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eightmakesonebraincell · 7 months ago

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ateez as pirates who fall for you (maknae line)

read hyung line here

genre: pirate!ateez x gn!reader (fem!reader for jongho), fluff, angst, continuation of the pirate trope brainrot (but i must say i went all out for the plots this time)

length: 14.4k

c/w: heavy and mature themes - mdni, explicit language (swearing), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, illegal acts (piracy, attempted murder), alcohol, near-drowning, angst bc i mean angst, specific c/w for mingi’s au: hurt/comfort, allusions to depression

a/n: i’m very sad i never got to use this joke somewhere so - why are pirates called pirates? because they just arrrr 🙈🙉🙊 also to those who like connecting dots and whatnot there are a few easter eggs related to hyung line 🥚 big thanks to yumi @sorryimananti-romantic for getting me through the last three months of trying to work and write bc it’s been a ship time ha ha 😬👍

taglist: at the end

san

pov: you run away with san and the cromer

through your waning breath, you reach a trembling hand up to cup san’s jaw

“s-san, don’t do it”

he lets out a racking sob as he shakes his head, expression marred with agony and torment that you can physically feel in his white-knuckled grasp that covers your own hand

the tears that drip off his jaw become lost to the ground, which is damp from moisture and your blood

you swallow the metallic taste in your mouth, “the cromer isn’t meant for changing fate.” it hurts to take a breath and you wince as you stutter. “it never goes th- the way you want it to…you know that by now”

san’s voice is broken and pained, “i don’t fucking care. it’s not going to stop me from trying”

he grips your hand even tighter when he starts to feel it fall away from his cheek

it’s becoming tiring to keep your eyes open

maybe you can rest…just for a little bit

san will forgive you, right?

you close your eyes

just for a little while

just until the pain stops

faintly, you think you can feel your body being jostled against something warm

but it’s far away

far away

far

san clutches your limp body as he lets out a primal wail of anguish

you cannot die

you will not die

he snatches the glowing hourglass and flips it with desperation screaming in every cell of his body

and then his world goes white.

you don’t notice when the footsteps behind you suddenly fall silent

you’re too busy reasoning with the captain, whose back you are facing as he walks ahead and leads your crew further into the dim tunnels of the cave

“it’s much safer if we go over the mountain. we’ll have the advantage of higher ground to ambush the horizon”

your captain, taesung, doesn’t look at you when he answers over his shoulder, “it’s much quicker through the tunnels. we don’t have the luxury of time if we want to attack their crew before they leave the island”

“and what if they attack - the horizon can easily ambush us as long as they’ve got the cave’s exit guarded”

you immediately turn around to look at san, knowing that he’ll support your argument

only to find that he’s not there

he’s several metres behind the back of the group and frozen to the spot

even in the shadowed darkness of the musty cave, you can clearly see the ashen and shaken features of his face

approaching him slowly, your fire torch held out in front of you, you gently call, “san?”

at the sound of your voice, his eyes lock onto yours

he looks terrified

san is lost in a distorted warp of visions

he can’t make sense of nor connect what he’s seeing

but there is blood

there’s so much blood

it’s everywhere

you’re there

it’s your blood

there’s someone screaming; raw with despair

he’s screaming

the ground digs into his knees and he feels wet and sticky from your blood but also his tears and there are so many tears and the walls are cold from moisture and it’s so dark and musty even with the smell of iron in the air and god you’re dying

you’re going to die

“san?” you repeat, now in front of him and tenderly cupping his jaw

and san has to stop you from dying

his pupils focus on you once again before he desperately tries to gain his bearings

he looks around with increasing franticness

he’s in a cave and the only light he can see comes from the torch you’re holding and the others shared amongst the crew

water drips from the ceiling and along the rugged walls towards the damp ground, filling the cave with a stale and mouldy smell

all his senses scream the same thing to him

it’s just like when you died

his own voice sounds foreign to him when he manages to choke out, “let’s listen to captain”

your eyebrows pinch together at san’s sudden compliance, especially more so when he lowers the volume of his next words so that you’re the only one who can hear his soft don’t argue with him

there’s something about the way he silently pleads with his eyes that makes you nod numbly

you slip the hand that isn’t holding the torch into his and prompt him to walk again with a light tug forward towards the rest of the crew, who are not too far ahead

when the both of you have nearly caught up, san readjusts his hand in your grasp so that his is atop of yours

and so you two walk, san leading you with a sturdy hand; a line of defence between you and the rest of the crew…and the depths of the cave

the thin sheet of cotton that you lay upon does little to soften the discomfort of the cave’s floor as you and the crew prepare for a few hours of sleep, but your pillow makes up for it

your head is cushioned by san’s thigh, who’s seated upright against the wall after offering to keep watch

he’s gazing down at you with a tender smile as he slowly runs his fingers through your hair like a soothing lullaby

your eyes scan his, still trying to catch any changes in his expression that could possibly explain his strange demeanour from earlier

you want to ask him what’s wrong but there’s only so much privacy you can get in a cave with the rest of your crew

instead, you give his hand a squeeze

san’s smile fades a little and you wonder whether it’s the illusion of the light and shadows from the torches that makes his face look so gaunt

his eyes flicker around guiltily and then he looks at you whilst reciprocating your squeeze

he’s mouthing something, you realise

do you trust me?

you tighten your fingers around his in reassurance

with my life

the dimpled caverns return to san’s cheeks, and then he’s whispering to you softly, “sleep”

you don’t recall dozing off, but you must not have been asleep for very long before you’re woken by a light shake to your shoulder

the groggy mumble that starts to leave your lips is hushed by a warm kiss on your forehead

you’re met with the sight of san holding a finger against his lips when you open your eyes and your brain struggles to comprehend what’s happening

there’s a faint glow coming from under his bulging shirt, which could only be one thing

the cromer

as your neurons start firing again, you come to the realisation that apart from you and san, nobody else is awake yet

quietly, he helps you up to your feet

the silent question he asked before you fell asleep replays in your head, and although it does nothing to clear up your confusion, it helps to ease your anxiety because you meant it when you mouthed your response

you trust san with your life

so you turn away from your crew members and start walking, each step deliberate and careful, your hand clutched safely within san’s while he retraces your steps from today

and when san deems you two far enough and out of immediate danger of being caught, he pulls the cromer out of his shirt to use as a makeshift torch

you both make a run for it

when you emerge out of the cave’s entrance hours later, thighs burning from the strain, you almost stumble to your hands and knees from the blinding brightness of the afternoon sun

san tightens his hold on you and urges, “this way, love”

together, you climb the outcrop on the left and disappear further into the mountains because you can’t afford to rest near the cave

few words are exchanged as san nimbly navigates the rickety ledges and overgrown roots, muscles flexing as he pushes forward and helps you with an extended hand

you realise soon after that whilst he leads you two away from the cave, he travels parallel to the edges of the mountain trees - a guideline that keeps the long port of the island just within sight

“san,” you finally break the silence to point towards an overhang you spot, “we should take a break”

he’s sweating from exertion and lack of sleep, so he nods with a grateful smile and leads you towards it

the rock provides a decent amount of shade and conceals you two well enough with the surrounding greenery

only when he sits with a sigh does he finally let go of your hand after hours of holding on

you know that he’s one for constant physical affection, but this…this feels different

it’s like he’s afraid that you will slip away the moment he lets go of you

you turn to look at him

“san, what exactly is going on?”

he’s quiet

he doesn’t know how to tell you - is there even a way to package his next words prettily?

letting out a stuttering breath, san puts it blankly on the table, “i saw you die in my arms”

you’re stunned into silence and your throat feels even drier than before

“was it…” you dare to ask, “was it going to happen in the cave?”

he nods, “i just suddenly saw it and it felt so real. it- it was dark and wet and the smell - the smell was just awful and-”

“hey, hey, san. it’s okay, we’re not in the cave anymore,” you soothe, pressing your forehead to his

you feel him relax under your touch before he tilts his head to kiss your lips

“yeah,” he sighs against you, “you’re right”

when you pull away, the faint glow under his shirt catches your eyes

“why did you bring the cromer?”

if it had only been you and san missing from the crew, taesung might not have bothered going after the two of you

but with the missing cromer too, the captain will spend the rest of his life tracking it down - tracking you two down - if that’s what it will take

taesung isn’t stupid enough to just let go of the cromer and the inexplicable power it holds to travel between dimensions

san shimmies the hourglass out of his shirt and holds it carefully in his hands, “i need a fail-proof safety net, just in case something goes wrong and…i still don’t end up saving you”

“a safety net?” an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, “san? what are you not telling me?”

he runs his fingers along the metal casing over and over again as he avoids looking at you

“i…i’ve used it before,” san finally admits, “i used the cromer to bring you back to life”

without thinking, you blurt, “it’s only meant for travelling between dimensions. nobody knows what the repercussions are if you try to mess with fate!”

“well, i did it.” he snaps, “you’re here, alive, and i would do it again and again to save you”

at his words, you soften

because san didn’t just see you die

he lived through seeing you die

you can’t even begin to imagine if you had been the one to experience san die in your arms

“i’m sorry,” you apologise. “thank you for saving me, and for loving me”

san’s eyes are red when he looks at you, “i’m sorry, too, for snapping at you. i know this is a lot for you to process”

you shake your head with your own watery smile

“i’m alive, and i promise i’ll stay alive”

“and i promise i’ll keep you alive,” he nudges your cheek with a playful peck

you laugh, because san makes you happy even in the most uncertain of times, and you ask, “what’s the plan now?”

“find a ship that’s willing to get us the hell out of here”

he makes a move to stand and you place your hand on the ground to push yourself up to your feet too

except your hand shifts with your weight and you end up cutting your palm open on the sharp edge of the rocks

hissing, you draw your hand back towards your chest

“shit, let me have a look,” san drops to his knees and takes your hand in his

he gently blows away the soil and rubble around your wound as you wince

it’s nothing too serious, but it’s deep enough that blood immediately begins to pool in the broken skin and seep further out onto your palm

the glow of the cromer pulses

“san,” you start when you see the cogs moving in his head

he removes one hand to pull the cromer out and presents it to the both of you

“i’m not losing you to infection from a cut, not after everything that we’ve done so far to get to here,” he quips

there’s only time to let out an exasperated sigh before he’s taking your good hand to turn the cromer together

your world goes white

the next moment when you open your eyes after blinking, you’re still there resting under the overhang in the mountain forest

san’s sitting next to you, the only sign of the cromer a faint glow under his shirt

and your hand…

there’s no cut

your head whips towards san and his eyes widen when he sees the unbroken skin of your palm

san makes a move to stand, but this time, he gathers your hands and pulls you up with him

“it worked,” you breathe out once you’re on your feet

“it worked!” san repeats, engulfing you into a crushing hug

the amount of relief he feels is uncontainable, because the cut is reassurance that he can change fate with the cromer

in high spirits, san tucks it back into the safety of his shirt after wrapping it in a length of sash and then he secures it snugly under his belt

you two need to look the part of inconspicuous travellers, and a glowing hourglass would most definitely draw unwanted attention

you and san cut through the back streets and alleyways of the small village that separates the mountain and the coast, keeping an eye out for not only your crew members - or ex-crew, you suppose - but also the members of the horizon

“remember,” san whispers into your ear as you both approach port, “if anyone asks, i’m your husband and we’re travelling merchants”

you’re too nervous to answer but you nod anyway, letting san take the lead once again

with the confidence of somebody most definitely not lying, san strides up to a sailor who is yelling at his men to load the crates faster and spins a story right out of his ass

somehow, san manages to concoct a convincing recount of how your goods were stolen by thieves, leaving you both without any means of making money, so now you are left with no choice but to go back to your hometown which happens to be on the way to the ship’s destination, which you know because you overheard the sailors talking earlier

when the sailor glances in your direction, you try to nurse your expression into one of simultaneous distress and gratitude in hopes of selling the story even further

he simply stares at the both of you and you think that he’s going to turn down your request, but then the sailor gives a sweet smile and extends his hand out in greeting, “daeho. welcome aboard”

that’s how you and san find yourselves in the ship’s hold, legs crossed side by side on the wooden floor and surrounded by a multitude of crates and barrels

neither of you realise that you’re holding your breaths and it’s not due to the stale air in the poorly ventilated hold

only when the shout of “anchors aweigh” is heard and the ship slowly starts to pull away from the dock do you finally relax, the feeling of hope slowly seeping into your bodies

because all that’s left now is to wait for the ship to dock at the next port and then you and san can disappear and start a new life

at the notion of safety, your stomach finally calls for attention with a grumble

san teases, “sounds like someone needs a bit of food,” just as his stomach answers with a growl of its own

you break out into laughter and pull him up with you to snoop inside the crates for something edible

lifting the lid to one of the crates, you peer inside to find what looks like a layer of burlap

you reach down with a hand to remove the covering and dig deeper, only to jerk your arm back when you feel the burning pain of a cut

“oh fuck, what?” you hiss as you look into the crate again, “why the hell are there so many knives?”

san is beside you within a split second, already turning you around to cradle your hand in his

the cut extends across your palm and there’s something sickening yet eerily familiar about the way the blood rapidly starts to pool and seep past the broken skin

goosebumps spread across your body when it hits you

“san,” you look up at him with a trembling voice, hardly audible over the pounding of your heart, “it’s the same cut”

his eyes bore into yours with reflected horror when your words sink in

because if it really is the same cut, then that means-

san’s attention suddenly shifts to behind you and that’s the last thing you register before your head explodes with blinding pain

your world turns black.

there’s a ceaseless hammering in your skull when you regain some semblance of awareness and it takes all of your willpower not to let the throb drag you back into unconsciousness

you open your eyes with a groan, trying to clear your vision, only to find san still out cold on the floor beside you

you scrabble closer towards him and brush his fringe out of his eyes

“san,” you shake him a little, “san, wake up”

his mouth tightens into a grimace as he’s slowly brought back to consciousness at the sound of your voice

“fuck…they hit hard,” he props himself up with another curse before he asks you in a panic, “are you hurt?”

you start to shake your head but then think better of it, “my head hurts like a bitch, but i’m okay”

san pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around you

you let yourself sink into the safety of his embrace, pretending that everything is okay even if just for a moment

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,” san repeats the apology into the crown of your head

you can’t do anything but return hushed whispers of comfort and hug him tighter

a sudden clang draws you out of his arms as you both turn in the direction of the sound

that’s when you realise you’re no longer in the hold

you’re in a cell

the brig of the ship is much darker and the air is suffocatingly musty from the lack of ventilation and the perpetually damp floors and walls

damp from what exactly, you really don’t want to know

you hear the heavy thud of boots amplifying as the person approaches your cell, your eyes straining to make out their face in the dark

they squat in front of your bars

the sweet smile on daeho’s face makes him look crazed now and you shrink back to put some distance between you two

“did you have a good rest?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious

at san’s seething growl of anger, daeho raises his hands up in faux surrender and states, “i just want the cromer”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” san glowers

the other man wriggles his fingers at san’s waist, “you’re not very good at hiding it in your shirt”

almost as if it knows it is being talked about, the cromer flashes from under the layers of cloth

“why didn’t you just take it from us earlier,” you bite out

daeho clicks his tongue with a disappointed smile, “but then where’s the fun in that?”

he stretches a hand out and waits with his palm upturned just outside of the cell bars

“now give it to me,” he demands

san stares in retaliation, not once looking away as he slowly reaches for the cromer

he takes it out of his shirt and unwraps the sash from around it, then starts to extend the hourglass out towards daeho’s hand

as you watch with bated breath, you notice the subtle tightening of san’s grip around the metal casing and you realise he intends to flip it

except you’re not the only one who comes to the same conclusion

you see the exact moment the facade drops from daeho’s face and is replaced by his true derangement

the hand by the pistol at his side starts to move

but so do you

this time, everything turns red as the scorching heat of pain paralyses your entire body

the cromer falls to the floor at the same time as you do

from outside the cell, daeho laughs viciously, but it’s drowned out by the agonising cry that comes out of san’s chest

san desperately gathers you in his arms, hands pressing against the bullet hole to stem the blood flow

but there is so much blood

it’s everywhere

the ground digs into his knees and he’s wet and sticky from your blood but also from his own tears and there are so many tears and even with the pungent smell of iron in the air he can still smell the mustiness of the cell and he can’t get enough oxygen into his lungs because god you’re dying

and he’s suddenly struck with the heart-wrenching thought

did he unwittingly condemn you to your own fate?

or is it like the cut on your palm - is he unable to change fate no matter what decisions he makes differently?

the sob that wrenches itself out of san hurts you more than anything

“i love you,” you say, because your words are numbered and you want them all to be san’s

he shakes his head furiously, “shut up, you’re going to be fine”

your words come out effortfully, “please, i want to hear you say it one last time”

“fuck,” san buries his face in your shoulder, “i love you so, so much. i can’t live without you”

he pulls back heartbroken, “i can still change this”

through your waning breath, you reach a trembling hand up to cup san’s jaw

“s-san, don’t do it”

he lets out a racking sob as he shakes his head again, expression marred with agony and torment that you can physically feel in his white-knuckled grasp that covers your own hand

the tears that drip off his jaw become lost to the damp ground

san’s voice is broken and pained, “i don’t fucking care. it’s not going to stop me from trying”

he grips your hand even tighter when he starts to feel it fall away from his cheek

it’s becoming tiring to keep your eyes open

maybe you can rest…just for a little bit

san will forgive you, right?

you close your eyes

just for a little while

just until the pain stops

faintly, you think you can feel your body being jostled against something warm

but it’s far away

far away

far

san clutches your limp body as he lets out a primal wail of anguish

you cannot die

you will not die

he snatches the glowing hourglass and flips it with desperation screaming in every cell of his body

and then his world goes white.

mingi

pov: you're the crew's surgeon

you have all the time in the world to yourself

the recent raid was successful - the other vessel had surrendered quickly without putting up a fight and your ship is now well stocked up from the loot of supplies

hongjoong has promised the crew shore leave, a vacation of sorts, and so you and the crew are travelling to port malthov, a haven island for pirates

it’ll take about a week to arrive

and without a foreseeable raid or run-in with enemy vessels, there is no need for your medical duties

which is a good thing, really

but it also means that you have a lot of time

and time is your worst enemy

time is time alone with your own thoughts, time alone with your internal demons, and right now, your mind is a sinkhole of them and you are the very thing being pulled into its depths

you’re sprawled out on the upper deck, arms and legs splayed like a physical manifestation of your efforts to reach the edges of the sinkhole and hold on

you think to yourself that it’s reassuring when you can see blood

because it’s visible, physical, and you can fix it

step one, rinse the area with clean water

step two, disinfect the wound

step three, remove any foreign objects or dead skin

step four, suture as required for nastier injuries

step five, wrap a clean cloth over, under, over, under, then fasten

there’s a procedure and it makes sense

but when it’s invisible, what do you do?

there are no medical diagrams, procedures or journals that teach you how to heal your own hurt

you may be the crew’s surgeon, but you wonder how qualified you truly are if you can’t even fix yourself

the skies are clear today and the sun shines down directly on your exposed skin

it’s uncomfortable but you don’t move, limbs feeling just a little too strung tight to cooperate

you don’t think you have the energy to do much more than to just lie there and exist

and the burn of the sunlight is kind of nice

it tells you that you’re still alive - even if the feeling of living is pain

that’s where mingi finds you twenty minutes later, his face upside down as he leans over to look at your face-

only to very nearly drop a block of wood right onto you

“oh, shit,” he fumbles as the multitude of items he is carrying to his chest falls and clatters onto the deck around your head

you jolt up to save yourself from a bruised forehead and eye him, curiosity well and truly piqued

with a huff, he piles everything in front of you, followed by himself as he sits cross-legged in front of you

he looks suspiciously hopeful and expectant

“can you carve me another dolphin?”

months ago, you had tried carving ornamental animals out of small scraps of wood left over from a hull repair

most of your carvings had turned out hideous and you had tossed them overboard, but mingi had not stopped following you and begging until you gave him one

you could barely even call it a dolphin, but for some reason, he has kept it since like it’s something valuable

“i already made you one,” you start

but he protests, “i lost him!”

you blink

nevermind. maybe not so valuable

“...you lost it?”

you’re not sure whether you’re disappointed or relieved that it’s forever gone to the void

“i lost him, yes. so can you please carve me a new one?”

you blink once more and he looks back at you with wide, pleading eyes

“fine, pass me the knife,” you finally relent

he grins, handing something that feels quite familiar into your outstretched hand

“are these my scalpels?!” you clutch them defensively to your chest. “mingi, i am not carving wood with these”

mingi breaks out into pleased laughter, crescent eyes and gaping mouth as he produces a pocket knife that you can actually use

“you’re ridiculous,” you tell him, setting your medical instruments safely to one side, but you don’t really mean it

you bring the blade of the pocket knife to the edge of the wood and start whittling away

you expect mingi to get up and leave you to your devices, except he doesn’t

he stays and asks you question after question about the carving

which part are you working on now?

how do you shape the tail?

what was the first thing you tried to carve?

if you could carve something else after this, what would it be?

and it goes on for hours - as the wood gradually takes shape of the animal, as the harsh sun lowers and is replaced by the cool breeze of evening

…as mingi fills up your sinkhole and you are no longer grasping at the edges to stay afloat

it happens without you even realising, but he lets you take refuge in him from your own thoughts

and later that night, when the crew are preparing to sleep for the night, mingi will place the newly-carved dolphin at the head of his hammock

he will itch to rummage through the small chest that holds his personal belongings and treasures

he will want to unwrap the small object he has hidden away at the very bottom of his chest and put it side by side with the dolphin

but he won’t, because otherwise you’ll see the two dolphins and realise that he was lying about having lost the first one, so he’ll opt to keep it hidden

mingi thinks that he might even ask you to carve him something else tomorrow

he’ll say that his dolphin needs somebody by its side

what he won’t say though, is that he knows you need somebody by your side

and if he can offer you a few hours of mindlessness while you carve with him beside you, then he’ll ask you to make him a whole aquarium of animals

but that’s tomorrow

for now, he lets you rest on him, and you find that it doesn’t seem quite as hard to exist anymore

because sometimes, even surgeons need their own healers

you don’t have another bad day that week

technically, they’re all still bad days, but they aren’t as bad

but as it is with your luck, it all comes back to drag you underwater when the arriba pulls into port malthov and lowers its anchor

of all days, your head feels foggy, your body feels empty and your lungs feel laboured

you’re not even sad

you’re just…hollow

and the worst part is that you have absolutely no reason to be feeling this way

being up in the crow’s nest for once has given you the perfect vantage point to watch as the majority of the crew precariously run off the gangplank with whoops and hollers, splitting off to explore the town

their excitement is infectious - to everybody but you

instead, you had offered to take over yeosang’s lookout duties so that he could go to the town’s tavern

you’ve already rotted the morning and most of the afternoon away and your stomach grumbles in protest at having skipped both meals

it knows that you probably won’t be eating dinner either

“y/n,” a voice calls out to you from the deck, “are you not going into town?”

you peer over the edge of the nest and find mingi’s small form, his head craned upwards in your direction

“lookout duties,” you simply say

but mingi calls your bluff

“the whole point of shore leave is that we all get time off. captain’s still on board to make sure our ship doesn’t catch on fire or some shit, don’t worry”

when you still don’t make a move, mingi starts to climb up the rigging and you startle to your feet

“heavens, okay, i’m coming down”

he’s banned from rigging duties for a reason

when you land on the upper deck, he looks awfully smug with himself

he asks, “can we go eat seafood? not fish, but like the good stuff”

“since when did you like seafood?”

