#TREES???!!!!?!!!!?? pl- please stop | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clandestineloki · 6 months ago

Text

firefighter miguel ohara x reader (VERY NSFW)

A/N: ang sabi ko december matatapos hindi ko sinabi anong year 😇

cw: smut, creampie, rough sex, things get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

when you first moved into your tiny home, you had gotten most of your stuff into the house by yourself

and the last thing you needed to unload from ur dad's car was your night stand so you carried it since it wasnt so heavy

only you accidentally hit the doorknob with your elbow and it flew off 😭

so you're standing there pacing nervously because you just locked yourself out of your own house LMAO DUMBASS

but to your rescue comes none other than miguel

having just returned from a minor save in his whole firefighter getup (somebody's stove caught on fire in an apartment somewhere but nothing fatal thankfully)

miguel looks to the house on his left

and suddenly believes in angels.

aren't you the cutest lil damsel in distress :}

u're pacing back nd forth and he's trying so hard not to stare at your cute lil ass in those pretty peach shorts 😙

you see him and wave, "pls help, sir!! my door- like- uh- i dont know what happened please help me i have to get this inside huhu"

who is he to say no??

he cracks his knuckles and squares up, making you blush as he grunts and flexes his muscles.

BUT YOU DONT EXPECT HIM TO BREAK DOWN UR DOOR

KICKED IT RIGHT OFF THE HINGES

and strategically kicked it too bc both the door and the hinges were intact, the screws just came off

he brushes his hair back and raises an eyebrow at your wide eyes

too shocked to contradict, you take the nightstand into ur new bedroom and come back to ur porch with a glass of lemonade for him

he thanks you, smirking when you blush and look away.

fixes your door that quickly too like wow

a handyman! maybe u can switch that up and manhandl- *GUNSHOTS*

anyways

for the next week and a half you're out on your porch with ur fat little cat mochi, working on a crochet thing, it's a hobby you recently got into since you're waiting for your cable and internet to get hooked up

and the firetruck drives by and the firetruck guys are blasting music, having a laugh

but miguel oh he always makes it a point to subtly wave at you and wink

it always leaves you flustered bc a very attractive man is giving you attention??

but what if he does it to other girls?? but if he does it to other girls why did one of the truckies ruffle miguel's hair when he caught miguel doing that??

but you just leave it at that, maybe he just wants ur attention and when he has it he'll get fed up and find some other pretty girl :((

until mochi gets the genius idea to chase a screeching squirrel up the tree right between your house and miguel's

"OH MY GOD MOCHI!!!!" you yell. "mochi, please dont move!!"

miguel just got back from a boring day at work, wearing half the firefighter getup and a grey shirt.

his definition of fun is getting to show off why his nickname is "the spider". it's because he almost never uses ladders and climbs the houses with just some rope and his bare hands.

and today was just some fire drill at a high school nearby, and he's a little pissed that nobody was listening because the mic had terrible feedback.

"MOCHI BABY OH MY GOD STAY RIGHT THERE!!"

miguel's head perks up from his phone, brows furrowing when he hears you screaming. he rushes to the 3½ ft fence between your house and his to see you running to the large tree in your backyard.

"leave em', peaches," he sighed and leaned against the fence with his arms crossed. "cats naturally land on their feet, he'll come down in a second."

"NO YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!!" you turn to him, panic clear in your voice. "HE'S BLIND!!"

"oh SHIT" miguel jumps over the fence and runs over to you. "where's the bastard?!"

you gasp at him. "ONLY I GET TO CALL HIM A BASTARD!"

"fine, where is... it?"

"up there, MOCHI PLEASE DONT MOVE!! I'LL GET YOU BABY!"

"i wouldn't do that if i w-"

before miguel can stop you, you're already climbing the tree yourself. smirking, he lifts you off the trunk and into his arms, as if you were a cat yourself.

"peaches, you might wanna leave that to me," he chuckles riiiight up against your sensitive ear. "don't want your pretty little body getting all scratched up, mm?"

you whimper.

"miguel," you mumble, "p-put me down."

you squirm against him, but he growls and holds you closer.

"oh? and what if you're just going to do it again, mm? you gonna be a bad girl?" he asks, tracing his tongue over your earlobe, making you shiver and sink into his arms.

"m-miguel, what are you-"

"y'know bebita... you're terrible at pretending you don't look at me like you wanna fuck me..."

"wh-what?!"

the way he's carrying you reminds you an awful lot of this position you saw in porn. the full nelson. the tiny girl, all flushed and pleasure-dizzy, thighs quivering as she's pounded over and over, trapped in the thick veiny arms of her man as he subjects his little fucktoy to the roughest pounding until her brain is just as liquid as the sticky sweet potent cum leaking out of her -

"oh, look," miguel whispers, snapping you out of your dirty thoughts. mochi, despite his lack of eyesight, somehow finds his way down and glares straight through the two of you as if he can actually see the lewd way you're compromised in the arms of your handsome, secretly obsessed with you neighbor.

"there he is, the little furball," he sets you down, his hand lingering on your inner thigh a second too long as he pets the snobby little cat on his head. "your poor mami can't always save ya, y'know. i think she needs me around a lot more, hm?"

he turns to your flustered figure and smirks at your wide-eyed look. "i think you owe me a thank you."

"r-right..." you mumble, scratching the back of your neck nervously, still out of it. "th-thank you..."

to your downright embarrassment, he laughs at your pathetic attempt of speaking, and corners you against the fence.

"i think i need more than just a whisper, peaches," he drawls against your ear, one hand wandering under your shorts as he grins at the way you melt with just a little teasing.

"i'm real thirsty, bebita, so why don't you be a good girl and make me something to drink?"

which leads to right now: you're avoiding eye contact with miguel as he sits on your couch, patting at his forehead with a towel.

you're also avoiding eye contact with the very prominent bulge in his cargo pants.

you hand him a glass of ice, before turning to the fridge and looking through it.

"i-i have some orange juice, water, uh, pepsi if you want-"

"water."

you gulp. "o-okay," you take the pitcher and sit down next to him, and pouring into his glass slowly, staring at his hands because you can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

"bebita."

you flinch as you realize you've been pouring too much. the glass is filled to the brim.

[what you don't know is that he wishes you were too]

"s-sorry..." you mumble, scooting away from him slowly. he grabs your wrist and leans into your ear.

"can't we stop dancing around each other like we don't know where this is going?" he growls.

"wait- let me put this down!" you gasp as he pulls you onto his lap roughly, the plastic pitcher in your hands slanting and getting droplets ice-cold water down your chest.

and you have no idea how much it sounds like a dirty little moan when you go, "ngh! miguel!"

before you can even blink, you find yourself pinned down on the couch, the pitcher clattering to the floor. but your heart stops as you come face-to-face with miguel's lustful expression, his dark eyes staring into yours.

"do you have any idea what i want to do to you?"

you whimper shyly, and he curses under his breath, instinctively grinding his hips up into yours, making your breath hitch at the feeling of that right up against your crotch.

"oh you're so fucking cute," he grumbles. "think i'm really gonna break you when i put it in here..."

he torturously drags his palms up and down your legs and grinning like a madman when you whine from the sensations.

"wanted to fuck you since the moment you got here," he whispers darkly, his long fingers hooking under the waistband of your shorts and underwear. "do a little housewarming n' give you a nice, big welcome all over the couch, the bed, the shower..."

his voice trails off into a breathy shit, baby as he sees your wet pussy clenching around nothin. he looks up at your doe-eyed expression and grins.

"you gotta use your voice, pretty," he teases. "as much as i like starin' at you i can't figure out what you want~"

"i want you..." you whisper. "i want you to fuck me, miguel."

and fuck you he does. he presses his lips to yours and pushes you into the meanest mating press. "dreamed about this for so long," he growled into the kiss as he pulled down his pants. "cute little thing like you got a guy like me jerking off every night--" he starts nipping at your jawline "--ah, like a fuckin' teenager. why am i- fuck, y're so pretty- why am i so in love with you?"

he leans back to adore your flushed, needy state, and finally, finally pulls his dick out. you squeak as he rests over your bare stomach-- thick, veiny, and leaking all over you as if he can't wait a second longer.

when he pushes into you, god, the both of you feel heavenly. it takes all his strength to not plow into you like some ruthless beast. he just bites your neck, and rocks into you slowly as his thumb draws small circles on your clit, hoping to get you to adjust to his size.

it does way more than that, because within a few seconds, you're gasping and seizing under him, twitching helplessly as an orgasm washes over you, making your tight little pussy cream all over him sofucking good.

miguel's patience only lasts a few seconds after you come before his lust overrides him and he pounds you into the couch with every bit of his strength.

"miguel! miguel! oh, fuck- too much-"

you're screaming his name over and over, your walls clenching down on him as he hits the sweetest spots in you with every thrust of his hips. your nails run down his back as he fucks you like his life depends on it, and it hurts so good he can't bring himself to care about anything but you, you, you. cute, shy, innocent, cockdrunk little you.

he's addicted. and he's yours.

miguel feels himself getting close-- and knows you're getting close too, with the way your moans are getting breathier and your eyes are glossing over.

"fuck, i'm gonna fill you up so good, peaches," he groans. "cum with me, princess. make a mess for me~"

he swallows your moans of pleasure with a kiss, and fucks your through your orgasm as his tongue fucks your mouth. you whine and cry, and he spanks the side of your thigh, making you squeak and twitch under him. his thrusts get sloppy until his eyes roll back and he almost groans when he comes, thick, white cum filling you up like you're some kind of creamy pastry.

you shakily push at his chest, but he tsks at you, simply taking your wrists and pinning them to your side as he makes out sloppily, his hips moving slowly as he pushes more of his cum into you.

"take it all, peaches," he whispers hoarsely. "then i'm gonna clean it all out with my tongue~"

"miguel! that's nasty!" you whine, but he's got his mind set on it already, lifting you over his shoulder and heading to your bedroom.

he laughs, then sets you down on the bed, flipping you over with your ass sticking out. you gasp and shiver when you feel two of his thick fingers in your pussy.

"if you think that's nasty you'd faint if i told you what i wanna do with you on your kitchen counter, peaches."

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut

1K notes · View notes

nhmkhnh · 1 month ago

Note

mean abby and her girlfriend whos obsessed with her(for some reason) pls pls

hard hands, soft heart.

pairings: mean!abby x fem!reader

preface: abby says she doesn’t care — and proves the opposite every time.

author's note: THIS IS CUTE?? OMG YES PLEASE.

wrn: lowercase ;; messy, abby's kinda mean but she loves you dearly <3.

navigation.

it was freezing. not the kind of chill that made you shiver once and forget, but the type that crept under your skin and settled there, stubborn and biting. you hadn’t meant to leave your jacket back at the watchtower, but the sun had been up then, and you were in a rush to keep up with abby’s long-legged pace. now it was night, and the path back to base was nothing but shadowed trees and your chattering teeth.

“you cold?” abby asked, voice flat.

you glanced at her sideways. she hadn’t looked at you once since you both left the patrol route, but her shoulders were tense, her steps more aggressive than usual. she always walked like she had something to prove, but tonight she stomped like she was angry at the ground itself.

“i’m fine,” you lied, arms crossed tight against your chest.

she scoffed. “right. that’s why you’re shaking like a damn leaf.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, not wanting to snap back. abby always had a sharp tongue, but something told you she didn’t like it when you snapped too hard.

a few more minutes passed. silent. tense. until she suddenly stopped walking.

you paused too. “what?”

she didn’t answer. just tugged her own jacket off with a harsh grunt and threw it at you. literally threw it. it smacked against your chest, heavy, warm, and smelling like gunpowder, cedar, and a bit of the soap she hated to admit she liked.

“put it on before you turn into a goddamn popsicle,” she grumbled.

you blinked. “abby, i—”

“i said put it on. jesus. i don’t need you passing out on me in the woods. do you know how much trouble i’d get in if i had to carry your frozen ass back to base?”

you smiled, just a little. she noticed, of course. and glared.

“what’re you grinning at?”

“nothing. just… you care.”

she rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. “don’t get used to it. next time i’ll let you freeze.”

but when you slipped your arms into her jacket and zipped it up, she turned slightly—just enough that her hand could brush against yours. barely. like it was an accident.

it wasn’t.

the med bay was quiet except for the hiss of the disinfectant and your occasional hiss of pain. abby sat on the edge of the table, scowling down at you like you were the problem, not the gash on your thigh.

“i told you to duck,” she muttered, voice low and biting.

you winced as her gloved fingers pressed around the wound, inspecting it. “i did duck. just… not fast enough.”

she clicked her tongue. “no shit.”

you were used to this by now. abby didn’t do sympathy. she did angry concern. irritated affection. if she was yelling, it meant she cared.

still, you rolled your eyes. “you’re so sweet when i’m bleeding. really warms the heart.”

“shut up,” she snapped. but her voice was quieter now. her hands gentler. “you could’ve bled out, idiot.”

you looked up at her — hair tied back, jaw clenched, brow furrowed like it was physically hurting her to see you like this.

“i’ve had worse,” you said, softer this time.

abby glared at the gauze in her hands like it had personally offended her. “yeah? well, you’re not gonna get the chance to again if you keep pulling this reckless shit.”

“i was covering you.”

she paused. just for a second. and that’s how you knew it got to her.

the antiseptic stung, and you hissed again. instantly, abby’s grip on your leg loosened. her thumb brushed against your knee — gentle now, apologetic, even if her face was still all thunderclouds.

“…you okay?” she asked. barely audible.

you nodded. “yeah.”

she huffed through her nose. “good. ‘cause i’m not carrying your ass to the infirmary again. my back still hurts from last time.”

“…you carried me?”

she froze. shit.

“no,” she said quickly. “shut up.”

you smirked, even through the pain. “you totally did.”

