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dazzlingjaeyun · 6 months ago

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ʙᴀɴᴅᴀɪᴅꜱ – ꜱɪᴍ ᴊᴀᴇʏᴜɴ

boxer!jake x nurse fem!reader

୨୧ genre: exes to ??, mostly angst, a little fluff | words: 5.3k | cw: mentions of bruises, blood, heavy injuries and surgery, probably poor medical references (pls bear with me) ୨୧

read this as a standalone or as a sequel to bruises! it doesn't matter in which order you read them or if you read only one, it will make sense either way ><

"can we get a nurse to the ER immediately, please?" you heard the charge nurse's firm demand through your communication device. you exchanged a quick glance with your colleague, and with a slight nod, she indicated she could handle the task alone. without hesitation, you used your pager to notify the ER that you were on your way, then dashed through the hallway and down the stairs to reach the emergency department.

"sorry, we're completely short-staffed," the charge nurse murmured in apology, ushering you toward a room. "male patient, twenties, just some bad bruises – likely needs stitches. we just got a family from a car crash, and we can’t tend to him right now."

with that, she left you at the door and hurried down the hall toward another room.

you pushed open the door, heading straight to the sanitizer dispenser and rubbed it into your hands. then, you pulled on a pair of gloves from the box beside it and added another layer of sanitizer.

"hello, my name is–"

the words caught in your throat as you turned around. the sharp scent of sanitizer seemed to sting your nose, burning your airways and stealing the breath from your lungs.

you froze, staring straight into a pair of familiar brown eyes – eyes you had learned to both love and hate. once filled with warmth, they now held an icy coldness, mixed with a flicker of surprise at the sight of you. just like you, he was sure you'd never meet again.

"y/n," he finished your sentence.

your throat tightened as your name rolled off his lips. you gulped down the lump in your throat as if you could swallow the whirlwind of feelings right down with it. you shook your head slightly, trying your best to focus on the situation at hand and staying professional.

"yes. i'll be your nurse today," you finished the rehearsed introduction you'd used at least a thousand of times during your two years at the hospital.

with another shaky breath, you slowly stepped closer to where he was sitting, waiting for any type of response from him but there was none.

"can you take off your hood, please?" you asked in the most professional tone you could muster. you nodded slightly when he pulled down his hood and leaned a little closer to examine his face. a pang of hurt rushed through you seeing him in the exact state you'd found him in many times before.

you were sitting on the sofa in the tiny apartment you shared with jake, your knees bent and pulled to your body as if that state could hold together the feelings that dared to overflow. you checked your phone again and again. nothing. as your head started to spin, wondering if tonight would be the night that he wouldn't come home, the sudden creak of the front door finally pulled you out of your daze, and you immediately shot to your feet, rushing toward the door. jake stumbled inside, his gaze on the floor and his hood hiding what you expected to be another field of bruises. "jake..." you whispered, your voice trailing off in a lack of things to say. you carefully took his shaking hand in yours and guided him to the bathroom, where you gently pressed down on his shoulders to make him sit on the edge of the bathtub. "i'm fine," he tried to reassure you the way he always did when he looked anything but fine. you stayed silent as you started cleaning up his bruises. the only sound breaking the silence was jake's occassional hiss when he clenched his fists as the antiseptical burned on his wounded skin. "you don't have to–", the words stuck in his throat with another sharp intake of breath as you cleaned up his bleeding lips with a cotton swap. "i can take care of it," he mumbled, and although he avoided your eyes, you could see a hint of regret flashing through his. "if you took care of yourself, you wouldn't keep coming home like this in the first place," you replied, your voice laced with a mixture of anger and frustration. you threw away the tissues and cotton swabs he'd bled through and faced him again to apply ointment to his bruises and patch them up if necessary. "what if one day you come home and i can't fix it, jake?" you asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper. for a second, you stopped your movements, just standing in between his legs and looking at his battered face. "what if one day you don't even come ho–" "shh," his whisper interrupted you, "that won't happen, baby." jake raised his hands and brought them to your hips, pulling you a little closer to him. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and just held him close until your thoughts quieted down. for tonight, he was safe, you thought. you let go of him and took a step back, gently running your hand through his silky hair and examining his face one last time. then, you reached for the chapstick that you kept on the sink, gently applied it to the ripped skin on his lips, and softly brushed your lips against his. after you pulled away from his lips, you cupped his chin between your thumb and index finger and leaned down to press a gentle kiss on each of his bruises. "you need to stop this, jake," you whispered later when the two of you had gone to bed and he was holding you tightly although every muscle in his body hurt. he couldn't not have you close to him.

"you won't ask what happened?" he suddenly spoke up, breaking your thoughts and pulling you back to reality.

for a second, you tensed again. then, you sighed almost inaudibly, lingering by his face for another second before taking a sudden step backwards and turned around to gather all the things you'd need to treat him. you could practically feel the intensity of his gaze, although you had your back to him.

you turned back around, your face as nonchalant as you could manage as you shook your head.

"i don't care what happened," you replied shortly.

his lips twitched into something resembling a smirk, though it was faint and visibly pained him. “still bossy,” he said under his breath.

you clenched your jaw at his remark, but sat down in front of him and ran your hand through his hair in the gentlest way possible to get his bangs out of his face.

"and you're still reckless. now, hold still," you ordered.

for a while, the room was silent except for the occasional sharp intake of breath as you cleaned his cuts. you tried to focus on the task, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling of his heavy gaze on you.

"this one needs stitches," you said, tapping carefully on the skin next to one particularly deep bruise on his cheek, "it might hurt a litte."

as you began stitching the bruise, his hand moved slowly, almost tentatively, to brush against your wrist. the touch was light, but it still sent a shiver through you. you glanced up sharply, but before you could say anything, he caught your hand.

“jaeyun,” you said, a warning tone in your voice, but he didn’t let go. instead, he brushed his thumb across your knuckles. then, in a gesture so achingly familiar it nearly shattered the walls you’d built around yourself, he pressed a gentle kiss there.

your breath hitched. “what do you think you're doing?” you asked, your voice so barely audible that you hated how vulnerable you sounded.

his eyes met yours, and for the first time since you'd stepped into the room, they softened just a little. “trying to remember what it felt like,” he said, his voice low and hoarse, “to have someone who cares.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. you pulled your hand back, your heart racing, but despite everything, you mustered the courage to reply. “i don't care. this is my job, not…” you trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

you wordlessly finished stitching up his wound, grabbed his chin in between your thumb and index finger like you'd done countless of times before and turned his head to both sides so you could examine his face.

your eyes trailed to the bruise marring his lips. they were as plump as you remembered, but the familiar softness was gone. they looked slightly rougher now – chapped and marked with faint remnants of past bruises.

you reached for a clean cotton swab, dipping it gently into the antiseptic. his gaze stayed fixed on you, the weight of it almost making your hands falter. carefully, you dabbed at the bruise on his lips, the antiseptic gliding over it. his lips parted slightly at the touch.

the bruises on his lips were always the hardest to see. he was already struggling with sores from time to time, and every other day, a new bruise was added to what had become a painful collection. but jake loved to kiss you. your lips, your cheeks, your knuckles, your forehead, the tip of your nose – he'd kiss you everywhere, again and again, no matter how much it pained him. only once had he not been able to kiss you. and, of course, it had to be your anniversary. he had promised you to not go that day – had promised you to be home for dinner that you'd prepared so lovingly, cooking all his favorite dishes and even bringing out the nice plates his parents had gifted you when you'd first moved in together. the ones you usually only used for guests. but as time passed, and the blue sky outside your kitchen window slowly turned to black, you knew he wouldn't be home before midnight. you tried to be angry, really, but you couldn't stop the waves of worries from washing over you again and again. with shaking hands, you grabbed your phone to call him, certain he wouldn't answer. but after only two rings, you heard his voice. "babe? i'm on my way, i–" "are you okay?" you interrupted, your voice trembling slightly. just hearing him eased the twist in your stomach, but not fully. jake swallowed hard on the other end, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. "i'm sorry," he replied after a while. "i know i promised." he sounded guilty. "you did," you replied quietly. "please... just come home." the line went silent except for the sound of jake's breathing, and you knew he was searching for the right things to say, but you still hung up. the dinner you'd put so much effort into had long gone cold, yet you couldn't get yourself to empty the table. you waited silently, eyes fixed on the clock on the wall, until the door clicked and jake's footsteps echoed through the hall. "princess?" jake's familiar voice called, a little unsure but loud enough to hear. he kicked off his shoes and rushed to the kitchen where you were sitting in your chair. you looked at him, your heart aching at how tired his eyes looked – at how his face was covered in fresh bruises; one on his jaw, one right below his temple, and a fresh one on his bottom lip. your eyes filled with tears that you quickly blinked away. he didn't say anything as he stepped closer, pulled you to your feet and embraced you in a tight hug, although it made him flinch. you buried your face in his chest, inhaling his scent as you tightened your arms around him. “i’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair, “i should’ve been here. i shouldn’t have–” you pulled away and looked up at him. jake hesitated, his eyes scanning your face. then, he leaned down and kissed your forehead. it hurt him – you could see in the way his jaw tightened and feel it in the way he pulled back immediately. "i'm sorry."

jake's sudden hiss broke the silence another time. "ah– y/n–"

you quickly pulled back the cotton swab from his lips, only realizing then that you had kept it on his wound while deep in thoughts yet again.

"sorry," you mumbled, blinking quickly as if that could erase the image your mind had just replayed, "did it sting?" your eyes flicked up to his.

"a little," he admitted, his voice low.

you pressed your lips together, focusing on your task as you cleaned away the faint streaks of dried blood and dirt clinging to the cracks. for a moment, your thumb brushed the edge of his jaw, steadying his face as you worked.

your hands were itching to pull out the chapstick you kept in the pocket of your coat and soothe his lips with it like you always used to do after cleaning up yet another bruise.

"you used to just kiss them better," he mumbled, more to himself than to you, but his words still made you freeze for a second.

"are you hurt anywhere else?" you asked, avoiding his eyes as you took one of his hands in yours and silently cleaned his bleeding knuckles.

his eyes traced down from your face to his hand in yours, slightly bigger, probably a lot rougher. it reminded him of how you'd often cleaned the blood off of his knuckles before, but also of how you'd loved to play with his hands when you were cuddled up against each other on the sofa or in bed. or how you'd always let him take the leftover lotion from your hands whenever you'd applied too much again. he was sure your hands were just as soft as he remembered them underneath the thin plastic gloves.

"jake?", you asked again, reminding him of the previous question he'd left unanswered.

he hesitated for a second, before slowly pulling his hand out of your hold, internally forwning at the loss of your touch, and reaching for the hem of the shirt he wore underneath the zip hoodie.

he slowly pulled it up until you could see a dark red bruise blooming on his ribcage. you winced slightly at the sight but still leaned in a little closer to get a better look, bringing two fingers up to the bruise and carefully letting them ghost over his skin.

"there's not much you can do for a hematoma. ice packs and... rest," you said, your eyes flicking up to his at your last word. jake lowered his shirt again and just nodded wordlessly.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. you just stood in front of him, not close enough for your legs to brush against his knees but not far enough to feel entirely out of his reach. his eyes met yours and for the first time since you'd seen him sitting in the ER, you didn't look away.

secretly, you hoped he'd see the hurt somewhere in your eyes. that he'd somehow understand how badly he fucked you up, even now that you supposedly didn't care about him anymore.

jake's hand was itching to reach for yours, to graze his fingertips over your knuckles again. hell, maybe to take your hand and pull you into a tight hug – knowing damn well every muscle in his body would hurt too much – but still, holding you so close you'd never leave him again.

but just as his hand moved forward the tiniest bit, you broke eye contact and took another step back, bringing more distance between the two of you.

"you're all patched up," you said sternly, "you'll get your papers and instructions in a few." with these words, you walked toward the door, yet you hesitated to leave.

you turned around to look at him one last time. "take care, jake. seriously, i don't want to see you here again."

the flourescent lights softly buzzed above you as you rushed from patient to patient. your feet were hurting at this point, but you knew you'd only have two more hours left until your shift was over.

you had picked up extra shifts, not entirely voluntarily due to the staff shortage, but you honestly didn't mind. keeping yourself busy kept any thoughts about your encounter with jake almost three weeks ago in the very back of your mind.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't worried deep down, but he hadn't made another appearance in the hospital since the last time, so at least, he was dealing with less severe wounds now.

you were finishing a report on the patient you'd just treated when the charge nurses firm voice made you flinch.

"incoming male patient in his twenties with suspected head trauma and possible internal bleeding. ETA three minutes. notify surgery – likely immediate intervention."

you looked up from the paper, focusing your attention on her and waiting for further instructions.

"y/n, you're prepping," she said, giving you a short look. you nodded, put down your clipboard and followed along as the team moved toward the ambulance bay.

"paramedics said he got injured in a fight," the charge nurse informed. you nodded again, mentally going through the steps you'd have to take now, until you really registered what she'd said.

suspected head trauma. possible internal bleeding. injured in a fight.

the combination of the facts she'd thrown at you and your colleagues so professionally started to ring in your ears like a deafening alarm.

jake.

you felt your heart starting to pound violently in your chest and your airways seemed to swell with every step you took toward where you'd await the ambulance. every worst-case scenario ran through your mind, each more terrifying than the last.

only when you tripped over your own foot, stumbling forward just slightly before catching yourself, you snapped out of it and managed to gather your thoughts again. countless of people got into fights every day. it's not him.

when the double doors of the ambulance burst open, you caught sight of the stretcher, slightly shuddering at the sight of the motionless figure laying on it. it wasn't your first time seeing a patient like this, but that didn't make it more pleasant.

"he's stable for now," one of the paramedics announced, "caller said he hit his head on the floor after a punch. unconscious when we found him. nose bleed, slight swelling of the head, pupils unequal," he rattled off the patient's symptoms.

"we managed to stabilize him, but his vitals dipped twice."

your heart was already in your throat, but when you stepped closer and got a clear view of the patient's face the world seemed to stop.

he looked battered, but you'd always recognize him – in every state, in every lifetime. his skin was pale, sickly so, and blood stuck his bangs to his forehead. a deep gash stretched over his temple, still leaking blood. dried red stains under his nostrils, on his cheeks – everywhere. so. much. blood.

you tried to stay calm but the walls were closing around you, squeezing you tighter until you couldn't breathe anymore. your vision started to blur as you reached for the handle of the stretcher with termbling hands.

"y/n," someone called, but the sound was muffled, like it was coming from underwater.

"jake," his name slipped past your lips in a whisper. you felt your head spinning, every late night thought that had plagued you for so long before you'd walked away from him crashing down on you – revealing reality in its ugliest form.

you didn't realize how much you were shaking until one of the other nurses grabbed your arm to gently guide you away. "i don't think you should–"

"no!" you exclaimed, pulling your arm free and stepping closer again, "i n-need to–"

“y/n,” the charge nurse’s voice cut through, snapping you out of the haze. “step back. now.”

the tone in her voice left no room for argument, but your feet still felt rooted in place. it wasn’t until the stretcher began to roll toward the operating room that you finally stepped back.

the outline of jake's body, all blurry from the tears in your eyes, was the last thing you saw before the doors swung shut behind him.

the charge nurse started to say something, but every noise around you shut down except for the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears and your breath coming ragged.

jake.

you hated him. you loved him. and now, it felt like he was slipping through your fingers for good.

your legs felt numb as you paced up and down the hall, not able to stay still. your body felt exhausted after pushing through your intense 10 hour shift, but you felt restless. time seemed to extend forever as you kept waiting for an update. you didn't know how long the surgery had been going on when the doors finally swung open and revealed the surgeon.

you quickly approached him, although you didn't know if you were ready to be confronted with whatever news he had. his expression seemed calm, but he might as well have looked horrified – you wouldn't breathe until you'd heard the confirming words.

"he's stable," he said finally, and as you hesitated to reply, he added, "he'll be fine. he'll take some time but–"

"can i see him?" you interrupted.

the surgeon furrowed his brows slightly. "he's not awake yet. he needs rest now, y/n."

you should have felt relieved but your terror wouldn't ease until you've seen him with your own eyes.

"please," you pressed, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

he hesitated for a while. your stomach started to drop another time until he gave in and sighed. "i guess you can help out in the recovery room," he mumbled, clearly not fully happy with the idea. you paced off before he could change his mind, only stopping to hesitate for a second once you reached the room. you took a deep breath before opening the door.

your eyes fell on jake immediately, he was lying in bed and although the sight of him wired to all types of machines and with a bandage around his head was worrying, you let yourself breathe for the first time since his arrival. he looked almost peaceful.

your vision blurred as you stepped closer and pulled a chair to his bed to sit down for the first time in hours. you reached out, your hand hovering slightly over his before you pulled it back again.

"i swear to god, jake, i–" a soft sob escaping your throat cut you off.

minutes passed, maybe an hour. you were just sitting next to his bed, blankly staring at him while the tears rolled down your face until you didn't have any left to cry.

when jake's eyes slowly fluttered open, the bright lights above forced him to squeeze them shut again immediately. his head was pounding, the almost unbearable pain forcing a quiet groan out of him.

he took a deep breath and forced his eyes open again, slowly taking in the environment in an attempt to make sense of his whereabouts. as he slowly came to his senses, he started feeling the even rushes of air against his arm.

jake forced himself to move his head to the side, although that only reinforced the pain he now felt in his entire body.

but all the pain melted away when he saw you – your head placed next to him on the matress, your soft breath brushing against his skin. your eyes were closed, your lashes wet and your cheeks slightly flushed. you had been crying for him. and you were here. even after everything he'd put you through.

it was only a few weeks after the ruined anniversary dinner when jake couldn't hold it in anymore. "there's something i haven't told you," he stated when you were cuddled up against him on the sofa. his heart was pounding violently in his chest when you sat up and swallowed so hard that he could hear it. "what is it?" you asked and jake swore the anxiety in your voice nearly shattered his heart into a million pieces. because it wasn't the first time you'd sounded like this, not the first time he'd made you sound like this. and the worst part? he couldn't blame you. when had all of this gone so wrong – when had he stopped being a safe place for you? jake took a deep, shaky breath before he continued, his voice careful as if it could break you. "you remember how i... worked hard, right?" your expression stayed blank, except for the crease that formed between your eyebrows. jake took your wordless nod as a sign to go on. "last week, after one of my boxing sessions," jake began, pausing to gather his courage, "there was this scout. he said he’d been watching me for a while... and that he liked what he saw." your lips parting slightly as you processed his words. "he offered me a chance to go pro." there it was. the sparkle in your eyes. the one thing he wanted to see the most, and the one thing he'd extinguish yet another time. "that's amazing, jake," you said, the relief in your tone only pressing down harder on him. "that means... proper guidelines, more safety?" he nodded slowly, avoiding your eyes as his gaze stayed fixated on the cushions of the sofa. "so...?" you continued carefully. "i turned it down," jake said quickly, as if saying it slower would take away the courage to say it at all. he didn't look at you. couldn't get himself to see the announcement crashing down on you in another wave of disappointment and worry. "you what?" you asked. your voice sounded so unsure – as if you'd only misheard – and jake's heart cracked when he repeated his words. "i turned it down," this time slower. "jake, you said–" "i know what i said, y/n. that i'd take the chance immediately if i got it. but this is not who i am, this–... i don't want to play by other people's rules and–" "do you even hear yourself?" you interrupted. your voice was filled with both anger and frustration and even though jake hated it, you were right. "play by other people's rules? you turned down the chance to do what you want to do, but safely. you've been coming home looking like hell for months. i don't care if you win or not, a body can only take that much," you continued, growing a bit louder with each word. jake knew you were right, and he knew it was wrong when he raised his voice back at you. when he shoved your feelings aside for his pride. "i don't get why you care so much. it's not like you're getting hurt," he replied, his tone agitated. "you're my everything, jake, don't you get that?" you almost screamed, tears of frustration daring to fall from your eyes. the sight of you like this deepened the crack, finally breaking his heart. but he just gritted his teeth, his jaw visibly tensing. you blinked a few times before standing up. "but you're right," you said in a stable voice although jake could see your hands slightly shaking, "i can't keep caring about you when you don't give two shits about yourself." and with that, you left the room – and a few minutes later the apartment.

another low groan stirred you awake. you slowly opened your eyes, blinking away the sleep, and then straightened your back almost immediately when you realized you'd fallen asleep.

your eyes immediately fell on jake and you felt like the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders when you saw him looking back at you. he was awake.

you immediately shot to your feet. "are you hurting?" you asked in an almost alarmed tone, turning around to provide him with painkillers, but the weak grasp on your wrist stopped you.

you slowly turned back around to face jake as he raised your hand to his lips and weakly brushed an attempt of a kiss against your knuckles, just like he'd always done.

"why are you here? i thought you hated me" he said, his voice so faint that it was almost inaudible.

you looked at him blankly, "i... do hate you."

jake didn't reply. the silence between you stretched. you wanted to say it, to admit it. to tell him that you didn't hate him. that you were still so fucking in love with him. that you'd always been, even when his reckless behavior made you lose your mind. that you'd never stopped caring about him.

but you just stared at him, your throat tightening with the words you didn’t know how to say. jake’s eyes, even though they were filled with exhaustion, never left yours.

he broke the silence first, although with only a whsiper, “i’m sorry.”

your breath hitched, and you blinked, unsure if you’d heard him right.

“for everything,” jake continued. “for all the times i didn’t listen. for making you hate me.” his lips curled into a faint, sad smile. “and for breaking every promise i made to you.”

your heart ached at his words. you searched his face for a hint of insincerity, but there was none.

“you’ve got a lot to be sorry for,” you said softly, sitting back down in the chair.

“i know.” he shifted slightly on the bed, wincing at the pain but refusing to break eye contact. “at some point, i didn’t care what happened to me because…” he trailed off, his gaze leaving yours for the first time.

“because...?”

his eyes returned to yours. “because i knew i was losing you, y/n. i know it sounds stupid," he hesitated, "but losing you already felt like i was dead. so i didn’t care what happened.”

the words hit you like a wave, knocking the breath out of your lungs. your fingers twitched, and before you could stop yourself, you reached for his hand. his skin was rough, but the way his fingers curled around yours was heartbreakingly gentle.

"every time you came home like this, i thought i’d lose you, " you said, your voice shaking, "and then i guess i finally did.”

jake shook his head, despite the new jolt of pain that rushed through him. “you never lost me,” he whispered.

the walls you’d spent so long building crumbled, piece by piece. you wanted to hate him, yes. but you also loved him – so much it felt like your heart had never been ready to let go, even when your mind had told you to.

“i don’t hate you,” you murmured. “i never did.”

your eyes met his again, and for the first time in months, it didn't feel like drowning – it felt like coming home.

just as jake was about to bring your hand up to his lips again, the door swung open to reveal the surgeon. you quickly pulled your hand away and straightened your back.

"mr sim?" he asked, to which jake looked at him expectantly.

"i'm sure you've heard this before," the surgeon continued, his eyes flicking to you, before focusing back on jake, "but you need rest. that means no boxing for now. you got severely injured and it will take a long while to heal fully."

your eyes went from the doctor to jake, and as you saw him swallowing, you absentmindedly took his hand in yours again, his fingers gently curling around yours.

jake nodded as best as he could and the surgeon left without another word. as you looked back at jake, you opened your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it.

"no boxing at all anymore," he said softly, causing your eyes to widen just slightly, "i'll stop if it means i'll get another chance to be with you."

