#this is all the tagging youre getting from me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hannieehaee · 1 day ago

Text

TRAINING SEASON

18+ / mdi

summary: unfortunately for vernon, all his friends were gym bros, leading to constant harassment for him to join the lifestyle. after weeks of twelve men constantly bugging at him to accompany them, all it takes is one girl for vernon to finally give in.

content: strangers2friends2lovers!vernon, fitness!reader, vernon's kind of a loser here, reader is friends with the other 12, vernon's not into fitness, downbad!vernon, reader is implied to be into fitness but her body's not really described in any specific way, afab reader, smut, semi-public sex, handjob, kind of sub!vernon, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 9.3k

a/n: not really sure why i keep writing vernon like a loser with no game lol im sure in real life he's got a ton of game lets just pretend he doesnt<3

masterlist

"C'mon, Nonnie. Come with us. Just this once."

"You don't even have to work out, we just want-"

"No, if I have to work out, he has to work out. You guys have been dragging me with you to engage in your masochist tendencies for weeks. He deserves the same treatment."

Vernon simply groaned at all the noise, uncaring of what Seungkwan, Mingyu and Jeonghan were saying, respectively. Instead, he opted to cover his face with a pillow, attempting to muffle all the noise his friends were making so early in the morning.

Then suddenly, the comfort of his blanket left him, followed by his pillow being pulled from his hold and used to deliver a swift smack against his head before being whisked away and landing on the opposite side of the room.

One more, he groaned, but this time louder. His eyes opened to find the culprit standing above him, squinting due to the sudden surge of sunlight into his vision at having opened his eyes.

"Dude, stop being a lazy piece of shit and come with us," nagged Joshua.

God, how many of them were in his apartment? It was supposed to be just him and Seungkwan who lived here, where did the rest come from?

"What time is it?" he finally grumbled out, sitting up. It's not like he had any options anyway.

"It's 9:16 in the morning," informed him Wonwoo from outside his bedroom. God, was he here too?

"Why are all of you in my apartment? Seungkwan, we agreed that-"

"We all have keys, you idiot. Now get up. We're going to the gym," this time it was Chan.

"Do all twelve of you go to the same gym at the same time? God, they must hate you."

Vernon finally sat up against his headboard, head counting a total of five of his friends currently in his room, assuming the rest to be either in his kitchen or living room.

God damn you, Boo Seungkwan.

"We're pretty well liked, actually."

A few of the members nodded along to Mingyu's rebuttal.

Yeah, that made sense. Twelve muscly and more than objectively attractive men were likely magnets for clientele over at the gym.

All the more reason to not join them.

All his friends were fitness addicts (sans Jeonghan, maybe). Simply gym bros who had developed what Vernon liked to call an unhealthy habit to exercise — despite how ironic that statement sounded. Vernon, on the other hand, had never been one to put too much emphasis on fitness. He liked his build as it was; some slightly toned muscle and a slim frame. He never really saw any need to bulk up like most of his friends, so he never gained an interest for it.

Yet his friends had tried to convince him to join them, time and time again.

Jeonghan had been the one other friend they had to convince to join them. Other than Vernon, Jeonghan was the only other member of their large friend group who had a proclivity against the gym. But his love for spending time with his friends had won him over, making him tag along just for the mere purpose of not feeling FOMO.

Now, Vernon did not have that issue. He didn't mind missing out on hang outs. He was a pretty lowkey, chill guy. Staying at home unless it was vital for him to leave, now that was more up his alley.

Except now he had twelve men nagging at him to get up, put on some basketball shorts and a flimsy tank top and join them at their gym. It had been a few weeks of this insistence, leading to this moment — all his friends breaking into his and Seungkwan's apartment in order to drag him out.

And the sad thing was that it worked. Apparently it took twenty-three consecutive days of bugging at Vernon to convince him of doing something he didn't want to do for him to budge. He hoped this didn't become some sort of pattern.

Vernon felt out of place.

All his friends had arrived in extremely casual fashion, immediately comfortable in the familiar environment and dispersing themselves in their respective smaller groups.

Meanwhile, even after half an hour of being there, Vernon felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb.

The agreement they'd settled on was that Vernon would try out the gym. If he didn't like it, — more like, if he truly despised it, in Seungcheol's words — they all agreed to leave him alone (other than Jeonghan, who insisted he'd move into his closet and haunt him until he came back).

So, really all Vernon had to do was hang out for an hour or two and then let his friends down easy.

It should've been easy enough considering how out of place he felt surrounded by other unfamiliar gym bros in their natural habitat.

"Dude, at least try not to look like you have no idea what a gym is."

His thoughts were interrupted by Mingyu who suddenly materialized next to him.

"Huh?"

"You've been standing here staring into the distance for five minutes. Here, just follow me. I just finished my cardio You can do arms with me and Seok today."

The statement felt like a threat. Looking at Mingyu, at his muscles, was enough to tire Vernon out. Was he supposed to keep up with that?

Still, Vernon shrugged to himself and followed after Mingyu. Something which he regretted soon after realizing it'd take an entire flight of stairs to get to what he presumed to be the area of the gym where they usually did arms. There, he found Seokmin and Chan, seemingly already in the middle of some set of some workout while Jeonghan sat on a bench press with a coffee in hand.

"You're actually gonna work out? I thought you'd just go to the spa room," commented Jeonghan upon spotting him approaching.

"There's a spa here? Sick."

"And you can use it after a few sets with me. Follow me, let's go figure out how much you can lift," once again, Vernon began to trail after Mingyu towards the stack of dumbbells on a mirrored wall nearby.

"Oh, Y/N was looking for you earlier, by the way," Seokmin stopped Mingyu before he could walk away.

"Y/N? What for?"

"Your bet, you idiot. She said she can bench press 80 pounds now. You owe her $50," interjected Chan, setting down the two dumbbells he'd been holding.

"Nah, no way," Mingyu crossed his arms, "Where's she at?"

"Are we going to get the weights or-"

"Hold on, 'Sol," Gyu interrupted him, "I have something to settle."

"She just went to fill up her water. She should be back soon," added Seokmin.

"Who's Y/N?", Vernon asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?", snickered Jeonghan.

"What does that even me-"

"Chan, just hand me those weights. Vernon should be able to lift those," Mingyu reached over to Chan, grabbing the dumbbells he'd been using with an ease that made it seem like they were weightless.

But this theory proved to be wrong the moment Mingyu attempted to hand them over to an unsuspecting Vernon. Embarrassingly enough, the most predictable thing happened.

But what was most embarrassing was the timing. Suddenly the main character of the conversation showed up, just as Vernon's hands failed to hold onto the heavy weights, dropping them at his feet and barely missing a hospital visit by a few inches. His hands had stupidly attempted to catch them mid flight, but it only resulted in him almost falling over, body now bent down as he caught himself before falling.

That's when he saw an unfamiliar pair of converse standing in front of him.

"Hey- oh, shit!" were the first words he heard from you just as he created the biggest clanking sound resonating through the entire floor.

Looking up with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment on his face, he found you standing right in front of him. Like his own, your expression showed surprise, though he also found amusement in it. In any other situation, he may have laughed along with you (and the rest of his friends who he heard cackling from behind him), but this instance was different.

Because Vernon hadn't expected for a girl his friends had merely mentioned in passing to look like you. Makeup-less and in some worn band shirt with some tiny spandex underneath, you had Vernon's mouth catching flies.

Vernon didn't have a type. Was never one to care for appearances too much. But he suddenly found himself gulping at the sight in front of him. Your eyes stated down at him with some sort of wonder, and he felt a sickly feeling in him that told him he wanted them on him at all times from then on — even if it was due to something embarrassing he'd done.

An incredibly out of character thought for Vernon to have, but here he was.

Instead of picking up the dumbbells he'd stupidly dropped and introducing himself as he usually would've done, his brain malfunctioned along with his body. Losing balance as he straightened himself up, he stammered out what he believed to be a greeting (though he wasn't too sure; he was too distracted by you) while Mingyu offered him support to properly stand.

"Hi?", you responded, "Sorry, was that my fault?", you turned to the other members with slight concern.

A soft slapping sound resounded as Mingyu patted Vernon on the back, chuckling over at your concerned expression.

"Nah, you're fine. Vernon's hand-eye coordination just isn't that good."

"Dude, you handed me like a hundred pounds with no warning!", Vernon recoiled from his touch, attempting to save some of his dignity.

"That was just forty on each dumbbell actually," corrected Chan.

Vernon groaned internally.

Thank you, Chan. Make him look like even more of a wimp than he already did.

"Uh, anyways. Hi, I'm Vernon," he extended his hand out dumbly.

"Oh, you're Vernon?," your hand squeezed his own (a feeling which Vernon would have to get back to later), "I've been looking forward to meeting you," you smiled before letting go.

"Uh, what?"

He was really killing it today.

"What Hansolie here means to say is, it's nice to meet you too," Mingyu interjected, "Now, onto more important matters - I want evidence," he said in reference to the previous subject.

"Not even a 'hello'? Not even gonna let me get to know your friend?", you looked over at him with a grin that Vernon was too flustered to return.

Before he could even consider interjecting, Mingyu grabbed onto your wrist, pulling you over to the bench press Jeonghan had been sitting on to demonstrate the skill Seokmin had declared you'd been looking to show off to Mingyu. Jeonghan got up as soon as you approached, giving you a grin that told Vernon you were familiar with each other before walking over to where Vernon was standing. He seemed to always keep some distance between himself and any actual exercise. Respectable.

Without even needing to be asked, Seokmin and Chan stood nearby, ready to spot you in case it were necessary while Mingyu helped you load the weights onto the bar.

"So. She's cute, huh?", Jeonghan leaned over to Vernon's side, voice low to ensure the others didn't hear.

"Huh?"

"Y/N. She's really pretty, isn't she?"

"Dude, shut up."

The elder simply snickered, going back to slurping at the basically empty cup of iced coffee he'd been nursing this entire time.

Vernon continued watching you, spacing out from any commentary the other boys had been giving you as you began a set, instead solely focused on you.

As you laid on the bench, your shirt rode up, exposing the tiniest spandex shorts that dug into the muscle hidden under them. Your back arched in order to lift the weighted bar, giving him perfect sight of your silhouette despite the baggy shirt you had on.

God, your body was sculpted ridiculously. Your body was toned, which showed through perfectly from the position you were currently in. The sweat dampening your clothes didn't help matters either.

Vernon wasn't one to thirst on a random Tuesday afternoon, yet here he was, eyes glued to you as if he hadn't just met you. He might've felt more guilty, but both you and his friends were too distracted to notice him, so he let himself indulge this one time.

But then Jeonghan interrupted again.

"Are you sure you don't think she's pretty?", he snickered.

"Fuck, fine! Yes, she's obviously very pretty. What do you want?", he took his eyes away from you to face the manifestation of annoying standing next to him, a satisfied grin on his face.

"Nothing. I was just wondering," he shrugged, lying through his teeth.

Meanwhile, two of his other friends were cheering you on while Mingyu half-heartedly attempted at trash talking you into failing. Even as you carried what to Vernon was incomprehensible weight, you cursed out at Mingyu, something which Vernon appreciated.

Fuck. You were cool.

You were pretty, clearly very confident, strong, got along with his friends, and just incredibly cool. And Vernon had only known you for like ten minutes.

Was this a crush? Did he have a crush on a girl he'd just met?

He was 26. Crushes were so high school, what the hell was happening to him?

"Dude, are you blushing?"

"Han, I swear to god-"

"Oh my god, you are!", the way his eyes lit up at the realization was like it was christmas morning to him. Jeonghan had a strange fascination with mischief Vernon never really understood.

"Who's blushing?"

And suddenly there was another presence next to him, coming to a halt to watch you on what was now your second set of bench presses.

"Nonnie's in love," Jeonghan snickered.

"Shit, with who? Wait, don't tell me," Hoshi stopped for a second to ponder before shaking his head as he gave up, "Never mind. Tell me."

Vernon shook his head. He was friends with idiots.

"Y/N!"

"Dude, not so loud!", Vernon's eyes widened, face only going back to its natural poker face when he noticed you were still being entertained by his three loud friends.

"Dude, wait, that makes sense. They'd make the perfect couple," Hoshi gasped at the revelation., "They're both movie freaks and couch potatoes. But Y/N's way cooler than Vernon," he added.

Jeonghan nodded along in agreement.

You were into movies? You didn't give him the vibe of a couch potato, though. I mean, you were lying there, immense weight on your hands as you challenged the biggest gym buff he knew.

Vernon was about to question them on this assessment. They'd clearly thought about this before, which he wasn't sure whether it was good news for his newfound crush or not. But before he could at least complain at the slight thrown at him, he heard cheering from the spot where he'd been watching you, finally turning back to face you.

"Dude, three sets of eighty pounds with your frame? You're crazy. You might actually be stronger than Mingyu," Seokmin praised you as he offered up a high-five.

"I can do 200 pounds-"

"But you're a tree. It doesn't count," Chan disregarded him, instead choosing to join Seokmin in dapping you up.

Vernon hadn't noticed as he watched you, but Hoshi and Jeonghan had also joined in, leaving him alone in watching you from a small distance away. He went back to feeling kind of out of place.

But he liked seeing his friends with you. It was odd. He'd met many of his friends' friends, but he always felt entirely indifferent about them.

You were different. Vernon felt himself smiling as he watched you snatch the $50 from Mingyu's hand and turn to Hoshi and Jeonghan with a triumphant smile on your face.

And then you looked past them, spotting him and walking the few steps over to him.

"So, gonna congratulate me, new guy?"

He scoffed in amusement.

"I'm new?"

"Here? Clearly. I have seniority at this gym. Now, be a gentleman and congratulate me on robbing your friend of $50."

Vernon couldn't help but return your satisfied smile. You were fun.

"Congrats. Well deserved," he chose to say. He needed to remain nonchalant after his earlier embarrassment.

"Now, c'mon. I'm buying everyone something from the snack bar to celebrate Gyu's defeat," you turned back to head over to the guys, Vernon now following along.

"Fifty's probably not gonna be enough for six people-", someone spoke, Vernon wasn't sure who, too focused on walking by your side.

"It's fine. Gyu'll pay the difference," you shrugged.

"Hey!"

Were you into him? Were you into Mingyu?

You'd been pretty friendly with all his friends that day, but it was impossible not to notice the special attention you paid to Mingyu. But then again, who didn't have a soft spot for Mingyu?

There was no indication you liked him, or that he'd even left some sort of impression on you. If anything, you probably remembered him as the idiot who almost took out both your and his foot. Or maybe as the dumbass who couldn't lift the measly forty-pound dumbbells Chan had been carrying with ease.

Meanwhile, you'd looked for Mingyu, looking far too happy to tease him and take his money.

Maybe Vernon was behind on the current dating world, but the two of you gave him more-than-friends vibes.

But then again, Mingyu held a flirtationship with literally everyone who came into his vicinity. Hell, he was pretty sure he'd at some point flirted with him without realizing it. Except this was an instance in which Vernon needed to be sure before he made a move. Not that he was too scared to do it or anything ...

Sadly for Vernon, he had been too much of a wuss to ask Mingyu about you directly, so he went for someone who he hoped wouldn't tease him.

"So, uhm, do you know Y/N?"

God, he sounded so needy. He was usually smoother than this. He had game. Right?

He'd decided that Joshua his safest bet. He was the only one out of all the guys who could maybe be normal about his curiosity about you.

Joshua could only chuckle at him. His eyes were too focused on scooping at the remnants of the fro-yo Vernon had bought him under the pretense of just hanging out. Casual.

"So you've met. You like her, huh?"

"Dude, what is this? Why does everyone keep asking me that? We've met once," Vernon frowned.

Was he that easy to read?

Joshua shrugged, "She seems like your type. She's single too."

"She is?"

"So you are interested," Joshua grinned.

He groaned. Did all his friends have to be such instigators? Men were the nosier gender, he was sure.

"Listen-"

"It's fine, 'Sol. I don't judge you. She's very pretty. Fun too."

"You talked to Jeonghan, didn't you?"

"Yeah. He told me you almost broke your foot in front of her and proceeded to fuck her with your eyes for like ten minutes straight. Not your finest moment."

Maybe Vernon's memory was failing him, but he was pretty sure those weren't the actual events that happened. Sure, he'd made the entire situation way more embarrassing in his head, but it hadn't been that bad. Right?

"I did not eye-fuck her," he rebutted, "I checked her out. I don't think she really noticed, though."

"Is that good? Wouldn't you rather just ask her out?"

"Uh, am I even her type?", Vernon scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he reclined back on his chair, "She seemed to be kind of into Mingyu."

"Dude."

"Listen, it's just-"

"Mingyu just has that effect on people. They don't like each other. Not like that. They're just friends," clarified Joshua, "We all met when we started going to this gym last May. She just became closest to Gyu and Kyeom cause they practically live there."

"So they've never ..."

"No, man, I swear. You can ask Gyu. Or better yet, ask her out,."

"It's not that easy!", Vernon grumbled, hand crumbling the fro-yo container in his hand.

"Why not? You've never had trouble with girls. That's Channie. He's a mess," Josh chuckled.

There was just something about you. Vernon had never become this infatuated with someone. It was kind of embarrassing.

"She just ... She makes me nervous for some reason," Vernon admitted, "She's friends with all my best friends and I never even knew about her. She's funny and cool and confident, and-"

"And she's hot," finished Joshua for him.

"She's so fucking hot, man," Vernon groaned as Joshua chuckled.

"So, what, do you think she's out of your league or something?"

"Maybe? You tell me. I need an objective opinion," Vernon said with more seriousness than intended.

Joshua pretended to mull over it, hand scratching at chin as he started up to contemplate it up until Vernon groaned at him to stop.

"Dude, you're such an idiot. I'm not answering that. Just ask her out!"

All Joshua received in response was a muffled groan as Vernon let himself fall back on his chair. The dramatics felt necessary to him at that moment.

"So, are you going to keep going to the gym?", Joshua laughed at his friend.

"I'm a man on a mission."

"Lost?"

"Fuck! Wh- Oh, shit, hi. Sorry, you scared me," Vernon's hand clutched at his chest in surprise, ears slightly red in embarrassment.

Did he really have to embarrass himself every time he saw you?

"Sorry I keep catching you off guard," you chuckled, "You just looked kind of lost. You've been staring into space for the past three minutes."

"Oh, uh, right. It's only my second time here. I'm not sure where all the guys went," he mumbled.

Now facing you, he tried to take quick note of your appearance. You'd come from the opposite direction as him, meaning you'd likely only gotten here just now. That explained the lack of sweat and your pristine hair, as opposed to last time. It made him wonder what you looked like on a regular basis, outside of the context of the gym.

"Right. Well, they usually go to the basketball court on Sundays, so most of them are probably there now. I hate playing sports with Han and Boo, so I usually just avoid them," you explained.

You seemed to have a great hold on his friends' gym lifestyle.

"We could go look for them," you began, "Or we could hang out on our own."

You smiled at him expectantly. It was a cute and innocent smile, as if you'd been hoping for an opportunity to get him alone.

"Do you, uh, do you mean in the gym?"

You nodded, "C'mon. I'm sure none of the guys actually showed you around, did they?", he shook his head, "Men suck. I'll give you a tour, y'know since you're new," you extended your hand out to him, eyes expectant.

With no time (nor dignity) to wipe his hand of any possible sweat, he grabbed onto your own, gulping at your hold.

This was moving faster than he thought. But then again, you probably just felt comfortable around him due to his association with the rest of your friends. It must be that.

Once you made it out of the general area of the gym, you let go of his hand, now opting for walking side by side instead. The place was quite spacious, so it gave more than enough room for the two of you to take your time walking without getting into anyone's ways. Not that Vernon wanted to extend his time with you as much as possible or anything.

"So, how come you've never been here before?", you suddenly asked whilst showing him what you'd donned as the 'poser gym buff' part of the gym. It looked like it, considering it was filled with shirtless muscular men, all ignoring the blatant 'No Nudity Allowed' sign you'd just walked by.

"Uh, before I answer that - How much did the guys tell you about me?"

You chuckled, "Just, stuff. I'd rather hear it from you, though."

Then you smiled at him again. As if you had no idea it messed with his brain chemistry.

"Just, uhm, not really a gym guy like the other guys. Not sporty, like at all. Always got hit by balls in P.E. Kwan drags me to street basketball matches sometimes, but I always end up embarrassing myself. Oh, and I can't really lift, as you probably noticed the other day," he found himself rambling. Very unusual of him.

"Hmm. Yeah, I can see why you don't come to the gym with the rest of them," you laughed, "But I think you should. You bring a nice balance to whatever's going on with the rest."

"Well, uh, I could be persuaded," he made his attempt at flirting, internally cursing at himself while also praying that it didn't fall flat and force him to never show his face in front of you again.

"Oh, really? I think I could help with that," your tone turned a little softer as you gave him a suggestive smile, "Wanna go check out the pool with me? It's usually empty this time of day."

"Oh, uh, yes! I- uh, yeah," he mumbled his way through, gulping when you took his hand again and led him out of the room.

That's when Vernon's mind started going a mile a minute, but instead of freaking out, he let himself be taken away by you.

So, maybe taking you up on your offer to use the pool hadn't been the best idea.

Everything was fine. Really. The pool area was pretty clean and the water felt nice. The temperature was just perfect, allowing for anyone who wanted a quick dip to enjoy themselves without risking frostbite like at the local community pool.

Only issue was you.

According to all prior experience, you had proven to be nothing but a health concern for Vernon since meeting you only a few days ago.

Despite the lukewarm water, Vernon was burning up.

Who thought it'd be a good idea to go to the pool, alone, with his crush as she paraded herself around in a sad excuse for a bikini? Was this even allowed? He was seeing too much skin. Which wasn't an issue for Vernon! He'd never call himself a prude, but ... In this one instance, he wished for some of puritanical rule to prevent him from having to see you swim laps in a bikini that left very little to his imagination.

Except, of course, the material in front of him did give him a lot of room for some very imaginative thoughts.

Vernon had no option but to dip his feet in the pool, sitting at the edge with a towel on his lap in order to cover what he was sure was a small chub growing under his trousers. Meanwhile, he watched you swim for a good ten minutes, dreading the moment you stopped and approached him again.

"Are you really not going to swim with me?", you called from afar, having reached the other side of the pool, "The water's so nice and there's no one here."

"Uhm, nope, I hate getting wet. I'll just watch you," he slapped himself mentally as soon as he said it.

"Well, I wanna get to know you," you told him as you exited the pool, killing Vernon with every step you took in his direction up until you sat next to him. Your legs were practically touching.

"Hi," you smiled at him.

There was an air of confidence you carried every time you spoke to him. He was half sure you were fully aware of his crush and were simply banking on it.

"Hi," he said back, unknowing of where to settle his eyes.

You likely caught onto this, giggling under your breath.

"Vernon."

"Yeah?", he looked to you. He deliberately avoided looking at any of your bare skin, staring directly into your eyes with widened eyes.

"You can look at me, you know. I want you to."

"Oh, uh, I- I didn't want to be rude or anyth- Wait, what?"

You giggled again, "You're funny. Are you this much of a mess with everyone else, or am I getting special treatment?"

"Special treatment for sure."

Again, you laughed. Good. At least he wasn't fucking this up.

"You know, the guys told me you were this ... very stoic and chill type of guy. I was wondering if I'd get to see that guy if I got you alone. But you're even worse without the guys around to hackle you," you accused jokingly.

"So you're doing this on purpose?"

He turned his body to face you more, allowing for your knees to actually knock together this time. The dampness of your skin graced his leg, but it was your bare touch that made him shiver. Still, he felt like less of a loser now. He had somewhat of a handle on the conversation this time around.

"Depending what you mean by 'this.'"

"The bikini? Getting me alone? Sitting this close to me knowing I have to override my brain in order to not look anywhere past your eyes?"

Okay, he was flirting now, apparently. Unexpected, but he welcomed it. His mouth was going faster than his brain. But the slight shift in your expression told him it was a welcomed development.

"Yes," you bit back a smile as you confirmed it, "I wanted to see whether the feeling was mutual or if you were just socially incompetent. No offense."

"None taken. And, uh, what's your verdict?"

"I think it'd be more fun if you tell me," you challenged.

Either he was crazy or you were gradually leaning closer to him. Or maybe it was him. Both? Either way, the proximity increased.

"I do like you. It's painfully obvious and probably worrying how much since we've only met once, but I even went asking my friends about you," he found himself admitting.

"Really? That's funny, because I was asking Mingyu about you," you revealed.

So you didn't like Mingyu. Noted.

"Oh? I, uh, what'd he say?"

You hummed, scooting over and shamelessly laying one of your legs atop his, body leaning completely towards his own. The distance between you was practically nonexistent now, with your eyes even zeroing in on his lips as you spoke.

"He told me you can be shy sometimes. That I should help you out a little."

"A-and, are you? Going to help me out, I mean," he could hear his own gulp.

"Nope," you popped the 'p,' "I want you to take what you want."

"That's ... You're kind of mean," he chuckled breathlessly.

You chuckled back, but you were clearly frustrated by how much he was dragging it.

Without having to move, his arm wrapped around you, courtesy of you literally taking it and placing it on your hip. He was obedient, so he followed along. Next, your hand placed itself on his cheek, tilting his head down and abolishing any sort of distance left. Your lips were practically touching now.

"Vernon, just do it. I want you to. I really want you to."

And so he kissed you.

Immediately, you deepened it, taking control of it all.

All you wanted was for him to take the first step, which in reality he didn't. You held all the power, which you knew. Still, he enjoyed this. He liked that you knew the effect you had on him and that you knew what to do with it.

Plus, he'd be an idiot to complain about your sticking your tongue in his mouth.

Like any thinking, breathing man, he continued to kiss you, not bothering to stifle any groans he left against your lips. He completely disregarded the fact that you were in a public space, that anyone could walk in at any moment — maybe even one of his friends. But it was hard to care when your fingers tangled through the tresses of his hair and sucked at his tongue.

The kiss only stopped when you harshly pulled at his hair, physically removing his face from your own. He mumbled out a few complaints as you did, but eventually woke up from his trance and cleared his throat as you pulled away.

"It's almost 1 o'clock," you said, but all he paid attention to were your swollen lips, "There's a swimming class at one," you began getting up, towering over Vernon as you dried yourself up, "So unless you want to get a fine for fondling in private property, we should go."

You held out your hand for him to stand up, surprising Vernon when your stance didn't falter when helping lift up his weight. That's when he was reminded about your affinity for weight lifting. Hot.

The fleeting thought of you manhandling him crossed through his mind, but he shook it away not wanting to risk a boner at the gym.

"You planned this, didn't you?"

"Maybe. But it's more fun like this, isn't it?", you giggled as you walked away.

Vernon shook his head to himself as he watched you — very focused on the show you gave him as you walked away.

Vernon continued to see you on an almost daily basis after that — or at least every day in which he got dragged to the gym. Except maybe not in the way that he had hoped.

After that time in which you led him to the privacy of the empty pool patio, the two of you did not spend any time alone. Every single time he saw you was exclusively at the gym, with all the other guys in your immediate vicinity. He didn't even get the chance to speak to you, mostly unable to due to your attention being shared between thirteen men seemingly starved for attention (with him being the biggest culprit).

Like a dumbass, he didn't ask for your number at any time. His shyness around you had mostly left him, but he was still an awkward idiot when it came to taking further steps towards you.

And it wasn't as if you'd stopped provoking him. If anything, your efforts had doubled. Your gym outfits went from baggy shirts and spandex to tiny little sets that showed off as much skin as possible — he had even confirmed with Seungkwan that this was a brand new development in your wardrobe. You were insistent in eyeing him down any time it was his turn to do some sets. You'd bite your lip and stare at him as if you wanted to jump him on the spot. It was safe to say that this messed with his performance (not that he had good form in the first place).

A week of this went by, making him slowly lose his mind. All of his friends became privy to his frustrations, but he was mostly met with mockery. Some told him he was an idiot, that he should just grow some balls and ask you to come over to his apartment. Others simply laughed at how weak he was under your attention.

On the eighth day of this hell, he finally decided to do something about it. If you wanted to play with his sanity, then he'd feed right into it. He didn't care to look like a wimp or like he was down bad for you — he was both of those things, and proud.

Mondays were the day in which the guys went to the gym at night rather than during the day. Something about a lower influx of people at that specific time. And you, you had a tendency of attending the gym at the same time as them most of the time, which meant you were also present.

It was almost closing time by the time the guys were done working out that day. Vernon had to endure three hours due to their insistence that they 'might as well stay til closing.'

As they began to pack up, of course Mingyu managed to hold up the part-timers who were about to close, wondering if it'd be fine to stay an extra ten minutes so a few of his friends could catch the showers they desperately needed. Being Mingyu, of course the part-timers didn't stand a chance to his charms.

Vernon decided to take this as an opportunity to find you alone. The guys (who loved to hog your attention, apparently) would finally be out of his way while he sought you out. It was the perfect chance to at least ask you for your number. Before you left the guys and headed over to the girls' locker rooms, you made sure to eye Vernon far too suggestively for him to misunderstand your intentions. Or at least he hoped so.

For once, Vernon was thankful for Mingyu's habit to befriend every person in his vicinity, as his yapping allowed Vernon to sneak into the women's locker rooms to find you there. It was also thanks to him that he'd be able to you alone rather than accidentally bump into some other gym-goer. He made a mental note to thank him later before beginning his search for you.

This search didn't last long. It was clear to Vernon as soon as he crossed the threshold to the showers in the girl's locker room that you'd been expecting him.

In nothing but a towel, you stood next to a running shower, lower lip trapped under your teeth as you eyed him down. No words to be exchanged. All you had to do was extend your hand out to him for him to finally unfreeze and do something.

Immediately, you dropped your towel and dragged him into the shower, pulling him in so that he'd have you pinned up against the dampened wall. His gym clothes got soaked, but he figured it was worth the temporary inconvenience. Especially when your hands began pawing at him to get undressed within seconds of kissing him.

Just like last time, Vernon lost all sense of time and space in the kiss. His hands were way less awkward than he was, confident in their touching of your body. The wetness of the running water only added to it all, allowing Vernon's hands to easily slide across every curve.

"You took too long to make a move," you huffed into his lips.

Your hands expressed frustration. They glided through his dampening hair, pulling it in order to get his mouth to open for access for your tongue. It was clear to him you had a tendency to take what you wanted, and he was ready to be completely consumed by you.

"I told you," he mumbled, "you make me act like an idiot."

That pulled a chuckle from you as your lips traveled down the wet skin of his neck. Teeth pulled lightly at the skin there, surely leaving reddened marks behind their wake. Every bite and suckle was met by a squeeze of your hips, courtesy of Vernon's needy hands.

"So I'm not being too forward? This is fine?", you pulled away for half a second before Vernon grumbled as he reconnected your lips. You chuckled at his neediness.

"Please be as forward as humanly possible. It's hot."

The two of you continued kissing. Had it not been for the echoing of the water hitting the floor, Vernon was sure the obscene sound of your kissing would've made him blush. It wasn't like him to play tonsil tennis in public like this, but you made his common sense leave his body.

Then you made things all the worse for him.

Pulling away, you eyed him before wrapping your hand around him. Vernon made the mistake of looking down, finding your hand slowly working him, pace so slow it was surely meant to tease. He groaned as he looked back up, eyes becoming stuck at your bare tits for the first time since you'd dropped your towel for him.

"You're so fucking hot," he groaned almost pained.

"Yeah? You too, baby," you grinned as you sped up your hand.

Baby? Was he baby now? Fuck.

"I- fuck, this won't be fun if you keep going," he winced despite the increasing pleasure. This only encouraged you to make things even worse for him, though. Your lips attached to his neck again, dick now being grasped with both hands as one worked him and the other tended to his balls.

"I'm having fun," a breath was felt against his skin as you chuckled between kisses to his chest, "I want you to cum right here," you laid one last kiss before moving to his ear, licking and pulling at the lobe, "If you're good, you'll get me on my knees after."