“say one more word and i’m wrapping this with duct tape.”

you grinned wider, and she couldn’t help it — a ghost of a smile flickered across her lips.

“…dumbass,” she muttered again, but this time, it sounded suspiciously like affection.

abby hated mornings.

she hated being awake before the sun, hated how cold the floor was when she swung her legs out of bed, hated the too-loud birds and the way her shoulder always ached from sleeping on it wrong.

but mostly, she hated how easy it was for you to ruin her whole i-don’t-give-a-shit persona with something as simple as… looking at her.

you were sitting at the tiny kitchen table in your shared safehouse, sipping coffee from a chipped mug, legs tucked under you, hair a mess, hoodie obviously stolen from her drawer. you looked at her like she hung the damn moon — like she hadn’t just growled at the floor for being cold.

“what?” she barked, halfway through tying her boots.

you blinked, confused. “nothing.”

“you’re staring.”

“i’m allowed to look at my girlfriend.”

“not like that,” abby muttered, knotting the laces too tight. “you’re doing that eyes full of stars shit again.”

you giggled softly. “maybe that’s just how i look at you.”

abby’s ears went red. she didn’t even blush, usually, but you’d figured out how to fry her brain with two sentences and a smile.

she grumbled something under her breath and stood up, stomping over to the counter with way more force than necessary. her whole body screamed “leave me alone,” but the second your socked feet padded up behind her and your arms wrapped around her waist?

she melted. quietly. secretly. like a warship turning into warm butter.

“god, you’re clingy,” she mumbled, not moving an inch to stop you. “you’re obsessed with me or something.”

“i am,” you said cheerfully, cheek pressed to her back. “you’re my favorite person in the whole apocalypse.”

abby grunted.

but her hand came up, covered yours on her stomach, and gave it a quick, tight squeeze.

then she said, barely above a whisper: “…you’re mine too.”

you barely remembered what day it was. your throat was raw, your nose was stuffed, and your body felt like it had been trampled by a herd of clickers. twice.

the worst part wasn’t even the fever or the coughing fits — it was abby.

“sit. the hell. down,” she snapped from across the room, holding a mug of something green and steaming and definitely cursed.

you tried to sit up on the couch, blanket slipping from your shoulders. “abby, i can—”

“nope. shut up. you’re literally dying.”

“i have a cold—”

“a fever of 102 is not ‘a cold,’” she said, marching over and shoving the mug into your hands with the grace of a tank. “drink this.”

you stared into the mug. “what is it?”

“something mel made,” she grumbled. “it’s got herbs. garlic. shit that’s supposed to help. tastes like death but you’ll live.”

you sniffed it. instantly regretted it.

abby crossed her arms. “i swear to god if you don’t drink that, i’m gonna pour it down your throat myself.”

you took a cautious sip. immediately gagged. “abby, this tastes like wet socks.”

she glared. “and yet, here you are. still breathing. you’re welcome.”

despite her tone, she didn’t walk away. she crouched in front of the couch instead, one hand resting on your knee — not rough, not teasing. just… there.

“you didn’t have to stay home,” you whispered, the guilt hitting you harder than the fever.

she snorted. “and let you get eaten by your own sinuses? pass.”

her eyes flicked over your face, frowning at the sweat on your brow, the dark circles under your eyes. she sighed like she hated how much she cared.

“you look like shit,” she muttered.

“thanks, babe.”

but then her hand moved — up to your face, thumb brushing just under your eye, calloused fingers cupping your cheek like you were something precious she wasn’t quite sure how to hold without breaking.

“just rest,” she said quietly. “i’ve got you.”

and when you dozed off not ten minutes later, she didn’t leave. just sat beside you with her arms crossed, pretending she wasn’t watching your every breath like it was the only thing that mattered.

you were laughing.

that’s what made it worse. that little light, airy laugh you only did when you were being extra nice. the kind you gave to strangers when you didn’t want to be rude. and the guy you were talking to? eating it up. grinning way too much. leaning way too close.

abby stood off to the side, arms crossed, teeth grinding so hard she could’ve chewed through steel. from a distance, she looked calm — still, collected, totally unbothered.

but her jaw twitched. her eyes tracked everything. your smile. his hand brushing your arm. the way he said your name like he had any right.

by the time he touched your lower back — barely, casually — abby was already moving.

“hey,” she said, voice sharp as a knife as she stepped between you and him. “you lost or something?”

the guy blinked. “uh… just talking.”

she stared him down. no emotion. no smile. just that cold, calculating stare she gave to people she didn’t plan on speaking to twice.

“yeah?” she said flatly. “well, you’re done.”

he stammered something, gave an awkward wave, and booked it.

you blinked. “abby—”

“what the hell was that?” she hissed the second you were alone. she didn’t even look at you — just ran a hand through her braid like she was trying to stay calm and absolutely failing.

“i was being polite.”

“he touched your back.”

“barely.”

“that’s not the point.”

you stepped closer, arms crossing. “you jealous?”

she scoffed. “you think this is funny?”

“…a little.”

abby turned to you so fast it startled you. her eyes locked on yours, hot and stormy, chest heaving like she’d just fought off a bear. she didn’t speak for a second — just looked at you like she was trying not to say too much.

and then, in a voice low and rough:

“i don’t share.”

your breath caught.

she moved closer, now chest to chest with you, one hand curling around your waist like she was staking claim. her fingers pressed into your lower back — the exact spot he touched — but this time it made your heart skip a beat instead of your stomach turn.

“i don’t care if it was harmless. he doesn’t get to look at you like that. no one does.”

you swallowed. “and how do you look at me, then?”

abby leaned down, lips brushing your ear, breath warm and dangerous:

“like you’re mine.”

it started with you hugging her from behind while she was brushing her teeth.

abby tensed instantly, toothbrush pausing mid-stroke.

“can’t even be in the bathroom alone now?” she mumbled through the foam, raising an eyebrow at your reflection behind her.

you nuzzled into her back like a koala. “you’re warm.”

she rolled her eyes and kept brushing, but didn’t move to shake you off. not even a little. you could feel the slight twitch in her shoulder, like she was trying not to lean into it.

ten minutes later, she was attempting to lace up her boots, and you sat on her lap.

not just sat — you flopped down, arms wrapped around her neck, legs on either side of her thighs like it was your god-given right.

“seriously?” she growled. “you need constant attention or something?”

you shrugged innocently. “yup.”

abby leaned back slightly, brows furrowed like she was trying so hard not to smirk. “you’re clingy as shit.”

“yet here you are,” you whispered, nose brushing against her jaw, “letting me sit right here like your personal heater.”

“you’re annoying.”

“you like it.”

she grunted. but her hands were already moving — one sliding up your thigh, fingers spreading possessively, the other resting low on your back, holding you exactly where you were. her grip was firm. grounding. a silent stay.

your forehead rested against hers now, breaths mingling, the tension in the room thick enough to wrap around your throat. her eyes dropped to your lips. just for a second. just enough.

“you’re not even trying to get off me,” you whispered.

abby’s voice dropped, dangerously low. “don’t tempt me.”

your smile turned wicked. “what if i am?”

she exhaled hard through her nose, jaw tightening. “you’re such a little brat.”

you rocked your hips just enough to get a reaction. and you got one — her hand on your thigh tightened almost painfully, her grip on your back pulling you closer until your noses touched.

“keep it up,” she growled, “and i’m gonna remind you exactly whose lap you’re sitting on.”

silence. heat. your heart thudded wildly in your chest.

“…okay,” you breathed, voice barely audible.

abby chuckled, low and dangerous.

“thought so.”

abby wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.

really.

she’d just come back from patrol early, quietly slipping through the side door of the safehouse, planning to drop her gear and maybe surprise you with the rations she scored.

but then she heard your voice from the kitchen. soft. laughing.

and someone else’s — nora’s.

“i don’t get it,” nora was saying, teasing but curious. “how do you deal with her attitude 24/7? i’d lose my mind.”

you laughed. “she’s not as mean as she pretends to be.”

abby froze.

“she’s kind of all bark,” you continued, unaware of your very large, very grumpy girlfriend standing frozen just out of sight, pulse thudding in her ears.

“she acts like she doesn’t care, but she remembers every single thing i say. she brings me water before i ask. pulls me behind her if there’s even a rumor of danger. sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the door—” your voice cracked a little. “like she’s ready to protect me even in her sleep.”

nora let out a low whistle. “damn. you’ve got it bad.”

“i do,” you admitted. quiet. honest. vulnerable in a way you never were around abby herself. “she’s the safest place i’ve ever had.”

abby felt it like a punch to the gut. a warmth so deep it almost hurt. you… thought of her like that?

she’d always assumed you stuck around because you were patient. because you put up with her temper, her walls, her dry sarcasm and blunt edges. but now?

safe.

you felt safe with her.

she must’ve made a noise — a scuff of her boot or maybe a breath too sharp — because suddenly you were peeking out from the kitchen, eyes wide in surprise.

“abby,” you said, blinking. “hey.”

she stood there like a statue, arms crossed tightly across her chest. “didn’t mean to… interrupt.”

you looked like a deer caught in headlights. nora raised her eyebrows and immediately ghosted like the best wingman ever.

now it was just the two of you. silent.

“…you weren’t supposed to hear that,” you mumbled.

“yeah,” abby said, voice hoarse. “figured.”

she didn’t know what to do with the feeling in her chest. didn’t know how to handle something so gentle and pure being aimed directly at her.

so she did what she always did — scowled, shoved her hands in her pockets, and muttered, “you’re sappy as hell, you know that?”

but when she walked over and pulled you into her chest — arms strong, tight, clingy — you knew she didn’t mean it.

“…i don’t mind,” she said quietly, lips brushing your hair. “being that for you. safe.”

you smiled into her shirt, heart hammering.

“i know.”

it was almost 3 am when abby jolted awake.

at first, she didn’t know what did it — just that the room was dark, silent, and cold.

then she heard it. the tiny, broken sound.

you.

you were curled up on your side, back to her, shoulders shaking. not sobbing — not out loud. it was the kind of pain that tried to hide itself. which was somehow worse.

she was next to you in a heartbeat, sitting up, pulling back the covers just enough to see your face.

you flinched like you'd been hit.

“hey,” she said immediately, voice low, steady. “it’s me. you’re okay.”

you tried to breathe. failed. your chest stuttered and your eyes were wide, glassy, far away.

abby swore under her breath and leaned closer, palm cradling your cheek with shocking gentleness for someone with hands like hers.

“look at me,” she said, firm but not sharp. “right here. eyes on me.”

you blinked, focus snapping back, and the second you saw her face — safe, familiar, abby — you broke.

a sob slipped free before you could stop it, and you immediately turned away, ashamed.

“nope,” she said, already pulling you into her lap. “you don’t get to hide now. come here.”

you didn’t even have the strength to protest. you just melted against her chest, arms wrapping around her waist like you were afraid she’d disappear.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered. “it was just a dream, i didn’t wanna wake you—”

“you think i give a shit about sleep?” she muttered, one hand already rubbing soothing circles into your back. “you wake me up anytime. every time.”

“i didn’t wanna be annoying—”

abby pulled back just enough to look at you, her jaw tight.

“okay, say that again,” she said, deadly calm. “say you’re annoying one more time and i swear i’ll pick a fight just to prove you’re not.”

you let out a small, shaky laugh.

“there she is,” abby murmured, brushing the hair from your face. “my mouthy little disaster.”

you sniffled, eyes searching hers. “it felt so real. like i lost you.”

her face hardened. “you didn’t. you won’t.”

“but—”

“no,” she said, final and fierce. “you’re stuck with me. i don’t care what dream-world version of me did — this one’s not going anywhere.”

she pulled you tight again, arms like steel around you, chin resting on your head.

“you’re safe,” she said, voice low and steady. “i’m right here. i’ve got you.”

and she stayed awake the rest of the night — one hand on your back, one stroking your hair — holding you like she could physically keep the nightmares away if she just stayed close enough.

you were sparring.

which really just meant “play-fighting under the illusion of training” while stealing every possible excuse to touch each other and pretend it wasn’t doing things to you both.

abby blocked your punch with one arm, the other catching your wrist mid-swing. “weak,” she said, smug. “you hit like a kitten.”

“yeah?” you grinned, eyes narrowing. “you smell like one.”

“try again, sweetheart.”

you twisted, ducked under her arm, and elbowed her side — which she barely flinched at — but you were already moving, dancing away before she could grab you again.

she smirked. “running? that’s cute.”

“not running,” you teased. “just staying out of arm’s reach. you get handsy.”

she lunged.

you squealed and dodged, barely missing the wall. “abby!”

“you started it.”

she chased you around the mat until she caught you with a solid sweep of the leg — and you went down with a yelp, landing flat on your back, abby immediately straddling your hips, pinning your wrists down above your head.

“you done?” she asked, panting a little, her braid sliding over her shoulder like a whip.

you stared up at her.

big mistake.

because now she was on you — flushed, strong, breathing hard, hair slightly messy — and looking at you with that smug, mean glint in her eye that made your brain short-circuit.

“i could keep going,” you breathed, way too fast, way too reckless.

her smirk faltered. “don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“who says i won’t finish it?”

abby’s expression changed.

the air shifted.

one second you were joking — the next, her eyes were dark, locked onto yours like she was searching for something, something she couldn’t say, couldn’t admit.

you swallowed. “abby…”

she let go of your wrists but didn’t move. her hands slid down to your forearms, slow, grounding. her weight on top of you felt too real now — not a fight. something else.

“you’re not just playing anymore,” you whispered.

