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upsidedownwithsteve · 9 months ago

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Steve Harrington x shy fem!reader [4.7K] no one's ever gone down on you before and you're feeling a little shy about it. luckily, boyfriend steve is happy to show you what it's like. 18+

“I’ve never—” you swallowed, unsure of your words, hardly able to make sense of them when Steve Harrington was on his knees in front of you. “I mean, no one’s ever done this to me before.”

Steve Harrington. The Steve Harrington - as if he hadn’t officially been your boyfriend for almost two months now. Sometimes it was difficult to remind yourself of that, that the prettiest boy in town was all yours.

He’d changed since high school, was a little softer around the edges now, if you had the patience to look for the signs. Less cocky, still confident, but he’d dropped the title of ‘King’ like it stung him, taking on a gentlemanly demeanour that was much more princely. His hair wasn’t as styled, he didn’t care whatever other people said - not as much, anyway.

It suited him, this smaller crown. Less showy but still just as golden.

“Oh,” Steve replied, eyes wide with surprise but not judgement. “Shit, honey— I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… assume.”

Steve took his hands from your bare knees like he’d been burned, his cheeks heated and his gaze apologetic. You couldn’t say anything in response fast enough before the boy was pushing himself up from the footwell of the BMW and back onto the seat with you. He looked panicked, like he’d done something wrong, like he’d done something terrible.

“Steve—”

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked, I didn’t even think— well, I just thought—”

“It’s not like I’ve not done anything,” you were rambling. Panicked. “I’m not a virgin, I would’ve told you— it’s just, I haven’t— no guy has ever wanted to do that and—“

“No, no, it’s okay!” Steve still looked wide eyed, like you were going to hate him, like you were going to break up with him. “I mean, that part isn’t okay— the guys you’ve been with should’ve definitely wanted to do that for you— but it’s, it’s… just should’ve asked before—”

He hadn’t done anything wrong, you needed him to know that. It had been a typical end to your night, first dates leading to second dates and more - fancy dinners and planned nights to the cinema and turning into comfier and more casual outings as you grew closer. So he’d picked you up after his shift and you clambered into the front seat of his car in a pair of comfy sweats and a t-shirt that was far too old. Steve had driven you both to a burger joint, shared fries and a strawberry milkshake in the front seats of the BMW as the sun went down and before it was time to go home, he parked up somewhere quiet enough for talking to turn into kissing.

He was always sweet about it, letting you call the shots and set the pace and you’d grown bolder, learned what he’d liked — learned what you’d liked.

But it had stayed relatively tame, a few hickeys and Steve’s hair a mess but nothing too below the waistline, not yet.

It was why he’d been so surprised when you’d pushed him back into the seat, his head falling back in shock onto the headrest, the back windows already steaming up from the heat of it all. Steve’s lips had parted when you’d swung a leg over his lap, dropping yourself on top of him with a held breath, your chest tight enough to burn. And without any other preamble, you’d launched yourself forward again, sweet and teasing kisses turning into something hotter, more desperate, now that you could feel the hard length of him pressed against the cotton of your underwear.

His hands had flown to your bare thighs, gripping you there as you licked over his tongue and when you let out a quiet moan, Steve felt like he was going to lose it. His hands wandered higher, skimming along bare skin and underneath your skirt until his palms found purchase on your ass, squeezing at the fat there, helping your hips move against him until you were panting into his mouth and he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

Everything he’d done wrong in his life, everything he’d tried to right, everything he’d tried to fix - you were his reward, he just knew it.

He got ahead of himself then, panicked at the feeling of you rutting along his cock, the length of it pressed under his jeans and you. He could feel how warm you were, the beginnings of a wet spot on the front of your underwear and you were holding his face in your hands as you kissed him like you were scared he’d stop.

It was enough to make his dick jump, twitching and leaking at every pretty sound you made, every graze of your teeth over his bottom lip as you kissed him more and more feverishly.

He was going to come, he could feel it. He knew it. The warm, tightening sensation at the base of his spine was blooming, his cheeks turning pink, his hips bucking into yours helplessly. He wasn’t going to come in his pants, not in the backseat of his car, not like this, not with you. You deserved more than that.

That’s when he nudged you back onto the bench and dropped to his knees between the seats, crammed down into the footwell but your legs were spread and he could see that little damp spot on the crotch of your underwear.

He wanted to lick over the cotton, tease himself as much as you before peeling the underwear down your legs and pocketing the material.

And then you’d stopped him.

“I want to,” you told him earnestly, your voice a nervous whisper. He watched you lick your bottom lips, eyes wide and trained on his. “I do. I wanna do everything with you,” you admitted shyly.

You paused and Steve waited, kneeling up between your legs so his attention wasn’t as trained on the space between your thighs anymore. He leaned in, hands pushing at your cheeks, your jaw, fingers skimming soothingly over the skin there.

“It’s okay,” Steve assured you, his voice just as soft. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, nose bumping yours as he dropped another to the opposite side. “It’s okay to wait. I don’t mind-- at all, actually. You’re in charge here, okay?”

You leaned into him in lieu of an answer, lips searching for his and brows knitted together because he was just too fucking sweet to handle. Embarrassment still bloomed in your chest at the situation, at your own admission and you wanted to hide your face against Steve’s but the boy wasn’t having any of it.

He pulled away, chin tilting up to where you couldn’t quite reach him and he frowned at your saddened expression.

“Hey,” Steve tsked softly. “C’mon, you’re in charge, yeah?” He waited, looking at you with earnest, expectant eyes.

You nodded and cleared your throat, nerves and embarrassment swallowed with it because this was Steve. Your Steve. And he was looking at you like he’d give you the sun.

“Yeah,” you agreed and Steve smiled so you did too. “I’m in charge.”

It was only then that the boy leaned back into you, letting you press your lips to his for a kiss. He made it soft and sweet, languid and still tasting like the cherry you’d gifted him from the top of your strawberry shake.

——————

It took a few weeks to end back up in the same situation, this time in Steve’s bed.

There’d been a movie, you think, something that was supposed to be new and funny but you barely made it past the opening scene before you kicked away the remote control and moved into the boy. On your knees, weight pressed into the mattress and your mouth pushed to Steve’s because ever since that night in the back of his car, the sight of him on his knees for you hadn’t left your mind.

If Steve had been surprised at your sudden attack, he didn’t say. In fact, he welcomed it greedily, just as starved for you as you were for him and he pulled you down to meet him without much fanfare.

It was easier now, you were less shy, more willing to show your boyfriend how much you wanted him too. You showed him with greedy kisses, feverish and desperate, your hands sinking into his hair as Steve coaxed you onto his waiting lap, his hands skimming over your waist and your hips and the swell of your ass. You pushed him into his pillows without much thought, Steve’s hands taking you with him, lips never parting as he groaned into your open mouth and your tongue traced over his.

He was already hard, you’d noticed, the feeling of him in his sweats pressed between your thighs sparking the similar feeling in your tummy, the one you always seemed to get the minute the boy got his hands on you. Steve never seemed embarrassed either, always eager to show you exactly what you did to him and apart from a few fumbles in the dark, Steve’s hands slipping under your shirt to flirt with your pebbled nipples over your bra, there hadn’t been much else but kissing.

Tonight felt different.

You wanted tonight to be different.

So you did as you’d done on the car the week before, rolling your hips over Steve’s as you kissed him harder, nose pressed to his cheek as you pulled at his hair and hoped he’d fall apart for you. He did, or almost did, groaning louder than before and gripping your waist almost too tightly as he tried not to jerk up into you.

He lost it a little, hands slipping to your ass to palm at the bare skin peeking out from beneath your shorts, blunt nails scratching nicely over your upper thighs. Steve heaved out a breath, pulling back just enough to look up at you. He was all pink, flushed cheeks and messy hair pushed to his pillows, lips shiny from your kisses as he tried to slow his breathing.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he rasped, trying to sound authoritative but his fingers were trailing inside the legs of your shorts to play with the elastic edge of your underwear and he couldn’t take his eyes off of your heaving chest. “I swear, you’re actually trying to kill me.”

You grinned, still shy, still a little embarrassed at the effect Steve had on you, the effect you seemed to have on him. But despite your boyfriend’s suggestive touch, he didn’t stray any further. You remembered what he’d told you that night, eyes locked on yours, filled with sincerity.

‘You’re in charge.’

You swallowed, throat tight, trying your best to conjure up some bravery from the pit of your stomach. “Hey, Steve?”

Steve was busying himself at your neck, lips pressing kisses to the sensitive skin underneath your jaw and chin. He hummed, a silent question, a barely there answer and you almost forgot what you wanted to say when he nipped at your neck.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Remember— remember the other night? When you said… that I was in charge?” You asked quietly, head ripping back to let Steve do what he wanted, his lips still on your throat. “When you were gonna— uh, gonna go down on me?”

Steve paused but only for a second, seemingly deciding that reacting too strongly to your words would be a bad move. So he placed one last kiss underneath your jaw and then pulled back to meet your gaze. He was soft and warm, his eyes searching yours to make sure you were comfortable and when he found what he was looking for, he nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I remember.” He pushed you from his lap and back onto the bed, gentle and soft with it, easing you back into the pillows so he could lean over you and place a reassuring hand on your waist. “You been thinkin’ about that?”

You were grateful to be off of him, too pent up with being on top and feeling how hard you’d made Steve, finding it easier now to look up at him, your hands playing with the hem of his t-shirt. “A little,” you murmured. And then you corrected yourself. “A lot.”

Steve grinned, unable to help it and you were adorably shy even when talking about him putting his mouth on you but it just made him all the more wild at the thought. He moved his hand to your tummy, fingers moving over the soft pudge of it, his thumb stroking close to the waistband of your shorts.

“Yeah?” He asked again, sounding eager now, sounding hopeful. “What about it, babe? Steve watched you stall, lips moving without words coming out and he smiled, making it easier for you when he said, “you wanna try it?”

You could feel yourself burning, a little in embarrassment but mostly at the idea of it. You’d spent many nights since it was first brought up lying in bed and picturing your boyfriend between your legs. You’d thought about his hands on your thighs, pushing them apart so he could lean in and press his lips to you. You wondered what his tongue would feel like there, if he’d be soft, if you’d like it hard, slow, gentle, teasing. Would he use his fingers? Would he look up at you while he did it? Would he make the same noises he did when you kissed him? When you rocked your hips over his lap and grinded against him?

You nodded, the breath sucked from your lungs. Suddenly, the room was too warm and it only got hotter when Steve grinned and moved to kiss you, peppering little touches of his lips over your cheeks, your nose and jaw.

“You gotta tell me then, honey, yeah?” Steve murmured softly. “Just so I know you’re okay with it. I don’t want to make you feel like it’s something you have to do—”

“I know,” you interrupted. You sat up a little, back to Steve’s headboard as you made sure to keep eye contact with him. He needed to know how okay with it you were. “You’re not making me do anything, I promise. I want to. I really want to.” You smiled then, nervous and excited and with your skin rippling with anticipation.

“Okay,” Steve smiled back. “You’ll tell me if you don’t like it? We can stop whenever you want, alright?”

You nodded again and before Steve needed to prompt you once more, you promised him, “I will, I swear.” Your cheeks warmed again at the memory of your nightly scenarios. “I think I’ll like it though.”

Steve laughed then, not at all meanly. “Yeah? Well, that’s a good start.” He caught your wrist with his hand, pressed a kiss to your palm like a promise. “I’ll try my best, yeah? We can find out what you like together.”

And didn’t that sound really fucking nice?

His hand moved to your waistband again, fingers skimming over the denim before finding the button and zip. Steve tapped it, eyes on yours. He raised his brows and asked, “can I?”

You answered by lifting your hips, falling back into his pillows once more as you sucked in a breath, buzzing with anticipation. Steve fumbled with the metal once, twice, before it popped open and he took his time tugging the denim from your hips. You panicked a little as you tried to remember what underwear you were wearing but you didn’t have much time to dwell on the thought before your shorts were at your ankles and then on Steve’s bedroom floor.

He smiled at your cotton boy shorts, plain and white. Nothing sexy but certainly nothing embarrassing either. But then he was moving, just like you’d imagined, up onto his knees before laying down between your own on his stomach.

“You okay for me to be like this?” Steve asked you quietly, a reassuring hand squeezing at the outside of one thigh.

Your brows rose at that and you suddenly felt horribly naive. “There’s other ways to do it?”

Steve laughed again, soothing away the sting of his amusement by kissing your knee. “Well, yeah, babe. Loads of ways.” His voice lowered a little, his hands trailing upupup until they were close to the elastic edge of your underwear. “I could have you on your hands and knees for me. Could bend you over, y’know?”

Your body lit up, flames licking at the inside of your stomach until they were crawling past your ribs. The idea of it made you squirm, hips twitching under Steve’s touch and he looked delighted at your reaction.

“Or I could get you to sit on my face,” another kiss, this time on the inside of your thigh as he moved closer, your legs over his shoulders. The tip of his nose pushed at the edge of your underwear and your toes curled into the sheets. “Really let you take charge. Would you like that? Wanna ride my face, honey?”

“I—” you didn’t know what to say to that and Steve buried his smile in the side of your thigh.

“S’okay,” he whispered. “We’ll work up to that, yeah? How ‘bout for now, I just—” Steve pressed a kiss just under your belly button, lips flirting lower until you felt his mouth just above your folds. Something in your stomach flipped. “—find out what you like best, hm?”

And he did.

You were surprised when he didn’t immediately pull off your underwear and the noise that came from your mouth when he put his lips on you was unintelligible. Steve pressed a kiss to the front of your underwear, nose nudging at your folds under the cotton. You let out a gasp, breathy and high, hips twitching up until you were pushing yourself to Steve’s mouth and you could feel his smile.

“Hey, hey, s’alright, honey,” Steve assured you. “Gonna take my time with you.”

Another kiss, and then another, tiny touches pressed over the front of your underwear before you felt the heat from this mouth opening, his tongue tracing the line of your folds. The cotton grew even more damp as Steve licked at you, pushing his tongue into your pussy, the material moving under his touch, moulding to your skin.

You were gripping the sheets now, knees falling open on each side of Steve’s face and you didn’t dare look down, not yet. Your eyes shut on their own accord, stars and colours blinking behind your lids and everything felt warm, everything felt fuzzy, like you had cotton balls stuffed in your ears and you were being pulled underwater.

Except there was a live wire in the pool with you, zaps racing through the current to make your entire body buzz, little electrical shocks every time Steve licked at you. His tongue moved deliberately slow, his eyes watching your face, your body, your chest, your mouth for every reaction you gave him.

You liked this teasing, this slow build, this lazy burn that was getting hotter and hotter. So Steve kept at it, pressing his mouth to your cunt, open and with his tongue pushed to you, doing his best to find your clit through your underwear and when he finally pulled back, he groaned at the sight. The white fabric had turned a little see through, translucent in the low bedroom light and Steve could see every part of you with your legs spread so obscenely.

It was a dirty, dirty sight. Something right out of his porno magazines he kept hidden under his bed. The material was stuck to you, showing off your parted folds, the bump of your clit, your little hole, wetter than any other part of you.

“Oh, honey,” Steve moaned, his voice a broken rasp. You looked down at him then, messy haired and pink cheeked and framed by your thighs. He was staring at your cunt, heavy lidded and with red, pouty lips that were already shining from his hard work. “Wish you could see yourself, you’re so fucking hot.”

You whined, embarrassed but not daring to hide your face from him - to hide Steve from you. He looked up at you then, smiling - no, smirking - looking too pleased with himself and he took his pointer finger and stroked it through your folds. You jumped, an immediate response that Steve cooed at and he didn’t stop until his finger was resting on your clit. It was already throbbing, a hot pulse under his touch and he circled it carefully, slow and gentle and giving it pretty, little nudges.

Steve watched it move under his finger, watched it become more obvious through the fabric and his lips parted as he looked at you. He couldn’t stay away for too long, moving his face back to you to press a kiss to it.

“Good?” He asked you, checking in with a kiss to your thigh as well. “You doin’ okay?”

You groaned your answer, your ‘yes’ coming out high and needy. But that’s all Steve needed to hear before he let his tongue drag across you again, the flat of it pushing against your clit, his fingers pulling at the waistband of your underwear so the fabric was pulled even tighter against your pussy. He moaned into you when you whined, nose buried in your folds as he pursed his lips around your clit and sucked a little.

Again, he moved away, leaving you panting, gasping, his hands tugging at your underwear again, his eyes lighting up at the way the fabric stretched over you. He swore, voice low and dirty. “Fuck, baby, I can see you clenching down for me. That feels good, huh? Getting those cute, little panties soaked for me.”

You weren’t sure where your sweet, soft boyfriend had gone, but you certainly didn’t mind this replacement. Steve looked wild, drunk on the sight of you and you were more than happy to lay back and let him toy with you, his fingers and tongue winding you tight like screw top, ready to be sent spinning.

Your hands went from the sheets to Steve’s hair, grabbing at the beats strands, in desperate need to anchor yourself to him. You almost wanted to pull him up your body, having him crawl back up to you so you could claim him for a kiss. The need to have him closer was burning. But then Steve took pity, fingers curling into the sides of your now soaked underwear and you didn’t hesitate to lift your hips for him.

They were pulled down quickly and they soon joined your shorts on the floor and before the boy could ask, your legs fell open once more, shyness gone in the heady need for the pleasure the boy was giving you. Steve beamed, lying back between your thighs and his eyes greedy, taking in all your slick, bare skin.

“Oh, there’s a good girl,” he hummed, his hand smoothing up each side of your waist, taking your shirt with it. “Play with your tits, honey, lemme see them, yeah?”

You did as you were told, face burning as you pushed up your t-shirt and wrestled the cups of your bra out of the way, tits spilling out of them. Your hands shook a little as you pressed them together, hard nipples peeking through your fingertips and it was all filth, a lewd, pornographic scene that you wanted to give Steve.

“Ohh,” the boy moaned in appreciation, the sound rumbling in his chest and he rutted down into the mattress, seeking relief on his hard cock that was straining between his waistband and his stomach. “Look at you, Christ. You’re so damn pretty, you know that? Gonna let me make you feel good, baby?”

You nodded, whining until your words were just noise but they all sounded very much agreeable. So Steve ducked his head back down and used one of his hands to pull your leg out further, spreading you wide as he kissed a line from your entrance to your clit. And just when you thought he’d suck the little bundle past his lip, he let it go in favour of licking over your folds, left and the right - and the right up the centre of you with a wide, flat tongue.

“Steve, Jesus fucking Christ,” you moaned loudly, jaw unhinged and head hanging back on his pillow even when your back arched for him. “That’s— fuck! Don’t stop.”

Steve soothed you with gentle hands on your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles into the fat there and he hushed you. “M’not gonna stop, honey, don’t worry,” he spoke into you, lips pushing against your pussy with every word and you wanted to cry, you wanted to beg. “You wanna come already?”

It should’ve been a mocking thing to ask, the ‘already,’ holding so much amusement but you didn’t care. You couldn’t. Not when the boy was letting the soft tip of his tongue circle lazily around your clit, dragging it down to your neglected hole until he groaned when it clenched around him, his own hips bucking once more.

“She’s so needy,” he whispered, in awe. “And so damn wet, Christ baby, you feel good?”

You nodded, head bobbing exuberantly as you propped yourself on your elbows to get a better look. Steve grinned up at you and he nuzzled closer before bringing his hands to your cunt, thumbs spreading you open as he ordered, “keep your legs open, yeah? Good girl.”

And then he was closing his mouth around you, his tongue flattened against you as he sucked gently, the pressure of your clit being pulled into his mouth too much to handle. You keened, a high gasp that left your jaw hanging, eyes clenched shut in euphoria. The colours behind your eyelids turned to explosions, glitter in the air as Steve licked and sucked at you, the same pattern over and over again until you were pressing your heels into the bed and pushing back up to meet his tongue.

“I’m— Steve? Steve, I’m gonna come—”

His answering groan was almost as loud as you, his hands leaving your folds so they could grab at your ass instead, fingers pressing almost bruisingly into each cheek so he could hold your squirming hips against him. He didn’t let up as you chanted his name, knees locking around his head like a vice and when you let out a high pitched wail, pushing at his forehead, he pulled back with a disbelieving laugh, a half gasp.

“Holy shit,” he groaned, eyes roaming over how soaked you were, the way your chest heaved, how your heavy lidded eyes were set only on him. “That was so fucking hot, honey, like Jesus Christ—”

He didn’t get to finish as you grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt, hauling him up until he was frantically crawling over your body, his hands braced on the mattress as you pushed yourself up to meet him. You were both breathing heavily but you stole a kiss anyway, his lips slick and shiny and tasting like you.

You found you didn’t mind at all, your body burning at the reminder of what he’d just done, the taste of yourself on his tongue and yours, the thrumming pulse of your orgasm still simmering through you.

