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modedelagauze · 16 days ago

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Lying is The Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

pairing: Ellie Williams x f!reader summary: Ellie finds out you do burlesque and fucks you in costume after the show. cw: nsfw, dom!Ellie, thigh riding, praise kink, cursing, strap, fingering (4.2k) Read the extended version on AO3 HERE

an: I've got serious p!atd brain rot right now so stream Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off to get the full vision~

unedited btw!

“Five minutes!” shouted a voice over many, somewhat distorted by the echo of clicking heels rapidly shuffling between the narrow corridors of the dressing rooms and storage closets sandwiched among one another downstairs. You took a moment to reapply a thick layer of the blood colored bullet in your fingers and puckering to place a kiss on the surface of a half boa covered mirror as a way of wishing good luck to yourself before the show. You were one of the only cabaret girls who actually sang at the club and the only girl to have ever sang for Ellie Williams personally. At the beginning of the semester you’d often spend late afternoons alone and enclosed within the padded walls of the black box theater, on campus, practicing. You were blissfully unaware of the fact that there was someone else who was also using the space on occasion, probably for the better. It only was two weeks into the term that you’d stayed later than usual singing–ten minutes at most–and been disturbed by the nervous brunette carrying a guitar. To avoid drawing attention, Ellie had always entered the theater through its reliably unlocked back doors only to be gifted with the sound of your voice. Entranced by the melody, she decided to wait behind the curtains, standing just far enough for a view of your form without being noticed. It was only when you turned to take a swig of water that you became aware of the girl watching you. After that encounter she suggested that the two of you spend some time singing together, that you could learn a thing or two from each other. You ended up learning how magical her fingers could feel buried deep within that aching cunt of yours. With time, of course, she’d gone and destroyed what the two of you had built by indecisively bouncing back and forth between you and some girl back home. So, here you were ignoring her third call of the week and at the same time hoping to see her in passing just for one moment of spite.

On the stairs down from the dressing room, you practiced breathing exercises in preparation for the upcoming vocal stress. Girls called out wishes of support as you made your way down the long hall until their voices faded into the hushed whispers of patrons and the sharp clanging of glasses upon their wooden tables. It felt as though time had sped up tenfold how a wire was so quickly slid behind your ears and down your costume; a small flesh colored earpiece rushed into your right palm to be placed comfortably at your own will. Right at center stage was the band’s pianist, side facing the curtains, whilst the rest of the group were all tucked along the left side of the stage facing the audience. He passed along a supportive nod in your direction as you rushed into position; that being sat atop the far right side of his piano with an arched back and one thigh flush against the wood while the other was kicked up and bent.

“Thirty seconds till curtains rise,” ushered one of the techies and thus began the pianist, a playful and upbeat tempo before joined by the bass then guitars. The crowd cheered, queueing everyone behind the curtains that the two dancers upon the stage beyond had begun dancing along to the music. Slowly the velvet draping began to reveal light, decorating everyone behind the curtains too in ribbons of dancing radiance.

In synchronization with the drums having now kicked in and the curtains fully raised, you began in a teasing tone, “Is it still me that makes you sweat?” Your hands navigated down your hair and to your breasts, stopping to cup them ever so slightly before tauntingly sliding a single bra strap down between the lines, “am I who you think about in bed when the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you’re sliding off her dress?” An o-shaped expression of faux-embarrassment graced your face for a moment before gliding off of the piano and maneuvering around it to wrap your arms around the pianist in an attempt to imitate the look of a neck kiss. The next line was one of mockery, “Think of what you did and how I hope to god she was worth it.” As the final words of the phrase escaped your lips, your eyes landed on Ellie sandwiched within the crowd along the center stage, earning a stutter only recognized by the pianist as his eyes quickly darted to you and back to his instrument of choice. “When the lights are dim–And your heart is racing as your fingers touch her skin.” The line was rushed in order to catch up with your stutter, though the pianist threw in an additional key to make up for it, smiling as he played. In one fluid motion the two dancers along stage, darted to your figure and tugged on either side at both arms. You sang with pure confidence, borderline arrogance “I’ve got more wit” as one dancer dropped your arm the other spun you into hers and ran a hand along your face, thumbing at your flush bottom lip “a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck than any girl you’d ever meet.” Your song choice for the night had been a very carefully curated one though you weren't expecting to see Ellie any time soon–especially at your place of work out of all locations–it felt so good to sing your emotions out and leave them on the stage, but seeing her just now had felt like the greatest fuck you that the universe could offer. Had she even known that you’d be here or was it all by pure coincidence? Regardless, you'd come to the conclusion that now was no better a time than ever to remind her of the mistake she’d made. The other dancer’s hands found their way to your waist, unraveling you from the original’s hold and into her own. Both of your hands landed in your hair, teasingly pulling at it leading her to imitate the ghost of an open-mouthed moan, “Sweetie you had me.”

The routine required you to pick a random guest in the audience to sing to and Ellie had just so managed to pick one of the best seats in the house. Navigation was really quite effortless as you made sure to spend a lingering moment here and there singing into the face of occasional patrons. Each strum of the bass was a stride forward before unabashedly ending up at Ellie's table. You managed to dance around the other people sitting there and right into her face without wasting a beat. You asked and received and here she was in all her glory, a bewildered look upon her face as if she hadn't expected for you to make such a commotion about her appearance. You knew under that carefree attitude that she loved to portray there was still that same nervous girl tucked away within. It was as if she’d planned to show up in order to provoke you and realized that now was too late to back out. Usually she had no issue confronting any issue at hand but the problem was that she hated the attention confrontation brought her. She wanted your attention after having not seen you in so long and was desperate enough to risk embarrassment for it, which said more than enough.

Her gaze brought out a degree of seduction in you that had been fighting to finally be on the prowl again, tantalizing and enough for the girl in front of you to practically taste you with her eyes. You could see her fingernails hopelessly digging into the arm rests of her chair, respecting the club rules that patrons weren’t allowed to touch any of the performers unless they placed the hands of patrons upon their bodies themself.

A wicked smile was unavoidable as your hands grew to extend themselves past your own body and onto hers, delicately tiptoeing down her shoulder blades, scuffling the tips of your freshly manicured nails down the sides of her biceps. How you knew she loved the scratches; the way you would often leave her skin tinged red the following morning after a scandalous night. Maintaining eye contact was the name of the game for the entire duration of your little escapade. Naturally you already had the girl by an inch or two, but with the added height of heels you were a steel tower of carnality that she wished to rip apart. If anything she liked that you were taller because It made watching you sink down onto her strap all the more enjoyable. Seemingly the length of your legs created an illusion of prolonged time settling down upon her crude nature and she could watch you ride all night long.

You were sure to drag your claws along her jeans, pressing just hard enough for her to feel it through the fabric as your hands retracted down to her knees and you dropped to a close legged crouch looking up at her, running your hands across your own skin and through your hair, suspending it all in the air long enough for her to get a good glance at the exposed skin of your neck and hickeys from someone who wasn’t her. Slowly you stood again, rocking your hips back and forth as and circled her seat. She hadn't taken much of a sip from her drink and so from behind you snatched the floating cherry stem from its alcohol soaked entrapment. When you could see her eyes again, you reached to wrap your left hand around her jaw, forcing it open as you allowed the cherry to hover over your outstretched tongue then flicking it inside of her mouth. Of course she caught on and separated the cherry from its stem and you dropped what was left of it back into the drink. “Oh no, you know it will always just be me.”

From there you made your way back to the stage and concluded the set. Exiting the stage, you caught the view of a faint glow upon Ellie's face as was seemingly typing away furiously upon that screen. When you finally got to the dressing room your phone had lit up with a flurry of messages from the distressed brunette. The first about how beautiful you were, next demanding you keep your costume on, followed by how much she wanted to ruin your pretty makeup and finally concluding it all by asking if you could just come outside for a moment. And of course she got the better of you. Frankly you were turned on by how desperate she looked and sounded. Maybe you’d punished her for long enough? Washington got cold fast and by early November snowfall was impending so you grabbed your fleece and made for the back door where-to nobody’s surprise-Ellie was parked almost directly in front of the door whilst leaning against the passenger door waiting for you.

“It’s good to see you.” She spoke as she moved to open the door for you to get in.

With only inches between your lungs, you crossed your arms stopping dead in your tracks. “That’s not what you said to me Ellie. You asked me for a moment, not a damn joyride.”

The brunette rolled her eyes, now dropping her crossed arms to motion at the enormous building behind you. “Can you just listen to me for five minutes (†)?” she sighed loudly before continuing on in an almost pleading tone. “You just gave me a fucking amazing show and the place is obviously about to close. The least I can do is congratulate you on all this, because I haven't heard a lick from you in the last two weeks and suddenly you've become a damn good showgirl.”

Avoiding the situation, you sniffled at the bitter cold before gliding inside of her leather interior. “I’m freezing.”

She was quick to slam the door shut, mumbling something about you irritating her as she made her way back around to the driver’s side. Humming quietly, the speakers inside said what she refused to say aloud, “Why don't you show me a little bit of spine you’ve been saving for his mattress. I only want your sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me.” And of course you would've done just that, but it was only fair that you made the process difficult. Too many times had you easily given into her apologies within hours. Truthfully you missed her and the way she fucked you, but don’t get it twisted, it wasn’t that Abby hadn’t been easily laying you to rest when you couldn't see Ellie and vice versa, but why have only one pretty girl in your life when you could have two of them? It was pure and utter unapologetic greed.

As she had previously requested, you kept the same lingerie from earlier on; a pair of fishnet tights, low rising short shorts decorated by black sequins with a matching bustier so low cut that she was surprised it had not warranted one nip slip throughout the entire show. A plethora of golden cuffs spanned either of your biceps while a frilled garter belt adorned your left thigh and your hair, she couldn't even begin to speak on those perfect ringlets and how they framed your face, cascading down your shoulders into ink blotted waterfalls. The charm decorated braids placed sporadically around your head were always the cherry on top of it all because she loved how she could always hear you coming before she actually saw you; waiting like a dog with perked ears for a treat.

After her door was closed and locked you turned to face the girl, now ready to lay bare whatever needed to be said and done. “Well?” You taunted, sliding your feet from their heeled prisons and bringing your legs up to your chest to sit comfortably.

Ellie adjusted the gear before she moved to reach behind the head of your seat , reversing out of the parking lot. Her eyes darted over to you then back on the road, laughing dryly as she responded. “Please don’t play stupid with me (†). We both know why you’re in my car.”

You opened your mouth to speak then decided against it, staring out of the window with crossed arms when you responded. “How did you even find out where I work at Ellie?”

She laughed before placing a hand on your thigh, playfulling squeezing the tender tissue. “I knew that I only had to look for the most glamorous place around. Besides, Jessie really doesn’t like conflict.”

“And who the fuck are you, going around asking my friends about me Ellie?”

“He’s my friend too. I don’t understand why you have to be so damn difficult when you’re sitting barefoot in my car. I can’t think of any other reason you’d be undressing yourself already.” You’d been so busy pretending to be mad at her that you hadn’t realized that the car had just come to a stop in an empty parking lot, with only the faint illumination of a nearby lamppost to reveal the silhouette of her face in a warm wash of light.

Finally you decided to face her, “Maybe I’ve decided to change things up. I like hearing you whine, Ellie.” her gaze softened, eyebrows raised as a smirk played at the corner of her mouth fighting to reveal itself.

Ellie reoriented herself to lean on the center console, partially to close the space between the two of you and also to allow her eyes finally a better view, mentally undressing your figure in the process. “You’re so demanding (†).”

You leaned in, whispering a final retort before closing the gap. “I get off to being worshiped by you, Ellie.”

You could feel the girl smiling into the kiss as her fingers entrenched your curls, holding them tightly in a delicate cluster. After the two of you finally pulled apart a string of saliva had remained connecting you both until you’d moved far enough to break the thin bond. Her eyes were darker now, thinking of the ways she could mold you into whatever she wanted in this car. “Get in the backseat,” she demanded breathlessly. The girl then increased the volume of her music before she joined you back there, the next track being ‘Is It Really You’ from Loathe.

The two of you fought like swordsmen to control the encounter, Ellie forcing you into the cold glass of the window when she was the one kissing you and then switching to Ellie restrained with her head to the leather when you were the one kissing her. You sat straddling her lap, one leg folded up along her hip and the other fallen between the leg space separating the front and back seats. Your fingers threaded through her hair as an arm moved to gently squeeze your throat, locking you in place as the other reached around, palming your ass for a couple seconds before she snuck a finger around the ribbon holding your bustier together, tugging at the material. “So fuckin pretty,” she gasped between the dancing of your tongues. “Put your arms up.” You did as told with a careless disregard for the long process of getting that thing back on after all of this was over. You just wanted her all over you now.

Ellie was a mess as she watched the reveal of your breast falling free from the bustier, instantly taking a taunt bud into her mouth and tweaking the other in her fingers. You moaned at the shockwaves it sent echoing down your body straight to your pussy, but there were no breaks to this ride.

You didn’t even realize her fingers had already peeled back the crotch of your shorts when the sound of your fishnets ripping under her grasp brought you back down to reality. The air was cold against your clothed, sticky cunt as it begged for room to breathe. Her fingers began massaging small circles onto the inflamed pearl, already wet enough for it to stick to your panties. “All this dancing around the fuckin’ questions I ask you,” she laughed over your hushed moans before stopping to slap your desperate pussy. “Tryna pretend you didn't want this, but you’re so fucking wet already (†).”