Vernon almost lost it then. He didn't care what you'd ask of him. He needed this. At no other point in his life had he ever needed something as much as he needed to obey your every whim.

He groaned and buried his face in your neck as his hands continued to fondle at you. They took turns between your ass and your breasts, losing any decorum they had left. This was the only pleasure he could give you while you jerked him off, but you loved it. Your pretty sighs against his ear told him that you were getting off on the effect you had on him. His lack of control as he felt you up to his heart's contentment had you reeling. It was sickening how much he enjoyed that knowledge.

"'m gonna cum, fuck. Shit, I need- oh, fuck," he babbled. You squeezed and twisted and played at his cock in ways that had nonsensical words leaving his lips. No further coherent cries left him whilst you had your fun with him.

"That's it, baby. Cum for me," you continued to instigate.

As per usual, he was yours to toy with. His body followed your instructions before he could even process your words. The cum splattered on your stomach before trailing down and going down the drain, washed away by the wasted water.

Again, you kissed him, this time without the separation of your hand on his dick standing between you. His arms held onto you tighter than before as he pulled you as close as possible. Sensitivity sparked on his dick when you began absentmindedly grinding against him. Despite the water surrounding you, he was sure it was your own wetness that he felt as you humped him.

When he let his hand explore between your legs, he had to bite back a groan. You were incredibly soaked, instantly dampening his fingers with your nectar.

Your sigh of pleasure against his lips told him all he needed to know as he felt between your legs. A tiny nod from you was confirmation that you wanted him, so his fingers entered you. But not before teasing at your folds with a hard knuckle, up until you bit his lip and grumbled at him.

"Shit, you're tight."

"I'll be tighter when you fuck me," you moaned.

"I, fuck, yeah? You'll let me fuck you, baby?", he breathed out, beginning to scissor his fingers in and out of you, curling where he knew would have you keening for him.

You gasped out a moan, hands digging into his chest in a worthless attempt to both pull and push him away. Head thrown back, Vernon took advantage to scrape his teeth on the skin there, sucking lightly at the points that had you shuddering. His read on your body was immediate. It gave him a surge of confidence to note every little reaction you had to him. Every moan and every gasp was taken in by him, stored in his hippocampus for future use.

"Oh, fuck, right there, shit, Vernon," you whimpered.

Long fingers, pointed and curled in a come-hither motion began repeating their movements. Touching that spongy part of you, Vernon continued to pull cries out of you, uncaring that anyone could walk by and hear you despite the running shower. The water was beginning to run cold, but your orgasm mattered more to Vernon.

"'m gonna cum, Nonnie," you warned, letting your head fall onto his shoulder.

"Cum, shit. Wanna fuck you so bad."

You tightened at that, causing his hardening length to twitch at the thought of you wanting him as much as he did you — though that was impossible to him.

When your orgasm found you, Vernon knew he was in out of his depth. Your back curled as his free hand held you up against him, causing your chest to dig into his own. Head thrown back and fingers digging into his biceps, you were a sight he would never forget. A low groan of his own mixed with your breathy whines at the mere view of your pleasure overtaking you in such a way — and because of him!

His fingers continued to play at your middle throughout your orgasm, refusing to stop toying at your swollen clit until you whined at him to stop with a halfhearted grumble.

He chuckled at the sight. Somehow you managed to look adorable to him right after what had just happened between you.

Just when he thought you'd stop to at least take a breather, you cupped his face and pulled him in for another kiss. His fingers were still dripping with you, hand simply flying between your bodies to ensure he didn't get your own substances on you. But shocking him once again, you pulled away, grabbing onto his hand and slipping his fingers in your mouth.

Eyeing him down as you sucked at his fingers, his mouth shot open, letting out a silent groan at the sight — Depraved. That's the only way Vernon could describe himself at that moment as he watched your eyes roll back as you sucked at his digits in your mouth.

"I wanna suck your dick," you deadpanned as soon as you pulled his fingers out of your mouth.

All he could do was choke on his own spit, full well knowing that his dick twitched against his stomach, gracing your own due to the proximity between you.

"I, you don't have to-"

"But I want to. Do you not?"

Your head tilted and your eyebrows furrowed as if you were confused by his hesitation. He was confused too.

As much as he wanted to take you up on your offer, — and very enthusiastically so — he knew there was no way he could last more than one more orgasm (and that was saying a lot).

And despite the thought of you on your knees, mouth wrapped around him as you eyed him in that way you knew made him feel faint making him almost lose his mind, what he wanted most at that moment (or ever, he was pretty sure) was to be inside you.

The thirst he felt for you at that moment was unmatched. It was a sickly feeling considering he'd only known you for a bit over a week, yet your effect on him had been immediate — That, and the fact that you were standing in front of him, completely nude and dripping wet (everywhere), eyeing him like you wanted to devour him until there was no man left in him.

"I wanna fuck you," his voice broke as he said it, a testament to how needy he felt in that moment.

"Yeah?"

There was that pleased, teasing smile on your lips again. And then a hand wrapped around him again, but this time directing him towards your center, holding him hostage as his tip graced at your mound.

"Like this? Want me against the wall? While the guys wait for me to finish 'showering'?", you were challenging him, he knew it.

He took the bait.

For the nth time, your lips connected in a heavy kiss. It was dubious whose spit made its way to his chin, but that was the last thing he had in his mind.

Grabbing onto your toned thigh, he lifted it to wrap around his waist, pushing himself up against you even closer, ridding you of even the smallest inch of distance. Meanwhile, your hand led his cock to your entrance, teasing yourself (and him) by running it up and down your slit, stopping to circle his tip on your clit.

Vernon's forehead fell against yours with a groan at the feeling of your warmth, a whimper leaving him when you took that chance to lick into his mouth, beginning to push him inside, but only the tip.

"F-fuck, please," he pleaded against your lips.

"Begging now?", you chuckled.

"I'll beg every time if it means you'll let me fuck you."

And he meant it more than he realized. Whimpers left his mouth as soon as you began leading him in, legs shaking and a sigh of relief leaving his lips at finally being inside you.

You were so tight, so hot, so fucking wet. He could feel his eyes itching to roll back all the way to his brain at how perfect you felt. Grabby fingers held onto your damp skin, uncaring that the water hitting his back was now cold and only proved as an obstacle to fucking you. Any surrounding circumstances were locked up in the back burner. His brain was just a constant repetition of yesyesyesyes as he willed himself not to cum within the first minute.

"Fuck, you feel so fucking good ..." he groaned out.

"I'll feel even better when you move," you huffed out a breath.

"Just one second, baby. You feel so good, I'm sorry."

Readjusting his hands on your hips, he brought you closer, raising the leg you had wrapped around him a bit and leaning you upwards. From this angle, he began to move, starting off slow to test the waters. And god, did that reward him.

The prettiest sigh he'd ever heard left your lips, accompanied by subsequent gasps of pleasure. Sharp nails dug into his back, petulant in their attempt to pull him closer, but the took it like a champ.

"Nonnie, fuck! R-right there!", you cried out.

And then he was gone.

He was no longer himself. No longer caring to extend his orgasm and only worried about hitting that spot. The spot that had your back arching and your chest pressing onto his. That same spot that morphed your face in a way that Vernon knew he'd remember for endless nights after this.

Continuing to piston desperately into you. Strength he didn't know he had suddenly took over as he manhandled your body as he wished. Every thrust was accompanied by your own attempts at pushing back against him, leading to a depraved harmony of slapping skin and gasps of pleasure.

"Didn't, shit, didn't think you were this strong," you hiccuped out.

"That's what good pussy does to a man," he joked, but deep down probably meant it.

You tried to laugh, but the sound was interrupted by another moan, head throwing itself back and resting against the shower wall. You tightened yourself around him then, groaning something out to him about not making you laugh. He couldn't really process it when you were suctioning him in so deliciously.

Soon enough, he felt his high approaching, making him panic and accelerate the speed of his thrusts. His mind was going a mile a minute as he attempted to take you down with him, mumbling out expletives into your skin, huffing and groaning at the way you internmently tightened around him.

"Need you to cum with me, okay? Please, it'll be so fucking embarrassing if you don't."

You chuckled between gasps, pulling him in for a kiss, "I'm there, just, fuck, keep doing that."

He was far too gone, lips barely able to kiss back in the midst of his orgasm taking over. He couldn't do this. Couldn't handle how good it all felt. Couldn't deal with your tongue in his mouth or your nails digging into his skin, much less with the sudden strangulation your cunt performed on his cock as your own orgasm arrived. And then your high pitched moans came into the picture, making him truly lose his mind.

"It's so good, oh god, so fucking good. You feel so- fuck, shit, so tight, baby," he babbled against your lips.

"So good, hmm? Fucking me so good, Non," you moaned back.

Vernon swore he blacked out after that, not knowing what happened as soon as the dramatic influx of pleasure reached him. The aftermath was full of dizziness and a feeling of fulfillment Vernon had never experienced before. It was like waking up from an amazing nap, except this time he was still plunged deeply into the prettiest girl he'd ever seen as she pressed lazy kisses to his chest.

"Are you alive?", you asked when you reached his lips, pecking them once, twice, thrice before he tried deepening it, only to find you pulling away with a giggle.

"Maybe not. I'd be fine if I wasn't. That would've been a great way to go."

"You're funny after sex," you noted.

"It's a little easier when I'm already inside you. It's less nerve-wracking that way."

"Yeah? So are you gonna go back to stuttering through every sentence once you pull out?", you tightened yourself around him to somehow prove your point, making him wince.

"Nope. Staying here. I'll even risk hypothermia with this cold ass water," that earned him another laugh and even a kiss.

"Okay, Romeo. Mingyu can only hold off the part-timers for so long, c'mon," you pressed your hands on his chest, making him groan but follow along to your instruction as per usual. — maybe this was something to look into. Later.

"I was not expecting that from you," you breathed out a laugh once you were dressed, exiting the dressing room hand-in-hand.

You were kidding. Maybe.

"I told you I'm not as socially awkward as I seem. I'm just an idiot around you," he chuckled. His hand swung back and forth with yours jovially.

He was very happy right now. Sue him.

"Well, a very skilled idiot, then."

He laughed along with you as you approached the main lobby, finding two familiar men leaning against a wall. It was clear in their demeanor that they'd been waiting a while, with Mingyu sighing in frustration when he spotted you.

"Half an hour? What could you have been doing in there for half an hour?", whined Seokmin.

"Well-"

"Don't. Rhetorical question," interrupted Mingyu.

The two of you snickered, walking past them and towards the exit. Both boys exchanged a look as they followed slightly behind you.

"Hold on. No 'thank you'?", Mingyu interrupted again.

Mingyu stopped you from walking away, grabbing onto your arm so you'd turn around and subsequently causing your hand to disconnect from Vernon's

You sighed in exaggerated annoyance, "Fine. Thank you, Gyu. I guess I owe you one."

"Wait, what?", Vernon looked quizzically at you both.

Mingyu grinned stupidly at both of you, with an equally idiotic Seokmin standing next to him with a mirrored expression.

"She asked us if we could stall so she'd get you alone," Mingyu started.

"I was just going to pull the fire alarm, but Gyu figured that probably wouldn't work," Seokmin continued, "and now Gyu scored a date with the receptionist, so all wins here, I guess."

Vernon turned to you, both scandalized and amused, "You-"

"Hey, I told you. You were taking too long. A girl has needs," you shrugged, grabbing onto his hand again and beginning to walk away as if it was nothing.

Vernon could've argued back. But following you seemed like the more obvious response.

Maybe he'd been a total loser throughout all this, but he scored the girl in the end. All was good.

Except now he'd probably have to go to the gym every other day.

to read short 1.7k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on patreon!

content: established relationship, afab reader, smut, morning sex, dry humping, tit worship, sorta switch!vernon, etc.

wc: 332 (teaser); 1789 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"God, no, I can't go again," Vernon grumbled, face planted on his pillow.

The man was practically passed out, unmoving as he stayed cuddled into his blankets. The only movements out of him were the occasional squeezing of his arms around the polar bear plush you'd gotten him a few weeks back.

Vernon was more than content staying like this for the rest of the day. Only thing that would've made it all even better would be if you hadn't insisted on getting up and away from his arms.

Unfortunately for him, you were strong enough to flip him over.

Usually, this would be something he enjoyed. Something he keened over, even. But the context was different.

This time you weren't flipping him over to straddle him and make him lose his mind. No, this time was so you could continue to insist at him to get up, but now forcing him to look you in the eye as you did so.

"Vernon, we agreed on this," you pouted at him.

You were too far for his liking. While he laid on bed, body completely stretched out and occupying way too much space, you were propped up on your knees on the same bed, except not close enough for him to pull you into him. This was strategic, he guessed.

"It's been three months. How much longer do I have to keep going to the gym?"

"It's kind of a lifetime type of thing."

He groaned.

"If I show up without you you're just gonna get twelve men barging in here in an hour," you reasoned, crawling closer to him.

"Is there any way I can convince you to not make me go?"

"Is there any way I can convince you to go?", you rebutted, eyes flirty.

Vernon knew this move.

"You know you can convince me. You're very well aware of all the ways in which you can convince me. It's kind of mean of you to threaten me like this."

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #vernon scenarios #vernon imagines #vernon smut #vernon fanfic #vernon oneshot #vernon x reader #hansol imagine #hansol smut #hansol fanfic #hansol scenarios #hansol x reader

515 notes · View notes

bruhstories · 2 days ago

Text

Bet III

p.1 here & p.2 here

summary: the game is on, but in-ho can't focus on it. he's got you on his mind pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan, slight voyeurism, people dying ayy yo (but if you watched squid game, this is just normal) w/c: 2.2k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! also feel free to replace y/n's age, i just needed to put a number there lol

In-ho removed the intricately designed mask from his face and poured himself a glass of whisky, one leg crossed over the other as he sat on the leather sofa of the control room. The first game was about to begin soon — always Red Light, Green Light — and he waited for his favourite song to start — always Fly Me To The Moon. There was something so hauntingly beautiful about listening to a love song while people lost all hope, one by one falling to the ground.

It was a fantastic way to get rid of the weakest links, leaving only those resilient alive. Player 101, eliminated. Player 82, eliminated. Player 329, eliminated. Player 2, eliminated. They dropped like flies, frantically clawing at the gates in a futile attempt to escape while the soldiers shot them from above, painting the ground crimson.

Exhilarating was the only word that could describe what In-ho felt in that moment, and nothing compared to it. When happiness died along with his wife, control was the only thing that fulfilled him. He controlled who died and who lived, but he was also being fair — if participants played by the rules, they survived. It couldn’t get any simpler than that.

Obviously, they didn't have a choice, and In-ho knew that well enough. No, players only had the illusion of choice, but that mirage was what kept them in the game. Besides, they chose to come to the island. They chose to gamble their lives. They chose to be greedy. If anything, the games taught them, albeit for a short time, that actions had consequences, and In-ho was their judge, jury and executioner. It was truly thrilling. Exciting. Exhilarating.

His phone lit up with a notification from the security cameras concealed in his house. Irked by the sudden disturbance, he opened the app to check the footage. You weren't supposed to be there at that time, because you had already been at his house in the morning. In-ho watched you lock the door behind you, thinking today was the day you stole from him and proved him right. He scoffed, hoping you would last longer than one day, but to his surprise, you sat on the kitchen floor, knees to your chest, crying.

He couldn't send you a text — it would have made it obvious that he knew you were there, and his eyes lingered on his phone, forgetting about the game in front of him for a moment. In-ho watched you take out your phone and type, and not a minute later he received a text.

Good morning again! I had a bit of free time after my second job today and came to check on Eunjoo. I'll be leaving in an hour for my other job and I'm not charging for the extra visit.

In-ho stared at the big screen, completely dumbfounded and ignorant to the people dying right before his eyes. How were you working that many jobs? That was, if you were even telling the truth. But he would find out soon, because he left a stack of 2 million won on his nightstand, eagerly waiting for you to take it. You had to take it. You had to be the same as everyone else.

That's absolutely fine. If you don't mind me asking, how many jobs are you working?

He swapped back to the security cameras and watched you wipe the tears off your face with the back of your hand, smiling at his text. Did he say something funny? Why on Earth would you be smiling when a minute ago you had tears rolling down your cheeks?

Officially two, unofficially three. I teach Korean to a family of immigrants, but that's unpaid. I think of it as volunteering. They do feed me, though! My other job is a mascot at Lotte World.

In-ho shattered the empty glass in his hand while reading your text, and winced when he felt blood seeping from a fresh cut. Why, just why did you have to prove him wrong? He watched you go into his bedroom with a pile of freshly clean and dried shirts, ignoring the money. You saw the stack, he noticed you staring at it, hoping you grabbed it, but you found his ironing board and began to iron his shirts, not sparing the money another glance.

Why?

Through the camera, he saw you text back.

Why what?

"Tsk." In-ho scoffed at your question while wrapping a bandage around his palm.

Why are you working that many jobs?

Ah. My uncle has debts. Unfortunately, I had to drop out from uni to help him pay for them. It's fine though, I like what I'm doing.

How old are you?

23.

Jesus Christ, you were so young, yet life had been unfair to you. You deserved an education, a better life, and it cemented his ideal that the world needed to rid itself of the trash. He didn't know the full details, but he was sure to find out. You were unlike anyone he's met before. At least for now, at least until you proved him right.

Ding!

In-ho opened a picture from you — Eunjoo curling up on the left side of his bed, paws under her, looking like a loaf of bread, and the question 'Is that your side of the bed?' under it.

Indeed it is.

I knew it! Aww, she misses you :(

How strange it was to read those words. How strange it was to think about someone, or something missing him. To In-ho that was a foreign feeling, and he loosened his tie, swallowing the lump in his throat. He'd seen Eunjoo sleep on his side of the bed before, when he was gone, but he assumed it was just comfortable for her.

Animals truly were better than humans. If they betrayed their owners, they did it out of necessity. When humans betrayed, it was by choice.

In-ho watched you neatly adjust his ironed shirt on a coat hanger that you hung in his wardrobe, disregarding the Red Light, Green Light game that had long finished, and it hit him like a train that you reminded him of his wife. God, you were so much like his wife it infuriated him, because no one was allowed to take that place in his heart. No one was allowed to make him feel anything other than hatred.

You had to make a mistake, to prove to him that you were just like everybody else, and if money didn't make you crack, something else would. In-ho made it his purpose to unravel your darkest secrets, whether through manipulation or sheer force, but the distance between the two of you proved a greater obstacle than he thought.

He watched you finish ironing his clothes, watched you refill Eunjoo's water bowl, watched you comb your hair and put lip balm on while staring into his mirror, and it felt so wrong to study all your quirks and habits without you even knowing. It was the closest thing to having a normal life. But nothing about what he was doing was normal. Especially not watching you be so oblivious to his true self.

With a sigh, In-ho adjusted his mask left the control room to instruct his subordinates, the square-masked guards, to prepare for the next game, Neolttwigi, the soldiers to take the remaining players back to their beds, and the workers to remove the corpses. 188 players survived and more than 50% were eliminated. In-ho, in his Front Man persona, should've focused on the games, but he couldn't, for some unknown reason, shake off the image of you crying on his kitchen floor. He didn’t dare ask what happened. How could he? It would destroy all the secrecy.

It wasn't that he cared about you — he didn't. You appeared to be a positive, cheerful and talkative person, so whatever hurt your feelings must have been important. Was it your uncle? Your boyfriend? He scoffed at that thought. The mere idea of some guy breaking your heart made him irrationally angry, and In-ho was lucky that his mask concealed his frustration.

He decided to pay the remaining players a visit, accompanied by eight armed guards, and, just like last year, and the year before, and the year before that, there was always a woman who dropped to her knees, begging to be spared and allowed to go home. Another one followed, and even men asked for forgiveness, but they just couldn't get it through their thick skulls that they chose to be there. They chose to gamble their lives away, they chose to borrow money and end up with debts they could never afford to repay. No one forced them to play the games.

When the room was filled with echoing cries and hysterical sobs, In-ho fired a single shot in the air, shutting everyone up. They all looked at him with fear in their eyes like pigs in a slaughterhouse waiting to be gutted, and he lowered the gun, standing firm on his feet.

"You must be mistaken. You are not here to be punished, you are all here because of the choices you made." In-ho simply said, his voice distorted by the mask.

He took notice of teams already being formed, of those who were willing to step on corpses just to get the big prize and those who would rather sacrifice themselves, because there were always people who wanted to play the hero. He studied them all before they got recruited, and knew 456 secrets, 456 names, 456 lives. Well, only 188 survived.

"We came here to win money, not to fucking die!" Player 072 shouted from the back of the room. "And if I'm correct, we can vote to go back home."

Ah, yet another one who thought they could outsmart In-ho. He's been there before. He walked that path before, and it taught him that people don't change. Ever. Even if they voted to leave, they always came back.

"Of course, clause three of the consent form. If the majority decides to go home, you are free to do so. We don't hold anyone against their will." In-ho nodded. "But before you make your choice, allow me to tell you the current accumulated prize."

He pressed a button on a small, black remote and a large glass piggy bank was lowered from the ceiling as the lights in the room dimmed down. Stacks upon stacks of money piled up in the piggy bank, and the screen counted the current prize — 26.8 billion won. In-ho watched how their faces lit up at the amount of money accumulated, but also how the penny dropped for most of them — the more people died, the more money the survivors got.

"If you choose to leave, the money will be distributed amongst the deceased players' families. It’s only fair." He said, and left the room so that the soldiers could prepare for the democratic vote.

"You're manipulating us!" In-ho heard a player shout, and maybe he did. Maybe he was chipping away at their humanity to bring out the worst in them, but it was for the best. At least by dying they served a purpose.

It was no surprise that the majority voted to stay, 95 to 93. Good — he didn't have to go through the trouble of sending them home. The soldiers and workers brought food for the players, and In-ho checked his phone in the safety of his room. There was no text from you, and it was almost time for you to check on Eunjoo, but when it hit 9 and you weren't in his house, he felt a knot in his stomach, an uneasy feeling. Was he worried? Of course he was, for his cat, not for you.

Ding!

The sound of his phone caught him off guard, almost startling him, almost making him feel relieved when he saw it was you, and In-ho read the text.

Evening! Traffic was baaad this evening but I'm nearly at the penthouse. Will Eunjoo ever forgive me? :(

The stupid sad face you sent made the image of you pouting pop up in his head and he wondered why. There wasn't a good enough reason for you to be haunting him like a phantom. You were a nobody to him.

Eunjoo might, but I won't.

In-ho immediately regretted pressing send. It was unprofessional and stupid of him to text such a reply, because you weren't friends. He had no friends.

I'm so sorry, but I promise I'll make it up to you, Mr. Hwang! I really need to get you a gift for letting me use your shower anyway.

A relieved sigh escaped his lips when you didn't take his message the wrong way, but part of him was hoping you would try to flirt with him, seduce him, do anything to prove him right. And yet again, you remained true to yourself.

He watched you on the cameras again, how you invaded his home, his life, how you fed Eunjoo and munched on prawn crackers again, disappointed that you, for the second day in a row, refused to use anything in his house for yourself except for the shower and the TV.

There was still time to win the bet, and he never lost.

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @hobiesbrownsgf @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm

please keep in mind that if i didn't tag you it's because i either missed it, or i couldn't find your age on your blog. there will be smut.

448 notes · View notes

grimmsbride · 2 days ago

Text

▗▬̸̎͞/̄͆̅ ̎ ̎̿͞͞͞͞͞͞͞͞ι̚━─ ⠀ NYCTOPHILLIAC ⠀ ⠀ 𑄼ల۫ thanos / reader

getting caught up in thanos’s web was a mistake, especially when it interfered with your sleep.

𓂂 ͜ᩘ ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘𑣿 ⁣⁣⠀ TAGS unconsensual voyuerism (thanos & reader have sexual relations in her bed while everyone is asleep. even though they are asleep, i still put this warning because i know some people can get uncomfortable). ooc thanos (first time writing for him). oral sex (fem. receiving). porn no plot. mentions of past sexual relations. fingering. dirty talk. unrealistic expectations of quiet sex(?). overuse of pet names (senorita, mama, etc.) etc.

𓂂 ͜ᩘ ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘𑣿 ⁣⁣⠀ NOTES please heed the warning above as i would hate to make anyone uncomfortable while reading this fic. with that said please enjoy and i apologize for any grammar mistakes or typos.

Despite different games being assigned each day, it all felt the same — as if you had just stepped inside this odd room, surrounded by strangers that held far too many similarities with you. You couldn’t count the amount of times you flinched or teared up as you watched and heard bullets tear people apart, how their strangled cries escaped in a last ditch effort to somehow convince the ruthless guards to spare them. You nearly screamed yourself when blood hit your cheek, tainting the already sweaty area — which you gingerly cleaned up the moment you got time to.

You somehow survived, in just the nick of time too. You wondered if you had any right to be happy for your victory, or you should be remorseful for all the lives lost today. You pondered it for a complete moment before deciding doing so was useless, and not impertinent to your current situation.

Getting out with enough money was of the upmost importance, nothing more and nothing less.

Which is why you were quick to settle into bed the moment the opportunity arose, slipping out of your socks and jacket, pulling the blanket up over yourself, and shutting your eyes. The world around you seemed to cease — aside from the old man’s snoring beside you — your body melting into the mattress. Sleep was the only comfort you could afford to cling to in this situation, anything else was an unnecessary distraction.

Including the one that stood infront of you, taking form as a purple-haired devil.

You never intended to get entangled with any of the other contestants. You could smile and cheer together, but it wasn’t a secret how quickly that relationship could turn sour. Mixing any type of deeper attachments just seemed like a bad idea.

But you fucked up horribly, one thing leading to another, with you in the arms of a man named Thanos, who said just the right words at the time.

You promised yourself that one time was it, you wouldn’t slip up again. You couldn’t afford to slip up anyway.

“Thanos.. go away.” You murmured, courteous of the other contestants around you. You wondered if the two of you were the only ones awake.

Through the dimmed room you could spot Thanos tilting his head, elbow pressing against your bed as he leaned closer.

“C’mon don’t be like that.. just checking on you.”

You rolled your eyes, growing more frustrated by the minute. You desperately wanted sleep- actually, you needed it. You refused to suffer the next morning, especially since your life was literally on the line. You adjusted your pillow, basically staring daggers into the man.

“I’m fine, now, go to your own bed—“

“And.. I’m also cold.”

You blinked rapidly, nearly slapping that stupid smile right off his face. You decided to turn your back to him, ignoring that soft sound of disapproval he released.

“Wear your jacket or something.. hell— steal your friend’s blanket. Just let me sleep.”

You chose to ignore the second sound he released, which seemed to be an unusually pitiful whine, mixed with an obnoxious groan. You wanted to tell him off for his volume, but decided not to— trying to seem as stern as possible so he could finally leave you alone.

But Thanos wasn’t the type to let up, something you quickly learned the moment you met him. Seeing as his fingers began to graze your blanket, rising closer just so his lips were hovering over your ear.

“But you’re right here.. can’t we share some warmth until morning? You wouldn’t want me to freeze, right?”

Thanos’s words were tempting, as usual. Whether you liked to admit it or not, he knew just what to say. Which is why you called him a devil, a sickening demon with that silver tongue.

You bit the inside of your cheek, desperately trying to fight mind over matter. Not only was this bad for your sleep, you were also at risk for breaking some unknown rule. And if you got shot over cuddling, you would definitely haunt this place like a vengeful spirit.

But in the end you gave in, the reason fleeting at the moment. You could only focus on the fact he would hopefully shut up when he got what he wanted. So, wordlessly, you brought up the blanket behind you; hearing his small giddy voice as he climbed in with you.

At least the man was nice enough to allow most of the blanket to cover you, the rest of your exposed self covered by his larger frame. Thanos made quick work of wrapping his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him as his face found your neck.

“You have to leave before morning.”

Whether acknowledging you or not, the man just let out a hum, lips treading across your warm skin in the process. With a shiver you attempted to focus on sleep, admitting to yourself that the extra warmth was comforting. It also allowed you to truly relax, knowing your back was covered— literally.

Your hand found the back of his, fingers spreading along it as your eyes settled shut. You felt your self slipping in slowly, body growing heavier as that relaxation began to reach its peak.

Only to tumble down the moment you felt a thumb play at the waistband of your pants.

“Thanos..”

“Hm?”

You slowly turned your head, tight-lipped and squinting at him through the darkness. “Don’t fucking hm, me— what are you doing?”

The shit-eating grin that developed was telling, his thumb now slithering under your shirt and rubbing small circles into your skin.

“Not a thing.. yet.”

“We’re supposed to be sleeping!”

The man was quick to raise his free hand, placing a taunting finger to his lips. “Don’t wake the others Señorita, that’ll be just plain rude.” The circles on your skin continued, Thanos closer as his lips brushed against your own yet didn’t fully touch.

“This will help you sleep better. Erasing alll your worries in the blink of an eye.” He breathed, eyes flicking low as if attempting to see beneath the blanket. Instead his hand did the seeing for him, fingers breaching your pants and underwear; tips stroking your soft cunt. He couldn’t help the little twitch of a smile the moment he felt you release a strangled breath, using two long fingers to spread you open to his hand.

And when your lips parted to speak, his own covered them; a gentle kiss that caused your mind to grow dizzy. You couldn’t help your legs spreading, hand wrapping around Thanos’s wrist the moment you felt him at your clit. He rolled his thumb so perfectly, applying delicious pressure to the little bud that caused you to see stars.

The moment you needed to breathe you regretted leaving his lips, seeing as you struggled to keep your voice down. He wasn’t even touching you much yet here you were, panting and releasing the softest moan. With a quick raise of your hand, you covered your mouth— teeth biting into the flesh the moment you felt a finger slowly sink into your wetness.

“Wish I could see..” The soft comment made you groan softly, hips rising the moment he began to piston his finger. Within moments a second was joining, scissoring you open and plunging deeper then your own fingers could. Your eyebrows knitted close, the pain of your bite washing away with each thrust of his digits.

“Thanos.. please..”

“Oh no.. keep your voice to yourself— I wouldn’t want anyone else to hear how pretty you sound.”

As usual his words held such a teasing tone, face moving back to your neck to kiss and bite gently. Even with his small request the man wasn’t making the situation any easier, especially when his thumb moved right back to your sensitive clit; rubbing those same dizzy inducing circles.

You felt way too good right now, your body practically shaking with how much you struggled to keep in. The thought of anyone waking up right now with you in this state — under the mercy of a certain purple-haired, tattooed rapper — was a thought you couldn’t even imagine without your heart pounding with anxiety.

The best thing to do would be to push him off before things progressed. You hadn’t a clue how far he wanted to take this, nor did you think it would end in time for the lights to cut on. And Thanos wasn’t a creep, he would listen to you the moment you expressed actual discomfort from the situation. But you weren’t, that pain you felt all day, that anguish; did truly wash away in seconds just from the flick of his fingers.

The thrusts against your velvety, soaked walls were perfect— your eyes rolling to find your skull the moment the ferocity increased. A metallic taste invaded your mouth from how bad you were biting yourself, but you didn’t care; it was a concern for morning [Name], not horny [Name] who was currently being cared for by the hottest contestant in this god forsaken place.

“Oh, all this clenching— you’re close aren’t you? Can barely get my fingers out.”

The smile in his speech was obvious, breath fanning against your skin as he urged you more and more; curling his fingers just right to hear your muffled sounds peak into a small squeal.

Your nails dragged across his tattooed hand, feeling it flex with each movement of his fingers. Your mind was growing cloudy, barely being able to register the words that were being pressed right against your ear.

“How about I get a taste, huh? Wanna come all in my mouth, mama.. it’ll be such an easy clean up.”

Before you could even think to speak Thanos was pulling his hand out from within you. You had little time to protest when you felt him grabbing your blanket, pulling it over his body as he crawled down your own. Your eyes slowly widened, realizing his words and actions; a new sheen of sweat finding your skin. Your nerves were on fine at this point, inner mind screaming to tell him to do anything else but that.

