to listen to you now, you should’ve said something when I was planning! We literally had THREE WEEKS to sort this out!

And let's not forget: you LIED TO ME.

Wither King: Something came up, okay?!

You're not ready to face a threat like Captain Luna. You're too much of a crybaby.

Damien: Excuse me?!

If I'm not ready, why did you send me at all?!

Wither King: Because today is important to Captain Luna. It's our best chance of success.

Damien: And you didn't tell me…why??

Wither King: If I told you, you'd just cry about it. Because you're a crybaby.

Damien: No I'm not!

Wither King: You think I'm stupid?!

I see how much this dark magic and manipulation stuff makes you squirm.

And it was fun, for a while.

I created a superweapon, but that superweapon was raised by a soft-hearted, moralist bitch who-

Damien (voice breaking): Don't drag her into this!!

Wither King: (sigh) You're insufferable.

Point is, you have strength but no will to use it. No matter how much you train and pretend to be a brooding little bad boy, I can see that you're just as pathetic as you were two years ago.

[Damien sniffles and fights back tears]

[He cries, pressing his hands over his face in an attempt to stop.]

Wither King: Case in point.

Get up. We need to end this today.

Damien: Nuh-uh.

I'm staying here.

[He sits down and leans against the trunk of the tree.]

Wither King: I'm already helping you fulfil your promise to me! Now get up!

[Damien clasps his hands over his ears]

Wither King: You whiny brat. After everything I've done for you- what I'm still doing for you- THIS is the thanks I get?!

Fine. Be like that.

Since you think you're so tough.

[Damien coughs once, and then again.]

[He falls over as his coughing becomes increasingly violent.]

[He chokes, and starts wheezing and gasping for air.]

Wither King: This is you without my help. Your body can't even sustain itself on its own anymore.

[He continues to cough]

Wither King: You are going to die here if you don't do what I say.

Then I'll raise you from the dead and you'll wish you'd have gone to the Hells.

[Damien vomits water and stomach acid]

[He continues to struggle.]

Wither King: Alright, enough.

Now up.

[He catches his breath and lays there, almost paralysed.]

[Shaking, he stands up and makes his way to the Marble City.]

Wither King: There. Doesn't it feel better to listen to me?

Stop crying. You need to be a man about this if you ever want to be taken seriously by these people.

Damien: …

Wither King: Oh, don't give me that.

You know I'm right.

Damien: …

Wither King: Silent treatment, huh? Real mature.

[He blows up a building. The rubble falls around them.]

Wither King: Hey, watch it!

Damien: …

[He blows up another building.]

[And another. ]

[This keeps going. Damien is continually reckless with where he stands. He remains silent.]

Wither King: Oh, I know what you’re trying to do. You and Captain Luna are the same.

Dying like a martyr won’t save them.

Damien (cold, distant): I’m just doing my job.

[He does the SHAFT head tilt]

It’s the only thing you value me for, isn’t it?

Wither King: Helen taught you that, I bet she did.

Undermining me, making you weak-

Damien: She’s got nothing to do with this. This is all me.

Now, let’s try this again.

[He wipes away the last of his tears.]

[Electricity crackles in his hands.]

See how little help I need.

[He uses his powers to lift himself into the air. Skeletons erupt from the ground. Lightning strikes. This is the second coming of the end.]

#globeland perpetua #this was going to lead up to the wither king almost killing luna > wk destroying perpetua himself #> damien learning that the other clones are hollow & confronting wk about it #but i ended up scrapping that version of events in favour of keeping the tone lighter + i didnt have a clear way to resolve it

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earlgreydream · 4 years ago

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lover of mine.

| winter soldier!bucky barnes x reader | angst | fluff |

lover of mine.

/When I take a look at my life/And all of my crimes/You're the only thing that I think I got right//I watched the world fall from your eyes/All my regrets/And things you can't forget/Light them all up/Kiss them goodbye/

“You loved him once. You can love him again.”

“I never stopped loving him. That’s what you don’t understand.”

The fellow Avengers had watched the world fall from your eyes, the joy draining from you with every headline that involved Bucky. Not only had he changed, but you had too. You became completely enthralled with your missions, pouring every waking second into the Avengers. Because if you thought about anything else, you would break.

Steve begged you to take breaks, begged you to take time off. You insisted you were fine, never wanting to be left alone with your thoughts. You didn’t want to think about the newsreels of Bucky-- the winter soldier-- wielding machine guns.

You couldn’t bear to see the love of your life slaughtering people.

“I’m not picking up Parker from school... He’s in high school, he doesn’t need me to pick him up! He can take the subway! Or use his webs!” You snapped at Stark, who stared at you impatiently.

“You need to rest. This is how you’re filling your afternoon.” Stark was insistent, and you shook your head, grabbing the keys to a Tesla.

“Steve?”

“Go, Y/N.”

You sighed and went down to the garage, driving uptown to get the teenager from school. You parked outside of the high school, leaning against the hood of your car while you waited.

You never got used to the modernity. You were like Steve and Bucky. You’d been alive in the 40s, and frozen like they were. Luckily, you’d fallen to S.H.I.E.L.D. instead of Hydra. You’d managed to stay safe with Steve, and become an Avenger, not suffering Bucky’s fate.

Before the war, you and Bucky had been married. The memories in your mind of dancing in the kitchen, jazz bars, drive-ins, and reading the Hobbit when it came out, were all raw. Before he was deployed, there was a wedding.

You’d been surrounded by flowers and your friends, celebrating the love of your life. Steve was the best man. You’d left the ceremony with Bucky in his yellow vintage car, going to the coast for your honeymoon.

You remembered the beach house, and running in the sand with your young husband. It was perfect back then, before Hydra got their hands on him. He was loving and gentle, the kind of man who danced with you in the kitchen and brought you flowers.

You remembered when he’d gone off to war. You wore his dog tags, and hung a flag in your window. You’d kissed him goodbye, tears blinding you as you tried to focus on the silver eyes that were full of adoration and love. You remembered when Steve came back, and Bucky didn’t.

There were so many memories of crying in Steve’s arms, and falling asleep with him beside you. Even when you’d moved to Stark Tower with him, even after becoming an avenger decades later, you still slept beside him. He’d listened to you sob for Bucky a million times; Steve had witnessed a lifetime of your heartbreak.

You remembered waking up from being frozen, and finding out who James Buchanan Barnes had become.

“Y/N?!” Parker’s cheerful voice snapped you out of your thoughts as he came bounding down the stairs of the high school.

“Hey kiddo. Stark sent me to get you.” You stood up off the car and hugged him. He waved goodbye to his friends and got in the passenger seat. He immediately started chattering, and you welcomed it, appreciating the distraction from the deafening silence. That was why you were fond of Parker, he was easy to be around, and he was always happy to fill the silence.

“Let’s go to Starbucks!” He announced as the two of you drove back to the tower.

“Are you joking?”

“No! It’s on me.”

“It’s on Stark,” you smirked, and Parker broke out into a wide grin.

You and Peter walked into Stark Tower a half hour later, chattering and laughing. Parker was the only one of the Avengers who cheered you up, and he never made you feel bad for not wanting to talk about Bucky. He was bubbly and warm, and always made you laugh. You were giggling at a story from his school as you went upstairs to the penthouse, unaware of what you were walking1 into.

You nearly crashed into him, stopping dead in your tracks.

“Y/N!” The voice was so familiar, and yet, you thought you’d never hear it again.

You were suffocating. The air was ripped from your lungs, and you couldn’t breathe. It felt like the earth was swaying underneath you, everything shattered.

Steve ran to you as you passed out, and Parker caught you with a shout before you hit the floor. He knelt on the marble, your head in his lap, and Steve shouted for Banner, who came running to follow you to his medical lab.

“Stevie, what’s wrong with her?!” Bucky demanded, and everyone looked at him.

“It’s the shock of seeing you.” Steve admitted, and Bucky looked like he was going to break.

“I’m better now, I’m no longer the...” he couldn’t even say it, his eyes anxious and frightened.

Bucky had spent months trying to free himself of Hydra’s psychological bonds. He was free now, motivated by the thought of coming home to you. Bucky had waited years. Now, he was home, and the second he said your name and laid eyes on him, you’d panicked and blacked out.

Steve attempted to comfort him, and even Parker, the boy he didn’t know. They tried to explain to Bucky that you were just in shock, but his heart broke.

“I took care of her, Buck. She still loves you, she always has. Just give her some time. Seeing you like that...”

“I know,” Bucky breathed.

Everyone left Bucky alone with you, giving you privacy. He sat beside the bed where you were asleep, Banner assuring everyone that you were fine, you had only fainted.

He watched you. Bucky hadn’t watched you sleep like this since the 1940s.

He was suddenly back, leaning in the doorway, the soft light pouring behind him as he drank a cup of coffee, taking in the sight of his sweet wife sleeping before he went to work. You’d glow in the golden light of the morning, your face peaceful and serene. It was so intimate back then.

Bucky sat up as you stirred, familiar eyes slowly opening. You didn’t know where you were at first, your mind running through events. You’d picked Parker up from school, stopped for a snack, and came back to the tower. And seen your husband.

You sat up suddenly, and he put his arms out, one made of vibranium. His eyes were soft, full of love, not the empty steel you’d seen on the news. Your name fell from his lips, desperate and anxious.

You jerked away at first, startled by the reality of what was happening. You were frightened, alone in the room with your husband. You scrambled back against the headboard, trying to put distance between you and his outstretched hands.

You were about to scream when you realized he looked just as frightened as you. You slowly sank back against the headboard, slowing your breathing as you stared at him.

“James?”

“It’s me, doll. I’m home.”

You didn’t know how long the silence lasted, but it felt like hours. The two of you stared at each other, and when you finally decided he wasn’t going to hurt you, you gingerly moved toward him.

“I’m free from them. It’s just me, it’s not the winter soldier anymore,” Bucky’s voice was soft, and you blinked back tears.

“It can’t be you. You were gone.” Your voice trembled as you spoke.

“I’m back now. I came back for you. I’m never going to hurt you, or anyone else again.”

“James-”

“I’m not a killer anymore.”

The plea broke your heart, the shattered boy begging you to believe him, begging you to take him back. Tears slid down his cheeks, terrified of your reaction.

“James, I love you.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

Bucky felt like he’d waited a million years to say it, and the words spread through you, filling your empty soul.

You wanted to fall into his arms, to hold him close and feel him again. You wanted all of it to happen instantly, but that’s not how it was. You needed time, time to adjust, and time to trust him again before you returned to your husband fully.

You reached out to touch his arm, and he noticed the wedding ring wasn’t around your finger. His eyes flitted up to yours, and you pulled the chain from around your neck that hid beneath your shirt. It held his dog tags, and your wedding ring. Relief flooded Bucky, and you offered a the slightest hint of a smile.

“What happened?” You asked, cautiously running your fingers along the vibranium.

“I lost my arm when I fell from the train. Steve told you?”

“A bit... you fell, he didn’t know what happened after.”

“Can I touch you?” Bucky spoke gently, understanding your hesitation and being patient.

You nodded, and his hand slowly lifted to your face, fingers brushing over the curves of your skin. You laid your hand over his, kissing the inside of his wrist. He cried softly, a smile crossing his face as he felt you, promising it wasn’t a dream.

“Bucky, we need you for a meeting.” Stark leaned into the bedroom, hours later.

“Stark, now?”

“I’m sorry. Y/N will be here when you get back.”

“I’ll wait for you.” You promised, and he nodded, the words falling heavy between you.

Bucky followed Stark out, and you sat on the bed, processing the day. Bucky had quietly explained the Hydra brainwashing, about how he was held captive in his own mind. You believed him, but it would always be hard to shake those memories of him on the news.

“Hey, we didn’t mean to just drop this on you.” Steve came inside, sitting down on the mattress.

“You couldn’t have kept from me that my husband was suddenly free and home. Is he really, though? It is him? He won’t kill me in my sleep?” You asked, and Steve gave you a sad smile.

“It is. He’s traumatized, he won’t be the same as before the war. But it’s not the winter soldier, it’s Bucky.”

You knew it was true. You knew the man before you, his heart and his soul, and you were going to grow to know his mind again.

You were curled up in bed, Steve beside you on the other side of the large mattress.

“Stevie? Y/N?” you heard a soft voice from the doorway, and you sat up in the dark. You had trouble sleeping, and you were awake when he came in during the middle of the night.

“Bucky?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Come here,” you whispered, moving over in bed, closer to Steve, who was waking from the disturbance. You didn’t fear Bucky, especially not when he looked so frightened and upset.

You lifted the blanket, and Bucky got in on the other side of the bed. You pulled him to you, silently wrapping your arms around him. You felt Steve against your back, leaning over to place his hand on Bucky’s arm, smoothing over the skin slowly to comfort him.

“You’re okay now, it’s over, my love,” you whispered, settling between the warm bodies.

Your head rested on Bucky’s chest, and you realized how long you’d spent waiting for it. You felt his lips press a kiss to the top of your head, and Steve bury his face into the back of your neck, needing to be close.

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mcyt-imagines · 4 years ago

Note

hello! i am here to request a tommyinnit x reader! where the reader is a smaller streamer who accidentally befriends tommy while having no idea who he is??? they only find out when they see him streaming one day and lose their fucking marbles over how many people are watching him, and proceed to blow up his phone like??? hello what the fuck???? also, they/them pronouns please!

I love this request, mainly because I can totally see Tommy doing this to someone. Befriending them and just accidentally forgetting about his online popularity just to laugh as they freak out over it. I’ve used they/them pronouns as per requested as well, hope you enjoy! :D

Hidden In Plain Sight

You were worried you weren’t going to actually make any friends in your new classes, moving to a whole new school partway through the year wasn’t exactly common practice. So, you had braced yourself for the worst, mentally prepared to eat your lunch alone in the bathrooms even if it was gross, it was better than being eyeballed by your new peers. Approaching the common area with your food now in hand, you felt your stomach start to sink deeper and deeper, yet you kept up your pace determined to not look as downtrodden as you felt.

“Hey, new girl!” You turned quickly, giving yourself a bad case of whiplash that the boy who had called your name definitely noticed. “Uh, yeah?” You raised a singular eyebrow at him, the empty seats around him beckoning you closer. “Nice twitch patch. You stream?” He asked, gesturing to the small purple and white patch you had badly sewn onto your backpack.

You stood dumbly ahead of him, your food held tightly in your hands. “Uh, yeah. I do, I only started a few months ago though.” You grow sheepish wondering if admitting to that could just lead to you getting bullied quicker. The boy’s face suddenly lights up, “Me too! I’ve been streaming for a few years now though.” He boasts a little, obviously taking pride in his hobby. You nod along, “Cool.” A few moments of silence pass, “Are you gonna sit or what?”

The smile that graces your face leaves Tommy a little stunned, “Oh! Thanks.” You quickly sit, shoulders relaxing almost instantly. “I-It’s nothing, I’m Tommy by the way.” He holds out his hand, you warmly shake it giving him your own name with a soft blush. Partly from the embarrassment of your pointlessly spiralling thoughts and partly from how cute this boy next to you is. Tommy happily carries the conversation, cheeks a soft pink as you watch him with intrigue and interest drinking in his words with an attentiveness he wasn’t used to. Tommy listens eagerly when he asks you about your twitch channel, you shyly tell him a little about it.

You give him your channel name and he follows you, you follow back instantly Tommy speaking through the exchange partly to distract you from his profile. It works and you close the app without a second glance, happily listening to the rest of Tommy’s story without a care in the world. Tommy feels relief rush through him, he didn’t want to overwhelm you and he knew that his popularity was likely to have an impact on your friendship. He didn’t want that. He wanted someone to want to get to know him because they found him interesting not because of his following and the ‘clout’ they may receive from being his friend. You didn’t seem like the type to do that but he knew better than to assume, he’d learnt that lesson a few too many times before.

“You normally sit alone?” You breach the subject with little tact, knowing that surely, he’s a popular guy. He’s loud, extroverted and funny, there’s no way he was as much of a social outcast to be forced to sit alone. He sighs loudly, huffing air through his nose. “No! But my lame-o friends decided to join clubs this year and they meet during lunch for extra club time.” He grumbles, arms now gesturing widely around him as he articulates exaggeratedly. “But I know that they’re really just trying to suck up to the girls in the drama club.” He makes a loud gagging noise.

“So, I stay out here and study, that way I have more time to stream when I get home,” Tommy explains with a soft shrug, motioning to his binder nearby, notes scribbled in an illegible chicken scratch. “I might have to start doing that, the workload here is so much more than at my old school.” You groan, gesturing to your own binder chock-a-block with notes, textbooks and spiralled notebooks.

