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jensettermandu · 5 months

Text

clandestine - huh yunjin

genre; angst, sfw

pairing; yunjin x female reader .ft chaewon

content; there's one single reference of them being bare aka nudity but it doesn't say more, reader is a 98' liner and member of blackpink, features chaewon x reader but it's briefly, yunjin is in a huge moral dilemma throughout the whole thing, implications of toxicity

synopsis; Yunjin finds herself at yet another clandestine meeting, the one that leaves her in a high that later crashes, but somehow she can't stop running back to the hell where her devil is. The older woman has a grip on Yunjin that leaves her trying harder than before just to be acknowledged. Love and loyalty has left her in a moral dilemma where she has to make a choice, however, each choice makes her as bad as it makes her good after ending up with the short end of the stick.

wc; 7.6+

songs; illicit affairs - taylor swift , sad girl - lana del rey , francesca - hozier

masterlist

Yunjin exhaled, watching the numbers on the elevator go down, and up on the other as she waited for it to reach her. Her fingers fiddled with the material inside the pockets of her sweats because even if it had become a habit, something that came naturally; Yunjin couldn’t help but be swallowed by guilt and anxiety each time.

It crumbled, her facade was weak and grew weaker each time because of her moral dilemma. It was hard to pretend when she had always been so see-through.

The elevator’s door slid open once it reached her floor, the second one reaching the bottom as she stepped inside.

She hated it when she looked in the mirror and knew the person she was. It was something she couldn’t run from, but that didn’t mean she didn’t try. The guilt ate at her and Yunjin knew exactly how to stop it or how she could have prevented it right from the start. All she did manage to do was pretend that she had no clue who she was because she knew Yunjin and this wasn’t her.

This wasn’t like Yunjin at all; she couldn’t even tell why exactly she got herself into this mess or when she became the mess that she was.

However, the truth was hard to handle, even harder to accept and the hardest to face. This was something she knew she wouldn’t be the only one struggling with if the tiniest stone collided with her house of glass. The tint she put up to cover her lies would crumble and the real layer would let everyone see right through her glass walls and uncover the truth she’s been hiding out of desperation to be noticed.

She wanted to say that she was forced, but she truly wasn’t, the only thing was the force that pulled her towards the hell waiting for her downstairs. The one she shouldn’t feel anything towards as she knew that the girl who felt everything for her was in the other elevator riding right back up to the dorm.

Yunjin felt like a fool, she knew that she was one and she would regret it for the rest of her life as she would live with the fact that she did something she hated herself for; something everyone else would hate her for.

Yunjin lived in a world only one other person knew about, but even if she asked about it they would deny its existence. This was something that only existed to Yunjin because she acknowledged it. Her empathy was too strong to ignore. She convinced herself that she could stop if she wanted to.

Yet when the elevator reached the underground parking lot and she had the choice to not step out and instead go back home she still committed the same old mistakes.

The familiar scent lingered right by the elevators when she stepped out because Yunjin was greedy. She took those steps that could almost be mistaken for prideful when in reality she took long strides to be quicker. There was nothing to be prideful about, it felt like a walk of shame each time yet she proceeded with it. She proceeded to destroy herself for this one person.

The white G Wagon was hard to miss as it stood ready to drive off by the side and this was the girl’s final chance to break this habit. Would it make her feel better if she did? Yunjin would still know what she had done. Would she ever reveal the truth?

Yunjin had been selfish all this time, but it was with other people in mind, wasn’t it? Her intentions were unclear like a city under smog yet she tried to shine through it like the sun because they were good. It didn’t matter what they were because she felt herself crumble each day.

Maybe she got it all mixed up and was trying to make herself feel better; to feel like a hero when she was an anti-hero all along.

She opened the car door, knowing that no one would do it for her and she closed it after climbing inside. For a second she still felt the inner conflict within her as she closed the door, staring right in front of her.

The silent blow of the AC eased the heat caused by her hood being up, the speakers faintly played that music that reminded her of the woman anytime these songs would play. It would always infuse her veins with guilt, shame and regret, but also longing and desires, leaving her stuck at a crossroads.

Those things were all short-lived even if she knew that she would be a mess after.

Her chin was gently grabbed between those slender and cold fingers that turned her face. Yunjin met her eyes and was fighting what they reminded her about; the flaws hiding behind the put-up wall of perfection. Those perfect, tempting, and utterly deceiving eyes she had fallen victim to.

She tilted her head and leaned over the centre panel, closing her eyes in hopes of being blown away by the wind. She wanted to leave her fate to the wind, hoping she could just blow away like a feather that had no purpose and whatever happened couldn’t be blamed on her because the wind controlled her fate so it was all out of her control.

Maybe the wind she would be blown by would be in the second circle of Dante's inferno for these sins. Yet the kiss was gentle compared to what her punishments would be for these selfish acts.

It was gentle yet tormenting when she got a taste of the lipgloss that had mixed with the usual vanilla the woman in the driver’s seat used. Strawberries lingered with the vanilla and Yunjin was swallowed by reality once again, painfully aware that she was here so soon that Chaewon’s lips were still lingering on those that weren’t hers to kiss.

Her lips picked up the remnants of Chaewon’s.

That was all that Yunjin would deserve: remnants.

She tried to pull away because she could stop whenever she wanted.

“Y/n,” Yunjin mumbled, being pulled right back into the kiss, her hood being pulled down as fingers brushed over her nape. With that, she gave in without putting up a fight for any dignity because she never had any, to begin with, if she was seeing Chaewon’s girlfriend.

Her fingers brushed over Y/n’s bare waist, hoping to at least leave goosebumps after her because her marks would always be invincible and Yunjin was nothing but a mere ghost that appeared when everyone else was asleep.

They pulled away, her eyes gazed into Y/n’s eyes, the older’s fingers trailed along her jawline, thumb grazing her lips.

God, she hated Y/n for hurting her friend, but she also loved how she made Chaewon feel, and how good she was to her outside these clandestine meetings. It left her in turmoil knowing how happy Chaewon was while also wanting to be a good friend–she knew she wasn’t–and tell her the truth of how her angel was a devil in disguise.

Yunjin knew that Chaewon was one of the luckiest, but at the same time, unluckiest girls to exist. Despite the war within her it still left her envious if not jealous.

“You look pretty,” Yunjin wanted to cuss Y/n out, she wanted to throw stuff, she wanted to take all her anger out on her, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even if she wanted to. The girl in the driver’s seat with achievements that reached further than Yunjin’s dreams was too perfect to hurt.

Yunjin knew Y/n too well and maybe that was the problem.

Just those words were enough to fluctuate everything she felt and cause her a high; Y/n became a drug that worked each time no matter how horrible the withdrawals felt because of the realisation of how she was jeopardising herself and everyone else.

At moments like these, she pretended to be blind as Y/n pulled away, reaching for her phone, detaching herself completely from Yunjin who pretended that the notification didn’t show on the car screen. Her eyes wandered the white interior of the car; still feeling out of place for so many reasons, the first being that she shouldn’t be here to begin with.

“Where do you wanna head to?” She looked back at Y/n who was looking at the phone in her hands.

The answer she would give depended on how long she wanted to spend with Y/n. On how long she wanted to bask in Y/n’s cold fire. It could vary from 30 minutes at a parking lot nearby that she usually walked to–this time Y/n could in a sense pick her up–or it could be around two hours spent in a hotel room.

The girl could still remember the first few times and how different they were compared to now. Yunjin was truly becoming nothing more than a dirty secret that was supposed to be kept away from all light and she was allowing it herself.

Yunjin knew what was reserved for her; parking lots and hotel rooms, meetings once the sun was down. The lingering gazes before becoming nothing more than air. The act of being someone she wasn’t. Lies that came easier than breathing. Not leaving a single trace of herself anywhere because she was supposed to remain a ghost. Yunjin didn’t exist.

It was all perfectly built yet it felt as fragile as a house of cards where it would all collapse with a single and gentle blow of air.

There was a significant difference between her and Chaewon; obviously. Her older member got treated the way she wished she was yet what Yunjin got wasn’t Y/n making it up to their floor, picking her up, leaving the dorm without having to lie or feel guilt and shame, with no disguise of going on a run in sweatpants and a hoodie.

[Five hours ago]

Yunjin never understood it, she wasn’t sure if she ever would or maybe she hadn’t done it for long enough. It left her with more questions than answers; all being about the person on the other side of the door. It made her heart speed up before it twisted and she wished it could just stop instead because of the wincing pain.

Yunjin hated how good Y/n was at acting while she could feel herself crumble with each second. Was it even acting? It looked like second nature. Or maybe it wasn’t because as long as Yunjin was a secret she would never truly exist unless she was brought to light.

There was nothing between them to the bare eye.

Yet all Y/n did was smile at her and bow as if she wouldn’t kiss her as a greeting whenever it was just them. Still, Yunjin followed, doing the same thing before meeting Y/n’s eyes again. A smile was offered, not a pair of lips against hers or a caress that sent her body through a blazing fire in Y/n’s inferno.

“How are you?”

“I’m…alright.” She got a hum in response as the woman who was her peer slipped her sneakers off. Their eyes met once again, it felt like they always did or maybe Yunjin was hoping for too much yet adrenaline pumped through her whole body as Y/n smiled at her and stepped further inside.

Those stolen glances, those secret stares where their eyes met and only they knew the truth; why did she cherish that?

“That’s good.” She wanted more than a hand coming up to her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. However, Y/n’s touch lingered for a few seconds longer than necessary before she let go and walked towards the living room. Long enough to leave a warmth coursing through Yunjin.

“Where’s Chaewon?”

“Forgot her phone upstairs.”

That was all she got, Yunjin got the finger but wanted to get the whole hand because it was too difficult to separate their clandestine meetings and these meetings where they were nothing more than friends. Her heart yearned for more and she knew that it only made the mess bigger and bloodier than needed.

It wasn’t like she could have gotten more as everyone loved Y/n, especially Kazuha who was a fan of the group Y/n was part of.

Yunjin had listened to the younger girl go on about Y/n and all of Blackpink before. How she looked up to her, how she was a role model to many, how talented she was; great, humble, loving, caring, beautiful, perfect in every aspect of life despite it not being an easy life that she lived. She agreed with the younger girl because it was the truth–

It still left Yunjin wondering if she truly was the only one who had seen past Y/n’s perfect facade. The one that was built up of walls that stretched for miles and climbing over one meant only seeing the hundreds of more walls that were left to climb. Y/n had a perfectly curated image as an idol, but she also had a perfectly curated image for every person she was with and met.

The perfect friend, the perfect daughter, the perfect girlfriend.

South Korea’s Perfection.

Yunjin envied it because it would be so much easier to live on with her life if she were perfect; it would let her carry out her life and secrets with ease.

However, she felt special as she knew that she was one of the few to get past these walls. She felt special because she was more than Y/n’s dirty secret, she knew things the woman didn’t open up about to just anyone. Yunjin knew that she was part of those things she never told and that with Y/n’s perfection, she would forever be a mere ghost, a story that never truly happened.

Y/n knew how to manipulate the beginning and end of every story to her advantage.

Yunjin was aware that Y/n would make it look like she had never existed in her life and maybe that was the only true fear that she carried and not the consequences of being caught.

Never existing in Y/n’s life.

Yet Yunjin dwelled on the choices she had.

Her eyes gazed at Y/n, it just so happened that whenever she was supposed to come over even for a few minutes everyone magically left their rooms. No one wanted to miss her, she always made every room brighter.

She watched Sakura try to stop her from bowing a full 90 degrees; her senior and older by a few months, she knew that Sakura disagreed with being Y/n’s senior. Yet the youngest Blackpink member would do the same to Kazuha and Eunchae, telling them to be less formal.

They didn’t know Y/n like Yunjin did, she saw past it all. It was Y/n’s way of carrying out her perfection no matter where she was, to be that sweetheart everyone loved and wanted.

Yunjin sat down on the couch, in the furthest corner, drowning in the truth under her facade that was far from perfect unlike Y/n’s. Yunjin had flaws just like everyone else and like everyone they would shine through these cracks of feigned perfection leaving her imperfect.

Her eyes continued to linger on the older, they held longing, they held suffering, they held that dull melancholy that haunted Yunjin’s everyday life because Y/n was somehow everywhere.

She was either talked about, solo songs played or group songs, billboards, ads, magazines, Chaewon, Kazuha, Eunchae, Sakura, and a row of Yunjin’s friends. Y/n’s name left everyone’s mouth.

Why would she want to escape perfection though? The longer Yunjin lingered around the more it would possibly rub off on her. Could anything ruin Y/n’s perfection? No. Not unless Yunjin would do it. Yunjin knew what was hiding beneath it.

It was uncharacteristic the way Chaewon quickly thumped down the stairs, but Y/n had that effect, didn’t she? Yunjin didn’t look away, watching her sit on the floor in the middle of Kazuha and Eunchae playing video games on the TV.

“I at times can’t tell whether it’s Chaewon or an elephant incoming.” She knew just what to say. Y/n’s charm came with silence but it also came with words so it didn’t matter what she did; everyone looked her way yet Yunjin could see deeper than that and still find her just as jarring.

“She only does that when you come over.”

“I’d do it too if I were her.” That cockiness and confidence that didn’t come off as rude made Eunchae smile even bigger, always enjoying Y/n’s wit like everyone else.

Was Yunjin special? It seemed like Y/n was for everyone but her. How did Chaewon do it? Yunjin was just a secret yet it was hard to handle knowing that Y/n was for everyone.

“Eunchae,” Chaewon warned and Yunjin felt the small smile on her face turn sour as she watched her friend get onto the couch. The guilt and jealousy washed over her again.

What right did she have to feel any jealousy? She didn’t. Y/n was Chaewon’s perfect girlfriend all while breaking Yunjin’s heart because she allowed it to happen. She couldn’t shut Y/n out. Being imperfect around someone who carefully threaded through each hole to finish with perfection rubbed off in the wrong way.

It highlighted everyone else’s flaws; Y/n made Yunjin’s flaws stand out even more.

“Are you ready to leave?” Chaewon hummed, Yunjin couldn’t look away, watching with melancholy dancing in her eyes as the leader sat on the couch behind Y/n. The latter looked up and met Chaewon’s gaze.

“Okay, let me just beat these two and then we can head out,” the complaints from the two youngest only intensified the teasing until they ran out of words and Chaewon was able to speak.

“You can do that another time.”

“I could or I do it now and can avoid them next time to spend all my time with you.” It ushered the two youngest to continue to bicker, Y/n would always be able to lift a room with a few words and a smile.

Yunjin found it an art, no matter how simple it could seem, but a person who knew what to say at any given moment was made to entertain. Y/n was a dream and that’s all she would ever be to Yunjin.

When Chaewon was in the room Y/n’s gaze only lingered on the leader and Yunjin was the only one with a longing gaze; Y/n knew how to make her feel like a ghost. She watched and that’s all she could do; Y/n resting her head against Chaewon’s legs, wishing she could be the one running her fingers through Y/n’s hair, brushing over her skin while talking.

It should have been Yunjin and there were things she regretted, but she couldn’t list them in order or tell if she should regret some of them.

[Present]

In secret Yunjin got everything she wanted during these clandestine meetings. Her fingers brushed through Y/n’s hair, basking in the scent and heat still radiating off of the older whose bare skin pressed against Yunjin’s. It was a warmth she craved every time she saw Y/n, to be in the comfort of the woman, to hold Y/n and give the fallen angel the comfort she craved but never asked for.

All of Y/n’s attention was on her, she was more than just a ghost at these moments; Yunjin became a gestalt that Y/n saw.

This was when she forgot all her regrets, shame and guilt where the moral dilemma washed away from her sight because she was too far in hell to see heaven.

This was when she saw the beauty she could only see when she was with the woman. There was no one else she could share it with. This was when she accepted herself for who she was because she could be herself with Y/n and no one else; no one else knew about her secrets in the end.

In the end all Huh Yunjin wanted was to be loved by her devil.

Instead, this time Yunjin was left wondering if Y/n noticed her for who she was. The person she tried to be for Y/n. The woman whom Yunjin got to hold in her arms at these rare yet frequent moments was so sophisticated; it made Yunjin feel half-witted.

Yunjin read the books Y/n liked, consumed the expensive wine and champagne the woman did, and learned about her favourite art; from poems to paintings. She did her best to change certain views and beliefs, and the way she carried herself. She had done everything, but it was to no avail; Y/n wasn’t hers and didn’t seem to take notice.

Y/n never cared about Yunjin the way she wanted to be cared for, she never saw her, never acknowledged her and it only made her try harder even if Chaewon was the one who caught the singer's attention. How did she do it? It was something Yunjin had always wondered. How Chaewon was the one. How did her friend manage to do what she couldn’t seem to do? What did Chaewon have that she didn’t even after trying to be perfect for Y/n?

“Why do you see me?” It made her wonder even more why Y/n kept seeing her this way. It watered her insecurities and made it feel like her flaws and imperfections bloomed bigger. There had to be something special about Chaewon if they had been in a relationship for five months now. Why did Y/n waste time on Yunjin? Yunjin wasn’t the one wasting time, she willingly spent her time on Y/n.

“I can open up to you.”

She knew that her question was too vague and that Y/n wouldn’t say more than what she asked for. Yunjin had learned but kept repeating the same mistakes, that was partly why she was in the same bed as Y/n. She took what she got as long as it came from Y/n’s palm; Yunjin wouldn’t complain. She had no right to even if she would want to.

“You can do that with Chaewon too…” It came out as a mumble, that heaviness washing over her. Yunjin felt like an idiot, that was usually how Y/n made her feel.

“It’s not the same,” Y/n slipped from her grasp once again without any hesitation or looking back. Yunjin would be the only one to look back or hesitate to let go each time.

Yunjin’s eyes gazed at the woman who sat up, her eyes traced her slim back and all its ridges of perfection. All she did was stab a knife in her friend's back, but it wasn’t like she wasn’t paying for it. Each day there was a knife in Yunjin’s chest and it twisted, twisted, and twisted for all the wrong and right reasons.

“How?” Yet she pressed while being fully aware that only she would get hurt by the end since she had been hurt from the start. In the end, Huh Yunjin never learned from her mistakes, if she got hurt once, she got hurt twice, thrice and it went on until it no longer hurt.

But, Huh Yunjin would let Y/n hurt her over and over again, she’d let the woman hurt her a million times. To have her nick at her heart each day, to make it all die a little inside her each time, but she would still let it happen.

“I can’t open up the same way to someone I love as I can to someone like you.”

Y/n was so cold that she burned. The woman was so cold that it nipped Yunjin's cheeks, leaving them red each night she would cry. Y/n was so cold that Yunjin couldn’t help but try her best to warm her even if it hurt her in the process.

The woman stood up, leaving Yunjin all alone in that cold hotel bed that made her feel worthless. She couldn’t look away though, watching as Y/n slid on the hoodie that she had picked up from the back of her car before they left to get to the room. It was Chaewon’s hoodie. Somehow she always carried a little reminder with her and Yunjin couldn’t understand why she did.

Wasn’t it making Y/n get swallowed by guilt like it did with Yunjin? Y/n wasn’t an open book so she couldn’t figure it out unless Y/n read the pages for her which she had done before.

“I can’t know how understanding she truly is and I can’t afford to lose Chaewon.”

Yunjin licked her lips and deeply exhaled to stop herself from shedding tears all while willingly taking the venom bites Y/n would scatter along her body. She hugged the plain sheets closer to her bare body, pulling her knees closer to get comfort because Y/n would never provide it.

It settled that Y/n could afford to lose her. She was just as replaceable as anyone else in Y/n’s life, the only one who wasn’t was Chaewon. Y/n’s hell consisted of multiple dead and forgotten souls and Yunjin could become one of them at any given moment.

“I doubt you would.” She left Y/n’s frame at last and stared at the blank sheets, her fingers twisting the material. It was tearing her in half, Yunjin was stuck in the middle. She wanted Y/n, but at the same time wanted her friend to be happy yet she didn’t want Chaewon to be played and wanted to let her know that Y/n was a devil in disguise. One that was impossible to resist and was the sweetest angel anyone could stumble upon even if she was a fallen one.

It was messed up, but Yunjin was a bigger mess than the one she created. She saw how happy Chaewon was and she was envious; it could have been her yet it all was wrong. Everything she felt, had done and hadn’t done yet was wrong.

“You can’t say you’re sure she won’t leave or look at me differently. I want to be perfect for her, I don’t want her to stop loving me.” It was what Chaewon fell for in the end, just like everyone else. Y/n’s perfection. The girl was aware of that as her clouded by-gloom eyes looked up through her wet lashes at Y/n.

Tears in the rain.

Y/n would never notice or acknowledge the tears of torment that would run down Yunjin’s cheeks and leave her eyes sore. That ache in her chest would forever only be known to her, the reasons for her sleepless nights, why her pillowcase was soaked in a conflict between loyalty and love.

“It’s not possible to love someone who is too honest and opens up their heart until there’s nothing left to bleed. What heart will beat for her? The truth is ugly and imperfect.”

Yunjin knew that it was true, but it wasn’t set in stone because how did she tell Y/n that the woman had opened up to her, bled her heart dry to Yunjin who hadn’t left? It was possible to love someone who was too honest and opened up fully. Yunjin was still there even if not everyone would and maybe the uncertainty was why Chaewon only got to see perfection.

However, Yunjin loved her for more than her Midas touch, she was there despite the ugly imperfections.

She was also aware of Y/n’s biggest fears; the fear of not being able to maintain the image. The idea of even momentarily showing weakness in front of anyone. To be dependent and vulnerable wasn’t an option. Yunjin knew that Y/n was afraid of that intimacy and maybe that was why she never chose Yunjin. She knew about her vulnerabilities, flaws, insecurities, self-hatred, and self-pity. She knew about all the skeletons in Y/n’s closet.

Yunjin knew Y/n too well, she had seen her vulnerable and weak.

She had been led on, Y/n had played her, cheated in a game Yunjin wasn’t aware they were playing. It ended up with her heart in malady once she saw Y/n with Chaewon after letting herself get dragged through this hell for the woman.

The girl had been fooled and continued to be fooled and she let it happen. All she did was watch it happen.

She met Y/n almost a year ago and from the moment she did she found a deeper meaning in every word Y/n said to her. Yunjin got lost in the picture-perfect world Y/n painted for her. She saw the world with rose-coloured glasses, seeing things she only could with Y/n. Those words made her heart race and ultimately fall to the floor in desperation for the woman, waiting for Y/n to pick it up; it got stepped on instead.