However, the moment you felt him pulling down your pants and his lips finding your pretty cunt, all hope was lost. The back of your head quickly found your pillow, hand going right back to your mouth to bite down even harsher than before. His tongue exited his mouth in a long stride, gliding across your wet center, and parting you easily.

Thanos created similar ministrations with the tip of his tongue like his thumb, circling your bud and slowly pulling it between his lips. There, he began to suck, the sound noisy but muffled by your blankets and other’s snoring.

Muffled gasps pushed against your skin, hips rising and legs closing around his head; bringing him even closer to you. The peak that was steadily approached seemed to pick up speed far too quickly, your mind turning to mush.

No more were you number so-so, victim to madmen and their sick games. No, you were simply [Name], moaning wantonly with little care for the environment around you.

Your other hand slithered under the blanket, finding his hair and tugging the soft tresses; feeling them stick between the gaps of your fingers. Shamelessly you rubbed against his face, desperate for that sweet release. Your pussy convulsed with each struggled breath you took, stars impeding your vision as you got closer and closer.

You felt it before you heard it, Thanos’s sweet urges right into your pussy. His wet words of make me a mess, pretty girl— don’t hold back on me now, causing you to tip over the line.

His mouth latched to you, drinking up your release as if you tasted better than any drug within his cross. It didn’t help he was practically praising your taste, a sloppy groan being delivered right into your pussy. Gingerly, Thanos licked you clean, assuring not a single drop was left.

Only when the man was fully satisfied did he let up, climbing up from the blanket and popping his head out to look down at you.

“See, it helped— you can barely keep your eyes open right now.”

You released a soft breath, a mix of a chuckle and a sigh as you stared up at the man. “You gonna let me sleep now?” You spoke softly, watching his wet lips curl into a gentle smile.

“Of course. Good night, [Name].”

544 notes · View notes

chrissturnsfav · 23 hours ago

Note

hear me out, matt fucking you so good you can’t even speak >>

𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃

the way matt fucks you leaves you completely tongue tied.

ᰔᩚ smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 you tap it), dom!matt, dumbification kink, slight choking

ᰔᩚ w.c. 430

"feel good, baby?" matt smirks from above you, shoving your plush thighs further against your chest as he watches your face twist in and out of ecstasy. he's pumping erratically in and out of you, your pussy coating his dick with sweet arousal.

"m-mmph, yeah," you whine, your eyes squeezed shut, your hands tangled into his hair. you can feel him pumping in and out, squelch after squelch echoing in your ears as he fucks you impossibly harder at your confirmation.

matt hums gruffly, his lips ghosting over yours as he speaks, "you take my cock so good, don't you?" you can hear the smirk on his lips. "whinin' and moanin' like this for me, you look so pretty."

his tip is brushing deliciously against your cervix making your vision go completely black as you gasp sharply, your fingers tugging his hair on instinct which elicits a groan from him. "m-matt, matt, y-you're so deep," you whimper, jumbled and almost incoherent.

he chuckles airily, his eyes flitting from your fucked out face down to your cunt that swallows him in greedily with each thrust he gives you. he grunts at the bulge appearing in and out of your belly, moving a hand from your thigh to press down on it making you squeal. "yeah?" he groans, "feel me right here, baby?"

and suddenly you're at a loss for words, completely dumb over his cock. your eyes are rolled into the back of your head, your jaw locked open, your cheeks pink. you're speechless.

matt hums above you, letting out a throaty laugh, "fuckin' you so good you can’t even answer me?" he asks, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as he leans his face closer to yours, panting against your face.

you don't even hear him. his words don't even register in your cloudy brain, your mind too fucked out to even focus on anything besides how good he's fucking you.

he groans, shoving your thighs further against your chest, his other hand coming to wrap around your throat and squeeze lightly as he tries to get your attention. "c'mon, use your words, know you can," he breathes out against your face.

your eyes snap open, filled with tears of pleasure as you snap back into the blissful reality. "m-m-m...m-m...matt..." is all you can say, barely audible, your voice overtaken by high pitched whines.

that makes him smirk, his hand moving from your throat to pat your cheek while he begins fucking into your tight pussy faster, "i know," he coos. "just keep takin' my dick like that, baby."

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: i fucked up cropping the pics for this and now i’m very annoyed :(

thank you for reading!! <3

tags: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @sturnhyyhblog , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @forgottxen , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03

@chrissturnsfav ™

#chrissturnsfav ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo x you

262 notes · View notes

emilys-bangs · 2 days ago

Text

baby, if your love is in trouble | e.p

Tags: emt!reader, flirty!emily, blood and injury, established relationship (we won’t question how they went from point A to point B), canon typical injuries, quite a few mentions of blood in this one oops, medical inaccuracies, use of petnames, reader is pissed but emily’s a smooth mf with big brown eyes

Summary: You get called to a scene and find your girlfriend—yet again—all bruised and bloody. She flirts, you don’t reciprocate. Requested here.

Word count: 2.2k

Part one (you don’t have to read it to read this part)

When you arrive at an abandoned warehouse, the last person you expect to see is your girlfriend. The surprise is muffled; you were aware this wasn’t outside the realm of possibility once Emily told you two weeks ago that the unsub they’re hunting is local.

Even in a messy, crowded scene like this, crawling with FBI agents and police officers alike, it’s easy to spot her amidst the chaos. She doesn’t notice you, leaning against a cop car and shying away from a lanky guy who reaches out with his finger, attempting to prod at her bleeding nose. A crumpled tissue is held between her fingers; it’s soaked through with blood, barely an inch of it unblemished white. Emily doesn’t seem to mind it as she glares and avoids the guy’s touch, swatting at his hand with hers.

“It’s not broken, Reid.”

“I’m just saying, it looks a little swollen—”

“Emily.” You say unthinkingly. She turns, her ponytail swishing as her eyes meet yours.

The first thing you notice is the bruises on her face, a violent galaxy etched around her right eye. The cut on her cheekbone, dried blood crusted around the skin you just recently discovered you loved to kiss. Not the way her brows lift in surprise, her mouth parting to breathe out your name.

“Hi,” she says. Her voice is muffled into the hand holding the tissue.

You can’t reply for the nausea in your throat. Emily’s coworker is frowning at you, no doubt mentally tearing this interaction to pieces. It kickstarts your brain into action, practicality forcing its way over the queasy roiling in your stomach.

“Are you hurt?” You ask him.

He shakes his head.

Jaw set, you meet Emily’s eyes and try to pretend they’re anyone else’s. “Come with me, please.” You say tightly, one hand listlessly extended to her body.

This time, it’s easier to wrestle her into the back of the rig. Emily wordlessly shoves off of the cop car and lets your fingers grip her elbow, lets you drag her to the ambulance and force her to sit on the hard metal ledge. The heat of her eyes follows you as you get your kit, burning holes into your face when you set it down next to her and pinch the sodden tissue she’s holding. Her hand falls away, exposing the bottom half of her face; a blooming cut on her lip stains her chin red.

Your mouth flattens into a thin line.

“Hi,” Emily says again, softly. “I, uh, didn’t know you’d be here.” She tilts her head to meet your gaze.

You don’t let her.

She exhales a low sigh. You ignore it as you toss away the bloodied tissue and scan her face, surveying the damage but not settling on the near magnetic pull of her eyes. What you find is harrowing: bruises on her temple and brow, a black eye, a cut on her cheek. They’re quickly darkening into deep reds and purples, visciously marring her ivory skin. Oh, and not to forget her bloody nose and split lip. Her face is a kaleidoscope of color.

Jesus.

“What happened?” You ask, reaching for the straps of her kevlar. Velcro separates, screeching as you rip the wretched vest off of her body. Shoulders, hips; you free her, then toss it carelessly into the ambulance.

“Can I get a hi first?” Emily retorts tiredly. You finally meet her eyes, the weight of them a physical blow to your gut. The black eye doesn’t help. “Hi?” Her fingertips skim yours.

You swallow thickly. Grab her hand, squeeze. “Hi.” You say back.

A smile flickers over Emily’s face. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m okay, I just got a little banged up.”

A little.

Your lips purse. “What happened?”

Emily laces her fingers through yours. You need to pull away, but you can’t help the way your shoulders loosen under her touch. Her skin is warm, thumb skating over the back of your hand with her head ducked.

“Doesn’t matter.” She murmurs.

“Emily.” You take your hand back. The movement isn’t quite so gentle; Emily’s brows dip into a frown as she winces, a low curse escaping past her lips. “What?” You demand. Taking her hand again—carefully—your eyes travel until you find a dampness on her shirt sleeve, the blood almost invisible against the navy blue fabric. You cut it off to expose a long cut, the width of her arm, just above her elbow. It’s still bleeding sluggishly, most of it staunched into her shirt.

Nausea stirs again.

Your jaw is tightly set as you let go of Emily’s arm and snap on a pair of gloves, eyes fixed on your hands and the forceful sting of the elastic. If you look up, if you find the face of the woman you’re half in love with rather than some nameless stranger’s face, you’ll fucking lose it. Already your breathing is shallow, not enough oxygen filling your lungs as you try your best not to breathe in the scent of Emily’s blood.

“Hey,” she says quietly. You let the silence answer as you clean around her cut. It looks deep, deeper than you can manage, but at least it’s clean. Emily’s ragged inhale sours your mouth when you place pressure on it, stopping the flow. Blood blooms on the gauze, and—maddeningly—she still persists. “I’ll be home tonight.” Her voice is only slightly choked. “All on my lonesome. Would you like to keep me company?”

There’s a few things you’d like to do to her right now. You voice none of them.

When you’re certain the bleeding has stopped you grab a roll of gauze, wrap it around her arm. “We could order pizza. Get that cheese crust you like.” The first layer dampens; the second doesn’t. Neither does the third, but you still wrap another layer for good measure.

A low sigh tickles your ear.

“I miss you,” Emily says, velvet soft.

Work had gotten in the way more than usual these past few days, both yours and hers. You missed her too, more than you think is in any way logical, but you can’t rise to her flirtations when she’s half beaten and bloody. Just the sight of the bruises on her pale face turns your stomach.

You snip the gauze and tuck the end under the layers. Her shirt is in tatters now; you don’t linger on the fact that it was one of your favorites on her.

“It’ll probably need stitches,” you lift your gaze from the bandages around her arm and grab another antiseptic wipe. You don’t mean to catch her eyes. It’s accidental, a stupid move that freezes you in place, stops your hand from meeting the cut on her cheekbone.

Her pupils are blown wide with adrenaline, the black carving out her irises until all that’s left is thin brown rings. And still they’re captivating. Emily shakes her head, tongue darting over her lip. “Honey, talk to me.” She says desperately.

You exhale a short breath through your nose. “What do you want me to say?” You murmur, dropping your eyes from hers and focusing your attention on cleaning her wound. The skin scrunches beneath your touch as she winces; guilt stabs you in the chest. Your heartbeat quickens, the pace of it making your hands shake. Briefly, ever so briefly, your eyes fall closed.

You can’t do this. Fuck, you can’t, not when it’s her.

“I already asked you what happened and you didn’t answer.” You toss the wipe away. Looking down, you take a moment to breathe in before grabbing the antiseptic ointment. She’s fine now, you try to remind yourself. Mostly. At least she’s in one piece.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that.” Emily says. Her fingers find your chin; she pinches it gently and tilts your face up, to her tentative smile. It tugs at the cut in her lip. “I’m fine now.”

You can’t tell if it’s profiling or if she can genuinely read your mind.

An exasperated breath parts your lips. “You have a skewed definition of fine.” You huff, dabbing ointment on her cut. Emily’s lashes flutter closed, a frown digging its way between her brows. You bite down on your lips, immediately hating yourself. “Hurts?” You ask quietly.

“Mmm,” she doesn’t verbally confirm nor deny. It’s answer enough. By the time you peel a bandage and are placing it over her cheek she’s opened her eyes. “Maybe you can kiss it better?”

“You’re bleeding.” You say flatly.

“Babe,” she murmurs, frowning as if you’re being unreasonable, “don’t be like that.”

Her too calm tone sparks fire in your blood.

“Like what?” You bite out. “Like someone whose girlfriend is beaten and bloody because of god knows what trouble she was in? How exactly do you want me to act, Emily?”

“Girlfriend?”

You falter. “W-What?”

Emily grins stupidly. “You called me your girlfriend.” Her eyes glitter.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. It knocks over the guilt, the nausea, swarms of butterflies crowding your lungs. God, what are you, fifteen?

You huff out a flustered breath. “Well, aren’t you?”

You’d had this conversation weeks ago. Not over an intimate, candlelit dinner; rather Emily had found romance in the early morning light of her bedroom. Body warm over yours, she’d grabbed your sleep-pliant hand, murmured into your knuckles if you would be her partner, let her be your girlfriend.

It had taken a few slow blinks of your eyes, chasing the blurriness from your vision and sharpening her tentative silhouette, before you’d said yes.

“I am. It’s just the first time you’ve called me that.” Emily’s arm goes around your waist. Her smile is transcendent and bloody.

“Don’t try to distract me,” you rub at your temple. “I’m still mad.”

“I’m fine,” she says quietly. Her fingers squeeze your side. “Cross my heart.”

The childish promise makes you huff out a humorless laugh. It thins out quickly, dissolves into the air between the two of you.

“You can’t look me in the eye and honestly tell me you’re fine, Emily.” You sigh. This close, you can’t help yourself. You gently cup her jaw, your thumb just shy of the broken skin at her bottom lip. It’s wet with fresh blood, the cut deepening with her careless smiles.

Emily gives you another one. You internally wince, wishing she’d stop. “Okay, well, I’m banged up.” She murmurs, leaning into your hand and blinking long lashes at you. “At least I have you to stitch me back together.”

Stupidly, thoughtlessly, your heart jumps. With no regard for the violence on Emily’s face or the complete lack of privacy of the scene around you. It’s basically your first meeting, reincarnated.

“And if I wasn’t here?” You mumble half heartedly, beginning to crack under her persistent flirtations. “Do you flirt with all your EMT’s or just me?”

Emily gives you a soft smile, a dizzying flash of dimples. “Just you, sweetheart. Only ever you.”

The saccharine drip of her voice only makes you feel more like shit. Here she is, actually, physically hurting, and taking the brunt of your sour attitude because you couldn’t stand seeing it for yourself. You don’t know how she wipes the pain almost clear from her voice, how she can brave injuries that make you squirm at the thought of bearing them yourself, but somewhere beneath all the worry, there’s awe.

“That’s reassuring,” you say lamely. You give her fingers a squeeze, attempting to convey what your dry tone can’t as you lean away. “Just please don’t get so banged up next time.” Reaching for another patch of gauze, you gently press it to her bottom lip. Her knee bumps into yours. “You do already have my attention, y’know.”

A whole lot of it. Who are you kidding, probably all of it is hers.

Emily tucks the gauze into the corner of her mouth. “Like to have it at all times.” She mumbles.

You shake your head, breathing out a slow breath through your nose as the corner of her lip turns up. The ring of bruises around her eye has darkened into purple, capillaries bursting in blooms to chase away the unblemished expanse of her skin. It’s a terrible contrast, unmistakably stark and dripping violence. Still, you try your best not to shy away from her gaze.

“Will you come home with me?” Emily asks again.

You’re nodding before you know it. “Yeah, baby. Is that okay?” It’s a miracle she still wants you around after your wretched demeanor.

“That’s a stupid question, Y/N.” She says, so bluntly a laugh is forced from your lungs. It bubbles past your lips, making Emily’s smile stretch into a beam.

“Don’t fucking do that,” you scold, grimacing when fresh blood soaks the bandage. “God, you’re an idiot.”

“Your idiot girlfriend.”

It’s no use trying to staunch the blood. Her grin is so wide you discard the gauze and reach for her jaw instead of another one.

When you finally kiss her, the metallic taste of her blood flooding your mouth, you know you’re in too deep.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi@temilyrights @professorsapphic

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fics #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss blurb #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #fic #divider by saradika #emt!reader

337 notes · View notes

silknspice · 1 day ago

Text

GOOD FOR THE HEART

country! vi x reader fluff, angst, smut (18+), slow(?)burn, wc. 13.6k

synopsis: an intimate bond forms between an ill farmer's daughter, desperate for a taste of the outside world, and the helpful part-timing cowgirl at the farm. OR vi wants you bad, and what better way to get to know you than sneak you around town?

content warnings: illness, NOT read over, foul language, smut so mdni/18+, fingering r!receiving, controlling parent, health worries, fainting, slight insecurity, emotional rollercoaster but a fun one!!

Vi could strip naked right here, right now.

And with her well known spontaneous personality, she would. Especially under the hundred degree heat that preys upon her and forces the girl’s freckled skin to glisten. But a: she’s with her siblings (enough said), and b: she’s working outdoors at the Laurier’s farm. Meaning only a handful of yards away, tucked in that blue, yellow, and white idyllic house covered with blooming botanical life, stands Mr. Laurier’s orphic daughter.

That’s all Violet’s ever heard about you, from children playing on the street to adults roaming the town shops. Ever since her adoptive father suggested she take this summer job before she goes back to focusing on her college work. Ever since her siblings and family friend jumped to tag along after Mr. Laurier decided ‘the more the merrier’.

All that’s been filling Violet Lane's ears is information about you, or, the lack thereof. How you’re always locked up in that big residence. How you used to roam the town just like any other little rascal until five years ago, at the age of thirteen, when something out of her knowledge occurred. How stunning you look in a sundress. She tried to block that one out.

“Why is it that Mylo’s drivin’ the tractor and not me?” Powder complains, pulling her clenched hand from the bag of chicken feed and tossing it on the ground for the horde to gobble.

“Last time you tried to drive something I started praying.” Ekko throws out. His bun shaped hair bobbles as he finally pulls that one stubborn carrot from the ground and places it in the basket.

“Besides Pow,” Violet starts, lifting a heavy brown box onto her shoulder and cradling it with just one arm. “You’re doin’ fine taking care of the animals. Mylo would be scaring them to death.” The pink haired girl sighed out, looking around.

Her gaze landed on the decorated porch, and she pursued. Vi set the last of the boxes down with a soft grunt before straightening her back and lifting her arms, clasped at the fingers, over her head to get a well-deserved stretch.

The worker’s completely regretting her chosen position as the door swings open, and she looks heaven right in the eyes.

You stand there in a white lace sundress covered in a juicy red pattern of cherries, a smile sweet enough to give a sugar high plastered on your stunning face. Vi’s gaze flickers down to your feet covered by red country boots. Above those are your soft looking hands holding a gift basket. When she’s done examining you, her blue-gray eyes trail their way back to yours– and it’s like whiplash. Once again, she’s blinded by those pearly whites and the tasty perfume radiating off of you. God help me, is the only phrase filling her mind because damn you’re ethereal.

“Hi there, cowgirl.” You’re going to send Vi into cardiac arrest with just your voice. Thankfully, she realizes she needs to respond, and quickly wipes the dopey grin (that she wasn’t aware she had) off of her face.

It’s not like everything is peaches and cream on your end. The girl’s tight white t-shirt is grasping onto her glistening biceps, her pretty bright eyes and the freckles that decorate her nose make her look blessed by the sun, and seeing such a beautiful yet handsome woman in a cowboy hat is doing foreign things to your stomach. ‘Wow’, is all your wandering mind formulates.

“Hi there, miss Laurier,” she copies you in her lower voice, and you notice the slit on her lip as it curls up into a soft smirk. You shake your head at her words with a polite smile, insisting she call you by your name, which you offer up. She repeats it once perfectly, claiming it ‘rolls right off the tongue’, and you crack a smile.

“My father informed me that you’re the new help around here for the summer, so I decided to bake somethin’ for the five of you.” You’re sticking out the basket, decorated with a pink bow on top, for Vi to take. She does and quickly takes a peek inside. Five snickerdoodle cookies and one large cherry pie. You do stay on theme, and so, it starts.

“Thank you, cherry.” she cracks a smile that sends a shock down your body, and gently tips her hat.

Fourteen searing days pass on that farm, days filled with laughter, hard work, and the smell of life from the surrounding plants.

But not for you.

For each of those fourteen days, for the past one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days, you’ve sat sideways in your window with your back against one side and your legs propped up on the wood. You read, journaled, book pressed flowers (that you had to sneak out front to get), took much needed resting breaks, tended to your pet lamb Daisy, and watched Footloose. Your sock-covered feet subtly shuffled side to side as if you were mimicking their dance moves in your head.

Vi watched as you sat there all those days in your open window. Half of your body out in the fresh air and half cooped back up inside like the past five years of your life. It was as if you yearned to experience life completely outside the window, but you couldn’t. And so, you completed your daily activities the furthest away you could get.

Until your eighteenth birthday came along.

“Lord, can you focus instead of stalking your ‘cherry’,” Ekko mimics the pinkett’s voice with the last two words, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Bet she wants to pop her cherry.” Mylo snickers at his own joke, earning a slap to the nape from Claggor.

“Last warning Mylo. Don’t talk about her like that.” she replies firmly, furrowed brows making a little scowl.

Claggor shakes his head softly, letting the tension between his siblings diffuse before speaking. “You know, you should do something other than just stare at her all day. It’s getting sad.”

“Like?” the cowgirl responds with crossed arms.

“Ask her to hang out, obviously.” Powder pipes up, petting a sheep as she prepares to guide it inside the barn. “She’s always lookin’ so lonely. Swear the only time she smiled this past week was when you complimented her on those blackberry muffins she baked us.”

“You know she’s not supposed to come out, Laurier said so. Pretty sure that’s why she stays upstairs, can’t even come out on the porch when we’re here no more.” Violet huffs.

“You think he thinks we’re a bad influence on her?” Ekko ask in confusion. Because truth be told, no one knew why you stayed locked up in that bright house, like a princess trapped in a tower. People knew better than to ask your father, and of course, they couldn’t get to you. Maybe it was time for someone to be your knight in shining armor.

“Doesn’t matter, he’s not even here right now.” Mylo insists.

So, after a long back and forth conversation of weighing the possibilities, Violet’s shoved over to the shrubs in front of your second story window. You notice her when she’s there (you’ve been sneaking glances at her every so often), shifting your position so that you can look down on her as she calls out your name.

“Afternoon, cowgirl,” you coo, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Hey there, angel,” she simply replies with that signature smile, and your hands clench the frame you’re leaning on a bit tighter. “We’re done with the chores for today.”

“Oh. Well, get home safely.” you hum, eyes dropping in what Vi hopes is discontent, because her next words will cheer you right up.

“Actually, we’re not headed home just yet. The five of us are headed out into the woods over there for a little.. chat." The glowing sunlight illuminates her face as she nods her head to Mylo, who’s allowing the brown paper bag to peek out of his backpack and into your vision. Alcohol. “Would you wanna come with us? Won’t take up too much of your time, I promise.” she asks with a cool voice but a pounding, fearful heart.

No.

Or at least, that’s what you were supposed to say. It’s what you’d normally say. As much as your ill heart ached to connect with others, as much as you wanted to venture out of your home, as much as this strawberry-haired helper made you want to explore new things you’d only ever seen in movies, your answer always had to be no.

But, unbeknownst to the others, today was your birthday. You had cautiously lived another year, and instead of feeling fulfilled, you only wonder how many you have left.

You wanted to live, not survive.

You stared in contemplation before backing up, shutting the window and rushing out of the girl’s sight.

Vi dropped her head down to the shrubs in front of her. It’s over. She blew it.

“You scared her!” Ekko teased, making the girl whip her head around to show an angry stare. But the displeased expression faded faster than it formed when the creaking of that back door met her ears, and Powder gasped in joy and disbelief.

“Lead the way.”

The walk along the trail of the woods to a more secluded area with cut wood stumps as seats was anything but quiet. Powder was talking your ear off about everything mechanic she worked on, treating you like you were from the middle ages rather than just sheltered. Claggor and Mylo were leading, causing the group numerous wrong turns and unplanned ‘shortcuts’ (they’d gotten lost along the way). Vi walked with Ekko on her left, quietly pumping her up and giving her the confidence she’d need to ‘make her move’.

But despite the various noises, she couldn’t hear anything. Because strolling to her right was you, the girl she’s been infatuated with since first glance. She’s trying to be discreet, examining the way your hair falls, your scent, the way you press your lips together in thought before answering a question. It took the platinum blonde boy next to her elbowing her side before she came back to the real world.

“I call first sip,” Powder squeaks, to which Violet scoffs, making a quip about how she’s only sixteen and scolding anyone who attempts to offer her the bottle. The bluenette brings up the fact that the others aren’t even the legal drinking age either, but it’s shut down because ‘an adult is an adult’.

“We’ll bring a juice box for you next time.” Mylo smirks, taking a long drag from the bag before offering it out to you.

Despite the soft urge, you shake your head, because you know your limits. Your heart’s limits. Despite the fact that you’re ignoring the sweatiness of your palms and feeble limbs.

Mylo hums. “Two juice boxes, then.”

“Mylo–” Vi scolds, finally coming out of her trance.

But her anger is cut short at the sound of a hearty chuckle coming from your mouth. And it’s the first time Vi’s ever heard you laugh. Genuinely laugh. It’s enough to bring stars to her already-bright eyes.

The conversation continues as the sun and clouds pass by. Eventually, the others are in a heated debate about the best character in some film you’ve never heard of, leaving you and Violet to shyly shift your attention towards each other.

“I’m glad you came. I noticed you.. don’t get out much?” Her tone is the gentlest it’s ever been.

“I’m glad you invited me.” You easily avert her indirect question. It eats you alive, the want to tell her everything about you. How you have a “bad heart” as your father gently put it, and now you live your days mundanely so as to not risk triggering anything fatal. But the desire to live just one day in normalcy is stronger, and so you change topics.

“You have very big muscles. I like them. Is that why you do most of the lifting things rather than herding cattle and such, like other cowgirls?”

Vi feels her cheeks get toasty at the compliment and your almost-awkward forwardness. But you can’t help it, you’ve hardly had conversations with anyone but your father the past few years, let alone a handsome girl so close in age. It doesn’t matter much though, because Vi loves it.

“Not a real cowgirl. I’m only good for lifting what others can’t.” She chuckles a bit. “I just happen to own a horse— and I wear the hat of course… maybe the belt’s a little cowgirl-like too, but that’s all.”

You smirk because that makes her a cowgirl in your book, but you politely hum and say nothing.

The girl shifts her position to turn towards you more, and you swear your heart stops when one of her manspread knees leans against your crossed ones and makes no attempt to move. She examines your behavior, and when she sees the ghost of a smile on your lips, she leans on her opened legs slightly to get more comfortable.

“So what do y’ do in that big house all day, angel? Must get lonely.”

These nicknames are doing terribly good things to you.

You hum. She’s completely correct, but the last thing you want is for her to pity you. “Bake a lot, shop in the catalogs, watch movies, write in my books.” You shrug. “Oh, and I take care of my Daisy girl.” A smile graces your perfect lips.

“That your dog? Never seen her around,” she asked with questioning brows.

“No,” you giggle, sending Vi into heaven. So beautiful. “It’s my lamb.”

A beat passes before she responds, a glint in her eye. “So I should be calling you Bo Peep?” she jokes.

You laugh, knocking your knees against hers in playful scolding. Simple words, simple touches, a simple gathering that may be day to day life for anyone else in the town. But for you, this was the best thing to happen in years.

“Daisy’s a sweet name, matches her sweetheart of an owner.” she compliments you, and you graze your hand over your heart because you can’t decipher why it’s speeding up. “We sound real rugged compared to you. Our dog’s name is Rusty. Powder ch–”

“Hey!”

A deep, raspy voice calls out from behind you. A few of you whip your heads around to see the source of the noise, whereas others stand out of shock as the man comes into your sight. “What are y’all doing on my property? Get over here!” He’s moving quickly towards the group, and Ekko’s the first to move his feet.

“Time to go,” Vi says hastily, standing. Without thinking, she takes your hands and pulls you to a stand. “You a good runner?”

No. I don’t know. I haven’t had anywhere to run in years.

That’s what you should’ve said, but as stated earlier, a life of normalcy for today. And so, you lie.

“Sure– yes, yes.”

Vi nods at that, tightening her grasp on one of your hands as she rushes to exit along with the others. Your hands stay intertwined as the pair of you dash through the greenery, avoiding unfriendly hanging branches, jumping over logs, and ducking under leaves.

You’re terrified. The same glistening sweat that forms in your clammy hands makes another appearance on your forehead. A prickle crawls its way up your throat, and suddenly you’re hacking into your elbow as the cowgirl guides you close to her body while you near the edge of the woods. Your little red problem pounds against your chest as if it’s begging you to stop, to give up before it does, but you can’t.

The man moves quickly, but he’s no match for adolescents of the countryside. By the time you reach the fields of your farm, he’s nowhere to be found.

Powder’s hollering and cheers of victory sound broken, doubling and distilled, coupled with a soft ringing sound and pressure around your head that only grows the longer you stand. The only thing you can hear clearly is your quick panting. That deep red blood is draining from your head and blazing heat is left in its place.

A blurry and distant Violet comes into your impaired vision, and you feel the soft sensation of her cupping your face with worried hands. “Cherry?”

Your mind’s swirling with thousands of sensations, and your terrified breaths grow increasingly shallow until you can’t fight to stay awake any longer, falling into the arms of Vi. There’s yelling, someone scooping you up into their protective arms, orders being thrown around as you’re rushed towards the house, then silence. Complete and utter silence.

The female lead is on your screen twirling and rolling her hips with glee for the third time this week, and you wonder if you'll get a chance to dance like that.

It’d been three days since you fainted after running from the farmer down the trail, three days since you’ve seen Violet (or any of the farm helpers), and three days since you’ve felt that inexplicable warmth in the pit of your stomach.

While you rendered unconscious, Vi and the others scrambled to get your limp body inside. They laid you out on your bed, arguing about whether or not to call for help, because they had no clue what was wrong with you.

Of course, you woke up a couple minutes later as you always do. You were confused and terrified, but strictly instructed to rest by the friends who promised they’d stay until your father arrived. Fatigued even more than normal, you complied.

When your father arrived home an hour later, he stumbled upon Powder placing an ice pack on your sleeping head, Claggor and Mylo pacing the room in worry, Ekko attempting to research what exactly would have caused your current state, and Violet looking sick to her stomach as she cradled your soft hands in her rough ones; praying to whoever’s up there that you’d be fine.

Needless to say, once they’d confessed to leaving for the woods and running back (leaving out every bit alcohol related), he’d been beyond furious, placing you on total lockdown for recovery and demanding the helpers avoid the farm for a couple of days. After you’d gotten your medication in you and recovered after a full day of rest, he chewed you out too. ‘You know I’m just trying to keep you safe.’

But you didn’t want safe anymore, you wanted life.

And Violet walked right through your front door. Literally.

The pinkette runs a hand through her fluffy hair before securing the cowboy hat back on her head. Her eyes are searching the house for the kitchen when they land on you, and a wave of relief washes over her.

“Hi, angel.”

Your heart speeds up, and this time, you don’t need to question it.

“Hi Violet,” you coo shyly, standing from your comfy position on the couch and making your way over to her, hands clasped behind your back.

She wastes no time cradling your face in her calloused fingers, the pair of your soft breaths filling the silence as the girl looks over you, finishing her personal assessment before swiping a thumb across your cheek in gentle comfort.

“I was so worried about you,” the whisper fell from her lips without shame.

“I’m fine, really.” you speak in the same tone, leaning into her sweet hand.

“No, you’re not.” That catches you off guard. “When your father saw what happened he panicked, said something about your heart and thought you were…” she let your mind fill the blank with a glint of pain in her blue-gray eyes. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Your eyes drop to the floor, and before you have time to think about it, you speak. “I’m sick. The bad kind of sick that doesn’t just go away after a couple days.” you can’t look her in the eyes as you speak, just placing a finger to your chest. “I have a ‘bad heart’, as my father puts it. Don’t have a lot of energy, can’t do much without getting too overwhelmed, dizzy spells and such..”