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paisleypens · 5 months ago

Note

idk if youve done something like this, but a you posted that with y/n and spencer and theyre having fun but theres an old tweet about how spencer likes y/n!! hope this makes sense <3

winter break stirred up some writing motivation, sorry to everyone who has expected more lol. this is a GENIUS idea anon, tysm <3

yeah, i posted that... | spencer agnew x reader

gender neutral reader, second person, embarrassed spence, real tweets from the boys!!

~~~

You were all in for another shoot on the Smosh Pit set, and today was no ordinary one. The much-anticipated episode of "You Posted That?" featuring Spencer Agnew, Shayne Topp, and you, Y/N, had been scheduled for months. You’d joined Smosh not too long ago after building a successful career as a standalone YouTuber, and this was your first time competing on the popular show. Ian Hecox, as the host, was already hyping up the event with his usual mix of sarcasm and self-deprecating humor.

“Welcome to another episode of ‘You Posted That?’” Ian announced dramatically. “Today, we’ve got three contestants who are about to question their own digital footprint. Please welcome Shayne Topp, Spencer Agnew, and Y/N L/N!”

The small audience on set cheered, and you waved nervously. Spencer, seated next to you, leaned over. “You’re going down,” he teased, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Big words from someone whose tweets are probably all queerbaiting jokes,” you shot back, earning a laugh from Shayne.

“Let’s get started with Round One: ‘You Posted That?’” Ian said with the same exaggerated cadence. “Here’s how it works: we’ll show you one of your posts with a few keywords blanked out. If you can guess the missing words correctly, you get five points. If not, zero points. Got it?”

The first round began with Spencer. The tweet displayed read: “I've had the _____ ____ ___ stuck in my head all day, but only the part where ___ _________ says "___ _ ___ _ ______".” After laughter rang out and a few moments of squirming, it clicked and he guessed “Naked Mole Rat” "Ron Stoppable" and “can I get a booyah” Ian grinned. “Correct!” he exclaimed, as Spencer let out a celebratory “YES!”

Next up was Shayne, whose post read, “______ _____________ > Everything else” Shayne furrowed his brow. “It doesn't fit but... Raisin' Canes?” he guessed, earning howls of laughter when Ian revealed the actual tweet: “Nature Documentaries” Spencer groaned, “Next time just go outside and scream 'I'm smarter than you.”

Then it was your turn. The screen showed, “Me: 'I’m going to bed early tonight.' Also me at 2 AM: Watching _ _____ ______ _ ____ _____” After some thought, you guessed “a woman eating a live squid,” earning you a solid five points. “Weird, but correct!” Ian cheered, as Spencer gave you a playful side-eye. “Real quirky to watch mukbangs,” he muttered. "Look at the year posted!" You laughed back.

The second round of guesses brought even more chaos. Spencer’s next tweet read: “If you _____ ____ _____ while working from home alone, you are a cop” He confidently guessed “wash your hands,” but Ian burst out laughing as he revealed the true answer: “brush your teeth.” Spencer buried his face in his hands as Shayne and you doubled over.

Shayne’s second tweet was equally absurd: “there's no "I" in ____________” He guessed “Unfunny,” but the actual word, “peamupbubber,” had everyone in stitches at the duality.

When it was your turn again, Ian read out: “Why do my plants thrive but not my ______ ______? Asking for a friend.”

"To be clear, this was cute in 2016," and after some embarrassed sighs, you guessed “social life,” earning another five points. Spencer groaned. “Stop being good at this!” he joked.

Then came the final round of tweets. Spencer’s face turned pale as his last post appeared on screen. It read: “If ______ ever gave me a chance, I’d drop everything. Just saying.” The room went quieter, and all eyes turned to him.

“Oh no,” he muttered under his breath.

“Spencer,” Ian said, barely containing his grin. “Care to fill in the blanks?”

Shayne burst out laughing "Dude, don't die on this show of all of them", and you stared at Spencer, your jaw dropping. “Spencer, what is it?” you demanded, though you couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up.

“It was a long time ago! Before you joined Smosh! I didn’t think it would ever come up... its Y/N.” Spencer stammered, his face turning bright red.

“Wait, so you had a little crush on me, huh?” you teased, unable to resist.

“Little is an understatement,” Shayne chimed in, wiping away tears of laughter.

“Well,” Ian said, looking at Spencer with a playful smile, “5 points!”

The room erupted into cheers as Spencer laughed it off, but the embarrassment was clear as day. You kept looking at him, trying to give him the hint, but anytime he saw your bright smile, he turned crimson.

The shoot wrapped up fairly quickly after that, with your other posts being just as recognizable to you. Being the rightful winner you walked out happily, nearly skipping back to your desk next to the games pod. You saw Spencer awkwardly approach your desks before you had a chance to sit down.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about that. I had no idea that tweet even existed anymore... it was just- I don't know. I just hope I didn't make you uncomfortable," He apologized.

You quickly rebutted, "No no not at all, Spence. It was really sweet actually. I have never told you this but I felt the same way when I first joined."

"Wait really?" Spencer looked up at you with surprise and unbelievable relief.

"Might still feel that way now. If you do too?"

"Yes! I mean, yes, I do. I never got over it."

"Your crush on me?"

"Yeah, I posted that for a reason."

#smosh #spencer agnew #smosh fanfiction #smosh x reader #spencer agnew x reader #paisleypens

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stevesgother · 2 months ago

Note

absolutely obsessed with chalkboard hearts! it’s such a sweet series!

would we perhaps be able to see smth smutty? like maybe the night after their wedding or even their first time together?

love u!!

thanks so much for reading! i decided to go with the latter, so here is steve and reader's first time together <3 steve harrington x fem!reader from the chalkboard hearts au, but can definitely be read as a standalone. cw: SMUT, p in v, oral (f receiving), language

"This is really quiet the bachelor pad you got here, Harrington."

You tease him as you take in the surroundings of your boyfriend's kitchen for the first time. It'd took some convincing to let dinner be at his place this week. He'd just finished cooking you a delicious meal-- salmon with white rice and lemon-- and insisting that you not touch a single thing. Just sit there and look pretty.

"Not really a bachelor pad anymore, is it?" He observes as he takes another sip of his pinot noir. You'd never taken Steve Harrington to be the type of man who knew which wines paired well with fish, but here he'd surprised you again. He seemed to be full of them these days.

"I think we'd have to be married for it not to be," you swear he blushes, "but it's a lot cleaner than I thought it'd be!"

"Ouch," he places a hand over his chest in faux offense, "You saying you thought I'd be a slob?"

"I'm saying, you're a single man in his mid-twenties," you laugh at his dramatics.

"My mom was sort of a neat freak, I guess," he admits, a little more subdued this time as he picks at what's left of his salmon with his fork, "The house barely looked lived in most of the time."

His parents seemed like a consistently sore subject, or at least one that wasn't reminisced on with much joy. You attempt to lighten his mood, "Well, my house always looks like the Tasmanian Devil blew through it-- you know you're always welcome there."

A sense of pride blooms in your chest when Steve cracks a grin, "Yeah, Abbey seems to have that effect everywhere she goes. My classroom isn't much better by the end of the day." He chuckles.

"Sorry about that," you wince at your daughter's apparently incessant need to make everywhere she goes an absolute pigsty, but he waves you off.

"You all done, sweetheart?" Steve asks as he stands to rinse his own mostly empty plate. Now, it's your turn to blush at the usage of the pet name-- still something you're not quite used to hearing directed towards you.

"Yeah," you tell him bashfully, "Yeah, I am. Thank you."

The smile you flash him is more than enough thanks, if you ask him. Burning with the power of a thousand sunrises: enough to light a fire behind his ribs.

He really did go all out for this date. The button-down dress shirt is evidence enough as he rolls the sleeves up to his elbows in an effort to keep them dry as he rinses your plates free of food.

The muscles in his forearms flex deliciously beneath the fabric with every movement he makes; you trace a vein from his hand all the way to wear it disappears underneath his sleeve, thinking about all the different ways those hands could--

"It's rude to stare, you know," Steve tells you without look, snapping you out of your daze.

"I-- sorry, I, uhm--" You scramble, feeling suddenly flustered and hot in the face.

"Hey," he says, abandoning the dishes in favor of comforting you, "I'm just teasing. You can stare all you want." Steve's lips are a mere breath away from yours when his sentence finishes; they're simply too tempting not to close the distance.

The kiss is tender at first, loving; but morphs quickly into something more consuming. His mouth tastes fruity and rich-- red wine, and something else that's ineffably Steve when his tongue laves over yours.

It's not long before hands begin to roam; Steve's large palm needing the plump of your backside, skating down your torso and inching dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. His mouth develops an interest in the tenderness of your neck-- that spot just below your earlobe. You can't help the breathy sigh that escapes you when he nips there.

"Have I showed you my bedroom yet?" Steve pants when his lips detach from your neck.

"Smooth," you chuckle.

"I'm serious!" He laughs back; you swear his eyes sparkle. "Cleaned it just for you." You yelp as he hoists you up; quickly taking the hint, you wrap your legs around his waist and let him carry you.

Neither of you were the wiser, but you'd both anticipated this might happen tonight. You, anxiously shaving in the shower and wasting an extra hour of hot water; and Steve, rushing home from work to shove miscellaneous piles of clothes into his closet and slamming the door shut.

And he wasn't lying, he did clean. Not that you have anything to compare it to, but you get a moment to look around when he plops you down onto his mattress; it was cute, albeit poorly decorated.

"Why do you have a bowling pin on your desk?"

He rubs at the nape of his neck, "I've just always had it, I guess,"

"it's cute," you reassure him, "you're cute."

"Cute enough to let me kiss you a little more?"

"Maybe," you say, quieter; the duvet ruffling under your head where you lie down in order to accommodate Steve as he crowds over you.

He wastes no time diving back in. You take the liberty of unbuttoning his shirt for him as he works open your blouse, revealing a cream, satin bra.

"You wear this for me?" Steve breathes as his fingers brush your pebbled nipple beneath the silk.

"So what if I did?"

He groans into your mouth, using his free hand to unhook the only barrier standing between him and what he wants. The second the previously unexplored skin is exposed; his hips begin to rut with a mind of their own. Your leg's part to make space for him.

The hardness of him against your core wasn't something you'd realized you needed so desperately until now; it's enough to have you keening.

Before you can process it, Steve's face is pressed between the valley of your breasts, planting soft kisses there before taking one of your buds into his mouth. He spends a considerable amount of time there before moving further south, nipping and savoring your freshly exposed skin as he goes.

"Can I take these off?" He asks with his hands fiddling at the hem of your pants, looking up at you through his lashes like he knows it's your personal kryptonite.

"Yeah..." your voice trembles and you hope he doesn't notice. It's been over five years since anyone's touched you like this, and no one's ever worshipped you quite like this. Not like Steve.

Steve grabs your hand in the gentlest show of affection, his brows marrying in the middle of his forehead, "Is this what you want?"

"Yes-- yes, sorry, I'm just nervous," you breathe, "it's been...a long time."

"Hey, me too," he reassures, "you're safe with me, right? And I'm safe with you."

"Right," You agree, feeling the tension leave your body bit by bit.

"Good," you pants and underwear begin their slow descent down your thighs, "Just relax, baby, let me take care of you--" That last part is muffled as he buries his nose in the folds of your cunt, licking a wide stripe upward.

He laps at you for what feels like hours, nosing at your clit and opening you up in preparation for him. Steve doesn't let up until you're clenching around his middle and index finger, back arching off his cotton sheets with a desperate cry of his name.

By the time he separates himself from your soaked core, you're so desperate for his mouth again that you reach forward to yank him down onto you. He chuckles into your mouth-- now he tastes of only you.

You palm him where he's noticeably tenting in his slacks, he quickly takes the hint and unbuttons them as he hovers over you.

"Yeah? You want this cock, baby?"

You have to stifle a gasp, "Harrington, you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Steve had been ever the gentleman since the moment you'd met him; almost too timid, sometimes. Hearing him speak such filthy words was jarring to say the least.

"Sorry--" Steve winces, "Was that...was that not? I can--"

You have to pinch his cheeks together to get him to stop spiraling, "Never said I didn't like it," he relaxes a bit, face flushing, "I don't want you to force it, though. Say whatever feels right."

"Yeah, okay," he whispers.

Wordlessly this time, Steve reaches for the top drawer of his nightstand and pulls from it's confines a silver packet. He tears it open with his teeth.

You don't catch yourself before saying, "That was hot."

"Hey, thanks," he breathes an airy chuckle.

It's only as he's rolling the condom on that you truly see how well-endowed he is. The Levi's he's always wearing don't leave a ton to the imagination, but this is a whole different ballgame. You were beginning to sweat, if you were being honest.

Steve hands are trembling slightly as he attempts to line himself up with your entrance, "You're shaking, Steve."

"I know, I'm sorry--"

Your hand on Steve's wrist halts his movements, your other palm gently stroking the stubble starting to grow on his cheeks. You plant a loving kiss on his forehead before urging him off of you and onto his back.

He stares up at you like a moth looking into a flame; his hair all mussed around the frame of his beautiful face.

"Just relax, baby," you echo his words from earlier, "I've got you."

There's almost no resistance when you sink down onto him, despite his size. A breathy whimper escapes you at the stretch and Steve's mouth opens in a silent 'Oh'.

His hands fly to your hips to prevent you from moving just yet, giving both of you time to adjust to the position. Your head finds a comfortable home in the crook of his neck where it junctions with his shoulder, his arms wrapping around the plain of your back to keep you tucked into him.

Steadily, you begin to meet each other's grinding in a rhythmic tempo. It's lazy and it's beautiful: like two souls entwining as one.

As he picks up speed, his thrusts begin to punch little sounds of ecstasy out of both of your open mouths. You urge him to look at you with a hand to his cheek, not wanting to miss his expression as you're both pushed closer to the edge.

"Are you close?" Steve asks through gritted teeth, planting his feet to pound into you harder.

"Yes, Steve-- don't stop--"

He doesn't deny you, not when you sound so sweet and wrecked on top of him. He staves off until he feels your velvety walls begin to squeeze him harder; his hand sliding between the slick of your bodies to circle your clit, giving you that extra push you need before you're finishing around him with a loud whine. Steve's thrusts falter, and you can tell he's close.

"I love you--" Steve grunts as he comes inside you with one last pump of his hips. He stills, only just registering what he's admitted.

You rise onto your elbows to meet his gaze, his eye's wide and pupils blown. Sweat beads at his hairline, just enough for on droplet to slide down his temple. You can practically see him trying to think of something-- anything to say.

"I'm sorry," he starts to backtrack, "You said to say-- you said 'what felt right' so I-"

"Did you mean it?"

"I... of course I meant it,"

"Then stop apologizing. I love you, Steve." Your face floods with warmth, "I think I've loved you for a long time."

"I love you," Steve whispers.

"Right, we've established that," you laugh affectionately.

"Do you want to stay tonight?" He asks in an almost trance-like state.

"If you'll have me," you brush the stray hairs that stick to the dampness of his forehead.

"I'll always have you."

taglist - @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name@ilovetaquitosmmmm @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @mrsnarnian @negomi123 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @jamdoughnutmagician @cali-888 @kolsmikaelson @1deverland @borhapparker @alexa4040 @chiliwhore @weonlysaidgoodbyewithwordss @paddockspookie42 @foxes-n-frogs @j-mlover383 @i-love-gfv @the-fairy-anon

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chaostudee · 10 months ago

Text

ferrari part two , charles leclerc

summary : y/n is touring her new album whilst charles is fighting for the championship yet they still find the time to support one another. warnings : none a/n : you can read this as a standalone but if you want here is part 1.

y/nusername night 42 in los angeles last night, love you all dearly. can't believe that the next show is our last one 😭😭 these past few months have been the best of my life and i'm not ready for it to end. anyways next week las vegas <3

liked by charlesleclerc, larray , sabrinacarpenter and 3,910,919 others.

user9229 okay charles i get it

y/nloverr you were amazing literally best night of my lifeee

charlesleclerc my pretty girl

y/nusername my pretty boy <3

f1fan_891 now that i've heard ferrari live i can finally die happy

sabrinacarpenter forever in awe of you

landonorris can't wait for this tour to end, acc can't bear listening to charles whining about how much he misses you 🙄

kikagomez my stunning bsf <3

charlesleclerc disappointing day for me after a dnf after the first lap because of engine difficulties but well done to carlos for earning some well needed points. on to las vegas next.

liked by y/nusername, carlossainz, landonorris and 5,820,001 others.

user9292 charlos forever ❤️

f1fan we love you charlesss

carlossainz we'll bounce back stronger 💪

y/nusername ily

charlesleclerc ily more angel

f1wagupdates i need y/n and charles to reunite already plsss i miss my parents

landonorris sorry mate but thanks for the free position :)

charlesleclerc i-

y/nusername guess where i'm heading???

》 user929 OMG ARE MY PARENTS ABOUT TO BE REUNITED

》 f1fan OMG OMG

》 y/nmyfave SCREAMING

》 kikagomez wish you were coming to see me :,(

》 y/nusername immm sryyy we have to meet up soon

charlesleclerc

y/nusername recharing with ml before las vegas.

liked by charlesleclerc, kikagomez, gracieabrams and 3,920,720 others.

gracieabrams why are you guys acc the cutest tf

kikagomez parentssss

y/nusername me with you and pierre

user929 i love them more than my own parents

f1fan oh that's not- user929 but in the sense that-

f1wagupdates yayyy finally something for me to post :)

y/nusername

y/nusername tonight was the best and worst. the best because i got to spend it with my bestfriends and the worst because now it's time to say goodbye. this tour has changed my life and has helped me through rough times, i hope it did the same for you <3. i want to say and thank you to my team, all the people behind the scenes and especially to you my fans (my bffs). lastly i want to thank the most important person in my life @charlesleclerc, i love you dearly and your endless support for me makes me fall in love with you more everyday. you are my whole world forever. forever and always.

liked by charlesleclerc, nicsturniolo, sabrinacarpenter and 5,910,929 others.

*comments on this post are turned off*

y/nusername pookie is looking fire tonight 🔥

》 charlesleclerc pookie looks fire all the time*

》 y/nusername true

》 user111 the way he looks at herrrr god he's so in love

》 f1fan ugh get married already

charlesleclerc great race today, definetly think that this was because of my lucky charm @y/nusername.

liked by y/nusername, maxverstappen, carlossainz and 6,199,810 others.

y/nusername so fucking proud of you <3

liked by charlesleclerc

maxverstappen great race man

charlesleclerc you too mate justaninchident they are never beating the lestappen allegations.

carlossainz manifesting a charlos podium for the next race 🤞

user920 yayyyyy charles back on the podium

taglist ⭑.ᐟ

@lottalove4evelyn

@sweetestgirlintown111

@mxryxmfooty

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queenofwands89 · 9 months ago

Text

Revelations

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Fem!Pilot!reader

Summary: Y/N overhears Jake's heartfelt confession about liking someone and dares to hope it's her. But when she sees him with another girl, intrigue and uncertainty swirl. Is she the one he truly desires, or has she misread the signs?

Word count: 3,010

Warnings: Angst, Misunderstanding, reader jumping to conclusions, eavesdropping, other character plotting against Jake and y/n, tears, sad, fluff, confessions.

Notes: This is somewhat of a continuation of this fic, but you don't have to read it because I intended it to be a standalone. Didn't have time to proof read so sorry for any typos. I hope you enjoy byeeee 💜

Your friends had been relentless in their teasing about Jake having a crush on you. At first, you laughed it off, finding it impossible to believe that Jake Seresin, the eternally confident and suave pilot, could be interested in you. But as time passed, you started noticing small gestures and moments that made you question your initial disbelief.

Jake had always been kind to you, but recently his kindness seemed to extend beyond common politeness. He remembered the tiniest details you shared in passing—how you liked your coffee, your favorite authors, even the specific way you styled your hair on a bad day. He was quick to offer help, whether you needed an extra hand with a task or just someone to talk to. The way he looked at you, with an intense and sometimes tender gaze, made your heart flutter against your will.

Despite these signs, you remained conflicted. The thought of Jake possibly liking you brought as much fear as it did excitement. What if your friends were just teasing for fun? What if Jake’s actions were merely those of a considerate friend? The fear of misinterpreting his actions and making a fool of yourself loomed large in your mind. You began to feel like you were walking a tightrope, delicately balanced between hope and skepticism.

One afternoon, you were walking past the common room at the base when you heard familiar voices—Rooster, Javy, and Jake—engaged in what seemed like a serious conversation. Curiosity and a bit of anxiety gripped you as you recognized Jake's voice among them. You slowed your pace, your heart thudding in your chest, and edged closer to the door.

“I just don’t know how to tell her,” Jake admitted, his voice carrying a vulnerability that you had never associated with him before. You could sense the frustration and hesitation in his words, the struggle of a man who was usually so self-assured finding himself in unfamiliar emotional territory.

Your heart raced. “Could they be talking about me?” you wondered, your breath catching in your throat. The possibility sent a thrilling yet terrifying jolt through your system. You pressed yourself against the wall, straining to hear more, each beat of your heart echoing in your ears.

“But you’ve got to tell her, man,” Rooster encouraged, his tone filled with genuine support. “She deserves to know.” The sincerity in Rooster’s voice struck a chord, amplifying the gravity of Jake’s confession.

“But what if she doesn’t feel the same way?” Jake's voice, usually so cocky and assured, wavered with uncertainty. “What if I ruin everything?”

A pause followed, the silence heavy with the weight of Jake’s fears.

“She won’t.” It was Javy who spoke next, his voice calm and reassuring. “You’ve got to trust yourself. And trust her. She’s not just anyone; she’s special.”

You felt your pulse quicken, a mix of hope and anxiety swirling within you. Could it really be true? Was Jake talking about you? The words from Rooster and Javy seemed to point in that direction, but the fear of jumping to conclusions held you back.

“I know she is,” Jake replied softly, almost to himself. “That’s what makes it so damn hard.”

The vulnerability in Jake’s voice replayed in your mind, planting even more seeds of doubt and hope. The need to discern reality from your friends' teasing and your own fears had never felt more urgent.

Before you could eavesdrop any further, Natasha's voice echoed from down the hall, calling your name. Panic surged through you like an electric shock. Instinctively, you quickly moved away from the doorway, your heart pounding and thoughts racing. As you walked towards her, trying to act casual, you couldn't shake the question that now consumed your mind: Who was Jake talking about?

"Hey," Natasha greeted you with a curious look, her eyebrows knitting together slightly. "What were you doing back there?"

You hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward the room where Jake and the others were talking. Finally, you confessed, “I overheard Jake talking with Rooster and Javy. He was talking about liking someone but didn’t say who.”

A knowing smile crept onto Nat’s face as her curiosity morphed into something more mischievous. “Why are you so worried about Jake liking someone?”

Your cheeks flushed crimson. "I-I don't know. I guess... I guess I just wondered if he was talking about me," you stammered, hardly believing the words were coming out of your mouth.

Nat's eyes widened in realization, her smile broadening into a grin that practically split her face. “Oh my god, you like Jake!”

“No, I—” you started, but Nat cut you off, clearly reveling in this revelation.

“Everyone’s been saying he has a crush on you,” she continued enthusiastically. “Jake's always sweet to you. I'm pretty sure he was talking about you. You should tell him how you feel.”

Your mind raced back to countless little moments that suddenly took on new significance: the way Jake’s eyes lingered on you during group meetings, the playful banter that always seemed to hold a deeper meaning, the subtle ways he tried to be there for you without making it obvious.

“I don’t know, Nat,” you replied, faltering. The fear of being wrong and the risk of vulnerability loomed large in your thoughts.

Natasha placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, her grip firm. “Listen to me, Y/N,” she said earnestly. “You deserve to be happy. And what’s the worst that could happen? If he wasn’t talking about you, then it’s his loss. But if he was… think about what you could be missing out on. Just tell him how you feel.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your swirling emotions. The blend of hope and fear still churned in your chest, but Nat's encouragement gave you the courage to consider a possibility you had been afraid to fully acknowledge.

“Thanks, Nat,” you said quietly, giving her a small, grateful smile. She grinned back, her eyes twinkling with excitement. Without missing a beat, she added, “You should tell him tonight at The Hard Deck. The atmosphere is relaxed, and you can catch him in a good mood. Plus, it's a place where everyone feels a bit more confident.”

You nodded, the idea settling comfortably in your mind. The Hard Deck, with its familiar ambiance and sense of camaraderie, seemed like the perfect place. “Yeah, you’re right," you agreed, feeling emboldened by the plan.

Nat’s grin widened. “Great! Then it’s settled. Go get ready, and don’t worry—I’ll make sure he doesn’t disappear before you get there.”

With newfound resolve, you turned back toward the hallway, your heart still pounding but now with a touch of exhilaration. Tonight at The Hard Deck, you would take the leap and tell Jake how you really felt.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

Bolstered by Nat’s reassurance, you decided to muster all the courage you had and took a chance. You spent the rest of the afternoon overthinking every scenario, planning out how you would approach Jake and what you would say. The anticipation tied your stomach into tight, nervous knots, but Nat’s words of encouragement echoed in your mind, giving you the strength to push forward.

That evening, you arrived at The Hard Deck, the familiar scents of sea air and salt mingling with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. The warm glow of string lights cast a welcoming ambiance over the buzzing crowd of friends and fellow pilots. You scanned the room, your eyes searching for Jake.

There he was, leaning casually against the bar, seemingly in his element. His smile was bright, his laughter infectious as he chatted with a few squad members. Your heart pounded in your chest as you took a deep breath, walking purposefully towards him, each step fueled by the hope of finally expressing your feelings.