“Good?” Steve was grinning into the kiss, grunting and gasping when your teeth nipped at him, your tongue tracing the line of his cupid's bow, chasing your taste. “Fuck, baby—”

You nodded, nose bumping against his and you wanted to sob at how good he’d made you feel. Words didn’t seem enough to be able to express it. “Yeah, yeah, oh my god-- yeah, it was good.”

Steve was still beaming, more happy than smug, because you were elated, glowing from the high of it all and he’d done that for you. But before he could soothe you back down to earth with more kisses and soft hands, you were pushing him off of you and down onto the mattress. His cock was still throbbing and the taste of you still coated his tongue as you straddled him, your shirt falling back down to cover your pretty tits but he could see the shiny slick from your pussy peek out from under the hem of it as you sat on his lap.

He didn’t get a chance to question you.

“I wanna return the favour,” you said quietly. Soft but determined. “Show me how.”

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miirohs · 22 days ago

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sugarcoated

pairing: Mob Boss!Baby Daddy!Lando Norris x Fem!Reader wc: 2.7k cw: violence (implied but not against the reader), emotional manipulation, reader is highkey tweaking, Norris is a touchy ass, slight yandere undertones, this aint healthy an: i keep forgetting my irls have my blog lowkey ive been scared of posting bc of my parents. also hey ladies whats up im back out of my flop era! miss me miss me now you gotta kiss me!

He was always lingering somewhere, no matter where you went.

It was like no matter where you ran, he would always find you. Quite frankly, you were sure that was half the appeal to him, he was a powerful man and he spared no expense in letting you know.

Sometimes, it was the little flowers he left on your doorstep in pristine condition, small notes in semi legible handwriting tied to the stems. Other times, it was the faint smell of his perfume that lingered as he’d find himself in front of your door at odd hours of night, begging you to let him in, as if he’d been dying at the steps of your door.

And like a fool, you finally cracked, you did let him in. You were charmed, though there was no doubt it made you uneasy, he’d pacified you with his dazzling promises to take care of you, so what could’ve been the harm?

You didn’t see him again after that night. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for weeks afterwards, then the games started as soon as you moved.

You’d run, he’d show up, you’d run again.

It was a cycle. There was no leaving the city anymore either, his forces scattered across every crook and nanny of the city. You’d sealed your own fate with just one hospital visit, deliverance of the exact news you’d prayed to not get as you sat with a test in your hands, two pink lines string back at you.

You had no idea how you even made it home that night.

It was in your best interest not to move anymore, but you weren’t even sure how to move forward. Your wallet wasn’t entirely drained, but you were. Any chance of moving away was immediately stomped out, leaving you with no choice but to firm up against him and his sugar coated words.

It wasn’t long before he found out, and when he did, he made sure you knew. You couldn’t tell for your life how he felt though.

At first, it was minor things, baby items you didn’t recall ordering appearing at your door. You chalked it up to clerical error, but something nagged at you as you inspected them. Then, more expensive items started to appear, everything a new mother could dream of, but it made you uneasy.

Sometimes he’d come along with one of these gifts, standing outside the door as you peered at him through the eyehole. You never answered, with the hope that he'd leave you alone, hoping to dissuade him from anything further.

Then the biggest shock came along, sitting across from you on the counter, as if it’d been there the whole time. You had no time to question, let alone think about it upon seeing the small note attached to the box.

I hope you’ll love the gift exactly how I did when I saw it, xoxo.

You knew exactly what a diamond ring implied. Yet, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around why he would’ve sent it. The last thing he would’ve done was tie himself to you after trying so long to avoid you.

It’d been four days since the ring had appeared there, and you were simply hoping it was a fluke, no sign of him to back the ever present thought of the intrusion.

You sat at the dining table, poking around your half-assed salad as you stared at the box. You could’ve sold it off, but there was no doubt someone would’ve found out and reported it back to him, leaving you to bear the brunt of his anger at your outright refusal. He’d never hurt you, but you saw everything in his actions.

The thought was more than enough to throw you off your meal, pushing away the plate with a pained sigh. Eating wasn’t the only thing that’d become harder in recent months, as working had left you with barely any time for yourself.

You were almost ready to doze off right there and then, had it not been for the series of sharp raps on the door, earning a grumble from you as you dragged yourself to the door with a mind full of insults to hurl at the person.

It hadn’t occurred to you to check who it was as you sleepily fiddled knob, only saved by the grace of the chain lock you’d forgotten to unlock.

“Hey there.”

Your blood froze, hazel eyes staring down through the crack of the door. There he was again, the devil himself, at your doorsteps as if he’d been waiting for you for a long time.

“Lando?” it came out as more of a whisper than anything else, voice cracking from a lack of proper use.

“It’s nice to see you too sweetheart,” He laughed, tilting his head at you to meet your eyes through the wide crack.

There was a look in his eyes, although you couldn’t entirely decide if it was predatory or not as you averted your eyes, looking down at the handle of the door.

“What’s going on in there? Are you working late again? Though the doctor said it wasn’t good for you to be up this late with the baby on the way.”

You didn’t respond, trying to shut the door as subtly as you good, hitting something between the doorframe. Jitters ran down your spine when the door wouldn’t move further, looking down to see what it was.

He’d wedged his shoe in between, the bastard. You looked back up, swallowing as he narrowed his eyes, the smile slipping off his face for moments to reveal thinly masked displeasure before disappearing entirely.

He knew what you were trying to do. You didn’t know if the guilt building up in your chest, or the possibility of what he could’ve done, scared you more. He’d never explicitly laid a hand on you, but the amount of torture was already enough as he lingered in your space.

“Someone has to keep the lights on,” You muttered, letting him nudge the door open. You were already fighting a losing battle, there was no way to keep him away but to hold him at an arm's length. That was how he’d gotten in the first time. He couldn’t fool you twice though.

“That’s why I've been sending you stuff, have you not gotten it?” He frowned. For a moment, it almost felt as if he were trying to be genuinely involved. You knew better.

You hesitated, looking back and forth between the chain lock and his face, though not much contemplating would be able to change the choice that’d already been made for you.

“No. I… donated it to some of the others at work. Needed it more than I did.”

There it was again, the indignancy in his eyes.

“I got it for you though, was it not to your liking then?” His voice was eerily calm, but you knew exactly what it meant. Your hand instantly went up to the chain, almost as if it was moving on its own. Fear gripped at you. You had no idea what he was going to do next.

“So, you’re determined to be a single mother then? Do you know the kind of trouble it would get you and the baby into…” He raised his voice, pausing to see if you’d reconsidered.

Clearly a slight tremble in your hand was enough to convince him you’d finally stood down, a smirk gracing his already vicious face as you opened the door. You had no plan to, but it was hopeless to try and stand up without attracting attention, the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know what a shameless bastard he was.

“Just come inside please. Don’t let anyone see you any more.” You whispered, letting him through the threshold before you shut the door behind you.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Just look at the state of your... apartment.” He shook his head, pushing at stray articles laying all over the floor with his foot, as if they were positively filthy. There were still boxes from your last move sitting around the living room, the only real piece of furniture unpacked being your bed and the table you were sitting at.

You couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed as you walked into the kitchen, you’d never been this untidy before. It wasn’t any easier as Lando tailed you, only pausing outside the door frame, as if something stopped him from coming through.

“You should move from here. I don’t like this apartment, it’s in a sketchy part of town.”

“Well, I don't recall asking for your opinion, did i?”

You didn’t pay any mind to his poking, filling a random mug up as you stood at the sink before you shot back, standing in the dark of the kitchen as he walked away, presumably to shuffle through your personals again. You were thankful for a moment of silence though, head pounding from all that had happened today.

You stood there lost in thought, and he’d returned sooner rather than later, tone disapproving as he spoke to you once again.

“I wonder how on earth I'm supposed to convince you if this can’t stop you from trying to make it on your own.”

Only, he wasn’t at the doorway anymore, standing a little further back, waving a stack of letters to your face. The color of the envelopes, you immediately knew what the contents were.

Heat seemed to bloom across your face, rushing over to grab the letters from him. It was of no use, he could easily keep them out of your reach, but it didn’t stop you.

“Sweetheart, what happened to you? Looks like you’ve managed to stir up more trouble than you can handle, am i right?” You could hear the mock empathy in his voice, distorted by the rush of blood to your ears.

“You. You happened to me.” You hissed back at him, finally grabbing the papers and slinking backwards. There wasn’t any time to leaf through them, but the big bright red stamps were more than enough to drive you to tears when you saw them. But you couldn’t cry here. Not in front of him.

He didn’t respond to your remark, simply giving you a look of pity, watching with careful eyes as you tossed the pages back onto the table, taking your seat back. The tension was getting higher, only breaking when you finally looked at him, opening your mouth.

“You can’t just come in here, into my life,” you managed, voice quivering despite the resolution you’d come to, “And act like you own the place. You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

“Don’t I?” Lando pushed himself off the opposing wall, getting closer. “I’m the one who’s been watching you struggle, I'm the one who’s trying to help you love.”

“And is this what help is then?” The thought tasted bitter. “Sending gifts isn’t helping, it’s… wrong.”

Then adding in a whisper, “You know i can’t afford this.”

He paused, the righteous look he had faltering for a second. “You’re reading it all wrong. I’m just trying to provide for you and the baby, but you want to be stubborn. You won’t take my help, nor will you take my money.”

“I don’t want your money, please.” You begged mercifully, looking at him eye to eye since the first time he’d stepped through the door.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile that sent chills through you. “You should be thanking me. Not many get the same kind of priority you’re getting right now. I’m only trying to make it easier.”

“I would never do it with your filthy money, how many have you run over just to make a paycheck?” You murmured, pausing at the look on his face.

“At least I can provide for myself. I won’t ever have to scrap the bottom of a tip jar only to fail to make rent.” He replied smoothly, eyes narrowing at your attempt to rebuke him.

The implication hung heavy in the air, and you clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. “I… can’t.”

The silence seemed to stretch thinner, and you could feel the burn in your eyes as you looked down at your clasped hands. You couldn’t even really tell when the first tear slipped. It kept coming, and you couldn’t stop it. You knew he was right.

“Hey, hey, none of that.” He said slowly, getting down on one knee to meet your eyes, taking your hand in his. “I was out of line for that, wasn’t i?”

You shook your head, covering your mouth to stop the sobs from escaping. He seemed remorseful, running a thumb over your knuckles as he looked at you with a mix of pity and something foreign. “I know I upset you, but I'm still offering you a chance here. I wanna set it right between us.”

You didn’t argue through the tears, and he seized the moment. “You can struggle all you want but I can provide everything you need. I can make the baby my heir, I can give you the life you deserve... all you have to do is say yes.”

“Say yes to what? Marrying you?” The words seem to slip out of your mouth mid sob, and a look of amusement crossed his face as you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Exactly,” he replied, trademark grin spreading across his face. “Imagine it. A beautiful ceremony, a life together. You’d have someone by your side who can ensure nothing threatens you. You’d be safe and sound. The baby would be my successor, guaranteed.”

“I barely even know you. You don’t know me.” You whimpered as he played with your hand, too loving, too suffocating.

He moved closer to your lap this time, bringing his hand up to wipe the tears, soft and tender than you’d known him to be. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, and I know it feels like you don’t know me at all. This is a big decision.”

“It’s not just a decision, Lando. It’s my life.” You hiccuped, despairing clawing at your insides. “How do I know you won’t just leave when you’re bored of me?”

“Didn’t I promise to take care of you and the baby?” He gently cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Look at me. You’re not alone in this. I’m here now, and I want to help.”

There was a flicker of recognition at his words at the back of your brain, raising voices of caution as you looked at him through glassy eyes. “And what if I can’t love you back like you want me to?”

Lando’s eyes darkened slightly, and he took your hands, pulling you closer. “You don’t have to love me right now. Just trust me.” His grip tightened, slightly painful as he held onto you. “Just let me show you what it means to be cherished.”

He leaned in, his lips almost brushing your ear, the movement making your breath hitch. “Let me in, stop thinking so hard.”

You could’ve stopped breathing, time slowing as he pushed the ring box into your lap.

He was never going to give you a choice, but what he said was ultimately true.

“Just think,” Lando urged as you squeezed your eyes shut, allowing him to play with your ring finger. “Think about what you could have.”

You’d never really realized how much his scent stuck till you until now, wrapping around you and lingering softly. A part of you was tempted to lean into him, to let him guide you into this new reality.

Even if you hadn’t made up your mind, he likely already had.

“Fine.”

Wordlessly, the cold metal slipped on the finger he’d been tracing moments before, bringing up your hand to kiss it.

“See? You’re already one step closer.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You could only look at him, dried tear tracks sticky against the sudden cold draft of the air.

“It’s a promise,” he said, his thumb brushing over the ring as if it had already tied you together. “I won’t let you go just like that.”

You shuddered.

There was no escaping him now. You were tied to him.

A sugar coated nightmare, it seemed.

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 4 months ago

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to many more | s.r. x liaison!fem reader

“what’s your favorite book?”

spencer looked away from his open files to turn in his chair to see you standing behind him, a couple of manila folders held close to your baby blue long sleeve dress shirt. he had to keep his eyes from dropping lower to get a glance at the curves that hugged to your black pants.

he coughed as he blinked a few times behind his glasses, “uh, well there’s- there’s too many to choose from. if you’re asking about general literature i’d probably say-“

you held a hand out with a shaky smile, “sorry. don’t mean to interrupt. but um, i’m asking if there’s a book or story that’s very meaningful full for you.”

spencer straightened his mouth, feeling it form into that usual line. he let his mind scour for a moment, “uh maybe… alice in wonderland. my mom used to read it as a bed time story from time to time in between narnia and fifteenth century literature. she used to read me valentines poems.”

he saw your brows raise for a moment, “that’s sweet. which did she recite the most?” you readjusted the files.

spencer tapped his fingers over his thighs, “mostly chaucer’s parlement of foules. The poem, which is in the form of a dream vision in rhyme royal stanza, contains one of the earliest references to the idea that St. Valentine's Day is a special day for lovers…” he stopped short when he saw a bored expression draping your face. “sorry, rambling.”

your eyes widen and you took a step closer, “no, no. you’re fine. your voice soothes me, probably looked a bit drowsy.”

spencer scrunched his face, “most people would look tired cause i’m boring them to sleep.” he saw your face fall at his words, he didn’t like the sight.

“well i like hearing your information. i find what you know quite fascinating, like last week you told me that flamingos feathers are actually white or pale gray, but appear pink cause of algae and shrimp. i would’ve never know that.” your smile pushed your cheeks, pupils beaming alight as he felt them ghostly tracing his face.

bashful your eyes directed to your feet, “i enjoyed our date last week.” moving some fingers to run behind your ear, “i’ve always wanted to visit the planetarium, but never found the time.”

spencer smiled fondly, “i’m glad i was able to get you the chance. sometimes they do thirty minute segments on each zodiac sign, it’s when i see a lot of ‘psychics’.”

you chuckled lightly, spencer’s grin widened. “i should take you to one for fun. just to test how real they are.”

he couldn’t help rolling his eyes, “don’t waste your money.” you shrugged simply, “could be a fun third date. she can verify that we’re a match.” giving your upper body a slight twisting at the waist.

before spencer could say anything in reply, you both turned to see hotch calling you from his upper office. “shit, forgot i had to drop these off. i’ll see you later.” and you stepped into his space to lean in an leave a kiss to his forehead. he could feel the residue of your fading gloss. he was happy there wasn’t many people in the bullpen, he didn’t want to deal with morgan’s teasing right now.

the only possible person to have witnessed that display would be hotch. “reid, a word,” his stern voice causing him to flinch in his seat. he quickly made his way up the steps and into the office, closing the door behind him and standing beside you with his hands behind his back. he wasn’t planning to have this conversation a month early.

“is there something you both would like to inform me on?” hotch letting either of you confirm your new relationship instead of assuming.

“uh,” you started to say before spencer interrupted more confidently, “y/n and i are currently seeing each other. it’s only been about two months.” he turned to you, eyes locking and both of you smiled at each other, “but i’d like to believe this will last awhile.”

“well,” hotch cleared his throat, “since you’ve probably read through the handbook spencer, there isn’t anything wrong with fraternization between employees. i would just need both of you to fill out some paperwork.”

you both nodded in agreement. “and please, try not to let this distract you in the field. otherwise you’ll have to be in separate rooms, hotel and assignments.”

“yes sir,” giving a playful salute as he dismissed you both. you decided to pull spencer by his hand in the direction of your, shared office, already knowing jj was busy elsewhere.

“i hope that was-“ you spun into spencer, palms on his cheeks as your lips pressed onto his. he went still for a moment, but you knew he just needed a second to process. his fingers curled along your hips, his warmth seeping through your fabric and onto your skin.

you sighed into his mouth as he worked your lips apart, taking the lead he moved both of you further into the office. your thighs hit the edge, a small gasping allowing for spencer to boldly slip his tongue into your mouth, your heart was pumping in your ears.

if you weren’t in the office you’d let your greedy fingers start to work at unbuttoning his shirt, but instead you were stopped short when someone groaned out, “holy shit!”

spencer was the first to jump away and you saw that penelope and jj were at the threshold with jaws dropped and bugged eyes. “you freaky love birds!” penelope screeched.

“i need to burn this room,” jj groaned as she turned on her heels.

#erin writes spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x liaison!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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rninies · 10 months ago

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✮ so you do like me - gojo satoru

synopsis: you and gojo confess in an unexpected situation.

warnings: fluff, chaotic reader and gojo, gn!reader, gojo is tiny bit oblivious — wc: 746

notes: i love oblivious gojo i think hes so stupid (affectionate)

gojo satoru is annoying.

you’re saying this as his best friend who’s been with him for years, and even though you’ve been friends for that long, he’s never failed to annoy the shit out of you. there’s never a day where he doesn’t bother you about the stupidest stuff ever — you remember getting a call from him at three in the morning asking if you had any spare hand soap at your place (you got mad at him for a day for that).

hearing satoru sigh for the tenth time today, you turned to look at him. “what is it? why are you so… gloomy today?”

“nothing,” he repeats the same answer he gave you two minutes ago which makes you sigh as well, giving up on asking any more questions. when he sees your uninterested eyes, he sits up straight. “okay, well, i have this problem and you’re my closest friend but-” satoru groans, leaning back against the chair and placing a hand over his face.

that piqued your interest. “but?”

“it’s hard.” satoru shakes his head in distress. “it’s so annoying i can’t talk about it.”

your eyebrows furrowed. “what do you mean you can’t talk about it? you can always talk about anything with me.”

“no, see! that’s the problem here.” satoru stands up and walks towards you. “do you know how goddamn hard it is having a crush on someone and not being able to talk about it with the only person you want to talk to it about because it’s about them?” he exclaims, frustrated at himself.

you paused. “yes, i do. i absolutely do and it’s horrible. trust me, satoru, i know.”

“how do you know? i’ve never seen you look at anyone with hearts in your eyes.” satoru narrows his eyes. “i’ve never even heard you talk about crushes ever since we became friends!”

“you’re so dense.” you sighed, finally mustering up the courage to say it. “it’s you, dumbass. i’ve had a crush on you like two weeks after we became friends. i’ve never talked about crushes with you because it’s you i have a crush on. how am i supposed to talk about being in love with you to you?”

“huh?” satoru freezes in his place, brain malfunctioning with the information you just gave him. “wait- huh?”

“take all the time you need, toru.” you crossed your arms, patiently waiting for satoru to say something coherent.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SOMETHING TO ME?” satoru bursts, arms flailing around. “we- why didn’t you say anything about having a crush on me? wasn’t i obvious with my feelings for you?! i thought you would’ve known about what i felt when i-”

“when you what?”

“when i gave you my last piece of chicken nugget!” he exclaims.

you paused. “seriously? you giving me your last chicken nugget is a sign of love?”

“have you never read or watched anything romantic? people would usually give up their last piece of their favorite food to their lover!” satoru asks, and you shake your head making satoru gasp. “you’re so uncultured.”

“um? i meant that i had never seen anyone do that. ever.” you replied. “you’re the one who’s watching weird “romance” movies!”

“don’t you dare call my romance movies weird! you just have to watch it with me and you’ll be in love immediately.” satoru huffs, walking closer to you so that you can smell his cologne. “so? what do we do now?”

“are you just going to stand in front of me and not ask me out on a date?” you asked, and satoru laughed, pulling you into a tight hug.

“so,” satoru says as soon as he removes his arms form you. “you had a crush on me, hm?”

you scoff. “as if you didn’t.”

“it is because i’m absolutely irresistible?” satoru gives you a smug smile.

“as if.” you reply. “no, it’s because you’re an idiot, and-” you paused, taking in a deep breath, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “and i can’t imagine life without you.”

“oh my god.” satoru gasps. “you’re such a romantic! aw, y/n!” he embraces you once more, but this time, you tripped and ended up falling on the bed, his figure crushing you.

“satoru-” you wheeze, slapping his back. “can’t breathe. let. go.”