You expect to see a crack in Vi’s sweet eyes, a sign of distaste, of regret for caring about a broken girl, but her gaze only softens and a tender hand moves a piece of hair from your face.

“That why you’re cooped up in here?” she asks, even though she knows the answer. You nod.

It’s silent for some time, and the two of you enjoy the other’s presence in such a milestone moment.

“I have somethin’ for the five of you,” you finally speak, pulling from her affectionate grasp. She nods, wiping the worry she feels in the pit of her stomach away so that she can be there for you. You stroll into the kitchen with the cowgirl behind you, opening and rummaging around the fridge as she takes a needed seat at the marble island.

She looks over your attire. A big bright red sweater hangs off your shoulders that covers your shorts, and a white bow in your hair that brings a smile back to her face.

You turn back around, setting down a tiffany blue cupcake platter and perfectly made white-frosted cupcakes with a purple design in the middle. You then pull out some tupperware, transferring cupcakes into it as Vi speaks.

“They’re Violets,” she says in surprise and you giggle, only nodding your head.

Marry me she thinks, before coming up with something more plausible to say. “Is this what you’re studying in college? You're gonna be a chef or somethin’ angel?”

You pause before barely shaking your head. “Not goin’ to college this year.. my father says I need a gap year before ‘making any big decisions’,” you scoff, because the truth is he just can’t let you go. “Worries me though. He won’t go out and buy me any textbooks or anything, I’m gonna go stupid.” you whine.

Vi presses her lips together, clearly sharing your discontent with the situation.

“Well, I know you’ll do great when you go. There’s already a strong brain in that pretty head of yours,” she grins.

A smile forms against your will as you look up at the girl.

“You think I’m pretty, Violet?’

She responds quickly, like the words spilled out of her heart rather than being formulated in her head. “I think you’re gorgeous. Whoever’s up there took their time making you.”

Comfortable silence ensues as the room’s filled with pounding hearts and warm faces of passion. Finally, you finish packing up Vi’s cupcakes and place the box in front of her. She thanks you, looking to the side in thought before an idea flickers across her face.

The girl rises, lifting the hat from her head and leaning over the marble to place it atop your surprised head. She doesn’t wait for your reaction as she picks up the cupcake box and a wooden crate from the ground (what she should’ve been doing in the first place). “Keep that safe for me until tomorrow, cherry.”

“But isn’t tomorrow your day off?” you ask, flicking the front of the hat so it’s above your eyes.

“Yeah. I’m coming to see you tomorrow.”

The sun couldn’t set and rise fast enough.

You waited in so much anticipation that you woke up an hour earlier, practically shoved your father out of the house with his breakfast, and spent any extra time at a mirror fixing an out of place hair or switching your outfit for the fifth time.

You don’t know why you do– why you care so much. But before you can think too hard on it, the sound of someone pulling into your driveway blesses your ears and there’s six soft knocks at the front door.

And so it starts with you and Vi seated on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Your backs lean against the lower portion of the soft matter, and Vi pulls out a book. Four books, to be exact. One for each core subject.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, looking from the pile of literature to the fluffy haired girl.

“I was thinkin’ I'd bring some textbooks to you since you can’t get ‘em yourself. I’m in my second year now so I won’t be needin’ these ones anymore.” She somehow speaks with both suave confidence and warm-faced fear in unison. “We could make it a thing, y’know. Preparing for classes together.”

“Yes!” You speak with starstruck orbs.

Violet laughed with relief, because if she had to be completely honest, that wasn’t the only reason she was here. She didn’t need this time to prepare, maybe a quick refresh before the year started, but she definitely didn’t need to be studying during summer. But if it gave her a chance to connect with you, she’d study until her brain burst.

The helpers’ off days were Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. So that’s when Violet would pack her books, hop in her truck, and haul ass to your farm. Each session was the same. You’d start out in comfortable silence reading your separate texts and answering questions or jotting notes down, then Violet would make a stupid joke about a picture in the book or get sidetracked by your bookshelf of dvds in front of her, and minutes later the room would be filled with fits of laughter, fuzzy brains, and your books completely discarded.

“‘Dirty dancing’? Damn cherry, your father know you watch this stuff?” Vi grins, sliding the movie case back into its spot along the brown wooden shelf.

“It’s not that kinda movie, Violet. It’s like.. set in the sixties.” you huff, holding back a smile at her playful words. The pinkette takes her seat next to you on the couch, manspread legs and a cunning smirk just inches away from your face.

“And what exactly is ‘one of those movies’, doll?” she teases.

You scoff.

“I’m sheltered, not stupid.” you play, a soft hand coming up to push against the girl’s arm.

Something flickers across the pinkette’s face before suddenly, she’s on top of you.

You’re pushed onto your back against the plush couch as pure muscle weighs above you, powerful hands swirl at your waist before your laughter fills her ears and your hand shoots out to grab at one of her arms. The pair of you struggle for power, pushing back and forth, twisting bodies, and yelling out competitive quips.

Finally, you smush the palm of your hand against Violet’s face, momentarily stunning her before the stronger girl grabs both of your wrists and pins them right above your head.

Soft panting and awestruck eyes decorate the both of you. The air is tighter, every inch of your body is suddenly aware of your positions, and no words are exchanged as you savor the feeling of her touch. God you feel weak, but you don’t know whether to place the reasoning on Violet or your heart.

Violet’s about to lose it, because with the way your sweet eyes are trailing up her body to her face, her heart is clear.

She wants– no, craves you. Bad.

It’s quiet for a moment longer before Vi clears her throat, reluctantly letting go of your wrists while moving back to stand.

“We deserve a study break.” the cowgirl hums, crouching and examining the lower levels of the bookshelf.

“We haven’t even been studying,” you throw back and fix your skirt while sitting up. Vi finds the record she’s been searching for, pulls it from its sleeve, and adjusts the player.

“Okay smart ass, we deserve a break.” she grins and the stylus hits the circular item.

A soft, sensual song makes its way through the air. It’s older, a woman singing softly about her lover’s perfection, and you warm at the thought of a special someone fantasizing about you to the tune.

Vi stands in the middle of the spacious room, and when you don’t move she waves her arm. “C’mere.”

You stand (a little quicker than you should’ve), and make your way over. She wastes no time, gently moving one of your hands to her shoulder and intertwining fingers with your other. As for your free hand, she tenderly places it on your waist, looking for any discomfort in your face. All she’s met with is big eyes of wonder and god, she’s screwed.

“Just follow my lead.” she’s speaking sensually under the music, thumb rubbing at your waist.

“Oh please, I could dance circles around you.” you quip.

“I’m sure you could, doll. But it’s a slow dance, so we work together.” Your bodies move closer as she speaks, making you smile and lose the sassy attitude for a moment. Just a moment.

Angelic vocals encase the two of you. There are only sounds of that and gentle side steps before you speak once more.

“Did you know it was my birthday?” You stare straight into her eyes.

“Wait, what?”

“The day we went to the woods. Is that why you asked me to come? Because it was my birthday?” you tilt your head.

She blinks twice before huffing a laugh. “No, I didn’t know. This mean I made you faint and get in trouble with your pops as a present?”

You smile to yourself at the coincidence, holding her hand a bit tighter.

“Have you danced with someone like this before?” she asks.

You shake your head before pausing. “Well, once with my mother, but I was very little.”

Vi’s eyes soften a bit more. “Is she..?”

You nod. “It happened when I was eleven. She had the same problem as me, that’s why he’s so protective.” Your voice is soft as you refer to your father. “I understand him, I really do, but I’m just so tired of being separate from the world.”

The girl can only nod, the hand around your waist snakes around to your back and pulls closer until your bodies are almost plush against each other.

“Thank you for trusting me with that,” she whispers. And suddenly, there’s soft giggles. You’re laughing because the tough, suave cowgirl you know can be such a sap.

Your laughter dies down and you shake your head before placing it between the crook of Vi’s neck, softening into your sappy cowgirl. “Talk to me about something good,” you hum.

“I’m takin’ you out on a date Friday.”

Your eyes widen and you pull your head back to look her in the eyes.

She stammers and mentally groans because you’re the only one who could ever make Violet Lane stammer. “Well– if you say yes.”

No.

That’s what you’re supposed to say, and what you should say. Not because of your father’s influence, not for your safety, but because you’re afraid. Afraid of the trouble you could get Vi into, of dealing with the unknown, but most importantly you were afraid of hurting her.

While you aren’t bedridden, your life is fragile, and the thought of being a burden to Vi was heavy and present. How long could she stand you until she got tired of your neediness? How long until she’s tired of hearing about all the things you can’t do? She’s spontaneous, reckless, fun, and you thought she deserves to end up with someone just like that. Someone you’re not.

But right now, you want her, and she needs you, so you give her what you can.

“Of course,” you agree with a genuine, toothy smile, and the pinkette sighs of relief.

The song finally comes to a stop.

For the first time, you’re glad your father works all day long, because there’s no way you could sneak someone as loud as Powder around your house.

Her squeals of embarrassment and your laughter echo from the kitchen throughout every room of your home. Your canvases and paints are neglected as you point an accusatory finger at a message on her screen. A message from ‘Ekko <3’.

“I knew it! The way you talk to each other– ‘Oh Ekko! You’re just so smart,’” you mock her, making the girl’s face change colors faster than you’ve ever seen.

“I do not say things like that!” She yells back, making you giggle harder. “And we aren’t dating.”

“Why not?” you whine. You clasp your hands as if a plea is about to fall from your lips when a ding rings throughout the room. You look down and gasp. A message from ‘Lux <3’.

You pause, eyes flickering to the girl. “Do you have everyone saved with a heart?”

She shakes her head.

“Just those two?”

She nods.

“Oh, this is just like the movies!” Your laughter repeats like a loop. The girl groans at you and moves her phone to the other end of the marble countertop. “I’m kidding– awhh, Powder!”

She shakes her head. “This conversation is all the way over.”

It takes a moment for your giggles to die down, and soon you’re nudging the bluenette’s shoulder with yours gently. “You’ll make the right decision, just don’t waste time overthinking it. Follow your heart.”

She raises her eyebrows, picking up her paintbrush. “I could give you the same advice.”

You scoff out a laugh, gaze landing on your taunting medications in the corner of a counter. “My heart is fighting itself. Wants two different things at once. Certainly can’t have both.”

“Then follow your mental heart, not your physical one.”

You pause, brows furrowing as you look at her with suspicious eyes. “Did Violet..”

Powder shakes her head before you can finish. “No. She can keep a secret, especially for you. I connected the dots on my own,” she shrugs, swiping an electric blue line across the clean canvas. “Y’know, the meds, how protective your father is. Once, on one of your bad days, I looked through a window and saw you sitting down a third of the way up the stairs looking all dizzy and breathless. You fainting just tied it all together,” she hums.

You burn holes into the ground with your utterly ashamed gaze.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, but you should live the life you want rather than being trapped in one you yearn to escape. And you can count on that big baby to protect you.” You let out a little laugh, nodding at the younger girl’s sweet words.

“Oh yeah, she wanted me to give you this. Dummy forgot it yesterday.”

Powder sets the brush down and rummages around her tote bag that lays on the counter, pulling out a tiny black velvet box and handing it to you before turning back to her self-proclaimed masterpiece.

Your heart swells in the best way possible, and you flick open the little clasp to reveal a thick golden ring with two red dots and a green leaf in the middle. It’s accompanied by a small white note with bright red writing.

‘Happy birthday, cherry.’

“I knew they were together!”

You stare out of the windows of Vi’s truck into the town square. Your gaze is fixed on Miss Medarda and Mister Talis, who are sitting suspiciously close to each other on a bench near one of the decorative fountains.

Vi fixes her dark brown hat as a laugh escapes her. “No way, he’s always chatting up this guy– one of the professors at U.P.” Vi refers to her college, and it takes you a second to understand.

“His hand was on her thigh, Violet. That was pure romance.”

Vi pauses, seemingly focused on the road ahead, but the lightbulb look behind her eyes that appears makes you think otherwise. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see who’s right.” she jokes after remembering she hadn’t responded.

Vibrant sunlight hits almost every inch of the truck and illuminates the town that passes by as the pinkette turns down a road surrounded by greenery. You spin the gifted ring on your finger once, then twice, out of nervousness. It’d been years since you left your house for anything but the doctor’s, let alone a date. A thousand and one possibilities whirled through your mind, but were quickly flushed out at the sound of Vi’s voice.

“I see you got your gift,” she smiles, eyes flicking away from the road down to your ring and back. “I like how it looks on you.”

She was skilled at putting up a flirtatious and unbothered front, because on the inside you had her absolutely melting. Out of all ten options, you chose to secure her gift on your left ring finger.

You’ll be the death of her, no doubt.

“It’s perfect,” you look over to her with hearts in your eyes. “Thanks, cowgirl.”

She nods, eyes flickering back down before she takes her right hand off of the wheel and down to thumb the end of your shorts. “I like these too, real damn pretty.”

You giggle, and somehow the swarm of butterflies in your gut doubles in size, because instead of returning to the wheel, the girl’s hand is delicately placed onto your inner thigh. Her calloused hands gently cup your skin, and she’s grateful you can’t read minds because she’s terrified of your potential reaction.

You can’t fight the smile that crawls its way onto your warm face. The only thought that runs through your mind is how this is even better than the movies.

“Well I hope I’m dressed well enough for whatever we’re doing today. Wish you woulda told me.” You finally reply, softening under her touch. You swear you hear her let out a little sigh of relief.

“That’d ruin the surprise. I’ve gotta wow you.” she sends you a wink and your laughter fills the car with joy.

It doesn’t take long until you’re pulling into the driveway of Violet’s house. It’s beautiful, all brown and white with flowers out front that Powder planted herself, high school graduation yard signs, and fresh open space. Still, a panicked look sets on your face.

“Wait, wait, Vander’s gonna see me– he’ll tell my dad,” you stammer.

Vi cuts the engine, gently taking a hold of your chin to redirect your gaze as she speaks reassuringly. “Hey, hey. He’s not here you worrywart, won’t be home until late tonight.” Your eyes soften and you sigh. “Besides,” she starts, “we’re going over there.”

Just past the house is a matching white and brown barn-esque building. Stables.

“She’s so big!” you yell with awestruck eyes as Vi pulls the red roan out of the stables by the lead. “What’s her name? When’d you get her? Wow I’ve never seen one of these up close, mama was afraid of ‘em and my father doesn’t ride.” You speak at rapid fire making Violet snicker.

“Slow down,” she instructs, standing between you and the hairy beauty. The girl takes your hand, placing it on the horse’s shoulder, giving you the okay to pet. “Her name’s Gunner, she was my fifteenth birthday present, and I can’t imagine your pops getting anywhere near a horse.” You playfully hit her with your unoccupied hand.

“Gunner,” you whisper, “badass.”

Vi chuckles, because swearing sounds so foreign to you.

“You ready?” She asks, slipping her black riding helmet on your head.

“Wait, what?”

“You think I brought you here just to stare at her?” she smirks, completely mesmerized by your face while tightening the straps of the protective gear. “We’ll go slow this time, I promise. Okay?”

The promise of this happening again makes your heart flutter, and all of the gears in your brain stop spinning before you respond, “Okay.”

She helps you onto Gunner, patting the small of your back before hopping up right behind you. Her warm arms snake around your waist and grab hold of the reins in her hands. Her muscular front is smushed against your back, her head placed inches to the right of yours.

“Now, gently squeeze his middle with your calves,” she instructs.

You obey, and the red roan begins its walk. It’s slow, peaceful, but such a new experience to you that a sweet gasp of surprise falls from your lips.

The two of you sit in silence, appreciating the comfort of each others’ presence and warm golden light shining upon you as the beauty of nature captures you. In the green pasture of Vi’s fields, you feel like you’re breathing for the first time in five long years.

Gunner simply walks for a few minutes as you point out pretty flowers that you pass and Violet mentally compiles a bouquet for you. Vi’s talking about her years as a kid in this field. When she’d lost (and found) her favorite toy bunny out here, or dared Mylo to walk through the vast field at the dead of night. Suddenly you’re begging to see some baby photos.

It’s at this moment that everything’s easy. Vi’s admiring everything about you with eyes of love when–

Gunner’s neigh sounds like a shriek of terror when three birds zip past, spooking the roan into a 180 and bolt away before Vi can make it out of her trance.

You yelp from the sudden change in speed, almost slipping off of the animal, but Vi’s there to keep you securely fastened against her as she takes control of it. Just as fast as it changed, Gunner’s speed slows to a stop. You can feel just how tense Vi is as she speaks.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, doll. She gets spooked so easily and– god, I’m sorry for scarin’ you.”

It’s silent for a moment. The scariest moment of the pink haired girl’s life, because she can’t see your twinkling grin that spreads from ear to ear before you laugh.

“That was so cool!” you beam, leaning forward to pat at the horse. “Not so badass though, huh?”

After a few more apologies and you repeatedly telling Vi that it was fine, you two decided it was best to turn in for the day.

You sigh, sitting against the short wooden fence. “I wanna rest for a minute, that okay?” ‘I need to take a rest, I don’t have any energy’ is what you actually mean, but you choose not to worry her.

She wastes no time plopping down onto the grass next to you, eyes raising to the baby blue sky. She gives you a few moments of silence, sneaking glances at your face every so often, before speaking.

“Powder and Claggor were talking about how awesome it’d be if we took you to a Seraphine concert. Think you’d like her music a lot.” she hums, smiling to herself.

“And one day, I'm gonna take you line dancing so we can settle our little debate once and for all.” Her grinning face is inches away from you and her overpowering scent of amber and musk ensues.

“Oh really?” Your voice is soft as your head turns, looking Violet up and down with half-lidded eyes. “I think..”

You quickly mount Vi’s lap, pushing the girl onto her back and pinning those muscular arms right beside her head with both of your hands. You’re both all giggles and grunts, and even though there’s no way you’d stand a chance against her in a real tussle, she lets you win.

You lay there, one atop the other in a field of colors. The tension is so thick that not even a knife could cut it, and your grip softens when tender hands reach up to cup your face, a thumb stroking your cheek. The sun, her hands, her sparkling blue eyes, and the love radiating between the two of you has you all but melting. You’re leaning down, inching closer each second, and just before Vi’s dreams come true, you stop.

You pull back with newly glossy eyes, dismounting the girl while whispering apologies that get lodged in your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You want nothing more than to connect your lips and hearts, but you were so afraid. How long until she resents you? How long until it’s over? You’d grown accustomed to heartaches, but never heartbreak.

But Violet craves you more than plants crave water, she needs you more than the Earth needs the sun. You just don’t know it.

“Hey,” she whispers, sitting up and holding your chin as if routine. “Look at me, angel.”

You comply with built up tears that threaten to stain your cheeks.

“You don’t have to apologize for something like that,” she consoles, never looking away from your softened eyes. “We can go as slow or as fast as you want, okay?”

You wipe your tears with the side of your hand, choking out your words. “I just– I don’t want to disappoint you.” I don’t want you to hate me once I’m gone.

“Disappoint me?” She stiffles out a laugh. “You don’t know how bad I want you. But I’ll wait until the end of time if you ask me to, hell, I’d lasso the moon and bring it down if you wanted.”

That makes you sniffle and let out a breathy laugh, bringing Violet some relief. The girl slowly inches forward to make sure you’re completely okay with it before placing a warmhearted kiss to your forehead. It’s quick and simple, but causes an eruption of butterflies in your gut. Soon, your troubles are forgotten.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“What’d I say about keeping this door open?” Vi raises a brow, leaning against the doorframe as she stares at an unbothered Powder who’s doing her mascara, and a flustered Ekko.

“Must’ve been the wind.” Powder mutters.

“She wouldn’t listen!” He raises his hands in innocence from his position on a neon pink beanbag.

It’s silent before the three burst out in laughter, and Vi’s shaking her head as they catch their breath.

“Hurry up though, we’re gonna be late to Laurier’s.”

“Not today, Vi.” Vander’s voice bellows from behind her, making her turn her head with furrowed brows. “He gave the five of you a day off.”

A smile graces Ekko’s lips and Powder is whooping in the back, but Vi’s lips drop into a subtle frown.

“Awhh,” Powder coos, “poor Vi doesn’t get to see her girlfriend today, how ever will she live?”

The teens snicker, but the pinkette notices the uneasy look on his face, the one where he has something to say but just can’t spit it out. “What?”

The burly man runs a hand across his beard with a sigh.

“His daughter.” The entire room pauses. “She's terribly ill today, bedridden. He’s staying home to watch over her so there’s no need for far–”

Vander doesn’t get to finish his explanation, because Vi’s pulling the keys from her pocket and rushing past him towards the front door.

It takes almost running three red lights and a long, torturous talk with your father about being able to speak to you just for an hour, but at your bedroom door stands Vi, taking off her hat to look at you with big worried eyes. “Cherry,” she calls out.

You feel absolutely horrendous.

Your breaths are shallow, your ankles feel swollen beyond belief (you thanked god Violet couldn’t see them from under the blanket), and your eyelids weighed a thousand pounds, threatening to drop from fatigue.

“What’s going on? What can I do?” she asks, wasting no time walking over to your pretty bed and taking a seat right next to you.

You shake your pillow-elevated head, laying on your side to face her with a soft smile. “Can’t do anything, it’s just a bad day.” You reach a hand out to grab her calloused one and intertwine your fingers. “Just glad you’re here.”

“How’d you get past my father?” you whisper, relaxing into the soft matter.

Vi huffs out a laugh, readjusting to lay down as she speaks. “Convinced him that I’m extremely knowledgeable in this area because I’m studying to be in the medical field. So he thought it’d be fine if I watched over you while he feeds the cattle.”

You giggle with a teasing look. “Oh yeah, what have you learned?”

“Cherries are good for the heart,” she says all ‘matter of fact’ like. “They have potassium and antioxidants to reduce inflammation.”

“I should be the one calling you cherry, then.” You hum. You don’t know how much it means to Vi to hear that she’s ‘good for you’.

It’s quiet again, and you spend time shamelessly looking over every inch of the girl’s face, landing on her powder-blue orbs. “You know, your children would have some beautiful eyes.”

“And yours would be beautiful all around,” there’s not a trace of doubt in her voice. “What would you name them?” She asks and throws out silly names as you look around in thought, “Batman? Lice? Maddie?”

“How is Maddie as bad as those names?”

“I just don’t like it!”

Your giggles fill the room before you shake your intertwined hand. “Maybe either.. Josie or Clementine? They sound.. warm. Safe.”

Vi nods, pulling you closer into her chest and draping an arm over you that cradles your back, “Josie it is.”

Your ears burn as you nuzzle into her. “And we’ll live in a big pretty house in the city, surrounded by noise and culture and life.” You wished so badly.

“We?” Vi asks.

“Me, Josie… and you.” You look up at her with the last of your body’s strength. “If you’ll join us.”

That spark in Violet’s stomach has grown to a full fire heating her body. Her dream girl’s lying in her arms, talking her ears off about their hypothetical future together, all while looking up at her with pupils blown wide as if she’s your knight in shining armor.

“Of course,” she agrees, “but we’ll have to bring Rusty and Gunner along.”

You snicker with a nod. “Sounds perfect.”

There’s a glint in the girl’s eyes as she trails her hand up your back to the soft skin of your face. “A pretty house, an adorable daughter, my rascal animals,” you let out a weak laugh, “and my pretty girl to share it all with.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Yours?” you tease.

“Yeah, mine.”

She’s tracing meaningless patterns on your neck with one hand while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear with the other. And god, whatever this feeling is it’s too good, too sweet, too sensual. Your waiting lips are slightly agape in awe, and it doesn’t take long before Vi whispers, “Can I?”

This time, ‘yes’ is the only word that pops into your brain and slips from your mouth as Vi’s lips crash into yours.

Her lips are melting into yours with so much intensity that it’s hard to keep up. You let her take the lead while your scents, minds, and tongues mix together in a bundle of passion. Her grip around you never loosens. Fingers thread through your hair, and her slightly chapped lips dread leaving yours, because your kisses are the air she needs to breathe.

A whine falls from you when she reluctantly pulls away from your sweet mouth, placing four chaste kisses on your cheeks, nose, and forehead.

“You need to rest,” she coos, peppering your forehead with another (much needed) kiss, and keeping the close proximity as her arms wrap around you. There’s no argument, because the adrenaline rush from her kiss is wearing off and that wave of exhaustion snakes its way back.

There you lay, bodies intertwined and souls tying as the sound of Vi’s healthy heartbeat lulls you to sleep.

Once you’re out, you stay sound asleep as Vi hesitantly leaves your bed.

You stay sound asleep as she trots downstairs where your father places weights of guilt upon her, claiming he knows you two have been sneaking around, and it’s her fault you’re in this current state.

You stay sound asleep as he demands she doesn’t return to the farm, permanently.

With every inch of your worn down heart, you hate Violet Lane.

And while deep down you know that’s not the slightest bit true, you still act like it.

When you woke up the next day, the birds singing and a beaming face as you skipped downstairs to hug your father good morning, the last thing you expected was to hear the all too confusing news that Vi had quit. Along with the rest of her siblings and friend just an hour after.

Unfortunately, you were none the wiser, and slowly sulked up the stairs and sank into your bed where you cried yourself back to sleep.

For the first couple days, it didn’t make sense. The way she looked at you with those big puppy dog eyes, her tender care, the ways she spoke to and about you, it all seemed so real. It had to be real.

On day three, you decided that acting was just one of her many skills.

By day four, you had it figured out, or so you thought. Vi was a flirtatious asshole who wanted nothing more than some street credit for kissing the untouchable, locked up, sick princess right under her overbearing father’s nose. Coming to and believing such a conclusion felt like a stab in the side, and the knife only twisted when you factored in the fact that the others must’ve known about this, which is why they left alongside her.

You thought you’d become accustomed to all of the heart pains in the world, but you were wrong.

Tears fell from your eyes like a waterfall until they grew dry, your baking pans yearned to be used but were shoved away into a cabinet, and what hurt the most was knowing your father was right for keeping you locked up all these years. You weren’t free, but you were safe.

Finally, on day five, you’re engulfed by the plush matter of your couch when there’s six knocks at the door and someone’s calling out for you: “Cherry?”

You scoff at her audacity.

When you storm over and yank open the door with the meanest glare Vi’s ever seen from the prettiest girl she knows, you’re met with Ekko leaning against your white picket fence with his arms crossed, Powder standing next to him with a worried face, Claggor and Mylo relaxed against Vi’s bright red truck, and said truck-driver right in front of you looking absolutely sick.

And you slam the door right in her backstabbing face.

“Seriously?” Vi huffs out, earning a stifled laugh and whistle from Mylo.

“Go away, Violet.” You yell through the door, voice the sternest she’s ever heard.

“Fuck no. What’s going on?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” you counter, back pressed against your barrier. “You got all that you wanted from me, and then you quit and disappear from my life. So why are you back, huh?”

You’re lucky you’re packed with pent up anger, because tears are bubbling in the corners of your eyes and yelling is the only thing keeping them from spilling over.

“What?” the pinkette's completely taken aback, because she has no clue what you’re on about.

“That’s not–” she sighs, lowering her voice before speaking. “I’ll never get enough of you. I’d take a thousand kisses and so, so much more if you’d let me, but that’s not why I see you, angel.”

Your eyes soften and hurt brows furrow because damn, she’s a good actress.

“And I didn’t quit. That afternoon when you fell asleep, your old man practically dragged me out of your house and fired me. Said I caused your symptoms to worsen. I thought I’d lay low for a few days– and believe me when I say these were the hardest days of my life, but I didn’t want to get you in any trouble.”

Your bottom lip is bitten red until you finally cave, creeping the door open just enough to show your face.

“You promise?” you ask, and Violet’s heart is aching.

“Cross my heart.” she replies.

That’s all it takes for you to swing the door open and jump into her arms. She stumbles back in surprise before applying the same force, arms wrapping around your waist as she melts into yours cradling her neck.

You’re sniffling, taking deep breaths before you speak. “Really thought you left me,” you croak out.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” she teases, placing a tender kiss on your forehead as you giggle and blink away tears.

“Now go get changed, we’re going out,” a grin tugs at the corner of her lips when your happy eyes make contact with hers. You blink, an idea flashing across your face, before pulling her inside by the wrist, yelling “just a minute!” to the others, before hastily shutting the door.

Violet’s eyes graze over every last atom of your body as your hips sway in front of her, babbling with Powder about who knows what, because she hasn’t been focused since you dragged her into your bedroom ‘innocently’ needing help with your outfit.

She stood in your doorway curiously, thinking she’d only be there for a second, maybe you’d never been to a rodeo and needed advice.

That was, until you paused at your walk in closet, a cheeky smirk on your lips that Vi desperately wanted to taste as you nod your head towards the bed. “Sit.”

And she obeyed, manspread legs at the edge of your bed as you walk infront of her with a few items on white hangers. All frills, lace, denim skirts and shorts, and Vi’s reasonably concluded she died and went to heaven.

“I could wear..” you shift the hangers around, “this with this skirt, or maybe these shorts and.. ooh, these boots match my panties.” You get a rise out of seeing the usually suave girl short circuit at the words that bless her ears. Definitely in heaven.

But Vi came to the realization that she was, in fact, alive. Because her heart truly stopped beating when she helped you settle on your pieces, threw her a sugary sweet “thanks, Vi,” did a casual 180, and stuck your ass out to drag your skirt down painfully slow.

Oh, those boots do match your panties.

Now here you stand in a lacy red top, denim shorts that have her thanking god for your creation, and matching cherry red cowgirl boots that graced her eyes the first day you met.

Neverending chatter fills your ears from other attendees, the overwhelming scent of kettle popcorn from a nearby booth stuffs your nostrils, and you see Ekko nudge at Vi, saying something that you can’t hear over the bluenette beside you talking your ear off about the stunning horses she sees.

Suddenly, Vi’s walking up to you and smushing her hat onto your head with her famous smirk. “Keep it safe for me, doll?”

You nod mindlessly, a hand coming up to fix its position on your head.

“Where ya goin’?” Powder calls out to the platinum blonde boy who’s ushering Vi to hurry up.

“Our annual face off,” he throws her a wink, and the girl’s rolling her eyes with a playful scoff.

Before you can even ask, she’s locking arms with you and dragging you along to an even more crowded area. There’s various groups of people surrounding a blocked off area containing a big, black, circular inflatable mat. And directly in the middle is a mischievous brown mechanical bull.

“Are they..” and your question is deemed useless when Ekko mounts the hairy machine, pumping his hands up in motion for the crowd to whoop and holler. Of course, they do.

Ekko does good, to say the least.

One hand grips the bull while the other is thrown up into the air as the machine thrashes him and his white locs every which way. The intensity increases as it tauntingly speeds up, thrashing harder, and spinning recklessly. Finally, he’s bucked off, rolling to a stand and flashing his pearly whites as the crowd cheers.

A giggle falls from your mouth as your hip nudges Powder who’s in complete awe, and she warms in embarrassment.

Vi and Ekko fake tension, sending joking competitive glares as they switch places. Now it’s the pink haired cowgirl that’s mounting the mechanical animal.

You never thought you’d be admiring this sort of thing, but Violet’s never fails to twist your stomach in knots.

With a hand gripping the bull and the other resting on the back of her head, she bucks her hips back and forth to counter the thrashing machine. She’s focused, her sculpted muscles flexing as she holds on tight, but a cocky smile is plastered on her face with teeth biting down on her rosy lips.

Surrounding girls (including yourself) are wooing at the sight.

Vi makes it through the most chaotic shakes and spins as the bull finally comes to a controlled stop, and you’re cheering louder than you ever thought you could.

“Woo! Hell yeah!” you cry out. The girl’s cheesing harder than ever when she hears your support, and the smile lasts all the way over to a fake booing Ekko who rolls his eyes and slips her a twenty dollar bill from his pocket.

You and Powder unlock arms to move over to the riders. A chuckle of amusement spills from you, and you’re securing Violet’s hat back over her fluffy hair. “That was real impressive, cowgirl.”

“Yeah?” she coos.