“neither are you,” she said, voice low, tight.

silence. your heart pounded against your ribs.

and then, quietly:

“you scare the shit out of me sometimes,” abby muttered, eyes dropping to your lips. “because i look at you, and i can’t remember what it felt like before you started living in my head.”

you blinked. “was that… a confession?”

she huffed, flustered now. “don’t make it weird.”

you cupped her cheek, thumb brushing under her eye. “too late.”

she leaned down, forehead pressed to yours, breath hot. “if you tell nora i got sappy during a fake fight, i’ll body slam you into next week.”

you smiled, heart full, tugging her even closer. “noted. now kiss me, you coward.”

she did.

and it didn’t feel fake at all.

it slipped out on a tuesday.

you weren’t even doing anything big — just folding laundry, tossing a hoodie at her across the room with a lazy smile. “here. your stupid sweatshirt. love you.”

silence.

you didn’t even register it at first — too busy fighting with a tangled pair of socks — until you looked up and saw her.

frozen.

staring at you like you’d just dropped a live grenade at her feet.

“…what?” you asked, confused.

abby didn’t move. didn’t blink.

“you just said—” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “did you mean that?”

you frowned. “mean what?”

she looked… pale. like her brain had slammed the brakes. “what you said. the ‘love you’ part.”

“oh.” you straightened, heartbeat spiking. “yeah. i did.”

silence.

her jaw clenched.

she looked away for a second, hands flexing uselessly like she wanted to hit something or run. you weren’t sure which.

“abby?”

she turned away.

and it hurt. just for a second. long enough for your chest to cave in a little.

“…it’s okay,” you whispered, backing off, voice suddenly small. “you don’t have to say it back.”

that’s when she whipped around.

“no,” she said — sharp, low, furious. “you don’t get to say that and walk away.”

you blinked. “what?”

“you don’t get to say that like it’s casual. like it’s nothing. like it didn’t just crack my fucking ribs open from the inside out.”

your mouth went dry. “i didn’t mean to—”

she stormed across the room, grabbed your wrist — not hard, never hard — and held you there like you were the only thing keeping her upright.

“you say you love me like it’s easy,” she whispered, breathing hard. “but it’s not. not for me. i’ve never had someone say it and mean it. not like that.”

you stared at her. “abby…”

her forehead touched yours, eyes squeezed shut, like saying it would physically hurt her — but when it came out, it was raw and trembling and so real you almost couldn’t breathe.

“i love you too,” she whispered. “so much it makes me want to rip my own fucking heart out.”

you laughed, a little watery. “god, you’re dramatic.”

she groaned and buried her face in your shoulder. “you make me dramatic. i was fine before you.”

“no, you weren’t,” you smiled, arms wrapping around her.

“…okay. i wasn’t.”

she held you for a long time after that — too tight, like she thought you might vanish.

you didn’t.

you were already home.

#abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #tlou

495 notes · View notes

thetxtdevil · 3 months ago

Note

I'm on my knees, barking for bunny hybrid Soobin pls pls plsssss😭😭😭

Bunny Soobin!!!

synopsis: animals and especially rabbits show their submission by grooming another rabbit...

content: nsfw/mdni, hybrid/bunny soobin, fem.reader, dom.soob, sub.reader, slight restraint, p in v, now wrap

word count: 2k idk how or why

To your utter, jaw-dropping surprise, there was a hybrid in your backyard. How in the world did he get into your community, into your fenced yard, without getting noticed? The world may never know.

One thing you did know was the world hasn't been kind to the poor fella. What looked like spotted black and white long ears within his black hair was brown from mud. Clothes shredded, dirty, and obviously not his size. Your heart aches, wanting to do something, but what can you do?

Searching deep in your fridge to find fruits and vegetables, you find some carrots and apples. Upon walking to the door, you notice the hybrids ear standing straight up. You froze, shit he caught you. Slowly, quietly, you turn the handle to the door. The bunny's reaction was fast, you blinked, and he was gone. Pouting, you decide to leave the food out just in case.

The next day, you wake up and make coffee. Your blurry eyes focus on growing leaves and dewy green grass. Your eyes widen to find the same hybrid back again. He was sitting underneath a tree, eating one of the apples you left the day before. Mug full of coffee, you notice the bunny's nose twitch. You guessed he somehow caught a whiff of your drink. I guess a hybrid can have coffee, right? Making another cup, you try again, carefully opening the door.

The man flinches yet stays under the shadow of the tree. The scent of coffee flows towards him. Straight ears twitching, onyx orbs staring at every movement you make. You so badly wanted to talk to him, but you were too scared. Too scared he'll run away again, too scared to even try to talk to a stranger. With the greatest stealth, you place the mug, along with a napkin weighted down with a biscuit.

This has become routine by now. Weeks have passed, and you wake up to the same bunny sitting under the tree, waiting for his morning cup of coffee you make for him. As well as the fresh fruits and vegetables you give coming home from work. It pleased you to take care of the hybrid, it was something new to your boring life.

Looking at the weather app, however, made you worry. Springtime showers were rolling in and fast. It worried you as to what the man was to do. He slept outside, already covered in dirt; he'd shy away every time you asked him to come inside. A stern shake of his head, keeping his long ears up, ready to respond to any danger.

After two days of non-stop rain, no sun to be seen, you hear a faint knock on your back door. Your heart pumps loudly, initially fearing an intruder breaking in, until you see the bunny you've grown to adore standing at the glass door. Opening the entrance, water trickles inside, but you don't care, all you care about is the person in front of you. He gulps down his spit, dimples poking through before he speaks, "Can I come in, it's getting cold."

"Of course," you wave your hand leading him in before closing the door, "I'm surprised you didn't ask sooner."

You pout, watching the tall bunny shivering in the middle of the room, little cotton tail shivering too. Not taking a step to investigate the area, he'd rather be back outside. You rush to give him a blanket, cautiously handing it to him. You set up a spot for him, a heater in the corner of the dining room where he sat looking out the window. Placing a cup of coffee next to him, the first sip he takes has his long ears fall down.