“no way. i’ve been wanting to do this for so long.” satoru smiles down at you. “i love you.”

your ears turn red and you immediately look away. “...i love you too.”

taglist: @planetnini @xintre @kyoghurts (send an ask to be added!) <3

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norrizzandpia · 7 months ago

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hey, totally ok if it’s not ur vibe, but i’d love to see an oscar fic where he’s helping his girlfriend or a childhood best friend when she’s feeling a bit down.

i keep thinking about that man helping clean a depression room and telling his girl not to be embarrassed and he’s there to help and they get it sorted and he just holds her. makes sure she’s eaten and drank something.

even if it’s just a drabble, i’d really appreciate it :) need that kinda care in my life rn, even if it’s fictional.

I made this girlfriend because it just felt softer idk

To Be Loved Is To Be Seen (OP81)

Summary: Oscar knows his girlfriend well and it’s obvious to him when she starts breaking down. He’s happy to help or, more specifically, remind her how worth it she is.

Warnings: this one is HEAVY on the family trouble, depression, anxiety, VERY ANGSTY but def cutest HAPPY ENDING

Note: i didn’t know if you wanted reader to be in a rut or have a reason for it so i just made a reason

Y/n’s first few months of university were hard. Not only was it due to the new course load, but also because of her parents lack of interest when it came to her life. It had been a gradual shift, starting from her last two years in high school and only getting stronger as time went on. They had always been there, overbearing at times, but, now, they posted pictures of their trips around the world, failing to answer her calls and texts. She felt selfish for wanting her parents’ attention as much as she did, but it was hard to fight. There were situations she had never dealt with before, she wanted her mom’s wise words and father’s funny remarks to get through it all. But, she sat alone in the darkness of her room without the guidance counselor she usually could count on. It felt as if she wasn’t enough to keep them there anymore. It was heart wrenching and it stewed within her at such volumes, it became too much.

That’s when Oscar noticed. Her boyfriend had always been attentive, noticing small things about her that no one else did, but the second her smile didn’t reach her eyes and her text messages became less frequent, it was almost as if he was staring her down in anticipation of some sort of sign. He didn’t begin to realize it was related to her parents until he caught a glimpse of her phone when they were together, the screen open to her conversations with her mother and all of the recent texts going completely unanswered. He knew she had always had a rocky relationship with them, but she spoke about them with such respect, he knew it would’ve bothered her to feel so unimportant.

Knocking on her door, his hands clutched the bag of her favorite food he had got on his walk to her apartment. He had planned this evening out for weeks, not telling her about it in worry that she would slip into a facade put together with a fake smile that made his skin crawl.

She opened it, her body tense and tired in a ratty shirt and shorts, “Oscar? What are you doing here?”

It was as if he saw her front go up, her posture straightening and that haunting smile which told him all too well how much pain she was in. He smiled softly, “I thought we could spend the night together.”

She closed the door enough to only peek her head through, “Osc, I’m so sorry, but I can’t tonight. I’m so busy.”

He stayed put, “That’s okay. I can wait on your couch.”

“No, Osc,” She said firmly, her face turning in the light and exposing the dark bags under her eyes.

He stepped closer to her, putting his hand on the door and looking down at her with a look that made her feel loved, “Y/n, let me in. I know you’re going through it. Let me be with you.”

Her resolve cracked, her smile dropping for a second and water suddenly pooling in her eyes, “You don’t want to come in here.”

He leaned against the door and cupped her cheek, “It won’t make me love you any less.”

With a sigh, Y/n pushed the door open, beckoning the boy into her home. He knew what to expect, he knew what it was like to reach the place she was in. So, when he saw the piles of clothes, half-eaten food on the counter with old dishes in the sink, and her little accessories put in the wrong places, something she would never usually do, he wasn’t surprised. If anything, he was happy she had let him in, literally and figuratively.

She picked at her nails beside him, swaying on her feet as she analyzed his every move. Part of her was trying to ready herself for him to walk out the door, give up on her because of whatever stood before them, but he gently set the food on the floor and ushered her into his embrace. His cheek laid against the top of her head, nestled in her hair, as he tightened his grip around her body. She smelled his cologne and felt his sweatshirt which made him feel all the more warm. There was something about his presence, she would later learn it was how safe she felt, that made the turmoils of her mind quiet as she began to cry. Y/n had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry for people who clearly didn’t care, but as Oscar rubbed her back and whispered how much he loved her, she realized it was never going to work.

Her breaking down wet the material of his sweatshirt, but Oscar just held her tighter, whispering how it was going to be okay and this would all pass.

“You’re so worth it all, Y/n,” He whispered, pecking the top of her ear as he smoothed down her hair.

She clutched his back before Oscar was moving her hands under his hoodie to feel the bare of his skin. He knew she loved that. And she did. Y/n’s tears began to dissipate as he told her why he was there.

“I’m with you in this. You aren’t alone. I’m here for you and I always will be. This,” He gestured to the space around them, holding her face in his hands and forcing her eyes to meet his, “doesn’t scare me at all, love. What does scare me, though, is the attempts at eating on the counter. Have you been eating other than that?”

She shook her head, “I tried. It’s too hard. I’m not hungry ever anymore.”

He titled his head with a small frown, “Well, maybe your favorite food will help, yeah? We’ll sit together and eat. We can go as slow as you want, or as fast. All up to you, baby.”

He kissed her forehead lightly before guiding her to the living room, one of the less dirty places, and setting her down on the cushions. He set it all behind him, not wanting to overwhelm her with everything he got, and took out what he knew she would want first. There was a dull sparkle in her eyes when he handed it to her, his heart lifted. It hadn’t been there when he first arrived.

She opened it slowly, eyeing the food she once ravished in seconds, and taking a utensil to pick at it. He looked at her, waiting patiently for her to take a bite. When she did, however small, he did too. When she did again, he did too.

She stopped, “Why aren’t you eating faster?”

He smiled, “Because I’ll take a bite when you do. I don’t mind, Y/n. I told you I’m in this with you.”

Her eyes gloss over as they dart between him and the food before taking another bite, giggling a bit when Oscar takes one of his own dish. She eats, he does too and their eyes never leave each other, offering unspoken support.

When the plastic boxes are gone and empty, Oscar has glasses of water randomly appearing in his grip, offering them to his girlfriend who has found herself tangled in that soft blanket he got her last Christmas. Her cheeks are a soft pink from the warmth of it coupled with the candle he lit in the midst of their dinner and she smiles when the cool liquid flows down her throat. Oscar stands over her, hands in his pockets and wondering how anyone could possibly ignore her texts. He wants to take a picture of her, remind her parents of the beauty they have in their reach. But, he also knows that any text he sends to them wouldn’t be one he should send to his potential (very likely) in-laws. So, he stays quiet and looks at her with the love she deserves.

“Do you need anything else?” He asks, pushing the hair out of her face.

She shakes her head, “No, I’m good. What movie do you want to watch?”

He kisses her cheek, “It’s up to you. I won’t be watching.”

Her eyebrows knot together and she cocks her head, “Why not? Is this some random pickup line where you’re going to tell me how you’ll only be watching me?”

He laughs, his head back, as he walks toward her room, “No, but that’s a good one. I’ll keep that for later. You put on whatever you want, baby. I’ll be cleaning.”

She crawls to the corner of the couch, watching him begin to pick up her room, “Clean? What? Why?”

He stops, turning around to look at her through the door, “Because I want to help you feel better and I know your apartment is stressing you out. You shouldn’t have to worry, love. Just relax. I’ll be done in a few hours.”

Her mouth is agape as he moves throughout her room, putting things away as if he knows where everything goes. He does, apparently. And when the shock of it wears off, a smile cements itself on her face as she turns on a random movie. She enjoys the soft humming of Oscar in the other room, answering his occasional question about the plot of the movie she’s watching. When he moves to the kitchen, out in the open and available to see what’s on the screen, Y/n falls asleep to the picture of her boyfriend doing her dishes and taking out her trash. Falling asleep with a warm heart mended by someone that has always loved her unconditionally.

—

She’s awoken by the feeling of soft mattress beneath her and Oscar’s arms heavy around her torso. He’s deep in sleep when she opens her eyes, has her completely enveloped in his grasp on her side. The room is dark, the window open and allowing for a cold breeze to flow through the room. She loves it. It’s cold outside, but Oscar keeps her warm. Her hands move their way up to his head, playing with his hair and staring at the man who has treated her so gently.

Tears fall down her face all so suddenly, sniffling lightly but still waking Oscar in the process.

He’s immediately worried, “What’s wrong?”

Her head drops to his chest, “I just love you so much and can’t tell you how much it meant to me that you stayed here even after seeing the state everything was in, including me.”

His soft hands leave her body and pull her face up to him. His eyes are dilated as he looks at her, “I would’ve done it yesterday and I’ll do it for the rest of our lives. I don’t want you to struggle alone. You don’t deserve that. You’ve done too much of that before you met me.”

If only her younger self could see her now. A younger girl worried she’d never find a man who loved her by seeing her now wholly adored by someone who didn’t just see her, but understood her too. She doesn’t even need to utter the problem, he already knows and she’s caught on to that since the moment he showed up at her door. His carefully chosen words about her worth and how easy it is to love her were all strategically placed in order to fix the cracks deep in her soul that have come undone at the hands of her parents.

“It’s just upsetting that they only loved me.” She whispers and for a second, Oscar doesn’t understand what she’s saying. But, the tense of her words dawns on him and the look on her face unleashes anger in his body. Loved. It’s upsetting that her parents loved her. They no longer do in her eyes. She once had parental support, love, but it’s obvious how transactional, conditional it was now. She got a taste of what it was like to be loved by them, but it was taken away when she needed it the most. She had mentioned to him before that growing up, she felt as if they used her presence to shy away from the problems of their marriage. When she was out of the house, she thought they would separate, but the opposite has happened. She served her purpose, now they throw money at trips to fill the void of what they have refused to face. Disregarded and thrown away, that’s the implications of what she’s confided.

He nods, tears in his eyes, “It’s so unfair of them to treat you this way. They’re your parents. They should be there for you, but they have never known how to love and you were just an unnecessary victim in it all.”

She wipes the moisture from her face, “I should just move on from the way they’ve treated me. I should give them grace because they’re my parents. I should just make peace with it all because this will never be fixed in the way I want it. But, I can’t.”

Oscar kisses the top of her head, “It’s okay that you can’t. That’s completely understandable. Giving grace just because they’re your family members isn’t right, Y/n. Just because there’s a blood relation doesn’t mean you can excuse their behavior. They’re your parents and they have neglected you for ages. You can’t keep giving everything to them, only to get nothing in return. Parents or not, you distance yourself from people who bring you down as much as they do.”

More tears smear against his chest, “But, they’re my parents, Osc.”

It’s as if he doesn’t know what to say because he knows how much she praises their drive and determination, giving her a life of privilege. Though, he stands firm on the idea that no one should be given a second chance if they “love” this way.

“I know, Y/n, and it’s so horrible that you’ve been put in this situation, but I think it would do you some good to let go of a part of them. You’ll go home and see them for birthdays, Christmases, but, in the time between, you don’t have to chase after them. You can find love in other things, happiness in other things. I’ll even do some of it with you. We can take up painting classes like you always wanted, walks in that park down the street that you love, studying in coffee shops, and watching the sunset. Life without them can be freeing.”

He’s right, she thinks. Life without them will be freeing. But, the story of letting go is never easy and finding yourself flipping to past chapters to hold onto something that isn’t there anymore is usual.

However, as she lays tangled in the limbs of Oscar, she finds future chapters to be more exciting, more fulfilling. Her whole life is ahead of her, one including Oscar, and that sudden revelation fills her with an overwhelming relief. His listing of all the things she loves, wants to try desperately reminds her just how in love with her he is. Every action of hers is noted by him and she’s spent years begging for that from her parents. She never got it, but maybe that was because something else softer lied in the cards for her. At times, her parents needed her, but they would always need something else more. Glamorous, shiny, new things that would satisfy them for a time. She would never be enough in the minds of them, but in the mind of Oscar, she was more than enough. It was clear she was everything to him.

A life with him would be different from the one handed to her on a broken, rusty platter. She wanted that with him and the way he looked at her told her he did too. Letting go of the dismissal of people she has killed herself for to make proud was maybe for the best, pushed her in the direction of focusing on Oscar and everything she’s ever wanted. Was this her mending old, deep wounds?

Loved and cherished, she found sleep once more, rejuvenated with hope and a sense of moving on.

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slushycoookie · 7 months ago

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My Husband Has a Symbiote! Pt.3

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3

Relationship: Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Content: Mentions of infertility, slight angst, Miguel shows off his geneticist side, Rough sex, Minors DNI!!

Summary: After months of Miguel having the symbiote, it's not working like you thought it would.

A/N: It took me eons to write this part but I'm back! We only have a few more parts of this story before I move on to something else. Enjoy!

You never thought you’d be sitting at the table with an alien. Although, a few years ago, you didn’t think you’d be married to a superhero. Now look at you. Eyeing the symbiote’s head across the table, drinking hot chocolate. You didn’t want to leave them out as they had cups of coffee. And you heard they like chocolate.

“Does it even have a name?”

Miguel and his symbiote looked at each other, “We aren’t really on a first-name basis.”

“You mean, you let this thing fuse with you and you don’t know its name?” You held back smacking your forehead. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I am.” Your husband reassured you, “Their name is Ravage. I didn’t name them that, they did.” You watch the alien smile, sharp teeth in clear view.

“Why Ravage?”

Ravage uses a tendril to imitate shrugging, “It sounds cool.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“How long were you planning on keeping them?”

“Until you get pregnant.” Miguel explained, “I wasn't planning on keeping them forever.”

You folded your arms, “And what were you going to do with them once I got pregnant?” You raised a brow at his delayed response. The symbiote wasn’t saying anything either, waiting for Miguel to answer.

“Find a new host was a general idea. But you don’t need to worry about that.” You wanted to ask more questions but he held your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze, “Let’s keep trying.”

You squeezed his hand back, your lips forming into a smile. You absolutely wanted to keep trying but thought it was good to set some ground rules. As much as you enjoyed having sex with him every day, you still had lives. You agreed to indulge in the baby-making process around ovulation periods to give the highest possible chance of conception. If either of you were in a particular mood, it was okay too.

After having the conversation, sex with the symbiote was stress-free. You took the enlarged cock with ease, got filled with his seed, and relaxed right after. It was nice at first. But the results weren’t there.

No clear signs of pregnancy after a few months of Miguel obtaining Ravage. You thought you weren't having normal symptoms outside of the usual fatigue and aching joints. So you bought a pregnancy test. Only to be disappointed as the single line appeared in your vision. Pregnancy tests weren’t always accurate so you asked Lyla to conduct a scan on you.

Only for you to come up short.

Before Miguel’s newfound symbiote friend, you were trying to have a baby for eight months. You all did research. You knew it could take a while for conception to take place. Yet, it’s been almost a year, and no progress.

Hopelessness clouded over your mind. Thoughts began to settle in, accusing yourself of the reason why you couldn’t get pregnant. It was all your fault. Miguel said it would be difficult, not impossible. But that’s what it felt like. Impossible.

The thoughts wouldn’t go away. Not as Miguel’s lips peppered your neck, hands fondling your soft thighs. Ready to go for a round in their bedroom after a long day at work. In any other situation, you would’ve felt good. But all you could focus on was being a failure.

“I missed you today…” Miguel’s low tone resonated in your ears. A gentle squeeze on your breast as he continued to your shoulder, tugging on the collar of your shirt for more access to your skin. “Did you miss me?”

You hummed in response, raising your arms for him to remove your shirt. Your stomach twisted at his loving gaze on your naked top half. You knew he loved you. Yet, you were torturing him by not being able to provide what he wanted.

“You okay?”

You blinked, realizing you weren't reciprocating. “Yeah. I’m fine.” You kissed him, distracting yourself with the unnecessary thoughts. Not wanting to succumb to them as you were laid flat on your back. Hands moving from under his shirt to lift it over his head. You focused on his lips moving down your body. Open-mouth kisses covering your upper half.

“Can't wait until these are full of milk…” Miguel said, running his tongue over the swell of your breasts. “Getting ready for our baby…”

You shuddered as his tongue ran over your nipple, sucking on your breast while fondling the other.

All you thought of was you were trying for nothing. This will be another session that will lead you to not getting pregnant. Another disappointing endeavor. Because of you. All because of you.

“Nena?” He called, causing you to perk up. You were doing it again. Not reacting.

“Yeah?”

“Didn’t you hear me?”

You blinked, “Oh, I'm sorry. What did you say?”

Miguel hovered above you, eyes searching your face. “Nothing. Are you sure you're okay? Did something happen at work?”

“No, no I'm fine.” You cradled his face in his hands, giving him another kiss. “Really.”

He sighed, leaning back and pulling her towards him. You were held in his arms, sheltering you from the outside world. “You're not fine. You're thinking. And with your face, I know it's not good.”

Curse your husband for knowing you so well.

“It's nothing you need to worry about.” You buried your face in his hairy chest. Hearing him suck his teeth.

“I always worry about you when something’s wrong.” The hold on you tightened in reassurance. “Now tell me.”

You struggled, fighting back the tears. “This isn't working. None of this.”

“What? Baby, we did know this was going to take a while.”

“I know, but-” Your breath stuttered, cheeks getting wet, “I'm letting you down. I just can't seem to get pregnant.”

Miguel shook his head, pulling you away to assess the damage. He wiped away your tears, using his shirt to remove the incoming snot. “Don't say that. If anything, it's my fault. My sperm isn't doing a good job. With or without the symbiote.”

“You're not the one with an infertile diagnosis…” You harshly laughed, blinking more tears away.

He helped you put on your shirt. “I don't like when you're upset. You know that, right?” You nodded. “We have to keep trying. And if it doesn't work, then we have other options. Like adoption.”

You watched your husband lay beside you, a strong arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. Your head on his chest, his lips kissing your hair. He was right, there were other options. But you couldn't be comfortable with not trying anything you could. Before giving up.

“You could use me.”

Ravage's head hovered above your body in bed. Your eyes darted to Miguel’s sleeping form, unsure if you should wake him. Wait, what did they say? “I could…use you?”

“Yes.” Their smile may appear sadistic if it was anyone else. You kind of saw them as being genuine, “We can fix you. Cure you.”

“Can you? I didn't know symbiotes could do that.”

“Your husband failed to spare the details.” They went closer, you getting to see his intense eyes. “We make everything better. From physical to genetic…” Goosebumps formed on your skin as he emphasized the last word. There had to be a catch.

“If you knew this, why didn't you latch on to me and do it already? Like that time at the lab?”

Ravage huffed with frustration, “We need someone willing. You wanted us to that time. We could do it by force but then…” He trailed off, hoping you would get the idea. You knew if that happened Miguel would be on the alien in a heartbeat. If you were to consider it, he'd have to know. It is your symbiote now too. It wouldn't hurt to share.

“No, absolutely not.”

Miguel declined when you brought it up during dinner the next day. You had to sit with the idea yourself before bringing it up to him. Understand the pros and cons of letting a foreign entity connect with you. You weren't a spider-person either. No superpowers or anything to help you resist. You'd be going in completely vulnerable.

Of course, he wouldn't like it.

“Why?” You asked, “It could fix what I have going on with me.”

“It's only temporary.” Miguel warned, “Once you part with it, it's only a matter of time before what you have comes back. Maybe even worse than before.”

“Okay, but once I get pregnant, it won't matter anymore.”

His brows furrowed, “This is an alien we're talking about here. That's fusing with you. It's dangerous.”

“You didn't ask for my permission when you fused with it! Why should I ask for yours?”

“Because this is different. I'm Spider-Man, you're not.”

You rolled your eyes, “Now, we're having this conversation again?” Miguel huffed, face lowered as he went silent, focusing on his meal. You hated it when he stopped talking in the middle of an important conversation. You usually understood and were patient, but now you couldn't hold your tongue. “If I had powers, would you consider it?”

“No.” He said, his voice strained.

“Then what difference does it make?”

“Because you’re my partner.” Miguel stared at you, hard red eyes into your soul. The grip on his fork was strong enough for him to bend it, holding back his true feelings. “I don't want anything to happen to you. Symbiotes are unpredictable. Dangerous. I'd rather put myself through that and not you.”

“That’s not fair. We’re supposed to be a team.” His face softened as you gazed at him with soft eyes.

“We are.”

Miguel stood, not wanting the rest of his dinner. He mutters about finishing up some work at HQ, making a portal before disappearing behind it. Leaving you to clean up. You weren't diminishing his protests. The idea of dealing with symbiotes was scary, especially with someone who hasn’t used them before. You thought it wouldn’t hurt to try.

But now your husband was angry. He was going to avoid the topic now until you couldn’t take the silence anymore. At least that’s what you thought.

The next morning he came to you, eyes heavy from lack of sleep. A lab coat over his spider suit. To say the words you never thought he’d say.

Let’s do it.