“Yeah.” The atmosphere grows heavier, each of your eyes searching the other’s like there’s treasure to find. But your little staring contest as Claggor speaks.

“Earth to lovebirds,” he hums politely. “You coming?”

You’re quick to nod, but Vi gently holds your wrist, making you pause. “Actually, I wanted to show cherry around some more. Catch up later?” She asks, but she’s already pulling you away before Claggor nods in agreement and the group goes in the opposite direction as you.

You speed up, feet coming into step with the girl who’s needily pulling you. Her silent prayers are answered when she spots a more secluded area behind a building and some fences.

“Vi,” you snicker, cheeks warming in nervousness, “what are we doing?”

She hums through half lidded orbs, hands finding their place on your hips and hastily pushing you against the wall that covers the two of you from the eyes of others. You’re looking up at her with the sweetest glint in your eyes and it’s driving her absolutely mad.

“You said I was real impressive, right?” Her voice is smoother, breathier.

Ohh.

You tilt your head, teeth chewing on your abused bottom lip before you mutter. “That’s right.. think you deserve a reward, huh?”

“Exactly what I was thinkin’, sweetheart.”

The newfound nickname is sending a shiver up your spine that transforms into a blazing warmth when Vi’s lips fit into yours like puzzle pieces. This time, messy limbs are thrown over each other. Your hand travels from her hands that are cradling your heated face, down to her abs (making her shiver as you scrape your nails across), to tangle in what pink locks aren’t captured by her hat.

A strong hand makes its way around your waist, pulling you dangerously closer to rub against her body. God, she’s good at this.

“Vi..” you’re finally able to whisper as she trails kisses along your jaw and down to your neck. You can feel her smirk against the area where she peppers you with affection.

And it’s perfect.

Not just the way she’s kissing you, or the fact that you’re kissing at all. It’s the environment, the feelings, the friendships that you’ve made with the others, the fact that for today, you’re living a normal life. It’s the fact that for a moment, you can cheer on your friends in a competition, you can lock arms with a friend and woo over others, you can get lost in passionate kisses with a girl and not have another care in the world.

You wished it could stay this way forever.

You lose all sense of shame, letting a soft grunt slip from your lips at the feeling of teeth and a ‘pop’ on your neck. It’s only a matter of seconds before both of your eyes widen and Vi’s pulling back with a crooked smile on her face.

“Did you..”

She wordlessly eyes the red-purple love bite forming on the back-side of your neck, just below your ear.

“Violet!” you drag out with a whine, sending her into a soft fit of laughter. She feels guilty, but you’re just too cute.

You have a love-hate relationship with the neon lights that are beaming throughout the spacious room that brings more noise than you’ve heard in the past five years– maybe more than your entire life.

On one hand, the flashing colors are starting to give you a major headache. On the other, the red glow that decorates Violet’s face as she grins down at you has your insides doing summersaults.

Nevermind. You love the lights.

“C’mon y’all,” Powder calls out with a chipper expression. Ekko’s standing properly in line and his blue haired companion, who’s already freestyling, spins out of control and squeals up a storm.

“You ready?” Vi’s words kiss your ear as she holds both of your hands, pulling you out to the dance floor.

“Are you?”

Your sass has her laughing, and she brings her tongue out to wet her bottom lip. “Follow my lead, cherry.”

And for a few moments, you do. All of the surrounding crowd dances the same to the upbeat, fast-paced country song that pierces your ears, so you replicate Vi’s mixed steps and cute little head tilts with her hand on that chocolate hat.

But then the song changes, it’s more passion filled and fiery. All it takes is Powder spinning out of line and shamelessly making her own moves before you’re formulating the steps in your head. From movies you watched religiously to mindlessly shuffling your own feet late at night, you danced for the little girl who longed to have fun, who longed to be free.

You’re clicking the heels of your boots against the ground, moving your hips as fluid as water, and bringing your hands up just for them to slide down your sides with a heart-stopping smile tugging at your lips.

Violet’s in awe, because her girl’s fearless and full of smiles, and she couldn’t be happier for you.

And there’s no doubt in her mind that this is the only girl she’ll ever want, need, crave.

She whistles, looking up and down with the most amused expression you’ve ever encountered. “Jesus, alright you win, doll.”

“Yeah?” The tease comes out a bit breathless, but you play it off as dancing too wildly.

You look at the pink haired beauty through thick lashes. Inching dangerously closer as you sway, Violet’s hands have a powerful hold on your soft waist. You stumble over your feet once, then twice, and she notices.

“Slow down there cowgirl,” she chuckles, but her gaze is tender under the carefree mask. “You alright?”

It’s unbearably toasty in the room, and you feel two times hotter with each passing second. But you don’t want it to end, so you wave her off, throwing out an “I’m good!”

But you’re not, and it’s evident on your face when the small ‘headache’ turns to tight pressure smothering your scalp, and you’re losing your balance as you search for an exit.

“I just need some air,” you mumble, turning your head. The room shifted under your feet, vision blurring in a haze. You took three measly steps forward, and on your fourth, you crumbled.

Your body gives out under you, and Vi’s right there to catch you when it does. Her arms snake around your waist to hold you up before she lifts you in her arms with big eyes and wavering lips.

“Shit. Ekko, come here! Powder, go get Mylo and Claggor.”

The five haul ass to Vi’s truck, the pinkette tossing her keys to Ekko as he and Mylo hop in the front. She, Claggor, and Powder take seats in the bed of the truck. When you finally come to, your back is laid against Vi’s worrisome chest, and you get the fresh air you were looking for from the speed Ekko’s driving to get you home.

But when you pull into the driveway of your home, there’s already a car waiting for you, and there stands your father with his arms crossed and pure fury in his eyes.

And you’re in so much fucking trouble.

The others attempt to plead your case, in good ways and in bad, as the man scolds everyone in sight.

“Mister, we just went out to dance.”

“She’s not a child you know, you can’t keep her cooped up here forever.”

“Please just understand.”

Everything goes in one ear and out the other, because in the chaos silently sits you and Violet. You’re still breathless, and this headache is gonna last longer than you want it to, but you relax into the warmth of Vi for one last time.

You pull back, ignoring the spike of pain that flashes across your brain, and turn to the girl with a tight lipped smile. “I’m sorry, you guys should just go.”

She looks pained, like she wants to say something, she wants to help. But she nods, placing a chaste kiss to your temple just as you’re sliding out of the truck bed and over to your father. He hastily drags you inside while you bid farewell to your moping knights.

With every inch of your worn down heart, you love Violet Lane.

And you’re not an idiot, you’re sure she loves you too.

That’s what makes coming to a conclusion impossible on almost every level.

Your physical heart says this is the most idiotic decision you’ve made in your entire life. You’ve had worse symptoms than normal, you’re putting yourself in danger in the name of ‘fun’, and the thought that’s lingering in the back of everyone’s mind is one you can’t ignore: just how long will you make it?

Your mental heart says this is the best thing you’ve ever done. You’re happy, you’re in love, you have real friends, and you’re finally starting to see the point in living. Not just from a tv screen or the books your father supplies, but through your own eyes and experiences. And even though your father seemed overbearing, you know he’s afraid. He’s taken on all of the worry and stress so that you don’t have to. If you wanted something to change, you had to take the leap yourself. But you’re not sure you can.

There’s six knocks at the door, and you stay seated in your position on the couch. “It’s open,” you call out.

The clack of familiar boots enter the room, and a wave of musk and amber suffocate you when Vi walks past you to sit at your side.

It’s silent. Not your comfortable, daydream filled state of silence that Vi could watch you in forever. It’s awkward, strangulating silence, and she can’t take it.

“Yesterday was..”

“...amazing.” “A mistake.”

You speak at the same time, eyes flickering at each other's response.

“What are you talking about?” Vi asks, setting her textbooks down. You don’t miss the newfound waver in the back of her voice.

You don’t respond. You don’t want to go through with this conversation.

“..Is this about the hickey?” she flashes a strained smile, “I’m sorry if he saw it, doll. Reall–”

“This isn’t a joke, Violet.” you finally speak, eyes strictly trained down on your fiddling hands in your lap. The tears are bubbling at your eyelids and that itchy, sore feeling is crawling its way up your throat.

“Then what is it about? You and your dad? Look, I can talk to him, I’ll make things right.” Her voice is increasingly wavered, desperate, scared.

“Our–” you inhale a shaky breath, “– this, us, whatever we are is an inconvenience. An inconvenience to my father, an inconvenience to my health, an inconvenience to you.” Your voice breaks with the last word. “I’m a burden Violet, face it.”

You can’t see it with the tears blurring your vision, but Vi’s shaking her head in horror. “No. No, what are you going on about? You aren–”

“God just face it, Vi. All you wanted was to love a girl and you got a defective one.” You spit the words out like they sting on your tongue. “Soon, you’ll be annoyed by everything I can’t do and bored of everything I can.”

“Maybe we’re just not…” you can’t continue as silent tears transform into quiet little sobs.

Vi’s heart aches as she kneels down on the floor in front of you, examining your now puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. She wants nothing more than to kiss the pain away, but first she has to fix that worrisome little mind of yours.

One hand intertwines with your anxious ones, and the other reaches up as rough fingers delicately hold your chin, a soft thumb rubs back and forth against your cheek. She whispers out your name with a voice that’s holding back sadness of her own. When you’re finally ready to look at her, she smiles delicately.

“You don’t know how bad I want you. But I’ll wait until the end of time if you ask me to. I’d lasso the moon and bring it down for you if you asked.” You recognize her sweet words from your first date, and you’re weakly melting into the palm of her hand that’s sliding to cup your face.

“I meant it then, and I mean it now,” she whispers. “I will never be annoyed by what you can or can’t do– god, I'd sit here and talk to you about slugs all day everyday if that’s what you really wanted.” That has you scoffing, fighting back a smile at her silly words.

“Love isn’t about the activities you can or can’t do, it’s about a connection, our connection, and what we do with it. So, you can get rid of me if this is all true and that’s what you really want, but I will never stop loving you.” She’s speaking so sweetly, and before she even finishes her sentence you’ve made up your mind.

“You’re good for my heart, cherry.”

Those are the last words she can get out before you’re throwing yourself forward and locking lips with the love of your life.

It starts off slow, soft, an apology for the rollercoaster of emotions and blunder of nonsense you put yourselves through. Then, Vi’s hands are cupping your face and the back of your head while yours are thrown around her neck. It’s needier, sloppier, and her tongue slipping into your mouth shows it’s moved from an apology to ‘let me make you feel better’.

You hum into the kisses with pleasure, but you wanted more. Needed more. Without hesitation, you slip a hand under Vi’s tight t-shirt, running a hand up and down her abs.

The action sends a shiver down her spine, and you gasp in surprise when the sculpted girl wraps your legs around her waist and lifts you into her arms.

You’re giggling as she walks up the stairs and into your bedroom. Your litter smooches down her jaw and to that neglected neck, mimicking what she’s done for you. Vi slips a hand under the back of your shirt, making you hum into her neck at the warmth.

Pop.

A devilish grin graces your angelic face when you pull back, eyes flickering from Violet’s to the bruise on her neck.

The girl grins, catching your mouth in a wet kiss. “You’re asking for more, y’know,” she warns, and her lustful eyes are turning your brain to mush.

“Good. I want more. Need you all over me,”

Your confident words are canceled out by a sweet gasp that leaves you when Vi bucks her hips.

“You’ve gotta say it then,” she orders.

“Say.. what?”

She chuckles. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

You swear there’s a pool of slick in your underwear.

“Want you to fuck me till I cum, please please please,” you beg, hiding in the crook of her neck.

“Fuck,” is all she can choke out, because she’s never wanted wanted a girl this fucking much. Your begging is all she needs to hear before she’s stripping you out of your top, unclasping your pretty bra with one hand, and flipping you over onto your back.

You’re throwing your head back with a soft moan, running a hand through her pink strands while Vi latches onto one of your rock hard nipples. Her hand trails down your abdomen and to your pretty little skirt. The fabric slides down your legs and off your delicate ankles, and the girl’s gawking at your panties.

“Vi, please please,” you moan in impatience.

She lets out a cruel chuckle, fingertips pulling down the fabric that’s completely drenched by your arousal.

Holy fuck.

She’s moving faster now, pulling her shirt over her head, and you don’t have a chance to drool over her bare muscles as she sits against the headboard of the bed and pulls you back by your hips into her lap.

Your back’s pressed against her chest, and she pulls your legs apart making cool air attacking your lips. One arm hooks under your knee and holds tight, making sure you stay perfectly spread for her.

“Suck,” she whispers, and two of her calloused fingers are shoved in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the nubs, letting drool pool around them as Vi looks down at you like she wants to ravish you.

“Wanted to touch you like this for so long.”

Her fingers are dragging out of your mouth and down to your sensitive slit to your swollen clit. You’re already messily bucking your hips against her as she pushes soft circles against your bundle of nerves.

She relishes in the way your eyes roll back before she decides she’s done being a tease, sinking her wet fingers into you three full knuckles deep.

“Violet– holy fuck yesyesyes,” you whine, quickly closing your legs at the newfound pleasure. But Vi’s pulling them right back apart as she pumps into you faster.

She peppers kisses on your temple, whispering sweet nothings about how you’re ‘so damn pretty’ and she’s been dying to see your ‘fucked out face’.

“Yeah, oh fuuck.” you squirm under her control, a knot of passion and pleasure building in your gut.

“Yeah? Yeah, baby?” She speaks breathily. The way she’s mocking you and the depth her fingers are reaching is sending you right over the edge. Your toes curl while writhing pleasure shoots through your body, and all you can see is stars.

“Fuck fuck, I’m– hah,”

Vi’s shushing you softly, keeping her speed and strength as your cunt tightens around her fingers.

Your moans are like angels blessing your ears as you cum, gushing on her skilled fingers.

The only noises in the room are your exhausted pants, the slick of your cunt as Vi pulls her fingers out terribly slow, and the bed shifting under the absence and reappearance of pure muscle.

Except this time, the pinkette’s knelt in front of the bed.

She pulls you to the edge by the soft skin of your thighs, and piercing blue eyes joined by a warm pink tongue threaten to have you wheel-chair bound by morning.

“Let me clean you up, angel.”

Despite being near nothing but muscle, Vi’s bare body is incredibly comfortable.

“And he made a giant splotch of paint on the wall with his ass.”

You gasp, choking out a little giggle of shock as Vi tells you stories of her childhood, specifically all the stupid situations they got themselves into. The just-right bath water is engulfing your intertwined bodies. Vi’s fingers are threading through your hair as your head rests on her shoulder. Your body sits in between her legs, and your arms lazily drape around her waist.

“How mad was Vander?” you ask.

“He just… laughed. I’ve never really seen him mad, just disappointed at times.” She shrugs. “He knows kids make stupid mistakes, learn, and grow.”

You hum, nuzzling further into her. “I hope I’m that calm when I’m a mom,”

You pause.

“If I’m a mom.”

That strikes right through Violet’s swollen heart, and she shakes her head, holding you a little closer.

“You’re gonna be perfect.” She reassures. “Josie.. Gunner.. Rusty, Daisy, and our big beautiful city house are going to be so lucky to have you. I’m so lucky to have you. Never gettin’ rid of me.

You smile against her skin, placing a loving kiss.

“Even if it takes ages for my pops to understand?” you mutter.

“I don’t care if it takes a millennium.” she states confidently, a tender kiss graces your forehead before she looks you in the eyes.

“I love you, cherry.”

And this time, you’re done holding back.

“I love you, Violet.”

Your fingers, hearts, and lips intertwined as you share your most passionate kiss yet, one of the many for years to come.

Five years, to be exact.

And five years later, as the blood refuses to circulate throughout your body and your heart ceases to beat, you die in Violet's arms.

Through her sobs and shattered heart, she can only smile at the fact that all the way until your death, she helped you truly live.

silknspice

#vi x reader #vi arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane #vi fanfic #vi smut #wlw #sapphic #vi imagines #arcane vi x reader #vi league of legends

359 notes · View notes

shomatoriashi · 1 day ago

Text

01/06/25; 06:03pm

sylus x fem.reader | non.mc

obligatory tags: @voidsylus | @milkandstarlight

warnings: unedited; semi-public s-x.

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

the boutique located in the n109 zone that sylus had taken you to was surrounded by dozens of high class women; those who were born with a silver spoon in their hands. now, being an average woman, you didn’t get to experience the luxuries of such a life until much later (the moment you fell in love with sylus as he swore to give you not only his heart, but anything and everything you desired as well.)

which was why you were here to begin with. even as you browsed the cute trinkets and jewelry from the store, you could feel the clerk’s eyes glaring daggers into you. not only were you receiving dark looks, but all the other employees were actively ignoring you, choosing instead to sink their claws into your lover as their saccharine voice asked if he needed any help.

“no, i’m fine, but my girlfriend could use some assistance.”

you momentarily bask in their crestfallen expression, watching as they tossed aside their curled hair before marching over to you. you had not even spoken a single word when the catty employee leans in to harshly whisper in your ear, “sorry, but i believe these cute jewels are just way too expensive for the likes of you. after all, having you wear our brand would be such a disgrace.”

as swiftly as she came, she stomps away from you, her laughter echoing throughout the store as she went to gossip with her coworkers over what had just transpired. manicured nails point at you, as their hushed whispers openly mocked you as they spoke about how unfit you were to be with mr. sylus.

grateful that sylus was entirely focused on the contents of his phone, you decided to get a tiny bit of revenge by hatching an almost diabolical plan. instead of looking at the various rings and necklaces, you cling onto sylus’s arms and point toward the direction of the section that housed all of the lingeries.

“walk me over there?” you point a finger over at where the various lingeries were on display, watching as sylus’s eyebrows go up in amusement.

“my, i wanted to take you here in order to help treat yourself. i didn’t think that i would receive a treat as well, little dove.”

you tried to appear as innocuous as possible, jutting your lips out into a pretty pout as you pulled sylus along. “but of course, i’m always willing to spoil you, sy.”

with sylus practically following you around (like a lost puppy), you have him talk to the lady manning the fitting rooms, asking him to get a key for one of the rooms as you made your selection alone. giving you a chaste kiss, he obeys your command and leaves you to your own devices-

which was exactly what you wanted to happen.

your eyes scan the various lingeries, searching for the perfect one that would set sylus off-

and within mere minutes, you found one.

the material of the flimsy piece left little to the imagination, and you could just picture the way your perky nipples would strain against such pretty lace while wrapping the most intimate part of you in ribbons-

this is the one.

folding the lingerie, you head towards the fitting rooms, seeing sylus waiting for you as he handed you the key. blowing him a kiss, you sweetly ask him to wait for you before locking yourself into the single room. taking a moment to admire such a spacious area, you muse to yourself at how this place felt like a totally different world before getting to work. putting your purse aside, you hurriedly shimmy out of your clothes, making sure you were bare before sliding on the lingerie, feeling the silk fabric fit your form to perfection. admiring yourself in the mirror, you put on a fresh coat of lip gloss while fixing your hair-

ready for sylus to make his move.

you open the door, standing seductively against it while whispering sylus’s name. he looks away from his phone, meeting your sultry gaze as his eyes widened with shock. crimson irises were felt raking down your form, making you giggle.

“like what you see, sy?”

yet the onychinus leader doesn’t answer you, choosing instead to march into your fitting room while slamming the door shut. “do i like what i see? kitten, you are absolutely divine.” you feel the way his powerful hands wrap around your waist before picking you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as you felt the way his clothed erection strained against you-

making you break out into a grin when you realized you had him; hook, line, and sinker.

he presses his hot lips press against the base of your throat when he pins you against the wall, ready to slide off your lingerie when you stopped him. “no… i want to keep this pretty lace on, just for you, sy.”

a low growl escapes from sylus, and you felt him lower his large hand between your legs before moving the ribbons that cover your center off to the side. with a gasp, you felt his large finger slowly drive itself into your wet heat before making a pumping motion. “you’re driving me crazy, love.”

hiding his face within the curve of your neck, sylus continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, drawing out breathy moans that seemed to echo throughout the boutique. with your arms wrapped around his neck, you gently grind your cunt against his fingertips while whispering in his ear, “do i feel good, wrapped around your fingers like this?”

a broken groan was heard coming from sylus when he removed his now soaked fingers out of your core, licking them clean briefly before adjusting his hold on you. he presses your chest against the walls now, making you gasp when you heard the shifting of fabric coming from behind you.

even when you weren’t able to see him, you could feel him- the sensation of hot velvet pressing against your soaked cunt before slowly sheathing itself inside of you. your gasps quickly morph into moans when sylus began to pound his cock into you, literally fucking you into the wall.

“i’m so fucking obsessed with you.” his hot whispers were all you could hear, feeling sylus press lingering kisses against your damp skin. you felt each new angle of his cock slamming back into you, causing a new wave of pleasure to hit you each time as your walls eagerly take in every inch he had to offer.

somehow, you were able to find your voice, begging him to turn you around. “l-let me look at you, sy… i want to see you as i fall apart for you.”

a low hiss was heard as sylus bites down against the lobe of your ear, heeding your command when he hurriedly pulls out of you. the sudden loss of him causes you to sob in response, with sylus gripping at your waist before allowing your back to meet the wall once more. settling himself between your thighs, sylus doesn’t waste another second when he completely impales his cock back into you.

your legs wrapped themselves around his waist, coaxing your lover to go even deeper as you felt your breasts bounce with his every movement. not even caring that you were not alone while in the midst of this expensive boutique, you allow your moans and his grunts to echo throughout the space, your back arching when you felt the way your walls sweetly wrapped around sylus’s cock before milking him for all he was worth.

spurts of his seed were felt escaping your walls as they stained at the lace and ribbons of the lingerie, with sylus letting out a content grunt. his hips sloppily thrust into you, making sure he was completely emptied before resting his weight against your shoulder. by now, you were both panting, feeling the sweat run down your respective forms as sylus pressed a lingering kiss against your shoulder.

keeping your hips still, sylus gently pulls out of you, and you moan when you felt the evidence of your respective release further stain the lingerie. sylus takes a step back, admiring how he had completely wrecked you and the flimsy fabric with an appreciative hum. as he adjusts himself (placing his softened cock back into the confines of his boxers), you watch as he zips up his pants before gathering your crumpled clothes from the ground.

not even allowing you to remove the utterly ruined lingerie, sylus helps you put on your clothes while pocketing your panties. once your blouse was on, you watch as sylus shoves your bra into the confines of your purse, hands automatically going around your waist as he presses a lingering kiss on your temple.

“keep that purchase on you; i’ll pay for it as we walk out- i’m far from being done with you, kitten.”

unlocking the door to the fitting room, sylus grabs the key and his wallet, coming face to face with a now blushing woman that had a wide eyed gaze. he tosses a few bills at her as payment for your latest purchase all while giving your backside a firm smack!

as you both walk out of the boutique, you basked in everyone’s shocked expression (red face and all!) while showing them your own, victorious smile-

having the leader of onychinus as your lover meant that you would always have free reign to do whatever you wished to do (since everyone feared him and would never wish to go against him), and even if you weren’t born with the world given to you on a silver platter-

sylus was all too willing to fix that and make it a reality for you.

end notes: so i had a n a u g h t y daydream earlier and decided to make it a r e a l i t y… (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#sylus x reader #sylus smut #sylus x y/n #sylus qin x reader #sylus qin smut #sylus x you #sylus fluff #lads smut #lnds smut #l&ds smut #love and deepspace

238 notes · View notes

k1tty5 · 2 days ago

Text

was deciding where i would put each lifers hearts and then i got stuck. this is how far i got

#sphynx sketches #trafficblr #life series smp #life series fanart #i dont really feel like tagging this so .thats all #this is just a little headcanon i have but i’ve never been able to decide on everyone lmao #ummm anyway secret reason for posting this is to maaaybe ask for requests?#because i’m having a meltdown trying to draw. or write. anything. because i have exactly zero ideas. maybe even less somehow #do you ever feel like your need to create something is tearing you apart from the inside.#like it’s gripping your heart and lungs and climbing up your throat until you can’t breathe #there is an innate need in me to create and yet i have. NOTHING in my brain that is a comprehensive idea #makes it worse when i want so badly to create meaningful things . i don’t have enough brain power for that #can’t promise i’ll get to any requests in a timely manner but. you know. it’d be cool.

83 notes · View notes

leighsartworks216 · 1 day ago

Text

It's Nothing

Sylus x AFAB!Reader

Inspired by my late as fuck period and joking with my friend that I was the next virgin mary. Not proofread cuz I want to post it but I'm tired of looking at it

Warnings: pregnancy scare, menstruation, period fic, anxiety, overthinking, lack of communication, communication, silly, cuddling, kissing, swearing

Word Count: 1,450

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

"Sweetie? What has you so distracted lately?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all! I was just, uh- thinking about work, that's all!"

"You're a terrible liar. Tell me what's wrong."

"It's-" You falter, searching desperately for an excuse and coming up woefully empty "It's really nothing, Sy. I'll tell you at some point, just..."

"... Just not right now." He sighs, but nods, dismissing the subject. A frown lingers on his face as he turns back to the movie. "I trust you, sweetie," he says after a long pause, when it seemed the topic had been dropped completely.

The guilt sinks down into your stomach, but you bite your tongue and cuddle further into his side. The rest of the night remains tense.

You want to tell him. Admit what's on your mind. Finally release this stress from your body. But you can't! Because... what if he leaves you? And maybe you're just being paranoid for nothing - but you can't take that risk, not with Sylus, of all people.

Your period is over a week late. That's not terribly unusual, but it is suspicious given the fact you've stopped using protection in the bedroom. Well, not necessarily stopped, since you're on birth control, but things get heated and he's finished inside of you without a condom. So... what if your birth control didn't do its job 100%? You know there’s a small percentage of it failing, so what if this time is the time it chooses to be ineffective?

Dr. Zayne is the only person you've told about your fears, when you went in for a checkup and nervously asked if he could run a pregnancy test for you. You're not sure if being your childhood friend made the next line of questioning about your sex life more or less awkward. You do know that that test came back negative... But Zayne said after the fact that it could be too early to tell.

So all you can really do now is wait until you do or don't get your period again.

You know it bothers Sylus a lot, your secrecy. You two have both progressed so far in learning how to trust each other, even with the stupid things. This just... doesn't feel like one of those stupid things. You've only just put a name to the relationship, you don't want to ruin that now when things are so new and nice.

So you hold it in. You try your damndest to put it on the back burner and show him as best you can that everything is fine and that you still love and trust him.

You wake up with your body's internal clock. With the N109 Zone being so dark, knowing when day is is a bit tricky. But, Sylus is asleep beside you, laying on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow. He doesn't have a shirt on. A wide expanse of tan skin and rippling muscle is left exposed as the blankets all pool around his hips.

You smile to yourself, albeit a bit mournfully. You're glad he's still sleeping beside you, even if you've both been a bit rocky lately. It's all your fault - you know. You'll make it up to him somehow. You have to.

Slowly, as quietly as you can, you slip out of bed and creep to the bathroom...

"Sy!" You see him startle out of sleep, hand already wrapped around the gun under his pillow as he sits up, searching for the danger.

"What is it?" he asks sharply. You run and jump onto the bed, landing partially on top of him. He tosses the gun onto his nightstand and lifts you by the waist to reposition you into his lap as he sits up properly. "What's got you so excited?"

"I'm not pregnant!"

He blinks up at you with a frown. You grab his shoulders like an excited kid, looking at him expectantly. He feels like he’s skipped several chapters into a book and the plot twist reveal isn’t making any sense. "What are you talking about, sweetie?"

You're practically vibrating in his lap with energy. It's the most light he's seen in your eyes for the last week and a half. It's... relieving. "I'm not pregnant! We haven't been as careful with protection lately and then my period was supposed to come, but it didn't, so I had a pregnancy test done, but Zayne said it could be too early to tell when it came back negative, so I've been waiting and waiting to know if I really am and-! And I'm not! I'm bleeding again, Sylus! I'm not pregnant!"

He shakes his head, brow pinched with a pained expression. "That's the 'nothing' you've been distracted by all week?"

"Um..." You grin sheepishly. "Yeah?"

He takes a moment, eyes closed and lips drawn into a frown. That guilt that settled in your stomach during your movie night returns, doubled in intensity. You got over-worried and kept secrets from your boyfriend, when you could have just told him from the start how weird it was that your period is late and how worried you are about what it could mean.

"Sy...?"

"Mmm."

"Are you mad at me?"

He finally opens his eyes. The expression eases slightly as he shakes his head with a sigh. "Have the cramps hit yet?"

You shake your head. "Um, no?"

Suddenly, his arms are wrapped around you and your world tilts on its axis. A heavy weight settles above you. Sylus's nose presses against your neck. "Good. Let's stay here for when they do."

You try to wriggle loose. He tightens his hold around you and nips at your skin sharply. You jolt, but it stops your struggling. “Why do we have to stay here for my cramps?”

“Because, sweetie,” he sighs. You’d think he’s annoyed, if it weren’t for the way he runs his nose along the column of your throat and eases his weight fully onto your body. “When your cramps start, you’re going to want a heating pad and a massage. And since you hate my massages-“

“I do not!”

“-it’s better if I just lay here and provide all the heat you desire.”

His logic isn’t faulty… And, honestly, having him so close to you again, without the barrier you built between you both, is really, really nice. So, you relent. You wrap your arms around his neck and begin playing with his hair. He lets out a contented hum, pressing a kiss to your pulse.

“So… you’re not mad at me?” you ask again.

“No, I’m not mad. I was… worried. Suddenly you were pulling away from me with no explanation and no warning. I thought…” You gently pull on his hair to remove his face from your neck. He follows with no resistance, resting his chin on your chest as he looks up at you with such serious eyes, tinged with sleepiness and lingering concern. “I thought you didn’t trust me anymore.”

You frown at the admission. For over a week, he thought you were pulling away because you didn’t trust him… “I guess I didn’t help any, keeping my worries a secret…” He doesn’t agree, but you see a slight quirk in his brow. “I’m sorry, Sy. I didn’t… I just… This is so new. I was worried that if I was pregnant, you’d be upset or leave me or something.”

He scoffs. “I’m not so easily scared off, kitten.”

“And I know that now.” You lean forward and press a lingering kiss to his forehead. His eyes flutter shut, furrow in his brow relaxing. When you pull away, they open to look at you once again. “I promise, from now on, I won’t keep secrets like that from you anymore. You’ll be the first to know if I’m worried about anything.”

He grins slightly. “Thank you, sweetie. I promise to be just as honest with you.”

He lifts himself up just enough to capture your lips. Your mouths move together in a languid dance, sealing the deal you two have just made. It lasts several minutes. Neither of you really ever want it to end, but Sylus needs his sleep and you’re going to need all his love and care when your uterus decides to rain hellfire on you to make up for lost time. He pulls away slowly, trails light kisses down your jaw, and tucks himself back into your neck.

Everything feels so much more secure now. Despite all your fears, the relationship has grown stronger. And you know, you’re both going to be okay.

Bonus:

“Is the thought of having my kids that terrible?”

“You know that’s not why I was worried, you asshole.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

#fanfic #fanfiction #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #afab reader #x afab reader

213 notes · View notes

m1ngkis · 3 days ago

Text

Tag w/ Mingi and San (18+)

A/N: Been sitting on this idea for almost two weeks. Enjoy! No Minor Zone

TW: Manager!reader, idol!Sangi, unprotected sex, 3some, oral (fem and male receiving), pet names (baby, pretty) , dry humping,

Masterlist

The thought of Mingi and San taking turns snatching manager!reader’s soul together is doing something to me..

You’re blissfully unaware of why they need you in their hotel room so urgently. Claiming that they simply can’t fix whatever the problem is on their own.

Only to find that there is no problem and there is no emergency, they just can’t contain themselves anymore.

San swoops in first, sweet talking you and feeling his hands up your belly under your shirt. Mingi sitting on the edge of the bed, nursing a drink while you halfheartedly protest.

You know it’s unprofessional to be completely down with this but god, the little devil on your shoulder is screaming, “Do it for the plot!”