That’s when the two of you hear a distant ringing of bells, “Where’re you headed? I can lead you there, this place is a maze sometimes.” Tommy offers the smile soft on his face. You pull at your folder and point to your next class, “Uh, it’s-“ You begin, only for Tommy to exclaim. “We have the same class! C’mon, Miss will beat our asses if we’re late!” “Miss who!?” You look at him quizzically as Tommy quickly stands grabbing his things and motioning for you to follow. When you stand slowly and grab your things Tommy grabs your wrist, “She might excuse you for being late, but I’ve been late one too many times dude, you don’t even know.” His pace is faster than yours but his hold on your wrist is firm, forcing you to keep up with him.

Days of chatting and befriending Tommy turns to weeks and soon it’s been a few months. You had been happily keeping to yourself mid-stream, your regular viewers making light conversation with you through chat. “Oh woah, we got a raid!” You cry watching your chat, “Aw it’s from Tommy! Hey big man, thanks for the raid of- HOLY SHIT! 300,000!?” Your eyes grow to the size of saucers as you reread the notification several times before finally looking into your webcam looking like a deer in headlights. “U-Uh welcome guys! If you’re planning on sticking around please be polite in chat!” You try your best to gain control over your racing mind, heart beating rapidly against your chest.

A large number of Tommy’s viewers leave, but you try your best to entertain those that stay for another hour or so before you end stream with a significantly larger number of subs than what you started with. Your speed dialling Tommy’s number is unrivalled as you lay back in your chair, eyeing your stream set up across from you. He picks up, “Hey-“ You cut him off immediately.

“Um, so when were you going to tell me you’re some big twitch hot shot!? Or was I just supposed to find that one out for myself champ?” You hold back the urge to screech down the phone line as he laughs at you. “Hey! It just slipped my mind, okay!? A big man’s gotta lotta big things on his mind at the one time!” He cries out in futile defence, knowing you had every right to be at least a little bit furious at him for keeping this a secret.

“Wasn’t the raid fun though!?” He squawks after a couple of moments of silence, “It was… fun, but it was also the most stressed I think I’ve ever been Tommy. That’s a lot of people to just throw at someone.” You huff a little, “Sorry, I uh, I didn’t really think before doing it. I was just super excited to send them over to you, I just knew they would love you as much as I do.” He mumbles the last part of his sentence, but you hear it just fine. “Aw, I love you too Tommy.” A smile finds it’s way onto your face, “I can’t believe I’m actually considering forgiving you.” You throw a hand over your eyes, groaning. “Would a midnight trip to get some fast food accelerate the forgiveness process?”

You hum for a few moments, “Are you trying to bribe me, Tommy?” The blond stammers adorably before huffing, “Uhhh, no?” He offers, “Oh well if that’s the case, then yes.” You grin as his screeches of laughter reach your ears, your own laughter joining his within moments. “Talk later big man, got a midnight meal to plan for.” Tommy groans, “Oh no! You’re gonna spend all my money!” You scoff, “I’m sorry mister millionaire! You’re my walking talking money bags now, get used to it!” You giggle along with Tommy’s chuckles, his voice relaxed. Tommy knew his assumption was right, even on the first day he met you. He knew you were a good person, a good person for him. There’s no one he would rather spend his time and money on.

~Requests are currently open!~

#tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader #tommy x reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader #x reader

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untaemedqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 24.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

A/N: Really really huge thank you to my queen @xjoonchildx for making me the newspaper clippings. I love them so much! This is one of my favorite chapters because of how fun it looks! And as always I couldn’t have done it without @ladyartemesia and @ppersonna

Yoongi takes a deep breath, letting the September air fill his lungs. Who knew life could be so fucking trying?

He turns his head to you, hearing your soft footsteps down the marble stairs. He notices the small splotches of paint on your skin and it fills him with a sense of calm. You're a sight for sore eyes.

"My baby," he breathes, leaving his glass of whisky on the outdoor patio and walking back into the mansion to be with you.

"I'm all dirty," you mumble, picking at the dried paint on your hands.

"I can make you dirtier." your fiance quips and you give him a lopsided grin at his joke.

His joke doesn't match his mood and your eyebrows furrow as his arms wrap around you.

You know just how stressed he is. You know just how much his heart hurts everyday that Sera refuses to sign the divorce papers. It wouldn't be nearly as bad if you didn't seem to be growing more and more everyday.

His chin rests atop your head and he stares past you to the two marble staircases that lead up to either wing.

Even though Sera is no longer here and she's in the guest house with Jin and your dog, her ghost seems to haunt the CEO at every turn.

"I want to buy a new house." he grumbles, pulling away and looking down at you.

"Why?" you ask softly, running your hands lovingly over his arms.

"This house fills me with nothing but bad memories. I see the leech everywhere I turn… I hate that. I want a fresh start." he admits, caressing your distended sides.

You hum in agreement. "Is it too much for you right now? You have so much on your plate. Let's look for a house together when we get married," you suggest.

Just the thought of marrying you makes his heart flip inside of his chest. The thought of holding you in his arms everyday until his last is miraculous and special.

"When we buy the new house, you can decorate it any way you want." he promises.

"Oh, I plan on it." you reply, pulling him towards the stairs.

"Where are we going?" he asks curiously, letting you take him with you.

"You need a distraction, baby boy."

He shivers at your tone, how strict it is. A small smile spreads over his face as he trudges up the stairs with you. "Yes, Mistress. I do."

"Jin?!" Sera calls, dropping her bags down at the front of the guest house.

She promised him she'd try and she thinks she's doing well so far. She only complains thirty percent of the day which is a lot better than the eighty percent she's used to. She's even held her tongue a few times when Jin has told her he's going to hang out with Leena.

"I'm getting ready for work, mouse." he calls back from upstairs.

His velvet voice fills her with joy and she rushes up the stairs without a second thought.

"Can I come with you?" she begs, peeking into his bedroom.

His hands wrap and tug at his tie as he turns to her with a raised eyebrow.

"No. You're still married." he states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

She scoffs gently, wrinkling her nose. There's something about how quick and dexterous his fingers are as he ties his tie that sends her stomach coiling.

He still hasn't had sex with her and he hasn't even kissed her after that fated day when she begged him to stay with her.

"Why not?" she whines softly, leaning against the door jamb.

Seokjin chuckles gently, rolling his eyes. "Because you won't sign the divorce papers, like a normal person." he announces.

"Why do you keep bringing it up?! It's always 'divorce this or divorce that,' aren't you tired of saying it yet?" the actress cries out.

Jin grabs his suit jacket, sighing so loudly that it scares the woman behind him.

"Yes, actually. I am tired of saying it. You should just do it."

"But why? It has nothing to do with you." she mumbles.

Turning to her, he tilts his head. "Yes it does. If you don't get divorced, I'm not staying with you. I'm not going to be the guy that makes another man a fucking cuckold. I don't want that, that's fucking disgusting. There's nothing for you in your marriage anymore. You don't get any money, you've been cut off, you don't love Yoongi, you don't even care! So why are you being so stubborn about signing a damn paper?"

She looks down at the floor, playing with the ends of her hair, not wanting to answer.

"Because you're spiteful," Jin answers for her, "but your spite is literally making my pregnant best friend sick. She's a nervous wreck because of you, Sera. I hate that. You have everything in the world you could possibly want. And you can't just sign a few fucking papers?"

Jin whistles for Gaesu as he squeezes past the actress in the doorway.

"I just-"

"You don't want to give up something because you're greedy. Yeah, I get it. You want others to be miserable because you've always been miserable your whole life," he turns to her, cupping her soft face and staring down into her amber eyes, "You don't need to continue to be an asshole. You need to focus on becoming a better fucking person. Not everything needs your input, sometimes you can just let everything go and you can start again on your own. Like now, you don't want to be with Yoongi, you want to be with me. And I see that you're trying, you're doing great so far. But I can only work with you as long as you work with me. And you still being married isn't working with me. It's the opposite."

She swallows thickly, looking up into his blazened mocha irises. He's so serious that it sends a shiver down her spine. When she whimpers gently, whether it's out of need or fear that he'll leave, he brushes his soft thumbs against the apples of her cheek.

"When you sign the papers, I'll sleep in your bed." he promises, pulling away.

She blinks once, twice, three times, watching him walk away from her.

Gaesu follows closely behind your best friend, excited to go to work with him.

"S-So I can't come to the club?!" she calls leaning over the banister.

"No, mouse, Leena will be there and I'm spending the night with her." Jin calls back, grabbing his car keys.

"What?! She touched you in front of me and you're just going to hang out with her again?!" she screams, hanging over the banister.

"One. Be careful, you might hurt yourself. And two, I'm sorry to break it to you but Leena has touched me so many times that her touch feels normal to me at this point. My best friend coming to hang out with me is perfectly fine. And what's more, her boyfriend will be there." your best friend calls back, opening the front door and leaving without another word.

"Fine. We'll see," Sera seethes through her teeth, walking towards her room.

Stepping into Miyoung's art studio, the natural light that bleeds through the glass ceiling really seems to highlight all of the paintings that line the walls.

"Well, if it isn't the famous artist in my very midst." Miyoung quips, stepping down the slightly curved staircase.

You smile up at the pretty woman, leaning against the wall with two coffee cups in hand.

You can see how Yoongi was always fond of Miyoung at a young age, she's beautiful and quirky with everything she does. Even her clothes scream unique and you love that.

The brown French beret that hangs from the side of her head and the long blue corduroy dress she has on screams artistry and you adore it.

"Brought you some coffee," you quip, holding up one.

"You shouldn't be drinking coffee, pregnant lady." she jeers, finally reaching the ground floor and wrapping her arms around you.

"Mine is decaf, thank you very much." you joke back, accepting the hug with open arms.

When you both turn to the walls of art where your paintings were, it's surprising to see the walls almost empty.

The people that walk to and fro with their hands respectfully behind their make your heart bloom with pride.

"Do you wanna know how much money you've made?" Miyoung whispers in your ear, a playful smile spreading on her face.

You roll your eyes, nudging her with your hip. "You know I don't care about that stuff."

"That's why you'll make tons of money." she murmurs back, earning a laugh from you.

People notice you easily when you laugh, turning to you with wide eyes. It's a bit strange to be recognized now because of the Dispatch pictures and it's even stranger when they begin to approach like they know you.

Yoongi's best friend from childhood doesn't stand for it for a second and within seconds she's fending them off with a polite smile.

"Pregnant women don't like to be crowded, if you have any questions about art, please come to me. I'm very in touch with the woman beside me." Miyoung announces, waving her hands for the people to move back.

When she shows you to the art gallery office, it feels like an out of body experience. "There were so many people." you breathe out, sitting down on the loveseat beside her large desk.

"You became famous pretty much overnight. What do you expect? People are salivating for more of your art." she announces, sipping her coffee.

It's such a bizarre thing to hear when you've only ever done painting as a hobby.

"Should I start making more art, you think?" you inquire, crossing your legs and leaning back into the comfy couch.

She hums, tilting her head. "No. I don't think so. I think you make people wait for more. Obviously not too long. But it's good to get people curious and excited for what you're going to do next, y'know? Finish the art for the mall and hotel. Have the baby and then start making more art. You've made millions of dollars on the thirty pieces you've released. That's enough to get people really excited for the next release."

You nod understandingly, letting your eyes drift over the two paintings you've created for her office.

"You're my most successful client ever. I'm proud of it." Miyoung says, making you giggle.

Your heart feels warm in her presence and you can understand why your fiance has always been fond of her. She's an amazing woman.

"Call Minho to help you get downstairs when you're ready."

"Is that necessary?" you quip, sipping your coffee.

"Of course! You're famous now." she gasps, leaning over her glass desk with a playful smile.

Yoongi sighs loudly, throwing his suit pants into his luggage.

He hasn't been able to relax for a single second. He can only pray that paparazzi in Japan aren't as desperate as Koreans.

Staring down at the multitude of watches that spin on their platforms, he gets lost in his worries.

You're giving birth in only three months time. How is he going to cope? What kind of father is he going to be? Is he going to live up to what he wants? Are you going to be proud of him?

He's so worried.

But he's more worried about the leech. When the fuck is she going to sign that goddamn paper?

He opted for platonic parting rather than suing, because it would be messier that way but Sera is so spiteful that he doesn't know what to expect. He knows Jin is trying his hardest to rein her in but who knows how long that will take. It's nerve wracking to say the least.

Yoongi's eyes flutter shut as your arms wrap around him like needy vines. The feeling of your rotund belly against his back has him sighing so softly it barely reaches your ears.

"How are the paintings coming?" he asks gently, turning around in your grasp to cup your face with both hands.

"They're almost finished." you reply, hugging him tightly.

He hums sweetly, letting his lips drift over your forehead. "Have you packed for Japan?" he murmurs, letting the sweet scent of your lavender shampoo enrapture his senses.

"I packed a little this morning, but I got caught up in my inspiration. I have to finish." you announce, putting your cheek to his bare chest.

The warmth of you against his body is so welcome during his time of uneasiness. "I'll help you pack. Just hold me for a little while. It feels good." your fiance breathes out, squeezing his eyes closed tighter.

You're so comfortable within his arms, you have no intention of moving. You can feel his rapid heartbeat and you know exactly why he's on edge but you don't bring it up.

Late nights in your post-coital glow, you've talked extensively about both of your worries and you've come to the realization that they're the same fears.

"I'm going to have to stay inside in Japan, aren't I?" you quip, looking up at him.

He snorts gently, putting his chin on the top of your head. "Probably yes. Does that upset you? I bought out the penthouse so there's a lot for you to do."

His voice is wrapped with guilt but you decide to not dwell on it. Just going somewhere with him is enough for you. You don't care if you have to stay inside, it'll be nice to leave the country for the first time with him by your side.

"Plus, y'know, soon you'll be too big to go anywhere. That's what the doctor said." he whispers.

You smile into his chest, accepting his soft voice. "I know. I'm happy to be going anywhere with you."

His thumb and index finger capture your chin, he tilts your head up so your eyes meet. It's so easy to fall into his mocha irises and the smile that spreads over your lips is so natural. When he bends down, your breath stutters in your throat and the feel of his lips on yours is something so sensational, there are no words that could describe this.

"I love you, little dove."

"I love you too."

Jin should have known Sera wouldn't take kindly to Leena showing up at the club. But he didn't think she would go so far as to show up to the club.

She looks completely terrifying sitting in her booth. She's alone and completely menacing. Even with all of the people around she can find Seokjin in a matter of seconds no matter where he goes and he doesn't know whether to find it attractive or completely scary.

"She's staring at you again," Leena quips, leaning deeper into Taehyung's embrace.

Seokjin hums in agreement, looking down at his Italian leather shoes.

"Just go talk to her or some shit. She's making me uncomfortable," Leena whines, nudging her best friend.

Jin looks over at the actress and he sighs loudly. Her eyes are narrowed at him and her lips are parted over the champagne glass in her hand.

When he stands, he can see her body go rigid with excitement.

"Good luck, bro." Taehyung laughs, kissing over his girlfriend's exposed shoulder.

It's a quick walk over to Sera's booth as Jin wades through the groups of people on the dance floor.

When he steps up to the platform, he can see how nervous she is.

"Why did you come? You know that's trouble." he chides her, sitting down in the booth.

"Because she was coming." she sneers, nodding her head to Leena.

The eye roll Jin gives is so severe that it sends chills down Sera's spine.

"You came all the way here, got snapped by the paparazzi, ordered thousands of dollars of alcohol, because you were jealous that Leena is here?! You're such a baby." he scoffs, pouring himself a glass of champagne.

"I just wanted to be here with you too," she admits meekly.

Jin looks her over before zipping up her dress to cover her exposed cleavage. "Behave tonight. Do you understand me, Kim Sera? I'm tired of having to worm my way out of awkward situations."

She nods gently and when she gets a small smile from him it makes her pride expand tenfold.

"Will you sleep in bed with me tonight?" she asks softly, sliding down the booth to be beside him.

He snorts gently, letting his arms expend over the top of the seat. "Not until you sign the papers. You know this. Don't push your luck." he chides, poking her cheek softly.

She pouts gently, looking down at the hem of her dress.

"All I have to do is sign the papers and you'll be with me?" she asks unsurely.

Jin hums in agreement, pushing some hair behind her ear. "All you have to do is free Yoongi from this marriage and you can have me." he promises.

Her cheeks puff out as she thinks, is anything ever really that simple? She's never found it to be so.

"I'll think about it." she breathes out.

That's good enough for Jin at the moment and for the first time in a long time he smiles widely at her. The expression is so blinding that her heart stutters in the recesses of her chest.

Yoongi is so completely thrilled when he throws both of your luggages to the penthouse floor.

"Wow," you breathe out, rushing over to the large windows.

Your fiance's smile is sweet and soft as he folds his arms, leaning against the gold wall.

The scenery that meets your eyes is indescribably beautiful. The way the gentle breeze in the Osaka air blows cherry blossom petals from their trees and the countless gardens that scatter the grounds below set such mysticality into your bones.