Y/n sold her a world that didn’t exist when she was alone, a world she could only see with Y/n.

Yunjin shouldn’t have taken the words to her heart so easily, but she should have taken them for what they were. A short high that was dwindling more with each time. It came so quickly, it would hit her so hard and fast she could barely register it coming and before she knew it it was over and she would crave more. It felt too good and so she held onto those things even if they meant nothing in the end.

That was why Yunjin was staring out the window of Y/n’s car, submerged in a sudden melancholy, fully aware that even if it all dwindled she wouldn’t be able to feel this way with anyone else. There was no one else she would be able to see these things with other than Y/n.

Had she gotten it all that wrong? Had it all been in her head all this time? That there could have been something more before Chaewon?

“When can I see you again?” She was like a court jester, but she wasn’t entertaining anyone unless she enjoyed having her own heart shattered. The way Huh Yunjin acted made it look like she did. She took anything she could.

Her gaze shifted away from the window as her reflection was too clear while they sat in silence in the car. It was the ugly truth, reflecting right at her, she was turning into someone she wasn’t for someone she loved, but would never get love from. What made it much more excruciating was how painfully aware she was of it and how she still tried.

It was poison, Y/n had infected her with her poison and there was no cure for it. It was there to ruin Yunjin and everything around her. It didn’t change how she would still always run to Y/n to get fed more of it.

“I'm flying out to L.A. tomorrow to work on my album and then I’m heading to Coachella. I guess we will see each other there.”

Yunjin looked away as Y/n’s eyes weren’t even subtly glancing her way, the woman wasn’t sparing her any glances. She looked down at her lap, picking at her nails more and more the longer the silence lingered. There was hope that Y/n would acknowledge her misery, in the end, the jester was supposed to be a fool for someone else’s entertainment.

Had she entertained Y/n enough for one night? Did she manage to give her enough in two hours? Yunjin knew that she wasn’t enough, but she wanted to be close to it. To at least touch upon the perfection Y/n was looking for, the one that Chaewon carried.

It tugged on her heart that she had worn on her sleeve, dragging it along with her and letting it bleed dry for someone who didn’t want her blood on their hands.

“Yunjin…”

It made her look up, her heart fluttering in desperation for oxygen only Y/n could provide her when a hand slid over to hers. Y/n’s cold skin brushed over hers, the little embers of her high hoping for a blow so it wouldn’t disappear and could continue because it would let Yunjin fall asleep without crying. Foolish hope bloomed within her, continuously playing herself as she hummed and looked at Y/n who was looking her in the eye. The blackest and dullest yet masked with radiant front eyes that anyone could get lost in.

As always she took anything she could get from Y/n who reached her other hand over to Yunjin’s face. Fingers gently traced along her jaw before brushing away the red strands of hair and fingers tangling at the back of her head. It was these moments when her world got to see the light again and made her believe that the pain she felt wouldn’t be evermore.

She could get lost in Y/n’s eyes and she did, Yunjin did so every single time and she did it so easily. Those deceiving eyes, the ones of the she-devil herself, the ones she broke all her promises for because each time, Yunjin promised herself to never go back again. However, she couldn’t resist the temptation of Y/n’s lips against hers even if it tore her apart after.

At least Yunjin was comfortable in this hell with this woman who was her devil.

It made her insides rumble with each stroke of Y/n’s lips on hers, Yunjin’s fingers gripping onto the older one's hoodie to avoid facing her fears of losing someone she didn’t have. They rumbled until everything inside of her was destroyed when Y/n pulled away, barely being able to pull away as she mumbled those words right between Yunjin’s parted lips;

“Make sure Chaewon doesn’t find out. You don’t want to lose a friend.”

And suddenly Yunjin wanted to scream and cry all over again about how Y/n ruined her and made her a mess she never knew she could be. That high never lasted as long as she wished it would and Y/n was the one to pull away from Yunjin as if she burned. She did burn, didn’t she? In the end, she had been trying her best to melt the ice that Y/n was, the coldness that Yunjin’s heart fought against, refusing to freeze and stop feeling for the woman.

Y/n surely was sweet like honey but stung like the bees that made it.

All she did was nod because she couldn’t trust her voice, especially when Y/n wouldn’t care for the crack in Yunjin that she caused again. The air felt colder than usual as she stepped out of the car and closed the door after her without a glance from Y/n. She barely managed to step away and the car was already driving away.

The pain was evermore; the second she stepped out from the hell where she forgot everything she was back in the agonising and never-ending dilemma where the lines between right and wrong blurred.

Each time she realised something new; this time was the fact that Y/n had never been the one to ask to see her. Yunjin was always the first one running to her, calling and texting, checking when she could see her. How she was the one to initiate every little thing even as far as being the first one to go for it even after finding out that her friend was in a relationship with Y/n.

Yunjin was always the first to break her own heart for Y/n.

And so she stood in the elevator, going up after being down in hell. Pulling the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands before gently wiping away the tears in her eyes. The lump in her throat hurt, it was like the core of her pain, waiting to be spat out and brought to light, but she couldn’t do it.

Yunjin couldn’t ruin this for Chaewon more than she already had. It hadn’t affected her friend yet, it was only ruining Yunjin who would keep sweeping everything under the rug. There was only so much she could hide under it until the bump would be noticeable though.

If she told Chaewon that Y/n was cheating on her she would be devastated, especially since Y/n wasn’t supposed to be capable of breaking her heart. Y/n was too perfect to break a heart, to break a promise, to ruin the beauty of love. If she told Chaewon, if it would come out in any way she would lose just as much as the girl, if not even more. Yunjin saw it for what it was and what it was, was that Y/n had left her with the short end of the stick.

Her breaths only grew heavier with each floor and staring up at the fluorescent light to keep her tears in did barely anything.

Chaewon would hate her.

Y/n would hate her.

She would lose both and she was stuck in a dilemma.

The promise of never seeing Y/n again repeated itself in her head, convincing herself that this time it would be for real, but she knew it would get broken the second she had the chance to do so. In the end, these burdens would be stuck with her.

If she told Chaewon that Y/n was cheating on her with her then she would lose a friend, but not telling her was making Yunjin a terrible person which she already was. No matter how she would tell Chaewon that she was being cheated on yet loved more than anything at the same time, Yunjin would lose Y/n.

Her thoughts were too disorienting and the walk to her room ended by the couch in the dark apartment. It was all pure torment on her heart and hurt more than anything. With her head buried in her hands, she tried her best to calm down, to keep her promise of not going back, but she didn’t want to lose Y/n either–it didn’t matter if she didn’t have her. However, she didn’t want to keep hurting Chaewon, but she couldn’t simply stop and never say anything even if her friend was the happiest when Y/n was perfect for her.

This was all on her in the end as Y/n wouldn’t ask to see her either way. It was in Yunjin’s hands to stop hurting her friend by no longer being selfish because of love.

“Where were you?”

It startled her, it felt like she got caught red-handed as she flinched, her heart racing, building up nausea in her and the tears increased tenfold. Yunjin looked up with a sniffle and quickly wiped at her eyes.

“I was on a run.” Her voice shook like her whole body was doing on the inside.

“Are you sure?” This time Yunjin’s lies didn’t work and the house made up of perfect lies was starting to show the flaws she had failed to conceal. The fragile house was starting to crack under the pressure and she was doing everything in her to hold it up, but Yunjin was breaking down with it.

“No.” She mumbled and looked away from Chaewon who frowned.

The floor gently creaked under the girl’s feet, Yunjin couldn’t look up, staring down as she constantly wiped away the stinging tears. How could she look her in the eye when she knew the truth but didn’t reveal it? The truth that Chaewon should know.

Yunjin was scared of the countless waves of pain she would have to endure once she revealed it to her. It left her pulling at straws, trying her best to come up with a way to say it without having to suffer more than she already had by loving Y/n. Yunjin was exhausted from the pain she had willingly been going through just to be seen.

Y/n’s scent occupied them–Chaewon was wearing her girlfriend’s hoodie, it was the same hoodie Yunjin once wore when it was just her and the older woman. It was before their beautiful meetings turned into a secret kept from any light that wasn’t the moon.

The couch dipped, and silence fell upon them, but the cracks were starting to fill up with Yunjin’s silent cries, the pain she had held inside. Those lies were starting to shine through. Why was it so difficult? The truth was doing everything to push through them and ruin everything for them and herself.

“Are you okay Yunjin?”

She shook her head, Yunjin was far from okay, she couldn’t remember the last time anything felt okay. Everything that used to be perfect was ruined, her love for Y/n was ruining her, the lies were eating at her, and the guilt was something she drowned in and hadn’t tried to swim up from. Y/n was ruining her. It was all becoming too hard to bear and she was about to give up at the pressure.

“No.” She took a deep breath in, her sleeves were soaked with tears, and her eyelids felt sore from the rough material that she wiped them with. It was all she could do because there was no one to wipe them for her. Did she deserve someone like that? Someone who would be there for her and wipe her tears? It didn’t feel like she did.

Yunjin would continue running to her source of pain though. She would continue doing it even if she promised herself not to because the source of pain was also the only source that made her feel that high that numbed the pain. Her source of pain was the only escape from this misery, the only time she got to see beautiful colours in the ugly.

“What is it?”

It broke something inside Yunjin as Chaewon placed her hand on her shoulder, gently rubbing it, almost coaxing those words out of her because she couldn’t hold the guilt. She would die in it if she didn’t try to swim up and continued to willingly sink in these lies and feelings. It was all killing her. She never wanted to ruin anything for Chaewon or Y/n, but it was ruining her to the core, to a point of what felt like no return if she didn’t break more promises.

Everything she had gone over in her head, about how she would die with these secrets was becoming a blur. How she would let Chaewon be happy, how she would let Y/n be perfect, the urge to continue sweeping everything under the rug was turning into one of removing it and showing all her dirt. The pressure her feelings were putting on her was destroying her glass house and it got harder not to hurt anyone else but herself.

“I’m sorry…” Was all that she could push through, whispering those words through a shaky breath as her throat filled up with tears. She was choking on these burdens she caused herself, losing herself in them.

It made her wonder if things would be different if she never introduced the two after befriending Y/n. Or maybe she would be in Chaewon’s shoes right now, but at least she would have been the one Y/n loved, not the one she used to let out everything to then only have love left for her girlfriend.

Y/n would never hurt Chaewon; Yunjin wouldn’t be hurting if she were in Chaewon’s shoes as long as the truth was kept secret. Right now, the person who would suffer the most was Yunjin if she told the complete truth.

It was followed by yet another silence, the hand on her shoulder stilling and Yunjin could feel the dread. She could feel the consequences of her actions heavily weighing on her shoulders depending on what would come out of her mouth next.

“It’s okay.”

She couldn’t understand her guilt, knowing very well that it was a choice and now she was receiving sympathy from the girl she was hurting.

Chaewon’s hand moved again and Yunjin let the older girl pull her in, resting her head on her shoulder as Chaewon wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her comfort. She stared ahead at the dark TV screen, her tears running as she snivelled with her mouth sealed by fear and shame. This wasn’t Yunjin so how could she admit to doing something that was unlike her?

Chaewon deserved better and Yunjin knew it, but in everyone’s eyes Y/n was the best and she was in Yunjin’s eyes too.

Chaewon fell for Y/n’s perfection.

Yunjin fell for all her flaws and found perfection in them while she hated herself for being so flawed, for hurting her friend and not being able to admit to her sins. Yunjin was too scared to admit to her sins, but she couldn’t let everything else eat at her for much longer or she would suffer even more. She couldn’t leave her friend in the dark.

There were other sins she could bring to light.

“Chaewon…Y/n is cheating on you.”

Sins that weren’t hers.

masterlist

a/n; i hope it was enjoyable/good cause i was struggling. i couldn't feel satisfied with this one despite rereading it three times and am still a bit unsure about whether or not this was good tbh.

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mxltifxnd0m · 1 month

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hotter than fire ࿔ s. stilinski

summary: a heat wave has hit beacon hills and the pack spends a day at lydia's pool

pairings: stiles stilinski x reader, stiles stilinski x fem! reader

word count: 2.7K

warnings: no use of y/n, fluff, kissing/making out, one mention of sex

a/n: RAHH this fic took a little longer than anticipated bc writers block is a bitch and i had to rewrite the beginning bc i hated it :) but the title is a lyric from west coast by lana del rey!

please be sure to comment and reblog! it helps out a lot and i love seeing your thoughts on the fic!!

𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘬𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

The cool July night air brought little reprieve to your sticky skin as you sat on the edge of Lydia's pool, staring into the illuminated pool. You snuck out of the dark living room as the rest of the pack was watching a random movie that Lydia had on DVD, wanting to take a breather to yourself. As much as you loved hanging out with your friends, you wanted a little time to yourself since today was a little overstimulating. Living in the middle of Northern California wasn't any fun when a heat wave struck.

The humidity made everything feel damp and made you want to crawl out of your skin. All you wanted to do was cease to exist when one of the worst heat waves hit Beacon Hills. Each time you went outside, it was like stepping into one of the circles of hell, and your only saving grace was the A/C that was on blast in your house.

The last thing you wanted to deal with after the shitshow that was Beacon Hills' problem with the supernatural was the heat. But as fate would have it, the A/C in your house had broken in the morning. Your parents were on a business trip, so you were left home alone with no working A/C, and the only thing that was keeping you cool was the tile flooring of your kitchen and cold showers.

Then Lydia, being your savior, invited everyone to a pool day. You had to ask if you could stay over with her for a few days until your parents came back and got someone to fix the A/C. Lydia asked her mom, and thankfully, she said yes. So when you arrived at her house, you had a duffle bag in one hand and some drinks in the other for the pool day. Since you were the first one at Lydia's house, you helped her get set up, like helping prep the snacks and making sure the inflatables that Lydia had in storage were blown up.

The pack eventually showed up, and that's when the fun began for the six of you (Liam was busy, so he couldn't come to the pool day). You spent most of the day in and out of the water, but most of the time, you were in the cool water since you couldn't bear the heat. You had to force yourself to look away from Stiles at times because your eyes would always find him and study the freckles that covered the length of his back and some of his chest. Then, you would always catch Lydia giving you a knowing look and a sly smile as she sunbathed on one of the lounge chairs outside of the pool. But at different points in the day, you could have sworn you could feel a burning stare on you, but you never caught the culprit.

As the sun fell, you guys eventually got out of the pool and rinsed off, either in the outdoor shower that Lydia had or in the bathrooms inside. You decided to take an actual shower since you couldn't stand the feel of chlorine lingering in your hair. Once you were done, you padded downstairs in some old boxers of your dad's and a plain blue baby tee that you would wear to sleep. You (heard) found the pack in the living room, crowded around the pizzas that you would later find out that Lydia's mom had ordered for the six of you.

The living room was filled with lively chatter as you guys ate, talking about the upcoming school year and complaining about the heat. A poll was going around about what movie you guys would watch as you finished the pizza. Once the movie was picked, you figured that popcorn wasn't going to be made by itself, so you volunteered to make it. As you got up, Stiles stood up along with you, and he sat across from you.

You looked at him with a raised brow.

He shrugged. "I figured you'll need help carrying the bags back." Stiles said as he wiped his hands on the back of his thighs.

The creaking of the door that led to the backyard broke you out of your thoughts as you raised your head, resting on your knees from staring at the water, and turned your head to see Stiles sticking his head out of the door. His whiskey-colored eyes met yours as he made his way out of the house. You gave him a half smile, feeling your heartbeat pick up as he smiled back at you.

You were grateful that he wasn't a werewolf or had enhanced hearing. You took in Stiles as he made his way over to you. He was wearing a red shirt and some black joggers he had changed into after the pool, and his hair was flat and sticking to his forehead since there wasn't any product in it.

You untucked your knees from your chest and put your feet in the water. The cool water felt refreshing on your skin, the water coming up to your mid-calf. Stiles came to sit next to you, leaving only but a foot of space between the two of you, and he rolled his joggers to mirror you, putting his feet in the water.

"Hi." Stiles greeted you as he turned to face you.

You smiled at him as you looked at him. "Hey."

He pursed his lips as he looked around for a brief moment and looked back at you.

"So, uh. Nice weather we're having right?"

You chuckled at his awkwardness. "Yeah, it is. If you minus the humidity, it's pretty alright." You said while nodding at him.

A silence settled between you and Stiles. You leaned back on your hands as you let your head fall backward and looked up at the stars. They were out tonight, and they were scattered throughout the sky. Some weren't bright, and a few looked like they were planes, but the bright ones, they looked like they were twinkling.

You let out a contented sigh. "The sky is pretty tonight."

"Yeah," You heard Stiles clear his throat. "It is." He all but whispered, but you still heard him, even over the chirping of the crickets nearby.

You felt the familiar burning stare you had felt earlier today as you swam, and you pulled your eyes away from the sky to find Stiles looking at you intently. As your eyes met his, Stiles seemed to snap out of his daze and averted his eyes back toward the water. You smirked to yourself as you sat back up.

Suddenly, confidence filled your veins when you shuffled to sit closer to Stiles, your shoulders brushing against each other as you leaned forward and tried to catch Stiles's gaze, but it seemed that he was avoiding your eyes. You saw a faint red hue against his sun-kissed cheeks, his moles and freckles scattered throughout his face and neck as the glow from the pool light that illuminated his features.

"Stiles." You called out to him.

He looked at you slowly, his eyes timid as he licked his bottom lip nervously. Your eyes flickered down to his lips at his actions before they quickly snapped back to his eyes.

"Were you staring at me instead of the sky?" You couldn't help but say with a teasing smirk dancing on your lips.

You can see Stiles get visibly more flustered, the faint blush on his cheeks now spreading to his ears and neck.

"Wh-what? Pff no." Stiles tried to deny it, but he wasn't convinced of himself either.

You couldn't help but giggle and lean towards him. "If it makes you feel better, I liked that you were looking at me."

Stiles's eyes widened slightly as he looked at you in disbelief. "Really?" He asked dumbly.

"Mhm." You bit your bottom lip as you tried to contain the wide grin that threatened to appear on your face as you nodded at him. You noticed his eyes were blown out as they flitted down your lips before meeting your eyes.

"Do you want to kiss me Stiles?" You asked boldly.

It seemed that your question short-circuited him. "Huh?" Was the only thing he could respond with.

You huffed out a laugh through your nose. "I asked you if you wanted to kiss me." You said as you leaned even more toward him. At this point, your noses were touching, and your lips threatened to brush against his.

You saw Stiles swallow thickly before nodding.

"Words, Stiles. I need words." You whispered.

"I want to kiss you so badly." Stiles let the words fall out of his mouth, not even bothering to filter his words.

You smirked as you brushed your lips against his before pulling back slightly. "You're gonna have to catch me first." You said before pulling back entirely from him and getting up from your place on the edge of the pool, the water sloshing around from the sudden movement.

You laughed at the dumbfounded look on his face as you started to run through Lydia's big backyard. It seemed that the water lapping at Stiles's leg and your laugh broke him out of his stupor, and he immediately jumped into action. He quickly got up from his position and saw that you were on the opposite side of the pool from him, with a grin on your face.

Stiles couldn't help but start smiling at your infectious smile and darted to the right, trying to get to you as fast as he could. You swiftly went in the opposite direction; now, this was the start of the cat-and-mouse game between the two of you. You ran in circles around the pool a couple of times, hiding behind the pillars that surrounded the pool if Stiles managed to get on the same side you were on, but you were slowly getting tired, so you decided when you were on the shorter end of the pool, you ran towards the doors.

But before you could even make it to the steps of the awning that led to the doors of the backyard, you had forgotten that Stiles was taller than you and had a longer stride, so you squealed when you felt him grab your waist from behind and hoisted you in the air in his arms. He spun you guys around, Stiles and your joyous laughter filling the quiet night with a certain warmth and affection that could be only found in lovestruck teens.

Stiles eventually stopped spinning and set you down, your back facing the pool as you guys were near the edge of it. His grip on you wasn't tight, but his hands never fell from your hips as you spun around and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The both of you had identical breathless smiles on your faces as Stiles rested his forehead against yours. One of your hands moved to rest on the nape of his neck and played with the short hairs there as you stared at Stiles.

His usual whiskey-colored eyes were blown out, and he only saw a sliver of his eye color.

"I caught you." Stiles said as he calmed down, his chest heaving slightly.

You smiled. "You did."

"Can I kiss you?" Stiles asked with a whisper.

Instead of responding, you tilted your head and placed your lips on his. The kiss was hesitant, testing the waters as you felt the softness of Stiles's lips. It was short, but it still filled your veins with warmth as he pulled back from it. You opened your eyes, a soft smile on your lips. Stiles's eyes were filled with desire and something else, but you couldn't tell because he had all but slammed his lips against yours, pulling you into a passionate kiss.

Stiles pulled you closer to him as one of his hands began to move and rest on your waist, the other moving higher to cup your cheek as he swiped at your bottom lip with his tongue. You couldn't help but let a soft noise leave the back of your throat as you tasted the salt and butter from the popcorn he was eating earlier as his tongue explored your mouth. You unconsciously tugged at Stiles's hair, making him groan loudly, sending a vibration through you and down to your core, feeling the warmth beginning to grow in your belly.

Neither of you noticed, but Stiles was pushing the two of you backward, and before you knew it, the cold water of the pool enveloped the two of you. The two of you broke away from each other and quickly swam to the surface of the pool. Once you wiped the water from your eyes, you looked at Stiles with wide eyes before you started to chuckle. Then your chuckle turned into a full-blown laughing fit. Then you heard Stiles begin to join you in your hysterical laughter.

Once you calmed down, you swam a short distance towards Stiles and wrapped your arms around his shoulders once again. He grabbed your waist before his hands slid down to your thighs and maneuvered you to wrap your legs around his waist.

Both of you were still smiling widely at each other. You leaned down slightly to place your lips on Stiles's again. The change in scenery didn't stop you at all from kissing Stiles. You knew once you had kissed Stiles, it would be impossible to stop. You guys traded kisses ranging from passionate to slow ones as Stiles waded in the water. You guys lost yourselves in each other, time ceasing to exist as you ran your hands through Stiles's wet hair and Stiles's hands gripping your thighs firmly.

Eventually, when you broke away for air, a slight breeze blew through the air, and a shiver racked your body.

Stiles frowned. "We should probably get out before someone catches us making out in Lydia's pool." He joked slightly as he started to move you guys to the shallow end.

"Too late!" You heard Lydia's voice echo throughout the backyard.

The two of you both jumped, and your heads snapped to see Lydia standing a little ways away from the pool with her arms crossed and a smug smile on her face. You quickly escaped from Stiles's grip as the two of you got out of the pool. You both looked at her sheepishly.