His hair was messy, like his actions as he paced in his lab. You saw multiple images presented by Lyla to support his theory. None of it made sense. You weren't a scientist. But he mentioned how it can be possible as long as you set some ground rules. Control the environment so things won’t get out of hand. And you wouldn’t get hurt.

Your heart squeezed as he rambled, the geneticist side coming out in full force. “You stayed up all night thinking about this, didn’t you?”

“Of course.” Miguel quickly said, his cheeks flushed. “I love you.”

You cradled his face in your palms, thumbs rubbing his cheeks with affection. “I love you too.”

To be cautious, Miguel wanted to test how you reacted to the symbiote. He wanted to monitor you for 24 hours. He first suggested locking you up in the lab so he could be close by but you weren't having that. You decided that staying home and doing your usual tasks would be good enough. Miguel wasn’t a huge fan but he shut up after a few kisses.

You weren't sure how you'd react to the symbiote. If you would feel a drastic difference compared to your normal self. So when Ravage attached to your body, there wasn’t a dramatic shift. No change. Only that they were there. A niggling on the back of your head. It wasn’t annoying, but it would take a while to get used to.

You did everything as normal. Freshened up and grabbed a cup of coffee. Until your mug snapped.

You shrieked at the sudden action, your coffee on the floor, hot droplets on your hand. Miguel was watching you because he called through your watch right away.

“Are you okay?”

You started wiping up your mess, “I’m fine. It just happened so quickly.” Your brows furrowed while sweeping the broken contents. You’d never snapped a mug like that before. Was it because of Ravage?

“It’s the symbiote.” Miguel confirmed, “By enhancing you, it also applies to your physical traits.” Oh right, Ravage did mention that.

You stared at your hands. “Does that mean I have powers?”

“Kind of…Like I said, it’s only temporary.” Right. You shouldn’t get excited. All of this was temporary. “I’d watch your grip.”

You resorted to handling things with your fingers, willing yourself to touch them with the lightest of touch. You understood how Miguel felt about his abilities. If you moved your arm wrong, you’d probably break something. Or someone.

“I’m hungry.” Ravage’s voice resonated in your head.

That was another thing you had to get used to. Every time they spoke, their words would rumble through your body. Prickling your skin in an uncomfortable way that was also satisfying. And no one else could hear them besides you.

“You’re always hungry.” You commented while pulling out a bar of dark chocolate. You broke up the bar into smaller pieces, feeding it to them. “How many times did Miguel have to feed you?”

“Many times.” They said, chomping on another piece. “We don’t just need chocolate to feed.”

You purse your lips, “I’m not feeding you brains.” You gave them a look as they scowled, angrily eating his last piece of chocolate.

“We’re not talking about that. Sex should suffice.”

You perked up, “What?”

“You heard us. Intercourse staves us for a while.”

“Sex is nourishing for you?”

“We didn’t say that. We just like it.”

That explains why Miguel kept wanting to have sex with you. A lot.

“We can’t though. Knowing Mig, he’d want to wait until 24 hours are up.”

“Sex does involve said participants to be next to each other, right?” Their eyes raised in question, “It shouldn't be a problem.”

“No. Not until 24 hours are up.” That's what you said, but it wasn’t what you were thinking. You'd admit getting impatient. You wanted to see if this crazy plan would work. After months of trying and failing, you were tired of waiting. Why couldn't you make love to your husband now to see what happens?

Thoughts kept running rampant as you couldn't sleep. You wanted him to pull you in close, get on top, and have his way with you. You placed a hand on top of his own that rested on your stomach. Your ass, only covered by shorts, started to rub against his lower half. Miguel wasn’t asleep yet when his hand gripped your shirt, a groan slipping out.

“What are you doing?”

You kept going at that same agonizing pace. “Thinking…”

“About?” He made no moves to have you stop, only having a death grip on your shirt.

“How horny I am right now.”

Miguel’s breath quickened at the faster pace. On instinct, he pulled you closer, the large hand splayed across your belly. But he suddenly had a moment of clarity as he pulled back.

“No, it hasn't been 24 hours yet.”

You held back a smirk at how you could feel his cock getting hard against your bottom. “You can still watch me while you fuck me.”

You maneuvered to get back in your original position but he stopped you. “Sorry, I really don't want any surprises.” He gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead before turning over to try and sleep, which may take a while due to his current state.

That's fine, you could wait.

You made arousing your husband your mission. Showering with him, making sure his entire body was clean before work by running the washcloth over his body. Making out with him with the towels loosely hanging from your bodies. You felt Miguel’s muscles tense from every seductive touch. His eyes were hard on you as he knew what you were doing but didn't press further.

You stole another kiss before he went to work, tongue sliding across his own with fervor. When you parted, he took a long, deep breath.

“Me vas a matar (You’re gonna kill me)…” He muttered.

“I love you too.” You waved him goodbye when he disappeared.

Ravage’s pleased hum once again filled your body, “We are enjoying the teasing. But when do we play?”

“Be patient.”

30 minutes until the 24-hour surveillance was up. How convenient it was also around the time you ate lunch with him.

You arrived, displaying a casual demeanor when meeting up with Miguel at his lab. He was rightfully cautious as you walked side by side to the cafeteria. You had sent him a naughty text not too long ago. Everything was okay. Cool and casual. Right until you locked eyes with the broom closet.

With your newfound strength, you opened the door, grabbed your husband, and launched him inside.

The cleaning supplies shook from the force as you closed the door and locked it. Miguel didn’t have time to protest as your lips pressed against his in a rush. Filled with need and wanting. His hands gripped your sides, a groan escaping as he gently pushed you away.

“We have about 24 minutes and 15 seconds until-” You kissed him again and he reciprocated it. He pulled your body close to his, devouring each other in the embrace. But Miguel was such a stickler as he pulled away again. “We should wait-”

“Ravage hasn’t done anything these past 23 hours. If they wanted to, they would’ve.” You pushed him down to the floor, seeing the hunger rising in his eyes. Your stomach fluttered at his gaze, sitting down on his lap. “Now fuck me.”

Miguel didn’t need to be told twice. He kissed you again, a tight hold on your hips as he rolled his own against you. It didn’t take long for him to get hard, ready to release what you had started since last night. You were as desperate as him as hands tore through your clothes. You couldn’t be upset, as you sunk down on his length.

The entire act was filthy as Miguel gripped your plump cheeks while he thrusted up into you. A death grip on your flesh so you couldn’t escape. Rough enough to where the entire room started to shake. His head was deep between your breasts, whining about how good you felt. So good that you could feel the slight prick from his talons. They weren’t fully out, thank goodness, but enough to knead your soft flesh.

It didn’t take long for your climax to arrive. Your warm walls clenched against his length, inviting him to fill your insides. His warm seed coated you as his body stilled.

“Good. Very good.”

You heard Ravage as you gave Miguel another kiss. You weren't exhausted, your body sturdy enough to go for many more rounds. You were never like this before. Miguel had enough stamina to go all night if he could. But you were only capable of a few before passing out from exhaustion. Not this time.

Miguel picked you up and went home, completely neglecting his duties. Ravage started to take over, forming a second skin around your body. No one cared as you locked yourselves in the bedroom.

Miguel pressed you against the bed, bottom raised while he pounded into you. The entire room quaked under his rough thrusts as you were pinned against the wall. Bite marks covered your skin as you subdued him, locking hands and riding him until he saw heaven. Droplets of cum dripped out of you, only to be pushed back in by his large fingers.

You didn’t know how long you were going until you saw the clock. Being almost eight in the morning. Your head was hazy from the constant lovemaking. Heavy snores filled the room as you looked over, seeing Miguel sleeping on his stomach while tangled in the bedsheets. The sun peeked through the curtains and it was too much sunlight to your liking so you went up to close them. Your body felt heavy but also oddly satisfied. This must be the perk of having a symbiote.

“That was fun.” Ravage chittered, pleasure once again seeping through your body. “When can we play again?”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #slushycoookie writes

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wosoamazing · 7 months ago

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Bad Timing

Warnings: Endometriosis, Passing Out, Vomiting

A/N: IDK how good it is, can’t decide if I like it or not but yeah…. (also I tried to make this as accurate as possible in terms of the medical things but IDK)

It was your first Lionesses camp, which you were dreading, if you weren't nervous enough your period was due during this camp, and to say it wasn’t easy was a massive understatement, you had just recently been diagnosed with endometriosis, after what felt like years of being told you were over dramatic. You were rooming with Leah, Sarina had said something about “broadening horizons” or something by switching up the rooms slightly, it meant nothing to you, it was your first camp. However this made you more nervous and scared about getting your period. Leah was really nice and kind, and you really enjoyed playing at Arsenal with her and you always took on any tips she had for you, but you were worried she would see you as weak after seeing how you were on your period. You knew she also had endometriosis and for the one and a half years you have been at arsenal she had not once taken a day off, making you feel like you just weren’t strong enough. You missed training almost once a month and Beth even forced you to pull out of a game one day, insisting she stayed with you missing the game as well. To be fair Leah had done her ACL a week before you signed for arsenal however you still never once heard her complain about it.

Training had been going well, even though you had a dull ache in your abdomen and you had a headache, you knew it meant you would be getting your period pretty soon but you thought you would be in clear at least for now and that you could make it through training, you just had to try and ignore the pain, that had slowly been increasing in intensity.

You were having a drink when a hand was placed on your shoulder, “do you have another pair of shorts?” It was Leah, “no,” you replied quietly trying not to cry, how did you manage to not bring a spare pair, of course this happened, you had travelled from your hotel on the bus to training so it wasn't like you could just go up to your room. “Okay, well why don’t you go to the locker room and I’ll just tell Sarina what is happening and then I’ll come to you, I have a spare pair.” “I should probably go get my tablets from the medics” “Do you-” you cut her off with a nod knowing what she was going to say before a wave of stabbing cramps caused you to hunch over slightly and clutch at your stomach. “It’s okay, I will do all of that, you just go to the locker room.” you nodded before you turned around and walked into the locker room.

Leah had noticed things not many people would, first it was how you missed a training session from the same week 3 months in a row, then it was the fact that you bled through more than you would’ve liked, and the last one was that you would always sit with your knees to your chest in meetings and breaks during the week that your day off fell into.

____

“Sarina, I think Y/N has just started her period, I’m just coming to tell you because she needs to change her shorts and doesn't have any but I do, so I was just going to go with her.” Leah says as she walked over to Sarina, who nodded before walking away from the other girls getting Leah to follow her, “She has endometriosis, the medics have her tablets and from what her doctors reports say it gets bad, it’s only a friendly, I might get someone to take you both back to the hotel, so we can make a judgement on how we approach this long term, I don’t want to risk her health. Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, I think that might be good. Thank you” “No, thank you Leah. I know you will take good care of her, it might not just be a coincidence that you are her roommate.”

____

Once you got into your room you changed out of your training gear and Leah went down with one of the medics so she could get some things you may need.

Once you had changed you started to walk over to your bed when a shooting pain ran down your back and legs sending you to the floor. You were curled up on the floor of your room, holding your stomach tightly, just wishing Leah came back soon, maybe she could help. You really hated how your periods just started like a tidal wave, giving you no time to prepare. You felt like someone was squeezing and twisting your uterus, whilst your back cramped.

“Oh tiny,” Leah said sympathetically as she walked back into the room, she placed the items she had gotten on the bed before she crouched down in front of you.

“Do you want me to move you to the bed?” you gave her a weak nod, and she placed a hand on your shoulder before rolling you over slightly so she could pick you up, the slight movement caused you to whimper before the swift movement of her picking you up caused a heavy stream of tears to fall from your eyes, “I know, I know, I’m sorry”. She gently placed you down in the middle of your bed, before getting in next to you, her upper body was propped up slightly from the pillows as she laid down next to you. She silently handed you a hot water bottle which you placed on your stomach before curling up into a ball on top of her, your head resting on her chest. “Do you want one on your back too or no? I can keep it there,” “yes please,” you said weakly, she grabbed it and softly placed it on your back before holding it there.

“I have a sick bag if you need it, and please ask me for anything at all, I promise I wont judge you, I just want to help.” you just nodded slightly and she wrapped her free hand around you, you managed to fall asleep but even asleep Leah could tell you were still in pain.

____

“How is she, is she okay?” Beth panicked as she rushed into your room concerned for her favourite little person, she had obviously been informed by Sarina or one of the other staff. You had known Beth since you were born, you were very close family friends, your Dad’s knew each other from when they were young kids and even though you were 11 years younger than her you both always got along well. So when you moved to Arsenal it was a no-brainer that you would move in with her and Viv, it also meant they would have someone living with them to help. When her Mum died it hit you hard, June had been a big part of your life, always looking after you for your parents when their work caused them to be away, she would always show up to your weekend games if she was available and even came to your grandparents day at school, when your grandparents couldn't come but you didn't want your parents to go, when the teacher suggested you could bring an adult friend you had asked her and she happily accepted.

“Yeah she is okay, I think she is in a lot of pain though, it's kind of worrying me,” Leah said as she looked at you, noticing a fear tears were now leaving your eyes even as you slept.

“y/n” Leah softly said as she brushed her hand against your cheek causing your eyes to flutter open, “Beth is here,” you opened your eyes to see Beth sitting on Leah’s bed, “Can I go to the toilet?” “Sure, do you want me to help?” you nodded shyly and Beth helped you off Leah before steadying you as you walked into the bathroom, just as you entered the bathroom, you felt light headed and dizzy, everything was going blurry and there was a ringing in your ears.

“Beth-” your voice was laced with panic and pain “It’s okay, don’t worry, let's just sit on the floor,” Beth said calmly as she lowered you to the floor knowing what was going to happen, as soon as you were on the floor your body went limp against Beth’s and everything went black. “It’s okay, you’re okay, we’re here, we’ve got you,” you heard Beth say as you came back to, opening your eyes slowly so they knew, “Are you okay?” you shook your head as you closed your eyes again. All your body weight was still being supported by Beth, as you took some deep breaths “do you think you might be sick?” you nodded your head, and Leah quickly got the sick bag from the bed and handed it to Beth, “I’ve got a bag, okay. You’re going to be okay though, I promise, I’ve got you, no matter what happens,” Beth reassured you, a few minutes had passed and thankfully you hadn't been sick yet. “Are they always this bad?” Leah asked to which you nodded slightly before letting your head fall back against Beth’s shoulder, she brushed away the pieces of hair that were stuck to your forehead before giving you a small kiss on your forehead.

“Have-” Beth shook her head, “They wont do anything more Leah, we’ve been to extensive appointments, she is too young for them to look into more drastic things yet apparently, and due to her age she is limited on the strength and type of painkillers she is on but some months they are a bit better but they also can get a lot worse.”

#woso community #woso fanfics #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #lionesses x reader #lionesses #leah williamson x reader #beth mead x reader

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miioouu · 10 days ago

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Ghost's tattoos

This was supposed to be a sweet, wholesome little idea, but like…it’s me, what else did we expect? Also, I’m trying to fight my months long writer’s block so I'm sorry if this sucks, let me get some practice in before I tackle the Mean dbf ghost series.

Warning: suggestive, genre of reader not mentioned, lowkey condescending

Wc: 963

Everyone around the base has had a glance of the Lieutenant’s tattooed sleeve. He usually prefers to keep it covered, although most of his tattoos don't have a deep meaning behind them, or at least that’s what he says; it still felt too personal, too vulnerable to show around.

But you, you were the only person who had seen it all. Not just the tattoos, but the scars, the wounds, the scratches that all decorated his arms; and no matter how many hours you spent tracing every line on his body, you could never get enough of it, it's just so fascinating.

So surely it's no surprise to either of you (or anyone, it's not like you kept your relationship hidden), when some sergeant loses you, only to find you in Simon's office, sitting by his side as he signs whatever paperworks that have occupied his whole attention for the past couple of hours, your eyes trained on his hand, watching as the veins twist, disappear and appear again with each movement, tracing up to his wrist, a little up to the sliver of skin showing; a beauty mark here, a small raised white line of a scar there, dark ink…everywhere. The beginning of a skull tattoo peeking out his sleeve, some roman numbers that you never bothered to question its symbolism, knowing he'll say something along the lines of ‘nothing important’ or ‘don't worry about it, sweets’. You two were close, yes, but Simon and his secrets were closer, he loves to keep his privacy, his walls built strong and high, and although you managed to slither through some bricks, it wasn’t enough.

But you’re not one to dwell on this, not when people leave you alone with him, not when he groans as he stretches; his fitted black tee lifting up and exposing a glimpse of his happy trail. Your eyes would’ve strayed further south, remembering what he has hidden under those army pants, if it weren’t for his fingers grabbing your chin, making you hold his gaze for a moment before he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, sweetheart?”

Simon was sweet to you, always, no matter what, and you loved that, you really did, but not when you’re so obviously desperate for him. Not when your thighs are rubbing together, not when your lashes are batting at him, not when you’re pouting, too frustrated to word your needs out. And he knows it. He knows you don’t want him to dote on you right now; it’s all his fault, he assumes, not having given you the attention you deserve lately.

So he did what he always does, what he knows will get the tender smile back on your face; he leaned back against his chair, it squeaked under his weight, he spread his legs, enough for you to sink to your knees between them. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, feeling the slightly chapped skin under his finger, chuckling “Sweets, you need to stop biting those precious lips of yours, hmm?” but he doesn’t mean it, of course he doesn’t. There’s nothing hotter in his mind than your pearly whites digging in your pinkish plumpness, especially when you’re looking up at him with those fake innocent eyes, like you were doing right now.

His thumb pushed past your lips, feeling the edges of your front teeth before rubbing against the tip of your tongue. The action itself was lewd, but something about Simon’s softness made it so much more wholesome; like a kiss to the cheek, like the rubbing of noses against each other, like a caress of a hand against an arm… How does a man so big, so full of violence and tragedies be so…kind?

And you need to appreciate him, right? That’s the right thing to do; wrap your lips around his digit, your eyes fluttering shut at the taste of his skin, and you suck, softly, sweetly, as if you’re savouring the last bite of your favourite dessert; the only difference is that Simon would never deprive you have him. You pull out slowly, a pop echoing in the room, his finger glistening under the white light of his office, but you’re not done coating him with your spit, far from it. Your tongue darts out, licking a strip all the way to his wrist only to later on, then press kisses to his palm and then back up. Your eyes zero on the black ink; a thick line that slowly thins out as it curves, depicting a skull, you follow it with your hot muscle, retracing every line etched on his flesh, and you feel him stiffen under your touch, his breath hitching and he mumbles out a curse “Bloody hell, sweetheart… you’re being so good.” This man has the audacity to smile, a warm one that has your heart skip a beat, that has the knot in your stomach tighten even more, and it makes you want to slap it off his face; why is he acting like an angel when you feel your blood hotter than the flames of hell?!

You scoff, pulling away, and you know you should ask permission before guiding your hands to his belt, but come on, he can’t expect you to be proper now. Although it's your fault for taking advantage of his kindness, in a swift motion he grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks together to stop you; he knows you, you’re predictable, he slips his fingers, two this time inside your mouth again “Ah, ah, lovie. I still got so many papers to read…be a good one and suck on my fingers for now, can’t let you distract me too much…”

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #call of duty #cod x reader #cod smut #cod ghost #simon riley #smut

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kentopedia · 1 year ago

Note

hi rylie!! thank you sm for the recs! and since you said your inbox is open …

could i maybe request a fic where nanami proposes to you? like a spur of the moment thing where it’s not really the “right time” but he just springs out the question bc he wants you forever 🥹😮‍💨

thank you a bajillion! <3

my everything

FEATURING: nanami kento x f!reader — wc: 3.1k

SUMMARY: after nanami remembers how short life can be, he realizes he wants to spend the rest of his with you.

CONTENTS: takes place during jjk 0, slight angst per usual, marriage proposals, sorcerer!reader, nanami's pov, happy ending

note: thank you for this sweet request!! i kind of took it and ran w it, but this was so much fun to write :) i hope you enjoy lovely!! <;33

Kento couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so afraid.

The gnawing feeling of dread was as heavy as the ring in his pocket, the one that he now regretted hanging onto for so long. Shinjuku streets were drenched in the blood of so many curses, humans, and sorcerers and it sickened him, reminded him that life could be cut short at any moment. There was a reason that he’d quit Jujutsu so many years ago, and he started to wonder if he’d made the right decision in coming back.

Kento sorted through the bodies, scanned the mangled corpses for any sign of your familiar face. He never spotted you, but he wasn’t certain if it was a relief that you were nowhere to be found.

Satoru stood at the edge of the street, his forehead lined with sweat, the pale bandages falling away from his icy eyes. Briefly, he dropped the façade that always lingered, and it was obvious how tired he was. How much everything had beaten him down in the last decade and refused to let up.

In that moment, Kento felt sorry for him. Then, Satoru resumed his usual air of arrogance, straightened his back, and the natural balance fell between them once more.

In just a few strides, Kento was upon him, his hair unruly, shirt wrinkled as the tie remained still crumpled around his hand. His muscles ached and he longed for a shower—though any of those trivial thoughts were outweighed by his incessant need to find you.