"There's an infinity pool up here for us. It's warm," Yoongi announces, walking towards you.

Your hand lands on your stomach as you watch the petals blow in the breeze. "This is beautiful," you say aloud.

The father of your child's lips are soft against the back of your neck and in your entrancement, you hadn't even heard him come close to you.

"You're beautiful. Anything for you, little dove." he promises, placing both of his hands on your stomach.

The stress seems to melt away as you stare out the window with your fiance behind you. His lips are soft and plush against the column of your neck and it wipes your mind completely blank.

When your fingers card through his hair, the gentle puft of air that warms your neck makes your legs weaker.

"I love you." Yoongi breathes.

There's nothing sexual about his touch, it's just pure passion that seems to bleed through his fingertips. But the feeling of him so close is so heavenly.

The soft classical music that plays throughout the large room is so peaceful and your worries float away for just a little while.

Next Chapter ------>

Third Wheeling Taglist - @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykreuger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @xnxy97, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @sugaslittlekookies, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes, @httpminyg, @deliciouslydisturbed365, @rkchmestizangmaldita, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie, @preciouschimine, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii, @kooafraid, @ladykadyrova, @singjisu, @yazanii, @moonlitmyg, @justzeera, @absolutefantrash, @whocaresarchives, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx, @bt21chim, @flowerboyhobi, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper

Sorry for those it didn’t tag!

#third wheeling #thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #yoongi x you #ceo!bts #ceo!yoongi #ceo!au #bts fic #min yoongi #yoongi fic #yoongi smut #smut

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peachbear88 · 3 years ago

Text

Leave Before You Love Me

A/N: College/highschool AU inspired by "Leave Before You Love Me" by Jonas Brothers x Marshmello. I don't know, I can't decide if it's college or highschool.

Warning: IMPLICATIONS OF SMUT. Just brief mentions. Because I'm a pure, innocent child and will throw my computer out of my window at the thought of writing smut. The few suggestive sentences I wrote had me cringing and flushing bright red.

----------

Your eyes flutter open as the sunlight seeps through the blinds. You groan, snuggling closer to the warm body next to yo- Hold on. Your eyes snap open and you backpedal, falling off the bed noisily.

"Ow!"

The naked figure stirs but doesn't wake and you creep around the room, grabbing your scattered clothes. Slipping out the bedroom door, you make it about halfway down the stairs before an annoying voice startles you.

"So you slept over, eh?"

You turn to find Pietro Maximoff leaning against the banister of the stairs, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He slides smoothly down the banister, sliding past you as you continue trekking down the stairs.

"Yeah, I guess I fell asleep without knowing." You rub the back of your neck sheepishly, flashes of last night going off in your head. You follow him into the kitchen where he pulls out some leftovers from the fridge. He snorts.

"Sure. Well, I can't let you leave here in good conscience without at least feeding you." It's your turn to stifle a giggle.

"Feeding me with food your mother prepared?" He slides a bowl of reheated tomato soup over.

"It's the thought that counts."

You sip at the soup thoughtfully, barely holding back a groan at the taste of the soup.

"I don't get it. How can your mom make food taste so good? And it's reheated!" You pout, sullenly poking at the red liquid. Pietro laughs, slurping up his soup noisily, leaving a few tomato splatters all over his face. You snort, pointing at your own face.

"You got tomato soup everywhere Piet." He wipes at his mouth wildly with his shirt sleeve, managing to wipe away every spot except for one. You sigh amusedly, reaching out to with your napkin to wipe it off.

"Ahem." The two of you jump apart at the sudden noise. Standing in the doorway is Wanda, her hair ruffled, her long legs poking out from under the oversized sweater wrapped around her.

Do you think she's wearing anything underneath that?

You mentally chide yourself for having such dirty thoughts. Wanda makes her way to the marble countertop looking visibly disgruntled, sitting beside you. You scooch over a bit, hoping to leave a respectable distance between the two of you but after last night, she appears to have other plans, stealing Pietro's bowl of soup and sliding much closer to you.

Pietro smirks, taking his backpack from the back of his chair and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. See you at school!" You gag on your remaining bit of soup. The door slams behind him and Wanda scoots impossibly closer to you.

"So..." She flutters her eyelashes at you and you gulp. "About last night-"

You stand up abruptly, dropping your empty bowl into the sink and grabbing your backpack.

"See you at school Wanda!" You mutter, your face turning the same shade as the tomato soup.

"Wait!" She sighs as the door slams shut.

----------

"How was last night?" Darcy asks nonchalantly.

You choke and she rushes to pat you on the back.

"Geez, was it that bad?" She cracks and you offer her a weak smile, attempting to take your mind off the recurring thoughts of Wanda, hovering above you, necklaces and wavy auburn hair dangling above you. You shiver, turning back to Darcy, who waits expectantly for your answer.

"It was fine." You answer tentatively and she stares at you exasperatedly as you take a swig of water.

"So you didn't... Sleep with her?" Your eyes fly open, water spraying out of your mouth and all over Darcy. "Oh gross!"

"I- Yeah I did." You crack under Darcy's stern gaze as she wipes the spit-water off of herself. She cries out triumphantly, attracting a few odd stares from your surrounding classmates.

"I knew it! You've been pining after her for ages! So you guys are together now?" You sigh and she deflates, her jubilant mood evaporating. "Why are you sighing?"

"I left before she could say anything." Darcy stands up, slamming her fists onto the table.

"What!? Why?" She curses, immediately nursing her injured fists.

"You know why. I'm not risking anything. You remember how bad it was when I got dumped by Natasha?" Darcy frowns.

"Wanda is the polar opposite of Natasha." She points out and your eyebrows crease as you think.

"I know but- Oh shit." You mutter, your eyes landing on Wanda who appears to be approaching at a rather fast pace. "Gotta go!" You scoop up your bag and books and take off at a surprising speed, tripping a few times in your hurry. Darcy looks around for a bit and understanding dawns on her when Wanda reaches their table.

"Have you seen Y/N?" Wanda tugs at her auburn locks rather nervously.

"Nope." Darcy lies through her teeth. Wanda groans in frustration before taking off again. Darcy shakes her head before returning her attention to the massive pile of books in front of her.

-----------

"Y/N!" A voice booms and you flinch as an arm wraps around you.

"Hey Tony." You smile weakly at the teen genius.

"You're comin' to my party right?" He flashes you an award-winning smile and you open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off, answering his own question with his massive ego. "Of course you're coming. I'll be watching out for you." With one last wink at you, he saunters away. You deflate, shoving your books into your locker.

"Damn I've gotta learn to say no." You slam your locker shut and turn to find yourself staring into a pair of startlingly green eyes. For a moment your stomach backflips as you assume they're Wanda's but then clarity reaches its hand out to you. You snarl.

"What do you want?" Natasha regards you with sad eyes, shuffling her feet in front of you.

"You know what I want." You start down the bustling hallway at a smart pace with Nat trailing behind you. "I want you."

"You broke up with me Natasha Romanoff, not the other way around. You don't get to barge into my life again and make requests like you own the place." She stares at you with watery eyes, grabbing your arm.

"Do I not own your heart anymore?" She says quietly and you falter for a moment, almost reaching out but another arm wraps around your waist, tugging you away.

"Do not touch her." This time, you look up into the unmistakable eyes of Wanda Maximoff.

"You." Nat growls and Wanda pries her fingers off your arm.

"I will not ask you again." With one last dirty glare at Wanda, she glides away, disappearing in the groups of people.

"Y/N, I really need to talk to-" You cut her off, wrenching your body out of her grasp and disappearing swiftly into the crowds. "-you. God damn it!" She stomps her foot angrily.

---------

Tony Stark's parties are known for being obnoxiously loud and filled with drunk teenagers.

You carefully make your way to the door of his home, where loud music can be heard, blasting through the walls. A couple falls out of a bush, the boy's shirt unbuttoned and the girl's dress half ripped. You blush, averting your eyes before stepping into the mansion.

It's safe to say, you'd rather have stayed outside with the couple then stay inside.

Everywhere you look, there are drunk, horny teenagers grinding on each other, making your stomach roil. You shake your head, immediately heading towards the washroom which happens to be upstairs. The winding staircase leaves you panting for air as you trudge past an empty bedroom towards the washroom. An arm wraps around your wrist, pulling you into said bedroom. You scream but it's muffled by a soft hand clapping around your mouth.

"Shhhhh!" A familiar voice hisses behind you, removing their hand.

"Wanda?" You whisper, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. She wraps her arms around your waist, giving you a light kiss behind your ear.

"Hello love. Remembered me have you?" She whispers, her voice silky as her kisses trail downwards. You shiver at her touch.

"Wanda. We can't." You protest weakly. "It's a party. This is Tony's house." She ignores your feeble protests and you sigh.

Fuck it.

---------

You purr at the comfortable warmth next to you when you wake, burying your face further into the figure.

It chuckles and you squeal in fright, attempting to wriggle away but it's already put it's arms around you again.

"Where do you think you're going lyubov?" You flush at the pet name but gently pull yourself out of her arms and into a standing position. The bed creaks as Wanda stands up as well. You pull your shirt on and begin pulling your jeans on. "Y/N."

You ignore her and continue buttoning your pants together.

"Y/N." She says more forcibly and you turn, unable to ignore her.

"Yes?" She regards you weakly, her hands behind her back.

"When are you going to face the truth?" You stare at her, flabbergasted by her line of questioning.

"What are you talking about?" You play dumb and she sighs.

"This, Y/N! Us." She gesticulates angrily at you.

"We can't do this anymore. We shouldn't." You avoid her eyes, guilt flooding you.

"Please." She whispers, stretching her arms out in an attempt to caress your face but you flinch away. "Please tell me you feel something. Anything. You know you love me."

You steel your resolve.

"I don't feel anything." Wanda's soft sniffles echo throughout your ears and mind as you close the door behind you.

----------

Does this need a part 2? Hm...

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ima-gi--na-tion @nicole-rayleigh-hot @olsensnpm @peabrain112

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda angst #wanda fluff

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solarwonux · 4 years ago

Text

Crop Tops and Tattoos || Wonwoo

soccer player!Wonwoo x f!reader

w.c: 3.2k

warnings: smut, shower sex, wonwoo soft!dom, oral sex (female receiving), friends with benefits, friends to lovers, public sex (kinda) I think that’s all.

note: another repost I’m sorry lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, honestly I literally have like a bunch of works that literally take place in the same soccer!svt/college!svt universe but really have nothing to do with one another except for like 3 and they’re all spicy lol. Let me know if you’d want them and also enjoy this one and lmk your thoughts hehehe :)

masterlist

“W-What?”

“Come to my practice tonight.” You rubbed the sleep from your afternoon nap out of your eyes, listening to Wonwoo’s soft voice through the receiver. “I miss you, come to my practice tonight, we can hang out after.” Wonwoo all but begged, and you can almost picture the pout that was on his face.

“Woo, I can’t I have to finish my half of the group research project.”

“Perfect, I’ll help you. You’re my partner anyway. Please love, I just want to see you it’s been forever.”

“It’s been two days Woo.” You rolled your eyes sitting up on your couch, retreating your phone from your ear, checking the time, 7:30PM it read. So much for a thirty-minute nap, you sighed.

“Precisely why you should come to my practice…hold on a sec,” Wonwoo pulled the phone away from his ear and gave the lost student instructions to where the art history section of the library was located at. “Please, it will be worth it, I promise.” He whispered, cupping his mouth over the receiver, muffling his words a little making you laugh.

“I’ll think about it, get back to work.”

“Okay see you tonight.” He said a little too excited and hung up the phone, a wide smile appearing on your face, making your stomach perform a whole gymnastics routine in the process.

The relationship you and Wonwoo had was interesting, it had started off as mindlessly flirty with one another, graduated to ghost touches and during a hot summer’s day. Where the air conditioning in the library had leaked and instead of Joshua calling everyone to tell them to stay home, he had made sure everyone showed up. Or else. His exact words.

The touches and flirting had escalated to the point that Wonwoo had dragged you to the forgotten encyclopedia section of the library and pinned you against the dusty bookshelves.

Since then your relationship grew more to just sleeping with one another to let off some steam. He would hold your hand underneath the reception desk at the library, mindlessly drawing patterns and phrases onto your skin. He would walk you to class when he could, sometimes with a bubble tea in his hand, other times empty handed. If you were scheduled to close on days, he had an earlier shift, he would wait and walk you home holding you close while the two of you talked about your day. And as of recently, after sex he had started to spend the night, claiming he slept better with you by his side.

In your head Wonwoo was your boyfriend just without the label. It was also a conversation the two of you needed to have, but it was also one you feared because you didn’t want it to ruin it.

You ran through the gates of the soccer field and started up the steps of the aluminum bleachers, earning weird stares from the guys and girls that decided to attend SVT’s first soccer practice of the season. You sat down, out of breath, holding your bag close to your body as you tried your best to regulating your breathing. A reminder that maybe hitting the gym every once in a while, wasn’t such a bad idea, because clearly having mind blowing sex with Wonwoo wasn’t helping with building your stamina.

“Woo your girl’s here now you can finally start playing.”

“Get your head out of your ass Jun.” Wonwoo scoffed shoving Jun lightly, earning a laugh from the other boy. Wonwoo gazed over at you a knowing smile evident on his face and waved at you. You felt your cheeks heat up and your eyes grew wide as you took in his appearance.

Wonwoo had sworn to you that he would never wear his old jersey again, especially since Seungcheol and Jeonghan had deviously cut it up after their last game last season. Yet, here he was in all his glory. The shirt stopping just above his belly button, the sliver of his toned stomach peeking through and you felt the beat of your heart start to raise. You warily waved back, before placing your cold palm against your forehead trying to cool yourself down.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, lifting his hand up and threaded it through his dark locks. His shirt riding up, exposing himself more and you felt the air leave your lungs. It was stupid, you have been seeing him in a lot less clothing for months and in every angle. But for some reason now as he stood boring his soft eyes into yours as Jihoon shouted commands to his teammates. The sweat dripping down the sides of his face, his glasses fogged up slightly due to the humidity and a knowing smirk adorning his face, teasing you. And you felt like you were about to burst.

“Hey, Woo, stop ogling at your girlfriend and get into position.”

“I like your shirt.”

“Hmm, yeah?” A devilish snicker fell from his lips as he pushed up against the cool tile wall. You nodded dragging your nails across the sliver of teasing skin, leaving red marks behind in their wake making Wonwoo shudder. “So sexy.” He groaned lowly pressing his lips onto yours forcefully, his hands snaking around your waist down to your ass giving it a squeeze making you gasp. He pulled away from your lips and trailed them down your neck. He swiped his tongue over your sweet spot earning him a whimper from you.

“You gonna let me fuck you in the locker room showers?”

“If you ask nicely.” You breathed out playing with the elastic waist band of his shorts. Wonwoo laughed against your neck and bit down before pulling away. “Can I fuck you in the locker room showers please?” He pouted playfully, grabbing your thigh and wrapping it around his waist.

“God Woo, yes.” You wrapped your arms around his waist pulling him closer to you feeling his growing cock against your aroused pussy. “As you wish darling.” He mumbled pecking your lips repeatedly before pulling away from your body, making you whine at the loss of his body heat.

Wonwoo chuckled sinking down to his knees, your eyes hooded with pleasure, feeling the wetness between your legs grow. He left teasing kisses down your clothed thighs, his thumbs hooking underneath the waist band of your leggings dragging them along with him. “Woo my shoes.”

“I was getting there, you’re so impatient sometimes.” He mumbled sitting back on his knees tapping your calf silently telling you to raise your leg. “It’s your fault…how am I supposed to be patient when you always look so good.” You obliged watching as he slowly took of your shoe and throwing it outside of the shower stall along with your sock. He repeated the process with your other leg before attaching his lips against your clothed thigh and left gentle open-mouthed kisses up your leg.

“I guess it’s time I teach you how to be patient.” He smirked pulling down your leggings along with your panties in one go. He threw them aside, placing a kiss against your hip bone, where the small stick and poke infinity sign tattoo he had made after a long night of immoral rendezvous. “Still can’t believe you let me talk you into giving you this.” He mumbled giving it another kiss and stood up.

“I wanted a tattoo but didn’t want to experience the pain.”

“It still hurt you, I had to stop, that’s why it’s all crooked and unfinished.”

“But it’s my favorite.” You whispered, his dark lust filled eyes boring into yours as he slowly started to take off his shorts and underwear, exposing himself to you. No matter how many times the two of you slept together, the sight of his body always had your heart beating out of time. He was perfect, an Adonis carved out of marble and to your surprise he was all yours.

