#time and time again I ask myself okay and when do I get to hurt her for hurting this sweet man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

charlesollielandooscararthur · 2 days ago

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Sick

summary: Y/n is sick...

I feel miserable. My head is pounding, my body aches in places I didn't even know could hurt, and my nose is so stuffed up that breathing feels like a full-time job. I'm curled up in bed under a mountain of blankets, feeling like a small, pathetic pile of humanity, when I hear the door creak open.

"Y/n..." Charles's voice is so soft, it's almost a whisper, but it cuts through the fog in my brain easily.

I lift my head just barely to look at him, my eyes puffy and tired. I'm too weak to even form words, so I just let out a pathetic little grunt, which somehow says everything he needs to know.

He smiles — that small, soft smile he only ever uses when he's worried about me — and crosses the room to sit on the edge of the bed. He reaches out, brushing some sweaty hair away from my forehead, his hand cool and comforting.

"You're burning up, baby," he murmurs, more to himself than to me. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up a little."

I don't have the strength to argue, even though the thought of moving makes me want to cry. Gently, Charles scoops me up like I weigh nothing, cradling me against his chest. I tuck my face into his shoulder, too tired to even be embarrassed by how much I'm leaning on him.

He carries me into the bathroom, already warm from the steam of the bath he must've run earlier. The smell of lavender fills the air — something calming, soothing — and he kneels down with me, setting me softly on the edge of the tub. I blink at him through heavy lashes, feeling like I might fall asleep sitting up.

"Let me help, yeah?" he says quietly, almost like he's asking for permission. I nod weakly.

With hands that are so careful it almost makes me cry, Charles peels my sweat-soaked clothes off, helping me step into the warm water. The second my body hits the heat, I let out a small, broken sigh. It feels so good I could melt right there.

Charles rolls up his sleeves and kneels beside the tub, taking a soft cloth and running it gently over my arms, my back, my face. Every motion is slow, patient, like he's afraid I'll shatter if he's too rough.

"You're doing so good," he whispers, dipping the cloth back into the water and wringing it out carefully. "Just relax, okay?"

I close my eyes, letting myself be cared for. The warmth of the bath, the rhythmic motion of his hands, the quiet sound of his breathing — it all works together to calm the pounding in my head just a little.

After a while, he helps me out, wrapping me immediately in the biggest, fluffiest towel he could find. He dries me off so gently it feels like I'm made of glass, then carries me back to bed and tucks me in like I'm something precious.

"I'll be right back," he says, brushing a kiss across my forehead.

I don't even have time to miss him before he's back, a bowl of soup in his hands and that same gentle look in his eyes. He sits beside me again, helping me sit up against the pillows.

"Here," he says, blowing on the spoon before holding it up to my lips. "Small sips."

I feel stupid, letting someone feed me like I'm a child, but Charles doesn't make it feel stupid. His hand is steady, his touch light, and his patience endless. Every spoonful is warm and soothing, easing the ache in my throat a little at a time.

"You're doing great," he says after every few bites, like it's some huge accomplishment that I'm managing to swallow soup.

When I'm too tired to eat anymore, he sets the bowl aside and carefully tucks me back under the covers, adjusting the blanket so it's perfectly snug around me. He sits with me for a moment longer, running his fingers softly through my damp hair.

"You're safe," he murmurs. "You're gonna feel better soon. I've got you."

And even though my body feels awful and my head is still pounding, I believe him. Because with Charles here — patient, soft, steady Charles— I know I'm going to be okay.

I'm half-dozing when I hear the door creak open again. I manage to crack one eye open just enough to see Alexandra slipping into the room, her arms full — a fresh set of clothes, a fluffy blanket, and what looks like a cup of tea balanced precariously on top.

Charles looks up at her with a small smile, and even through my fever haze, I catch the quiet exchange between them — that look they always share, the one that says "we've got this."

"Hey, baby," Alex says softly, setting everything down on the nightstand. She crosses to my side of the bed and kneels down, her hand cool as she brushes my hair back from my face. "You scared us a little."

I blink at her, throat too raw to speak, but I reach for her hand weakly. She catches it immediately, squeezing back gently.

Charles shifts so Alex can sit beside me, her body curling protectively around mine. She pulls the new blanket over both of us, making sure I'm tucked in right against her chest. I sink into her warmth like it's the only thing tethering me to the planet.

Charles sits at the foot of the bed now, watching, making sure everything is just right. He picks up the tea Alex brought and gently places it in her hands.

"Think you can get her to sip a little?" he asks quietly.

Alex smiles at me, the kind of smile that feels like home, and nods. She tilts the cup carefully, holding it to my lips. The first sip is warm, a little sweet, and it soothes the rawness in my throat immediately.

"There you go," she murmurs. "Just little bits. No rush."

I take a few more sips before resting my head against her shoulder again, completely exhausted but feeling... safer. Better. Not fixed, not yet — but not alone.

Charles moves around the room quietly, picking up the abandoned soup bowl and tidying up, but every few minutes he glances back at me, like he can't quite help himself.

"You're gonna be okay, baby," Alex says into my hair, rocking me just a little like I'm a kid again. "We've got you."

"Always," Charles echoes from the foot of the bed, his voice so sure, so steady.

And somewhere deep inside the fever and the fog, I believe them. I believe every word.

Because if there's anything in the world I trust — it's Charles's steady hands, and Alex's arms around me, and the way they both love me like I'm something fragile and fierce all at once.

I close my eyes, wrapped up in both of them, and finally — finally — let myself rest.

Alexandra's POV

Y/n's breathing evens out against my shoulder, her body finally relaxing fully into mine. I stay completely still, scared to even shift in case I disturb her.

Charles catches my eye from the foot of the bed. He's still holding the empty soup bowl in one hand, the towel slung over his shoulder from earlier. He looks tired — the same kind of tired I feel. The kind that settles in your chest when someone you love is hurting and there's not much you can do but be there.

I brush Y/n's hair back from her forehead again, fingers gentle, and kiss the top of her head. She doesn't stir. I can feel how warm her skin still is — the fever's still hanging on — but at least she's sleeping.

Charles sets the bowl down quietly on the nightstand and moves closer, crouching beside me. His hand finds my knee, squeezing it softly.

"She's okay," he says, barely above a whisper, like he's trying to convince himself too.

I nod, my throat tight. "Yeah. She's okay. She just needs time."

We both look down at her. Y/n looks so small like this. It's rare — usually she's so loud, so stubborn, so alive — but tonight she just looks... fragile. And it breaks my heart a little.

Charles leans his forehead against my arm for a second, letting out a slow breath. "I hate seeing her like this."

"I know," I whisper. I run my fingers through her hair again, slow and rhythmic, just trying to soothe her even in sleep.

We stay like that for a while — the three of us — until the room feels like it's breathing with us, warm and quiet and full of love.

Charles helps me shift her properly into the bed, both of us moving carefully like she's made of glass. She mumbles something under her breath as we lay her down, her fingers weakly clutching at my hoodie, not wanting to let go even in sleep.

"I'm right here, love," I whisper, smoothing her hair back. "Not going anywhere."

Charles pulls the blanket up to her chin, his movements careful, tucking her in the way you would a kid — neat, protective. His eyes are so full of tenderness it almost undoes me. He brushes a thumb across her cheek before finally climbing into bed on the other side of her.

I slip under the covers too, curling up close. Y/n immediately nuzzles against my chest, her face pressing into me, her whole body instinctively seeking comfort. I wrap my arms around her, feeling the weight of her settle into me fully.

Charles lies close on her other side, one of his hands finding hers beneath the blanket. He squeezes it gently, grounding her even in her sleep.

For a long while, we just lie there. The room is dim, the only sound the faint hum of the heater and Y/n's soft, uneven breaths. Every so often, she whimpers, shifting like she's caught in some fever dream, and each time, either Charles or I is there — whispering quiet reassurances, rubbing slow circles into her back or stroking her hair.

At some point, Charles's foot brushes against mine under the covers, a silent touch, and I press back without thinking. No words needed. We're both here. We both have her. We have each other.

I kiss Y/n's hair again, breathing her in — even sick, she still smells like home.

Eventually, I feel Y/n's breathing deepen, her body truly relaxing between us for the first time all night.

I let my eyes drift closed, one hand stroking through her hair, the other curled protectively around her. Charles's arm stretches over both of us now, like he's trying to shield us with just his presence alone.

And finally — for the first time in hours — I let myself rest too.

The morning is quiet, the soft kind of quiet that only happens when it's just the three of us, tucked away from the rest of the world.

The first thing I feel is Y/n's hair tickling under my chin, her head still tucked against me like she's afraid to let go even in sleep. Charles's hand is still loosely laced with hers, his breathing steady and slow.

I don't dare move much. I just lie there, running my fingers softly through her hair, careful not to wake her too soon.

Her face looks less flushed than last night, her brows no longer pinched tight in pain or fear. She's still pale, but she looks... peaceful.

I glance over at Charles. His eyes are open too now, just watching her, his thumb tracing absent-minded little circles on the back of her hand. He catches my eye and gives me a small, tired smile.

"She's cooler," he mouths.

I nod, swallowing the lump of relief in my throat.

We stay like that for a while, just breathing together, soaking in the slow miracle of her getting better.

Eventually, I feel her shift a little, her nose scrunching like it always does when she's about to wake up but doesn't want to. I smile down at her, brushing a knuckle against her cheek.

"Morning, sleepy," I whisper so softly it's almost a secret.

Her eyes flutter open, confused at first — then they land on me, then on Charles, and something in her whole body relaxes like a string snapping loose.

Y/n' POV

I blink a few times, trying to figure out if I'm dreaming.

But no — Alex is real, right there, holding me so close I can feel her heart beating against my ear. And Charles is there too, his fingers wrapped around mine like he never let go.

For a second, I just stay still, soaking it in. I feel weak, my throat dry and scratchy, but there's something warm and safe about the way they're looking at me. Like nothing bad could ever happen as long as we're here, together.

"Hi," I croak out, my voice wrecked.

Alex smiles at me so softly it makes my chest ache. "Hi, baby. How're you feeling?"

I frown, trying to assess it. Everything hurts a little, my head is pounding, but it's better. Way better than last night. I glance between them, feeling a rush of gratitude so fierce it nearly knocks the breath out of me.

"Like I got hit by a bus," I rasp, managing a weak grin.

Charles chuckles — a warm, low sound — and reaches out to brush my hair away from my face. "You look better than you did yesterday."

"Not saying much," I mumble, and Alex laughs, the sound soft and sweet.

"You scared us," she says, her voice dipping low, her fingers tracing patterns on my back. "But you're okay now. We've got you."

"I know," I whisper. I nuzzle closer to her chest, clinging onto the comfort. "Thank you."

Charles squeezes my hand. "Always, Y/n/n."

Alex presses a kiss into my hair, lingering there like she can heal me with just her touch. Maybe she can.

I must've drifted back off for a little while, because the next thing I know, the bed shifts underneath me. I groan, squeezing my eyes shut tighter.

"Nooo," I whine into Alex's hoodie, clinging onto her like a stubborn koala.

She laughs quietly, trying to peel herself away without really trying. "Baby, you need to eat something," she says gently, stroking my hair. "You haven't eaten in almost a day."

"I'm fine," I mumble. "I'll survive. Like a cockroach."

Charles snorts from where he's sitting at the foot of the bed. "Cockroaches eat, you know."

I crack one eye open to glare at him, but it's weak at best. My body feels like it's made of wet sand.

"Come on," Alex coaxes, so soft it makes my heart ache. "Just a little bit. For me?"

I huff dramatically but I already know I've lost. I can never say no to her when she uses that voice.

"Fine," I grumble, rolling onto my back like a petulant child. "But I'm not chewing. One spoonful and I'm done."

Charles stands up, bringing over the little tray they must've set up. There's a bowl of steaming soup — homemade, by the smell of it — and a glass of water with a straw.

"You don't have to chew soup, genius," he teases, setting it down carefully beside Alex.

I stick my tongue out at him, then immediately regret it when my throat scratches painfully. Alex just smiles, dipping the spoon into the broth, blowing on it until it's cool enough, then holding it up to my lips.

"Open," she says softly, like she's feeding a toddler.

I roll my eyes but obey, letting her feed me a spoonful. It's warm and salty and tastes like heaven, even if my stomach protests at the sudden attention.

"Good girl," Alex praises, wiping the corner of my mouth with her thumb. The simple, silly praise makes me blush hotter than the soup.

Charles chuckles low under his breath, pretending he's not looking at me like I'm the most ridiculous, lovable thing he's ever seen.

"Don't laugh at me," I mutter after swallowing another sip.

"I'm not," he says — and he's technically telling the truth. His face is suspiciously neutral, but his eyes are glowing with affection. "I'm proud of you."

"You're so full of it," I grumble, but deep down, it feels nice. It feels safe.

Between the two of them — Alex patiently feeding me and Charles making me laugh just enough to forget how gross I feel — the ache in my chest loosens a little more.

Maybe being sick isn't so bad... when you're this loved.

#charles leclerc #alexandra saint mleux #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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psychoticallykind · 2 days ago

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Sweaters

Wolfstar Microfic - @wolfstarmicrofic - prompt: truth - 448 words

"James!"

"What?"

"Where is my sweater?" Remus asked, aggravated. "I swear, it's the third one this week and I'm getting ready to kill someone."

James held his hands up. "It wasn't me. But let me know if you want help searching later, yeah?"

"Fine," Remus grumbled, still searching his trunk. At least half of his sweaters were missing.

The door opened behind him.

"Moony!" Sirius greeted him. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for my sweaters," Remus replied, grumbling. "They keep disappearing."

It took him a minute to realize Sirius had gone silent.

Remus frowned in concern, turning. "Padfoot?"

Sirius was already watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read. "Yes?"

"What's wrong?"

"With me?" Sirius asked. He shrugged, stepping backward. "Nothing. I'm good. Actually, I'm going to go downstairs, because Lily -"

"Nuh-uh," Remus denied, stepping in his way. "The truth, please. Why are you all quiet?"

Sirius hesitated. "My throat hurts?"

Remus raised his brows, and Sirius winced.

"Ihaveyoursweaters," Sirius mumbled quickly.

Remus blinked. "What?"

"I have your sweaters," Sirius said again, sucking in a sharp breath. He looked worried. "I didn't mean to. I just - actually, it doesn't matter. I'll give them back, they're in my trunk -"

"Woah, stop." Remus grabbed his wrist, stopping the other boy before he could move. "Why are you taking my sweaters?"

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, a blush appearing on his pale skin. "They help me sleep."

"They help - are you having nightmares again?"

Sirius nodded, eyes still closed.

Remus sighed. "Sirius, look at me."

"Mm, I'd rather not," Sirius said.

"We're dating," Remus pointed out.

Sirius nodded. "I'm aware."

"You have blanket consent to sleep in my bed," Remus continued.

Another nod.

"So why," Remus asked. "Are you taking my sweaters?"

Sirius huffed, eyes opening. "Because it's easier to take a sweater and force myself to calm down than to wake you up and ruin your night."

Remus felt a wave of affection for the dark-haired boy. "Sirius."

His eyes closed again. "Please don't say it."

"I love you," Remus continued. "And you aren't ruining my night by waking me up."

Sirius tipped his head back, studying the ceiling. "Uh-huh."

"Don't uh-huh me, you repressed idiot." Remus let go of his wrist, manually tipping his head back down. "I love you."

Sirius only slightly winced that time. "I love you, too."

"That's nice," Remus said. "How about you accept that I want to help you, yeah?"

Sirius moved, ducking so that his face was hidden in Remus's - least favorite - sweater. "Okay."

"Thank you." Remus could feel Sirius's heartbeat racing the way it always did when he had to talk about emotions. "You can keep the sweaters if you want."

#marauders #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar microfic

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xiaomero · 2 days ago

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pairings: scaramouche x reader

genre: angst.

word count: 806.

trigger warning: suicide, arguing / yelling.

art credit: sherisuu on x.

scaramouche wore his mask and placed his camera onto his desk to start the stream. as seconds passed by the chat started to flow with comments saying hi and asking how he was doing.

“hi,” he greeted them and started to read the chat out loud. “-how are you?- i’m good i guess. -are you going dye your hair?- nah, not anytime soon. -what are you going to play today?- i will play something i wrote…i was going to release it officially but i think i won’t….” he answered and watched people going crazy over a new song.

he sat down to the chair and put his notebook in front of him.

he took a deep breath, looked at his band aided fingers for a moment and lined them correctly on the strings.

and started playing and singing.

he was giving all of his heart into his voice. chat was silent for the first time this afternoon because they never saw him like this.

now all the birds have fled, the hurt just leaves me scared.

losing everything i've ever known…

he took a deep breath again.

it's all become too much…maybe I'm not built for love.

the breath stuck in his throat.

if i knew that i could reach you, i would go…

it's in my heart and in my head, you can't take back the things you said.

so high above, i feel it coming down…

she said, "In my heart and in my head, tell me why this has to end?”

oh no, oh no!

it was hard to breathe.

i can’t save us, my atlantis…

we fall, we built this town on shaky ground-!

bang!

the door slammed to wall and his his mom entered the room. she was looking at him with disbelief and anger in her eyes.

“didn’t i tell you to stop playing with such nonsenses and be serious about your life!?” the woman yelled at the boy and tried to get his guitar out of his hands.

“stop it!” scaramouche yelled at her back while trying to keep his guitar. “don’t touch it!” he was getting furious.

“you are just wasting your life with shit like this! i won’t let you turn out like him, okay? do you hear me!?” she said with agony and threw the guitar to the ground.

he watched his guitar, split in two pieces, in silence for a few seconds.

his vision started to get blurry and his head was spinning.

“i…” he whispered. “i hate you.” he got up and grabbed his guitar and the camera and closed it, which ended the stream immediately.

then he ran up to the door and got outside.

it was raining like crazy, but he did not care and started running to you, his only escape from this reality he was stuck in.

he ran, ran and ran until he got to your home. he opened the door and scanned for you. when he saw you were sleeping, he sighed and lied down next to to you.

your bed was wet and dirty. there were flowers all around. he looked at your sleeping figure.

“look what she did to my guitar…” he put the guitar next to you. “if she knew how hard you worked for this secretly every fucking day for months just to gift it to me, would she do the same thing? you know, she used to love you.” he looked at you for an answer but you didn’t say anything as usual.