“Where is she?” The words hung in the air before Kento realized they’d left his lips at all.

Satoru hesitated, almost unwilling to hand over his confession so easily. “I sent her back to the school.”

Kento clenched his fists, but Satoru was defending himself before any irrational actions could be taken.

“She insisted, Nanami.”

Still, he couldn’t help but wish that Satoru had ignored your pleas, even if Kento was unsurprised that you’d volunteered to stand by the students’ side. You weren’t the type of person to let a few first and second years go up against a special grade on their own, no matter how strong they were.

Satoru was squeezing Kento’s shoulder before he had even noticed the movement. Something in his expression had darkened, and though Kento normally would’ve shoved him off, put some distance between the two of them, he wasn’t sure he could remember a time when Satoru Gojo looked so somber. “I wouldn’t have sent them there if I wasn’t certain they’d be alright. I’m not as cruel as you might think.”

Kento knew that he had never behaved warmly towards his ex-classmate, but his opinion of the man was not as low as Satoru believed. For better or worse, Satoru loved his students, and though he pushed them, Kento knew he would never put them into an undefeatable danger.

He sighed, dropping his chin to his chest as Satoru’s hand fell away from his shoulder. “Just take me to her, Gojo.”

Satoru nodded, his lips curling down into a frown before he was teleporting them both back to the high school. There, the sight was even more dismal than Kento had expected. Many of the buildings had been destroyed and there were clear residuals from many sorcerers and curses. It was chaos, a grim sight to behold, and they weren’t even past the gate.

The anxiety twisted up in his chest, and inwardly, he prayed, hopeful that you were as fine as Satoru believed. That Geto, in every inch of his darkened heart, would hesitate when it came to killing an old friend.

“Hey,” Satoru said, tying up the blindfold once more, tightening it across his snowy hair. “She’s fine. This, I’m certain of.”

Kento’s lips were too dry to even offer a thank you, even though Satoru probably deserved it, for all the sacrifices he made, all the time. Instead, he nodded, and turned away from the tall man, haunted by a memory of him once as young as the students that had been left behind to protect humanity.

The leaves and gravel crunched under Kento’s feet as he ran up to the school, taking in the sheer destruction that had befallen the place he’d once called home. It made him ache with a longing for a simpler time, even though he could never go back, and the boy he’d been was long gone.

It was a brisk night—the kind of night that you normally would’ve spent bundled up inside, a bowl of hot soup between you, a movie running while you rested your head against Kento’s shoulder, dozing off before the credits rolled.

That’s how his night should’ve gone. Instead, he was searching every crushed piece of building, every pile of rubble in case your body had been caught between it.

Kento knew that the life of a sorcerer was a miserable one, that it was easy to lose the people you cared about, but he wasn’t certain he’d be able to go on for much longer if he lost you.

The ring was even heavier in his pocket, weighing him down, making it near impossible to move. If you hadn’t survived, Kento would never forgive himself for waiting so long to propose.

He called your name, ripping off his glasses in any attempt to see you better, wondering where you could’ve disappeared to, hoping that you hadn’t died alone.

The grounds, it seemed, had been hollowed out completely, and for the first time, Kento wondered if Gojo was wrong about his old friend.

Panic clawed up his chest, scratching at his throat, sending him into an illogical spiral before a small, shaky voice from behind him brought him back to reality, a light that parted through the black night, so sweet and heavenly to his ears.

“Kento?”

He turned, blinked as you swayed on your feet, making your way slowly down the steps of the main building. You walked awkwardly on your ankle, though you pushed on, heading towards him despite the pain.

For a moment, he watched, and then he was upon you without even acknowledging his movements, two long strides that brought him back to his salvation.

Kento pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair, breathing in the undeniable truth that you were still alive, even as you winced from his stronghold, your arms limp at your sides.

“Fuck,” Kento said, kissing you on the top of the head, your hairline, forehead. His eyes were glossy with tears that had been held back by his remaining shreds of hope. “You scared me there for a second, sweetheart.”

Your hands were on his chest, tracing his bicep before you curled your fingers around his jaw, bringing his gaze to your own. The touch was light, searching for any wounds that hid under his stained button-up. “I’m okay,” you said, softly, even though your face was bruised, your ankle twisted, and you were bleeding from more places than one. “Are you?”

Kento nearly laughed, wondering how you could even think to ask that question when he was untouched compared to you. Though, the amusement died immediately when you looked at him with so much concern that he melted, and he squeezed your hand in reassurance. “I’m okay.”

You nodded, expression serious as you attempted to ingrain the words into your mind, convince yourself that everything would be alright, even though things hadn’t been that way in nearly a decade. You kept your hands on him, as if waiting for some wounds to appear, for him to start bleeding into your palm, even though his injuries went no further than some sore muscles.

“And everyone else?”

Kento pulled you into his chest, running a hand up and down your back, wishing that he could heal you as easily as Shoko could, that a gentle touch could fix everything that had ever soiled your life. “Everyone’s fine,” he said, and as far as he knew, that was true. “A little beat up, but they’re alive.”

You exhaled, nodding into his chest as you rested your weight on him.

Kento would gladly bear it, would carry you all the way home if need be.

Briefly, you were silent, before you squeezed your eyes shut painfully and grimaced. “I got the students to Shoko, but they were all so hurt, so badly,” you swallowed, digging your fingers into his shirt, and Kento suddenly hated that Satoru hadn’t sent him with you, even if he was needed in the city. “Geto—”

You stopped yourself, and said nothing more, heartbroken by a boy you had too many fond memories of to ever see in a malicious light. It was difficult for everyone who’d ever known him back then, even if he hadn’t been that way in a decade.

Kento swallowed and you pushed away your tears, buried whatever conversation had transpired earlier between you and the dark-haired sorcerer.

Though, you’d resolved to be everything that Geto was not. That, at least, had been one positive outcome of his betrayal. “It’s not your fault, love.”

“I should’ve been more prepared to kill him, Kento. I’m not as strong as him, but I should’ve been able to hold him off until Gojo—” You choked back a cry before standing straight, shaking your head. “I tried too hard to reason with him. I left it to a student, and—”

“Hey,” Kento held your cheeks tight in his palms, forcing you to gain a better perspective of the situation. You looked up at him with soft, lost eyes, and Kento was filled with a swell of adoration for you, for the strength that came with the vastness of your heart.

Despite all you’d suffered, you’d managed a smile, been the light in Kento’s life, even when he’d wanted to do nothing but wallow in his own misery. If not for you, he wasn’t sure he ever would’ve come back to being a sorcerer at all. If not for you, Kento would’ve been lost, without an ounce of meaning in his life.

You were so foolish for thinking you hadn’t done enough, when you’d done more for him than he could put into words. Kento’s love for you was enormous, and in that moment, he would’ve let the rest of the world collapse in on itself if it meant you’d be safe and happy.

“Any of us would’ve done the same. Do you really believe that Gojo would’ve so easily killed Geto without speaking to him first? Would I have?”

The look didn’t dissipate from your irises, but you didn’t disagree with him, and that was enough. Kento kissed you, deeply, putting every ounce of affection into that single touch. Everyone had made it out of the night alive, and you’d been there for the students when it mattered the most. That was more than he could say, at least.

“I don’t want to lose anyone else, Kento,” you said, blinking at him once more with those sad eyes, ones that he never wanted to see on your normally bright expression. “I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t tear me apart.”

“You won’t lose me,” he promised, even though he knew that there was no way he could keep it, an oath that was almost destined to be broken. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You and I both know that you can’t be sure of that,” you said, backing out of his embrace to wrap a protective arm around yourself. The smile that graced your lips was sad, defeated. “Our world is not merciful enough.”

Kento knew that better than anyone, and he’d been reminded of it that evening. Reminded of the loss that befell those who wanted to fight for a better world, and even those who didn’t. Death didn’t give any warning, didn’t choose based off anything more than a random draw. “Then I’ll promise to love you until the day I die. That, at least, is a vow I won’t ever break.”

The ring in his pocket was practically vibrating now, reminding him how little the non-necessities of life mattered to him. All this time, he been waiting for the perfect moment, to plan everything down to the very last detail.

It seemed meaningless now.

You squeezed his hand, your face brightening despite your sorrow, lips tugging up sideways. “I can promise the same.” Kento’s heart swelled, and you kissed his cheek before dragging him a few steps forward so the two of you were walking in time together. “We should go check on the students. I want Shoko to check my ankle too. I’ve suffered worse, but it’s starting to swell pretty badly.”

Kento nodded, though his mind was too busy whirling with fears of a wedding that might never happen, that you might never know he was going to propose if he didn’t do it soon. You could be snatched away from him at any moment, or perhaps, he could leave this world with the ring still in his pocket, and you’d only know once you found it on his corpse.

Kento wouldn’t forgive himself, even in death, if he didn’t do what he’d been wanting to do for months.

With one arm around your shoulder, he reached the other into his pocket, twirling the box. He wasn’t even sure why he carried it with him that night when he could’ve so easily lost it in the middle of battle.

Yet, there it was, lingering, the constant weight in his pocket that rested against his hip. He swallowed, and you looked up at him, your lips falling back once more into a frown.

“Hey,” you said, slowing your pace, concern evident in your expression. “Is something wrong? Did something happen in Shinjuku, Kento? I didn’t mean to just brush off—”

Kento shook his head, shushing you quickly. It didn’t take him long to make up his mind, and he wrapped the tiny box up in his hand. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of your head again before holding the box out, presenting it to you calmly, without any spike in his normal tone. “I just was thinking about how I was going to ask you to marry me.”

You stopped completely, your pupils blown wide as you took the box from him with shaky hands, blinking back down at it before meeting his tender brown eyes. “Kento?” you said again, calmly, as if waiting for him to explain.

A beat of silence passed between you. Kento, suddenly, felt nervous around you for the first time in a long while.

“Truthfully, I was going to prepare a long-winded speech and buy you some flowers and take you out for dinner. But,” he cleared his throat, regaining his composure as he flipped the lid of the velvety box, revealing the sparkling ring he’d spend hours searching for. “I love you too much to waste any more time. Somehow, until tonight, I’d forgotten how short life can be. I just want to spend every moment I can as your husband.”

Your eyes became glossy as you stared down at the beautiful gem, lifting the ring out of the box to slide onto your finger. As expected, it fit you perfectly, shimmering in the pale light, the perfect complement to your skin. Kento gently took your hand, kissing the knuckle right below the jewelry.

“I’ll propose again to you properly,” he said, laughing quietly, though if it was because of your silence or the joy lodged within him, he couldn’t be certain. “Without all the blood and the—"

“Kento.” Your lips were on his before he could finish his sentence, harsh and passionate despite your injuries. Fingers curled around his chin, holding him into place, making him forget all the horrors that had occurred that evening. “Don’t be silly. I don’t need a grandiose display to know I want to be with you forever. I love you too much.”

Kento’s chest warmed, that bundle of affection within him bursting, making its way through every ounce of his being. There, you seemed to glow brighter, every day making you more beautiful than before, and he wondered how it could be possible that he could feel so much for one person.

He relaxed, unknowingly tense, and kissed you again on the forehead, his arms around your shoulder once more. “I should’ve done it sooner.”

You smiled and caressed the harsh bones of his cheeks, shaking your head. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.” You laughed, pulling him down by the tie, pressing a kiss between his brows to ease the wrinkle there. “Besides, now you’ve turned this awful night into something special. I don’t have to remember this day with a bitter taste in my mouth.”

Kento returned your smile, but it was still weak, even with all of the adoration he felt for you.

Though, when you beamed at the ring, your eyes soft, all of the previous despair gone, he knew that everything would be alright. Perhaps his timing had been less than ideal, but he would do it over and over again if only to ease away the misery from your face.

“So, then you will marry me?” he said again, wanting to hear the words from your lips, even though there was no doubt in his mind.

You rolled your eyes playfully, noticing his teasing smile and indulged him. “Yes, Kento.” You kissed his cheek, letting out a sharp exhale. “I’ll marry you. I would’ve always said yes, even back when we were silly, lovesick teenagers.” You sighed theatrically, adjusting his tie. “Who knows why. You had such a ridiculous haircut back then.”

Kento’s cheeks grew warm, splitting with the force of his smile, one that only seemed to appear with you at his side. Despite all of the horrible things that had happened in all of your lives, he was grateful that there were good moments too.

“Well, I still managed to win over the prettiest girl in the world, didn’t I?” he said, ghosting the words as he laced his fingers with your own, squeezing tight. “Now I get to call her my fiancée.”

You mumbled something less than kind under your breath, but Kento could feel the warmth on your cheeks, the flush the began from your neck.

He laughed, continuing his path back to the infirmary, where the students were likely waiting for you to return safe and sound. “Come on, I’m taking you to see Shoko. I wouldn’t want my future wife’s injuries to get any worse, would I?”

And though the both of you knew your injuries were minimal, your eyes brightened as the skin around them wrinkled, and Kento knew that whatever happened after this, he would live and die a happy man.

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cinnbar-bun · 9 months ago

Text

Affinity (Various OP Characters x Reader)

Characters: Brook, Buggy, Beckman, Crocodile, Zoro, Mihawk, Corazon, Shanks, Law

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~4k

A/n: Reader is GN! I kinda made this after hearing about a special thing in my religion, and decided I wanted to do this. I of course made it more romantic in nature than the original idea goes, but hey, romance! I had my followers choose 7 originally but it went to 9, which is a very lucky number in my religion so maybe it was a sign? Who knows! Please enjoy <3

Tagging: @fanaticsnail @gingernut1314 @undeadeurydice @i-am-vita @kiribuchi @therosietoesy (sorry, I forgot who asked for Law my bad)

———————————————————————

There is a belief that before you are born, you were once a soul that had existed with other souls. Souls who had an affinity for each other would find that affinity carried in their time as a human. Souls who repelled each other would find that distaste carried over as well. Perhaps it was preordained, fate, destiny- whatever you’d call it. Regardless, it seems your soul has met with someone who once had an affinity for you…

Brook

Being an undead figure unable to pass on was not what Brook had in mind. In some ways, he was grateful for another chance at life, another chance to do what he previously was too dead to finish. Albeit, being a pile of bones did have its drawbacks.

While he could still function and do things many humans did, fact was, he was anything but. One look at him would easily make him stand out as something like a freak of nature.

Skeletons cannot love and be loved like a human. He could hold, but could not be held like a human. Admittedly, it had bothered him on occasion, but he always tried to brush it off with a simple hum or shrug. After all, he had his friends and crewmates- and he had a promise to continue fighting for. That should be enough.

But he couldn’t stop his eyes (if he had any) from wandering… couldn’t stop the way his mind wondered…

Just what could it be like if I too could fall in love?

Ah, but that’s such a silly thing for a skeleton to consider. Who could ever love the undead remains of someone long forgotten?

He’d practically given up on such silly notions like love or a relationship- it didn’t fit his current predicament.

So Brook focused on his music and his performances instead. He held up his violin and decided to waste some time on this sunny day playing for his audience of a few blue birds chirping at this green park. It was beautiful and reminded him of his day with the Rumbar Pirates- agh, nostalgia was always his weakest attribute, he thinks.

His fingers drift along the strings of the instrument, peacefully playing his weary heart away. He doesn’t recognize he has another guest until he hears slow clapping.

“What?” He turns his head, surprised to see you on the bench, smiling and clapping.

��That was lovely,” you comment. Time slows still and your eyes meet, shining (e/c) eyes with hollow black sockets.

If he had skin, perhaps he would’ve been red or sweating buckets. As a skeleton, he was not able to do things. But Brook was still a man through and through, and he couldn’t help but freeze at seeing the way your eyes were soft and full of admiration.

“I’m glad you thought so. Music is my pride and joy.”

“I can tell,” you reply. “I felt like I forgot to breathe for a moment when I heard that. I’m sorry for watching, though, if you weren’t looking for an audience.”

“N-no, actually it was…” he was too caught up in the way his soul was resonating and burning within him. “I appreciate it actually. Would you like me to play a song for you?”

“Would you? I’d love to hear more!”

Buggy

Buggy never believed in things like soulmates or fairy tales or blah blah blah- it was all junk! The only thing he ever could trust was treasure- shiny, bright, treasure! What else did a pirate need or want?

Is what he would say out loud- Buggy, even at a young age, was secretly a romantic who refused to let himself be swept up in the sentiment. When him and Shanks would sail together on Roger’s ship, Shanks would often ask what he thought about love.

Unlike Buggy, Shanks was pretty honest and confident about his assertions. Buggy would stumble and try to keep the bravado up, pretending as if he didn’t secretly yearn for a person who could look past his red nose and maybe possibly sorta kinda like him? Was that too much to ask? If you were Buggy, the answer was yes, because he would never allow himself the chance to be soft or vulnerable with someone. Especially not when he was already so sensitive about his looks and attitude. The thought of letting his guard down to be loved terrified him- what if they left? What if they made fun of him, too?

It was just too much for his fragile ego, so he brushed it aside and continued his hunt for treasure.

“Now where the hell am I?” He yelled, tilting the map in his hand left and right, as if that would somehow make his destination clearer. “Kinda crappy treasure map is this?”

He glared and shoved the map back in his pocket as he stomped around this town. He hadn’t ever bothered to come to this place before, so everything was new for him. He glared at the kids who were pointing at his nose to scare them off (mission accomplished), but his foul attitude still didn’t lessen.

As Buggy turned a corner, he accidentally rammed into someone. They shrieked, and his hat fell off his face and covered his eyes.

“Watch it, will ya? I’m walkin’ he…” he pushed his hat back up and came face to face with perhaps the most gorgeous person he’s ever met. His mouth was wide open, gawking at you as you gave an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I didn’t see you there,” you said sheepishly.

“Y-yeah it’s… it’s cool. No biggie,” he mumbled in a daze.

“Are you alright?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he returned to normal. “I mean, yeah, totally.”

You chuckle at his behavior, and something within Buggy’s chest makes it feel like there’s a million butterflies flapping inside his ribcage. He can’t help the dumb grin on his face as he laughs along.

“Sorry again, sir. I’ll keep an eye out for you next time,” you wink and begin walking away, making Buggy flabbergasted. N-next time? Was that a promise? He didn’t even realize what he was thinking before he turned around and tried to jog back to you.

“H-hey, wait up-!”

Beckman

Beckman was fairly ambivalent to the idea of a “soulmate” or “affinity”. Sure, he humored his often childish captain with those notions, but the fact was, Beckman was simply a sailor at heart. He didn’t think being “stuck” to someone was the life he wanted, and he was fairly sure a sane, rational person would not want to be the lover of a first mate to perhaps one of the most infamous pirate crews on the sea.

Now, this would imply you were sane and rational, and this would also imply that he was also not a sucker for you. Perhaps that was what made him attracted to you in the first place, or maybe it was something that gave him the idea that his captain wasn’t so off base.

When it came to you, Beckman was eager, a bit too eager, the others would joke. Whenever you called, he came running and answering like a loyal servant. Whenever you wrote, his lips would form a large smile while he refused to let the others look at the letter you sent. Whenever he was away from you for long periods of time, he drank a bit too much.

It was common place enough for the others to notice and tease him about, even if Beckman was adamant there was nothing there. You guys were just… friends, or something ambiguous like that. You didn’t need a label for your relationship. This was completely normal, you were normal, he was normal- nothing was out of the ordinary, so if they would please stop asking and make him confront those pesky feelings he-

Maybe he had a problem. He never felt this way for anyone else he encountered. You knew of his philandering, not seeming to care all that much, but damn it, even he couldn’t continue that streak because his mind would get occupied with you, you, you. Love was too complicated. Maybe this was the alcohol talking. Or Shanks getting in his head about “souls being attuned” or whatever spiritual jazz the red-haired captain would spout.

No, it really made sense, all things considered. There was no one else but you to make him quit fooling around with others on the islands he stopped at. There was no one else but you who invaded his thoughts, who plagued him day and night with those eyes, that smile, the way you hated that red cologne he once bought and-

Oh dear god, he was deep into this, wasn’t he?

Crocodile

Love? Spirits? Souls? Soulmates?

Yeah right, add that to the list of stupid things weak poets say to make their miserable lives have some meaning. You could jump through a million hoops to try and blame encounters and relationships on things like “destiny” or “fate”. To a man like Crocodile, however, “destiny” was just something he could control. Whether through bribes of money or through making them submit with his fearsome powers, “destiny” was nothing but another means of his affluence.

Only those who were weak and had nothing could not control their lives.

Something like love was a crutch used by those who had nothing to pretend they did. What was love to power? What was love to wealth? To fame? To greatness?

Love was the longest-running scam that Crocodile almost could be impressed with, if not for the fact that the sentiment around love made him want to gag.

Except, now he was actively looking for jewelry to buy you, flowers to deliver to your doorstep, and outfits to clothe you in for when you visited him.