“Don’t take off your shirt.” You whispered reaching and grabbing a fistful of the cloth and pulling him to you. “I want you to fuck me with it on.” You eyed him, a teasing finger running down his chest. “You’re so naughty today.” He laughed grabbing your hand and moved it up to his lips kissing each of your knuckles his sensual gaze lingering on yours. You felt your breathing pick up, the heat trailing down your thighs. “Please touch me.” You whimpered pulling your hand away and taking your shirt of throwing it behind him.

“Not yet I need to shower, I’m all sweaty from practice.” He winked, his hand finding the shower handle and turning it. A gasp left your lips as you felt the cold start to coat your heated bodies. “Now behave princess.” He kissed you hard, running his tongue over your bottom lip asking for entrance in which you granted. His hips flirting with yours and all you wanted to do was get down on your knees and beg him to use you in any and every single way possible. He pulled away detaching the shower head sending you a wink before putting it against your clit. The harsh water jets sending a sweet wave of pleasure up your spine.

“You’re going to cum like this and then I’ll fuck you.” He mumbled, before sinking down on to his knees again. He kept the shower head in place and alternated in kissing your thighs. Desperate whimpers falling out of your mouth. Wonwoo hooked one of your legs on top of his shoulder and bit down on your thigh, sucking making you yelp. “Your body reacts so well to me.” He kissed up your thigh sucking another love bite next to your tattoo before pulling away, shifting the shower head slightly. The sensation sending a new wave of pleasure up your body making you moan.

“W-Wonwoo, mmm, please.”

“Please what?” He teased the sound of a smirk evident in his voice and you’ve never wanted to hit someone so badly before. “I-I need you please.” You cried out, the tip of his index finger teasing the entrance of your pussy. “Yeah…you need me baby?” He chuckled moving your arousal around coating his finger with it before pulling away and bringing it up to his mouth, moaning sinfully as he licked it clean

“Y-Yes need your fingers, or mouth anything p-please W-Woo.” You raised your hips trying to grind yourself against the water, searching for a release in every way you could. “I’ll give you what you want but you can’t touch me.” He tsked giving you a pointed look. You whined nodding your head grabbing onto the smoothness of the shower wall. He ran his hot tongue against the lips of your pussy, the sensation mixing with the coldness of the water sent shivers up your spine.

“You always taste so sweet.” He mumbled against you flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit. Your mouth hanging open as your fingers itched to touch him and push him against you even further. “L-Let me touch you?” You breathed out your nails digging themselves into the skin of your stomach. He nodded against you repeatedly licking strides up your lips before attaching his mouth on your clit. By now the shower head was long forgotten as it fell from his hand, hitting the shower wall with a loud clank making you jump.

You threaded your fingers in his short hair tugging at the roots making him moan against you. He wrapped his arms around your ass pulling you closer as he lost himself eating you out like a starved man. “B-Baby I’m close.” You moaned arching your back against the wall as he lightly bit down on your clit and pulled away. He licked his lips savoring you and adjusted his round glasses earning a lighthearted laugh from you. “Don’t laugh or I won’t help you cum.” He grumbled pressing his index and middle fingers against your entrance and slowly sinking them into you immediately curling them up in search for your g-spot. A satisfied smile etching across his face as you moaned out the second he found it.

Wonwoo attached his lips onto your clit again, this time wasting no time and sucking on it roughly, his fingers moving inside you at a fast pace. The coil forming at the pit of your stomach, your hands tugging on his hair, your hips bucking against his mouth and fingers. He moaned feeling your clench around his fingers, giving him the motivation to pick of his pace, the pleasure getting too much for your body to handle and before you knew you came undone screaming out his name. He helped you ride out your orgasm, desperately licking up your release making your body twitch from the oversensitivity.

“You did so well baby.” He mumbled before pulling away, licking his lips moaning in approval as the remnants of your arousal hit his taste buds. He thrusted his fingers a few more times before pulling them out making you whine, missing the way they felt inside of you. He chuckled licking them clean before standing up.

“Think you can give me one more?” He asked giving your lips multiple pecks and then your cheeks. You laughed pushing his face away resting your tired body against the wall of the shower.

“Yes.”

“Can I ask you something?” You crossed your arms in front of you holding up the towel Wonwoo had wrapped around your body. Wonwoo hummed handing you his extra t-shirt as well as the sweatpants you had left at his place weeks ago. How he knew to bring them along with him was beyond you, but you decided to save that question for another day.

“Why do the guys call me your girl.” You emphasized standing up from the bench and started getting dressed. Wonwoo closed his locker resting his back against it drinking you in slowly, making you feel a little insecure. “Jeonghan saw you leave my apartment one day and texted the group chat to share the tea.” He rolled his eyes using quotations around the last word of his sentence before pushing himself away from the locker. “Now the guys think we’re dating.”

“But you never corrected them?” You tugged his shirt over your head gathering your semi dry clothes and folded them. “Do you want me to correct them?” He placed his hand on your cheek moving your head gently to meet his eyes.

“I-I mean yeah, we aren’t dating you made it very clear that you weren’t looking for a relationship when this started.”

“I wish I could eat my words.” He whispered running his thumb over your swollen lips. “I think I’m past just wanting to fuck you; I want more.”

You felt the air leave your lungs; your cheeks heated up and you desperately searched for a new point of focus because the intensity evident in his gaze was overwhelming. “We should go, I need to finish my half of the project.” You picked up your drying clothes and your bag and rounded the corner of the bench you had been sitting at.

“You don’t want to be more?” Wonwoo caught up with you grabbing your free hand to stop you from walking and held it close to his chest. “I do, I’m just scared you’ll end up regretting it if we ever do try to be more.” You confessed trailing your eyes down his body and stopping at your interlocked hands.

“I won’t, you make me feel so good an—”

“Exactly, I make you feel good. All you’ve ever known is how it feels like to be with me naked. You don’t know what it’s like to actually be with me.” You pulled your hand away. A frustrated sigh spiraling out of his lungs as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Your worst habit is jumping to conclusions.” He mumbled lowly tugging at the roots of his hair. It didn’t feel nearly as good as it felt when you would do it to him, but that was something he would ever confess out loud. “I want to be with you in every way possible, I know what I said before and if I would take back my words I would because that was before I found myself falling for you.” Wonwoo closed the gap between the two of you holding you tightly. His confession had your mind running nonstop, the weight of his words making their way into your heart and finding a home. You hugged him tightly, burying your face into his chest. “Is that a yes?” Wonwoo asked confusion laced in his voice as he hugged you back running his hands down your back soothingly. You hummed nodding your head taking a whiff of his lavender body wash and somehow it felt like home.

“You can’t just say things like that so casually.” You groaned raising your head from his chest placing a kiss on his chin. “Give me a warning next time.”

“Would you have preferred reading the essay I wrote about it instead.”

“Wonwoo stop fucking around you didn’t do that.” You scoffed pushing away from him and started down the hallway to entrance of the locker room. “Yes, I did it’s fifteen pages long, I even used citations.” He yelled following you a few steps behind, the teasing tone in his voice made you doubt his word. But he did once write a whole essay on how Soonyoung was the worst co-captain in the history of co-captains because he had beat him in Mario Kart.

“You have two options I can read it for you tonight after you’re done with your half of the project or I can read it for you on your wedding day.” You choked on your saliva making him laugh. He patted your back gently before pushing open the door to the locker room.

“What the fuck Woo, our weddi—”

“Finally, we’ve been waiting out here for hours. I’m starving.” Hoshi exclaimed throwing his hands up in the air before starting down hallway. “I told you guys to leave.” Wonwoo sighed rolling his eyes and extended his hand for you to take.

“Half of us did once they heard you guys fucking.” Vernon shrugged shoving his hands in his pockets. Your cheeks started to heat up, you prayed to every god out there to do you a solid and open the ground up and have it swallow you whole. “And you guys didn’t?”

“Nah, you’re paying for dinner remember, plus we made a bet while we waited.” Vernon took two long strides over and placed his hand on top of Wonwoo’s shoulder. “I never expected you to have a daddy kink and now I lost fifty bucks to Jeonghan and Dino each, that’s a hundred in total.” He shook his head and walked away running to catch up with Hoshi.

“I don’t have a dad—”

“You know bathrooms have echoes right?” Dino pushed himself way from the wall and started walking away. “We heard the two of you loud and clear, so you can’t deny it, Jeonghan even took a voice note just in case you wanted to deny it.”

“Baby you’re going to have to visit me in jail cause I’m about to commit homicide.” Wonwoo placed a chaste kiss against your head and let go of your hand and charged over to Dino. He turned around laughing before running down the hallway leaving you behind with a smirking Jeonghan.

“Honestly, I just hope you guys disinfected the stall the two of you used.”

#seventeen fanfiction #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fanfic #svt fanfiction #svt smut #svt imagines #svt x reader

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baepsaesbae · 4 years ago

Text

Masked Windfall

Pairing— Park Jimin x reader x Jeon Jungkook

Genre— SMUT, strangers to lovers au

Warnings— Switch!Jimin, Dom!Jungkook, Switch!reader, threesome, explicit unprotected and somewhat rough sex (stay safe my friends), double penetration (but like a bj and in your business at the same time? I’m bad with terminology I’m sorry), brief handjob, fingering, multiple orgasms, a booty slap, praise kink, slight derogatory kink, brief guy on guy action, nipple play, hair pulling, lots of kissing, teasing, swearing, PHEW I think that’s all? Please let me know if I forgot something

Word Count— 6k

Win(d)fôl: a piece of unexpected good fortune || After a bad breakup, you’ve given up on the prospect of a relationship, and on romance in general. Things take a turn once you get dragged to a mysterious party an encounter an alluring stranger.

A/N— Happy 2021~ I hope you guys enjoy this sinful fic! This was the first fic I ever wrote a threesome scene for and I was quite happy with how it turned out. Reviews and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

Ever since your breakup, it was as if love was in the air for everyone but you. Seeing happy couples everywhere served as a constant reminder of your bitter split with your longtime boyfriend. Your jerk ex-boyfriend dumped you right before the holiday season, even after you had planned to spend Christmas and New Years’ with him. Left dejected and inconsolable, you gave up on the idea of romance.

“You gotta stop moping around,” your friend, Chungha, tried to cheer you up.

Chungha was single too, but by choice. Boys (and girls) were constantly flinging themselves at her. She didn’t care for a relationship at this time, and would rather opt for meaningless one night stands.

“Come with me tonight!” she excitedly shoved a flyer in your face.

“Love is Out, Lust is In! An exciting one night event dedicated to adventurous singles who just want to have fun…” you read the flyer aloud, “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”

“Girl, you gotta stop feeling sorry for yourself! It’s not your fault that that idiot dumped you. To be honest, I always thought you could do so much better,” Chungha rubbed your back, “I’m not gonna force you to meet anyone new, but one night out can’t hurt. You might even have a serendipitous encounter!”

“Fine, I’ll go. But just to watch over you, I don’t want some creep to follow you around all night,” you caved in.

“I love my little knight in shining armor! This’ll be so fun,” she excitedly clung onto your arm, “I’ll pick you up tonight. Wear something sexy! I think the motif is black? Something appropriate for an anti-lovey dovey stuff.”

It was nearly time for Chungha to pick you up. You concluded that dressing up for the first time in ages was the right move. Maybe it was about damn time to move on from your past.

“Ohhh girl you look amazing!” Chungha praised as you stepped outside, “There’s no way you WON’T be getting dicked down tonight.”

“Oh hush, before I change my mind. I haven’t worn anything this revealing in forever,” you tried to hide your embarrassment.

You were wearing a black mesh top that revealed your bra (the one that makes your boobs look the best of course) paired with a flattering skirt. You felt sexy, but you didn’t have the confidence that you used to. Chungha also looked amazing, but that was a given.

“Where did you learn about this event?” you asked as she drove.

“My friends in the cabaret club told me about it,” she answered.

“You have friends who work in a cabaret club? That’s cool,” you mused as you gazed out the window.

“Not exactly. It’s just called that; it’s really just a group of girls who like to brunch on the weekends. The place we’re going to is known for being a bit secretive,” she smiled.

“What does that mean?” you start to get anxious.

“You’ll see!” she said gleefully.

The venue looked more like some millionaire’s mansion. The property was stowed away at the end of a sketchy road that was more akin to a beaten up dirt path. However, you saw that the lot in front of the house was littered with fancy cars; from G Wagons to Bugattis. The guests emerging from the vehicles all looked like celebrities.

“Where the hell are we?” you asked Chungha.

“Not quite sure, but I can’t wait to find out,” she was also awestruck.

Upon arrival, a gentleman stationed at the entrance requested for your invitation. Chungha pulled out a fancy envelope and casually handed it to him. It looked far more formal than the flyer she showed you earlier.

“Is this your plus one?” he gruffly asked.

“Yep,” Chungha linked her arm in yours.

“Very well. Here are your masks. Enjoy your stay,” he responded curtly.

“Masks? Chungha, seriously. Where the hell are we? I was picturing some dingy club based off of the flyer you showed me. Not to mention that I am drastically underdressed,” you admitted as you helped her put on her mask.

Chungha took the sparkly white mask that was adorned with feathers, which was fitting since it made her look even more angelic. Your mask was matte black accented with gold trimmings. It was far more elegant than the outfit you were wearing.

“Okay, I confess. I made the flyer. I knew you’d decline if I told you it was actually a swanky invite only shindig. I’m sorry for lying! I just really wanted to take you out,” she pouted.

Her puppy dog eyes worked on you every time.

“I forgive you. I don’t know if I’d ever get to experience something like this without you anyway,” you pulled her in for a hug.

“Aw yay! Alright, we’re gonna have a bunch of fun tonight! Also, you look hot. Don’t worry about what you look like. Plus, I have a feeling that people aren’t gonna care,” she says as soon as you both enter the foyer.

Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw the most sumptuous house imaginable. The foyer opened the house up to two grand staircases. The baroque decor screamed nothing but lavish expectations for the rest of the house. Chungha led the way into the large room past the staircases. The room was even more magnificent than the entrance, with white marble pillars creating the doorways.

The place was bustling with activity. Once you finished admiring the place, your attention turned to the guests. Some women were wearing seductive gowns, while others were only wearing beautiful (and probably extremely expensive) lingerie. All of the men were wearing suits or tuxedos. With the motley of outfits you observed, you figured what you were wearing really wasn’t that strange.

“Drinks ladies?” a waitress materialized from thin air.

“Yes please! Thanks,” Chungha quickly grabbed two glasses.

Your eyes widened as the waitress walked away. She was wearing a thin white sheet that was completely see through, and she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

You realized that this must have been their uniform, as the rest of the servers were dressed the same way. Both males and females.

“CHUNGHA!” a shrill voice cut through the air.

“Ah hey! Thank you so much for inviting me!” Chungha greeted the girl who called out to her.

“Of course! I live for these parties! I’ve never seen hotter men anywhere else,” the girl winked, “My uncle wants the guests to know that all of the servers are available. All the rooms upstairs are unlocked, unless they’re being used of course. I hope you ladies get a good catch tonight!” the girl quickly hugged both of you before scampering away.

“The servers are all available…? For what?” you shot a confused look to Chungha.

“I think you can figure that out,” she smiled sheepishly.

“Chungha, did you invite me to a freaking orgy!?” you cried out.

“You said you wanted to watch over me!” she playfully argued, “You’re already here, ___. You might as well try to enjoy yourself.”

“I guess I’ll settle for people watching,” you sighed.

“Oh! I see someone I know, I’ll be right back,” Chungha squeezed your arm before disappearing into the crowd.

After snatching another drink from a scandalously clad waiter, you retreated to an empty corner. You hoped to observe the guests unnoticed and unbothered. After about half an hour, you noticed an odd pattern. People would woo their target, disappear for a bit, and then return to continue the hunt. Their clothing was often disheveled once they resurfaced, but it didn’t really matter when they were bound to be torn off again.

“Bored?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

“I’m thoroughly entertained,” you answered without taking your eyes off of the party.

“I think I could bring you more entertainment,” the man suggested as he gripped your hips.

“Get your hands off of me!” you push him off.

The assailant was an older man, at least 30 years older than you, and he seemed bewildered that you turned him down. His breath reeked of alcohol, and the dilation of his eyes alluded to his other indulgences of the night.

“I was promised that everyone at this party wanted to have some fun,” he angrily grasped your arm.

You cried out in pain. You were about to punch him in the face until someone else beat you to it. The man crumpled to the ground clutching his bloody nose.

“You little shit! I’ll find out who you are and ruin your life!” the man threatened.

“Mind your tone, worm. Or do I need to beat you senseless to remind you of your place?” your savior shot a baleful glare at the pathetic man who now cowered in fear.

“Are you okay?” your rescuer asked in a soft tone after the man was out of sight.

“Much better now, thank you. That guy was crazy. I’m ___,” you raised your hand for a handshake.

“I’m Jimin. Pleasure to meet you,” he delicately kissed your hand.