The words on your lips die as Mingi stands, taking his glass and holding it to your mouth.

“Open.” He whispers, holding your chin as he tilts the glass, burning liquid coating your throat. He hums as he watches you swallow it down, dragging his thumb across your lips to catch the remaining drops. “Good?”

“Yeah…” Your voice cracks in your whispering tone.

You try to focus over your overloaded senses. San’s cool hands groping your skin, his voice in your ear growling and deep. “Take this off.” He tells you but you can’t seem to move.

“Take it easy. She’s probably trying to make sense of all this.” Mingi scolds him, his own arms pulling you flush against his frame while he inspects your face.

“Fine, you go first then.” San yields with a smirk and you’re not sure what it means but you know you’re in for something.

Then without warning, Mingi lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist while his hands keep you up. You squeal, your arms going around his neck instinctively.

“Oh my god! What is up with you two!?”

“There she is!” San shouts as he fills another glass with liquor and chugs it back.

“Just put me down, Mingi!”

The man shrugs, all but tossing you on the bed and hovering over you, his body caging yours against the mattress. “You smell good.” He mumbles as he presses his nose to your neck.

“I-“ You try to make words but they are lost as he starts to press his hips against your core. His erection contained in his jeans but you can feel it just fine.

“Shhh. Let us take care of you. We know we’re a lot to handle so just let us return the favor.” Mingi rolls his hips just right and you can feel the warmth start to pool in your belly.

“O-okay. Fine. Just do that again.” You whine, locking your legs around his waist.

“What? This?” He repeats the motion until you are gripping him like a vice, your hands tugging at his hair as your moans fill his ears. “You’re gonna cum just like this aren’t you? Barely even done anything yet..”

Mingi sucks his teeth at you but he doesn’t stop grinding against you until you cum, your body shaking as you break out in a sweat.

“Damn that was hot.”

Your eyes widen as you remember San is in fact still in the room and he just watched you cum without so much as undressing.

You peek around Mingi’s frame to see San leaning up against the wall opposite the bed. He sees your eyes and waves as he starts to make his way over.

“Look at you…so beautiful. Isn’t she?” He smiles.

“Mhmm.” Mingi hums as he pulls away from you. You can’t help but whine and tighten your grip on his clothes as he leaves, letting San take over once again.

“I bet you taste so good..” San kisses your cheek, his hands going to unbutton your pants and tugging them down your thighs. “Gonna let me taste you?”

Your head is nodding as he slips your pants away, your shirt tossed on your own accord seconds after.

His lips trace down your body until they reach your slick cunt. San wastes no time diving in, his tongue putting in work to get you cumming again.

Your hands find his hair with a moan as you tug, your eyes fluttering closed as pleasure coursed through your veins more intensely than before.

“Open your eyes.” You hear over the lewd sounds San is making.

You fight to open your eyes and are rewarded when they find Mingi posted up against the wall just as San was moments ago. His jeans unbuttoned and tugged down just enough to let his cock free as he strokes it slowly, up and down, keeping himself on edge as he watches you melt on San’s tongue.

He’s staring, his eyes not being able to decide which part of you to focus on but your eyes stay open, no matter how much you want to squeeze them shut as San sucks on your clit

“Ooohh god!” Your orgasm rams into you, frying every nerve in your body.

San locks his arms around your hips as you jerk up and inch away from him. He moans against you as he licks you up, every bit of your essence caught on his tongue.

“Just as good as I thought you’d be…” He murmurs and stands, making his way over to your flushed face.

The back of his hand brushes against your cheek, stroking the hot skin softly. “You ready?” He whispers.

“For what?”

He doesn’t answer, just smiles and kisses your lips.

You feel hands on your legs, lifting them up so Mingi can settle between them. The tip of his smacks your clit and San catches your moan on his lips.

Then you’re met with a burning stretch as Mingi attempts to push into you. You shout out, gripping San’s arms as your body tenses.

“Hey..hey, relax…it’s okay. You just gotta get used to him, baby.” San presses kisses to your cheeks as tears start to fall.

You shake your head at him, leaning up on your elbows to scold Mingi. “Fuck! It hurts!”

“I’m sorry, baby. I promise it won’t be too bad.” His thumb reaches down and rubs with clit, getting you to relax a bit around him.

“Maybe you just need a distraction, huh?”

You turn your head just in time to watch San pulls his shirt off, his pants and boxers following suit.

You feel the tension leave your bones and Mingi slips in easily, his hips flush against you.

“That’s my girl..” he whispers, leaning over to press a kiss to your chest as he starts to thrust.

You can’t help but lose your mind as his length hits just the right spot that makes you dizzy. Every drag of his cock against your walls is like a slice of heaven.

You close your eyes, your head in the clouds but San has other plans. “Come on, pretty. I’m not done with you yet.”

His hand is back on your cheek as his length bobs in front of your face.

You don’t hesitate, opening your mouth wide so he can have his way.

They feel like gods. Like they could have everything at the snap of their fingers. Ever since you were hired at the company the two have had their share of fights over you.

Only recently did they come together with this little plan of theirs.

“You feel amazing..” “Doing so good, baby.”

Your brain is so foggy, you can’t pin point who says what, they both have taken you over completely.

San cradles the back of your neck as he fucks your throat, his eyes squeezed shut as groans tumble from his lips. Mingi can’t tear his eyes away from your pussy, swallowing his length deliciously while he pistons into you.

“Ohh shit..shit. I’m gonna cum. You gonna let me fill you up, pretty?” Mingi’s hands are tight around your hips as his pace grows faster

You moan around San and feel him twitch in your mouth. “Ah- I think she said yes.” He laughs.

“Fuuuck yeah..” It doesn’t take long before he’s filling you up, every last drop being pumped deep inside you before he pulls out with a hiss.

“Move..move!” San slips out of your mouth and all but shoves Mingi away as he takes his spot. He wastes no time, pumping you full of his own cum with a strained groan.

The reality of what just happened doesn’t hit you until you are washed up and wearing Mingi’s sweatshirt while San heats something to eat.

Mingi chuckles as he watches the gears turn in your head. “Don’t worry, pretty. We’ll take care of you from now on.”

227 notes · View notes

cheekycheesecake01 · 2 days ago

Text

"You Keep Your Eyes on Me"

Tag: @gongyoosgf and @cybrasigilism

Salesman x G/N!Reader

18+ Smut, MDNI

Summary: Just a typical Friday night, playing some games with your favorite Salesman...

⚠️Tags/Warnings: Jump straight into action (no buildup), Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, G/N masturbation, Gunplay, filming, bone gag/gagging, edging, denial, praise, dick tapping, dacryphillia, degradation, pet names (doll, baby, puppy), a hint of petplay??? genital slapping (kept vague for G/N), sex toys/hitachi wand, spreader bar mentioned, handcuffs, mutual masturbation (Salesman is jerking it to the sight of you), mutual orgasm, cumshot, aftercare, the Salesman may be catching feelings🤔

Your eyes lazily gaze into the mirror, that soft red light shining back at you as you bit down on the silicone bone even harder. The cool, metal rings bounded by the leather straps leaving its imprints on your cheek. You shake the bar that parted your ankles, keeping your thighs wide open for him.

He is looming over you, with that typical smug smile of his. He extends the pole with the wand attached to it, before pressing it against your swollen sex. You shake violently, feeling the vibrations build up to your release until---

"Ohhh... not so fast. Patience." The Salesman says, pulling the pole away and massaging your shoulder. You growl through the gag and glare at him through the mirror. He cocks an eyebrow and says, "Slow and steady wins the race. Calm down, doll." That smile creeping into his voice before he sighs and settles between your thighs.

You watch with dilated pupils, the chains linking the leather cuffs rattling when you try to reach out and touch him. He steps back and waves the tip of his handgun as he says softly, "Ah, ah, ahh! No touching."

You let out a whine, making him chuckle before stepping closer once again. The room echoes with the jingle of his belt, before he springs out. His tip glistened in the shade of the pink tint the room provided. His precum dripping onto your stomach. He strokes himself slowly, teasing you with every stiff pump his fist made before lining himself up.... only to lightly slap his cock against your tender skin. You moan, resulting in his laughter slipping out of his lips before he pulls back once again...

When he steps to his spot, behind your back, he places his hands on your shoulders and begins to lightly rub them. You tense up at the sudden feeling of his firm, calloused hands gliding against your hot skin, but he hushes you and whispers in your ear, "Go on, doll, touch yourself. Do it for me to watch. Put on a show that I can watch now.... and forever..."

You both shift your gaze to the recorder that was propped onto a stand, facing the mirror. The piercing red light blinked and blended in with the lights that dangled from the ceiling. You knew he was recording, you both agreed to do so. But still... to think he'd be watching this later...

You look up at him, feeling a little self-conscious. The reality of your fantasy was finally settling in... you are being filmed for his pleasure, all while he plans to watch you perform. It seems as though he caught on, and he massages your shoulders more while he speaks softly, "Baby, it's just us. No one will see the video except me, and yourself, if you want to watch. If you want it to stop, then you can shake your handcuffs 3 times, and I'll stop everything. The recording, the scene, everything. Alright? This is just a game. But you always have the option to pause or quit."

You nod, feeling relieved by his reassurance of the safe signal you two settled upon prior to the scene. You go to reach for the wand, when the Salesman pulls it away and says, "I have a different idea for this round. Something challenging, but fun nonetheless. How about, you use your fingers to touch yourself, and you use my gun to get off?"

His hands graze your shoulder, before trailing down your arms only to stop at your nipples. He rubs the buds in circular motions before saying, "And don't worry about a thing. It's completely unloaded." He then takes out the revolver and spins the barrels in front of your eyes.

"See?" He asks, and sure enough, the barrel was completely empty. He circulates his rough fingers around your areola and flicks your nipples, feeling them firm up as an airy moan slips out from his lips. He presses up against your shoulder, his cock becoming more apparent in your face. He tears a package from his pocket and rolls on the rubber onto the gun. He grins and says playfully, "A condom on a gun. That's definitely something new! Huh?"

He hands you his gun, and waits patiently, the smile still plastered on his face. You hold the weapon, feeling it's cold hard weight against the palm of your hand that juxtaposed the warm, soft, slippery rubber that had been applied onto it. Carefully, you guided the gun between your thighs, brushing against your skin while the handle caused your handcuffs to clatter and jingle against each other. You fumbles with it, steel slapping steel, yet your skin wasn't slapping against his.

The Salesman sees this, and smiles. His fist slowly stroking himself at the sight of you struggling to simply insert the gun. He chuckles, and moans in satisfaction at your issue. He looks at you through the reflective glass and says, "Are you struggling, doll? Can't even do something as simple as this?" He grabs the gun from you and continues, "It's okay, I was expecting that. Allow me to do all of the work. You just sit there and look pretty."

You watch with wide eyes as he drags the cool steel against your skin. Your thighs flinch, but his hand pins one down, forcing you open. The veins on his hand pulse when he grips your thigh, slathering his precum on your skin. The Salesman bends over to whisper in your ear, "Very good. You're doing so well for me. Now, keep those legs open." With that, he carefully slips the tip of the weapon into your sex. You feel the cold rubber contrasting your heat, making your hole clutch around the gun.

He sees this through the mirror how your hole pulses from the adrenaline of the revolver. You leak with arousal and the sight of it alone made him want to finish right then and there. But this man had a disturbing amount of patience. He harshly slaps his rough palm against your sensitive spot, which caused you to yelp like a puppy through the bone gag. He laughs at your position and says, "Poor puppy, so sensitive and all I did was put it in. Keep biting that bone. It's the only way you'll ever learn to be quiet."

His words sent a rush of pleasure down your body, and when you were close, his warm demeanor drops immediately. He slaps your parts again, harder this time. He clutches your jaw and hisses out, "Did I say you could cum? Hm? No. I didn't. If you cum without my permission, you will be disqualified. If you're disqualified.... then..."

You mutter against the silicone bone that stayed propped in your mouth. The Salesman chuckles and leans his ear against your lips, his disheveled black hair tickling your nose as he says, "Sorry? Come again? I can't quite hear you."

You mutter again, making him fight back the urge to laugh at you. He grabs the tight leather straps and unbuckles the gag. He pulls the black bone away, drawing a string of saliva from your mouth while the rest poured out onto you.

You stretch your mouth, trying to relieve yourself from the discomfort of being contorted for so long when the Salesman tsks in a mocking fashion, "Look at what you've done! You poked a hole in my property!" He shows you the pierced gag, before petting your head and saying, "But it's okay. You'll pay for damages, right? We can work out your debt."

You frantically nod, tears welling up in your eyes from his smacking. He presses his cheek against yours and licks the salty trail down your face before he whispers, "Good puppy. I know you'll take accountability for your actions. I did train you, after all. Now then, what was that you were trying to tell me? What will happen if you are disqualified?"

Your predicament alone could bring you to tears. Spread open for some Salesman you met off the street in front of a mirror, deprived from pleasure, and yet still craving more of his games.

You choke back a sob from the sensual humiliation so you could speak, "If... I'm disqualified, I can't cum for 2 months." The Salesman beams at your response and replies in a condescending tone, "Correct! Such a smart puppy! What if you complain about your punishment?"

You sniffle and continue, "If I complain.... you double the punishment....4 months." He nods and extends the pole with the hitachi wand. He presses the vibrator against the swollen skin between your thighs before pushing the tip of the gun deeper into you. He pats your head and rests the pile onto your shoulder. A few hums muffled between his lips and then he speaks, "As I said before, you will touch yourself in front of this mirror for me to watch. You will not cum until I say so. I will set a timer, you have 30 minutes. With every whine, beg, or cry, I will add an additional 10 minutes, and if you moan... an extra 20 minutes will be added. Good luck doll, you will certainly need it."

You look at yourself, legs parted and reflected by the glass. You were glistening with sweat and the lubricant from the condom ran down your thighs. You press the wand against yourself, feeling the vibrations build up to pure pleasure only for you to push your cuffed wrists under the top and lift up the pole, stopping yourself from going over the edge. The Salesman spectates, jerking off and staring at you with a lustful gaze. His precum dripping and running down your shoulder while you fucked yourself in front of the mirror. You looked at the camera, which had been recording all along.

You avert your eyes, humiliated and flustered by your predicament. It was then that the Salesman holds your chin and turns it to the mirror while he said, "You keep your eyes on me."

It felt likes ages... but it's only been 2 minutes. Just 28 minutes to go.

When the time passed, and you were down to 2 minutes, the Salesman slaps his cock against your cheek as he says, "Look at you, baby. You're a natural. How about this, since you've been so good for me, I'll countdown. I'll count down from 10 to 0. When I get to 0, you can cum. The punishments for failing this are the same as the ones we spoke of. Now... 10... 9..."

The Salesman counts down, massaging your inner thigh and encouraging you, "Good, good. You're holding out just the way I taught you. Deep breath, in and out...yes... good job. 8...7....6....5...."

You try to steady your breathing, waiting for his permission. You briefly contract against the gun, throbbing as the vibrator sends waves of pleasure to your core. Your breaths stutter, but the Salesman slaps your inner thigh and pinches your nipple while he scolds, "Quit it, bitch! Not until I say so!" He lets out a breath, pumping himself and whispering in your ear, "There we go... slow and steady. Breathe.... 4...3...2....1...hold it...." The salesman keeps you on edge for 10 extra seconds, a few extra seconds of extrauciating pleasure, and then finally he says...

"0... congratulations, you have reached the end. Go on... you have my permission."

The gratifying euphoria of his calm but firm confirmation brought the throbbing hot sensation of you coming undone right before his very eyes. Your body ripples with pleasure as the room's pink hue highlighted the way your face contorted and relaxed from the high the Salesman had blessed you with. You could hear him let out a deep moan. That was when you felt your chest become covered in his cum. Thick ropes of his climax painted your skin and glistened from the room's atmosphere. You were both heaving, trying to calm down from the aftershocks of what had happened.

The Salesman unlocks the handcuffs that bounded you to the pole and the spreader bar. He rubs your limbs and kisses you on the head. He whispers, "You did such an amazing job, puppy. You're so good to me. I don't know what I did to get someone as sweet as you. Now then, let's play a new game. A bath game, this time. You wash me, and I'll wash you. Whoever finishes washing their partner first...hm... they can get a treat. How about it?"

You nod, giving him a shy smile while he wiped your tears. He is well aware of the intensity of this scene. Especially with the gunplay, you never did that before. While he doesn't know what you two are exactly, he does know that he, much to his surprise, gets concerned for you. He doesn't know why, but he seems to enjoy looking out for you.

He stretches your body, rubbing away the aches that remained from your games. He then wraps his arm around your shoulder, and carefully takes you to the bathroom.

In a quiet room, the hot water splashes while your chest presses against his. Despite the grey area in the relationship, you had to admit, it is pretty intimate. Even he thought the same. He is so used to having an empty house, and this aftercare after every session was causing something to change within him...

Whatever the case may be, the Salesman holds you close and speaks softly,

"You know... I could get used to this..."

#the salesman squid game #squid game smut #squid game x y/n #squid game 2 #squid game #the salesman x you #the salesman smut #the salesman x reader #gong yoo #kdrama x reader #kdrama smut #kdrama #squid game x reader #squid game x you #the salesman #g/n reader #Spotify

290 notes · View notes

pixistix-xp · 23 hours ago

Text

1/: therian, nonhuman, questioning others :]

2/: Wolf/werewolf and black cat ^_^

3/: I experience phantom shifts! I do get wing shifts sometimes, although I do not have any know theriotypes to have wings. XD

4/: well... I experience it to every extent. being a physical really does weigh in on my experience. I feel the need to be precieved as a wolf, I feel werewolf/wolf all the time, I never feel human fully, I am always a wolf, werewolf, or have important features in my head. Basically, my brain precieves myself and everything around me through wolf perspective!

5/: it depends on where you look! tiktok: huge no, snapchat: also huge no, insta: hardly see us other than being bullied, tumblr: best alterhuman platform tbh, reddit: sometimes okay, mostly no, and super obscure random alterhuman websites tend to have the best communities. I mostly hate the way the community claims to be accepting yet we all subconsciously put others down (even i used to have a problem with that and still probably do (call me out on that btw)). the actually accepting parts of the community are very awesome though and I'm glad to have a space to be free and share my feelings without much judgement! I feel very seen and heard.

6/: AGHHH I COULD GO ON A RANT FOREVER! I love the woods, cozy and dark spaces, paw tattoos, claw mark tattoos, red flannels, black nail polish and glow in the dark nail polish, bare"foot" walking (especially on sand), jumping in water, rain, winter, my back teeth, phantom limbs, and more! for my black cat theriotype, although I really am not experiencing much euphoria or dysphoria recently, nostalgia, red eye photos, cameras, being scared, minecraft, dying my hair, being called bad luck, walking in hallways and alleys, and more!

7/: yes, not as bad as I was awhile ago, but it'll come back like mid January maybe sooner

8/: do proper research and talk to older alterhumans! also, it takes TIME to find yourself and your true identity, don't rush into anything!

9/: I do really want some when I'm older, out of the house I'm in, and have money! I want a tail, ears, paws, tattoos, fake teeth, and maybe patch more of my clothes. I also want a werewolf fursuit to be able to feel more wolf-like on full moons.

10/: my werewolf origins are heavily unknown, i genuinley just think i was born this way, and I might not ever know how or why I'm a werewolf. my black cat origins are heavily psychologically and emotionally induced. really just being outcasted and feeling "weird and different" socially caused me to just- be a cat XD for some reason whenever I was little I just said "I AM A CAT" and i know why I felt animalistic, where I got cat from, who knows :,]

11/: i feel like you would enjoy tag games XD (all good if not!) @hexemil

If you are a alterhuman, reblog and answer these questions!

(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

5/ What do you think of the community?

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

#alterhuman #therian

1K notes · View notes

luvether · 3 days ago

Text

MUCH LOVE, YOUR GUARDIANS ! In which they go from bodyguards to companions who you would crawl back home to, as they go through the thick of thins of what it’s like to love you intentionally and ardently.

jiaoqiu and moze x gn!reader (ft. feixiao) fluff and heavy (?) angst content. petty jealousy and overprotectiveness. mentions of self-deprecation, self-sabotage, low self-morale. heavy yearning. hurt with comfort. heavy found-family dynamic, platonic and romantic implications. politics. might be ooc. massive spoilers for the events on version 2.5. [12.6k wc]

sequel to a guardian or two ノ trying to dabble back into angst. tagging @bladism <33 love you and sorry for the atrociously long fic!! hoping to revive the jq and moze tags for this one (art by zassyoku_DD on twt.)

IN THE YAOQING, WHEN YOU THINK OF HAVING LUNCH you think of a small table crammed with four people, the strong scent of spices pricking your nose—making it all runny, the ruddy-cheeked Feixiao slurring between liquor lips, her vice arm wrapping unapologetically around the reluctant and defeated healer and your secret alliance with the shadow guard as he sneakily takes the button mushrooms in your bowl when Jiaoqiu is not looking, too busy being the General’s victim to her drunken affairs.

You and Moze exchange knowing glances, it was a deal that was recently established since he had lost a bet and dreaded reciting poems in the next festival.

Moze grumbles about a poem recital in front of strangers? You came to his aid.

You disliked the mushrooms Jiaoqiu gives you every lunch? He comes to your aid.

“You should come to the Luofu with us during the Wardance Ceremony.” A drink-addled comment gets thrown into the mix of everyday lunch atmosphere. You had almost missed it completely, had it not been for Moze who nudged you and you realized it wasn’t the delusional voices in your head speaking your wanton.

“Going to the Luofu for the Wardance Ceremony?” You echo Feixiao’s statement with perked up enthusiasm, food caking the insides of your cheeks, trying to push the words between your chewing.

“Finish chewing before you start talking.” There’s a mischievous smile on Jiaoqiu’s lips, tail flicking left and right in glee. He always finds every reason to tease you, this moment was no different. You shoot him a fond glare, pausing to finish a piece of rich meat in your mouth, licking the flavor between your teeth.

“Are you certain you want me to follow you to the Luofu?” You ask again, just in case it was Feixiao's drunk thought overtaking her senses.

But she straightens at the content of your tone, sobering. The expression on her face expresses her clear agreement.

“Why not?” She rests her cup on the table, her fingertips teetering towards the pitcher to pour more. “You have not visited the other Xianzhou ships before, it will be a good change of pace for you.”

A bright smile graces your lips, then it collapses. “I appreciate the invitation, but I cannot ignore the mountains of paperwork on my desk. I barely have time for leisure, much less go on a vacation somewhere.”

“Have you forgotten?” You turn your attention to Moze who speaks casually from your side, arms crossing over his chest. "You are looking at the Yaoqing’s lacking General, lacking in worries, regrets and…”

“Lacking in rivals.” You finish his sentence with a chuckle.

Moze’s lips tip upward, almost a smile.

“No one would dare say anything if a certain scribe vanishes from work and accompanies the General to the Luofu.”

Jiaoqiu adds. “Besides, we want you to come with us.” There’s a fond smile on his face.

“That’s three rebuttals against one.”

The atmosphere lifts at Jiaoqiu’s nostalgic tease, it all reminds you of the first time Jiaoqiu and Moze became your bodyguards, how time flies.

You chuckle then, “alright.”

“Now that it is settled,” Feixiao cheers. “Let us rejoice with—”

Jiaoqiu grabs the pitcher before your sister does, a sharp look of warning on his smiling face. “General Feixiao, please refrain from drinking anymore. And Moze,” He turns his head, you both stiffen. “Stop being an accomplice and let them eat their mushrooms.”

Moze tsked and a laugh bubbles in your chest, nothing can escape Jiaoqiu’s eyes now can it?

Despite the constant bantering that quickly fit into your routine with the three of them—you were extremely grateful for their existence in your otherwise very lonesome life. Aside from the excitement of the trip, you had been ruminating about their departure since you accidentally overheard them talking about it when you were slumbering.

The next couple of days, your enthusiasm never ceases until it’s the day to depart for Xianzhou Luofu.

The ship is already waiting by Yaoqing’s docks when you arrive, as your feet guide you there you double check your items before boarding: extra clothes, personal bathing essentials, wallet, notebook files, some medicines…yup. Everything you need for the trip has been accounted for, and even if you had forgotten something, you are certain the Luofu will provide you with it. You had heard a thing or two about Luofu’s dozing General from Feixiao herself, their generosity to foreigners have even touched the strings of your heart.

You are enthused about your first journey, being able to meet other people and seeing other sights outside of the usual IPC-styled architecture the Yaoqing has to offer.

You hear someone call out your name from a distance, you lift your head and see Jiaoqiu waving at you, already nestled on the ship’s seat cushions. He softly pats the space beside him,

“Come sit beside me.”

A Verdant knight allows you entry and you approach the smiling healer, doing as he had asked of you after loading your bag on the overhead bin. You allow your body to sink within the cushions with a contented sigh slipping between your teeth. Your arm touches Jiaoqiu’s and you cannot help but lean in and flop your head on his shoulder, soft strawberry cowlicks tickle your cheek and he reaches out to brush wild strands from your forehead.

“Didn’t get enough sleep?”

“I just had to finish files for a couple of IPC shipments that will be arriving in Verdant harbor.” This earns a light-hearted chuckle from the pink. You feel his weight on your head, his cheek pressed onto your crown.

“I thought you got an assistant?”

“I did.” You answer. “I need to make sure things are accounted for and queued in the proper order before I hand the management over to her.”

“Well, aren’t you a kind boss.”

“When was I not?”

Jiaoqiu grabs his red fan, small puffs of wind settle softly on your face due to his fanning. “I didn't say you were anything but.” Then a brief silence, his tone containing fondness.

“You are slowly trusting others again,”

You lift your head, unaware of how your face is close to his. From here, his butterscotch eyes are a gentle pool of honey and orange.

His lips tip up. “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart soars. Jiaoqiu winds his arm around you, tail flicking and his fan continues to draw air. “If you want to sleep, sleep.”

Your weight is leaning heavily on his, he doesn’t seem to mind it, his fingers coming to rub soothingly, almost lulling you, constellations of sleep blinking beneath your eyelids.

“But I wanted to wait and see the stars outside.”

“I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“Promise?” You yawn, this makes Jiaoqiu cradle you closer into his inviting warmth.

“Promise.” He says. “Now get some sleep. This will be a long trip.”

It has already been a couple of days since your arrival to the Xianzhou Luofu. Feixiao had left immediately to go sightseeing, leaving you, Jiaoqiu and Moze to announce your arrival to the Arbiter Generals at the Seat of Divine Foresight.

Meeting General Jingyuan was such an enlightening experience, his deep baritone faint in your ears, his gentle mannerisms and just as enthusiastic tone when talking about grueling papers constantly on office desks or wanting to travel more, it allowed for smooth conversations between the two of you, having so many things in common.

You had liked conversing with the General,

A certain two did not.

But your two ‘bodyguards’ knew better than to let their moods sully on such a simple thing.

It wasn’t strange for General Jingyuan to show a warm and respectful disposition towards you—he has, after all, heard of your astounding achievements in the Yaoqing, despite the nasty comments thrown at you, you prevailed, and Jingyuan admired that aspect of you, especially with your label as the Merlin’s Claw kin and the lack of swordsmanship practice.

Moze and Jiaoqiu understand that, because they hold the same amount of admiration towards you and your efforts.

But what they considered ludicrous was when you three had bumped into a Knight of beauty whilst trying to find for a certain General with white ears—you haven’t seen Feixiao in a long while and during your ventures of trying to find her, Argenti greeted you and you both clicked.

It was merely a curious exchange at first, trading words of greetings, introductions with a mix of interest for the other. Moze lags behind the group, preferring to keep to himself during this conversation which was understandable, he’s a man with few words much less sharing friendly words with Argenti—who was the complete opposite of Moze—radiant under public lights, forthright in his syrupy cadence, his eyes sparkle just as bright like ruby rose petals and succor violin strings.

Jiaoqiu could do nothing but smile politely at the interaction, happy that you are conversing more with others outside of your little circle.

But then Argenti picks up your hand, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

The friendly gesture made Jiaoqiu crack like stone and Moze stiffen.

The whole atmosphere takes a polar turn of frigid that feels harsh on your skin.

You’ve noticed it only briefly. Now, Jiaoqiu’s smile is no longer polite—but it’s still there, it just seems more…malicious and cynical than friendly. Or how Moze’s neutral stare sharpens as it follows the crimson hair of Argenti as he bids you all farewell.

When the knight turns the corner, Jiaoqiu places both his hands flat on your shoulders, a conflicting look in his amber eyes.

“I implore you to reconsider your choices.”

Your brows crease in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Jiaoqiu’s right. He’s bad news.” Moze inquired from your other side, adding spices to the already boiling pot. You can only flicker your gaze back and forth between the two, unsure why they are saying this all of a sudden.

“But Mr. Argenti seems sweet to me.”

You merely stated the obvious, Jiaoqiu jostles you softly like you’ve gone insane.

“The reputation of the Knights of beauty are fastidious. They don’t have time for such affairs since they travel all over the galaxy to pay patronage and share the gospel of their God all across the cosmos, so don’t even think about it.”

Think about it? Affairs? “Have you both eaten something funny today?” You ask instead, shaking away from Jiaoqiu’s firm grip.

Maybe they just ate something weird, their behavior will lessen in a couple days time, that is your initial conclusion on this matter. However their petulance only seems to metamorphosis the more days spent in the Luofu.

A day or two passes, and your run-ins with Argenti are few and far in between.

Two times, you’ve only bumped into each other two times after your first encounter. The Xianzhou Luofu is surprisingly a small place and with the current festival ongoing, it’s easy to bump into a familiar face among the streets.

But everytime Argenti perks up at the sight of you, calling you his ‘dear Yaoqing friend’ the air surrounding Jiaoqiu and Moze seems to freeze over, and you were semi-glad Argenti doesn’t take notice or offense to such looks pinned on him.

He’s quite the character.

You sigh again for the millionth time today when you parted ways with the red-head. You turned around, “Jiaoqiu.”

“Yes?”

“If you won’t stop glaring at him, the passersby will assume he jumped you in an alley and robbed you of your riches.”

“You’re just seeing things.”

“No, I’m quite sure of myself. What’s with the face, Jiaoqiu. Did he do something to you that I am not aware of?”

Jiaoqiu’s manners exude reluctance, his mouth open then close, as if unsure of what to answer you. “...Not in particular.”

You tilt your head. ‘Then w—” Before you can finish your sentence, the fox rips a part of his pastry and gently pushes it between your lips to hush you.

“Try this for me.” He says instead. “Is it to your taste?”

You lick the flavor from your teeth, nodding your head. At your response, Jiaoqiu pushes the remaining pastry on your hand and pats your head.

“Take it, I'm not really into sweet things.”

“Okay…”

As you watch him, you’ve taken note of how either of the two behave, which was a new experience on your part, you have not seen this side of them before. Like Jiaoqiu’s tendency to hide his nasty displeasures beneath his red fan, occasional amber eyes scrutinizing and ears twitching.

Or Moze that seems to have the tendency to either vanish into thin air mid conversation when something displeases him, tug his hood down and refrain from any eye contact or he would glare down at you with those magenta eyes of his, just like right now.

“Where are you going?”

You startle as the tall, brooding man materializes in front of you. You pause, looking around for any imminent danger for him to act like this.

“I was just gonna check out the stalls I haven’t stopped by in Aurum Alley.”

He blinks. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” You defend yourself quickly, too quick. “I wanted to buy something but haven’t found the right place to custom make it, this is my second time trying to look around.”

Moze ponders upon your excuse, he melts immediately after thinking it through. “Okay.” He uncrosses his arms, shaving his stubbornness away. “I’ll accompany you,”

“Wait a second.” Your brows furrowed in confusion. “You…you cannot come with me, and aren’t you supposed to be in an important meeting in the seat of Divine Foresight with Jiaoqiu and the Madam General?”

He responds by shaking his head. “It’ll be alright, Jiaoqiu’s enough to handle it and I’m not fond of the limelight either way. It’s also protocol to—“

You try to sidestep him, he moves to block you again.