Lydia tossed you two spare towels that were on the lounge chair nearby. "Glad you two finally figured it out. But if you're staying over Stiles, keep the noise to a minimum please." She said before heading back inside.

You saw out of the corner of your eye that Stiles rolled his eyes at Lydia but began drying off. You couldn't help but let out a little chuckle, making his head jerk towards you.

"Something funny?" Stiles asked as he dried his hair with the towel.

"Nope." You said as you toweled off as best as you could.

Stiles wrapped his towel around his neck and took a step towards you. At this point, you weren't dripping wet, but your clothes still clung to you. His eyes roamed up and down your body, as he used his index finger to make you look at him. You could see the lust fill his eyes, and you placed a hand on his chest before he could take another step.

"Down, boy." You said jokingly. "We'll have time for that later, besides I don't want to have sex in Lydia's house of all places."

Stiles started to sputter. "Wh-what! What makes you think I wanted to have sex with you? No! I meant I do, but like-"

You quickly silenced his ramblings with a quick kiss before pulling back. "I got it Stiles. Again, we'll have time for that later." You said before sending him a reassuring smile.

Stiles nodded sharply. "Right, right. It'll happen. Wait. Does that mean that we're together now?"

An amused chuckle left your lips. "Yeah, I hope so."

"Then we are." Stiles said with a goofy smile on his face, clearly elated at the notion of the two of you being together.

"Okay then boyfriend, let's get inside because I'm in desperate need of changing out of these wet clothes."

"Okay, let's go girlfriend."

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mypearlsareclutched · 1 month

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If This Is All That's Real

High By The Beach | Chapter Seven

Modern!Aegon II x Original Female Character, Modern!Aemond x Original Female Character

Life is now getting better, slowly but surely, for both Mila Stark and Aegon Targaryen. Perhaps there is hope for the future, if they can continue to keep things uncomplicated. But how long can things be uncomplicated when you're fucking your ex-boyfriends older brother in their family beach house?

This feels the tiniest little bit fillery, but it's got some very steamy smut, romance and some good angsty feels. Next chapter is written and will be posted later today so you guys don't have to suffer for long <3 Enjoy!!! x

Song inspiration | High By The Beach, Lana Del Rey

CW//TW: Sexual Content (MDNI, 18+), PIV sex, catching feelings, mentions of toxic families, romantic smut, love confessions during the deed, ye olde climax, discussions of the future, Aegon is so OOC because he's just a lil sweetie pie in this, not lore accurate.

Word count | 3.5k

previous chapter // next chapter

And so they began their... relationship? Friends with benefits situationship, that sounds better.

Over the next week, life became simple. For the first time since her parents died, Mila Stark knew what it was like to feel normal. Like her life wasn't some social experiment created by the gods to see how much one girl can take.

And it seemed like Aegon felt the same.

They slept early and woke up late, wrapped up in soft sheets that cover their bare bodies. They cooked together, and ate breakfast on the beach. They spent their days occupying their time with . Aegon would draw, Mila would read, sat together on the dusty living room sofa with her legs over his. As the sun set, they wrapped themselves up in each other, basking in mind-numbing, no strings attached sex.

They were best friends who fucked like lovers. There's nothing wrong with that, right?

But when he held her gently in the mornings, pressing her back to his chest as he snored gently, his hands wrapped around her protectively, Mila wondered if there was more to their relationship.

Aemond never cuddled. The most Mila could get was an arm wrapped around her after they made love. Sometimes he would wake up holding her, but she could never bask in that. When he woke, he would rush off immediately. Like holding her would ruin the peace that they had.

'Afraid to get too close,' is what Halaena had said to her once. Aemond had her, yet he kept her at arm's length. It seemed like Aegon had the opposite problem. He knew she wasn't his, so he cherished the moments he had her in his space. Arms wrapped around her like she was his.

And as she watched his peaceful, sleeping face in the mornings, Mila truly wished she was.

Mila stands at the window, looking out at the ocean beyond. She held the pay-as-you-go phone in her hand, flipping it around as she watched the waves crash against the rocks.

She needed to talk to her brother. After Aegon's insistence the morning after their first night together, Mila sent Cregan a text message. Aegon had rolled his eyes, stating she needed to grow a pair and talk to him face to face. Cregan had yet to respond, so Mila knew she needed to actually call him.

Sighing, she switched on the phone, listening to the twinkling beeping sound as she nervously bit her thumb nail. Once the phone was on, she put in the sim card. Typing in Cregan's number, she held it to her ear listening to it ring.

"Please don't pick up, please don't pick up, please don't pick up."

"Hey, you've reached Cregan Stark. Sorry I missed your call, leave a message at the beep."

The phone beeps, and Mila takes a sharp breath, "Hey, Creg. It's, uh, it's Mila. I'm okay, I'm safe. I left Weirwood with Aegon... you know, Aemond's brother? I was having a tough time. I needed to get away. But I'm somewhere safe, please don't worry about me. I'll see you soon. I love you."

Ending the call, she takes another deep breath, exhaling sharply she presses the screen of the phone to her forehead, swallowing her nerves and guilt like a bitter pill.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Aegon's soft voice asks.

Mila turns around and sees him standing in the doorway, leaning against it casually.

"My thoughts cost more than a penny." She jokes, putting the phone down on the chest of drawers.

"I'll take out a loan." He states as he walks further into the room.

"Or you could use your dad's totally not stolen credit card." Mila chuckles, meeting him halfway.

"You called your brother?" Asks Aegon as he takes Mila's hand in his own, smoothing his thumb over her knuckles.

"I tried. Went to voicemail."

"He's a busy guy. You know, being a famous footballer and all. He's probably got a big game, or something. You know, with like... kicking and... goals? Never really liked sports, me." Aegon laughs as he pulls Mila over to the bed, sitting down as she stands in between his legs. He runs his hands over her arms, waiting for her to speak.

"Yeah..." Mila sighs, "He's probably really busy. Wish we had access to the internet in this literal abyss."

"Gwayne was a dude of the eighties he never cared for Wi-Fi. I think that's why Daeron decided to return to the modern age the second he was old enough to go to uni."

"I feel very amish."

"Hey, look on the brightside." Aegon states as he takes her hands in his, "We're completely disconnected from the modern world. No crazy articles about our every move. We're not seeing anything about..." He stops himself, his voice fading as he inadvertently reminds Mila about the reason why she's here.

Aemond was never too far from her thoughts, always lingering in the back of her mind like some kind of phantom. She can see her eyes when she wakes from a nightmare, feel his fingers on her when the autumn breeze sends a chill through her. Her love, which once felt sweet like , had now turned bitter and cold.

Mila shakes her head, as if she could rid herself of her memories and lingering feelings if she tossed her head around a little bit harder. Like bashing the bottom of a jar to loosen a stuck coin or something. Yet, Aemond remains inside her thoughts.

"It's okay, Aeg." Mila sighs, shrugging, "You're right. It's good to not hear anything about him."

Aegon stares at her, big blue eyes sad as he watches her face. His fingers play with hers, a nervous tick of his she had gotten used to. More than gotten used to, she found herself adoring it. She looks down at their hands, smiling softly to herself.

Loosening their hands, Aegon leans back on the bed. Mila furrows her eyebrows, concern evident on her features. But a cheeky grin appears on the Targaryen's full lips, as spreads his legs slightly.

"Come here and let me fuck the sad out of you." Aegon murmurs, beckoning her closer. She chuckles despite herself, following him over.

"I think you overestimate your abilities, Aegon Targaryen." Mila chuckles as she climbs on top of him, straddling his waist.

"Oh, it's gonna be like that is it?" He laughs, burying his face into her neck. Mila presses her lips to his temple, running her hands over his messy hair.

Their clothes are discarded quickly, leaving Aegon bare beneath Mila as she straddles him. As her lips descend upon his shoulders, she doesn't notice the soft, conflicted look in the Targaryen's eyes.

"Hey! Gettup, now, I found something!"

Mila groans as she is pulled out of her sleep, unceremoniously. Blinking, she sees the sun has barely risen, golden rays poking through the thin curtains. Loud footsteps surround her, a sigh coming from someone across the room.. A pillow hits her face, and she squeals, tossing the pillow away as she runs a hand over her face.

"What, Aegon? You fucking child..." She groans.

"I said, I found something!" He laughs as he rushes back out the room.

"What, a body?" Mila groans as she stands up, grabbing her discarded shirt and throwing it on. Her bare feet pad across the bedroom, heading out to the open plan of the rest of the house.

Aegon sits cross legged in the living room, searching through a water stained cardboard box.

"Whatcha got there?" Mila asks, raising her eyebrow. Aegon smiles as he looks up at her, grabbing a mug from the coffee table to offer it to her.

"Sorry I woke you up so aggressively, I got excited. Peace offering?"

"You made me coffee?" Mila took the mug, looking down at the caramel coloured liquid. A few days ago, Mila convinced him to get a coffee machine from the holy land (big Tesco). She then had the joyous experience of watching him try and fail to figure the machine out.

"I finally read the manual." Aegon says proudly, "You do take it with milk, and two and a half sugars, right? I'm gonna be so pissed at myself if I got that wrong."

"That's right." Mila chuckles, eyebrows raised, "How did you know that?"

"You told me."

"You listened?"

"You seem shocked." Aegon chuckled, shaking his head as he refocused on rifling through the box. Mila tries to bite back the wide smile at the sweet gesture, choosing to instead take a seat next to Aegon.

"What is this?" She asks as she peers into the large, withered box. It's full of old books, covered in a layer of dust. From her position, she can read a few of the titles, 'Pride and Prejudice', 'Alice in Wonderland', 'Twelfth Night', 'The Secret Garden'...

"They belonged to my grandmother." Aegon explains, "Gwayne kept them when she passed. She loved old books."

"They're lovely." Mila says wistfully as Aegon hands her an ancient copy of Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein'. Her fingers glide across the leather cover, the bumps of the words catching against her callouses. She cradles it in her hands, smiling giddily.

"Gwayne gave them to Daeron when he came to live with him, but like the sixteen year old boy he was, he preferred comics and playboy mags."

"Classy." She chuckles, accepting more books he handed to her.

"I thought you could have them."

Mila looks at him, mouth agape, "What?"

"You can have them." Aegon smiles, piling more of the classic books into piles, "You know, because of the book shop you want to own? I know there aren't tons, but you've got to start somewhere, right?"

She stares at him, taken back. It's an unbelievably sweet gesture, and one she never expected. Her dream of a book shop seemed too distant, too unreachable in her chaotic life in the spotlight. But it was like Aegon was handing her not a bunch of old books, but hope. Hope for her dream of a simple, happy life.

As Aegon sits beside her, rambling and piling books into her arms, Mila watches his profile, feeling herself blush.

The afternoon sun beats down on the two of them as they sit on the beach, side by side like they come as a pair.

Aegon lies spread out like a starfish, alien sunglasses on. His button up floral shirt is open, revealing his pale, freckled skin to the afternoon sun. Mila sits next to him, her dark curls whipping in her face as she

A whirring, distant noise catches Mila's attention. It sounds like a bee, and she flicks her hair around trying to find the bug in question. But as she looks around, she sees the source of the disturbance is not an insect.

A speedboat floats distantly, so far that the Stark has to squint to really see it. It was not unusal for other people to walk the hidden cove beyond the Hightower summer home, but boats were a rare occurance. People usually kept to the vibrant beaches near the city, the smaller beach they were on was too far from the rest of civilisation for folks to make the

Mila watches the speedboat, a prickling sense of dread creeping up her spine when it drifts closer. It carries a singular man, tall and lithe, bald and wearing a pair of thin sunglasses. His appearence does not irk her.

It's the fact he's staring right at her and Aegon.

Said Targaryen twitches next to her, before letting out a yelp and jumpinh up. Mila's attention is diverted to him, eyebrows furrowed as he shakes his head like a dog, whipping his sunglasses off.

"What?" Mila asks, concerned.

"Crab." He shudders, pointing at the offending, orange creature who clicks its pincers and trudges along the sand.

"Jeez, Aeg, it's teeny. It's more afraid of you than you are of it."

"I guarantee you it is not."

Mila rolls her eyes, watching the crab scuttle away back to the shores. Her eyes look back at the rest of the sea.

The speedboat is gone.

As night settles over Old Town, Mila giggles as she finishes washing the dishes. Aegon presses incessant kisses to her neck from behind.

"Jeez, Aegon, give me a second." She laughs, feeling his hands wander over her hips and waist.

"Mm, no, horny." Aegon groans against her neck, biting the nape as she squirms and elbows him.

"You're insatiable." Mila rolls her eyes playfully, grabbing a rag and drying her hands as Aegon returns to running his hands over her hips. She smiles as she kisses him, melting against Aegon as he kisses her just how she likes.

Just like that, they find themselves entwined on the bed. Naked, flushed bodies moving together rhythmically. Mila moans beneath Aegon, wrapping her legs further around his torso as she takes him deeper and deeper, feeling the tip of him kissing her sweet spot.

"Right there, right there." She pleads, throwing her head back. Aegon whines, pounding into her harder just how she likes. His head hangs down, eyebrows furrowed with the effort.

Her hands grasp onto his waist, aiding his movements, her fingernails digging into his plush skin. It spurs him on, making his noises louder and breathier as they both get closer to their climaxs.

A well angled thrust makes Mila keen and gasp out Aegon's name like a prayer, sending the blonde man reeling as he presses his face into her neck.

"Fuck, I love you, I love you." Aegon murmurs breathily.

Mila's gasp gets stuck in her throat, her eyes opening as she looks up at the dark ceiling. His words shock her, startling her to her core. His face remains in her neck, his hot breath against her skin. He kisses along the place that connects her neck and her shoulder, whispering words of praise and love against her, lost in his own world.

Pleasure courses through her veins, overtaking her shock at his sudden admission. She moans low in her throat, clenching her eyes closed as she tries to push back rational thought.

He ravages her body, bringing her to the precipice of euphoria, begging her to give it to him. As she finishes, he praises her, lips ghosting the shell of her ear as her body shudders, sending him to his own end.

"I love you..." Aegon groans out as he finishes, snapping his hips repeatedly as he fucks his spend inside of her.

Mila focuses on recatching her breath, eyes fluttered closed. She can feel Aegon collapse beside her, his arms wrapping around her and his sweaty forehead pressing against her shoulder.

She runs her hands over his arms, letting sleep take her over and wash away her sudden whirlwind of emotions...

...But those emotions were waiting for her when she awoke.

Mila sits on a loveseat outside the house, biting her lip nervously as she stares out at the gentle ebbing and flowing of the ocean waves.

"Fuck, I love you, I love you..."

His words echo around her head. The feeling of his hands on her, his lips pressing to her skin, his hips pounding against hers as he fucks her relentlessly, it is all fresh on her mind. It sends shivers through her, pleasent feelings of euporia like her body had ingrained Aegon's fucking into her mind so well it could repeat it when he wasn't around.

But his admission frightened her.

Why? Because it made everything complicated.

When they met at Weirwood, she managed to seperate him from her life outside of the clinic. Aegon was just another recovering addict who helped her through her detox, sitting by her bedside and holding her hair back when she threw up into her bin.

But her trecherous body found itself drawn to him, and feelinsg she was all too familiar with appeared out of the blue. And all of sudden he was no longer just another recovering addict, but her ex-boyfriends recovering addict brother who she was attracted to.

Mila tried to run from it, tried to go back to her old life and let her harmful coping mechanisms destroy the seed of affection growing inside of her. But Aegon found her. He saved her, he helped her. She was drowning and he was offering a hand back to the surface.

When he devoured her on the beach, she let the drugs push away any lingering affections. And when she couldn't push them away any longer, she convinced herself he was only her friend. When he was deep inside her, not only her body but her soul, she told herself he was only her friend. He only saw her as a friend. All of this means nothing...

But it means something. It always did. From the very beginning, it meant something.

The way he made her head spin and her heart ache and her body blush and her smile reappaer from nowhere... that meant something. It meant everything.

But he was her ex's brother. Aemond Targaryen's brother. How could she let the

Why is everything so fucking complicated.

Footsteps interrupt her internal ramble, her head snapping to the side to see Aegon walking towards her. He's shirtless, grey joggers hanging low on his hips. She can see marks left from her fingernails left on his waist, and she looks away with a sharp intake of breath.

Aegon says nothing as he takes a seat next to her on the love seat. He runs a hand through his hair, sleepily looking out at the beach. The silence is not awkward, but it is tense as both of them are left unsure of what to say.

With a sigh, Mila decides to start.

“Did you mean it?” She asks, not turning her head to look at him.

“Yes.” Aegon says without hesitation. Mila closes her eyes, taking a deep breath as she lets his words sink in again, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" She asks him, giving him an incredulous look.

"Because this was supposed to be simple." Aegon sighs, running his hands over his face, "You left Weirwood to escape how complicated things became. I brought you here so you could heal, but instead we shagged and I fell in love with you."

"That's not your fault."

"Maybe it is..." Aegon turns to her and reaches over to take her hand in his, "I should have been more careful. I knew... I knew from the beginning that you were special. Different, good. Better than I deserve. Every moment I spent at your side, I found myself needing to be near you. You make me feel alive, you make me feel normal. I should have been more careful when I let myself touch you on the beach, because I knew that it be so easy to fall for you."

"Aegon, stop..." Mila stands, taking a few steps away, holding her hand to her mouth.

"Em." He says softly, and she turns to him. Aegon gives her a sad smile, choosing his words carefully.

"I said it before and I'll say it again; You're the best thing that's happened to me in a while, maybe even ever." Aegon takes her hand in his own, pressing it to his chest, “I love you.”

Mila takes a shuddering breath, covering his hand with her own. He presses his forehead to hers, closing his eyes as he basks in her closeness.

They sit on the loveseat, Aegon's head resting on Mila's chest. Their fingers are intertwined, and Mila watches them with half closed eyes.

Aegon has a small tattoo on the back of his hand, of a tiny green bird in a little golden cage. Mila smoothes her thumb over it, tracing the jagged lines with a featherlight touch.

A distant noise startles her out of her daze, and she looks around for the source. Aegon lifts his head, eyebrows furrowed as he looks towards the front door.

The sound of a car can be heard driving closer, and the two share a confused look as they go back inside the house. Aegon leaves first, and Mila follows him to stand in the doorway.

A black SUV parks next to Aegon's battered ford fiesta, and Aegon freezes on the porch, his hands clenching into fists beside him.

Mila's bros furrow, wondering who on earth could be here. As the person steps out of the car, she gasps, taking a step back from the door. His pale, lone eye moves from Aegon to Mila, his blonde hair swaying in the beach breeze. No fucking way...

Aemond fucking Targaryen.

AN// Yuh! He's back! Aemond 'surprise bitch I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me' Targaryen. This is definitely only going to bring good things for Mila and Aegon, Emiliaegon if you will (please don't, that's actually awful). See y'all soon, sending love <3

Lula x

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ferie-anon · 2 years

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🧩Astro • Observations🧩

🎧 People with uranus in 6th may have unexpected health problems relating to their stomach. Since 6th house is the house ruled by virgo which virgo rules digestive system, uranus can cause unexpected health problems related to ur stomach 🫠 eg. I have a sensitive stomach due to the prominence of my virgo placements (having virgo moon, rising, and venus) and having uranus in 6th also, I sometimes get stomachaches or stomach cramps unexpectedly.

🎧 If you have a planet conjunct to your ascendant, people may mistaken or guess your sun sign as the sign of that planet conjunct to your ascendant. For ex: I have moon conjunct ascendant and sometimes people guess I’m a cancer sun which is the sign that is ruled by the moon.

🎧 Water rising signs often attracts attention for their style or are seen as magnetic to others. Scorpio risings often have an edgy, sad girl/sad boy aesthetic, grunge, or skater look, they may have a charismatic or fierce look to their eyes (almond shaped). Eg. Lana del rey and Sydney Sweeney has scorpio rising. Pisces risings have a sleepy ethereal look with round soft eyes, interchangeable unique style while maintaining a dreamy vibe. Cancer risings styles fall with the sweetheart, gentleman, and elegant look. They may look younger than they are physically.

🎧 Sag mars may have an athletic figure or fit figure, these people tend to take hobbies and interests that are related to movement, whether its playing sports or dancing etc.

Additionally I notice sag mars and pisces mars make for very groovy and good dancers, they’re able to catch the flow and movement - Eg. Winwin from Nct has sag mars and Ten has pisces mars, Chaeryeong from Itzy has sag mars and Yuna from the same group has pisces mars (these idols are known for their dancing skills)

🎧 The stereotypes regarding Tauruses liking food isn’t true all the time but it is notable that taurus placements have a certain relationship with food, whether they diet or use food as comfort. Audrey Hepburn was a taurus sun but she always maintained a slim figure thru strict diet for her roles and career, but also ate healthily when she allowed herself to.

🎧 Virgo suns with cancer placements in the kpop industry are admired for their visuals, they can be chic, elegant, cute, cool etc. They may be good at modeling as well, knowing how to pose and express their different looks and vibes thru their eyes and etc. Eg. Joy from Red velvet and Wonyoung from Ive. Additionally, if they have cancer venus with Virgo sun, it may tie to how others are attracted and appealed to their energy, virgo + cancer = put together, elegant, magnetic, always looking stylish in a sense.

🎧 Mutable sign energy(sag, virgo, gemini) + mercury energy (gemini, 3rd house, virgo, 6th house) = rambling on and on about a topic or their thoughts. I have a friend who is a gemini sun and virgo moon, he rambles on to try to get the words/phrase right or his thoughts out, and he just keeps chatting on while you're clearly concerned if he should take a breath and pause. I have another friend who is a sag moon with mercury in 3rd house and she rambles on but instead messes up the words a lot and when she's texting she has so many typos lol.

Sag + gemini energy in the chart makes them chaotically energetic when they're passionate about a topic when with friends. Gemini + virgo energy makes for an interesting conversation that touches on different topics in one sitting and it's neverending. And my virgo moon and 1st house stellium is here for it.

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dellalyra · 1 year

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Family Formation Part Four

Summary: A special moment follows you and Satoru going full protective parents on the kids Principal.

CW: mentions of fighting, misogyny (not from anyone we like lol) swearing

A/N: ngl actually proud of this one. i really wanna make the reader like endlessly warm and loving, but also badass and powerful because women are amazing - and show how much the reader and gojo love each other after all they're only early twenties and still completely lovesick

Recommended listening:

Vigilante Shit - Taylor Swift

Paris, Texas - Lana Del Rey ft. SYML (for the ending)

Requests open <; 3

Series Masterlist

"Good afternoon, am I speaking to Ms. Y/L?" Echoes through your phone as you step out of the meeting Satoru and you were having with the higher-ups, who were busy telling you how to teach and do your jobs.