But as you closed the distance, your heart nearly stopped at the sight unfolding before you. A blonde girl, stunning and radiant, approached Jake with an ease that spoke of intimacy and familiarity. She smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling with affection. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Your breath hitched painfully in your throat as you watched her lean in and kiss his cheek, her lips lingering as Jake's arm encircled her waist.

Your world tilted on its axis, the scene playing out like a cruel dream. Every piece of hope you had built up shattered, splintering into a million jagged fragments. The voices around you faded into indistinct murmurs, the vibrant atmosphere of The Hard Deck suddenly feeling cold and isolating.

Swallowing hard, tears threatened to spill as you silently concluded that the conversation you had overheard was about this blonde girl. The connection and affection between them were undeniable, making your earlier hopes feel foolish and naïve.

Crying on the inside, you turned on your heel, each step away from Jake feeling like wading through thick, relentless waves. You slipped out of The Hard Deck, the door closing behind you with an unsettling finality. Your chest ached with unspoken words and unfulfilled dreams, your heart heavy beneath the weight of unreturned feelings.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

In the coming weeks, you found yourself avoiding Jake entirely. Whenever his name came up or plans were made that involved him, you made excuses, retreating into a quieter, more isolated version of yourself. Each glimpse of him became a painful reminder of what had been and what could never be, the gap between you widening into an unbridgeable chasm.

Though Nat and other friends noticed, you didn't feel ready to explain. The feelings were still too raw, so you chose to keep them to yourself and carried on as best as you could. You knew deep down that Jake liking someone else doesn’t make him a bad person because he has every right to be with who he wants to be. You had no right to be mad; you were not upset with him, just heartbroken. And that heartache was enough to make you withdraw, even from those closest to you.

The day of Bob’s party arrived, a day you'd been both anticipating and dreading. Just the night before, Rooster had casually mentioned that Jake wouldn't be attending. A mix of relief and disappointment had washed over you—relief for avoiding the emotional turmoil, and disappointment because, as much as you wished otherwise, you still deeply cared for Jake.

As you entered the bustling party, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. The loud music, laughter, and upbeat conversations seemed distant as you struggled to enjoy yourself. You chatted with a guy near the drinks table in an attempt to distract yourself, but your eyes kept searching the crowd for a familiar face that wasn't supposed to be there.

Then, as if mocking the emotional preparation you'd done, there he was. Jake, with his striking build and effortlessly commanding presence, stood across the room. A pang of shock struck you, and for a moment, you were frozen. How could he be here? Rooster had clearly said he wouldn't be! You quickly decided to play it cool, hoping he hadn't noticed your initial reaction.

You re-engaged in your conversation, attempting to laugh here and there, but your thoughts were distracted. Your gaze involuntarily kept flitting over to Jake's direction, drawn by an invisible thread. When Jake caught sight of you talking with someone else, his expression darkened with displeasure. He started moving towards you with determined steps, each stride amplifying the wave of unease that settled in your stomach. Your heart rate quickened, and you struggled to maintain your composure as he approached.

“Can we talk in private?” he asked, his tone leaving no room for objections.

“No, Jake, not now,” you tried to brush him off, your voice shaking slightly. But Jake was insistent, tugging you gently yet firmly to the other side of the room.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he demanded, frustration evident in his voice. The intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.

You tried to keep your voice steady. “It doesn’t matter, Jake. Let it go.”

But Jake wouldn't back down. Your voices rose, drawing the attention of everyone at the party. You felt tears welling up, the emotional pressure becoming unbearable. Turning on your heel, you fled to the basement, hoping to find a moment's peace. Jake, however, was right behind you.

“Y/N, please,” Jake pleaded as he finally caught up to you. “What’s wrong?”

“Please just stop! Jake, I don’t want to talk about it,” you said, running your fingers through your hair in frustration.

Before Jake could respond, the door to the basement swung shut with a loud click. You both turned, realizing in horror that it had locked from the other side. Jake tried the doorknob several times, each attempt becoming more forceful and desperate, but it wouldn't budge.

"Great," Jake muttered, running a hand through his hair. "We’re stuck."

You sighed, leaning against the wall. "Just perfect," you said sarcastically.

Jake approached you slowly. “Maybe this is a sign,” he said softly. “We need to talk this out, Y/N.”

Communicating in the dim basement light, you braced yourself for whatever was to come next.

Jake's voice finally broke through the silence. "Please, tell me what I did wrong. I've been unraveling without you."

His words shattered your heart into countless fragments. As you truly gazed at him, the toll of your silence became evident—dark circles lingered under his eyes, his complexion wan and weary.

Heart racing as you paused in uncertainty. You bit your lip, fighting the urge to turn and face him. For a moment, the words seemed trapped in your throat, but Jake's worried eyes spurred you on. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you finally turned to him, voice trembling with emotion. "I... I've been avoiding you because I overheard you talking with Rooster and Javy about liking someone, and I thought it was about me. But when I saw you with that blonde girl at the bar, I felt so stupid. It was clear to me then that you were talking about her."

Jake's expression shifted from confusion to shock. “You overheard our conversation? And what girl are you talking about?”

Your frustration spilled over, tears threatening to fall. “I don’t even know! There was a girl at the bar a few weeks ago who hugged you and kissed your cheek. I thought... never mind, it’s irrelevant. You have every right to date whoever you want. It’s none of my business, and I have no right to feel upset or betrayed, and I—”

“Wait, Y/N, hold on,” Jake interrupted, his tone urgent and pained. “That conversation was about you. The girl you saw? She’s my sister. I can’t believe you thought... Y/N, you mean the world to me.”

Confusion mingled with hope. "What do you mean? You were actually talking about me?"

Jake nodded earnestly, stepping closer. "Yes, Y/N, every word was about you. I've wanted to tell you how I feel for so long, but I was terrified because the bond we share is so precious to me. I couldn't bear the thought of losing it. When I was talking to Rooster and Javy, I was trying to find the courage to be honest about my feelings for you. And that girl you saw at the bar? That's my sister. She came to town for a visit, and I wanted her to meet the most important person in my life—you. I can't stand the thought of you feeling hurt because of a misunderstanding. You have no idea how much you mean to me. Seeing you with your beautiful smile, hearing your laughter, it's the highlight of my day. I cherish every moment we spend together. Y/N, you are my best friend, but you're also the one who makes my heart race. My feelings for you have only grown stronger over time, and I can't keep them hidden any longer. You are my everything, and I just want us to build something even more beautiful together."

A mixture of relief and happiness washed over you, your eyes welling up. “Oh, Jake, I’ve felt the same way for so long. I didn’t know how to tell you either. Seeing you with someone else just crushed me... I’m so sorry I acted like that.”

Jake chuckled softly, the sound filled with affection. “It’s alright, Y/N. I get it. But you don’t have to worry about anyone else. It’s always been you.”

Your heart swelled with emotion as you looked into Jake’s eyes. “I should have talked to you instead of hiding away. I’m so embarrassed. I’m really sorry for everything.”

He grinned, wiping a tear from your cheek. “Well, we do make a good drama for the team, don’t we?”

You laughed, the sound breaking the tension. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

Jake gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears. “How about we stop the drama here and start something real instead?”

With your heart full of joy, you nodded, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a tender, heartfelt kiss. The moment was perfect, everything you had dreamed of and more.

As you pulled apart, breathless and smiling, a loud cheer broke through the silence.

Turning, you saw Rooster, Natasha, Javy, Bob, Reuben, and Mickey clapping and cheering enthusiastically.

“Way to go, Jake!” Rooster called out, grinning widely.

“Finally!” Nat added, her arms raised in celebration.

Javy winked at you and said, “Took you two long enough!”

Bob, Reuben, and Mickey clapped and cheered, their smiles wide with happiness.

Rooster gave Jake a playful punch on the arm. “Good thing I thought to lock you two down here in the basement. You needed this talk.”

You and Jake exchanged a look, laughing together for the first time in what felt like ages. With your friends' cheers still ringing in your ears, you knew this was the start of something beautiful and true.

Tag: @bella-the-proud-fangirl

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman x you #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #natasha phoenix trace #javy coyote machado

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ktownshizzle · 3 months ago

Text

Nerd & Nerdier | Chapter 4

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader, Jeon Wonwoo x reader; endgame? x reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Attempt At Comedy, Roommates au, Love triangle

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Moving in with two introverts should have been easy. Not when it’s Min Yoongi and Jeon Wonwoo, who decide they both want you. Unhinged, awkward, and nerdy as hell, they proceed to compete for your attention in the most unnecessarily dramatic fashion that culminates into a… rap battle.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Wildly gratuitous, You might 100% chance you’ll fall in love with both of them so that’s a problem, no mxm dynamics to be expected

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: NO ROOMMATE RULES this time, Two gorgeous men simping over you - like you ain't gonna find that anywhere else ;) , making out in public (twice!), some mild guilt trip, surprise reveal at the end!

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 4.1k (longest one yet!!) ✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: March 9, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: It's the birthday of the love of my life. I made it part of my writing goals to release a Yoongi fic, but I was not able to do standalone one. Sorry, babe. But I think this has all the trappings of what we love about him, so I hope you like it. HBD to @diame93 and thank you to @angellekookie for steering that Woo date in the right direction.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3

You don’t know what you expected from a date with Jeon Wonwoo. Or Min Yoongi. But you were about to find out. Because, as unhinged it may sound, you had agreed to date both your roommates and at the end of it all, potentially pick one of them to be your… boyfriend? It sounds insane, but this is your life now. Congrats.

So yeah, back to Wonwoo. Just dress casually, noona, he tells you that morning. Made sense. But walking into a neon-lit arcade, the sound of metal clinking and game machines buzzing around you, yeah, this makes sense.

It’s just so him to bring you to a place like this. Look, you're not opposed. You just know he’ll be quietly competitive and the night will be full of little moments where for sure he’s going to secretly gloat when he wins.

Wonwoo’s already got that calm, unreadable look as he loads up a beat up game card from his wallet, handing it to the cashier. When he turns back to you, proffering his juiced up plastic to you, you can’t help but grin.

“What?” he asks, lips twitching.

“Nothing,” you tease, taking the card. “You just seem… confident. Cocky, even.”

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head. “That’s not true…”

You squint at him, because he is obviously lying. “Are you gonna tell me you’re good at literally every game in this place?”

“Okay. Maybe.”

“Oh my God, you’re going to try to beat me at everything, aren’t you?”

Wonwoo tilts his head. “Noona, thought you wanted me to show you how I feel, not go easy on you.”

This punk bitch.

“Alright bet,” you say, rolling up your cardigan sleeves dramatically. “Bring it.”

🎮🕹️👾 Game 01: Air Hockey 🎮🕹️👾

Wonwoo, to his credit, does let you score the first point.

But then the moment he sees the smug grin on your face, his eyes narrow, and you know you’re done for.

“Hey, noona,” he calls out, voice all smooth and teasing.

Your instincts scream at you not to look—but like an idiot, you do.

Which is exactly when he slams the puck with an irritatingly loud clang! into the goal, the disk ricocheting into the slot barely an inch from your slack hand.

“Fuck, that’s cheating!” you blurt out, scowling.

He just laughs, and you have no choice but to just slide the puck back into play.

You groan when he scores three times in a row. “Are you kidding me?”

“You’re the one who challenged me,” he replies, spinning the mallet in his hand smoothy. “I’m just playing.”

“You’re showing off,” you grumble, hitting the puck.

Wonwoo grins, eyes sharp. "Maybe it's ‘cause I want to impress you.”

A comeback never comes as you fight the warmth creeping up your neck. But that doesn’t deter you from wanting to at least score another point to save face. Just one more point goddamit.

You push the puck with the force of a thousand suns and wham! the it hits Wonwoo’s fingers. Hard.

Wonwoo jerks his hand back with a sharp inhale, hissing through his teeth.

“Shit! Wonwoo—oh my god, are you okay?” You’re already reaching for his hand, cradling his fingers in yours before you even think about it.

His palm is warm—bigger than you always seem to remember, his skin calloused from hours of gaming—but right now, all you care about is checking for any sign of injury.

“It’s fine,” he chuckles, but his voice is slightly strained, and that doesn’t reassure you at all.

“It’s not fine!” You glare at him, shifting his hand under the light to check for swelling. “I literally just assaulted you with a plastic disk—oh my god, does it hurt? Can you move your fingers?”

Wonwoo blinks at you.

Then, slowly, deliberately—he intertwines his fingers with yours.

Your brain can only register question marks.

His grip is solid, firm.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Feels fine to me.”

🎮🕹️👾 Game 02: The Claw Machine 🎮🕹️👾

After suffering a humiliating 1-9 loss, you are desperate to humble Wonwoo.

Your eyes land on a pile of plush keychains inside the most rigged contraption in the entire arcade.

“Okay,” you say, grabbing Wonwoo’s sleeve and pulling him toward the claw machines, “if you’re so good, win me one of these.”

Wonwoo raises a brow, eyeing the display. “Really?”

“What? You scared?” you tease.

He scoffs under his breath, tapping his card against the reader. “No. Just wondering how many I should win you.”

You’re about to fire back when something catches your eye.

A tiny, grumpy-looking black cat plushie, its little embroidered frown somehow way too familiar.

You nudge Wonwoo’s arm, snickering. “Oh my god. That one looks exactly like Yoongi.”

Wonwoo leans in, and when he spots it, his lips twitch. “Shit, you’re right.”

You both dissolve into laughter, the absurdity of it hitting you all at once.

But then, before the moment fully fades, Wonwoo clears his throat and—almost too casually—asks, “Is that what you want?”

His voice is quieter than before, and something about the way he says it—hesitant, just slightly weighted—makes you pause.

It’s just a fuckin’ plushie. Just a joke. But for some reason, his question feels like it holds a different meaning altogether.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the sleeve of your cardigan as you glance at the machine again.

Then, as lightly as you can, you point at another plushie—one a few rows back. A small, round purple cat (or is it a fox?) with oversized round glasses.

“I think that one’s cute,” you say.

Wonwoo follows your gaze, and then he beams.

A slow, lopsided, utterly adorable grin that makes your stomach flip, because now he’s the one with the plushie doppelgänger. And you wanted it.

So that’s the one he goes for.

It takes him three tries, but when he finally catches it, he’s so stupidly pleased with himself that you can’t help but be so endeared.

“Here,” he says, holding it out to you, looking way too proud.

“Thank you,” you take it and snap it on your bag’s zipper.

“Anytime.”

🎮🕹️👾 Game 03: Dance Dance Revolution 🎮🕹️👾

“Absolutely not,” Wonwoo makes an X with his arms when you drag him to the dance machine.

“Absolutely yes,” you shoot back, already stepping onto the platform. “You said you wouldn’t back down, remember?”

Wonwoo runs a hand through his hair, sighing dramatically. Fuck. I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yup. No turning back now.”

To your surprise, Wonwoo’s actually… not terrible at the game.

He’s a little stiff at first, but by the second round, he’s matching your energy step for step.

When you stumble slightly, he goads. “Need me to slow down?”

“Oh, shut up,” you laugh, aiming to push his arm, but he catches your hand and he ends up not letting go until the last beats of Dub-I-Dub rings out.

After two hours of battling it out at nearly every machine in the arcade, you’re both sitting at the bar for a nightcap.

Wonwoo takes a slow sip of his Jack and Coke, his gaze still amused from your last failed attempt at beating him in a game.

"So," you start, resting your elbow on the counter. "How’s the whole streamer life treating you?"

He shrugs. "It’s fun. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head. "You wouldn’t believe some of the weird shit people say in the chat."

You perk up immediately. "Oh, do tell."

Wonwoo gives you a pointed look, but you can see the corner of his lips twitching. "I probably shouldn’t."

"Oh, now you have to," you insist, nudging his arm.

He sighs dramatically, setting his drink down. "Alright, well… the other night, someone offered me, and I quote, ‘one month’s rent to step on them.’"

You nearly choke on your drink. "WHAT—"

"Yeah." He leans back, stretching an arm along the back of your chair. "And they were dead serious, too. Said they could Venmo me immediately."

"I—" You blink, processing this information. "So, did you?"

Wonwoo raises a brow. "What do you think?"

You smirk. "That you seriously considered it."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "I did not."

"Tragic. Could’ve been easy money."

"I’m not stepping on people for money."

"Noble of you."

"Thanks."

A beat of silence.

Then, your curiosity gets the best of you.

"Okay, but have you ever been propositioned?"

Wonwoo tilts his head. "What do you mean?" Honestly, you expect him to say, everyday.

"Oh, you know—" You wave your hand vaguely. "You’re cute, you know that. Has anyone ever slid into your DMs like, ‘oppa, I’d let you ruin my life’ or something?"

He snorts. "That’s oddly specific."

"Listen, I know how unhinged people can get in the chat." You narrow your eyes at him. "You have to be getting nudes."

Wonwoo makes a horrified face. "Fuck. I do not want to talk about that with you."

You burst out laughing. "OH MY GOD, YOU HAVE—"

"I HAVE NOT—"

"YOU TOTALLY HAVE—"

"I DELETE THEM." His ears are turning pink, which only makes you laugh harder.

"You could’ve just said no!" you tease, nudging his leg with yours.

"I was trying to say no, but you kept..." He stops mid-sentence, exhaling sharply. Then, shaking his head, he leans in slightly, his voice dropping lower. "Wait–you jealous?"

Your brain short-circuits. You weren’t expecting that.

And now, he’s watching you closely, waiting.

You flounder for a response, but Wonwoo is smirking now, fully enjoying this.

You cross your arms. "Why would I be? Those girls don’t even know you like I do."

"And how do you know me?"

"I—"

But before you can say anything else, he leans in just a little closer—enough that you catch the warmth of his breath, the subtle hint of his cologne.

"Because if you really knew me, noona…" His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something heavier underneath it now. "You’d know I don’t care about anyone else."

The air shifts completely. And in a way, you’re glad. Because all night it’s been friendly, lighthearted, like you’re just two pals hanging out. You’ve been waiting for a moment where it could be something more–this was it.

“You know,” you say, swirling the straw in your long island iced tea, “I didn’t expect this.”

“Expect what?” Wonwoo asks, watching you over the rim of his glass.

“You.” You chuckle, a little sheepish. “I thought it’d be more awkward.”

“Wow. High praise.”

“Shut up, I didn’t mean it negatively.”

Wonwoo’s lips curl into a faint smile. “I’m glad it’s not.”

“What now?”

Wonwoo’s expression softens.

And finally, there’s no smirk, no teasing, no competitive edge—just Wonwoo, kind of vulnerable, looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll break his heart.

The silence stretches between you, until he exhales softly and his eyes drop to your lips.

“Noona…?”

He doesn’t finish the question, but you know. And you feel it too, that pull. For a moment you hesitate.

You agreed to date both of them, to figure things out. You’re not supposed to feel like you’re already losing control—like you’re getting swept up in the way Wonwoo looks at you, in the way he makes you feel like you’re a teenager with butterflies in your stomach as you anticipate being kissed.

And if you do kiss him now, does it mean you’ve already chosen?

But even when your brain lagged, your body has already responded. You nod, just barely, and Wonwoo leans in. You meet him halfway.

His lips are softer than you expect, the warmth of his breath mixing with yours as you share your first kiss, slow and unhurried. He tastes like cola but something else is fizzing in your stomach, warm like rum.

His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheek. When you part your lips, he takes the invitation without hesitation—a gentle, teasing swipe of his tongue against yours, just once, like he only wants the tiniest taste of you for now.

When you pull back, his glasses are slightly fogged, his breathing uneven.

You can’t with how cute he looks in this very moment, lifting his specs to clean with your shirt before settling it back on his nose.

He’s looking at you like he has a million questions.

“What are you thinking?” You ask.

He exhales, “Thought it’d be more awkward.” Of course, he’s using your words against you.

You shake your head at him but something is pulling you towards him like a magnet, and you find yourself slipping down from the bar stool to stand in front of his parted legs. Wonwoo takes this as a sign to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into him.

“Wanna know the truth?”

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking that it’s worth the wait.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder for a second. You should probably pull away, is this too close too fast, but something about this feels… right. You pull back a bit, this time fixing the collar of his shirt, smoothing it down.

“You always do that,” he murmurs, voice lower now.

You shift slightly. “Do what?”

“Take care of me.”

You blink, caught off guard.

“Hmm—”

“I notice it, you know.” He leans back slightly, just enough to look at you, his fingers still resting lightly at your waist. “How you always remind me to eat. How you tell me to bring an umbrella even when it’s barely drizzling. How you sneak snacks into my room when you think I haven’t noticed. How you try to fix my hair or my shirt and stuff…”

Heat rises to your cheeks. “It’s not a big deal—”

“It is to me.”

The words are soft, but firm, landing somewhere deep in your chest. Because you do dote on Woo. Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re older, maybe it’s cause he told you once about his social anxieties and it made you want to protect him.

“I guess I just never thought about it,” you admit. “It’s just… you. I like looking out for you.”

Wonwoo studies you for a moment, his thumb absently brushing against your side.

“But starting tonight,” he says, firmer now, “I want to take care of you, instead.”

Oh wow…

“Did I do okay?”

You exhale a laugh, but it comes out shakier than you expect. Because suddenly, you realize how much this meant to him.

“Yeah.” You tighten your grip slightly on his jacket. “You did more than okay.”

Wonwoo smiles, nose crinkling with genuine glee, and suddenly, you think this—him, this night, everything that’s been building between you—might be a little bigger than you let yourself believe.

Four days after

When Yoongi told you to be ready by 4 p.m., you didn’t ask questions. You figured whatever he had planned would be very Yoongi—low-key, no-frills, but somehow effortlessly perfect.

What you didn’t expect was to find him waiting by the door with a picnic basket in one hand and a guitar case slung over his shoulder.

You blink at him. “Are you… serious right now?”

Yoongi smirks, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. “What? You don’t think I can be romantic?”

Oh my god, you are going to perish.

“I just didn’t think you’d be this prepared.” You reply coolly, slipping on your jacket.

He shakes his head at you, but you don’t miss the slight curve of his lips. “Come on. Before the sun disappears.”

The Han River Park isn’t crowded—just a few couples walking hand-in-hand, kids laughing as they run through the grass.

Yoongi leads you to a quiet spot near the water, where the breeze is light, and the sun is beginning to slip lower on the horizon.

“Sit,” he says, kneeling to lay out a gingham blanket from the basket.

You do, watching as he unpacks a familiar looking gimbap—one he’s made many times before, your favorite fruit, and a big thermos of americano.

You start with the fruit and some light conversation.

Yoongi unscrews the cap on the coffee, pouring it into two cups before handing you one.

You take a slow sip, sighing in contentment. "Damn. This hits. You really thought of everything."

"Of course I did," Yoongi deadpans, popping a shine muscat into his mouth. "I had to make sure you wouldn’t whine about being hungry the whole time."

You narrow your eyes. "You say that like I complain a lot."

"You do."

You gasp, pressing a dramatic hand to your chest. "Wow. The audacity. I’m literally the best roommate you have."

"You mean the only one who talks."

"Excuse me—Wonwoo talks too!"

Yoongi scoffs. "He barely says five words unless he’s talking about a game or trying to piss me off."

"Okay, but that’s not my fault. Besides, at least I make things interesting." You lean back on your hands, staring out at the river.

Yoongi hums in amusement. "Speaking of which, did you see the guy in 3B finally left his apartment?"

"Mr. Eyepatch?"

"Yeah. He was outside yesterday, just standing in the hallway staring at this tiny box in his hand."

"Oh my god—do you think he has a tragic backstory?"

"Obviously. No one wears an eyepatch unironically unless they have a past."

You snort, shaking your head. "At least he keeps to himself. Unlike the couple in 5C—"

"Jesus Christ." Yoongi groans, rubbing a hand down his face. “Those two are fuckin’ annoying.”

"I went to do laundry the other night, and they were full-on screaming at each other over piles of underwear."

"God," Yoongi sighs, looking genuinely exhausted. "And then they’re fucking like rabbits five minutes later. It’s exhausting."

"It’s insane," you mutter, shaking your head. Then, after a beat, "So… do you think they actually hate each other or do they just get off on the drama?"

Yoongi raises a brow, considering it. "Honestly? Fifty-fifty."

You nod sagely. "Fair."

There’s a moment of quiet, just the two of you sitting there, sipping coffee, enjoying grapes, watching the river. The kind of comfortable silence that only comes with knowing someone deeply enough to not need to fill every gap with words.

“This is… cute,” you admit, smiling softly.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he grumbles.

“Why this?” you ask, curious. “Why here?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he glances at the river, his free hand absentmindedly drumming against his knee.

“I like it here,” he finally says. “It’s quiet. Gives me time to think.”

You tilt your head. “And you wanted to bring me here?”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something softer.

“Yeah,” he says, voice lower now. “Thought maybe I’d want to think about you here, too.”

Your breath catches.

“You say things like that so casually,” you murmur.

Yoongi quirks a brow. “Because I mean them.”

Oh he’s so fucking unfair.

You clear your throat, glancing at the food. “You made us food and drinks. What’s next? A serenade?”

Yoongi smirks, reaching for his guitar. “You joke, but—”

You straighten. “No—” you start but he did bring his guitar so obviously he planned on using it.

“Shut up and listen.”

Before you can even process what to say, Yoongi settles the instrument in his lap, fingers moving effortlessly over the strings as he plays a soft melody.

It’s not a full song—just a quiet, unfinished piece, but there’s something achingly personal about it.

Then, halfway through, he looks at you.

And you realize—This is his confession. Just Yoongi, letting the music say what he won’t.

His voice is barely above a murmur when he speaks again. “I kinda wrote it for you.”