His intricate silver mask matched his hair. Even with his face half covered, you could tell that he was remarkably handsome. His dark suit made him look professional yet charming. You felt out of place standing beside him.

“Have you found a partner yet?” he asked bluntly.

“I’m not looking for one; I’m just here to take care of my friend. I don’t think I belong here,” you admitted.

“Why not? I know half of your face is hidden, but I’m willing to bet that you’re more gorgeous than half the people here. I like your style, it shows that you don’t really care for the norm,” Jimin gave you a thumbs up.

Even though it was meant as a compliment, it was off putting to know that you really did stick out like a sore thumb.

“Thanks,” you replied softly, “Have you found yours?”

“Nah, I hate big parties like this. Especially this one,” he shrugged.

“Then why are you here?” you figured that he’d have a line of women begging to sleep with him.

“Much like you, I’m watching over a friend. However, I have lost track of him. Where’s your friend?”

“I lost track of her too,” you laughed.

“If you don’t mind, could we go somewhere quieter? I’d love to get to know you better. Wait, not like that. I genuinely mean I’d like to have a conversation with you,” his flushed cheeks made him even cuter.

“Sure, lead the way, my noble hero,” you took his hand in yours.

It was a bold move, and you usually preferred to play it safe. Tonight was different. You’ll probably never see this guy again. Where’s the harm in flirting a little?

“Of course, my lady,” he played along.

He led you outside to the gardens. Fairy lights were strung up everywhere, giving the gardens an inviting aura. Tall shrubbery caught your eye. Jimin’s eyes followed your gaze.

“It’s a maze,” he said, observing your curiosity.

“This place has an actual labyrinth?” your eyes widened in disbelief.

“Wanna go explore it? I can’t guarantee you that we won’t get lost,” he offered.

“Yes please!” your eyes lit up.

Jimin couldn’t help but smile at your ebullience. How did someone so sweet end up in a twisted place like this?

“Can we take off these silly masks now? I hate wearing mine,” Jimin squeezed your hand.

“Sure, I don’t care. I apologize in advance if you go blind after seeing my face,” you jested.

You both took a moment to soak in each other’s true appearances. Jimin was more handsome than you could’ve dreamt. His individually delicate features attributed to an overall godly image that you had a hard time believing was real.

“Even more beautiful than I imagined,” Jimin acknowledged you with an approving smile, “Let’s ditch this stupid soiree,” he held out his arm for you.

Abandoning the masks on the ground, you practically dragged Jimin into the labyrinth. Corn mazes at Fall Festivals were fun, but this was the real deal. The hedges were at least 3 meters tall. No one would be able to find you if you actually got lost here.

“I think I heard that the trick is to keep to the right wall,” Jimin explained.

“Why don’t we take turns choosing which way to go? Unless you’re scared of getting lost,” you teased.

“Don’t get mad at me when we’ve been stuck in here for days,” he laughed.

You traversed the maze hand in hand with Jimin. The conversation began to flow naturally. Jimin listened to you intently and replied thoughtfully.

The night darkened as the party was left further behind. Normally, this eerie setting would frighten you, but your company made it bearable. Nothing but the moonlight lit your path now. You were too busy enjoying yourself to realize that you both were hopelessly lost.

“I hope you don’t mind me pointing out that this is the third dead end we’ve encountered in the past two minutes,” Jimin elucidated once you found yourselves staring at a green barrier yet again.

“Do you think someone will come to rescue us?” you started to panic.

“Definitely not tonight. Probably not tomorrow either,” Jimin answered brusquely.

“Let’s retrace our steps again. I might end up eating you if we really do get stuck out here,” you tried to joke.

“Eat me?” Jimin chuckled, “My dear, what if I end up eating you?”

“Sorry pretty boy, but I feel like I could easily beat your ass in hand to hand combat,” you laugh as you turn to leave.

Suddenly, your back was being pinned against a hedge. Jimin placed one of his hands on your shoulder and the other one on your waist.

“Let me rephrase that. What if I end up eating you out?” he raised an eyebrow suggestively.

“I might enjoy that. However,” you quickly hook your leg around his knee to dead leg him.

Jimin’s surprise gave you the opportunity to knock him to the ground. You wrapped your right arm around his left arm, effectively pinning him down. You firmly gripped his left wrist with the same arm, rendering both of his arms useless.

“I don’t think you’re capable of doing that right now,” you fake a pout as your free hand wanders from his chest down to his crotch.

He was already somewhat hard when you began to palm him through his pants. You planted a soft kiss on his neck, sucking slightly before breaking contact. Jimin moaned at the sensation, his hips bucking up into your hand.

“What do you want, pretty boy?” you whispered in his ear as you cupped his length in your hand.

“Oh my god I want to fuck you,” he pleaded.

“You’re in no position to fuck anyone,” you reminded him, tightening your grip on his arms.

“I want you to fuck me, ___,” Jimin’s whines grew desperate.

“Is that so?” you say as you unzip his pants, “Here outside? On the ground? That’s a bit improper for a prince like you, don’t you think?”

His erection was fully exposed now. You slowly pumped him, pleased with his length. It took every bit of self-control to not immediately pounce on his dick. You traced your thumb around the soft tip, causing him to moan again.

“I don’t care. I just need my cock buried in you,” Jimin replied between moans.

“You’re so needy. I guess I could help you out,” you release him from your clutches.

Jimin instantly knocked you onto your back as soon as he was freed. He pinned you the same way you pinned him. You were both impressed and shocked that he learned how to do it already.

“That was a cheeky display. Very hot. I admit that I’ve never begged for pussy before, so props to you,” Jimin awarded you plaudits.

His free hand snaked its way down to your clothed pussy, pleased to find that you were already wet. He toyed with your clit through the fabric of your panties. He relished watching your squirm beneath him.

“It’s not so fun being pinned down, huh?” he kissed your neck in a similar fashion, except he ended his kiss with forceful suckling that was sure to leave a mark.

“I don’t know, it’s kind of fun,” you tried to keep your cool, but were failing miserably.

“Do you want me to touch you, my dear ___?” Jimin asked sweetly.

“Please do,” you exhaled with exasperation.

“You can beg better than that,” he admonished.

“Jimin, fuck me until I forget my own name,” you begged.

“You’ll only know my name by the end of tonight,” Jimin promised as he pulled your panties aside.

He slid in a finger to test how wet you were. You squealed with delight as he easily stuck in two fingers. He expertly curled them in you, grazing your g-spot. Your body tried to move to cope with the pleasure, but Jimin refused to let you go.

“You’re staying right here until I say so. I enjoyed going along with your power play, but you have to learn that I’m the one in charge,” he smirked.

His thumb circled your clit as he mercilessly fingered you. Your legs spasmed as your orgasm led a wave of euphoria across your body.

“Jimin, I’m--oh fuck, I’m cumming,” you cried out.

Jimin helped you ride it out, not slowing down his pace. However, he still didn’t slow down afterward. Your clit was oversensitive and tears began to well in your eyes.

“You’re beautiful when you cum, I want to see it again,” he praised as his pace quickened yet again.

It wasn’t long before your second orgasm hit. The bliss was more intense this time, causing you to cry out even louder. Jimin finally pulled his fingers out of you, then promptly popped them into his mouth.

“You taste like a delicacy,” he said after licking his lips, “You ready to take this cock?”

You nodded silently, as you were attempting to catch your breath.

Jimin aligned his hips with yours. He tantalizingly ran his dick along your wet folds. His tip eventually teased your entrance by barely entering before he took it out again. He loved watching your body beg to be fucked; your hips seemed to move by themselves as they tried to buck into him.

“Jimin, I can’t take this anymore. Stick it in already!” you yelled.

“So impatient,” Jimin chuckled, “Ready?”

“Yes!”

Jimin slowly inserted himself in you. You groaned at the feeling of finally being stretched out by his cock. His tip was fully inside you when a commotion interrupted him.

“We’re fucking lost bro,” a guy said.

“We wouldn’t be in this mess if you listened to me in the first place!” his companion retorted.

Jimin immediately pulled out and helped you up. He shoved his erection into his pants before leaning against a hedge to blend into the shadow.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to go in!” the first man bickered back.

“I said ‘I bet no one else is in there, let’s check it out’”, his companion explained.

“Okay, well now we’re lost. We haven’t even seen a single person since we’ve entered.”

Jimin took you by the hand and quietly led you out of the dead end. He didn’t know where the interrupters were, but he simply went in the opposite direction of their voices.

“We’re all alone now. Pull down your pants, Hobi,” you heard one of the guys say.

“Make me, Yoongi,” the other guy challenged.

“You won’t be so cheeky when my balls are in your mouth,” Yoongi replied, his voice suddenly lower and domineering.

The sound of clothes being ripped off mixed with passionate groans and wet noises grew further away as Jimin navigated through the maze.

“They sound like they’re having fun,” you broke the silence.

“That should have been us,” Jimin was obviously annoyed, “I’m gonna get us the fuck out of this goddamn maze. I swear to god, I’m going to dick you down properly tonight.”

You didn’t know which was more impressive: sheer luck or Jimin’s determination. Either way, one of those things (or maybe some of both) allowed both of you to finally emerge from the maze’s clutches.

Jimin dragged you back to the mansion while completely ignoring everyone who called out to him. You’re not surprised by his popularity; this man looks like he was carved by God himself.

The party had only escalated inside the mansion. Guests had started to forgo public decency altogether. You saw at least three explicit acts of fornication on your way up to the private rooms.

Once upstairs, you heard nothing but people deep in the throes of passion on the other side of just about every door. Jimin led you past them all, not even stopping in front of the ones indicated as ‘vacant’. At the end of the neverending hall was a large ornate wooden door. Its style clashed with the sleek marble that decorated the rest of the mansion.

Jimin whipped out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. You weren’t prepared for what was on the other side. Unlike the modern style that fitted the rest of the house, this room was decorated with wood.

The carved wooden furniture gleamed brightly due to their polish. The room itself was huge. A king sized bed awaited you at the opposite wall. Elegant curtains draped around the bed, reminding you of the beds royalty would use in movies. Even though the room gave off a cozy aura, it still boasted opulence.

“You like it?” Jimin asked once he saw you gazing around the room in awe.

“It’s beautiful. It feels like I’m in some Elvish Woodland King’s room or something,” you spoke honestly.

“That’s high praise,” he chuckled, “C’mon. I believe we have some unfinished business,” he pulled you onto the bed.

Jimin kissed your neck, peppering in nibbles that made you shudder. You slipped off your skirt and panties as he fondled your breasts. You helped him undress as you threw off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. You held back a gasp when his abs and toned chest were revealed. You figured he was fit, but you didn’t realize how fit.

His fingers found their way back into your pussy. Jimin sucked on your neck as his nimble fingers made you wetter by the second. Your back arched as your moaned in pleasure when his thumb played with your clit.

“I’m so fucking wet, Jimin,” you breathed into his ear.

“All for me, baby?” he cooed.

“Who else? Honestly, I’ve never been this aroused in my life,” you admitted.

“I’m happy I could change that for you. If you liked my fingers that much, let’s see what my cock can do for you,” he winked as he tugged off his pants.

Jimin spread your legs open as far as they could go. He didn’t have the patience to tease you this time. He filled your pussy up with the entirety of his cock. You relished the stretch; you’ve been waiting all night for this the moment you laid eyes on him.

Jimin began vigorously thrusting into you. The sound of his hips slamming into you coupled with the wet noises of your sopping pussy were drowned out by moans from both parties. Hearing Jimin’s grunts only turned you on more, and the same could be said whenever Jimin heard your melodic moans.

Jimin leaned over to makeout with you, his tongue dipping between your parted lips. You clawed at his back while you kissed him back with ferocious reciprocity. You were getting close to climaxing yet again.

“Jimin, I’m so--”

“Missionary? I know you can do better than that,” an unfamiliar voice interrupted you.

“Fuck off, can’t you see that I’m busy?” Jimin replied angrily, yet he never stopped fucking you.

You were so embarrassed that you grabbed a pillow to hide your face. One person seeing you like this was already flustering enough, but two? Although your mind immediately went to shaming you for being in such a compromising position, it was also kind of a turn on.

“Aw, is she shy? That’s cute,” the unfamiliar boy said.

“What do you want?” Jimin finally pulled out to actually hold a conversation with the intruder.

“I got bored. I figured I’d come in here and jack off or something. I didn’t think you’d be using it,” the voice got closer.

“Well, I am. So get lost,” Jimin growled.

Suddenly, the pillow that covered your face was yanked off. Looking down at you was a man whose beauty rivaled Jimin’s (though you didn’t think that was possible). The man had more of a boyish devil-may-care look. His long dark hair framed his face perfectly, as it showed off his sharp jawline. He traced a finger from your cheek down to your chin.

“She’s cute,” he gave Jimin an approving nod.

“Yeah, and she’s mine. Go away, Jungkook,” Jimin was getting more frustrated by the second.

“Yours? Are you guys dating already?” Jungkook raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“No, but--”

“Then it should be fine if I did this,” Jungkook cupped your face with one hand as he bent down to kiss you.

“Jungkook!” Jimin threw a pillow at him.

Jungkook chuckled as the pillow harmlessly bounced off of him. He deepened the kiss, and soon your tongues were swirling over each other. One of his hands wandered over to your breasts. He pinched your nipple, causing you to gasp into his mouth.

“Oh, she’s so sensitive,” Jungkook smirked, “Let me play with her after you.”

“She’s not a toy,” Jimin defended you.

“It’s okay,” you said softly.

“What?” both of the boys asked in unison.

“You can both use me...however you like,” you looked away shyly, bewildered at what you had just said.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Jungkook grinned.

“You’re too sweet for your own good, ___. Are you sure?” Jimin asked.

You simply nodded, not able to make eye contact with either of them.

“Alright, baby. Let me take care of you first. Jungkook, you can watch how a man properly fucks a lady,” Jimin glared at Jungkook.

Jungkook stripped down to his underwear as Jimin flipped you onto your knees. You moaned loudly as he started hitting it from the back. This position allowed him to penetrate you even deeper. You buried your face in the sheets in an attempt to muffle your whines.

“Nuh uh,” Jimin tsked as he grabbed a fistful of your hair.

He pulled your head up, exposing your lustful moans. He thrusted harder when he heard you. You opened your eyes to find Jungkook intently staring at you. Feeling cheeky, you made a ‘come here’ motion with one of your pointer fingers.

Jungkook happily obliged. Instead of directly kissing you, he licked up your neck, causing you to shudder. He sucked lightly on your neck as he once again played with your boobs.

“You’re not mad, Jimin?” he was surprised.

“She got wetter. Keep doing whatever you’re doing,” Jimin was lost in pure bliss.

Jungkook pulled you into another heated makeout session. You periodically moaned into his mouth whenever he tugged at your nipples. You whined as he broke the kiss.

“Such a good girl,” Jungkook stroked your cheek, “Wanna try something?” he asked.

You eagerly nodded. It was hard to think when one gorgeous man was making out with you and pinching your nipples, while another gorgeous man was roughly fucking you from behind.

“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out,” Jungkook ordered.

You complied, opening as wide as you could. You watched Jungkook reveal his hard cock, which made your mouth water. His dick was bigger than Jimin’s, but less girthy. It had a little curve that made it look prettier for some reason.

“Want me to put it in? I’d love to see how deep you can take it,” Jungkook stroked his cock.

“I’ll take it all,” you said confidently.

Jungkook smiled at your determination. He lightly placed the tip onto your tongue. You twirled your tongue around it, making Jungkook moan with surprise.

“Maybe she’s not as shy as I thought,” he said to Jimin.

Jimin harshly spanked your ass, causing you to jerk forward. You heard him chuckle behind you.

“I love it when good girls go bad. They’re always the most fun,” Jimin reached his hand around you to play with your clit.

You almost lost control in your arms and fell forward when Jungkook grabbed you.

“You have to be a good girl and hold yourself up. We can fuck you from both sides if you do that, babygirl,” Jungkook ran his thumb along your drooly lips.

You propped yourself back up on your arms and opened your mouth again for Jungkook. He patted your head in approval before placing his dick back onto your tongue. He began pushing himself into your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Blink twice if it’s too much,” Jungkook instructed.

To his surprise, you managed to take in his full length. You kept gagging since Jimin was thrusting you forward, but that just made it feel better for Jungkook. Jungkook let you know that he was going to start face fucking you, to which you nodded in response. Well, as much as you could nod while his penis was in your mouth.

It didn’t take long for both of the both to boys to fuck you in unison. They rhythmically pulled out and thrusted into you at the exact same time. The intensity of everything turned you on so much, you could feel your juices running down your legs.

Your climax hit you like a truck. Your legs spasmed under you as you cried and gagged on Jungkook’s dick. The feeling of you cumming on Jimin’s cock brought him to the edge. Almost immediately after, Jimin pulled out and came all over your ass.