It was almost disgusting how Crocodile was eagerly awaiting for your next arrival, for when he could be able to see you on the street or at his casino so he could see that face he adored so much. Those eyes that made him want to melt, that voice that echoed in his head, that smile that made him want to have an image of you adorned on his wall so he could always see it.

Something, he could never place what it was, drew him to you. Something made you seem to stand out to him in ways that no other could. He was Crocodile- world famous business man and pirate- he had no shortage of people throwing themselves at him or fearing him. Only to you was he trying his luck attempting to woo you to give him that look he loved. Only for you was he making excuse after excuse to continue seeing you, lying over and over that he had a reason to use you, that it was just a part of some master plan.

He exhaled another puff of his cigar and rubbed his temples.

Gods, why was he acting this way? He was Crocodile. Not a lovesick teenage boy, not some lonely man, not some simpering-

“Sir, (Y/n) has arrived.” His ears perked up as he quickly slicked back his hair.

“Is that so? Send them up,” he orders, grabbing his expensive cologne to spray onto him again.

Zoro

Zoro had never heard of the idea of soulmates or anything like that. When one lives, breathes, and dies by the sword, something like “soulmates” is just comical. He doesn’t need love to become the best swordsman. He didn’t need love to teach him how to pick up a sword and kill another with it. That was, in fact, the complete opposite of love.

Survival of the fittest, he thought. Nothing more, nothing less. You kill for bounties, bounties that pay, pay that gives you a chance to eat food. Nothing more to it. He never did more than he needed to, never worked harder for anything outside of his sword training and hunting. What else did a swordsman need to live?

He was currently drinking his fill at a local tavern of some random village he washed out upon. He didn’t care to get names, not when he was always moving, always killing, always leaving. “Zoro” was a passing chance encounter few got to ever meet or understand. He was fine with that. A bounty hunter didn’t need attachments. A bounty hunter definitely didn’t need someone weighing him down.

At the tavern, a few rowdy pirates were acting up. Yelling obscenities, throwing food and liquor at one another, making rude gestures- nothing out of the ordinary for drunk pirates. Zoro had no business with them, so he ignored them, continuing to order pint after pint.

It wasn’t until he heard a crash that he looked up. You were angrily yelling at one of the pirates who threw a drink at you, and his mates were drawing their weapons. It was clear you were outnumbered, so you looked around the bar for anyone that would help.

Normally, Zoro wouldn’t bother, figuring you dug your own grave by messing with pirates like that. However, when he glanced to your eyes, he found himself… staring. Lost. Entranced?

He didn’t know why he felt like he should protect you, but he always had a good intuition when it came to these sorts of things. He sighed, placed his mug down, then stood up, drawing his swords from their sheathes.

“Zoro,” he stated. A rare thing for him to admit so casually to a normal person. The pirates heard his name and shriveled up in fear. Zoro didn’t pay them any mind, instead tapping his sword against his shoulder impatiently. “Need me to shut these guys up?”

Mihawk

If you had asked a young Mihawk about love, he would have most certainly called you a fool for daring to think of such illogical things instead of focusing on one’s own strength and potential. While he had heard of the sentiments about love and soulmates before, he didn’t place much value into it. Love was a distraction from the training he could have done. Love was a waste of time. Love was just for weak-minded people who let themselves be vulnerable or gentle with another. Love wasn’t for people like him.

Which was why he was now trying to instill the opposite into his foolhardy protege, Zoro. Yes, yes, unfortunately, Mihawk was proven wrong from his earlier ways of thinking, and ever since then, he’s been doing his best to be a good man for you.

“I didn’t think a guy like you would have a partner…” Zoro would mumble.

“Of course I would. Do I not look like a suitable husband?” Mihawk replied as he was sipping his wine. “A marriage is only an aspect of your training and power.”

“How does cooking dinner help you train?” Zoro raised a brow, not believing a word.

“If you cannot handle a routine for even the most mundane and domestic of tasks, you cannot expect to be disciplined enough to train. If you think something like making your love a cup of tea or folding laundry is too hard or not worthy enough, you are not worthy enough to hold a sword.”

Zoro nodded, impressed by Mihawk’s reasoning (or maybe impressed at how you somehow made the world’s greatest swordsman so whipped and happy to make you dinner).

“Well, when you put it like that,” Zoro scratched his cheek, looking back at his mentor to see him staring at you longingly from the window. You and Perona were outside picking some of the vegetables at the garden, an activity you insisted upon doing despite Mihawk’s protests. You and the young lady were joking and laughing about something Perona said, and Mihawk sighed.

“Something wrong?” Zoro asked, unsure what Mihawk was thinking with his stoic appearance.

“No, not at all,” Mihawk shook his head, taking another sip.

“Then why did you sigh like that?” Zoro questioned. A smirk grew on Mihawk’s lips as he chuckled, continuing to look at you. You… you who were so special, who had become the apple of his eye, his strength, his joy, his passion.

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand it right now, my student,” Mihawk closed his eyes. “Fate is… it’s simply a humorous thing.”

Corazon

He always was a sensitive soul, despite his outer appearance and harsh exterior. But even as a child, Law could tell something was up with Corazon.

“Why are you always looking at them?” Law grumpily asked, folding his arms and raising a brow at his benefactor.

“Hm? At who?” Corazon dumbly responded, cigarette in his lips.

“You know who I mean! Don’t act stupid!” Law shouted. Corazon chuckled and exhaled the smoke.

“Sorry, gotta be more specific.”

Of course, Corazon knew who Law was referring to. It wasn’t like Corazon had hidden his affection for you, but that was for another time. You were something special, something that Corazon yearned for but could never have. Not when Doflamingo’s influence was so large and looming over his life. But even if Corazon himself could not love you so freely, he always did like to tell the young boy stories. Of course, Law, being a jaded little boy, had never really given thought to such things like “soulmates” or “souls knowing each other”. That was stupid and impossible.

Corazon liked to believe, though. It comforted him. It made him feel happy that, hey, even if this life perhaps didn’t work out for him and you, at least he had known you before. At least he was able to see you again. At least he got you in his life for a moment, even if it would end in nothing but heartache and pain. At he least, for just a bit, he got to see that smile, those eyes, and feel your hands over his.

It made his life a little less hard, a little less dull. The romanticism that despite Doffy meddling in his life, Corazon still had a chance with you, was meant to know and be with you… well, that was plenty enough for him. It made him happier, too, knowing Law was perhaps a soul he was acquainted with before. It made him feel like he was always going to be guaranteed love and kindness with you and Law, even if the world was unkind to him.

Yes, this new family he had found was perhaps where he belonged the most. With you and Law by his side, there was nothing more he could ask for.

Shanks

“You’re obsessed.”

“Am not!” Shanks yelled childishly at Beckman, before turning back to face the island they were planning on docking at soon. The wide smile on his face made it clear he was beyond excited to be there, and the other men chuckled.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on running off to see em?” Yassop asked, knowing the answer.

“Oh, stop bugging about it! It’s just a little reunion with (Y/n), not anything crazy,” Shanks waved off. He breathed into his palm and winced at the smell of his breath. “Crap, does anyone have any mouthwash?”

“I don’t think anything can get that stench out. If they hadn’t run away cuz of your smell before, I think you’re good now!”

“Haha, very funny guys. Besides, it’s just between friends. Nothing weird.”

Of course, that was a bit of a fib, but who doesn’t tell little white lies? Surely he’d be forgiven for saying that by whomever was possibly in charge of making this happen?

Shanks, even with his overwhelming power and influence, did believe in superstition. It would be foolish not to, especially in such a dangerous world that a pirate inhabits. Sure, some of them were old wive’s tales from scared-straight sailors, but he did find them having some merit. He didn’t like to discount the seemingly impossible, not when it made even the most outlandish things possible.

He believed it was fate he got to meet Buggy and be a part of Roger’s crew. He believed it fate he met little Luffy in Foosha Village. He also believed it was fate he saved you that day. Some things just “made sense” like that to Shanks. It certainly made his life more interesting while also giving him a chance to bother you as always.

“Oh, come on, you can’t really kick out your soulmate, can you?” Shanks would tease.

“Soulmate?” You laugh. “Is this your attempt at proposing to me?”

“Hey, if you’d like it to be, I can absolutely make it happen,” Shanks replied, an earnest look in his eyes. You smile at him- crap, how do you always manage to make him ache and miss you? It’s gotta be fate, because no way could anyone have his heart in tight vice like this.

“Well… if you’re insisting, Captain,” you begin, smirking at him. “Why not take me with you? As your soulmate.”

Shanks’s eyes widened and the look on his face was a mixture of bewilderment and excitement.

“You know I can always make room for you,” he answered, trying to steady himself.

“Good. Although, we could share a room.”

“You drive a hard bargain, dear,” he chugs his rum. “Cheers to us!”

Law

Since he was a young boy, Law always tried to remain by himself. You couldn’t really trust anyone in a world of piracy and violence like that. Corazon, of course, always recommended otherwise. He even shared stories about a place where souls all were together.

It didn’t sound plausible or even remotely make sense. How would you even know if your soul was supposedly affiliated with someone?

It had been years since those days and the loss of Corazon, and even though he tried his hardest not to, Law still kept those stories in his mind. They were pointless and silly, but they were something Corazon believed wholeheartedly, even saying it was a miracle he got to meet a young Law. In some ways, Law felt somewhat similarly.

Love wasn’t for someone like Law. Too damaged, too cold, too logical, too afraid to ever let that feeling grow. It was how he stayed and remained for his life, and how he was planning on operating for the rest of time.

Until you, quite literally, crashed into him.

Jeez, you had to be a pest. Or a virus. Or a parasite. Something like that, but gosh, you were contagious. When you smiled, he found himself wanting to smile back. When you talked, he found himself thinking over every word you spoke in great detail. Maybe he was overthinking things, maybe when you said you were happy to have met him that was just you being friendly. Or something.

Almost always his mind drifted to you, feeling a certain way for you that he didn’t feel with the others in his crew or from the Straw Hats. You were different.

Perfect? Maybe. Definitely too good for someone like him, he’d think. But even with that self-loathing and apprehension, he found himself being drawn to you like a magnet.

Cora, if this is what you meant before…

Damn it, now he was letting things like soulmates and affinity cloud his judgment. He was a grown man, not a young boy, he didn’t need those silly delusions and ideas growing in his head and making him think he had a chance with you.

“Tora-o!” Luffy called. “Come here!!”

“No,” Law grumbled.

“Law,” you asked right after. “Do you mind helping me with this?”

“...yes,” he replied, stoically walking up to you to see what your problem was. Luffy gawked and pouted from the side, while a few of the others chuckled at Law.

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hollyoongs · 2 months ago

Text

Let's go to the beach-each (nicki minaje - starships) Let's go get a wave

ᨓ 。kim donghyun x fem reader ꒰🌊꒱ ﹕fluff ﹕+8.5k contains: surfer!leehan and lifeguard!fem reader, slight enemies to lovers and slight slowburn, mention of the rest of BND members THIS IS FOR THE #SWY EVENT COMING 2 U BY @onedoornet ┈─★

The sun blazed overhead as you stood at your lifeguard post, scanning the ocean for any signs of trouble. Busan’s beach was packed, as always, with tourists and locals soaking up the summer heat. You squinted against the sunlight, and there he was—again.

Leehan, the surfer who consistently defined the rules.

Leehan was the type of surfer who thrived on teasing and stirring up playful trouble, especially with anyone who dared to challenge him. He had a natural, effortless charm, the kind that made people—especially girls—think they had his attention when, in reality, he was always a step ahead, never letting anyone get too close.

His laid-back attitude, paired with his sharp wit, made him irresistible to most, and they often mistook his flirtatious smirks and lighthearted jabs for something more. But Leehan wasn’t one to be tied down or caught up in romantic expectations. To him, the fun lay in the game, not in the commitment, and he enjoyed keeping people guessing, always in control, never truly letting anyone see past the surface.

He rode a wave effortlessly, his form sharp and perfect as he carved through the water. It would’ve been impressive if it weren’t for the fact that he always surfed in the restricted areas, despite your repeated warnings. You huffed, standing up and blowing your whistle loud enough for him to hear, waving your arm to signal him back to the safe zone.

But instead of acknowledging you, he threw you a cocky smirk while waving his hand, returning the gesture, and kept riding the wave. Your blood boiled. This was the third time this week.

After what felt like an eternity of him ignoring you, he finally paddled back to shore, dripping wet and grinning as if nothing was wrong. He sauntered up to where you stood, his surfboard tucked under his arm.

"Something wrong, lifeguard?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

"Yeah, there is," you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. "That area is off-limits. You know that."

Leehan shrugged, flicking his wet hair back, and your eyes couldn't lose the opportunity to see his neckbone stretch out, his Adam's apple on full display. "I wasn’t causing any trouble. Just catching a wave."

"You’re going to cause an accident," you retorted, standing your ground. "If you don’t follow the rules, I’ll have to ban you from the beach."

He grinned wider, clearly not taking you seriously. "You think you can handle that?"

Your irritation flared. "Don’t test me, Leehan. I’m here to keep people safe, not babysit rebellious surfers."

"Whatever you say, lifeguard," he said, mocking with his tone, turning away as if the conversation was over. "Just try not to get too worked up over little things."

His winked at you as he left; you watched him walk off, fuming. You sighed and sank back into your chair, the familiar sound of waves crashing against the shore doing little to calm your nerves.

Busan Beach was supposed to be a peaceful escape, a break from the chaos of Seoul, where you could spend the summer doing something productive, just like your grandfather had encouraged. Instead, it felt like you had signed up for a full-time job babysitting an unruly, reckless surfer.

Mingyu, the head lifeguard, had warned you about Leehan the first day you showed up in your red lifeguard suit, excited and ready to take on the challenge of keeping the beach safe. He’d pulled you aside and told you in no uncertain terms, “Watch out for Leehan. He’s… persistent.”

You’d laughed it off back then, thinking it couldn’t be that bad. But after a few encounters with him pushing every boundary, you finally understood the exhausted look Mingyu had given you. Leehan wasn’t just persistent—he was relentless.

This rivalry had been building for weeks, and no matter how much you enforced the rules, Leehan never seemed to care. He was infuriating—arrogant, reckless, and completely unaware of how much he got under your skin.

The next day, it was the same routine. You on the tower, keeping an eye on everyone, and him in the water, pushing every boundary he could. By noon, you’d had enough and stormed over to where he was setting up his board.

"Do you enjoy making my job harder?" you asked, voice sharp.

He looked up at you, clearly amused by your frustration. "Maybe I just enjoy getting a rise out of you."

You opened your mouth to fire back, but before you could, a sudden scream cut through the air. You both turned toward the water, where a young boy was struggling in the strong current.

Without hesitation, you dropped everything and sprinted toward the water, adrenaline surging through your veins. You dove in, swimming as fast as you could to reach him, your training kicking in automatically.

Just as you reached the boy and grabbed him, you saw Leehan beside you, his strong arms helping to keep the boy afloat. You exchanged a brief, surprised glance before focusing on getting the boy back to shore.

Once on land, you both worked together to make sure the boy was okay, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. As soon as the boy’s parents arrived, you finally allowed yourself to breathe.

"Oh my God, I told you to not go there without dad! Thank you so much, darling." The mother of the boy hugged you so tight that you thought you were about to have a lack of oxygen anytime soon. You heard claps from the people that saw everything, and you blushed, bowing at them and returning to your tower, not noticing that Leehan was behind you.

You climbed back up to your lifeguard tower, your heart still racing from the rescue. The adrenaline had yet to leave your system, and you were trying to calm yourself when you felt someone’s presence behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Leehan; his familiar energy was unmistakable.

"What now?" you asked, not bothering to look at him as you plopped down into your chair, hoping the waves could drown out your lingering frustration.

Leehan’s voice came from closer than you expected. "That was impressive."

You blinked, surprised by the compliment. Turning slightly, you saw him standing there, no cocky smirk, no playful teasing. Just genuine respect in his eyes. It threw you off.

"You helped," you said, slightly begrudgingly but acknowledging the fact that he had been right there in the water with you, making sure the boy was safe. It was the first time you’d seen him take something seriously.

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Guess I’m not always causing trouble, huh?"

You huffed, leaning back in your chair. "Don’t get used to it. You’re still on thin ice with me, surfer."

Leehan chuckled, the sound softer than usual. "I can live with that." He tilted his head, looking at you with curiosity. "You ever think maybe you’re a little too uptight? Not everything has to be a battle."

Your jaw clenched. "Not everything is a joke, Leehan. Some of us have responsibilities."

"And some of us know how to enjoy life while still being responsible," he countered, that familiar teasing edge slipping back into his tone. "Maybe you should try it sometime."

"Go to hell," you said, and he laughed at you. Well, at your answer. "Thankfully, I will only deal with you for the next two months."

"Two months?" you nodded, answering him while looking at the horizon, seeing how the majority of people were already leaving as a cool breeze started to feel.

"I'm going back to Seoul. Only coming here for my summer vacations and my grandpa." You look to your left, his body leaning against the balcony through which you could see everything, his gaze fixed on you.

You started to take your things, cleaning in the process some of the food you had eaten and writing a report for Mingyu—all of that in the presence of Leehan, who was giving you space.

Both of you left the tower; you left Leehan there, not thinking that he would only take his surfboard and run to you, catching you up.

"Where are you going?" Your eyes narrowed, feeling weird out for his drastic change of behavior.

"My grandpa's house." You pointed at the colorful house; you knew your dad was in the neighbor's house playing cards, so he won't embarrass you with a comment in the presence of Leehan.

The boy next to you let out a sigh. "I only have two months to bother you."

"You already bothered me for a month; I think I can handle two months, sadly."

"Oh, please, you love nagging me. You love me." He sang the "love" word, and you pushed him; he laughed as you once again left him behind. You reached the door of the house, your key opening it easily. Leehan left his surfboard on the sand and putted a hand on your door as you were about to close it. "I'm sorry."

"You wanna know something, Leehan? I love making memories at the beach, but right now you're causing me stress. Please, let me have a peaceful two months," he put a thinking face, looking at you short after.

"I will help you with that," your eyes shinned.

"You're not coming to the beach?" He scoffed at your answer.

"No, but I will help you make memories. Ones that you won't forget." You both stood there, his hand coming to your vision as he put a string of your hair to the back of your right ear. "Only if you let me."

"Good night, Leehan."

As the door clicked shut, you leaned your back against it, your heart still racing. Leehan's words echoed in your mind, that teasing tone now laced with something deeper, something unfamiliar. He'd always been a thorn in your side, a source of frustration, but tonight, something had shifted. His offer—no, his promise—lingered in the air.

"Only if you let me."

You shook your head, trying to shake off the warmth blooming in your chest.

The next few days went by in a blur of routine—keeping an eye on beachgoers, making sure everything was running smoothly. Leehan acted like nothing happened, and so did you. He wasn’t causing trouble like before. In fact, he stayed in the safe zones, and whenever you crossed paths, he’d flash you a soft grin. Keyword, soft.

If he wasn't in the safe zones, he was relaxing under the umbrella; even sometimes he would come to talk to you; no bickering and no fighting. You even got to know more about him; he was applying to an university in Seoul with his best friends; he had a dog; he got his first surfboard at the solid age of six; knowing small things makes you see him less insoferable.

This was one of those days, a small lunch break as he talked to you.

"Hey, can you not go at the same time as always?" You cleaned your mouth with a napkin, your eyebrows frowning.

"Why would I not do that? My shift is over by that." He put a finger between your brows, and you relaxed them.

"You said you want to make memories. Right?"

"Hey, Leehan!" You both heard a male scream. Looking from the balcony, there were five boys, all of them waving at the boy, and for the first time, you could see a big smile on his face.

"Sungho!" He looked at you as he stood up. "Meet me outside the tower. My friends came to surf." You didn't even have time to answer; he left, and you could see through the balcony how he jumped to his friends, making you smile at the brotherly view.

Time flew really slowly, watching the people and Leehan with his friends. You wouldn't admit it, but his friends were as handsome as him, but there was something about Leehan that simply made you look at him more. Just like he said, as you were going down the mini stairs the tower had, you could look at him in the distance with not one surfboard but with two. A few minutes past when he stood in front of you, the surfboards in both of his sizes.

"What are you doing?"

"More like, what are we doing?" He gently gave you a surfboard with a smile. "We are surfing."

"Yeah, there's no way I would do that." You pointed the surfboard, and he opened his eyes.

"Come on! It would be fun; what's stopping? Because, as far as I know, you are on vacation." You gulped, looking down at the sand.

"I don't know how to surf."

Leehan's lips curled into a teasing grin, his eyes lighting up. "You don't know how to surf? You’ve been a lifeguard this whole time and never tried."

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but you held your ground. "It's not like I haven’t thought about it. I just never had the chance, and I didn’t want to."

"Embarrass yourself?" He finished, stepping closer; the surfboard balanced easily under his arm. You looked away, feeling the warmth of his presence. "Don't worry. I’ll teach you."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "I don't need a cocky surfer trying to teach me something I’ll probably fail at."