“always?”

mingi did not always like seafood but you let it slide

he guides you across the gangplank and towards the bustling streets of the town, keeping you tucked closely into his side

almost like he knows you’re feeling more fragile than usual

you two come across a market and he tells you to find a table in the outdoor seating area

when he returns to you after a while, both his hands are stacked with platters of shrimp, some crabs and even a lobster

“mingi, what-?” you break out into an astounded laugh

you can’t even find it in yourself to finish your sentence because it looks like he’s bought enough food to feed half your crew

he sets the plates down in front of you, one by one, until you can barely see the table itself

and you watch, still incredulous, as he picks up a steamed shrimp, meticulously peeling off the shells that he discards onto his plate

…before placing the peeled shrimp onto the plate in front of you

“eat,” he encourages

mingi picks up another shrimp to peel, looking away from you so as not to pressure you

but he can’t help but look and smile widely when you do eventually bring the food up to your mouth and take a bite

it tastes good

shrimp has always been one of the things you miss the most when you’re sailing and as the salty taste of the ocean spreads across your tongue, you start to feel your appetite returning

by the time you’ve swallowed, there’s already another shrimp on your plate, peeled and ready for eating

mingi smiles knowingly when you groan around your next bite

the sun may have already started to disappear into the horizon, but right now with mingi’s plate piling up with discarded shells and yours with juicy shrimp meat, the hollow cavity in your chest slowly filling with warmth, the sun is only just starting to rise for you

and mingi will keep filling your plate until your sun has fully risen into the sky

because sometimes, healing needs the help of an extra pair of hands

the day before your crew is scheduled to leave port malthov, you find yourself sitting on the sandy shores of the coastline, far away from where the arriba is docked

the wind tugs at your hair and the hems of your clothing in the direction of the ocean

you wonder what it would be like to just let yourself go and float along with the wind

your thoughts are interrupted by the soft squeaks of bare feet in the sand approaching you and mingi lowers himself down to sit by your side

no matter where you hide, he somehow always finds you

you give him a small smile when he calls your name in greeting, but it’s all you can really manage to do

it’s hard for you to talk today

but he already knows that

“can i tell you a story?” mingi isn’t really asking you

without waiting for a response he knows you can’t give, he starts to talk

“i don’t think i’ve told you about the time when yunho and i went skinny-dipping at night. i swear we saw the kraken that night”

he has told you this story before

more times than you can count on your fingers and toes combined - to the point where you have some of his exact phrases and expressions memorised

mingi knows he’s told you this story before

but he drones on anyway, adding his usual touches of dramatic flair and exaggerated details - words that he hopes keep you grounded to the spot so that you don’t disappear with the wind

(“did you know that yunho’s chest goes red when he screams in fright?”)

you want to make silly little comments about his silly little story

you want to laugh in harmony with mingi’s own rumbling sounds

except you can’t

it’s like whatever you want to say goes through a paper shredder right before it comes out of your mouth

and mingi knows

but he is willing to take all the time in the world to tape your words back together, shredded piece by shredded piece, until he can make you feel heard and seen

and even if you don’t talk, he is there to do enough talking for the both of you

some things don’t need to be said - he understands either way

because sometimes, healing looks like walking backwards on any progress that’s been made and that’s okay

after all…mingi’s been there before, too

the arriba sets sail again and hongjoong allows the crew one last night of rest before your usual duties resume

the stock of fresh produce and meat won’t last for longer than a couple of days anyway, so you all feast your stomach’s fill of food and alcohol

someone brings out an accordion and you all gather together on the upper deck as jongho sings to the music, background filled with the lively rattling of shared plates and mugs being passed around

the air is chilly but it’s crisp and fresh whenever you take a breath of it into your lungs

where being with the multitude of your crew usually makes you feel lonely, tonight, it feels okay

and from beside you, mingi sings along quietly to the music

his voice is not like jongho’s, which is soulful, emotional and powerful

mingi’s voice is deep, honest and raw as he sings the lyrics to the song of a man who is drowning and yearning to be saved

he looks at you during the last bridge, when the key changes from sorrowful to hopeful and the words tell of a man who is saved by his lover

you smile back at him, genuinely content in this moment

and even if it is only briefly, even if you will still have bad days in the future, you think that today is a good day

because healing takes form in all different ways, and being loved is one of them

maybe one day, mingi will be able to confess that he loves you

when he’s confident that you’ll be able to accept his love

not in the way where he expects you to reciprocate the same feelings for him, no

but in the way where you are able to accept the fact that you are worthy of being loved

there are no medical diagrams, procedures or journals that teach you how to heal your own hurt

but you have mingi and he is making one for you

it’s written with the ink of love on the very pages of his own heart and he will not stop writing until the day you are well and truly happy

and even if it takes forever?

well

mingi’s got a huge fucking heart

and it’s all yours

wooyoung

pov: you find a stowaway on your ship

“we’re headed off course again”

“again?” you look at your helmsman with furrowed brows

yunho nods, sighing out his next words, “i can’t get a read on north. the needle keeps flickering”

you look at the compass that’s mounted at the helm and true to his words, the tip of the arrow seesaws back and forth over the cardinal point

a quick glance down tells you that the newer compass you’ve got in your pocket is also behaving in the same manner, needle twitching despite the practised steadiness of your hands

so you know for sure that it’s not a fault in the instrument at the helm itself

but even if it were to be faulty, you would never replace it

not when it’s one of the only things you have remaining of your parents after they perished at sea

“maybe we should ask him,” yunho suggests, beckoning his head towards the deck

although seonghwa hums thoughtfully, having joined you both at the helm mid-conversation, you look at him incredulously

“you trust that person?”

yunho shrugs, “it’s not like he’s given us a reason to not trust him”

well

considering said man had been found stowing away in the cargo five days after your ship had left alcarres, who then also tried to plead for mercy by reasoning that he was ‘valuable’, you think that there’s plenty of reasons to not trust him

yunho rectifies his argument once he sees the pinched expression on your face, “as in, since we’ve found him on board”

you close your eyes and exhale

admittedly, yunho has a point

and there’s been one too many times where the man has flippantly suggested navigational changes or casually observed shifts in the winds and waters - which all turned out to be accurate - for it to be sheer luck

you open your eyes and call out to the upper deck

“stowaway”

yunho winces as seonghwa chides you with a slight elbow to your side at your choice of name, or lack thereof

said man looks at you from where he’s helping san and yeosang swab the deck, mouth tightening with wariness

the last time you had spoken the same word, it was along with an order to throw him into the brig with his wrists bound behind his back

but considering that that was the extent of his punishment for stowing away on your ship and he is now mingling amongst your crew with minimal security measures on your orders too, really, he’s gotten off scot-free

the stowaway approaches the quarterdeck with hesitant steps

you jerk your head towards the helm, “help yunho navigate the rest of the way to vlasgar. just until we can dock and work out what’s wrong with the compasses''

despite the curtness of your order, his face scrunches up into an enthusiastic grin

“of course, captain!”

you’re taken aback by his demeanour because you’re trying to find a reason to distrust him

but he’s not giving it to you

you watch as the stowaway makes himself comfortable against the helm rails and easily slips into conversation and banter with yunho amidst intermittent pointers to adjust the rudder

seonghwa nudges you from behind, “give him a little credit”

you scratch your neck awkwardly before calling out to your helmsman

“keep me updated on the ship’s course”

yunho nods and then you clear your throat, quickly glancing at the stowaway

“and thanks…wooyoung.”

you turn and leave the quarterdeck before you can fully catch a glimpse of the delighted smile the man beams at you

because if he’s not giving you reasons to dislike him, then you’re going to ensure he doesn’t start giving you reasons to like him

except…wooyoung attacks when you least expect it

it’s the night before your crew reaches vlasgar, and true to his claims when he was first discovered onboard, wooyoung has proven his value by navigating your ship through the waters without the aid of the malfunctioning compass

his innate sense for shifts in the wind and waters, combined with his understanding of celestial navigation and use of dead reckoning has meant that he is extraordinarily precise with his route

honestly, he’s freakishly accurate to the point where it’s a little unsettling

at least that’s what you tell yourself

you and hongjoong have given the crew the night off from their usual duties in preparation for a few busy days of maintenance and intel-gathering once your ship docks at vlasgar

wooyoung offers to cook in the galley and whip up a meal as fancy as he can from the select ingredients on board

you don’t have a good reason to deny him, not when the rest of your crew looks at you with eager faces at the thought of a meal that isn’t just the usual salted meat, so you send mingi along to help him locate the ingredients

also to keep an eye on wooyoung to ensure he isn’t using this as an opportunity to poison your crew, but you’re not about to admit that aloud

and that’s exactly when wooyoung chooses to attack

he attacks your heart with his cooking

granted, the standards are rock bottom, but wooyoung utilises a deadly combination of rosemary, thyme and bay leaves to prepare a hearty broth with preserved beef

he serves hardtack on the side to be softened and eaten with the broth, and jongho even manages to catch a few fish that wooyoung then scores and grills with lemon slices over the fire

mingi must also be in good spirits because he takes out the reserve of dried fruits and nuts that he’s usually pedantic over and allows wooyoung to arrange them artfully in a wooden bowl as nibblers to go with the profusion of rum that will inevitably be downed tonight

the impressive spread of food is placed on the upper deck where the entire crew sit in a rough circle together

you take one bite into the beef and curse without realising

“fucking hell, what did he put in this?”

wooyoung freezes mid-spoonful across from you in the circle

realising your words sound petrifying without context, you awkwardly amend them with your eyes glued to your bowl, “i could eat this every day,” before shoving another spoon of broth into your mouth to shut yourself up

there’s a chorus of teasing oooh’s at your words and somebody sing-songs, “captain likes youuu-r cooking”

“i don’t,” you scoff, completely ready to bite the bait and engage in this childish argument

but it’s him who comes to your defence

“it’s not my cooking, it’s just the spices that make a difference,” wooyoung insists

then he’s gesturing to the grilled fish and telling everyone to try, diverting the attention away from you

you accidentally make eye contact with him and initially flicker your eyes away out of embarrassment, but when you chance a peek back at him he’s still looking at you, his expression uncharacteristically calm and gentle when usually all you can hear these days is his raucous laughter bouncing across the deck

…not that you can recognise his laughter or anything

you stare at each other for a few more seconds before you lift up your bowl of beef broth and give him a little smile

you leave it up to him to interpret it however he wants

and just before you look away, you see the apples of his cheeks rounding with elation

wooyoung’s potentially earned himself a few points with his cooking (and perhaps with his unfailing happiness too), but maybe you’re just looking for excuses as to why you’re allowed to like him now

when you decide to take a walk in town long after midnight, your quarters having felt stuffy ever since you’d docked at vlasgar, you’re surprised to find that you’re not the only one still awake

“i’m going out for some air and maybe a drink, did you want to come?”

hongjoong shakes his head, “hwa’s gone out too, i’ll stay behind”

you pause, wondering whether it’d be rude if you didn’t extend the invitation to wooyoung, considering he’s literally two feet away

“what about you?” you end up offering

wooyoung excitedly hops up to his feet, “yeah, i’ll come with”

to your own surprise, you find that you’re not particularly disappointed by his response

the streets of vlasgar are empty, considering the late hour, and your leather shoes clack in unison against the cobblestones as you walk together

you’re not really sure what to say to fill the silence but wooyoung easily talks about anything and everything and you’re content to just listen

your feet eventually take you towards a small alehouse and you both settle down at one of the tables further away from the live music playing

the oil lamps flicker dimly along the wall, casting small dancing shadows on the surface of your mugs of ale

“my father never liked the taste of ale,” wooyoung suddenly muses after a swallow

you note the use of past tense

“is he…still around?” you ask tentatively

he makes a noise of refutation, the quietest he’s been tonight, before he reveals, “he took his own life”

“oh, wooyoung,” you breathe out

he curls his hands around his mug, “it’s already been two years, but it still hurts”

in a moment of empathy, you gently place your hand over his

your tone is bitter when you reply, “time doesn’t mean that it hurts any less, it just gets easier to pretend that it doesn’t”

he looks up at you, surprised by the touch of your hand but also by the sorrow reflected in your eyes

“have you also lost somebody?”

you nod at his question

“my parents,” you hesitate before adding, “their ship got swept under a rogue wave, the same night it turned into a tidal wave that destroyed the city of light”

wooyoung looks at you with wide eyes, “the one along the north coast? six- no, seven years ago?”

there’s not a single person who doesn’t know about it; when an apocalyptic wave had wiped out an entire city overnight

he places his other hand over yours when you nod again, creating a sandwich of comforting hands in the shared experience of loss and grief

you smile wistfully and he returns it

“well now that we’ve exchanged childhood trauma, care to tell me the real reason why you were on my ship, stowaway?” you half-joke

wooyoung laughs, each breath a pronounced cackle of joy, and you find the corners of your lips pulling themselves upwards too

“i’m being chased by a lunatic who’s out for my blood,” he deadpans

“that would have been nice to know before i let you join my crew”

wooyoung grins wickedly, “i’m part of your crew?”

“i’m definitely rethinking it,” you banter before you add on seriously, “only if you want to be”

he pulls his hands back to salute you loudly, “it would be my honour to be your human compass! jung wooyoung at your crew’s service!”

“shut the fuck up!” you hiss in embarrassment, but there’s no bite to your words and you’re laughing into your own hands

you tip back the remains of your ale and then beckon to wooyoung, “let’s head back, shall we?”

“yeah,” he gives you a dazzling smile

he pushes his chair back to stand up and you head towards the doors together

just as you walk past one of the tables, a man abruptly stands up and knocks into wooyoung’s shoulder harshly

your hand flies out to steady him as the man stares at wooyoung, then turns to leave without another word

“what’s his problem,” you mutter angrily. “are you okay?”

wooyoung reassures you with a placating squeeze to your arm before leading you out of the alehouse

as you retrace your steps back to the ship, you pass by a rickety stall that makes you falter

the wood of the table is rotting and standing on its last legs and there’s a roughly thatched roof propped up above its goods

even though the stall is enshrouded by the shadows of the clouded moonlight, you still wonder how you missed it on your way to the alehouse, considering it’s the only stall along the empty street, and with a vendor, no less

there’s an old woman bearing the burdens of living across her skin and in her posture, sitting hunched on an equally as weathered crate beside the table

you’re drawn towards it - by its ambience, seller or the familiar instruments lain on the table, you don’t know

the woman’s head is covered by a dusty shawl but you don’t miss the way her eyes bore beadily into wooyoung as you both approach

you reach out and skim your fingertips across the cool brass of the compasses on the table

a frown adorns your face when you notice there’s something strange about all of them

like the compass in your own pocket and the one mounted on your ship’s helm, the needles all swing indecisively over the north point, as if some unknown force is meddling with the magnetic field of the earth itself

you let out a little scoff of disbelief, “they’re all useless”

with a final glance at the table, you and wooyoung start to walk off

but then a raspy voice beckons at your backs, a ghost of a hand that tickles the hair on the nape of your necks, “the only time a compass is useless is when you have something better nearby”

unable to ignore the sensation, you look over your shoulder, “what do you mean by something better?”

a toothless smile; one that appears to know a secret that it doesn’t want to let you in on

“true north”

her cryptic answer alone is enough to tell you that you’re wasting your time

she doesn’t say anything else when you walk off for good this time after bidding her a tight-smiled farewell, not that you would have stopped either way if she did

wooyoung hurries to catch up to you

as he falls into step with you, he asks, “do you believe what she’s saying?”

“of course not, it doesn’t make any sense,” you glance at the tavern you’re walking past, telling you that the port is close now. “how can you have true north?”

wooyoung’s brows knit together, “well, there’s that old legend that says true north isn’t actually a direction, but a-”

he’s cut off by an amused voice behind you both

“so it really is you…jung wooyoung”

when you turn around, you’re met with the sight of a man donning a long, velvet coat and buckled shoes - articles of clothing very obviously pirated from the wealthy

it’s evident that he and wooyoung are acquainted in one way or another, but from the way wooyoung’s face loses its colour, they’re acquainted in a bad way

immediately, your hackles are raised

the man’s tone is saccharine as he continues, “when one of my men said that they had spotted you, i didn’t believe him”

“what do you want?” you snarl at the same time wooyoung murmurs next to you, “it’s the lunatic. jang hyunsoo”

hyunsoo cocks his head as he stares you dead in the eye, “i want him. dead.”

your face darkens, unwilling to back down, “and why are you so intent on killing him?”

“oh?” he raises an eyebrow in delight at your answer. “you must not know who he truly is”

sick of his bullshit, you reach down towards your belt to unsheath a throwing dagger and hold it in front of your body, “i don’t care who the fuck he is. he’s my crew member and that’s all that ma-”

“he’s the man that the legends speak of. blessed by the sea gods, bearer of the oceans’ wisdom - jung wooyoung is true north”

those two words again

you don’t understand why everyone you come across today seems to be so fixated on the idea of…

suddenly, you remember.

legends tell a story of true north - not a direction pointing to the earth’s axis, but a person

a man blessed by the gods of the sea with the power to be all-knowing when it comes to the waters

he possesses the innate ability to navigate without use of any instruments or celestial bodies; the wisdom of which passageways and courses to sail; the subconscious understanding of mother nature and her elements

the powers are passed down through his bloodline for generations, but the blessing does not stay sacred for long

human greed and coveting eventually lead to the murder of the bearer of true north at the time, and the powers are transferred to the murderer, permanently staining the bloodline and commencing the paradoxical cycle of sinning for a blessing

however, this does not go unpunished

the gods of the sea are enraged and in their uncontainable wrath they cause-

your memory ends there no matter how hard you try to recall the rest of the legend

wooyoung interrupts

“if you kill me, there’s no guarantee you’ll survive the consequences,” he tries to reason with the other. “just have a look at how close we are to sea”

you’re lost but hyunsoo sneers, “it’s not your power that i’m hungry for. it’s only fair that i spill your blood, after your father spilled the blood of my family”

at the mention of his father, wooyoung growls, “what the fuck do you think you’re saying”

“how do you think your father became true north? or better yet, let me jog your memory,” hyunsoo’s expression becomes hauntingly blank, “what happened seven years ago that wiped out a whole city because the sea gods had been angered?”

your breath hitches as you involuntarily whisper, the remaining piece of the puzzle slotting into memory, “...a tidal wave”

“yes,” he acknowledges your words but keeps his eyes drilling into wooyoung, “because true north - my father - was killed”

as were your parents by extension of the consequences

“killed by my father,” wooyoung concludes, voice frail as everything rapidly starts to reveal itself

one more revelation makes him look at you with a face of horror and remorse, “y/n…your parents…”

without hesitation, you push aside your own anguish for him

“wooyoung,” you warn, “it’s not your fault”

because you see it

the very moment his eyes start clouding over as he willingly takes on the burden of guilt wrongfully left behind by his deceased father - the same guilt that eventually took the man’s own life

wooyoung, who, with a heart and soul too pure, would rather take the blame himself than to push it onto somebody else

you step in front of him, knife raised in protection

because despite your best efforts, wooyoung had not only secretly stowed himself away on your ship but has also secretly stowed himself away in your heart

“what are you doing?” he tries to tug you behind him

there’s a teasing lilt in your voice as you stand steadfast, “stowaway, you’ve ruined navigating for me now - made it too easy for me and the crew. so you better fuckin’ take responsibility and be my compass for as long as i sail”

“how touching,” hyunsoo coos patronisingly before he draws the cutlass from his sheath, “looks like i’ll just have to kill the both of you”

you don’t stop wooyoung this time from stepping up to stand by your side, his own hands armed with dual daggers and his demeanour now iron-willed to fight

because if you’re prepared to fight for him, then wooyoung is prepared to fight twice as hard for you

tonight, either hyunsoo dies, or you both go down trying

the tension in the air is punctuated only by the slight scrape of your soles as you and wooyoung lower your stances and shift further onto your front feet

you had never believed in the sea gods until now, but you pray that they’re watching over you both

and indeed they are

they answer your prayers in the form of a deafening gunshot in the nearby tavern

hyunsoo flinches at the sudden commotion - only slightly, but the distraction in attentiveness is more than enough

now.

as you and wooyoung leap forward together in unison, weapons raised, the needles in your hearts’ compasses waver for one final time before they settle and point resolutely in one direction

your needle at wooyoung; wooyoung’s needle at you

because compasses will always point at true north and that’s exactly what you are to him and him to you

each other’s true north

jongho

pov: you're a mermaid who saves him

you follow the shadow of the ship’s hull, gliding effortlessly through the waters

you know that you shouldn’t be following so closely but it’s hard to refuse the temptation that comes hand in hand with storms

there’s a chance that vessels will toss cargo overboard as a last-ditch effort to save their ship from sinking

and if you’re really lucky, the vessel might sink entirely and you’ll be able to spend the next few days rummaging its ruins, scavenging for shiny treasures and intriguing objects

besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

no sailor or pirate in their right mind would think to cast a fishing net in this weather

you only have your carelessness and recklessness to blame, but regret won’t change anything about your current situation

you feel the strange lurch in your stomach as the fishing net you’re trapped inside is pulled out of the water, up along the side of the ship’s hull, until it levels with the gunwale

there’s someone standing there waiting

his face is still rounded and limbs still gangly with the telltale signs of youth

the fish around you jerk around desperately, a physical manifestation of your terror, while you lock eyes with the young teenager and grip at the net with white-knuckled fists

you are at his complete mercy

he stares in shock at your form, until you beg a single word

“please”

immediately, he draws a small pocket knife and starts to frantically cut through the net

there’s another questioning voice from somewhere on the deck that you can’t make out the words to, but from the way the boy in front of you picks up speed, you’re seconds away from being discovered

“come on, come on, come on,” the boy mutters through gritted teeth

there’s a slight jerk as he cuts through the strands of flax and a few fish slither their way out, the hole starting to become bigger

he lets out a hiss of pain when he accidentally slices through his own hand in his haste

but even then, he does not stop or falter

and then you hear it

the ripping of the material when the weight of yourself and the other fish tear the remainder of the net

you plummet into the ocean

and the last thing you see before the world above becomes blurred by the waters is the boy’s wide eyes peering over the ship’s edge as he watches you fall

jongho struggles to adjust his centre of gravity as the ropes stutter underneath him

he chances letting go of the rigging briefly with one hand so that he can wipe the rain out of his eyes, which is pouring down incessantly and obscuring his vision

overhead, the top sail continues to billow and flap in an angry dance as the rapidly shifting winds tangle it further

he swallows thickly and grips the rigging once again

he needs to climb up and untangle the damned sail, fast

one hand extending outwards to grab the running rigging, jongho supports himself on shaky legs so that he can unfurl the twisted edges of the sail from around the ropes

it’s difficult enough having to chase the mocking flits of the canvas in the gale, but it’s fucking hellish with the added lurching and pitching of the ship as it’s battered by the swells of the sea

he finally manages to get a good grip on the sail and tugs hard, feeling it give way and flush full as it catches the wind properly now that it’s free

except the force of it sends the material swelling right in his face and he slips

by some saving grace, the combined movement of another colossal wave sends his body careening through the air in a wide arch

he does not land on the upper deck in a heap of broken bones

instead, he plummets into the ocean

and the last thing jongho sees before he loses consciousness is the shimmer and flick of a tail

your body reacts instantaneously to the sudden intrusion of something plunging into the waters in front of you, your tail swishing to increase your distance

for a brief second your heart seizes up in fright at the thought of a harpoon

but then you see it - see him

apart from the young teen who had freed you years ago, you have never seen a human up close before

and certainly not one in the ocean; in your home

there is something about the man before you that is beautiful yet haunting

it is as if time and gravity have warped his very existence

you see a weak flail of legs, a desperate hand reaching for the surface, floating tendrils of hair, but even in the face of approaching death, his movements appear slow and graceful in the water

as the pockets of air and bubbles of foam dissipate from around him and cruelly escape upwards without him, the man stills - grand and slow as his form steadily starts to make a descent towards the sandy bottom of the ocean

in folklore amongst your merpeople, humans are as swift, sure and savage on land as they are aboard their monstrous vessels

and yet, watching the ethereal existence of this man before you, you realise that once humans are underwater, they are at the complete mercy of mother nature and her beings

you gingerly swim closer

when you wrap your arm around the man’s limp body, his skin is warm under your fingertips

you’re reminded of the fact that he is at your complete mercy

and so you swim.

the moment jongho regains consciousness, his chest involuntarily contracts in an attempt to take a huge, stuttering breath

he curls onto his side instead, one hand scrabbling in the wet sand and his other arm crushed between the ground and his upper body as he hacks up his lungs with retching motions

the salt water burns even more coming back up than it did going down and his eyes sting with tears

when the convulsions cease, jongho closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the cool sand, trying to regain his breath-

and bearings

the jarring clarity has him sitting up abruptly as he tries to recall where he is and what he’s doing

there was the storm

the tangled sail

him climbing up the riggings

falling down, down, down

and then…

you

your eyes widen when the man’s unfocused gaze suddenly sweeps the waters and lands on the small part of your face that is exposed and peering at him

instinctively, you duck underwater, the notion of hiding your existence from humans ingrained into you

but even though he only sees a glimpse of you, jongho would recognise you from anywhere

it’s hard to forget when he’s kept his eyes peeled on the waters since that day, hoping to see you once again

he can’t believe that the mermaid he once saved would end up being his saviour

but he guesses that’s what people call fate - an alignment of miracles

he glances around at his surroundings to find himself in the safety of a small cove

you dare to emerge your curious eyes again when you see the form of the man stand up with his gaze on the sand, seemingly in search of something

he fumbles along the edge of the coast, reaching down several times to grasp things too small for you to discern

it seems that he becomes satisfied with what he has found, because he then sets them all down in the wet sand - right where the tide kisses the shore in a teasing game of chase - and takes several steps backwards so that he is no longer close to the waters

the man scratches the back of his head as he gestures vaguely to the pile, appearing to want to say something before thinking better of it and turning around to pick at the driftwood further inland

you wait, trying to gauge his actions

but when it becomes clear to you that he is not attempting to catch you off guard, you cautiously swim closer to shore

you are able to rest your forearms comfortably on the shoreline’s sand from how close you get

and then you see it

a small pile of glossy pebbles and patterned shells

a peace offering of pretty things he could find that he thought you might like

you duck under the water again, but this time to hide your shy smile as opposed to an act of instinctual self-preservation

jongho looks at the hefty pile of dried wood that he has gathered in the meantime, deeming it enough to keep a fire going for the inevitable night he will have to spend at the cove

he’s tried his hardest not to look out to the waters, wanting to gain your trust

but he can’t help it this time when his eyes are drawn to the little mound of his sincerity in the sand

…only to find it untouched, and you nowhere to be seen

he tries not to feel disappointed

after all, you have no reason to trust him

so he sets his mind on starting a fire before the sun sets completely instead, trying to ignore the growing dryness in his throat

when he finally nurses a spark into a flame an hour later, jongho almost misses it in his fatigued state

but it’s unmistakable when he walks closer

gone is his own pile of pebbles and shells

in its stead is a jumbled collection of broken combs, rusted locks and a glass bottle

a peace offering of peculiar things you had found that you thought he might need

jongho doesn’t know it, but as he bends down to carefully gather every gift and safekeep them closer to his fire, he is not the only one with a bashful smile on his face

you tell yourself it’s purely curiosity and displaced familiarity that makes you linger and return to the cove the very next morning

you’re well aware what the risks are if you fall in love with a human

how many stories have you heard of mermaids and mermen alike, falling for a human, only for their love to be unilateral or rejected?