You scowl at him. He ignores you.

“It’s protocol to keep watch over you here more so than normal since this isn’t the Yaoqing, there might be others here that are out to get you.”

“It’s a festival, Moze.” You narrow your eyes.

He nods his head. “A great distraction for people to come and take advantage of the situation. So try—“

“To enjoy the celebration—“

“To stay alert since it is a celebration.”

You cannot help but sigh. “Let loose a little, will you?” You start. “If it makes you feel better, I’m heading there with a companion. They’ll be able to look after me while you are busy, better?”

Moze’s frown seems to deepen, not necessarily easing his worry like you’d hope. “Who is it?”

“Mr. Argen—”

“Absolutely not—“

Before Moze could finish his demand, you take his hand in yours. The complaints on his tongue die and his heated stare is on you. The folds of his worried expression only creases further, you had to squeeze his gloved hand.

“I have always been grateful for your companionship, so never think otherwise that I’m trying to cast you aside.”

“So why can’t I…” Moze bites his tongue when you shake your head again.

“Well if I mention anything then it wouldn’t necessarily be a surprise now will it?”

When his response is nothing but silence you finally drop his hand, trying to swerve around him yet again to leave. “Thank you for your generous services, Mr. Shadow Guard. Then, I’ll see you—“

A firm grip on your hand stops you dead on your tracks. You turn your head to look at Moze, there was a complicated expression on his face, his brow pinched more than usual, frown deeper and velvet pupils simmering.

“…Moze?”

He snaps out of it in an instant, “I do trust you, It's just I’m—” He blinks, reconsiders his words, then releases your hand. “Nevermind. Have fun, come find us if anything happens.”

You watch your companion turn to leave, his familiar purple hood disappearing around the corner. You cannot help but sigh, now you feel guilty for pushing him away like this.

“There you are.” Argenti greets you from behind as he taps your shoulder.

“Hey, Argenti.”

He takes notice of the look in your face, tilting his head. “What’s with the morose expression, my dear friend?”

“Oh.” You turn away. “Sorry, I just brushed away a friend just now and I feel terrible about it.”

Argenti hums, patting your head gently. “I see. Well, if it eases your worry, I am here to announce that I have found a stall that can help you make your requests. However, they are not in Aurum Alley.”

You perk up. “That’s great news.” You smile. “Thank you, can you show me where they are?”

“Of course,” Argenti smiles at you, “The craftsman I stumbled upon usually hangs around Exalting Sanctum, come with me.”

Before you take a step, you dare to look over your shoulders at the place where you saw Moze disappear, then turn to follow Argenti down the road.

When Moze returns back to Jiaoqiu and Feixiao with a sour expression on his face—they didn’t need to piece together the cause of such sullenness for the assassin. A laugh cannot help but slip from the lips of their General as she quips,

“You know, if the both of you are jealous due to lack of attention just say so. I can’t have two of my retainers looking especially like kicked pups in front of the Luofu’s and Zhuming’s generals.”

Jiaoqiu cannot help but grumble. “Don’t tease us like that, General.”

It was a brief feeling, and the first that you’ve felt in years: the fear in your skin, grief in your chest and the pain woven in your brain. Smoke dresses your veins and you choke on the exhaustion, knees hitting the bloodied grass beneath you.

Your heart is pounding in your ears and instead of the familiar Luofu inn—you remembered being back in that particular field of massacre, bodies of your people falling like weeds as Borisins cut them down, one by one, their screams of pain piercing through you.

More specifically, the bloody screams of your parents as they pushed you to continue running. Don’t look back, their words echo. Keep running my dear, don’t turn around— when their screeches are accompanied by painful gasps and squelches of bodies being torn apart like lacy ribbons, You dare to turn around.

“Mother! Father!” You scream so hard it makes you dizzy. Fat tears spill down your cheeks, a pitiful sob wrenching from your throat. “Please don’t leave me, I don’t have anybody else. What am I supposed to do, I don’t want to be alone, I’m begging you—!“

Your eyes snap open.

You awake from that nightmare with a billowing gasp.

The night is tame and your room is quiet, but your heart is a drum in your chest. When you sit up, the remnants of tears are all that remains of the tragedy of your youth.

Mom, dad. You cannot help but let out a shaky exhale, curling into yourself to stop the tremor that chills through your whole body. It’s okay, you’re no longer in that field.

Restlessness sinks into your bones after that, so instead of laying awake in your bed you were leaning against the open window. Luofu’s night air appears colder than what you were used to. You tap your finger against the surface of the wood beneath you.

You hear a brief noise faint in the ears.

You close your eyes.

“I know it’s you, Moze.”

There was silence, then a low hum that belonged to one person. “You’re awake still.” The tides of umbra shadows linger, materializing his familiar tall build leaning against the wall just outside your open window.

You shoot him a smile. “I am unable to sleep tonight.”

It takes a while for him to respond. He turns around, approaching you and ducking his head to enter through. “Are you alright?” He asks when his feet hit your wooden floors.

“Just, thinking a lot.” You say. “That’s all.”

“Nightmares?” Moze asks.

“Nightmares.” You confirm.

You can feel the man frown before you can see it. Though by then, you decided to lift the lighthearted mood with a question, “How about you, why are you still here?”

Moze decides to play along with your whims, “I decided to attack the General tonight, but as always, she managed to dodge it all.”

Ah, that.

You dare not question Moze’s and Feixiao’s weird little bonding the moment you found out about this arrangement. Apparently they’ve been going on like this since Feixiao first saved Moze from the disciples of Sanctus Medicus. To him, Feixiao is both his benefactor and enemy, the relationship they both have concurrently was fixed upon a promise, a declaration and a sense of respect for one another.

You stir from your own thoughts when you feel someone tug the ties of your attire.

“Your hanfu isn’t aligned properly.”

You look up at his steady velvet eyes. Moze’s in front of you now, murmuring his excuse as his fingers flatten upon the fabrics, tugging and hoisting and pulling until it’s finally centered and his irk is satiated.

You watch his fuss beneath your softened gaze, you reminisce on such a simple gesture. “Hey, Moze?”

He diverts his attention, looking into your eyes.

“Thank you, you know, for sticking around.”

You feel his fingers flinch from your statement. The frown on his face shows his puzzlement.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean just that.”

“Are you gonna do something that would cause us to be separated?” You wanted to laugh at how serious his tone had become, hardened and alerted. The levity doesn’t sink into him, for he had pinched your chin, drawing your attention back to him.

“Answer me, please.” He pushes a little, not roughly but not gentle either. The moonlight strokes the crevices of his pinched expression, a sprinkle of salt and pepper of seriousness.

Just when you are about to retort, he adds in with a quickened breath.

“I don’t want us to be separated.” He says ardently. “You are too important to me.”

You are vaguely aware of his other hand still lingering by your waist, the one that was constantly tugging and pulling your hanfu in place. Outside the Luofu’s night air, you feel nothing but warmth, your heart is quickly filled with a flood of wanton and fullness,

And belonging.

You felt like you finally belonged.

The fear that you had felt mere minutes ago completely washes over, reassured by Moze’s blunt responses. You take a step closer to him, winding your arms around his neck and burying your face on his shoulder, the man stills at your unexpected behavior but is quick to recover, purchasing his hands on your lower back, soothing the skin there by rubbing his thumbs.

Reignbow Arbiter. You murmur to yourself. Whatever happens, please protect them. Protect my sister, protect Moze and Jiaoqiu. Do what you must, please, I beg of you. I don’t want to be alone anymore.

And for a split moment, you are weighed down by the reality that your prayers are merely just a gust of wind for something as almighty as the divine that ruled over the cosmos. It happened oh so suddenly that fear almost shatters your entire body into two.

“Hoolay has escaped from the Shackling prison!” A guard’s words echo through you that moment.

“He has taken a Yaoqing messenger with him, his name is…”

Moze inhales, messy in appearance after just coming back from the Shackling prison. The words thick on his tongue and fist clenched.

“…Jiaoqiu was taken by that escaped Borisin Warhead.”

You watch the starskiffs pass by your vision, the wind that gently gossips upon your skin felt so numb. You grip the rail before you, inhaling a breath, Jiaoqiu’s taken. You exhale, resting your head on your arm. He’s taken and no one knows where he is.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

You hear Feixiao approach you, you don’t lift your head to look at her and she settles on the space beside you, diamond blue-eyes accompanying you gazing at the numerous skiffs before you.

When you’ve gotten used to her presence, she turns, “How are you holding up?”

You cannot help but chuckle. “I’m not the one who needs comforting.”

She hums. “I know.” Her eyes are back on the starskiffs. “I am not familiar with offering words of comfort either, but I know you. I’ve known you for a very long time, don’t try to hide your emotions from me.”

You don’t answer her, you don’t for a very long time. So when you do, your voice cracks. “I’m scared. So, so scared—“

“Look at me, please?”

You finally lift your head. When your eyes settle onto Feixiao, she’s a watercolor of vanilla and blue. You didn’t realize you were crying until she started wiping the strays rolling down your cheeks.

You disliked crying, it makes you feel so weak—so open. However, you press Feixiao’s warm palm on your cheek, letting her comfort you because your fear is spiking yet again, memories of your dead parents rising to choke you whole.

“We’ll get him back, that I can promise.” Feixiao’s forehead is against yours.

You can only nod, squeezing her hand. “I know you will. You three are so strong, the strongest people I know.”

She finally releases you, not before pressing a delicate kiss on your temple. “I love you,” she tells you like she’s sealing a promise on your skin. “I’ll be having an audience with General Huaiyan and Jingyuan. Moze and I won’t be back for a while until this situation rolls over.”

You see the uncertainty clouding within Feixiao’s eyes. “Will you be alright being alone for a few hours?”

Your sister has always been so concerned for you, she’s been like this since you were young and you’re grateful that she cares about your well-being.

You shake your head with a smile as a response. “I’m no longer a child, Madam General. I can handle myself, so go do what you need to do.”

You don’t leave your place, raising a hand and waving as Feixiao leaves you to your own thoughts. Your smile falls then, ruminating on the current situation with a heavy heart.

“Jiaoqiu, Feixiao and Moze.” You mutter out to the wind and the virring skarskiffs passing beneath the bridge. “Please be safe.”

As you finally let your prayers fly in the wind, you step down the bridge and decide to focus your mind on other matters—you decide to stroll around Exalting Sanctum to check up on the craftsman that promised you your items.

Under the dim alley of Exalting Sanctum, Jiaoqiu stills with quiet breaths, his sharp eyes hovering between the disguised Warhead and Mok tok.

Even if he’s stringed up by them, he’s certain that General Feixiao had gotten the message of the prison break as well as his capture. His only course of action now is to stall for the Cloud knights, he’s giving time for Moze and General Feixiao to capture Hoolay.

“Since you’re so confident that the Cloud Knights have closed the ports, Jiaoqiu, I’m giving you a chance to go and see for yourself. Go to the ports, come back, and tell me what you saw.”

What is he thinking? Jiaoqiu scrutinizes as he steps into the bustling streets of Exalting Sanctum. His butterscotch eyes lift up to the sky, then around the streets, he’s certain that Warhead isn’t giving him freedom, the piercing gazes of suspicious foxians watching closely on his behavior is enough for him to thread carefully.

If he interacts with anyone aside from checking up on the ferryman, he fears there will be consequences. Jiaoqiu’s steps are paced, weighty and enduring. His mind is a blur of colors, but he manages to reach the port, his voice hushed as he talked with the so-called ferryman who’s responsible for the Warhead’s escape.

Jiaoqiu had thought the Xianzhou had closed the ports, but it still remains open. What's going on?

He inhales, he can feel someone watching him. The prodding looks make the hairs on his tail stand up. He exhales, climbing up a flight of stairs and turning the corner—

“Ah, there you are, young one. I was wondering where you were, and where’s your red-headed companion?”

“It’s just me today.” A familiar voice, “May I ask for the progress of what I ordered?”

Jiaoqiu’s breath is paper thin and his bones stiffen, what are you doing here?

He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you, his amber eyes zone in on you in an instant. At first, he felt relieved. You seem to be faring well even after the events that had happened in a span of a few hours—and then after relief, he felt dread.

Jiaoqiu can still feel eyes following his every move, he cannot go to you. But what if you saw him? What if you approached him and demanded to take him?

What would the Borisins do to you?

Jiaoqiu should’ve left when he had the chance instead of just standing there—because after your conversation with a craftsman, you had turned on your heel and your eyes had stopped on him.

No, Jiaoqiu mutters to himself.

He sees the arraying emotions washing over your face, the look of shock, relief, then yearning.

“Jiaoqiu is that…you?” Your tone is laced with a certain type of sob that rips his heart into two. His fingers twitch on his side, the desperation to embrace you is almost palpable—your actions will have consequences.

He stops himself shortly.

Jiaoqiu turns his head, and leaning at the far corner is a stranger, a foxian, his shadowed expression sharp on him, scrutinizing and calculating.

“Jiaoqiu!” He’s snapped back to reality when he hears you approaching him, hurried paces against the stony ground. He cannot be seen speaking with you.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Your voice is strained and vulnerable, eyes glassy. “Where have you been, how did you—“

When you reach over to touch him, Jiaoqiu turns and slaps your hand away, harshly.

The two of you pause for a full minute, shocked at the action.

Jiaoqiu? Your eyes dissect him slowly, his butterscotch eyes are sharp, narrowed, expression complicated and folded with a million emotions. What’s happening?

“Is something wrong?” You ask him slowly. For a very long moment you only stared at each other. Jiaoqiu looks like he wants to reach out to you, to apologize for slapping your hand away—for his fingers ache to touch you.

But at the same time he looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. He keeps shifting on his heel, like he’s ready to walk away from you. But why?

Is someone watching him?

You turn your gaze, looking around the crowd but Jiaoqiu’s voice stops you,

“Stop it.” he hisses at you, “Go, get out of here.”

”..Okay.” You can do nothing but exhale. “Okay uhm, then I’ll get someone here, perhaps a Cloud Knight—“

“No!” Jiaoqiu yells at you and you flinch.

“Don’t—just don’t do anything. Forget you saw me and go back, please.”

Forget you saw him, he says. This is the first time you’ve seen Jiaoqiu this agitated, not even your first argument was he this icy, so harsh on you—you’re trying to understand why he’s acting like this but you cannot come to a conclusion.

You want to abide by what he says, you really do, but Jiaoqiu’s right here. If you left now, what would those borisins do to him—would they kill him like how they killed your parents?

The very thought of it sends a chill through your spine, your heart seizing in fear. So when Jiaoqiu turns around hastily, dread crawls up your body just watching his back as he walks away from you.

You know Jiaoqiu’s trying to protect you. You know it, but at the same time you cannot let him go.

You close the distance, enough to grasp the straws of his sleeve fabric—but the response is almost instantaneous, Jiaoqiu circles your wrist and tugs you to a dim alleyway impatiently. He’s aware of the heated gazes of the borisins but he tries to get away enough to push you up against the wall, to take all your attention.

Jiaoqiu’s aware of your wide, tear-stained eyes and shaking body. “I’m sorry, Jiaoqiu. I just can’t, let me expl—“ your words stumble between your lips like a drunk as you try to explain yourself but he simply flattens his palms on your mouth, and his voice is low, hurt and in pain.

From here, his butterscotch eyes that were once a gentle pool of honey and orange are now hardened like a resin, angry.

“When I tell you to run, run, little scribe.” Jiaoqiu forces his voice to leave his throat, a shaky exhale of statements. “I promised you, I promised General Feixiao that I would protect you, I would do anything for that. Your life is worth more than mine.“

You shake your head fervently, struggling from his hold but Jiaoqiu holds you closer, head falling unceremoniously on your shoulder, his soft ears tickling your cheek.

“They’re listening.” Jiaoqiu murmurs, shifting his hands to hold the frame of your face closely. “I need to go back to them.”

“They’re gonna hurt you at this rate.” You hiss. “Just come with me, Jiaoqiu, and then—“

“Then they’re gonna hurt the people here!” Jiaoqiu’s ear twitches as he bites back. “We are not to draw any form of attention to ourselves, don’t be selfish—“

“So what if I am?!” You grasp his hand, pressing your cheek against the heat of his own palm. “I don’t care if you call me selfish, I—“

Your words stumble, he can feel fresh tears on his skin.

“You’re breaking my heart, Jiaoqiu.” you sobbed. “I just want you to be safe with me, with sister and Moze.”

Jiaoqiu closes his eyes.

He is reminded of that crammed table that could slot four people. He remembers the spicy scent of food, the banters, the laughs.

Jiaoqiu engulfs you in a tight hug, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” he pauses. “I know where you’re coming from, you told me your story before, haven’t you?”

His lips brush the side of your temple, as if sealing a promise.

“I love you.” He tells you, and agony is in your heart. “I’m sorry, so so sorry, but I can’t leave with you, not when I know people will die if I escape and especially not when I know Hoolay will be the key to cure the general’s illness. Go find Moze as fast as you can, I'll try to stall those wolves for you.”

“Jiao—“ but he’s pulling away and disappearing from your view, taking the warmth with him. You could hardly stand on your own two feet, barely registering what had just happened.

You foolish fox…you push yourself off the ground, stumbling out of the alleyway with your eyes sweeping across the area.

But he’s gone, just like that.

You bend down, your balled fist slamming hard against the wall in frustration.

Jiaoqiu, an image of him enters your head, the patterns of torment in his eyes. You turn around and sprint for it. Please, stay alive.

But the world is not in your favor.

As soon as you distance yourself from Jiaoqiu, it isn't long before you feel eyes following you. You have been ever since you left the alleyway. Your heart hurts, and you aggressively wipe your tears on your sleeve.

For that Warhead to force your companion to do all of those things, you feel anger simmering beneath your arteries. How dare he—how dare he force Jiaoqiu to say all of those?

You quicken your steps then, someone was after you. Maybe that’s why Jiaoqiu wants to get away from you despite wandering around freely, because he was kept under close watch, he didn’t want them to draw their gaze on you.

Foolish, so foolish. You should’ve taken notice of the bloodthirsty eyes around Exalting Sanctum. Your breathing is heavy, you try to turn a corner—

You bump into someone.

They hold your shoulders steadily.

“Easy there, are you alright?” Gazing down at you was a man in Cloud knight uniform, you physically relaxed at the familiar attire. You step away from his hold, swiping the back of your palm on your cheeks.

“I’m alright, I apologize for bumping into—“

You stop. You feel murderous intent.

You settle your gaze on the Cloud Knight before you, he had foxian ears and a scar running down one of his eyes. Despite his gentle and raspy tone, his expression is cynical, but most of all,

His scent was so achingly familiar to the scent of the people that massacred your parents.

This is not a Cloud Knight.

“Is something wrong?” The man asks you.

You shake your head with a polite smile on your lips, your fingers nitpick at the wild thread from your pants, brushing the hidden knife tucked into it. “No, it’s alright. I just argued with someone unnecessary. I’m sorry for being such a sight—“

You merely wish to aim for his neck, to immobilize him so you can stumble out of the quiet corridor you were on and to mesh with the crowd. Just as your fingers reach for the weapon and to swipe—you hear bone crunching, your knife falling to the ground and your scream is choked by his hand, clamping down and gripping your jaw and cheeks, his claws dig deep and they feel sharper against the pillow of your skin.

“Pathetic human.” the foxian clicks his tongue. “So much vigor for such a weak attack.”

Hot blood trickles down from the open wound on your wrist, it hits the pebbles ground like rubies.

“If you want to chastise me for my measly attempt, at least say such a thing out of your disguise.” You breathed heavily, gaze sharp and angry. “You have no right to say that to me when you’re the one hiding like a whelp, you damn wolf.”

“A sharp-tongue, just like that pink fox.” Mok tok says it so disdainfully, his claws cut your skin, he leans in close to you, inhaling. “You smell of him too, as well as two other scents on you. So you’re close-knit.”

Jiaoqiu, your mind utters. What did you do to Jiaoqiu?

The borisin laughs at your unfortunate situation. “Now because of both your stupidity, your life will be nothing but fodder for our cause. Sing praises, little human, you have no one but that fox to blame for your misfortunes.”

“Of course, a lowly beast like you would think like that.” You try to bite back your scowl. “Blame him? How shallow do you see me, blaming someone whom you’ve shackled and taken hostage?”

“You speak as if your opinions hold absolution. Well, relish in these short-lived quips. Our lord wishes to cause chaos within the Xianzhou streets, it won’t take long and you will be nothing but another body to clean up and placed on a star skiff after this farce.”

You close your eyes. White, hot anger threatens to brew out of you like a storm, but you can feel the bones in your legs weakening, the dripping blood causing you to feel lightheaded—is this how you’ll die?

You slump against the stone wall behind you, your vision starting to blur.

“Feixiao.” You mumble, biting your lip one last time. “She’s strong, her alone will be enough to cut down a thousand of you. I swear upon my name, she’ll make sure you borisins will taste nothing but bitter defeat. You and your lord will not leave this ship and see freedom till your last dying br—“

Your words were hindered as something sharp swipes through your throat. Your pulse dies and everything goes pitch black.

For a split moment, his heart hurt and his eyes snapped open to nothing.

The ache is almost indescribable, almost painful as Jiaoqiu jolts awake from a nightmare, hand flying to his throat. He didn't realize he was mumbling in distress until he heard the chair beside him creak clumsily—like someone had jumped up from being seated for so long.

When his nose picks up the scent of Dreambranch incense, Jiaoqiu momentarily realizes where he was.

He lets out a breath. “I wasn’t aware you were here, Moze.”

“Jiaoqiu you…” Jiaoqiu can almost hear the reluctance in his tone—and if he had his vision, he would have seen a complicated expression on the assassin’s face, the familiar furrowed brows and deep frown.

“Don’t sound so uptight. I’m fine, I just had a nightmare is all.” the lighthearted tone quickly withers after remembering the dream that had made his fingers tremble.

“Moze, has…”

Moze is quiet by definition, but the absence of even a breath from him is all too unnerving. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch, picking up on the way the chair creaks at the weight of being occupied, then a heavy breath.

Bitter is in Moze’s tone. “…little scribe has still not been found yet.”

Jiaoqiu smiles resentfully.

After the whole dilemma with Hoolay and the Wardance ceremony, he had just narrowly escaped the jaws of death when Moze had found him in an alleyway half-dead. He had lost track of the days that passed as he recovered slowly within Luofu's commission.

Everyone is slowly recovering from the aftermath, him, Feixiao and Moze—severely injured from fighting Hoolay and the remainder of the wolves that thrashed the streets.

All but you.

After everything was settled, General Feixiao had ordered knights to track your whereabouts. But not a single person had found you or possibly,

your body.

Jiaoqiu does not like to think of the latter choice.

But it’s been days, and the seed of hope within him is slowly withering.

After fixing his clothes, he peels the blankets which prompts a curt response from Moze.

“Where are you going?”

“I want to take a stroll, I feel restless..”

A gentle yet firm hand lands on his shoulder. “You mustn't.” Moze says. “That dragon lady just injected Draconic Ichor dewdrops to you last night, your tissues haven’t fully replenished, you’re not allowed to move as you please, at least not right now.”

“You’re confined to the alchemy commission just as much as the general and I.” Jiaoqiu quips back. “And yet you’re here in my room, defying clear orders from Miss Lingsha.”

It was unspoken, but Jiaoqiu is aware of the times Moze slips out the commission at night, searching for you until the dawn peaks and people start to flurry back onto the streets.

He’s aware of Feixiao talking with the authorities within the Luofu, talking with higher ups and people to help with the search, to find people who would help find even an inkling of you somewhere.

And just like him, those two are just as aware of the times Jiaoqiu sits alone on the bed, a smile on his lips as Lingsha or Bailu leaves the door when he says he was feeling okay. unaware—but aware to two of his companions—that he’d pray helplessly for your safety every day, praying that you’d show up at some point. He prays, promises that he’d never place mushrooms in your bowl again, so you can finally come back to him.

It wasn't spoken aloud, but actions were made clear on how the Yaoqing general and her two delegates had missed you like no other.

They loved you, after all.

The hand on his shoulder drops, and Jiaoqiu turns to the direction where he knows he’s facing the assassin. He’s still unsure with his own movements and gestures, being in such a state—he’s conflicted of what to feel, but his visual impairment doesn’t affect him as much as his growing dread of your absence and his heavy heart did.

“If you plan to take a stroll, then i’ll accompany you.”

Jiaoqiu’s smile is soft, feeling the looming presence of his companion by his side, easing him towards the door in a clumsy gesture.

“I owe you, Moze.” He tells him when they exit the commission.

“You don’t owe me anything.” Moze replies. “Just, keep yourself healthy so you can continue to be by the General’s side.”

“Of course. Isn’t that already a given due to my position?”

“…You’re making that face.”

Jiaoqiu’s ear flick at his directness.

He pushes out a chuckle, “What face?”

“Like you just failed the General.” The familiar thump thump thump of Moze’s footsteps pause, the pink-haired healer does the same.

“It’s not your fault that they’re missing.”

“Is that so?” Jiaoqiu wonders. From the distance, he can taste the sea waves, the ether trickling its whisper on his ears and kissing his skin cold. “Do you remember what the General told us months ago when we were first called to her office?”

Moze stays quiet. Jiaoqiu continues, “the General had told us that there was an attempted assassination on her kin.” He grits his teeth. “She told us that she was worried, that one day, the most precious person in her life would face a tragic end because of her—“

“Jiaoqiu—“

“The little scribe.” Jiaoqiu sighs, shaky. He feels pathetic, saying all of this in front of Moze. He’s supposed to be the eldest, the wisest, but given the circumstances, there’s nothing but loathing and self-deprecating thoughts in his mind.

Helplessness has found a home in his chest once again, he hasn't felt this way since being a healer on the battlefield.

“There’s no excuse for this.” Jiaoqiu turns then.

“It was direct orders from the General to protect them, I exposed them to Hoolay and now we don’t know if they’re safe or not. I…I failed that order. If only—“

And faltering, “if only I walked away just before they saw me—“

Warmth. Just before he finished his sentence, he felt arms embracing him.

For a moment, he was stunned. Moze hugging him? That’s quite an unlikely situation, then he smells that scent—the scent of wind and vanilla and herbs, as well as the feeling of smaller sinewy arms around his shoulders.

“Is that how you felt, Jiaoqiu?” It was General Feixiao.

“...Did you also slip out of the alchemy commission, General? Ignoring the doctor’s orders again I see.”

“Compared to you, I have almost recovered.” Feixiao’s embrace only tightens much to Jiaoqiu’s surprise. “But you, I heard from Miss Lingsha that you’re healing very poorly despite the treatments you’ve received. They had thought it was because of the toxins still in your body, but I thought of another reason. You feel responsible for what has happened.”

“It’s just a trivial thought of mine, I never wished to concern you with my own health and problems, General.”

“Don’t say nonsense, a healer doesn’t heal himself.” Feixiao mutters on his shoulder. “And I thought an embrace can help ease you, Miss March had said so.”

“Ah, the spirited one from the Astral Express.” Jiaoqiu dithers. “Thank you for the kind offer, General but I’m alright—“

He stiffened once again when he felt another pair of arms around him, piling up on Feixiao's embrace. He is unsure of what to do with his hands, so he pats either of his companion’s arms.

“This isn’t necessary.”

“It is.” Moze says it seriously, dutiful.

Jiaoqiu would have let this slip, if it weren't for the fact that his back is starting to ache from all the weight pushing him down. His companions are—after all—all bulk sinews and muscles from exercise, compared to his leaner stature.

“It isn’t. If anyone were to see this, they would think the Yaoqing—“

“Sorry, am I interrupting a beautiful sentimental moment between comrades?”

Jiaoqiu pushes both Feixiao’s and Moze’s arms when another tone quips up from the distance.

The smell of fragrant roses hits his nose, the subtle feel of the atmosphere shifting at the arrival of that knight whom you have accompanied half the time during the Luofu.

“This is the first time greeting you, knight of beauty.” Feixiao is the first to speak, kindness in her tone. “May I know the agenda of your visit?”

“I have come here to fulfill a request from a friend.” Argenti’s tone dips into genuine sorrow. “As well as to say sorry, for what has happened.”

The clack of armor against the cobblestone, the rustle of something he isn’t quite sure of, then Argenti’s syrupy tone again.

“Your young companion has had a surprise to offer to you three. They had sought me for assistance for it, and it’s only today that the craftsman had finished it. I thought of delivering it on their behalf.”

”What is it?” asks Moze. Argenti steps up and offers a hand, Moze reluctantly extends his, hitting his palm with something soft, almost heavy.

“I heard it’s Xianzhou tradition to give things like this to someone special.” His smile is soft. “It’s to signify good luck and blessings.”

Moze is quiet. “…They did this?”

And the knight nods, giving the other tassels to the two. This was the surprise you’ve been in secrecy for the longest time, Moze notes clutching the red tassel tightly between his palms. It’s a gift, for them.

“Thank you for delivering this, knight.” Feixiao offers her gratitude. She's the only one that is engaged in the conversation, Moze is otherwise quiet—and Jiaoqiu’s too busy trying to trace a pattern on the tassel thread to say his own tidings.

But Argenti is understanding, after a few more words said, the knight of beauty excuses himself, leaving the three to their own thoughts.

When silence is all that envelopes, Feixiao turns towards her companions.

“Do you want me to place the tassel on your person, Jiaoqiu?” The pink-haired healer smiles at the gentle brush of his general’s tone, giving his tassel to her so she can hang the accessory around his belt.

“I can do it for you too, Moze.”

“Okay.” Moze leans forward. “I’ll place yours, General.”

The tassels are caressed by the gentle breeze of the distant shore of Lunarescent Depths, the meaning of its thread weighs heavy.

“They are alive somewhere, that I am sure of.” Feixiao said it like a promise than an assumption. “We won’t return to the Yaoqing until I am sure of that.”

“I am with you, General.” rasps Moze.

“Where will I be if not by your side as your doctor?” Jiaoqiu chuckles. “Even with my current state, I wish to give it my everything.”

Suddenly, hurried footfalls on heavy cobblestone gave way to a new arrival.

Both Jiaoqiu and Feixiao’s ears twitch at the sound. Moze’s sharp eyes darted towards a Cloudknight who was approaching them, out of breath.

“General Feixiao!’ the Cloudknight heaves a breath, his hurriedness draws all three to his manners.

“What is it?”

“The Yaoqing scribe—your companion has been found.” The air stills and Jiaoqiu inhales a sharp breath, the Cloudknight continues through heavy breaths. “The IPC representatives have claimed that they found your scribe, they had just entered the Alchemy commission.”

It’s a miracle, one peels at your consciousness. Thank your Reighbow arbiter for such wonderment, you were given a second chance, the second sores a bruise on your skin.

Your carotid arteries are surprisingly intact, you only manage to harbor a few broken rib cages, wrist bone and clavicle, the third draws a muddy filth until you find yourself awakening from a tormented scene, clutching the expanse of your bandaged-wrapped neck like you’ve lost its anatomy—for a short moment, you thought you have gone without a neck.

Your eyes bruise beneath the sun, sticking it towards the open window of Luofu’s Alchemy Commission, the wind gossips, and the duvets hug your thin frame.

You inhale the medical-scented room, you're alive, exhale, you're okay.

“Feixiao.” your dry mouth utters the first words. “Jiaoqiu.” you push yourself up, dragging your feet towards the edge of the bed, toes hitting cold planks.

“Mo—” then, the door bursts open.

Your eyes snap up and a lamp lights in your pupils.

Moze was standing there, in the flesh.

“Moze—” and you startle in surprise when the gaps between the two of you immediately cease, large arms engulfing you whole. Which was unexpected, because Moze is not one to initiate physical contact with anyone. But to the assassin—feeling you in his arms, the dresses of breaths you let out and the warmth that wools you reassures Moze that you are here. You truly are here in his arms.

“You’re okay.” came his shaky response, he gathers you closer, your beating pulse resting on his cheek. “You’re fine now.”