"Hi, yeah, that's me. How can I help?" You reply.

"This is Principal Ito, I'm afraid there's been some... trouble with Megumi at school today. Would you be able to come to the school to collect him and have a discussion?"

"Is he alright? What happened?" Panic rose in your chest. Was he sick? He was fine this morning, ate his porridge and drank his juice and flipped Satoru off when he tried to kiss his chubby cheeks and squish his face - so absolutely average Megumi behaviour.

"He is perfectly fine, we'll discuss more in detail when you arrive."

"Okay, his dad and I will be there in 15 minutes." You had recently taken to just saying you were his parents because explained that you had taken in the children and were hoping to formally adopt the children of the man who killed your boyfriend and your boyfriend then actually killed came back to life, after the father and sold his son to the family he excommunicated himself from.

You stroll back into the meeting, bending to tell Satoru the situation who immediately stood up.

"We're leaving - parenting shit to do, bye-bye wrinklies." He said, taking your hand and waving to the higher-ups as he lead you outside. Teleporting you both to the school gates so you didn't just appear out of thin air in a middle school.

Greeting the school secretary, she leads you to the principal's office - where you find a sullen, scowling Megumi looking defiant with his 9-year-old legs swinging from the middle of the three chairs facing the desk. He doesn't even look up when you and Satoru walk-in, staring straight at the principal.

Principal Ito, a greying, pot-bellied man sits behind his desk.

"Ah, Megumi's guardians, yes?" He asks shaking Satoru's hand first, then yours.

"In the process of legal adoption, but yes we're his guardians. What's going on? You okay, 'Gumi?" You sit beside the boy on one side as Satoru sits on the other side, taking a lollipop from his pocket and popping it into his mouth, and handing one to you and the kid between you.

Megumi shrugs in response to your question.

"Mr. Gojo, Ms. L/N, I'm afraid Megumi here is in some serious trouble. At lunch break today, he started a fight and participated which resulted in 4 other boys being brought to the nurse for injuries, extensive injuries." Your jaw dropped, your Megumi? Sure, he had attitude, and was Toji's son being raised by Satoru Gojo (you'll ignore any part regarding your temper's influence), but he was a quiet, introverted boy, taking comfort in books and animals, traits he was learning and inheriting from seeing you seek comfort in the same things.

"Is this true, Megumi?" and "Wait, you beat up for other kids and haven't a scratch. Well done kid! Proud of you lil' man, fist bump!" Coming from you and Satoru, respectively. The principal looks completely shocked, but for once, Megumi actually does a fist bump Satoru, showing no remorse for his actions. You rolled your eyes at the two boys fist-bumping, both with their candy hanging from their mouths, your fiancé was mentally 9. Unwrapping your own lollipop, you turned back to Ito.

"Megumi will be suspended for two we-" The principal began but you stopped him.

"Excuse me, shouldn't we hear Megumi's side of the story before any choices are made without us here?" You interject, as the principal waves his hand toward Megumi, signalling him to speak.

"I'm not gonna say sorry. They were pulling on a girl's hair and calling her names and saying mean stuff about her so I stopped them, but then they started doing the same to me so I hit them." The boy shrugs the words out, quiet yet wholly confident in his actions.

"Ah! See, completely valid - good job bud, let's get your sister and head for lunch together. C'mon babygirl, let's have a fun family afternoon with the kids!" Satoru says as he ruffles the child's hair and moves to stand.

"Mr. Gojo, this behavior is totally unacceptable, and your lack of condemning it and disciple is wholly reprehensible. Megumi will be suspended for two weeks while the board makes the decision whether or not expulsion will be the route we proceed with." Ito declares .

Now, after hearing, and trusting the word of your child - you turn to the principal.

"I'm sorry, am I misunderstanding the situation? A child was being bullied, physically and emotionally in the schoolyard - with no teacher intervening with a total obvious lack of monitoring, so my son stood up to the bullies, who then turned on him and began to physically assault him and he defended himself - yet he is being punished? What of the other boys? I assume immediate expulsion - no deliberation needed?" You lean forward toward the desk, passing your lollipop to a smirking Satoru, who knew that edge in your voice never ended well for the recipient. After all, he'd heard the same measured, cold, clipped, and endlessly terrifying tone when the higher-ups had told you to revise your curriculum on differentiating curses this morning (if he remembered, the exact words were: "I appreciate that you have a clearcut, if antiquated, unrealistic and frankly idiotic vision for how you expect these topics to be taught, however, as a special grade sorcerer I feel I am wholly equipped and far more prepared to decide how I teach my students that the majority of this board who have been solely directing from this room for the entire duration of their exceptionally long tenure." God you were especially sexy when you diss the higher-ups).

"The boys are quite seriously injured Ms. L/N, which we feel is punishment enough - and it is Megumi's word against the four other boys and I'm afraid we must listen to the majority." The principal eyed your flaring nostrils and smirking fiance.

"You've gotta be kidding me! The kid did the right thing, if anything give him an award, school hero!" Satoru interjected.

"I am absolutely floored by the words I'm hearing, Principal Ito, I'm afraid it's all difficult to swallow." You respond.

"I'm sure it is, but perhaps this will teach Megumi a lesson in behaviour and I suggest stronger discipline at home - I know you are not his parents and it must be challenging figuring out what to do."

"First of all, what I'm shocked by Principal, isn't Megumi's behavior - but your sheer ignorance and lack of accountability for the obvious failings of your faculty. I cannot believe a school would allow such behavior to continue, especially since both Megumi and his sister have mentioned four boys who are notorious bullies on previous occasions so rather than dealing with the root problem, you choose a scapegoat to shoulder the blame. Second, how dare you insinuate we are not fit to raise a child, we may be young, hell were 22, but these two children are our son and daughter, we are their parents. We raise these children to be brave, stand up for others and know right from wrong and protect those who cannot protect themselves." You take a breather, and the principal turns to Satoru.

"Mr. Gojo, perhaps you would care to calm your partner down, before things escalate." Ito directs at Satoru, who only smirks and says to Megumi "He's done it now. Watch this."

"How DARE you tell him to calm me down! Why don't you just say 'get your woman under control' and be done with it? Christ, I thought the board of the school we teach was misogynist, avoidant, antiquarian, hostile, and cowardly but you, sir, 'toru baby cover Megumi's ears, take the fucking cake. I'll save you the paperwork, I'm withdrawing my kids from this damn school, no kids of mine will go to a school led by a like you an absolute prick like you. Boys, we're leaving, and we'll be taking Tsumiki." You stand, pushing the chair back as Satoru cackles laughing at the indignation on the man's face. Megumi grabs his backpack and your hand, and you both walk out of the room.

Before he leaves, Satoru turns to the man, "Isn't my girl awesome? She's the best mom! No wonder I wanna marry her!" He throws a lollipop on the desk, and saunters out winking at the stuttering man.

The three of you grab Tsumiki from her class and walk toward the exit when she turns and asks what's going on.

"Why are we leaving, it's only 1pm? Did something happen, Satoru why are you smiling that that? Wait, Megumi, why are you smiling?" She spews looking between you all.

"I got into a fight and they tried to blame it and Ito told Dad to calm mama down on me so mama got mad at Ito and called him a prick." Megumi said to his sister as you and Satoru froze.

He called you mom, he called him dad.

Satoru and you just stared at each other, your eyes welling up with tears and pride. You guys had spoken about if the moment happened. Tsumiki had asked one night when Megumi was sleeping if she could call you guys mom and dad, you both said of course, you'd be privileged (Satoru cried, a lot), she then said she would wait for Megumi so as not to make him feel out of place or uncomfortable, ever the sweet, kind girl. You warned Satoru sternly to not make a big deal of it when he did, as you'd never spoken to the little boy about it, not wanting to push him and telling Satoru to not follow through by planning a 'mom and dad' party, knowing it would only mortify Megumi and make him uncomfortable, he had reluctantly agreed with you.

Knowing this came from you both standing up for him and speaking up for him, you mouthed 'I love you' to him and he responded 'I love you too' over the heads of the chattering kids.

"What? Are you hurt? Dad what did you say? Mom did you really call him a prick?" Tsumiki added.

"Your mama's a badass, kids!" Gojo added.

"We take no shit from men, Tsumiki, remember. Plus, he was being an ass to your brother so it was me doing that or your dad hollow purpled him for disrespecting me and you two." You grab Megumi's hand, rubbing circles into it as he looks up at you.

As Gojo recounted the events to Tsumiki, Megumi turned his little head to you.

"Thank you, mama." He said quietly, shy as ever, into your side.

Willing yourself not to cry, you kiss his forehead.

"Always, darling boy."

Taglist: @madam-ri @vesta-ro

@lilithlunas @sassy-cat-in-town

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #geto suguru #gojo fluff #anime #dad!gojo #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro tsumiki

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joelsmochi · 9 months

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closer

rating: E 18+ pairing: tortured artist!Joel x black!girly!f!reader summary: Joel hits a creative block with a mural, leading him down a road of discovery and intimacy in ways he's never felt before. warnings: au/no outbreak, unspecified drug use + marijuana use, unprotected piv, sex while under the influence, consenting adults!!! age is not specified but we can assume joel is mid 40s, brief mentions of death + abusive relationships, ooc!Joel (he is not the same person he was 1/2 pill ago…), third person pov but most of it is from joel’s perspective, very fluffy sex they may have said i love you wc: 5.3k a/n: Happy New Year everybody! This was inspired by Closer by Goapele and Prisoner by The Weeknd & Lana Del Rey plus I was thinking too hard about the time I ate an edible that had too much THC for me to handle and I produced whatever this is. Hopefully tortured artist!Joel hasn’t happened yet because I felt creative with this one…

masterlist

ᝰ

The frayed paintbrush relentlessly slapped against the concrete wall, coating the discolored brick in thick layers of different browns, reds, and whites. Opaque smoke blurred his vision, yet he only let it inspire the strokes of his hand, creating a beautiful image that wasn’t clear to him yet.

Before he knew it, the sun had set; he sat on his hard leather sofa, massaging the twinge that had settled into his wrist while his face wore a disappointed scowl. He was displeased with his progress, the blob that was already half dry on the wall of his loft.

A rumble snuck into his stomach, forcing him to stand up and absentmindedly walk into the kitchen area. However, his disappointment grew when he opened the fridge to find nothing suitable for a proper meal. As he glared at the half-eaten yogurt and scarce 24-pack of beer, he decided to go and get Chinese food.

He lit up a cigarillo to accompany his walk around the block and across the street, tossing whatever was left into a sewer drain just in time for him to open the door to the restaurant.

“Miller,” a worker greeted with a smile, “your usual?”

Unknown to him, the smell of his cigar caught the attention of a waiting customer. She waited until he was done chatting with the employee to ask, “Cream?”

He did a double take, unsure if she was talking to him at first. She was tall, maybe five foot nine or five foot ten, with big hair and brown skin, and dressed in something far too lovely for her to be eating Chinese for dinner.

“I’m sorry?”

“You smell like cream-flavored cigars,” she said, sounding amused.

He felt unsure of how to respond, not wanting to seem rude, watching her diamond earrings gleam from the low yellow lighting. He paid for his food and answered. “Yeah, just had one.”

“Black and mild or swisher?”

“Blacks,” he answered, growing a little uneasy from the stranger questioning him despite the mundane topic.

“My favorite,” she boasted, earning another look from him after he put his change in the tip jar. “They’re much smoother.”

The man didn’t respond, only offering a tight smile in return. The pair stood a few feet apart silently, listening to people chattering and utensils clanking behind the counter as they waited.

She smelled like expensive brown sugar perfume and cocoa butter, a sickly sweet combination that tickled his sense of smell. Her scent was reminiscent of a freshly baked cookie a kid couldn’t wait to dive into. She was dressed in a lovely skirt and a prissy top paired with a mix of gold and silver rings and necklaces and bracelets — two colors he usually hated paired together, but somehow, she made it blend beautifully.

Her makeup was soft, or so it seemed. It wasn’t too heavy, but her eyebrows were bold, as was the line drawn around her vermilion border. He noticed she blinked slowly but held her eyes wide as if she anticipated something to happen.

The employee’s voice brought the two adults out of their daydreams.

“Beef and broccoli and chow mein?” They asked.

The artist waited kindly for the woman to grab her bagged styrofoam container before reaching for his own; he walked a few feet behind her, suddenly feeling bad for his cold demeanor earlier once they were outside.

“You want one?” He called after her before she got too far away; she turned around with a frown, confused at his offering.

He reached into his pocket and held up a couple of fresh cigars. She grinned, secretly desperate for a smoke. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she strutted back towards him. She strutted like a cat, one leg crossing the other.

She allowed the man with the messy hair the privilege of placing the stick between her plump lips, keeping her eyes on his as he watched where he was lighting.

She took a long drag, waiting for him to get his cigarette lit before asking, “What’s your name?”

His eyebrow cocked up, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was amused. But he answered anyway.

“Joel.” He sharply inhaled; she responded with her name and a smile, thick smoke spilling out from the spaces between her teeth as she gently exhaled. “You from around here?”

“No,” she said, “I like to travel. See new places. Find new things… Right now, I’m fixated on museums—art museums precisely.”

That piqued his interest. “Art? What kind of art d'you like?”

“Any art that speaks to me.”

Joel smirked at her answer as if it were funny. “Oh yeah? What speaks to you?”

Instead of her usual quick response, she pondered momentarily, trying to locate proper words to avoid rambling. “Suffering or excitement.”

He could only narrow his eyes at the vague response, but she spoke again before he could ask for an elaboration.

“You must like art,” she guessed correctly.

“I’m uh…” And there’s a long pause; the rhetorical shame of confessing what his job was had risen, but for what purpose? After a short internal debate, he finally admitted, “I’m an artist myself.”

Her eyes widened with excitement, which Joel found adorable. She asked him various questions: what kind of art he created, how long he’d been painting, his favorite creations…

He admired her interest in the subject and how she listened carefully and intently, clearly trying to understand as much as possible about him.

“How do you stay inspired all the time?”

Shit.

Joel’s mind ran blank for a few seconds, and he watched the woman’s face contort into confusion. She worried she’d brought up an unhealed wound and persisted that he didn’t need to answer.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Joel assured, “I’ve honestly been at a block lately…”

“Oh.” She sounded relieved. “Do you do anything to help get over that?”

He sucked on his teeth as he thought of an appropriate answer, yet nothing came to mind. He couldn’t lie even if he wanted to. “Just wait for it to pass.”

“…Could... Could I see your art?”

For the first time, she seemed to be shy. Her teeth grimaced, and eyebrows crooked out of fear of rejection, but Joel was sure he was far more nervous than she was.

"Uh, sure..." He said hesitantly. "What I have at home is nothing special, but-"

"I'm sure it's beautiful," she interrupted. "I'm free right now if that works."

ᝰ

This was unlike him: inviting a girl he'd just met into his home. She had something that enamored him. What was it, he wondered with each passing minute, was it her beauty or curiosity? Was it the way she smiled or how sweet her voice sounded? He couldn't ponder for much longer as she had already begun complimenting his home.

"A loft," she said while taking in the brick walls of his home that were littered with several paintings that all seemed to be works in progress. "It's cozy." Joel watched as her painted nails gently trailed over the armrest of his stiff couch just before she reached up to feel a painting of what seemed to be a little girl.

His staring made the woman laugh, and while he could admit he was being a bit precarious, he just wanted to ensure she wouldn't mishandle that particular piece. She didn't. She just reached to stroke the texture meant to resemble the girl's curly hair; she touched it for only a moment before pulling away and turning around.

After realizing the painting was sacred to him, she asked, "Is that someone you know?"

His shoulders and chest rose as he sucked in a melancholic breath, and she couldn't ignore the sadness that swarmed his eyes.

The woman was satisfied with no answer and moved on quickly. "May I eat with you?"

Joel gave her a stiff nod, his thoughts still filled with the traumatic memories of the girl in the photo.

They sat quietly and slowly ate their food, the lack of heat from their containers making the meal invaluable. The silence comforted him as it felt much different than the cold silence he was used to. No. Her silence was warm and comforting... Like a mother caring for a sick or sad or sleeping child. She didn't offer any awkward glances or stiff smiles. She didn't hide her joy or her optimism despite his distant demeanor.

Her eyes weren't as big as they were just an hour ago. Perhaps the food made her sleepy, he thought.

"Where ya from?" He figured he should at least be a good host.

"Rockport. It's a small town in Massachusetts. You?"

"Born and raised here," he answered.

"Really?" She squinted at him while poking at broccoli with a fork. "Never wanted to leave?"

Shrugging, he said, "Thought about leaving, never needed to."

"Is that painting supposed to be the same girl?"

She pointed to the spontaneous mural partly done on the big red wall opposite to them. He looked at it, forming different opinions and thoughts on his work.

"No. Not entirely sure what that one is yet," he grunted. "Needed to paint something, but I can't quite figure it out yet."

"You should do a self-portrait," she suggested with a wide grin. "I'd love to see how you see yourself."

"Nah, if I did that, it'd just be a college-ruled notebook with a bunch'a scribbles in it."

She chuckled at his pessimism, gaining a confused look from him. "So? Maybe someone would see something between the scribbles."

"I don't like painting myself," he said firmly.

She couldn't care less about his seriousness; she saw his need for perfection and keeping busy with work. Seeing the distress on the average person's face wasn't unfamiliar to her; all she wanted to do was take it away.

"Your art is lovely, Joel," she spoke truthfully, "For what it's worth, I think you'd paint yourself beautifully."

He chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds, taking in her warm smile and gentle words.

"You're very kind," he admitted, "thank you."

The temptress walked and stood in front of the mural to admire the thick blobs of paint that were still tacky. She saw the vision but just as quickly saw the block.

"You seriously do nothing to help the creative blocks?"

With a slight frown, he shook his head to confirm. "Just try working on something else until I find my rhythm again."

"Why not? Why not music or movies or going outside for more than Chinese on a Thursday evening?"

Feeling a bit antagonized, Joel scowled at her. "I paint what's in my head, not around me."

"Maybe that's the problem." She sat close to him on the floor and nudged his shoulder with hers. "Maybe you've painted all you know, and you're stuck right now because there's nothing new inside that pretty little head a'yours."

"Flattery only gets you so far, sweetheart."

"It got me in your apartment, did it not?"

His scowl grew, and he felt no need to hide his annoyance from her.

"Just tryna help," she smirked.

"I don't need your help."

"Clearly not," she simpered; she pulled a bag of ground weed from her purse and held it up for him to see. "Maybe you need Mary's help."

"You're fucking joking."

"It helps me," she said softly. "When I don't smoke, I'm a very anxious and shy person."

Joel's eyes fell to her hands, which were beginning to work the weed into a paper very carefully, watching her roll it precisely. "Really?" He asked incredulously.

"Mock me all you want, Joel, but I must say that even a couple of hits can make you feel ten times better."

"Not interested," he quipped.

"Well... If weed isn't your speed, then maybe..." She licked the paper shut and placed it on the table, then reached in her purse again for a bag containing different colored pills. "...ecstasy would be more fitting."

"You expect me to take drugs from a stranger?" He asked.

She leaned her chin on his shoulder and whispered, "I'm no stranger, Joel. I'm your inspiration."

He found himself laughing at her choice of words, not paying her any mind as she climbed into his lap. She placed a pill between the rows of her teeth and bit down to break it in half, offering him whichever half was smaller.

"You don't have to if you really don't want to... But it will help."

Her voice was so enticing that Joel was sure he was already high from the affection she persisted in giving him.

"Help me paint?" He asked, still not entirely convinced.

"Help you create."

Joel thought about it: he had nothing left in his life to live for other than his talent for painting, and he even felt that it was being wasted on unproductive days and constant disappointments.

For months, all he wanted was to create one last masterpiece and to feel proud of it. If all it took was to give in to some strange form of peer pressure, then that's just what needed to be done.

Almost an hour later, however, his worries about art were set aside.

With his head lying in the pretty woman's lap, he tried remembering why he had been so angry before. He let her stroke the curly hairs on his head and trace his lips over and over again.

"You're doing good," she cooed gently.

"You're very, um," he swallowed between his heavy breaths, "nurturing."

He noticed the woman's eyebrow shift upwards, and an amused hum left her mouth. "Hm. No one's ever said that before."

"Really?" Joel began to realize how dry his throat became. "Well, it's a compliment."

"Thank you," she giggled. "Thirsty?"

"Mmhm," he moaned.

Reaching over to grab the water bottle on the floor, she took a long sip as she felt parched before holding his head up to help him drink some. He felt her sticky lip gloss around the rim and found himself latching even harder onto the plastic container.

She let him drink as much as he needed before closing the bottle and helping him stand up, urging him to paint something.

He felt a wave of heat envelope his body, the hairs along his arms and neck dancing along his skin. He wanted to laugh, but nothing was funny, so he tried to hold it in. He followed her around the room and watched the ends of her hair bend and curl around her arms. She opened a few paint bottles, squeezing some onto his stained palette and holding the brush out for him. She couldn't help but laugh at the elation in his wide eyes; he was definitely in a much better mood than before.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, not bothering with the meaningless utterance of words and just giving into his need to kiss her. She wasn't surprised by the gesture, inviting his tongue into her mouth for more. She tasted the cigar on his breath and lips, ignoring how bitter it seemed.

The paintbrush smeared itself against Joel's elbow, causing him to jolt back in shock, only to laugh when he realized the purple-coated paintbrush was bending on its own. He took it from her hand and approached the wall, immediately getting to work.

While he worked and ranted about how the piece was "basically painting itself," she undressed slowly while prancing around the room and humming to some tune that found its way into her head. Joel saw the colors blend and separate, waiting for the wall to respond with where his next brush stroke should be.

The woman found herself looking at that painting of the little girl again. She was unable to quiet her curiosity.

"Is she your daughter?"

Her voice broke the string tying him to his work, and he stumbled around a bit before turning around and facing her with an asking face. He let his tools go and followed the sound of the siren, looking deeply into her wide eyes.

"She was my daughter," he admitted freely, something he refused to do as often as possible.

"Where is she?"

He noted how concerned she seemed and took it as an invitation to confide in her.

“She uh… She died ‘bout ten years ago.”