their tails slowly lose their lustre as gradual paralysis takes over until they lose complete control

quite literally drowning within their own body, they eventually sink to the bottom of the ocean to perish with the decaying wreckages of sunken ships…

and the countless corpses of sailors, pirates and other unfortunate souls alike

it’s ironic

no matter how much folklore makes out humans and merpeople to be different, you all end up the same in the face of death; buried in the soil of the earth or buried in the sand of the ocean bottom

side by side

jongho stands in that very ocean right now, sleeves and pants rolled up to keep them as dry as possible as he crouches over with the water up to his thighs

he would try to fashion a fishing hook or harpoon of some sort, but with the possibility that you may be close by in the waters, he doesn’t want to risk using anything that could hurt you

so he resorts to using his bare hands

you’ve been watching from the safety of the water for well over half an hour now, curious and slightly endeared by his clumsy attempts to grab at something

you’re not sure what, but you can see the fish as they dart teasingly through his legs and from out of his reach

for beings that are supposedly apex predators, this human doesn’t seem intimidating at all

so, very cautiously, you swim up closer to him

jongho feels himself freezing at the sight of you approaching - not because he’s afraid of you, but because he’s afraid he’ll scare you away

he holds his breath as you hesitate and linger just out of his reach, then swim up and bump his leg playfully with your tail as you circle around him once

he’s reminded of a puppy wanting to sniff out somebody unfamiliar and his eyes follow your form with rounded fondness

“hi,” he breathes out softly, “i’m jongho”

your tail swishes with sudden movement, splashing him with water and he giggles

you can hear it clearly even from under water and your heart nearly stops

if this man - if jongho - was a siren, the sounds of his happiness would be his song of calling

you want to hear it again

jongho sucks in a breath when you dare to emerge from the water’s surface, presenting him with a fish held carefully between your lips and one more in each of your hands

he’s a little dumbfounded at how easily you managed to catch them as he gently takes the one from in between your teeth

the still-flailing fish in his hands is peppered with two tiny neat rows of puncture holes where you had carefully bitten into it

he finds it so fucking cute, especially when you continue to peer up at him with expectant eyes, wanting to know if it was the fish that he was trying to catch this whole time

he wants to thank you, and not just for the fish

so he fumbles through his words when he asks, “would you like to eat with me? unless…” he trails off, “unless you don’t eat fish because…”

are mermaids technically fish?

did he really just offer you the mermaid equivalent of human flesh to eat?

before jongho can panic and try to salvage the situation, you give him a shy smile and nod

jongho makes a fire as close to the shore as possible without the wood at risk of becoming wet

as he spears the fish onto sticks so that he can hold them over the flames, you gather the courage to slide out of the shallow waters so that you can lay on the damp sand closer to him

whilst you can for short periods, you rarely ever fully emerge out of the waters because you leave yourself vulnerable without the full mobility of your body

but jongho makes you feel safe enough to do so

and he must at least partially recognise the amount of trust you are placing in him because he looks at you in awe, the unveiled beauty of your tail now in full display

your scales are a kaleidoscope of cerulean, mauve and periwinkle, reflecting onto the sand below you in a magical dance with each of your slight movements

he notices that the gradient peters out into shades of salmon and coral the closer the scales are to your waist and he cannot tear his eyes away from you

jongho thinks to himself that you were created by the hands of the sea god, who then named the word beautiful after you

and even then, the word does not seem to do you justice

“why are you staring?”

your voice is simultaneously bashful and teasing, yet jongho is utterly mortified that your first words to him are ones exposing his smitten behaviour

his brain kickstarts in panic and he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind

“if your tail gets too close to fire, will you start smelling like grilled fish?”

for a split second, your expression contorts into one of pure horror, before the absurdity of his question breaks down the remainder of your reservations and you lose yourself in laughter

a pretty blush settles over the round of jongho’s cheeks and then he is also laughing with you

together, where the land and sea unite, the sounds of your shared happiness fill the air

his song of calling chimes melodiously in your heart even as you swim away for the night

but the dangerous thing about a siren’s song is that you don’t realise you’ve become captivated…

until it’s too late

you’re looking down at the object in your hands as you swim for the cove

it’s cream-coloured and smooth to touch, with several blunt tips extending from one side

you’ve always wondered what it is and so you decide to see if jongho will know

you don’t notice the large rock formation jutting out of the seabed until it’s almost right in front of you and at the last second, you flex your tail to manoeuvre yourself around it

except you must miscalculate your distance because you end up grazing yourself on the sharp edges of the rock

it doesn’t puncture your scales but it certainly catches you off guard - your organs and senses work in a way that ensures you never collide into anything so long as you are underwater

so then, why?

you look down and your heart drops

tentatively, you spin around once, eyes never leaving their focus

you realise it’s not a trick of the lighting or the water

your scales have started to lose their shimmer

jongho is beginning to think that you won’t show up today when you finally do, one of your treasures cradled in your hands and a smile on your face that doesn’t quite reach your eyes

(you weren’t going to show up, not after realising that you need to stop yourself from falling further in love with jongho if you want to live, but you decide to be selfish one last time and say goodbye, even if you’re the only one who knows it’s a goodbye)

“what’s that?” he gestures towards your hands with his chin as you slide your upper body out of the shallow waters, leaving your tail to be submerged when the waves come in

you uncurl your fingers with a shrug

“it’s a comb,” he answers his own question as he turns it over in his hand, “made out of animal bone, i think”

you look at him curiously as he sits down, unbothered about wetting his clothes, and you ask, “what’s a comb?”

jongho brings it up to his head and pretends to move it up and down

“you run it through your hair to untangle it”

he pauses as his eyes flicker to your hair then back to your face

“i can…show you how to use it…if you want?” he offers

just once, you’ll allow yourself to get close to him just this once

when you nod and sit up, jongho shifts himself so that he is behind you

you try not to shiver when you feel the heat of his chest enveloping your back as he reaches forward to gently gather the hair from around your face and neck

he steadies your head with one of his hands, the other bringing the teeth of the comb through the slight waves of your hair

his touch is soft and loving in the way he tries not to tug too hard when he encounters a knot

his fingertips skim against you intimately but with an innocence that betrays the fact that he has never brushed somebody’s hair before

you feel your shoulders relaxing into his touch and your eyes close, blissfully - and perhaps deliberately - ignorant to the fading radiance of your body

“are you feeling okay?” jongho’s voice sounds even more alluring when it’s right next to your ear and you can’t help but shudder this time. “you seem paler than usual”

he brings a hand down to your waist and turns you towards him so that he can see you better

you try to formulate an answer, “i…”

i think i’m in love with you

of course, you would never tell him that

but before you can tell him that you’re fine, you become distracted by the glimpse of something on his hand that’s still resting on your waist

a scar

“is that- how did you get this?”

you run your thumb lightly over the taut, white line that runs from his wrist to the knuckle of his index finger

as you’re suddenly reminded of the familiar memory of a teenager with rounded cheeks and gangly limbs, the man beside you with those very same eyes looks at you fondly

“i cut myself trying to free a mermaid from a fishing net”

your gaze is unfocused as you process the information

the effects of the shattering revelation are immediate and a terrifying numbness starts to creep up your tail

because what you didn’t know - what nobody in folklore knew - was that the effects of paralysis and onset of death are accelerated when you fall in love with someone again for the second time

years ago, your heart had been claimed by the young man who had freed you at his own expense

you had managed to survive the heartbreak due to the briefness of your encounter, your paralysis fading and tail regaining its beauty when you never saw him again

but the effects of your unilateral love have not vanished entirely as you and your merpeople have believed it to

they have simply lay dormant like a disease, waiting for the right time to resurface when your feelings are rekindled

and so now it snowballs and gains traction at a speed that cannot be stopped, racing to catch up on the numerous years that you have cheated death where you thought you did not love jongho

“why is your tail turning grey?” the voice of the man you love is pinched with muted panic

you never thought you would ever be afraid of your own tail; your own body

yet, when you look down to see the monochrome advancing up each layer of your scales, you are absolutely petrified

your tail is starting to look like a stone statue and you know it won’t be long until that’s exactly what you become - motionless and unmoving

“y/n! why is your tail grey?!” jongho repeats with a shout, in full blown panic due to your lack of response

you can’t- won’t die in front of him

your lower body is almost deadweight with immobility and you bite back tears as you’re forced to crawl pathetically towards the water with your arms

jongho scrabbles to his feet as he hovers next to you, hands wanting to help but not quite touching you because he’s not sure what’s happening and he doesn’t know what he can do for you and you look like you’re in pain but he doesn’t know why-

“don’t!” you bark out sharply

he freezes in shock

you’re frightened and angry and you want to yell at something, someone, but…

you could never yell at jongho

with a much softer, albeit shaky voice, you tell him, “don’t look for me”

and before you can hear the pained noise that escapes jongho’s lips, you drag yourself back into the water

except a few metres after you’ve submerge yourself, the unthinkable happens

you. cannot. breathe.

you’re drowning.

jongho doesn’t care if you’ll hate him forever, doesn’t care if this is the last time you’ll choose to see him, but he will not just stand and watch when it looks like you are leaving to die alone

his body moves with the decisions of his heart before his mind tells him otherwise

he dives into the water after you

the world distorts around him; a moment of weightlessness as the waters easily shift to accommodate his body; the bubbling sound of air pockets reverberating inside his very skull; the shock of cold that overrides every other bodily sense

jongho forces his eyes open with numerous blinks until he can see you

your form is eerily still, and yet, you remain bewitching

he kicks his legs desperately with one arm outstretched and as soon as you are within reach, he tugs you into his chest

you’re limp to touch, lips slack and parted as if the very essence of your soul is escaping through your mouth

jongho will not let you die

lungs starting to burn and heartbeat pounding in his ears, he presses his lips against yours

a kiss of life-

he closes his eyes

-and love

but you don’t respond

jongho ignores his instincts even as his body screams to part from you and kick upwards for a breath

instead, he moves his jaws to kiss you even harder

and then he feels it

he almost sobs into you when your lips twitch weakly against his

with renewed vigour, you’re sealing your mouth around his bottom lip as you respond, capturing him in a real kiss

below your joined lips, your scales start to bloom with their full brilliance once again

your tail shimmers brighter than before, reflecting intricate patterns of fractals with each slight ripple of the water as you open your eyes to the sight of jongho’s face, beautifully swathed in the incandescence of the rainbow

you can move again

you flick your tail, jongho’s arms still firmly around your waist and you both burst upwards, breaking the water’s surface with spluttering breaths

he desperately treads you both backwards towards the shore even though you can easily hold your own now

“jongho, you-”

he takes one look at you before he cuts your words off and plunges himself back underwater, stunning you into stupor, until he re-emerges with another splutter

“your tail!” he yells with overwhelming relief, face still scrunched as he tries to sweep his fringe up and wipe the water from out of his eyes

“yeah…” voice muted as you process the fact that you’re still alive, “my tail��”

“fuck, you scared me”

jongho’s eyes are bloodshot as they stare into yours, and you know for a fact that they aren’t just red from the irritation of salt water

you bring up a hand to rest it on his chest, right where his heart still thumps rapidly under your touch, and you apologise with a small smile, “sorry…i scared me, too”

he huffs a little before looking at you earnestly

“don’t ever do that again”

the water is now shallow enough that jongho can stand, but it’s deep enough that you can still drift effortlessly

it’s the perfect harmony where land and sea unite; where a human and a mermaid interact

where you, the enchanter, and jongho, the enchanted, find a balance of love

“i won’t,” you promise

on land, humans tell a story of a mermaid who falls in love with a man

a mermaid who is ready to give up her voice in exchange for her happily ever after

but in the sea, merpeople tell a story of a man who falls in love with a mermaid

a man who is ready to give up his life in exchange for his happily ever after

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a-substantial-trash-pile · 19 days ago

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Catalyst

so in my au which i'm totally not using to cope or anything haha, after realizing that curly isn't going to do anything about jimmy, anya confides in swansea and he goes Protective Dad Mode. i'm calling this the "Responsibility AU." ramble below cut.

swansea doesn't immediately go after jimmy with an axe or anything because 1. they're not in a high stress life/death crash situation and 2. anya specifically requests that swansea not enact violence upon jimmy after swansea says, and i quote, "i'm gonna beat his ass." anya just wants to feel safer and more supported on the ship—she doesn't want swansea to get in trouble even if jimmy does deserve to get destroyed by 10000 punches.

what swansea can do is watch out for anya and make sure she's never alone in a room with jimmy. if there's a situation where she has to be alone with jimmy (like the psych evals), she and swansea have a system where she can signal for help. with anya's permission, swansea asks daisuke to help look out for her too (without telling him the details as to why since that's anya's right to share or not). daisuke has already picked up at this point that something is wrong based on how much more hostile swansea's become towards jimmy, and he trusts his boss, so he agrees without much question.

anya, feeling less alone now that she has people watching her back, gains more confidence to stand up to jimmy. which makes him angry because his unwanted advances are being denied and swansea and daisuke keep getting in his way. he just can't understand why he's being treated as the bad guy here (this is because he is a delusional asshole).

meanwhile curly is slowly realizing that he needs to actually do something here because the tension in the crew is palpable and increasing by the day. also swansea is being mighty passive aggressive to him and talking about "responsibility" a lot. curly keeps trying to talk to jimmy about it but the guy just keeps downplaying it and blaming everyone else but himself. and curly is realizing that his friend isn't who he thought he was.

it all comes to a head one day when an angry jimmy tries to confront anya alone and swansea steps in. things get heated, people start yelling. curly show up to see swansea and jimmy on the verge of fighting with anya and daisuke trying to hold them back respectively. curly breaks up the fight. jimmy storms off. curly follows him and finds him trying to get the gun from the case in the cockpit. curly asks him why he's doing this and jimmy claims it's for his own protection because he feels "threatened by swansea." he tells curly to give him the code. curly, the sheer wrongness of the whole situation hitting him, finally calls jimmy out on all his bs. jimmy just laughs in his face, still believing that he's not in the wrong and curly doesn't have the guts to do anything anyway. so the captain fires him on the spot. jimmy snaps and he and curly get into a fight in the cockpit. jimmy is trying to crash the ship and curly is trying to stop him. then the rest of the crew show up and anya knocks jimmy's ass out with the gun case. swansea is so proud.

they throw jimmy in the cryopod so they don't have to worry about him pulling anything else and he can be properly dealt with once the stupid delivery is over. everyone's like, "wow that was a close one—could you imagine how messed up it would be if we ended up in a crash because of jimmy? thank god that didn't happen." curly makes swansea the copilot until they can get a replacement and swansea's like, "goddammit as if i don't already do enough shit around here."

anyway my whole goal here was to get rid of jimmy early so i can have beautiful Found Family shenanigans in space with the rest of the crew. apologies and healing and happy times will happen. no the whole getting laid off thing doesn't happen. no i don't have an explanation for it. sorry for the essay.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing swansea #mouthwashing anya #mouthwashing spoilers #responsibility au

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eddiesxangel · 2 months ago

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Eddie, I’m Scared | E.M

Plot: completely based off this post

Cw: f!reader, established relationship, pet names (doll, baby,) use of “good girl”, cockwarming, p in v, slight spanking, cream pie, unprotected sex 1.2k words

The room was shrouded in darkness, with the only illumination coming from the flickering light of the television screen. The small trailer was enveloped in an eerie silence, punctuated only by the creaking of the tin walls in the wind. Eddie had deliberately set the scene for a spooky Halloween-themed movie night, and you found yourself practically nestled in his lap as he insisted on playing the latest terrifying films. Your screams and gasps echoed through the night, much to Eddie's amusement as he playfully teased you about Freddie Kruger. Pressed closely against him, with your leg entwined with his, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, while Eddie's large hands enveloped you protectively.

“I don’t think you could get any closer if you tried, baby,” he smirked.

“Well, there is one way,” you mumble.

“Huh? What was that? I didn’t quite catch that?”

“Nothing,” you squeak. You hardly ever initiate fooling around but something about Eddie “protecting” you was getting you hot and bothered. Your panties were already damp as your limbs were intertwined with his.

“No, no, little minx, don’t shy away from me.” His hand guide your chin to make eye contact. “getting turned on, baby? The spooky stuff making you horny” he tilts his head to the side.

“Maybe,” you whisper, unable to shy away.

And that’s how you ended up here; legs parted, straddling Eddie's lap, his chest pressed on your back as you sink into his hard thick cock.

“You feel safer, baby?” He coos, brushing a tendril away so his hot breath could cascade across your ear.

“Y-Yes,” you stutter. Your core is pulsing for him from the way his cock is stretching you out.

His strong hands are holding your hips in place as you slowly sink down until your ass is connected with his pelvis.

“There you go, now you’re safe.” you can hear the condescending smirk in his voice as he strokes your hair, but you bite your lip

As you wish, he was stroking you lower.

Your eyes are glued to the screen as he holds your head in place so you can’t look away. Jump scare after jump scare, your pussy clenches on his cock, making Eddie jerk his hips up into you deeper. Your pussy is dripping into his lap as the movie plays out. You don’t know how much time has passed, probably only ten minutes, but you can’t take it anymore.

Eddie is so distracted he can’t help but run his hands up and under your top and bra; his hands tweak your nipple any time your pussy grips down on him.

“Baby,” you moan as your hips inevitably start to grind down on him, the movie suddenly forgotten. All that was heard in the empty trailer were the screams coming from the TV but also your moans that matched when Eddie's hands started exploring your body. His fingers grazed your soft skin as he removed all of your clothes, leaving you naked on top of him.

“Fuck, baby, you're so tight” Eddie's fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, teasing you as he got closer to where you wanted him.

“Please touch me.” You hardly recognize your breathy voice.

“I am touching you, baby.” He mocks as his hands grip your plush inner thighs, holding you down so you can’t move.

“You know what I mean!” Your grip his wrist, guiding him to your throbbing clit.

“Oh, I like it when you take charge.” he kisses the side of your neck.

“Eddie, baby,” you moan. His grip loosened as your hips were able to rock back and forth on his cock while his fingers explored your swollen clit.

“She’s so wet, f’me,” Eddie praises as his fingers glide in quick circles.

“Yes, baby, only for you.” You rest your head on his shoulder, and he leans in to kiss you. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you continue to rock your hips in his lap, trying to hit that spot only Eddie can find.

“Need you.”

“You have me, doll” his fingers don’t stop on your clit.

“More, need more.”

“No baby, you’ll take what you need from right here.” With that, he pushed you up so you’re sat up straight, and you know he’s going to make you bounce on his cock, make you work for what you started.

You plant your hands on his knees; your focus is back on the TV, and another scream catches you off guard- making your pussy clench down on him. Eddie can’t help but let a moan slip out.

“Mmmmmmm baby,” you love when he makes noises for you.

“Pussy so good, fuckin made f’me”

Your body craved more as your legs started working, so you were fucking Eddie’s cock.

“That’s it, baby, use me.”

“Can’t it’s not enough?” you whine, you’re being a brat.

Eddie pushed you forward so your hand hit the floor; the new angle was exactly where you needed it when his cock thrusts into you. He smacked your ass, and the sting only aided your pleasure.

“Such a needy pussy”

You nod your head to agree because you can no longer speak, he’s taken the words right from your mouth, and all you can do is silently scream as his cock hits your g spot, over and over again.

“At a loss for words, doll? My cock got you so dumb? Is that it?” He slaps your ass again.

Your arms almost give out as he stands up, but you plant your feet on the couch. How you ended up in a wheelbarrow position escapes you, but you pay no mind to that because Eddie makes you feel like you’re floating.

The pressure in your core just keeps building and building, and you want nothing more than to cum. The need to cum is consuming; it’s the old thing your mind is focused on, as nothing else exists at this moment. It’s built g up more and more; Eddie speaks praises. You don’t fully register when finally the dam breaks, and you flood his cock with your juices.

Your arms give out, and your eyes hit the rage carpet floor before your face does. And Eddie slips out of you.

A menacing chuckle is heard from the tv as Eddie gets down on his knees and kisses your pussy unexpectedly.

“She did such a good job; now, can she finish the job for me?”

“Yes, Eddie, pls, baby, fuck me.”

“My little doll, turn around; I wanna see your pretty face when I come in you.”

Once you were flipped over with the help of Eddie, his cock slid back inside of you, stretching out your pussy once more. Somehow, you feel fuller than a few seconds ago when he was plowing into you from behind.

“There she is, there is, my pretty girl.” He leaned down to kiss you as he finally came. His load got fucked deep inside you, making sure to get every last drop.

“That’s it, taking all of me so well. That’s my good girl.” He smiles as his hips slow down and his cock softens.

“Good to know scary movies turn you on, doll”

“No they don’t.”

“I beg to differ.”

“The movies don’t turn me on Eddie-“ you reach over to cup his cheek, “you turn me on.”

“Oh, you so deserve another orgasm for that one, baby.” And you watch Eddie slide down your body.

Raging some moots: @xxbimbobunnyxx @userchai @floredaqueen @sexmetaleddie @sweetdreamjellybean @strangerstilinski @myherometalhead

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson blurb #kinktober

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oh-katsuki · 11 months ago

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it's been a really long time since i wrote porn for porn's sake. here u go. it's alpha nanami :)) i don't have a title for it oops

cw: alpha!nanami, omega!reader, a/b/o, breeding, knotting, heat and rut cycles, dubcon on both sides, fingering, cohabitation, taboo, protective nanami, i feel like there is a slight primal kink in here, light dacryphilia,

wc: 3.1k

nanami didn't mean to take in a stray, but that's sort of how it happened. you're staying with him until a particularly careless friend helps to find a suitable living arrangement for you. nanami really isn't sure how it became his problem, but he'd feel awful if he'd told satoru no and left you without somewhere to go, no matter how against living with an omega he is.

frankly, nanami doesn't support the idea of alphas and omegas living together. he thinks it's a bit perverse. there's far too much at risk and the situation can become dangerous if it's the wrong pairing. sure, sometimes it works out. the better of his kind (of which he considers himself to be) give the necessary space and resist the temptation, but the others... take it too far. it'd be easier for you to live with a beta, and nanami wonders why satoru didn't first go to one of them. maybe your pheromones are weak and satoru isn't worried. that's probably why he hadn't noticed them when satoru first brought you by to ask if it'd be okay.

he knows that second gender is a spectrum. some alphas and omegas hardly emit any pheromones at all, even during heat and rut cycles. nanami thinks he likely falls into this category, seeing as he's never been particularly tempted by an omega and very few have ever been all too tempted by him, but it's a gamble. it's—frankly—unethical to ask this of him and though nanami knows that he should have said no, something in his good nature compelled him to say yes.

you've weak pheromones too, he thinks. he, of course, can feel them to a degree, but seeing as you mostly keep to yourself, it's hardly a problem in the first few weeks. frankly, the most tempting thing about you is that you're beautiful. you seem to have an almost standoffish air about you, proud and dignified, with a preference towards a more solitary and observant lifestyle. most of the day, the two of you hardly even see each other, going about your lives entirely separately only to settle into the same house for bed at night.

you don't say much when you're home. in fact, nanami would wonder if you could speak at all if it weren't for the conversations he hears you having on your phone and the little laughs or eyerolls you give in response to his comments. there's understanding there, but it's silent and you hardly ever dignify nanami's words or invitations with a response. maybe you're airing on the side of caution. he wouldn't blame you if you are. so, for the next two weeks the two of you coexist without so much as a hello between you both, silently sharing a space. you stay out of the way and nanami pretends that he isn't slightly unsettled by your constant proximity and the creeping feeling that you don't really like him all too much.

"they're a little difficult," says gojo over the phone. "kinda standoffish and really smart."

"so i've noticed," nanami responds. "i can't say i blame them though. you've put us in a weird spot."

"oh, nanamin, i know you well enough to know that you wouldn't lay a hand on them even if they begged," satoru laughs. "and they really might."

nanami grimaces at satoru's statement.

"i still don't understand why it had to be me," nanami says flatly. "you could have called ijichi. it'd probably be safer."

"how noble," satoru snickers, "but i trust you. hang in there a few more weeks. we've been working on securing an apartment for them and once we do, they'll be out of your hair. you're an angel for letting them stay." he sing-songs into the receiver. nanami holds it away from his ear.

"sure," he says. "it's not really much trouble... it's just.."

"that they're an omega. i get it. stay strong or whatever lol," satoru laughs. "unless of course, you really like them."

nanami huffs and hangs up the phone. satoru's got a good head on his shoulders, but he knew where that conversation was going. satoru was likely to say something about your heat cycle and nanami, being an optimist in cases like these, hopes silently that it won't come for another two weeks. he knows he could ask, but he worries about coming across as something of a creep. nanami is a little orthodox in the sense that he believes alphas and omegas should be separate for this reason exactly. suppressants exist but they don't always work and though nanami has sense about him, he's always had an insecurity about the kind of monster his second gender could make him. it sets him at ease a little that your pheromones appear as weak as they are.

you round the corner into the living room, standing just on the far end of the room. you're wearing pajamas, but you seem to feel no need to cover yourself or hide any perceived indecency. nanami glances at you, making a point to avoid looking at the shape of your body. it's inviting and you look at him for a moment with a small smile before raising one single eyebrow and letting out a low huff of air. nanami decides that you'd heard his conversation and he watches you shake your head as you move to the kitchen to peruse what he has. your hips, swaying slightly with each step, draw his attention to the curve of your ass and he feels ashamed for even having looked.

you're beautiful, that's certain. even the way you move is beautiful. nanami has eyes enough to see that. something stirs inside of you when he speaks, wordless recognition, maybe amusement or irritation, and vice versa. regardless, it's beautiful and nanami finds that the longer you're here the more he has to swallow it down.

you seem to get a little uncomfortable if nanami has people over, even for a moment. not that you've ever said anything about it, but you appear set on edge when he does so in the following weeks, it leads him to not bring anyone over at all. he can't bear the idea of making you uncomfortable. for as little as you've spoken to him since you've been here, nanami finds that he's grown rather fond of you. if things continue this way, he should hate it when you leave. admittedly though, he's looking forward to it a little. nanami feels that you're... a temptation. one he can't really seem to overcome.

one evening, you sit down in the living room with him. it draws his attention to look at you.

"i'm not mean, you know," you say flatly.

nanami is astounded to hear the cadence of your voice so clearly and without prompt. he can only offer a nod in return.

"i'm just picky," you continue, shifting in your seat as if you're made uncomfortable by the way you're sitting. "i have to be, being the way i am and all."

"i understand. i'm not offended," nanami says. "but some people would probably call that rude."

you smile at him, coy and delicate. "would you?"