“Switch places with me,” Jungkook instructed Jimin, “You didn’t think you were done yet, did you?” he winked at you before pulling his dick out of your mouth.

Your sensitivity was through the roof. Jungkook didn’t give you any warning before he inserted himself in you. Jungkook went even deeper than Jimin, and your legs were on the verge of giving out.

“It looks like she can’t hold herself anymore,” Jimin observed with a sly smile.

“I guess I have to do all the work. Stupid slut,” Jungkook groaned, abruptly snatching your arms.

He chuckled when you momentarily fell forward onto your face, but he easily lifted you back up by pulling back on your wrists. You’ve never been roughly restrained like that before, but you wouldn’t complain. Jungkook’s powerful thighs slammed into you repeatedly.

You couldn’t begin to comprehend how sinful you looked: titties bouncing, messy hair, and a lustful expression that rivaled that of succubi themselves. Not to mention you were practically glowing from the film of sweat that developed over the night.

“I’m jealous that he’s kissed you more than I have,” Jimin pouted before he cupped your face.

Wriggling underneath you, Jimin made it easier for you to kiss him. His pillowy lips felt heavenly as he playfully fondled your breasts. He didn’t twist or pinch your nipples like Jungkook did. Instead, he massaged them in a way that still felt delightful.

“Dude, your junk is really close to mine,” Jungkook complained.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Jimin responded between your kisses.

Jungkook’s pace started getting sloppy. You could tell he was close just by his irregular breaths. The room was filled with lewd sounds. Jungkook’s grunts, Jimin’s moans, and your mewls all blended into a chorus of carnal pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Jungkook stuttered before pulling out.

You felt his hot juices splatter across your backside. You toppled onto Jimin when Jungkook let go of your wrists. Jimin just chuckled and held you in a warm embrace.

“You did so well, ___,” he praised before kissing your forehead.

“Was that your first threesome? If so, I’m impressed,” Jungkook cleaned you up with a warm washcloth.

“Mhm,” was all you could muster up to answer his question.

“She’s pretty out of it. Should she stay here for the night?” Jimin asked Jungkook.

“You’re offering to house her? You must have really loved her pussy,” Jungkook laughed.

“Shut up, I’m being serious. I don’t want to let her go back out there to those animals,” Jimin disclosed.

“Did she come alone?” Jungkook sat at the foot of the bed.

“She said she was watching a friend...I don’t think she mentioned who though. Hey, ___, darling, who did you come with?” Jimin gently questioned.

“Chungha,” you said meekly.

“Holy shit. Everyone has been trying to get with her all night,” Jungkook was shocked, “Yeah, I think her friend will be fine on her own. I can watch after her if you want.”

“By watch you mean fuck?” Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Who’s to say I haven’t already?” Jungkook replied cheekily, “You’ve been the most fun I’ve had in a while though,” Jungkook affectionately began scratching your back.

Your eyelids were getting heavier with each passing moment. You instinctively clutched onto Jimin tighter. You’ve always been a cuddler when it was time to sleep.

“I’m gonna go, want me to lock the door?” you heard Jungkook say.

“Yes please. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jimin sent him off.

“Are you sleepy?” he asked while stroking your hair.

“Mhm. And hungry,” you said half asleep.

“What would you like to eat?” Jimin inquired.

“Grilled cheese,” you said without skipping a beat.

“Just grilled cheese? I could get you anything you want. Lobster, caviar, takoyaki, or maybe even steak?” Jimin was eager to take care of you.

“What time is it?” you asked groggily.

“Uh, a little past 1am.”

“It’s time for a midnight snack. And grilled cheese is the perfect midnight snack,” you nodded your head to confirm your reasoning.

“God, you’re adorable. Alright, a grilled cheese will be here soon,” he kissed your forehead again.

“You go make it?” you pouted, not wanting him to leave your side.

“No, I just texted one of the chefs,” he answered.

“Oh, you’re friends with a chef? That’s nice.”

“Somewhat? They work for my father.”

“Is your father the head chef?”

“No, he’s a businessman,” Jimin chuckled.

“Do you like business? Like your father?”

“No, I actually detest it. My father’s riches mean nothing if he can’t even love his family. He does ridiculous things to showcase his ‘love’ but I don’t buy it. Like this stupid fucking party that he throws every year. His excuse is that he’s providing any luxury money can buy. It’s all just bullshit,” Jimin sounded upset.

“This party? Your dad hosted it?” intrigue stirred you from your sleepy state.

“Yeah, this is the house I grew up in. This is my room,” Jimin admitted.

You were silent for a bit before responding, “I’m sorry your dad is a dick.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault. At least one good thing came out of tonight,” he squeezed you tighter.

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. Jimin retrieved the delivery. Never in a million years would you have thought that you’d be eating grilled cheese off of a silver platter. Jimin ate quietly beside you.

“I don’t know if this is too forward, but would you like to go on a date with me sometime?” he finally piped up.

“I literally can’t think of anyone that has seen me more intimately than you. Well, besides Jungkook. Of course, I’ll go on a date with you,” you leaned over to kiss Jimin’s nose.

“I guess the dating timeline is a little off since you’re spending the night here too,” Jimin laughed before stopping himself, “Wait, you are spending the night, right?”

“I have no idea where Chungha is, and she’s my ride,” you shrugged.

“You’re welcome to say here if you’d like,” he offered.

“I suppose I can clear my schedule for you,” you teased.

With a tummy full of grilled cheese, it didn’t take long for you to fall sound asleep in Jimin’s arms.

[9:24am from Chungha] BITCH! I heard rumors you slept with THE Park Jimin?! A different rumor said you slept with Jeon Jungkook??? Explain please???

[10:19am] What if I slept with both?

[10:20am from Chungha] NO WAY! Tell me all about it asap

“You good?” Jimin nuzzled your neck.

“Never better,” you smiled.

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spacedikut · 4 years ago

Note

hi different anon here! but what if spencer had to take a mandatory arts class of some kind for his degree (i don’t know how caltech or phd courses work but we’re going to ignore that) and he’s getting super frustrated because he’s so good at all of his other academic classes but he just! can’t! figure! out! the arts!!! but then reader is in the same class as him and notices that he’s struggling so they offer to help him out?

it’s kind of a role reversal of the usual spencer-tutors-reader in college (because he’s a genius so it’s an obvious [and very good!] dynamic)

and bonus points if it’s a pottery class and they have a “ghost” moment 🙈🙈 (reader is obv patrick swayze 🤤) but make it any medium you want! or even a music class!! up to you my dear <3

ok for some reason i immedaitely thought of finger painting but. have decided against that

idk how art classes work either but if it’s anything like art was in school then you’re kind of left to you own devices? so let’s go with that. it’s fiction babey!

this was meant to be headcanons/random concepts but turned in a messy blurb so it’s under read more

he loves art and isn’t so bummed out that he has to take the class because - again - he likes it But the issue is he likes Looking at it, Not creating it. he’s got jiggly hands that squirm and twitch without his consent constantly and that doesn’t bode well for drawing fine details and intricate patterns, so he’s hoping because it’s an introductory course it’ll be. maybe more theory than anything else? or at least just basic tools and mediums so he can struggle through with a grimace from the professor

he ends up with /oil/ paints though and he’s looking from the bowl of fruit to his easel to thr OIL PAINTS and derek is there, in spirit, going hahahaha good luck pretty boy! and spencer Could ask to change the type of paint he’s using but he’s awkward and so. grits his teeth and goes. alrighty this is it this is life im using oil paints, something notoriously difficult for a beginner, which is what i am, a beginner, and i am now putting these expensive paints to this expensive easel with my inexperienced hands-

and you’ve been watching him since he stepped in, because he’s pretty, and now you’re grimacing cause Oh Boy he does not know what he’s doing and he’s. he’s breaking the paintbrushes. you can hear the bristles cracking from across the room.

spencer would’ve noticed you if he wasn’t so Humiliated (he, too, easily notices pretty people) so when you creep up behind him and say, “oil paints are difficult, aren’t they?” in this understanding voice that he follows with his head, his first thought is- oh, so to top it all off a piece of art has come to life? this is where we are now?

he does that thing where he forces out a little breath along with a small smile and goes, “ah, yeah. i didn’t want to ask for something else, so,” and weakly lifts the palette in his hand as if to say, it is what it is.

“i could help, if you’d like?”

and he agrees cause he’s eager to learn! and you, a masterful artistic genius, blow him away with not only your knowledge (you’re into the theory kind of stuff too and at one point he jolts himself, realises he was staring at you with his mouth open, and deeeeep down wishes someone would think of him the way he thinks of you when you ramble) but your actual skills too! and you’re a great teacher! patient, understanding, and did he say patient? because he has painted a damn sky at least 15 times and every time he Somehow makes clouds look phallic and you just go hehe :) and he’s like I love u (internally)

several weeks in, when you and spencer have become arty friends, the subject turns to drawing people rather than objects - you tell him getting people /right/ is something you struggle with yet you love doodling your friends and family in your sketchbook. the first body spencer draws (that isn’t a stick man) is done in crayons, which he’s found is the medium that works best for him (only when the crayon is properly wrapped. because the waxy feel of them Freaks him out)

you help him learn about drawing anatomy while he tells you /about/ anatomy, he attempts to sketch a hand and it’s so odd looking he laughs so hard he CRIES and you finally convince him to try charcoal, your personal favourite

it’s messy and gets everywhere (spencer opens his mouth to complain about his expensive grey cardigan but then- the little mark is a physical representation of this memory between you and him, huddled close together as you both draw aimlessly in your sketchbook, and the mark feels more like a blessing) but spencer ends up agreeing that charcoal sketches look the best.

then he sees something he shouldn’t have.

you’re talking about how you sketch your family all the time - there’s several of your roommates and your pets and a sheep u saw this one time - then there’s...someone oddly familiar? that he catches a glimpse of? and before he can think he goes “wait-“ opens that page and it’s him. him, standing too close to an easel with his tongue slightly poking out in concentration and it’s a charcoal sketch of him from last week.

you’re embarrassed. “that’s weird, im sorry-“

“you make me look good” he tells you, smiling sweetly, and you’re convinced it’s just to comfort you but you’re too glad he isn’t filing a restraining order you let it slide

i mean. have you seen his face? how can anyone look at that and not want to start chiselling marble?

then he gets secretive, weird, a little odd and definitely is avoiding you. he paints and draws with his back to you, still talks to you but over his shoulder and can never really look you in the eyes. you think this is it and that the sweetheart you’ve come to see as more than a friend is Done with you, because you’re a CREEP, and then after a weekend of silence on his end this happens:

while you’re getting your stuff ready, he walks up silently and slides a small sketchbook in front of you. you stare at it, wondering what it’s for, and he nods at it and tells you to open it. when you go to, he stops you-

“a-actually, let me give you a page to start on-“

when he manhandles the book his hands brush yours, his already bright red cheeks get redder, and you bite your tongue so you don’t sigh dreamily.

he’s drawn you.

it’s not perfect and kind of not pretty - a lot of harsh edges and weird shading - but you can tell its you. it’s you, drawn by him, probably from memory, and he’s drawn little hearts around your head because he’s the cutest? evidently?

“it’s really bad, but i thought-“ you look directly at him, making him freeze. he’s got a little charcoal just under his eye. unabashedly, you reach up and wipe it away, hand remaining at the side of his face when you’re done. “i thought you deserve to feel how i felt when you drew me.”

“and how did you feel?”

he gulps. “loved.”

all you can do in the Classroom you’re in is beam sickeningly sweet at one another, lost in your own world while there’s a wordless exchange. the rest of the sketchbook is full of half attempts at sketching you - in different positions, with different expressions, some with a full head while others are half a face. some of them are hilarious, but they’re all made with the purest intentions. “i love it.”

and when you share a look then, you don’t need to verbally say what comes next just yet.

(and. yes. the second you see a pottery class is available you drag him and Make him sit between your legs and he’s never blushed so much in his life the teacher asks if he needs air. at one point you think it’d be funny to peck his neck and the shiver it sends through him is so shocking your mould on the wheel is squished between his hands)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #ask #long post #this was supposed to be short #and turned into this shit thing #that's why it feels rushed (more rushed than usual)

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

Text

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Two: Truth

Author's note: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: allusions to sex, mention of trauma

Word count: 4,400>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Two - Next

"Can I help you?" you jumped when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You spun around on your heel, diverting your attention from the man on the television to the petite blonde girl who was doting a pale pink pant suit. Her blue eyes seemed friendly enough, but her expression of bewilderment and slight disdain was enough to make you uncomfortable. Your lips parted slightly as you tried to gather your words.

"I'm… I'm looking for someone," you said hesitantly. You turned back around to watch the television, pressing the palm of your hand against the screen and watching him with awe. You weren't sure if you were more flabbergasted by this brand new technology, or by the handsome man who was attempting to sell you oil.

"You're going to have to be more specific," the woman placed a hand on her hip and quirked her eyebrow.

"My friend Alistair…" you said slowly before shaking your head and smiling. "Do you know this man?" you pointed at the television.

The blonde woman looked completely and utterly perplexed. "Mr Lord?" she asked. Her mind was racing: everyone knew who her boss was. She pondered for a moment, questioning who exactly you were and where did you come from before shaking her head profusely. "Wait, I’m sorry. Did you just say Alistair?" she pinched the bridge of her nose and began to circle around you, taking in your appearance; judging your native Amazonian outfit and muddy skin.

"Yes, Alistair. We met in the park earlier," you explained. "Please excuse the dirt on my body."

"Mr Lord’s son…?" the lady said, speaking her thoughts out loud. No woman had ever come to Black Gold Cooperative requesting to see Alistair, note even his own mother. "Who are you?"

You smiled politely, taking the lady's hand. "I'm here to help. Where can I find Mr Lord?"

"Do you have an appointment with him?" the lady in pink asked, walking around the main desk and checking the computer. "I'm his secretary by the way. My name is Raquel." she mumbled as she pressed a few keys.

You introduced yourself and shook her hand, admiring her beautifully manicured nails. "An appointment?" you repeated. "No, not really. He doesn’t know I’m coming.”

“Mr Lord is a very busy man,” Raquel sighed, tapping her manicured acrylic nails against the oak wood desk. “He doesn’t do surprise visits.”

“That’s okay, I wish to see Alistair anyway. I must know if he’s okay.” your body was still rife with concern over what you had witnessed happen to the little boy earlier at the playpark, and how he had disappeared.

“There is no way for me to contact Alistair, he’s just a child… but uh, let me see what I can do.” Raquel sighed, knowing she wasn’t easily going to get rid of you anytime soon. “I can give Mr Lord a call and let him know you wish to see him,” she told you, ringing in his phone number. “Can I ask what your business with him is?”

“I’m here to help him,” you repeated with an eager grin.

“Right,” Raquel said slowly as you turned back to the television, admiring the man with the dark blonde hair, sporting the three piece designer suits. “Help him with what?”

You blinked momentarily, watching this Mr Lord drone on and on and on. “Oil.” you practically squeaked out.

“Oil?” Raquel questioned, not believing you for one minute. She had every right inkling to believe you were dangerous, but it was her job to contact Maxwell in this type of situation, no matter what. You squeezed your eyes shut almost sensing her disbelief when you heard her speak again. Her voice had changed completely, high pitched and almost articulated. “Oh, yes, hi! Mr Lord! There is someone here who wishes to see you.”

Thank the Gods he’d picked up the phone before Raquel could quiz you further.

Maxwell had answered from the car phone. He’d just dropped Alistair off at Julianna and Theodore’s home. It was never fun, having to go see his wife. He wanted to be strong, and he certainly wanted to keep his promise to Alisitar, about spending the whole weekend together - but there was too much at stake. He knew that deep down, Alisitair would understand one day. Maxwell cursed himself for messing up so quickly. The phone rang just as Maxwell slid back into the car. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Max huffed a sigh and held the phone to his ear. “Who is it?” Maxwell asked wearily. “If it’s the FBI or the FTC…”

Maxwell was nervous. He was even confused that Raquel was still at Black Gold, still happy to work for him after he did commit what potentially could be classified as war crimes. Maxwell was a realist and he knew that with every action, came a consequence. The world had never been kind to him, and he looked down at the envelope that Theodore had handed to him. His name, Maxwell Lorenzano, was written on the front in Julianna’s perfectly inked calligraphy. Max hated it. He didn’t have his name legally changed fifteen years ago just so his ex wife could throw his old identity back in his face. He hated his real name. It was a constant reminder of his past life. But now he didn’t know what was worse, being a Lord or a Lorenzano. The name Lorenzano had been tainted for him, by his family, and years of bullying. But the name Lord? He’d tainted that himself. A conman. A stupid, messed up loser. Julianna hadn’t wanted to see Maxwell, and instead sent her new boyfriend to collect Alistair from him.