You’d forgotten who you were under her hold. Somehow it had become so embarrassing to be as bratty as you were, deliberately pissing her off in order to earn a good fucking, sitting there with your eyes screwed up and a hand over your mouth, silencing the pornographic noises attempting to escape your throat over mere dry humping. “Come back to me baby; You don't get to run away.” she teased, resulting in an aggressive hickey pressed into the skin above your nipple. Another electrifying shock when she bit down and in that same moment sneaking her digits into your panties to now perform an inhumane assault on your pink parts. “I wanna hear you.” The vulgar brunette hummed.

“How many times did she make you cum?”

Your eyes threatened to shut closed again, nearing the verge of pleasure filled tears sliding down your perfectly powdered cheeks, “What baby?”

“Abby.” At this point she was starting to sound annoyed, picking up the pace.

Out squealed a voice that you hadn't known could even come from within, “I don't know.”

“Then we should start counting how many I can put you through.”

Just as you could see the horizon of your orgasm approaching she retracted her fingers from the sopping canal, earning an exasperated whine on your end. She took your jaw into her left hand, turning your face away from her as she drug her tongue down your skin, biting at it rougher than she normally was-like there was something to be proven. “You want me to fuck you real bad huh?” She gloated, hooking a finger around the seat of your undies and running her digits along your slit, collecting more than enough slick for it to run down her fingers and onto her palm “Yeah?” She continued, pushing two fingers into your hole without warning.

“Please,” was all that you could muster, grinding your hips onto her fingers for any sort of additional pressure. Almost there. Like clockwork she caught onto what you were attempting and stopped you dead in your tracks with her fingers having gone limp and the other hand holding your hips in place.

“Now, you know better than that.” She spoke imitating faux-empathy, “especially when we’re like this with each other.” Because normally after arguing the two of you fucked it out and at some point during the transaction someone apologized resulting in an orgasm for the other but for now this was world’s nastiest game of chicken. In passing moments, she began again, fingers curving directly into that spot that made you see stars in the night, a hand placed on your hips rocking them back and forth. “C’mon baby, fuck yourself for me.” And you damn sure rode her like it was nothing, eyebrows knit together as you focused your entire being on getting off. It didn't even take a whole minute for you to get there, and Ellie grinned at her handy work, but this was only the beginning. “One. That’s a good girl.” Your legs shook in reaction to her aggression and you attempted to stop her fingers from continuing on, wrapping your own around her steady wrist.

“Move your hands (†).” She ordered as your eyes began to water from the overstimulation.

“I can’t.” You pleaded in broken whimpers.

All she could do was laugh at you again, offering encouragement as if this was nothing to her. “You will. I need to hear that shit real loud on my dick.” Those words alone were enough to send you through another fiery orgasm. You swore your moans were loud enough to be heard beyond the entrapment of this car and Ellie liked pushing herself to see just how loud she could get you. “Two. It was that easy.”

Stiff fabric was good for hiding things just as she had until now, exposing the strap on that you had assumed to have been her phone in her pocket earlier. Ellie took you into her arms, rearranging the two of you where she was now the one on top and your head resting against the door’s storage compartment. “You ready baby?” she enquired, taking a minute to kiss your cheeks. You nodded, cunt throbbing for more as she watched it produce more of that thick hot arousal.

“You got the prettiest pussy in the world, (†).” She began, taking the plastic dick into her hand and tracing your slit, bewitched by the beautiful glass shine of your cum dripping down onto the leather seat as if an antiquated romantic painting. In that moment the guilt came flowing down her conscious for everything. Just wanted to make up for it by making you feel good. “Fuck, I can’t wait,” the girl whined, slowly pushing herself into you, feeling her own wetness completely entrenching her boxers and making its way for her thighs. The way your hair laid along the car interior, fanning out around you like a headdress made her melt, stopping to kiss you again before she began stroking slowly, making sure to allow you time to adjust to the feeling of fullness.

“More,” You pleaded, beginning the process of catching her rhythm in your hips.

“Yeah?” She answered, taking your thighs into her hands and sliding them over her shoulders, thrusting deeper for a couple of moments. “Feel good?” You struggled to formulate a coherent response and decided on simply nodding between moans. Ellie took this as a sign to make up for lost time, fucking into you with such force you were sure she could feel it on her own end, getting closer to finally cumming.

“Like that! Just like that!” ripped a scream from your lungs, satisfied with her rhythm having at last caught onto matching with her. She thought you were too fucking gorgeous of a girl that just looking at you had her loosing it, just seeing your expressions and the way your tits bounced so beautifully, revealing the stretch marks on their underside that she so loved to trace when the two of you laid in bed together; a live erotic portrait unable to be topped by even the masters themselves. Your arms locked around Ellie’s neck, taking her hostage in your grasp and moaning feverishly into the girl’s ears. Before one could get past your lips another would come, choking you on your own pleasure. “So fuckin good El’s.” If she was doing everything right then you wouldn’t have been able to speak, so she slipped an arm between your stomach and hers, pressing your abdomen down while the other arm kept you locked in place for her to use and abuse. You yelped, surprised by the added pressure, now feeling her deeper than before. Your hands loosed around her neck, digging into her back possibly even drawing blood.

“Take it, pretty girl.” she cooed, wanting everyone on the street to know her name and how good she made you feel. Didn’t matter how late into the night it was. It wasn't long until you came unraveled under her, your thighs clenching in anticipation for the coming waves of your climax. “Atta girl, I got you,” she whispered, continuing her dangerous pounding. A banshee would’ve been disturbed by the sound of you two. Of course Ellie always had to get the last laugh. “Three,” she sighed, wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed on her clammy forehead, bits of her fringe stuck adhered to the skin. "Forgive me?"

Would you guys be interesting in full length fic? I had lot of fun writing this. :p

Original Release: 11/7/24 Edit: 11/8/24

#the last of us #tlou #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #x reader #poc reader #black reader #ellie williams smut #with plot #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader

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amuyyi · 3 months ago

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she wants me (to be loved) .

synopsis; you have always loved huh yunjin, but not in the way she loved you.

trope; huh yunjin x f!reader, angst, unrequited (?) love, bittersweet ending

wc; 4.6k

cw; idk like one cuss word LMAO

a/n; i swear im still in forever writers block but THIS FIC IS INSPIRED BY THE SHE WANTS ME TO BE LOVED WARRIOR CATS AMV ON YOUTUBE ITS ABOUT BLUEFUR AND THRUSHPELT PLEEEEK WATCH IT AND/OR LISTEN TO THE SONG WHILE READING IM JUST SO ARRGGHHH also its almost 4 am i am half asleep i just realllyy wanted to finish this. also i used to be a theatre kid so.

You have always loved Huh Yunjin. But not in the way she loved you.

You recall very vividly the first day you met her.

It was the middle of freshman year of high school, and you had just moved into New York from out of state. Your father had just gotten a new job opportunity, and practically wasted no time packing all of your things to move in the middle of the school year. Perfect. New place, new faces, and definitely no friends. Everything an emotional teenage girl needed in a cruical stage of her development. All of the other students in your classes were nice enough, but everyone already had their established friend groups by now, and you simply didn't fit what they were looking for.

Despite the different environment, there was one thing that this school provided that provided some sort of familiarity.

Theater.

Back in middle school and for the brief semester you had in your old high school, you had always been a fan of the big stage. The music, the dramatics, the acting… It was all so whimsical and alluring to you. How could you not get involved?

(Okay, honestly.. You had gotten really into musical theater in middle school once you found a Hamilton animatic and it became your sole personality trait for a good two years or so–)

Unfortunately, you were too much of a coward to truly put yourself out there like the actors around you. High school insecurities and poor self esteem truly did take its toll on you back then. So instead, you settled for being part of the stage crew.

You thought that getting involved with a club would make it easier for you to socialize and make friends. You could join a community. Yet somehow, it made everything all the more difficult.

Everybody seemed to already know each other and have their own established friends. On top of that, everyone also seemed to know who they hated as well. You would always overhear what other actors and techies would say about one another and it only just put you off from making friends even more. The whole environment was incredible… cliquey.

Still, you had nothing else better to do, so you stayed. It was… Fine. You still had no real friends, but you did enjoy doing various tasks around the stage. Working with stage lights, helping prepare costumes, painting backdrops. It keeps you busy. It was routine.

It wasn’t an uncommon sight to walk in on actors practicing their lines or their songs backstage. Back home, you knew everyone involved within the production– including the actors. You would always compliment them and occasionally even provide help whenever you didn’t have your own techy jobs to fulfill. The main problem? This isn't home. Nobody here was your friend.

But when you found a pretty girl practicing for this semester's production of Phantom of The Opera in an empty hallway, you couldn't help but stop in your tracks and stare. You’ve never seen her before. Well, it's not like you bothered to pay much attention to the people around you anymore— but you feel like you wouldn't miss a face like hers.

She had the prettiest brown hair with highlights and the cutest beauty mark near the corner of her mouth. She was pacing around the hall, script in hand as she did various vocal exercises. The sound of her voice echoes off the walls, and it was just as angelic as she looked.

“Prima Donna, your song shall live again…!” She sings out, her voice at a steady yet powerful vibrato throughout her verse. Her Bel Canto was skilled and practiced, and you can't help but wonder how long she’s been doing this for. Surely she’s overqualified for a simple high school production? You needed to hear more…

She moves her hands in elegant and dramatic forms as she immerses herself into the self-centered character of Carlotta. She played the roke perfectly, considering how most definitely had your attention now.

“You took a snub, but theres a public who needs you, think of the cr—“

A loud thud rings throughout the hallway, startling the mystery opera singer as well as yourself. Shit. You look down and see the culprit. Well, it was you. you caused the interruption— but more specifically, it was a freshly decapitated mannequin head with a wig you were going to more securely attach to the top. It was a bit of a horrific sight, in all honesty.

Now that you think about it, this prop might actually be for her. Though you didn't have much time to ponder that thought considering the mysterious brown haired beauty has now caught you eavesdropping on her singing.

The head rolls across the tile floor and lands at her feet. You feel your face warm to what was most likely a bright tomato red as she picks it up by its shortened neck, the wig threatening to fall off as it dangles limply off of the top of its head.

“I'm assuming this is yours?” She smiles kindly at you, though a bit wary. Understandable, really. You would be wary of yourself too if you were in her shoes.

“Y-Yeah, sorry…” you nervously laugh, taking the head from her hands as you try to pat the wig back into place.

“You sounded good, by the way!” You quickly stammer out, absentmindedly hugging the head to your chest, “Like… really good. Seriously.”

The mystery girl laughs at your flustered words, and she waves her hand dismissively. Her cheeks warm bashfully as she shakes her head.

“Thanks but… I have a lot to work on. My tones off, and I still need to memorize these lines by tomorrow…” she trails off, moving to press her back against the wall, sliding and sitting down on the floor.

Fiddling a bit with the mannequin head, you don't allow yourself to think too hard before you suddenly blurt out.

“I-I can help!”

You watch as her pretty brown eyes widen slightly, and

“Really? You sure you arent too busy?

You were actually quite busy, but she didnt have to know that.

“Of course not,” you lie confidently, sticking a hand out, “I’m y/n.”

She eyes your hand curiously, but ultimately shakes it, “Yunjin. Jennifer, if you’d like.”

From then on, you would spend every other day after school with Yunjin, helping her recite her lines, fitting her for costume changes, and even finishing that mannequin head prop for her.

Soon after, your after school hangouts turned into out of school hangouts and then eventual sleepovers every weekend. You learned everything possible about Yunjin. Like how she had always dreamed of being a performer, how she wanted to make it big in the Kpop industry, how she loves snakes…

Since then, you knew you loved her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

On one seemingly normal spring afternoon, you were abruptly torn away from your sunkissed siesta with the sound of your door being kicked open.

With the growing bond between you and Yunjin, you made the mistake of giving the girl a spare key to your own home. (Oddly enough, your parents werent against the idea. They considered Yunjin like a second daughter.)

You whine out as she grasps at your half asleep form, shaking you aggressively.

“I got accepted into a company, y/n!! I'm gonna be a trainee!”

Eyes shooting open, you try to sit up through the aggressive grip Yunjin had on you.

“No kidding?” You croak out, looking at her with disbelief.

“I'm not!” She cheers, bouncing happily through your bedroom. Trying to match her energy through the grogginess, you slip out of bed, stumbling a bit as you tumble into her arms. Yunjin laughs at your state, wrapping her arms around your waist to keep you steady as she jumps excitedly.

“I’m going to move back to Korea next month— this is so exciting!!” She squeals out, and your smile falters ever so slightly. Move? To Korea?

Still, you bite back the sickly feeling developing in your stomach as you squeal alongside her.

You were happy for her, and did nothing but support her all throughout her time in Korea. Called her every night after training, sent her pictures of school life without her, even voting for her in that odd survival show she participated in. You did anything and everything you could to be the best friend you could be.

Yunjin always had the stars in her eyes. But in yours? There was only ever her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The day that everything truly changed is still fresh in your mind.

After spending years chasing after Yunjin, it feels like you have finally caught up to her. She's back in the states after her time in Korea, and she's planning on staying. She looked a little different than before, but it was the same old Jennifer you knew and loved— even when missing a few moles and deeper eyebags.