Leehan tilted his head, his expression softening. "I'm not that bad of a teacher, you know. And I won't let you fail. Besides," he added with a wink, "you can’t leave here without making at least one memory that you’ll actually want to keep, right?"

You hesitated, watching as his teasing demeanor slowly faded into something more sincere. The offer was genuine. And there was something in his eyes—something that made you believe, for just a moment, that this wasn’t a game to him anymore. He was serious about making a memory with you.

"Fine," you sighed, taking the surfboard from his hand, the weight of it heavier than you expected. "But if I wipe out, it's on you."

Leehan laughed; the sound was warm and carefree. "Deal."

He guided you toward the water, explaining the basics as you walked side by side along the shore. His usual teasing was gone, replaced by patient instructions as he showed you how to balance, how to paddle, and how to read the waves. For the first time, you saw him differently—not as the rebellious, rule-breaking surfer who drove you crazy, but as someone who was genuinely passionate about the ocean and everything that came with it.

The sun was starting to set, casting a golden glow over the beach as you finally paddled out together. The waves were gentle, and Leehan stayed close, his eyes on you the entire time. "You ready?" he called out over the sound of the surf.

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest as you focused on staying steady.

"Okay, when the next wave comes, I want you to pop up and keep your knees bent. Don’t overthink it, just feel it," he said, his voice calm and reassuring.

You waited, your breath catching in your throat as the wave approached. Leehan gave you a nod, and with all the courage you could muster, you popped up, your legs shaky but holding. For a brief, glorious moment, you were riding the wave, your heart soaring.

Then, just as quickly, you lost your balance and tumbled into the water with a splash.

When you resurfaced, sputtering and laughing despite yourself, Leehan was right there, grinning at you like he’d just witnessed the most impressive feat in the world. "Not bad for your first try!"

You playfully splashed water at him. "I wiped out."

He shrugged, still grinning. "You got up. That’s what counts."

You couldn’t help but smile, your earlier frustration melting away. There was something about the way he looked at you in that moment—like he was genuinely proud of you—that made your heart skip a beat.

As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you paddled back to shore, the soft sand welcoming your tired feet. Leehan walked beside you, the atmosphere between you lighter, more relaxed. For once, there was no teasing, no arguments—just an unspoken understanding.

"You did good today," he said, his voice softer than usual as he set his surfboard down.

"Thanks," you replied, brushing some sand off your arms. "I guess you’re not such a terrible teacher after all."

Leehan chuckled, but then his smile faded slightly as he looked at you, his gaze lingering longer than usual. "You know, I wasn’t kidding about what I said before."

You tilted your head, curious. "About what?"

"About making memories." He stepped closer, his expression more serious now, the playful, carefree surfer gone. "I want you to remember this summer… with me."

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. This wasn’t the cocky surfer who loved pushing your buttons. This was Leehan, standing in front of you, vulnerable for the first time. You could feel the weight of his words, the way they hung in the air between you.

"I…" you started, unsure of how to respond. Your heart was racing again, but this time, it wasn’t because of the adrenaline from the waves.

He reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin. "I think I’ve been spending so much time trying to get a rise out of you because…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. "I like being around you, lifeguard."

You blinked, the confession catching you completely off guard. "Leehan…"

He gave you a small, nervous smile—something you’d never seen from him before. "I know I can be a pain, but… I think we’re past that now, don’t you?"

For once, you didn’t have a sharp comeback. Instead, you found yourself nodding, your heart pounding in your chest as you took in the sight of him standing there, more open and vulnerable than you’d ever seen him.

"Yeah," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. "We are."

Leehan’s eyes softened as he stepped closer, the teasing smile replaced by something warmer, more genuine. "Good," he said quietly, his hand lingering on your arm for just a moment longer than necessary before he pulled away, his eyes still locked on yours. "Then let’s make this a summer to remember."

— : ☆

Another month and a half has passed, and you can’t count how many times you’ve gone out with Leehan. Each time surprises you—once, you were at an aquarium where he wouldn’t stop talking about fish (which was a pretty big surprise, considering how much he loved marine life), and another time you were decorating cookies at his house with his lovely grandma, who adored you.

Leehan had invited you to a quiet café hidden on the outskirts of the beach town, one with a view of the ocean but far away from the usual crowd of surfers and tourists. It was intimate and cozy, with soft music playing in the background and large windows that let in the golden light of the setting sun.

“So, this is one of my favorite spots,” Leehan said as you both settled into your seats. He smiled, but there was a nervousness behind it, like he was waiting for your reaction.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, gazing out at the waves. “I didn’t even know this place existed.”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Told you I had good taste.”

You spent the next hour talking about everything and nothing—about university, future plans, the places you’d want to visit. Leehan opened up more than usual, telling you about his worries about moving and not being accepted for university, about missing the place that made him grow, and about how he wasn’t sure if he was ready to leave behind this part of his life.

“I mean, I love surfing, but it’s not just that, you know?” he said, his voice softer than usual. “It’s… everything. The people. The memories. This summer.”

You glanced up at him, your chest tightening at the way his eyes softened when he looked at you. "You’ll miss it, won’t you?"

“Yeah.” He smiled faintly, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment before looking out at the ocean. “But I’ll miss you more. I like your personality, lifeguard.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than they should have been, making your pulse quicken. He wasn’t teasing. There was no playful glint in his eyes, no mischievous grin on his lips. It was just… him. Honest. Vulnerable.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you smiled softly, reaching across the table to lightly tap his arm. “I’ll miss you too, Leehan. I like your personality too, surfer.”

He looked down at your hand on his arm, his expression unreadable for a moment before he turned back to you. His hand slid over yours, gentle and warm, sending a shiver down your spine. “This summer,” he began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words. “It’s been different. Because of you.”

Your heart raced, the air between you thick with unspoken feelings. You wanted to say something—anything—to fill the silence, to break the tension, but you couldn’t. Instead, you stayed there, your hand still under his, the weight of his touch grounding you in the moment.

Before you could fully process what was happening, the waiter came by with your drinks, breaking the spell. Leehan pulled his hand away slowly, almost reluctantly, and you both shifted back into the comfortable rhythm of your conversation.

But the atmosphere had changed. There was a tension now, a soft, electric current running between you that neither of you could ignore.

As the evening went on, you wandered down to the beach together, the cool sand beneath your feet and the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. The sky was a blend of purples and oranges, the last remnants of the sunset painting everything in a dreamy haze.

Leehan walked beside you in silence for a while, his hands tucked into his pockets. You glanced over at him, noticing the way his brow was furrowed slightly, like he was deep in thought.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, nudging him with your elbow.

He blinked, looking over at you with a small smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

He hesitated for a moment before turning to face you fully, his gaze intense. “About creating your next memory”

You looked up at Leehan, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his eyes. The evening had been perfect, filled with quiet moments and laughter, and now, as you stood together on the beach with the ocean breeze swirling around you, his words felt like a promise.

“Creating my next memory?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leehan nodded, his smile softening. “Yeah. I want us to have more moments like this, you know? I want us to remember this summer not just as a time when we were friends but as something more.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the rush of emotions that were flooding over you. The way he spoke made it clear that this wasn’t just about summer or surfing; it was about something deeper, something real.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Leehan’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and affection. “It's a secret. And it will take time.”

"Really?" Leehan nodded as he took the stairs to your house along with you.

"Yeah, so you'll be free from me," you said, making a small pout.

"I started to get used to your annoying ass." You opened your door quietly; it was pretty late, and you knew your grandpa was sleeping.

Leehan put his palms on the door frame once I was inside, his face stretched to match mine. "Once again, you prove to me that you…"

"Don't do-"

"Love me." Like the first time, he sang the first word, but on the contrary, one month ago, this time you rolled your eyes with a smirk on your face, pushing him out as he gave you a smile.

"Goodnight, Leehan." You gave him your back to go to the kitchen, but his hand caught your waist and made you spin. Now you were face to face, your hands on his chest for support due to the sudden movement.

The moonlight bathed Leehan in a soft glow, casting a halo around him that made your heart skip a beat. His fingers lingered on your waist, his touch warm and gentle, as if he were testing the boundaries of the moment, unsure if he should take it further or let it fade.

You held your breath, feeling the weight of the unspoken tension between you. The electric current that had been building all evening was finally reaching its peak. His eyes searched yours, dark and intense, as though he was trying to find the courage to say what had been left unsaid for weeks.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I'm going to make this last week with you memorable. I'll give you my word.” Your heart hammered in your chest, and you felt yourself leaning in, pulled toward him like the tide to the shore. His face was so close now, close enough that you could see the way his breath hitched. His lips went to your cheek in the softest way possible.

He took his hands off your body, now a soft smile in his face as he watched you. So ethereal, so beautiful, so unique.

"Good night, lifeguard."

— : ☆

It wasn’t like him to go radio silent, especially after what had happened that night at your house. You found yourself constantly checking your phone, hoping for a text, a call—anything that would explain why he was gone so suddenly. But there was nothing. The beach felt different without him—quieter, lonelier. Even the familiar sounds of the waves crashing against the shore weren’t enough to drown out the thoughts swirling in your mind.

Had something changed between you? Had you crossed a line that couldn’t be undone?

Your grandpa had noticed your distraction, but as always, he kept his words to himself, only offering the occasional knowing smile whenever you seemed particularly lost in thought. It was a week later, though, when he came to you, holding a package wrapped in delicate, sea-blue paper.

“This arrived for you,” he said, his eyes twinkling with a quiet amusement.

You blinked, looking between him and the package. “For me?”

He nodded, handing it over. “From Leehan. He said you’d know when to wear it.”

Your heart fluttered at the sound of his name, and with trembling fingers, you carefully unwrapped the package, noticing something written in the wrap paper.

"Tonight. Be ready at 7. I’ll be waiting on the beach."

Inside was a dress—a beautiful, flowing white dress, simple yet elegant, with delicate lace details around the neckline. It was the kind of dress that felt timeless, like something out of a fairytale.

"How does he know my size?" you whispered.

"I called your mother, and she gave it to me." Your grandpa surprised you, and he simply winked, leaving your room as you admired the dress.

By the time the sun began to set, you were standing at the edge of the beach, your toes sinking into the cool sand. The dress flowed softly with the breeze, and for a moment, you felt like you were in a dream, like you had stepped into one of those romantic movies where the ending was bittersweet but beautiful.

Ahead, you saw it—the soft glow of string lights hanging between two palm trees, illuminating a small table set for two. The sound of distant laughter carried through the wind, and as you got closer, you spotted Leehan’s friends: Woonhak, Taesan, Jaehyun, Sungho, and Riwoo. They were busy setting up the final touches, but the moment they noticed you, they gave you a wave before retreating, leaving the scene just for the two of you.

Leehan stood by the water’s edge, his back turned toward you, his hair ruffled by the wind. He was wearing a white shirt that matched the dress he had chosen for you, and as he turned to face you, his eyes softened. The moon had begun to rise behind him, casting a silver light over the beach, making the whole scene feel like something out of a storybook.

“You look…” His voice trailed off, his gaze lingering on you as if words weren’t enough to capture what he wanted to say. “…perfect.”

You smiled softly, stepping closer. “This is beautiful, Leehan. I can’t believe you did all this.”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. “I had some help,” he admitted, nodding toward the group of friends who were now disappearing down the beach. “But I wanted tonight to be special.”

You glanced around at the lights, the candles flickering on the table, and the waves gently lapping at the shore. It was special—more than you could have ever imagined. But beneath the beauty of it all, there was a bittersweet undercurrent, a silent understanding that this summer, this moment, was coming to an end.

As you both sat down at the table, the conversation flowed easily at first—lighthearted, filled with laughter, stories of the past few weeks, and jokes about the lengths he went to keep the evening a surprise. But as the night deepened and the stars began to dot the sky, the mood shifted.

There was a heaviness now, a shared sadness that neither of you could ignore.

Leehan's eyes lingered on yours longer than usual, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on the both of you. The breeze carried the scent of saltwater, the distant hum of the ocean a constant reminder of the fleeting nature of this moment. You took a deep breath, feeling a lump form in your throat as the reality of the situation settled in. Two days. You had two days left together.

“I still haven’t heard back from the university,” Leehan said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was quieter now, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. “I keep checking my email, waiting for something, but nothing yet.”

Your heart clenched. You knew how much he wanted this, how hard he had worked to get to this point, and yet here he was—stuck in limbo, waiting for a future that still seemed so uncertain.

“I’m sure it’ll come,” you said, your voice gentle. “Maybe they’re just taking longer than usual.”

He gave a small, tight smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You both fell into silence again, the weight of the situation settling heavily between you. The string lights above flickered softly, casting warm, golden hues over the table, but they couldn’t chase away the growing ache in your chest.

Leehan leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on the ocean. “You’re leaving in two days.”

It wasn’t a question, just a statement—a fact that hung in the air like a cloud over the evening. You swallowed hard, nodding.

“I know,” you whispered, your chest tightening. “It feels like this summer went by too fast.”

He nodded, still not meeting your eyes. “I didn’t want it to end like this. I didn’t want… us to end like this.”

The words hit you like a wave, crashing over you with a force you hadn’t expected. Us. He had said it—acknowledging what had been growing between you all summer, the connection that neither of you had dared to put a name to.

“You know,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I don’t want this to end either.”

Leehan’s eyes finally met yours, and in that moment, the vulnerability in his gaze mirrored your own. The emotions you had both been holding back all summer—fear, excitement, longing—were laid bare, unspoken but undeniable.

“Then why does it feel like we’re both saying goodbye?” His voice was barely above a whisper, the sadness in his tone echoing the ache in your own heart.

You didn’t have an answer. You didn’t know how to explain that sometimes things were too perfect to last. Sometimes, no matter how much you wanted to hold on, life had other plans. You reached across the table, your hand finding his, the warmth of his touch grounding you, even as everything else felt like it was slipping away.

“I’m going to miss you, surfer.” You whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “More than you know.”

Leehan squeezed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m going to miss you too, lifeguard.”

The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of all the things you couldn’t say—how much you had come to care for him, how much this summer had changed you. But there was no need for words anymore. You both knew. The feelings were there, just beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged.

But you wouldn’t say it. Not tonight. Not when the thought of saying goodbye was already too much to bear.

Instead, Leehan stood up, offering you his hand. “Come on,” he said softly. “I have one last surprise.”

You let him lead you down to the water’s edge, the cool waves lapping at your feet. The moon was high in the sky now, casting a silvery glow over the ocean, and for a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the world.

He pulled you into a slow dance, the sound of the ocean and the distant music from a small speaker he installed, blending together into a soft, romantic melody. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, as if he were trying to memorize the feel of you in his arms.

“Thank you for this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. And in that moment, you knew. You both knew.

You were in love.

But it was a love you couldn’t hold on to, not right now. Not when the summer was ending and life was pulling you in different directions.

So, for tonight, you danced. You held on to each other as the waves whispered their goodbyes, as the stars blinked down from the sky, and as the world around you faded away. Because in this moment, you didn’t need to say anything.

— : ☆

You stood in the doorway, phone in hand, staring at the screen longer than you should have. The familiar weight in your chest grew heavier, pressing against your ribs as you swallowed down the lump in your throat. The house felt quieter now, the warmth of last night’s memory still lingering in the air. It was hard to believe that just hours ago, everything felt timeless, like your summer would never end. But now… it was real. You were leaving.

Taking a deep breath, you pressed the voice message icon and tried to keep your voice steady.

"Hey, Leehan. Sorry for bothering you. I know you're probably still sleeping, but my mom came earlier than expected, and…" Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to continue. "I'm leaving right now for Seoul."

A wave of sadness washed over you as you spoke, each word feeling heavier than the last. You paused, trying to collect your thoughts, to say something meaningful, something that could capture the bittersweet emotions flooding your heart. You wanted to thank him for everything—for all the memories, for the way he made this summer feel like something out of a dream.

"Thank you for everything, Leehan. For the beach, for the laughter, for… for making this summer unforgettable." You hesitated, unsure of how to end it. "I’ll miss you."

The words hung in the air, final and inevitable. You released the button, watching the message send with a soft whoosh. It felt like letting go of something precious, something you weren’t quite ready to part with.

You pocketed your phone and turned to face your grandpa, who stood in the doorway watching you with a sad but understanding smile. His arms opened, and without a word, you wrapped yours around him, squeezing tightly. The scent of the sea, the warmth of his flannel shirt—everything about him reminded you of this place, of home.

“I’ll miss you so much, grandpa,” you whispered, your voice breaking just a little. Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away, not wanting this moment to end in sadness.

He patted your back softly, his voice steady. "I’ll miss you too, kiddo. But you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Don’t forget that."

Pulling back, you offered him a watery smile, nodding as you wiped at your eyes. He glanced over at your mom, who was waiting in the car, then back at you.

"You can always come back, you know. This town… it’ll always be here. And so will I."

You nodded, but the heaviness in your heart remained. It was never just about the town. It was about everything that had happened here, the memories you were leaving behind—memories you weren’t ready to let go of, not yet.

With one last look at the house, the beach in the distance, and the path you had walked so many times with Leehan, you climbed into the car. Your mom smiled softly as you buckled in, but you couldn’t return it. Not yet.

The engine started, and as the car pulled away, you found yourself turning back, looking through the rearview mirror at the small beach town fading in the distance.

Leehan stood by your grandpa, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, the bouquet of flowers cradled protectively in his arms. His eyes darted to the road where the car had just disappeared, his face pale with the weight of realization—he was too late. He gripped the flowers tighter, his knuckles white against the delicate petals.

Your grandpa placed a hand on Leehan’s shoulder, his expression soft, filled with the kind of understanding that only comes with age. “You didn’t miss her by much, son. She just left.”

Leehan nodded, but the words didn’t bring him comfort. The ache in his chest only grew as he looked down at the flowers, the card tucked neatly between them, filled with all the words he hadn’t been able to say to you. Five pages, front and back, confessing everything he had felt all summer—everything he had been too afraid to voice.

“I wanted to tell her,” Leehan murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I had time.”

Your grandpa sighed, his hand still resting gently on Leehan’s shoulder. “Sometimes, we think we have all the time in the world. But life… it doesn’t always wait for us.”

Leehan’s gaze lingered on the empty road, his heart heavy with regret. He had planned everything so carefully—every detail of the beach date, every moment leading up to his confession. But now, it felt like it had slipped through his fingers like sand.

"Leehan!" he heard the familiar scream of Jaehyun; actually, all of his friends were running to him with smiles on their faces. Jaehyun was faster than the rest, a paper in his hand shoving in his face.

"God, MyungJae, what is that?"

"Read it!" He took the paper and read it, his energy below zero slowly going up. He could feel the relief when he read, "We are glad to have you, Kim Dong Hyun, at our university."

"I got in," he said, a small smile on his face.

"We all did! We're going to Seoul, baby!" Woonhak screamed, and that's when a bulb turned on Leehan's head. A soft touch on his shoulder made him look at the old man.

"I think you actually have a chance to give her the flowers."

Leehan’s heart raced as the realization hit him. Seoul. He was going to Seoul. The very place you were headed. He had a chance—maybe not to stop you from leaving, but to find you again, to tell you everything he had kept bottled up all summer.

He looked at his friends, who were all celebrating, but his mind was already somewhere else. Turning to your grandpa, who still had that knowing smile on his face, Leehan felt a surge of determination.

“I need to go after her,” he said, voice shaky but full of resolve.

Your grandpa chuckled softly, nodding. “I figured as much. Go on, son. She’ll be glad to see you.”

— : ☆

A month. That’s how long it had been since you last saw Leehan. No messages, no updates from your grandfather—just an aching silence that grew heavier with each passing day. And now, here you were, standing on the familiar beach in Seoul, the same place you came to clear your head. The sky was a fading blend of soft orange and pink, slowly surrendering to the approaching night.

The dress you wore felt like a relic from a time that felt both distant and painfully close—the same dress from that unforgettable beach date with Leehan. Nostalgia coursed through your veins, memories of that night replaying in your mind as the sound of the waves whispered around you.

You sighed, kicking at the sand as you walked closer to the water, unsure why you had returned here tonight. It was as if some invisible thread had pulled you back to this place, as if the universe wasn’t quite done with the story between you and him.

The soft crash of waves filled the silence, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in the rhythm of the ocean, your thoughts drifting like the tide.

"That area is off-limits, young lady."

Your heart skipped, your breath catching in your throat as you whipped around at the familiar voice. And there he was, standing a few feet away, wearing that same teasing, lopsided smile that had made you fall for him in the first place. Leehan.

He looked a little different now—more mature, like the month apart had shifted something in him. But his eyes still held that spark, that mischievous glint you had come to adore.

“Leehan?” You breathed, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst from your chest.

He gave you a small shrug, his hands tucked casually in his pockets as he took a step closer. “What? You didn’t think I’d just disappear, did you? Especially after all the trouble I went through for that beach date.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips, your chest filling with warmth. “I thought you might’ve forgotten about me.”