"What's your name?" You ask. The hybrid raises his eyes from his mug towards you. He studies you, your face, body, and aura, still unsure of you. After another sip, he sighs out, "Soobin." Your lips turn, relaxing into your chair, taking a sip of your coffee.

~~~

"Soobin, I can't do that."

"Please, just this once."

"No, I don't know why I'm the one that has to bathe you. You know how to do it yourself." As the rain clouds turn white and fluffy, Soobin has been going in and out of your house often. Getting to know you well over coffee, in the dining room, and on the new patio furniture under the tree. The bunny has gotten comfortable with you,,, maybe a little too comfortable.

Soobin smirks at your statement, one edge of his plush lips lifts, hinting something. The tall man strides closer to you, caging your body against the kitchen counter. You shake your head, wondering where your shy bunny went. “You doing it will fulfill us both,” the words tickles your ear, the feeling of his nose sensing your body language, “for me? Please?”

He backs up to study your face, "think about it." You bit your lip in thought, the only reason you dismissed him was because of how unnecessary it seemed. However, the sparkle in his dark eyes, made you give in. Long ears standing tall waiting for your consent.

The sounds of running water in the bathtub can be heard in the hallway. The hallway you were pacing back and forth in thinking of Soobin's request. You never had a hybrid, nor anyone living in your house for as long as he was. You knew there was meaning behind his want for you to bathe him but you didn't know what it actually meant.

A loud crack from the opening door shakes you away from your thoughts. "I can hear you pace." You stop to look at Soobin in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, v-line on full show. Caught in the action of contemplation and now looking at him like candy, you knew you couldn't back away.

Walking into the bathroom, dimly lit, the only light that shines was from the fogged up window. Soobin drops the towel, dipping his toes into the big porcelain tub. Watching the bunny melt into the water had your face feel like it was on fire. "Relax, you seem tenser than a rabbit in the wild." You giggle over the man's joke, finding yourself doting over his dimples.

You sit at the edge of the porcelain surface, looking at the bubbles floating on top of the liquid. Lightly cupping your hand, catching a bit of water pouring on top of Soobin's head. You'd expect him to hate it, complain about water getting into his sensitive ears, and that you're not doing what he wants, but that wasn't the case. You knew what tension looked like on the bunny, and this wasn't it. His broad shoulders relaxed, eyelashes fluttering shut, heart-shaped lips in a content smile, and then you continue washing his body.

"See, this isn't so bad," you hum at his words, "you like it as much as I do, don't you?" His soft eyes open, dark iris watching how you wave your hand in the warm water. The bunny lifts his head closer to yours, "Do you want to know why I asked you to do this?"

Your attention was quickly taken away from the bathtub. Meeting eyes with the hybrid, he reads the curiosity all over your face. "Doing this fulfills us because you're accepting that you're submitting to us."

His words struck you like the tub water turned ice cold and was poured on you. "W-what? Why would you say such a silly-"

Your timid eyes notice that Soobin never falters, this isn't a joke, not to him. Face still close to yours, his words meant something deeply to him and you fell into his rabbit hole. Soobin's eyes darker than ever, his eyebrows strict and intimidating, he might be naked right now but you were the one that felt vulnerable.

A shy smile slips from your lips that Soobin was admiring so deeply. This wasn't happening, could it be? The bunny that randomly appeared in your backyard, feral, alone, free, was now naked in your bath and all things seducing you. It was all too much, he was too much. Kicking yourself for even feeling a burning sensation of courage to kiss the man. You lift yourself off the tub, walking away without looking back. Looking at the very handsome hybrid in all his glory with little to no bubble to cover him.

It wasn't long until you heard your bedroom door creak open. Not moving your head, there's no point in seeing who it is. You stay still until Soobin's big hand holds your jaw, moving your face to look up at him. "Don't act like you don't want it."

"I- I don't-"

"And don't lie, I can hear your heartbeat speed when you lie." Your glossy eyes look up into the man's sharp, serious eyes. Spotted ears standing tall, once a cute soft bunny was now nauseatingly hot. "I can hear your heartbeat speed every time my hand grazes yours, every time we're close on this bed, every time you wake and see that I'm still in it."

Soobin lifts his knee in between your thighs, so close to an area that aches. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, and you note the way he studies the plump flesh. "I can hear your heart rate right now," his face slowly closes the gap, "I especially can smell you right now."

You gasp into the kiss, feeling the butterflies in your stomach explode into fireworks. Soobin's perfect lips puzzling into yours. Both devouring each other like dessert. The heated kiss fills you up with need as his knee pushes closer to your cunt you search for friction. When Soobin feels your movements, his grip tightens on your jaw. "Are you fully going to submit to me?"

You pause, you don't know why, maybe it's because of the Soobin's request, or maybe its because you're just now noticing that the bunny has deliciously looking abs just above his very huge cock. Biting your lip, there was no thinking, only admiration on your part. With a small "yes," Soobin crashes his lips into yours.

Falling into your shared bed, bodies close, hot. Soobin's big hands explore underneath your shirt finding their way to your boobs. A moan erupts from you, causing the bunny's ears to twitch. Back-arching toward his touch only to have him quickly pull away. Firmly tugging your pants off along with your panties, he throws them across the room. Long fingers nicely drag through your wet, puffy folds just so they back away, too. Watching as Soobin lubricants his dick with your slick, you give a questioning look.

"You can take me, no stretching, right?"

Eyes moving from his down south, your pussy clenches in fear. He grabs your hands, holding them together by one of his hands with ease. The other lines his dick to your hole. Squinting at the stretch of his tip, gasping out in painful pleasure. The drag of Soobin's cock was addicting, filling you up so much, making you claim for more. This is what he wanted, to see you fucked out, begging for him, laying cutely under him. His hips snap hard, little bunny tail twitching like his cock inside.

Both of you start to glisten from sweat. Deep, heated making out had loud gasps filling the room. After a few more rolls of his hips, he had found a spot that had you crying the loudest that night. Soobin was losing himself, bunny ear sensing every heartbeat, breath, and sound you make. As he dipped his head into your neck, his soft kisses made you whine. The hands that wrapped around your wrists loosen and moves down to your clit. The more sounds you make, the both of you get closer to climax. Your cunt clenching hard around him, Soobin’s thrusts become sloppy, and then his cum spills into you.

The bunny falls on top of you, long ears tickling your neck. He moans feeling your hole still clenching on his sensitive dick. “I think I need to take another bath,” he peppers your neck with soft kisses, “will you join me?”

ending was rushed but I hope you enjoyed :))

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling, @blue-moon-514, @izzyy-stuff, @biteyoubiteme

dividers: @bernardsbendystraws, @graphicbloss

541 notes · View notes

papayadays · 4 months ago

Text

when it hits - ln4

: ̗̀➛ i know love by tate mcrae with ... lando norris (part of so close to what event) : ̗̀➛ in which a feature on your track sends your fans into a frenzy : ̗̀➛ faceclaim: lyn lapid

✧.* yeah it's only the beginning but it's happening quick, boy *.✧

liked by radvxz and others yourusername back in the studio because i’ve finally stopped procrastinating (i had inspiration)

user1 i love how the first two pics were aesthetic but the third one is just an oddball

user2 so is that her producer??

user3 idk but he kinda… 👀

user4 girl don’t even play right now

user5 so hyped for the new song!!!

user6 SAME i wonder what it’s going to be about

radvxz it’s going to be a good one 🫶

user7 BEABADOOBEE SPILL

user8 release it now please i beg of you

user9 two different vibes of music? is that what’s happening?

liked by mxmtoon and others yourusername i know love drops in 4 days at 4:44 est 💛

mxmtoon chart topper for sure 💞

user10 confirmed banger by beabadoobee and mxmtoon

user11 this will break the internet i fear

user12 LOVE???? HELLO??

user13 does that mean she’s dating someone !!

user14 oh this is going to be good

user15 she’s so pretty 😍

user16 i know right like i just need one chance

user17 i already love the vibe of this song

user18 angel numbers 🤨

liked by maxfewtrell and others lando drums aren’t too hard right?

maxfewtrell mate maybe stick to f1 yeah?

lando shut up i’m not that bad

user19 lando and max bickering like a married couple will never not be funny

user20 lando in his music era??

user21 not sure if you can consider this an era

user22 why is he playing drums outdoors? for the trees?

user23 lmao he needs to touch grass

user24 so the question is why drums all of a sudden

liked by lando and others yourusername i know love is now out!! art imitates life etc etc

user25 HELLO THAT SONG??

user26 right? “new love, new plans, new script” ate down

user27 imitates life 😧 who, what, where, when and how is she dating

user28 lando you’re not slick i see you in the likes

user29 who’s lando?

user30 lando norris, f1 driver for mclaren

user31 icon behavior tbh: dropped a new single along with her single status

user32 WAIT guys hear me out… lando posted him playing drums and now he’s in the likes

user33 girl bye 💀 there’s no way some lightning mcqueen bagged our pop queen liked by lando

user34 lando out here trying to steal liam's role as number 1 cars fan

user35 this song is such a banger idek who it’s abt at this point

liked by lando and others yourusername my biggest inspiration, everyone! @/lando thank you for letting me put your drum playing on my latest release babe 😚 who knows, maybe i’ll have you sing on the next one? love you lots x

lando finally let me comment on your posts? 😮 thank you for inspiring me as well and putting a smile on my face you’re the best singer in the world and i love you so much

user36 beyonce is coming to get your ass for that

user37 PLS 😭

user38 so some car guy did indeed bag my queen 💔

user39 ME RELISTENING TO I KNOW LOVE RN TO HEAR LANDO

user40 help same

user41 waittttt that’s so adorable bc wdym he inspired her to write this

user42 how tf is no one else shocked that they’re dating

user43 oh we so are we're just good actors and mad we didn’t see it coming

user44 they’re such a cute couple like the last pic???

user45 OTPPPPPP

user46 if i had known all it takes was to play drums i would’ve impressed her first

lando too late mate

932 notes · View notes

revasserium · 2 years ago

Note

can i have one were zoro realises she does things bc of truama (like doesnt speak much etc)

hold me (still)

opla!zoro; 6,680 words; slow!!!!burn, fem!reader, ex-assassin!reader, straw hat!reader, general tragic backstory/trauma, fluff, hurt/comfort, bit of angst, emotionally constipated zoro, communication? what's that?, nami playing therapist bc she's the only one with 1 iota of emotional intelligence

summary: sometimes, stillness is a virtue, and others -- a tragedy. or, in which the straw hats pick up a new member and zoro is equally intrigued and weirded out by you.

a/n: well. you guys asked for slow burn and... the burn is so slow u gotta squint to see the smoke yall. but trust. the burn does get there! pls be patient!! and i tried to combine 2 dif reqs in this one fic :)

You are of the quiet sort. Just a shadow dancing in the periphery of their vision, and when they first met you, you’d told them it was your superpower, a soft, still smile slipping across your lips. Luffy had bought into it immediately, and the invitation was out his mouth before anyone could stop him.

“Come with us!”

“Oh…” your lips pressed into a thin line of consideration.

Zoro’s fingers itched towards his swords because something about you makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But something else — something uncomfortable and strange, something very much like curiosity — seizes his chest and twists his stomach. Strange, he thinks, too strange.

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

And then, you’d smiled wider, and nodded, and that had been that.

It’s been three months since then, and you are still of the quiet sort, though it had receded a bit with time. What with Sanji’s gentle flirting and Usopp’s not-so-gentle stories and Nami’s bright, dry-humored companionship, you’d begun to “open up a bit”, so Luffy observed.

Zoro, for his part, has kept his distance. Because sometimes he still catches you at the bow of the ship, staring out across the midnight waters, still as a stone-carved statue. Still as a wooden beam — stiller, even.

“What’s with that?” he asks one day, strolling up to Nami as she traces a fine line over a new map she’s working on.

“Hm?” is her very eloquent response.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth and casts his eyes about the ship, finding them drawn to the shape of you, up at the bow again, reading in the shade of the tangerine trees. Nothing moves except for the wind as it whisps through your hair and the slow scanning of your eyes as it skates across the page.

“New girl,” Zoro says, crossing his arms as Nami finally looks up at him and then off towards you.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Zoro lets out a puff of breath, unfolding his arms to glare at Nami. He finds her grinning a lopsided grin as she clicks shut her compass and puts down her pen. She leans a hip on the barrel she’d been drawing on and folds her own arms.

“Oh, you like her.”

“I’m weirded out by her. ‘S not the same thing,” Zoro snaps, but when he tries to leave, Nami blocks him with an arm and pins him with a sharp, leveling look.

“No, no, no — we’re gonna work this through.”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Uh-uh, you still owe me after that round of drinks the other night — remember when you bet you could drink more than me?”

Zoro narrows his eyes, “I did drink more than you.”

Nami’s grin is gleeful, “No, you didn’t. You had to be dragged back to your room after clogging up the toilet. Or do I need to show you the evidence —”

“Alright — fuck, fine. But really? This is what you’re gonna waste your favor on? You could’ve asked me to —” Zoro gestures around vaguely, “clean the bilge or something.”

Nami shrugs, looking almost too pleased, “Nope! This is what I wanna use my favor for. And, really, you think a bit of bilge water is gonna gross me out? C’mon.”

Zoro heaves a sigh and leans back against the main mast, closing his eyes.

“Fine then. Go.”

Nami sits back on the edge of the barrel.

“No, you go. Admit that you like the new girl.”

“I don’t.” He doesn’t open his eyes.

“I’ve seen you staring at her. We’ve all seen you staring at her.”

“What, that a crime now?”

Nami fights the urge to roll her eyes, “No, but I’ve never seen you try so hard to avoid someone before.”

Zoro lets out a bark of laughter, hard and mirthless, “Yeah, so that must mean I like her.”

Nami cocks her head, “It means you feel something towards her. And I’d suggest you figure it out.”

“And how’d you propose I do that?”

Nami once again waves in your direction, “Go. Talk. To her.”

Zoro lets out another breath, eyes scanning across the ship, anywhere but towards where you’re still sitting and reading, finger flipping a page in a perfect, smooth, singular motion.

And Zoro’s not blind. Blunt though he may be at times and careless as he is about most material things, he can still appreciate beauty when he sees it. And you — there’s no denying that you’re beautiful. Your strange stillness aside, when you do move, it’s with a dancer’s lissome grace, fluid lines, not a single movement wasted. When you smile, it seems to light you up from the inside, and your words, though soft, carries the well-worn weight of river stones, glittering beneath the clear, spring stream of your voice.

There’s a sharpness in your eyes, a straightness to your spine, a way of carrying yourself as if you’re afraid that one wrong move might shatter you and the entire world around you.

Sometimes when he sees you, he wonders at the hands that had sculpted you this way. He wonders at your life before they’d picked you up in Loguetown, when you’d oh-so-silently slipped up the execution platform and helped Luffy down, all the while staying free of Smoker’s watchful gaze.

The few times he’s seen you fight, he can’t help wondering if you’ve eaten some kind of devil fruit as well. No human could be so fast as that. Or be so quiet. But then again, he’d fought Kuro, and they’d seen stranger things. Still, he marvels at the way you flicker in and out of sight, slipping around the edges of battle like a dark, haunting thing, and men would drop like flies beneath your quick, quiet hands. With nary a sound or shout before their eyes roll back and their breathing is no more.

On the instances when Sanji had asked about your past, your eyes had gone misty and dark, unfocused. You’d gone still, freezing for so long that Usopp would cough just to fill the silence. And then slowly, ever so slowly, you’d turn back towards them with a small, sad smile and say:

“There’s… not much to talk about. I grew up somewhere far away, where if you didn’t keep quiet and still, bad things would happen to you. And then when those bad things happened, if you weren’t quick — the quickest of all, you’d die.”

Bad things, huh? Zoro thinks as he makes his way towards you, a hand resting on the hilt of his swords. He comes to a stop next to you and leans against one of the white planters, casually peering over your shoulder at the book in your hands.

For a long moment, neither of you move. Then, Zoro clears his throat and forces himself to speak.

“Is it good?”

It takes you a second, but eventually, you turn towards him.

“The book? Yeah, I suppose.”

“Not exactly a glowing review.”

You laugh, a soft, breathy little thing as you look back down at the page.

“It's about a girl who falls into an enchanted sleep, and a prince who wakes her up with a kiss.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a kiss.”

“Yes, and one hell of a prince.”

Zoro finds himself chuckling, his shoulders loosening as he takes another breath.

“And then what?” he asks.

“And then… he asks her to marry him.”

You run your fingers along the page, smoothing your palm over the ink and parchment. Zoro watches you, wondering, always wondering.

“What’s she say?” and it’s then that he notices his own voice, hushed and low, barely a whisper.

You look back up at him and smile a smile a sphynx would have been proud of.

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”

Zoro takes a breath, and the breath tastes distinctly different than all the breaths he’d taken before it. As if the world takes the breath with him, and some fundamental truth had shifted on the exhale.

The moment breaks, as moments are wont to do, when Sanji calls out for lunch and Zoro jerks out of his almost-reverie. You slowly close your book and rise to your feet, turning back to smile at him.

“C’mon, it’s lunchtime.”

Zoro nods and follows you into the kitchen, where Luffy and Usopp are already digging in, and Nami is pouring herself a drink. She spots the pair of you and catches Zoro’s eyes. A grin ticks at the edge of her lips but before she can say anything, you’re accosted by Sanji sweeping into a deep, flourishing bow, and ushering you towards the table, where he’d set your place in a manner fit for a princess.

“Where’s my setup?” Zoro asks as he drops into the seat next to you, cocking an eyebrow. Sanji shoots him an unimpressed look.

“I’m surprised you can use a fork and knife, moss-head. Just be grateful and eat up.”

Zoro scoffs but digs in nonetheless.

When next they dock, it’s on a rare, peaceful island — an island of light and books and learning, where the air smells of salt and ink and drying parchment, of unwritten words and untold stories. But it smells of a stillness too, and Zoro knows without having to ask that you’d like it here.

And you do.

He’s never seen you smile so much, never seen you so vibrant and full of life. You chat and laugh and read with a voracious hunger, and he finds himself drawn to this new, warm, moving side of you. He finds himself, more often than not, by your side, even when neither of you speak. And he basks in the comfort of the quiet that permeates the air when it’s just the two of you — him hanging in the hammock on deck, you reading by his side.

But now, there’s the soft tapping of your foot, the shuffle of pages when you flip forward to see what’s coming next, and of course the ever-present shush of the ocean as it washes against the Merry’s side.

The Log Pose needs two weeks to properly calibrate to the next island, so they’ve got time to kill.

On the fifth night, over dinner and drinks, Luffy asks the question that everyone’s been thinking since the day they’d all met you —

“So. Why’re you so still all the time? Not that it’s weird or anything — well, actually — it kind of is, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m just asking cause I'm curious!”

You look up from your half-finished wine but Zoro feels it happening, like the hush of a fan blade slicing through air, the gasp before a porcelain vase tips over and shatters. You stop. You stare. You’re frozen in every sense of the word. And he’s known you for long enough to know that you only go still as a reflex, only reach for it as a shield. Against what? He doesn’t quite know.

“It’s… something of a long story,” you say, your voice low and hoarse.

Luffy grins, smacking his lips as he sucks the meat off a chicken leg, “We’ve got tons of time! Right?” he looks around as if for validation, but everyone’s eyes are caught on you and your unnatural stillness.

Zoro shifts slightly in the seat next to you, opening his stance and turning towards you.

“Could do with a good story.”

Your eyes flash in his direction and he offers you the barest hint of a smile.

You relax, ever so slightly, drifting back in your seat, your glass cupped in the palms of your hands. And then, you begin to speak, your voice smooth and lilting, your words washing over them like the faint lull of the tides.

“When I was three, my father sold me for a barrel of beer.”

A dull clack echoes around the room and everyone turns to see Sanji hurriedly righting the thick stein he’s knocked over. Thankfully, it’d been empty.

“Sorry — I just — what?” he sounds furious but Usopp lays a hand across his arm and shakes his head.

You take a deep breath and continue, your voice oddly emotionless as you say, “The man who bought me took me to an island. It was… a dark place. A quiet place. I only learned its name after I escaped — an island called Elysium.”

Nami gasps before clapping her hands over her mouth.

“I’ve just — I’ve heard of that place before, but I thought… I thought it was just a made-up place.”

Luffy swallows hard, frowning, “What’s it like?”

Nami’s eyes flicker between you and Luffy, “Supposedly… it’s the home island for… for the most feared group of assassins in all the seas combined.”

Usopp’s eyebrows jerk up, “The most feared?”

A faint smile seeps across your lips like blood.

“Yes. The Shadows that Live.”

Everyone turns to look at you. Luffy picks up another drumstick.

“Whoa… cool name!”

Zoro hums, “I’ve heard of them before — but mostly, it was just an old wive’s tale about… shadow assassins who hunt in the dark. Mercenaries for hire. But… no one’s ever seen one before.”

“Because… once you see one, you’ll never live to tell the tale,” you say, your eyes now downcast and fixed on the glass in your hands.

“Then…” Usopp’s voice is soft, “What about… you?”

“I… I ran away.”

Silence greets you. But after a moment, Luffy spits out a bit of bone and uses it to pick at the space between his teeth, his eyes round.

“Wow! You must be pretty good to run away from an island full of shadow assassins!”

You almost laugh, his boundless trust hitting you like a punch to the stomach.

“So…” Sanji lets out a puff of silvery smoke, “the staying still thing… that’s just part of your training, yeah?”

You nod, “Something like that.”

Someday, you think, you’ll tell them about the hellscape that was Elysium island, of the long echoing halls, dark and still and silent. Of the mechanical beasts that hunted by sound and movement alone. Someday, you’ll let them know about the poisoned pomegranate seeds that they feed all the “recruits” to keep them hazy, of how you’d kept six of them suspended in your mouth and spat them all out when you’d finally made it far enough from the island to allow yourself to breathe.

“And… are these shadow assassins gonna come after us?” Nami asks, her voice careful and light.

You purse your lips, “I… I don’t know.”

Nami sighs, but a moment later, she moves to refill her drink with a slight shrug, “Well, just one more enemy to add to our growing list. Soon, we’re gonna have to post a sign-up sheet.”

At this, everyone laughs, and the tension snaps like a wounded spring.

Luffy burps loudly, patting his stomach, “I’m not worried — I mean, if you were able to run away from them once, that means you’re stronger than them, right?”

You pause, your hand hovering over the wine bottle. Zoro gently reaches over and refills your glass for you. You shift back into movement, casting him a small smile and taking a sip. The wine is cool and tangy as it hits the back of your throat. You breathe, and the world keeps spinning.

“I… I’m not sure — I’ve never fought… any of… them… before.”

“Guess we’ll find out if they try to come for you then — but you’ve got us now!” Luffy says, reaching for an apple and chomping into it, “ — Sho… you duon gotta wourry —” he licks his lips as he takes another huge bite before tossing the core towards the waste bin, “We’ve got your back!”

Nami makes a disgusted face, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, ugh.”

Sanji chuckles, tapping out his cigarette, “Yeah Luffy, mind your manners.” But his voice is full of laughter and you find yourself relaxing into the sway of the night, the swing of conversation. Beside you, Zoro refills his own glass and leans over to clink it against yours.

You turn, but he only raises his glass before taking a sip.

You mirror his movement, cradling the cup to your chest when you finish.

Later, he finds you by the tangerine trees, ghosting your fingers over their lush green leaves, dark enough to look black in the evening light.

“Hey.”

You turn, “Hi.”

Zoro sighs and looks out over the darkened waves, the moonlight refracted into a million shattered bits of sky.

“Luffy’s right, y’know.”

“What about?” you ask, joining him by the railings. The night air is cool and crisp. Behind you both, the island oozes with lamplight and laughter. Even from here, you can hear the joy, the peace that permeates the air here. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, you think, to stay here forever.

“If they come for you,” Zoro says, “we’ll have your back.”

You let out a small chuckle, looking down at your hands, “I know.”

“So,” he turns towards you, his earrings glinting in beneath the scimitar moon, “you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

You lick your lips, and instinctively, you reach for the stillness. All the days and weeks and months with the people around you have softened you, and for that, you know you should be thankful. Still, old habits die hard, and you have to clench your fists and dig your nails into your own palms to keep from freezing completely.

You take a shivering breath and force it out again.

“Fear’s a hard habit to break.”

At this, Zoro grunts, though it sounds something like consent. The moment stretches, long and soft and taffy-sweet.

He turns back towards the sea, “Yeah,” he says, and then —

“But we can take it slow.”

You swallow hard, passed the broken shards of forgotten words lodged in your throat (you find that they all somehow taste like thank you), and you nod. Warmth tickles your cheeks and you wonder why he’s said we instead of you — and later, lying in your bed at night, staring at the moon-slatted ceiling, you wonder if he was really talking about fear or if it was something else entirely.

You don’t get a lick of sleep that night.

The next few days pass in a light, repetitive blur. You and Zoro are sent on a few short shopping trips in the city, and you’re glad for something to do that involves movement. Shocking how quickly the body adapts once the weight it’d been holding on to is lifted.

You are still quiet, and he, the same; but the silence has shifted around you, and whereas before it’d been solid and steady, it’s now thrumming and charged with some unspoken energy.

Neither of you are blind to it; nor, it seems, is the rest of the crew.

Sanji’s taken to openly teasing Zoro about being with you all the time, complaining loudly that he can’t get a word in edgewise because Zoro refuses to leave you alone. Nami keeps on trying to drag you out for “girl's day” shopping trips, hinting at all the cute clothes you could get and how “green really suits your skin tone, y’know?”

Luffy and Usopp for their part, both just grin whenever they see you together — Luffy stoked at the fact that you seem more happy and talkative, Usopp gleeful at the way Zoro always seems so much softer when he’s next to you.

You’ve taken to watching him when he trains, sitting in the shade of the tangerine trees, a cold drink in your hand as Zoro runs through his katas. You content yourself with watching him flow through the movements, one and then another, and then another after that. He contents himself with your presence, knowing that you’re here, feeling your eyes as they skate down the length of his back or the width of his shoulders.

It’s a peaceful sort of companionship, even if it is living on borrowed time.

When you all wave the little island goodbye, it’s with heavy hearts and tearful smiles. It had treated you well, and you think you’d miss it. But adventure is as adventure does — it calls, beckoning to those with wandering hearts to listen.

The first week back at sea is a strange one, full of a ringing nostalgia. As if you’re simultaneously coming home and leaving one at the same time. Everyone is a bit quiet, except for Luffy, of course, who literally bounces off the freshly waxed planks, humming to himself as he sits on top of the great ram’s figurehead.

“Is he ever still?” you ask one day, sometime in the second week.

To which Zoro makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “You’ve been here a while. What’d you think?”

You sigh softly and tear your eyes away from the bright, shivering ball of energy that is your captain towards the far horizon. A sliver of uncertainty twines through you and your breath slows. Zoro glances at you, now long since attuned to your subtle shifts in movement and stillness. He narrows his eyes.

“What is it?”

You shake yourself back into the moment, forcing a smile.

“Nothing. I think…” your words fade as the feeling twists in you again, knife-sharp and stinging. You clear your throat and reach up to brush away a strand of hair. Skin grazes skin as Zoro’s hand meets yours in the same gesture and you both freeze — hands held up, his finger caught against the bend of your cheekbone, your fingers curling over his.

Time slows, slackens around the pair of you, and the moment stays, suspended in space — garnet dark and perfect.

Neither of you dare to breathe. It’s then that you realize how close Zoro is — close enough for you to see the entire ocean reflected in his eyes: big and dark and so endless it nearly unmoors you. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin; his body, emanating heat. You’d often wondered, in the long hours of watching him train, at the glistening copper of his skin and the light-kissed quality, if the sun himself favored Zoro as well.

Like this, it’s easy to believe that beneath his skin, there pulsed something like sunlight.

“Look! It’s an island! It’s an island!”

And just like that, the moment shatters. Time slips back into motion and you pull away from each other, breathless, with warm cheeks and thundering hearts, feeling somehow lightning-touched and static-ridden.

You take half a step back, reaching up to press a hand to your mouth as if to stop something from tumbling through. But what? You can’t really say.

Zoro tips back as well, whipping around to help Usopp and Sanji with the sails as Luffy continues to holler, waving his hat. On the horizon, you see it looming — the silhouette of an island. You lower your palm from your lips to your heart and wonder what kind of island it will be.

Deserted — seems to be the answer when you all make landfall. The island is quiet, but the occasional chirp and cricket staves off your nerves as you all wander cautiously about the beach, squinting into the dense forest that seems to encompass the whole of the island.

“Looks like a good place to camp for the night!” Luffy says, grinning as he plops down on the sand.

Sanji nods, dusting off his hands, “We’ll need some wood for a fire, but I reckon I can whip up some grilled fish from the fresh catch.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look around, glancing back at the darkening horizon.

“Something the matter?” Zoro’s voice is soft as he helps you carry some of the camping supplies from the ship.

“No… yes… I —” you look up at him, pursing your lips, “I don’t know. I’ve just… this island is…”

Zoro looks around, his dark eyes scanning the thick swath of forest just beyond the beach, “Too quiet?”

You let out a tiny laugh, “Yeah, something like that.”

He nods, “Don’t worry, I’m — we’re here.”

And he leaves it at that, hoisting a stack of wood over his shoulders and going to help Nami with the fire. You watch him with a smile, wondering what on earth you’d done to deserve this level of caring, this magnitude of kindness. Soon, dinner is had and drinks are shared and laughter is spilled like so many silver coins over the white sand beach. The lull of the evening takes over you all, and before long, Luffy and Usopp are slumped over each other, snoring loudly.

You stare into the depths of the fire and try to tamp down the growing dread festering inside your bones. All those years of holding still, of breathing and listening and feeling — you shake yourself — no, not all stillness is a bad thing. Not all silences are made the same.

“You’re doing it again,” Zoro’s voice almost makes you jump. Instead, you turn, finding him next to you as he nurses a half-drunk bottle of wine in his hands. He doesn’t look at you, but there’s a loose grin hinged across his lips.

“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head, feeling a now familiar heat creep into your cheeks that has nothing to do with the dwindling bonfire.

“Don’t be,” Zoro takes another drink, “But I told you… you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I know… and I’ve said before —”

“Fear’s a hard habit to break,” Zoro echoes back at you, finally glancing over and catching your eye.

You breathe out, looking down at your own hands, “Yeah… but I’m trying.”