Upon her arrival back home, it was like no time had passed. Once again attached at the hip, as it should be. You practically made it your job to crawl into her skin at any given moment and to pamper her with all of her favorite things.

You would treat her to meals, spontaneous shopping sprees, and simple girls nights out. All of the good stuff to make up for lost time. Unfortunately, your attempts to keep your best friend happy came with their own obstacles. you would occasionally find advertisements or clips of idols that would show up during your time together, and for just a brief moment, you would see that usual spark within Yunjin’s eyes falter. It was a stark reminder of what she could have had.

It hurt you to see her get reminded of her time as a trainee. It truly was everything she wanted and more. But it was okay, you were here now, and you weren't planning on letting her go this time.

You’d drop any and everything for Yunjin. You allowed her to vent whenever she needed, to come over whenever she wanted, and to indulge in spontaneous late night meals whenever you two felt like it.

Needless to say, your wallet was crying by the time summer was nearing its end, but you didn’t mind at all. Yunjin was back. She was happy. You were happy. Things were finally returning to normal.

The two of you decide on a college to attend together in Boston, both pursuing a major in business. It's neither of your first choices in majors, but it's a good enough money maker in the long run.

The pair of you sat in Yunjins bedroom, with you comfortably propped up against her bedframe on the floor whilst the brunette lay comfortably on the mattress. You hugged the djungelskog plushie you had gifted Yunjin some birthday ago close to your chest as you atared at your phone, with Yunjin crunching away on cheez-its as the entire La La Land soundtrack softly plays from the record player in the corner of the room.

Its nearly less than a month until move in day at Boston University, and you feel beyond giddy. Actual independence? And spending it with your best friend slash secret crush? Your dreams were coming true. Looking through your college dorms on the website, the pair of you converse about the future.

“What kind of theme do you think we should go for our dorm?” you ask, leaning your head against the bed to look up at Yunjin, who was still crunching away contentedly at her snacks.

“I'm not sure… But I do know I want to cover my wall with all of my posters…”

“Ooh! Yeah!! I can add fake flowers on the walls…”

“ Of course, we need a bit of girlish charm— oh! we need to make room for a record player and my guitar.”

“Google maps says there's a 7-eleven near the campus…” you murmur, your short attention prompting you to immediately shift to another topic.

“ Should we go got late night snack runs?”

“Duh.”

“Or maybe if we get tired of the dorm food, we can get equally as crappy convenience store food for instead–”

Suddenly, the music from Yunjin’s phone gets cut off, being replaced with her ringtone (it was Come Inside Of My Heart by IV of Spades ) as she huffs.

“ sorry, hold that thought..” She murmurs, answering the call.

You didn't know any Korean, the only bits you’re familiar with are the phrases Yunjin taught you to talk with her parents (which you also butchered) so you naturally begin to tune out whatever she begins to say on her end. Despite this though, you easily pick up on the shift in tone as she speaks. Professionalism, skepticism, to Shock. That was all you could read off of Yunjin as you looked up from your phone, curiously glancing at her. Her eyes were boggling out of her skull, and she placed a hand over her mouth before ending the call.

The brunette remains frozen in place, hand still over her mouth as a silence passes over the room.

“So….?” You ask, crawling up onto the bed to sit next to her.

Yunjin’s voice is shaky, yet laced with a twinge of excitement and disbelief as she speaks, “I just got a call from Hybe. I… I have the chance to debut.”

You don’t know what came over you at that moment. It felt like the world came collapsing down on you. Right now, you should be happy. Jumping for joy, focusing all on Yunjin and her chance for success. She's been given a real chance to make her dreams come true, even after it seemed impossible, even after all the years of rejection and work. This was all she wanted in life and more— you should be happy? Right?

But you’ve always been a selfish person. Or maybe you convinced yourself you were ever since that day. You don’t know. Maybe in that moment, you realized you could lose everything you’ve been waiting for. You’d lose the girl you've chased after for so many years now. If you didn't do something now, you wouldn’t have the chance to do it ever again. You were a greedy person, so you confess.

“Yunjin, I love you. I always have.”

The words feel like a slap to the face, and it shows. It shows in the way her eyes widen and smile falls. This was a bad idea, but you can't back out now. Your eyes begin to water as your voice cracks.

“I… I don’t want you to go— to leave me…” you choke out, “What about uni? Our dorm? What am I going to do without you?”

You knew you were being manipulative, you knew you were being selfish. But you didn’t care. You wanted her to know how you truly felt. You didn’t want her to leave you, not again. Your heart couldn’t handle it.

Through tears threatening to spill out, you can see her cheeks slowly dust a faint shade of pink as she processes your words. She seems… hesitant. Over what? You weren’t too sure. You weren’t too sure if you even wanted to know.

The silence that washes over the two of you is beyond suffocating. You feel like you’re drowning, digging your nails into your palms as you look away. If you looked at her, you were scared you’d break, and the tears would begin to flow. After a few moments that feel like hours, she finally responds.

“I believe you have feelings for me…” she begins, voice soft yet strained. For some reason, those words leave a bad feeling in your gut. You muster up enough courage to meet her gaze. She looked just as hurt and conflicted as you felt. Yunjins grip on her phone tightens as she takes a deep breath, continuing, “...but I can’t give this up, y/n. It's my dream.”

That was the moment you knew you truly lost her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

In another life, you and Yunjin would be at Boston University together, pursuing that business degree that neither of you want.

It's a dream that used to occasionally return to you when Yunjin was overseas. Every now and then, you’d wake up in a cold sweat, and you’d check Yunjins location. She’d still be in Seoul. It was okay though, because you knew she’d always come back. She always came back. Now it haunts you every other night.

The dream is always so incredibly vivid and real. You would wake up to Yunjins many alarms that she somehow manages to sleep through every single time, and you’d peel your eyes opened to your shared dorm room. Though you didn’t have much time to admire the beauty of it all through the sound of an alarm continuously dragging you out of your slumber. She’s always been a heavy sleeper. you’d have to jump on Yunjins sleeping form to even stir her into some form of consciousness.

Yunjin groaned in protest, but you knew her. She wasn’t truly bothered, not when it came to you. Instead of entertaining your futile attempts to wake her up, she would wrap her arm around your waist, dragging you down with her as you squeal out.

She's warm. Her brown bobbed hair has grown out by now, black roots peeking through the top of her head as you join the mess that is her bed (and hair.) She smells like vanilla and wood, and you can't help but laugh into her embrace. You’ll be late to the dining hall for breakfast, but it doesn't really matter. There was a 7-eleven nearby that could provide breakfast while the two of you rushed to your classes– in which you had meticulously planned to have almost every single class together.

After a long day of school, you would return back to your dorm both collapsing on your respective beds as exhaustion settles in. It was decorated just the way you two liked it. With both boy and girl band posters littering the walls alongside some fake vines, flowers, and a multitude of polaroids you two have accumulated over the years.

Once the two of you move out of the dorms and graduate, you’d find an apartment to share. Dual income and no children, that was the way to live. Alongside a cat and a dog, of course. You’d have a black cat named Binx, and a golden retriever named Dug, something you two had discussed many times before.

It’s beyond perfect. You lay on the couch, comfortably in Yunjins arms as a blanket is lazily draped over your forms. Binx is settled upon your lap as Dug takes up the space on the rug. The tv is playing Coraline— a staple movie for you two, and you'd smile. Yunjin would lovingly return the grin, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

And then you’d wake up, the grim reality of your situation compared to your dream sending tears flowing down your cheeks. You’re constantly reminded how Yunjin wasn't yours. Not in this lifetime. And it hurt more than anything else.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You’ve always been there for Yunjin, both before and after she became famous.

In High school, you of course supported her throughout your brief time in the drama club. But you also provided a shoulder to cry on, a free source of math homework answers, a friend.

When she moved back to Korea to become a trainee, you helped her through the rough patches. Hours of dance training, rigorous workouts, and unhealthy dieting took a toll on her. But you were always there through the phone, no matter the time.

Even after her debut, you remained loyally by her side. Yunjin grew busier and more distant over the years, and it was understandable. You were busy too. With college, internships, and general “adulting,” it was a challenge to remain in contact. Still, when you two did find time to talk, Yunjin would tell you stories of her members, of the rumors and scandals that would plague the group. It hurt to see her hurting, especially knowing you couldn't be there for her like before. But you were glad to see her achieving all she wanted and more.

You hop into one of Yunjins late night livestreams (even if it was the morning for you.) It wasn’t like you couldn’t just call her whenever you wanted, but it was just another one of the little things you would do to continuously support your friend. Yunjin never made a scene whenever you popped in, but always made sure to look for your comments and read them out every single time.

“Sing something from Phantom or you’re lame?” She reads out, a soft laugh slipping past her lips as she does so.

The idol gives the camera a knowing look, one that only could be read by you, and you smile as she clears her throat. Phantom of the Opera is what brought you two together, after all. She spends a few minutes doing short vocal exercises to warm up her voice, and the sight is oddly nostalgic. Yunjin then sits up straight as she begins to sing, and you feel your heart twinge slightly at her song choice.

“Think of me,

Think of me fondly,

When we've said goodbye.

Remember me,

Once in a while,

Please promise me you'll try.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Now here you were, in a completely foreign country, placed in more than accommodating seats within the VIP section of this unfamiliar venue you’ve never even heard of before. There were hordes of men around you, all cheering in a deep voiced mass for the girls on stage. You stuck out like a sore thumb. Yet, there was Yunjin. You watch her, shining brightly on stage whilst donning a fresh head of bright orange hair. It suited her. Her fiery passion, her fierce determination that got her here in the first place, her glowing smile. It was all only a physical expression of who she was on the inside.

Yunjin had insisted on getting you these tickets– even going out of her way to even cover part of your plane ticket here despite you having a very stable and office job now. You tried to tell her you were happy enough to see her from the nosebleed seats in the back, especially since it was all you could afford on such short notice. But she refused, pulling some strings to give you the best seats possible. She wanted you here. More than anyone else.

You’ve seen Yunjin perform before. How could you not? You could vividly recall the way she would sing out and capture the entire crowd’s attention from the stage of your high school’s auditorium. How she would perform with such confidence and precision, how she performed like she was made for this.

Things have changed a lot since then. There was no business college in your future together anymore. No planned dorms together. No more late night talks. No 7-eleven snack runs. Yet oddly enough, despite the changes, this was seemingly no different than before. Every person in the crowd was entranced, immediately allured by her natural charm and her passionate voice. You included. Just like those many years before, she still managed to have you bewitched on the sidelines while she chases after the spotlight.

So you cheer. Joining the roaring crowd as you call out Yunjins name, a bright smile playing on your lips as you do so. You’ve always been her biggest fan, after all. You swear you saw her make eye contact with you, seemingly providing her an energy boost as she sings out to the audience. She was beautiful, and she knew it.

Once the show is over, you find your way to the backstage area. You tried your best to explain to the security how you were friends with one of the members, and how she invited you back there. Unfortunately, your Korean was less than conversational, and you pretty much looked like an embarrassingly desperate and obsessive fan until Chaewon came and saved the day.

“y/n-nnie! Come, Come!! I saw you in the crowd!!” She chirps out sweetly, abruptly pushing past the guard and dragging you backstage, leaving the security both confused and a bit exhausted. This might not have been the first time the girls have tried to meet with their friends after performances.

There were people everywhere. Stage hands, stylists, makeup artists, and more, all rushing around you two and occasionally praising Chaewon. You felt beyond out of place, and probably looked the part too. Despite having Yunjin as a friend, you’ve never once felt like you were friends with a celebrity. She was simply your Jennifer, and that was more than enough. Being here though, you could truly see the extent of the impact she had on people. How so many people respected her and admired her.

Lost within your thoughts and observations of the crowd, you barely notice when Chaewon lets go of your arm, leaving you to fall victim to a bright orange mass stampeding your way. Without warning, you’re tackled into a hug by none other than Yunjin herself. You swear you see stars as the air gets forced out of your lungs.

“y/n!! You made it!!” She beams, giving you a firm squeeze pulling away to fully take in the sight of you. Her arms are still firmly wrapped around your form as her eyes almost sparkled with pure affection for you. Your cheeks warm at the contact, and you can't help but shyly avoid her gaze. Even after all of this time, she still has the same effect on you. After letting out a soft breath, she quietly murmurs, “I was singing for you, y’know.”

And your heart aches. Aches for what you two could have had. Aches for feelings she chooses not to reciprocate. You want to be angry with her. Despise her for leaving you behind and living this luxurious celebrity life.

Yet your heart also swells. Swells with pure affection for the girl you love. The way she holds you, how she insists on having you attend, how sweetly she says your name. All of it makes you crumble all too easily. She truly cares for you, and never let the fame change that. You truly were lucky to have her.

“Really, now? You sure you weren't singing for the sea of men you forced me to sit with?” You laugh out, gently shoving her, “I swear I heard a guy say he ditched a family dinner to be there.”

Yunjin loudly laughs at your comment as she shakes her head, “How about you come over to our dorms to celebrate tonight, yeah? We’ll even let you pick a movie – or I’ll make them watch whatever you choose… Please?”