"maybe," he offers. "if the circumstances were different."

nanami clears his throat, furrowing his eyebrows at your body language. something's off and he wonders if maybe your cycle has begun. he shifts on the couch and turns his full attention to you.

you move over to him and sit just adjacent to his leg. something in him stirs, primal and unrecognizable. you've never been this close and he only now notices that you smell nice, like something light and fresh.

nanami feels his chest stir. "this is the most you've ever said to me, i think."

"sorry," you say.

"don't be," he responds.

this conversation is awkward. it's loaded. it's like a conversation between two people who can't exchange more than a few words without experiencing intense sexual tension. he clears his throat.

"i need your help," you mumble, shifting closer. he knows what you're implying.

"i can't help you," nanami responds through gritted teeth.

"please," you say, standing slowly. you linger in front of him for a moment before reaching out and slowly straddling his legs. nanami flinches as you settle on him, pausing for a moment to breathe. "touch me."

you place your head against his shoulder, fingers grabbing his shirt as if you're agitated. the skin of your cheek is warm against his collarbone and he can feel your hair against his jaw. you twitch lightly when you touch him. carefully, he places a large hand on your head. your whole body flinches, unbelievable warmth soaking into his skin.

you feel like you have a fever and the next time you raise your head, your eyes have gone glassy, face darker. your lips are wet and lightly parted and a layer of sweat covers your forehead.

"not like that," you say, something needy creeping into your voice.

nanami, against his better judgement, rests his hands on your waist. you shudder under his touch and he slowly strokes the exposed skin of your sides with his fingers. trailing the pads of them against raised goosebumps on your skin. between your legs, he can feel heat. he knows you're wet and he knows what you want. nanami isn't sure he can give it to you, he's unsure that he should. it's not illegal, but he feels that it's wrong. something about it is fundamentally wrong and the situation goes against all of his morals. his mind still wanders.

you rest your forehead against his chest, and he feels your pheromones as they hit his nose and soak in through his skin. his body responds, tensing. your breath picks up, little heaves and pants, and you squirm down against him almost involuntarily. nanami feels himself grow hard. it surprises him and shames him. he feels heat rise to his cheeks at the realization that he's pressing up against the inside of your leg, something that makes you stir and settle directly over him. every exhale from you is a borderline whine and the syrupy smell of you grows more intense by the moment. nanami still runs his fingers along your sides, venturing over your tummy and back occasionally.

"just a little bit," you command, rubbing your cheek against him and then placing your mouth on the side of his neck and biting. "i'm sorry. just a little bit."

nanami winces and you drag your hips over him. his hands fly to yours, gripping hard enough as you make you whine.

"i can't," he grits out, speaking directly against the way his cock throbs against your core. he can feel it's dampness, a humidity that soaks through his pants.

"it hurts," you mutter and nanami feels an unpleasant stirring in his stomach. he hates the thought of you being uncomfortable.

"maybe we can find help-" you twitch over him, making him wince, "for you."

you shake your head, "you."

nanami exhales and tips his head back, his fingers still on your waist. he weighs the outcomes of this in his mind. he could push you off and fix you a blanket and a safe space, give you some tools to help yourself and then plug his ears and pretend he doesn't want to do it himself. he imagines the buzzing sound, the way you'd whimper from the other room over, still unfulfilled despite the aid. he thinks about your fingers between your legs, unsatisfying and only serving to worsen the itch. it makes him strangely jealous, nauseous almost, that you should be so uncomfortable in his presence.

you exhales against him and it's a near defeated sound. nanami's fingers buzz with adrenaline, his cock swelling and throbbing every time you so much as shift over him. there's a lack of control in this situation and his fingers move to comfort you almost against his will.

something natural and easy takes over as he slides a big hand down to the front of you and cups your cunt. it feels almost like an out of body experience, but both yours and nanami's humanity drips away slowly to make room for these primal actions. you shudder and nanami's chest swells with relief as he sees your expression. there's a need within him to care for you. it's protective, the same way he'd feel if you were in physical danger.

nanami moves his four fingers over you slowly, his breathing hitching as you push your body against him. he can feel your dampness soaking through your thin shorts and it isn't long before your relief gives way to more need.

"just this once, nanami," you breath against his neck. "please."

nanami's head is filled with something syrupy. probably you. it's probably a chemical reaction caused by you and he knows that any pheromones you're releasing are probably being released in equal amounts by him. they take up space in the room, crowding him so that all he can focus on is you, is the need between your legs that calls to him like song.

"okay," he gives in, pulling your panties to the side and dipping his fingers into you.

you shudder and let out a short cry, thighs trembling. he knows he won't be able to satisfy you like this, but he wants to try. nanami knows though that there is no such thing as nipping it in the bud with these sorts of things and as he begins to move his fingers inside of you with a beckoning motion, he feels himself slip farther away.

you're so wet, dripping down his fingers. your pussy clenches around them, begging for a knot, sucking the two digits up into you and then threatening to push them out. nanami has been with omegas before, but he's never felt himself slip away like this. his humanity leaves him in favor of something animal.

nanami shushes you quietly as he pulls his fingers from your body. you whine and squirm against him, pressing down and grinding against the bulge in his pants. he sucks in a sharp breath and quickly discard your bottoms, leaving you bare and exposed in his lap.

your cunt is sticky and shining, glistening with your wetness. he can smell it, the way you're probably fertile, and the perverse thought crosses his mind that maybe you deliberately avoided your suppressants so that he could do this to you. how out of character for him to think that.

for someone so proper, he makes quick work of pressing the head of his cock against your entrance. you push your body forward to try to take him in and nanami very quickly slides into you. you're tight and with the way your cunt makes him feel, he knows that the stretch must hurt you, but he can't seem to stop. he's so focused on quelling the ache within you, buried deep in that spot where his knot will inevitably catch.

you are barely capable of forming words now, dumb and deaf with your heat. any words of comfort nanami offers to you seem to go in one ear and out the other, but he offers them anyway. they're automatic and they come without his even needing to think about them. things about taking care of you, about knotting you the way you're begging him to, about making sure you're never alone when you have to do this. if he were in a better state of mind, he'd be mortified.

instead, he fucks his hips up into you, holding you by the waist against his throbbing cock. then, when that isn't enough, he lays you on your back on the couch and presses your knees to your chest so that he can go deeper. he needs to get deep enough to where his knot will catch, to be able to stay there to ensure it catches properly. he feels the way air leaves you with every fuck of his hips.

you raise your hand to touch his face, eyes glassed over and watering as gentle tears slip down your cheeks. a silent encouragement that pulls him from his thoughts back to you. nanami turns his head instinctively and kisses the palm of your hand. then, he takes your thumb into his mouth and bites down on the fleshly part at the base of it. he could draw blood if he wanted, but he doesn't. instead he takes your hand as it falls from his lips and kisses you plainly again on the palm before pinning it above your head.

"i'll take care of you," he grunts out and you nod deliriously.

nanami makes quick work of knotting you. he bullies his cock as far in as it will go, swelling and swelling until he sticks. you squirm as he does, gasps growing higher in pitch until you're silenced by the pressure deep in your abdomen. you cum around him, he thinks, pussy fluttering as it throbs around his knot. then, you exhale as the heat recedes into the background with this momentary relief.

nanami winces as he holds himself up over you, slowly returning to his head as the swell of pheromones recedes and leaves only the feeling of the space he takes up in your cunt.

you search his face for something, benevolence maybe, and nanami places a wide palm to your cheek.

"i'm sorry," he breathes as words find him again. "i didn't intend to-"

you shake your head, returning to yourself as well. "don't be, i wanted to."

nanami isn't really sure what to say and you wince under him as he settles his weight a little further, throbbing lightly at the mention.

"hold me," you ask and nanami obliges. he settles fully over you before lifting you so that you're straddling his lap again. you wince and nanami soothes you by gently stroking your face. it's automatic again, the urge to comfort you is well beyond his control.

something in you triggers something in him and it is two full days before either of you are lucid and well enough to separate. satoru calls him multiple times, but nanami ignores him, too preoccupied with his unexpected rut and keeping you comfortable. at present, he's well past the initial guilt and frankly, entirely hellbent on deciding that you should stay. so much for his practicality, nature won out in the end.

nanami doesn't really think he'll ever hear the end of this, especially not from satoru who, when he inevitably gets a hold of them, will tease so relentlessly that it might shock nanami and you back into your senses. he decides to hide out here with you for a little longer, filling the room with the scent of you both until it crowds out everything else. he likes the way you feel nestled up beside him, messy and breathing deeply as you sleep.

a tag for my friends @antizenin and @kentocidal bc they asked!!!

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #tw: a/b/o #tw: breeding #tw: dubcon #i can't find my writing tag #also there are prob spelling mistakes in here i apologize #i apologize if this isnt very good

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0-n-1-x · 3 months ago

Note

Hey hey hey! I just read your Damian x photographer reader post (love btw) and instantly became infatuated with the idea of Reader who takes pictures of Gotham vigilantes for the news. Kinda like Peter Parker taking pictures of Spider-Man? (Not a 1 to 1 comparison but you get where it coming from) Basically they’re close with Damian but they don’t know Damian’s Robin. Cue secret identity shenanigans!

Damian Wayne x Hero Photographer!reader

link to my masterlist <33

As a talented photographer, you’ve made a name for yourself by capturing the best shots of Gotham’s vigilantes in action. Your photos of Batman, Robin, and the rest of the Bat-Family often end up on the front pages of Gotham’s newspapers, earning you both praise and a bit of notoriety in the city’s media circles. You and Damian have been friends for a while, bonding over your shared love of art and your similar work ethics. He admires your dedication to photography, though he’s secretly amused by the fact that you’re unknowingly photographing him in his Robin persona.

You and Damian have been friends for a while, bonding over your shared love of art and your similar work ethics. He admires your dedication to photography, though he’s secretly amused by the fact that you’re unknowingly photographing him in his Robin persona. Despite being so close to Damian, you have no idea that he’s actually Robin. He’s careful to keep his vigilante life separate from your friendship, though he occasionally drops hints that go right over your head.

There have been multiple instances where you’ve almost caught Damian in his Robin gear. Whether it’s seeing a flash of green and red out of the corner of your eye or noticing how familiar Robin’s fighting style seems, you start to get the feeling that there’s something more to Damian than meets the eye.

One day, you capture an exceptionally clear photo of Robin, and you can’t help but notice something oddly familiar about his eyes. You brush it off at first, but the thought nags at you. Damian, of course, is aware that you took the photo and goes out of his way to ensure you don’t connect the dots.

Whenever you talk to Damian about your latest photos, he can’t help but tease you a little. He’ll ask about your “favorite vigilante” or make subtle comments that hint at his dual identity. You laugh it off, thinking he’s just poking fun at your obsession with Gotham’s heroes. (i like to think that your favorite wouldn't be him, and he'd be slightly offended and try to explain why he's robin's better than his brothers other vigilantes)

There are times when Damian has to abruptly leave your hangouts to attend to Robin duties. He always comes up with an excuse—whether it’s a sudden family emergency or needing to take care of something important. You find it a bit odd but don’t press him on it, chalking it up to Damian’s sometimes mysterious nature.

One night, while you’re out trying to get some action shots of the infamous Gotham Vigilante Group, you get caught in the middle of a dangerous situation.

As you leaned over the ledge to get a better angle, you suddenly heard the sound of gunfire echoing through the alleyways. Your heart leapt into your throat, but you didn’t move, focusing your lens instead. Sure enough, you spotted Batman and Robin making their move on a group of heavily armed thugs. You quickly snapped a few shots, your heart racing with the thrill of the moment.

But then, something went wrong. One of the thugs spotted you—your lens reflecting just enough light to catch his attention. Without thinking, he pointed his gun upwards and fired.

The bullet whizzed past your head, shattering the brick near where you crouched. Panic surged through you as you scrambled back, nearly dropping your camera. Before you could react, you saw a flash of red and green—Robin was suddenly there, pulling you out of harm’s way.

He shielded you with his body, guiding you towards a safer spot on the rooftop. His gloved hand was firm but gentle as he held onto your arm, his other hand reaching for a grappling hook.

“Stay close to me,” he ordered, his voice low and urgent.

You barely had time to process what was happening before Robin swung the two of you off the rooftop, carrying you safely to a nearby building. Your heart pounded in your chest, both from the fear of what just happened and from the adrenaline of being in such close proximity to the vigilante.

When your feet finally touched solid ground, you stumbled slightly, still reeling from the close call. Robin’s arm was still around your waist, steadying you, and you couldn’t help but notice how strong and warm he felt, even through his suit.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, tinged with concern.

You nodded, but your mind was spinning. There was something about his voice, the way he held you—something that felt so familiar.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you managed to reply, your breath hitching slightly as you looked up at him. Your eyes locked with his, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. The green mask, the intense gaze, the way he said your name earlier—it was Damian. It had to be.

“Damian?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Robin stiffened, his grip on you tightening for a split second before he quickly let go, stepping back. His expression was hidden behind the mask, but you could see the conflict in his eyes. He hesitated, clearly torn between continuing the charade and telling you the truth.

“I—” he started, but the words seemed to stick in his throat.

“Damian, it’s you, isn’t it?” you pressed, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re Robin.”

#dc x you #damian wayne fluff #damian wayne headcannons #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne headcanon #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x male reader #damian wayne x gender neutral reader

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carlsangel · 4 months ago

Text

FREE TO FUCK

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl have a hideout.)

tags: oral sex (f!receiving)

masterlist here!

There were a good couple times where you and Carl had gotten caught. There was an occasion where you were having your weekly morning sex and Rick walked in, also one time Eugene sort of interrupted Carl eating you out in a truck. It was like you guys couldn’t win. There was almost never a time where there wasn’t a risk of you guys getting caught or interrupted.

You guys thought it was fun for a while and then it got irritating, it felt like everyone was constantly in your business. So, you were on a hunt to find a solution. You thought maybe just reducing your time together to nights but that wasn’t really an option after learning that Rick never cared to knock. During the day wouldn’t be a huge issue, but for some reason it didn’t feel safe in Alexandria. To have sex there, that is.

It’s not like it felt safer in the woods, in fact that’s the opposite but you just wished you had a nice hideaway. Somewhere where you were free to fuck. But anyway that wasn’t your top priority.

One day, while walking to your date spot with Carl in the woods, you decided to take a longer walk and return back to the tree later when you were less energetic. So you walk further along the trail with you almost never do. You come across a small cabin that Carl doesn’t quite pay any mind to. “Woah…” You slow down your steps and turn towards it, causing him to stop as well. “Oh yeah I found that a while ago. Cleared it, nothing really useful.”

You look over at him and nod, looking between him and the cabin but an idea. You practically dragged him over and bursted through the door. He did clear it, but it was still a mess. There was random papers and books all over the floor, the bedding for the bed was halfway across the room and the couch was missing some cushions.

“You know if we fixed this up a bit more and brought stuff from home we could make this such a nice place to hang out.” You ramble as you look around each part of the cabin as to what you could bring or how you could fix some parts. Carl wasn’t really following. “But why?” He’d ask, standing in the middle of the cabin looking around it just thinking it’s a total dump.

“Carl imagine coming here when everyone’s home. All we have to say is that we’re going on a date in the woods and we can come here. Mess around, hang out with the possibility of no one bothering us.” It all started to click in his brain and he began to imagine every little thing you both could get up to while alone here. It also didn’t have to be so sexual, though. He imagined just sitting in the cabin quietly, reading comics or listening to music together on the bed just enjoying eachother’s company. The only thing that was missing was a bath you two could sit in.

Regardless, you both got to work. You got a car and loaded some stuff inside that you knew some people in Alexandria wouldn’t miss. Before you knew it, the cabin was ready. The bed was ten times nicer (you stole a comforter and such) there were bean bags and books around that you’d enjoy and it was a lot less cluttered. Very quiet with warm lighting (you also stole lanterns and candles) so it was quite cozy.

─── ⋆⋅ 𐚁 ⋅⋆ ───

One particular day, a day before a large trade fair would take place in Alexandria, it was insanely chaotic. You were yelled at multiple times by seven different authoritative figures and there was a bit of pressure when in all reality it wasn’t that serious. Afterwards you really needed to wind down, so you dragged Carl somewhere far away.

To your cabin.

There, you’d settle into your guys’ bed into the comfy blankets which you’d take the opportunity to rant about your shitty day. “Also Tammy had such an attitude with me for placing the fucking crate of apples on the floor instead of the wobbly ass table Eugene was trying to level. What was I supposed to do, let them topple all over him? It’s complete bullshit.”

He rubbed your shoulder while you talked. He loved hearing you speak, hell he loved hearing you make noise. Which gave him an idea. He slowly pulled away while you continued to speak, silently propping himself between your legs so he can tug down your shorts. You were aware but you just let it him because it was sort of like a routine. It was either him fingering you while you ranted or he ate you out. Today was an oral type of day.

He’d start with just plain kisses on your thighs, looking up at you from between your legs. You were still complaining. “Also when I went back to the moving truck to get a box out, my jacket snagged on the hook that holds the plastic thingies and- Carl that feels so good- and it fucking ripped the pocket off.” You explained, still quite irritated. Carl however was still focused on you. He’d gently run his tongue over the fabric of your underwear and once he felt your hips jerk slightly as he grazed over your clit, he pressed a kiss at the direct spot. Your sentences were interrupted by your soft moans which just made him smile a little.

“I dunno. Mmh-I felt like everyone was out to get me today.” You end your rant there and Carl slides your underwear to the side to press a kiss to your actual skin before starting it gently lap at it. One after another, you got more and more wet which allowed him to suck your clit quite easily. “Oh fuck.” He moaned at your words as he found a nice steady pace to rock his head at, the vibration of his voice doing wonders against your heat. He was doing everything in his power to make sure you weren’t quiet for a second. “This is a really good way to shut me up by the way.” You tell him between moans, he smiles against you and lifts his head up so he can talk to you.

Just the sight of him was absolutely beautiful. His lips were red, like always. Your slick was just all over his chin but he looked at you so perfectly. Like you were the only being to exist. “I’m just trying to relieve your stress.” You look down at him quite happily and wait for him to continue. “Also you taste good.” He tilts his head and he just looks so sweet. At least sweet enough for you to sort of giggle at before your laughter was interrupted by Carl prodding his tongue straight into your hole.

You respond fairly loud, you’re very grateful for the cabin otherwise it’d be very awkward if you were in the house. Anyway, he slid his tongue up and down your folds, his eyes shut as he moves his head in circular motions with his tongue flat against you. He practically nuzzled into your pussy, flicking his tongue in and out fairly rapidly.

“Tha-that’s perfect.” Literally every word and every moan that came out of your mouth made him feel absolutely amazing. He loved knowing he was doing good for you, that he was pleasing you. He strived to make you feel loved. He continued the movements with his tongue, but his hands moved up your body and under your shirt to pull your bra down, giving him access to massage your breasts while he worked on you with his mouth. You’d smile at the amount of pleasure he was giving you, sort of giggling at how great it was.

You couldn’t keep quiet, everything he was doing was absolutely perfect. As you got closer he just flicked his tongue quicker, sucking harder; he could tell you were close because you started to squirm a little bit. He slid his hands down from your chest to your thighs to hold you down. “Please don’t stop-” You’d clutch his hair in your hands, gently tugging it every time he hit a spot just right. Everything was just turning him on as well but he was so focused on you, he didn’t even think about himself. He just wanted you to cum.

He knew you were getting close but you were speechless, he’s just depending on your noises and how your body feels to determine when you’ve finished. Between harsh flicking of his tongue and the sloppy noises coming from your heat and his mouth, you were right on the edge. You prop yourself up on your hands to watch him. He was intensely focused. His eyes were shut and he was licking long stripes up your cunt. It all began to be too much.

It didn’t take much longer before you came all in his mouth.

You fell back on your elbows and Carl pulled away, looking at you shyly. “You’re so pretty.” He blushes a bit before fixing your underwear back, then your bra. “You are.” You reply, watching him get closer and settling in on top of you. Once you’re all back to normal he gently holds the sides of your face to press a kiss to your forehead in satisfaction. “Thank you.” You mumble into his neck.

“Feel better?”

“Way better.”

a/n: i feel like im so bad at writing smut LMFAO like this physically pained me to write bc >_< it’s so shit BUT ANYWAY i loved this little idea of having a little cabin with him i think it’s sweet. I HOPE U LOVE IT

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow

#carl grimes #twd #the walking dead #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #carl grimes smut #twd smut #twd fanfiction #twd carl #the walking dead carl

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dalamjisung · 3 months ago

Text

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 3: X marks the spot

genre: finally some fluff! still some angst, but some fluff too!

word count: 5804

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you need spencer back home. so spencer comes back home. simple as that.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

author's note: you folks are amazing! thank you so much for the support and I know this chapter is a bit duller (aka famous filler chapter) but y/n needs a break from pain and suffering all the time lol <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

“She knows who I am.”

That is the sentence that sets off Plan B.

Spencer’s instructions are clear: call Penelope and go to the BAU. Office Kaper is to stay with you at all times until you enter the FBI and even then, he will personally deliver you to her caring hands, and for once, you don’t argue. In what has been a very dark past few days, you think that Penelope’s bright colours might do you well. “I have to close the shop,” You tell him on the phone, already changing from your sleeping shorts into some jeans, but keeping his hoodie. Right now, you’re not focused on appearances; you’re focused on getting the hell out of there.

“That’s fine, but keep Officer Kaper with you. Was the envelope delivered to my place?”

“No,” You breathe out, backpack on and ready to go. Nodding to man that has become your loyal companion, the two of you walk out of the building like any civilian couple. It’s unsettling, watching a man that is not Spencer wear his clothes, but he had to blend in so you two didn’t stand out.

“And he’s wearing my clothes?”

You turn to look at Officer Kaper and you snort despite the situation. “As best as he can, though he is considerably shorter than you, Spence.”

“You’re calling me Spence,” He says, and even his voice sounds a bit more at ease. Somehow, in the midst of this craziness, you two find time to ease back into what once was and you manage a small smile despite the anxiety rushing through you. “I missed that.”

“I miss you,” Is what you say back, and you blame it on the adrenaline of being outside, so open and vulnerable to prying eyes. “I… I feel safer when you’re here.”

“I know,” You swear you hear something skin to a smile on his voice. “I’m on my way back.”

“Yeah, in like three days,” Talking on the phone and closing your shop is no easy feat. You’re no genius and having to split your focus onto two different tasks is quite hard, but you manage. You don’t want to let him go yet, scared that one you can’t hear his voice, he’ll be as good as gone.

“No, I’m on the jet right now, I should be landing in an hour.”

You shouldn’t feel this happy about having Spencer come back this soon and probably in the middle of an active case, but when a psychotic killer starts sending you handwritten letters, you feel entitled to being a little selfish, even if guilt and anxiety are mixed it like the perfect emotional cocktail. “You didn’t have to,” You say, biting your nails when you finally grab everything you need and lock the door behind you. “Spence, I– thank you.”

“You need me home,” Is all he says before announcing he has to go.

The silence doesn’t make things easier. Now that you don’t have to split your mind in two to multitask, you can fixated on the fact that this is serious. This is quite serious– Cat Adams has just confirmed she knows you. She has also, however, confirmed she does not know where you are, and just like you told yourself before, you have to believe that there is something better than this out there. There is a moment in time, reserved and crafted by the sisters of fate, in which Cat Adams gets bored with you. You are no longer a struggling rat under the weight of her paws, and she is no longer entranced by how you try to wriggle out of maniacal grasp. In another moment, another sliver of an alternate reality, Cat never even finds out who you are. You like that reality a bit better, because then you also don’t know who she is, and the knowledge of her presence and her impact on Spencer’s life is as weightless as a feather.

While the city passes by you, the taxi ride to the FBI not as quick as you’d like with the early morning traffic, you allow yourself one more scenario. One more reality.

In this one, you live in an apartment with muted green walls. Your furniture is that fancy, dark shade of oak and you don’t have to keep your books on the store; instead, you have space to add them to your decoration. You have shelves and shelves of books lining your walls and you think you’ve never seen anything more beautiful than that place. The windows, large and usually covered by cream blinds, are open to allow some sunshine inside. In this reality, you’ve told Spencer all about the benefits of sunlight to your books– none of them true, of course, but he still pretends to believe you, and he still opens the windows before leaving for work. This time around, you dream big– in this alternate life, Spencer never even met Cat Adams. He never even applied to the FBI, in this odd, hallmark version of your story. It doesn’t really matter what he does, but all that matters is that you get to be with him. You get to wake up next to him, to talk to him, to call him… hell, you even get to kiss him!

This reality, as utopian as it seems, it’s fragile, though. Unrealistic. Spencer loves his job, you know that now. A world where you keep him from it can’t truly be a perfect world, not when he’d be so, so unhappy without his team standing next to him. “Ma’am,” Officer Kaper calls. “We’re here.”

“Oh!” Grabbing your backpack, you follow him inside, feeling a bit awkward at the way people started at your with puzzled looks on their faces. “Wait! Before you leave, this is for you! You mentioned your daughter likes stories and that she’s about five or so, so these should be fun!” Children’s book is one of your secret passions, and you’re happy to see him smiling as he looks through the titles.

“You really didn’t have to, Miss Y/L/N.”

“I really wanted to, though,” You smile. You need some light in your life as you walk those beige hallways. “Let me know if she wants more– her dad is a hero, so we have a special deal at the store for you.”

“I’ll tell little Jane that a very nice lady from work gave her new books then,” He says, nodding as Penelope rushes to your side. “Call me if you need anything else, Miss Y/L/N, I’m happy to help. If it makes you feel better, you’ve been dealing with this exceptionally well. It can’t be easy.”