You both fall silent, and for a while, the only sounds are the crackle of the dying flames, the shush of the ocean waves, and the occasional snores from the rest of your crew. It’s late — later than you realized.

“Do you… want me to grab a book for you?”

You smile, “No, I don’t think it’s bright enough.”

“I could restoke the fire.”

“No, it’s — it’s okay.”

“Alright.”

A bird coos the distance.

“Why don’t you tell me a story?” you ask, turning to look at Zoro proper, shifting till your body is facing him.

In the faint light, you can see the edge of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“You’re asking the wrong guy — you should wait till the Great Captain Usopp’s awake.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear one from you.”

Zoro sighs, his eyes fixed on the last of the flickering flames. He takes another swig of wine before he starts to speak, his voice low and a bit stilted, but he pushes on. He tells you about his childhood, the village he’d trained in, the doujou in the middle of the wood, his friend who he’d never beat — not even once.

He tells you about he early mornings and the late nights, and how the world had seemed large enough to conquer.

“… And then… there came a morning when she didn’t show up… and sensei came and told me that there’d been an accident.”

His voice almost breaks then, and your eyes catch on the shining white hilt of the Wadou Ichimonji — his thumb pressing against the guard, running along it’s hard metal edge.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Zoro shrugs, “Don’t be.”

You nod, “Still.”

Zoro slates you a lopsided smirk, “So. Now you know my tragic backstory too.”

You laugh, leaning back to cast your eyes up towards the sky, “And you know mine — it’s almost like we’re friends or something.”

Zoro lets out a long breath, “Yeah… or something.”

There’s a tightness to his voice that makes your skin tingle and it takes everything you have not to look over at him, to try and see if he’s looking at you, watching you the way you’d imagined him to be. You fancy you can feel his gaze on your face, but you close your eyes instead.

You let yourself fall into the warm haze of sleep, and for a while you drift there, your mind sifting through shards of memories and slivers of sound, casting them against the backs of your eyelids as you slowly slide into the darkness of dreams.

You wake up to a gasping stillness — the silence pressing in on your eardrums like thumbs, the darkness around you so complete it’s almost a solid thing. You freeze, your breath hissing to a halt inside you. Then distantly, ever so distantly, you hear the sounds of battle — metal clashing against metal, the hard thud of boots against flesh. You shake your head and reach up to clap your hands over your ears and only then do your senses return to you, snapping back as if you’d been abruptly shunted back into your earthly body.

“Gum Gum — Pistol!”

“Seize her!”

You whip into movement, fast as a flash, dashing away, hoping against hope that it would draw your attackers far enough from your crewmates.

“No one… ever… leaves us…”

The voice is serpentine and susurrus, sinking into your skin like sharpened teeth, but before it can reach you, it’s cut short by a bright flash of silver.

You gasp, whirling around, reaching for the nearest pulse, instinct taking over as you sink your fingers into muscle and flesh. The rush of blood thrumming beneath your fingertips comes too easy, even as a familiar scent accosts you. A moment later, your hands are being pinned above you, and thick, rough bark is digging into your wrists as Zoro stands before you, a sword in one hand, the other holding you still.

His eyes are a little wild and a lot worried. There’s a ring of red rawness around his neck, thin trickles of blood trailing along his jugular, disappearing into the wide scoop neck of his shirt.

“Hey, look at me.”

You nearly whimper, struggling against him, fear still coursing through you like a drug but Zoro is strong enough to keep you held. Behind him, you can see the rest of the crew fending off several shadowy figures, Usopp waving a torch, screaming at the top of his lungs, Luffy whooping as he whacks another figure with his fist.

“Z-Zoro?”

“Yeah, it’s me — eyes up here.”

You swallow in a breath, and then another, and you feel the bright thrum of urgency leave you as your body slowly falls slack. And then you’re slipping, and he’s looping an arm around you to keep you upright.

“Th-they’re here — they —”

“They’re gone — we got rid of them — hey.”

Zoro takes you by the shoulders and gives you a gentle shake. Finally, your eyes catch on his and your gaze holds. You see yourself reflected in them, stark and terrified, but alive — somehow alive.

“They’re gone,” he says, his voice soft and low by your ear, his arm still wrapped around your middle. Shivers wrack your body as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of steel and skin and the metallic tang of blood. It’s then that you remember — the wounds on the sides of his neck. The marks in the shape of your hands —

You jerk back and feel a sticky wetness against your cheek.

“Zoro, I hurt you!”

At this, he scoffs, pulling back far enough to flash you a look.

“This is nothing. C’mon.”

He offers you a hand, and after a second you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Wordlessly, he presses his palm to the small of your back, his arm extended to keep you steady as you both make your way back towards camp.

“Phew! That was a workout!” Luffy is saying just as you both reach the outskirts of the now-darkened bonfire. Sanji is pulling out a cigarette, striking a match, and first lighting the end before tossing it into the remains of the firewood, fanning it up into a slow flame.

Nami and Usopp both look a bit shaken, but none worse for the wear.

They all pivot to look at you.

You go still against Zoro’s side, uncertainty flooding through you. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s fingers as they press into the bend of your waist, solid and steady.

Then, Usopp coughs, “C’mon y’all — the Shadows that Live? Psh! More like — the Shadows that Fled, am I right? Yeah? Didya see the way I sent ‘em runnin’ with my brand new fire-powered explosion rounds?”

Nami chuckles and Sanji follows suit, shaking his head and letting out a thin wisp of smoke. Luffy’s grins at you, pumping a fist in the air, clapping his right shoulder.

“See? Told you we’d have your back! We are your crew, after all!”

Weakness seeps into your limbs as you nod, hot pin-pricks of tears itching at your lower lashes. You lower your head and rub at your eyes before looking back up again with a smile. Sanji grimaces as he looks over Zoro.

“Got something on your neck, mate.”

Zoro glares but you glance over and feel your stomach twist with guilt.

“Sorry… I can clean that up for you. They’re not deep but they do need to be bandaged up.”

Zoro wipes down his sword before sheathing it and motioning towards the ship. Behind you, you can hear Nami yawning and saying something about catching up on some more sleep and Sanji reassuring her about having the last watch anyway.

The kitchen is still dark, but the dusty dawn sweeps against the far horizon and neither of you bother to turn the lights on. You carefully set the first aid kit on the kitchen counter and collect the supplies as Zoro leans back against the edge and folds his arms. You work in near silence, reaching up to first wipe the thin threads of drying blood before tending to the tiny, crescent-shaped puncture wounds.

You press an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against one of them and feel Zoro wince.

“Sorry.”

“I’m fine.”

You bite your lips, “If this had been a bit deeper or a few inches over —”

“But it wasn’t. So it’s fine.”

You don’t look up at him but you can feel his eyes on you. Your movements are fluid and sure; you’d clearly done this before.

“Hey, look at me.”

You freeze, eyes slowly gliding up the planes and divots of his neck, slipping up the line of his jaw, so sharp it might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. Your breath hitches as you finally meet his eyes, and there’s a dark, knowing glint behind them that makes your stomach flip.

“I’m fine.”

And for the second time in a handful of hours, you’re caught by the realization of your closeness — only a breath of space between you. There’s a crimp at the corner of his mouth that looks dangerously like a smile and then you’re tipping forward, a thumb reaching up to trace the line of his bottom lip once —

The movement acts like a trigger, and suddenly, he is leaning in and the breath of space disappears.

For all your life of stillness, you thought you’d learned to appreciate the depths and widths of movement. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this — for the push and pull of lips on lips, for the force and friction of skin against skin. For the gasp and hiss, for the breath and kiss.

For the feeling of his large palm as it settles along the swallow’s-nest bend of your neck, the way his thumb runs along your jaw like tracing the guard of his beloved sword, tilting your mouth towards him. For the way your heart might flutter like a tiny, caged bird, or the way you might feel his heart thumping like a fist from his chest to yours.

For the way his voice rolls over your name like a ship at sea; for the way it would shake your body from your bones and leave you more liquid than solid in his arms. For how you never used to think your story would be a love story, but then you realize that every story is a love story if caught in the right moment, in the right light.

And here, breaking apart from Zoro, with a thick, stolen streak of lemon-yellow sunlight leaking in from the kitchen window — that’s exactly what it feels like.

“Oh,” is all you have the strength to say.

Zoro, in all his solid brilliance and quiet audacity, laughs.

You taste the smile on your own lips before you realize you’re smiling. But when you try to bury your face in his neck, he winces slightly as you brush his still-fresh wounds.

“Crap, I forgot about these.”

Zoro chuckles as you hurry to press a few small bandages to the wounds.

“It’s okay. So did I.”

You finish dressing his wounds in silence, though this silence is markedly different from every other silence that had ever existed between you. There’s ease and tension, both, and when you’re finally finished, Zoro takes both your hands in his.

“So…” you say, unsure suddenly of where to look.

Zoro’s laugh is just as soft, just as uncertain.

“So.”

You try to look out the window, but by now, the dawning sun is so bright that it temporarily blinds you and you jerk back. Zoro smiles, reaching up to run his thumbs along your closed eyelids before dropping them to hook around your wrists again.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” he asks, quiet as always.

You purse your lips and let your lashes flutter open. You find him watching you. Heat crests up your shoulders and into your cheeks, and suddenly, the exhaustion of the night before saps at your limbs. You sigh.

“Right now? Not really.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, sounding as relieved as you feel.

You bite your lips and cast your gaze shyly across his face, your bird-wing heartbeat still flapping in your chest. You fight the urge to go still, to reach for that shield that has always protected you before. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s thumbs tracing circles along the insides of your wrists.

“Can I ask for something else, though?”

“What is it?”

You reach up a finger, nudging one of his golden earrings. You don’t miss the way he shivers, or the way his breath quickens in his chest.

“Kiss me again.”

Zoro grins, tugging you towards him, leaning into the curve of your palm as he does.

And does.

And does again.

reqs are: temporarily closed

but feedback is much loved and appreciated!!!

4K notes · View notes

skywalkoverme · 2 months ago

Text

"𝐂𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧" 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 1

Series Masterlist

𐙚 Anakin Skywalker x Fem! Reader 𐙚 18+ MDNI

Summary: A republic ship crashes on your planet.

Warnings/contains: dom! male, dom! fem, Enemies to lovers, anakin does not like you, more to come as the series goes on etc, not proof read-- english is not my first language!

Word Count: 1.6k // More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

You lay on the shore, your body stretched between the waves and the wet sand; Beach curls filled with grains of the shore and flower petals from the tropical trees behind you; The warm breeze blew sand over your damp skin. The light from the center star embraced your skin then was swiftly hidden by what you figured to be a cloud.

Your eyes shut, your fingernails packed with wet sand, you ignored the sound of the waves crashing more fiercely than before; the tide changed when it so pleased.

The sound of an explosion, almost deafening, shattered the once serene environment. You quickly rose to your feet, holding your palms over your ears. “A- AH!” Piercing whines filled your eardrums as you tried to focus on the colossal ship that now rests on the shore.

The men in white filed out of the ship, guns held to their torsos. When the whining of the tinnitus in your ears finally stopped, you stepped back from the shore. Two men who dressed differently stood up top the wrecked ship; exposed pipes, torn metal and the occasional fire scattered across the ship. Crystals and sharp ice from the atmosphere were wedged in the sides of the ship. “Excuse me!” You yelled and slipped on your robes. “Excuse me!” Your screams eventually caught the attention of the younger man, however your rage flared, drawing the eyes of the older one. “Hello?”

The younger man jumped off a post and onto the sand, soon after, he was joined by his master. “I do apologize for this mess.” The older man said softly in an attempt to calm you. You watched as clones went past you and began to set up camp on the shore. “Are you hurt in any way?” The young man squinted at you.

“No, I am fine. W- What is going on?”

“We are Jedi.” He motioned between him and the man beside him. “Those are our troops. Your planet is currently occupied by Separatists, whether they have made themselves known or not. In order to maintain peace, we must interfere.”

You looked over their shoulders as you tied a white and purple robe on your body. “I’m supposed to entrust my planet to men who can’t fly a ship.” The young man looked you up and down, your skin a flesh tone of blue.

“Miss, unfortunately, that isn’t your decision to make.”

“I would say it is.”

“And who might you be?” The younger man spoke up, his arms folded.

You looked him over and reached for your comms. “I need a squadron down by Keele beach, south shore.” You walked away from the two confused men and to your beach bag. “And on my day off.” You groaned as a ship approached from the coast and another from above.

“Are you one of the royals? If so, we need to speak with you! I am General Obi-wan Kenobi! This is my padawan Anakin Skywalker!” The man ran after you as you approached the aircraft. “There seems to be a misunderstanding.”

“There is no misunderstanding on our end, Jedi. Take them into custody send someone here to watch their troops. No weapons.” You opened both palms out to them.

The younger man turned to his Master, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” He protectively held the hilt of his lightsaber and stared at your eyes. “I. Refuse.” He said bitterly, the cut over his eyes pressed further together. Although his tone offended you, the man caught your interest. A quiet intensity boiled within him and so plainly spilled over into his words.

“Anakin.” His master passed over their lightsabers. Anakin quickly tried to reach for his, but you closed your hands and walked onto the aircraft. Your soldiers stripped the clones of their weapons. “We are here to maintain peace, don’t argue with her. Whoever she is.” Obi-wan whispered to his padawan as they went on board with you.

“Take us to the palace.” You said to the pilot as you stood across from the men; Anakin’s eyes switched from his weapon in your netted bag to your eyes.

“Would you be so kind as to tell us your name?” Obi-wan asked as you clipped your holster belt on your hips.

“Head of Defense; [Y/N] [L/N].”

“[L/N]?” Obi-wan bowed; his padawan hesitated before following suit. “You’re the new Queen...” Obi-wan noted, his eyes on the large aquamarine ring on your left hand. The jewel decorated your body, a large pendant around your neck; it filled your bracelets and even the piercing on your cheek.

“You did your research.”

“Why aren’t there any photos or visuals of you in our database?” Anakin interrogated.

“Should I pose for you now?” You squinted at him, a smile on your lips. Your hand rests on your gun when Anakin turned from the conversation. “Hands need to be visible, Anakin.”

“It’s General Skywalker, and they are.” He retorted.

“This is your apprentice…uh, Padawan?”

Obi-wan agreed rather embarrassed, “Yes.”

“Hm.” At the sound of your disapproving sigh, Anakin’s nostrils flared, his expression faltered into irritation.

The ship slowly approached the large palace, washed in a pale blue from the oxidation; the vines and trees around the palace was the same way, darker shades of blue as well as pale greens. When the ship landed, Anakin turned to his Master. “Don’t look at me like that. If we get into a sticky situation, It’s because of your attitude.” The man said, his accent grew thicker when he lectured.

“I’ve got a plan.”

“I’ve got a better one.” Obi-wan stopped his Padawan. “You do nothing, say nothing and—” He raised his finger when Anakin started to interrupt. “And! Don’t look at her! Since you don’t have people skills, stay quiet.” Anakin smiled toothlessly and raised his eyebrows. ‘Better?’ “Much better.”

“Are you both done?” You asked, your head tilted. Obi-wan straightened out his robes and followed you inside; Anakin kept close by.