You swallow. “Yoongi…”

He exhales, setting the guitar aside. “I know this whole thing has been stupid. But I’m serious about you. I don’t want you to think this is just about… competing with Wonwoo. It’s not. It never was.”

Hearing the sincerity in his voice, you feel your chest tighten. “Now I know.”

Yoongi watches you carefully, his gaze steady and unguarded. “So…”

“So?”

“Can I kiss you now? Or is that too cliché?”

“It’s a little cliché.”

“And?” he murmurs, leaning in just slightly.

“And… I guess I don’t mind.”

A warning bell should be going off in your head right now. Just a few days ago, you were kissing Wonwoo at that arcade bar. Are you really about to kiss Yoongi, too? And if you let him, you can’t take it back. This won’t be something you all would just laugh off in the morning over bowls of cereal like it’s normal. It’ll mean something. It’ll change everything.

But Yoongi stares like he’s somehow smoothing all the wrinkles in your brain and the part of you that should care about the consequences goes poof.

With the barest tilt of his head, he murmurs, “So c’mere.”

He looks at you in a way that steals all the air in your lungs. He doesn’t move an inch, like he has all the time in the world. He doesn’t pull—you’re the one who leans in first, and that’s exactly what he wanted.

The moment your lips meet, something explodes in your chest. There is a confidence in the way his lips slots and moves against yours, unshakably sure.

Yoongi kisses like he’s imprinting something on you—like he wants every bit of him to sink under your skin, settle in your bones, leave something permanent. Fingers slip through your hair, tilting your head to how he wants you. His lips slide across yours, controlled but devastating, his thumb tracing the hinge of your jaw as if he’s grounding himself in the feel of you.

He angles his head the other way, deepening the kiss, swallowing your gasp, and suddenly, you’re dizzy. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket as your heart pounds between you. He licks into the seam of your lips, staking his claim, like he knows you’re already his for the taking. You move your tongue slowly against his, white hot heat dancing low in your belly.

God you’ve never had a kiss quite like this before. Like it’s consuming you whole, ruining you for anyone else.

When he pulls back, it’s not abrupt and it’s not by much. He lingers, teeth barely tugging at your lower lip, like he’s reluctant to let you go. You moan as he moves to nip at your jaw, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

You're still breathless. “Hmm?” Is the only sound you can manage, your grip still tight in his jacket.

Yoongi chuckles, low and rough. He is close enough that you can feel him smirk against your skin. You don’t push for any further explanation. He also didn’t seem like he was going to give you one.

He pulls back fully now, a hint of satisfaction lingering in his gaze as he wets his lower lip.

The sky behind him is painted in gold and violet, the sun dipping below the horizon—but right now, you can’t think about anything except the fact that Min Yoongi just kissed you senseless and looks like he’s already planning on doing it again. And you’re so going to let him.

“Sunset kiss,” he mutters, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Told you I could be romantic.”

You let out a shaky breath, still trying to collect yourself. “I believe you.”

Yoongi watches you, smug but quiet. Then, after a pause, he teases, “You good, or?”

And somehow, that is what makes you laugh, pressing your forehead to his shoulder as warmth floods through your chest as you sit side by side to look at the sky.

“Stop it. I’m fine…” you admit, feeling the tension in his shoulders melt slightly when you lean into him.

“Good,” he murmurs, placing an arm across your shoulder. “Then stay close a little longer.”

Just as the last sliver of sunlight disappears beyond the horizon, he murmurs—casual, offhand, like it’s not about to drive you mad:

“By the way… it’s my birthday.”

You freeze. Pull back just enough to see his face. “Yoongi—”

But he only smirks, shrugs. “It’s okay. No big.”

Your stomach twists. This entire evening, the picnic, the song, the kiss— and he didn’t tell you once?

“You idiot...” You shove his shoulder, but your voice comes out softer than you intend. “You should’ve told me.”

He chuckles, catching your wrist before you can swat at him again. His grip is loose, familiar. Safe.

“It’s fine,” he murmurs. “I just… I wanted to spend it like this. With you.”

And fuck.

If your heart wasn’t already completely ruined by him, it sure as hell is now.

“Happy birthday, Yoongi.” Your voice is quieter this time, but you mean it.

He smiles, a thin straight line that makes his cheeks puff out, fingers lacing briefly with yours before he squeezes once and lets go.

“Yeah... It is.”

Chapter Five >

A/N: Happy birthday, Yoongi, my love. The absolute man of my dreams. I wish you more days where you only get to smile and laugh and feel happy. And Wonu, my baby, I wish you a swift and safe service. I will miss you so much.

I know this is such a niche and wildly gratuitous story about my two biases. But I am glad you took the time to read it and hopefully enjoy it as well.

Thank you for reading, you beautiful, lovely human xo See you in the next part!

And please leave a comment or give this one a reblog if you're able to! I'd really appreciate it! <3

PS. Made subtle/vague references to 2 BTS music videos in the scene where Yoongi and you are gossiping about the neighbors. If you guess the 2 MVs correctly, I'll give you a prize. :)

Permanent Taglist: (the rest to follow in a reblog)

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

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@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

Divider by: @cafekitsune (thank you!)

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trippinsorrows · 2 months ago

Text

the decision

authors note: this is a oneshot based in the universe of ’what the heart wants’, but it can 100% be read as a messy standalone.

there might be some tea and lore sprinkled in this one here.

warnings: angst

words: 4.5k

masterlist + family tree breakdown

The scream that leaves her mouth is almost inhuman. Primal and animalistic but oh-so-accurate.

Everything fucking hurts. All of it. The pain is intense. Burning, pounding, throbbing and everything else in between. It hurts to push. Hurts not to push. Hurts to fucking breathe. Solana can only do her best to just keep breathing. A necessity but also fucking difficult.

“Okay, Solana.” The supportive voice of her OB-GYN is the last thing she wants to hear right now even though it’s also the most important thing one can hear during childbirth. “I need you to push for me again. Okay?”

Just the words bring another bout of tears. It’s all so hard.

“I can’t,” she cries, shaking her head. “I—I can’t.”

“My Sol.” Her abuela’s equally comforting voice is slightly helpful, though nothing significantly so. Granted, Solana is 99.9% sure nothing can help this sort of pain.

And not just in the physical sense.

Abuela dabs the cool towel on Solana’s forehead to dry away some of the sweat that covers what feels like her entire body. Understandable, given she’s been in labor for almost two hours now. She feels every bit of it, too. “You can do this, sweetheart.”

But, can she?

The delivery, yes. One way or another, this baby is coming out, but the rest of it….

Can I?

“Move!”

Solana’s eyes shoot open at that. The sound of another voice she’s yet to hear since being admitted into the hospital. A voice she last heard a couple days ago following yet another conversation turned disagreement.

Panting, Solana turns her confused gaze over to Roman who rushes to her other side after harshly barking at the poor nurse who was literally just doing her job. Her heart swells with something only he can invoke.

He's here.

“What—what are you—”

“I’m sorry,” he’s instantly apologizing, looking her over with a frown. Understandable. She’s almost certain that she looks a hot ass fucking mess. Also….understandable. “I was out of town, and the fucking flight took for—”

“What are you doing here?”

She finally gets it out. The question she absolutely needs an answer to. As per their last disastrous conversation, she made it clear she didn’t want him here. It didn’t make sense for him to be here. And yet….

“I wasn’t missing this, Solana.” His voice shifts into something firm and determined as he goes to brush the top of her hair. “I don’t care what you say.”

Solana swallows.

This shit just got significantly more difficult.

A burst of pain returns, or rather, the brief distraction of his unexpected appearance wanes. Solana cries in pain once more.

“Solana, I really need you to push for me, honey.”

The voice of her doctor returns as Solana finds herself reaching for Roman’s hand. An unconscious thing that just feels right in the moment. He kisses her knuckles, saying something in Samoan. Her grandmother on the other side of her continuing to pat the towel.

You can do this.

That same shout of pain and determination as she pushes once more, the burning almost unbearable. Solana cries harder, as Roman’s lips press against her forehead. She’s partially aware of him rudely asking the doctor something, but the specifics aren’t really a concern to her.

Not with what Dr. Diaz says next.

“Okay, Solana, you’re crowning.” At that, Solana cries just a bit harder. The pain but also the meaning. They can see the baby’s head. She’s in the final stretch. “I just need a couple more big pushes from you. Maybe just one. You can do this.”

The same sentiments being reiterated by the two people on either side of her. Both offering a source of support she doesn’t know what she would do without. Doesn’t know what she would do without them in this moment.

She was wrong.

She most definitely needed Roman here. With her. For this.

It’s what carries her. What allows her to push through. To push.

With a final stretch of strength and resilience, Solana pushes once, twice, and—

Her screams are sounded out by someone else’s.

A baby.

Her baby.

Solana’s chest immediately tightens at the sound of wailing and screaming from the newborn that is cradled by one of the nurses, the team moving to check her health, to make sure she’s okay.

Much unlike Solana, who is very much not okay.

A fresh set of tears as a clearly moved Roman states, “she’s here.” Solana shuts her eyes, head turned away from him in the direction of her abuela. She tries her best to tune it all out, to ignore the way Roman is asked and agrees to cut the umbilical chord. The way he asks to hold the baby. Their baby.

The tiny scoff of disbelief that leaves his mouth when he does so.

The almost heartbroken, desperate way he says her name. “Solana….”

Please.

That’s what he’s saying. A final attempt. A final plea.

Desperation.

“Nieta…” Solana opens her eyes to see her grandmother looking down at her with matching desperation. “At least hold her.” Spoken in Spanish, a shared vulnerable, intimate moment between grandmother and granddaughter. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Sentiments she’s heard before. That she knows to be true. The same way Solana knows she’ll be so torn, even more heartbroken, if she does. This is already hard enough. The weight in her chest cumbersome.

Holding her….

“I can’t,” she whimpers.

Paloma presses her lips together, eyes watering. She reaches a hand to Solana’s cheek. “Yes, you can.”

You have to.

Solana looks at her, bottom lip trembling. Her body is on fire, the back of her throat, holding and waiting to release a sob. But, all of that remains as she turns to see Roman still holding their baby, her baby. Still with that last attempt of an appeal.

The hardest words she’s ever spoken. “Let me….let me hold her.”

Shock fills Roman’s face and eyes as he freezes for a moment before moving into action. But, he doesn’t follow her orders. He does something different. Instead of handing the baby to her, he moves with careful precision and caution, laying the still whining newborn on her chest.

Skin to skin.

A gasp leaves her mouth, Solana staring in awe at the tiny little baby atop her. The life they’d created but she’d brought into the world. The feel of her baby moving atop of her, the way her little eyes open and focus on her. The eyes staring back at her.

Her eyes.

Her little nose.

Roman’s nose.

The way her mouth opens and moves around, similar to how Roman does.

She’s them.

Their baby is them.

And as Solana moves a shaking hand to take her baby’s little hand in hers, feeling her, their bodies pressed against each other, it breaks. That wall she’d tried her best to keep up, that had been crumbling piece by piece as she progressed through her pregnancy. That she tried her best to keep strong and firm only for it to collapse almost instantly.

The moment she felt her baby’s little body against hers.

It’s also that moment that it hits her.

That Solana realizes she was right.

She can’t do this.

Crying once more, she closes her eyes, kissing the top of her daughter’s head, holding her. “I can’t—” Shaking her head, emotion making it incredibly difficult to speak, she does so anyway. She looks at Roman, confessing what she can no longer deny. “I can’t do it.” His expression softens as he reaches to brush away her hair from her forehead. “She—she’s our baby.”

He nods, leaning over to kiss their baby’s head. And then Solana. “Exactly.” Her eyes shut once more as his hand shifts to their daughter’s back. “She’s ours.”

Ours.

What Solana has tried to not acknowledge, tried to pretend wasn’t the truth, but the fact of the matter is that it is the truth.

This is their baby. A child they created.

Created out of love. Regardless of the circumstances, the shitshow that has been the past year plus, this is their child. A child she can’t part with.

She can’t give up.

Solana sniffles, looking over at her grandmother. “I—”

But, Paloma simply shakes her head. “I’ll handle it.”

Solana doesn’t say anything, just watches as her grandmother simply offers another emotional, happy smile as she looks between the little family. Watches as her abuela walks out the room past the team that Solana realizes is trying to ask her questions. Trying to check in on mother and daughter.

But, the minute Paloma walks out the door, she’s met with a set of eyes. Four, in particular.

All adults stand up, but it’s her daughter who speaks first.

“Well?” Nina’s voice is calm and cold. Unlike what one would expect from a woman in her position. “Is the child here?”

Hopeful expressions on the other three, two of which the couple who hold hands.

Paloma nods. “She’s here.”

Seconds later, Vai is moving past her, heading into the room, Paloma making out something along the lines of, “I want to see her” before the door shuts entirely.

While Nina looks slightly annoyed at Vai’s departure, or rather where she’s going, the couple, Phil and April, share heavy sighs of relief at Paloma’s answer. A hint of regret fills the older woman seeing the way he kisses her temple, murmuring, “I told you.”

Two truths can exist where she’s happy Solana made the decision she made while also acknowledging how heartbreaking that decision is about to be for these two people.

Nina remains cold and stoic. “And, I’m assuming she’s healthy?”

Another nod. “Yes.”

April smiles, wiping at the tears that spill over. “Can we—can we see her?” Paloma frowns. “We—we want to see her.”

Of course.

Paloma swallows, hands behind her back. “There’s….there’s been a change in plans.”

At that, Phil speaks. A small scoff followed by, “what do you mean there’s been a change in plans?”

She takes a deep breath, fully prepared for the backlash that's sure to follow her answer. “Solana has decided to keep her baby.”

Silence.

Nina is the first to speak, cutting her eyes at her mother. “Excuse me?”

“What the fuck do you mean she’s decided to keep the baby?” Phil hisses, pointing to the room. “That’s our baby.”

At that, a bit of defensiveness rises. “No, she’s my granddaughter’s baby.”

“They have a contract,” Nina reminds, her face twisted and contorted from her anger. “Solana signed over her rights.”

“I understand that, but she’s changed her mind.”

“She doesn’t get to change her mind,” Paul sneers, stepping away from a now crying April. “We have a legally binding agreement, and that bitch doesn’t get to up and change her mind—”

One minute Phil is speaking down to Paloma, intimidating her, or trying to, at least. And the next? He’s slammed up against the wall.

“She’s our child,” Roman growls, his forearm pressed against Phil’s neck, suffocating him. “And, she’s staying with us.”

A simple but powerful statement that anyone with common sense would know is unwise to try to challenge. Roman applies just a bit more pressure before stepping back, scowling with disgust.

Paloma places a gentle hand on Roman’s bicep, seeing and feeling the anger rising. This is a man who just became a father, who just learned he’ll be able to be a father to his firstborn.

He doesn’t need this shit right now.

“Roman Reigns is the baby’s biological father?” Phil coughs, his question directed towards a visibly nervous Nina as April comforts him. “Why the fuck didn’t you say that?”

She swallows, trying to play off indifference. “It wasn’t relevant.”

“The hell it wasn’t!” Phil spits, turning his glare between the three of them. “We would have never chosen her if we knew—”

“It doesn’t fucking matter anyway,” Roman dismisses, fist still formed at his side. “Our daughter is staying with us. Adoption is off, so get the fuck out of here.”

At that, April looks up, anger spilling over into her devastation. “He’s right. She signed a contract.”

“I don’t care if she signed the Declaration of fucking Independence.” Roman sneers. “No one’s taking our daughter away from us. Especially not you two.” He looks them over with all the disgust, voice melting into something undeniably threatening. “But, if you want to pick a fight, be my guest. I’ll bring the fucking war.”

—————

The first twenty-four hours after the baby is born is a whirlwind. The complete 180 on a plan that was set in motions for months brought about a lot. A lot of conversation. A lot of emotions. Primarily shock.

Mostly love.

Solana’s smile is warm and maternal as she looks down at her sweet baby girl whose mouth is latched onto her nipple as she breastfeeds. Another surprising, unexpected thing that Solana found much easier than some of the stories she remembers reading about online. Mothers unable to produce milk. Babies being resistant to being breastfed. But, for her, none of that has been the case.

Her baby has taken just fine to the nipple.

But, it’s also in looking at her, her daughter looking back, that a thought crosses her mind.

A person.

Two people.

“I feel bad,” she shares, voice low, a fingers moving to pull the baby blanket over her newborn. Roman looks at her from where he sits on the side of the bed. He’s essentially been there the whole time. Never leaving her or their daughter’s side. “They….they must be heartbroken.”

He doesn’t say anything, and she’s not exactly expecting him to. While she holds a hefty amount of guilt, she’s almost certain he feels none. In his eyes, this is their child. A child who should have never almost been adopted out in the first place.

The right decision was made. And, it’s not that she disagrees with that part. It’s just the fact that two innocent people got her hurt in the process. She hates that.

“They’re….they’re probably going to try to sue me.” Something she’s most definitely thought about in the past 24 hours. “I—I breached the agreement.”

“I’ll handle it,” he interrupts. Solana watches him. Sees the way he focuses on their baby. How he reaches his hand over, finger brushing the head full of hair she was born with. “Don’t worry about it.”

Much easier said than done, though she can acknowledge if there’s one thing she knows about the man across from her, when he says he’s going to handle something, he handles it.

No questions asked.

She says nothing else. A few minutes of silence passing as they both just sit and stare in awe at the little life they’ve created. “We…..we don’t even have anything for her.” Yet another thing Solana has thought about. Not a onesie. Not a diaper. Not even a blanket to wrap her in when...when they take her home.

However, Roman once again seems to live up to his always three steps ahead nature. “I’m handling that, too.”

Confused, she looks up only after checking on her baby who makes a quiet sound as she continues to feed. “What do you mean?”

He takes a second to respond, a small smile on his face as he moves his finger over baby girl’s arm. “Vai is out now getting the rest of what we need.” Solana stills. Of course. “And, it seems….it seems Paloma had a feeling….or was hoping at least that…that you'd change your mind, so she’d already picked up some stuff.”

At that, Solana’s heart swells. From both pieces of information. “R—really?”

He nods, and Solana has to push back the emotions. There’s been a lot of them, to say the least, but the tremendous amount of support she’s received from some of the closest people in her life has been overwhelming. In the best sort of way.

It all still feels so unreal, but having people behind her makes all the difference.

“We still need to name her, you know.” Roman’s soft voice is a reminder. Not necessarily of the naming, but something else.

“I—I have something in mind.” He lifts a brow, prompting her to share. “Leticia. It means….it means happiness and joy.” Solana’s gaze lowers to see her heart and soul staring back at her. “I think it’s….it’s fitting.”

More than fitting.

Chuckling softly, she lifts her eyes back to him. “I also like the name Shakira.”

“We’re not naming our daughter Shakira.” A quiet giggle tumbles out her mouth at his scowl and immediate rejection. Expected. “Leticia….” There’s something about the way he says it, the way he continues to gently caress their daughter's arm that does something to Solana. Reminds her why she fell in love with him in the first place. “I like it.”

A nervous smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms. “Middle name?”

Again. Something else she’s thought about. “You pick.”

For some reason, he looks genuinely surprised by that. “Really?”

She nods. “I picked her first name. It’s only fair you get to pick the middle name.”

He says nothing initially, clearly thinking it over. And finally, the smallest smile. “Alofa.”

“Alofa?” Solana pronounces it almost exactly the way he did. “What does it mean?”

His gaze is set on her. “Love.”

Love.

Fitting.

Very fitting.

“I love it,” she murmurs, eyes filling with tears once more as she looks down at her daughter.

Her little Leticia.

Roman’s hand reaches for hers, Solana’s gaze flitting back over to him. “We’re gonna figure this out….okay?”

Supportive, encouraging words she didn’t realize she needed to hear until this very moment. Because as precious and perfect her baby is, there’s so much that goes into this. Navigating this whole new phase of an already fucked up dynamic.

Her feelings about Roman.

Co-parenting with him.

Her family.

Sam.

It’s a lot, but right now, holding her daughter, even with Roman right beside her, it’s never felt so right.

—————

The love and support continues in ways Solana could have never expected.

Her half-brother, Trick, his sister and her best friend, Crystal, and their mom, who’s really been more of a mother to Solana than her own biological mother, Melody, all fly down to come see and meet her daughter.

To support Solana.

Again, there really are no words to describe it.

None at all.

And finally, five days after Leticia’s birth, Solana is finally ready to be discharged from the hospital. A day that fills her with so much excitement, she doesn’t know what to do with it.

Finally, she gets to take her little girl home.

Even more, she gets to take home her little girl to the beautiful nursery her abuela, Vai, and Roman worked tirelessly the past few days to get set up and ready for the little one.

So much love.

It carries her.

Truly.

Solana is packing her bag in her hospital room, Roman down on the first floor working with security to arrange for their departure, and her abuela at the house, making some last minute touches for everything to be perfect.

The sound of footsteps behind her, pressured almost, make Solana turn around wondering who could be walking into her room so fiercely.

And, before she can even process it, she’s gasping, holding her now burning, throbbing face.

“You selfish little bitch.” Nina’s voice is as icy and furious as the raged expression on her face. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Solana can only look at her mom. Look at the woman who should be hugging her, holding her, loving her. Loving her firstborn granddaughter. But, instead, Solana is almost certain a homeless man on the street could get less of a disgusted look than the one her mom has with her.

“Mommy—”

“We had a plan, Solana! A good, solid plan, and you went and fucked up everything!”

Painful words but not entirely unexpected. Solana knew her first conversation with her family, with her mom, would not be the easiest. “How can you continue to be so stupid? How could you do this to your poor sister?”

“Mom—”

She lifts her hands, eyes closing briefly. “Thankfully, despite your idiocy, I’ve found another family—”

“Another family?” Solana frowns. “What do you me—”

“They’ve been wanting a little girl for years. I told them—”

“You what?” The shock of being slapped by her mother, being scolded so harshly, easily and quickly melts into something else. Anger. “You….you talked to them about my baby?”

At that, Nina sneers, “that child is not yours, and it can never be yours, Solana. We had an agreement.”

“I don’t give a damn about some stupid agreement!” Solana snaps. Months. Years, even, of built-up emotion seeping into a long overdue conversation. She points behind her, as if Leticia herself was in the room. “That is my daughter. My baby, that I am keeping, so how dare you try to pawn her off like she’s some—some object?”

“She’s a bastard, Solana!” Nina shouts, her words like a knife to Solana’s chest. “A mistake that never should have happ—”

She doesn’t get to finish. She doesn’t get to finish because she’s the one now holding her cheek, eyes wide with horror from the slap given to her by her daughter.

Well deserved, in Solana’s opinion.

“How dare you?” Because while adrenaline and anger burn within her, there’s also a tremendous amount of hurt at the rejection. At the almost hatred. “She’s an innocent baby. It doesn’t matter how she got here. She’s my daughter. She’s your grand—”

Another blow to the face. This time from mother to daughter, the force so heavy that it results in Solana stumbling back onto the hospital bed.

“You stupid girl! You’re going to ruin everything!” Solana winces, the movement painful for a woman not even a week postpartum. “I’ve worked too har—”

Solana is spared from whatever else her mother plans to say. Something hateful and resentful, she’s certain. But, she’s spared not because her mother has a change of heart, but because of the recently arrived parties.

“You trifling ass bitch!” Melody’s voice is tinged with anger as she grabs Nina by her hair and yanks her away from Solana who suddenly feels someone over her.

“Are you okay?” Crystal asks with all the concern, looking her over for any sign of injury.

“What you not about to do is put your hands on that baby,” Melody shouts, pointing back at Solana. “You wanna hit someone? Hit me, skank, cause lord knows I’ve been wanting to whoop your hoe ass!”

Nina’s glare is lethal. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m here doing what you should be doing. Supporting your daughter and her baby.”

Nina scowls. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” Melody scoffs, looking at Nina like she’s grown three heads. “That child just had a baby, and you putting hands on her for what? Cause she didn’t do like that first child of yours and go to the clinic?”

At that, Crystal hugging her from the side, Solana looks up.

What?

“You know what blows my mind, Mrs. Miller?” Melody tilts her head to the side, a wicked, haughty smile on her pretty face. “You wanna talk about Solana and call her every name but a child of God, but let’s not forget your oldest daughter was conceived with Xavier when he and I were still married. You were the side chick turned wife.”

Now this, this part Solana knew. She learned years ago of the….overlap of her parents relationship while her dad was still married to Melody.

"Or, how about the fact that the only reason you could afford medical school was because you were fucking that old, rich, married man who paid your tuition?”

That part Solana did not know.

The surprises just keep on coming this week, it seems.

And the way Nina falters with her response confirms everything that’s been said was true. “I—I—”

“What the hell is going on here?” Roman’s deep baritone voice sounds from where he stands in the doorway, Trick beside him. A slightly surprising sight for sure given the history between those two but not entirely unbelievable, as it seems the birth of Leticia has given them a…source of compromise, it seems.

Roman’s gaze falls on Solana, and in seconds, he’s standing in front of her, gently cradling her face that’s probably slightly swollen.

His eyes darken. “Who hit you?”

“Her trick ass mama,” Crystal answers, suddenly going to remove her earrings. “You know what? Fuck this.” She goes to pull her hair up. “Cause it’s two of us, one of you, and we already in a hospital, so let’s do what it do.”

Solana reaches forward, grabbing Crystal by her shirt. “No.” It doesn’t miss her how Roman moves one hand to her hip, holding her close to him, almost. “She’s—she’s not worth it.”

She never was.

Roman’s jaw twitches as he barks for his guards and motions to Nina. “Get her out of here now.”

Again, mere seconds as the guards move past Trick and reach for a belligerent Nina. “You are dead to us, do you hear me, Solana?” She shouts, fighting against the men. “You are cut off! You are never to contact any of us ever again, you whore!”