Joel felt her fuzzy arms weave around him, encompassing him with a sense of comfort. It was the first time he could talk about the tragedy without bursting into tears. Her lips pressed warm kisses into his forehead and temples as she attempted to bathe him in consolation.

He removed his head from the crook of her neck to look at her face. Her eyes, although appearing a bit lopsided, were still wide and curious, like she was still waiting for something. He tried to focus on just her, but all he wanted was to paint wanted was to paint wanted was to paint wanted was to pai-

A shriek broke him out of his trance: the woman seemed surprised about the splatter of paint that got on her bare chest and arms. Joel blinked rapidly and tried to decipher what had happened between talking about his daughter and... Now.

Had time managed to escape him? Was he too out of it to realize that? And who put on the jazz music?

The brown liquid dripped down her body and hid her nipples; he found the motion fascinating. How happy she seemed to be coated in the cold dispense helped him feel more at ease and join in laughing with her. Her hair, frizzier than before, somehow gave the illusion that she was underwater. It just flowed so freely.

"You are a mermaid in the most beautiful depths of the sea," Joel shouted dramatically.

"Wh-what?" She giggled before smearing a finger-lengths of paint onto his forehead.

His hand absentmindedly poked the paintbrush into her collarbone, tickling her in the process. "You are free... And kind... Did you turn the music on?"

And she's giggling again. God, he couldn't get enough of that sound. She was a siren, manipulating him with her songs of joy and laughter.

"You told me to," she answered; only Joel took a few minutes to process it. She covered her hand in yellow paint, cradled his cheek, and let the print of her hand stick to his face as if she were marking her territory. "I'm glad I met you tonight, Joel," she said quietly.

Instinctively, he beckoned for her to close the space between them. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

Her arms snaked around his neck as she looked at his aura and vented. "I was supposed to go on a date tonight with my ex-boyfriend. He wasn't the greatest guy. Abusive. Angry. But my parents love him, and they say he's changed, so... I wanted to try again."

Joel's drug-induced nosiness got the better of him. "Why didn't you?"

She sighed, a smirk daring to grow on her face. "I wanted to make him feel stupid."

He wrapped his arms around her waist at her wise words, holding her close as if she would blow away had he exhaled too hard.

"M'glad I met you too," he admitted. "Did I spill paint on you?"

"Just a bit, but it was my fault. You were in a daze," she admitted bashfully.

The pair took a few minutes to look at each other, feel their spirits, and soak up the serenity between the small gap in their lips.

"Do you wanna fuck?"

Those words would have left Joel speechless in any other scenario at any other time on any other day. But he was high out of his fucking mind, and once his brain had fully processed her question, he answered with a short and sweet "Yes."

He waited patiently as the vixen undressed him, and she took her precious time; her knuckles grazing the wiry hair along his pelvis sent hot shivers across his abdomen before his jeans pooled around his ankles. Lifting his arms to aid in the removal of his shirt, he flinched and giggled childishly when she placed a kiss or two along his collarbone.

She gasped at the nails digging into her sides, his hands begging for more because his voice was too weak to. The desperation grew in his eyes, and he wanted to feel close to her. To feel all of her depths and shallows and curves and grooves. Her essence rendered him helpless. The smell of her perfume was even more sickly than he recalled, but all the much more sweet.

Their bodies danced onto the floor, bending and curling around each other like snakes.

"I was always afraid of this," he spoke as she worked her hand around him, not that he needed it. "Feeling close with someone. After my last... You know."

She smiled at his words, telling him with her eyes: I know.

"I was so scared to feel close to someone..." She admitted. "After him, I wanted to be left alone. Untouched."

"What changed that- oh, fuck," Joel moaned, feeling her wetness encapsulate him.

"Someone found me, ha-ah, hmm... And took care a'me, just like I'm doing for you."

Joel clawed at her back, reaching for her hair, but his arms were too heavy, with the quick rushes of euphoria soaring through his veins. Her moans and pretty little sounds coaxing him into blindness. He couldn't see her face, covered in the universe of her bangs littered with stars and planets, until she leveled her happy face with his. The shimmer in her glossy eyes let him know she enjoyed this just as much as him.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, ever s-seen," he moaned.

Finally able to lift his arms, he used them to hold her face gently. He admired her refreshing beauty. She moaned something about how sweet he was, though it went unregistered to him.

All he could feel was her thighs flexing against his hips every time she rode down, and he felt his cock brush that sensitive sponge deep inside of her. Her hands pressed painfully into his ribcage, but he didn't mind. He loved that she needed him so much that it hurt.

She laid her body down on his chest, bringing her lips to his chin; he whimpered at the softness of her lips, his warm breath hitting her nose and making her body shudder. His mouth parted to stick his tongue out for her to lick and suck, which she did graciously.

He never knew his tongue could feel so ticklish or that having it licked would feel so damn good. It made his cock throb against her walls, forcing a moan out of the both of them. Her nails scratched his scalp tenderly, hips rocking back and forth, creating the perfect rhythm.

Her breasts dragged against the hairs on his chest, making some of the dried brown paint flake onto him; her nippled peaked, vulnerable from the friction.

Joel wrapped his forearms around the base of her spine and rolled over as carefully as his intoxicated body would allow. With hair splayed out, she looked so ethereal, like a walking painting herself.

Then, he noticed a bucket of paint sitting nearby and dipped two of his long fingers inside, dragging the white liquid down the valley of her breasts until he reached the peak of her belly. He noticed how her body reacted: all of the little shakes and shudders signs of appreciation made his heart swell.

His hand reached around her hip to grip her ass as he rested his body weight on her and enveloped her in more kisses. His hips rocked gently and slowly, careful not to hurt her. He wanted to feel her cum and hear her beg him to keep going.

To her, it felt like he pushed deeper with each thrust, begging her body to swallow him whole and allow him the grace of becoming one with her. Her eyes were so low, yet she was seeing more clearly than ever. Seeing his aura radiate off of his broad shoulders and tousled hair - it was a haze of blue and purple. But hers were shades of reds and oranges in his eyes, a fiery tyrant that bullied him with praise and adoration.

His nose tickled her chin while his lips made their way up to plant another kiss on her sweet, sweet mouth. The alcohol in her perfume singed the hairs along his face and nostrils, pilling the hairs on his arms.

"Harder, ngh- please," she murmured.

He saw her blown pupils roll gently beneath her eyelids as beads of sweat formed along her hairline. Her breathing was shallow and short. She was close.

Licking his reddened lips, he pushed her knees back until they were flush with her jawline and shifted his body weight from his knees to his toes, then changed the force of his hips without changing the rhythm.

She loved that he listened to her: harder did not mean faster, and he fucking perfected it. Almost like he knew just how hard to go.

Joel drove into her deep enough to make her cunt squelch and clench around his thick cock. He felt clumsy inside of her like he was tripping up over his own orgasm. He felt all of her ridges and curves, the smooth and the rough; everything intensified in a way that could only be described by the God he didn't believe in.

But she had him questioning that in the back of his mind. He would have believed that she was God herself if he wasn't aware of how high he was. She looked celestial, her mouth forming an 'o', and her hair sprawled around her shimmering face. Even with her mascara flaking and running slightly, she seemed so content, so pleased.

Joel's desperation to come inside of her was almost primal, instinctive... If her nails weren't digging so sharply into his forearms, he wasn't sure whether or not he would have been able to hold back.

He didn't ease up on her throughout her orgasm. Honestly, he didn't think too much about it. He never wanted right now to end. With a sense of ecstasy coursing through his veins, he managed to turn into something he tried so hard not to be. He craved her body, her kisses.

He pulled her into his lap before resting his cheek on her breast. He inhaled the musk of her sweat deeply, cherishing the divine woman she was. She felt as beautiful as she looked. She fucked just as sweet as she smelled.

His clammy hand ran over her flexed calve as she bounced on him. Her movements were sloppy from his tight grip, not that either of them cared. She was sure not to go too high or come down too hard, allowing her pussy to drip white remnants of her orgasm onto his balls. He licked and kissed and bit her tits as a submissive thank you.

She kissed the top of his hair, strumming her fingers along his scalp. "Joel," she moaned, "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby," he grunted almost instantly.

Raising his head to look back at her blissed out face, he pulled her even closer. His chin dug into her clavicle, but his neediness only made her laugh softly.

Joel's face twitched as his body proposed its orgasm, his dick throbbed roughly against her sensitive walls. She gasped, taking it as a sign to fuck him faster despite the burning in her legs. He winced at her arms weighing heavier into his collarbones but just clawed at her ass to power through the pain.

She placed a hand over his heart and pushed gently, forcing him to feel the thumping against his chest. He felt so much of his anger and pain dissipate beneath her touch, instilling love and peace in place of it.

"You're so precious," he whispered. A lovely smile rose onto her face, one that drove him crazy. He looked at her with big puppy eyes that threatened to fill with tears. She licked along her teeth and bit her bottom lip. "I love y-you..." He knew he didn't mean it and that she didn't either, but he missed being able to say those words. "Tell m- oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Tell me you love me," he pleaded. "Tell me you love me 'til I cum, baby."

"I love you, Joel.”

His eyes screwed shut, face falling into the curve of her neck.

“I love you, baby. I want you to cum for me,” she moaned, breathless from exhaustion.

His nails dug deeper into her flesh, he was clinging onto his climax as much as possible, wanting to wait long enough for it to destroy him.

“Oh, Joel, fuck!” She yelped. “I love you, I love you!”

And he broke.

His nails scratched lines up her back whilst he screamed into her chest. Her pussy throbbed against his sensitive cock from the arrival of her second orgasm, heightening his sensitivity.

A few tears shed his eyes at the closeness; Joel felt like he was falling into the Earth. He was so dizzy and confused, cornered by the affection clouding his judgment.

“I love you,” she whispered into his scalp, placing one last kiss before climbing off of his lap.

He hissed at the last stroke of her cunt but helped her lay down, using his t-shirt to prop her head up.

“I love you,” he said before kissing her head.

“You should drink some water.”

As soon as she said that, he felt the itchiness in his dry throat. He grabbed water from the table a few feet away and chugged as much as his stomach could handle.

“Will you bring me the joint and a lighter?”

Joel fulfilled her request and sat the water next to her, immediately looking back at his work in progress while she got herself situated.

A few moments passed before she spoke again. “Are you coming down?”

Confused, he looked down at her but saw that the colors weren’t so loud anymore. “Think so…”

“Take a few hits. It’ll help.”

He hesitated but sat down and did as she told him.

“Thank you,” he said after briefly coughing and handing the joint back to her. “I think whatever that… Pill was actually helped.”

“If it wasn't the pill, it must’ve been the sex,” she teased, earning a laugh from him. She tapped his shoulder and pointed her head towards his mural.

ᝰ

A rough pounding woke Joel up from his slumber. He groaned, pressing the meat of his palm to his forehead and slowly sitting up before remembering the girl was still next to him.

He watched her sleep soundly, mouth slightly parted and a gentle snore creaking from her throat. The memories of last night flooded his mind, and while they were somewhat fuzzy, he remembered clear as day how it felt.

He felt most of his questions had been answered by something more complex than communication. It was frightening yet calming at the same time.

Her body stirring regained his focus, and he knew she must have been feeling the same tension headache as he was when she groaned before her eyes fluttered open. She squirmed from the cold air and looked up at the hungover man, smiling as she remembered the night before.

“Morning, Joel,” she said with a playful tilt.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said. “Your head hurtin’?”

“Yep,” she grunted while sitting up. “Ever been to that café on thirty-fourth street?”

He shook his head.

“I’ll take you there for some coffee and breakfast. My treat,” she told him.

Her eyes landed on the big, dull wall that had been taunting Joel for weeks, only to find it was a brightened, complete piece of art.

She admired the woman's beauty and asked him without looking away, “S’that me?”

Joel smirked and reached for his boxers, standing to put them on.

“She’s beautiful, ain’t she?” Joel kissed her head and walked away, leaving the woman alone to admire his masterpiece…

Her.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #tlou smut #joel tlou #tlou #tortured artist!joel

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lexytoga · 2 days

Text

Headcanons for Loki :

They don't really smoke, just think it's gross and weird for humans to do

Loki prefers wine than beer, he likes sweeter drinks in general

Loki really can't sleep half the time cause of the darkness most of the time he doesn't sleep (mobius might have gotten them a light lamp)

Loki half the time goes to buy outfits from thrift stores he would go to places like Gucci but I feel like he would be offended by the prices

Loki braids his hair hair before he sleeps mainly to get natural waves

Loki likes candies a lot, mainly the sour and sweet ones but he didn't like the key lime pie and mostly ate the frosting until mobius gave him a pumpkin pie which Loki loved

He wears eyeliner and carries eyeliner to fix it

Loki's Jontun form has gloves on cause he can't touch people since he would burn them

Loki mainly crafts his own weapon and powers them with his magic (like a poison knife)

Loki listens to Lana del Rey and sometimes Taylor Swift mainly cause he likes the sad and romantic vibes of it

Loki weighs like a Frost giant even in his Asgardian form even though he is small the illusion doesn't change his weight (from what I know he is like 500 pounds) so mobius really has a hard time dragging Loki away

On a sunny day, Loki really has sun allergies but it's very light but worse in his jotunn form, it's one of his weaknesses, that the burns really don't heal that fast

Loki has every birthday gift he was given because it is the only time he feels loved in a way, especially by Thor who would just get Loki a plushie

Speaking of plushies Loki has a bit of separation anxiety, it is not that bad but he does panic when someone he loves doesn't text back, like when mobius goes somewhere unannounced, as kids Thor and Loki would share a room cause of it, sometimes thor had to hold Loki when he sleeps, as an adult thor taught plushies would remind him that he is always with Loki

Loki's grave (the Infinity War Loki) would be visited by Thor every day, he would clean it and put plushies and flowers on the grave

Loki has a lot of pets some of them are Thori (a hellhound from Hel) Ikol (a nod to comic, and a magpie) a snake, and a cat named Clementine

(This is more like a modern Loki au) Loki would have used his magic to make himself an apartment to stay on earth, Loki would come home to Clementine and hang out with her when he gets home

not really a headcanon but he does have all-speak, speaking all languages (again in the comics)

Loki sometimes wears high heels, but he would conjure shoes if they got uncomfortable

Loki sometimes bakes pies since he really isn't good at cooking, but he learned to bake a pie for mobius so he didn't have to eat from the TVA

Loki would conjiur a blanket on mobius when he would overwork and fall asleep on his desk

Mobius doesn't know how to fight so Loki uses his magic to protect mobius and help him heal

Loki has BPD (borderline personality disorder) but mobius tries to help him and calm him down when he gets angry

Loki usually scoops mobius up and hugs him random moments taking advantage of there height difference

Mobius would give Loki candy or a star after they complete a mission to encourage Loki to be more less violent

Loki doesn't curse at all but he uses more older words like quim and all or he would just mumble in asgardain, he has a habit of going back to old English using "thy" "aye"

Both Loki and mobius love language is touch and glares, Loki would telepathically talk to mobius when they are around people

Mobius loves how Loki would explain in a Shakespeare

As a kid Loki mainly pranked thor to cope with his insecurity, he still does but it was getting better with mobius comforting him

Mobius sometimes feels like he is lesser to loki and thinks he isn't good enough since Loki was a god

Loki would visit a variant of frigga who ofc knew it wasn't her Loki but yet treated him like no other

When frigga met mobius she was noting but happy and knew Loki was happy with mobius and other way around, she was glad her son found some he can be real with

Mobius always treated him equal to everyone and sees him as a lover and a friend, and never used the god title unless Loki wasn't sure of a mission being successful

(please note my version of loki is like a combo of MCU loki and comic loki! Most of these are not cannon in the MCU but it might in comics! and I keep using he/they prounce cause i am confused as hell-)

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alicerosejensen · 1 year

Note

I already read everything you have published and I love it.

Following up on your previous post, how long will it be until Leon feels ready to propose to his girlfriend, and if she says yes, would they like a big wedding or something more private? Also, how would things be before the wedding?

One last thing, what is your native language?

We will consider this a continuation of part 3, which I am still translating.

It's all good. I receive all requests and will definitely answer them, but since English is not my native language, I do it quite slowly.

The text mentions a song by Lana Del Rey (sorry, I just love her music).

I take pictures and gifs from Pinterest.

It's been a good three years of relationship. It was funny how an ordinary interest turned into something more serious, which Leon cannot refuse, preferring to keep safe and with him like some kind of diamond.

And that diamond was you. The diamond who was sitting at the same table with him, with both legs thrown on the next vacant chair, while your hands were flipping through a new book about the Incas or the Maya? Leon didn't listen too closely, preferring to just admire you in the morning sun, forgetting about his cold coffee.

It was natural that two people who know each other well enough and have strong feelings for each other decided to legitimize their relationship, but a number of problems arose: 1) His work does not seem to forbid, but also does not understand the presence of a family. There are some D.S.O programs to protect the data of their agents' families, but Leon has never been interested in them. 2) Your age difference. Leon was almost forty and you're still too young. Yes, college will soon be left behind, but you are unlikely to want to start a family so early, despite the fact that it was somewhere in your plans. Just not now. 3) Despite the fact that he deeply loved you and knew that the feeling was mutual, Leon had no idea if you saw him as your husband.

Besides, the last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt. More precisely, he didn't want it at all! But he loved you so much that he partly began to understand Glenn Arias in his madness because of the death of his wife.

It has nothing to do with the case, but Leon really wanted you to put a ring on your ring finger and become Mrs. Kennedy. However, he has not yet fully decided on it himself.

How can he carefully find out from you what you think about this? Leon gave you a worried look, but you didn't even notice it, too absorbed in reading. He had already turned his back to you to pour the coffee into the sink, and immediately froze as soon as he suddenly heard you quietly humming some strange song to yourself. Cacciatore? Some Salvatore? Limousines? Leon didn't comment on it in any way, just made sure that you didn't talk to him. "I just wanted to sing the chorus of my favorite song."

A sudden impulse, but then a message came to your phone and you reached for it to read it, and then showed Leon a couple of photos of your young friends from their honeymoon.

Leon regarded this as a great opportunity to carefully find out your attitude to marriage without giving himself away.

"Don't you think they got married too soon?" - You shrugged indifferently as you typed an answer to your friend.

"It's none of my business."

While you were carefully looking at the photos of friends in love from France, Leon stood still not knowing how to choose the right words. He rinsed the mug in the water, putting it in place and decided to start carefully "attacking" again.

"If you were choosing a place for your honeymoon, where would you go?" - It was risky, although you just looked away somewhere to the side, tilting your head to the side like a child, thinking about the question. - "Paris too?"

You were hiding like you ate something very sour.

"Paris is banal. I would have thought of something more interesting."

"For example?"

"Don't know… maybe Spain?"

Leon coughed. Not the most pleasant memories. For some reason, he imagined you wandering around Salazar's castle in search of various trinkets and trying to ask Ganado about their history, while he drags you everywhere by the hand, trying to shoot infected Las Plagas with a shotgun and pistol.

And then he will find you drinking tea with this same Salazar, talking sweetly about some abstract topic. The pictorial art of the fifteenth century, for example? At least this thought and the image that appeared before his eyes lifted his mood with its absurdity.

He rewarded you with a half-smile and dismissed the idea of marriage indefinitely. Until college graduation.

Until next week, actually.

Leon was just going into the store to restock some groceries when he accidentally bumped into a fellow agent. The conversation would not have gone beyond greeting if a little boy of five or six years old had not hit Leon's legs. He didn't even apologize and just ran on through the store until his father called out to him.

"You should apologize! Go up to Leon and apologize for pushing him!"

The child looked excitedly into his eyes, but still obeyed, slowly approaching an unfamiliar man.

"In fact, it's not necessary…"

"They need to learn to be polite. Do you have any children Leon?"

It was a strange question. Of course, before the outbreak of the G-virus in Raccoon City, Leon had some kind of plan for the rest of his life after graduating from the police academy. And in this plan there were two Kennedy babies, a house with a pool and a golden retriever, and of course a charming wife. Only Leon personally hammered the last nail into the coffin of his dreams.

Leaving your wife alone with a child in this dark world where every day there is a chance that another psycho terrorist may take it into his head to arrange another zombie apocalypse? That's not what he wanted.

But he still annoyed Hannigan with his questions. As if assessing the risk, Leon stared at Ingrid while she wiped her glasses.

"Is there a specific reason why you are interested in this topic?"

"No."

"Then stop wasting my time!"

Fair. Despite the information he obtained, Leon continued to walk like a gloomy ghost around his own house occasionally looking at you strangely. You caught those looks every time you asked him what was the matter, but he waved it off.

And then he asked you about that wedding. Then you had already separated and you were a bridesmaid without a couple. However, you had a good time without it, cherishing the hope that you, too, will someday have a beautiful wedding with a honeymoon.

Leon nodded, taking a sip of Jack Daniels from his glass. A beautiful wedding… with a bouquet of flowers, gifts, guests, a sweet cake and a magnificent white dress. A wedding in the best traditions…

That's what he couldn't give you. An important day in your life (if you agreed to marry him) is likely to become a normal weekday with the receipt of a marriage certificate. You deserve what you dream about, and he probably deprives you of it feeling boundless guilt.

Leon doesn't want to let you go. He hates the idea that you will leave again, leaving him in this empty apartment. however, he does not want you to suffer through his fault. Leon has long admitted to himself that he wants to come home to his family - to you and at least one Kennedy baby. But fuck, he's almost never around because of these missions! And you didn't think about motherhood as such at all. He's almost forty, not you!

But he decided to try again the attempt of careful questioning when you laid him on the bed so that he lay on his stomach to get a light massage before going to bed.

"So Paris is a bad idea?" - Leon thought when you frowned, sitting on his lower back and gently kneading his back. - "What about the Eiffel Tower? The Petit Trianon at Versailles? Those famous French delicatessen cafes? I thought you said you'd like to visit the Moulin Rouge sometime."

"Well, maybe someday. Paris is beautiful just not right for my honeymoon."

You said you wanted something original. So you ended the conversation and continued the massage in silence. And at night felt through a dream how Leon's palm touches your cheek, and then goes down to your neck, collarbones, all the way to your stomach, until he hugs you tightly, pressing you to him. Yes, it woke you up, but maybe he had a nightmare again? Leon wasn't sleeping, and you knew it, so you turned around and put your head on his chest, falling asleep again.

I don't care if you guessed about his thoughts or not, but after much thought, Leon still decided to try his luck.

Life is too short not to try to at least become a little happier.

He bought a cute diamond ring, trying to find something not boring and at the same time not pretentious. However, after tiring the consultant, he finally gave him an entertaining idea: if you don't like what Leon chose, you can come here again and buy any other ring that you like more.