“i wrote a song. with the music we produced to be a love song…you wouldn’t be angry if it was a little…sad, instead of being a happily-ever-after love song, right?” he waited in silence.

“i didn’t release it tho, i just sang a little…which ended horribly. i didn’t know she was home, she shouldn’t have been home until tomorrow.” he whined a little.

“wanna listen to some music?” he looked at your dead stare. “oh yes, you always loved more when i sing it myself…but i kinda lost my voice because of all the…y’know.“ he said and chuckled a bit.

and then, a single tear fell onto his cheeks.

“i wish…i could hear you.“

he watched you, for hours. without seeing your face.

his clothes were dirty because of the mud.

his hair was soaking wet because of the rain.

he was freezing cold because of your grave stone he was leaning towards.

more hours passed by,

rain has stopped.

sky was clear,

his heart was beating fast.

he got something from his pocket,

and swallowed it with joy.

he closed his eyes,

he fell asleep.

he opened his eyes…

he smiled,

he was with you again.

do not copy / translate or use my work.

#scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #scaramouche fanfic #scaramouche angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #kunikuzushi x reader #fanfic #angst #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact angst #genshin angst

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sglossmin · 3 days ago

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Muse | MYG pt. 7

Plot: What happens when the man you practically simp over in high school, is right now, sitting across you after almost 10 years of not seeing him? Worse? You’re here for an appointment for therapy and he’s your psychologist.

Pairing: SeniorStudent!Yoongi x JuniorStudent!Reader —> Psychologist! Yoongi x Artist!Reader

Genre: Fluff, slight age gap, slice of life, a bit of angst, schoolmates to lovers(?) SWITCH POV

Warnings: matured themes

Word count: it's many i think

A/N: i'm kinda dumb so bear with this-_-

Comment your @ if u wanna be added to the taglist^^

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

Early mornings aren't really my thing, but hearing my phone rang so loud, I couldn't help but take it. Groaning, I lazily reached my phone on my bedside table—not even caring to look at the caller's ID.

"GIRLLLL!! EMERGENCY!" Hearing Sana's squeal made me wide awake. Getting up from my bed, I quickly changed into my casual clothes while asking if she was hurt or anything. "No, I'm fine... but—I really need your help right now."

Putting my hoodie on, I quickly rushed outside of my room. "Okay... Just stay where you are right now." I exhaled, trying to calm my mind from different scenarios on what could've happened to my friend. "Where are you anyways?"

"Your front door."

I was close to the front door when I immediately stopped my tracks when I heard her. Slowly processing what she replied, I instinctively opened the door. Almost dropping the phone when I saw her and Chaeyoung grinning like fools in front of me.

"Let's go?" Sana smiled as she reached for my hand in which I pulled away before she could even do it.

"What the f— Sana, what's going on?" I frowned at them, feeling the sudden urge to burst.

She gulped while Chaeyoung automatically hid on her back. "Well, I'm having an emergency... I have to shop for a great outfit..?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I tried to refrain myself from murdering the woman in front of me. "Sana, you can't just call me and say there's an emergency! Do you know how worried I was when I heard you??"

"It was Chae's idea... Anyways, you wouldn't come with us if I didn't say that." She pouted as she tried to reach out again.

"We're sorry, Y/n. We didn't mean to worry you and it's... stupid." Chaeyoung—still hiding on Sana's back—uttered. "Besides, we called you thousands of times, you weren't picking up. Do you even know what time it is?"

Turning my head towards her, I glared. As if glaring at her is enough to kill her. "Well, guess what? I was too worried to even bother checking the time." I sarcastically smiled at both of them.

If they only knew how my heart dropped after hearing Sana asking for help. I almost had a heart attack!

Out of my will, they both dragged me towards Chae's car and drove off to the mall. Both of them tried to apologize and cheer me up the whole time but I couldn't help but still be mad. That thing they did wasn't funny in any ways. They're both grown ups, they should know that.

"Oh, come on, Y/n." Sana pleaded. "We're really sorry and we'll just shop for a bit. It'll ease your mind"

I groaned and turned my head towards her as we walked inside the mall. "I just don't get it—why would you need me to shop with you? Chae's here." Arguing with her felt like talking to a child. Both of them just gave me puppy eyes in contrast to their sinister smiles.

Chaeyoung put her arms around me and casually replied, "Her niece's graduation day is tomorrow, we'll buy a gift and Sana's outfit too."

"And what the fuck does that have to do with me?" I raised a brow as I put her arm away from me. Still annoyed from the earlier scene but as the time goes on, it lessens.

Sana chimed in, "We'll tell you later, but for now... Let's buy you an ice cream to cool you off, yeah?" Patting my back, both of them dragged me to the nearest ice cream stall.

They knew it's my favorite. The only food I'm willing to eat even if I haven't eaten breakfast.

The mall is filled with crowds—families eating at the food chains, old aunties out for shopping, couples snuggling with each other in the most disgusting ways—in my point of view, at least. It's been a while since I've gone to the mall. Most of the time, I just order things online since it's cheaper—not that I'm too broke to buy things at the mall. Seems like they pushed the air conditioner to its highest level due to the mall's very cold temperature. It was a good thing that I happened to wear my hoodie.

While savoring the ice cream to calm my head, a familiar tune played through the mall's speaker. Four catchy beats before the artist sang.

Somebody does love

But, I’m thinking ’bout you

Somebody does love

But, I’m thinking ’bout you, you oh

It sounded the same thing of what Yoongi was humming the first time we ate together. Turns out the song is a catchy upbeat type. I turned to focus on the song and its lyrics. My surroundings slowly fade as I listen to it.

Would it be you of the past that I’m missing

or would it be the past times that left regrets and lingering feelings behind

In the middle of the song, these lyrics came in. Those words really took my attention. The rapper has its smooth flow and rhythm—his lyricism blew my mind. Especially on how he played with his words. Using 그대 (geudae) which means "you" and 그때 (geuddae) which means "then" or "that time". The taking turns of those two words in the lyrics suggests that when one reminisces about past love, it could be about the person they were in love with—or their past selves who were in love—or the time when they were in love. It made me think that the songwriter is some sort of lyrical genius. As the song goes on, its lyrics go deeper.

Love is like that sunlight pouring down on a spring day

and rolls in as the winter sea’s fierce waves, before we know it

Would it be the past times that we’re missing

or would it be each other of the past that we buried in our memories

So I just try to smile without saying anything

because it’s too much work to reminisce about the glamorized times of back then

My friends snapped me out of my focus on the song when they started dragging me towards a boutique shop. Fancy dresses are displayed all over the place making the store look classy and everything. I was never really fond of this shop since the products in here are too expensive—acting as if my paintings and drawing itself don't cost thousands of dollars. Besides, it's not like most of the time I meet with people, so I'd probably just pile it up and leave it untouched somewhere in the house.

"So? What do you think? Pink or red?" Sana was holding two awfully dramatic dresses that falls to her shin.

I sighed and took a look at the dresses. "Don't you think...you'd outdress everyone at the event?"

Sana rolled her eyes and turned to Chaeyoung for her opinion. "Yeah... Y/n's right..." Chaeyoung frowned while looking at the dresses.

Shaking my head, I took the clothes in her hand and gestured to the saleslady to take it. Once it's out of the view, I faced her once again. "Hey, you look good in everything, it's just... those are.. meh?" I cleared my throat after not finding the right term to use. "Why are you even so thrilled about your niece's graduation? You're not her mother nor you guys are close to be glamouring that much."

"Oh tell me about it." Chaeyoung laughed while Sana eyed her. "Sana took her one time and gagged when she saw his teacher. Apparently he's hot and young so she has been crushing on him for days."

I gaped at Sana—my eyes flickering with amusement. Chuckling, I shook my head and took out another dress. "Just so you know, your niece would hate you. Dating her teacher? Really?"

"That's why I never told anyone!" Sana took the dress in my hand while she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Checking if the dress fits. "Besides... we're not dating... yet." A sly smirk spread all over her face as she glanced at us through the mirror.

After rounds of rummaging through the store, we found the perfect dress for the occasion. Chae and I decided to buy for ourselves too. I bought a cardigan and a trouser that seemed to match each other.

Later, we went to a coffee shop near the mall.

"So are you excited to know why we insist you to come today?" Sana grinned as she put down her latte.

For a slip second, I actually forgot about it. "Not really... But sure, spill." I look uninterested as ever while sipping cappuccino.

Sana rolled her eyes and took something out from her bag. She slid in front of me and the two grinned. It was the invitation booklet for her niece's graduation. She's studying at the same school we went to. The logo and designs are all too familiar. It was something I didn't get to have since I went to the States before even graduating.

"What's this?"

"School invitation, duh?? I stole it from her mother and I'll probably give it back later... or tomorrow." Sana shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee once again while Chaeyoung watched us silently.

"I know it's an invitation." I let out an exasperated sigh. "Why are you showing this to me?"

Regardless of knowing what it is, it still made me confused on what does it has to do with me.

"Open it. On the first page...then look for the guest speaker." I then observed that she and Chaeyoung were suppressing their giggles which made me frown.

Still, I did what she said. The time I spotted it, my eyes widened.

Min Yoongi?

"He's uh..." I cleared my throat and closed the booklet. Turning to face them, they are grinning like a Cheshire cat. "So... what about this?" I asked dumbfoundedly.

Their smiles dropped.

"What about this?" Chaeyoung repeated with a frown. "Aren't you surprised? Excited?"

"Surprised? Kind of. But excited? I... uh... Why should I be excited?"

"Because we're going!"

"We are..?" I sighed and took a sip of my coffee. "I don't know... I mean—I'm kinda busy and-"

"Oh hush," Sana rolled her eyes. "You're just making excuses, aren't you? I already asked Jimin about your schedule—said you're free."

I raised a brow at the mention of Jimin's name. "You guys talk?"

Sana groaned before replying, "That man barely replies. But when it comes to you... he seems to care"

I guess there's no way out for this.

It's not like I didn't really want to go and watch him give his speech. In fact—I'd become my teenager self and support him through the crowd. The thing that's bothering me is that I haven't been to that school since I left Korea. My mind is making up all the best and worst possible scenarios once I go there.

Is the place still the same? Are the staffs there still the same? Will the teachers remember me?

I was once a student whom every teacher remembers. Doesn't matter if it is because I'm smart or I made a student teacher cry. They used to trust me and look up at me with pride—something my parents used to do.

The graduation ceremony is held in the gymnasium. Sitting on the bleachers with the two by my side, we watched the students come in one by one. The repetitive graduation song blasts through the speakers.

It must be fun graduating like that...

The ceremony went on until it was time for Yoongi's speech. His gaze is focused on the students—probably didn't even notice I was there. Even from afar, I saw his cheeks flush at the attention. He looks like I could put him in my pocket—so small in my view. It made me smile at the sight of him.

Yoongi cleared his throat, "As the MC said, I'm Min Yoongi and I work as a Psychologist at my own clinic. So far... the customers keep going in. Becoming a psychologist is like listening to your friend's gossip... but paid." He lightly chuckled and some of the students laughed too. "No, kidding, mental health is as much as important as the physical.

Why I chose this path, some of you might ask. I chose this because... it amazes me how a human mind works. What drives them to behave and do stuff like that—it made me curious," he paused. "Congrats to everyone who survived this school year. I know how hard it is to be a student... but always remember, if you fling it—then you fling it. It's not the end of the world. The Earth will still constantly orbit the sun as if it's just another day. Life goes on.

The outside world might seem scary... which it is, but with the people around you and putting some faith in yourself, it'll feel... less. I know some of you are sad, relieved, afraid... or uncertain."

Those words that he uttered might be something my younger self would love to hear.

"There was this kid whom I knew when I was studying here. She's kinda... bizarre. Most of the time I saw her, was either she was too flustered or crying." He chuckled while shaking his head. "There was a time I happened to walk with her. I think it was during our talent show... Do seniors still do that fundraising?

Anyways, that night, I saw her cry when I performed, then later we came across each other. She asked me, "Are you... scared? That you might end up becoming nothing when you grow up." I was taken aback at first. It made me wonder why she said that so I asked her. Then she said that the song I sang that night made her think of it. So I answered, "Yes, I am. Life is too full of uncertainty..." Then she just nod—slowly processed my word."

By the time I heard him telling that story, it took me back to that night.

"I thought of asking her why she was crying when I was performing, but knowing her even just a little at that time, I knew she would deny it—act stronger as if her feelings and thoughts aren't important as much as the others. That's why I just turned the question to her, "Are you scared?" And she just... beamed me a smile. Says, "Kinda... but who cares about the future? I'm living my life in the present." I thought she was really strange... because her eyes says different."

Yoongi was right. That night when I said that, it was a lie. I cared so much about the future. Those words were actually something I wanted to say to myself.

"She didn't graduate here for some reasons but sure heck—if she had? She'd be the one who'd give this speech. She's the most successful person I know who went through a lot of stuff and is still thriving. She truly amazes me...

A lot of you might still be uncertain on what path you'll take from now on. It's alright to be lost. The advice I could give you all is... Don't lose faith in yourself and learn how to breathe. If it ever feels suffocating, learn to put yourself first."

He paused and thought for a while on what to say next.

"Past, present, future. Don't get stuck on the past, live in the present, look to your future with a smile.

Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses. That's what makes us human—our differences. Our life shapes us for who we are today. It includes our mistakes. We are born to be real, not to be perfect.

The time you sneaked out, tried to cheat on a test, or skipped cleaning the classroom...

Once you get older, you will look back and laugh. Realizing the child that you once were has become a grown up. However, the only time you should look back in life, is to see how far you've come.

I hope that one day, everyone in this room will love every version of themselves. The person who you were, who you are, and who you aim to become. Not just you but all of us will still learn from our experiences and hopefully, use it for the better. We'll continue to learn and grow...

The next stages of your life won't be any easier. So if you think you're crashing, try to accelerate more."

Yoongi smiled, looking at every student, "Again, Congratulations batch (S/Y)! Hug your friends, thank your teachers and parents... I hope you at least enjoyed being a high school student. Congrats, everyone! Thank you."

He bowed and everyone clapped for him. The speech he gave made everyone's heart swell. Whether they're a student or an adult, they all somehow relate to his speech.

The ceremony goes on with other speeches and the student's farewell song. During the last part of the ceremony, I excused myself to go to the bathroom because my bladder was about to burst. After peeing, I washed my hands, dry it and stared at myself in the mirror. Yoongi's speech earlier still lingers in my head. As I was about to retouch my makeup, my phone rang. It was Sana.

"Girl!! EMERGENCY!!"she yelled through the phone, her voice full of urgency.

I let out an exasperated sigh, "Sana, if you're just making dumb pranks again... I swear-"

"No no no!! You have to come back here. NOW! There's a preggy lady, and it looks like her baby is about to come!!"

With that, I rushed outside the bathroom and went back. I saw people crowding a part of the place. People were panicking. As I ran towards them, I saw Yoongi and a man grabbing his collar.

"Aren't you a doctor, huh?! Save my wife!" The man yelled while some were trying to calm him down.

"Sir, I'm not trained for-" Yoongi's words were cut off by the time he saw me.

I didn't really hear what they were saying and assumed that it was some sort of riot and decided to give the unknown man a peace of mind.

"Yah! Get off your hands on him!" I ran towards them and roundhouse kicked the man before he could even react. I didn't really mean to hurt him like that.

It just happened that it's the only self-defense I know so I kinda felt bad when the man fell. A loud thud across the place was heard, other than a woman's cry. Everyone's attention went toward us and Yoongi just stared at me with wide eyes.

"I uh..." Embarrassment crept in when I realized what I just did. Before I could explain, Chae grabbed my arms and dragged me to where the crying woman is.

Once I saw her, lying and whimpering. Her whole body is sweating and looking between her legs, her water broke.

Son of a...

I rushed towards her, moving the people out of the way. I kneeled and looked at the school nurses beside her, "Did you call an ambulance?"

One of the nurses nod, "Yes, but they got stuck in traffic."

Someone tapped my shoulder, I didn't even bother to look up at them and just showed them my ID. Turns out it was actually the man earlier. I heard him sigh, and in a pleading tone, he said, "Please save my wife and my baby."

I froze a bit when I heard him beg me to save her. Still scanning the mother, she looks so much in pain. We had no choice but to deliver her baby right here.

"Hi ma'am, I'm a licensed paramedic, you can trust me, okay? We'll deliver your baby safely." I reassured her as I asked the school nurses, who looked like they were panicking to give me lots of towels or a blanket.

The mother shook her head, "I can't. It's still too early."

"Early? but-"

"I still have six weeks."

"Fuck," I cursed out loud, my shoulders slumped. My anxiety creeped in as the crowd went into chaos. My mind was fogging a bit and my breathing quickens. I grasped my head, trying to calm my anxiety down.

You can do this, Y/n. You're trained.... Breathe...

As I continue to calm myself, I knew our time is running out. It could lead the baby and the mother in danger. So I forced myself to move. Move every muscle and nerves to work.

"We have to, ma'am. It'll be too dangerous for both of you. Please, ma'am. We have to." I firmly said as I gestured to the nurses to let her lay down.

Even with my doubt creeping in, I knew I had to do it. However, once she's laid down, her legs wide open. Some blood flowing down... the memories came back. I hesitated. Not one muscle would dare to move. No matter how hard I try, I just froze in place. My hands were trembling as I stared at the blood. I couldn't breathe. A loud ring in my head made me hiss. I tried to rub it off but it still continued.

Move, Y/n... MOVE!

"S-short... fast, breaths. Don't push yet." I forced myself to talk and thankfully, the mother cooperated.

The chaos in my surroundings didn't help either. It only reminded me of that day. Every time I blink, in those short periods, I could see it. Hear it. Feel it. It was so vivid that it made me wanna vomit.

Pool of blood on the ground, a person laying beside it, people in chaos—crying and screaming for help. I let out a shaky breath as I tried to focus on the situation.

“Hey, you okay?” Yoongi’s soothing voice snapped me out of the void. I turned to look at him and nodded slowly. “You can do this.”

I turned to look between the mother’s leg, and the baby’s head was somehow visible.

“You’re doing great, ma’am. Just short fast breaths, okay?”

She nodded and continued to pant. “Oh Gosh! It’s coming again!” she groaned.

I gestured to the nurses to check the mother before turning my attention back to the baby.

“Okay…I can see the head… The next time you feel contraction—push hard, you hear me?”

She nodded and I observed her more.