The validation has you pursing your lips, trying to hold back the need to hug him. In no way, shape, or form are you two close– to be honest, this is the most you’ve spoken with Officer Kaper during the forty-eight hours you spent together; and yet, his opinion seems to mean something to you. Your hands hide behind your back and you exhale sharply, nodding at him, eyes glassing over with emotion. “Thank you,” You whisper, head whipping at the familiar sound of heels waddling down the hall. “I’ll uh, I’ll go… but thank you. For everything.”

He just nods, leaving with a wave and a smile.

“Either you joined the FBI since we last saw each other or this sweatshirt belongs to a certain genius man,” Penelope says, looking at you with the ghost of a smile. If you didn’t know any better,

“What? Oh. Yeah, I borrowed it from Spence,” You mumble, hands nervously fidgeting with your backpack. There isn’t much of anything inside, and you think you got flustered when you had Spencer on the phone telling you to get ready to go. All you remember is packing your toothbrush, a couple of books, and some underwear. “Oh, sweet girl,” Penelope sighs, her arm light on your shoulders, guiding you through those horrid halls. You think you hate the FBI headquarters more than you hate Cat Adams, and that is saying something. “Everything will be okay. Boy genius is on it, and he’ll figure this out in no time.”

“Seven days is quite a lot of time,” It’s not fair, how your words make her frown, but you have no one else. The words tumble out of your mouth before you can control them because this is what you’ve been dying to do since you first left that goddamned office, seven fucking days ago. And that is your regret– not talking to Spencer when you had the chance, not letting him talk to you, not… not letting him be therefor you. “God, seven days is a lot– it’s a whole week! I don’t know what you believe in, but if you’re Catholic, God created the Earth in seven days and– well, six days and Sunday he rested, but honestly, semantics. And it’s a whole week, one-fourth of a month. Seven days, and– and–“

“I am not judging you, because I am the biggest yapper of this team,” Penelope cuts right in, hand up in the air between you two. “But you need to breathe. I know seven days is a lot. And I hate that you’re in a position that you feel like you need to count the days. But there are no better people to have on your corner than this team. I promise you, Y/N, and– look!” She shakes her phone in front of your face. “Lover boy just landed! He’ll be here soon, so for now, please sit down and drink some tea?”

The door in the end of many, many hallways later is her office. You don’t really understand the juxtaposition of Penelope Garcia, and that’s okay– you might not understand her, but at least, with her, it feels like what you see is what you get. She wears her authenticity on her sleeve and you actually feel at ease around her because of it. There is not an ounce of ambiguity, not a shred of secrecy coming from her. She looks at you– really looks at you– and in her eyes you know how she feels. Penelope, unlike the rest of the team, is not a trained profiler, and even though you are quite limited in your knowledge of what exactly a profiler like Morgan and JJ does, the internet provided you with enough general background that you know just how… proficient… they are in hiding their own selves from the world. Apparently it’s a part of the job, but at one point, you have to wonder just how intrinsic is the job and their overall selves, and if when Spencer comes back home, does he leaves the job behind or is he always on the clock?

“Here, it chamomile,” The mug is bright pink and purple, and despite the room being dark and cold, you see how she has made it her own. The figurines and stickers on the screens around you make you smile weakly, sipping on the tea while sitting down next to her. Her screens are locked, and you are thankful for that– it makes you feel like at least someone is trying to separate you and the world you never wanted to know existed. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug a little, finger running around the rim of the cup. “I… I’m scared. And this feels really stupid, you know? It’s not even about me, but I’m the one kicking a fuss about everything,” Shaking your head, you let out a big exhale, like you have been holding it in for the longest time. “All because of a silly crush, oh my god…”

“Wait… Wha– What…?”

“I know,” You laugh at yourself, that type of chuckle that is so dry and void that even you worry. Underneath it all, underneath all the anger and the confusion and the disbelief, you think you just feel… dumb. You feel stupid. Like you’ve played yourself, and poor Spencer doesn’t even know. “How stupid am I? Getting a serial killer on my back, all because I liked a boy? And it’s not even like he likes me back, so this is all just… so fucked up. I wish I could go visit her and tell her that I don’t have Spencer, not like how she thinks I do.”

“You like Reid?” Her smile is so big that her voice comes out all weird and squeaky. “You actually have a crush on little boy genius?”

“I–“ The hesitation in your voice is obvious. “I did. Spence is just so kind. And gentle, and loving, and he has this huge heart, you know? He used to bring me coffee every day he visited, and he would tell me all these really cool facts about the most random things, and I swear, I loved listening to him talk.” Without even realising, you’re smiling, wide and true, for what it felt like the first time in forever. You bring your legs up on the chair, hugging your knees close just to feel that sense of security it brings you, grounding you in the moment. The memories of your time with him, your favourite customer, are precious to you; and much like old time treasure, you hide it in the depths of your mind, away and untouched by prying hands of people around you.

Except, Cat Adams found your map.

And X marks the spot.

It’s just a matter of time until she finds the golden chest and picks at the lock.

Slowly, your smile slips away. “But now… now things changed, you know?” You gulp, not having the capacity to face the pitiful look she gives you without crying. And you’re tired of crying.

“You didn’t change. Reid didn’t change, he’s still the same kind and gentle and loving man…!” You’re almost swayed by the desperation behind her voice. Penelope is a great friend and you can’t believe you were once jealous of her, but even then, you grimace. It’s not like you don’t want to let yourself be guided by these feelings– you want to let the butterflies loose, you want to allow yourself the giddiness of being with him, you want to have this quintessential girlhood experience, but the threat looming over your head pushes you down and away. You’re scared and you have all the reason to be.

“Haven’t I?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. “Anyways, at the risk of sounding like a middle schooler, it’s not like he likes me either.”

“Y/N, he– he’s different,” Penelope whispers, reaching for your hand. “He’s afraid of germs and rambles a lot and he’s been hurt before, but please, if you just give him a shot, I think you could be really good for him.”

“How would you know?” You’re not trying to be rude, you even smile a little, but the question stood– how would she know? You two had very limited interactions.

“Because he talks a lot about you, and… well,” She confesses, chuckling like she had just done something naughty. When she points at the screens though, you gasp. “I know more about you thank you think.”

That makes your blood run cold. “You– what– what did you find out?”

“Not as much as I could’ve!” She quickly promises, turning to the screen and quickly pulling up a file. The first thing you see is your driver’s license, and you wince at the picture. “This is all I managed to get before Reid put a ban on me!”

“He put a ban on you looking me up?”

“Yes, he said he didn’t want to cheat and that he wanted to wait for you to tell him whatever you wanted to tell him,” Her words come out so fast you barely understand them, but it still tugs at your heart. “He said you didn’t know who he was because you didn’t know he worked for the FBI, and I tried telling him that’s not all he is! I did, but Reid is a stubborn, stubborn genius and wouldn’t listen to me! But he is, Y/N, he is much more than this job and–“

“I know that,” You whisper, eyes running through the documents on the screen. Degrees, past addresses, old jobs, family… and past relationships. Your body tenses up at the small list of names, one in particular making you gulp, glancing quickly at Penelope. “This is all, right? You… you didn’t dig more, right?”

“Yes, this is all! I promise! To be very honest, I could find anything I wanted, but as I mentioned, I’ve been banished and threatened with a long, long lecture on privacy laws.”

Her words echo in your mind for a moment, eyes unmoving from the bright screens. “Anything?”

Penelope looks at your with hesitation. “Anything that has been online, yeah. Why?”

Sitting back down, you take a deep breath and nod. “Show me Cat Adams.”

“Oh… Oh, Y/N, no, no no no, I can’t–“

“Yes, you can! You just said you can find anything and, honestly how hard would it be for me to pick up my phone and Google her? If the FBI made the arrest, I’m sure media has picked it up!” Before you can even reach for the device, Penelope is grabbing it, hiding it behind her. “Penelope, please! This woman wants to kill me, I deserve to know what she looks like!”

Your voice is hushed, the undertone of desperation seeping through every word. “What if she gets out?”

“Y/N, she has a life sentence, she’ll never get out.”

“You don’t know that!” This is what scares Penelope, the way you screech in panic, hands flying to the neck of the hoodie and tugging it away from you like you need it to breathe. “You don’t know that and I need to know what she looks like! Please, Penelope, I’m begging you!”

The tension in the room is palpable, but you know you got through her when she sighed. “I’m doing this for your protection,” It’s more like she’s talking to herself, so all you do is nod quietly, getting up and walking to the back of her chair. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” You are holding your breath while you squeeze the back of her chair, trying to keep yourself upright for a moment that could easily throw off your balance.

In all honesty, you are not sure what you’re expecting. The little you know about black widow killers comes from a fictional world of made up characters, a place where the fantastical magic of made up stories meets the trauma ridden lives of turbulent characters. In them, these killers are beautiful. In fact, their beauty is their weapon, right before their grace and intelligence. It’s almost sick, how you remember liking those stories so much you once called it ‘a form of female empowerment’, and just thinking about it has your stomach tied in a bunch of knots, each one pulling and tugging at you in a rhythm that is too chaotic to not have you hunched over, panting next to Penelope like the photo she pulls up on her computer has just punched you in the gut.

Because despite all your silent prayers, Cat Adams, in her orange jumpsuit and messy prison hair, is gorgeous. It’s something about her eyes, so cold and distant, yet holding an invitation that even you might not be able to resist. Is this how she draws men in? Is this how she drew Spencer? “I–“

“Garcia, what are you doing?!”

Both of your turn around at the same time, both of you shocked at the sight of Spencer, in all his sweater vest glory and red face anger, marching towards you both. “Take it down.”

You have never heard him sound so cold. “Spence, I asked her to pull it up. I was curious.”

“She should’ve known better, she’s an FBI agent!” Now he is screaming, and you can’t help but feel overcome with a familiar type of shame. Part of you, a specific part you left back in New York, expects him to to keep screaming. It’s the part of you that unconsciously pushes the tea mug away. It’s the part of you that looks at the door and feels relieved to see it unlocked. It’s the part of you you’ve been hiding from him and everyone else you met since you’ve moved.

It’s the part of you Spencer just noticed.

“I’m sorry,” He says, squinting his eyes at your so quickly it’s almost imperceptible. Almost. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have screamed, I’m just–“

“On edge,” You whisper, nodding in agreement. “We all are, Spence. Don’t scream at her, please.”

“I know, I know, I’m really sorry,” This is more like him– shy eyes casted down between glances here and there. “I just don’t want you wasting your time on someone like her. She doesn’t deserve it.”

No one says anything for a while. Until you notice it.

“Spence,” You mumble, smiling a little in an attempt to ease the high emotions in the room. “You cut your hair.” It’s shorter now. His shaggy curls still peek out, but it looks more… grown, even if it enhances his boyish charm.

“I did,” He mumbles, blushing a little. For a second, he looks at Penelope, like he’s asking her what to say and what to do. “It was getting too long.”

“It looks really good.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” God, you love when his voice gets low and airy like that. Garcia is looking between you two with a certain kind of spark in her eyes and it makes you shift on your feet. “Uh, shall we go home?”

“You’re going back to your apartment?”

“Yeah, Officer Kaper said that the letter came with the batch of mail they got from Y/N’s apartment, so it’s safe to assume she has no knowledge of her current whereabouts,” Spencer picks up your backpack without even asking, smiling at you innocently. “I reviewed the security footage you sent of my apartment entrance and there is no suspicious activity happening during the days I was gone. And, well, you know, I’m here now. She’s safe.”

No one will ever understand the amount of relief you feel in that exact moment. “Thank you for coming back.”

“You need me home,” Is all he says before guiding you away. When you turn to say bye to Penelope, she is smirking, giving you two thumbs up and a giggle. In the midst of all this mess, you actually feel happy to have someone allowing you to enjoy a moment of silliness. “Are you okay? Do you feel a bit better?”

“Now that you’re back, yeah,” You sigh, sticking close to him as you pass by a group of agents. “Officer Kaper is really sweet, but he’s not you, he’s not–“

“Familiar,” Spencer says, but you shake your head.

“He’s not my friend.”

“And I am?” The hope in his eyes crushes your heart. You never meant to make him feel like you had left him behind, but you know you have pushed him away when he tried to stand by you.

No more.

“You are, Spence,” You breathe out, hand gently falling on his arm and squeezing it adoringly. “You’re my favourite customer and I guess now you’re my living room-mate. But you should really sleep in your bed tonight, okay?” The joke is just an attempt to make him smile, and you’re happy to see it works.

“Will you sleep next to me?”

His question is not that unexpected, really, but it still makes you freeze in place. “Uh… What… What do you mean?”

“Sleep next to me,” His bluntness doesn’t help with the way your cheeks fire up. “I know you’re scared, so if you’re next to me, I’ll be watching over you at all times. I’m a light sleeper, so even if something happens, I’ll wake up. We can put pillows between us, if the thought of me that close to you makes you uncomfortable and–“

“It doesn’t,” You say before you can give up on it. “I just… I know you’re a germaphobe and I don’t know how many germs can be shared when you sleep next to someone and I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Actually, when you sleep next to someone, there is an exchange of bacteria and skin microbes when we turn and move around, but your brain compensates by releasing the ‘happy’ hormones because you’re sleeping next to someone you care about, so I wouldn’t mind the former much considering we would wake up pretty content.”

Someone you care about. You hold your tongue back from asking him if he cares about you– at this point, you should know he does. You shouldn’t need the reassurance, as nice as it would feel to have it, but you really, really want it. In a time where everything is uncertain, you pray so that Spencer can be your constant. “Okay,” You nod, hand slowly slipping down his arm, brushing yours fingers through his, before letting it go altogether. Looking down to the ground, embarrassed with your own courage, you follow him out of the building. “The subway is that way.”

“We’re getting a taxi,” He mumbles, signalling one down as he spoke. “I don’t think public spaces with that much visibility are a good idea for now. I don’t want you paranoid, Y/N, but I need you to be careful, okay? Subways, buses, all of these get crowded and they have a large amount of surveillance. We still can’t figure out how Cat found out where you live or who is her connection that got your name through the UPS delivery, but we’re not stopping until we do, I promise you that. For now, we just ask that you be careful around people.”

“I work with people. I have to talk to them to sell them stuff… I can’t lose my store, it’s all I have!” The two of you turn to face each other on the back of the car. He is shaking his head before you can even continue, and when you feel it, the warmth of his hands covering yours, so much bigger and steadier to the point that is like he’s holding your fists in his palms, you hold your breath.

“You won’t,” He whispers, shaking his head so gently that wisps of hair fall over his forehead and you have to fight the urge to push it back. “Y/N, you won’t. We’ll figure something out, okay?”

“Okay,” The trust you have in Spencer is enough to have you nodding along. Until the car stops in front of his apartment, he doesn’t let go of your hand, and you make no effort in letting go of his.

It’s only when it’s time to pay for the ride that you pull away, faster than him in getting the money to the driver. “Hey!”

“Be faster next time, boy genius,” You say, smiling tiredly while walking next to him through the hallways of his building until you reach Apartment 23. Using your key in front of him, the one he gave you when he went away, feels weird and oddly intimate. “Do you want this back?”

“Keep it,” Spencer says, giving you his trademark tight-lipped smile. The way his shoulders sag a little as soon as he is inside the familiar apartment has you frowning. He is exhausted, tired from flying and rushing through the city, but he still made the effort to come get you at the BAU. “What do you want for dinner? We can get some pizza.”

“I have leftovers in the fridge,” You mumble, suddenly too out of place in the apartment you know at the palm of your hand. Standing in the entrance, you just look at him, watching him walk around the apartment so carelessly and you wonder if Spencer knows just how meaningful it is for you to have him back home. “I bought groceries, don’t worry, I didn’t use any of your food or anything like that.”

“I wasn’t worried, but now I am. I told you to be comfortable Y/N.”

“I am…” You mumble, moving to sit down on the armchair.

Under his watchful gaze, you’re not sure how much Spencer can get out of your behaviour right now. It’s a bit sad that you’re even thinking about this so consciously, observing him as he observes you right back. You know you will never win a battle of wits against the genius across the room, but no ones knows you better than yourself and that is currently your only leverage in this entire situation. But… why do you even need leverage? What is this war you have started with yourself and pulled poor Spencer in without even letting him know? The blanket you adore so much is right by your feet and you pull it up to cover your whole body, all the way up to your face. At this point, you don’t want him reading you because you’re afraid of what he will find. Specially because you don’t know what he will find.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” When he sits on the corner of the chair, your body dips to the side, rolling closer to him. “Are you hiding?”

“Yeah.”

“And why are you hiding?”

“Because you’re an avid reader,” Even you want to cringe at your own words. “And I’m not really sure what story I’m telling, right now.”

His laughter takes you by surprise– this has to be the loudest you’ve heard Spencer be. “Y/N, what are you talking about? I’m not going to read you!”

“Spencer, you can’t help it! It’s what you do– I see the way you look at me, okay? I know what you’re doing, and I have to say I am not a fan!”

With one tug on the blanket, your face is exposed again with hair all over it. But then you see his smile, and it looks so honest and happy, like a version of him you thought you had left behind days ago. “You think I’m reading you?”

“Are you not?” You ask, sitting up to try and look at him with a serious expression.

“No, Y/N, I’m not looking at you because I’m reading you.”

There are moments in your life, unique and specific in their own credits, that you are sure you will never forget. The day you decided to leave New York is one of them– you bought tickets last minute and left with only a rucksack you found in the back of your closet. On the way to the airport, you called your parents, waking them up at three in the morning to tell them they were going to need to ship your stuff to a PO box address. Y/N, where are you going?, your mom cried out. What is going on? To which all you said was I’ll tell you when I can, before hanging up and throwing your SIM card out of the window.

Opening your store was high in the list too. Not the day that you conceptualised it or rented the place– the day you truly opened it. The day your first customer, your favourite customer, walked in, that’s the day you truly opened the place. The day he bought a book and promised to come back again.

Of course there are other dates, too; simpler dates. Birthdays, christmases, random family dinners. The small things that build-up to be big memories. But then there are the big things that are even bigger memories, and you’re intimidated, with the size of it all. It’s too big, too tall, and when you fall, it might just be high enough to break all your bones, but not kill you completely. No… that would be too merciful.

This– Cat Adams, Spencer, the box– this is not just big.

This is huge.

In comparison, tonight is not all that big. In fact, his living room feels quite small now that both of you are back inside. The green walls descend and it’s just you and him, squeezed close in an arm chair you both love, surrounded by books you both love, and you still can’t help but feel afraid. This is as small as it gets, as monotonous as it gets, and yet, this is the most scared you’ve ever felt, because no matter what you do, it’s like you can’t stop climbing– you go higher, higher, higher. His words, replaying in your mind, keep pushing you up, without any regard of how you’ll ever come down.

Truthfully, you don’t want to come down, even if he brings you down gently.

“Then… why do you stare at me, Spence?”

He doesn’t answer you, shaking his head slightly before looking away and clearing his throat. Uncomfortableness doesn’t look good on him, and that is saying something, coming from the one person who thinks everything looks good on him. “I uh, I’ll heat up some of those leftovers. Shall I get you some, too?”

Spencer might the profiler, but you are still able to read the blooming colour in his cheeks. “Yeah,” You say softly, I would love some, Spence.”

Dinner with him is peaceful. You’re learning how to live this new life with a plus one. You learn his habits and his quirks– you learn that he likes to put ketchup on his pizza and that he drowns his coffee in sugar. That despite his immense IQ, he still can’t quite cook for himself– or prefers not doing so. That he made sure his cleaning lady came during the times he was away to avoid small talk and human contact. You learn, through a lot of trials and a lot of success, that you are his one exception.

For you, Spencer is malleable, and he has no qualms in moulding himself to your needs, except… except you don’t want him to do that. You don’t want him to be someone he’s not and you don’t want the Spencer you know and adore to be someone curated just for you.

“I’ll go take a shower and change into some comfortable clothes,” He says after he finishes eating. “Thank you for the food.”

“No problem.”

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You can keep that hoodie. You look good in it.”

Just like that, you chuckle, shaking your head when he disappears behind the bedroom door. If Cat Adams has the map to your past memories, Spencer Reid has the map to your future ones.

X marks the spot.

And for him there is no lock to pick– the door is wide open.

---------------------------------------

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310 notes · View notes

erinfern0 · 1 year ago

Text

dating simon "ghost" riley

bf!simon gets picked on by TF141 for never cleaning his gear up properly. Always has some of your hair or the fur of your animals all over it, can't help but smile under his mask every time Johnny points it out.

bf!simon prefers spending time at home to fancy dates. Watching a movie on the couch while eating take-out >>>> dinner at a restaurant, for example. Especially that it brings him more comfort and more possibilities to get to know you, spend time with you and talk.

bf!simon is either extreme friends or extreme enemies with your pets, no middle ground.

bf!simon avoids talking about you during missions, he makes a clear cut between his personal and work life. Silences Soap whenever he starts to ask about you. Might mention you while at base, but outside of it — your name will not fall from his lips.

bf!simon prefers to use nicknames on you rather than your actual name. Even if he loves it, he knows it's safer. That's why most of the time you're just his love, sweetie, angel, baby, sweetheart, or dove.

bf!simon doesn't carry a picture of you around, it's too risky. He prefers something easier to hide and harder to recognize. Usually, it's a charm, a bracelet, a hair tie if you use them — something only he might connect to you.

bf!simon doesn't easily get jealous of your actions. If he's with you — he fully trusts you and believes you know better. Other people tho? Doesn't trust for shit. Whenever you're together in public and he spots you talking to a stranger — he makes sure they know to watch their mouth.

bf!simon will encourage you to wear whatever outfits you might think of. Easily scares creeps and critics away from you.

bf!simon loves to watch you do various of boring things. The way you just normally live your life, taking care of any chores or work. Painting, cleaning, reading, watching movies, doesn't matter, his eyes are on you non-stop.

bf!simon likes a good book, especially the ones you recommend to him. If he ends up hating it — he believes it was still important for him to read it just to know more about the things you care about.

bf!simon will definitely listen to you ramble about your current fixations, especially if you're passionate about them. Might fall asleep if you play with his hair while talking.

bf!simon doesn't usually go for kissing. Mostly just holds you close to him, and nuzzles his face into your neck. Some short pecks on the lips or on the cheek are fine, tho. Very rarely makes out with you, just because he thinks it's so intimate and vulnerable.

Later on in the relationship, he finds comfort in feeling your lips on his. Especially when he can hold your face with his palms.

bf!simon doesn't wear the mask around you. It's hidden, somewhere in the bottom of his duffle bag that's hidden under the wardrobe. He'd never allow Ghost to take over around you, you don't deserve to be exposed to that side of his life.

bf!simon hates to argue. He thinks communication is key and will gladly listen to anything you have to tell him. Tries to keep his cool at all times, which sometimes causes him to leave your place for a couple of minutes, so he can just take a quick walk and think about what's next. Then, he sits you down and continues talking. Uses it more to give you space.

bf!simon adores to shower with you. Hates baths tho, don't even try that.

bf!simon draws tiny skulls on the notes he leaves around your place instead of a signature.

bf!simon constantly jokes around you, sometimes mocks you, but will stop if you don't like it. Nerdy and cheesy comments on daily.

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bamgyw · 6 months ago

Text

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ the second night ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

the spiritualization of sensuality is called love: it is a great triumph over christianity. - friedrich nietzsche

warnings: +18 getting hornier. pillow,, humping,, heh. a tiny bit of voyeurism as well? fingering. and a lot of male yearning we love that, we love a desperate man. a/n: team we made it to the smut. the hand kissing bit is kind of victorian. jane austen, even. but. i don't care. i’m not 100% happy with the outcome so it might get a little edited in the (distant) future, but nothing fundamental. this is a part of a longer work ♡ go to the beginning here

"i am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses."

beomgyu stumbled upon that quote within the pages of a stolen copy of a book by nietzsche. he had always found himself more drawn to the destructive lunacies of clinically depressed germans than to the saving grace of the holy scriptures. there was no self-pitying in the bible, no self-indulgent sorrow to hold on to.

he had found that book, thus spoke zarathustra, in soobin's room, tossed in the trash. it looked almost new, so he took it out of curiosity.

"why are you throwing this away?" beomgyu asked.

soobin shrugged. "it's a good read if you're a happy person," he said. "but if you're miserable, it'll rot your brain. more spiritual talk and petty self-help in there than in the bible."

but beomgyu quietly took the book without soobin noticing, and he carried it in his back pocket ever since.

he had no intention of reading it from cover to cover, but sometimes he would flip absentmindedly through the pages, fixating on some passages. and that one specifically had reminded him of you. his new meaning. the rose he found in the darkness.

during the day, beomgyu usually roamed aimlessly around the town, drifting along with the rhythms of his headphones. that was pretty much the sum of his daily human activity since he quit college.

it was all he knew how to do, and often felt like all he was good for.

as he walked through the town, the familiar sounds of honking cars, distant sirens, and murmuring conversations mixed with the music in his headphones. the air was thick with the scent of seawater and the faint, sour smell of industry. it was a crummy town, sordid. each step felt heavy, purposeless, leading him nowhere.

he had a few favorite spots he liked to hang around - the port where the boats came in, or the grimy industrial estate where the addicts gathered. they all knew his dad pretty well. and maybe if they knew beomgyu was the son of the man who supplied them with their shit, they'd treat him better. but that's a secret he kept to himself.

instead, he joined in on their petty fights, easily swayed by whatever side fit his mood that day. he was better at fighting than them, but the victory was hollow. he was younger, his body was not rotten –not completely– and he had full motor control over his limbs. but he got pleasure from winning, anyway. he liked to exert some control over someone else for once.

still, that day he didn't walk to any of his usual spots. he had been feeling a sorrow less violent, an ominous need for silence. his feet, barely in conversation with his brain, dragged him to the town's small church.

he had never really stopped at the church before, just passed by without giving it much thought. but now, standing there, he realized it was probably the most beautiful building in town.

every other construction felt fake, in plastic and plasterboard, but the wooden church had been crafted by the artisan hands of a carpenter and build up by a community. it seemed to be lovingly nursed, too. though the church meant little to him, it was obviously fundamental to others.

when lost and adrift, beomgyu would wander, getting into fights and ruining himself. but under similarly pitiable conditions, others came to the chapel like it was a second home, sometimes safer than their own. beomgyu wished he had something like that, too.

the building was small, but cute. surrounded by a little forest of old camellia trees, its walls painted a crisp white. it was an old building, but it was thoroughly taken care of. the air was different, cleaner, carrying the earthy scent of the camelliae and the faint fragrance of blooming flowers.

beomgyu liked how the wooden cross crowned the roof, marking the building, never allowing anyone to go astray. it must feel good, he thought, to have some guidance like that when you don't know where to go. a flower in the desert, a light in the darkness.

he knew he was being stupid and overemotional. he had never believed in all this religious stuff, and he never would. his relationship with god, if there even was one, was mostly based in resentment. if god was real, he could've treated him better.

and still, he didn't dare to enter the chapel out of some reverential respect he didn't even know he was capable of. so he just stood there, staring at the chapel, feeling small.

he took a deep breath. his cheek still burned where you had kissed him the night before. he really was going out of his mind.