You brought him such relief and comfort after meeting with all these viruses and parasites that Leon saw no problem in buying another ring in case you didn't like it at all. Of course, you can't tell him about it, but he knows his girlfriend's emotions too well.

Leon also ordered dinner at home, considering that due to your workload in college, you didn't sleep much, completely devoting yourself to the last academic year. Besides, he didn't invite you to the restaurant because he still wasn't sure of your answer. Positive or negative? If you do not want this, at least the home environment will not create severe discomfort.

And here you are sitting in your home clothes, calmly eating your favorite food, watching some action movie with your boyfriend, not knowing about the blue velvet box in his jeans pocket.

You can see that Leon is very nervous, scolding himself for the fact that it would be better to rehearse the speech in advance, but you are so absorbed in the film that you do not pay any attention to him at all until exactly the moment when he takes the plate from your hands and puts it on the table.

It took a few seconds for the tired brain to figure out where the dinner had gone.

Your palms immediately find themselves in his warm hands and it looks so cute when women's palms seem so small against his background.

You can admire this endlessly or until the moment when Leon silently, with obvious anxiety in his eyes, in horror, hands you a velvet box, waiting for a reaction.

For God's sake, say something, but don't be silent!

"Is that what I'm thinking or am I wrong?" - You open the lid looking at a charming ring matched to your finger size. And despite the fatigue of the gyrus, they understand that this is an unusual gift.

This is a marriage proposal!

"If you're not ready… fuck… I remember you told me that one day you would want to start a family, and I'm actually the worst option as a husband who is often not at home, although I try, sweetheart…"

"Do you want to start a family with me?" - In his opinion, you looked at him like he was crazy. But in fact, you were trembling slightly and were ready to lose consciousness if he answered in the affirmative now.

"I understand that it's probably too early for you. Understand, I'm not saying that if you agree now, then we will immediately go to the bedroom to make a mini Kennedy. You still have to go to college… damn it, how difficult it is… It's just a suggestion. I want you to be with me as my wife, I want at least one child from you, if you don't mind. You know, Hannigan told me a little bit about these programs to protect the families of agents… they're not bad."

Leon stumbled over every word, sweating profusely, once again afraid to turn to you. Suddenly you are frozen in horror at what is happening, despite the fact that he is actually calmly trying on an engagement ring, carefully examining the carat. You can't say you didn't like it. But because of your admiration for the new decoration, you practically did not listen to what poor Leon was talking about.

"You know, I'll understand if you've never considered me as a husband."

"It just always seemed to me that you needed a mistress and not a wife. You never said you wanted kids. "

You intertwined your fingers with him to calm him down a little. How grateful he was now for the support provided.

"This is problematic. Because of my job. I love you, but I wouldn't force you to do anything. I'm still a little scared of what I'm saying. Some agents have kids, hell, the B.S.A.A guys quietly start families because they get paid well, but when they die… what's the use of a hero father if he's dead? The choice is yours. If you ever carry my child, then I will do everything so that he lives in a safe world, at least on an island of tranquility without bioweapons and other shit. I may often not be around, but I'm willing to try. I no longer want to lose my happy future with the woman I love because of the bastards who think they are the rulers of the world."

Confusing and at the same time understandable. Leon has conveyed to you his thought, his dream, leaving you the right to choose. He was so afraid to look at you that he was surprised when, instead of fright or horror, he saw the serenity of a real angel holding his hand.

"What do you think?" - He asked, and you giggled merrily.

"I think you should wear a bulletproof vest." - Frank laughter rang through the apartment. And you moved to Leon's lap with the grace of a cat, touching the sensitive skin of his neck with your lips while he held you under his hips. - "I don't want to become a widow, but you'll have to run away from my father's bullets when he starts shooting at you with his hunting rifle."

Leon smiled cheerfully, putting his arm around your waist and forcing you to look at him.

There has not been a single boyfriend of yours who has passed a strict paternal check regarding the future spouse for the only daughter. It was a fucking test that no one could pass because you were still considered a little girl.

"We will resolve this issue. Your father is hardly more terrible than a Tyrant." - of course, you had no idea who it was. - "Can I take your answer as an agreement to become Mrs. Kennedy?"

"Perhaps." - You hung on his neck, admiring the two blue pools, and touched his lips with your feather-light kiss. - "But that means we won't have a big wedding, right? Like it's dangerous, I'm a big government agent about whose personal life no one should know, even the president himself. - You merrily parodied the timbre of his voice, realizing how ridiculous it turned out, but you both liked it."

"Yeah"

He was so vulnerable stroking your thighs. The realization that he can't give you what you want…Leon felt a stone of guilt fall on his shoulders, crushing him painfully. All he needs is for you to be happy and then he will be too.

"Well, it's not scary at all!" - You still continued to wrap your arms around his tense body. - "But you didn't just ask me about the honeymoon, did you?"

"This is what I can give you. I am not sure that it will last a whole month, but we will take everything from it."

All the light from the lungs seemed to have disappeared. Your joyful face can bring a dead man back to life! And Leon really came to life feeling like shit a little less.

"However, if you have deprived me of a bachelorette party with sexy strippers and a wedding cake - although no, we will order it anyway - I reserve the right to choose the place of our vacation on my own!"

"Anywhere angel. Even to a remote village in Spain"

Your eyes sparkled cunningly foreshadowing an exciting journey. Leon needs to listen more carefully from now on about your new hobbies.

______________________________________________________________

Claire laughed out loud as she turned over the card, on which Leon's handwriting had written one:

"When I agreed to a honeymoon in Peru, I did not think that I would spend hours looking at the Maya and the Inca skulls! Marital duty is not a soft bed in an expensive hotel, but a trip in the style of Lara Croft and Indiana Jones!

P.S while I'm writing this, I have to keep an eye on my wife so she doesn't break her neck climbing the fucking pyramid."

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #reader

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blackdollette · 9 months

Note

Can you write a fic with Euronymous being a dick as usual and the reader gets fed up and breaks up with him? Then he gets like really emotional afterwards but she doesn’t take him back no matter what? Plssss

finally some emotional euro!

"loving you is hard, being here is harder." | euronymous

high by the beach. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @vanlisbon @lankysimp @monkeyfart @simply-stellarr

female!reader x euronymous

word count: 1.1k

contents: slight public humiliation, a little bit of angst, break up, rejection

your shaky hands carefully painted each precise detail of euronymous’ corpse paint, the heavy ruckus from rehearsal breaking your stamina. you dipped the brush in the small puddle of black paint on the dresser, dragging it across his pasty skin to finish up his eye area.

you held your breath as you tried to paint the area as smoothly as possible, but it all went in vain when the alarming noise of glass bottles breaking, followed by the eruption of curses and laughter ruined your focus. you flinched at the sound, accidentally painting a black line that ran down his entire cheek, messing up the whole area.

euronymous’ eyes travelled to the mirror beside him, his dark pupils shrinking at the sight of your mistake. a snarl pulled at his lips as his head snapped in your direction, icy eyes burning a hole into your soul. “oh for fucks’ sake! can i even count on you to do anything right?!” he shoved past you, knocking the brush out of your hand, smearing black paint onto the dress you’d picked out just for his concert.

you dropped to your knees, picking up the brush and looking up at him. “i-i’m sorry, oystein. it was an accident, i swear it. just let me fix it…” he grabbed a bottle of beer from a broken table, shooting you a cold glare. “don’t bother. if i knew you weren’t capable of doing something as simple as this, i never would’ve even asked you in the first place.” his voice dripped with bitterness that you knew all too well.

your eyes pricked with tears as you brought yourself back to your feet, cleaning off the brush as you cautiously approached him. “it’s really not that bad. j-just let me-” he whirled around to face you, his voice loud enough to earn the attention of everyone. “i said dont fucking bother!” his words hit you right in the chest, sending big tears rolling down your cheeks as the room finally fell silent.

you stared at him with a broken expression, trying to muster the strength to speak without breaking down. “i said i was sorry.” your voice broke in the middle of the sentence, making you sound like a small child, causing a smirk to tug at his black painted lips. “i don’t want your apology. if you’re done being so useless, then you can get out of my sight.” he shoved the bottle into your chest, making you hold it as he grabbed his leather jacket.

you stood there, trembling as his words echoed through your mind. you didn’t even notice the tears that rapidly poured down your face. the pain ate through your heart as the band made their way to the stage. euronymous was halfway out the door before he stopped, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket, and walking toward you.

he held the cigarette between his teeth, looking down at you. “light this for me, would’ya?” your eyes met his but behind the wall of tears, there was an unfamiliar hatred that made his smug expression wither. you wiped your tears with the back of your head, walking away. he grabbed your shoulder, but you shoved his bottle back at him, the glass breaking at his feet.

his jaw dropped slightly, the cigarette falling from his lips. anger flickered in his eyes once again, but yours was much greater. “is this how little you think of me?! that i’m so useless that i don’t deserve any love or respect?!” his eyes widened with shock. you had never talked about your feelings around him, nevermind raised your voice. he quickly took his hand off of you, his voice cracking slightly. “don’t make a scene, angel… not here.”

he was interrupted by the loud shriek of the audience’s cheering. the show was just about to begin. you grabbed your things from the dresser, putting them in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder as you made your way to the exit door. you were stopped by the soft sound of his voice. “d-dont leave, baby… it hasn’t gotten to this.” you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but you could hear the tears in his voice.

you walked out the door, but he rushed up behind you, taking your hand in his. “at least let me take you home. please…” you sighed, snatching your hand back from him. “don’t fucking bother.” with that, you left, disappearing into the darkness of the night and leaving him with black tears streaming down his face.

~ ~ ~

it had been officially 72 hours since you had broken up with euronymous. you sat alone in your apartment room, mindlessly scrolling through tv channels as a heavy rainstorm raged outside. you couldn’t remember the last time you weren’t around him, but to your surprise, you didn’t feel the empty void you always thought you would if he ever left you. you felt… free.

you lay on your couch, dressed in your simple tank top and pajama shorts that you always wore on saturdays. you had wasted no time removing all remnants of him from your life. your walls stood bare, missing the many pictures of him that they held. you’d thrown out everything that reminded you of him and burned every keepsake that you’d collected from him.

your thoughts were interrupted when a quiet knock sounded at your door. you stood up, shuffling your way to answer it. you looked through the peephole, and you were met by that same pair of cold blue eyes. you groaned quietly before opening the door with a blank expression on your face. he was completely drenched. he stood three feet away from you, but his presence seemed to wrap you in a dark blanket.

his hands were behind his back as he gave you a little smile, his eyes red-rimmed like he had just been crying. you looked him up and down, judging his scruffy attire, but before you could speak he held out a box of your favourite candy in one hand and a beautiful, dark red rose in the other.

you remained silent, but his broken voice began to speak. “i-im so sorry, angel… you deserved so much better than how i treated you…” he had to clear his throat before continuing, turning his face away from you to hide his tears. “it kills me inside knowing that i drove you to this point, a-and i… ” he choked out small sobs as his hands began to tremble. “i can’t believe i let myself hurt you…”

the sight of his tears made your heart swell. his trembling intensified, most likely because of the rain. you sighed, looking him right in the eye. with the look you gave him, he could’ve fallen in love with you all over again. you swallowed hard before breaking the silence. “we didn't work out. and i don't think we ever will.” you shut the door in his face, leaving him in the rain as he carried the everlasting knowledge that he lost you for good.

author's note: why'd i start crying while writing this. thank you so much anon for this prompt 😭

#rory culkin #euronymous #lords of chaos #angst #light angst #i ❤ rory culkin #rory culkin x reader #culkin cult #break up #high by the beach #honeymoon #honeymoon album #lana del rey #elizabeth woolridge grant #lana del ray aka lizzy grant #lizzie grant #lizzy grant #444rockstargf

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klipkillakai · 9 months

Text

‎♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚⋆⑅˚₊౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⑅˚₊ྀ ྀྀི⊹₊

𓍯 his pretty girl 𓍯

warning! 18+ only! mdi pls <3

“y/n! get up!”

“i softly groan and roll over on my bed, the warmth enticing me to stay, i snuggle under the covers again trying to catch the last bits of my very very good dream of a man i know like the back of my hand yet i haven’t seen a day in my life,”

“feeling the covers being tugged off me i snap up and look at my roommate with a pout”

“you’an have to do allat”

‘i say with a slight attitude as i get up and slip my slippers on while scratching my bonnet’

“yo ass don’t like to get up”

‘my best friend since day one says as she’s looks in my mirror checking her ass and twerking a lil’

‘and girl you know we supposed to get up early, we start our first day of classes today nd i’m not trynna be late fr, you know i’m trynna be valedictorian”

‘she says with an unserious eyeroll”

“i look back at her from my bathroom mirror and we both burst out laughing”

‘girl bye, lemme get ready real quick’

“she laughs and shakes her head before walking out my room”

‘i grab my phone and turn on my playlist, humming to the quiet and calm melodies of lana del rey’s voice, i stand in the mirror as i take off my bonnet off and take the wig band off, signing with relief and smiling at the melt “i ate that” i say to myself and i brush out the wig a bit and checking to see if my flat iron heated up yet, i start to straighten it as i slightly dance to “FTCU by Nicki Minaj”

“high heels on my tippies..dolce and gabbana that’s on my tittes”

“i hum the rest slightly flinching when i nick my ear with the iron and scrunching up my face, i finish my hair and head to my vanity to do a quick lil makeup look knowing imma be a little late because of it.. as i’m applying my blush i get a notif from insta from my bestie—

“hurry yo ass up” i read and i laugh and finish up before hopping up and putting on a cute pink matching set, and low ugg’s with a bow on them and a cute heart necklace and bracelet to match, and spraying my treasured strawberry perfume”

“i take a quick pic and post it on my story before grabbing my bag and my keys my my pink sanrio water bottle i found in the kids section of target and i run out the door seeing my bestie in her car on the phone”

‘girl we boutta be latee’ “she says as she pulls out the lot and slightly speeds towards the school, i connect my phone to the bluetooth and i play my music while my acrylics clack against ten screen as i texts some of my friends back and tapping through stories”

“we finally get outside and we both hurry out, blowing kisses to each other as we go in different directions, her being a business major and i being a computer science major”

“i pull on my headphones and i stuff my hands in my white puffer as i walk across campus to the computer hall, not trynna socialize because i’m still tired from earlier— i get to class and i look through the door and i groan when i see the class full of boys and not one girl in sight, i gather my bearings and i open the door quietly, with the professors back turned towards the board and my head down and i walk up the aisle of the seats, feeling eyes all on me as i make my way towards the back and sheepishly sitting in between two boys, immediately feeling shy and embarrassed i open my macbook, littered with pink bows and glittery stickers and i wait for class to start—

“the professor turns around and when i see him my stomach flutters and i try to hide a smile forming on my face by softly raising my hand to my lips and looking down as i text my friend”

-megieee🪽

girl!!

-what?

my professor is fine asf omg 😭

-fr??

-lemme see 🤭

girl imma try, but i literally had to fight back the smile, he’s so tall and 😩! .

and i didn’t even notice him at first because i’m in a class with nothing but boys nd i was mad scared 😭

-i would die omg 😭

“i read the text and i’m about to respond but i suddenly hear my name being called and i look up”

‘y/n?’

“oh! that’s me, sorry i was distracted”

‘i make a show of sliding off my headphones and making eye contact’

‘he stares at me for a second and his eyes slightly lowers before nodding’

“don’t let it happen again” ‘he says in a raspy soft voice and i feel that flutter in my belly again, especially when it’s pared with his tired dead eyes and large frame’—

‘i simply nod and he stays on me for a sec before turning away to the next person on his list, the class goes on and at the end he gives us his number and email to join a whatsapp group just in case we have problems with any of our code at home—

i pack up my computer at the end of class as all the other guys file out the room, smiling at simon quickly as he leaves because he helped me out with one of the bugs i had in my code, i slip my headphone on and i walk down the steps to the exit and i peep my professor texting on his phone with a slight smile and i can’t help but wonder who’s making him smile like that, i quickly go in my camera roll and look for the room number of my next class and i softly frown when i realize i don’t know where that it, i look up at prof and i softly pad to him and i don’t say anything and just wait for him to notice i’m there—

i watch him seemingly sense my presence and look up slowly, i slightly squirm cs i feel as if he’s touching me and i feel my face heat up even tho it doesn’t show..

“u-um i was wondering if you knew when E3345 is?”

‘i step forward a bit and show him my phone, and i get hint of his sent, slightly musky and woody and i bite my lip”

‘he licks his lips slightly and he nods and replies with a soft raspy voice”

‘yea, mr scott.. great teacher, he’s in the building behind us on the second floor.. nd go around the trees yea? wouldn’t want you getting lost’

“he says that with the slightest smirk and the most intense stare i’ve ever seen, his dead eyes having an aura of mischief behind them, his stature radiating intimidation and masculinity and it weighs down on me in the best way possible, it makes my belly flutter and my head spin—

‘i won’t get lost, i’m a big girl’ “and i flash a sweet smile”

‘i bet you are’ “he whispers and i notice his eyes softly lower to my lips before snapping back up to my eyes”

‘t-thank you’

‘anytime’

“i turn around and head towards the door walking out of it, and feeling his eyes follow me along the way”

‘könig thinks to himself “what a pretty girl”

|a/n|

ahh guys this is my first fic and it features my man könig.. this was inspired by a few pics of a man i saw that i think looks like what könig would look like and some fanart i posted previously!! i hope you enjoyed and this is only part 1!! so let me know if you enjoyed and i will soon make a second part! i think this will be very fun! also let me know how to add 2nd part links too this fic so it’ll be easier.. anyways love ya 🪽🩷

#könig x black reader #black reader smut #konig x black reader #könig smut #könig x you #black fem reader #black femininity #konig call of duty #könig is really my man y’all and you can’t tell me other wise 😩

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liminal-space-lesbian · 1 year

Text

Loser

Pairing: Enid Sinclair x fem!reader

Summary: You've had a crush on Enid for the longest time, but she was with Ajax. Ajax, who was boring and uninspiring and not thoughtful at all. You couldn't help but feel jealous, knowing you could treat her better than him.

Warnings: unrequited love, jealousy / envy, Ajax slander

Words: 910

Part Two // Part Three // Part Four

Enid Sinclair.

The perfect girl.

She's bubbly, loyal, easygoing, funny, and not afraid to stand up for what's right. She's gorgeous, inside and out. Her cute dyed hair, her pretty blue eyes, her smile- God her smile.

She's everything.

And he's just... him.

He's... a loser. Just some Stoner kid with the personality of a wheat thin. Him and his stupid hoodies, him and his stupid dumb smile and stupid laugh. Why, why, why did Enid like him? He was rather boring, not much to offer conversationally. He was attractive you supposed, but not that attractive. Maybe he was a good kisser? God, you really didn't want to think of him kissing Enid.

It was all so unfair. Why couldn't she see him for what he was? He's just a loser. Some kid, with nothing special or particularly interesting about him. Hell, on their first date he stood her up, and didn't even bother telling her why! You would never have done that to her.

If only she saw you. She'd maybe realize....

You'd do anything for her- move heaven and earth- anything she asked. You'd get her flowers every week, make sure to get her favorites and not just red roses like Ajax. You knew Enid was partial to peonies. You also knew she didn't like dark chocolate, unlike Ajax who always bought her assorted chocolates. You knew she hated pineapple on pizza, you knew her favorite artist was Lana Del Rey, you knew her favorite color was pink but she also favored yellow. She preferred gold jewelry, she only liked her coffee sweet, and she never ate pancakes for breakfast ever since she had the stomach flu when she was twelve.

But Ajax- that stupid boy- didn't know hardly any of these simple things about his own girlfriend. He buys her silver jewelry, Taylor Swift albums, dark chocolate- all the little things he should notice he just doesn't.

But you do.

And yet.... Enid sees Ajax and not you.

You suppose that makes you bitter and jealous. Probably toxic to some degree as you glare at them during lunch, while Enid sits in Ajax's lap, telling him about her day as he gazes at her with glazed over eyes. 'Is he even listening?' You think bitterly as you clench your jaw, suddenly losing your appetite.

"Jeez, I'm not a fan of Ajax either, but you look like you're trying to blow him up with your mind. You good, girl?" Yoko asks as she takes a seat next to you, stealing a french fry off your tray. You push your tray towards her, no longer hungry as you see Ajax and Enid begin making out.

"Yeah I'm just peachy." You say drily as you pry your gaze away from the two to look at Yoko, who looks unimpressed. She heaves a sigh and rubs her forehead wearily.

"Listen, I know you've had a thing for Enid for like, years, but you really need to let it go. She has a boyfriend and it doesn't look like they're breaking up any time soon. There's so many other girls too! Don't miss an opportunity just because you're so hung up on Enid." Yoko says, her voice slightly uncertain as she speaks, a hint of worry in her tone. You knew somewhere in the back of your mind Yoko was just trying to be a good friend, and you knew she was probably right. Your heart however didn't care, bitterness and envy swelling in your chest like acid.

"I don't want other girls. I don't care about other girls. Enid is just- she's different. There's nobody like her, shes so sweet, and pretty and smart and warm. And loyal! I mean look what she did for Wednesday last year!" You huff angrily as you look back towards Enid, seeing her and Ajax now standing and saying their farewells, Enid giving Ajax a big hug and a kiss before happily skipping away. 'I wish she hugged me like that.'

"I know... but still it's not healthy to keep pining after her like this. She just... doesn't see you like that." Yoko said gently, her gaze soft as she tried to catch your gaze. You felt a familiar squeezing in your chest at her words.

"I know but... I don't think I can help it." You say softly as you look down at your tray. standing up and taking it with you, dumping the rest of your food in the trash before heading to your next class, ignoring the lump in your throat.

How could you think such cruel things about Ajax anyways? Why must jealousy burn you up from the inside? Why couldn't you just be happy for Enid? She seemed pleased enough in her relationship. So what if she wasn't with you, so long as she was happy, right? You just couldn't help but feel she would be happier with you. Such a selfish thing to think.

In the end, Ajax was with Enid, not you.

Perhaps you were the one who was a loser.