You were a bit hesitant. These were Yunjin’s friends. You didn’t want to intrude, especially after a crazy night like this. Yet, despite your reluctance, Yunjin stares down at you with those damn puppy eyes, and somehow manages to get Eunchae and Chaewon to join in…

“... Okay, fine,” you groan out, feigning disappointment as you see Yunjins eyes light up. “but we’re watching Coraline.”

The girls all cheer and pull you into a tight hug, with Yunjin holding onto you just a bit tighter than the others.

Huh Yunjin loves you. But not in the way you want. Yunjin wants you to be loved.

And loved you are, even if it means she can't be yours.

#kpop fanfic #gg fanfic #kpop #kpop x female reader #gxg #kpop gg #kpop x fem reader #huh yunjin x reader #yunjin x reader #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim x fem reader #wlw #gxg imagine #yunjin x female reader #Spotify

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merbear25 · 8 days ago

Note

Glad to see requests are open again 😃

May I please request headcanons for Sanji, Mihawk, and Shanks reacting to their girlfriend being afraid to express herself sexually due to being judged and shamed by previous exes?

Heyy! I was sick today but felt a smidge better to write. Thank you for sending in a request. I hope you like it 💜💜

CW: SFW, mentions of shame, fem!reader in mind, fluff, established relationship, headcanons

Helping you feel comfortable in your own skin (Sanji, Mihawk, Shanks)

Sanji

He had always been the type to lift those closest to him up. Knowing that you were dealing with these issues…well, it was heartbreaking to say the least.

He cursed those who’d put these insecurities in your head but never did so in front of you, because he thought it would be better not to remind you of your time with them.

All he wanted to do was shower you with the warmth and affection that you deserved.

There wasn’t anything you had to say, everything was understood from just a look. Whatever it was that you needed, he gave it to you without a second thought.

Baby steps were more than okay with him, since the ultimate goal was breaking down those pesky barriers.

Nights when you fell asleep holding each other, just talking about anything that popped into your heads were among his favorites.

Never pushy, he wanted you to decide when you felt comfortable moving to different stages. Each step in your relationship was met with enthusiasm, after all he was crazy about you. However, it was normal to take two steps forward and one step back, to which his patience never ran dry.

Mihawk

He could never understand how someone like you ended up with scum like them. Holding you closely, he made sure you felt every ounce of emotion harbored in his otherwise stoic demeanor.

Though he was not the type to freely express himself emotionally, that did not mean he didn’t feel just as deeply as everyone else.

When you poured your heart out to him, he’d simply listen. Adding only subtle nods and soft touches of reassurance when necessary.

There was no denying how attractive he found you, but with that being said, he knew how to exercise his patience.

Having you feel comfortable and confident would give him more satisfaction than any sexual encounter you’d have together.

His touches were warm but wouldn’t cross any of your personal boundaries. They didn’t linger for too long, even though sometimes you wish they did.

Silent with his words but loud with action, he let you know exactly what he was thinking with a simple caress of your hand.

Shanks

A tender look was all he gave when you shared your insecurities with him.

There were so many thoughts swimming in his head, ones which were polarizing: wanting to give you everything that you felt like you might have lost and wanting to curse those who took that confidence from you.

He was soft with you, letting you feel every ounce of love and adoration that you’d missed out on with your past relationships.

The compliments he gave you were never-ending. Even if you might roll your eyes from his cheesy flattery, each one stuck with you.

He was very vocal about how gorgeous he found you, hoping that some of his words would sink in and overcome at least one of those insecure thoughts of yours.

He was physically affectionate but didn’t test your limits. The respect he had towards you was worth more than selfishly putting his needs above yours.

That puppy-like love he had for you worked its charm, eventually giving you an added confidence boost when being with him.

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liveontelevision · 4 months ago

Text

Suffer Epilogue | Lucifer x Reader

Thanks for the patience friends, been a busy bee :') but here she is in all her glory, a happy ending for everyone!

SMUTSMUTSMUTSMUTSMUT MINORS DNI 18+

♡♡♡

The feeling of royal silks and golden embroidery under your fingertips are soothing in their own sense. But what lies beneath is what truly interests you. With his own assistance, his beautifully constructed suit vest is removed. You needed no help when it came to swiftly unbuttoning the entirety of his blouse. What's revealed is a heaving chest, a rosy blush tainting its snow-white complexion.

You want to taint it more.

You dip your head down, running your hands down the length of his sweet skin, until your palms rest comfortably on either side of his waist. Tracing your thumbs across that nerve that continuously forces a subtle jerk, you leave a trail of kisses and nips across his chest. The additional discoloration of your delicate bruising only paints a prettier picture below you.

Leading your hands back up to his chest, you brush your fingers across his skin delicately. An action much less intimate than anything that's just occurred seems to force a vocal response. A whimper, muffled into the back of his ash-colored hand, contrasts the blush on the apple of his cheeks quite nicely.

You look at him, like an artist enjoying their latest creation, beaming at him with pride.

Back to work.

Pressing feather-light kisses up the column of his neck, you take a gentle hold of his wrist to pull his hand away from his lips, wanting to leverage the sweet whines that spill out. You continue on until you barely kiss the corner of his mouth, refusing to give him what he wants.

But only for a moment.

Once he's nearly begging for a kiss, you let your lips meet his tenderly. A passionate exchange of pants and occasional nipping at his lower lip, Lucifer manages to let out something other than a breathy whine -

"Darling, I.. I love y-"

Your hand is immediately clamped over his mouth. You stare at each other with wide eyes, at the sudden action. After a breathless moment had passed, you quickly pull your hand to your chest and sit up.

"S-Sorry! I just.. sorry! Did.. that hurt..?" You ask with a hint of hesitation to your voice, as if you weren't exactly sure you wanted the response.

Lucifer sits up from lying on his back to resting on his elbows, still quite comfortable with you straddling his topless form. He lets out a nervous chuckle, his eyes glowing up at you.

"Well..! Not physically." He says, a tinge of frustration in his words. "Is there.. something we need to discuss, dear?"

Shit.

You suck in your lower lip and quickly shake your head.

"N-No! I don't think so! Nothing important!" You stammer out. Your nervous smile is only met with a stern expression of disbelief, then a sigh that sounds like an admission of defeat. Lucifer brings his hand up to caress your cheek.

"I won't force anything out of you, but I.. am getting a little worried." You can't control the involuntarily flinch at his touch, and it only seems to dishearten him more. Before he can pull away, you take a grasp of his hand and bring it back to cup your cheek.

"I know. I'm sorry." Your response is almost a whisper. The sound of vibration against a nearby nightstand brings both of your attention to your phone. You carefully unmount him, after receiving a quick kiss on the forehead, and glance at the reminder sent by the one and only princess of Hell; Exercise on the importance of communication is in 10!

Feeling a gentle hand encase your shoulder, you catch Lucifer sneaking a peak at your screen - "Hm. That one should be good for you, my dear." - only to antagonize you. You groan and shrug him off before standing.

He's.. not wrong, though.

The hotel wasn't exactly bustling with residents, but since the mini-battle with that damned radio demon, there were definitely some new faces. Charlie couldn't be happier, especially with the news of her friend Sir Pentious making it safely to Heaven. The hotel was working. And it was finally peaceful.

But, there's always a quiet before the storm.

Charlie was now aware of your relationship with her father, even if it wasn't by your own admission. And after Lucifer requested a one-on-one with Vaggie, something that occurred more often after her angelic strength was restored, you had the hotel manager cheering you on as well.

It didn't take long for Angel or Husk to find out, but that was mainly a precursor to Niffty interrupting some private time you were trying to have with Lucifer. And Alastor.. he hadn't shown his face since the fight. On occasion though, you'd catch his scowling shadow. As if the shadow met your eyes, its smile curls upwards.. and it waves.

You wave back.

It was nice for everyone to know, actually. You thought you weren't one to enjoy PDAs of any kind, but having Lucifer sitting near you at all times, his fingers interlaced with yours, or even his thigh gently touching yours, felt like a well-earned reward. Best of all, him placing his hand on the small of your back while greeting new residents, you got to his expression. A grin of pride adorned his face each time. Damned, if that didn't make you feel amazing.

That being said, things must be perfect between you and the king, right? For the first time, there's nothing threatening your relationship. It's out in the open, even. You're being supported by the one demon who matters most, Charlie, and you've never felt more.. loved...

Love.

You told Lucifer you loved him. In the heat of battle, when Charlie was mere seconds from tearing Alastor apart, you told him you loved him.

It feels foolish. How could you bring something like that up in a moment of such severity? Then again, Maybe that was it. Maybe you just said it to get it out of your system at your most vulnerable.

Maybe you didn't even mean it.

You shake that thought from your head every time it comes up. And unfortunately, it comes up often. On the other end, Lucifer was always there to calm your nerves. With every little kiss, every embrace, every bite, he would suffocate any retched thought that you dared to come up with.

An unfortunately common occurrence, your battery had simply run out today. You have to find Lucifer.

"Luci?" You call out, peeking into his office. He's hunched over his desk, groaning and waving you over to him in response. You happily trot along, setting a tray of teacups beside him on his desk.. well you tried to at least. Stacks of papers were covering most of the tabletop, and any little movement would surely cause something to tumble. You opt to set the trey aside and hand him his cup directly. With an exaggerated groan, he leans back in his chair, his head lulling back.

"I believe I'm dying my love." He mutters out. You roll your eyes in response and lean your back against the edge of his desk.

"I highly doubt that." You respond with a smirk. You watch him rake his fingers through his hair, before finally taking a sip of the tea. His eyes almost immediately soften. With a sigh from his lips, he sets the cup aside and starts rubbing his neck.

"I'm proud of Charlie, and I'm more than happy to help- I'd even prefer to do all the communication with Heaven, but.. this?" He gestures weakly to the forest of paperwork shrouding his desk. "This is literal Hell."

You shrug, "Well, You're not wrong." You sit up, chuckling when he shoots you a glare. You stand behind him, gently placing your hands on his shoulders. "If it's stressing you out so much, why don't you take a quick break? My treat~" You bend at the hips to whisper in his ear, his shudder in response only raising your ego more.

"I-I don't know, I'm.. I still have a lot to do, and some of this needs to be.. sent over... tomorrow..." As he hesitates over your offer, you're already working his shoulders with gentle hands. Pressing your thumbs into where it feels the most tense, you have to work hard to untangle the knots in his muscles. Your hands slide from neck to shoulder, then move farther up each time, eventually toying with the hairs on the back of his neck, earning you a delectable shudder.

“D-Darling, I really should get some more done.." He groans out, as you brush his hair away from his face and rake your nails down his scalp.

After seeing his eyes flutter shut, his head having fallen backward onto the chair, you press a quick kiss to his forehead.

"You're doing great, Luci. I'll be here to help in any way I can." You say sweetly. He looks up to you with half-lidded eyes and tucks the hair that dangles in front of you behind your ear. You hum, quite content with his motion to pull you into an upside-down kiss.

The next thing you know, you're perched on his desk, most of the papers scattered around you. Lucifer keeps a tight grip on either side of your legs, pulling you completely flush to him in one fell swoop. With a little yelp, your playful giggles are snuffed by a deep kiss. His hands explore your sides, tracing over every curve he can get his hands on. With one swipe, his claws barely graze your skin, having snuck under your top without you truly noticing.

You respond with a gasp, wide eyes only met with shut, concentrated ones. His hand moves quickly, completely encompassing your chest with one hand, caressing and toying with your breasts. You try to let out a moan in response, but he's refusing to break the passionate wrestling of your tongues for even a second.

You arch your back, forcing your bodies even closer together. a feat you thought impossible, until you feel him leaning closer, creating friction against your heat you weren't expecting.

You tighten your legs around his waist, involuntarily bringing his hips closer to yours. You let out another muffled whine, gripping desperately at his hair at the nape of his neck.

While this is fun and all.. you want to see his face.

You want to see his desperation and frustration as you pull yourself away and force him to return to work, only for you to tease him in other facets.

You place both your hands on his chest and gently push away, your body leaning closer to the desk. And you get exactly what you want. A panting, desperate mess, looking ready to beg for you to continue on. But he doesn't beg. Instead,

".. I love you." He says weakly.

Your body is brought to a complete halt, your legs and arms tightening around him with the sudden tension of your muscles. You look at him with wide eyes, and he only realizes the source of the disruption once he's fully regained his composure.

You've never seen him this way. Frustrated. Disappointed. Fuck, it's the worst. He paces back and forth in front of you, still a mess sitting on his desk.

"I-I just don't understand, I love you-" He emphasizes his words and you bite your lip and force your eyes down.

"-and I know you love me back. You said it first." He was right. He looks at you with his hands on his hips, tapping his foot as if he were impatiently waiting for a response.

"I did- I do..! I just- I'm worried about.. something happening, or someone-" You stammer a completely unreasonable response out and it only forces a worried look onto him.

Damn, that one's even worse.

"Look, I'm trying to figure out why I can't say- .. but, I feel it, Lucifer, I promise." You say weakly, clutching at your chest, unsure if it was meant to imply how your heart is brimming with thoughts of him, or if it's due to your own nerves. Your eyes are drawn from your lap to Lucifer's soft expression when his hand gently cradles your chin. Your eyes are glossy, almost ready to tear apart.