"i want her so bad. and i think she might want me too." he prayed. to the church, to its wood, to the camellia trees, to the sky –he didn't know, he didn't care. "please let me be with her. please don't hurt her because of it, or shame her, or kick her out or whatever it is you do with sinners. i promise it’s not a bad thing. it’s so much purer than you think." he said.

no one answered, of course. there was just silence. some ruffling of the leaves because of the breeze, maybe the trebling chirp of a bird, but no answer. he felt like an idiot.

praying sucked, he ratified. how could you even make sure you were being listened to? it was emotional manipulation, playing with one's hope. feeling down and disappointed, he left.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

entering soobin’s house again would have felt like torture, were it not for the certainty that you lived there, too.

soobin never really left the house. he only went out to go to class in the mornings, and he still chose to skip as many as he could. not because he wasn't a good student, he was disturbingly accomplished. he just disliked the people.

every day, soobin locked himself in his room and studied relentlessly. he was determined to make something of himself and leave his stepfather’s house behind. he had a plan. beomgyu didn’t know the details of this plan—soobin never shared it, fearing it might be jinxed if spoken aloud—but it was clear that soobin believed hard work could get him out of that miserable house.

beomgyu thought that rhetoric too optimistic, alienated from reality. but still, he had some admiration for him. unlike beomgyu, who wallowed in his own misery instead of changing his situation, soobin searched for solutions.

beomgyu sometimes found him too sickly and rancorous, but he still looked up to him for his willpower. not that he would ever admit that to soobin.

so when beomgyu got to the house, certain that soobin would be there, he gave him a call. it was a code they had. soobin leaned out of his bedroom window, and threw down the keys for beomgyu to catch so that he could make his way in.

as beomgyu climbed the creaky wooden stairs, he realised that the usual thrill and allure of sneaking around that house he had felt at night was dimmed in the daylight. he hated the smell of that place, too. the air inside was stuffy, filled with the faint scent of old wood and something slightly medicinal.

as he reached the top floor on his way to soobin’s room, he passed by a closed door. pristine surface, painted white. he knew immediately. a pink mother-of-pearl crucifix hung on the wood.

he stood in front of it, his heart quickening. inside that room lived his little bird, trapped in an evil cage. his angel, his obsession. he gladly would’ve shattered the door with his own hands. let his knuckles bleed, let the splintered wood stab into his fingers. he just wanted to take you away and set you free.

at first he maintained a cautionary distance. he feared that if he got any closer, he would actually do it. but then he saw the little plaque under the cross, in sterling silver, shining when the light hit it. he approached to read what it said.

"the lord is faithful. he will establish you and guard you against the evil one." it said.

beomgyu scoffed, a bitter smile curling his lips. like some metal plaque could protect her, he thought. he's the only dangerous thing in her life. that superstitious fool.

he found it bitterly amusing, to the point of feeding his ego. some cultures hang garlic on the doors to keep away the vampires and the witches. your daddy had hanged a nacre cross to keep choi beomgyu away from you.

he let his hand reach for the crucifix. he traced his fingers over it, middle and index. all the doors had a crucifix of their own, but yours was the only one that wasn't a choppy piece of wood, crude and utilitarian. his thoughts wandered as his fingers brushed over the cool, smooth surface. he must be aware of how pretty she is, beomgyu thought.

as he did, a noise startled him. he jolted away from the door, retreating as far as he could. only when he saw it was just soobin coming out of his room did he catch his breath.

“you were taking too long,” soobin said, his expression gloomy. “i didn’t like it.”

“you care for me that much?” beomgyu asked, a bitter grin spreading across his face as he walked up to him, hands in his pockets.

"well, i let you into my house, didn't i?" he asked, accusative.

"you did." beomgyu replied. “it's not versailles, but it’s cute. lots of quirky decorations.” he shrugged, poking at the crucifix that hanged on soobin’s door, tilting it slightly. "it's like a theme park."

"eveything’s a joke to you." soobin replied. he seemed distrusting, his chest filled with something he probably shouldn't say. but he did, anyway. “you need to forget about her."

“what are you talking about?” beomgyu raised his tone, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes, quickly masked by anger.

“i know you. you’re going to let your impulsiveness ruin everything for all of us. it won’t end well.” soobin said. “she's not like one of those girls you used to pick up at private schools. if you want to manipulate your way into someone's pants, choose someone else.”

beomgyu’s anger flared. how dared he imply those were his intentions? how dared he assume he had any other purpose than caring for his angel and godsend grace?

he took a violent step towards soobin, who flinched slightly but held his ground. “you think i’m dorian gray or some shit?” beomgyu retorted. “you're just pressed because i'm not a pussy like you, restraining yourself to please that maniac. but whatever happens, it won’t be because i forced myself on anyone."

“she doesn’t know what she wants." soobin said. "she’s confused and love deprived.”

“and you’re a patronising asshole,” beomgyu snapped back. "who are you to say anything?"

“you’re playing with fire. if you wanna be a psychotic masochist, fine. but don’t drag others into your mess. get yourself hurt if you want, but leave us out of it.”

“us?" beomgyu asked with a wicked grin. "she's an adult. she can make her own choices. and if your stepdad wants to mess with her because of it, it´ll be over my fucking dead body."

“is this how you repay me for letting you stay in my house?” soobin asked, a mix of hurt and frustration in his eyes.

“thing is," beomgyu began with a cynical laugh. "this isn’t about you. you shouldn’t be this bothered,” he said. “and if you are, maybe you should check yourself and see if you’re acting like your stepfather.”

soobin’s knuckles turned white, but he took a deep breath and held it in. “just. don’t do it." he said through gritted teeth. "it’s not worth it.”

but beomgyu grinned wickedly. he had one last bombshell, one last thing to get soobin fuming. “i’ll let you know if it's worth it or not when i have your sister go dumb on my cock.” he said, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction.

he shouldn't have said it.

instead of getting angry, as he had intended to accomplish, soobin smirked, too. it was unsettling. beomgyu got a ghostly feeling about it. "what is it?" he spat out.

soobin inclined his head slightly towards the room with the mother-of-pearl cross—the room of his little bird. beomgyu turned just in time to catch a sliver of a prying eye, peeking through a barely open door. your eye widened when it met beomgyu’s gaze, then you vanished, the door slamming shut.

shit. beomgyu's heart raced, his breath hitching.

soobin smiled, a hint of triumph in his eyes. "consider her warned."

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

late at night, thoughts of you consumed beomgyu’s mind. he knew he had fucked up. he knew that now you probably thought he was a creep and never wanted to see him again. his mind raced, replaying the words he wished he could take back.

he could’ve played his cards right. go slow, ease you into it. but he wasn't that sure now. the uncertainty gnawed at him, twisting his insides with each passing thought.

soobin's room felt even stuffier than the night before, the air heavy and oppressive. the walls seemed to close in on him, making it hard to breathe. the need to see you pressed down on his chest, but lingering doubt kept him glued to the mattress.

a lone fly buzzed around, its annoying droning echoing through the room and fraying his nerves. each pass it made seemed to grow louder, amplifying his sense of confinement, maddening him.

his mind wouldn't shut up about you. you had struck him as someone who knew how to watch your back. he recalled how cautious you had been around him the previous night, like a dog used to being beaten flinches at the sight of a stick. but your eyes had never left his. not for a second. they seemed innocent, but not naive.

he liked that, he thought. that you were like him, smartened up by your environment. but he liked the innocence too, so much. an untouched you, drowning in chasteness and self-restrain.

uncaressed belly, uncaressed thighs, uncaressed sweet pussy. he could make you feel so good. that was all he could offer, all he could give you. he had nothing else.

he knew he should let the thought go. that he should start wrapping his mind around forgetting about you. but it was late, and he was tired, and the only picture that lingered in his mind was a pearl choker and a rosary over a tender neck.

with soobin's steady breathing beside him, perhaps even asleep, beomgyu lay staring at the ceiling. images of you fluttered behind his closed eyelids, all imaginations of his lovesick mind. illicit, probably, but fated.

he thought of your pretty lips whispering praises meant for him, kissing his cheeks, his jaw, the curve of his neck. he wanted to know the taste of your mouth, the softness of your touch.

had you even been kissed yet? with a father as twisted as yours, it seemed unlikely. beomgyu wanted you to never have been kissed. he wanted to teach you how to do it himself. eat your mouth out, nibble at your lips and press them gently. but not hurt you. that was new.

he would start slow, so that you’d want more of him. then he'd deepen the kiss, his grip on you tight, giving into whatever you asked for, never letting you go hungry. the tingling started, the blood pumping.

pause. he thought as soon as he became aware that he was getting hard. his rational mind tried to assert control, to rein in his desires. you loser, just by thinking of kissing. be cold-minded. a voice told him. actions have consequences.

the voice sounded a little like him, but it was surely an imposter. if it wasn't impulsive and hot-blooded, then it wasn't choi beomgyu.

"i just want to apologise." he lied to himself as he sat up all of the sudden.

he slipped out of bed, his bare feet padding softly against the cool floor. he moved slowly, mindful of the creaking floorboards that threatened to betray his movements.

but a subtle rustle, not caused by him, echoed in the quiet room. the soft shuffle of fabric against skin. soobin was awake, and he had wanted to let him know. but beomgyu couldn't begin to care.

as he closed the door behind him, trying to make as little noise as possible, a sudden thud reverberated through the silence. "shit!" he cursed under his breath. another door in that corridor slammed shut with a resounding roar.

someone left a window open. air currents cause noise, beomgyu mused as he made his way down the dimly lit corridor, his steps quickening with purpose. tomorrow night, he thought, he would make sure all windows were closed before going to bed.

as he travelled the shadowy corridor, he got a chill. he kept hearing the ruffling of fabric, a doorknob twisting, steps against the wooden floor. a shiver went down his spine, but he told himself to forget about. it was all in his head.

he refused to let the silent threat your daddy stop him from seeing you. that liar, that imposter, that self-proclaimed god keeping everyone hostage in his castle of authoritarianism and indoctrination.

when he got to your door, the mother-of-pearl crucifix halted him like a policeman. it seemed more commanding now than it had earlier. it was stupid, he thought, how the night enhanced every feeling.

the cross regarded him and he regarded the cross. “i just want to apologise,” he told jesus christ. “i said something stupid earlier today, and i wanna make better.” he tried to convince him.

it was just a symbolic plea. a desperate attempt to absolve himself of guilt, to make him feel less lustful, less like a pig. to find redemption in the eyes of a higher power.

he thought about what soobin had said, about god, about your father, about right and wrong. maybe he wasn't as smart as he thought. maybe he was loosing the game and they were all making him go insane for good.

he debated whether to just turn back after the thought came to him that you didn't even want him there, anyway. how could you want him at all, after just one meeting where all he received was rejection?

sure, he got a quick kiss in the end, but it didn't outweigh the pulling away, the uncertainty, the avoidance. what was he worth, really? nothing. not even worth enduring a scolding from your dad, let alone the weight of guilt. he was making a fool of himself. better leave now before anyone got hurt for nothing.

but as he turned to walk away, his heart heavy and ready to toss aside, he heard a noise from inside the room.

a whimper. it was so faint he was sure his febrile mind had made it up. that he was so schizophrenically in lust he had made you escape that sound in his brain. a whimper. a sweet soft whimper.

he tried to make sense of it by convincing himself that he heard you crying. he even allowed his sense of self-importance to fuel thoughts of bursting into the room and offering you his shoulder to cry on. to cuddle you, to comfort you.

but when he heard it the second time, his breath caught. this time it was a moan, unless his yearning mind was deceiving him. he pressed his ear to the door. he clearly heard a trail of soft muffled moans. restrained, but just so lewd to his feverish self. his face burned, his cock twitched.

index and middle finger reached slowly for the doorknob. they brushed over it, hesitating. maybe it was locked. and maybe that was for the better. the hand wrapped around it, twisted it slightly. it was open.

holding his breath almost to asphyxiation and in the most silent motion he had ever performed, he peaked in.

god existed, he found out. his mouth went dry. like a bird in the clouds, surrounded by snowy plush blankets, he saw his little dove making herself feel so good against her pillow.

facing away from him, your legs draped on each side of it. your hips swayed, heavy and slow, as you tried to suppress the soft whimpers your throat escaped.

beomgyu pressed his lips together, teeth sinking into his lower lip until almost drawing blood. the messy nightdress, one delicate strap slipping off your shoulder. how the the silken fabric fell over your ass, not letting him see but inviting him to find out.

he wanted to see your doll face twisting in pleasure so desperately. to have you take in his cock and use him to fuck yourself so sweetly like that. only one door was stopping him. the door with the pink mother-of-pearl crucifix.

as though hypnotised, he quietly entered the room.

but when the door closed behind him with a click, you whirled around, eyes wide and breath catching in your throat. he froze in panic, too, as he saw how frightened you seemed. what the fuck were you expecting, you disgusting perv? came in the voice in his head.

your instinct was to retreat like a scared spider, flitting towards the head of your bed. fluffy white pillows framed your trembling body, with only a glimpse of your leg peeking out. your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, almost to an unhealthy degree, as you tried to cover yourself.

beomgyu took a cautious step forward, his obsession with you feeling safe in his presence outweighing how turned on he was. "please," he whispered, desperation in his voice. "don't be embarrassed." he said. or be. you're so adorable, all flustered like this.

"i… i'm sorry," you stuttered, your words hesitant.

beomgyu raised his eyebrow, an endeared chuckle escaping his lips. "you're sorry?"

"i shouldn't have… i…" you struggled, avoiding his gaze and pressing your hands to your head in frustration. anxiously, you began to hit your head with the heels of your hands. "i'm so pathetic."

without hesitation, beomgyu rushed closer, wrapping his hands around your wrists in the world’s softest handcuffs. "not at all," he murmured softly, his voice soothing as he attempted to coax your frightened gaze to meet his own.

quietly, almost reverently, he knelt at the edge of the bed, perching himself over the mattress like a praying supplicant.

he was so fucking hard, his blood boiling inside his pulsating veins. scorchingly, painfully. his hands trembled a bit on your wrists as he struggled to contain himself, like the scorpion resisting the urge to sting the frog and drown them both.

“i loved seeing you like that.” he managed out, eyes fixated on yours. “i’m the pathetic one, i sneaked in here like some creep. i... i'm so sorry about what i said earlier today. i was mad at soobin, trying to get under his skin. but i'm kinder than that. i can be, for you. you shouldn’t be scared of me. please.”

"i’m not." you said.

"good," he said. "i want you to trust me."

"i think... i think i do."

beomgyu took one of your hands, already entwined with his, and raised it to his lips, planting a delicate kiss on the back. you didn't pull away, though a slight flinch ran through you. his voice, soft and concerned, cut through the quiet, "is this alright?"

you met his gaze, his eyes looking up at you dilated and pleading like a puppy's. you nodded silently, allowing him to continue.

he pressed his lips against your skin a few more times, the wet sounds his mouth made filling the room. with a heavy breath, you took in every detail of his gentle kisses—the way his plump lips pressed and nibbled at your skin, how slow, almost ritualistically.

"what were you thinking about?" he asked, his voice a muffled purr against your skin.

"w-what?" you stammered, trying to buy time as your mind raced to come up with a lie less embarrassing than the truth.

"you were so pretty like that just now, all spread out like a good girl...” he murmured softly, "tell me what got you like that."

you stalled. with an achingly slow movement, you mirrored his action. you brought his hand to your mouth, and brushed your lips over it. barely touched, almost imperceptibly.

a shiver down his spine. a sting to his heart. he watched you in awed stillness, his watering mouth half-open. then you whispered, "you."

"fuck, i– i want to do so many things to you. if you'll let me." he said. a blush crept across your cheeks as you instinctively tried to shy away, but his fingers beneath your chin guided you back to meet his gaze. "what did i do to get you like that? was it because of what you heard me say?" he asked.

"because of everything." you replied.

he moved up from the floor with deliberate slowness, each motion purposeful as if he were approaching a skittish forest creature, determined not to scare it away. cautious, he inched closer, finally settling beside you on the bed. "tell me." he said. "i wanna hear."

"you're smarter than daddy," you began to say, your voice mumbled, as you gazed at him, his features so close you could count the flecks of gold in his eyes. "daddy thinks he's god's chosen one, but you keep outplaying him. so what does that make you?"

"a hellhound," he replied with a cynical smile, drawing even nearer.

"no," you said softly, shaking your head in disagreement. "you're good. and you're sweet to me." with tender care, you brushed his bangs, your fingertips delicately tracing the contours of his face like a child exploring a new toy. you lingered over his brows, his long lashes, the graceful curve of his cupid's bow, and the strong line of his jaw. "and you're… really pretty."

an impulse like a mighty wave of devotion pushed beomgyu to cup your face, his thumb tracing delicate lines over your skin as he asked, voice barely more than a whisper, "have you ever been kissed?"

"yes." you nodded. though there was a flicker of fear in your eye, like he would've been disappointed at that lack of purity. but if he did, he said nothing.

"show me how you do it." he urged, his words a gentle plea as he drew closer, his breath mingling with yours.

you leaned in painfully still, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you. but just before your lips met, you paused. hesitated. this changed everything. but beomgyu met your gaze unwaveringly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret or doubt. then, with a soft smile, he encouraged you forward.

you brushed your lips against his, ever so slightly. it was a trembling little touch. chaste. when you pulled away, beomgyu's eyes remained fixed on you, half closed and drunk in longing.

he gently pivoted the hand that had cupped your face, trailing its back along the curve of your cheekbone to finally rest it at the nape of your neck. "so pretty," he whispered. "why are you so scared?"

"i don't want to disappoint you," you mumbled softly.

beomgyu's response was immediate, a fervent shake of his head. "never," he insisted, his voice a husky plea, "you're doing so well. please, kiss me again."

with trembling fingers, you reached up to his neck, your heartbeat a wild rhythm in your chest. you nestled his upper lip within yours. a little more intensely this time, but still experimental, like you were gingerly trying to color within the lines.

beomgyu was gone. you were so soft and plush and just so scared to do anything wrong. he lingered, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. "they're mine now," he said in a low growl.

he took over, giving you a deep wet kiss. unrestrained, heavy like a lion’s roar. as you moved your lips together, beomgyu demanded more and more, leaving you breathless. one of his hands rested on your thigh, tentatively stroking, fondling over the skin, as if to soothe you, to tell you everything was alright.

he tilted his head, seeking depth in your mouth. one of your hands traced up the length of his chest and reached his neck, which you squeezed tightly as you felt his mouth opening yours to let his tongue in. you tensed. he noticed. “do you like that?” he asked, breath heavy.

“i... yes."

and so he did it again. another painfully lusty kiss that left your lips soaked and swollen. you escaped a moan that he loved so desperately, making him bite on your lower lip, drawing another embarrassingly whiny whimper out of you. after a softer peck, he outlined the bitten skin with his tongue.

he devoured your lips again, eating out your mouth. he slipped his tongue back into your mouth to circle yours, playing with it; then he pulled back, as if urging you to follow him. he wanted you to try yourself.

his hand on your thigh moved to embrace your waist, fingers poking into your skin. you felt firm, secure. in the middle of the unbridled kiss, your tongue ended up in his mouth. so soft. my good little girl. he let out a grunt of satisfaction. happy with his reaction, your instinct got you to hold on to him tighter, trying to find a closeness that was impossible in that position.

he got frustrated at it, too, his groans turning into hummed pleading moans against your lips. for a painful second, he pulled away to say, "let me watch you fuck yourself, just like you were when i came in. please." he said. "would you be comfortable with that?" he asked.

you nodded slightly, though you weren't even sure you were telling the truth. they were irreconcilable, avoiding embarrassment and giving in to the aching sensation in your pussy the moment he spoke those words.

he stretched his arm out toward the pillow, gently offering it to you, observing as you knelt on the bed and retook the position he had found you in. he helped you through it, caring for you with caresses and soft kisses, but he went back to seat at the edge of the mattress, gnawing lightly on his lip with anticipation. you didn't want that, you realised. you wanted him close.

you reached out your hand for him to grasp, "what is it, baby?" he asked, tending to you with gravity.

you guided him towards you, maneuvering him to recline half-seated against the bedhead. he caught on to your intentions and leaned in to give you a gentle peck before allowing his hands to settle on your hips, helping you in adjusting the pillow beneath you.

now on all fours, with him facing you, he noticed you wanted to say something, the words lingering on your lips. "is everything alright?" he asked, his hand tenderly caressing your arm.

you stammered a bit before shyly asking, “can you keep on kissing me?”

he smiled fondly. he would never in a million years be able say no to you. “of course, my angel.”

he drew nearer, his proximity warming you up. having him there like that, you didn't need to support yourself on your arms- instead, you found yourself instinctively clinging to his neck. with a mellow kiss and his hands firmly securing their hold on your hips, he led the start of the back and forward motion.

the first reactions the rubbing of your clit against the fabric drew out were subdued, mere soft moans and gentle breaths mingling with his the plush of beomgyu’s lips. but with his grasp pressing you down, those initial movements evolved into more intense and profound ones.

he let one of his hands abandon your hips to entwine his fingers in the strands of your hair. the louder your moans got, the tighter his grip on it. he was so hard, with no escape for it. but he liked the pain, the desperation. "you sound so beautiful, fuck–" he breathed out. "but i'm gonna feel so much better than that."

the promise echoed in your mind, getting you to let out a crying plead, "p-please, beomgyu..." you moaned out, as you fumbled with your hand to find his.

"you want me to help you out?" he asked, almost like it was a privilege.

"mhm," you whimpered with a sheepish, frantic nods.

"cute." he breathed out. his face was flushed and burning hot, his cock ached uncomfortably, but he spartanly focused on his little angel’s pleasure above anything else.

he wrapped his arms around your waist and took you to his lap, where he held you tight. "are you comfortable like this?" he asked, placing a a soft peck to your forehead.

"yes." you answered, embarrassingly. you were wet to the point of dampening your inners thighs, and you were mortified to have him see, to even stain him. but he'd notice soon enough.

he grunted as he kept on kissing down your face. your temples, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth, your ridiculously tasty lips. he held on to your waist for dear life with one of his arms, but allowed the other to travel down, slowly and deviantly towards your virgin pussy.

"you're soaked, my baby." he breathed out. you would've felt self-conscious at the exposure, but you saw in his eyes how bad he liked it. how starved and aroused he seemed when he began to caress your wet cunt with his slender fingers.

his cold touch startled you at first, making you hold on to his neck tighter. you were too sore, too sensitive. "don't be scared. i'm gonna take such good care of you," he said. "i promise."

tentatively, he stroked over the surrounding area of your aching centre, index and middle finger touching softly over your wetness. he performed circling motions in your clit, taking his time. getting to hear you. “b-beomgyu, you—god—you feel really good…”

he learned that when you liked something he did, you'd shower him in desperate soft pecks, like a puppy licks your hand after you pat its head. he wanted to see you react further, he wanted to try it all. he spread your pussy with both fingers and pressed forcefully against your throbbing clit with a third one. startled, you clutched his hair so firmly you feared you might have hurt him.

as by instinct, your thighs twitched from the overstimulation and seemed to want to close around his hand, but he didn't let them. he shushed into your lips with a soft "shhh," soothing as the seashore before leaning in for a honeyed kiss. he traced patterns against your cheek with his nose after pulling away. "its alright. you're doing so fucking well."

he let you catch your breath, but not for too long. he quickened his pace, your moans getting too loud, wept out and filthy enough to horrify all the saints in the house of god. it became a duel of you trying to suppress yourself and keep it quiet, and beomgyu trying to get everyone in the house to know how good he was for you.

to restrain the growing sound of your moaning, you buried your face into beomgyu’s neck, trying to muffle your voice against his body. but he huffed into your ear, "don't hold back. only you and me matter, no one else."

"i think i–" you whimpered into his ear, choking on your own puffs. the pleasure crept up on you, becoming too strong to bear and making your whole body shudder against his. "beomgyu, please..." you cried out.

he saw how close you were, and quickly thought if he should or should not stop it. tease you, edge you, have you go on all night. he could do so many things, he ached so much to do them all. but as he saw your pretty face so desperate to cum, how needy and palpitating, you were, he decided he had all the time in the world.

his movements quickened, each motion filled with urgency and strength. his veiny, strained forearm bore the weight of the world as he got you to your peak.

you came with a stifled cry but you muted your voice against his neck again. he wished he could've heard it in its full, piercing clarity, but he understood. you were so sheepish, his perfect little girl.

he didn't pull his hand away immediately, instead letting you feel his warmth for a little longer as you trembled against his chest. "my baby, you did so well," he whispered into your ear, his voice a soothing balm as he gently cradled your body.

now that the tension had drained from your limbs, you found yourself collapsing against him, your body limpy and worn out. it was then that you noticed the bulge in his pants. "beomgyu…" you murmured, your voice heavy. "teach me how to help you out."