His eyebrows shot up, a look of mock offense crossing his face. “Forgotten? You, lifeguard?” He stepped even closer, until he was standing right in front of you, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “Impossible.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, all the hurt and uncertainty from the past month seemed to melt away. But there was still one question you couldn’t shake.

“What are you doing here, Leehan?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, that teasing grin never leaving his face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bouquet of flowers. “Well, your grandpa might’ve told me a little secret. Something about how you always come here when you need to think.”

You blinked, your chest tightening at the thought of your grandpa playing matchmaker. “He told you where to find me?”

Leehan chuckled, shaking his head as he handed you the flowers. “Yeah, he’s pretty sneaky for an old guy.”

You took the bouquet, feeling the softness of the petals between your fingers, your heart racing at the thought that he had come all this way just for you. But before you could say anything, Leehan stepped closer, his expression softening, his voice turning serious.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, his voice rough with regret. “For not calling, for not texting… for disappearing. I—I wanted to. Every single day, I wanted to reach out, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if you’d even want to hear from me after I let you down.”

Your heart clenched at the sincerity in his voice. You had been angry at first, hurt by his silence, but now, seeing him like this, so vulnerable and broken by his own mistakes, you couldn’t hold on to that anger.

“I missed you,” you said softly, the truth of it spilling from your lips before you could stop it. “I missed you so much, Leehan.”

His eyes softened at your words, but the guilt in his expression remained. “I missed you too. Every day. And I hated myself for not telling you, for letting my own fear keep me from you.”

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. His touch was warm, familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"I messed up," he started, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion. "I should have called you the moment you left. Every day, I wanted to text you, to hear your voice, to know how you were doing… but I didn’t. I thought giving you space was the right thing. I thought I was being respectful, but honestly, I was just scared."

His thumb grazed over your knuckles, his touch soft, almost hesitant. "I was scared that maybe you'd moved on. Maybe I was just some summer fling to you and that the second you left for Seoul, I’d be forgotten. But I never forgot you. Not for a single second."

His voice cracked, and he paused, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Every time I looked at the ocean, I thought of you. I thought about the way you used to look at it, like it was a part of you, and all I could think was how much I missed you. How much I miss us."

You felt your heart tighten at his words, the weight of his confession sinking deep into your chest. He let out a shaky breath, stepping closer, his hands still holding yours as if he were afraid to let go.

"You have no idea how much I regret not picking up the phone and telling you how I felt. Because, God, I am so in love with you. I love the way you laugh when you think no one’s listening, the way you get lost in your thoughts when you're staring at the waves, the way you make everything feel right. I’ve loved you for so long, and I can’t keep pretending that I don’t."

His gaze softened, and his voice grew even quieter. "I’m sorry for making you think I didn’t care, for being such a coward. But I can’t let you walk away again without telling you how much you mean to me."

He took a deep breath, his grip tightening just a little as he leaned in, his voice steady but filled with an overwhelming tenderness.

"I love you, lifeguard."

The world seemed to fall away in that moment, the weight of his words settling over you like a gentle breeze. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of emotions swirling inside you—joy, relief, and love. You had waited so long to hear those words, and now that they were here, everything felt right.

A slow smile spread across your lips as you looked up at him, your hand tightening in his. “I love you too, Leehan.”

His eyes sparkled with happiness, and before you could say anything else, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, filled with the sweetness of first love, but as the moments passed, it deepened, filled with all the emotions you had both kept hidden for so long.

When you finally pulled away, Leehan rested his forehead against yours, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You know, I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.”

You laughed softly, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “I’m glad you finally did.”

He chuckled, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close. “Get used to it, lifeguard. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

"What do you mean?" He cleared his throat and looked at you.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. I got in, to the university."

Leehan laughed as you wrapped your arms around him, your excitement evident as you squeezed him tightly. The bouquet of flowers had tumbled onto the sand, their petals scattered around as you held him close.

“You got in?” You asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

He nodded, a bright smile on his face. “Yep. Me, Jaehyun, Woonhak… all six of us got in. Last month was moving everything and paper work. So, it looks like we’re both headed in the same direction.”

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your eyes wide with surprise and joy. “You’re really here.”

Leehan’s grin widened as he nodded again. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A wave of happiness washed over you, the feeling of his presence comforting and reassuring. “I’m so glad you’re here, Leehan.”

"And you know why?" You had a feeling of what was about to come. "Because you love me," he said, doing a small dance in front of you. This time, you laughed, your heart jumping in joy.

"Yeah, I do love you, surfer." He kept on dancing, so you took him by the collar of the shirt and kissed him once more.

Leehan’s laughter mingled with the rhythmic sound of the waves, filling the evening air with a playful melody. He stopped dancing when you pulled him closer, your lips meeting his in a kiss that spoke volumes. His lips were warm, and the kiss was both tender and teasing, full of the longing you both had felt over the past month.

As you broke away, he looked at you with a smirk. “You know, I’ve been practicing my dance moves just for this moment.”

You laughed, your eyes sparkling. “And here I thought you were just trying to impress me.”

Leehan’s grin widened, his fingers tracing light patterns on your arm. “Oh, trust me, impressing you is just the beginning. I’ve got a whole repertoire of moves I’ve been saving for our next date.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of future moments with him. Hand in hand, you both walked along the shore, the waves gently lapping at your feet. The night was filled with laughter, flirtatious glances, and the promise of a future together. The summer might be ending, but with Leehan by your side, every moment felt like the beginning of a beautiful adventure.

↷ 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚢'𝚜 note: After contasntly debating into wi¿hich one to put out to the world, here I am giving not only to the network but to the onedoorblr/bndblr my second work! I promise I will post more of my boys, I truly will (and pls the song in the intro has NOTHING to do with it LMAO, I forgot the song I chose before)💗

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targaryenluvs · 11 months ago

Note

if you’re still taking requests, what about a dark fic for coryo who takes advantage of a reader with one sided love for him, expecting her to be there for him and love him no matter what. so when he comes back to the capitol after all the district 12 drama expecting her to be his one consistency in life, he can’t take it when he sees she’s moved on

LATE TO THE PARTY!

pairings: dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: after corio was sent away to district 12, you managed to come to terms with the fact that he did not love you by any means. but what happens when he realises he liked that affection? and what happens when you’re already in a relationship?

warnings: dark!corio, possessiveness, unrequited love (both sides at different times), pining, stalkingish, home wrecker corio, nc kiss, paparazzi, power dynamics/abuse of power for selfish reasons and intimidation

a/n: let’s let corio chase our ass for once 🙄🙄 shorter than i expected but i just wrote it all so here you go!!!

his hair was different.

you didn’t mind it but it’d been a while since you’d seen coriolanus, in all his glory, family name restored, fortune acquired and highway to power paved out. old you, in-love-with-coriolanus you would’ve fainted.

but you had moved on from him.

you had charles now and you could not have asked for anyone better. he was always there for you, actually payed attention to you and was literally everything a girl dreamed for. and you are content. but at times you felt as if it was just that. content. he didn’t challenge you, and your thoughts. he didn’t ignite passion and fire within you, every time he looked at you it was, meh. the sex was vanilla and cute but you always were left frustrated. you were being treated as if you were fragile whilst you wanted roughness.

coriolanus could tell. ever since he came back and saw you with him, you never looked your best as you usually did. whether it was snappiness at interns or fiddling with your nails, something was up. and he took it as a sign, you needed saving. so he did exactly that.

charles had been away on business in district one for a month now. as if him being present and not doing the most when you were together wasn’t enough, now you had nothing. no one. and god were you pent up and frustrated. half of your interns were always stumbling over each other and the rest were too confident in themselves. you needed a vacation. even if for a night only. that came in the form of a party invitation.

if you’d known who’s party invitation then you would have been sure to decline.

the dress you wore wasn’t yours. your maid had delivered it to you whilst you were in your study working. she said it was left on the doorstep, no claim of responsibility but a letter.

I hope you choose to wear it, the dress is almost as gorgeous as you are, Y/n.

- C.S

and for the life of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to think of who it came from. but it truly was breathtaking there was no doubt about it. off the shoulders and red, it complimented you well.

you took note of the amount of reporters which was odd. but you were here to have a good time, best to not focus on them and ruin your day. you were so ready to stuff your face after barely having time for it through the day.

the party was surprisingly tame, there seemed to be a lot of whispering and stares pointed your way but you tried not to let it affect you. perhaps they were surprised by you attending alone? you and charles had decided not to rush your relationship so you’d kept it secret to the larger part of the captiol. only your family and friends knew. but you couldn’t shake the feeling of them knowing something you didn’t.

“everyone please gather for coriolanus outside.” you may have given yourself whiplash at the announcement. this was coriolanus’s party? you never expected him to be the type to hold one in all honestly, let alone dish out speeches. but there he stood tall and towering over. his eyes zeroed in on you the second you joined the moving crowd, it was unnerving to say the least.

the faces in the crowd were largely people you didn’t know personally, first names and last rung through your head as you smiled at some and walked past, trying to make your way to the front. but the crowd seemed to huddle, not letting you through for some reason. a hand on your wrist dragged you away, which had you pulling to have it let go of you. the swarms of heads and bodies obscured your vision and the person was unseen by you.

it wasn’t long before you were being pushed up steps and standing to the side of coriolanus. why the hell did they place you up here?

“the lovely y/n l/n-“ coriolanus stretched his open palm, inviting you to take it. the fuck is going on? your eyes were looking into his for an answer and his were looking at you, secretive. “has been the object of my desire, and after chasing her down, she’s agreed to marry me.” flashes went off every which way as you stood still. there’s no way i heard that right. right?

but him pressing his lips to yours and a hand to your back shook you out of your daydream as you pushed him away. not that anyone noticed. “what are you doing?” you scolded him, your back to the crowd as he smiled, his hand stroking your cheek before leaning down and whispering, “taking what’s mine.”

you couldn’t sleep that night, or in the morning. it was your day off from work yet no one was letting you rest. letters, videos, flowers and more sent to your apartment, all congratulating yourself and your fiancée coriolanus. bleh.

you didn’t even know how you were going to tell charles all that happened. would he believe you? would he hate you? how are you supposed to be with him whilst coriolanus announced your marriage. not engagement, marriage. as in this is happening, and we’re already engaged. you’d be breaking of a marriage that hadn’t been planned nor known, by you at least.

your answer came in the form of charles’s letter, wish you and coriolanus well.

My Dear Sweetheart,

I’d hoped to hear of your time away from me in a good way. That you’d made progress with the interns or been promoted.

But it seems in my time away I’ve left you alone, too alone, for you’ve found comfort in the arms of your past. I wish no ill towards you, nor your soon to be husband Coriolanus. The two of you are a fine match, made for eachother.

I only wish you had told me before I left, for I was planning on surprising you with a ring of my own. I guess it’ll have to wait for another. I know it is selfish of me to say so, but I cannot deny the feelings I still harbour for you.

You’re as kind as a mother, as gorgeous as ever, you remind me of the night stars, I know you will shine bright in the capitol. Your smile brings me to remember all the things I love about you. Your soft skin reminds of silk,and your gentle eyes bring me to sleep, I do hope Coriolanus appreciates you as much as I do. I am always here for you yet I will have to settle for the memories and another woman.

I love you my dear, and I wish you the best.

Yours Only,

Charles

it felt as if your heart had been ripped out, you’d lost the love of your life because of coriolanus’s selfishness. and you couldn’t ever escape from him now.

your love for him was for everyone to see, yet he dismissed it when he had it. but his love for you was a secret, kept close to his heart. he only noticed you once you’d moved on from him, and to coriolanus? you couldn’t move on. too bad you didn’t see it till now.

you were late to the party.

#coriolanus snow x fem!reader #yandere coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow

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webslingingslasher · 1 year ago

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hi babeeee!!! idk if this is how requests work bc i never request fics but i was wondering if u could do something super duper angsty, like really angsty, and then hurt comfort with a fluffy end? it can be anything you want, but like that sort of timeline would be so so so good, if u could and if requests r open,, xoxoxox

it may have taken me 12 years but i did it bestie.

Peter Parker wasn’t the type of boyfriend to have rules.

You were your own person, and should live as one. However, there were some things he was a bit more passionate about.

Like: texting him when you get home (and he wasn’t around), calling him if you feel unsafe or nervous, keep him informed of your whereabouts so he could try and track you down if he needed to, and always, always, call him back.

Peter had one rule, let him know you're safe. Always. Even when you’re mad at eachother, even at your most ugly, you’d let him know you’re okay. It was Peter’s one true rule, the other things he liked and he preferred you’d do, but this was his number one thing.

And you’re not following it.

The third time you ignored his call he felt frustration brew so deeply he almost slammed his phone to the ground, it would’ve done nothing to fix anything, and would’ve made a bigger problem, but the satisfaction of watching something break apart into a million pieces would’ve made him feel better. Even if just for a moment.

It’s almost like you knew it’s pissing him off, you’ve never dug this deeply into a wound. You knew it would get under his skin in the right places, it was something that either of you didn’t play with. It was too serious for Peter, and knowing you were most likely safe and just doing this to try and get even with him made him furious. Because he can’t prove it. And because he can’t all he could think about how not okay you might be.

Peter hates leaving angry voicemails but he can’t stop himself this time.

‘This is the fourth fucking call you’ve ignored, I think you proved your point. I know you’re mad at me but this is just childish, you made this night go from a small hiccup to a massive fight because you won’t answer your phone. Just call me back, goddamn it.’

Peter’s never once gotten loud with you, he’s never once felt enough rage towards you he could ever buck up enough energy to yell at you. But all he wanted to do was scream about how inconsiderate you were. He understands he may have started it, he even tried to apologize but you must’ve had this in your heart for a minute because you couldn’t wait to bulldoze him.

‘I’m so sorry, baby. I got caught up in the low-’

‘Whatever, I don’t care. I’m going home.’

‘Hey, no, no, no! We can still hang out! I haven’t ate-’

‘I did. I waited over an hour, Peter. I’m going home.’

‘I’m sorry, I really am, baby. I know tonight was important to you.’

And that’s when the night switched.

‘No, Peter, this wasn’t important to me. This was important for us, this was about you trying to prove you still care about us.’

‘Woah, hold on, don’t you dare stand there and tell me I don’t care about you or us, that’s unfair and you know it.’

‘You know what, Peter? I didn’t sign up to date two guys. I was willing to accept the other because it was a package deal, but I’m tired of being picked last. You know I’ll always be waiting around and it’s so fucking tiresome just waiting around.’

‘Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were signing up for, you don’t get to act like this is new news.’

‘I’m always picked last! I understand who you are, Peter, who you share a life with, trust me, if anyone here knows best about understanding, it’s fucking me, but that doesn’t mean I’m always the last priority. I know sometimes I have to be on the backburner, and guess what, Peter? I fucking understand. But, tonight? What stopped you? Because it’s not like there’s a domestic attack on the city, so tell me, what was so fucking important tonight I was shot to the bottom of the list for it?’

‘Okay, I get it. I know you’re mad, but I think we both need to take a breath and talk about this at home.’

‘No! I want you to look at me and tell me what was so important NYPD’s finest couldn’t handle it for an evening.’

‘Baby, I really don’t-’

‘Fucking tell me! I want you to admit right now it was nothing important. Look me in the eye and admit you didn’t care about my feelings.’

‘It was a robbery. I have a responsibility to keep the city safe, a city you very much live in, by the way.’

‘Ah, the classic, ‘if you really think about it, I’m doing this for you’ line. Real original.’

‘Can we please just go home? If you’re going to be pissed at me anyways I’d rather it be in the comfort of our home.’

‘You can go wherever you want, but I’m not going anywhere with you.’

‘I’m gonna get a cab, hold on.’

‘No, I’m not going anywhere with you and I mean it.’

‘You can hate me at home, let’s go.’

‘No! I’m leaving, you can sit around waiting on me for once.’

‘Why are you doing this now? You’ve never been this persistent before, I moved in with you and you still don’t think it’s enough. What else do you want from me? I’m giving you all I can, fuck.’

‘You know what? I hope someone fucking kidnaps me, maybe then I’d be your first choice.’

‘Don’t, don’t you even dare go there. You know that’s a low blow.’

‘I do. I hope I’m fucking tortured with you on the line, too.’

Peter tried calling out for you, screamed your name even, but you walked across the street and were swallowed into the crowd. He tugged at his hair a few times before looking around, he wasn’t sure what to do. Get a cab, bus, train? Does he walk in the direction you went? It’s a start.

Pulling out his phone he tried calling, you sent him to voicemail on the second ring. You’re pissed, that’s fine, he just needs you mad and safe. Peter dodged bodies on his left and right, checking each alleyway for you, assuming you’d stop to collect yourself and call him when you had a breather.

No sight of you. He doesn’t know where you went from here, it splits two ways. He tries using his boyfriend intuition and attempts to channel you, he’s left hopeless. Like a hail mary he remembers you share locations, Peter’s hands shake when he reaches for the app, your name loading until a small circle appears in his.

You’re close. He follows the road forward, he knows you took this way and his heart squeezes. You deliberately took the sketchy route, the one you told Peter you wouldn’t dare walk without him. It looks like he’s getting closer, but it’s impossible to tell when he has to wait for it to constantly reload.

Peter swears he can see your jacket ahead, he calls your phone, picking up the pace and trying his best to catch up. You blocked his call again, but he saw you do it.

He knows you heard your name get called, because you started to walk faster, it’s useless, Peter’s quicker. The only option you had was to hide in the crowd, squeezing yourself in the middle and out through the front. Sighing heavy at your escape, and a bit unamused by the childish behavior. Peter looked down at his phone refreshing your name ‘find friends.’

His face crumbled into a thousand pieces when the notification appeared, ‘- stopped sharing their location with you.’ His response was to call you, this time you let it ring out, and he left a nasty voicemail. It was like he snapped, he pulled at his curls and exhaled a loud ‘fuck!’ before gripping his phone so tight he thought it’d snap, and that's why he put it away.

If you wanted to play dirty so could he, you’re hard to find from the street but when he’s swinging from building to building you’d be out of luck. He was tired and hungry, he wanted this to be over. Fight about it like grown adults, at home, while he’s making a grilled cheese or something.

Peter ran down a back alleyway, ripping his clothes from his body and pulling his mask from his pocket. The suit came in handy tonight after all. Taking a sharp inhale, he took a leap, screaming out when he took flight.

‘Not you, not you, not you, not…. You? No, not you.’

‘Where the fuck did you go?’

You were nowhere to be found, still no answer on his calls or texts. He knows it’s irrational, but he’s terrified you’ve jinxed yourself and really are in trouble. He’s taken the route on a spin three times and he still hasn’t seen you, there’s three options, you either went into a gay nightclub, were kidnapped, or somehow snuck your way across the road and into… central park.

Of course you did, Peter should’ve known that. He told you one time it was a weak vantage point, he couldn’t see through the treelines all that well, and didn’t have much to swing from. At least he has a general idea of where you are, he just has to do it on foot.

Maybe you were right, maybe he just sucked at prioritizing you now. He doesn’t know when he became this way. He just feels so responsible, he got a great gift and it’s only right he shares it. He just hasn’t figured out how to share Peter with you and Spider-Man with the world yet. Both people need him at the same time.

At last, sitting on the edge of the fountain, is the love of his life. Just looking terribly sad, he hates to know he caused it. He may have started the fight, but you said some terrible things, things that were only said to jab at the most vulnerable spots.

Taking a seat next to you he sighs, his entire body deflating in one breath. You mimic the sigh.

“Rough night?”

You hum, “my boyfriend and I got in a fight. Maybe we still are, I don’t know. What about you?”

Peter stretches his legs, red feet scrape the brick. “My girlfriend went nuclear, kinda deserved. But, she also really hurt my feelings.”

“Did you hurt her feelings too?”

“Does that make it deserved?”

Silence. It didn’t.

Peter watches you twiddle your thumbs, chewing on your bottom lip and sniffing.

“I’m sure she’s really sorry, and she knows whatever she said hit a soft spot. It seems like your job comes with some downsides, and maybe she kept it all bottled up until she couldn’t anymore, because how do you tell a superhero you want their attention more than a city needs protection?”

He knows what you mean, he knows how selfish it could sound, but it’s not. You’re allowed to want him around every second, because he does too.

“You don’t.”

Peter can feel your eyes, “you don’t tell the superhero, you tell your boyfriend.”

Your throat clears, “what if he’s both? What if he’s already spread too thin and his whining girlfriend is his last straw?”

“No. He’s not spread too thin. He was unaware of how you felt, he didn’t know how much it bothered you. He didn’t know how far he pushed you away.”

“So what changes now he knows?”

Peter breaks character, this is about real solutions.

“We figure it out. We’ll go home and look at our schedules and work around it, and have a set day where it’s only us. Twice a month we’ll have a standing date, attendance mandatory. The police scanner gets turned off unless it’s a slow night, and from now on, unless it’s a domestic attack, nothing comes before you.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker angst #tasm!peter angst #my writing

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