"I know, darling. I just hate to see you in this much distraught over something like this. I'll always be here, and my feelings will never change.. so I'm more than willing to wait for you to be ready for this to go on any further." Again, his words always calm down. "but... this is affecting me as well. If I can help you-"

"Lucifer, I can handle myself-"

"-can handle yourself,” He interrupts in tandem. “I know. I know you can." He lets out a sigh, his smile dropping bringing a pain to your chest. "I'll be here for you, my love. For anything." He plants a quick kiss to your cheek. "I should.. get some work done. And uh.. clean up this mess." His gesture to the piles of papers, now on the floor, brings a small smile to your lips.

"I'm sorry, Lucifer."

"I know."

No one frustrates you more than yourself. Are you questioning his feelings? Your feelings? What if you don't trust him? After all this time, all the hurdles you've had to jump, and how he's stuck with those?

Cursing yourself, you're pacing the balcony to your hotel room, a pleasant addition after the reconstruction. Yet, all it's been good for is getting fresh air from the suffocating thoughts in your head. It wasn't voices exactly, you just always felt as if your mind was vibrating at this weird frequency. As if there was a static-

"What do you think you're doing? Trying to cause more trouble? You shouldn't be here." Leaning against the railing, you call out to the familiar sensation.

"I'm on thin ice already, darling, I hope you don't think I'm idiotic enough to cause more trouble so soon." Just as you thought, Alastor stands upright from his shadowy figure, leaning against his microphone by your side.

This was the first time he's emerged since he got his ass thoroughly kicked by Charlie. And even after all that's gone on, you allow him to stand by your side, staring down at the city.

"Did you ever love me? That whole time?" Your question seems to startle him, you see his hand flinch against his cane at your voice.

"Love? That isn't exactly.. Something I do." He responds. You scoff at his tacky words,

"So, what, you've never loved anyone before? How do you-"

"I'll say it, if it will stop you from asking me ridiculous questions." You hold your hand up dismissively.

"Don't." He swoons in your direction, a hand over his heart following a dreamy sigh.

"Oh my sweet apple pie, I love y-"

"Stop it." You snap. He retreats, bending at the hips to lean against the railing.

"Speaking of.. apple pie-"

"He's not here. We're uh.. taking some time to yourselves." You admit quickly, looking away and nervously fidgeting with your fingers.

"Ah, and you were looking for a little rebound?" You groan at his words,

"No! Stop it you freak!" You push him away, despite the fact he made no real advance. He only retaliates with a hearty chuckle.

"Come now, You know I just enjoy your misfortune."

You let out a calm huff, your tension melting at the cool breeze that fills the silence between you.

"I'm scared. There's always something that's torn us apart. And usually, it's been my fault. What if I screw it up again, Al?" Your sudden openness brings a curious eye over to you. Still, Alastor stops to think before he speaks.

"What was the cause of your first uncoupling?" You cock your head in confusion, but he ushers you on.

"Well.. I kissed him while he was married.. In Charlie's nursery. While she was sleeping." You mumble your words, an embarrassing look back to what started this all. Alastor's holding back a laugh.

"And he refused you?"

You shake your head in response.

"No, actually, Lillith caught me."

He hums, before continuing his questioning.

"And the other time.. was my doing, correct?" His words hold no static, a human voice greeting you for the first time.

"Uh.. Yeah." You confirm softly, a bit of shock coming through your own voice.

"Well, it seems like the constant here is your little apple pie." His says. You quickly clarify,

"I don't call him that, just so you know."

"Well. He's quite the thorn in my side. So he must be an even sharper one in yours. He's surely not going anywhere without a fight." His words are laced with irritation and honesty. "Do you doubt that?"

"Well.. no. I don't. I believe in him." You say.

"Then that seems to matter more than anything, my dear." You ruminate for a moment. It can't be that easy..

"But what if-"

"Listen close." Alastor takes a firm grasp on your jaw and moves to face you entirely. He brings you to a sharp stance, your eyes wide at the sight of his towering form. "Despite my intentions, I did learn quite a lot about you during our time together, my dear. Your head is always full of static, you overthink every damn thing. Quite a nasty habit, I must say."

Seeing your breath pick up, he scowls and tosses his hand away with a sigh.

"Do you love him?"

Soothing your jaw, you look at him with a hint of disdain, but his question throws you off.

"I.. I think so..?"

"Then trust that. Trust the quiet. There isn't always a storm to follow, you know." You look away from him, thinking on his words. Leaning back against the railing, a final cool breeze blowing through your hair, you realize you can't deny him.

"Thanks, Alastor. You know I'm sure you could come back and-"

You look over to Alastor only to find yourself standing alone on the balcony.

You'll refuse to give Alastor credit until the day you drop dead - so never - but you were suddenly feeling very.. peckish.

With a determined huff, you approach Lucifer’s bedroom door. And with an even more determined knock, the door cracks open. Without a true greeting, you almost hesitate. Maybe he’s upset with you..? Maybe he isn’t ready to see you after-

There isn’t always a storm to follow.

You take a deep breath.

“Can I come in?” You peek inside, just your head entering the room. It feels strange announcing your entrance.. You’ve slept beside him a number of times, his bedroom is all too familiar. You take in his lounging figure, despite the fact he’s beckoned you over with a smile. It’s a tired smile, sure, but he put it on just for you.

His room consists of his ridiculously large bed, king size obviously, and a little nook that houses a love seat and a small fireplace. He’s laid about the cushions of the love seat, a book in hand and some reading glasses miraculously pitched on his nose.

You remember him telling you he doesn't need them.. Of course he doesn't, he’s an angelic being. But he likes to play pretend.

You take in a deep breath, making Lucifer lower his book to look at you, his elbow resting on the arm and his face resting on his hand.

“Lucifer, I'm- I need to tell you-” You stammer through what you can barely call a sentence.

“Well don't force yourself, dear.” He rolls his eyes and sends you a sly smile, lightening the tension with some usual teasing remarks.

“I'm not! You've just.. you’ve done so much for me and that- it’s hard. To rely on someone. To.. need someone. But I do and-and I can't ignore it anymore. I need you by my side, Lucifer. I.. trust you.” You rant on, not entirely understanding the words coming from your own mouth. This goes on for a minute. Trying to say I love you without saying it directly is proving to be a more difficult task than you initially thought. So..

“I love you.”

It’s quick, almost timid coming from your breathless chest. Suddenly very alert, Lucifer sits up and cocks his eyebrow at you.

“I'm sorry?” He responds. Is he doing this on purpose?

“I-I said.. I love you…” You struggle to repeat yourself.

“I don't think I caught that.” Oh, he’s absolutely doing this on purpose.

“Lucifer, please.” You whine, looking at him with pleading eyes. He stands, approaching you without hesitation, without anticipation, without anger- you can’t read him. Your breath quickens.

“Say it again.” Standing directly in front of you, he barely has the upper hand. The smallest height difference gives him the slightest chance to look down at you, and you’re suddenly wishing you prepared yourself for this more. His stern voice is sending shivers down your spine.

“I-I.. love you. Lucifer.” You repeat with a squeak, looking to him like you’re speaking a foreign language. Like you aren't sure if he’s truly understanding your words. Those three simple words.

“Again.” He says in a low tone. When you finally look to his eyes, they’re softer than you originally thought. And despite his thoughtless approach, looking crude and intimidating, he’s completely red in the face.

“I.. I-I lov-” Before you can fulfill his request, his lips are on yours. Suddenly acting very desperate, he swallows the rest of your sentence. Your eyes flutter shut, his arms quickly wrapping around your waist and pulling you in. He traces your curves, his hands all too familiar with your body at this point. Not making it too far from the entrance of the bedroom makes the process of bringing you against the wall far too easy.

Whether it be his strength or your complete trust in him, you pay no mind when the back of your head hits the wall with a subtle thunk. You were sure if someone were in the hall at that moment, they would feel the need to check on the ruckus. You attempt to brace your arms against the wall, but Lucifer’s hands are instantly encasing your wrists, bringing your hands to his shoulders.

Touch him. He wants you to touch him.

You oblige, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck to keep yourself anchored. His tongue slips into your mouth smoothly and is searching for your own. With lavish rolls of his tongue, your neck can barely handle the weight of your own head, lulling along to follow his movements. He brings a hand to the back of your head, to cradle it, to keep you exactly how he wants you. Tilting his head just slightly, he devours any and every little sound that manages to slip out, your lips completely locked.

Lucifer brings you in closer, and you almost immediately noticing the constricted bulge pressing into your thigh. It’s enough to snap a snarky remark from you once you can pull away.

“If that’s all I needed to say to get you this excited, I would've said it soon-” Before you can tease him further, he pulls your lips against his again, a quick but sloppy kiss hazing your mind. He takes your neck firmly, his thumb and index finger guiding your head to the side. Bringing his lips to your ear, his voice fans across your ear.

“Say it, again.”

You want to scold him, when his passion brings the slightest flame against your ear. But the burning sensation, and his hand encapsulating your neck, is withering any words you were planning on saying. Which pushes Lucifer’s request to the back of your mind.

He plans a heavy kiss against your jaw, just in front of your ear, exhaling deeply. “My love-”

He brings you back for a moment.

“I-I love you, Lucifer-” You mutter out, your voice much higher than you intended it to be. His lips are on yours again. Not daring to break the connection, it takes nothing for him to bring your legs up and around his waist, where he holds you against his chest tightly. It doesn't last long though, because your back hits the plush blankets of the bed before you can truly process your feet were ever off the ground.

He crawls onto your lying form, his arms caging you in. You were expecting to see a lust-driven monster with how he's acting, but once you see his face, you’re met with sparkling eyes and a lip bitten so hard, that the slightest well of golden blood shines off his sharp teeth. A more familiar expression brings you some relief. You run the back of your fingers across his cheek, which he chases with a sudden smile.

“I love you.” You repeat. This one seems to take all the breath from his lungs. Because he didn't ask you to say it. You said it because it was simply true. You said it because you simply love him.

Your hand curls around his jawline, giving you a gentle hold on his face, to bring his lips back to yours. You hum sweetly into his lips, feeling them curl into a smile against yours. He’s quick to trail the kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to your jawline, then down to the column of your neck. They become deeper, sloppier, with each kiss. Occasionally, he’ll bite. Or he’ll leave the smallest bruises around your collarbone. It has all melded into one passionate sensation that you can only respond to with soft whimpers and breathy moans.

He’s completely kissed down your body, his movements bringing him down until he’s seated on the floor by the bed. You sit up on your elbows when you muster the strength, but your stability is quickly taken away when your ankles are taken in both his hands. He yanks you down the bed until your hips sit just at the edge. The sudden motion forces a concession of giggles and a startled yelp from you, music to his ears.

His ability to overwhelm your senses leaves you defenseless to him stripping you. It doesn't take much, while you weren't expecting this exactly, you did arrive in loungewear. Which makes it much easier for him to quickly access your clothed heat that had already soaked your bottoms with his treatment.

“L-Lucifer, you don’t have to- Mmn!” Your words are interrupted by a curled finger pressing the fabric of your briefs in between your folds. He drags his knuckle across your opening, the friction from the fabric brings a burning sensation to your already melting heat. It can barely be considered touching you, yet it forces your head to fall back onto the bed, your fists wringing the blankets below you.

With another breathless whimper, Lucifer's chest is heaving at the sound alone. Having you completely at his disposal and loving every moment of his touch?

Now that can bring a man to his knees. He just needs more.

“Tell me more, love.” He hooks his fingers around your underwear, just enough to slide two fingers in your entrance. You gasp, but there's barely any air to fill your lungs. He curls his fingers, just once, and he's enjoying the sight of your immediate reaction. He was convinced that your body was molded perfectly to his. Your hand fitting perfectly in his, your bodies perfectly connected when embracing, your entrance being perfectly filled with just his fingers. He adds another.

A slow curl, with all three fingers, hits your growing bundle of nerves another time, only to drag his still-curved fingers down across your clenching walls. You can barely call what comes out of your mouth next words, even if you mean for it to be his name.

While he could spend hours doing this, pumping into you quickly, only to slow and press his fingers deeply into you moments away from release, he’s hungry.

Before you can think any further, your mind truly in the clouds, a lavish lick of a serpents tongue runs up the length of your pussy. you grip the bed sheets on either side of you, arching your back away from the mattress. Even with your movements, Lucifer is eagerly following your hips, already having a desperate grip around your thighs. If you arch back, he dips his head lower. If you flinch and curl your body, he's pushing his tongue further into your entrance.

Completely at his mercy, you're left an absolute mess when he adds back those three fingers he previously tortured you with. In tandem, he works your entrance while flicking your clit, with the fork in his tongue only heightening the sensation of its tender state.

You're close. He's completely lost in the sound of you, the taste, but you're focusing hard on the twinging pleasure that heightens while you hold your own breath. it forces a myriad of heaving, hitching, moans, and whines. And after a collection of his own low growls and moans into your heat, you're left an utter mess above him.

His head tilts slightly, resting his cheek on your thigh as he cleans any of you that he may have missed. A rare occurrence that he doesn't take every last drop from you, It takes you a moment to realize he had left his position of kneeling in front you. Until the sudden clinking of a belt buckle forces your wide eyes to meet with its source. Th impressive outline of his cock forces you to bite down on your lip. Despite being a familiar sight, you're swooning at the sight of him releasing his length.

You match his hazy eyes as he falls forward, caging you in and leaving his own mess of precum to mix with your precious juices.