“Ready? Here we go… PUSH!”

The mother cried as she pushed. I supported its head as it slowly came out. When the baby came out,I immediately wrapped the towels around…her. It was a baby girl. But what made my knees weak—she isn’t crying.

Fuck fuck NO…

I wiped her mouth and nose with a clean towel. Rubbing her back and flicking her toes to stimulate her nervous system and lungs to get her start breathing.

Still nothing.

My doubts started creeping in again. An inner voice blaming for the fucked up situation we’re in right now.

I-i… killed her. I’m killing her… Just like what I did to him.

But the mother’s voice snapped me out of it.

“Did I do it? Why can’t I hear my baby’s cry?”

I gently slapped the baby’s foot.

Nothing.

Tried again.

Nothing.

My hands trembled as a lump in my throat formed. I felt their eyes on me.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” Yoongi asked in concern.

“What did you do to my child?”

“Are you really trained for this?! “Oh my, she killed the baby!”

“We shouldn’t have trusted you!!”

It’s like my inner voice came into life. Their loud assumptions and blame towards me took me out of the focus and mindlessly tapped the baby’s foot once again.

The sound of the ambulance slowly came into earshot.

As my hope fades away, I feel the baby take a sharp inhale. A cough. Then a loud cry echoed across the place. Relief washes over me and I felt the urge to cry but refrained myself.

Letting out a shaky breath, as I stared at the tiny baby crying in my arms. I heard everyone sigh and feel at ease when she cried. The paramedics rushed towards us and helped on cutting its cord. I pulled back and watched them do their work. Once the baby is clean and the mother is good, they give the baby to its mother. The mother and her husband thanked me and apologized before going inside the ambulance.

“We got her. Thanks for the immediate assistance, Doctor…?”

“Oh, I’m not—I mean, I’m just a licensed paramedic.” I shyly smiled and looked down at my bloodied clothes.

“Still, you saved their lives.” He said before walking away. The ambulance drove off while everyone was still in shock.

Once their focus wasn't on me, my knees weakened and almost dropped until I felt a pair of arms hold me. Yoongi steadied me, pulling me closer until I instinctively buried my face to his chest. Sobbing silently.

“I-I was scared, Yoongi. I thought I.. I killed her.” I said through my muffled cry.

Yoongi embraced me and slowly patted my back. “I’m here, I’m here. It’s okay. The baby is alive, hm?” His voice was soothing as he softly whispered.

“I-i thought… a life will be lost… because of me… again.” My voice was trembling as I cried in his arms.

He hushed me, tracing soothing circles on my back. “Sshh… no one’s at fault. Especially not you.”

I looked up at him, my face was covered with tears. “B-but…��

Yoongi half-smiled, wiping my tears with his hand while the other remained on my back, “Everything went fine. No one’s blaming you. Everyone even thanked you. You did great, Y/n. You handled it well. Don’t be so hard on yourself, hm?”

“Ahem,”

We both heard someone clear their throat that made our attention turn to them.

“Mind if we comfort our bestie too?” Sana wiggled her brows.

Yoongi and I pulled back, and the two hugged me tightly. Too tightly.

“Gosh, I can’t breathe!”

“Oh please, we know you love it.” Chaeyoung sassed as the two continued to embrace me for a while.

I saw Yoongi chuckling at the sight of us, which made me glare at him. I mouthed ‘help’ and he just shrugged.

This bitch…

After a while they let me go and told me how proud they were. Practically boosting up my ego. It amused me how they always think highly of me when I can’t even look at myself.

My whole outfit is drenched with blood and sweat that gave me the ick. However, I really don’t wanna go home yet because the memories of earlier will just come back to me like a crashing wave. I need a distraction. Maybe walk around the school for the meantime. That’s why one of my old teachers—who somehow still recognizes me—offered to lend me the school uniform. But of course, my two insufferable friends asked if they would lend them too.

Which explains why the four of us are wearing our school uniform. It didn’t take that much to force Yoongi to wear it too.

I grinned at the sight of him wearing a Junior student uniform. It’s my first time seeing him in that attire.

“Whoa… We really look like students!” Sana giggled as she took some pictures.

We took some group photos and I earned a “yiieee” from the two when they took a photo of Yoongi and I standing side by side. Just like the first time, Yoongi’s the one who leaned in. The only difference is that I no longer feel nervous—only a sense of happiness and familiarity.

“I’m hungry… Can we go to the canteen first?” Chaeyoung whined.

“I don’t think I have the appetite… You guys can go, I’ll just go to the library for a bit.”

“Okayyy,” Chaeyoung said as she dragged Sana to go with her—leaving Yoongi and I.

“Uhm…aren’t you..”

Yoongi shook his head, “Not really. Let’s checkout the library?”

I smiled and nodded in response.

Passing through the classrooms, I keep seeing our reflection through the window. If a random person sees us, they will probably assume that we’re just one of the junior students here.

Or perhaps,

A high school sweethearts.

My heart raced a bit at the thought of it. I can’t seem to wipe off my damn smile every time I glance at him. If he looked cute back in the day, he definitely looks scrumptious now. It made me think that the uniform is literally made for him.

Clearing my throat, I looked at him as we walked, “You know, we kinda look like we’re classmates. I wonder what type of classmate you are…”

A slow grin crept into Yoongi's face, “Hmm… we’ll probably be academic rivals.”

My mind wandered to the different scenario of us bickering about a school project. Aim for high grades as if our lives depend on it. Mock each other when the other one got higher. Tease each other about every outcome of our projects. Maybe even lure the other one to fall for their trap—only to fall for them.

AAAAHHHHH I read too much romance books.

Once we reached the library, Yoongi immediately went to a spot. Finding something between the books.

“What are you looking for?”

Instead of answering he just exclaimed.

“It’s still here…” He then showed me a piece of paper with a familiar drawing in it.

“Whoa-” I gasped at the ten year old paper in his hands. “That’s… How did you know…”

“The cat signature. This is from you, right?”

“Yeah, but why is it in here?”

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck, something I observed that he usually does whenever he gets shy.

“Well, it creeped me out. I mean—when I woke up, no one was there and then there’s this drawing of me sleeping… So yeah. Stuck it in between one of the books.” He chuckled awkwardly and gave me the paper.

We took a seat and I traced the outline of the drawing with my finger, reminiscing the time I drew it.

“You know… This is actually my first ever drawing of you.”

“Not bad for a first timer,” he smirked.

“Maybe I was made to draw you,” I nudged his side as I teased him. The earlier anxiety faded away.

There was a long pause before Yoongi decided to break it.

“I didn’t know you’re a licensed paramedic,” His voice was laced with caution, not wanting to hit a nerve.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me actually,” I cheekily smiled. “You think a person like me would really become some sort of Art Major?”

“Well, that’s what you do right now.”

“Yeah, but we all know there’s no money in it. So I couldn’t take that risk. It just happened that I got people’s attention. I took an associate degree that’s focused on paramedicine—while I also somehow started selling some of my artwork to people—then took an advanced paramedic training program. And… I thought, studying in medical school is too long, besides I was still unsure at that time.”

“Then why paramedicine? Don’t you have a…”

“Trauma of accidents? Emergency?” I completed his words and he nodded—admitting that’s what he meant. I sighed, still looking at him with a half smile. “That’s why I quit. I thought…if I'll be in that field, I could save lives. I could've done what I should've done back then. But I couldn't take it.

I did passed, had that degree… worked for a bit too. However, it's not enough. I don't have the guts to look at those patients. Paramedicine wasn't really for me. It feels like walking into my own nightmare. It was stupid… But look, I... erm... saved two lives today..! Somehow, I felt a sense of relief.” My smile grew bigger and so did his.

Another pause before I chose to break the silence. I looked at Yoongi who is now deep in thought.

“Wanna know another thing about me?” I said, in this time, there’s no hint of playfulness. Though, there’s still a small smile playing on my lips.

Yoongi snapped out of his own world when he heard me. Nodding, he looked at me—all ears.

“I was diagnosed with PTSD when I was in high school. Two weeks after I left Korea, my symptoms got worse. They gave me some drug for my panic attacks… even almost overdosing myself. While in college, it lessened—yes but… I started taking sleeping pills because I kept having nightmares…” I paused before letting out a humorless laugh, “My first ever painting that was sold was actually made when I had a nightmare and I just had to paint it. Because of my nightmares, slowly, I almost forgot what actually happened.”

“Do you still take those pills?”

“Nah, that was years ago. I stopped soon after I felt that it only made me feel worse. In fact, I don’t sleep at all now,” I chuckled. “After I realized I have no hope in being a paramedic, I turned my focus to being an artist since at that time… people slowly recognized my arts already.” I shrugged as if I didn’t literally told him about my deepest darkest secrets. “Anyways, no one knows about it so shushed yourself, hm? Doctor Min?” I teased, wanting to lighten up the mood even though I was the one who caused it to feel so blue.

Yoongi nodded and half-smiled at me. “Mouth zipped shut.”

“Also, uhm… about earlier? I uh…”

“You really kicked him hard.”

I hissed as I agreed, “Yeah… When Jungkook and I were kids, he taught me that kick since he was taking taekwondo lessons…”

“You really haven't changed that much…” he uttered as he placed his chin on the palm of his hand while his arm rested on the table.

“Was that a good thing… or a bad thing..?

Yoongi playfully shrugged, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Winter 2010 (MYG POV)

“YAAAHHHH!! KIM TAEHYUNG!—I’M GONNA KILL YOU!!!”

Two students passed me as they ran. The girl who is chasing the other kid, screamed in frustration as she kept chasing the boy. While the other is all furious, the other one seemed carefree as he laughed while he was being chased.

“Aigoo…” Hoseok clicked his tongue as he stood beside me. “Juniors these days… To be young and free once again..”

I snorted when I heard him, “You talk as if you’re some old monk. Weren’t you just chasing Jackson a few seconds ago too?”

“Well, our research papers are making me feel old.”

I chuckled and was about to walk away when he took my arm.

“Look— It’s becoming interesting…” Hoseok grinned and I followed his gaze.

She’s kinda familiar…

The young girl was so close to catching him until he suddenly stopped, making the girl bumped into him. They’re just a few meters away from us. It seems like she’s trying to take something—back?—from the guy. Both of them panted, while the guy just looked down on her—sly smile spreading all over his face. He was raising up the bag so that she wouldn't reach it.

“Can’t reach it, can you?” he said as he kept pestering the young girl.

“Give it. NOW.” She firmly said while he just mockingly laughed.

“Or what?”

The girl sighed and backed off. Seems like she was walking away.

The irony of this…

As I was about to meddle and help the poor girl take her bag, I heard gasps. Not even a few meters when she walked away, she went back right after. Aiming at the young boy’s face, she almost kicked him. Stopping just right on time before her roundhouse kick fully hit him. The boy was caught off guard, making the bag slip on his hand. Everything seemed to freeze until a soft thud was heard—making the girl’s attention turn to the bag.

The guy who was too stunned just stared at her as she took something from the bag.

“Got it!” she smiled as she held a camera on his face. “Just for this weekend.”

The boy groaned and took—his?—bag, slinged it to his shoulder and glared at her. “I swear if you break that…”

“Your mom will kill you? Great! Thanks, Taehyungieee,” she teased as she nudged him, earning an exasperated sigh from him. “You look like you’re about to shit your pants.”

“Oh yeah? Well, thanks to you and your shenanigans,” he scoffed.

As the two walked away together, Hoseok clapped once to have my attention.

“Show’s over. Let’s go,” he grinned as he led the way. “Seems like the victim isn’t much of a victim.”

I snorted and walked back to our classroom with him. I wouldn’t lie, the scene earlier caught me off guard just like anybody. The way she was so eager to take on the other student who’s literally bigger than her somehow amused me. She has guts and strength, I suppose. And all for that for a camera? That girl surely set her priorities.

She’s weird…

Taglist: @choijay-07 @sanarin @yooforeaa @this-most-assuredly-counts @minniejim @amarawayne @peacenpigeons @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @rottingbedpost @emirawht

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darcyxpalmer · 58 minutes ago

Text

"Yeah, basically. Not fully sure how it works from the outside, but I imagine it's like stepping through a door, just one part of it is here and the other is wherever I go." It didn't feel like stepping through a door, but how it felt and how it must have looked from the outside was completely different.

Darcy's stomach dropped for a moment, thinking of limbs severed and the pain that shot through her and Calamity the one time she attempted to take somebody with herself, but she pushed the memory away. It didn't happen, thanks to Calamity. "Yeah, definitely don't want to leave limbs behind. Nor any small part of myself.

"And yeah, I kind of have to know where I am going, but if there is no shadow to step to, I just-- I can't do it. When I wanna do it, I feel the shadow and I feel it calling me. So I know there is a destination. The hard part is discerning if it's the same destination I want to go to or someplace else. And the stronger and darker the shadow, the easier it is to tell the differences."

It was interesting, how mere moments ago they were yelling at each other, ready to bite off each other's head and now Zaid was the one suggesting they come back here at night to see Darcy's powers. It was the kind of attitude Darcy appreciated and filed away - no matter what happens, when they are talking about getting things done on the island, Zaid would be willing to do it and work with Darcy. Which meant more than being besties at all times.

Zaid came into focus then, his power building and building in the sun and Darcy wished she had a notebook with her to take down every little detail, everything Zaid said, all the changes she witnessed - then again, she doubted there would be anything she'd forget anytime soon. "Adarsh isn't too bad - and maybe the healing will give him a chance to bond more with others. But having him around when we do practices with you is a good idea. His power is one of those that you don't really want him to have the chance to be able to practice, the less we all get injured the better, but yeah, it would be a good precaution."

As much as she promised she'd get away in time, when Zaid told her to get away, Darcy was reluctant - maybe she could see something that could turn it all back that could help Zaid not blow up if he didn't want to. Or maybe there was a sign that would be extremely important to unlock some other part of his powers!

But if she got blown to pieces, she wouldn't be able to figure anything out, so after a split second hesitation, she quickly stepped back while Zaid stumbled over to the water. But she remained as close as she felt comfortable to be able to watch it all happen. The first time she experienced it all, she was caught unaware and she couldn't really take any of it in, there was no way she would make the same mistake twice!

And maybe it was weird, but Darcy thought it just looked beautiful, as the light overcame Zaid and the explosion happened in the water, only a push of force with some specks of water reaching Darcy this time. Maybe not something she should share with Zaid. She waited one, two, three seconds to give Zaid a chance to catch his breath and then she rushed in, already by his side when he asked if she was okay. "No, no, you didn't hurt me, don't worry, that was-- how are you feeling?" Once again she was touching his forehead, feeling his skin, his heat, noting the water being extremely hot around her calves as the waves lapped.

"How are you feeling? Relief, I am assuming. But what else? Did it hurt? Are you hurt? Are you feeling energized? Do you feel like you could build up to it again if you had to? Even the smallest of things could matter."

"Teleport between different shadows..." Zaid repeated, trying to wrap his mind around this idea. "So...as you step into a shadow, you're already stepping out of another one, somewhere else? But that'd mean you need to know where you're teleporting too. You can't do it blindly - what if there's no second shadow to teleport out of, would you get...stuck?"

The idea was slightly unnerving, but at least it was just Darcy who'd be affected. "Don't fancy the idea of finding bits and bobs of you here and there, just wriggling about waiting to be reassembled, love."

Zaid peered up into the sky, checking the sun. "I suppose we could come back here after sunset. See how much fun you can have then, yeah?"

Then it was his turn. Despite their earlier row, he actually felt okay putting on this performance for Darcy's curiousity. And she was so curious; she wouldn't listen to his warnings, or rather she had little fear about it. She'd been one of the first to see what he could do, so Zaid knew Darcy wouldn't underestimate.

"Maybe we should have Adarsh on-hand during practice bouts, in case I injure you. His powers are healing, if you can imagine. Man like that, being able to heal others?" Zaid snorted. "Couldn't have gone to someone with a kind, sweet temperament, could it?"

But Zaid was just bitching to take up time, as he remained in the sun, feeling increasingly nauseated. Darcy feeling him for fever, of all things, like a concerned family member. "My...my eyes don't hurt. Everything just goes...colourless, but I can still see. I can see you - Darcy - you're too close! Get away!"

Zaid batted at her (foolishly; he shouldn't touch her!) and stumbled towards the water when it felt like he couldn't hold it in any longer. Why was he even trying to hold it in? Just release - only the last time he did that, he nearly killed a man. Something he couldn't tell Darcy.

And maybe roping Adarsh into this project wasn't a good idea either, considering Adarsh had to save that man's life.

Zaid exploded in the water, steam hissing and the hot-white expunging causing a brief circle of dryness around Zaid, as if the sea parted around him. It only lasted a second or two, before water filled around him. He didn't seem to be bothered by the boiling water, just increasingly more and more relieved as he purged himself.

Eventually, hesitantly, Zaid turned to face Darcy. "Are...you okay, love? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

#interlude 002 #with: zaid #zaid 004

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luveline · 2 months ago

Text

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

you get a good dose, confess your affections, and leave poor, oblivious hotch to fix things up neatly.

cw painkiller high, light suggestive theme

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

“Hello.”

You lift your gaze without blinking. Hotch is standing in the doorway, making his way in with a bouquet of flowers tucked under one arm and a white envelope against his chest.

“Hello,” he says again, meeting your wide, still eyes with concern. “You okay?”

“Flowers for me?”

“You’re the one here in a hospital bed. They’re from me and Jack. He insisted.”

You nod up and down robotically. Your heart is unhappy today. You’ve been fast and slow and now it’s running fast again, a tip-tip-tip on the heart monitor that makes Hotch frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “They told me you were on a lot of pain medication, you shouldn’t be hurting anymore. Is it not working?”

“I feel a lot.”

“And that’s unsettling,” he surmises.

“Can I have my flowers?”

Hotch offers them to you immediately. “Why don’t you count to a hundred for me?”

“They’re beautiful, but there’s not that many.”

“Count to one hundred. I can start. Do you need me to start for you?”

You dip your face into the flowers. “I love when you say stuff like that.”

Hotch doesn’t answer you. You begin counting, hoping he’ll say a nice thing if you do as he asked. The numbers get mixed up after thirty five, there really aren’t enough flowers to count to a hundred, but when forty five and fifty four begin to feel like the same number spiritually, Hotch reaches for your forearm and gives it a squeeze. That means job well done. Nobody else in the team gets arm squeezes —they’re for you. Nobody else has noticed, but you have.