It’s that last word, maybe all of the words, that cause Solana’s resolve to break. Causes the tears to brew.

But, as Nina does her best to lay down the last bit of mental/emotional damage, Trick works to hold back both his mom and sister who shout back at Nina, clearly dying to get their hands on her.

“I have only one child now!”

That last one is the straw that breaks the camel’s back, that causes Solana’s sob to break through. And right away, Roman pulls her into him, cradling and comforting her. He rubs the small of her back, reassuring her once more that everything is going to be okay. Something that suddenly feels a lot less likely.

But, it’s when another guest arrives as Nina is finally gone that everything changes. There’s a shift.

The nurse stands near the door holding Leticia. Leticia, who is all wrapped up, prepared and ready to go home.

Her baby.

Breaking away from Roman, Solana extends her arms, “give her to me, please.”

Though clearly and understandably perplexed, the woman walks over, carefully handling over Leticia to her mom. And her baby girl, her sweet sweet baby, just looks up at her mom. Looks between both her parents, and she smiles.

She smiles.

It refreshes a new set of tears. For a different reason. A completely different reason.

“It’s okay, baby.” She rocks and cradles her daughter against her, holding her, feeling all the love, warmth, and comfort that stems from such a small human being. “Mommy’s here.” She swallows. “Mommy will always be here.”

#roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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theoldsports · 1 year ago

Text

Mirror

Coriolanus Snow x Reader. 6.1k words.

18+ some smut, but it’s dicey. dubcon, biting, fingering, nudity, nonconsensual touch, drugs/alcohol? rehab discussion briefly, threats of violence, the shower, struggle against media, one reference to a line from scripture, possessiveness, manipulation. it’s dark. prolonged exposure to it is bad for you.

longest one yet! chronologically follows Married 1+2 in the TRUCULENT series fairly rapidly. i really learned to love this one. upon editing, this story became way more about gaslighting and headfucking someone good and hard into relying on you. special thank you to @heavqn for beta-ing and ridiculous amounts of support and ideas. a lot of our pre-editing convos made this make much more sense to me. + votes are in: next installment/current WIP will be the wedding.

CLICK FOR MORE! CAN BE READ AS SERIES OR STANDALONE

The hand against her shoulder shook her for a moment, then much faster. The shaking lasted seconds or even minutes before [Y/N] pried her eyes open. Everything in the bedroom looked too real, too clear. Coriolanus stood above her. His hand had been doing the shaking. He looked like he had just returned from a run due to his clothes and sweat-stained hair. His hair had grown back more beautifully than before. [Y/N] remembered seeing him when she saw him in the stacks of Philosophy books at the library right after he had returned from Twelve. It was jarring. She had always fancied him a pretty boy even if she loathed him throughout their childhood. He was much different upon his return.

Coriolanus pulled himself up out of the comfort of their bed almost every morning, far too early, to go for a run. [Y/N] didn’t know how she would endure a lifetime of his too chipper morning behavior once they were married. Coming down after a night on morphling was hard and still, she did it over and over again. Coriolanus knew he couldn’t stand in the way of a little fun, but he wouldn’t allow it in their home, so [Y/N] had become involved in using it socially when it was available to her.

“Great. You look like a bum.” Coriolanus said, noting the dark and sunken crescents under her eyes.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning. You look like a bum.”

“I’m not a bum.” [Y/N] replied tiredly. She rubbed her eyes.

Last night, [Y/N] had gone out dancing with some of her friends. It was not a bachelorette party in so many words, but it filled the same purpose. It was also a stretch to call the people she went out with friends in so many words, but they filled the same purpose. [Y/N] hadn’t felt that she had people other than Coriolanus for sometime now. She had gotten very drunk and very high the night before, resulting in frustration from Coriolanus when she returned home. He always waited up by the front door when she was gone so long. Coriolanus did not like it when she wasn’t home with him. She would make it up to him somehow— she always did.

“Come on, up with you.” Coriolanus commanded. He sat on the edge of the bed and pushed her up to a sitting position. His voice was harsh, but his touch was soft. [Y/N] adored Coriolanus’ careful, yet guiding touches. Unless his dick was in her, he only touched her with care like she was a porcelain figurine.

“Why all the rush?” [Y/N] yawned.

“You don’t remember?” Coriolanus sighed. He was upset in that pompous way of his. He rubbed his creased forehead. “Seriously, [Y/N]. I ask so little of you and you can’t even behave well enough to remember that we have an interview in…” he checked his watch. “Three hours.” Coriolanus said. It was false that he asked so little of [Y/N]. Sometimes, he asked too much.

An hour exclusive on Lucky Flickerman’s daytime chatter joint. Shit. That woke [Y/N] up. “That’s today!” She exclaimed. That was the only caffeine she needed to wake her up. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Coryo. I didn’t think—“

“No. No Coryo. No, you didn’t think,” Coriolanus said. He needn’t elaborate. “Shower. We’ve got to beat downtown traffic.”

[Y/N] swore Coriolanus scheduled things like this at the worst possible times just to make her look worse than him.

She pushed her shaky legs off the bed. As soon as she stood, [Y/N] felt like she was going to fall. Perceptively, Coriolanus stood and placed his ever-vigilant hand on her lower back to steady her. “You’re a mess.” He said flatly. [Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus felt damp from his run. It crossed her mind that Coriolanus drank bitter coffee, did his work on time, smoked very little and went on a run daily. [Y/N] regularly got too high to see straight and cried when she didn’t get her way. Some pair they were.

“‘M not.” she protested messily. She didn’t want to admit that Coriolanus was right.

Coriolanus huffed indignantly, but did not reply otherwise. He walked her to the bathroom like marching a child to the naughty step. [Y/N] was set down on the low counter-top. “I’m concerned you’re going to slip and give yourself a black-eye,” Coriolanus said. “I don’t want people to think I hurt you.” He pulled his track jacket off and dropped it on the floor and reached over to take her short magenta teddy off. She felt desperately bare in front of Coriolanus as she was striped mechanically like a child’s doll. The teddy she wore was one of her favorites, with the delicate lace on the bust. She appreciated that Coriolanus was equally as delicate as the lace when handling it. He must have remembered how much [Y/N] liked it. Coriolanus remembered everything.

[Y/N] was simply impressed she had gotten herself into pajamas after last night at all.

“You’re going to ruin yourself if you keep doing this, you know.” Coriolanus said, starting the shower water.

“So you keep telling me,” [Y/N] shivered due to her bareness against the bathroom tile. “I’m sorry.”

Coriolanus deflected with a shake of his head. He turned to her. Coriolanus was obviously thinking about speaking as the water heated up. Hot water whenever desired was Coriolanus’ number one favorite thing about rebuilding the Snow fortune. That’s why he took his showers too hot; to prove that he could. The thought gave him the confidence to speak. “Do I make you feel so ill that you have to run around and treat yourself like this? Did I do something?” The insecurity of that question made [Y/N] raise an eyebrow. Sometimes when she looked at Coriolanus and realized he was still a boy in many regards. Twenty-three wasn’t very old at all. His frontal lobe wasn’t even finished developing. His primary desire was to be enough for himself, for her, and for everyone else too. [Y/N] feared that he worried he hadn’t figured that out yet. The girl was far from figuring that out herself as well. She rarely saw vulnerability slip through the cracks in the finished marble exterior that built Coriolanus Snow. But who knew if what he said was a true feeling of his or not.

“No,” [Y/N] said. She looked down at her manicured toes. “I did this before we were, y’know… You’ve seen me at house parties since the Academy. You know it’s not you.”

“It has to stop,” Coriolanus started, dashing that fear from his mind. [Y/N] permitting a discussion without blocking him out unpowered him to share his concerns. “It worries me when you’re out late with who knows who. With so many people seeing you. It’s not just part of an act, it’s bad for you.” He said, but what he meant to say was it’s bad for me.

“I knew you had jealousy problems, Coriolanus, but being worried you can’t personally compete with your girl’s partying habits is… hilarious.” [Y/N] attempted a joke. She saw the vein in Coriolanus’ neck throb. His eyes got cold when his vulnerability, no matter how shallow, was met with rejection.

“Get in the shower.”

[Y/N] cast her eyes down, took off her panties and did what she was told.

“It’s so hot!” She all but screamed.

[Y/N] let the water scald her skin. She didn’t want to complain at his trying to help her. “You’ll deal with it,” Coriolanus said, sliding the shower door shut behind the both of them. [Y/N] hadn’t even noticed him undressing, but here they were. They had never been in the shower together before. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the circumstances were. “For the record, I don’t have a ‘jealousy problem.’” He said after a moment of allowing [Y/N] hair to get damp enough to shampoo.

“Really?” [Y/N] bit back, reaching clumsily for her shampoo bottle with slippery fingers.

“Really. Jealousy isn’t a problem when you understand what’s rightfully yours,” Coriolanus said. Normally, she blocked Coriolanus out when he spoke like that. Maybe it was physical proximity or toxic prolonged exposure to Coriolanus, but that made her blush red in the face. Ignoring it, [Y/N]’s fingers closed around her pink and brown shampoo bottle, but Coriolanus snatched it out of her fingers effortlessly. “Let me. I want to be sure it gets done,” He muttered with a passive aggressive edge. That attitude seemed like a put-on to [Y/N]. She wondered if he wanted an excuse to be close to her. She made those up sometimes to be close to him. Maybe she was just flattering herself. Coriolanus squeezed some shampoo into his palm and set the bottle down on the shower ledge. “Who were you out with anyway?”

“Um… Some of the girls. Lysistrata. Oh, Clem. Some others.” [Y/N] braced a hand against the damp wall to steady her feet on the slippery ground.

“Clemensia?” Coriolanus asked, sliding his fingers into her hair, careful as ever. It felt newly intimate in a way that Coriolanus typically avoided with her.

“Who else?”

“I see. You know she’s—“

“I know you don’t like her.” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus was silent.

“I don’t like when you go out without me. I just worry.” He finally said.

“I’m sure you do.”

It was silent between them. Coriolanus worked the shampoo into her hair easily. A man known for his rough intensity being gentle with anything was a surprise to her.

“Did you see anyone else?” He asked nonchalantly.

[Y/N] sighed. Even casual conversation turned to interrogation. She wasn’t sure if he meant it, or if it was all he knew how to do. “Do you mean… Was I photographed behaving in some unsightly way? I dunno. I probably was. I wasn’t unfaithful, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Stop.” Coriolanus said, leaving no room for further argument.

It was quiet again. “Thank you for washing my hair. That’s, uh, it’s very kind.”

“Don’t mention it.” He replied, coaxing [Y/N] back under the water to rinse out the suds. His long fingers combed back through her hair over and over again. [Y/N], soapy, turned around and stared at Coriolanus’ wet face and hair. Even when appearing like a drowned animal, his imposing figure was statuesque.

[Y/N] leaned up and kissed him quickly. “I’m sorry I forgot about the interview,” she whispered, barely louder than the shower water. She apologized more than he did, but he responded well to knowing someone other than him was in the wrong. “Do I really look like shit?”

Coriolanus sighed, more familiarly this time. He loved when she needed him. He would insult her all day long if it meant he got to give her more validation later on. “No,” he slipped a hand under her breast and gave it a squeeze, his thumb danced across her nipple. “No, you don’t,” His other hand wormed its way across her cheek to brush away that disgusting makeup residue from the night prior. “You just needed a little polish. Let’s finish up. Go get dressed. Coffee’s on in the kitchen.”

“You poison it?”

Coriolanus frowned exasperatedly. He reached the hand cupping her breast around to her ass and gave it a hard, wet smack. “You bitch.” He smirked.

Sins almost all forgiven.

—

Every time [Y/N] was in a car with Coriolanus, it felt like a coaching session. Hand on her thigh with, don’t say this, say that instead, let me speak first, don’t embarrass me.

No point in elaborating on the most familiar part of their normal day-to-day since it really was habit at this point. [Y/N] always ached to snap back at him after these times. One day, don’t embarrass me was going to hit so hard that she did.

When they got out of the car a few blocks from their destination, [Y/N] had dawned her bright purple sunglasses. Coriolanus hated them and had tried on multiple occasions to buy her new ones to no avail. The daylight was still too bright for her tired eyes, so they were going to be worn on the walk to Capitol News.

After half a block (and so close to a news building), they were swamped by people clicking away at them. It made the bright sun burn hotter. Coriolanus’ white blonde hair and intimidating stature was much too easy to pick out in a crowd for their sunglasses and long jackets to disguise much.

Right now, besides Games news, they were the hottest topic of discussion in the Capitol. Their engagement party had been wild, [Y/N] was typically wild, and Coriolanus was characteristically unwild. It made for good TV.

Coriolanus leaned in to whisper something. [Y/N] couldn’t hear it. All she could do was smile and tell any reporters with microphones ‘no thank you,’ or ‘you’ll have to watch Lucky’s to answer for that.’ Coriolanus merely smiled a smile that was not his smile and said ‘not now folks, we’ll be late,’ or ‘don’t worry about them, Darling.’

[Y/N] was leashed by Coriolanus’ hand on the back of her neck as he guided her through crowds. He had two dressbags of clothes for the show tossed effortlessly over his shoulder as they walked. They were a newsroom’s wetdream. She was exuberant and he was magnetic. And they were both trouble. Power, wealth, youth, stability and status. Everyone liked to watch them at their best and loved to watch them at their worst.

“How do you put up with it, Mr. Snow!” A bland-looking man with a microphone called.

“How was the party last night, [Y/N]!” Called another. They always called [Y/N] by her first name because, frankly, she was fairly certain they didn’t know her maiden name and technically she wasn’t Mrs. Snow yet either. Coriolanus’ grip on her tightened at the question.

She smirked at how the power of her own name took away power from her family and their name; the thing they desperately wanted a morsel of.

Considering a future where she inevitably became Mrs. Snow, she thought about how her lifetime of indiscretions would be tied to Coriolanus forever. She smirked wider at their folie a deux.

[Y/N] felt like a doll again, being pushed by Coriolanus like that. She didn’t hate it entirely, though. She liked it when he manhandled her a little. It helped with all the noise that surrounded them these days to be able to turn her brain off and let Coriolanus handle it for her. She would never admit it, but being a good doll for Coriolanus for the foreseeable future didn’t seem too bad. Her stomach churned wicked for thinking that. It made her antsy to not have an exciting retort in front of reporters. [Y/N] usually did, but her head ached too much this morning. Instead, she looked helplessly up at Coriolanus. He glanced down at her, an eyebrow raised. “Overwhelmed?” He asked quietly, but not too quietly. [Y/N] nodded. “Don’t worry, my dear. We’re almost there.” Coriolanus said like a good husband should. [Y/N] thought about how he was rarely such a good husband when other people weren’t looking. Then why had he seemed to care so much that morning? She must’ve been mistaken about one part or the other.

[Y/N] leaned up and kissed him for in part for his kindness. The crowd aww’d. Kisses were a good way to distract a man. Any man, receiving or watching. Coriolanus’ hand slipped down from her neck to the back of her waist. Her fingers went into the soft hair at the bottom of his neck. She felt him inhale sharply. She knew he hated that. “What was that for?” Coriolanus asked when he pulled away, referring to the kiss.

“Wanted to make sure you were real. None of this feels real.” [Y/N] laughed dizzily. It was true, but she felt stupid saying it. She had spent a lot of time feeling stupid recently and this morning was no exception. The hangover and the whirlwind of voices and flashes had emptied her brain completely. Coriolanus leaned in to whisper in her ear again. This time she caught what he said:

“Stop this. We’ve ten steps until we’re in the building. I’ve told you not to touch my hair.”

He pulled away from her and put on his brilliant, effortless smirk that rich boys his age always had. Coriolanus yanked [Y/N] the remaining distance into the news building.

As soon as they entered, they were whisked away to dress for that afternoon’s broadcast. [Y/N] was dropped into a beautician’s chair to make her face look like someone else’s. She groaned at the duty she held.

Makeup brushes and blowdryers and curling irons and spray bottles of who knows what clouded [Y/N] of vision.

She wished Coriolanus was in her immediate vicinity so she could glance over him and laugh cruelly about how stupid all this is. He was always good for a laugh at the expense of things like this.

“Honey, who does your hair on the regular? I suggest you switch to someone else.” The obscene-looking woman pulling her hair back asked.

[Y/N] laughed, but said nothing. [Y/N] wanted to strangle her.

Not long after that, [Y/N] was pulled up to her feet and forced into a dress that she at least knew she liked. Tight around the waist and thighs, capping off at the knees. It was higher necked, but was so tight that it left little to the imagination. She knew Coriolanus would get frustrated with a fluffy dress, so she picked one that would make his eyes bug out instead. It was off-white with a delicate floral pattern outlined in a brighter white.

[Y/N] looked great. She knew this as she admired the contrasting bulk of the shoulders and flowing sleeves with the clinging exposure of her curves everywhere else. She didn’t exactly look like herself, though. Especially with her hair and makeup done so precisely. She wasn’t precise, she was messy. Precise didn’t suit her.

[Y/N] wondered if the her that stared back in the full-body mirror was the real her now. Messy her was gone. A Capitol wife remained. A doll.

She slid her black ankle-breaking heels on and shook the thought away as she entered the sound stage.

[Y/N] always forgot how noble Coriolanus was capable of looking, considering he was distinctly the opposite. She stared at him. Mauve coat, black trousers, crisp white undershirt, white tie, white rose. Clearly, he had let someone touch his hair. Even if it was a stylist.

Coriolanus gestured for her to walk over to where he stood and Lucky sat. It was difficult to walk with the dress clinging around her knees and the height of her heels. Her short, intentional steps felt demeaning. Most things in her life felt vaguely demeaning, but she kept turning a purposeful blind eye. The stage lights were too bright. Coriolanus’ teeth were too white for the amount of throats he’d ripped out.

Capitol magic.

“Hello Darling. You look lovely.” Coriolanus said as she approached. He took his hand in her and kissed it. Coriolanus’ eyes never looked up at hers because they were too busy looking at how her body fit the dress.

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied neutrally. “Hi Lucky. Green’s really your color.” [Y/N] lied. Lucky’s green, wintery tux was vile and everyone with eyes and a modicum of taste would see that.

Coriolanus coughed into his shoulder to cover a scoff. He wrapped a strong arm around [Y/N]’s waist.

“Thank you, [Y/N]! Good to see you, pleasantries, pleasantries, yada yada. Shall I call you [Y/N]…? Mrs. Snow… The network doesn’t really know what the hell to do with you.” Lucky beamed from his chair.

“Oh, uh… I’m not really Mrs. Snow yet. It’s not necessary. My first name will do. I’m not picky, though.”

She felt Coriolanus deflate a little beside her as he dropped her waist and folded himself into the gaudy patterned armchair the network provided. [Y/N] felt a sting of guilt. Maybe she should have let him carry on with the Mrs. Snow thing. Coriolanus would have to get over it. “Sure thing, hon. Anyway, go ahead. Take your seat. Some of these questions are tacky, tacky, tacky, but do your best and humor us. Panem wants to know the real you.” Lucky beamed.

“I’m sure they do.” They don’t. And they won’t.

“You kids really are… Wow, lovely to share the stage with. You make me look old and sad comparatively, damn,” Lucky joked. “It’s been a good while since I’ve had the pleasure of sitting alongside Coriolanus like this. You were a child then. Crazy, the passage of time.” He continued.

“Lucky, it’s always an honor.” Coriolanus said. Coriolanus hated Lucky. [Y/N] marveled at his ability to lie so gracefully.

A group of production folks stepped out of the shadows to give them bottled water and let them know the show was about to begin. The studio audience poured in through side doors.

[Y/N] quickly leaned over to Coriolanus. “I thought this was a pre-tape.” She whispered frantically.

“You didn’t remember this interview existed three hours ago. You’ll deal with it.” He replied, with a note of his own panic he was unable to squash.

Fifteen minutes of seating and then a live camera inches away from [Y/N]’s face. “Well, we really thank you for having us on your show, Lucky.” She smiled. The audience analyzed them like vultures. This was the most wicked game designed for them, but Coriolanus didn’t lose. [Y/N] would have to be perfect.

“Of course! Always a pleasure, [Y/N]. Let’s get to some of these questions on my handy little list of questions, huh?” A few shallow questions about what designers they were wearing, what their morning routine was like to look so gorgeous, Coriolanus leaning over to hold [Y/N]’s hand across their chairs (the audience sighed lovingly). Coriolanus curls, stubborn as he was, fell out of the hold of the hairspray like they always did. She smirked and reached up with her left hand to push them out of his eyes. Oh, he hated that. [Y/N] could tell. Lovely.

“Oh, look at that ring,” Lucky said. “The ring we’ve all been talking about. Let’s get a closeup on that rock,” the camera pushed in to [Y/N]’s hand obediently. A large ruby mounted on a white gold band. She had been assured it was real. [Y/N]’s other jewelry, silver, sat patina-ing in a wooden box because of it.“Beautiful. Must’ve cost you a pretty penny, Coriolanus.”

“Yes, Coryo, how much did it cost?” [Y/N] asked. Coriolanus shifted in his seat. Money was not a thing Coriolanus discussed.

“A bit.” He replied stiffly. [Y/N] grinned.

“Uh, you both are mighty famous for that ring. I suppose it’s time to discuss that crazy engagement party. I was there to witness the whole thing firsthand, of course.”

The Snows-to-be nodded.

“These questions can get uncomfortable, but I’m sure you’ll answer all the same. So, your relationship seems… Alarmingly happy today for two people debating splitting over infidelity at the celebration of their engagement.”

“Please, we only debate it when I’m drunk, Lucky.” [Y/N] said much to the audiences joy. They laughed heartily.

“Which is too often, if you want my opinion.” Another laugh from the audience for Coriolanus, never one for being outdone. She knew, in his mind, she deserved that.

“Rehabilitation is always an opinion.” Lucky joked darkly, not knowing what to say.

“Being wild is fun, though, isn’t it? I’m not from privilege and grace as much as my fiancé. He’s always been elegant. I’m learning; I have a good teacher. But you only get your youth once. You would know, I’m sure, Lucky. When someone loves you as much as Coriolanus loves me… He always forgives my mistakes. He’s too good me. He’s patient.” [Y/N] said. He was patient, but it came out in the way that he played the long game. His impulses along the way were markedly less patient. Coriolanus squeezed her hand tightly as a warning.

Lucky smiled bitterly. “Well, I’m sure he’ll learn to keep you on a shorter leash eventually. Actually, I hear you were out last night as well.”

Fuck.

“Yes, bachelorette party, you see.”

“The studio’s telling me,” Lucky clutched his earpiece. “They have some photos from your last wild night as an unwed woman.”

“Oh. Is that so…? Haha,” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus squeeze her hand until her own knuckles were white. Neither one of them had a clue what they were about to throw up on that screen. Coriolanus inhaled shakily, but maintained neutrality. “Can’t be worse than the sides you saw of us a few months back at the—“

It was worse.

The dress was short, but Coriolanus had known that when she stopped into his office to tell him she was going out. He had responded with a “That? Really? Okay…” with quiet anger that the dress wasn’t being worn for him.

Then there was the dreaded miniature morphling vile empty between her fingers. It was obvious she was trying to talk with her friends under the flashing lights. They were all wearing similar fare. Six or seven drunk, high young women pictured together wasn’t that bad, even for some of the old school Capitol prudes.

None was more damning than the strange man’s hand planted firmly on [Y/N]’s ass. His smile was too wide. The [Y/N]’s in the picture’s grimace at the stranger over her shoulder was uncomfortable. It screamed DON’T-TOUCH-ME. She looked like she was telling him to stop, but her eyes were wide and her lips were pulled into a frown. The subtext implied by the woman in the photo was Coriolanus is going to kill me. She sighed. The crowd gasped. Coriolanus inhaled sharply.

[Y/N] had said her behavior the night before was inherently not unfaithful. Coriolanus didn’t feel the need to not believe her since she was the one who brought it up. The apples of Coriolanus cheeks grew red with rage. The stranger’s smile was too big. He knew he was touching Coriolanus Snow’s fiancée. He knew was taking advantage of a helpless girl and her friends. He knew he was defacing someone else’s property.

Coriolanus Snow was going to find this man and ruin his life.

[Y/N], humiliated, looked over at Coriolanus. She had a hazy memory of telling some guy to “knock it off” the night before. Truly, she did remember this, but of course, she hadn’t thought this would be a big deal. This was a part of her life she had had to deal with since she was a young woman. This man’s action was undesired, but not unexpected. Taking in the photo and the look on his fiancée’s face as she shook her head slowly at him was enough for Coriolanus to determine that this touch was unwanted. [Y/N] looked guilty, but she had little reason to be. He hated seeing that look on her face in a situation he didn’t create.

[Y/N]’s only crime was going out without Coriolanus. She knew he hated when she did that. If he had been there, he would’ve handled the situation there and then. She was never going out alone again. She needed him. Right now, he was going to be the man she needed.

“Take that off the screen.” Coriolanus said firmly to Lucky.

“Well, first, let’s have—“ Lucky tried.

“I don’t think you heard me. I said take it down,” Coriolanus continued. He turned to the cameras and those behind them. “Now.”

Coriolanus watched a young woman at a screen immediately buckle at his demand and begin scrambling to pull the image. The show’s graphic was returned to the monitor. “Thank you,” Coriolanus said in the woman’s direction. [Y/N] stared at the floor, beet-red. She was trying not to cry, but what would it matter if she did? Coriolanus knew too well the meaning of her tell-tale sniffle and avoidant eye contact. He turned back to Lucky. “I think that was extremely rude of you and your production group to put up an image, without consent, of my fiancée getting touched without consent. It’s apparent to me from looking at that photo that my fiancée did not welcome that touch. Would you agree?”

“Possibly, but since the engagement party—“

“I think you forget I trust [Y/N]. Are you the one marrying her?”

“… No. But hey, this is my show, kid. Let’s get back on track with—“

Coriolanus knew better than most people that what was said and done on live television was as good as forever. He would use that to his advantage. Nobody came for Coriolanus’ belongings and left with the hand that tried to snatch them.

“I’m not finished,” Coriolanus snapped. [Y/N] reached for Coriolanus’ hand again to signal that that’s enough, dear. He took it and looked over at her. He was angry; normal person righteous angry. Not manic, not cold. That was a new face. Coriolanus had so many pretend faces that clipped on and off. [Y/N] had previously thought she had seen them all. “Were you wanting that touch, Princess? Did you know him?” He asked [Y/N]. She shook her head with her eyes damp and downcast. “As I implied, you don’t know us. Don’t ever embarrass my fiancée like that,” or me, [Y/N] assumed his subtext as he spoke. “Whoever this moron in the picture is has another thing coming. What kind of self-respecting news network aims to humiliate guests for something they couldn’t help?” Coriolanus said. [Y/N]’s heart raced. He cared. Maybe it was for selfish reasons, but his support mattered. No one else was going to do it.