‘You- are incredibly frustrating.” He says in a low breathless voice. Your mind can barely process his insult before he's involuntarily grinding his hips against yours. You yelp, reaching a hand up to cover your mouth. But almost like instinct, Lucifer has reached up to take your wrist and push it to the bed, beside your head.

“L-Lucifer please, I'm still sens-”

“You're irritating.” he adds, his voice husky and his breath hot against your cheek as he lowers his head. “You're disobedient.” You are desperate to wet your suddenly dry throat, your head swarming with each buck of his hips, now sliding between your folds but never entering you. “and that only makes me love you more.”

His roller coaster of praise and repremands, are turned into heavy pants, a needy whine as he enters you, and a desperate moan into the side of your ear.

He's so familiar, so adapt to you. And you him. But despite his unusual behaviors tonight, he's much weaker than usual. More vulnerable. Even with the upper hand, his mind is running with the thoughts and sensations of his body melting into yours, giving his all to you. He wants to give his all to you.

His overstimulating abuse leaves it difficult to focus your eyes on any one feature, but the rosy hues in his cheeks and his glowing eyes will always find you. You reach your arms up and desperately claw at the back of his vest, the material barely letting you take on a steady grip.

“L-Lucifer, I-I can't-”

“Close..” You barely hear it, the softest whisper in your ear. “I need.. you to-”

“I-I love you..! I love you, Lucifer, please~” the words fumble from your mouth thoughtlessly.

“I'm yours-” he struggles out, his speed and rhythm becoming sloppy and unmeasurable.

You tilt your head back, your body arching into him only gives him access to a deeper part of you.

“Mine.. I love you-” you squeak out. With a final press into you, you feel the relieving sensation of him finally finishing. You stay connected as he continues to grind into you, despite already being fully sheathed. Finally, Lucifer collapsing on you with a hefty whine.

“Well?” You hum softly, running your hands through his hair as he continues to steady his breath. he looks at you, with a slow blink, and a goofy grin.

“Say it back.” You said calmly.

“say what?” You yank his hair back a bit and he winces with a smile.

“If I could kill you, my love, I would.” You say with a stern expression. Your seriousness only brings a smile to his face.

“I love you, too, darling.”

You find yourself in your room, scrolling through your messages and rereading the text Charlie had sent one last time.. just to be sure.

We're holding a clothing donation event for new sinners and residents! There's no pressure in how much you'd like to donate, but if there's anything you don't wear, it could go to good use in someone else's hands! Or claws! (Also, if you wouldn't mind helping with mending and sewing some stuff at the event, I would really really really appreciate it!) XOXO

You let out a quiet chuckle to yourself, tossing your phone aside. You open the door to your closet, not exactly realizing until now.. it was busting at the seams.

"Alright.. let's do this then." You rummage through your mess of a wardrobe, flipping through every piece. Charlie made it a point to make it sound like you don't have to get rid of too much, but this was a perfect excuse to dump most of your unloved clothes.

A few things stop you.

Your uniform you were given at the Morningstar manor. A dark red dress with a white apron. It was barely worn after Lucifer insisted you wear something more comfortable around the house.

Another dress of yours; one of your favorites that you purposely tore across the bottom, to bring it much higher across your thighs. Something to give you some much-needed attention after getting fired.

You toss those aside, along with some hand-me-downs you received and altered when you first came to the hotel. You wore some, but you've developed a nicer wardrobe that fits you much more comfortably.

You passed a lilac-colored dress, it had a light shine to it that begged to be caressed. You remember how lovely this felt against your skin. It was what you wore during a visit with Lucifer.

"I wonder what happened to the corset.." You mutter to yourself. This one's a keeper. You move on.

Something that felt expensive passes through your fingers, and you stop to examine it more carefully.

"Woah.."

It was the gown that Lucifer gave you for the gala he invited you to. It was the same gown that drew so much attention to you.. including his. The same one that you kissed him in..

You felt a bit torn. It held so many great memories, except for the end of that night, of course, and it was a gift after all.

"Okay.. if it still fits, I'll keep it." You barter with yourself, before getting undressed a bit too excitedly.

It took some hassle, but twisting and turning in front of your mirror, you're in awe at the quality. And it did in fact still fit. You ran your hands along the fabric, thoroughly enjoying the quality.

"Woah."

You quickly turn, hearing the exclamation come from your door. Lucifer stands with a bouquet of flowers in hand, but it's almost immediately on the ground. In a state of pure astonishment, Lucifer's eyes were sparkling at the sight of you.

"That's the-" He weakly holds up his finger to gesture to the dress, his words failing to form any coherent thought.

You chuckle nervously, tucking your hands behind your back and fidgeting with your gloved fingers.

"I was just.. looking through my clothes for the.. uh.. Charlie was asking-" you stammer out some sort of explanation, but nothing explains why you felt the need to play dress up.

"Her donation event! Right!" Lucifer quickly responds, stepping completely inside your room and shutting the door behind him. He kicks the flowers he's already forgotten about, and quickly scoops them back up. As he approaches you, he catches sight of the numerous piles of clothing. With a quick snap, they're neatly folded and sent away into a portal, assumingly somewhere near Charlie.

"Ah, angelic magic." You hum satisfied by the now neat floor. You examine him, placing your hands on your hips with a smirk. "A bouquet of flowers? What's the occasion?"

With another display of magic, a vase appears on your vanity, which he slips the flowers into.

"Just a gesture.. of love~" He draws out his words, slipping his hands onto your waist.

Oh, he's letting the I love you get to his head, isn't he?

You respond with a quick eye roll, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"Thank you, Luci, I love them." You draw out your words to mimic his.

"You picked out a good one." He looks you up and down, his hands on your waist thoroughly exploring your sides. "I already told you how stunning you look, right?"

"Yeah.. decades ago. It.. wouldn't hurt to hear it again, though." You mutter, a sly smile across your face. He holds you closer, his warm hands palming the small of your back. With a quick twirl, forcing a fit of laughter from you two, he stops when his eyes meet yours. "You look absolutely breathtaking."

"And stunning?"

"And stunning." He lets out a quiet sigh, tracing his claws from the base of your shoulder to your hand, interlocking your fingers. With his other hand, he pulls you in by your waist. You only respond with a quiet giggle.

"What are you doing?" You ask as he turns you around. He starts to slowly sway you along, and you struggle for a moment to keep up with the impromptu waltz.

"Dancing. I wanted to dance with you during that Gala. I never got a chance, though." His tone makes it sound as if it were your fault.

"Probably because you were pawning Charlie off to me every 5 minutes." You glare at him, with a still-apparent smile.

He shrugs.

"Can you blame me?"

"I can, actually."

Another laugh is forced from your lips when he spins you around. As he draws you back in, you're brought flush to his chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and let out a breath that you've been holding in for years. Lucifer gives you another contemplating look.

"Now, the dress is pretty and all, but..."

You cock your head to the side with a soft smile. "But?"

"I think I’d prefer you in white."

♡♡♡

Haven't written smut in a hot minute :') hope it was tasty

Tag list:

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel fandom #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer hazbin #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x you smut #lucifer x you #hazbin lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader smut #lucifer smut #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x you

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moondirti · 3 months ago

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Who from the 141 speaks the best arabic do you think? From one arab girl to another, it’d be so hot if any of them were fluent 🫠

if my memory serves me correctly, we get a bit in the first campaign from price. to me it seems to be a basic knowledge. a few sentences he picked up on the field and memorised to make his job easier. evac orders, cardinal directions, how to ask for water, food, medicine. that kind of stuff. pure utility, though that’s his approach to most things.

i like to believe (call it bias or whatever) that gaz is fluent. this ties in to my headcanon that he’s the only member who attended and graduated uni, but he strikes me as someone intensely curious about everything. introducing him to something, be it language or cuisine or a skill he hasn’t mastered yet, is like knocking down the floodgates. it’s his time in urzikstan that does it. hearing the way it rolls off farah’s tongue (let’s ignore doumit’s canon pronunciations), or how she’s able to translate a long, winding, clumsy sentence to something short. beautiful.

there’s a word for everything, he finds. one for the state of gossiping with your friends over morning coffee. one to congratulate someone on their cleanliness after a haircut. one that means may you be the one to bury me, for it would be unbearable to live without you – that is used so casually in conversation, kyle is stunned when he learns the true meaning. it doesn’t hold the same expectation, the same trepidation, as it does in english, though it retains its weight all the same. he wonders what makes a language so special that its intrinsic devotion has found a common place within its cultures, and he sets to find out.

this turns into a thing. more rambling under the cut.

the largest learning curve is the alphabet. the sounds that don’t exist in his mother tongue. he’s especially hard on himself when it comes to enunciating them properly – half the beauty is in the way words flow together, and there would really be no point in indulging in arabic’s more lyrical aspects if he’s off pitch. he gets the hang of it eventually, of course, one too many vocal exercises later.

the weathered dictionary he picks up at a second hand store teaches him that most words have three letter roots, and that it isn’t so easy as to look them up alphabetically. picking up new vocab becomes infinitesimally harder, then. for twelve million choices, the distinction between some words comes down to diacritical marks. necklace, decade, contract, held, complicated, and knots are all spelt the same way, yet pronounced ever so slightly different — a fact he learns the hard way when he tells the cashier at the kibbeh place he frequents that he likes her decade.

reading. reading is what helps him get over that.

(he probably should touch on basic grammar first — nouns, verbs, particles, sentence structure, that sort of stuff — but figures he'll pick it up as he goes, basing his methodology on an inability to remember any rules for the english language. he grew up hearing it, reading it, watching it, surrounded by it, so it just is what it is now. why work so hard on task books made for kids, then, when he can just get right into the meat of the matter? acclimatise through force.)

he picks up stacks of books upon books upon poetry. naguib mahfouz. ghada al-samman. al-mutanabbi. mahmoud darwish. it takes him a month to get through the first, and another month for the second. which only means he really takes his time with them, roving over the same line until it's etched into his memory. the cadence, the beats for pause, the way a word he has to punch from his throat is followed by one that lilts, all sing-songy. eventually, he starts to (inadvertently) mimic that sweeping manner of speech, employing it in contexts which certainly don't call for it.

the cashier — the very same one whose age he mistakenly stressed, despite the fact that she couldn't have been much younger than him — is far too nice to say anything about it, smiling instead, endeared, while he waxes poetic about meze.

farah calls him out immediately the next time they catch up.

apparently, no one speaks in classical arabic anymore, go figure. it would be like talking in shakespearean english, she tells him. he imagines it, iambic pentameter and all, and cringes, newly determined. his own research unearths (though it wasn't really a secret) the fact that there are roughly 25 different dialects belonging to different regions — and while some are pretty similar (syrian and lebanese), others could classify as a whole other language on their own (moroccan).

reddit tells him what he already knows; that the best way to learn is through exposure. there are no dictionaries for patois. and farah, despite her total enthusiasm at his interest, is far too busy of a woman to help.

(really, it just gives him an excuse to finally do what he's been meaning to.)

the next time he's craving kibbeh, he's fixed on not making a fool of himself when he asks the cashier out to lunch.

#originally supposed to be headcanon #now its a meet cute #pure self indulgence not sorry #kyle 'gaz' garrick #gaz #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick

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starkeyvhs · 4 months ago

Text

kill bill

PAIRING: rafe cameron x dark!fem!kook!reader

SUMMARY: your ex-boyfriend has a new girlfriend, so you take matters in your own hands.

WORD COUNT: ~6k

WARNINGS: MAJOR DARK CONTENT WARNING! DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! murder; blood; gore; reader is extremely possessive over rafe, gaslights him, short tempered, toxic, selfish, gets jealous very easily, physically unable to grieve, very very sick and twisted; they have an extremely toxic relationship; mentions of two ocs; suggestive content (absolutely no smut), reader likes to mark rafe; consumption of alcohol, hardcore drugs and cigarettes; minimal usage of nicknames like babe and baby; reader often exercises her ownership over rafe vocally; rafe chokes reader (but not so much she passes out), locks her in a room; minimal swearing; like one mention of y/n (I tried to avoid it as much as I could); detailed descriptions of a funeral; grieving; I always beta read my fics but if you find any minor grammatical/spelling error please ignore :) + let me know if you think I missed anything (I crossed checked everything twice)

EDITH SPEAKS: I hardcore believe we need more sick and twisted reader instead of the usual sweetheart one (nothing wrong with that, btw!) because it’s so much fun writing a complex female character. I had the time of my life writing this, and I hope you love reading this too <3 please please heed all warnings, this fic is really really dark, and I wouldn’t want anyone to be triggered by the content in any way (the warnings are there for a reason!) please reblog if you liked reading this, and feedback is always appreciated 🥀 massive thank you to my baes raye and zya who heard my brainrot for this fic all the damn time <3 (I love having fic writers besties 🥰)

masterlist / join my taglist / requests / moodboard from my old blog

It’s dark.

For some reason, it feels darker than usual.

Maybe because it’s a new moon, the indigo sky is completely devoid of the pale moonlight, which is usually the source of light at night.

Or maybe, the reason for it feeling darker isn’t literal.

Maybe it’s metaphorical.

Your gaze drops down to your hand, your gloved fingertips digging into the engravings on the handle of the knife, the tips of the nails settling between the grooves. The tip of your index finger is trapped in a curvy groove, your finger repetitively moving up and down, up and down, up and down through the curve.

You take a step back, the sound of the rubble crunching under your feet with a certain wetness echoes in the dark alleyway.