#enid sinclair x reader #enid sinclair #wednesday tv series #unrequited love #jealousy

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averagewriter-inthedark · 3 months

Text

The Factory & Pie 🥧 | Agent K imagine P.2

Part 1 | Masterlist Directory

Characters & Pairings: Agent K x MiB agent!reader (romantic)

Content warnings: fluff, profanity, angst, mentions of death, violence, blood & injury, age gape (read the note in part 1), cannon divergence, suggestive themes, shitty realities women & queer had to go through in the 60s, friends/strangers-to-lovers | female!reader (she/her) | wc 10k

Premise: Getting stuck in 1969 was not ideal. Especially when it means having to be navigate through clues to stop a homicidal manic all while keeping a clueless agent in the dark of what possible future might occur if they fail. And with feelings brewing causing her mind to question everything she's ever known about her relationship with K, Agent Y/I had her work cut out for her.

Note: dialogue and scenes from mib are credit to the original creators, I did add dialogue to the scenes for Y/I's character.

----------------------

1969

The 12th of July

The sweet aroma of coffee and cigarettes woke Y/I the next morning. Eyes opening to a blur of glowing light from the sun entering through the blinds. A long yawn released, Y/I’s arms stretching over her head to comb fingers through her damp hair. Too exhausted to blow-dry it the night before after her shower. It was when her vision cleared that Y/I sat up in a haste, the memory of the previous day coming back to her. “It wasn’t a dream.”

Boris escaped prison. Went back in time to kill K. Her K ceased to exist and now she’s in 1969 to prevent Boris from succeeding. All in the span in 24 hours.

God she was going to need a fat margarita when this was over.

Throwing back the covers, Y/I flung herself out of the bed and into the bathroom. Cold water splashed her face, letting out a deep breath before looking at herself in the mirror. The exhaustion was evident in her features, hair wild and untamed, crinkles more pronounced, but hey, that came with aging.

It took a moment to register that the clothes she wore were not her own. A Rolling Stones shirt and sweatpants belonging to K. ‘Sweet Jesus,’ she scolded herself when the heat returned to her chest, ‘Get it together, Y/I. Stop acting like a giddy school girl--You’re in your 40s for Christ’s sake, not your 20s.’ This was the first time Y/I slept over at K’s, only ever stopping by briefly when they needed weapons or Y/I bringing dinner to make sure the man ate.

Even the times Y/I was drunk off her ass K made sure to get her home safely. Just another example of him being the best partner in the world. If there was one thing he knew about his partner is she loved her bed more than anything in the world.

And she was really missing it now.

Grabbing a comb, mentally praying it was one K used for his hair, Y/I tackled her own as best she could and pulled it into a tidy bun. White-gray sections bright now that the dirt had been washed away from K tackling her at Coney Island. It pained her to not have her hair products but she made do. Come to think of it, she didn’t have anything. Toothbrush, skincare, makeup. What the fuck was she going to do for the next four days? It’s not like she can buy anything. Her credit card was a lost cause.

Exiting the bathroom the smell grew stronger. Bringing a wave of nostalgia as she breathed it in and so she followed it, glancing at the clock to find it was 7:30am. ‘God, you’d think the time travel jet lag would’ve let me get a few extra hours of sleep,’ she frowned.

Walking into the kitchen connected to the living space, Y/I came to an abrupt stop at the scene in front of her. Eyes bulging as they landed on K’s back, clad in a white t-shirt and plaid sweatpants. Toned arms and muscle, flexing each time he moved across the kitchen to grab something. A lone cigarette on an ashtray, releasing smoke from the filter each time K took a drag before putting it back to continue his work.

On the radio the soft tune of The Ronettes played, and Y/I felt herself itching further into the room, eyes still on K as she fought against the weird thoughts she was having.

“Coffee?” His voice snapped her out, the woman clearing her throat before taking claim to a barstool.

“Yes, thank you.”

“How do you take it?”

“Black, two sugars,” the words flew out naturally, considering it’d been her stable for the last ten years. Any time K got their coffee he tended to get her the same as him, and after a while she became used to it. Occasionally Y/I treated herself to a latte or cappuccino, but nothing kept her energy going like simply black coffee with two sugars.

She noticed K’s surprised reaction before replacing it with something unreadable. Busy himself by pouring the coffee into two mugs and dropping the sugar cubes in before mixing it up and passing Y/I hers. Thanking him again, she brought the steaming cup to her lips, letting out a sound of content, missing K’s strange expression when he took in her state. Seeing her in his clothes emerged a tingling sensation in his chest. Hiding the blush threatening to paint his cheeks. Y/I gestured to the ashtray, “Got another you can spare for a lady?”

In a flash K produced a cigarette and a lighter, the agent giving an appreciative smile as she took them. Lighting the filter, Y/I let the tobacco enter her system as she took in the apartment, then raised a brow, “Where’s my suit?” She hadn’t seen it since K gave her the spare clothes to sleep in.

“In the dryer,” he pointed to an ancient machine that made Y/I do a double take. Of course her family had the same growing up, but it still was a shock to see after all these years. “Thought it could use a clean after yesterday.”

His words had Y/I narrowing her brows, albeit playfully. “I wonder why.” K hid his smirk behind his mug, Y/I mirroring it. “I should be offended you tackled me, but I did ruffle you up so….” She shrugged, blowing out smoke. “I guess we’re even.”

“I guess so,” K agreed with a chuckle. Reaching over to turn the music down, K leaned against the counter, now looking at Y/I with curiosity. “Where’d you learn how to fight like that anyway?”

She hadn’t expected that question, placing her mug down while tapping away the ash on the cigarette, “What, trying to get some pointers, cowboy?” The comment made his eyes roll, but smirk still on his lips. “I did martial arts growing up,” she explained, propping an arm on the counter to rest her chin on her knuckles. “Then I had a personal trainer who specialized in hand-to-hand. Came in handy both with MiB and the job I had prior.” That piqued K’s interest, but he decided not to ask. Y/I took another puff, “So, I hate to be that girl….but I need a huge favor.”

K’s face became concerned, clicking his tongue, “Depends on the favor, slick.”

“You can relax, K, I’m not asking you to steal a galaxy,” her hand waved, “but when I woke up yesterday it was not my plan to be in 1969 nearly a week so I’m gonna need to acquire some,” she waves again, “personal necessities if you will. Like a toothbrush for starters,” Y/I nods for emphasis and continues, “deodorant, perfume, and call me vain if you must, but I need face sunscreen. And some face powder and mascara.”

K thought for a moment, finishing his coffee and cigarette first before saying, “sure thing, slick. Get dressed and we’ll go.”

Y/I straightened her posture, giving him a look before pointing to the dryer, “with what clothes?” Twenty minutes later the two were in his car, Y/I tugging at the collar of her black & white polka dot dress. “Well this isn’t what I had in mind. I haven’t worn a dress since your 65th birthday party.” The comment resulted in a baffled look from K, not wanting to picture himself at 65 just yet. Y/I held back a laugh, “Sorry, pretty boy. I forgot the most frightening thing for young people is growing up.” She looked at her attire before raising a brow, “Also whose dress was this? If you don’t mind me asking.”

K’s attention remained on the road, a distant look in his eyes Y/I picked up on, making her regret the question. “A friend of mine left it,” was all he said. And it didn’t take a genius to know it wasn’t exactly a ‘friend’ he was referring to. Y/I understood, leaning back in her seat to stare out the window.

They arrived at a shopping mall, K moving at a quick pace to open Y/I’s door, making her look at him aghast but accepting his hand. Careful not to trip on the pavement in her heels as she stepped out.

The outdoor shopping mall was pretty busy for a Wednesday morning. Buzzing with young ladies and college kids. K, the generous man he was--not to mention the circumstances--paid for Y/I’s items. Since it was the 60s all the brands Y/I enjoyed didn’t exist. However she was excited to see Revlon and Besame, grabbing a red lipstick, powder, and mascara. When K questioned her whistle, staring wide-eyed at the prices she said, “Let’s just say the prices for these things in the future are not as sweet. Just these three alone cost me $30.” K returned her expression, making note to not complain anymore about the cost of items.

Small bag in hand, the two headed to the food court for a bite to eat. “Unfortunately, I can’t pay you back till 2012,” her tone was teasing as he handed her a bagel with cream cheese and coffee, but serious nonetheless. “Hope you can understand.” All K did was chuckle, nodding as he bit into his own bagel. Escorting her to a table, the two sat and enjoyed their breakfast in silence. All while keeping watch for any suspicious activity.

When they finished, they returned to K’s place just before 10 allowing Y/I time to freshen up. Applying the products instantly made her feel better. Once her teeth were brushed she doused herself in perfume and deodorant before going to retrieve her suit. It was then she remembered the important object in her pocket. Heart dropping slightly at the fear it was gone. Her pace increased.

“K,” Y/I called out, catching him at the bartop reading the morning paper. His head turned to her as she strolled up to where he sat. “Quick question. I know you said you confiscated everything on me at HQ and well, did you happen to find a pocket watch? If so,” she leaned against the counter, a thin pressed smile plastered on her, “may I have it back, please?”

Her eyes were laser focused on K as he reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out the item igniting a breath of relief from the agent. Happy the watch was safe and back in her hands. Unfortunately the time jump must’ve been too much for the old gadget. The hands frozen in place. Y/I pressed it close to her chest, closing her eyes.

Inside she was exploding. Heart aching with grief for what life would've been if her dad had stayed. She’d been so young Y/I forgot what he looked like. But she remembered how it felt to be with him. Carefree, happy. Warm like the sun’s rays or the joys of seeing a rainbow.

She missed that feeling. Deeply.

When her eyes opened she was met with K’s, watching her gingerly. As if reading his mind Y/I answered his unspoken question, “It was my father’s.” He made an ‘ah’ sound. Soft and empathetic. Brushing a finger over the smooth surface, Y/I’s sighed again. Letting her shoulders drop as she admired the watch. “I’m sorry if I came off harsh I was worried I’d lost it,” she held it up, closer to her face, “It’s the only thing I have left of him.”

“I take it he passed?” K gently asked, holding back his shocked reaction when she shook her head.

“No, uh,” her throat cleared, the lump forming being forced back where it came. Praying her eyes didn’t show her feelings as she didn’t want to breach this aspect of her personal life with this K just yet. She put on a brave face, “I actually don’t know. He’s just been out of the picture for a while.” What more could she say? It was the truth and all she had.

Excusing herself, leaving K to his thoughts, Y/I picked up her clean and ironed suit--she made a note to thank him later--and went to the bathroom to change.

Honestly she should’ve just stayed in the comfortable clothes, because when she re-entered the room K put her on house arrest. Stating, “X is under the impression you were neuralized. If he sees you we’re both screwed.” Okay he had a point there. “I’m trusting you to stay here while I go and try to get as much info as I can. Can you do that?”

Defeated and out of options, Y/I agreed and gave a two-finger salute, watching silently as K left the apartment. Leaving her alone. For the rest of the day she entertained herself with magazines, books from his vast collection, and people watching from the terrace. At one point in her search for a book, Y/I stumbled upon a photo album dated 1960. Covered in dust which she blew off and examined with interest.

Was it a good idea? Probably not, it felt like an invasion of privacy. K’s past was a mystery despite their long partnership. Each time Y/I attempted to learn more about him the response was, “I promised you the secrets of the universe, Y/I. Not my own.” That same voice was breaching her mind now.

Curiosity got the better of her, however, and Y/I checked her surroundings before settling on the chair beside the bookcase. Opening the album to get a glimpse at K’s life before MiB.

With each page turn Y/I’s smile widened. Admiring the young man just entering his 20s, not having a clue what lay in store for him. Carefree and optimistic. In a year’s time he’d be stumbling on a scene unworldly, when got lost on the wrong back road.

As she closed the album shut, Y/I felt an overwhelming sense of grief consume her. So sudden it gave her whiplash, hand coming to her chest where her heart pounded against her ribs. A volcanic eruption of turmoil she’d been holding since discovering K died. Now alone to her thoughts, the agony begging to release finally snapped. Groaning as the tears began to flow.

She sat there crying for what felt like ages but was only ten minutes. Sniffing as she pulled herself together. Her eyes now puffy and red, mascara ruined as the product of the time had yet to discover the wonders of waterproof makeup. Wiping furiously at the tears that dripped onto the album’s cover, destroying any evidence in case K were to go down memory lane in the future.

Oh, K. How he came to be the most important person in Y/I’s life was one of history’s greatest mysteries. They were complete opposites yet fit together. K kept her grounded, and Y/I brought out a warm side of him. Agents referred to them as an old married couple with how much they bickered and took care of each other. “We’re just great partners,” Y/I always responded with, finding humor in the suggestion and brushing it off as a funny joke. Missing how the agents were actually surprised, having been fully convinced the two were a thing.

Now, with a deep, unfamiliar, emotion swarming inside, Y/I questioned that exact statement. But there was one thing for sure she knew: failure was not an option. She was going to fix the damn timeline and save K.

Placing the album back in its right place, the agent spent the rest of the day reading 2001: A Space Odyssey, occasionally stepping out on the terrace to smoke so the smell didn’t overpower the apartment. When it got closer to five she explored what K had to offer food wise. As a 29-year-old bachelor working for a secret agency sometimes involving sixteen-hour days, his fridge and pantry definitely showed for it.

“Gotta make the most of it,” Y/I said to herself, reaching for whatever she could find. Thankfully K had enough to make fettuccine alfredo. Y/I brought a pot of water to a boil, adding the noodles in before getting to work on the sauce. Heating the oil, butter, garlic, and cheese into a pan until it reached the perfect consistency to toss the cooked noodles in. “Thank God,” she cheered upon finding a frozen bag of broccoli in the tiny freezer, quickly steaming it to include in the pasta.

The agent was in the middle of plating the food right as K walked through the door. Exhaustion painting his features, soon replaced with confusion as he smelled a delicious aroma in the kitchen.

“Right on time,” Y/I chuckled, shutting off the stove.

“Right on time for what?” K’s question was answered with a plate of pasta shoved in his hands. Brows furrowed causing the wrinkles in his forehead to become pronounced.

“Eat,” the order came, spatula waving around but careful not to get any sauce on the man. “If there’s one thing I know about future K is he likes to skip dinner when a case becomes overwhelming. That ain’t happening on my watch.”

Stunned and at a loss for words, K accepted the fork Y/I presented and sat at the bartop. Silently eating the meal while Y/I stood at the counter facing him. The scene was rather domestic, and both agents were battling thoughts in their head at what it meant. For Y/I it was nostalgic. Thinking back to all the times she forced her way into K’s apartment with take out or bags of groceries to cook after long days at the agency. In the beginning he argued with her, told her it wasn’t necessary, but soon learned to enjoy the routine as it went on.

For the young agent with years ahead of him until he recruits the mysterious yet vibrant woman, K was getting a glimpse into his future. An adventurous, exciting--and sometimes unorthodox--life he’ll live. So far he liked what he saw, confirmed with the feeling of butterflies in his stomach.

‘Wait, what? Butterflies? Oh no.’

Y/I’s voice brought K out of his daydream, “So…learn anything interesting?” Too immersed in her food, she missed how a blush appeared on his cheeks. K adjusting his suit collar and giving a nod.

“We’ve got an agent currently stationed at the Factory. I’ll make contact with him once we’re there and see what he knows.” she hummed to show she was listening. K continued, “X is still in the dark, I had O type up what we know to go over tonight. No news on Boris and where he’s hiding,” He trailed off, watching Y/I’s grip on her fork tighten. “Other than that there’s not much else. What did you do with your day?”

“Read your books--or re-read them as I should say,” her smile lit up the room, igniting a warmth in K’s chest. “Your collection in the future is much more impressive, but It’s nice to see what your taste in literature was at this time.”

The small talk continued over dishes. Sticking to the case mostly and Y/I doing her damn best not to let anything slip about the main reason she was in 1969. Not ready to climb that hill yet. Of course she felt guilty keeping it from K, but she kept telling herself it was for the best.

For the sake of the future and all.

Already the mission screwed up the second he caught her so telling K posed a greater risk. All she had to do was wait it out. Buy more time.

That should be easy…right?

Whatever happens, Y/I didn't let the fear consume her. Today, albeit boring for the most part, had no alien attacks or the agents running in circles to find clues. They had their next to the puzzle, and it was waiting for them at the Factory.

Tomorrow, they’ll be one step closer to Boris.

The 13th of July

“There’s an event this afternoon at the Factory,” K announced the next morning, Y/I already dressed with her coffee in hand. Passing K a mug she’d already prepared, smirking at his shocked expression before he thanked her.

“What time?”

“Just after six.” Y/I hummed, sipping her drink as her lip jutted into a pout.

“And what the hell are we to do in the meantime? I can’t just sit here all day while you’re at headquarters, K. I need to be working on this case. After all, I’m the one who traveled from the future to do it,” She’ll be damned if she got left behind for a second time.

K buttoned his blazer, moving to check himself in the mirror. “I haven’t forgotten, slick. Which is why…” He trailed off, approaching with a smirk. Reaching beside her to grab an apple from the basket where a loud crunch echoed as he sank his teeth into the fruit. “We’re goin’ on patrol to pass time.” Y/I choked on her coffee, thinking she misheard him.

“Patrol?” She repeated, tone incredulous. “You mean we’re gonna sit in your car for almost twelve hours prowling the streets of New York in hope Boris or another clue just magically appears out of thin air? That type of patrol?”

K’s face lit up, eyes sparkling like diamonds, making him ten times more attractive and Y/I bit the inside of her cheek. It was so unlike his regular stoic demeanor. Made her wonder what changed him. “Exactly,” K gestured for her to follow. “Let’s get a move on.”

They pulled up to the Factory after a long day of sitting around--at which point Y/I took a bomb ass nap, waking up to the glorious sight of K singing along to The Who---and gave the exterior a once over before Y/I turned to K. “Alright, if Boris is here I’m going to kill him,” her tone was serious, “I need my gun.”

K shook his head, “No deal,” He was exiting the car before she could respond. Y/I groaned, pushing open her own door and closing it with a slam. Not in the mood to be tested.

“Pretty boy, I hate to pull rank but I’ve been an agent for fourteen years and if I recall MiB hasn’t even hit their ten year mark so that makes me the senior agent in this case,” she stepped up to K, who was silent and stoic. “So as senior agent I am instructing you, my junior agent, to give me my gun. And if there’s one trait I took from future you is I don’t like asking a second time,” she put her hand out open-palmed, making a grabby motion. “Gun. Now. That’s an order.”

K’s expression was full of amusement, eyes sparkling as he reached into his pocket to produce a weapon, placing it in Y/I’s palm. Only when she looked down it wasn’t the blaster.

“No, no, I don’t think so. Space gun, K.”

K smirked, walking past his partner, “You’re welcome.” Y/I exhaled, holstering the pistol in defeat and followed after him, “Didn’t say thank you, asshole.”

Entering the building, the two raced up the stairs where they passed two beautiful women. “For such an ungainly species, they’ve really thrived on Earth.” Y/I hummed in agreement.

“Yeah I’d been an agent for a few years before I realized all models were aliens,” they reached the top of the stairs, Y/I clicked her tongue at the memory, “Found out the hard way, but it was still a great time.” K snapped his head to her wide-eyed, confirming the suspicions he had ever since he caught her checking out O and flirting with the male store clerk.

Yes, K was surprised by the revelation, but it didn’t change the way he looked at Y/I. She was his partner and someone he grew to care for in the short time they’ve known each other. Not to mention she’ll be a big part of his future. What mattered to K was getting the job done and surviving to tell it.

Giving the password to the bouncer, K led Y/I into the Factory, which turned out to be a big party in the middle of a fashion show. Y/I scanned the place in awe before settling on a man that made her jaw drop. “Is that Andy Warhol?”

K followed her eyesight, then shocked her by approaching the photographer. “Yep.”

“Holy shit,” Y/I walked behind him, stunned but kept her guard up nonetheless. Watching for any unusual persons. Holding back from winking at the attractive people eyeing her up. Her patience began to thin when Andy kept refusing K’s request to come with him to answer a few questions.

She finally snapped when he said, “Why don’t you come back next week, after the happening has happened,” in his slow, monotone voice which had her move beside K to take over. Hand coming to his shoulder while the other reached to grab Andy’s forearm, “I’m sorry, Mr. Warhol, you’re talking real slow and my patience is thin. We’ve got important stuff to do and I’ve got a planet to save.”

He struggled against her hold, Y/I dragging the renowned artist away from the party until they were away from prying eyes. Complaining the entire way. Once in the dressing room K shut the curtains and joined the two.

Y/I’s jaw slacked as Andy’s hand raised, removing what actually was a wig on his head. “Now that’s something.”

“Dammit, K, you tryin’ to blow my cover!” the wig flew into K’s chest, dropping onto the floor by Y/I’s feet. The glasses were removed next, K holding a hand up to calm the situation.

“Agent W, your cover is safe.”

Y/I blinked, “you mean to tell me Andy Warhol is one of us?” Now she wanted to know what other celebrities past and present secretly were MiB agents. Micheal Jackson tried once but didn’t make the cut.

“Safe,” Andy scoffed angrily. “Are you out of your mind? I’m so out of ideas--I’m painting soup cans and bananas for Christ’s sake.”

A few minutes later, after Y/I and W butt heads and were seconds away from fist fighting causing K to step in, the agent busied herself by surveying the place. Exchanging glances with beautiful people, humans and aliens, but unlike before none caught her attention to have a second look. Smiling instead of a flirtatious wink she usually threw to those she found attractive.

As she migrated to the middle of the factory, a short man wearing winter clothes--severely out of place in comparison to the attendees, caught her attention. Mostly because he was grinning like a mad man at her. Still, she politely greeted him, “Hello. How’s it going?”

“Going? How’s it going? That depends,” he replied at a record speed. “For me, personally, good, things are good--.”

Y/I was about to cut him off gently to depart but then he started rambling, “Unless, of course, we’re in the possible future we’re the muscle boy near the door argues with his girlfriend,” Y/I followed the direction his finger pointed, landing on the scene he was describing. “Which causes her to storm away and bump into the guy carrying the stuffed mushrooms, who then dumps the tray on the sailors on leave. And a shoving match breaks out and they crash into the coffee table here,” Y/I watched it all play out as the man spoke, eyes widening in disbelief and turning back to see his distressed face. “In which case, I gotta move my plate. Like right now.” He grabs it in the knick of time as the sailor flashes by Y/I and falls straight onto the table. Glass shattering as the crowd watching gasps.

Y/I stared at the now unconscious sailor in a daze, the man coming beside her. “Or if it’s the possible future in which the pastrami sandwich I’m eating causes me gastric distress,” Eyes go back and forth between him and the sailor, processing what the hell just happened while her heart starts to beat out of her chest. “But thankfully, your friend, ma’am, will offer some of the antacids he carries in his right pocket…so good.” He offers her a smile despite her staring at him like he had two heads. “I’ll be good.”