Sometimes he was absent, yes, but Coriolanus always came through when [Y/N] needed him. She was grateful that he wasn’t angry with her, even if that part came later in private. She was grateful for now that his way of easing his own pain eased hers too. She could get used to that. [Y/N] let out tears of temporary relief and reached for the box of tissues on the round table between guests and host.

Coriolanus stared Lucky down and settled himself further back in his seat with a sigh. “Next question?” The blonde man said.

—

The ride home was nearly silent. [Y/N] had started crying the second she sat down in the car. Coriolanus hadn’t say anything, but he kept his hand in hers the whole time. He didn’t even fight to let go when his palm got sweaty. [Y/N] pulled his hand close to her chest. She had done nothing wrong, yet she felt that everything was her fault. She had failed Coriolanus. This media wreck wasn’t just a game for photographers and journalists, this one embarrassed her genuinely. This one embarrassed Coriolanus and she was constantly told she was not supposed to do that. Don’t embarrass me rang against every corner in her brain.

The car stopped in front of their building. Coriolanus, as he always seemed to, opened her car door before the driver could get out. Coriolanus thanked the driver and put an arm around [Y/N] and led her up the stairs to their townhouse. The door closed behind them. Coriolanus locked the deadbolt with a heavy clunk. Safe from eyes that watched every failure with glee. They could be people again.

“I’m sorry, Coriolanus,” [Y/N] said, mascara down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know him. Really, I didn’t. I told you this morning. I—I didn’t know him.” She backed herself protectively towards the couch and away from Coriolanus in learned preemptive panic.

“I know,” Coriolanus said. “Nobody but me gets to touch you like that. I know you’re smart enough to understand that. I cannot fathom how another man thinks he can do that to you and get away with it.”

“That’s… That’s been happening my whole adult life, you can’t magically make that—“

“I don’t think you understand, Darling. I can. I don’t want to know that anyone has ever touched you like that. I swear on my mother’s grave. I will fucking murder them.” His winter blue eyes could vaporize a perpetrator on the spot.

“Coriolanus, that’s extreme.”

“Not to me. Not when you’re involved.”

“You can’t hurt people that looked at me funny. It’s hardly a crime.”

“Isn’t their some old line about not coveting another man’s wife?”

“…Yes. You have a future. You can’t interrupt your opportunities because some shithead—“

“It won’t interrupt anything. Wouldn’t it make you feel better to know that a creep like that was off the streets?”

“…Yes.”

“Well, then we agree. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

[Y/N] blushed and looked down. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t be. I’m not angry with you about this. I know I can trust you. I do. You know I do. I don’t worry about that. I cannot trust other people around you, especially when you use that filthy drug,” Coriolanus said. He extend a hand to [Y/N] as he approached like he would approaching a scared animal. That hand went slowly to [Y/N]’s waist. Coriolanus pulled her in closer so they were chest to chest. “You are not going out without me to some party like that ever again. Disrespecting you like that means disrespecting me, too. I won’t stand for either.”

“I—“

Coriolanus was going to get what he wanted all along: [Y/N] alone with him always. How could she need anyone else? Everyone out there wanted to hurt her, touch her, make her feel bad about herself. Not Coriolanus. Perhaps, he should be thanking that man instead of cutting his fingers off one at a time. “No. Let me keep you safe. That’s all this is. I want you safe. I’m to be your husband. That’s my job. Won’t you let me do my job, [Y/N]?” He said too calmly. His blue eyes stared deep into hers. Coriolanus had a fantastic talent for telling someone something and letting them think it was a question; letting them think it was their idea— letting them they had a choice.

He was right. He did make her feel safe. Holding on to her like this made her melt. In Coriolanus’ arms, [Y/N] felt secure. He was moody, but Coriolanus was frustratingly reliable. He wanted to make himself the bedrock of [Y/N]’s life. She had no choice but to allow him that. [Y/N] breathed out and he felt her breath fan out across his face. “Let me take care of you. I won’t let that happen to you anymore. I promise.” Coriolanus muttered.

He tipped his mouth slowly into her neck and hungrily sucked at the place below her ear. A gasp caught in [Y/N]’s throat at the surprise sensation. Her knees wobbled and her dress and shoes didn’t make it any better. She put her arms around his neck for support. “Coriolanus…” she whispered. Coriolanus loved the vibration in her throat beneath his lips.

Helplessly, [Y/N] tipped her head back to give her fiancé what he wanted. Coriolanus had sucked a few hickeys on her neck and chest before, sure. Never before had he bitten her. This time, he bit her hard enough to bruise and scab. It was harder to cover an indent with makeup than a simple bruise. If she were to go out even to the grocery store, other men had to understand that [Y/N] was off the market. If an engagement ring wouldn’t do it, this would. Coriolanus bit her with such force that the tears started to well again.

The position they were in felt like a dance. His hands on her waist, hers on his neck, their bodies flush together. [Y/N] fell deeper into the black hole of Coriolanus Snow. This must have been on purpose. He knew she loved to dance with him and made it a weapon. Damn him. She would always say yes to a dance, wouldn’t she? Wasn’t this whole relationship just a fucked up dance?

The man reached one hand down and pulled up [Y/N]’s dress as much as he could get it up and tore it the rest of the way. [Y/N] could swear she had been torn out of a third of her clothing recently. Coriolanus pushed her panties to the side and pushed his fingers into her. It would have hurt if she hadn’t been so wet to begin with. She bobbled on her heels. Once Coriolanus has pumped himself fingertip to hand in and out of her a handful of times, [Y/N] was holding herself up entirely by his neck and shoulders and the fingers that impaled her tenderly. Coriolanus had complete control over the situation. The only thing left for her to do was moan and she didn’t hold back.

Coriolanus was unrelenting. He marked a disturbing black and blue column on her throat the way he liked. Slowly, the pair rocked back and forth from foot to foot, as Coriolanus nipped, fucked and sucked. A fucked-up slow dance to the song of the traffic on the other side of the window.

MORE FROM THE TRUCULENT SERIES

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst @spencereidbasis @a-mellifluous-life @daenerysqueenofhearts @heavqn @dangelnleif @lapisthelovely @wotcherpeak @24kmar

apologies as always for the little tags that couldn’t.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #hunger games #ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #coryo snow #coryo x reader #truculent series

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demonslayerunhinged · 16 days ago

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Unhinged Cracknalysis

The Many Voices of Sanemi (Part 2)

I previously talked about my observations on Sanemi's voice and how it changes depending on his emotional state, this is a continuation of those observations. This post can be read as a standalone, but if you want proper context, go here.

Okay so…

I was watching the HT arc for like the thousandth time (as you do) when I noticed another 'Sanemi Voice'. So like usually Sanemi's voice is cool, deep and levelled but during these three separate scenes his voice sounds uneven.

When he confronts Giyuu during the meeting.

When Tanjiro cock-blocks him during their 'training'.

During his Taisho secret segment, here and here.

*The remaining two scenes are links cuz of that fuckass Tumblr one limit video bullshit 🙄

Anyway, notice how his voice gets comically high-pitched like he's going through a second round of puberty?😂 Why would his voice pitch change in these scenes? What's so special or particular about them? Well, one thing I noticed was that in all three scenes, Sanemi was in a situation that I can only describe as 'uncomfortable'.

Let me explain.

first scene

In the Hashira meeting, he confronts Giyuu about leaving the meeting. I think this is the first time he's directly addressing Giyuu about this since their breakup. So, it makes sense that he'll be emotionally distressed as he publicly questions his former booty call on what is obviously a pain point for him that caused friction in their relationship.

Yes, I will make everything about GiyuuSane. Yes, Sanemi and Giyuu are exes. I will die on this hill. don't like it? eat a dick.

second scene

During the 'training' when Tanjiro 'interrupts' them, Sanemi was partaking in an emotionally charged fight-conversation with Giyuu that was obviously meant to be private as he's mad at Tanjiro for 'spying' on them.

It could be that he was nervous by Tanjiro(bestest boy❤)'s presence and him watching this supposed intimate moment between them. Then we have Tanjiro(bestest boy❤) revealing his love of ohagi in front of the guy he wants to get with. His anxiety levels must've been through the roof!

third scene

In the Taisho Secret segment his voice is all over the place and I also noticed something weird: Sanemi doesn't look at the camera, like ever. Not. Even. Once.

Compare this to the other Hashira who have no problems looking at the camera and even addressing the audience. Gyomei was distracted by innocence and pussy, so he doesn't count.

Don't believe me? Watch the whole video here. This scene below doesn't matter because he was obviously looking at and addressing Tanjiro.

Sidenote: The Taisho Secret segment that had all the Hashira in it sorta doesn't count either because he wasn't the focus except in the beginning. Even then, his voice isn't as cool as it was in the main episode. Proof here.

I mean, you could interpret it as Sanemi not wanting to take part in the segment or that he doesn't have time or him just being grumpy, but here's what I think:

I think Sanemi was nervous. My baby girl was nervous! Cue audience AWWWWWWWW! soundtrack.

ok, why tho?

So like, I have this theory that Sanemi has anxiety and how his anger, impulsive actions and behaviors are a reflection of that. Knowing that, it would make sense that he might have a bit of social anxiety as well, which gets triggered when he's the center of attention. Kinda paradoxical for a guy who proudly displays his tits, but alas we contain multitudes.

Gyomei also mentioned that Sanemi is shy or easily gets embarrassed-depending on which translation you read. In the group photo they took in the final chapter shows him looking away like he's indeed shy or embarrassed.

Another sidenote: There's an ask I got (I'm so sorry, anon! 😭) Where the op asked if he was turning his face to the right because that was where Genya could've been if he was alive or something. I think he was just camera shy and probably wanted to hide his scars 🥺

Soooooooooo with all the evidence provided, my deduction is:

Sanemi's voice pitch gets higher when he's nervous, anxious, or uncomfortable!

He's a nervous bebe! He's a shy boy!

Why you no face the camera, Shy Boy? Why your voice turn zesty, Shy Boy? Why you turn away, Shy Boy? Why you shy, Shy Boy? Shy Boy! Shy Boy!

Just another thing to add to my Sanemi Gap Moe list! So cute! Ahhhhhhhhhhh! ❤🥰

In Conclusion, Sanemi is a shy bbg whose voice reaches near dog whistle levels of squeak when he's nervous or uncomfy, and he needs to be protected at all cost. Thanks for reading!

Also, I'll be referring to my analysis posts as cracknalysis from now on, cuz that's basically how they feel atp.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #sanemi shinazugawa #giyuu tomioka #sanegiyuu #sanemi x giyuu #kny anime #giyuusane #sanemi #giyuu #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x sanemi #just unhinged #cracknalysis

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steddieas-shegoes · 6 months ago

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chores

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'chill'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated g | 528 words | no cw | tags: established relationship, slice of life, domestic fluff

🛋️🛋️🛋️🛋️🛋️🛋️🛋️🛋️🛋️🛋️🛋️🛋️🛋️

It’s been a lazy day so far. A rarity for them. So rare, in fact, that Steve has the urge to fill the empty space of time with chores he’s been putting off for months.

When he suggests it, Eddie and Rory glare at him from their spots on the sectional couch.

“I know you don’t want to, but if we divide and conquer, it’ll be done faster,” Steve tries to bribe them. He even offers ice cream for later, something that would normally be enough to get them to do just about anything.

“Steve. Love of my life. Dad of the year.” Eddie pauses the television. “We can have a day to chill. The chores will be there tomorrow.”

Steve sighs. “Yes, but we won’t be. That’s the point.”

He feels a bit restless, but he can tell he’s the only one, so he leaves them to their movie and grabs the keys to his shed so he can get the hedge trimmers. It’s his least favorite task, so he might as well get it out of the way.

It’s quiet in the neighborhood today, kind of like the world was put on pause.

Eddie and Rory must not be the only ones having a lazy day.

Steve’s focused on the hedges on the side of the house when he hears the front door open and footsteps coming around the house.

Eddie is fully dressed and giving him an apologetic smile.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks.

Steve pauses. He didn’t want Eddie to feel bad about having a lazy day.

“You can go back inside. We only have one pair of trimmers,” Steve says. “Sorry you got dressed for this.”

“You want me to clean up as you go?” Eddie offers.

“No, it’s-“

“Dad! I’m gonna sweep the kitchen!” Rory yells from the front door.

“You guys didn’t have to get up. Really.” Steve feels a sting in his throat like he’s gonna cry for some reason.

Eddie’s arms wrap around him carefully, pulling him in and kissing the top of his head.

“You’re feeling overwhelmed, huh?” Eddie asks, though he knows the answer. “We’re gonna help for a little bit and then we’re all gonna go inside and watch a movie together, okay?”

Steve can accept that compromise.

Sometimes he gets like this. Sometimes he forgets that he has Eddie now, that Rory’s a bit older, that he isn’t the lone person responsible for his home.

He forgets that he can chill sometimes. That if the hedges are a little overgrown for a week or two, it’s not the end of the world. That if he has to sweep the kitchen in pieces instead of all at once, it’s better than not doing it at all.

He likes the thought of being lazy later.

He likes the thought of having Eddie on one side of him and Rory on the other while they watch some sappy Christmas movie that Eddie and Rory love.

He likes the thought that the hedges may be trimmed and the kitchen may be swept, but the bathroom still needs a deep clean.

He’ll get to it eventually.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie holiday drabbles #steddie events #steve harrington x eddie munson #chill

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smokingrot · 2 months ago

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Five star service pt. 2

pairing: su-bong/thanos/player 230 x reader, fluff

summary: skateboarder!Su-bong teaches rollerblader!user how to skateboard

tw/cw: mild language, no squid games au, happens before thanos becomes thanos!

author's note: sorry this took a while oops been busy preparing for a comp (also making the text small was hard asf with the different colored text too im never doing this again LMAO) this is around 800 words which is only 50% of the first part which is like 1.6k words. part 1 (can be read as standalone)

It had been a few weeks since the skate park incident, and somehow, you and Su-bong had gone from barely acknowledging each other in calculus to hanging out almost every other day. The uneasy atmosphere had dissolved into something more comfortable—something easy—somewhere between late-night ramen trips and study sessions that always ended with him doodling mixtape covers in your notes.

Now, standing beside him at the same skate park, you found yourself staring down at the scratched-up skateboard in front of you with a mix of excitement and dread.

“So,” Su-bong said, grinning as he leaned against the ramp, arms crossed. “You sure you’re ready for this? I’d hate to see you eat pavement twice in one semester.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Wow. Such faith. You’re really inspiring confidence right now.”

He laughed, pushing off the ramp to stand beside you. “Alright, alright, you got this. But seriously—first lesson is balance.” You glanced at your rollerblades, which you had left on a nearby bench. “Can’t I just stick with what I’m good at?” Su-bong shook his head with a teasing smile. “Nope. You agreed. Besides, if I can DJ on an imaginary turntable during class, you can at least stand on a board without dying.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “Fine. Show me how it’s done, ‘Bandage Bandit.’” He groaned at the nickname but didn’t argue as he dropped his own board to the ground and stepped onto it with practiced ease. “Okay, so feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent, and keep your weight centered.” He rolled slowly in front of you before stepping off and pushing the board toward you. “Your turn.”

You hesitated, looking from the board to him. “If I fall again, you’re buying me dinner.” He raised an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume I wasn’t already planning to.”

Your stomach did a weird little flip, but you shook it off and stepped onto the board, wobbling immediately. “Whoa—”

Without missing a beat, Su-bong moved closer, steadying you by the arms. His touch was firm but gentle, and the proximity sent a familiar flutter through your chest. “Hey, hey, relax,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.” You inhaled slowly, trying to steady your heartbeat. “You say that like you’ve done this before.”

He smirked, gaze flickering to your hands still gripping his forearms. “I have. Saving klutzy students at skate parks is kinda my thing.” You laughed, loosening your grip but still leaning into the support. “Guess I’m lucky you’re free so often, huh?”

Su-bong grinned wider but didn’t respond, instead adjusting your stance by nudging your feet into place with his own. “There. Better. Now, bend your knees a little more.” You obeyed, and the board steadied beneath you. “Hey, not bad,” you said, glancing down. “See? You’re a natural.” His voice was warm, proud.

You risked looking up at him, noticing how close his face was again. The light breeze tousled his hair, and you swore you could see every little freckle scattered across his cheekbones.

“Alright,” he said, clearing his throat as if sensing the shift too. “Now, I’ll hold your hands, and you’ll try rolling forward.”

“You just like holding my hands, don’t you?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

He flushed but didn’t deny it. “Maybe I do. What of it?”

You grinned. “Smooth.”

He chuckled but reached out anyway, lacing his fingers through yours as you pushed off gently, rolling a few feet with him walking backward to guide you. “You’re doing great,” he said, eyes never leaving yours.

Your heart raced, but it wasn’t from skateboarding.

“So… what happens when I let go?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

You smirked. “Depends—are you going to let me fall, Su-bong?”

“Never,” he said softly, this time without a trace of teasing.

For a second, neither of you moved, caught in the gravity pulling between you.

Finally, you broke the moment, voice a little breathless. “Okay, Su-bong. Let’s see if I can survive without training wheels.” He reluctantly let go, stepping back with a proud, crooked smile as you rolled forward on your own. “Look at you,” he called out, hands on his hips. “Natural.”

Your balance faltered slightly, and you wobbled, but you stayed upright. “I’m doing it!” you said, grinning wildly. Su-bong laughed, jogging to keep pace beside you. “Told you.”

When you finally rolled to a stop near the base of a ramp, Su-bong skated over and bumped his shoulder lightly against yours. “So? Still sticking with four and a half stars?” You looked at him, flushed and out of breath but grinning like an idiot. “Five stars,” you admitted, cheeks warm. “Full marks this time.” Su-bong’s smile softened as his hand brushed against yours, lingering there. “Cool. I’ll take it.”

You stood there for a beat, hands almost touching, hearts racing—and this time, neither of you pulled away.

“So,” he said after a moment, eyes glinting with mischief, “next lesson… how to survive a half-pipe?”

You groaned. “You’re trying to kill me.”

He laughed. “Nah, I like you too much for that.”

You blinked. He blinked. And then he quickly added, “I mean, like—as a friend.”

You arched an eyebrow, smile growing wider. “Sure. ‘As a friend.’”

The flush on his cheeks deepened, but he didn’t correct himself this time.

#squid game x reader #thanos squid game #thanos #choi subong #choi su bong #player 230 #thanos x reader #thanos x you #su bong x reader #su bong x you #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong x you #player 230 x reader #player 230 x you

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httpsserene · 2 years ago

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httpsserene's F1 Kinktober '23

summary: for all people believe that werewolves are dangerous creatures, your wolf is pretty tame, even with some of his...quirks. this halloween you let him be the big bad wolf to your little red riding hood, while you give out candy to trick-or-treaters. what he doesn't know, is that you have your own trick-or treat planned for him after this– you're his treat tonight, but he's going to have to chase you first.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. fair warning this is the most foul thing i’ve written ever. like, i thought the first upload was unsettling, but this is terrifying in comparison. this was an excuse to spread my personal feeling that i think carlos sainz jr is a massive freak, and i will take no criticism on that😩. there unfortunately will be no part two to this, it’s a standalone, i got so many things to write now, im sorry :( i hope you all enjoy it (i did an embarrassing amount of research for this aka twilight wiki), and thank you for all the support !!!

thank you to my beta readers @saintslewis and @my-ylenia ! i appreciate y'alls quick feedback :)

click here for f1 kinktober '23 table of contents.

were-shifter & predator/prey kink — 𝐜𝐬𝐣. 𝟓𝟓 carlos sainz jr x fem!black!reader 6k words. smut. wolf shifter au. no abo. outdoor sex. scent kink. vaginal sex. fingering. possessive behavior. predator/prey kink. tummy bulge. breeding kink. mention of knotting. mention of heat/rut cycles. unprotected sex (pls practice safe sex).

carlos is not a werewolf. carlos is a born wolf; he comes from a long familial line of shifters. while he and his wolf share a brain, carlos is in control one-hundred percent of the time. he can shift into a wolf at will and maintains awareness as the wolf. however, during the full moon, it’s extremely difficult for shifters to resist the call and refrain from transforming. werewolves, on the other hand, are created by a curse or from being bitten. they are forced to change into a beast every full moon, thirsting for blood and carnage. their humanity isn’t present in the half-wolf/half-human form; being a werewolf is like a parasitic disease. carlos’ family has found their calling in bringing a sense of order to the wild, and during full moons, their purpose is to contain and redirect the beastly werewolves from harming humans.

shifters are rare, and carlos prefers it that way (he doesn’t ever want to find out what tension multiple shifters on the grid could cause). his nature doesn’t give him any unfair advantages in an f1 car, sure, his reaction time may be a little quicker, and he heals faster–but, nothing that would classify as “cheating.” if he did have any extreme advantages, maybe he’d end max’s world champion streak, but that is not the case; anything about his nature still couldn’t make up ferrari’s shortcomings.

the only downside to being a shifter is how they’re mistaken for werewolves (even though they are obviously two completely different beings). the world doesn’t know about the shifter population at large, it’s mainly an “if you know you know” society, and werewolves are known to the masses with how many slaughters they’ve been caught doing from the beginning of time. which is massively unfortunate for carlos. if he were to be revealed as a wolf shifter, he’d probably lose everything he knows–formula one, his privacy, his family, you–and he would probably be scheduled for a public execution if those were still in place. he’s only trusted a small circle of people within formula one with the secret of his wolf; lando, charles, fernando, jon and rupert, and vasseur. it’s made his life easier having people that are aware of his true nature, so he can shift comfortably during race weekends if needed, when you are not able to join him.

regardless of how the world views carlos’ supernatural state, you genuinely don’t understand how people could be terrified of him. carlos is ‘the dream man’™, and you’re not accepting any critiques on that matter. he’s a personal-sized space heater, so you don’t have to worry about being cold at night–and he doesn’t even complain when you stick your icicle-like toes and fingers on him. he cleans without being told to, he’s an excellent home chef, he takes you golfing with him and even lets you caddy for him, he’s protective but in a respectful manner, and he even partial shifts around you so you can play with his ears and give him a good little scratch.

the only downside you could point out about carlos, is that he takes his wolf form a little too seriously.

carlos was raised to train his inner wolf into a controlled, unfazed, unshaken, apex-predator being. the wolf has one purpose and it’s to guard his territory, the people he loves, and to prevent any werewolf murder sprees. but, you wish he’d allow himself to relax, and have a little more fun in his wolf form.

you’ve started training him, funnily enough, to allow his wolf to be off the clock sometimes. subconsciously, in the comfort of the spanish villa you two call home, he’s started to allow his ears to pop out whenever he’s relaxed enough. the spaced out and confused faces and noises he makes, with his head and ears flicking and tilting to match, invokes an unhealthy sense of cute-aggression from you. sometimes, you manage to persuade him enough to shift to his full wolf form, and that’s where you find the most difficulty of calming his behavior.

he’ll go around sniffing and rubbing his body along all of the walls and corners of the house to spread his claim, and even refuses to nap or sleep with you while he is shifted. he’d sit in the doorway of the room you were in and remain in an alert state to protect you from whatever dangers that may appear, even though he’s already sure none are present. there was one time you were able to convince him to lay with you under the guise of you being cold; he allowed himself to curl around you and rest his snout on your chest, but the way his ears remained cocked let you know that he was wide awake even though his eyes were shut.

he’s thoroughly unamused whenever you try and get him to play with dog toys. it doesn’t matter if it squeaks, crinkles, or smells–he wants nothing to do with them. he can’t say no to an old-fashioned game of fetch, though. whenever you grab a stick from outside, you hear his thundering paws running towards you before skidding to a rapid stop, his haunches firmly touching the ground while his front paws anxiously tip tap in front of him, and his whole body shakes with anticipation for your throw. and from there you started to get him to appreciate tennis balls and frisbees in fetch games. even though his massive jaw and teeth have you ordering replacements way too often.

and the thought of his massive ears, eyes, hands, and teeth—led you to your halloween costume idea.

little red riding hood.

it makes the most perfect amount of sense. carlos can be the big bad wolf to your red riding hood! except he refused, stating that it would be shameful to use his wolf in such a manner. of course, you're disappointed at his refusal, but you respect his boundaries at the end of the day. so, you were just going to have piñon (your dog) be your big bad wolf. and then, that fell through as well.

piñon was staying over at carlos’ parents house a few days before halloween, and ended up losing a battle to a mouse that he tried to catch through a fence. the fence scratched him a little deeply on his tummy and he ended up getting stitches and a cone of shame. while his stitches are in, he’s staying with reyes and carlos sr.–and, you’re back to square one; you’re ‘big bad wolf’-less-ness.

you don’t attempt to try and convince carlos to join you again, you just decide to keep your original costume and sit out on the porch handing out candy to the trick-or-treaters, missing the other half to your costume. it’s very simple attire, just the red-hooded cloak and a picnic basket full of candy. carlos peeks from the front window’s curtains and watches you smile sweetly at all the children and compliment them on their costumes. he hears you fein terror when kids dressed as werewolves ask for candy, he hears you fawn over the cutest kids and their costumes, and he hears your happiness falter when anyone asks where your ‘big bad wolf’ is.