With your free hand, you lift up the hem of your dress, revealing the cover of the knife strapped to your upper thigh by a garter. The length of the dress hides the garter at all times, keeping it completely out of view. You slowly slide the knife back into its covering, letting it still in place, and allowing the dress to cover your thigh back again.

Your gaze begins to trail along your arm, the streaks of blood staining your skin red, matching the deep red of your dress. You flex your fingers under the single streak of street light entering the alleyway, illuminating the dried blood rubbed on your fingertips and knuckles.

Slowly, you let your eyesight travel down more and more, until you’re looking down at your feet.

Your feet stand in a dark pool of blood, almost seeming black in the darkness of the eerie alleyway. With the way only a single street light is responsible for the only light source, it almost seems like a scene from a black and white horror movie.

The metallic smell of blood fills up your nostrils entirely as you take another step back, gently kicking the foot in your way to the side.

“Oh poor Amber…” You mumble softly, taking a step closer to her face and bending down to her level, watching her soulless eyes gazing up at the bricked wall behind you. Her soft, pearly white slip satin dress is flushed with a deep burgundy, the slit through which your knife pierced her porcelain like skin is wide and open, right above her chest.

Your gloved fingertips trail over her cheekbone, so pale and so cold, as you feel the lifelessness under your skin. It’s almost pitiful if you think about it: the way poor Amber could’ve avoided all of this only if she knew to keep her hands off what you own.

She wouldn’t have to experience such a horrible end to her life, stabbed in a hidden alleyway, her dainty arms spread on her sides, her lifeless fingers grasping onto the last bit of memories of his touches, only if she knew better than to attempt to exercise her ownership over something clearly taken by you.

Oh well, you slowly get up from your crouched position, sparing a last glance at her body lying in the pool of her own blood.

Maybe it feels darker than usual because your own hands picked up a knife and drove it straight through the girl’s heart.

Do you regret it?

Absolutely the fuck not.

And why would you, if it means you get to have Rafe Cameron back again?

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

SEVEN MONTHS AGO

The strobe lights flash all around the otherwise dark party mansion, the bass of the loud music thumping in your eardrums. The party is as crowded as it can be, sweaty bodies rubbing up against each other tantalizingly on the dance floor, causing the all too familiar smell of sweat mixed in with weed, alcohol and what not to settle heavily in the building.

There’s so much happening around you, the dance floor if fully occupied, there’s a game of beer pong being played over-enthusiastically at one end, a corner table surrounded by mostly boys busy with their hardcore drugs at another end, the bar right behind you with all the alcohol you can ever need; yet your hardened gaze is fixed on Rafe, and the girl he’s having a conversation with a few feet away from you.

“I’ll be back in a moment, babe,” He had mumbled against your hair, giving your thigh a firm pat before leaving his place next to you at the bar counter. You were confused for a moment as to where he was going suddenly, but then you saw him approach a girl completely unknown to you, give her a hug and get involved in a conversation.

Now, over ten minutes have passed and he still hasn’t left her side. You can’t hear them talk due to the loud music, but you can watch them laugh, the conversation so engaging it’s like they both have forgotten a world outside them exists too.

Your hand resting on your thigh is beginning to press harder against your flesh, your fingers digging into your skin, causing a sharp pain to spread on your skin, but you do nothing to reduce it. Your jaw clenches tightly at the sight of Rafe and the girl, streaks of possessiveness flaring up in every nook and cranny of your soul.

But the moment the girl’s fingers reach out to nudge his arm, you know you have had more than enough.

In a swift movement, you get up from your occupied barstool and make your way over to Rafe.

As you approach Rafe, you reach your hand out for his arm, letting your fingers curl around his bicep to grab his attention. The girl talking to him suddenly stops speaking as she spots you right next to him, and the way your hand is around his arm, your fingers digging into his skin.

“Oh hey babe,” Rafe says, very discreetly trying to get you to loosen his grip on him by moving his arm subtly, but of course, you’re too busy glaring at the girl to even realize the borderline iron tight grip you have on his bicep.

Rafe senses the tension in you — it’s not hard to miss the way it’s oozing off you.

“Oh uh,” he clears his throat, gesturing to the girl. “This is Keely, she moved away two years ago but now she’s visiting the island for–”

“Yeah I don’t care,” you swiftly cut him off, giving his arm a sharp tug and dragging him away from Keely. Before Rafe can even say anything to Keely, you are tugging him away from the crowd, away from the party, leading him up the stairs of the party mansion.

“Where… babe what are you doing?” Rafe asks, his tone incredulous as he tries his best to pry your hands off his arm, but your grip only seems to be getting tighter by the second. He can catch a glimpse of his arm, and the way his skin has started to pinken under your bruising grip.

You don’t say anything, just lead him up the stairs silently. You reach the hallway on the second floor, and the first door you open is an empty bedroom. You push Rafe inside and close the door behind you two, locking it.

“Babe what are you–” Rafe tries to speak, but with another nudge to his shoulders the back of his legs stumble against the edge of the bed and he flops on his back onto the mattress.

You are quick to follow as you get on top of him and sit in his lap, straddling his waist. You look down at him, your palms laying flat against his chest.

Without any words, you dip down and capture his lips in a searing kiss, your lips moving with a fiery fervor against his. Rafe doesn’t even have a moment to process what’s going on, but his body naturally responds to you, his hands coming to grip onto your hips and squeezing them tightly.

“Fuck baby…” he murmurs hoarsely as your lips leave his to trail over his jawline and finding the side of his neck. A sharp gasp escapes his mouth as your teeth suddenly sink into his flesh, your tongue running over the mark to soothe the burning sensation.

Instinctively, Rafe’s grip tightens on your hips, his eyes squeezing close. Your movements are unrelentless, your teeth biting down into whatever patch of skin of his neck you can succumb onto, your tongue running over the marks, and your lips sucking on the skin.

“You’re mine you hear me?” Comes out your voice in a whisper against his skin as you begin to travel over to the other side of his neck, not stopping for even a second to give him a break.

“Yeah yeah I’m yours I’m–” another sharp gasp leaves his lips as your lips find a particularly sensitive spot on his neck right above his pulse point and suck on it. He can feel the bruises beginning to form, bruises so deep he knows they won’t fade soon.

He knows you like to leave marks on him. Since you and him started dating, he was often seen with a bruise or two on the side of his neck, or peeking from under the collar of his shirt on his collarbone. They were always small, and never too dark.

But today? Today he feels you aren’t doing to let a single inch of his skin bare from your marks.

One of your hands slips into his hair and you pull his head back, baring his slender throat to you. You lean down and press your lips to his throat, kissing and sucking on the skin the same way you did to the sides of his neck.

Rafe’s blunt fingertips begin to dig into your hips, his lips parted as heavy exhales escape him.

“Is… is this about Keely?” He breathes, feeling your fingers slightly tighten in his hair, causing him to let out a barely audible whine.

“What if it is?” You mumble against his skin, biting down on his throat which elicits a sharp gasp from him. He writhes a little under you, as if trying to escape you, but you let your full weight fall on Rafe’s waist, making it impossible for him to move.

“Baby she’s…” he pants. “She’s just an old friend… nothing else…”

Your hand on his chest reaches for the top button of his shirt and your fingers pop it open, revealing more skin to you. Your mouth is quick to follow suit, your lips attacking the newly visible skin.

“She needs to know you’re mine,” you mutter against his skin, your voice lowering an octave. “Who the fuck–” you bite down on the skin right under the hollow of his throat, emphasizing your words, causing Rafe’s upper body to buck up involuntarily, “–does she think she is huh? Touching my man that way?”

“T…touching…?” Rafe breathes. “She didn’t… she never touched me–”

“She did,” Your voice is sharp, leaving no room for any argument. Your mouth goes back to its work, your fingers popping the second button open to bare you more skin of his to mark.

“You’re mine, Rafe,” you mutter against his skin, “always.”

Rafe’s breathing speeds up more — if that’s even possible, as he feels the next buttons of his shirt getting unbuttoned too.

“Say it,” comes out your voice, sharp and low. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m–” he breathes, “I’m all yours baby, all yours… always and forever…”

You let your lips curl up into a faint smirk, the movements of your mouth slightly slowing down as you only kiss along the skin of his chest. At the slowing of your pace, Rafe’s fingers begin to loosen their grip on your hips, his short bursts of breathing slowly coming under control.

You slowly lift your head up and sit up in his lap, your fingers slipping out of his hair. You gently trace your fingertips over the sides of his neck, feeling the red, swollen bruises forming on his skin, which you know will only become more pronounced as the time passes. Your fingertips trail down to his chest, feeling the indents in his skin from the bruises and the bite marks. Something about feeling the bruises on his neck and not just seeing them begins to calm down the stoking fire of possessiveness on you.

It’s like you’ve branded him as yours.

“You look so perfect like this baby…” You coo softly, the gentle tracing of your fingertips a sharp contrast to just a few seconds ago when your teeth were on the verge of breaking through his skin. “So beautiful, so perfect, so mine…”

Rafe watches you through half hooded eyes, his breath only beginning to come under his control. He can feel his chest heaving from his heavy breathing and your touch over it, a sharp tingling sensation spreading over his skin wherever your mouth had been.

He can see it; the look of satisfaction in your eyes as if you’ve won a big prize. Your eyes rake over him, taking in all the bruises that stand out against his light skin.

“This… this should be enough to show her that you aren’t up for grabs,” you mumble to yourself quietly, still tracing over the marks and bruises over him.

Rafe shudders under the feeling of your fingertips tracing over his bruises, the skin reddened and getting more and more sensitive with each touch and nip of the air.

“You haven’t got anything to worry about baby…” he says slowly, almost cautiously. “I belong to you, forever,”

Your piercing eyes find his, the eye contact so strong it sends a chill down his spine.

“Yeah, yeah you are,” you mumble softly, before leaning down to let your lips connect to his skin again.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

FIVE MONTHS AGO

Rafe stands next to the dining table with Wheezie and Sarah as Ward and Rose greet their guests for the night, their noises of greetings and laughter floating over to the three siblings in the dining room. The noise of their chatter only increases as the group approaches the dining table, spotting the three Cameron kids waiting for them.

Next to Ward and Rose are Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, with their daughter Amber. Ward and Mr. Lawrence are the bestest of friends; business wise and casual wise. Their businesses work hand in hand, and their families meet often for dinners and night outs.

Rose politely guides everyone to the dining table and everyone takes a seat, Amber’s seat being right next to Rafe’s.

“Hey Rafe,” she smiles, adjusting in her seat as she takes her purse off and hangs it on the back of her chair.

“Hey,” he says back, his voice quiet as he watches the food being served on the table.

He can feel Amber’s gaze on him; he has always had a hunch that she likes him with the way she looks away with a subtle blush on her cheeks when he catches her staring. Or with how she’s always talking so sweetly to him.

Or maybe his hunch is wrong.

Just like he’s the Kook prince, she’s the Kook princess. She’s known for being an absolute sweetheart, kind to anyone and everyone she meets. Even though she already has millions attached to her name, she’s volunteering at elderly homes, soup kitchens, beach clean ups and what not. She donates to charities whenever she can, and always sponsored them back in their days at the Kook Academy.

Rafe is quiet as the food is served, his plate kept in front of him. Everyone on the table is immersed in chatter, Amber distracted by Sarah and Wheezie, but he’s silent.

He takes small bites of the chicken he’s served, nibbling on the end of his fork as his mind goes to you, and the horrible, horrible fight you both had.

“It’s getting out of hand, y/n! You’re always on my heels, never letting me breathe!” Rafe snaps, trying to create as much distance between you and him.

Your eyes widen, an almost crazy look in them as you walk closer to him. “‘never letting me breathe’ is that so? I care about you Rafe! I love you!” You retort, attempting to reach out for his hand but he pulls back before you can touch him in any sort of way.

Your touch doesn’t feel loving, it feels like a burn to his skin.

“If you loved me, you would believe me that I was out with my friends, not with some girls! You think any girl will approach me when I’ve got these–” he frantically gestures to the marks all over his neck, “–all over my neck? Huh?”

“I leave those marks cause you’re mine!” Your voice comes out as strong, sharp yells now, echoing in the hallway of your house.

“Stop- stop saying that shit! I’m not yours! I don’t want to be yours anymore! You don’t fucking own me!” Rafe spits.

Now, he shouldn’t have said that.

You take another step closer to him, causing his back to hit against a door of a room in the hallway, completely caged by the door behind him and you in front of him.

He can see the look on your face, the way your eye is almost twitching, the way you let out soft pants; he has pissed you off.

“Yes I do,” your voice comes out low, and cold. “Yes, I own you, always and forever.”

“No you don’t!” Rafe snaps back. One of his hands reaches back for the door knob, his fingers curling around the cool metal. “I’m done with this shit! I’m done with you!”

You inch even closer to him, your chest almost touching his, leaving barely any space between you two.

“You think you can let me go this easily, huh?” You sneer, looking him dead in the eye.

Rafe’s hand on the door knob only tightens further, his knuckles almost turning white in the process. He’s done with this, he’s done being controlled by you, done letting you exercise ownership over him, and he’s done being in this loveless relationship.

In a swift movement, Rafe’s free hand comes to wrap around your throat, causing your eyes to widen and your lips to part, a choked gasp escaping you. Your hands reach for his fingers gripping your throat so harshly, feebly attempting to pry his fingers off. But his hold is strong, so strong.