What the actual fuck? Who was this guy, and where the fuck was K? This was above her pay grade.

He just kept going, stunning her even more “Except in the case of the possible future where I have to leave in two and a half minutes just before he has a chance to offer me the antacids. So, on the whole I’d have to say not good. I am not good.”

Yeah Y/I had no fucking clue what to say to that. This dude was spitting possible futures like nobody’s business. Frankly, it was making her worrisome. Trying not to panic in the middle of a crowd.

“But that depends,” he spoke again, then fell silent as the agent remained dumbfounded.

“K!!!” Her shout was useless. K was nowhere in sight, still talking to the Warhol dude.

Suddenly the man in front of her asked, “May I see your watch?”

Y/I hummed, pulling back her sleeve to check the time, “Oh, it’s 7:18--.”

“No, no,” he shook his head, nodding his head to her pant pocket. “Your other watch, the one your father gave you.”

Her blood ran cold. A sickening feeling in her stomach as the noise around her became muffled. “How….how do you know about my father’s watch?” Now Y/I was really concerned. The future trick was one thing but him having knowledge of the one thing Y/I possessed from her father was another. Still, she removed the pocket watch from its place, presenting it to the man whose face drained of color.

“Oh dear.” He sounded like one does when they're five seconds away from shitting their pants. Anxiety seeping through his words, “This is the one where Roman is dead and the gentleman at the bowling alley. So much death,” the nameless alien’s wide-eyes met Y/I’s. “Such an infinitesimally small chance for success.”

Now was the time to panic. “K!!!!”

Speaking of the devil. He finally shows his face, and he’s calm as ever. “Griffin, right?” Seeing Y/I’s alarmed face had K go, “Hey, we’re here--.”

“Because of Boris the Animal.”

“Correct. We believe he may be coming--.” Giffin cut him off again.

“To kill me. Yes, he’ll be here in two minutes--.” Y/I’s hand went to her holster, panning a hard look to K, who held his hand up to calm her. “--unless of course we’re in the possible future where he made all the lights on Bowery and got here early and is just about to discharge a weapon from the doorway in which case, we’re all dead in two seconds.”

Sweat coated Y/I’s forehead, staring at the door as they waited. When Boris didn’t appear they all let out a breath of relief. Griffin smiled, “Ah, good, that was a close one.” Still the threat remained, and there’s no way in hell a pistol would do damage to a ravaging alien on a homicidal rampage.

“Alright, K, darling, now's the time. I need my space gun,” her request was ignored, the woman glaring daggers into his profile while he listened to Griffin. She was going to kick his ass.

The alien sounded in distress, “The Boglodites consume any planet in their path. Mine, Roman’s, the Parlaxians. I tried to stop them, but if we can stop them here--if we can deny them Earth,” he paused, looking hopeful, “we can stop them forever. They’ll starve before they reach the next planet.” Suddenly they were interrupted by the sound of his stomach growling. “Pfft. Sixty-three seconds.”

“Well, how do we do that?” K cut in, right as the alien took a bite of his sandwich, “Stop them?”

“What? Oh!” Griffin placed his food back on the plate, passing it to K. “Sorry. I have something for you. A gift,” he specified, still chewing. And before Y/I had the chance to laugh at K’s reaction to being handed the plate, the smirk on her face disappeared when he shoved it towards her. “It can protect you. I had to hide it from Boris, but if you find me again, I’ll give it to you.” Griffin took back the plate from Y/I with a grin. “Thank you. What a game! Amazing! It’s a real miracle!”

He started to leave but Y/I’s hand shot out, clutching his arm in a firm grip. “Hold on, buddy. What do you mean by a miracle?”

“Thirty seconds. I have to go.”

“Wait, no, no, no. We got you, okay,” she assured.

“Negative possibilities are multiplying as we speak,” his voice trembled, on the verge of hyperventilating. “Twenty seconds.”

Cursing at herself, Y/I placed her hands on his shoulders to guide away from the direction he was originally going. Moving him behind the agents. “Okay, relax. I got it.”

Griffin did not relax. “If your watch is broken and I have gastric---.”

“Fly,” a man’s voice shouted in the distance. “Find your place in the world!”

“Oh dear.” The group turns to find a swarm of butterflies around the man in question. Unlike the rest of the party guests, however, Griffin wanted to vomit. “This is the one where Boris is coming through that door in twelve, eleven, ten--.” K reached into his pocket for a gun. A second later Griffin shouted, “Wait!” drawing his gaze to Y/I. “Did you have chocolate milk this morning?”

The agent was flabbergasted, her face depicting it, “Wha--yeah I did.” Griffin winced, attention focused on behind her shoulder.

“Cindy…” Screams erupted as the name left Griffin’s mouth. Y/I spun around, gun in hand as the adrenaline kicked in upon seeing Boris standing on the windowsill. Party guests shoved passed one another to escape, and Boris shot another spike in their direction. Missing embedding into a large balloon.

“K, follow Griffin!” she yelled, watching the alien take his chance to run. People ducked to avoid the spikes, Boris aiming at both Griffin and K, but thankfully his aim was off each time. Charging toward the Boglodite, Y/I raised the pistol and fired two shots. “Dammit!” Boris leaped from the window, landing on the streets below. Without thinking she followed after, hauling herself onto the ledge. Traveling down each platform to save herself from breaking her heels.

Huffing once on the ground Y/I launched into a sprint, climbing onto the hood of an empty car before aiming her gun. As soon as Boris got in her sights she fired. Shot after shot. The alien dodged each bullet while pedestrians seeked shelter.

Then suddenly Y/I felt a searing pain in her right cheek. The flesh ripped open as a spike sliced across the agent's face. “Gaaah!!” It was like hot metal branding her skin. The entire right side of her face throbbing it made Y/I’s head spin. Jaw completely numb. The bitter smell of iron filled her nostrils, gun dropping to apply pressure as blood poured from the gaping wound. Staining the collar of her white dress shirt. The agent moaned, struggling to maintain her balance on the car but the sting traveled down her spine until her knees buckled. Sliding down the car, expecting to hit the harsh pavement but instead arms caught her.

“Hey, hey, I got ya,” K’s gentle tone became alarmed when he processed her state. Locking on the red color coating her face, neck and hands. Horror struck him. “Woah, woah, what the hell happened?”

“Spike,” she stuttered out, wincing as K guided her to the stairs of the building to sit. “I didn’t see him shoot.” Based on the position of her hand, K jumped to the worst conclusion. Thinking it was her neck that’d been hit.

“Fuck,” he cursed, eyes darting around to find something that could help them. “Okay, just--just stay here and keep pressure. I’ll be right back.” He was gone in a flash, racing to the car to retrieve the first aid kit he keeps in the back seat. “Hey!” he spotted an onlooker from the party, watching the scene unfold with a frightened stance. “Get me some napkins--or towels if you can find!” They nodded, running back inside while K went back to Y/I. Sweat beading along his hairline. “Alright darlin’, where exactly are you bleedin’? I need to know.”

Y/I hissed, barely moving her palm off so he could see underneath. “Bastard got me on the cheek.” Relief washed over K. Happy it wasn’t her neck or anywhere close to her aorta.

The good samaritan arrived seconds later with towels. K grabbed them as he thanked the person and with a tender hand, moved Y/I’s hand to replace it with a towel. Putting pressure as best as possible without harming her. While he did that, Y/I snatched the first aid kit and rummaged through to find everything she needed. Aware she needed stitches despite not seeing the damn rip in her face. Luckily applying her own stitches was something Y/I became a pro at over the years. First learning during her time as a detective.

Fuck she still remembered the agony in her shoulder the first time a bullet was lodged. This, however, was ten times worse. Rivaling that of the alien stinger she took to the stomach 9 years prior.

“What are you doin’,” K eyed her wearily as she ripped open a sterilized needle and cut a piece of thread with her teeth.

“I don’t need a doctor to know my face needs stitches, K. I can feel it.”

“You’re not about to do that her’ are ya?” Y/I uncapping a bottle of distilled water before proceeding to flush out the wound made him gawk. Wincing when she let out a hiss, eyes snapping shut. “We need to get ya to the hospital.”

“We can’t call an ambulance or we'll compromise the mission, and I refuse to get blood all over your car. This is the only option,” Y/I repeated the action once more.

“I can call O,” K suggested, noting how the blood flow was starting to slow. A sign of clotting. “She’ll send someone over--.”

“No, we can’t involve anyone from MiB, K, you know that. I’ll be fine once I get this cleaned. Now, please go find me a mirror.” K was hesitant but left Y/I to retrieve the item while she continued the process of cleaning the injury. Then she doused it in rubbing alcohol and was unable to contain the scream. Automatically stinging her eyes with tears. “Fuck! Fucking A, man!”

K returned with the mirror he stole from the makeup department and set it in front of Y/I. For the next twenty minutes or so they sat in silence, with the occasional whimper from the woman, as she sutured her cheek. Racing against whatever daylight they had left.

K had to admit, he was amazed. It’s not every day one gets their cheek nearly blown off by an alien spike and manages to maintain self-control. Sure she was cursing and audibly reacting, but that’s fucking normal to the pain she was feeling. He’s seen agents with tiny injuries acting completely over the top.

By 8pm Y/I finished the stitches, cleaning the area once more and popped a couple ibuprofen in her mouth, swallowing without a chaser. Again, the act left K floored. With a clean towel Y/I doused it with water to start rubbing away the blood on her neck. It didn’t do much, but enough to not make her look straight out of a horror film.

“You good, slick?” K patted shoulder before helping her up. Y/I stumbled but K caught her, waiting until she got her balance to let go. nodding her head while swiping at the sweat.

“Yeah, I’m fine. A little doozy but just give me a minute.” Y/ nodded her head while swiping at the sweat. Body still trembling, but at least the numbness was starting to fade. She bit the inside of her left cheek, pinching her face. “Damn it hurts to talk. I’m gonna need something stronger than ibuprofen.” Unfortunately that wouldn’t be available. As much as Y/I desired morphine they were on the clock. And that meant not being drugged up.

Soon anger replaced her demeanor. Pissed off they lost Boris, and Griffin since the latter was not with K. “Dammit--we had him!”

“Relax, peach. We’ll find him.” That was the last thing she wanted to hear, Y/I moving to pick up her gun before turning back to him with scorned eyes.

“First of all, my name is Y/I. Alright, it’s not ‘sweetheart,’, it’s not ‘slick,’, and it sure as hell ain’t ‘peach’. Look, I’m not going to relax,” She stood beside the agent, breathing heavily. “Do you not understand, we are running out of time. We are running out of clues, and there’s an invasion on its way. I need you to get that through your head,” her hands waved frantically while K sighed. Then she pointed a finger, “we did have one guy who could help. Where is he--Griffin!” Her shouting echoed, calling for the alien who was nowhere in sight. “Griffin! Where’s Griffin, K? Oh, that’s right, He’s gone! And if Boris gets to him before us that is no bueno.”

“We need pie.”

“Excuse me?” was it the blood loss, or did she just hear K say the needed pie after the rant she just unleashed. Of all fucking things.

K, by the grace of God, explained, “My granddaddy always said ‘if you got a problem that you can’t solve,” a finger taps his temple. “It helps to get out of your head.’ Pie. It’s good.”

“Pie,” Y/I nods, following along despite the urge to strangle K where he stood. If she weren’t so lightheaded she’d follow through on her promise of kicking his ass.

“Yeah.”

“My cheek almost got torn off, and you’re suggesting we have pie?” Even saying the words aloud Y/I was in disbelief. Before he answered she lifted a hand, “You know what, we’ve been doing smart stuff these last few days. Real police work like following clues,” the sarcasm was strong, ignoring K shaking his head. “It might be time we do something stupid. Something that has nothing to do with what we need--you know what? Now, I want some pie, K. I want some pie.”

She did not want pie, but needed to get the hell away from the Factory and clear her head before doing something irrational. Plus she desperately craved a cigarette. “C’mon, let’s go get some dumb ass pie.” Not waiting, Y/I turned on her heel towards the car, leaving K standing on the sidewalk. Oblivious to the smirk he bore that his plan worked out.

“Sounds good.”

Sitting in the diner was odd, even with the comforting atmosphere. Yes it was the same diner Y/I frequented with K, but there’s the fact it wasn’t as outdated being it had just opened a few years prior. Unlike in 2012 where the establishment was reaching its 50th anniversary.

A menu in hand, K was deep in thought reading over the food it had to offer. Unsure which pie was more appealing. To his left, Y/I stared at his profile while the waitress’s eyes darted between the two. Unsettled and impatience coating her face by the state of Y/I and because K couldn’t decide.

The blood stained shirt Y/I wore on full display. She kept catching the woman’s gaze flickering between the shirt and her cheek, to which Y/I offered a hesitant smile. Hoping to appease the situation. It didn’t help that the agent promised a nice tip if she refrained from calling the cops.

That was the last thing they needed.

Before K had the chance to ask the specials, Y/I snatched the menu out of his hands, giving it back to the waitress, “My associate will have the same thing he always has after he looks at the menu for ten minutes and asks about the specials twice. He’s gonna have a slice of apple pie with a nasty piece of cheddar on the side.” K scratched his chin, lips curling up while Y/I beamed up at the woman. “I’m gonna have the lemon-cream and since it’s my last meal I’m gonna splurge a bit,” she ended with a wink.

It was as if the waitress couldn’t leave faster. Grimacing as she left the two agents at the countertop. Y/I chuckled, massaging her jaw to relax the muscle. “Word-class serial killer out there…and we’re having pie. I cannot wait to put this in my report.”

As she removed her hair from its bun, letting it fall into waves on her shoulders, K smirked and said, “So what do you do in your spare time, stretch?”

“Oh!” he laughed, pleased with her reaction. At that moment two plates of pie were presented, K thanking the waitress as she turned to leave. After the first few bites, K broke the silence, “You say we don’t talk right.”

“That’s right,” she muttered, savoring the desert as she brought a forkful to her lips. Sweet taste of lemon and cream. Shrugging as she pans him a glance, Y/I adds, “Or at least, I talk and you listen.” That really was the best description of their relationship.

“Alright, ask me a question. Anythin’ that don’t pertain to the case, I’ll answer whatever question you have.” A tempting offer. One Y/I did not want to lose after a decade of walls built up by K in which he never spoke about his past. Here was the opportunity to find out more.

Setting down the fork Y/I turned in the seat, “How’d you recruit O?” It may have been an odd question, but Y/I was curious to know how her closest friend, besides K, got involved in alien business.

He proceeds to relay the story of his time in London surveilling Mick Jagger--yeah Y/I almost lost her damn mind--and how he and O ended the night at a pub playing darts. With each word K lit up, his personality came through causing a heartwarming feeling in Y/I. Watching K was like watching a stranger. Making her wonder what caused such a drastic change in the man in front of her.

When K finished, Y/I whispered under her breath, “What the hell happened to you.” He wasn’t meant to hear, but he did. Shrugging his shoulders in response, “I don’t know, it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Part of me wishes it won’t,” a sad smile appeared, scolding herself for even thinking such. Still, she couldn’t help but add, “I like you like this.”

“Like what?” His voice turned soft, setting his own fork down.

“Just…..” the words failed to come out, Y/I shaking her head and turning back to her pie. “Nevermind.”

Sensing her dejection, K switched the subject. “You know, I’ve never seen someone get their cheek nearly ripped off and suture the damn thing like it was nothin’.” She snickered, mumbling how she was pissed off at the scar it would leave. “Where’d you learn that skill anyway?”

“Well,” she cleared her throat with a sip of water, soothing the dryness she hadn’t realized earlier. “I was a detective for ten years prior to joining MiB--and a patrol officer for five before that. Learned early on how to stitch flesh together when you’re dodging bullets left and right for fifteen years.” Since her eyes were on the pie, Y/I missed the way the gears were shifting in K’s face. “Then rolling with MiB this long has really perfected it. Gotta say, I know how to stitch some skin.”

K’s mouth opened and closed, bewilderment splashed across his complexion. He debated whether asking the question he had was the right call, but he needed to know because the entire time he assumed Y/I was in her mid-to late thirties. She certainly looked it, and the makeup she wore was so light her actual skin was on display. And while a good part of her hair was gray/white, he thought it was just hair dye and she was following a trend popular with her time. Five or six years was what K better she had on him. Yet apparently she’s got thirty years of experience in the field.

“I know this is a very ungentlemanly thing to ask,” his tone was apologetic, hand out in front of him as he grasped his thoughts. This could either go really good or really bad. “And please forgive me, I don’t mean any offense…but how old are you, Y/I?” K regretted asking the second the words left his mouth as Y/I started to choke on the water. Jumping from the stool to pat her back while she struggled to catch her breath. Then her laughter replaced the heaving, sending relief in the man.

“Oh my god, that was not the question I thought you’d follow up with,” calming down, Y/I cleared her throat as she gave one last pat to the chest. “I appreciate your concern, K, but you don’t gotta worry about offending me. Especially when it comes to my age.” He relaxed his shoulders, sighing in relief as moved back to his stool. Smirking, Y/I perched her elbow on the counter to lay her good cheek on her palm. “I’m curious though, before I answer, just how old do you think I am?”

He flushed red, “Well, my guess was 35, 37. You said we’d been partners for 14 years so I assumed you were recruited in your twenties. But after hearin’ you say you’d been an officer long before….,” he made a sound, “I was completely wrong.”

“Well I’m flattered,” Y/I teased, nudging his arm to show she wasn’t upset at all. Y/I was used to people assuming she was younger than her actual age. And each time it boosted her confidence, and ego. “Now you understand why I had to get my face products. I have not gone a day without sunscreen since I was sixteen. I’ve worked so hard to keep this face young,” she let out a disappointed sigh, “now that’s fucked up thanks to Boris.” Crossing her arms Y/l leaned both elbows on the countertop, beaming, “I’m 48, by the way.”

“You’re lying,” K shakes his head even though he knows she’s telling the truth. And Y/I knew too.

“You know I’m not,” her laugh made him grin. It was like physically hearing sunshine. Making K want to hear it again and again to soothe the addiction simmering in him.

“Well I sure need to start following in ya steps.”

Again she laughed, “Like I said the other day, cowboy, you’re still a looker in the future,” she said with a wink. The flirty banter came naturally. Only this time Y/I had a weird sensation in her chest she didn’t understand. Affection, intrigue, endearment.

Things she already felt for K, but were breaching a whole new concept than the appropriate way to view a friend.

Oh, wait a minute.

“So you were a youngin when you joined the boys in blue,” K commented, brow raised and unaware of the battle going on in his partner’s mind. And heart.

“Oh yeah,” she recovered quickly, distracting herself with a bite of pie. “Freshly eighteen and out of high school. College was the plan,” another piece of pie, “but after my family kicked me out and left me with nothing my options were limited.” Oh boy, that wasn’t supposed to slip out. She couldn’t stop now, “but it was a fun ride at the NYPD while it lasted. I like the uniform we wear more.”

Instead of a laugh from K, she was met with silence. An eerie silence. And when the agent looked up, she found him unsettled. Before she could question it, K beat her by saying, “Your parents disowned you?” A roughness laced his tone, surprising Y/I by how it matched his demeanor. As if it deeply upset K to hear it, which in turn sparked something in Y/I.

“Yeah,” the whisper was met with the final bite of pie. Chewing it slowly before swallowing with a sip of water to chase it down. Letting the fork clank onto the plate and push to the side. “My mom and step dad didn’t approve of my….affections to the all the beauty life has to offer.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what she referred to. K already had confirmation. But still, he stayed silent. Listening to Y/I speak. What pained him was the fact her family sought to kick her out instead of accepting her like they should have. It angered him.

“They didn’t hesitate the second they caught me in a compromising position with a girl they were under the assumption was only there to work on a school project,” she continued, after signaling for the waitress to bring her a cup of coffee. “Really it was my step dad who wanted me out, and my mom did whatever he said. He never liked,” Y/I pointed out, hands wrapping around the hot mug. “I often think he was just waiting to get rid of me. My half-siblings didn’t talk to me after--or extended family once the word got out.” The bitter taste hit her lips, Y/I sighing.

“And since my father had left ages ago it left me with no one. I did try to find him,” she admitted, stirring the coffee with the spoon as she placed it back on the counter. “The second I became a detective I---and I don’t condone it--did use the resources to my advantage. But found nothing….it was like he didn’t even exist. I know he did.” The watch poked her thigh in its pocket. “I have his watch, his military medals, and a vague memory from when I was young that is all but a blur now.” A pregnant pause occurred, then her voice lowered, “I just wish I knew why…..”

K clenched his jaw. Everything screamed at him to do or say something, but he only had one thing to really say, “I’m sorry that happened to you, Y/I.” Something flared in the woman hearing K say her name. Her actual name and not ‘slick’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘ace’. It sent heat down her spine.

Shaking her head, the woman gave a small smile, “Thank you. I accepted it a long time ago. Doesn’t bother me anymore--I have all I need now,” she attempts to lighten the atmosphere with another ink, “No need to worry about little ole’ me.”

After making sure Y/I was okay the conversation continued. They talked about K’s life before MiB, which was of great interest. Y/I learned more about K in three days than in ten years. They laughed, they teased. Told shocking stories leaving the other dumbfounded.

Somehow the topic of past relationships came up. Y/I wasn’t sure what to make of it but found it entertaining nonetheless. Watching K skew his brows listening to her talk about the most outrageous dates and partners she’d accumulated was fascinating.

“And now?” K asked, nursing his own cup of coffee, “You got someone waiting for you when you get home?” Y/I let out a lighthearted scoff, shaking her head.

“No. Haven’t in a long time really,” It’d been three years since her last relationship. “Last one was an agent, but they broke it off after a few months.”

“Did they say why?”

They did say why. And what Y/I once laughed at, panning it to be her ex upset Y/I wasn’t giving them enough attention. But thinking back, along with the unnamed feelings Y/I battled, she was beginning to think there was truth to what her ex said. Simply thinking about it made her stomach flutter.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Y/I pondered before answering, “They said it was because they were tired of feeling like a third wheel in the relationship.” Saying it out loud really put it into perspective, as did her next words, “They didn’t like how I was more devoted to being your partner, than to being theirs.”

Silence filled the space as the revelation hung in the air. Neither knowing how to follow up. Suddenly it became hot, and it wasn’t the coffee. Almost like a lightning bolt struck with how much electricity flowed between the two. Indescribable.

Fuck K was right. Pie does make things clear.

#agent k x reader #agent k imagine #agent!reader #agent kay #agent kay x reader #agent k x you #men in black #josh brolin #tommy lee jones #men in black imagine #men in black 3 #mib

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