you’re in the middle of explaining how piñon wasn’t feeling well to a little girl, and you hear a muffled bark. your head perks up in question, thinking you just imagined it, but then you hear scratches on the door. confused, you go to open the door and carlos comes slinking out to join you on the porch.

his wolf is massive, when standing on four paws his head nearly reaches your chest, his coat is a silky coloration of a brown so dark it appears black, but in direct sunlight it radiates warmth. his paws are larger than your face and the claws he’s got on them are big enough to match. the little girl shrieks and hides behind her dad’s legs, and the dad backs them up off the porch frantically.

“no, no, no,” you reassure them, and carlos tries to shrink his body behind your legs, whining lowly, “he’s friendly! i promise he’s a sweetheart, he’s actually pretty shy!” carlos skimpers behind you, quickly managing to shove himself under the outdoor couch, only allowing his head to peek out from underneath. the dad doesn’t quite believe you, and just apologizes and just ushers his daughter to the next house.

you sigh, and plop down a little forcefully on the couch. you hear carlos crawl from underneath the seat, and rise to a sitting position at your side, resting his snout on your lap. you look down and purse your lips at his wide, apologetic brown wolf eyes and raise your hand to give him a few pets. you question softly, “are you going to join me for the whole night?”

carlos blinks at you once. an eager grin spreads across your lips, “yay! aren’t you just such a good boy,” you tease sarcastically. carlos huffs, the force of his exhale swooshing your cloak, before he turns his back to you in dismissal. you laugh at him, and the next group of kids run up yelling for candy, and carlos tries to appear as small as he can so he doesn’t scare these ones away.

after the initial scare carlos caused, everyone seems fascinated at your “wolf-dog,” and how well mannered and amicable he is. carlos lets all the kids who are brave enough pet him, not snapping once even if they accidentally tug at his tail or ears, and sits incredibly still so he has no chance of accidentally crushing them. several dads even pause to give him a sturdy little dad-pat on his side, and inform you of how “that’s a good guard dog you got there, he takes a pat like no problem.” you even impress a few of the moms with how well trained you have him, and how he listens to all of your commands and can do many tricks (so far, the most impressive trick is having him harmonize to your voice with a howl). carlos preens silently next to you whenever little kids can’t help themselves from telling you how pretty you are (his tail thumping on the floor the only giveaway), and seethes when overzealous men and women try and hit on you (growls rumbling out of his chest). you brush off their advances and charmingly tell them, “i don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate me cheating on him…especially in front of his dog,” with a disguised smirk. overall, carlos does so well cosplaying as your big bad wolf, that you decide to give him the present you planned all along.

after the halloween celebrations die down, you and carlos return inside, and you lead the way up to the bedroom as he trots behind you. carlos shifts back into his naked human form, and you giggle and pull him into a hug.

“thank you, my love! everyone loved you tonight–you know you didn’t have to join me outside, right? i didn’t want you to feel pressured to do something you were–” carlos cuts you off with a chaste kiss to the cheek and dismisses your worry, “mi luna, i wouldn’t have gone out there if i did not want to, sí? i am happy i could make the night more fun for you, by playing your “big bad wolf.’”

you pull away with a small ‘aha!’ of remembrance and rush into the en-suite bathroom, closing the door behind you. carlos stares at the space you were just occupying and shrugs, figuring you have to pee really badly–considering you were sitting on the porch the whole night without a break– and that you’re probably changing out of the costume, before turning to the closet and pulling on clothes.

he hears the toilet flush, and then the water runs for a minute too long–almost like you’re covering up any noises carlos may hear with his enhanced hearing, but he doesn’t think that you’d have anything to hide from him, anyways. you fling the door open excitedly, still in your riding hood, and pull carlos away from the closet and start dragging him downstairs.

“ay–” carlos objects, “i don’t have a shirt on yet, mi amor! where are you rushing too?”

you don’t respond verbally, only glancing back at him with a cheeky smirk, and continue to lead him to the backyard. you drop carlos hand once you’ve stepped outside, shutting the sliding glass door behind you two. walking back to him, you stand in front of him–pausing as you stare into the warm depth of his brown eyes, before you take one step backwards. carlos automatically goes to parrot your movement, attempting to take one step towards you to eliminate the space, but you ‘aht-aht’ at him disapprovingly causing him to freeze. you press your hand against his chest near his clavicle and guide him to his original position. patting once with intention, you order, “stay.”

carlos’ eyes widen in shock, but he doesn’t say anything. he allows you to back away from him, twitching towards you when your bare feet slip off the paved patio onto the grass. you come to a stop when you’re halfway into the yard.

carlos calls out to you, confused, “amor? what’s this, i do not want to play fetch right now–”

“we’re not going to play fetch carlos,” you start, “we’re going to play a new game called chase.” carlos does his adorable head tilt at you, continuing to question your actions, “qué? i don’t know the game you are talking about, mi luna–wh-what-qué haces (what are you doing)?”

you unbutton the collar of the cloak, and spread the front open, from where you wrapped it tightly around your body, and reveal a matching set of the scantiest, laciest, and most mouthwatering red bra and panties. carlos is stunned to silence, mouth dropping open as his eyes fall to your exposed body. the way your smooth melanated skin is complimented by the rosso corsa-colored lingerie, the way you’re holding open the cloak to allow him to get his fill of your body, the way your hips seductively rock from one side to the other, the way the smell of your arousal begins to become apparent to his sensitive nose–before you abruptly wrap the cloak shut, tying the waistband tightly and shattering the moment.

“we are going to play a game called ‘chase’, carlito. where i run into the woods behind us, and you…chase me.”

carlos’ entranced state is shaken by his protective instincts, “qué? no, no! absolutely not. the woods are dangerous, mi amor–”

“carlosss,” you whine, “you patrol the woods every other week! you know there’s nothing that could hurt me out here, because you’ve already gotten rid of it. you’re going to give chase and you’re going to like it!”

carlos shifts anxiously, not fully persuaded, so you decide to not give him a choice, “ten minutes, love. after that, come catch me.” you turn and run into the densely packed woods, ignoring carlos’ exclamation for you to stop. he doesn’t suddenly appear and stop your disappearance into the forest, so that’s how you know the game is on.

your chest is already heaving from adrenaline and excitement as you run through the forest, ducking under branches and hopping over rocks and fallen tree limbs. you pant and the nerves start to set in, not out of fear of what’s in the forest, but fear of giving carlos an easy chase. you stop suddenly and take a sharp turn, running for a minute that way before you circle back and run at a slight diagonal in the opposite direction, overlaying your scent to try and give some added time to your pursuit. running deeper into the woods, it begins to get darker, the only light source are the scraps of moonlight that manage to find a pocket to slip through. your eyes adjust to the reduced light level, pupils blown wide not only in necessity but also arousal, and you come to a halt again. you quickly slip off your red panties and hang them on the nearest branch, hoping that the wetness that’s already seeped into them distracts him from your true location.

you start to traverse your way through an uphill part of the forest, exhaustion finally beginning to become apparent after that first rush of adrenaline–but then, a familiar howl cuts through the air; your time is up, and carlos is loose in the forest, hunting after you. reinvigorated, you continue running deeper and deeper into the trees, changing directions multiple times losing track of exactly where you’re going.

the wolf fucking losing it. you–his luna, his mate–are out in the forest he protects—his territory—inciting him into a relieving game of chase, allowing him to be just as uncontrolled as he wants in his pursuit of you. he’s quick to catch on your trail, seeing the way you’re rushed heavy steps in the start leaves an easy path for him to follow. and then, he notices you employed different tactics to delay him. he catches himself running in circles you intentionally plotted, and notices how your scent and foot-trail overlaps multiple times. and then, he can tell you switched from running with the full bottom of your foot and just on your toes for a moment to disrupt your trail. his breaths have started to mirror yours, forceful with the adrenaline from a good chase, and he freezes. he smells you.

he speeds up to a full run, paws thundering against the earth under him, loud and uncaring if you hear him coming or not, before he bursts through the trees where your scent is the strongest. but, you’re not there. the wolf whines disbelievingly, bringing his nose to the floor to analyze your scent trail before a glimpse of red catches his attention from the corner of his eye. he spins around swiftly, expecting it to be the swish of your cloak as you run from, but it’s not you.

it’s the damn red panties you kindly left behind for him.

he rocks up on his hind legs to knock it off the branch to the ground, and presses his muzzle to the barely there fabric, inhaling your arousal deeply. an unhinged growl tumbles his way out of his chest, before it morphs into another full howl, letting you know how much he appreciates your present. carlos won’t be fooled by any more of your tricks again, and he takes off running.

you’ve taken a brief break from running, leaning forward with your hand against your knees as you catch your breath. it’s loud around you; bugs are buzzing and you can hear the hoots of several owls echoing through the forest. suddenly, it goes completely silent, quicker than a drop of a pin. you slam your mouth shut, quieting your inhales, and you slowly shift your stance into a running position, trying to use your hearing to tell what direction the wolf is coming from. you hear the rustle of a tree on your right, and you make to leap away into a run–but it’s too late.

you’re caught, large hands around your waist and a leg sweeps your own out from underneath you and takes you to the ground. a scream of surprise escapes from your chest but is cut off with a heavy hand laying over your mouth.

carlos is looming over you, kneeled in between your legs, bare as the day he was born, chest heaving, and pupils wide from the thrill and pleasure of a successful hunt. “caught you. i could hear your little heart racing in your chest.” he boasts.

carlos removes his hand only to replace it with his lips, and the passion he bathes your lips with fragments your mind. you can only part your lips and let him ruin you as he pleases. his plump lips suckle on yours before his tongue begins an eager exploration of your mouth–a desperate moan falls from his lips into yours. one of his hands comes to grasp at the curls on your head, tilting you for a better angle; and you raise one of yours to grasp at his shoulder for stability, but carlos startles away. an animalistic growl rumbles through his chest in dissent, and he grabs both of your wrists in one of his hands, and pins them above your head.

you’re at a loss for words, unsure if you want to moan or plead to suck his dick, but carlos doesn’t give you a chance to decide.

he allows himself one last soul-sucking kiss, before he presses nips into your cheeks and jaw, leading towards your neck. carlos buries his nose deeply into the spot where your jaw meets your neck, and takes an excessive inhale of your scent. dios mio. the way you smell. delectable and rich soaked with lust and the dregs of fear still clinging in the surroundings. he gets to smell this for the rest of his life. another growl erupts possessively, and you can only moan depravedly at the sound.

carlos continues to lavish kisses on his way down your body, bruising them into your skin before soothing over with a pass of his tongue. the hand in your hair releases, coming down to allow him to grasp at your chest, brushing over your nipples in a quick motion; the lace scrapes against them and the feeling is paralyzing. he tugs the rossi corsa bra underneath your breasts, and they spill out over the top in a manner so obscene it forces another moan out of carlos. he ducks his head again, to tease at your nipples with his tongue, alternating between flicking and sucking at them randomly. he ignores your hips are rolling up, attempting to get some friction, and your hands in his wrists flexing and tugging to escape.

he frees your nipples from the assault of his lips, and starts sucking hickeys into your underboob with a pleased hum. the change in sensation and slight ache, has another scream bursting from your chest, it’s too much.

“c-c-carlos, c’mon! please, please—oh!” cutting yourself off with a gasp, as carlos abruptly pulls away, his large hand releasing your wrists, to scooch down and bully your legs open with a free hand and shoves his broad tanned shoulders between your thighs.

you’re dripping everywhere. the tops of your inner thighs are smeared with stickiness and you’ve created a wet spot on the cloak underneath you. a growl fully spills from carlos’ chest, shaking the air around you and causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rise. he is an apex predator, you should at least be slightly terrified, but all you do is moan in response, more arousal leaking from you, and you start begging.

“carlos!p-please touch me! lobo mió—please, dont you wanna taste me? i want you to eat me,” you sob, “eat me out! you h-h-hunted me, take what you want!”

carlos laughs sharply at your obscenity, “oh? mi luna, you’re so bad, aren’t you? you should be scared of having my teeth so close to your pretty pussy, but here you are: begging, leaking, and your little hole winking and clenching at me, sí?”

you quickly agree, “yesyesyes, for you, for you, always. please carlos,” one of your hands flies down to grip at his hair and try and tug his mouth onto you. carlos snaps his teeth at you, and you quickly pull your hand away from his head, leaving it hovering in the air.

carlos growls, “don’t rush me, mi luna, i always take care of you, no?” you hum in agreement, both of your hands falling to your sides and gripping the grass next to you in anticipation.

carlos dips his head and swipes his tongue gently at your left inner thigh, and groans deeply. it’s your scent liquified; he licks his lips and smacks his mouth, savoring your slick. after that one sample he can’t help himself, he loses himself and makes it his personal mission to clean up every last drop of you that spilled. carlos’ mouth is sloppy, and he’s uncaring of how your thighs begin to shake in oversensitivity from the way his beard is scratching your thighs up, red lines appearing faintly on your brown skin. you start squirming away from his mouth, and carlos huffs, annoyed.

his hands switch to gripping the underside of your thighs, and he pushes them upwards near your chest, and commands, “stop moving, mi amor, or i’ll stop completely.” you moan a soft breathy okay, and your moan pitches into a sharp gasp. carlos runs his nose up your cunt parting the lips, more wetness spreading, before he pauses at your clit; and deeply inhales your scent from where it’s the richest. you cry, half bewildered and half humiliated, at your boyfriend eagerly sniffing at your warmth.

carlos rumbles out, “mierda, mi luna. mmm, so sweet—i cannot wait. i have to get in you, sí?” carlos doesn’t wait for a response and presses two fingers inside you. a cry escapes you at the sudden stretch, but your scent doesn’t sour with pain—carlos continues. he rushes through stretching you; his fingers scissoring you open methodically, consciously avoiding your g-spot. the squelching noises coming from your cunt, has tears gathering in your eyes in embarrassment, even though it’s fairly clear that carlos enjoys it.

his fingers slide out a minute later, and that same hand reaches for his dick to begin spreading your wetness over it. carlos hisses, and with a clenched jaw, he asks, “mi amor—estas lista (are you ready)?” his body is now vibrating with the force he’s holding himself back with, waiting for your approval.

your hands release the earth, blades of grass you ripped out of the ground falling from between your fingers, and motion carlos to come closer and lean over you, dwarfing your body completely, “yeah, lobo mio, fuck me.”

carlos whimpers, head falling to rest in your neck. his hand grasps tighter at the underside of your left thigh—a bruise forming already—and pushes it firmly to your chest, your right leg bends slightly and you press your knee to his hip, urging him forward.

carlos guides the head of his cock with a trembling hand to your cunt, and gently presses in. you sharply inhale, holding your breath, until the head pops in fully, causing both you and carlos to moan in pleasure. carlos continues sinking deeper within you as controlled and slowly as he can, not wanting to cause you any discomfort. however, you’re completely gone already. eyes shut in bliss, mouth open, drool already leaking from the corner of your lips. carlos lifts his head to read your expression, and smirks, you’re so easy for him.

he bottoms out, feeling how your walls squeeze him tightly, and flutter in desperation, like they can’t quite accommodate to his size. carlos waits patiently, chest heaving again from the strain of not taking you, and watches how you squirm underneath him, not knowing if you want to squirm away or closer. you adjust to his presence a handful of seconds later, and grind your hips up to feel the delicious drag of his dick inside of you. carlos’ eyes widen and a shocked groan escapes him before he rolls his own hips down to meet you.

carlos sets a quick pace from the beginning, he can’t be bothered with building up his speed slowly—he has a claim to lay on you; and to any other being in this forest who can smell how alluring you are, you’re his mate.

moans are being punched out of your chest with every one of his thrusts, harmonizing with his matching grunts of effort. your back is sliding against the grassy floor, and your shoved up with every one of his deep thrusts, and you sink your nails into his back in pleasure, and carlos growls into your ear at the feeling.

you manage to find words to praise your wolf, “s-so deep in me, carlos—yeahyeahyeah, deeper, baby, please—ah! faster, carlos, faster—“ and carlos does his best to fulfill your wishes; his mouth rests right next to your ear; his panting breaths, and moans only making you squeeze around him tighter.

he soon tires of your orders; he’s not doing his best if he hasn’t fucked the words out of you. carlos suddenly pulls out of you, and you cry out angrily with a furrowed brow, “no, carlos! don’t stop, what are you—“ and with a rough commanding tone, he interrupts you, “stop whining.” your mouth slams shut, the sound of your teeth clacking together mortifyingly loud, your eyes wide with shock.

carlos softens, patting at your hip gently to reassure you that he’s not angry. he then flips you over (cloak spread on the ground underneath you), up on your elbows and knees, and makes to mount you properly—like the wolf he really is. the air is thick, and with your back turned to him in such a vulnerable manner, adrenaline rushes through you again. carlos laughs down demeaningly at you, as your scent thickens even more with lust and smidge of fear.

rattled at his amusement, you try to push up onto your hands and knees, but carlos automatically pushes you back down, with a heavy, hot and veiny hand scruffing you at the base of your neck. you moan out highly, as carlos forces you back down to your elbows. he releases your neck and smooths his hand down to the small of your back to deepen your arch just the way he wants, and to pull your hips up to match.

all he says is, “now, you stay, just like that—and be a pretty hole for me.”

carlos bullies his dick back inside you, and doesn’t allow you any time to adjust in the this new position. he roughly pounds into you, now only caring about getting his release—he’ll make you cum after he’s thoroughly enjoyed his prize for hunting you down.

carlos’ grunts are animalistic, and his thrusts are too fast for you to try and buck back against him to match his rhythm; all you can do is sit pretty and take what he gives you—just like he said. you can only ramble out four words in between your moans; ‘carlos,’ ‘full,’ and ‘too deep.’ carlos rumbles approvingly at your chanting this time around, and pulls your hips back even closer to dig as deep as he can, uncaring of how you're trying to run from his thrusts.

your start babbling at the constant pressure and drag against your g-spot, he’s so deep, in this position, hitting areas he can only reach and causes your legs to give out. carlos’ hips don’t falter, as he catches you pulling you back up with a hand around your navel. and then his hips stutter in shock with a crude moan. he grabs one of your hands, causing you to fall flat on your face, head turned to the side with your cheek pressed to the cool red cloak—and guides it to your stomach and holds it there.

carlos resumes thrusting, and preens, “mmm, can you feel that, mi amor? i’m fucking you so deep—ah—you can feel it through your skin.” you can feel it, and the pressure from carlos pressing your hand on his own dick from outside of your body, has your eyes rolling back and tears streaming down your face. your legs go limp again, but carlos isn’t fazed; he continues to hold your body up for you. “so good for me,” carlos rambles, “mio luna—my mate.”

abruptly, you feel it. the press of his knot against you, and in a sudden moment of clarity, you start to beg.

“—los! kn-knot, please! ‘arlos, breed—ahahah—breed me deep and full—oh!”

carlos gnashes his teeth, growling savagely, before he leans down and forcefully bites down at the back of your neck—not enough to break skin, but enough to remind you of his teeth for a few days. you shudder, air stolen from your lungs, and you have no choice but to cum.

carlos feels the way your pussy flutters around him, failing to push him out with your release flooding your thighs, and how it continues to drag him deeper within you in a hypnotizing motion to milk him dry. carlos struggles to thrust once, twice, thrice more times with how tightly your cunt is gripping him and shoves his cock as deep in you as possible without allowing his knot to slip in, filling you up nice and good—breeding you just like you wanted.

carlos rocks you two both through the aftershocks, ensuring his cum coats your insides thoroughly, only slowing to a stop when your combined release starts frothing at where the two of you are joined, and your hips start squirming away from him. he guides you back, sitting you on his lap, keeping himself inside you, as he rotates you to face him.

your makeup is ruined. mascara and eyeliner staining your cheeks with the tracks of your tears, red lipstick smudged on your brown skin, eyes wide and still glassy with moisture. carlos swipes his thumb around your lips, fading the smudges as best as he can.

you smile softly, and ask with a light tone, “wasn’t that fun, mi lobo?”

carlos can only laugh softly, and nod, “yes—i did not know that you would enjoy being bred on the forest floor that much.”

your cheeks flush again after they began to cool, and you smack carlos shoulder in embarrassment. your brow furrows, and your mouth drops into a pout, “why didn’t you knot me?”

carlos raises an eyebrow at you teasingly, “ah, sí! you were begging for it like whore—“

“carlos!”

“i’m joking, i’m joking, mi luna! of course you were begging, more like a slut for my knot than a bitch in h—“

“dios mio, carlos! your fucking mouth after you cum—jesus christ!”

he can only laugh harder, extra pleased at how he gets you to fluster so easily, even after he just railed you in the middle of the forest.

“ay, mi amor—i’ll stop, im sorry,” he starts still grinning cockily, “pero, i did not give you the knot you begged for so sweetly, because my rut is in three days, sí? and i can’t afford to bruise your pretty pussy with my hefty knot before then, no?”

you balk. carlos’s semi-annual rut is a force of its own, you're practically out of commission for a week after it, unable to close your legs from how raw it leaves you. his knot bruises your insides every time you take it, so he definitely made the smart decision by not folding to your cries of desperation.

the scent of the two of you's satisfaction permeates the air, intertwining with the smell of sex, and carlos can only lean forward to mouth at your neck to taste how well he took care of you tonight.

“mmm,” carlos hums, “now—do you want me to carry you back to our den so i can finally get my mouth on you and clean you up, or do you want me to make another mess of you right here, mi luna?”

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drenched-in-sunlight · 7 months ago

Note

Your genuinely one of my favorite elden ring artists, what would you say is your favorite aspect of elden ring just in general

this might be a big revelation but i think my favourite part about Elden Ring is i... actually don't really like it until the DLC.

the way the base game presented a kinda basic and fragmented story, one i'd even say i were underwhelmed about. because i went in expecting Sekiro-level of character driven writing (they did promise that in an interview) and what i got... ehhhh. that's why my fanarts for the base game is literally just fluff pieces and shipping Malenia with another character altogether that isn't even in the game. meanwhile my AC6, Sekiro and Bloodborne art... i think you can tell i have a very deep emotional connection to those games from the kind of work im putting out for them. (hell, before the DLC i actually was thinking "well i'll probably only draw some general fanarts after the DLC then go back to draw more JJK stuffs lol" famous last words)

but holy mother of God the way the DLC completely blew everything tf up.

sorry Fromsoftware, i were not aware the Sekiro character-driven part is actually about the DLC. im sorry im still not familiar with your game yet 😭

(this turns into a mini rant so imma put it under cut OTL)

before, i were pretty "...." about Elden Ring female cast. i think Melina appears too little, i think NPCs like Fia and Roderika... i can't figure out the significance of them within the narrative at all. and it kinda upset me because it feels like they regress back to the helpless / fanservice maiden trope that was usually seen in DS franchise for no reason. i don't like how Rennala ends up as and i don't like not knowing why Radagon did that to her (which turns to me not liking the way it became a popular fanon that he actually loved her he was just bound by duty etc etc...i mean what?), i actually don't even really like how Malenia's barely-there story turns out (but that's a rant for another day).

as standalone characters, sure, i'd say they all have their own merits, but if they don't play any role within the narrative... what's the point then?

but all of that is because back then, we literally did not know what's Marika's deal either.

and so she became this cardboard that everyone pins all the crimes and bad things in the world on, which is... fine? makes sense. but the following line of reasoning that she did all that because she's just...like that drives me up the wall. if i want another "woman bad" story i'd just replay DS2 😭

and that line of thought also distance her from other characters in the game. those stories are not lining up, so we literally see no point in anything.

but by giving us Marika's story in the DLC they:

shine light on the possible division between two Numen factions (Anna & Jolan story + Sword of Light & Darkness // no one is left in Marika's home (those embraces Light/Gold/ Greater Will and its Stars children) vs the Numens in Eternal City (those embraces Dark/ Black Moon/ opposing GW and its children)

the discontent with the Moon and how there are those who will never accept it as being equal to the Stars

the other half situation

the Marika's eye colour possible reveal (link her to Roderika - Roderika as a reflection of the maiden Marika once was and probably still is deep down)

give Godwyn more agency in his ending (his personal knights are on a quest for Age of Duskborn) -> link Marika to Fia (Fia as a reflection of the mother Marika is)

draw direct parallel between Messmer - the child carrying Marika's vengeance for the past, to Melina - the child carrying Marika's hope for the future

Marika as a God full of human flaws >< Miquella as a God devoid of all human emotions. both are bad in different ways. but share a same gentle origin of a simple wish for a kinder world.

the DLC singlehandedly swipes clean every problem i have with the base game. like im actually in awe they managed to do that so efficiently 😭

all that is to say. my favourite aspect of all is truly how one's perspective of this one character could alter the entire story.