"forget about me," he replied with a gentle smile. "i just wanted to get you to trust me tonight. to show you how good i can make you feel."

you gazed at him, cherishing his handsome features. his cheeks were flushed, too, and his eyes so gentle. you couldn't help but cup his face in your hands, drawn to him. but as you leaned in to kiss him, he stopped you faintly, saying, "wait. don't kiss me. i want you to have something to look forward to, so you'll be excited to see me again tomorrow."

"you'll come back tomorrow?" you asked, your eyes lighting up with hope.

“i couldn’t stay away even if i wanted to,” he replied. but as he said it, he noticed a flicker of guilt crossing your face. gently, he brushed a strand of hair away from your reddened cheek. "how are you feeling?" he asked softly.

your gaze darkened slightly. "like i shouldn't have done it," you admitted. "like daddy saw everything."

"i'm… sorry," beomgyu said, his voice full of consternation.

"no, it's not your fault. those thoughts aren't real. i can make the guilt go away, in time," you reassured him. "but i like it when you hold me. that's real. i… like you. a lot, i think."

beomgyu didn't even know what to say. he struggled to understand how this could be wrong to any human religion or faith since the dawn of time, because to him this felt like heaven. he held you in his arms, all flushed and a little tired, your lips swollen like ripe cherries from the kisses he had given you. this was fucking nirvana for all he cared.

he deeply regretted his no-kissing rule, and he sought to end it immediately. he leaned in, but you stopped him.

"no," you chuckled, "don't kiss me. i want you to have something to look forward to so that you're excited to come back tomorrow."

he smiled back at you, like an absolute fool. maybe he was in love, even if it only had been a day, whatever. but how could he not be when he had the cutest being in existence all to himself? "give me a gift before i go, then," he said. "something i can carry with me.

"what do you want?" you asked.

"this," he said, pointing at your rosary beads. with a gesture that felt almost ceremonial, you took off the pendant and placed it around his neck. as you did, he couldn’t help but stare at your lips. "can’t i kiss you just a little?" he pouted.

you shook your head with a soft giggle. "your rules," you reminded him. "be stronger."

“fine. have it your way.”

he smiled, but it quickly vanished as you remembered him; “you should go. or soobin will know.”

he nodded, eyes filled with disappointment. the moment you lifted yourself off his lap, detached yourself off of him, an intense wave of pain surged through both of you. like a limb had been atrociously ripped off your body.

but just as he was about to leave, you grabbed his wrist, halting him. “beomgyu, wait,” you called out, rising to your knees to meet his gaze.

you pressed a gentle, lingering kiss on his cheek, just as you had done the night before. the softness of your touch sent a shiver down his spine. as you pulled back, beomgyu instinctively leaned forward, craving more. but you placed your index finger against his lips, stopping him. “you’re so weak,” you teased with a playful glint in your eyes.

he smiled ruefully. “i am,” he admitted with a sigh, the weight of reality settling back in. he really had to leave. “good night,” he murmured.

stepping out into the dark, the world felt colder, and his eyes struggled to adjust to the dimness. he lingered for a moment, leaning his back against the door, not wanting to leave just yet, but his head bumped against something.

of course.

he turned around to regard the crucifix, holding the one you had given him in his hands. same color, same material. a bittersweet smile played on his lips. “she was so good,” he told jesus christ. “and i think i made her happier, just a little. i feel a little happier too. i told you, it was much purer than you think.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ so. i really struggled through this one. lemme know what you think.

#beomgyu #beomgyu angst #beomgyu fic #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #beomgyu x reader #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt x reader

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itsonlybaby · 7 months ago

Text

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛 - 𝐛. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

playlist ! this one is pretty long tbh, i cannot sleep, can only write

Bellamy Blake - Dropship

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ You stumble across a knocked-out person, and you drag his body to your cave not knowing what to do; if only you knew what this would lead to. ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: smut, lots of plot, violence, nsfw, grounder reader

Finding unusual things in the first wasn't uncommon. In fact, it became a normal occurrence for me. I had loved studying the animals in the Trigeda, always finding them astounding, every one acting a different way, how they'd interact with each other.

It was different from how humans interacted, with the animals it was peaceful; the circle of life. And with humans it was tough, always using violence as the first means of answer, their reasoning always being 'Jus drein jus daun.'

Blood must have blood.

Lincoln had told me about the boat people, how my views and theirs didn't share many differences. But I knew I couldn't condemn my life to one stuck on the water, surrounded by miles and miles of sea and fish.

I loved the wholly green trees, and the spots of color by the flowers when a welcoming spring came; a sign of forgiveness from the harsh conditions of a rough winter just weeks before, when the animals would go into hiding.

When the Sky People initially landed it scared off the animals for miles around the drop ship, it took two weeks for them to return to their natural acts.

I knew Trikru weren't fond of the Sky People, they were like all the other clans- instantly resorting to violence and wars. They fit right in here on Earth.

So when I found a boy who bore the symbols of Skaikru in the middle of the forest unconscious, I had to do something.

I knew what they'd do to him if they found him here, and I'd never forgive myself if I let that happen knowing I could've done something.

I had tried picking him up but he was fairly heavy, and I was fairly weak. I felt bad dragging him, not knowing what lay between the grass but it was the only option I had.

Luckily for him, my cave was nearby.

I dragged him all the way inside my cave before assessing what had happened.

I felt very awkward feeling him up and down, feeling as though I was invading his personal space; which I was. But it was for the greater good.

I think.

Once I was sure he didn't have any wounds I felt his face, his freckles, and dirt hid underneath my palms as I cupped his cheeks. His temperature was high but he was breathing fine, possibly dehydration? Starvation? Either way, I couldn't do anything until he woke up.

I removed his jacket and placed it under his head as a sort of pillow while also trying to take his body temperature down I rubbed a cloth with water across his dirty face.

Once the dirt was off his features were much more prominent, his freckles littered his face with underbags like he hadn't had a good night's rest in days. My guess was either blue or green eyes.

Deciding to let him sleep I backed away from the boy. I stepped towards my meat rack and grabbed two pieces of provisions, then placed the meat on the metal rack above the smoke to get something ready for when he awoke.

It didn't take long for him to wake up, the smell of cooked meat filled the cave in a warm atmosphere.

The boy shot up, looking around cluelessly before his eyes landed on me. He instinctively grabbed for a knife, instead gripping onto nothing.

I probably should've dressed less like a grounder.

I knew little of English, only really hearing it when I went to Trikru villages or Polis.

He backed up into the cave wall, struggling to stand on his feet.

"Shhh," I spoke softly, placing my hands out in a calming manner, if I could calm animals I could calm humans right?

"Where am I?" His voice was loud and rough, it boomed off the walls of the cave.

"Cave," I simply state, grabbing my knife from my pocket as the boy's eyes widen. I knew he'd feel safer if he thought he was in control. I tossed the knife over to him, showing him I had no other weapons.

He quickly leaned in to grab it, now aiming it towards me.

"Why am I here?" His voice was less louder this time, but still fairly rough in octaves.

"Asleep in the forest,"

The dots seemed to connect in his mind as he lowered the knife, still weary about my every move.

My hand slowly went to my side, grabbing my canteen and sliding it across the floor to him.

"Drink," I demanded, giving my best trusting smile.

He kicked it back to me, untrusting the contents. If I wanted him dead I would've done it when he was asleep in the middle of the forest!

Even animals trust easier than this.

"You first," He said.

I rolled my eyes and took the canteen to my lips, taking a small sip to save the rest for him.

Sliding it once again to him he swiftly took it and drank the remaining contents in a very fast manner, like he's never tasted water that good before. His swift actions made a giggle erupt from me, making him look weirdly at me.

"Why?" He asked, placing the knife in its respective holster.

I looked at him confused, unsure of what he was referring to.

"Why save me?"

I thought about the words for a moment, unsure of how much trig he knew- or if he knew any at all.

"I am much kinder than Trikru," I said, walking towards the smoke rack. "Food, eat,"

He wasn't sure if he could trust me, even after I just saved his life, he thought I'd want some unrepayable favor back, or that I was just waiting for my leader to show up.

I sighed and walked to the wall of the cave, sitting down and leaning back on my arms. "Okay, starve," I said.

His face was one of inner debating, not taking long before getting up and taking his share of the meat.

"What's your name?" He asked, now sitting down in the same spot he was before, which was fairly close to me. Though he held the knife in his hands as he ate; I didn't mind.

"Many questions," I say with a smile, "y/n."

He never returned my smile, instead turning his expression into one of seriousness "I'm gonna have questions for the person who dragged me to this cave,"

I scoffed, "You have a knife, gonot,"

There was no use in helping someone who won't take it, it's like chasing a rabbit who doesn't wanna be chased.

The boy rolled his eyes, his head shaking as well, he knew enough to know I told him to leave. He used his knee to prop himself up, heading towards the cave entrance with one last look at me.

Brown eyes. He had deep, brown eyes.

It had been a few days since my last encounter with the brown-eyed boy. I hadn't thought about him much, only before I went to bed, when I woke up, when I was watching animals, and when I was talking to Lincoln. I'd like to think that wasn't much.

I couldn't shake the fact he hadn't even thanked me for saving his life, nobody had ever treated me with such coldness before. Especially after I help them. Maybe it was just a Skaikru thing, maybe they weren't used to common courtesy. He hadn't even told me his name.

The boy on the other hand had also been thinking of me, the grounder who saved him.

Though he didn't like that word.

Instead, he told everyone he camped out in a cave with a grounder that he held hostage. He couldn't believe the grounders were kind, not after the lives they took, the torture they put Skaikru through. But he couldn't help repeating my name in his head, repeating that day over and over.

A grounder saved him.

I wasn't sure why I was so drawn to the boy with the brown eyes, but I just knew I was.

Walking through the forest I was picking random flowers, feeling bad for them as I was ripping them from their bodies stuck to the ground, but it made great feed for the rabbits.

I was twirling the daisy between my fingers when a loud voice boomed off the barks of the trees, scaring the crows from their nests.

"Don't move!" I heard a voice yell from behind me.

My entire body froze in fear, I had never been put in a situation like this, never having made many enemies.

"Turn around, slowly!"

I did as told, moving as slowly as I could until I was face to face with a boy, this wasn't the boy from the cave, this one had bright blue eyes you could see from miles away and a messy middle part with a particularly big nose.

I felt like a deer that was spooked by hunters, everything in me was telling me to run, escape, and take my chances. But my legs wouldn't cooperate with my head. I couldn't take this guy on, I wasn't a fighter, I never learned.

He could sense the fear radiating off me, "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you, grounder." He spoke with such spite as if I was a disease or plague.

I couldn't form any sentences, my heart was beating against the cage of my chest, and I prayed that anybody would come and save me.

I didn't wanna die.

I didn't wanna die before learning his name.

I was about to die and he was the first thing I was thinking of, unbelievable.

"Speak!" He shouted once again, stepping closer to me with his gun aiming towards my head.

"Murphy!" The familiar voice filled my ears.

Murphy, I'm assuming, looked back quickly before letting out an angry groan.

The brown-eyed boy appeared, and when he saw the scene he was angry.

He marched up to Murphy and grabbed ahold of his jacket, making him drop the gun.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He yelled into Murphy's face, still gripping his jacket as strong as ever, he practically lifted him up.

"Finishing the job man!" Murphy tried pushing the boy off but it was no use, fear seeped into Murphy's voice.

"Finishing the job?" He repeated though it wasn't a question.

"C'mon, Bellamy, she's just a stupid-," Murphy tried reasoning.

Bellamy.

"She's what!?" Bellamy yelled, slamming Murphy into a tree before grabbing him again, "She's what!?"

I couldn't lie to myself, seeing this side of Bellamy was attractive. Knowing he was already so protective over me, I couldn't let him kill Murphy.

"Bellamy!" I shouted.

Bellamy didn't look towards me, instead, he glared into Murphy's eyes before throwing him down and backing away towards the dropped gun.

Only then did he meet my gaze, examining me from feet away to make sure Murphy didn't harm me.

Murphy took a while to regain his composure, standing up and dusting himself off while looking between us.

"Let's go," Bellamy said, looking towards Murphy.

Bellamy stole another glance at me before leaving for their ship, leaving me standing there still processing everything.

That day came and went, and so did the next. I had begun missing Bellamy, I roamed the woods hoping I'd run into him but I never did.

I even debated on just running into their camp, but the big weaponry scared me off. All I could do was hope and pray he was okay, that Trikru hadn't gotten to him first.

I spoke with Lincoln the day after the incident, I told him about Bellamy, about Murphy. And he admitted he too saved a girl from Skaikru, she was Bellamy's sister, and she wasn't like the rest. Octavia was kind, and gentle with Lincoln, a calm contrast to the way most people had treated him.

I was happy for Lincoln, he found someone he was interested in, and it was nice to have someone relate to the same experiences I was going through.

Bellamy was worrying about me just as much as well. After the previous incident, he wasn't sure I could handle myself if another person were to threaten me. The thought alone had his blood boiling.

He wanted me there, in camp, where he knew I'd be safe. But after what happened with the grounders he didn't think the rest of the camp would like that idea.

He tried everything to go outside the walls, to even catch a glimpse of me but he knew the camp needed him there now. The wall wouldn't build itself. He'd always find his mind coming back to me, carefree picking flowers and talking to the animals.

Most would find it crazy but he found it mesmerizing. In such a dark world there was such beauty, and I knew how to find it in even the darkest of times.

I was in my cave when I heard someone call me.

"y/n."

It was Lincoln.

I smiled when I saw him, Lincoln was one of my best friends, well, my only best friend.

"Yea?" I ask, walking up to him, his expression is a mix of anger and worry.

"They're going to attack tonight, the bridge,"

Lincoln didn't need to explain further for me to know what he was talking about.

Trikru was going to march on Skaikru.

I needed to warn them.

I swiftly ran past Lincoln, but he quickly grabbed my arm.

"Lincoln! I need to-"

"Be safe."

I gave him a nod before rushing off to the drop ship, my mind only worrying about Bellamy and his people. With every step, the sky got darker, and my legs began to get sore but I had to push through.

And then I saw it.

The big wooden fence made of scraps.

"Grounder!" I heard one of the men atop the wall yell. "Don't move!"

Bellamy was the first to open the doors, his face turned to one of surprise, but I didn't have time for reunions.

"Don't shoot! She is safe!" Bellamy yelled.

I ran to him, "Bellamy," I looked into his eyes, "They're attacking soon, from the bridge," His expression dropped to a more serious look.

"We know," He said, "Ravens working on a bomb right now,"

My face must've contorted enough for him to notice.

"For the bridge," He finished with a smile.

A breath of relief passed through my lips.

"Come in, I'll catch you up."

It took him an hour to explain everything, from Murphy going missing to him returning with a temporary sickness infecting everyone but the immune. It was something Trikru did to thin out the battlefield, my heart felt for all the souls who couldn't make it past the sickness.

"Bellamy!" I heard a girl from outside his tent call, he gave me a look before exiting the tent and I curiously followed, receiving stares from everyone around us.

"Raven? What's up?" He asked Raven, she had a tan complexion with a high ponytail.

"We did it, now we just need to make it there and shoot it."

Bellamy nodded, "I'll do it,"

I immediately looked towards him, "No!"

"I have to, it's for my people," He said, now looking down towards me.

I couldn't stand the thought of possibly losing him, what if something went wrong and he never came back?

"There isn't any other way?" I pleaded, worry evident in my face and tone.

"Our other shooters are too sick and I'm the last good shot," His hands went to my arms in a comforting matter, "I'll be back before you even know it."

His words did little to calm my worries, but I knew he was set on his decision. All I could do was nod in reply.

Raven handed him a sniper and mixture, "Pour the gunpowder around the jelly, then run far away."

With every word she spoke, I could feel the fear and sadness crawl up my spine.

Bellamy was ready to leave but before he did he looked at me before approaching another boy "If anything happens to her, they answer to me, got it?"

The boy nodded his head in reply.

I watched as he left the gates and as they slowly closed behind him, the anxiety growing within everyone in the camp. If Bellamy failed, it was over for everyone else as well.

For the next few hours, I stayed in Bellamy's tent, lying in his bed and curled up under his blanket which still smelled like him. I was beyond worried for him, I hadn't known him long but I deeply cared for him.

"Don't think I just forgot." I heard a voice say, now entering the tent. It was Murphy.

The same scared feeling returned throughout my body.

"What do you want?" I ask, sitting up off the bed, trying to seem as tough as possible knowing deep down I was terrified of the man standing in front of me.

"You made me look weak!" He shouted at me, his grip on the knife becoming stronger as his knuckles clouded over with a white shade.

"I don't know what you mean," I tried defending myself, Murphy stepped closer and brought the knife to my throat. The cold metal sent shivers and goosebumps down my body.

I wanted so desperately to defend myself, to take action, but I just couldn't.

"Shouldve done it when I had the chance,"

"Done what," Bellamy said before entering.

I almost started crying at the sight of Bellamy, his curly hair now matted in the dirt, but he never looked more handsome.

Murphy instantly dropped the knife and turned around, the moment he did Bellamy's fist locked with Murphy's face, making him scramble on the ground. Bellamy grabbed Murphy by the collar of his jacket and dragged him to the gate, not even letting him get up.

What scared me most is the fact Bellamy hadn't said a word since he found us.

The gates opened and he threw Murphy to the ground, giving him a nice kick to go with it.

Once Murphy was out of the way the gates closed, everyone watching in worry and fear as whispers erupted from the crowd.

Nobody had ever protected me like Bellamy had, I felt more safe with him than I've ever felt before.

Bellamy wasted no time in returning to the tent, seeing me wait there for him.

I ran into his arms and cupped his cheeks, locking our lips together finally.

His hands snaked down to my lower back, pulling me closer into his embrace as he led me to the bed laying me down gently.

I pulled away to catch my breath and he took this time to shrug his jacket off.

"I missed you," I said breathily, smiling up at him while he took his shirt off, revealing his toned chest which I swiftly ran my hands over, feeling every crevice, wanting to engrave the feeling into the pads of my fingers.

"I missed you too, princess," He returned my smile slyly, sneaking his hands under my top and sliding it off with ease, revealing my bare chest as he looked in complete awe.

Being under his gaze made my face flush with a deep red, suddenly feeling vulnerable, it didn't take him long to get his hands working up and down my body, feeling over my breasts and sides before slipping my pants down slowly revealing my soaked cunt, I bit my lip at the coldness meeting my warm pussy.

Bellamy let out a groan, feeling his bulge harden against his tight jeans. Tossing my jeans to the side he slid his fingers in between my slit, coating his fingers in the juices and trailing them up my thighs.

"This fine, princess?" He asked, staring into my eyes with his beautiful brown eyes.

I nodded my head quickly, needing this more than anything at the moment.

I heard his belt unbuckle and his zipper become undone. His hands grabbed my thighs and spread them open before lining himself up with my hole.

Bellamy let out a soft groan after only pressing his tip into me, he slowly pushed deeper into me causing sweet moans and pants to fill the tent.

It was the sweetest sound Bellamy had ever heard, he needed to hear more.

Once Bellamy was fully inside me he began slowly grinding his hips into me, not wanting to fully pull out. The feeling was ecstatic, unlike anything I'd ever felt before.

My hands reached for anything to grab onto, landing on his arms I grabbed onto them as the pain flooded my body from the abuse my sweet spot was going through.

"Doing so good," Bellamy groaned out, grabbing ahold of my hips while my legs wrapped around his waist. He gazed at the facial expressions I was making, the faster he pounded the better they got to him.

Bellamy wanted to be rough with me, to thrust into me until I couldn't take it anymore, but he knew he needed to be gentle with me. At least for now.

His grip on my hips forced me to stay still, unable to properly arch my back making him hit the deepest spots in me. I knew I couldn't last, I knew my climax was reaching me this soon.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck... Bell!" I moaned out loudly, my climax washing over my body as I shook in Bellamy's grip.

The tightening of my pussy drove Bellamy crazy, he couldn't be gentle, not like this, not when I was below him being so irresistible.

His slow thrusts soon turned rough and fast, each thrust ending with wet and lewd sounds.

Tears began streaming down my cheeks at the overstimulation, my hands going to his chest trying to push him away but my attempts were futile.

"Just keep looking pretty under me," Bellamy said, his eyes not looking away from my face, only taking quick glances toward my breasts.

His praises were addicting, making my legs start to shake erratically.

His face was coated in a thin layer of sweat, causing his skin to shine as the light from the small lantern lit the side of his face, I wanted to remember this moment forever, him above me making me feel so insanely good; better than anyone could ever make me feel.

Bellamy's hand trailed up my body and to my neck, he squeezed lightly giving him a better angle to fuck into me.

The pressure on my neck was enough to make me cum again, my body shook uncontrollably as another orgasm washed over me, painting Bellamy's cock in a thick white layer, making it easier to slip in and out of me.

Bellamy was close to his own climax, chasing the high.

"All mine, all mine," He breathed out, leaning down and kissing my neck while giving light squeezes to my neck.

His groans became louder in my ear, and it wasn't long before I felt him pull out and finish all over my stomach.

He leaned into my shoulder and caught up with his breath, smiling into my neck and breathing me in.

"You did so good," His voice was rough, a slight contrast from before.

He stood up slowly and grabbed a nearby cloth to clean me up, discarding it after.

"You're okay?" Bellamy asked sweetly, while I crawled into a more comfortable position on his bed.

"Mhm, lay with me," I said meekly.

Bellamy smiled at the sight of me curled up in his bed, he crawled in beside me and pulled me closer to him.

"Stay here with me," He whispered, stroking my hair lovingly.

"What if Murphy comes back?"

He thought for a moment, "For you? I'd banish him a thousand times over,"

I smiled up at him, placing a small kiss on his lips.

"I'll stay then,"

With Bellamy's fingers stroking my hair, the heat coming from our bodies, and the safety I felt beside him, I drifted off to sleep.

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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kisses-for-you · 7 months ago

Text

Preference: You're injured

Resident Evil Characters X Fem!Reader

Characters: Leon Kennedy, Luis Serra, Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira & Chris Redfield.

Requested ✅

Leon Kennedy:

Leon glances over at you, his expression tense as he assesses the situation. "Just stay close," he says. "Stick together, and watch each other's backs." He brandishes his knife, ready to fend off the Ganados.

"I don't think we'll be able to kill them all-" You're about to finish your sentence when a Ganado comes up from behind you, to which you have barely any time to react. "Y/N!" Leon calls out. You spin around just in time to see the Ganado lunging at you. Acting quickly, Leon pushes you out of harm's way and swings his knife, severing the Ganado's arm.

"Let's get out of here before more of them show up," you suggest, to which Leon nods and the two of you start to make a break for it.

After narrowly escaping the horde of Ganados, you and Leon find an abandoned building. As both of you catch your breath, you suddenly wince in pain, clutching your arm where a deep gash is bleeding profusely.

Leon notices and rushes to your side. "You're injured," Leon observes, concern evident in his voice as he gently examines your wound. Leon quickly rummages through his pack, pulling out a first aid kit. "Hold still," he instructs. You nod, grimacing against the pain.

His hands work carefully as he cleans and bandages your wound, his touch gentle yet firm. Leon's focused expression softens as he tends to your injury, his touch bringing some form of comfort to you.

"Thanks, Leon," you say, offering him a weak smile as he finishes dressing your wound. He returns the smile, albeit a bit strained. His gaze lingers on you for just a moment longer, making sure you're not injured anywhere else.

As the adrenaline begins to fade away, you feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you. Leon sees this and silently offers you a shoulder to lean on. You gratefully accept, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Are you okay?" Leon asks softly, his voice filled with genuine concern as he looks down at you. "Yeah, I think so," you reply.

____________________________

Luis Serra:

Your heart races as you find yourself surrounded by a group of snarling Ganados in the abandoned house. You fumble for your gun but the sheer number overwhelms you. Fear grips you as you realise you probably won't make it out.

But you hear a familiar voice call out, "Y/N!" Luis comes into view and with steady hands, he aims his gun and fires, each shot hitting another Ganado.

You feel relieved but that joy is short-lived because as the last Ganado collapses to the ground, it lunges at you; its claws tear through your flesh. You cry out in pain, feeling hot blood trickle down your leg.

Luis reacts swiftly, putting down the creature with one final shot. He rushes to your side, concern etched on his face as he assesses your injuries. "Cariña, are you alright?" he asks, voice filled with worry.

You nod weakly, trying to stand up. Luis gently supports you, his strong arms steadying you as you struggle to stand. "Easy now," he murmurs, his gaze soft and caring. With his support, you manage to rise to your feet. Luis keeps a close eye on you, his concern evident as he guides you out of the house to a safer spot.

As you both make your way out of the abandoned house, Luis keeps a protective arm around you. The adrenaline begins to fade, and the reality of your injuries sets in. You wince with each step, but Luis supports your weight with his body.

You find a relatively safe spot to rest, away from any potential threats. Luis carefully inspects your wound, his brow furrowing with concern as he assesses the damage. "I'm going to have to patch you up, okay?" he says, his voice firm but gentle. He starts rummaging through his pack, searching for supplies to tend to your injury.

As he begins to dress your wound, his touch is surprisingly gentle, his focus unwavering. Nothing is said between you two, but you don't feel the need to speak - it's a comfortable silence. When he finishes dressing your wound, he meets your gaze with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you," you whisper softly, your voice barely above a breath. Without a word, he pulls you into a tender embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. You lean in, closing the gap between you, and press your lips against his in a gentle kiss.

____________________________

Jill Valentine:

Jill instinctively steps forward, hiding your body behind hers. "Stay behind me," Jill whispers, her voice remaining steady despite the current situation.

You have no time to even respond as the B.O.W from earlier - Nemesis - lunges forward, coming right at you both. Without thinking, you push Jill to the side and you both fall to the ground - out of the creature's reach.