“Julianna wants you to have this,” Theodore said with a frown, taking Alistair’s hand and pulling him away from Maxwell. “When you read through it, give her a call.” was all he said before slamming the front door in Max’s face. Max didn’t know what was inside the envelope, but he knew it couldn’t be good.

“No, it’s not the FBI or the FTC. It’s a woman,” Raquel said hesitantly. “She… she’s a bit odd,” Raquel whispered, but not quiet enough for it to go unnoticed by you. Nevertheless, you pretended to ignore her comment. Perhaps you were odd, and perhaps that was okay. The world of man was not something you were used to. But you were here for a reason. The delay in Maxwell’s response prompted Raquel to say more. “Mr Lord… I don’t think she’s going to leave without seeing you. Would you like me to call the cops?”

“No!” Maxwell practically barked. He turned on the engine of his car and held the phone between his ear and shoulder, reversing out of the driveway. He didn’t know what was going on, it was too early to tell - but Maxwell couldn’t have the police anywhere near Black Gold. There was a good chance the police might be looking for him anyway. There was a good chance Max believed he might even have to go into hiding. “I’m on my way.” Maxwell promised before putting the phone down.

You turned back to Raquel when you heard the phone click back onto the hook. “Well, he’s coming,” she shrugged. “Just take a seat please. He won’t be long.”

You walked over to the centre of the lobby where there was a long circular velveteen sofa with a silver foiled surface. You ran your finger over the material, savouring the soft feeling. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. You let out a small gasp when you noticed your gladiator sandals had trailed in mud and made a mess of the pristine marble floor. You knew it wouldn’t take much to clean, but you still felt bad.

The lobby of Black Gold Cooperative was large, with pillars similar to what they’d have in the Themysciran palace back home and vases of white roses decorating every corner. You wiped down your skirt and tunic, not wanting to be responsible for any more mess, and sat down on the sofa. You groaned as the velveteen plush engulfed you. You couldn’t help it, Raquel was gone and you were exhausted after spending the day looking for Alistair. You hummed in contentment, unbuckling the leather straps on your shoes and laying down on the sofa, curling up and closing your eyes.

Everything was dull. The sky was grey, dark and rainy clouds casting a cold shadow over your shoulders. This was weird. Normally your dreams would be utter and complete blackness - the inability to see anything, only hear the chaos that surrounded you. Only hear the cries and pleas for help and terror - and his voice. The man you were soughting for. You wondered if upon venturing to the world of man, your premonitions had stopped. But that didn’t make any sense. You were one step closer to finding this mystery man.

In the distance, you saw a group of kids tormenting and teasing another little boy. The image reflected what you had seen earlier at the playpark with Alistair, but it was different children this time. “What are you wearing?” you heard one boy mock as you ran closer. “Look at your shoes! Little Lorenzano can’t even afford new shoes!” a different girl cackled.

Lorenzano. You stopped dead in your footsteps, your eyes widening as you watched the group of kids disband, leaving the little boy with glazed brown eyes and ripped clothes shaking with fear. Lorenzano was the name of the man you were looking for - the man you had to help. Your mother Hestia had helped you learn that, but you had never seen him before. This Lorenzano was just a child. There was no way he could have a son.

You took a deep breath and reached out. “Sweet boy?” you called, taking a cautious step forward. Little Lorenzano didn’t even flinch. “Hello?” you asked again. You got as close as you could to him, walking around in circles and taking in his appearance, but he didn’t even notice you. It was almost like he couldn’t see you.

That’s when you realised you weren’t in a dream. You were in a memory. And suddenly everything made sense. This broken little boy was in fact the same person you were looking for. But now, he was a broken man who was desperately trying to make things right. Desperately trying to turn his life around. You’d seen a fleck of his past and you wondered if he was anything like that now. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you had to find him.

There was no way of telling how long you were asleep for, but when you heard Maxwell Lord’s voice, you couldn’t distinguish it from your dream or reality. It was so familiar, so rich and articulate.

“Jesus Christ,” Maxwell muttered, pacing backwards and forwards before turning back to you and prodding a finger into your bare arm. “Wake up.” he said sternly, his voice a little louder than before. You yawned, bringing your hands up to your eyes and giving them a gentle rub before sitting up and looking at the man.

It was him. The same man you had seen on the television. Only there was something not that right. You couldn’t put your finger on it. You grinned, your eyes gleaming with delight as you stood up and cupped your hands around his face, squeezing his cheeks and getting as close as you could. You touched him and maneuvered his body in different ways, lifting his arms up and brushing down his shoulders. He was broader than any Amazonian woman, and that said a lot. Surprisingly, Maxwell became putty in your grip. He would’ve never have expected it, but he just let you mould him and sculpt him in any which way you pleased. You traced his skin with your fingers, taking in every detail. It was certainly the man from the television - but this version of Maxwell Lord looked more tired and disheveled. His hair wasn’t perfectly styled and he wasn’t fitted into a perfectly pressed suit. But he was still just as remarkable and there was something about his presence that simply took your breath away.

He could say the same about you, too. He was completely stunned by you. Your beauty was incomparable to anyone else he’d ever seen. You almost looked out of this world. He was quick to shrug off his fascination with you, boiling it down to the fact you were covered in dirt and dressed in the strangest costume. He had more important things to worry about… like Alistair and whatever was in that damn envelope Theodore had given him.

“You’re a man,” you whispered in disbelief.

“I- what?” Maxwell asked, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“A real man,” you gasped, running your fingers through his dark blonde hair. Maxwell had to push back a longing groan, as your touch went straight to his semi-hard and already throbbing manhood. He gulped, diverting his gaze from your beautiful eyes.

“Do I- do I not look like a real man?” he asked curiously, ignoring the shudder that felt like it was swallowing him whole.

“Themyscrian depictions of man illustrate a strong, tall, muscular fellow who carries a sword and shield,” You explained, biting your lip and placing the palm of your hand over his chest. You could feel his beating heart under your touch and it almost took your breath away. You dragged your hand down to the curve of his tummy and Maxwell felt his cheeks heat up with insecurity. He never let anyone touch him like this. “They were naked too.”

Maxwell practically choked on his own tongue. That comment alone was enough to get him to step back and raise his hands up defensively.

“Well princess, I won’t be getting naked for you anytime soon, that’s for sure.” He chuckled nervously.

You smiled. “Princess? No no, I’m not a princess,” you giggled before introducing yourself. “I’m the goddess of home and hearth.”

Maxwell gulped before bursting into a fit of laughter. He looked around the office lobby, his movements quick and stressed. “Right, where’s the camera?”

“The- the camera?” you asked, confused.

“Is this for TV? Come on, tell me quickly. It’s a practical joke… right? You’re here, in my office, covered in dirt and in the most ridiculous clothes I’ve ever seen. And you say all these weird words like Themysciran - whatever that means, and you’re telling me you’re the goddess of home and… hearth?” he said almost quizzically. “You’re the crazy woman who stole Alistair away from me at the playpark earlier.”

So Raquel was right. He really was Alistair’s father. “Hey!” you frowned at his accusations. You hadn’t lied to him once. “You weren’t where Alistair left you. You disappeared and I was helping him find you!” you shot back, feeling an anger bubble inside of you.

“I don’t know where you come from princess, but here in America, you don’t just go round stealing people’s kids. That’s like, a federal offence.” Maxwell shouted, wiggling his finger in the air. “Jesus, where do you come from?”

You defensively crossed your arms over your chest, his yelling making you feel vulnerable. You could tell that he was clearly already under a lot of stress but he had no reason to take it out on you. “Themyscira.” you told him calmly.

He scrunched up his face in disdain. "There it is again. Them-a-what-now?"

"Themyscira." you said, this time making conscious effort to say it slower and clearer.

"With all due respect darling, I've travelled the world. I've been to many different places. I spent my adolescence studying a map of the world and never in my life have I heard of such a place." Maxwell shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm not here to prove anything to you, Mr Lord. But I find your attitude towards me to be quite upsetting." you revealed, looking back at the revolving doors you came in. There was a deafening silence that filled the room.

"Why are you here?" Maxwell snapped eventually with a huff. You swallowed as he stalked over to you, his gaze not breaking from you once. There was something primal in his walk. "Why… are you… here?"

He wished he could ignore the distracting erection in his pants. He didn't even know you. You were just a random girl who had come into his office demanding to see him, refusing to leave until he came. You were just a random girl who had got close with him, who had touched his face and dragged your hand down his body. Who… talked about naked men. Truthfully, Maxwell had never been with a woman who was quite like you, but things were starting to make sense for him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he were to just take you up to his private office.

Your throat felt dry and for the first time, you couldn't fathom words. His honeyed brown eyes were now dark and lust blown as he raised his hand to caress your cheek. You didn't even realise the way you subconsciously moved your face further into his hold and a wicked smirk crossed his lips. His hand was large and warm and his touch filled you with a sense of protection you didn't even think you needed. "Oh," Maxwell chuckled darkly. "I know what you want from me."

"You do?" you asked timidly, not even realising the hold he had you under. For a second, you'd forgotten why you were even here. You were so taken in by Max. You were feeling things you had never felt in your life for this man who had been haunting your every thought. He was so close to you, his breath fanned over your skin and you felt a sensation erupt between your legs. His presence was intoxicating, and he could say the same about you.

"But I can't," Maxwell shook his head, his gaze falling to your lips before dropping his hand from your face and taking a step back. He cleared his throat and looked away awkwardly, moving his hand down to his crotch trying to hide his arousal from you. "I… I should go."

There was an immediate feeling of guilt that washed over Maxwell. He'd gained reputation in the past for sleeping with women, namely his assistants and secretaries, and not shown them a slither of affection or care. He was a selfless lover and he could get away with it because he was rich, famous and attractive. But now he was none of those things. When he looked at himself in the mirror before heading to the playpark, his own appearance knocked him sick. The stress wrinkles setting in his forehead, the dark circles around his eyes… and he hadn't showered in a week. His hair was a mess and he couldn't even bring himself to check a whiff of his underarms. He didn't know you, but he sure as hell knew you deserved better than a man like him.

You were bright eyed, polite, and curious about the world around you. Not only that, you had demanded to see Maxwell just because you wished to check on his son and make sure he was okay. You had gotten very close to Max and not said a word about his bad hygiene or his tired eyes, instead, you looked at him with hope and admiration. Almost as if you believed that he could become a better man.

"Wait!" you called, reaching your hand out before Maxwell could walk away. "I'm sorry if- I'm sorry if this wasn't a good conversation for you. I've never spoken to a man before."

Maxwell titled his head and quirked an eyebrow. "You intrigue me," he admitted, pursing his lips slightly. His gaze fell from your face to the circle of rope attached to your belt. It didn't take long before he realised what it was— but no, it couldn't be. "What is that?" Maxwell asked, pointing at the rope as fear dripped from his tongue. He even took a few steps back.

You unravelled the rope and held it out for him to see. "This is the lasso of Hestia, it was my mother's. She gave it to me before I left for the world of man. Only two were made and this— this is the last one," you smiled a tearful smile at the memory of your mother. Diana had taken the other lasso, as well as the sword of Athena, back in 1918. "My mother Hestia is the goddess of Truth. And the lasso of Hestia compels any individual it uses to see the truth, or speak it," There was no telling what the expression on Maxwell's face showed. You frowned. "You still don't believe me, do you?"

The lasso had initiated a trauma response in Maxwell as you turned it on. He watched it glow yellow, the same yellow that Diana's lasso had glowed when she wrapped it around his ankle in the island bunker. He remembered her words; "See the truth." and his heart sank into the depths of his chest. That's when he saw Alistair.

Maxwell had always thought Diana Prince was strange. Ever since she told him she didn't own a TV— because who in the 1980s didn't own a TV? And who would deny a free 19 inch TV from Sears? But when she had followed him to Cairo with her pilot boyfriend and caused nothing but chaos in her red, blue and gold superhero outfit, he knew she was special. That she possessed powers. This was later reaffirmed in The White House, and then in the bunker as Maxwell tried to plot world domination and grant wishes to every citizen.

He looked at you behind all the mud and dirt, and he looked into your eyes. Could it be true? Could you be telling the truth? What if you were like Diana? Would he really want to be around someone like you?

Maxwell took a huff of air and wrapped the lasso around his wrist. You watched him, letting him do so. "Prove it." Max swallowed the lump in his throat that he hadn't even realised was there. You looked at him with hesitancy before nodding your head. If this worked, he has no reason not to believe you. A magical lasso… and it wasn't the first he had seen.

"What do you wish to see?" you asked Maxwell, your voice quiet. You didn't detach your gaze from his eyes once.

"Do you see what I see?" He asked, and you nodded your head in affirmation. Maxwell thought for a second, before remembering you had come all this way to Black Gold Cooperative just to see Alistair. At first, there was something deeply unsettling about it… but your presence made Maxwell feel safe. "Show me my son."

You closed your eyes and Maxwell followed your actions, and it wasn't long before your vision was clouded by the image of Alistair in his bedroom at Julianna and Theodore's house. Sitting at a desk, he was humming a song. Maxwell couldn't help but smile, recognising the song from the video game Alistair played with him earlier in the day. With an array of colourful crayons, he intricately sketched a drawing of a man with messy yellow hair and a tie, holding the hand of a smaller boy with black hair holding a teddy bear. He labelled the drawing ‘me and daddy’.

"Alistair sweetheart," Julianna called, peeking her head through the door that stood slightly ajar. "Dinner is ready," Alistair didn't look up once, continuing to rub pink crayon into his paper. "What are you drawing there?" Julianna asked, slipping into her son's bedroom and peering over his shoulder and the drawing.

"Me and daddy," Alistair mumbled, only half listening. He was too busy concentrating on adding the purple detailing on his daddy's socks.

"Oh sweetie, I told you that maybe, sometime, you could draw yourself and Theodore? You know, since he's your father too. He does so much for you Alistair, he takes you out to the movies, takes you to your piano lessons… he's a good guy," Julianna smiled, ruffling her son's hair. She pressed her finger into the yellow haired stick man wearing purple socks. "He's not a good guy."

Alistair furrowed his eyebrows, dropping the crayon to the paper and turning to face his mother. "My daddy is my hero." Alistair told his mother, his brown eyes wide and full of love.

Julianna didn't say a word. She stiffened up, standing tall and glared at her son's drawing. Her stare was so intense, you wondered if she was about to eject lasers from her eyes and set the paper on fire.

"Go eat your dinner." She finally said coldly, her words dripping with malice before barging out Alistair's bedroom.

The lasso of truth unravelled itself from Maxwell's wrist and you curled it back into your holster, clipping it in place on your belt. You looked up and noticed the tears that were pricking Maxwell's eyes.

"You- you probably shouldn't have seen all of that," Maxwell admitted, his voice croaking slightly as he tried to hold himself back from becoming a sobbing mess. "I'm not a hero."

You reached out and took the hand of the big-name businessman who was standing before you on the verge of tears. His hand was big, cold, and his fingers were calloused. You took him in both of your hands and rubbed soothing circles into his skin, desperately trying to provide him with warmth and comfort. His glazed brown eyes looked up at you with bewilderment as he wondered why you were being so nice to him. He was a monster, he deserved every bad consequence that would be coming for him. And yet, you treat him like a human. Even at the height of his career when he lived in riches and luxury, nobody had treated him with the politeness and love you were currently giving him — and you were a stranger. A stranger who was covered in mud with a magic lasso.

"Maybe you are a hero."

—-—-—

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie

I Believe In Love: @mrschiltoncat @thebloodrobin @bxxbxy @marydjarin @the-feckless-wonder @typicalnerd98 @thwiso @julieteagk @starsandmando @kishie8 @supernaturalcat7 @galaxypox @cocastyle @welcometothepedroverse @galactic-rhi @honestlystop @walkerchick007 @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @criminalmind1927 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @thesadvampire @wonder-jedi @eternallyvenus @way-too-addicted-to-anime @spacedaddydinn

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #ww84

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sunlightandsuffering · 3 years ago

Text

I LEAVE FOR A WHILE AND I HAVE SO MANY UNREAD BESTIES TO LOVERS ANONS!!! Imma answer them when I get back from boating but Jfc y’all want this AU bad so here, theres no smut per se but this is the first part of the first chapter from Mikasa’s POV I hope I characterized her okay, I’m trying to stay true to the collective vision 😂

So without further ado Besties to Lovers 💕💕

Her and Eren have always been friends, but she wants the benefits, God does she want the benefits. She’s nineteen, in her second year of university and she’s still a virgin and has done absolutely nothing outside of kiss a boy, and that boy was Eren, in the eighth grade. Meanwhile the very object of her affections has a new girl in his room every fucking night. She doesn’t understand where he gets his stamina from or where he finds all of these girls.

They’ve been best friends since the third grade when he forced her to eat a mudpie because he told poor sweet naïve Mikasa it was chocolate cake. When she’d cried after having her face shoved into the mud, he’d told her to suck it up before giving her the lollipop from his lunchbox as penance. She’s loved him ever since.