As you walked through the halls, you were met by servants who dressed you in proper attire and took your gun from the holster and replaced it a silver sword inside its sheath. The two Jedi stood behind you as you took a breath. Finally, you pushed open the doors to the throne room. “Good morning.” You smiled at the young girl who sat beside the throne; your sister quickly ran into your arms. “How’d you sleep?” You asked, taking a seat on the throne.

The girl’s smile slowly faded upon seeing the men beyond you. They rose from their bow, “Jedi?”

“Yes. I need to speak to them because they broke the law.” The girl covered her mouth with a giggle, “Could you go with the help for a few minutes? I’ll come get you later.” The girl kissed your cheek and hopped down. Your sweet smile left your face when you turned to the Jedi. “…do you have documentation, clearance for this mission from your Chancellor?”

Obi-wan took a hologram token from his sleeve and brought it to you. “Clearance and evidence of separatist droids occupying your planet.” You went through the documents and nodded. “We do not know exactly where but with your guidance through these terrains, your resources…we could rid this planet of them.”

You glanced from one man to the other. “Continue.”

“We understand that your planet is loyal to the republic---"

“You and your Chancellor believe that we will betray you for the separatists.” You stood from your throne, circling the two, “You came here to spy initially. It wasn’t your intention to crash but you put your trust in a weak pilot.” You whispered by Anakin’s ear, “Or perhaps they didn’t know of the crystal fragments in our atmosphere...” His right eye twitched as you passed him. “You came here…to fight a war, Jedi.”

Anakin’s chest heaved at your audacity. You as well as his Master could feel his anger overflow, the energy rilled you up.

“There are more ships in the atmosphere, aren’t there?” You asked and stood in front of Obi-wan.

“There are.”

The refraction from your jewels created rainbows over your unreadable expression, blue-tinted skin. “Did I miss anything?”

“No.”

“Jedi.” You sighed, “You are no longer welcome here. We can fight our own wars. You went behind our backs as a people, as a unit, and brought chaos.” Obi-wan shook his head in defeat. Anakin’s eye twitched. ‘This isn’t true! The separatists brought the war to your planet, not us!’ He thought. “Our treaties and alliance with the Republic will be brought to our court to discuss.”

“Wait a minute!” Anakin scoffed, “Do you have any idea how many droids are on your planet? You think we brought a calvary for fun?”

“Anakin, stop.” His master sighed.

“They are slowly occupying your land. They are likely killing your people! What? Did you expect us to send you a full essay on why we should send in troops?!”

“I need not hear this.” You waved your hand to dismiss them.

“You, yourself weren’t even aware they are here! You didn’t know they entered your atmosphere.” He stepped to you, “You need us! There are tens of thousands of droids! They make hundreds by the hour!” His hand raised towards the open balconies overlooking the city. “Whether you like it or not, until your alliance with the republic is no longer valid, until your senator leaves Coruscant, we are not leaving Erden.”

“Who do you think you are?” You unsheathed your sword and held it to his neck. “You, your troops, and your master…need to leave immediately.”

“Make me.”

As his blue eyes stared down at you, you began to rethink what he had said. If what they are saying is true, you’ll need him--- unfortunately. You lowered your sword and looked at his Master. “Get your Beast under control. His pride will kill him.” You sheathed your sword.

Series Masterlist

265 notes · View notes

cdragons · 1 year ago

Text

"My Girl" - Robb Stark x Forest Fairy!Reader Drabble

A/N: This goes out to my girl, @dipperscavern! She needed a pick-me-up after the Tumblr app decided to be a bitch and delete her draft!!! But she still pressed on and wrote an incredible Robb Stark smut drabble! Pls go check it out!

"Please, Jon," Robb pleaded. "Just for today, and I'll make it up to you."

"Your mother will kill me if she finds out," Jon groaned. Normally, he'd be more than happy to cover for his brother, but what he was asking for was too much - even for him. "She hates me enough as it is."

"She doesn't hate you," Robb winced at the lie, but he was desperate. "Please, I have to see her."

"Why can't you see her tomorrow?" asked his half-brother. "The hunt is tomorrow anyway, you can just sneak away to see her then."

Robb shook his head. "You know how she feels about hunts. The moment the horn blows, she'll scatter far away, and I won't be able to see her for a week! A week - that's too long!"

Jon stared at his brother in complete disbelief at his dramatics. It was hard to believe that the first son of Ned Stark, Warden of the North, would be so far gone for a girl who lived so deep in the forest. A girl who lived a life completely shrouded herself in the mysterious beauty of the ancient woods.

A girl whose allure and grace were of a being so ethereal, she shouldn't exist.

Jon sighed. "Fine, I'll watch over Bran and Rickon by myself today - but if Father asks me, I'm telling him you skipped on your own!"

His brother whispered his shouts to avoid attracting attention from the rest of the keep, but Robb was already on his horse and raced out of the gates before he finished. He couldn't want to see you - his girl, his fairy, his mythic love.

Robb soon reached a part of the forest known to only very few in the North - his father included. The Starks were not only the Wardens of the North but the keeper of its ancient secrets.

Once he rode past the invisible barrier - accessible by those that carry the blood of House Stark - the wintery abode filled with white snow and blue ice melted away to a world of iridescent green trees and a kaleidoscope of colors eternally blooming. He finally saw the red leaves of the ancient weirwood tree whose twin linked your worlds together. Under the magnificent branches, he felt an explosion of love burst inside him at the sight of you.

You - his one and only love - sitting on the gnarled and overgrown roots of your tree. Your feet were bare as you only wore simple white linen dress that hugged your curves beautifully. He saw the flowers and small buds braided into your dark, wavy, umber-brown tresses.

"Fairy!"

Robb called out the nickname he had given you since he first met you in these woods as a child. He felt life flow inside him as he watched you turn around and saw the bright smile spread across your face. As soon as he was close enough, he slowed his steed to stop before jumping off and racing to the ancient tree where you and him would rendezvous in secret.

"Robb!" you called out. You waved in excitement before lightly jogging forward to meet him halfway.

Robb immediately took you in his arms and held you in a tight embrace. He pressed his nose into your locks and breathed in the lavender and wild grass notes. He felt time slow down until it seemed like the whole world stopped. Robb knew such a thing was impossible, but he thought many things were impossible before meeting you.

You slightly nudged him away until his face slightly hovered above yours. On your tiptoes, until they dug into the soft dirt beneath you, you firmly pressed your lips to his and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your mortal lover gladly reciprocated and tightened his arms around your waist until your chests were firmly pressed against each other.

When you finally parted for air, Robb lovingly stared at how beautifully flushed your cheeks became. He watched in a lust-ridden gaze at how your fingers swiftly undid the ties in front of your dress. He felt his breath stop as the garment pooled at your feet. Your body was completely bare and unclothed, and your skin was unmarred and looked silky-soft. You took his hand and held it at your breast - he could feel how fast and hard your heart was beating.

He wondered if you even knew how much of his breath you took away.

"I want to feel you, my love," you whispered. "Just us, under our tree, where only the witnesses of our love are our gods."

Robb choked back a groan. If he felt his cock growing hard at the sight of your skin, your words made his cock weep for your wet walls.

Gods, he loved you so much - how could he refuse?

Hurriedly, he took off his cloak and laid it down on the ground before removing his clothes with your help; Robb was just as bare and naked as you were. You gasped at the sight of him.

How could one man be so beautiful? How did such beauty become possible? How blessed were you to receive his love?

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, and your lips parted to grant his access to fully devour you. When it felt like you would collapse from the lack of air, his lips trailed down your neck. You heard him murmur against your skin.

"I love you."

He repeated it over and over again, and your breathing became heavier as he continued to trail down. On the tops of your breasts, he deeply breathed the addictive perfume of your skin and began to lay kisses within the valley. His gentle hands roamed and caressed your skin with so much tenderness as his fingers reached that soaked spot between your plush thighs. He slowly slid his fingers inside you, and he growled at how much your slick arousal coated his calloused fingers.

You, on the other hand, felt completely lost in the sea of pleasure Robb was drowning you in. He was gentle. He always was with you, but today...it felt like he was the one who would completely fall apart without you.

Despite you were in full knowledge that it was truly the opposite.

Because for all of his Northern roughness, he was a man who loved with all his heart. He was utterly loyal to those he loved and cherished—a sentiment he shared especially with you, and you could not have been more grateful.

"I want to be here with you," he softly mumbled. "I could never want for anything else if I lived the rest of my life here, with you and our children. You, my pretty fairy, as the mother of my children, and me, your loyal wolf, forever protecting you."

He felt your core clench at his words as hot pleasure shot up your spine. It was a dream the two of you often shared - a life without obligations or duty, no fussy mothers or pushy fathers to stand in your way, and no empty and bleak futures looming over you. A life where it was just the two of you, riding through your forest with your horses, the woods filled with the laughter of your children. And when the day ended, the night would be filled with endless pleasure as your thoughts would only be full of him and his full of you.

You tenderly stroked the curls from his face as you felt the dam holding your pleasure slowly breaking.

Your chest was heaving. "It will, my sweet wolf," you promised. "Ours is a love no one can take away—the gods have shown it to me. After all, our gods are the ones who brought us together in the first place."

It was not long until you completely fell apart and gushed over his fingers. Your back arched as you coated your inner thighs and his fingers with your slick. Robb huskily chuckled as he pressed kisses down your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. Your fingers intertwine with his lovely, auburn curls in an attempt to anchor yourself to this material plane.

"Lie down," he softly ordered. "I won't take you against the harsh bark of a tree."

"Oh, but on your cloak in the dirt is an acceptable alternative?" you teased despite lowering against the soft, dark furs of your lover's fine cloak.

He smirks at your mirth as he crawls toward you. His perfect form hovering over you as if you were prey and he was about to devour you whole.

"Of course," he confirmed. "After all, I plan to take you on it until the only word you know how to say is my name, and the furs soak up all of your cum until it's all I can smell on it until the end of time."

Biting your bottom lip in anticipation, you could hardly wait for him to make good on his promise.

Robb aligns his cock at your entrance, its head red and its tip leaking with precum, as he slowly pushes inside you as wraps his hand in yours. He was only halfway inside you before he fully pushed himself in and completely bottomed out.

You cried as white, hot pleasure shot up your spine and flooded every nerve in your body. You felt so full and could hardly wrap your head around the fact that you and Robb's bodies were joined together as one.

"Fuckin'- fuck," he gasps out. "How is it you're so tight every time I take you?"

"Because I'm yours, Robb," you answered breathlessly. "My body was made for you as yours was made for me. Such pleasures could only exist between us - us and no one else."

Feeling the pool of pleasure in his stomach overflowing at your words, Robb begins to slowly thrust - in and out - until he reaches a steady rhythm that makes you senselessly babble as you feel your body becoming dull to everything but Robb. You felt every slow drag of his hips, every lingering trail of his touch, every hot breath on your skin, and you wondered how one man could make you feel so good.

He hits that spot inside you—the one that makes you see stars that only he could reach. Your eyes roll back, and you beg him to kiss you. A wish he complies without question—because what is his purpose if not to grant your every wish in his power?

It isn't long until he feels your walls clenching around his cock, and he can feel his control quickly slipping.

"Fairy, my fairy," he pleads against your lips. "'m close, 'm cumming."

"In-inside, my love," you beg. "I want you to spill your seed inside me. Let it take root in my womb, and our child grow."

Your grip on his hand tightens as your love's thrusts become quicker and sloppy, and he hits that spot inside you even more harshly and roughly. You scream as your walls clamp down on his member as your arousal spills out and coats his cock. He quickly follows after you, pushing himself as deep as he can to fill your womb with his seed as a groan resonates deep within his chest.

Despite the exhaustion flooding his muscles, Robb does not collapse atop you or pull out. Instead, he presses a soft kiss on your sweaty temple and lies by your side. He holds you close and breathily chuckles at how close to sleep you look in his arms. He places a small peck on your nose and smiles at how it scrunches so adorably.

"Rest now, my love. I'll be here when you wake."

You let out a loud yawn. "Good...believe it or not, this isn't what I had planned for us."

"Oh? And what were we supposed to do before you...distracted me?"

Robb raises his brow before smirking at the memory of how you initiated seducing him. You swatted his arm.

"My mare successfully gave birth to a foal. He's so beautiful - a red and white coat. I already love him."

"Have you named him?"

"Yes, Kodak."

Robb wanted to ask why you decided to name him that of all things, but you were burrowed in his chest - already in a deep sleep. With a content smile, he followed suit and met you in a dream. A beautiful dream where it was just you, him, your children, and 'Kodak.' All of you laughing and smiling in your beloved woods.

Underneath the weirwood tree, you and he met all those years ago - when you were still a sprite, and he was still a boy. Underneath the weirwood where Robb saw you for the first time, and he swore to the Old Gods and New that he would love only you for the rest of his life.

A promise he swore then, a promise he still keeps, and a promise that remains true until his last breath.

@dipperscavern, if you've died from an overload of fluff and love delulu fantasies...then I've done my job

#robb stark x reader #robb stark smut #robb stark imagine #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones #robb stark #forest fairy #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf

1K notes · View notes

missbiting · 21 days ago

Text

࣪ ⠀太⠀𝖘ummary⠀ 💬🌸⠀⠀ ׅ Tengen swore he wouldn’t cross the line. Swore you were nothing but a girl. Swore he’d keep his hands off you. But deep down he knew he was lying from the start. He knew he was going to ruin everything just to taste you.

❤︎⠀ 𝖙ags 𓈒⠀ ⠀꣹ ⠀ Tengen Uzui x f! reader, smut with plot but the plot is feral, infidelity, cheating and not even a little sorry, obsessed tengen, kind of stalker behavior, mentions of violence, blood, reader gets verbally harassed in one scene, kind of tsundere tengen, praise kink, size kink, breeding kink, first time for reader but it's never mentioned, fingering f recieving, p in v unprotected, a lot of dirty talk, he pleads a lot, pet names, soft dom energy for a bit, belly bulge, big dick TM tengen.

ノ ⬞ ׄ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ㅤ♰ second fic yeppeee!! guys hold on tight this one is like 8k words long ㅜㅜㅜㅜㅜ i hope you enjoy it, pls let me know if you have requests !! i write for multiple fandoms. if i missed any tags please let me know !!! not betad yet so expect some changes.

You were humming when he firat saw you.

A song so faint it felt like something long forgotten, or remembered by accident. The kind of tune a child might hum while plucking apples at dawn.

Tengen Uzui had just returned to the Butterfly Mansion after nearly a month away. A simple wound, really, nothing worth a fuss, but Shinobu had insisted, and well, even a Sound Hashira couldn’t argue with poison in the bloodstream.

He was walking the corridor past the tailoring room when he heard you. A voice like honey stirred into warm tea. Not loud, not flashy. Not like him at all.

Through the open sliding door, he glimpsed at you for the first time.

A new tailor, clearly, your face unfamiliar, your hair tucked back in a silken scarf. You were sitting cross-legged in the center of the room, a swatch of pale haori spread across your lap, hands busy with neat, delicate mending.

He might’ve kept walking.