“Thank you,” he says.

You beam at him. The heart monitor beeps in slow loops. “You’re welcome. Did it help?”

“I’d say so.” He takes off his suit jacket and puts it over the back of the chair, pulling the chair towards the bed with his foot, and getting comfortable beside you, a little lower down than you but tall regardless. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I can’t believe you got me flowers.”

“I got you flowers the last time you were injured.”

“I know,” you say with a laugh. “I know, it was amazing.”

“Here’s your card from Jack. I’ve opened it for you, I hope that’s okay.”

“I cannot open anything. I tried to stab my pudding open with a spoon and broke it and can’t find the sharp part in my blankets. I’m worried it’s going to poke me.”

Hotch stands from his chair. “That’s not good.”

You take up Jack’s card, pinching the folded printer paper and pulling all of its homemade glory from the envelope. The front has a red heart drawn with bandages wrapped around it, and inside is a message written in impressive penmanship considering his age. To Y/N, it says, Please get well soon. We are hoping you to have a speedy recovery! Love you, Jack and Aaron

“It says you love me,” you say.

“Mm, Jack wrote the message. He misses you.”

You catch the feeling of Hotch’s hand where it slips between your legs and almost burst, giggling excitedly, which makes his hand jump away from you like a fish out of water. “You have the spoon!”

“Found it. No more danger.”

“Thank you. I knew you could find it.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The pain medication Hotch spoke of is starting to make itself known. You hadn’t felt very different to begin with, the only worthy note your absence of pain, but right now you feel weird. Light. Happy, but strange, like the opposite feeling of missing a step. You know something’s wrong and you know it’s the medication, but you’re elated at the same time. Hotch is here. Maybe it’s just him. Maybe he’ll know.

“Do you think I feel happy ‘cos of you or the morphine?” you ask. Softly, slurring, you swallow and try not to sound as drunk. “I feel amazing.”

“It’s the morphine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, it’s been a long time since I had some myself, but I remember feeling amazing at the time, and you’re on a lot more of it than I was.” Hotch sets himself back down in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Are you staying for long?”

“Until they make me leave,” he says.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. Yesterday you were here for ten minutes and I felt like my heart was bruised.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. His eyes seem darker than usual. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I had to be home to take care of Jack.”

“I know you had to, it’s not your fault, but I still missed you.”

You prop Jack’s amazing card on the nightstand with a proud grin. You love Jack Hotchner, he’s the smartest, kindest, sweetest boy you’ve ever met, and it must be because of his parents. You’ve not met Haley many times, but Hotch is amazing. It makes sense that his kid would be just as awesome as he is. Turning your attention back to the flowers, you find the courage to ask, “Do you think you could bring Jack to see me?”

“I think he might be a little young for hospitals, I’m sorry.”

“Well, maybe I can see him when I’m out of the hospital? How can I say thank you for the card? Does he still like bears?”

“He has enough bears,” Hotch says gently. “You don’t need to buy him anything, he just wants you to get better soon.”

“You’re such a good dad.” Your lashes kiss with the force of your smile. “You’re lovely. Jack is really kind.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re handsome,” you continue, slinking down in the bed. You feel tired but not sleepy, craving a really big, hot sandwich. Hotch holds your gaze. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What?” he asks quietly.

“Can you please get me a big, hot sandwich? Maybe with hot chicken? Or spicy chicken in a burrito? I really need it to be hot.”

Hotch laughs aloud and reaches for your forearm to squeeze you again. “Of course I can. I’ll call Derek and I’ll make him get you both of those things, if you like.”

“Oh, good. I really really don’t want you to leave but I really want the sandwich more than I want you to stay.” You tip your head to one side. “If you hugged me again I’d say I want you to stay more than I want the sandwich, ‘cos you haven’t hugged me in a long time.”

“Does that bother you?” he asks, the pad of his thumb working against your wrist.

“No, I know I’m not supposed to want you to hug me.”

“We’re friends,” he says, shaking his head, “good friends, aren’t we? It’s alright if you want a hug. I should be better at giving them.”

When he was with Haley you wouldn’t have dreamed of wanting it, because your affection for him has always been more than a friend‘s. You’ve guarded the secret carefully over the years. What’s more unfair to a wife than to fancy her husband? But Haley left Hotch, and he’s been single for a while now, and you think that lately he’s actively dating. He’s always had pride in his appearance, but his suits are tailored again. His hair is left to grow beyond what’s easily maintained. He and Dave occasionally joke about him getting back out there —he doesn’t need to get out there, you’re right here.

You can’t help frowning.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I think I’m a bad friend.”

“You aren’t a bad friend.”

“I am, I have ulterior motives.”

Hotch rolls his eyes. “Honey, everybody does. You’re fine. You’re a good friend. You know you’re the sole member of the team who’s remembered Jack’s birthday every year? Remembered mine?”

“I don’t do that to be a good friend, I just love Jack.”

His hand slips down to yours. He holds it briefly. “I know you do.”

“It’s why I remember yours,” you say, shaking your head, annoyed he’s taken his hand back but ready to move on to better things. “Can you ask Derek for my sandwich now, please? Please, please, I’m so hungry I’m gonna die.”

Hotch gives you a funny look. “How about I go and get you your sandwich? I’ll be very fast. I’ll go to Sam’s across the street, would you like that?”

“Can I have maybe a donut too?”

“Sure, honey. I’ll get you a half dozen.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Do you want any in particular?”

Hotch goes off to get you a sandwich and you click the button for more morphine without really thinking. You’re asleep before he gets back.

—

You wake up shaking.

Aaron straightens in his chair. He hadn’t meant to doze off, but it’s nearing the end of your visiting hours and he’s been here since three. Your sandwich is stone cold in the bag and he’s not sure how he’ll get it warmed up.

Your arms are trembling badly.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Sorry.”

“What for?”

“Hotch, where am I?”

Aaron stands. “You’re in the hospital. You’ve had some morphine and it ended up sedating you. The shaking will calm down soon, but nothing’s wrong, okay?”

You’re noticeably confused, and Aaron hates it enough to sew his fingers between yours. His are thicker by quite a bit, but he’s used to smaller hands. He’s careful with you. He can’t stop thinking about what you said earlier.

The undercurrent of fear you’d been harbouring begins to ebb. You let Aaron hold your hand and settle back down into your sheets, turning your face toward him and shutting your eyes. You don’t seem sleepy. He’s not sure what’s wrong.

When you say you love him, he understands. He loves you, too. He doesn’t think that he’s in love with you, but he could be. He’s had enough guilty daydreams about it, batted them away, moments doing the dishes or at the gym or when you’re standing together working a case, where he forgets to forbid himself the pleasure and imagines you in simple intimacies. He sees himself taking your hand. He pictures waking up to the smell of you on his pillows. When he’s especially pent up and you’ve haunted him with your bare face or a shy smile, he ends the day thinking of you. How he’d kiss your head with just a little of his weight atop you, or a lot.

And then he feels so horribly wrong for doing it that he resigns himself to the distance between you forever.

Aaron doesn’t know what you want from him, but he knows he could fall in love with you if given the chance. He has to determine how honest your morphine-confession was, and there’s no time like the present.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” you whisper back.

“I brought you the donuts and a sandwich, but I’ll have to reheat it. I’m sorry.”

“Did I ask for a sandwich?” you ask, startled.

“A hot one. You emphasised.”

“Thank you, Aaron. I don’t think I’m hungry now, I’m kinda queasy.”

“You had a little bit more morphine than you should’ve.”

“Sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” he says under his breath, “that’s not your fault.”

You squeeze his hand weakly. Any want to draw the truth from you is quickly dwindling. All he wants now is to make sure you’re okay.

He spills himself closer to you and, without untangling your hands, brings your thin blankets to your shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay. The queasiness won’t last long. In fact, eating might help, but we can wait.”

“Don’t you have to go home?”

“No, I can stay if you want me to.”

“Please, I want you to.”

“You’re still on the morphine,” he says, rubbing your hand, “I can ask them to lower your dosage if you don’t like it, but you have to remember that it’s keeping you unaware of your pain.”

You hesitate. “I don’t want it to hurt.”

“Then it won’t,” he promises. You had more than your fair share of pain.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome.”

“This is all I want. For you to look after me.”

He takes a measured breath. “I would love to look after you.”

You turn your head half an inch to see him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He’s trying to blend the half of him you know at work with the half of him responsible for his outer life, the part of him that flirts with beautiful women at bars, the part of him that loved being a husband. “I don’t know what you want, and now isn’t the time, but,” —he prepares to be brave— “if you want me to look after you, then I will.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Can you kiss me?”

His heart skips a beat. “No, honey, I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“Not even on the head?”

His stomach aches, but it’s a good feeling. Like worrying you lost something and finding it in the first place you’ve looked. “On the head I can do.”

You squeeze your eyes closed in wait of his kiss, a light, chaste brush of the lips to your temple. The morphine makes you laugh, a girly, giggly bubble of it as you burrow into the sheets, like he’s tickled you. He’s twice as endeared when you squint at him like you’re waiting.

“Can I–”

“One more,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead again. “Any more than that and you’ll die of embarrassment when you’re not drugged out of your mind.”

“I’m not out of my mind. I’m just hallucinating. Or having a great dream.”

He’s inclined to agree, but he knows with confidence he hasn’t had any heavy medication today. He gives you a fond look and sits back down, obliging you when you scramble to put your hand in his again. It’s a weight he could get used to holding.

“I really like you,” you confess quietly.

He quite likes you in return. “That’s great, honey. Do you want to talk about it later? Maybe you can have one of your donuts.”

You don’t take his misdirection as rejection, you just pull his hand to your chest and smile. “No thank you. I can wait.”

He can wait too.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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madamechrissy · 18 days ago

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Escort! Satoru- part five

Pairings- Escort Satoru Gojo x shy CEO F! reader

Warnings- mutual pining like a mf, obsessed ass/whipped ass Gojo, mutual pining, lots of yearninggg, kissing (I KNOW YAYYY) dry humping, teasing, fingering, public play, fluffy and cute- there will be a part six! (final) pretty woman vibes 🤭

<<<Part Four - Final Part>>>

Escort! Satoru finally does it, he asks you on that date, watching the shock in your eyes, the trembling of your lips as you step back, and Satoru feels it then, the hammering of his heart. Is it too late? Should he have reached out again to you after the first night, when you didn't answer? His blue eyes peer at you over those glasses, as the sunlight beats down on your skin, making his cheeks just a little reddened, striking across his pale skin.

Escort! Satoru eases his hands gently off your face, when you swallow nervously - he hurt you so badly that night, the embarrassment of asking him to hold you, dying for a mere kiss on the lips. How could you be so foolish, truly, you had to try to forget him in any way you could, after sleeping with him and knowing he would never be yours, always sharing him, he was just there because of your money and maybe he enjoyed it. But it wasn't more.

Escort! Satoru realizes how much he fucking missed you now, as if some void is filled by your presence, but you lower his hands gently, holding them for a moment. 'I was so...' stupid, you were stupid 'I'm very sorry I asked you for things you never do,' you sigh, looking around, seeing people walk by. 'I should have respected your-' Satoru stops you then, tilting your chin up, your gaze focused on him. 'I should have held you, okay? I'm sorry...' you feel your eyes fill with the tears, as words you've dreamed of are spoken, and they feel just like that- a dream. 'I want a real date, could we?'

Escort! Satoru eyes you when your phone rings, and you look down nervously. 'I have a date tonight, the first in... years' Satoru steps back now, glaring at you. 'With who?' you blink in surprise. 'Why does it matter to you? Do you think after months I wouldn't ever wanna try?' Satoru grips your wrist, thumb brushing against the veins gently, sending shivers down your spine, as he tries to compose himself, he has no right to be so mad, so jealous. 'Fine, then give me a date after' he murmurs, desperate for you, how can he see you and not try? After everything he's been yearning for appears before him, and he knows how badly he fucked up. 'I don't know...' you want to, god you do, but you also know how badly Satoru can hurt you, uniquely. 'Please just, give me a chance to explain myself, to be myself and not...' he trails off, the wind blows gently and a little blossom lands on your hair, which he sweetly brushes away. 'One chance'

Escort! Satoru is furious thinking about anyone touching you, though it's toxic and unrealistic in every aspect. His job was to touch, though he'd throw it all away if you asked, god he would, because he doesn't find joy in any of it. No amount of money fills this emptiness, but he never thought he'd have a chance with you - only to ruin it. 'I'll go out with you this weekend, but you pick the place, and pick me up' you say softly, his heart thuds as he nods eagerly, desperate and pathetic for you - something he's never been until you ruined him with just your energy, your body, that laugh he'd love to have back. Memories of your night fill him then, as he aches to touch you, to know you, to kiss you.

Escort! Satoru plans the date to a tee, but the whole time he's wondering - where are you going, and with who? Would you prefer them over him? Meanwhile you're trying to get through that date, mind wandering, you just tried to open up for the first time since Satoru broke your heart - even if it was your own fault. You try to smile, and enjoy him, a handsome man that surely was perfect on paper, and interested in you. As the night goes on and the drinks pour, you think to yourself, you should try, letting him kiss you at the end of the evening, wondering what you'll feel. It's nice, but it's nothing like just being near Satoru. Frustrated almost to tears, you're laying in bed that night, as the man in your head that you almost pushed down enough, is back front and center.

Escort! Satoru can't stand it, knowing you're on a date, he almost texts you so many times before he caves - 'ready for our date?'- he smirks, hoping your with whoever it was. But you don't answer him for hours, until you finally write him - yes - and that's it, no sweet banter like the two of you had. It's different, had you really already moved on? He trembles as he texts you - 'how was the date?' - and you write - 'it was fine, any jobs tonight? - and that's when he realizes you're mad. The sweetest girl he met is so clearly mad. He hadn't taken a job tonight, and he's cancelled his week, but he gets it clearly. - 'no job tonight, I'm excited to see you' - He's never said that to anyone. You heart the message, emotions catching, excitement but apprehension in equal parts, you just don't know if he's serious, you're so scared to let go again.

Escort! Satoru picks you up that night in his car, some little Maserati sports car that looks like it goes way too fast. You can't act like he's not sexy as fuck as he steps out of it, opening your door and grinning at you, but you try to hold back, smiling with a 'thank you' as you slide in next to him. Satoru's hand craves to press on your thigh, but fuck if he's not nervous, he hasn't had a date since he started this career despite his job being to go on dates, not a real one, not with someone he asked. He's damn near shaking with his nerves, trying to play it off, as he drives through the quiet streets, smiling over at you with a quirk of his lips. 'You look beautiful' his words make you flustered, nervously tugging a bit on the gorgeous dress you're wearing, glittering like the stars in the sky - fuck your very skin itself glitters. 'you're saying it truly this time?'

Escort! Satoru glares now, foot on his break, scowling at you. 'what do you mean truly? you think I didn't mean any of it?' you blink back unexpected tears, looking out the dark tinted window as he drives once more. 'It was your job, that's all, and I told you I took it too far, you shouldn't feel bad that happened. I - ah!' he skids to a stop suddenly, pulling off the side of the road, and unbuckling your seatbelt so fast you can barely register. He's got you on his lap so fast, as cars whirl by, shaking the fucking car and shocking you further, as he handles you like it's nothing. You brace your hands on his chest, so nervous now, hands clenching the black jacket of his tux, breaths faster and faster. 'You are beautiful, I never said that because of a job' he swipes away your tears, lips hovering over yours, as he exhales, breath tickling your lips. 'What are you doing, Satoru?' your whisper is weak, as he drags you even closer, and his eyes dart to your lips. 'What I should have done that night'

Escort! Satoru slams his lips on yours then and there, you feel it like hot, electric shots going through your body when he does, when he's pressing those plush, glossy lips on yours, and you're shattering over him, lost in his kiss. Satoru has never felt anything like it, like finally kissing you, his tongue slipping in your mouth, drinking up your every cry, every gasp, as you roll your hips just right, and he feels the heat he's been dying for against his aching cock. 'Fuck...' his hushed words are met with your little cry, which just has him dragging you down harder, ready to devour every sweet inch of you, but barely being able to drag himself from your lips, gasping as he pulls back, eyes meeting yours, glimmering now. 'Satoru you... kissed me...' you're close to crying now, trembling as he sighs, cupping your pretty face, the one that's haunted him. 'I've wanted to since I first saw you'

Escort! Satoru keeps kissing you, over and over, desperate and messy, you almost cum just from that friction against you, his teeth sinking into your lower lip, as his huge hands press into your skin. 'I need you, fuck I need you sweetheart- god you have no clue' you're easing back, struggling to compose yourself. 'Am I so VIP?' you tease softly, and he feels it then, the soft way you're asking - not judging, but scared. He exhales, resting his head on yours, shaking his head and pulling you down again. 'I'll gladly delete my whole fucking profile, for a chance with you' his words sink in fully. Your cheeks are hot under his gentle touch. 'I just don't... Satoru, you don't have to do this for me. I understand...' He kisses you once more, before your phone rings.

Escort! Satoru glares, and you can't help but giggle. 'Are you jealous?' he just sets his jaw, as you look over and see it, holding the phone with a shaky hand, and he pulls you harder on his cock, having your eyes roll back in your skull. 'Tell him you're on a date' he whispers, gripping you so tight, before easing you to sit back in your seat, kissing you over and over. 'Let's get there, okay?' you're trying to compose yourself, seeing him shift and wince while he drives once more, pouting. 'You enjoying my pain, sweets?' you can't help but giggle again. The date is pretty and serene, the restaraunt on the roof top, swathed in moonlight. Satoru feeds you carefully, the two of you sharing dessert, talking and laughing like the first time he fucking met you - when he knew then, something was so special about you, something he could never pin fully, but he sees it, with how the candle light hits your face, your sweet blush as his hand slips up your thigh.

Escort! Satoru is not happy to learn you've had a kiss, and your amused little smile is quickly lost, when he slips his fingers between your thighs, and you wildly look around, as he smirks at you. 'That's cute, you kissed? did you like that?' he's taunting now, possessive gaze, that you can't get enough of, fuck you want all of him, even though you're scared, so scared to be hurt again. He's pressing his fingers against your panties, which are soaked, watching as your eyes get lidded, hand gripping the thick white cloth, and he slips under then, feeling the heat he'd been dying for, leaning in close. 'Asked you a question, hmm?' you lean closer, hips shifting, jerking as he thumbs your twitchy little clit, making you gush. 'Would you be mad if I liked it, Satoru?' he sighs, slipping two fingers in your slick hole, making you almost moan in the fucking restaurant now. 'You're wet for me, aren't you, all me?' He's curling them now, acting so casual as a waitress refills your wine, and you pray no one hears the squishing noises your juices are making.