Jill quickly rises to her feet, grabbing your hand and pulling you up with her. "We need to find a way out of here," you say, scanning the area for any possible escape routes. Jill nods, her expression determined as she grips her weapon tightly. Together, you make a dash for the nearest alley.

When you can no longer see or hear the B.O.W, you and Jill stop to catch your breath, leaning against the wall of a building that appeared to have been some sort of restaurant before this whole mess.

"Are you alright, darling?" Jill asks, concern etched in her voice as she checks you for any injuries.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you reply, though the close encounter with Nemesis has left you quite shaken.

Jill pulls a slight face, as if not believing your words. She takes a closer look at you and as she looks at your shirt, she realises, "Y/N, you're bleeding."

"I am?" You glance down at your shirt, noticing the stain spreading across the fabric. "That thing must've got me earlier." You shrug, trying to downplay the injury but as the adrenaline fades, the pain worsens.

Jill's expression softens, her concern deepening. "Let me see," she insists, gently lifting the edge of your shirt to look at the wound.

Jill carefully inspects the wound, her brows furrowing in concern. "It's not too deep, but we need to clean and bandage it quickly," she says, her voice firm, leaving no room to argue. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a first aid kit, efficiently cleaning the wound and applying antiseptic before carefully bandaging it up.

Not long after, she's done. "Thanks, Jill," you say softly. She looks down at you, her eyes softening with a small smile. "Of course, darling," she replies.

Gently, she reaches out and cups your cheek, drawing you closer to her. And without another word, you lean in, closing the distance between you, and press your lips against hers in a lingering kiss.

____________________________

Carlos Oliveira:

In your cozy kitchen, Carlos and you are cooking together, getting ready for a fun night. You joke around as you chop some vegetables, but as you laugh at another one of Carlos' stupid jokes, you fail to pay attention to what you're supposed to be cutting.

Looking away from the vegetables for a split second, you manage to accidentally cut your palm with the knife. Pain shoots through you and you wince, dropping the knife with a clatter.

"Fuck!" you exclaim, clutching your hand to your chest as blood begins to seep from the wound. Carlos's laughter dies away instantly, replaced by a look of concern as he rushes to your side. "Hey, are you okay? Let me see."

You wince as he takes your hand in his, examining the cut with furrowed brows. "It's not too bad," he says, his voice gentle yet reassuring. "But we should clean it up so it doesn't get infected."

He gets you some paper towel to try to stop the bleeding and while you try to stem the bleeding, he goes to grab the first aid kit. With his steady hands, he cleans the wound carefully, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"Thanks, Carlos," you murmur, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief.

He smiles warmly, his brown eyes softening. "No problem, mi amor. Just be more careful next time, okay?"

____________________________

Chris Redfield:

You and Chris are on holiday in a small cabin in the middle of the woods, a place for you to get away from your busy, demanding life. This was the perfect place as it was quiet and a way for you to just relax.

Next to you, Chris is fast asleep but you find yourself restless and unable to fall asleep. With a sigh, you slip out of bed, deciding to go for a quick walk to clear your head.

After what felt like a couple minutes, you start going back towards the cabin but lost in thought, you fail to notice the tree roots in front of you. With a sudden jolt, you stumble, pain shooting from your ankle and up your leg as you crash to the ground. You struggle to stand as the pain overwhelms you.

You manage to lean against a nearby tree and start thinking about how you're going to get back now. Just as you're about to rise and start limping the rest of the way back, you see what looks like a flashlight in the distance and a familiar voice call out, "Y/N!" It's Chris.

"Here!" you call back.

You hear his pace quicken, coming in your direction. As Chris approaches, concern etched on his face, he looks at you and notices something is wrong. "What are you doing out here so late? Are you hurt?" he asks, crouching down beside you.

You wince, trying to hide the pain in your ankle. "I... I tripped over some roots," you admit sheepishly, trying to brush it off as nothing serious.

Chris's expression softens as he gently examines your ankle. "Let me take a look," he says, his voice calm and reassuring. "It's swollen," he observes, his brows furrowing slightly with concern. "Let me help you back to the cabin and then we can ice that ankle," he offers, gently lifting you up and supporting you as you hobble back. He wraps an arm around you protectively, guiding you every step of the way.

As you reach the cabin, Chris helps you settle onto the couch before disappearing into the kitchen. Moments later, he returns with a bag of ice and a makeshift wrap.

"Here, let's get this on your ankle," Chris says, kneeling beside you and carefully placing the ice pack on the injured area. His touch is gentle yet firm, comforting you despite the pain.

"Thank you, Chris," you say, to which he smiles warmly.

____________________________

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jobean12-blog · 2 years ago

Note

I just had the cutest fluffy Bucky thought and I love your soft fluffy stories! ❤️

The team loads into the jet but you somehow end up last in and the seats around Bucky are taken so you sit on his lap. Steve/Tony tell everyone to prepare for departure so while everyone is buckling in, you pull Bucky's metal arm around your waist. Steve/Tony tell you to find your own spot with an actual seatbelt. "You really think that flimsy piece of fabric will keep me safer than this?" Bucky is smug and smirks at everyone but inside he's melting because the thing he hates most about himself makes you feel the safest. 😭🫠🥹

Hooked On A Feeling

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 897

Summary: Bucky has always been the one who makes you feel safest and maybe, just maybe, he can start to believe it's true.

Author's Note: Hi sweets! Thank you so much for this super sweet request, I absolutely love the idea of him being readers 'seatbelt'! So cute! I hope you enjoy this and thank you for kind words! Have a lovely day! 🥰Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by sweet Daisy @firefly-graphics thank you love🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff

GIF NOT MINE: Credit goes to @mcavoys thank you lovely💕

“Let’s go slow poke!” Sam shouts. “We gotta get outta here.”

You trudge up the platform and into the jet, your legs sore and tired from the mission.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’”, you grunt.

You step foot inside and have to jump forward at the sound of the hatch beginning to close. You shoot Sam a dirty but playful glare before surveying the seating situation.

There isn’t any place to sit unless you’re going to squeeze yourself uncomfortably into the corner.

With a defeated sigh your shoulder slump and just before you resign to the worst seat ever you catch Bucky’s eye. He’s staring at you, his expression soft and inviting.

“Grab a seat!” Sam shouts your way. “We’re takin’ off.”

You plod over to Bucky and stand between his widely spread legs.

“Can I sit with you Buck?”

“Of course ya can doll,” he says, patting his thigh.

You sit yourself down and lean against his chest, the tension of the mission melting from your body.

“Find a real sit babe,” Sam grumbles. “With a seatbelt.”

You roll your eyes and mumble something incoherent but then you realize you have the best seat on the jet.

With a smirk you take Bucky’s metal hand in yours and pull his arm around your waist. He immediately tightens his hold on you and pulls you closer.

“A real seatbelt,” Sam chides.

“You think one of those seatbelts is going to be better than this?” you ask with a scoff as you run your fingers over the metal plates on Bucky’s arm. “I’m in the safest spot on the jet.”

You turn your face to Bucky and give him a sweet smile. “And the comfiest.”

He blushes under your praise and dips his head with a chuckle. “Thanks doll face.”

You rest your head along his shoulder and give his scruffy cheek a kiss.

He looks up and locks eyes with Steve who is grinning like an idiot. Bucky throws Steve a smug smile and curls his other arm around you.

The ride back is smooth and you fall asleep in Bucky’s arms. When the jet lands everyone quickly unbuckles themselves and stands, eager to get home and rest.

You don’t stir and Sam walks over, opening his mouth to wake you.

“Don’t,” Bucky whisper shouts. “I’ve got her.”

He carefully releases his seatbelt and stands with you in his arms.

Once he’s brought you to your room and laid you on your bed he lingers in the doorway, watching your sleeping form.

“Don’t be creepy man,” Sam teases as he walks by.

“Huh?” Bucky asks, dragging is eyes away. “I’m not…I was just making… forget it.”

“You know she likes you right?” Sam says as he follows Bucky down the hall.

“Nah. She’s just a sweetheart. She likes everyone,” Bucky counters with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“She definitely is but I see the way she looks at you,” Sam continues.

Bucky is quiet for a moment before he shrugs off the comment and grabs a water bottle. “I’m gonna go shower.”

When he’s showered and dressed he walks back to your room and gently knocks. He doesn’t hear anything so he slowly pushes the door open and sees your body still curled up on the bed.

You shift and quietly speak his name.

“Yeah, it’s me doll. You ok?”

With a languid stretch you turn toward him and smile.

“I’m good, still tired though but I’m gonna go shower. Will you hang out? I won’t be long.”

“Sure doll.”

You shuffle off to the bathroom, returning shortly after in a tank top and shorts.

Bucky is sitting on the edge of your bed, scrolling through Netflix and he looks up at the sound of your feet.

He stares.

Your skin heats but despite the feeling a shiver skims down your spine.

“Are you cold?” he asks, standing as he swallows hard. “You can have my shirt…not that you need to cover up or anything, it’s just…I don’t want you to be cold but you uh look…you look beautiful. You always do.”

His awkward rambling dissolves your nerves and you step closer.

“Thanks Buck and yes, I do want your shirt, it’s chilly.”

Taking the hem of his Henley in his hands he begins to lift it over his head, revealing the patch of skin just above his sweats and the dark trail of hair that disappears into the waistband.

His tee shirt falls back down once he pulls the Henley off and you inwardly sigh.

With delicate movements he helps you into his shirt and you wrap yourself up in it’s warmth and smell.

“What do you wanna watch?” you ask him.

“What was that?” he says after a beat of silence, his gaze full of emotion as he stares at you in his Henley.

You repeat your question and he pulls out his small notebook, showing you the movie list he’s compiled. After you pick one you get comfortable on your bed and call him over. When he lays down you shimmy closer and slide under his metal arm, laying your head on his chest and snuggling into him.

“Thanks,” he whispers.

“For what?” you ask as you crane your neck to look at him.

“For trusting me.”

You slip your fingers through his and give them a squeeze. “I always feel safest with you.”

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @goldylions @dreamlessinparis @lookiamtrying @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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imaginedanvrs · 9 months ago

Text

almost doesn't mean never

masterlist

summary: wanda maximoff x reader. '3 times we almost kissed, 1 time we did' trope

warnings: alcohol consumption, lots of angst

word count: 3.6k

You didn’t comment when Wanda repeatedly took fries out of your bag instead of her own, too enthralled in the story she was telling to notice what she was doing. At one point, she even took a sip from your milkshake and you weren’t sure if that was accidentally or on purpose because she had a habit of continuously trying your food whenever you had any. You would always offer to get her her own portion but she would frantically decline only to take several more sips or bites. You never minded.

“-and the moment we got back Vis already had dinner made for me,” she told you fondly, missing how your smile dropped as promptly as the anchor in your stomach.

“I suppose that was the least he could do,” you said lightly, struggling to hide your disdain for the robot. You would think that after a year of hearing your best friend tell you all about how amazing her boyfriend was that you would get the hang of pretending to like him, or better yet, stop being in love with her. It was never that easy.

“It’s not that simple for him,” Wanda defended with a soft chuckle that even the angels in heaven would have a hard time rivalling. “He has no taste buds,” she said simply. “Your cooking is far superior,” she told you, peering out at the car park and giving you the chance to admire her side profile.

The casual compliment gave you a surge of pride no matter how many times you had heard it before. It felt good to know you had something to offer the Sokovian that Vision couldn’t match, more so when it was something so important to her. You often replayed the memory of the night she was missing Pietro and dropped by your apartment unannounced to find you practising her favourite dish from her home country. It had been hard tracking down all of the ingredients you needed and it was your fourth time doing so when Wanda got to taste it, insisting you had perfected it. You hadn’t believed her until she started crying.

“I could have made something for you tonight,” you pointed out before taking a bite of your burger before Wanda decided to start on that too.

“I just needed grease,” she admitted, peering around the deserted McDonald’s car park. You were parked in the far corner and probably looked super dodgy to any strangers that spotted your car lurking in the blind spot, but Wanda liked to people-watch from the comfort of your car that she spent so much time in. She said that your car was comfier than hers.

“You need a holiday,” you corrected.

“We should take a roadtrip,” she said at once. You immediately loved the idea.

“Where do you want to go?” You asked, willing to take her to wherever came to mind.

“Anywhere,” she admitted, resting her head back to gaze at you with excitement. “I miss spending time with you,” she told you, not having a single clue how much of your days were taken up by you missing her. You didn’t see each other as much as you used to and even when you did get to hang out it wasn’t for as long as you wished. That was partly how you had developed the ritual of going to fast food car parks for your meals, it was convenient in case Wanda was suddenly pulled away. Her job required her to have one foot in her work life at all times.

“Me too,” you said. It was far safer to underplay your feelings.

The Sokovian shifted to the edge of her seat and took her hand comfortably in yours as she often did. You watched as she twirled her fingers around yours, feeling the warmth of the astonishing magic that lay beneath the surface. Her strength was incredible, everyone knew that, but it was the gentleness she coated it with that you had always been in awe of.

“Will this roadtrip be just us?” You asked even though you both knew it wasn’t going to happen.

“Of course,” she muttered, letting her fingertips dance across your palm. “Just us and the road,” she laid on with a smile. That smile made you feel things no platonic best friend should. That smile made you love her. With the way it reached her eyes when it was directed at you, it was too tempting not to pretend like her heart didn’t carry that same devotion to you, that her eyes hadn’t glanced down to your lips as she became just as lost in that fantasy as you. The electricity that charged the small space only existed in your world, because for her, it was saved for him.

The chiming of her ringtone snapped you both out of your separate thoughts and disconnected your hands just as swiftly. You didn’t have to glance over at her phone to know who it was and you shouldn’t have felt a sting when she opted to answer instead of calling him back later.

“Hey, Vis,” she said, voice so tender and yet still striking a blow.

You hated that toaster so much.

The slight murmur of Wanda reciting the lines of the character’s held your attention far greater than the original could ever hope to. She knew every episode of the sitcom by heart and you were pretty sure you were coming close to being able to say the same. She had been quiet that night, caught up in her own head about the events of her latest mission, so hearing her voice at all was a relief.

She had her head resting comfortably on your shoulder so you felt a soft vibration with every mutter of words. You smiled, not daring to move which was easy when she stunned you with her next words.

“I want to quit my job.”

“Oh?” You said casually to her statement you fully supported. You knew she had an incredible role in saving countless lives multiple times a week, but you also weren’t blind to the fact that your best friend didn’t enjoy her job. Unimaginable danger aside, no matter what she did, the public criticised her endlessly and did nothing to ease the gnawing feelings she had that she was a threat to her team and the people she helped. She had come so far in controlling her abilities, but she was only human.

“I won’t,” she said. “I just wish I could.”

“Why don’t you?” You enquired after a pause. Wanda sighed, lifting herself off of your shoulder and bringing her knees up to her chest.

“This place keeps me in check,” she admitted. You hated how she talked about herself.

“You’re not an animal or a criminal, Wanda. And this team has no possession over you. They can’t keep you here, no one can.” Except someone did. Vision was the only reason Wanda really remained on the team. He had convinced her to. But really, as long as he was an Avenger, Wanda would be too. Yet another reason for your disdain for him.

“Yeah,” she sighed, clearly not believing you.

“Wanda,” you prompted. She looked at you. “It’s your life. You can do whatever you want with it.” She still didn’t seem convinced. “If you want to run away, I can cause a distraction,” you told her, finally earning a smile from the brunette.

“I can count on you for anything,” Wanda said simply because it was the one thing she had never doubted. She had doubted her safety as a child. She had doubted Ultron’s intentions. She had doubted her team’s trust in her. She had doubted Vision’s loyalty. But she never doubted you.

“Always,” you assured without a beat. “I’ve got your back.” You wished that could have been enough for the brunette to decide that it was you she would run away with, but it was clear that if Wanda ever did opt to flee, she would take him with her and leave you behind.

“That might put you in danger one day,” she said sadly, letting her anxieties cloud her judgement.

“I don’t care.” You really didn’t. How could you?

She smiled at you softly and pulled your forwards slightly to kiss your forehead. She didn’t linger but her lips left a deeper imprint than she would ever know. You had always wondered what her lips would feel like against your skin and it was even better than you had dared dream.

When she pulled away and left a minute gap between you, there was a split second where you thought she was about to bring her lips to your own. But that moment passed when Vision casually faded through Wanda’s bedroom wall. She had told him countless times not to do that and you had to use all of your willpower not to scream at him to get out.

“My apologies, I didn’t know you had company,” he said but made no effort to turn around. “Good evening, y/n.”

“Vision,” you replied without looking his way.

“You’ve got to knock, Vis,” Wanda chuckled as you subtly placed a couple more inches between you.

“Should I come back?” He enquired.

No. Just keep floating off and never turn back.

“Yeah,” Wanda smiled warmly at him past you.

“That’s okay, I should probably head off anyway,” you excused. You had nothing planned and no work the following day so there was no legitimate reason for you to go. But if you stayed you would have just felt like they were both waiting for you to leave.

“Really?” You missed her surprise and touch of hurt at your sudden shift, watching on as you stood up from the bed to grab your jacket.

“I’ve got some errands to run tomorrow.” Lie. “And it’s getting late.” Not really.

“Okay, but I’ll still see you tomorrow, right?” The hopeful edge in her voice was going to stick with you for a while and you knew you were going to be replaying and over analysing it constantly that night. You had a way of hurting yourself with your optimism more than Wanda hurt you with reality.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you grinned back at her with sudden ease. You were only getting coffee, but there really was very little that would stop you going.

“See you then,” you called as left, purposefully ignoring her mechanical boyfriend.

As far as maid of honours went, you probably weren’t the best.

You didn’t carry the enthusiasm that any of the guests at the wedding did and it proved difficult to maintain your fake smile the entire day. You really were happy for her, your best friend was finally getting married to the love of her life, cementing your role as something far less significant. You just didn’t get it, he wasn’t even human.

The ceremony was nothing short of gorgeous. It was a small reception, Wanda had been adamant that she wanted to keep it intimate despite Tony trying to throw more and more money at the event and add more guests. But it was Wanda’s day, it was her choice.

You had never seen the Sokovian look so happy in her life, or so beautiful. You supposed the two went hand in hand, her joy had always been so warming and infectious that it was impossible not to see the perfection in it. Everything was finally coming together for her, while your world fell apart.

You didn’t acknowledge Natasha when she sat down next to you. As much as it pained you to watch, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the tender slow dance the bride and groom swayed along to. She looked like a Disney Princess, her dress wrapped around her with an elegance you were in awe of.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to come,” Natasha told you. You still didn’t look away.

“I couldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding,” you muttered, barely audible over the gentle music around you.

“Still, it can't be easy when you’re in love with her,” the Russian stated. You noticeably stiffened but didn’t bother to deny the fact. Your heart raced at the confirmation that your feelings weren’t a total secret, but you still knew Natasha well enough to be sure she wouldn’t tell anyone else. “No one else knows,” she assured. “Including Wanda.”

“Maybe this will be what finally makes me move on,” you wished aloud. Natasha didn’t respond, following your gaze to where the dance had come to an end. Most of the guests were beginning to disperse and you planned to do the same soon, you had already stayed longer than you had thought you could be able to.

“Carol’s into you.” You were aware of that, just as you were aware the usually confident Captain was working up the courage to ask you out. It would be good for you if you said yes. Carol was great…

“One lesbian crushing on another that’s in love with her best friend, you guys are hopeless,” Natasha quipped and you gave her your first genuine smile of the evening.

“I know, I know,” you admitted, holding your hands up and chuckling with the redhead. “I should go, see you around, Romanoff.” Natasha waved you off and watched you go with an edge of pity that she knew you would hate. As you reached the door, the redhead noticed Wanda frown in your direction and started after you, swaying in her slightly intoxicated state.

“Y/n,” she called once you were outside and finally alone. You spun around, feeling a pang of guilt that you had been caught leaving her wedding without saying goodbye.

“Hey, sorry. You looked busy and I…” you hadn’t thought of an excuse and you didn’t have the energy to lie to her anyway. “You’re married,” you stated with a shaky exhale that Wanda wouldn’t have missed if she hadn’t had a bottle of champagne to herself.

“I am!” She beamed and suddenly threw her arms around you. You hugged her back with a hesitation you had never given her before, uncomfortable and pained by the feeling of her wedding dress beneath her fingertips. You had swallowed your tears all day, but actually feeling how real it all was threatened to be too much. You just wanted to run home and cry into your pillow.

“I just,” she sighed heavily with bubbling excitement. “I’m so fucking happy right now,” she giggled and finally pulled away. “I love him so much and…” she seemed at a loss for words. You were too.

“I’m really happy for you, Wands,” you told her, ignoring how your throat felt like it was swelling to the size of a balloon. She grinned and hugged you again, holding you flush against her.

“Thanks, y/n. I can't wait for it to be your wedding day.” Her words were as rough as a sucker punch to the gut. Would you even ever have one? Surely. Right?

She barely pulled away to kiss your cheek, letting the alcohol do as it pleased and numb the feeling of your hands twitching around her waist at the act. “I hope he treats you well,” you whispered. Wanda smiled and rubbed your cheek affectionately with her thumb, as though she was about to use it to pull you closer once more. You would never know if she would or not, because you stepped away.

“Goodnight, Wanda,” you smiled, catching one last glance at the ring around her finger that glimmered under the fairy lights strung above you. They were your final reminder that your best friend was getting her happy ever after, because everything had fallen into place.

The moment your back was turned, tears streamed freely down your broken features.

You reread the offer letter for perhaps the seventh time that hour, determined to find some fault with it that you had missed before. Regrettably, you found nothing. It was the perfect promotion. Better pay, better hours, better benefits. There was an apartment available just a short walk from the office and from what you had seen from the online viewing, you couldn’t get a better deal on such an ideal place to live. There wasn’t a single flaw that was reason enough for you to turn it down, except for the fact it was on the other side of the country.

It wasn't that big a deal. People moved away all the time, it was a natural part of advancing with your life. It just meant that you would have to leave your friends behind, that you would have to leave her behind. Again, that wasn’t really a bad thing. Maybe distance was the only thing that was finally going to put an end to your insistent feelings for Wanda, who had been happily married for nearly a year. It could finally cease your reluctant ‘what ifs’.

“I knew you would be here,” she called a second before you heard the car door slam shut. You pocketed your phone and glanced behind you.

Wanda strolled up the cliff side towards you as the wind gently caressed her hair, though it didn’t seem to ease the concern written over her features. “You didn’t answer my texts,” she said as she joined you on the hood of your car and overlooked the vast ocean stretched out beyond the drop just metres ahead of you.

You knew what she was implying, you always answered her texts so she immediately suspected something was wrong. “Girl troubles?” She asked. You scoffed, Carol (sweet as she was) was the least of your concerns. You had only seen each other a handful of times and it felt more like you were hooking up than establishing something with a deeper potential.

“Not exactly,” you told her.

“Then what’s up?” She asked, nudging your shoulder lightly.

“I got a job offer,” you shrugged. Wanda’s eyes widened and she began to grin. Her excitement was infectious.

“That’s what you’re moping about?”

“It’s in California,” you said at once. Wanda’s smile wavered, but she refused to let it visibly disappear when it didn’t change the fact that you had a significant opportunity ahead of you.

“Wow,” was all she could say. “Have you talked to Carol about it?” She asked even though you both knew it didn’t make the least bit of difference to the Captain what part of the country you were in. You could be on the other side of the world and she would still visit you as frequently as she did. It was clear that the Sokovian couldn’t think of anything else to ask, but it still irked you that it was Carol’s opinion she enquired about.

“No, we don’t talk about that stuff,” you dismissed.

“Really? It’s a big deal.” You could see her frowning in your peripheral and it was no secret that Wanda had been trying to get you and the blonde to be something you couldn’t.

“It won’t make a difference to how we hook up,” you huffed, growing agitated at your best friend’s blindness to where your interests truly lied.

“I thought you two were getting closer,” she said slowly, noting your shift.

“Carol and I aren’t going to become anything more, Wanda,” you told her firmly, but she insisted on pushing you further.

“Why?” It was as if she wanted to see you snap and finally admit-

“Because she’s not you!” You exclaimed, feeling a sudden rush come over you as you let all of the lies you had been held back by all those years to finally dissipate. Wanda stared at you, stunned.

“How long?” The question was almost carried away by the breeze.

“Years,” you admitted, no point down playing the truth. It wouldn’t make it any easier.

“Y/n-” she started but you recognised her voice and you knew what was coming.

“Don’t. Please don’t,” you begged, tears brewing in your eyes as you realised this could be your long awaited breaking point in your friendship. It was inevitable. It had been since the first day you met the brunette.

You took in each other’s drastically different emotions, confirming the alternate cross roads you were about to take. But if that was to be the case, you wanted to have at least one small victory to take away. You cupped Wanda’s cheek as she had done to you so many times before, never understanding the burn you had felt at her touch at the time. She understood it then though, because the softness of your hand protected her from the winds that were picking up and made it all the more tempting to follow your lead as you closed the gap between you.

Sometimes in romance novels, they say that the first kiss was better than either of the characters had dreamt of, but that wasn’t the case with your kiss with Wanda. Sure, her lips fit perfectly against your own and yes, the faint taste of strawberry could have made you light headed with a giddy glee. But your kiss was filled with remorse and regret. There was a striking pain to the way your lips moved together and an overwhelming sense of anguish that neither of you would be able to rid yourselves of for quite some time.

Worst of all, that kiss was your unspoken goodbye.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted the chance to feel as lucky as he does,” you told her as you pulled away entirely. Wanda didn’t respond, you didn’t expect her to. She had already given you more than you ever thought possible. So you got off of the hood of your car and Wanda willed herself to do the same, standing back solemnly as you got in the vehicle she would never join you in again. She couldn’t bring herself to watch you drive, nor could you glance back at your best friend in your mirror.

My fault for falling in love with a straight girl.

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