And unfortunately, his selfish antics have only gotten worse over time.

Mikasa is aware she’s unbelievably sheltered, it’s not something new to her, that’s what happens when you live with three ex-cops for most of your life and the only friend, you’re permitted to hang out with on a continual basis is Eren. As a result, she’s spoiled rotten and she loves every moment of it, especially when it’s Eren doing the spoiling, but she’s trying her best to be less sheltered! She even finally got a job recently and Eren had told her how proud of her he was.

The job might also be part-time at Levi’s mechanic shop but well a job is a job it doesn’t matter if she got it through nepotism.

She’s excited about it, it means she gets to see Eren even more than usual because he works there part time as a mechanic while he puts himself through medical school.

She knows logically she should be fed up of the boy she’s spent almost every waking moment with since she was seven, but she’s not, she loves living with Eren.

He spoils her almost more than Levi, Hanji and Kenny do, which is impressive because they’re all a little crazy.

She’s also a little in love with Eren if she’s being entirely honest with herself, she lives for when he calls her ‘baby’ and his fingers trail up her thighs and he pinches the curve of her ass, telling her the gym is paying off. He’s always touch, touch, touching every part of her he can get his hands on and she loves it.

Once, Jean had tried to have her sit on his lap too when Eren hadn’t been around and although she’d felt a little weird about it, she’d complied because well he was her friend and it was okay when Eren did it, so why not Jean?

Eren had not been pleased.

Mikasa hadn’t liked it either if she was being honest, it wasn’t the same, he didn’t hold her the same way Eren did and she didn’t have the same pleasant little flutter in her tummy the way she did with Eren when his hands would dip between her thighs and along the seams of her underwear beneath her flowy dresses.

She always felt happy and warm whenever Eren touched her and if she ever felt uncomfortable he’d stop, but he was also more than happy to soothe her back to happiness, he’d kiss her neck or tell her how good she was being for him and she’d be content once again.

Sometimes she’d wriggle around in his lap and he’d hold her tight, and give her a little nibble to her ear as warning. Sometimes she’d heed his warning and sometimes she wouldn’t but when she didn’t that’s usually when Eren would take her home and she loved being alone with him much more than at a boring party while he flirted with a bunch of girls.

When she had him entirely to herself, that was when she was most happy. But these days it wasn’t often, it seemed somehow her best friend had become even more of a man whore since she’d moved in. It’d been a year and still he hadn’t cooled down, he had more sexual partners than an emperor with a harem, it was ridiculous.

The revolving door of girls was getting old for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that she was fed up of having to explain where the coffee was as the girls pranced around their kitchen in underwear and Eren’s t-shirts. It was irritating, they didn’t understand that she would be the one to make Eren coffee or tea in the morning and that she had exclusive access to his wardrobe. The pretty blonde bitch she was glaring at right now should NOT be wearing her favourite t-shirt.

She sullenly continues to steep Eren’s tea for him, knowing he’ll need the caffeine when he wakes up while she watches the pretty little blonde march around their kitchen like she owns the place. She grabs all of Mikasa’s iced coffee ingredients from the fridge, drowning two cups of scalding hot coffee in sugary sweet. Syrup, whip cream, sprinkles, everything Eren buys Mikasa because he understands her ice coffee obsession. Meanwhile Mikasa knows for a fact Eren loathes the stuff, he tells her it’s too sweet all the time, making faces every time he steals a sip, as if it will taste different than the last time he drank it. He always gives her little cheek kisses after, awfully close to her lips or on her nose, tells her she’s sweet enough for him, that he doesn’t need anything else.

And without fail she’ll squirm and blush under his praise just like she always does and he’ll get that look in his eye, the one that’s dark and hungry that she knows usually precedes some manhandling. A slap to the ass, a pinch to her waist, something that allows him the excuse to touch her and she lives for it, sometimes if she’s really lucky he’ll tuck her into his lap and let her drink the rest of her coffee from her favourite seat there.

She’s startled out of her thoughts as the blonde girl drops two spoons onto the counter and they clatter against the marble with an angry noise, leaving spills of coffee in their wake.

“Can you be a doll and clean that up for me?” Platinum blonde asks her before she picks up both mugs and starts towards Eren’s room.

Mikasa frowns but wanders towards the sink to grab a washcloth for the mess.

Platinum blonde doesn’t make it two steps out of the kitchen before Eren’s bedroom door opens and shuts and he’s wandering into the open expanse of their kitchen wearing nothing more than a pair of plaid pyjama pants and rubbing his eyes.

Mikasa smirks at the sink, now is her favourite time of the morning, when Eren will kick out the little blonde rather brutally.

“Eren, hi!” The girl tells him breathlessly, and Mikasa turns to watch her hold out a coffee, “I made you a coffee, wasn’t sure what you liked.”

Shit, Eren’s tea! Mikasa drops her wash cloth and quickly removes the tea bag from Eren’s typical Earl Grey, thankfully it’s not too oversteeped. She wanders to the fridge to grab the cream, pretending not to be gleefully listening to the conversation next to her.

Eren takes the coffee from the girl, looking down at it as if it’s going to explode, sprinkles and chocolate shavings floating around the milky brown mixture. He raises an eyebrow up at the girl before placing the coffee on the counter, “Thanks, but I don’t like coffee.”

The girl’s eyes go a little wide and she places her mug on the counter as well, “Oh I didn’t know, tell me what you do like and I’ll make it for you, I wanted you to have a little pick me up, you know after last night,” She sends him a little smirk as she finishes her sentence but Eren remains looking unimpressed.

“I like tea, but don’t worry about it, I already have some being made right now, isn’t that right Miki?”

His eyes finally slide to hers and as usual her heart skips a beat as those intent viridians watch her so intensely, all of his attention is on her, he pays absolutely no mind to the blonde girl as he makes it to her side in a few steps.

She nods softly, she doesn’t want to reply, not in front of this girl, she’s too shy, it’s why she’s barely said three words to her yet. She hands Eren his cup of tea and he grins mischievously at her, before taking it from her hands. He winks at her before leaning in to kiss her cheek, murmuring into her ear softly, “Thanks Miki.”

Shivers erupt all over as his breath hits just under her ear, where he knows she’s most sensitive.

He pulls away and she’s left wide-eyed as he steals his tea and turns back to the blonde girl.

“Sorry what was your name again?”

The blonde’s face scrunches up in irritation, “It’s Katrina.”

“Great, Katrina I’ll walk you out.”

He takes a sip of his tea before leaving it on the counter and grabbing Katrina by the arm and dragging her towards his bedroom. They stop briefly to grab Katrina’s things before making their way to the door, Eren likely hoping to avoid her impending meltdown.

Mikasa doesn’t see it but she hears the irritated whines that turn into pleads as Eren tells the girl not so gently, to leave. The door slams and she hears footsteps as Eren follows the girl outside. Mikasa may or may not scoot a little closer to the main hallway and press her ear to the door to listen.

“But we had such an amazing night—”

“It was okay.” Eren throws in his two cents and Mikasa fights to keep in her giggle, this is her favourite part of the mornings, it’s almost worth all the pain of the night before just for this.

“What do you mean, it was amazing, Eren I think we really have something, it was so amazing—”

“Listen, I don’t do relationships, I do one-night stands and that’s it.” Eren tells Katrina firmly and Mikasa gives a little fist pump, damn right, she never sees the same girl twice and she’ll never admit how happy that small tidbit of information brings her. If he’s going to have someone else, at least she knows he has no feelings attached to it. The day he gets a serious girlfriend is the day her heart really breaks.

“What about the girl in there, Miki you called her, don’t tell me you’re not fucking her.”

Mikasa is shocked, her cheeks turning red at the assumption, how vulgar.

But also a small part of her wishes Eren was, ‘fucking’ her that is. She’s a virgin, completely innocent in every conceivable way, she’s never even touched herself, nineteen and still totally clueless with all things sex. It’s not like she hasn’t considered it or wanted to try before, she’s not a prude, she just has no idea where to even start.

Not to mention, ANY male love interests are squashed like bugs the second Eren gets wind of them, and if it’s not him it’s Levi, Kenny or Hanji.

But lately she’s considering at least buying a vibrator or something, maybe taking her own virginity, Sasha and Annie never shut up about it, she’s curious about what all the fuss is about. Every time she moves her fingers down her stomach, she heats up a little, blushing bright red and wondering if it’s wrong, if its weird.

She usually makes it to the line of her panties, concentrated on trying to figure out what she should do and imagining what she thinks will turn her on, and of course it’s always Eren. Always, always him. Unfortunately, that’s usually where her fingers stop because she feels awful, dirty for imagining her best friend touching her, thinking about his large frame looming over hers and laying kisses on her lips instead of her cheeks. Eren would never want her like that, she’s not his type, small blonde, perky and experienced. No bad Mikasa! She cuts her thoughts off before they can descend into negative territory, she’ll never have Eren romantically but at least he loves her platonically and she’ll take what she can get.

“Leave.” Eren tells Katrina in a tone that brokers no argument, the one he reserves specifically for people who insult her, and it happens often when his one night stands see a girl in Eren’s apartment that’s not them, the jealousy is real. However, what they fail to realize is that she is the one girl he actually gives a shit about, she has a special place reserved in his heart as his best friend, and all the sex in the world has nothing on that.

She continues to listen, waiting for more, but this one surprisingly kicks up little fuss and the next thing Mikasa knows she’s scrambling to move away from the door as Eren opens it, falling swiftly onto her ass in the foyer.

Eren raises his eyebrow at her as he shuts the door, leaning back against it, arms crossed and still delightfully shirtless. Looking up at him, he truly is an attractive figure, arms corded with muscle from working with cars all day, handsome chiselled face with a slit in his right eyebrow and a few tattoos placed randomly along his arms. Mikasa, understands better than anyone why girls flock to Eren like moths to a flame.

“Watcha doing down there love?” He asks, his tone deceptively sweet, she knows he won’t be happy she was listening in, especially since the other girl sort of insulted her. She plays dumb, or attempts to at least.

“Just cleaning up,” she grabs a shoe from the shoe rack next to the door, “Wanted to make sure everything was in order.”

“Uhuh,” he says doubtfully, crouching down to her level where she’s splayed out, legs askew and leaning back on her hands.

“So you were’t eavesdropping on me outside?”

She looks away, she can’t lie to him, she’s terrible at it, he knows all her ticks, and she always inevitably caves and tells him anyway.

“Miki,” His voice is chiding, a hand coming up to grab her chin and turn her in his direction. Her full bottom lip sticks out in a pout as she confesses, “I just wanted to know what you’d tell her, she wasn’t very nice to me.”

He leans in closer, edging his way into her personal space and she’s forced to lean back further on her hands as Eren kneels over her, placing his own hands on her thighs, his face getting closer and closer to hers. Her breathing comes quick as his face finds her neck, “You’re not being a very good girl today Miki. My tea was a little oversteeped and now this,”

She gasps a little, her heart thundering in her chest, theres that phrase, ‘good girl’, every so often Eren slips it into conversation and she doesn’t know why but she absolutely loves it, she adores it when he praises her. She wants to hear him say it all the time, wants to be his everything, wants to be the best.

And sometimes she’ll hear him whisper it to the girls he’s fucking, their bedrooms are right next to each other and the walls are paper thin, how could she not? And those are the times she wants to touch herself the most, when Eren tells the girl he’s with she’s being a good girl in that deep raspy voice of his, in the tone he only uses when he’s at the height of his pleasure, gravelly and filled with desire as he fucks some girl so hard the wall of their shared bedroom shakes.

Her face heats anymore at her train or thought, doing her damndest not to let her eyes follow the V of his abs down to the waist band of his pants.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I’ll be better,” she responds quickly, she doesn’t want him to be mad at her, not about this, she didn’t mean to eavesdrop, she’ll never do it again as long as he’s not mad at her.

It’s the worst when he’s mad at her, he wont talk to her for a while, won’t touch her and that’s the worst part, no little touches. She’d never realized how totally attached and needy for him she was until they were watching a movie and he wouldn’t let her sit in his lap, wouldn’t lay his head on her chest and hum into her sternum while she fought back shivers because her breasts are so fucking sensitive.

“Eren please, I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me.”

His face is stern for a moment, dark strong eyebrows scrunched up and lips set into a line, tears prick her eyes at the thought of him giving her the silent treatment for a week again. She can’t do it.

As a tear escapes one eye, tracing a path down her cheekbones, Eren’s large calloused hand comes up to cup her face, moving from her chin, his thumb darting out to catch the tear before he brings his thumb to his mouth, licking the meagre drop from his finger.

His face settles back into a neutral expression before he buries it into her neck, leaning his whole body weight on her, and pushing her to the ground, lying across her front.

“Oh fuck Miki, what am I going to do with you?” He sighs into her neck, before leaving a little bite there that makes her squeak. Then another, and another and she knows this is her punishment but it feels so nice, bites interspersed with little kisses along the column of her throat, they’ll probably leave marks later if she’s lucky.

He pulls back when she makes a little whimpering sound as he hits a particularly sensitive area of her skin, breaking the quiet atmosphere and they both come back to themselves. She’s immediately sad because she loves it when he gets carried away like that, almost feels like she has a chance.

Eren moves away, leaving her cold and bereft on the floor as he stands up.

She stares up at him, quicksilver eyes wide and needy, she needs something, she doesn’t know what, zings shoot through her core and she’s unbearably hot, she needs something. It’s the weird feeling again, the one she only gets when he’s around and being touchy, he must see it in her eyes because a pained looks crosses his face and he almost moves to grab her again but he bites his lip and settles on holding a hand to help her up, “Come on Miki, I’ll make you breakfast love.”

She pouts but takes his hand, following him to the kitchen and sitting herself on the bar stool while he makes her favourite waffles.

It’s always like this, he’s always taking care of her, he can’t help himself and sure sometimes he’s a little mean, well most of the time, and more often than not he’s teasing her, but he takes care of her so well, she trusts him implicitly.

They’re on the cusp of something, she doesn’t know what but she can feel it building, ever since she first moved in, the tension has gotten worse. Eren is like a caged panther waiting, watching, restraining himself, his eyes are always hungry when she walks around in her pyjamas, which consist of only his old shirts and panties, but she can’t quite figure out for what.

He gives her a little wink as he slides her waffles onto a plate and cutting them up for her, before he feeds her delicately, little bites of chocolate chip and syrup. He catches little dribbles of the sickly sweet mixture that stain her lips, bringing his finger to his mouth, just for a taste. He pulls a face at the overly sweet treat, and she laughs which makes Eren smile her favourite smile, the genuine one with all his teeth only she can pull from him.

The next dribble of syrup she loses, Eren feeds it right back to her, holding out his thumb for her to lick but she does him one better and takes the whole digit in her mouth with ease, sucking the syrupy chocolate up happily. She watches him the whole time and his reaction is everything, his eyes glow greener, he leans in just a little closer and there is that intent hungry look again. It’s beginning to be her favourite look on him, something about it is just attractive.

She releases his finger with a pop, smiling at him before she sticks her tongue out, “All clean!”

Eren’s gaze is so intense she wants to look away as he moves his hand to tuck a few stray locks of hair behind her ear. He exhales before he speaks, his voice quiet, like he doesn’t mean to say it at all, “You’re such a good girl aren’t you Miki?”

“What did you say?” She asks because she wants to hear it again and again, but Eren doesn’t oblige.

“Nothing baby, finish your waffles, you haven’t been eating well lately, I don’t want anything left on your plate.”

He takes care of her so so well. How could she ever need anyone else?

But evidently Eren does, to satiate his more carnal needs, the ones she’s clueless about and the one’s she longs for him to use her for. He gets a call halfway through her breakfast and he departs from alternately stealing bites of her waffle and letting her eat by herself. It’s a call from a regular girl, Selena, she’s pretty sure her name is, a beautiful Brazilian exchange student with blue eyes and a perfect olive hue. He kisses Mikasa goodbye, a swift peck to the cheek, before he tells her not to wait up, he’s going to work this afternoon shift and afterwards he’s going ‘out’.

She’s may be naïve but she’s not stupid, she knows what ‘out’ means, he’s going to spend the night at Selena’s and tomorrow he’ll come home with mussed hair and hickeys, he won’t need anyone to make his morning tea, won’t be home to make her breakfast.

She’ll be all alone in the apartment once again and not for the first time, she wonders if maybe she should be doing the same. Just what is she missing out on that’s so good that Eren can’t go two days without it, what is so great about sex that Sasha and Annie will spend hours discussing it over dinner?

She drops her breakfast dish in the sink, scowling as she watches the water run over the remains of her breakfast, filling the sink with bubbles, maybe she should try it too. Maybe sex is what she needs from her life, maybe Eren is onto something.

#btl💕#besties to lovers ♥️#eremika

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