Escort! Satoru can't help but suck you off his fingers, right before he makes you cum, and you're throbbing around nothing, wanting. You're clenching your teeth as you watch, as if he's finishing his dessert- and when he tastes you again!? He can barely control himself, eyes dilated while you sink into his tastebuds, ready to finally give you what you want, and need, and deserve, fuck you so good you can't function, and hold and kiss you. Satoru slips his lips on yours in front of the restaurant, and you taste yourself, whining into his lips. Suddenly a girl sees him, a frequent client who'd gotten too obsessed, and walks right up to him, crossing her arms. He eases back in the seat, as you look down shyly, unsure of who she is. 'I'm on a date' his words make your heart flutter now, as she glares. 'ah, so you do kiss? was this some special package, do you know how expensive you are?' you bite back a smile, and Satoru just grins, shaking his head like a little shit. 'It's different, she's my girlfriend.'

Escort! Satoru blushes when you whisper 'your girlfriend, huh?' in his ear moments later, as a very angry client stomps off, and he brushes back your hair, hard body against yours, studying your face. 'Would you... be my girlfriend?'

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#satoru gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo x you #divider by strangergraphics #satoru gojo fluff #gojo x f!reader

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nereidprinc3ss · 9 months ago

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kiss it better

in which spencer notices your bruised knees and tries to make it up to you

18+ (fluff, allusions to past intimacy) warnings/tags: gn!reader i believe, reader has bruised knees lol, guess why, implied intimacy, hurt/comfort, sorta implied d/s dynamics maybe?? spencer is so smart and not very smart, but forever my no. 1 cutie pie a/n: why do i love writing about smut like before and after smut way more than i actually like writing smut LOL anyways here is this cause i haven't been posting very much!!! (also ik I said I don't like babe as a pet name but shhh) and GIF :D

“Hey,” you grunt as you flop on the bed in your pajamas, rumpling the neat covers. “Pay attention to me.”

Spencer holds his Sudoku off to the side and watches, eyebrows raised, as you scoot closer, tossing your leg over him. Soon he’s abandoning the book and pen on the bedside table in favor of hooking his fingers under your knee and stroking your leg, much to your delight.

“Okay. What kind of attention would you like?”

You allow him to put his other arm around you and settle your cheek on his shoulder.

“This is pretty good.”

“Oh, good,” he says with only a hint of teasing, leaning down slightly to kiss your lips and then the tip of your nose.

When he pulls away you can’t help smiling up at him like a lovestruck idiot. Obviously he’s perfect all the time, but in his glasses, with his hair messy, wearing a navy crewneck instead of a button up and tie… he’s just… he’s just so…

He’s just so alarmed?

“Honey, your knee.”

“My knee?” Your own brows furrow and you track his eye line, craning your neck to look down to the blotchy sprawl of purple and red marring your skin. “Oh.”

The pillow is soft under your head where it falls, unconcerned even as Spencer gawps at you, baffled by your nonchalance.

“What did you do?”

You snort.

“What did you do, Spencer?”

It’s cute, the way his lips move as he silently repeats the sentence, trying to discern the meaning of your words.

“What do you mean? I did something?”

“Babe.”

The knot between his brows has not loosened any—in fact you’re worried he’s going to give himself a headache. Or at least make himself dizzy, with the way his eyes cycle between your own. You try again, covering his anxious hand on the bend of your leg with your own.

“When we got back from Penelope’s thing, the other night?”

Slowly the understanding seeps into his expression—soft guilt in his eyes, and a deep red stain in his cheeks. At least his face relaxes.

“Oh.”

God, he’s so cute. He can’t hold eye contact, looking down once the shock of embarrassment has faded and swallowing, a little frown twisting his features once more. You reach up, brushing his cheek with a thumb and adjusting his glasses.

“What’s wrong?”

The question comes out too smiley, but you can’t help it.

“I hurt you,” he says, quietly, utterly ashamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I kinda think you did,” you tease, and Spencer says your name with a serious edge. You try to quit grinning so much. “Baby, it’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. Don’t you ever get mysterious bruises?”

His eyes are wide and honest on yours when he meets them again.

“No. My iron levels are optimal.”

Naturally.

“Okay, well, lots of people do. Sometimes I get a bruise and I have no idea what it’s from because it never hurt. These,” you look down, gesturing to your knee, “never hurt. It’s just what happens when your knees hit the floor.”

“Well you shouldn’t have been on the floor,” he scolds, countering with a sweet touch on your cheek. “I’m never letting you touch the floor ever again.”

Your shit-eating grin is back and better than ever. “Oh, so you’re going to carry me everywhere we go?”

“If that’s what it takes. I don’t like seeing you bruised up.”

“It’s okay. I bruised myself doing something I love.”

At this Spencer rolls his eyes and kisses you once more before gently pushing your leg away and getting out of bed.

“Where are you going?” You ask, all smugness gone and more concerned than you ought to be as he flicks the bathroom light on. For a moment you receive no answer, but then he reappears bearing a white tube.

“Give me your legs,” he says, sitting next to you on the bed. You swing your legs over his lap and watch on in mild interest as he dispenses lotion from the bottle and tosses it aside, carefully rubbing it into the bruised skin. Every few seconds he glances up to gauge your reaction, and though it’s definitely tender, you avoid wincing. “You don’t have to do that. I can tell it hurts.”

You laugh.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t until you started trying to fix it.” The ointment is pungent and you make a face. “What are you rubbing all over me?”

“This is vitamin K and Arnica. It will make the bruises go away faster.”

“Aw. You don’t think they’re pretty on me?”

He sets the bottle on the nightstand and retrieves the pen he’d been doing Sudoku with earlier, uncapping it. Your heart swells as he draws tiny sad faces by the bruises on your knees, glasses slipping down his nose as he focuses intently.

“I always think you’re pretty. I just never want you to be hurt, ever.”

“Are you done taking care of me now?” You ask, reaching out for him. The pen joins the bottle and suddenly he has no concern for your bodily health, practically crushing you with a hug. When he speaks it’s muffled by your shoulder.

“Never.”

You hum, nose tickled in his hair and forming a dastardly plan.

“You could kiss them better.”

Spencer laughs and presses his lips briefly to your neck.

“I might just do that.”

#spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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nadvs · 8 days ago

Text

the power play (part five)

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

rating mature 18+

summary rafe is your complete opposite. the only thing you have in common with the hockey player you tutor is that he’s also recently had his heart broken. in a last-ditch effort to make the people who hurt you regret it, you agree to pretend to date.

< prev

You haven’t spoken to Rafe since he angrily left your dorm three nights ago.

You’re sitting in your booked study room, waiting for him to arrive, wondering if he’ll be regretful of your argument or be ready for round two or pretend it never happened.

Either way, you’d prefer to make light of it and move on. He may no longer be your fake boyfriend, if he really meant what he said, but you’re still going to be seeing him every week.

You hope that you can just give him back his jersey and leave what happened in the past.

The guilt that Rafe has been running from catches up to him once he walks in and sees you. He blew up the other night and you met him with understanding he’s never been given before, softness he doesn’t know what to do with.

“Let’s just get it out in the open,” you say as the door clicks shut behind him. “We fought. I was expecting a bouquet of apology roses, but maybe they got lost in the mail?”

He huffs. Typical of you to make a joke about it.

He sits down, slouched back as he unpacks his things, his long legs stretched out beneath the table. He doesn’t know what to say and is relieved, for once, that you fill the silence.

“I get why you got annoyed,” you say, “but I haven't changed my mind. This doesn’t have to be weird. No hard feelings, right?”

His jaw tenses as he sets your copy of We Have Always Lived in the Castle on the desk. He got through it quickly. And he actually didn’t hate it.

He’s sure it was only because reading killed the time he’d normally had spent training, but he figures this is a good enough topic to start with.

“I finished it,” he murmurs, looking down at the paperback. “It was good.”

“Oh. Wow,” you say, perking up. “You liked it?”

He nods, earning a prideful smile from you.

“Because…?”

“It was short,” he says.

“You walked into this room, I think a month ago to the day, and looked insulted when I asked you if you liked reading,” you say. “And now you’re telling me you enjoyed a book. That’s huge. I need way more than it was short.”

“You’re being a lot right now.”

“I know.” Your smile doesn’t falter. You motion for his laptop, he hands it to you, and you open a new document. “Keep talking. What did you like about it?”

“It got to the point.”

“The prose is very clear,” you agree, typing in the note. “What’d you think of the twist at the end? Did you see it coming?”

“No.”

“This is why I love this class. It introduces you to books you might’ve never picked up,” you gush, then take a breath. “You better not be trying to trick me. You knew I’d get excited about this and forget that we argued. But I’m already over it. Okay, I’m talking too much. Your turn.”

The relief of seeing you act like you normally do has lifted the weight that’s been sinking into Rafe since the night he snapped at you.

Now that he’s with you again, confined in a room he didn’t think he’d ever not mind being in, there’s no avoiding the fact that you have an effect on him.

Against his expectations, he cares about what you think. About how you feel. And he just wants to fix this.

“You don’t know what my fights with her used to be like,” he says. “I’ve heard it all.”

You still for a moment, then rest your elbow on the table, chin in your hand as you gaze at him through compassionate eyes.

You can sympathize that not knowing what Emma said is irritating him, but you couldn’t repeat her cruel words, even if you wanted to.

“I understand,” you say, “but I can’t bring myself to tell you something that’ll just hurt you.”

“That’s my point,” he scoffs. “It won’t hurt me.”

“It could.”

Rafe sinks into the realization that he’ll just have to take the loss here. You’re not going to tell him what he wants to know, because you don’t want to wound him. Even though he kind of deserves it for his outburst.

“I know I…” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know I didn’t have to lose it on you like that the other night.”

“Yeah,” you breathe a defeated chuckle. “You didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

He fans through the book just to have something to do with his hands.

You take in the remorse etched into his handsome face and you admire that even though he can be rash, he tries to clean up the messes he makes, pushing aside his ego when he needs to.

“We’re past it,” you conclude. You look at the laptop screen again, glad this will be a clean break. “Let’s write what we can about this book first and then go back to the other essay. What else did you like?”

Rafe expected that you’d bounce back after your rift. Your positivity is so relentless that it almost tires him out. But he needs to make sure you know he uttered those words out of disingenuous impulse.

“I didn’t really mean that we should end it,” he clarifies.

You look at him again, a crease formed between his brows.

“Are you trying to un-break up with me?” you tease. “This is awkward. I already started pretend-dating one of the other guys I tutor.”

“You tutor other guys?” he asks before thinking.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” you play along.

Rafe’s chest pinches. He doesn’t know why he assumed you exclusively tutored him. He thought he was the only one you see like this, the only one you ramble to and nag and joke with. Why does he hate that he’s not?

“Come on,” he murmurs, shoving past the unwelcome thought. “I know you miss me.”

You laugh. His typical brand of humor is detached and blunt and it’s nice to see another side of him, a playful side that makes him seem warm.

“I have to think about it.” You shrug. “Okay. We’re back together. I had a feeling you were just being mean the other night anyway.”

Rafe’s lips fall into a guilty frown. Without thinking, he scratches the back of his neck, grimacing and letting out a sharply exhaled fuck as his shoulder stings in pain.

“Are you okay?” you ask, serious now.

“Yeah,” he grunts.

“Convincing,” you say. “What is it?”

He sees no reason to hide it. You did tell him that he can vent to you and if there’s anyone he’d complain to about this, it’s you.

He’d rather not tell anyone on the team. Not even his closest friends. He doesn’t want to look weak.

“My shoulder’s fucked up,” he admits.

“Is it from that board check the other night?”

He nods and says, “Physio said it’s a strained muscle.”

“How bad?”

“I’m benched. He’ll look at it again before game two.”

“You mean you can’t play the first game of the championship?” you surmise.

Rafe’s tight expression tells you that you assumed correctly. You grimace sympathetically.

“Did he say if you can use anything to help with the pain?”

“Heat when it gets bad,” he says.

“I’ll be right back,” you say.

He watches you rush out, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. Moments later, you come back with an instant hot compress and place it on the desk in front of him.

“The library has a bunch of first aid kits,” you tell him, sitting back down.

“How’d you know that?” Rafe squeezes the package in one hand, the subdued pop cracking through the small room. “You really like it here that much?”

“A student of mine got a papercut once,” you explain with a laugh. “But yes, I do enjoy being surrounded by books.”

“Right,” he huffs, still in disbelief of how different you two are. “Thanks.”

He rests the package on top of his shoulder, comforting heat spilling through his t-shirt.

When Rafe lets out a velvety, satisfied groan, you find yourself flustered within half a second. Your mind sprints away from you. A mere sound has never made every inch of you tense like this before.

Your imagination can’t keep doing this to you, but it feels impossible to ignore the physical pull you’re starting to feel towards him.

You swallow hard and look at the laptop again, blinking.

This is bad.

You’re crossing the line and you need to yank yourself back into rationality. Rafe is a friend and all the affection he’s given you has been a sham and it’s disconcerting that you keep having to remind yourself of that.

You know he could never give you what you need in a relationship. The last time you saw him was cold, hard proof of that. He’s much too volatile to make a good boyfriend.

And that’s accompanied by a very big if he even likes you like that, which you highly doubt, given how easily you frustrate him. You refuse to overthink, to tumble into infatuation with another man who’ll just hurt you.

“Anyways,” you say, your eyes locked on the screen. “We really should get to work.”

════════

With ten minutes left of the session, Rafe’s laptop dies. You slide it towards him, disappointed you couldn’t upload the essay you’d just finished before the battery drained.

“Make sure to submit it before midnight,” you say. “Oh, and Lyla and Beck’s parents are hosting their birthday party on Saturday, so consider me unavailable for fake girlfriend duties that night.”

Rafe opens his backpack, pushing his laptop in as he mulls over your words. That sounds like the type of event you’d want him to come to.

“Do you need me there?” he asks.

“You were invited,” you say, “but I’ll say you were busy. You’d hate it. It’s an hour away, with a bunch of strangers you’d have to impress, and there’s obviously no way your ex would be there. I can do this on my own.”

Rafe stills before he speaks again.

“Do you need me there?” he repeats, more evenly.

It riled him up to see Emma leave the last party with another guy. To see his arm around her at the game. He hoped he’d be able to count on you to be by his side if he sees them together again this weekend.

But mostly, and more importantly, picturing you at that birthday party alone, in the same room with the guy who hurt you, all because you didn’t want to make Rafe feel forced into going, gnaws at him.

You stare at him, trying to make sense of his tight expression. It’s confusing that he’s still even in this room, asking if you want his help after you’ve given him an out.

“Are you sure?” you ask. You’re positive you’d be fine without him, but he’s sort of become a security blanket.

“I’ve… seen her around with some guy,” he tells you. “It’d be good to get away from campus. And I owe you for losing my cool the other night.”

“Do you even have a cool?” you chuckle.

Rafe glares at you, but it’s proven disingenuous by the small, dimpled smirk he chooses not to stifle.

“I hope I’m with you the next time you see them together,” you say. “Anyways, we can drive up together, then?”

Your eyes brighten with your smile. He doesn’t know if anyone has ever looked at him like that, purely and truly excited to spend time with him.

“A bunch of friends from high school will be there, and obviously Beck and Lyla’s parents, who basically consider me their daughter,” you continue, “so we’ll need to be convincing. It’s a casual dinner, then we’ll just hang out as long as we want. Can you pick me up at five?”

“Yeah,” he says. He stands up, pulling his bag over his good shoulder. “See you.”

You watch him pace towards the door, relieved that you’ll have him there, grateful that he's doing this for you even though you’re certain he really doesn’t want to.

“Hey,” you mumble. He looks at you again. You motion to his injury. “Be careful with your shoulder. And… you’re going to call me corny, but I’m really glad you’re coming.”

A few seconds of silence pass between you.

“You’re corny,” he replies.

You share a smile before he steps out of the study room into the quiet library.

Emptiness abruptly digs into his chest once he’s not with you, growing deeper the farther he walks away.

You’re unlike anyone he’s known. You don’t try to hide how much you care about him and you see things in him he didn’t know were there and you combat his temper with humor and with tenderness and with reassurance that makes him feel like he’s not irreversibly fucking up all the time.

He’s never felt like this before. Like the void he’s always trying to fill isn’t bottomless after all.

════════

Your exhale is shaky as Rafe exits the freeway with only a few minutes left of the drive to Beck and Lyla’s home.

You pull down the sun visor, gazing at your reflection. You’re suddenly quiet and fidgety after you’d chattered for most of the ride.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “And why the hell do I have to ask?”

You chuckle, catching his implication that you typically blab about what’s bothering you without him having to check in.

“I don’t know how I’m going to look their parents in the eye and lie.”

“It’s that hard to pretend to like me?” Rafe murmurs. He’s glad there’s no edge to his tone, glad he can hide that your words stung him a little.

“No,” you chuckle. “When you’re being nice, I like you. Just not like that, obviously.”

Obviously. It’s happening again, the painful crook in his core, the tangled feelings that just keep twisting together.

He used to not care if you liked him. Because he didn’t like you. But your last conversation did something to him, something that was already quietly building up, something that he needs to strip before it sticks.

After every fight he had with Emma, he sensed the palpable cracks forming between them. With you, things felt stronger once you moved past your argument.

Fuck. Why is he thinking about you like you’re his actual girlfriend, comparing his last relationship? This is the last thing he needs.

“It just feels… official. Like I’m bringing a boy home,” you continue. “Nobody’s seen me in a relationship before and they might question your intentions and I don’t want it to be weird.”

You look in the mirror again.

“And I think I’m having a bad hair day. And a bad face day. And I kind of hate my outfit.”

Rafe can’t take your nonsense. Insinuating that you’re anything short of beautiful is the most ridiculous thing he’s heard you say.

He shuts the visor and utters, “You’re doing that overthinking shit again.”

“Okay, so, that’s a perfect example of you not being nice,” you laugh.

You know if you really liked him as more than a friend, his curtness would hurt you. It’s reassuring, the realization that your attraction to Rafe will never be more than physical.