i still dislike the interpretation that Marika is cold and heartless or that's she's cruel for no reason, but at the same time, i can see how ppl viewing her that way affect how they see other events in the game. just like how my view of her changes my entire view of the story itself too. and i just love how the writers pull that off really skillfully. man. and i think that's sth so unique to videogame storytelling. it's amazing!

#womsom2014 #ask #reply #sorry i write an entire essay for this jfc #er brainrot

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gennyanydots · 10 months ago

Text

Big Bay Boom

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x f!reader

Summary: It’s the Fourth of July and your family is spending it with the rest of the daggers in San Diego.

Warnings: vague mention of sex,

Part of the 'Spitfire' Universe

Can be read as a standalone but makes more sense if you've read some of the other stories.

You were learning that being stationed at the same place for an extended period of time came with a few perks. Not having to pack your things every five minutes was a big perk. Settling into your own home. Your husband’s Captain making friends with people who can arrange for your husband’s entire squad to watch the San Diego fireworks show on a ship in the harbor (and then later finding out Mav just asked Warlock and used a picture of your son looking sad and told him he would be responsible for your son’s sad face if he couldn’t make it happen. Where or when Mav got that picture is a mystery).

Getting to see the fireworks without having to fight the crowds sounded like an amazing idea. One year you decided that your family should see the fireworks in downtown San Diego and you quickly learned that had been the stupidest idea you had ever had. Jake and you taking Eli all the way into the city had been a disaster. There were too many people. Parking was a mess. You didn’t find much to eat that a toddler would even like. You were terrified you were going to lose Eli in the crowd despite your husband and you watching him like a hawk. The only person who had a good time was Eli and you had been thankful for that at least.

When Jake had come home the week prior and said the squad wanted to go to San Diego for the Fourth of July you were quick to shoot that idea down. A toddler AND a baby? No. No way. Not even with the extra adults.

Jake promised that you wouldn’t be downtown for the fireworks and that you wouldn’t even be downtown as it got dark. You begrudgingly agreed after you heard the squad decided to go downtown not for the fireworks but to take your children to the zoo. It still blew your mind that your husband’s Navy squad cared so much about your children.

When the day came around you packed up your two children along with all the stuff you needed for the day and headed off to the San Diego zoo.

Upon arriving you found the entire squad ready to help get your kids in gear for the zoo. Grandma Penny took your daughter from the car seat faster than you could even get out of your seat. She quickly covered your daughter in a layer of sunscreen before passing her off to Bob’s wife who was so excited to snuggle her. She then wrangled your son out of Bradley’s arms to do the same before passing him right back because nobody could keep those two separate for long except Bradley’s girlfriend who seemed happy to let him hold your wiggly boy.

It definitely helped your anxiety to see so many adults surround your children. Their own security team. You’re pretty sure you heard Javy growl at someone just walking by who just happened to glance in the squad’s direction. You knew in your heart that no matter what Javy would protect your babies forever.

By the time you made it into the zoo, everyone was acting like children from the excitement of the zoo. Poor Maverick had at least five adults yelling at him to get them ice cream before your son and daughter joined in which meant Grandpa Mavvie had to follow through. The day Grandpa Mavvie told your children “No” was the day hell froze over.

You couldn’t help but laugh as poor Maverick tried to wrangle his elite squad of pilots and wso’s as he attempted to get them all ice cream. Maybe one day you should record it so you can send it into “America’s Funniest Home Videos” because you’re positive you’d win.

You felt extra sorry for the poor worker who was trying their best to keep up with everyone yelling out their ice cream order before you quickly pulled out your phone and made everyone come and tell you what they wanted so you could have an accurate count for Maverick. Penny watched the entire ordeal while laughing at Mav as he tried to keep up with everyone.

Everyone finished their ice cream quickly due to the hot day and you were all off again.

Upon seeing the “Skyfari” that went high above the zoo your daughter started to demand going on the “ride” so that’s where you all went next. It ended up being her favorite part of the entire day. Jake decided it was because Ella clearly takes after him and wants to be in the air. You figured she just enjoyed the ride.

You enjoyed what happened beforehand.

Before getting in the little zoo tram car your husband easily folded Ella’s stroller. There was just something about watching a competent man easily fold a stroller and then lift it one handed that was just so attractive to you. You don’t even care that Jake gave you a funny look after he noticed you staring at him after he got the stroller ready for the ride. Maybe tonight you’d be able to celebrate with some “fireworks” of your own with your husband. Fingers crossed.

The zoo took several hours to get through and you were pretty sure you still didn’t see everything. You’re sure you’d have to come back another day to see it all and to go on Ella’s favorite part again since you knew your daughter well enough to know she would demand to go again soon.

You all decided to eat dinner at the zoo since trying to find somewhere that everyone liked that could fit such a large group would be impossible.

Penny decided that she was taking Ella home as you all walked back to your vehicles for the next part of your day after eating. She didn’t feel like staying up to watch the fireworks when she could instead go to bed early which was something that didn’t happen often being a bar owner. Plus one less child to keep track of helped your mama brain. You’re pretty sure Ella would not do well with the loud booms so you quickly agreed to Penny taking your daughter for some extra snuggle time with grandma that your daughter was not against in the slightest. You knew Penny would never play favorites with your children but being a girl mom made it much easier for her to bond with Ella than with your rough and tumble son who’s favorite thing to do at their house was to wrestle with Grandpa Mavvie. Ella was still happy to snuggle with Grandma Penny.

With one less child you moved onto the next part of your day.

Eating at the zoo gave you all just enough time to get to the base so that Jake could show Eli his plane- for the billionth time. Eli LOVED to see his daddy's plane especially since there was a picture of him in it so it was like he was flying with his daddy every time he flew. The other daggers tried to show Eli their planes too but he only sort of liked Bradley's because there was a picture of his teacher in it so it was like his teacher was flying too if Bradley and his daddy were flying together. All the other planes were less fun but he still looked at every single one so he didn't hurt his aunt's and uncle's feelings.

As Eli was occupied you took the moment with everyone else to really stress how someone needed to have a hand on your son at all times while on the ship. You were excited about seeing the fireworks in the bay but you also needed to know that your son was safe.

Maverick just rolled his eyes at you and gathered you into his arms for a hug before kissing your forehead and promising that nothing would happen to Eli and he personally would be the first one to jump off the ship to save him if the unthinkable happened, not that it would ever happen.

Maverick then nodded his head towards Bradley who had your Eli on his shoulders both wearing matching lifejackets, "Rooster didn't want Eli to feel singled out. Also I highly doubt Rooster is going to put your son down any time soon and if he does I don't think he would be on his feet long before someone else sticks him on their shoulders so he can see."

You take a deep breath and nod at his words. You know that none of the daggers would ever let anything happen to Eli, it's just hard to let go.

Once on the ship it wasn't long before everyone was laughing and dancing around to the music that the bay was playing as you all waited for the fireworks to begin. Eli loved watching the drone show that went on before the fireworks.

When the fireworks started you were amazed by how close you really were to them regardless of being a safe distance away. You felt the booms deep in your chest as they went on. From the water you could see the different barges in the ocean that were shooting fireworks off so instead of one show you got to watch multiple. Every few booms you made sure to check where your son was, finding him always on the shoulders of someone. Apparently now was Javi's turn as you see Bradley snuggled up close to his girlfriend much like you currently were with Jake. In fact you could see Bob and his wife in much the same position but when you looked closer you could see Bob's hand lightly rubbing his wife's stomach. He must not have meant to because he immediately stopped and quickly looked around to see if anyone noticed. Upon catching you looking he quickly put his pointer finger to his lips. You winked at him and made the same motion back to let him know you'd keep their secret.

"What was that?" Jake asked you, bending down to make sure you could hear him.

You shake your head, "None of your business. Super secret married people things, you wouldn't know anything about."

Jake groans, "But I am married. To you. I am married to you."

You shrug, "Doesn't mean you get to know. Sorry baby."

You smile as you look around at all the friends around you and lean back against your husband's chest as he holds you tighter. Holidays, including the fourth, are much better spent with your new found family.

#hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x female reader #jake “hangman” seresin x f!reader #spitfire universe #dad!hangman

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year ago

Text

Pretty like the sun

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n the follow up chapter AND This is pretty like the wind series spin offs. This can be read as standalone all you need to know is that Azriel has two adoptive kids with OC - Zofie and Axel. Future stories related to them might include stories specifically decided to Azriel hence why I am taging it as Azriel story too. Don't come at me please. ✨

warning: none? A bit of fighting, blood.

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Zofie's pov:

She had been beaming all morning. Not only had it been the best sleep of her life, but there was something so surreal about waking up in the arms of a man you had the biggest crush on. There was a moment when Zofie was sure that it was her sleepy brain playing a trick on her. That Nyx wasn't there with her. They weren't actually in the same situation. Limbs tangled. But Nyx's arms, which had quite a firm hold on her hips, felt all too real. His breathing did, too. So did his messy hair and slightly pouty lips.

How did one look so adorable in their sleep? Mother, he would be a frowning mess if she called him cute. But he was, and Zofie had to try really hard to suppress the giddy excitement that bubbled in her chest. Nuzzling back into the crook of Nyx's neck, she breathed in his scent. Feeling her body melt into it. Oh, how she missed him when he was away. How oddly lonely she felt. Truth be told, Zofie didn't have many friends. A couple of younger priestesses that Gwyn was teaching, yes, but they practically never talked. So... not friends. But Nyx had always been so keen on getting her attention. She was weary of him at first. He was the most talkative kid she had ever seen. But then Zofie only had a handful of traumatized sanctuary toddlers to compare him to. His bubbly side chipped away with the years, though. More often than not, the smile that was plastered on Nyx's face was nowhere near the smile he used to give her when they were younger.

"You're the cuddliest person I've come across in my entire life," Nyx grumbled, opening one eye to look at her. "So, if I pulled away now..." Zofie muttered, but Nyx's grip on her tightened immediately, "Don't you even think about it?" His morning voice was raspy and, oh, so delicious. "Got you," Zofie breathed out, shaking her head. He never denied her touch. She could watch him roll his eyes at Feyre kissing his cheek, but the next minute he would be right next to Zofie, his fingers subtly reaching for her as their palms brushed against one another.

"Do you think if I don't open my eyes, we can pretend that we don't have to go back?" Nyx muttered, and Zofie could sense the dread in his tone. "Your mom probably misses you a lot," she said softly. "Cause Ma always cries when Axel comes home, so I'm sure the high lady would..." "Don't." Nyx's whole body stiffened. Zofie frowned as specks of red fell onto the sheets. He was mad. Or frustrated, at least. "Did something happen?" Her voice grew weary, and Nyx's face grew ashamed. Hands pulling the girl back to his chest, "Promise it's nothing; I'm sorry, just tired," he breathed out. She didn't say anything after that. Letting the silence stretch over them both.

"My... The high lords are hosting a ball", and Nyx sounded as if this was the most dreadful thing he had to make himself think about once again. Zofie quickly cut in, "You don't want to go?". Nyx huffed, "Something like that." She never really understood if the high lords of the night court enjoyed the festivities themselves. Rhys, Nyx's dad, was a charmer, always quick to tell a joke. His grin never failed at balls and parties. But Zofie had caught him once. Head in hands. Messy hair. Wrinkled shirt. It was such a difference compared to that beaming smile she had seen on her high lord's face only moments ago. "Well, Axel and I will probably be there if our parents are going," Zofie breathed out, hoping to ease some of the tension, but Nyx simply shook his head. "I have a feeling it's the lordship shit," the heir growled before explaining even further, "Preppy parents in desperate need to marry off their children to form bonds between courts."

And here it was. This was the thing Nyx hated with a burning passion. All he wanted was to be normal. A young man still so full of life not some crystal gem for everyone to drool over. He cringed and frowned at all the titles people threw his way. And Zofie... Zofie hated every single female who felt entitled to come and touch him, pull at his hands, and rub at him like cats in heat. "Oh, Nyx," she breathed, her fingers carefully brushing through his hair. His fingers grazed her wrist tenderly. "Everyone is making such a big fuss over it too," he admitted as Zofie nodded in agreement. No wonder he was stressed. Especially if he was also to be left alone. Only with nobility to keep him company all night long.

"Bitch your way through it," Zofie muttered, and Nyx let out the most genuine chuckles she had heard in a while. But it had also died down as quickly as it started, "Will you tell me why you were by the river last night?" Zofie knew this was coming. Nyx had a hard time letting go of the topics he wanted to discuss. And he had been more than clear that he was going to get the answer out of her about this. So fighting this...

"I have a sister," Zofie breathed, her eyes falling to the crisp white sheets on the bed. Nyx shifted slightly, his hand dipping beneath the blanket to run soothingly up her thigh, "I hear a sad note in that," he muttered. And Zofie hated that. She hated that she was still upset over something she genuinely wanted. She didn't care much about having to share her parents' attention for a while. It was everything else that ticked her off. "She's perfect", Zofie let out a deep sigh, "Has wings, no flaws. She's perfectly Azriel's". Her voice died down, overpowered by the growl Nyx had let out. "Has that asshole?", "No, no, I just... it's me," Zofie shook her head, "I felt... irrelevant.".

The room fell silent. She watched as Nyx blinked a couple of times, letting her words sink in, "Don't you talk shit like that about yourself?" His voice had an edge to it. A powerful force. "But it's true; I'm Illyrian but have no wings," Zofie muttered, turning to play with her fingers instead. Admitting her fears and insecurities felt humiliating almost. "I'll always be your wings," Nyx's much bigger palm cupped hers, giving it a little squeeze. "What have I done to deserve you, huh?" Zofie chuckled slightly, hoping to mask the sting in her eyes. Nyx crooked his head to the side. Watching her for a moment, "You didn't have to do anything. I'm the one who's lucky that you were born.".

Nyx's pov:

They had laughed through the whole flight back to the city. And the closer they got, the more Nyx dreaded it. He didn't care much about the shit he was going to get from Rhys. But it's the letting go part that pressed against his chest. He knew, for a fact, that if not tonight, then by the next morning they would be ushered back into the camps up the mountain. Yes, he was happy to learn and to earn a rank, but leaving her here felt like a dreadful task. Not to mention that they weren't allowed to write letters while they were up there. Not to mention that Nyx had a whole box of letters he had written for Zofie. Ones he had written while up there. Ones that no one would ever see.

Zofie had asked him to drop her off at the edge of the forest near the house. "Better if you don't just walk in. You know my dad," she said. However, Nyx felt it the minute Zofie's legs hit the snow beneath her. He had barely let go of her when the claws of darkness pulled him back, nearly sending him to his feet. But he expected this. Escaping the spymaster under the protection of his father's wards was one thing. The moment they were on the perimeter of Velaris, well, let's say that was Azriel's hunting territory. And that male always hunted as if he were starving.

Nyx had seen Azriel pissed more than once, but the frown on his face this time was unmatched. And accompanied by the dark circles beneath his eyes. Yeah, he looked as if he was out for blood. "You forgot yours, young man," the spymaster said through gritted teeth as his shadows roped around the princeling's ankles and wrists.

"Dad, that's enough." Zofie stomped through the thick snow, trying to get in between the two of them. Nyx wished she wasn't there. He hated it when she was there to witness their snarls. "You lost all sense of fun, uncle," Nyx said mockingly. His own hands grew dark, seizing the spymaster's dark, as cold gloominess chased all of Azriel's shadows away. "You had no right to take her like that," Azliel bit back; his wings were arched in a warning, but Nyx didn't skip a beat, doing just the same.

"No one took me," Zofie growled with a huff. And it was the way Azriel had turned back to look down at her that broke the last sense of logic within Nyx. It was the way his big frame looked toward her when Azriel snared, "I wasn't speaking to you, young lady," that undid Nyx. "Why?", he asked bitterly, "Because you forgot that she existed? The new child has already taken too much of your time?". It felt as if the whole world had stopped. Even the snowflakes seemed to have seized in their fall. "Nyx..." he said, meeting Zofie's pleading eyes. Saw her shaking her head in disapproval. But he was truly seeing red. No one had a right to make her. Make his sunshine feel small.

"What did you just say?" Azriel frowned, slightly taken back, but his demeanor was still predatory. The princeling only growled back at the shadowsinger. "Nyx for fuck sake," Zofie pleaded, panic raising to her features as she moved closer to her dad in hopes of putting distance between them. But it was for nothing when Nyx muttered, "You heard me loud and clear, spymaster." Nyx managed to spare Zofie one look. One look before his vision was interrupted by black dots as his head was wiped to the side from the impact. Zofie's shriek pierced the silence, rippling over every surface.

Nyx knew that, in a way, he deserved it, so it didn't surprise him. He had been messing with the habitat of fae males. One who had just become a father. One who's instinct to protect was on such high alert. But he had to. Had to stand up for her. "Papa, please," Zofie pleaded. Nyx wiped the warm liquid trickling down the side of his lip. Oh, he was not going to go down without a fight. "Please, let's just go home. Please, I'm sorry". Her tiny hands were grasping at Azriel's hands, trying to pull him back. "Don't you apologize for him," Nyx snarled, but Zofie's firey eyes met his as she muttered, "Shut up." Only now did Nyx notice the tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. Only now did he see the quiver in her chin.

"Zof," Nyx breathed out, but the girl had simply turned her back on him. "Come on, papa, please," she pleaded once more, and this time it was enough to get Azriel's attention. His chest was still heavy as he breathed through his anger. "If I ever catch you doing anything like this," Azriel snarled, stepping forward to look at Nyx, but Zofie pushed back, putting all of her weight against her dad. "Consider yourself fucking lucky." Azriel flapped his wings a couple of times before reaching for Zofie's hand, tugging her alongside him as the shadows swallowed them both.

Your pov:

Quite frankly, you knew something was wrong from the moment you looked up to see Zofie's pale face when Novie was born. And deep down, you knew that this insecurity that was quite clearly blooming right in front of you was inevitable. You just didn't know it would take a turn like that. Zofie had always been good about voicing her discomfort, and you had always encouraged her to speak her mind, but it seemed as if your love had been lost in the shuffle of it all.

You knocked on her bedroom door gently. It's been a couple of hours since she and Azriel got back home. Your mate, mostly thanks to his lack of sleep, assumed that you both hadn't noticed your girl not being home and, and then hadn't felt them coming home. It was the stench of anger that was dripping from Azriel that was enough to let you know that a fight must have happened. And this sort of frustration as of lately was only brought on by one person.

Without getting an answer, you just let yourself in after a while. Zofie was curled up in a ball, and the blanket Azriel had knitted for her was tightly wrapped around her. That fact must have slipped her mind, considering the fight the two have been in. Sitting down on the very edge, you let your fingers gently brush through Zofie's dark waves.

"Sweetness, why don't you eat up? It's lunchtime", you said gently, nodding towards the plate of warm food you had brought up for her. She simply shook her head, turning away from your touch. A sharp ache pierced your heart. If your children were hurting, so were you. You climbed into the bed, nudging her slightly as you moved to wrap your arms around the girl. Let her be the little spoon.

Zofie laid as still as a statue for a moment before her arms snaked around yours. "Now he will never love me again," Zofie's voice was barely a whisper, but you still managed to hear her perfectly well. "Who, baby?" you asked, running your fingers up and down her arm. She stilled for a moment before looking up to catch your gaze and saying, "Papa." A breath hitched in your throat. "Lovie," you muttered.

Zofie quickly shuffled, sitting up. "First, I don't have wings; now he thinks I'm sneaking behind his back with Nyx," she blurted out in a rush, "And I'm not, I promise." She caught your arm, shaking it slightly. You cupped her face softly and said, "There is nothing wrong with you falling in love." Her face scrunched up so hard that you almost had to laugh. "I'm not in love. I'm not", she stated. "Okay, okay," you muttered, tapping her cheek playfully.

"And Azriel loves you, Zo." Your tone was much firmer now. You understood the fears. Mother, even you still had them. Wondering why? Why had Azriel chosen you, and what did he see in you? So for a teenager to have emotions like that, "He had loved you from the moment he saw you," you added.

Zofie bit her lip as if contemplating her next words for a moment, "But his yellow is fading", she admitted. Her colors. She found comfort in them, but good things usually come with baggage. Understanding the amount of emotion there was still a hard task. "That doesn't mean he stopped loving you. Maybe the color is evolving. Shifting into something different", you said softly. You made a mental note to ask her tutor to find her a book about the colors of emotions to read. Well, one that she hadn't already devoured.

"Hate," those silent words, made your mind halt. You shook your head. "Love has different forms; you'll learn that along the way," You reached up to carefully take her necklace between your fingers. "Papa is on edge right now because a lot of things are changing. He's sensitive because he's lost so much already. Losing all of us would break him without repair." It felt like a lot to unload on her, but she had to see that Azriel's love hadn't just faltered or disappeared because of Novie. Thinking like wings, no wings, scars on no, even the blood bond didn't matter to Azriel. Zofie pinched her eyebrows. "Is he home?", she breathed, "I need to...", "He's out on his broody walk, but I'm sure he'll be back soon," you said softly, reaching for the plate and handing it to her. She was desperate to make sure that she had at least some food in her stomach.

Nyx pov:

He had lost track of how long he had been flying. Nor did he know where he was going, but regardless of his endless attempts to escape it, Nyx knew that he would have to go home eventually. A part of him hoped that Rhys wouldn't have been able to sniff this one out, but then Nyx had lost track of his uncle fairly early on. So Azriel could have already been stomping his foot in his father's office.

"Purple truly suits you." As if on cue, Rhys's voice rang out. He was seated in front of a fireplace. A drink in hand. His usual black button-up shirt hugged his skin. Nyx didn't hate his father. He hated the high-lord aspect of him. Yes, he was different from most. Mother, spare anyone from a father like Beron, but... he still valued his position a bit too much at times. Nyx simply shook his head, shifting to move toward the back patio, but his father's voice stopped him, "I don't remember letting you walk away.".

Nyx let out a bitter chuckle, "Oh, so now I am to obey you too, like a servant?" It was bitter; he knew it. But Nyx just wasn't in the mood—wasn't in the mood to deal with any of this right now. "You're my son," Rhys stated firmly, his purple eyes gleaming. "Doesn't that just suit your story?" Nyx barked back, matching his father's glare. "Nyx," Rhys said in a warning tone, but the princeling was already walking. "I'll be with Mom," he breathed over his shoulder.

The wind that hit his face as he stepped outside soothed his heated cheeks. He always loved the walk towards his mother's gallery. It had always been his favorite time of the day when the two of them would go there. Gods, did he need to clear his head. Anything. Everything. All he could think of was her. Yet... two hands clasped his shoulders, making Nyx quickly spin back, putting whoever was behind him in a chokehold.

"Well, dang, you're on edge, my man," a familiar voice rasped out, and Nyx instantly let go, pushing the figure forward. "What the hell are you doing here?", he whispered. Axel simply smirked before shrugging, even if his eyes lingered on the library door for a bit too long. "I came to see how my dad painted your face," Axel chuckled, "Pretty." Nyx simply flipped his friends off and said, "Fuck off." Yet the corners of his lips did twitch slightly. Axel always had that effect on him. It was hard to not smile around him.

"She's okay," Axel muttered, making Nyx's eyes snap up at him. Yet he refused to give in to it. "I don't care," he said simply. Axel raised one eyebrow at his friend, tilting his head to the side, and, "Right, so you wouldn't care if I told you that mom got her to eat, and she's much calmer now." Nyx's shoulders eased a bit. Eased almost immediately. A calmness like no other washed over him as he nodded in agreement.

"She asked about you." Now these words struck a chord with Nyx, and his big eyes were instantly searching for Axel. "Did she?", Nyx breathed out desperately. Axel simply chuckled, slowly shaking his head, "No, but I love proving a point." Nyx let out a growl, "I'm so kicking your ass on the sparring mat." But he couldn't help but smile now. Because Axel knew him. And in a way, this was his silent way of approving. Or at least not stepping between him and Zofie.

But Axel's eyes lingered behind his friend, and Nyx's eyes instantly followed suit. Only he caught sight of white robes slipping back inside the library. Nyx instantly turned back to face Axel. "What was that?", he questioned. Axel blinked a couple of times, "What was what?". Oh, but Nyx wasn't stupid. "That look," he muttered, motioning his hand towards Axel's face, "Are you fucking a prestress?" Axel frowned at the question instantly, his eyes finally moving to gaze at his friend, "What the hell, man, wash your mouth." Nyx chuckled slightly, but he knew deep down that the moment they were going to be better on the camp walls, he was going to get his answers one by one. Now all he needed was his sun. His Sunny and for some reason risking a black eye didn't seem that big of a sacrifice.

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Taglist: @sirenpearldust @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @naturakaashi @stressed-reader @woodland-mist @goldenmagnolias @nocasdatsgay

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