You feel the amount of air in your lungs lessening with each passing second, your movements becoming weaker as the moments pass. You try to speak, anything, try to kick him off, but your body is just getting weaker.

Your tear rimmed eyes meet Rafe’s, whose own cheeks begin to streak with the tears that start to fall down. They aren’t tears of sadness, they’re tears of frustration, because he’s done with this shit.

“I’m done with you, you hear me?” He mutters through his tears, his voice frustrated and shaky. “Done with this entire thing.”

You try to fight back, to argue, to do anything, but nothing works. Rafe’s hand on the door knob pulls the knob down, opening the door. It reveals the store room, and in a single movement, he pushes you inside, a choked gasp leaving you, and he quickly shuts the door and turns the lock.

“Open the fucking door!” Come out your muffled yells from inside, and he can hear you sputtering, trying to catch your breath after being at a loss of it for the past minute.

Your hands bang against the wooden door, the sound loud in the empty hallway.

Rafe steps back from the door, hearing the loud banging on the door, the sound thumping in his ears along with his loud heartbeat.

For a moment, it seems like everything goes silent except the loud banging in his ear, pulsating throughout every nerve in his brain.

This is the first time he ever did anything to defy you, defy your so-called “love” for him.

And god, does he feel… good. Strong. He never knew he would be able to stand up against you. But now, he has you locked in the store room of your own home.

It feels exhilarating.

“Open the fucking door Rafe!” Your voice comes from inside the store room again, zapping Rafe out of his thoughts. He swallows harshly, his arms frozen on his sides as he slowly takes another step back.

With the way you’re banging at the door and are yelling, he can tell you’re getting impatient.

But he’s not going to do anything about it.

He’s done getting pushed around by you.

Taking another step back, he begins to back out of the hallway, ignoring your constant muffled yelling and banging at the door. He can hear you rattling the lock, desperately trying to escape the store room.

He tries his best to push away the sounds of you and your attempts to escape out of his mind as he takes shaky steps back from the hallway, slowly and slowly inching away from you. He takes a deep breath, and finally, turns around, his back to the store room, and he makes his way out of the hallway, approaching the main door of your home.

Without thinking twice, he opens the door and steps out, letting the door slam shut behind him, his mind pushing away the distant voice of yours yelling at him to open the door.

“Rafe? Rafe are you okay?”

Rafe snaps out of his thoughts and looks up from his plate to his side, seeing Amber gently shaking his shoulder. He looks back down to his plate and see he barely ate any of it, just nibbled on the piece of chicken, the veggies lying untouched.

“Uh,” he clears his throat, gently moving his shoulder which causes Amber’s hand to fall back to her side. “Yeah yeah I’m good uh… excuse me,” he politely excuses himself and gets up from his chair, leaving the dining table. Sarah and Wheezie glance at him with concern, but Rose and Ward don’t really seem to give this matter much light.

Amber watches Rafe leave the dining room, adjusting his turtle neck once as he makes his way out to the balcony, closing the wooden door behind himself.

Her eyes remain fixed on the path which Rafe had just followed, every cell of her body itching to follow him.

Just a few seconds later, she excuses herself from the table too and makes her way to the closed door of the balcony.

As the door opens and she steps out, Rafe diverts his attention to the door, a cigarette smoking away in his hand.

“Hey,” Amber says softly, giving him a gentle smile as she lets the door knob slip from her hand, the door closing with a gentle click. She makes her way over to Rafe, standing next to him in front of the balcony railing, her eyes fixing on the cigarette slotted between his fingers.

“Hey,” Rafe says back looking back out at the view from the balcony. His free hand comes to sneak under the turtle neck, scratching the side of his neck. “God this is itchy,” he mumbles under his breath, slightly frustrated.

“It’s too hot for a turtle neck anyway,” Amber says, her brows furrowed. “It must be irritating your skin,”

“Yeah,” Rafe mutters, taking a deep drag of his cigarette and letting out a plume of smoke. He knows better than to take the turtle neck off though, the thought of revealing the dark bruises left by you causes a small shudder to go down his spine — knowing Amber will be extremely concerned and will press on the matter.

Even then, his fingers reach out to itch under the turtle neck again, the material really irritating his skin. He pushes the fabric aside to grant him more skin to itch, but just as he does that, Amber catches the sight of the bruises marked on his skin; and these ones just so happen to be the darkest ones he has.

“Oh my god,” her soft voice comes out laced with concern as she steps closer to him, her fingers wanting to reach out to soothe his skin with her gentle touch. “What happened are you okay? That looks really bad,”

Rafe looks down at her, her frame almost comically smaller than his. He can see the concern etched on her face, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips downturned in a frown.

“I’m… I’m fine,” he mutters, focusing back out at the view from the balcony, taking another hit of his cigarette.

“Are you sure? Cause that looks really bad Rafe,” she murmurs, gently placing a hand on his arm, looking up at him.

The moment she touches her arm, he tenses for a fraction of second, but then immediately relaxes. There is something about her touch that you don’t have; that tenderness and the warmth that has always been missing from your touch. And her voice, it’s gentle. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you talk to him in such a gentle voice.

“Did someone beat you up?” She asks, her voice soft.

Beat him up? Oh, he wishes.

His mind goes back to you, the way he locked you in the store room. He knows there’s a window in the room, and knowing you, he also knows you definitely escaped from that window.

“No, someone didn’t beat me up,” He says back, his voice losing any edge it may have, taking a completely tender tone. There’s something so soothing about the way she’s talking to him, and it just makes him want to open up to him about anything and everything.

“Someone didn’t beat you up? Then how did you get them?” She asks. God, he thinks. Her concern, her gentleness, her touch… He’s losing himself in it, a little too quickly.

Maybe it’s because he’s been deprived of this gentleness for way too long.

“You won’t believe me if I told you the answer,” he says, his gaze looking down at her to meet her eyes.

“You’re concerning me Rafe, really,” she mutters, her fingers still wrapped around his arm. And Rafe doesn’t want her to let go.

He takes another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke roll off his lips.

“It’s my girlfriend– but, but I ended things with her today,” he mutters.

He gauges her reaction; her widened eyes, her lips parting twice to say something but no words coming out.

She knows about his girlfriend, well, everyone does, but he didn’t know about this.

“She did this to you?” Amber mutters incredulously. “That’s… that’s kind of crazy,”

“Kind of?” Rafe says amusedly. “It’s very crazy. I was…” he takes a deep breath, looking up from her and back out at the scenery. “I was suffocated with her. I was never able to express myself. She was extremely possessive, always wanting to… mark me as hers a certain way. It was hard to leave her but I did it, I finally did it today,”

Amber’s facial expressions contort to one of slightly relaxed, though the concern is still evident.

“Wow,” she mutters. “I’m very glad you were able to break things off with her, you don’t deserve to be treated this way Rafe, no one does,”

He turns back down to look at her, his eyes sinking into hers. They’re so warm and beautiful, a kind blue just like his. There’s gentleness in her words and the way she’s still holding onto his arm.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, “that… that means a lot to me you know? I’m… I’m just glad I was able to escape her,”

“Yeah,” she says softly, her fingers rubbing small circles on his forearm. It seems more or less like an instinctive movement, as if this is how she always likes to soothe someone.

And damn, is he starved for some gentle loving just like this.

A silence falls over them, Rafe’s eyes not flickering away from hers. She’s looking up at him, her doe eyes wide but extremely comforting, her gentle rubbing on his arm relaxing him to an infinite extent.

As if a gravitation pull exerts it’s force on him, he finds himself leaning closer to her, his eyes now training down over her lips. They’re so soft looking, so full, and he has a very strong urge to taste them.

Amber doesn’t pull back, she’s watching him lean closer, her own body reacting and leaning closer to him. Midway, Rafe’s lips are just a hair’s breadth from hers, and he takes the leap, pressing his lips to hers.

For a moment, no one moves, their lips joined in a gentle press. But then, Amber takes the initiative, gently moving her lips against his.

Rafe responds, his hand which isn’t holding the cigarette coming to gently cup her cheek, his thumb stroking the skin. Her hands reach up to wrap around his neck, the kiss soft, slow and incredibly tender.

Rafe gently pulls back, creating just the slightest distance between him and her. He rests his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as he soaks in the moment.

No words are exchanged between them, but he knows they both feel a mutual understanding.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

PRESENT

The rain begins to pour down harder, the drops of water on the grassy lawn gleaming under the occasional strike of lightning. Black umbrellas matching the black outfits are put up by almost everyone, covering everyone’s head by the shelter.

Except one.

Rafe is on his knees right next to the coffin, his fingers gripping the edge of it so tightly his knuckles are beginning to turn white. His head bows down to rest on the edge in between his hands, quiet sobs erupting out of his throat. The raindrops trail over his clothes, making him sopping wet, but he doesn’t care – even when he’s been politely asked to get under an umbrella to cover himself.

Everyone knew well about Rafe’s and Amber’s relationship. God, they loved them. Rafe, the Kook prince, and Amber, the Kook princess. Their fathers; bestest of friends. It’s like people could imagine them getting married even when they weren’t of age. The children of the most powerful men of Outer Banks were meant to take over the island together.

But the dreams were shattered like frail glass when Amber’s death was announced. And it wasn’t some untimely death — it was a murder. A clear gash was present at her chest right where she was stabbed.

Police investigations were started, Rafe paid an incessant amount of money to get the best of detectives on the case, but the murderer was good.

Too damn good.

The murderer didn’t leave a single trace of their presence. They were sharp and quick. It was just a flash of lightning, and the knife was driven in Amber’s chest, and she was declared dead.

The investigations started months ago, and even now, any path they take to find out about the murderer is a dead end.

Almost the entire Figure 8 is invited to the funeral; including you.

You stand at the very end of the crowd, black clothes on your body and a black umbrella over your head, protecting you from the rain.

Your eyes scan over the procession, watching the funeral ceremony taking place in the burial ground where Amber’s coffin is meant to be buried. You can hear the quiet sobs from the front, from Amber’s family, her siblings and cousins, her friends, and from Rafe.

Your gaze zeroes on him as a man begins to gently pull Rafe up from his knees and to get him away from the coffin, because it’s time to take the coffin away for the burial. You see Rafe protesting, his hands reaching out to catch a glimpse of Amber; it doesn’t matter if it’s her coffin. He just wants to feel her, one last time, before she leaves his life completely.

His sobs get louder, dry screams erupting from his throat as the coffin gets carried away. Amber’s mother carefully approaches him and takes him in her arms, her own eyes squeezed tightly shut as tears stream down her cheeks.

As time passes, everyone begins to disperse the burial ground, even Amber’s family, except for Rafe. Her family gently pleads with him to leave too, but he refuses. ‘Just five more minutes’ is what he mumbles in his voice hoarse from all his sobbing to Amber’s mother, who squeezes his hand in return and lets him stay.

And now, everyone has left, but you’re still standing in the same position, watching Rafe, who’s sitting on the wet grass, the rain which is now reduced to a drizzle still showering over him.

You carefully make your way over to him and get down on your knees next to him, letting your umbrella cover him too.

He looks up when he realizes he’s not feeling the raindrops fall on him anymore, his teary eyes finding yours. Completely drowned in the whirlpool of his emotions, he didn’t realize you are still there.

It’s silent for a few moments as Rafe sits with him hugging his knees close to his chest, his head resting on them. You sit next to him, making sure to keep him protected from the rain.

“Rafe…” you murmur after a few more moments of utter silence pass over you both. You gently place a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up at you — his bloodshot eyes drooping from tiredness.

Another moment of silence passes by, the space around you filled only with the sound of the raindrops pattering on your umbrella. The rain seems to slow down even more, the gloomy clouds beginning to light up.

You can see Rafe’s facade beginning to crumble, his need to be comforted washing over the need to be alone and away from you, and ever so slowly, he leans closer to you, resting his head on your shoulder.

You let your free arm quickly wrap around his shoulders and you pull him closer, your hand rubbing over his back.

The sobs he had started to bury inside himself start sputtering out, his body squeezing closer to you, every fiber of his being craving comfort as he buries his face in his neck and lets himself go, his tears falling against the skin of your neck.

“Shhh Rafe you’re okay, I’m here, I’m here for you,” you mumble softly in his ear. His hands come to wrap around your frame tightly, as if you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

You finally have him in your arms again, the only arms he should ever be in, the only arms that should be comforting him, the only arms that should ever hold him.

You lean down and press a soft kiss to his forehead to comfort him more as you repeat soft words to soothe him as much as you can. When Rafe makes no move to pull himself away from you, you slightly tighten your hold around his shoulders and pull him closer to you.

You let him hold you however he desires, and cry how much he wants.

As you keep on rubbing your hand over his back to soothe him, your gaze looks out at the stretch of the burial ground, your eyes following the path along which Amber’s coffin was carried.

You take in a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you let the reality of the situation settle in you.

Amber’s out of Rafe’s life, and he is back where he belongs.

A small satisfied smile quirks the corners of your lips all the while Rafe’s face remains tucked in the crook of your neck, his hands holding onto you as if you’re his last lifeline.

Game over, Amber.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @rafedrewandjjs

specific tags for this fic: @ietss / @mileyraes / @ilyrafe / @runningfrom2am / @congratsloserr

@ladyinbl00d / @zyafics / @karmasloverrr / @rafesgiirl

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