You breathe a sigh, anticipating being with your friends again after you’ve parted ways to different colleges. You wonder if anyone’s changed in the few months since.

You glance over at Rafe.

“What were you like in high school?” you ask.

“The same,” he answers.

“So, just as warm and cuddly?” you tease.

He smirks. You smile like you do every time you crack his facade. It always makes you feel a little proud.

“Better when I started playing hockey,” he relents. “How about you?”

You purse your lips in thought.

“What do you mean better?” you prod.

Rafe’s in no mood to elaborate, stiffly repeating, “How about you?”

You roll your eyes. It’s like pulling teeth, getting this man to share anything.

“I haven’t really changed much,” you reply. He finds himself thinking that it’d be a shame if you ever did.

Rafe follows the GPS to pull into a quiet suburban street. He slows down in front of the house and parks. You gaze out your window to see helium balloons surrounding the front door and reach for the handle.

“Hey,” he rasps.

You turn your head to meet his eyes.

“You don’t need to freak out. We got this. And you…” He looks away. “You look good.”

The words are tight coming out of his mouth, like he really didn’t want to have to say them.

You start to thank him, but he’s already stepping out of the car.

════════

The party is so busy that you and Rafe disappear in the crowd. He stands close by as you catch up with your friends, remembering details about where they’ve gone after graduation, asking questions, making jokes.

When it’s time for dinner, you sit next to him at the table, diagonal to Beck, who has done nothing but flash you awkward smiles here and there.

He’s hardly spoken to you. You wish you weren’t doing it again, second-guessing if he really is jealous.

You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I didn’t get a chance to say hi,” Lyla’s mother says. You smile at her and sit up to give her a hug.

“There’s a lot of people,” you say understandingly.

“My kids are too social,” she jokes quietly, leaning over. She looks over at Rafe. “You must be…?”

“Rafe,” you say. His smile is faint, but believable.

“I hope you know I have to grill you a little,” she tells him.

“I know,” he says, glancing at you. “She warned me.”

He’s playing it entirely cool. You’re relieved. You had nothing to worry about. He has this handled.

“How’d you meet?” she asks.

“I’m his tutor,” you tell her.

“Always been a smart one,” she replies, squeezing your hand. “Is that what made you like her?”

Your eyes land on Rafe again, nerves pricking your spine.

“It’s… one a lot of things, yeah,” he says.

“What else?”

Rafe’s heart thrums.

“I don’t know anyone like her.” His eyes soften as he looks at you, the amusement in them replaced by a depth you’ve only ever seen in glimpses, when his guard slips a little. “And she has a good heart.”

“She does,” Lyla’s mother says, straightening to stand. “You better treat her right.”

“I will,” he says with a nod. When she steps away, you nudge his knee with yours.

“That was amazing,” you say. Your praise gives him a high.

“I’m a great liar,” he replies.

You nudge him again, laughing.

“I don’t care,” you say. “You can’t take any of that back.”

He wouldn’t want to anyway. It was the truth.

════════

After dinner, Beck and Lyla’s mother brings out an ornate cake, prompting the room to break out in song. You watch Beck and Lyla blow out the candles as everyone applauds.

“I’ll never forget what the nurse said the day you two were born,” their father announces as he stands by the head of the table, holding a glass up. “Even when they’re big, you’ll picture them this small. And it’s true.”

He looks down, nodding curtly, lips twisting.

“Here we go again,” Lyla laughs.

“He cries every year,” you explain to Rafe in a hush.

He gazes at your profile as their dad continues his toast. He was aware you knew Beck for a long time, for years, but seeing this makes it real.

He can picture it now, you spending your adolescence in this house, making memories with this family, falling for the guy sitting on the other side of the table who brushed you off, who’s blind to how happy you make everyone around you.

The night you sat on that kitchen counter in that frat house back on campus, your eyes deepened with a sadness that hardly ever comes across your face, and you told him what you saw in Beck. What made you fall for him.

Fun. Kind. Nice to everybody.

And it’s a reminder of why this fire that’s growing inside Rafe for you needs to be put out. He’s the antithesis of the guy you’re in love with. You’d never want him like that.

“I’m so proud of both of you,” their father continues. “Happy birthday.”

Rafe looks down at his plate, wishing he’d been prepared for the wave of pain that’s crashing down on him as the sounds of conversation and dishes rattling and joyous laughter ricochet across the room.

He hates to admit it to himself, but Beck has everything he wants, down to a father who’s proud of his son.

He glances over at you again, but you’re still looking at Beck, your smile both happy and sad, your eyes trained on the one person you’re doing all of this for.

════════

The party moves to the rec room after Beck and Lyla’s parents wish everyone a good night.

Rafe’s hand is in yours as you lead him down the carpeted stairs, then settle on the plush sectional couch next to him as you chat with your friends.

He always hated his impulsivity. He was just telling himself to put out the fire, but he only throws fuel onto it when he curls an arm around your waist, pulling you closer the moment Beck walks in.

You nuzzle in, shifting to look at him again, your noses nearly bumping from how close you are.

“It’s the other shoulder?” you confirm softly, making sure you aren’t putting pressure on where he’s hurting.

“Yeah,” he says.

You nod and absorb yourself back into the group’s conversation. Your back is pressed against his chest and he hopes you don’t feel how hard his heart is pounding.

But he knows that the way you make him feel isn’t unique to him. He sees it now that you’re with your friends. You make everyone feel this way, like you want them around.

Drinks start getting passed. You look at Rafe again.

“I’m staying sober tonight,” you tell him. “Thought I should reassure you that I won’t be inviting myself over for another sleepover.”

He wants to ask why that’d be such a bad thing and it’s like he left his sanity upstairs, because now he’s wondering what the hell he’s doing wanting to flirt with you.

“Everyone’s playing,” Lyla announces as she places a box in the middle of the coffee table. “And nobody’s allowed to sit out. You legally can’t say no to the birthday girl.”

“It’s my birthday, too,” Beck says.

“Who cares?” Lyla jokes, opening the box. “It’s truth or dare. We’ll take turns picking a card and reading it out loud and if you won’t do either or you fail at a dare, you have to drink.”

“Oh, no,” you whisper to Rafe.

“Just be happy you found a way to read at a party,” he replies.

You crack a genuine laugh. His lips pull into a smile as he watches you, gratified that the joy you’re feeling right now is entirely because of him.

You feel Beck’s stare on you from his spot on the couch a couple of people away. You look up at him and he looks away and it’s like a discombobulating shove into the past, reminding you of when you’d catch him staring and let your mind run away with daydreams.

The feeling of Rafe’s arm tightening around you grounds you in reality, but it also sends a rush of heat through you and you hate that it does that.

“Truth: what's something you're glad your family doesn't know about you?” Lyla reads out. “Or dare: keep your eyes closed for three full minutes. Easy. Dare.”

She closes her eyes, then points to her right. The game continues around the circle and when it’s your turn to pick, you select a card, feeling everyone but Lyla’s stare on you.

“Truth: what’s the last excuse you used to cancel plans? Dare: don’t laugh or smile until your next turn.”

“Worst dare you could’ve gotten,” Rafe murmurs.

“You’d never manage,” your friend, Marcus chuckles.

You laugh, then laugh again when you realize you just proved both of them right.

“Damn it,” you say. “You know what? I’ll take the dare.”

You put the card down on the table and exhale deeply, trying to focus.

Rafe’s eyes flit to Marcus, whose eyes stay on you longer than he’d like them to.

“Your turn,” you say to Rafe, stone-faced.

He’d rather not play this, but he’s supposed to be acting like a good boyfriend. Besides, there’s something about disappointing you that makes him feel worse than disappointing anyone else.

He leans forward, his arm lifting off of you for a moment, and picks up a card. His hand settles on your hip again as he reclines, his bicep hard against your back.

He’s only staring at the card, so you tilt your head back to read it aloud for him.

“When was the last time you cried? Or, let someone in the room write whatever they want on you with a permanent marker.”

You look at him, holding back your smile, knowing you’re both thinking the same thing. As his girlfriend, it’d make sense that you’d be the one to mark his body.

He would never admit to crying, especially to a group of strangers. The reminder of Emma’s words, of how she’d said he called her in tears, makes your stomach drop. Suddenly, not smiling doesn’t take any effort anymore.

“Dare,” you answer for him. “I need a marker.”

“I’ll get it. Someone help me,” Lyla says, her eyes still shut as she stands. She feels for her way around the room as one of your mutual friends stands up to accompany her. “Keep playing!”

The next person starts their turn, and you take Rafe’s free hand and rest his arm across his lap, gently to not tug too hard and strain his shoulder.

It’s a shock how instinctually you did it, how touching him is natural now, yet still manages to make your heart race a little faster every time you do it.

“I’m going for a meaningful one. I’m thinking my name,” you tease, running your finger up the length of the inside of his forearm, eyes travelling over the faint lines of veins, “from here to here. Sound good?”

“No,” he answers gruffly. You crack a smirk. “And you lost your dare.”

“Don’t tell,” you mumble, forcing your smile away. “You know I can’t hold my alcohol.”

When both girls come back downstairs, Lyla blindly hands you the marker. You meet Rafe’s stare before you look down at his arm.

“The card said whatever I want,” you say quietly, mischief in your tone.

He watches you lean in, eyelashes fluttering as you blink, lips pursing in thought. The wet ink hits the inside of his wrist and his stomach goes numb when you start to slide the smooth, thin end of the marker over him, your thumb gently pressing into his skin as you hold him steady.

Rafe stares as you concentrate, and he starts to breathe a little deeper simply because the way you smell has become a comfort now, a familiarity, a hit of dopamine.

You sit up seconds later. He looks down to see Room 205 written in small, black characters. Your study room.

“You’ll never forget where to go,” you say happily. “Well, until it washes off.”

You finally meet his eyes again. He’s wearing the same concentrated look you’ve seen before, like he’s trying to figure something out.

“What, did you really expect I’d write something that bad?” you say as you snap the cap back on the marker.

The group continues with the next round, and when it’s your turn again, you have to choose between sharing your biggest insecurity or whispering a secret to someone in the room.

“Dare,” you decide, putting the card on the table and leaning back, lifting your chin to whisper into Rafe’s ear.

He slightly angles his head so that nobody can read your lips, shivers spreading over his skin from the feeling of your cheek on his.

“You’re probably my favorite student that I’ve ever tutored,” you say quietly.

It’s not a lie. Even with all his flaws, Rafe has given you something you’re not sure anybody else would have. He came into your life at the perfect time, came up with the perfect idea, and you’re deeply grateful for it.

He hastily cups your jaw, his hand so large it covers your cheek completely, as he tilts your head so he can tell you something, too. His lips brush over the shell of your ear.

“Just probably?” he whispers back. “That’s bullshit.”

You pull back, laughing, your eyes lingering on him.

“Don’t start making out, please,” Lyla teases.

You roll your eyes and look at the group again.

“I’ll spare you all the PDA,” you reply.

“Why start now?” a friend jokes.

“Yeah,” Beck quietly huffs. An ache of confusion rattles through you.

The game carries on, but Beck’s eyes linger on you. He’s never looked at you like this before. And it makes you believe what Rafe has been telling you this entire time.

════════

You leave the party holding Rafe’s hand and untangle your fingers from his the moment you’re out of the house, the moment there aren’t any eyes on you.

Rafe’s palm is cold now that your touch is gone.

Again, he’s powerless to the way his heart does whatever it wants and doesn’t give his head a chance to catch up.

He wasn’t supposed to like you.

He never expected to.

But when he looks at you as you tread towards his car together and the hushed moonlight bathes your features in its glow and you offer him that smile that makes his heart splinter in a way it never has, he yields to the truth, unable to put up a fight any longer.

He’s hopeless. You’ve pulled him under. And he had no choice but to let you.

next >

author’s note and the yearning (that eventually turns mutual) begins 🙂‍↕️

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron

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lymtw · 11 months ago

Text

Aftercare

Aftercare with Toji, where after all the roughness and manhandling is over with, he can't take his eyes off of you. All he cares about is making sure that you're not in excruciating pain, yet he hasn't been able to say a word for the past five minutes. You've pressed so many tender kisses to his face and expressed that you're okay enough times to him, but he can't seem to drop the smallest, lingering coil of guilt he feels at the sight of your scuffed up body. You look like you fought off a bear and ripped octopus tentacles off your skin—simultaneously, with all the scratches, bruises, and hickeys that littered you from your jaw to your ankles.

"Quit staring," you say, bringing your knees up and crossing your arms, your hands gripping your biceps.

"Nah- baby..." he finally says, softly, like he's quickly trying to justify the gaze he had set on you. "Come here."

Toji makes quick work of crushing this wave of insecurity that threatens your peace. He knows what you just endured was not the softest experience, and that you practically let him—a man capable of showing the aggression of a pack of wolves, devour you. Really, he did not hold back at all.

You slide down the bed and pull the covers over your body, laying your head on his chest with an arm thrown over his midsection. He pulls you close with an arm wrapped around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your head. "You know I love you, right, mama?"

"Mhm," you hum. Minutes ago you would have thought those words were a cruel joke being played on you with the way he gripped onto you like he wanted it to hurt.

"Wasn't trying to hurt your feelings by staring at you like that. Just did a lot of damage, this time, and it looks like it hurts... a lot."

"I'm fine," you repeat, for the nth time. You look up at him, briefly, sparing a smile before resting your cheek on his chest again. "A hot shower will melt it all away, I promise," you mumble.

He brushes over one of the many stains he left on the side of your neck. "My little trooper," he sighs, very much relaxed by your side. "You know i'd be proud even if you told me you were hurting." He knows it'll take more than a shower to get all these new semipermanent tattoos off your pretty skin, but for the sake of not making you feel small, again, he shuts up about it.

"I know," you assure. "I just don't wanna burden you. You're probably just as tired, if not more."

"What do you need?"

You lift your head again and look at him, confusion filling out your features. "You heard me, didn't you? I can take care of myself."

"I know that, and I don't doubt it for a second, but you're really gonna reject me?" He hisses, dramatically clutching his chest. "Damn, mama, just like that?"

"Well, no. Of course not-"

"Right. Of course not," he says, with that horrible tendency he has of cutting you off when the situation benefits you. "Gonna ask you one more time, and if you don't answer, i'm just gonna do what I want for you. What do you need?"

You had to think about it for a minute, about how you wanted him to help you. Independence shone through your thoughts. Everything he could help you with, you could also do alone. You didn't want to be needy.

"Five..." He's timing you, now. "Four..." The countdown has your brain scrambling to pick something. Anything, but you're blanking, losing second by second the already little time you were gifted. "Three... it shouldn't be this hard," he teases, a smirk on his face.

"I don't know, um."

"Two... you're gonna lose the option of telling me what to do, doll."

"No- I don't know."

"One." The countdown ends. "Alright," he groans, pulling you up with him as he sits up. "Let's go."

–

Sure enough, once the lukewarm water hit your skin, you gained a burst of energy. You made the washing of your body an amusing, yet tedious task for Toji. With all your little excitement fueled dances and laughter, what should have been a ten minute session turned into a twenty minute one.

"Doll, turn around. Let me get your back," Toji says, holding back a grin at the sight of you trying to soothe the burning sensation you feel in your nose after inhaling water.

You turn your back to him, before jovially turning to face him again. "Joking, joking," you say, when you catch his lidded eyes. You quickly turn your back to him, again, with giggles slipping past your lips.

He sighs, unable to hold back the gentle curl of his lips any longer. "What am I gonna do with you?" He lathers you from the nape of your neck to your lower back, with soap. The contrast of the white foam and the darkened stains on your skin, were enough to have him thinking about what ended just a little over half an hour ago. There wasn't a spot on you that didn't have some mark of his on it. Your shoulder blades and spine were mottled with stains of his lips, and your hips had opaque fingerprints on them.

You winced and took a step forward, away from Toji's touch, successfully pulling him out of his zoned out state. "You're scrubbing the scratches too hard," you say, turning to him while running your hands over the tender skin.

"Shit," he gently pulls you back and turns your back to him again, "sorry, princess." A few soothing kisses are pressed into the strikes, enough of them to make you forget that it even stung in the first place. He makes sure his mind stays out of the gutter, at least until he's done washing you, so that he doesn't hurt you again.

After showering, you stayed in bed while Toji went to the kitchen to make some tea for you. He did this for you after every night of intimacy, to expedite the betterment of your exhausted throat. He also knows of the calming properties that ease you into slumber. He wants nothing more than for you to sleep off the soreness your body retains.

"There you go, baby. I know you don't like it, but it'll make your throat feel better, so you have to drink the whole thing." He settles down next to you, on his side of the bed and watches you sip on the steaming hot drink.

The familiar scrunch of your nose appears at the taste that hits your taste buds, a sight that Toji has started looking forward to. "I hate the flavor just a little more every time I drink it. Oh well," you say, taking another sip, ignoring the scalding heat that embraces your tongue.

"I know. It sucks," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Hopefully, next time we choose correctly and get something you'll like."

You set the mug down on the nightstand and turn to him. With warm hands, you cup his cheeks and tilt his head up slightly.

"What?" He asks, his eyes directed towards you.

Your smile evolves into a short giggle as you stare at one pinpointed spot on the side of his neck. "I got you, too. Right..." you drag a finger down his neck, gently pressing on the dark spot you left on him. "...here."

His hand tracks your touch and replaces it with his own, feeling the mark. "Damn right, you did. You got me, baby," he says through a grin. "My turn?"

You sigh, with faux irritation. "Fiiine."

"Let's see..." He cups your cheeks the way you did his. "I got this whole area here." His thumb brushes over your jawline, dragging beneath it to where the marks end. "Then there's this entire patch right here." He turns your head, exposing the reddish-purple splotches on the side of your neck to the light. His eyes trace the slope that leads to your shoulder, spotting the marks that remain visible beneath the collar of your shirt. He coordinates his touch with his sight, dragging his fingers over your delicate skin. "Right here," he says, after pulling the collar of your shirt down your shoulder, revealing more of his marks.

"Okay, okay. You win," you say fixing your shirt, covering up again.

"There's one right there," he continues, tapping the column of your neck. "Some more there," his finger glides over your left collarbone.

"Toji, I swear, if you point out one more, i'm gonna bite your finger off."

He stares at you silently, the corners of his lips twitching as you watch him, intently. After a few seconds, he slowly starts directing his finger towards a mark on your chest. Once he makes contact with your skin, he gently presses on the smear of color that marks it, still holding eye contact with you. "Here, too."