A couple more footfalls came, Feixiao and Jiaoqiu had arrived.

Feixiao calls your name when her eyes land on you, the synonyms a delicate stroke on her tongue, then her warm palm finds a home on your cheek.

You gaze at her, watching her ocean eyes crinkle with relief, her ears tilted back to show just how troubled she was. “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m sorry, sister.”

She leans forward to bump her forehead with yours, levity in the air. “Don’t be sorry.”

When Moze and Feixiao finally pull away, your eyes drag towards the last person in the room who hasn’t uttered a single word yet. You see a smile on his lips but it does not reach his eyes.

“Jiaoqiu,”

“Little scribe,” his voice betrays his calm disposition. “You’re okay.”

“I am.” you start. “Please come closer.”

You see his reluctance before he approaches you—slightly slower than normal—reaching his arms out before finding your bed, sitting on the edge of it. His actions sent an ache through your heart.

“How are you feeling?” Jiaoqiu asks. “We heard your wrist was broken and your throat slashed…”

“The medicine that the healers from the IPC gave me helped and my wrist is healing. But you, Jiaoqiu, I heard that your eyes…”

Jiaoqiu gives you a smile and you finally confirm that it is in fact true.

He cannot see anymore.

Even if he’s visually unavailable, Jiaoqiu knows you. And he knew you were crying, his fingers reaching out to you, trying to feel where you were. You meet him halfway, clasping your fingers with his and pressing your cheek against the palm of his hand. His thumb swipes across your wet skin and his forehead taps against yours.

The whole situation weighs on your chest—your endangerment, the severe injuries those three received, the aftermath and the reunion, you cannot help but finally crash down from everything. You wrap your arms around Jiaoqiu, a heavy sob wracking through your whole body and he holds you impossibly close. You feel Moze’s and Feixiao’s hands rubbing circles on your back, soothing your cries.

“Please don’t cry, I’m—we’re okay.” Jiaoqiu softly croons, running his thumb up and down the wet skin of your cheek.

“So are you,” his face crumbles and he bites back his own sobs. “Thank you so much for being okay and coming back to us, thank you so much.”

When your heavy cries fade into weak sniffles, Jiaoqui holds the frame of your face so delicately, wiping away the remnants of wetness, leaning down to rub your nose with his. “Better?” and in response, you grunted.

Everyone takes a seat near your bed. Moze reaches out to give you a handkerchief and you gratefully take it. Afterwards, you fall back into conversation, asking them what had happened during your absence. Feixiao is the one to elaborate to you the aftermath of the borisin attack, their recovery and the resume of the Wardance.

You crack a smile, “I was really excited to see that ceremony.”

“We can all go there together.” There’s a faint smile on Moze’s lips. “That knight will take part from what I heard and there will be other contestants across the universe.”

“After our recovery, since everything has been handled by General Jingyuan, I will be able to join you three and partake in the ceremony.” Feixiao speaks. “It will take about a week before the Wardance will conclude, then we can all return to the Yaoqing.”

The Yaoqing, your gaze drops to your hands, your smile thinning.

“...I have something to tell you three.”

This garners their attention, with a breath of courage you mutter out, “When the Luminary Wardance concludes in Luofu, I won’t be returning to the Yaoqing.”

You look up, your face serious. “ I’ll be joining the Intelligentsia Guild.”

Hours prior to your return to the Alchemy commission, you find yourself in a room that has been rented out by the IPC.

Someone knocks on your door and you grit back an exhale.

“I believe I’ve already sent my regards to you lot. I am grateful for your aid but I never imagined I would be bombarded, entangled in some miscellany with the IPC, much less..”

You turn your head, glare landing on the tall man with dark purple hair. “Much less from such a distinguished figure from the renowned Intelligentsia Guild.” You let out a tired sigh. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Let’s not speak in riddles and pleasantries then.” Despite your bite, Ratio’s tone remains firm and gentle. “You are already aware of our intentions and I’m merely here to remind you of it.”

“As I said it once and I’ll say it again. I’m a pathstrider of the hunt, I have no interest in joining other factions.”

“I suppose a little stubbornness will suffice, however your missing the point of my argument. Your companions, I heard those three Yaoqing folks—including you—were severely injured during the attack of the borisins. If the IPC hadn't found you when they did, I’m afraid you would have been dead, long ago.”

“So this is the game you’re playing. I heard the Intelligentsia Guild was heavily sponsored by the IPC. I have dealt with people like you during my time in the Yaoqing office and I’m not a fool to fall for your petty schemes. This talk is more catered to your interest much more than mine, am I right, Doctor?”

Dr. Ratio sighs. “I must admit, I was sent here under orders from Madam Yabuli. But I also have my own curiosities about you.”

“Your achievements in the Yaoqing are far more popular than you think. The IPC has recognized it and so have I. There’s an open spot in the Intelligentsia Guild that we can offer you, the Candelagraphos, it’s a printing department of the guild. Your scribe work has gained acknowledgement outside its capital and thus would make a good addition to us.”

Your fist is clenched onto the blanket, “So it’s more of a one-sided investment for you and your guild.”

“Incorrect.” Ratio says. “Going back to your companions, one of them holds the ancestral bloodline of the borisins, and the other has had his vision critically impaired—” Your chest twists at what he said. “—If you join the guild, you can gain access to a lot of information to help them that you can use at your own personal discretion.”

Ratio stands, setting a glass of water and medicinal herbs at your bedside. “That’s my offer to you.” He nods. “I do hope you think this one carefully, at your state, this is more of an opportunity than a disadvantage. I will provide assistance and vouch for you. For now, please rest.”

He turns. “You will return to your family tomorrow.”

Instead of resting like what Dr. Ratio had said, your heart is a bouquet of conflict. You spent the entire day tossing and turning, thinking about his offer, thinking about the possibility and opportunity you can get,

Thinking about leaving them, your mind pauses at the notion. You thought about it again before dismissing it. Their impact on you is so significant that you cannot envision living a life without Feixiao, Jiaoqiu and Moze. They helped you stand on your own two feet, would you still be able to stay afloat when they’re no longer by your side?

Then clarity sinks into your artery.

Jiaoqiu’s permanent injuries and Feixiao’s chronic illness. You can find something to help them, and thus as the sun sinks its color on the horizon line, you made the decision to accept.

You had explained your situation and decisions to your companions. Your hands had turned clammy as they listened to you intently.

Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch. “...You want to join them and use your experience as the Yaoqing’s scribe to research more about our conditions?”

“I thought about it and I don't see any reason to give up on this opportunity.” Your gaze drags to each of them slowly, dissecting the emotions on their faces.

“I have an idea of what you are gonna say, and I am aware of the dangers of joining them. But this is a choice I made, Jiaoqiu and Moze—you both have been my protectors and companions for a short time but it felt like an eternity. Ever since that day at my sister’s office, I never expected for such a bond to happen, nor did I expect to care so so much about you both. If I could go back and do it all again—I won’t change a single thing. Now it’s my turn to help you out.”

Your eyes flicker to Feixiao. “Sister.” you start. “You have been protecting me for all my life, please allow me to do the same for you. I’ll search for a cure for you and Jiaoqiu with my own abilities, please.”

Silence, and you waited with battered breaths, slightly terrified of their reactions. After all, if you join the intelligentsia guild, you would be leaving them.

Then you hear a breathy chuckle, you look up and all three of them are smiling at you.

“Is this what you want to do?” Feixiao asks.

You nod your head and her grin widens. “If that is what you wish for, then who am I to deny such a thing?

Moze lets out a breath, nudging you softly. “We will leave it in your extremely capable hands, Yaoqing’s scribe.”

“We are nothing but proud of you.” Jiaoqiu’s smile is so, so sweet. “Never forget that.”

“I have always been worried about you and your future. If this is the path that you chose for yourself, then go for it, I wouldn’t dare block you from doing something you want to do.” Feixiao reaches out to caress your cheek. “Then, should we spend the next few days together? This will be the last time all of us will be able to hang around each other.”

Your eyes are on your hands, your vision blurring as you try to wipe the wetness from your lashes. “Yeah, okay. That’s a deal.”

The day continued, but most of it was spent being in each other’s company, talking about anything and everything under the sun like you’d always do. The epilogue of the day started when Miss Lingsha knocked on your door, asking for Jiaoqiu to do a quick check up. Everyone had decided to end the day there, not before bidding you a good night’s rest.

By the time you all were able to finally leave the Alchemy commission, the Wardance ceremony had finally commenced. The four of you enjoyed watching the contestants battle to your heart’s content. The atmosphere dressed with the thrill of the crowd, at some point—when a Belobogian fighter was pitting against one of the robots of the IPC, you notice Moze looking at you from the corner of your eye.

“Is something the matter?” You catch his stare, but his velvety irises were intent on something on your face.

He points towards the side of his mouth. “Sauce.”

“Oh.” You immediately raise your hand to wipe—your sleeve comes with a drag of the familiar orangey sauce of your skewer. You thanked Moze and he nodded at you in greeting.

Five seconds pass.

“Want to try?” You raise your berrypheasant skewer to him. You cannot help but laugh at the quiet enthusiasm Moze showed, you cup a hand beneath when he leaned down to take a bite.

You grin at him as his expression glowed at the sweet taste.

It's easy to get lost in the flurry of joy and before you know it, the Luminary Wardance has been concluded and it is your final night with them before you go your separate ways. The night is gradual and Jiaoqiu finds himself conscious on his bed. His face wrinkles on a wince, feeling a burn crawling up his pulse and his chest caving in on himself—chronic pain, he remembered a doctor telling him post-discharge. Due to Lupitoxin and the aftermath of that tumbleweed I’m afraid you will be experiencing episodes of chronic pain.

The healer could do nothing but bite his lip to ease his pain rolling in waves.

Through the pain that hummed in his ears, he heard footfalls nearing his room. It’s the kind of pattering that happens when rain hits a soft cloth, the type that almost anchors him from his splintered head.

His heavy breath hitches when there’s a delicate rapping of knocks, then someone approaching his bed. He recognizes the familiar pattern of footsteps and turns his back to it.

“Are you awake, Jiaoqiu?”

A second too late. “Is something the matter?”

Silence greets him. He feels someone tug his blankets, lifting his duvets so you can occupy the space beside him.

Your head touches his back, Jiaoqiu clenches his hand.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Jiaoqiu asks.

“Yeah.” Your voice is barely a whisper. “Jiaoqiu, does it hurt?”

“No—” he slightly chokes on his reply. “I’m fine—I just need a few minutes, it will fade. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologize—”

“Then, can I hug you for a few minutes?” you ask. “Just for a few minutes—”

Before you can finish your own sentence, he has turned around and pulls you in his arms. Jiaoqiu smells like medicinal herbs and fragrance from incense.

You bury your face on his chest. He feels your hand clutch him tightly. “I…I wish I can stay for a little while longer and help—”

Jiaoqiu hushes you. “Why are you faltering now? Didn't you promise me that you would go to the guild to find a cure?”

“I know I did. I still want to go, but I wish to go to the Yaoqing first and be of assistance to you even for a short while. Leaving like this…”

“I will be okay, that I can promise you. Yes, it will be difficult but I don’t want my health to be a detriment to what you want to do.” Jiaoqiu’s warm breath is on your neck. There is a gentle rhythm to his palm running up and down on your back. “This isn’t our last goodbye, so don’t fret your head about it. By the time you come and visit, I will be better. Now sleep, you need the rest for the journey tomorrow.”

“Can I hold your hand while I fall asleep?”

Jiaoqiu chuckles heartily. “Silly.” He finds your hand, the furnace of warmth dancing beneath his palm. “I’ll allow it tonight. Now rest.”

Sometime during the night, like an invisible string—Moze appears, materializing within the room, his eyes gentle at the scene. You awaken to his familiar footsteps and the light rustle as you smell him burning another incense, stirring from your slumber and fluttering your drowsy gaze at the assassin.

Just as you part your lips to utter his name, Moze presses a finger to his lips.

He draws closer, pulling the blanket over both your shoulders and dragging a chair to rest beside the bed.

When your eyes lock with his, he mouths ‘keeping watch, go back to sleep.’

Your eyes crinkle and your heart flutters at his simple way of affection. You are aware of him coming sooner or later, according to your sister’s words, Moze would secretly slip into Jiaoqiu’s room. She believes he does this because he knows of the chronic pain and would light up the fragrant incense on the windowsill to make sure Jiaoqiu slept with a calm mind.

Then and there you’ve realized how different it is for them to love, to comfort. Not only love for you but love for each other. Feixiao and the two had a bond that was furnaced into iron—they were each other’s saving graces and security for as long as you remembered.

You can feel the weight of Jiaoqiu’s head next to yours, his arm loose around your waist. With your free hand you extend it towards Moze.

He looks at it, unsure of what you wanted.

“It’s chilly.”

“I just pulled the covers on you, are you still cold?”

“Your hand can warm me up nicely.” You say softly, “please?”

Moze’s palm without his glove is full of calloused surface, dried scars and roughness against your own. “Thank you,”

A beat of silence, then you see Moze lean forward. He runs his thumb across the bandages of your wrist.

“Your wrist.” He enunciates first. “Does it still hurt?”

Your lips curl up, shaking your head. But Moze does the honor of pressing his lips against your bandages, as if to ease you. Your consciousness slips to the comfort of Moze’s forehead on your knuckles, as if apologizing for being unable to protect you.

I’m sorry. His gestures suggest.

You squeeze back. Fingers brushing delicate strands of his grey hair, it’s okay.

When the night vanishes and the day breaks, Feixiao enters, then stops when she sees all three of you huddled together still sound asleep. The room barely nurses the sunny-egg yolk morning, creeping slow gold through the hard flooring.

Feixiao’s chuckle is thick with mirth. She grabs an extra blanket in the cabinet and quietly covers Moze’s frame slumbering stiffly on the chair, allowing a few more moments of respite between the three of you.

A few hours later, it’s finally time for departure and you stand on the Starskiff Jetty, your bags already loaded onto the skiff. Moze was the first to close the distance, giving you a very long hug as if to satiate the yearning he’d have if you leave. His muscled arms only seem to tighten as the seconds drag and you’re more than welcoming of this side of him.

“Take care of them and yourself.” Your whisper brushes his ear and you feel him hum.

“I’ll handle things over here,” he presses his lips against your temple. “You take care.”

When you pull away, you turn to Jiaoqiu. You’re the one that stepped into his open arms, claiming his shoulder as your homage for a split moment.

“I’m going to miss you.” His voice comes with a tremble. When he pulls away, his hands lay purchase on the chub of your cheeks. He runs his fingers through every angle, crook and dip like he’s memorizing the shape of your face.

You clasp his fingers and press a kiss to the back of his hand. “Me too.”

Jiaoqiu lifts his head, nodding at Moze. “I’ve packed you some Xianzhou food—with the help of Moze, of course. Thought you’d want to eat some one last time.” You turn and Moze hands you a bag of stacked lunch boxes. You cannot help the smile that creeps up your lips at the endearment.

“Thank you so much.” You dare try to sneak a peek inside one of the containers. The familiar aroma of Jiaoqiu’s homemade foods fill your bones in heavy nostalgia.

In one of the bowls, you’ve noticed something.

Your eyes snap up, “There’s no mushrooms.”

There was elation that crossed the fox’s expression, the tips of his lips curve upward and his tail swishes behind him.

“Just like you wanted.”

Your laughter is filled with sentimentality, you try to hide your sniffle, it does not escape him. “This is a first. I swear I'll miss eating your mushrooms though, even if I hated it.”

Jiaoqiu chuckles, reaching out to hold your face one last time. “I’ll take note of that then.”

Lastly, you turn towards Feixiao. A gracious smile settled on her lips.

“Sister.”

“Come here.” Her embrace is almost your last straw. You bury your nose on the crook of her shoulder, reminiscing her scent. Feixiao must’ve noticed your faltering disposition, for she had landed her hand on your back, dragging her palm up and down.

“Don’t cry.” She tells you.

“I’ll miss you, so so much,”

“I know.” She pulls you tighter. “I know. I’m gonna miss you too. You’re always welcomed into the Yaoqing anytime you wish to visit, and remember to write to us, okay?”

Feixiao rubs her cheek against your own. You nod and she spares you another grin. “Here.” She reaches for something. “I want you to have this.”

“What’s this?” You hold the tiny scroll in your palm.

“It’s a letter.” At her reply, you look up. “Open it when you’re on the ship.”

The time has finally come, and from behind Dr. Ratio calls your name. You turn to him, then back at them. Now that you’re gonna be separated, there’s hesitation rooted in your feet.

But your companions offer you encouraging smiles and you finally take a step away from them. With one last glance from behind and a—farewell, I love you—you enter the IPC starskiff. From your seat, you watch Feixiao, Moze and Jiaoqiu enter a different ship boarded for Yaoqing.

You press your hand against the glass, watching as their skiff breaks away from the same road as yours. Now that you’re here, there’s a creeping loneliness that settles on your chest.

“You think you’re gonna be okay?” Ratio comes by to check up on you and you nod your head, wiping the tears that rolls down your cheeks.

“Yes, sorry. I’ll be okay.”

You watch his eyes soften, crushed by a mortar and pestle. “The first goodbyes are always the hardest, there’s no need for apologies. It’s gonna be a long trip to the guild so help yourself with anything the ship provides. The IPC is the one funding it after all.”

“Alright, thank you doctor.”

When the Xianzhou Luofu disappears from your window view and the ocean of the vast galaxies span across vision, you finally tear away from it. You land your wet eyes on your clasp palms, the scroll that Feixiao gave you delicate in your hands.

You inhale, exhale, then open the letter—when the top comes off with a pop, something topples onto your lap and your eyes twinkle. Inside contains the same hand-crafted tassel, the only difference is that it is engraved with all your names,

You flatten the letter onto your palms next and it reads,

Even if such a perilous challenge comes your way, you were always the type to persist. We have always been aware of it, and in our eyes you are a strong and resilient person. We know you’ll do amazing wherever you go, you always have been, and we are so proud of you.

We’ll be alright, just as you would be.

May fates bring us all together one day, and when you come back to visit, let’s all have a meal together like we always do.

You are the pride of the Yaoqing, safe travels our dear scribe.

Much love, your guardians.

When your eyes rove the last characters of the letter it starts to blur. Your heart is honeyed by their words. You press your lips against the paper before lifting your gaze to the universe outside.

Goodbye, Xianzhou. You say your greetings to your home, no longer somber in the heart. Because at the end of the day,

You know you’ll all be okay.

THE END.

#⋆ ࣪. 🪐 kou works.#—stellaronhvnters.#jiaoqiu x reader #moze x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jiaoqiu honkai star rail #moze honkai star rail #feixiao honkai star rail #honkai star rail fic

237 notes · View notes

pencil-n-pen · 2 days ago

Text

SPILL YOUR GUTS

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

practice boyfriend! eddie x fem! reader

summary: eddie’s your practice boyfriend. you’re positive he’s upset at you and you’re waiting for him to get mad. however, he has a different response in mind.

cw: references/allusions to past child abuse but extremely vague, references/allusions to bad relationships (also pretty vague), reader acts on a learned response and assumes the worst about Eddie, anxiety

tags/tropes: angst, hurt/comfort (my brand!) sappy sappy romantic idiots, they kiss and figure their mess out at the end

a/n: this came to me in a vision

summary makes this sound smutty but i promise it’s not. this accidentally became disgustingly romantic. read at your own risk :)

࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

You’re positive Eddie’s mad at you.

Okay. Maybe positive is a strong word. But still.

You’ve only been fake/pretend/practice dating Eddie for about two weeks now. He’s the one who approached you with the offer— when you were in the Upside Down together, you’d made an off-hand comment about how you might die without ever having a real boyfriend- not one that mattered, anyway. It’s always kind of been a sore spot for you for a good portion of your life. Growing up, you didn’t really have the best relationship with your dad (Robin likes to call that “The understatement of the year, and we almost died.”) and out of the incredibly small handful of guys you’ve gone out with, none stuck around longer than a month and all ended in such equally, specifically, and uniquely horrific ways, you finally came to the conclusion you had to be fucking something up. What are the chances of all them ended so completely horribly?

After you all had decidedly not died in the Upside Down, Eddie approached you with an offer: pretend date him. You’re popular and well known enough that it’ll help get people off his back about the whole Chrissy/murders thing —even though he’s been absolved of all charges, the people of Hawkins hold grudges— and in exchange, you get a trial run of a relationship that won’t end unless you both agree too— you get to figure out what you’re doing wrong.

You feel bad about it, because even though you spend so much time together, you feel like a nervous wreck. All. The. Time.

You’re constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop— waiting for him to tell you that you’re too weird, that you’re not considerate enough, that you’re selfish, or that you talk too much.

But he never says any of it. All he ever tells you is the good things. He tells you how sympathetic you are, how kind you are, how good you are at remembering little details that matter. He tells you that you’re a good kisser.

(Yeah. Your first kiss, even after those failed relationships, ended up being with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. You’re not quite sure you’ll ever forget how you felt when his lips —just a little cracked, but not rough— met yours; when his hair tickled your face and you could faintly smell the cigarette smoke that stubbornly clings to all of his clothes, no matter how many times he washes them. You didn’t tell him he was your first. That’s something you decided you couldn’t bear to share.

You kind of have a feeling he knows anyway, though.)

It all sets you on edge. You’re under no reassurance that you’re perfect. You’re currently questioning if you’re tolerable, from a romantic standpoint.

You know how you are. You’re clinging and you drink up reassurance like a dying man in the desert. You linger in his casual touches like it’s the first and last time you’ll ever feel them. You know you’re a lot. You know. You know that guys in a relationship don’t want ‘a lot’, they want a pretty thing to hang off their arm and laugh at what they say.

But you just… can’t.

You tried, and you tried, and you tried. But you always ended up being too much, or it didn’t work out for some other reason. You want more. You want to feel safe, and happy, and cherished and loved and all those things that only happen in the movies.

The ironic part of all of this is that when you first started setting out terms for your arrangement, Eddie had told you flat out: “This will only work if you are completely and one-hundred percent yourself. You gotta lay it all on me, angel.”

And so you had, and now you regret it because he’s upset about something.

You’d come over to his trailer at his request to ‘hang out’ while he went over DND stuff for his next campaign. Eddie does this a lot— he calls them ‘Neutral Dates’ where you’re not really doing anything in particular- most of the time, you’re both doing seperate things, but still just being in each other’s presence.

It’s nice. The majority of your friend circle consists of everyone involved with the Upside Down and that entire mess. You two are no Steve and Robin (you’re convinced those two have the kind of bond no one can replicate or break. Like the kind of bond stray cats get and then they have to be adopted together) but it’s still nice. To just be with someone.

Even if you feel like you’re walking on eggshells.

It’s not always eggshells. Sometimes, for a a few moments, you forget. You forget it’s all pretend. You forget he’s just a friend helping a friend fulfill a goal. That’s all.

You’ve almost forgotten just now, too— you’re too concerned about what you might’ve done.

He’s not acting angry, per-se, but he’s definitely upset. You tend to pick up on this kind of thing: small changes in someone’s personality or body language. Most of the time it’s not a conscious habit.

Most of the time.

Right now, he’s run his hands through his hair about a million times. It’s become a frizzy mess behind him, and when you’d made an offhand joke about it —an attempt to lighten the mood— all he’d done was scowl. Not at you, really, but the message was there. You’d snapped your jaw shut so fast you’re pretty sure he heard your teeth click.

After that he’d frustratedly made tea for the both of you, which consisted of opening the cupboards faster than he usually did, closing them slightly louder than he usually does, and drumming his fingers impatiently on the stove-top while he waited for the kettle to boil.

All of this you observed from the corner of your eye while ‘reading’ on the couch.

And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, when you’d finally mustered up the courage to speak again, a little joke about a part in the book you were reading, all he’d said was a flat:

“That’s great, babe.”

You’re starting to get antsy. Nervous. Maybe you should go? Unless he gets upset at you leaving. That would be bad. But he’s clearly upset with you being here, so maybe you should go.

While you’re debating the pros and cons of leaving, you try to remain as still and silent as possible. No need to upset him anymore by moving too much or being too loud.

You flip a page in the book you’re no longer reading (he might notice you’re not paying attention to it anymore) and decide to test the waters again.

“The author just spelled restaurant wrong. That’s the third spelling mistake I’ve caught in this book.”

“Hmm.”

Okay. So that was worse. Talking to him is out of the question, then. It must be something you did, to warrant this kind of reaction.

You wrack your brain, trying to think of anything you could’ve done in recent hours to make him upset, but you can’t think of anything.

You glance slightly to the right— not far enough that he’ll see you looking at him, but far enough to get a better look at him in your peripheral. He’s glaring down at his campaign notebook. Shit, he looks so angry.

Unbidden, tears begin to well in your eyes and you try to shift, trying to angle yourself away from him enough that he can’t see the tears in your eyes.

But your hand shifts, knocking into his leg.

Fuck. “Sorry!”

You yank you arm back as if burned, jolting back on the couch so you’re in no danger of touching him. “I’m sorry!”

He sits up, immediately snapping to attention at the desperation coloring your voice. “Woah woah, hey. Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

You take a steadying breath. “Did I do something wrong?”

He blinks blankly at you. Oh shit, you’re supposed to know that you’ve done something wrong.

“I mean,” You hurry to correct, “I know I— Can you tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it?”

Understanding floods his features and you brace yourself, ready for the reprimand.

“Can I touch you?”

Now it’s your turn to stare with confusion. You nod once, briefly thinking about how weird it is to ask for permission first.

He sits up on the couch, facing you with his legs crossed, the couch springs squeaking loudly at his movement. You resist the urge to wince. He reaches out with a slow hand, taking the hand that’s still clenched, held away from him and up near your chest.

He stares down at your hand, holding it with his left hand and tracing delicate shapes on it with his right. His ringed fingers drag lines around your knuckles and veins, lingering occasionally over the odd, old scar.

“How long did you think I was upset with you?”

Your heart is racing, muscles tensed and ready to bolt. “Um. A few hours? Maybe?”

You’re hyper-aware of the grip he has on your hand, and how quickly and easy it could become crushing.

It doesn’t.

“Bug,” He says slowly after a moment. At first he used to use pet names as a joke— it was something you’d laugh at, between the two of you, since the relationship wasn’t real.

But recently, he’s been saying them with a different inflection in his tone. A little less teasing, a lot more fond.

“Have you spent the past few hours afraid that I was mad at you?”

He sounds… sad. Which is confusing. It doesn’t— he was. He was.

“But you were,” You say, suddenly unsure about anything and everything. “You were upset.”

“I was upset because I couldn’t work this part of the campaign out, and i’m dramatic. I was never mad at you, honey. I was never mad at you.”

You frown, gears turning in your head. “When I made that joke about your hair, you glared at me. And then when I tried to talk to you, you were upset. You didn’t want to talk.”

“I was jokingly glaring at you, I’m so sorry you thought I was serious. I wasn’t, I promise. I didn’t mean to be dismissive, I was really focusing on writing.”

You’re both silent for a moment. A beat too long. You want to squirm in the unwelcome space the silence has created.

“What did you think I was going to do?”

That is a loaded question.

“I don’t know,” You pick at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I don’t— I don’t know. That’s the problem. You don’t yell at me, or get angry, or tell me when i’ve made you upset. I don’t know what you’ll do.”

He makes a wounded noise in his throat.

“I know you get angry,” You bulldoze on, “I’ve seen it. You’re so… loud, in everything you do. I know you get angry. But you never get that same kind of loud angry at me and I don’t know what to do because that means that I upset you and you don’t tell me about it and then I don’t know how to fix it. I have to fix it, Eddie.”

His eyes, deep and brown, search your face. He reaches up a hand, painfully slow, to cup your face. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you tip your head to the side, leaning into the job.

“I’m gonna tell you something, Bug. Are you listening?” He waits for you to hum in confirmation before continuing. “You’re not responsible for my moods. Or anyone else’s for that matter. That’s not your job. You don’t have to fix it.”

He reaches his second hand up to cup the other side of your face. “You know why I don’t get angry at you? Not all loud and dramatic like that? Because I’ve seen how you react when people do. And I never, ever want to be the reason you get that look in your eye. I never want to make you afraid. I never want you to believe, with proof and confidence, that I’ve grown sick of you.”

You open your eyes, eyes darting across the planes of his face. Searching for even the smallest hint, the smallest giveaway that he might be lying.

You can’t find any. In its place, you find eyes, shining with pure determination. You find lips parted ever so slightly, a sad-sort of smile being etched into being. You find two hands on your face, thumbs delicately sweeping across the skin of your under-eye, of your cheekbone. Smoothing away the steady tears that had begun falling, wiping away the hot trails they leave on your face.

And you realize all at once that love isn’t like the movies. It isn’t picture-perfect kisses. It isn’t ball gowns and dresses and kisses in the rain. It isn’t like the love you thought you were supposed to have: empty and hollow; a life of hanging off of arms and praying your next slip-up didn’t cost you your relationship.

It was this.

It was just being. Just being and knowing the other person is there for just that— for you. It was not raising your voice. It was carrying extra hair-ties. It was making two cups of coffee. It was steeping tea for an extra couple of minutes, just the way he liked it. It was playing your favorite music in the car, and looking over at each other during the bridge, belting the lyrics with the same, toothy-smile. So full and so happy you just keep screaming the lyrics, because you’re filled with so much you don’t know where to put it all.

Your tears begin to fall in earnest now. Your heart is thudding in your chest, but for a different reason now. You’re struck with the need to convey all of this to him— to tell him you understand, you know, you feel the same.

“These hair ties,” You shove your wrist up to his eye-line. “They’re for you. Because you always forget your own. And— and I steep the tea for a few extra minutes, because you like your tea strong, and you didn’t just find that tape in your van, I bought it ‘cause I know you lost the old one in the Upside Down, ‘cause it felt out of your pocket.”

You’re babbling, nearly choking on your tears and your words, rushing them all out of your mouth in an aching wish to be understood, in this very moment.

“I know,” He says, voice a little hysteric and eyes a little too bright. His lip wobbles. He presses your face tighter in his hands. “I know. I know. I see you. I see you.”

You stay like that for a little while. At some point, your hands find his wrists, and then you’re just two fools, smiling like idiots with tears streaming down your faces, staring into each others eyes.

Eventually, Eddie clears his throat. “The next time you think I’m upset at you, you tell me, okay? You can ask. You can ask me and I pinky promise I won’t get mad.”

You giggle wetly. “Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear,” He says, taking his left hand away from your face to hold up his pinky. You intertwine yours and his together, the both of you laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

He gets quiet for a moment; removes his hands from your face and instead clasps, your hands together, resting in your lap.

“You know why I never tell you when you’re being a bad practice girlfriend?” He says, his voice low and soft.

“How come?”

He smiles, full and good. “Because you’re not. You’re so sweet and kind and loving. And if you’d let me, I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

You furrow your brows. “The real kind? The I-love-you kind?”

Your face flushes over the words ‘I love you.’

“I’ve always kissed you for real,” He says, words laden with fondness. “Ever since the day we met and you slapped the shit out of me for being stupid. I’ve been hopelessly obsessed ever since. I’ve just been waiting for you to notice.”

You suck in a breath. “So all of this— the, the dates and the hanging out and the kissing— that’s all been real?”

“Every last bit.”

“Then in that case,” You say, squeezing his hands. “I would very much like you to kiss me.”

He leans in, slotting your lips together and everything just clicks. Like this is where you’re meant to be. Maybe it’s puppy love. Maybe it’s not.

All you know is that Eddie Munson is kissing you for real, and he always has been. You couldn’t ask for anything better.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

#girlblogging #eddie munson #soft eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #angst #angst with a happy ending #x reader #hurt/comfort #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie x reader #that’s such an ambiguous tag #which eddie??? eddie DIAZ???#maybe i should start writing for him actually

259 notes · View notes

threadbearsweater · 2 days ago

Text

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader #red dead redeption 2 x reader #arthur morgan smut #my writing

222 notes · View notes