You swat his hand away from you, and huff. "Why did I even try to threaten you? You want me to bite your finger off, huh?"

"Not in the slightest. I just knew you weren't actually gonna do it, so I pushed it."

You cross your arms. "Whatever. I'm just gonna put a hoodie on so you can't look at them anymore."

"Woah, baby, put down the knife," he says, hands up in playful surrender. "No need to take drastic measures over this. Don't hide all my hard work."

"Hard work," you mutter, an incredulous scoff following.

Toji's gaze falls on your lips. "You're pouting like you wanna be kissed," he teases.

"And you're... you're being annoying," you say, covering your mouth with your hand, concealing the involuntary lift of your lips.

"Yeah, but you still want me to kiss you," he says, with a sly, knowing smirk on his face. "Look at you. Look at that blush. Even your knuckles are red, doll."

"Oh my god..." you groan with embarrassment. You use both hands to cover your entire face, now.

He chuckles, pulling you into his arms. "You're so pretty, ma. A total work of art." His hands have never gotten lost on you, but for now, in any way he holds you, he'll be able to see the trails his lips left behind.

"Stop..." you mumble, smiling softly at the sweetness poured into his words.

"You look mine, with all these marks," he says, pulling down the collar of your shirt a little, to see the blots of color that appear at the start of your spine.

"Shut up," you say, blushing furiously against his chest.

"Sounds like you still want that kiss, huh?"

"Not anymore," you say, lifting your gaze to meet his. The look in your eyes betrays every ounce of your denial. Toji can very clearly tell that you're lying.

"Those rosy cheeks are saying something else," he says, grinning. "Damn, look at those pretty lips. They're ready for me."

"If you want to kiss me, just say so," you chide, lightheartedly.

"I'm gonna kiss you so hard, doll," he says, cupping your cheeks again. "Your lips lack a little more of me."

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mywritersmind · 4 months ago

Text

MARKS ON YOUR BODY - LN4||OP81

summary : In which it starts with strip poker and ends with questions about a specific hidden tattoo and some secret piercings. Or, Lando and Oscar are both hot for you and let you know it.

listen up : zakbrowndaughter!reader 18+ not fully smut but pretty suggestive (at least for me who doesn’t write smut lol) i’m blushing. STRIP POKER PHOTO INSPIRED!! tramp stamp and tits pierced??🙂‍↕️

words : 1425

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Alright Lan, You wanna stop?” Oscar eyes Lando who’s in pants only. The only way Lando would lose strip poker is if he distracted me too much with his body.

He laughs, “Fuck no!”

“Fuck yes.” I throw down my cards and yawn, “I’m bored of winning.” Oscar had so many pieces of outerwear that he’s lost multiple times but still is wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

Strip poker is my game apparently, maybe the possibility of the guys being naked fueled my fire.

“I swear you’re cheating.” Lando shakes his head.

Oscar’s laughing as I scoff, “I do not cheat! Just accept defeat, Norris.”

He leans against the table, “I’m not losing to you, Brown.”

“I think it’s too late for that, Lando.” Oscar fiddles with a card in his hand as I lean my head back. Apparently, my hair moves with me and Oscar’s brow shoots up, “You have a tattoo?”

I blink, “Uh yeah.”

“What!?” Lando practically screams, “Let’s see.”

I move back my hair to reveal the tattoo that’s behind my ear, it’s a tiny 8 for the number I grew up racing with. “That’s hot.” Lando nods as Oscar hits his arm, “I want to get a tattoo.”

“No you do not!” Oscar argues as Lando sends him a dirty look.

He turns back to me, his arms crossed against the table so his biceps pull my attention, “Did it hurt?”

I shrug, “Yeah, but some of my others hurt more.”

Lando’s jaw drops, “You have more? How did we not know this?”

I laugh again, “I hide them from my dad.”

“Really?” Oscar asks, seemingly surprised at my sneaky nature.

The corner of my mouth pulls upwards, “You wanna see the rest?”

His eyes are deep as he nods and taps the card against the table. “I’m assuming they’re easy to hide.”

I sigh and hook my finger to the bottom of my shirt, pulling it upwards. He's right, of course. All of my tattoos aren’t easily seen by my father.

I pull my shirt until I reach my sternum. Lando’s smile dulls as his eyes zero in on my skin, clearly not wanting to miss anything. I have a star design that goes in a line with little details around it.

Oscar leans his head back against the headrest, biting his lip and checking me out. I don’t think he’s ever looked hotter.

Lando’s hair is a mess but in the sort of attractive way that makes you want to pull it. The two of them are my greatest desire with bright orange caution tape put up by my father.

Zak Brown hates when I'm with the two of them, no matter which, he doesn’t trust me. But coming back from the FIA awards, they offered me a ride since we were all going back to england, so it was only polite to accept.

I drop my shirt and I swear I see Lando’s mouth fall into a frown. “Damn… didn’t know you went against daddy’s orders.”

I smirk, “He hates tattoos…Thinks they’re trashy. Which is ironic because...” I stop myself before I can go on, trailing off and grabbing my water to play it off.

“Because what?” Oscar asks.

“Um…” I don’t really know what to say and I feel quite overwhelmed with these two men staring at me.

“You have one more. Don’t you?” Oscar’s trying to hide his smirk but is shit at it. Lando looks to his teammate, then me.

“Now we have to see.” The curly haired man stretches his arm on the table, his muscles rippling and making me bite my lip.

“Okay.” I situate myself so I'm sitting on my feet. I pause, looking at both of them for a second. The whole thing is so oddly erotic and ridiculously hot.

I turn around in my seat, pulling down the back of my sweats ever so slightly so my tramp stamp is in view. I look over my shoulder to see their reactions because neither of them say a thing.

Oscar is staring, face blank and directed at my lower back. Lando’s mouth is open just the slightest bit, his arm draped over the back of Oscar’s seat. It’s not huge, just thin lines that make up a butterfly and some swirls to compliment it.

“Fuck.” Lando whispers, Oscar looks at him but doesn’t tell him to stop, just mumbles along with his friend. “Yeah.”

“You like it?” I know they do. I’m not blind.

The two are staring at me like i’m fucking edible and the way they look right now, I might be. “I’d be an idiot not to.” Oscar says as I turn back around, my shirt still pulled up and my hair to one side.

“I think this is the first time Lando’s been speechless.” I joke as his eyes meet mine again and his cheeks go pink. “Am I making you nervous, Norris?”

I expect him to roll his eyes or scoff, but he just breathes out and says, “You’re really hot, Y/n.”

“Can’t argue with him there.” Oscar wipes a hand over his mouth before tapping the table, “I wanna see it closer.”

I realize that he means he wants me to sit on the table. “Not even a please?” I tease but I'm already turning and setting myself down on it.

I’m about to adjust my pants but Lando’s hand does it for me. His skin is cold and holds my hip as his fingers dip below my waistband.

“Why a butterfly?” Oscar asks, leaning against the table to get a better look. I lean back and rest against my arms as they look.

“Thought it was cute.”

Oscar laughs a bit, “How often do you mark your body because it’s cute?”

Lando slides out of his seat, moving into mine so I'm facing him. He doesn’t even ask, just slides a hand onto my hip and another on my shirt, pulling it up to see my sternum.

Oscar switches with Lando so he’s now holding the back of my sweats. I let my eyes train down Lando’s chest… his abs… his arms. He’s fit as fuck and the way he was acting during strip poker, he knows it.

I go back to Oscar's question, realizing I got distracted by Lando in front of me. “Very often actually, piercings too.”

This prompts Lando to push my hair behind my ear, admiring my jewelry, “How many do you have?” He sounds almost out of breath.

“Twelve.” His fingers drift over my earrings, counting.

“You only have five on each, though.” As soon as Lando says it, I hear Oscar shift in his seat.

I don’t even wait for Lando to catch on, I just grab his wrist and have my shirt go up with his hand. Lando lets out a noise, close to a whimper.

He stares at my bare chest, the only thing on me is my jewelry decorating each nipple.

I hear Oscar stand, his hand gripping my hip tighten as he gets closer. He’s looking over my shoulder, I lean back a bit so he has a better view of my tits.

Lando’s hand is resting on my neck, pushing my shirt against my skin, I can feel his pulse beat faster under my fingertips.

Lando’s gaze shifts to Oscar as the brown eyed man stares back at him. I feel like they’re having some telepathic conversation that I can’t understand, until Oscar looks back at me.

His eyes are darker, the air filled with tension. As my eyes flick to Lando, I see his chest rise and fall. I get it now.

My hand slips to Oscar’s face, his jaw and cheek warm against my touch. I hesitate purely to see how his breath hitches, then I kiss him.

Lando swears as Oscar’s tongue dips into my mouth, he freezes between my legs. I break the kiss with Lando, hooking my leg around his waist to pull him in closer.

“Are you still nervous?” I whisper as Oscar moves his lips to my neck. Lando looks like he’s dreaming, his head turning side to side slowly as I smirk.

He kisses me, softer than Oscar at first but he becomes sloppier when I start being affected by Oscar attached to my neck.

The aussie mumbles against my skin, “This your end goal all along? Strip poker… tattoo tour… fuck?”

I lean my head back and laugh, “No. I guess I'm just lucky.”

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris smut #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x lando norris #landoscar #landoscar smut #k i’m in love with this

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lvl1l1 · 9 days ago

Note

hii, im really a sucker for arguments/angst imagine HAHA can I please have a request for LaDS guys where they made you flinch in an argument (^_^;)

LaDS men when you flinch during an argument

pairings: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x Reader

content: arguments, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings if you squint

a/n: small break from the silly

Xavier

Xavier usually didn’t get worked up during arguments, he’d just observe.

He’d listen to everything you had to say, taking the words to heart but trying not to engage too much, especially when he noticed you were starting to get more animated.

This time, however, was different.

He was upset and he wanted you to know.

He wasn’t raising his voice, he wasn’t being mean or mocking but his face gave his inner conflict away.

You weren’t backing down and neither was he.

“I can hold my own and you know that Xavier, you’ve seen me in action.”

His sharp inhale didn’t go unnoticed by you,

“I’m not doubting that, not doubting you, I just need to know that you won’t get hurt.”

It’s like you two were talking right past each other,

“I won’t, we don’t need to be attached at the hip for you to know that!”

He turned around quickly,

“Yes but I want to be able to reach you quickly, to get to you in time-“

He took a fast, heavy step towards you, wanting you to see the sincerity and genuine concern on his face, what he didn’t anticipate was for you to flinch at his sudden approach.

He stopped, his words catching in his throat as he just… looked at you.

You stared up at him, hands balled up in front of you and he felt immense regret wash over him.

“You…”

He started but couldn’t finish the sentence, being at a loss for words.

You lowered your hands, trying to adapt a more relaxed stance,

“Xavier, I didn’t mean to…”

His head hung low now, his eyes covered by his bangs.

You could see his shoulders rise and fall with uneven breaths.

Silence stretched between the two of you.

“Xavier…”

You tried again, softer this time.

He didn’t respond, he was standing there, the internal conflict in his mind clear.

When his gaze finally met yours again, his expression left you breathless.

It wasn’t what you had expected, it wasn’t anger, not disappointed but aching.

“I would never…”

The words left him quietly, not able to voice out what exactly had gone down just now.

“I need you to believe that.”

“I do,”

You blurted out,

“It’s not your fault. You just surprised me and I-“

“I scared you.”

He finished for you.

“Even if I didn’t do it on purpose, I can’t just say that, that’s okay with me.”

You took a careful step closer, tension between the two of you starting to ease.

Xavier didn’t move, he just watched.

“I know you’re not trying to control me,”

You said.

“But I need you to trust the decisions I make. And that I can take care of myself and still come back to you.”

“I trust you.”

He murmured,

“But what if something happens and I’m not there? What if I won’t be able to reach you in time-“

He swallowed the “again” that was about to slip him,

He took a small breath and then looked down at his hands.

“…can I touch you?”

He asked, hesitantly.

“Just- your hand. If it’s okay.”

You immediately softened at that.

You nodded, yes.

“Of course.”

He inched closer, steps slow, making sure you took in every one of his movements.

His hand reached for yours, getting a hold of it as if it were something fragile.

He brushed the back of your hand with his thumb in an attempt to ground himself.

“I’m sorry.”

You held onto his hand tightly, squeezing.

“I’m glad you’re being open about your concern but don’t try and decide for me. You want to protect me and I want to protect you.”

The ghost of a smile showed on his lips.

He leaned closer, close enough for your breaths to mingle.

He whispered,

“I want to figure this out with you.”

And this time, when his hand lifted to touch your cheek, you leaned into it without hesitation.

Zayne

The silence between you and Zayne hung heavy in the hospital room, occasionally interrupted by the soft hums of the equipment around the room.

Your boyfriend had been trying, trying to get through to you.

Telling you to stop pushing your limits, to stop taking unnecessary risks.

Yet you brushed him off everytime.

And now the consequences sat between the two of you.

“You could’ve gotten seriously injured.”

His voice was laced with restrained emotion.

Your eyes were looking at everything but him, hands clenched into fists at your sides.

“I know. I just didn’t think-“

“Exactly. You didn’t think.”

He interrupted you, voice sharper than what you were used to.

His eyes were cold behind his glasses,

“I kept trying to tell you-“

He went to adjust his glasses, hand raising.

But out of instinct, you flinched at the sudden movement.

It wasn’t a big reaction, barely a twitch but it was enough to gain Zayne’s attention.

He froze.

His face fell and any trace of anger and disappointment gone.

Instead, it was replaced by hurt.

He started,

“I wasn’t going to-“

A shaky exhale left him,

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Zayne stood awkwardly, his shoulders were tense, guilt reflecting in his eyes.

You looked up at him.

“It’s okay.”

Your eyes met, relief finally easing onto his face.

Still, he didn’t dare to move.

“…are you sure?”

You nodded, a small smile gracing your lips.

That’s when he stepped forward.

This time, not to lecture and to fight but just to be there.

Rafayel

A storm cloud was starting to form in the room.

The tension thick because of something more akin to a misunderstanding than an argument. At least that’s how Rafayel saw it.

He was gesturing animatedly, his voice was getting a little more heated than intended as he tried to explain himself, it was unusual for him to get so worked up over something he himself considered trivial.

Your arms were crossed, your brows were furrowed, frustration written on your face.

With one especially sudden swing of his arm, you flinched.

You stepped back a bit and Rafayel felt himself freeze as his words were caught in his throat.

He was staring at you, confusion and concern displayed on his face.

“Why?”

His voice had quieted down, soft.

“What… why did you react like that?”

You couldn’t immediately answer.

You were standing still, feeling guilty at that urge that had overcome you.

It was an instinctive reaction, not something you had realised in time to stop.

Rafayel hesitated, he could feel his hands twitch with the urge to reach out to you, wanting to comfort you but doubt filled his mind.

He was torn between wanting to pull you close and giving you the space you might’ve needed.

“Have I ever made you feel unsafe?”

His question wasn’t meant to make you feel guilty, it was sincere, making your heartbreak even more.

The raw vulnerability in his tone simply had your heart aching.

His question hung between you two, it was his way of asking for reassurance.

You shook your head, whispering,

“No,”

You put your hand over your heart,

“No, Rafayel. Never. I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t mean to react like that.”

You could see some of the tension leave him.

The next time his eyes found yours, they were filled with the light echo of relief but also a hint of regret.

“I shouldn’t have gotten carried away like that.”

He stepped closer, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist, an attempt to test the waters.

“Can I… hold you? Or do you want some space?”

You offered him a small, comforting smile,

“Come here, you big baby.”

A sigh of relief left him and he stepped closer to pull you into an embrace.

His hand brushed through your hair, as if attempting to make all your pain and sorrows go away.

“I’m sorry.”

He whispered against your ear, his voice low and sincere.

Sylus

Sylus and you stood opposite of each other, his face was devoid of any emotion but you could see his eyes, dark with frustration, showing his true feelings.

You went on a mission he warned you about, recklessly pushing ahead without considering any risks.

And lo and behold, it had gone sideways.

His arms were crossed over his chest and his breath came in sharp, controlled bursts.

“Do you think this is a game?”

His voice was firm, his words sharp.

“I told you not to go, not alone, and what do you do?”

“I could handle it.”

Cutting him off, you tried to stand your ground, though you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

As he let out a frustrated exhale, he threw his hand up, running it through his hair.

His movement was so fast and controlled, that you couldn’t help but flinch back, instinctively shrinking away.

The man facing you froze.

For a moment that felt far longer than it actually was, the room felt suffocating.

He stared at you with wide eyes, caught between something you couldn’t quite make out and something softer, something making his chest ache.

He felt overwhelmed by guilt.

“You know, Id never hurt you, right?”

His question was barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, frustration replaced by something more vulnerable.

Your answer was caught in your throat.

You felt his gaze on you, watching you carefully, analysing your every move like you were something fragile, small.

Something to protect.

After a second, Sylus took a step back, creating some space between the two of you, giving you room to breathe.

He felt the weight of his actions making his shoulders sag.

He wanted to reach out, make sure you were okay but something in the back of his mind told him not, to not scare you further.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The regret in his voice shining through,

“I was worried. And I often don’t know how to get that through to you without pushing.”

You lowered your head, letting his words settle, understanding him.

“I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t taking it seriously. I was just-“

You stopped yourself, inhaling, to collect your thoughts,

“I guess I just didn’t want to feel like I couldn’t handle it.”

Sylus watched you, his features softening.

He quietly said,

“You’re strong.”

A slow exhale,

“But you should know you have nothing to prove to me. All I ask for is to know that you’re safe.”

You searched for his eyes, finding worry and care still there.

They were always there.

Under all of it, even on the rare occasions that his frustrations got the better of him.

He muttered an apology, slowly closing the space between you.

“This won’t happen again.”

He kept up the eye contact as his hand reached out.

You didn’t flinch this time.

It came to rest on your shoulder, the slight pressure from his heavy hand grounding you.

It felt like an unspoken promise between the two of you.

He’d be by your side no matter what.

Caleb

Caleb’s voice was thick with concern, frustration and something he tried not to reveal to you often: fear.

He wasn’t one to argue, never one to raise his voice or escalate things, not when it came to you.

But this, this was about your safety and he couldn’t just stand to the side and not do anything.

“You’re not listening to me.”

His voice was steady, yet the edges let his worry show.

“You could’ve been hurt and you don’t even seem to care.”

Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, brows furrowed.

You didn’t want to back down, wanting to stand your ground but you knew he was only acting like this because he cared.

Yet the ache of knowing he still doubted your capabilities pushed you to keep going.

“I can take care of myself.”

You said, frustration overtaking your voice,

“You’ve seen me in action before.”

In a moment of bad judgment, he thrust his arm out to emphasise his point, the movement swift.

Before he could even finish speaking, you flinched.

Caleb halted at that, words dying in his throat, eyes widening in realisation.

He felt his chest constrict slightly, breath hitching.

No, I-“

His voice cracked as he took a step back, face twisted in a display of guilt.

“I’m so sorry.”

He murmured, struggling to look you in the eyes.

Before you knew it, he dropped to his knees in front of you, face pale.

The slight tremble in his hands didn’t escape you, as he reached for you, not wanting to overstep but trying to lay his heart bare to you.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I would never-“

He stopped mid sentence, shaking his head,

“I should’ve thought before… moving like that, acting like that.”

Your heart was pounding as you watched him bow his head in front of you, remorse clear on his face.

“I’m sorry.”

He said again, voice desperate.

“Please, just… tell me you’re okay. I didn’t mean to hurt you...”

He trailed off, wide eyes looking up at you, searching for a sign, any sign that you didn’t fear him, didn’t hate him.

He had to know that he didn’t destroy something he held so dear.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you reached out, patting his head.

He stiffened at first, he was hesitant, but your warm touch seemed to reel him in.

“I’m okay.”

You reassured,

“It wasn’t your fault. It was just a reflex.”

Unbeknownst to you, Caleb wasn’t looking for reassurance, he was looking for forgiveness.

“Forgive me? Please?”

His voice was low, unsure, letting his insecurities and vulnerability show.

You knelt beside him, meeting his gaze with softness.

Cupping his face, you felt the warmth coming off him.

His breath was starting to steady slightly.

“Nothing to forgive you for…”

Your quiet voice reached his ears,

“I know you’d never hurt me, Caleb.”

He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, resembling a puppy.

You closed the last of the space between you two, resting your forehead against his.

You and Caleb didn’t need words to understand one another.

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ofstarsandvibranium · 7 months ago

Text

Coffee Crossfire

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You own a cafe in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes' territory. You occasionally let him hold meetings in the cafe after hours and things usually go well....but not this time.

Bucky looks around the disastrous mess around him. He's so fucked as he takes note of the shattered windows, bullet holes in the furniture and walls, broken tables and chairs.

You're not going to be happy with him at all.

Bucky looks at Sam and Steve, who've just finished getting rid of the bodies.

"She's gonna be pissed," Sam says looking at the mess.

"I know!" Bucky exclaims and runs a hand through his hair, "Fuck. Okay," he points at his two best friends, "Call up a clean up crew and construction crew. We need to get started on fixing this place up ASAP."

"Got it, boss," Sam says with a nod, pulling out his phone.

Steve approaches Bucky and claps him on the shoulder, "Start planning your funeral, Buck."

"Shut the fuck up, Steve." Bucky pulls out his phone and starts searching for places that are open late. He needs to find you some flowers.

_____________________

You're up late working on paperwork when you hear a knock at your door. You get up from your desk and peer into the peephole. You see Bucky holding a bouquet of flowers and you're immediately suspicious.

When you open the door, you see the flowers and the look on Bucky's face. You cross your arms over your chest and ask, “What did you do?”

He shrugs and responds, “Why do you assume I did something?”

“Because you got me flowers and you have a look on your face that says ‘I did something bad and you’re gonna be mad at me for it.’”

He gulps and confesses, “…the cafe got shot up.”

“WHAT?!” You look at him with wide eyes. You immediately grab your keys, slip on your shoes, and ready to head out, but Bucky stops you.

“I already have my guys cleaning it up and repairs will start tomorrow!"

You groan and grab the bouquet of flowers, whacking Bucky with them, “Unbelievable, Barnes! I can't believe you!”

“Sugar, I swear, I didn’t anticipate for the meeting to go that way!”

You grunt again, turning around and heading back into your apartment. Bucky follows you in and watches as you toss the flowers onto your kitchen counter, the petals falling off.

"Listen, I promise you, that the meeting was going well and then we were ambushed. They did a drive by. Romanoff and Maximoff were able to track them. Sam, Steve, and I handled the guys in the cafe."

"None of your people got hurt?"

Bucky shakes his head, "Thankfully, no."

"Good, I might kill you myself then," you look at him with a stern glare.

He holds his hands up, "Understandable. But I already have the guys working on cleaning the mess and fixing it up. Might take a few weeks depending on the damage."

"Take me there."

"Sugar-"

"Take. Me. There. Now."

Bucky gulps, "Alright." Bucky leads you out of your apartment and to his car. The ride to your cafe is filled with silence. Bucky knows how much he fucked up.

____________________

Your heart drops when you see the shattered windows and busted door. Sam, Steve, and several of Bucky's men are sweeping up the glass, surveying the mess.

Bucky can't stand the sad look on your face, "Sugar, I-"

"Don't."

You take a look around, any man in your way immediately moves to the side. Your life's work was ruined and all because you decided to set shop in Bucky's territory.

You hold back tears and look at Bucky, "You're going to handle it?"

"All of it. You just let me know what you want and need and I'll pay for it."

"Okay...and, maybe don't have anymore meetings here from now on."

"I understand. No matter what, your cafe will still be under my protection."

"Okay. Can you take me home now?"

"Of course."

The ride back was in silence once more. It drove Bucky crazy because he loved hearing you talk and joke with him. Knowing that he was the reason for your silence absolutely breaks his heart. After dropping you off, he definitely needs to pay the guys who did this a visit.

______________________

You go to the cafe the next morning and see a group of people already working on fixing the windows and doors.

You're also surprised to see Bucky there, very dressed down in a tshirt and jeans.

"Bucky?"

"Oh, hey," he hands you a paper, "Here's a list of things that need repairs or replacements. Just send me the links to any furniture and decor you want."

You take notice of his wrapped knuckles. You immediately grab his hands and look at him, "These weren't like this when I saw you last night."

"Had to give some people a talking to."

"YOU RUINED MY GIRL'S CAFE! NOW TELL ME WHO YOU WORK FOR!"

"Hm. Did they suffer?" you look at him with curiosity.

He smirks at you, "Of course. Romanoff and Maximoff are good at what they do."

"Remind me to buy them dinner later."

He looks at you with a pout, "I helped too!"

"Hardly, I'm sure."

"Well how about I get a kiss since I'm paying for everything?"

"The damage is your fault. I'm not rewarding you for solving the problems you caused, Barnes."

He groans, "You break my heart, sugar."

You shrug, "You'll live," you pocket the list and head to the counter to overlook all of your equipment.

Bucky stays back and watches you for a little bit. He can't deny how much he cares for you, which is why he's working so hard to fix the problems he caused.

He just hopes you'll eventually see how much you mean to him and take his feelings for you seriously.

PART 2 HERE

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #mob boss au

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chancloud8 · 5 months ago

Text

Teach Me

PART 1

series masterlist

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Word Count: 2,4k

Tags: A little bit of angst, Fluff, Kissing, OT8

Summary: After a failed date you find comfort with your best friend. He even offers to teach you how to kiss. Crazy, right?

*****************************

'Channie?' you call out when you step into the recording studio.

It was already close to midnight, but you know for a fact that your best friend is still here. He always stays late to work on his songs, either alone or sometimes with Jisung or Changbin.

'In here!' Chan's familiar voice calls back and relief floods your body at the sound of it.

You wipe your cheeks one last time with the back of your hands and take a deep breath before forcing yourself to smile.

'Bestie incoming,' you sing song as you walk the narrow hallway towards the room where his voice came from.

As soon as you walk through the door you freeze.

It wasn't just Chan inside. All the other members of his band are scattered across the couch and floor. Multiple take-out boxes and containers cover the small table and the smell of pizza and chinese food hits your nose.

Eight pairs of eyes are staring at you and it takes a few seconds before any of them react. Chan is the first one to jump up, his brows are furrowed as he takes in the state you're in.

You know you must look like a mess. Your hair is loose and wild from how you've kept running your hand through it, you know your make-up is smeared and your eyes are red from crying. You keep the smile on your face, hoping to fool your friends, but the moment he takes a step forward you know you haven't.

'You cried. What happened?' Chan asks when he's in front of you, softly grabbing your chin between his fingers so you have to look at him.

'Who do we need to hurt?' Changbin yells as he also jumps up from the couch to get closer to you as well.

You flinch at his loud voice and Chan turns his head to glare at his friend.

'No one, Binnie. I'm fine,' you say, but you know your smile is faltering.

'You're not,' Felix's deep voice says from behind Chan. You hadn't even noticed him getting up too. 'Who did this?'

You shake your head at him. 'It's nothing, don't worry about it.'

Telling Chan what happened was one thing, but telling all of them?

Nope.

You couldn't do it. It would be too mortifying.

'Come sit with us,' Chan says, letting go of your chin so he can grab your hand and lead you towards the couch where Jeongin, Seungmin and Jisung quickly make room for you.

As soon as you sit down, Seungmin shrugs off his jacket and hangs it around your naked shoulders. You shiver as the fabric touches your skin, it's warm and soft and you hadn't realized how cold you were.

'Where's your jacket?' Chan asks, as if he only just noticed you weren't wearing any while it's no longer hot outside at night.

The guys are all quiet, waiting for you to answer the question.

'I- uhm,' you swallow. 'I forgot it.'

'You forgot your jacket?' Chan narrows his eyes, seeing straight through your bullshit. 'You never go anywhere without--'

'I forgot! I was in a hurry to get away, okay,' you interrupt him, tears welling up in your eyes again as you think of the horrifying moment.

As one all of the guys lean forward, frowns adorn their faces.

'Get away from who?' Chan and Changbin growl practically at the same time.

'Y/N,' Felix gets up from his seat 'Are you hurt?'

'No, no,' you hurry to say. 'I'm okay, I promise. I'm just--' You groan and bury your face in your hands so you don't have to look at their faces. 'I'm extremely embarrassed and maybe a bit upset, but I'm fine.'

When they stay silent, you sigh and lift your head to look them all in the eye.

'I'm fine.'

They don't seem convinced and you can't really blame them.

'Look, I didn't expect you all to be here or I wouldn't have come. I'll just go home, bury myself in blankets and sleep,' you say, starting to get up.

Seungmin grabs your arm and pulls you back on the couch.

'No way we're letting you go when you're feeling down. You shouldn't be alone,' he says and the other guys all nod in agreement.

'And if you want to talk to Channie alone, we can leave you alone for a bit,' Jeongin offers, giving you an encouraging smile.

Your heart swells with how thoughtful they all are and you instantly feel a little better. You always knew they were good guys, but after tonight it was nice to get a reminder that thoughtful and kind guys still exist.

'But if you want you can talk to us too, we won't judge you, I promise,' Lee Know says from his spot on the floor.

'Or if you just want to eat or help us out with making music, that's fine too,' Hyunjin adds with a smile.

'We can also still beat up whoever made you cry,' Jisung swings his fist around in the air.

You can't help but tear up again.

'Y/N?' Chan moves over to you again and kneels down in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. 'You're not alone, you're okay and we're all here for you.'

That does it.

A sob escapes your mouth and you throw your arms around his neck, not caring about the guys seeing you cry anymore.

Chan immediately wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his body. Like a koala you wrap yourself around him and you bury your face in his neck, letting his familiar scent calm you down.

'It's okay, you're okay,' Chan continues to whisper as he strokes your back. 'I'm here.'

It takes a few minutes for you to calm down, but when you do, you feel a lot better. You allow yourself a few more moments, keeping your head in the crook of Chan's neck as you slowly get a grip of yourself again.

'I'm sorry,' you whisper.

'What for?' Chan whispers back.

You know that everyone can probably still hear you, but it still feels like it's just Chan and you. In some way the guys are a part of Chan anyways.

'For crying and for ruining your night.'

Chan's hands move up to your arms and he gently pushes you away from his chest so he can look at you.

'You could never ruin my night, Y/N, and as for the crying, isn't that what a best friend is for?'

Your lips curl up in a watery smile and you bring your hand up to pat his cheek.

'My sweet Channie.'

He chuckles and squeezes your arms. 'That's me. Now will you please tell your sweet Channie what happened tonight?'

Your smile disappears and immediately so does Chan's.

'What happened?' he repeats, his eyes dark.

'I just went on a shitty date,' you finally confess. 'He was very nice at first, but-'

'I swear if he hurt you,' Chan growls and from the corner of your eyes you see two other members get up as well.

'Stop being so macho,' you roll your eyes. 'I appreciate your concern babe, but I'm okay and he didn't hurt me.'

Chan narrows his eyes at you and cocks his head. 'Then what did he do, Y/N?'

'Did he force you to do anything you didn't want?' Changbin asks, sitting down next to you and Chan.

You wait a second too long with denying it and both men tense up.

'No, no! It's not like that,' you hurry to say. 'He just-' You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes. 'He laughed at me.'

Chan blinks at you and so does Changbin.

'What for?' Lee Know pipes up from behind you.

'Did he just laugh or did he say stuff as well?' Hyunjin asks from the couch.

You sigh and bite your lip, debating whether or not to just blurt it out. It all seemed so silly now.

'Y/N?' Chan asks again.

'He kissed me and I didn't expect it,' you say, closing your eyes in mortification. 'I froze at first and when he-' you shiver and Chan balls his hands up in fists.

'He what?' Felix asks softly.

'God this is so embarrassing you guys, you're going to laugh at me too,' you groan, letting your head fall against Chan's chest again.

'We won't,' Jeongin promises and the others hum in agreement.

'I freaked out,' you mumble. 'And when he put his tongue in my mouth, I may have gagged and started hyperventilating.'

The guys are quiet around you and for a moment you wonder if they heard you. Just as you lift your head from Chan's chest, they all start to talk at once. They don't laugh. All their faces are serious as they try to talk over each other. All except Chan.

'What?' you whisper at him when his eyes stay locked with yours.

‘I had no idea you’ve never been kissed before,’ he says, his eyes falling to your lips for a millisecond. ‘And I’m sorry your first experience with it was awful.’

You shrug and snort when a thought enters your mind. ‘If only you could teach me how to properly kiss so I don’t freak out next time,’ you joke.

Everyone falls quiet and Chan’s eyes darken before he looks down at your lips again. His tongue comes out to moisten his lips and your heart skips a bit at the sight. Shit, he had no right to look at you like that.

‘I’m only joking,’ you choke out, breaking the silence and shifting awkwardly in Chan’s lap.

Chan’s hands fall down to your hips and he holds you still.

‘I could, you know,’ he says then. ‘Teach you.’

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. All you can do is stare at him with big eyes, both in shock and intrigued. Was he really serious? Would he teach you? Wouldn’t that be weird? Wouldn’t that ruin your friendship?

‘Or any of us could,’ Changbin pipes up, breaking your thoughts. ‘Or if you need some practise after Chan teaches you-’

‘Shut up, Bin,’ Chan interrupts his friend, his hands tightening around your hips.

‘Hey, don’t get all alpha on Y/N now Channie,’ Jisung teases.

You laugh and look around at the guys, no longer feeling awkward. They really are the nicest people you know.

‘Thank you,’ you smile at them. ‘I feel much better already.’

A chorus of cheers makes you laugh and for a moment you forget the offer that still hangs in the air. That is, until Chan suddenly stands up and hauls you with him as you were still in his lap.

‘Come with me,’ he says when you stand on your own legs again.

He grabs your hand and leads you to the hallway as another chorus of cheers and whistles erupts in the room. When the door to the recording studio falls close and the sound of the guys falls away, you find yourself alone with Chan. Your heart is beating so wild in your chest that you wonder if Chan can hear it.

Is he going to kiss you? Does he really want to? What if you freak out again?

As always Chan seems to be able to read your mind and when he cups your face with his hands and locks his gaze with yours, everything else falls away. He leans his forehead against yours and his warm breath puffs against your lips.

‘Breathe,’ Chan whispers. ‘Just breathe for a moment.’

You do as he says and close your eyes as you focus on his breathing, trying to match it with yours while you try to ignore how close his lips are to yours. It doesn’t take long before you’re breathing in the same rhythm and when you open your eyes you find Chan already looking at you.

‘Now what?’ you ask, biting your lip. ‘Will you really teach me?’

Chan’s lips move up in a sweet smile and he moves his hands so that one of them is cupping the back of your neck, while the other grabs onto your chin.

‘Do you want me to?’

You should feel nervous, like you were on your date earlier, but you’re not. You feel calm. Safe. Excited.

‘Yes,’ you whisper, gripping the front of his shirt between your fingers. ‘Please.’

‘Stay still and relax, okay?’ Chan nods and then he cups your face again with his big hands. The cool metal of his rings feel nice against your hot cheeks.

Chan slowly moves his face even closer to yours and when your noses touch he stills, once again letting his breath tickle your mouth. You tremble in anticipation and tighten your fingers on the fabric of his shirt.

‘Channie,’ you breathe out, nearly panting already when he hasn’t even done anything.

Chan chuckles and closes the distance, pressing his lips against yours softly. His thumb gently caresses the skin of your cheek and you melt against him as he slowly moves his mouth over yours. You copy his movement and when he hums against your mouth in approval you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

Who knew kissing could feel so good?

After what feels like only a few seconds, Chan pulls back and you shamelessly chase his mouth with yours. A hoarse chuckle escapes Chan’s throat, but he lets you kiss him again. And again.

There’s no tongue, but at the moment you don’t feel like you neither need or want that. Not yet.

No. This is enough for now.

Chan’s lips were plump and soft and you felt like you were surrounded by his comfortable smell and touch. It felt amazing, addicting and oh so wonderful.

When you finally pulled back again to look at Chan, his pupils were dilated and his lips were red and a little swollen. He looked beautiful and you fight the urge to kiss him again.

‘Lesson one complete?’ you grin up at him.

Chan flicks your nose with his finger and grins back at you.

‘Lesson two will include tongue, think you can handle it?’

You shiver at the thought. If kissing Chan feels this good without tongue already, how would it be to really kiss him?

‘I think I can handle anything when it’s with you.'

************************************

a/n: eeeekkkk my first y/n fic. I hope you like it <3

#bang chan x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #bang chan fluff #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz ot8 #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan fanfic #all the guys are SO sweet

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