But you tilted your head just slightly, lips still humming, and the light caught on your lashes. You smiled to yourself, perhaps at the evenness of your stitches, perhaps at nothing in particular.

Something about that smile made him still in his step.

There was nothing remarkable about the scene, not really. No dramatic lighting, no gust of wind, no gods-sent sign, all though he could see the blossoming sakura trees out the window, their petals raining down. And yet something in him stirred. Unfamiliar. Soft. Like silk sliding off a blade.

He stood there too long. Way too long.

You didn’t look up. You didn’t see him. That alone was strange. Uzui Tengen was not used to being overlooked. He's a God. He didn’t say a word. Tengen took one step back, then another. Left as silently as he’d come. But even after he walked away, he couldn't stop thinking about you.

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

A few days passed before he saw you again. A clean tear across the lower hem of his uniform gave him the excuse. It wasn’t bad, Hinatsuru could’ve fixed it in ten minutes, but he wrapped it carefully and left the house with a lie half-formed in his mouth.

The walk to the Butterfly Mansion was unusually quiet. But his heartbeat wasn’t. It wasn’t about the uniform. Not really.

He told himself he’d forgotten about you. That whatever spell you’d cast when he first saw you stitching in that room, with the falling flowers in the background, has long faded since.

But the truth was what he wasn’t willing to admit, yet. His steps slowed as he neared the sewing room. He didn’t even knock at first, he just stood there in the doorway, arms folded across his broad chest, watching. Maybe shying away.

You didn’t notice him until he cleared his throat.

Huh. Tengen Uzui isn't shy. He's a God.

You were there again. Bent gently over a pile of cloth, humming something faint and wordless, lips pursed in concentration. A tiny crease between your brows.

Your name. That one, tiny thingㅡ it kept him up all night.

You startled, not a jump, but a soft, pretty flinch, and when you looked up, your eyes went wide. “Uzui-sama!” you gasped, already pushing back from the table, skirts brushing the floor. “Forgive me— I didn’t hear you come in—”

You bowed once. Then again. Hands flitting like butterflies, fingers wringing. “I’m sorry for the mess, I was just— just finishing up a seam— I didn’t know you were—”

He lifted one hand, stopping you mid-apology. “You don’t have to do all that,” he said. “I’m not your daimyo.”

His voice was easy, bored even. But he didn’t stop watching. Didn’t stop the way his gaze dragged down, slow as syrup, over your bowed form. You stayed kneeling beside the low table, heart skipping in your chest like a startled fawn.

And he didn’t look away. Didn’t ask you to rise. He enjoyed seeing you like that. He laid the folded uniform on the table between you. “Tore the hem,” he said. “Figured I’d bring it in before it got worse.”

You nodded quickly, already reaching for the bundle, fingers brushing over the fabric with reverence. “It’s not too bad,” you murmured. “I can have this mended by tomorrow afternoon.”

“That fast?”

“I try to be efficient, Uzui-sama!”

You were trying very hard not to look at him. But he was there, tall, golden, too much. You felt it in the heat rising in your cheeks, and the flutter in your belly. The way he stood without moving, like a statue carved from amber and sun. The rumors were correct. He did look unreal.

You worked quietly, inspecting the seam, smoothing it out. He didn’t speak again. Just watched. Like he had all the time in the world, even though he said he'll get back home that same day.

“I should introduce myself,” you said, sitting back on your heels. “I’m the new tailor here.” Then you gave your name, and you were a little breathless.

And then he said it back. Low. Heavy. Like an echo dropped down a well. Your whole chest burned. He nodded once, sharp chin tilting. “Alright then.” You looked down, hands curling in your lap. You weren’t sure what else to say.

He turned toward the door, then paused. “I’ll pick it up tomorrow,” he said. You nodded quickly. “Yes, Uzui-sama.”

He left without looking back. But that night, he didn’t sleep again. Not because of battle wounds, or old ghosts, or even his wives’ soft voices curled around him in the dark.

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

You’re alone. For a little while. Until you aren’t.

Another morning for you of the same old. You carry a bundle of folded kosode to the little stall in the village square, where some of the younger slayers exchange worn pieces for repairs. The sun is soft through the mist, the wind just gentle enough to lift the hems of your sleeves. You think the rain will fall soon.

He leans in, low enough to make you flinch, and you can smell the alcohol in his breath. “I could tear something right now. Want to fix that for me, sweetheart?” A sharp spike of fear floods your chest.

A man steps into your path. Civilian, tall, with too many teeth in his smile and a type of stare that makes your stomach pull tight. “Well now,” he says, eyes dragging down your chest. “They’re lettin’ girls like you dress the Corps these days?”

You blink. Stiffening. “I’m— excuse me—” You try to push past him.

“Aw, don’t be like that.” He steps closer. His breath is sour. “Bet you take special requests, huh?” Your hands grip the cloth tighter. “Please move.” But he doesn’t.

You look around and see a woman across the road. Two shopkeepers. An older man leaning on a cane.

“Just words,” you say. “It’s over now. A few people stepped in.” He steps back, just once and nods stiffly.

Someone shouts. “Hey!” You manage to slip by him.

The man’s eyes flash. “Tch. Fuckin’ bitch.” And then he’s gone after being shoved back by a younger slayer who must’ve seen the whole thing.

You’re left shaking. Breath caught in your throat. The bundle of cloths limp in your arms. Someone takes you aside. Someone offers tea. Someone asks if you’re alright. You nod, because it’s easier than explaining the ache in your lungs. You nod, because you are alright.

Mostly. Nothing happened. Nothing really happened.

You don’t go back to the mansion for a while. But when you do, that night, under the wash of stars, you find Uzui Tengen waiting in the hallway.

He looks like he’s just returned from a mission. There’s a cut on his cheek and shadow in his eyes. “Tailor girl,” he says quietly. “Come here.” You stop mid-step. “Uzui-sama?”

“I said, come here.”

You move to him slowly. Nervously. And when you reach him, he lifts his hand to touch your arm. Gently. “You alright?” You flinch but smile up at him.

“I—I’m fine.”

“Something happen today?” You hesitate. He notices. His hand tightens. “Someone hurt you?”

“No. I’m fine, truly. It was just—someone said some things. It wasn’t a big deal.” His face darkens.

“What kind of things?”

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

His face is wet with blood and sweat. His eyes roam over you. Careful. Hungry. So hungry. He just watches. Drinking in the peace he doesn’t deserve.

You don’t need to know.

The moon is high. Pale and watchful. And Tengen is already halfway into the village. His long hair swings with each step. His jaw is locked. Every footfall thuds heavier than the last.

He doesn’t run. He hunts.

“Just words,” you said. But your eyes said something else. Your hands trembled. Your mouth pressed tight. You didn’t want to worry him. Didn’t know that you already do.

The bastard’s name took five minutes to get. Someone saw. Someone whispered, then someone told him where that piece of shit likes to loiter, behind the sake house, under the back stairs.

That’s where he finds him. Leaning on the wall, half-drunk, shirt open, muttering to himself. Tengen doesn’t speak. He doesn’t give a warning. He grabs the man by the collar and slams him against the wooden wall so hard it cracks.

“What the fuck—”

Another slam. Wood splinters fly up around him.

“Please,” the man chokes, “I didn’t do nothing—”

“You looked at her.” His voice is low. Deadly. “You touched her.”

“I didn’t! I just said—”

A punch. Hard enough to knock some teeth loose. The man howls, blood spraying across the dirt. Tengen doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop.

His fist meets jaw. Meets ribs. Meets gut. The man drops to the ground and he goes with him, grabbing the front of his yukata and dragging him up only to hit him again, again, again.

“You don’t speak to her.”

Crack.

“You don’t look at her.”

Crack.

“You don’t breathe near her.”

Blood stains his hands. The man sobs. Whimpers. Curls into himself like a dog. Tengen exhales hard and drops him. “Be grateful I didn’t kill you.” The man doesn’t answer. Can’t. His mouth is full of blood and broken teeth.

Tengen turns. His knuckles are raw. His breath burns in his chest. But all he can think about is your voice, your doe, teary eyes. The way you smiled like nothing had happened. He keeps walking until he's back at the Mansion.

The hallway is silent at this hour. The walls of the Butterfly Mansion seem to breathe, wood creaking gently, the wind sighing through paper doors. Tengen walks without sound, barefoot, still blood slicked.

Your room is near the end. It's small, tucked away and lavender-scented. He would know. He stands outside it for a long time. Long enough that a sane man would have walked away.

But he doesn’t. He slides the door open just enough to slip in, closing it behind him with a soft click. Moonlight pools across your futon, washing over your sleeping form. One hand curled near your cheek. Your chest rising and falling slowly. Hair loose across your pillow like spilled ink. He stands there, not moving.

But you don’t wake. He stays only a moment longer, then slips away, leaving nothing behind but the faint smell of iron.

At one point, you shift. A soft sound escapes your throat, and his whole body tenses, poised like a predator, afraid like a boy.

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

And when he sees you put it in your hair, he already knows he won't sleep a damn minute.

It’s Mitsuri who mentions it. She's babbling about cake, about confetti, about surprises, and then she says your name, laughing brightly.

"Did you know today’s her birthday? The little seamstress! Isn’t she cutest?"

Tengen stiffens. Doesn’t say anything. Mitsuri blinks. “Oh? Didn’t you two talk the other day?” He nods slowly. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do!" she says, pouting. “Better get her something before the day’s over!” He brushes it off. Shrugs. “I don’t do birthdays.”

But that night he’s standing in a shop in the merchant quarter, scowling at tiny boxes with trembling fingers. He picks a hair clip. It’s small. Elegant. Pearl-inlaid. Shaped like a chrysanthemum.

When he gives it to you the next day, he’s awkward. Which is not like him. So not like him.

"Don’t read into it," he says, handing you the tiny box without meeting your eyes. “Mitsuri said it was your birthday. That’s all.” Your fingers brush his when you take it and he twitches.

You open the box slowly, and when you see what’s inside, your eyes go wide. “Oh,” you breathe, like the wind’s been knocked out of you. “It’s beautiful!" You look up, glowing. “Thank you so much, Tengen-sama! I’ll treasure it.”

He crosses his arms, looking off to the side. “It’s just a clip.” But he’s biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning like a fool. His ears are red and his heart won’t stop hammering.

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

But that night, he dreams of your mouth around his aching cock, as he he pumps himself with one hand and with the other keeps the handkerchief smelling like you close to his nose. Who could've seen this coming?

Some more weeks pass. He's here more and more and his wives are asking him more and more questions. It hurts him to lie, really, but he feels so alive knowing he gets to see you everyday. Is it that wrong? He thought this would go away, thought fucking away his feelings might work, but it's pointless.

What is wrong with him?

He's awakened from his deep thoughts when his fingertips graze something soft. He finds a handkerchief. Tucked between folded linens in the supply room, smelling faintly of lavender and honey. A neat corner embroidered with tiny stitched flowers. Not your name, but he knows it’s yours. He recognizes your threads now the way a soldier recognizes his blade.

He touches it without thinking, brushes his thumb over the edge. There’s a smear of pink there.

Lip balm? Lipstick?

He brings it to his nose before he can stop himself. Something stirs low in his stomach. Shame. Hunger. Guilt.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice rough, snatching his hand back like he’s been burned. What the hell is he doing?

You're just a girl.

Just a soft-spoken girl with careful hands and beautiful eyes who bows way too much when she speaks and smiles so gently it makes his heart feel too big for his ribs.

A girl.

He balls the handkerchief in his fist and walks out without folding the linens back. He needs air. He needs distance. He needs to get you out of his head.

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

“…You’re out early,” he says, voice unreadable.

You were just walking back from the market, a little paper bag in your hands. You’d bought too many skewers of dango. You’re never good at saying no when the vendor smiles like that.

And then you see him. Tengen Uzui, leaning against a shaded post, wiping sweat from his neck. Shirt open. Eyes dark. He sees you and straightens himself.

You’re there, hunched beside a workbench this early, smoothing out a sleeve with steady, practiced hands.

You bow too fast. Nearly drop the bag. “Uzui-sama. Yes—I just— had a market run.”

His gaze flicks to the bag. “Is that dango?” You blink. “Oh! Yes, um. Too much, honestly. I—” He holds out his hand. “Then share.”

Your eyes widen, but you offer him a stick. He takes it and chews slowly. You watch, embarrassed, but he says nothing. “Do you like it?” you ask, shyly.

He swallows, and you swear something shifts in his expression. “It’s good. Too sweet, though.” You smile faintly. “I like really sweet things.” His eyes flicker to your mouth.

“So do I,” he says.

That night he dreams of you. Again.

Not the kind of dream he can laugh off in the morning, not a flickering day-image or idle thought curled into his pillow. This one touches every part of him. He wakes up hard and aching.

Your voice had called to him in the dark. Your hands had trembled against his jaw. Your lips had parted like they knew him. It felt real. Too real.

So he comes to you. Still dressed in the clothes he slept in, hair undone, the sky outside barely greyed. He doesn’t even knock, just slips in through the side door, past the empty corridor, breath loud in his chest.

“…But don’t you have wives?” you whisper.

When you look up, surprise flickers across your face. Then soft delight, and then concern. “Tengen-sama?”

“Please—” His voice cuts through the morning hush. “Don’t speak.” You blink.

“I need to tell you something,” he says, walking toward you like it’s the only direction that exists. “I’ve been holding it in for the past three months. I thought if I ignored it, it would go away, but it hasn’t. Not even once.”

You straighten, heart fluttering too close to your throat. “I think about you,” he says. “More than I should. More than is fair. I’ve dreamed of you. I’ve… I’ve wanted you. Not just your body, but your breath, your laughter, your eyes when you concentrate, the way you look at me when I speak. I’ve memorized your damn footsteps, and it’s hell, it’s driving me insane.”

You inhale too quickly.

This time, it’s full of breath, of heat, of all the months he’s held back. His hand tangles in your hair, the other cradling your jaw, pulling you in like you’re the last soft thing left in the world.

His face twists. “I do,” he says. “I do. And I love them. I swear it. But you— fuck.” His voice splinters. “You’re in my veins. You’re in everything. I try to shut it down but it only gets louder. And when I’m near you, it’s like I finally… breathe.”

You don’t know what to say. So you just smile. Small. Sad. A little flutter of a thing.

“I’m really flattered,” you murmur. “That someone as honorable and strong as you would… would feel something like that for someone as insignificant as me.”

“No.” His voice is low as he takes a step closer. “You’re not insignificant. Don’t ever say that. Please.” He lifts one hand and touches your face like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he presses too hard. His thumb ghosts over your cheekbone. And then he leans in so slow you could have stopped him. But you don’t.

His mouth brushes yours like a broken prayer but just as fast he pulls back. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, anguish flashing across his face. “I shouldn’t—”

“No,” you whisper. “It’s okay.”

He searches your face. “You’re sure?” You nod.

“You… can kiss me, Tengen-sama...” And he does.

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

“Have you been avoiding me?” he asks.

Ever since that kiss, he’s been different. You feel it in the way his shadow lingers outside your door. In the way his voice softens only for you. In the way he finds a reason to see you nearly every day.

A loose seam. A torn uniform. A spare button, missing. He’s never been this involved in fabric care.

You’re bent over your work when he appears, broad silhouette darkening the doorway. “Again?” you say with a small smile. “You must be the most destructively dressed man alive.”

Tengen doesn’t smile. Not really. Just steps inside. Closes the door. Your fingers falter on the spool. He watches you, slow, quiet.

You blink. “You’ve been here almost every day.” You joke, trying to break the tension, like you always do.

“I want to touch you,” he says. “I want to ruin you.”

“I think you should just move into my sewing room at this point.”

He huffs a dry laugh. You laugh too. But neither of you is really laughing. Silence curls between you. His eyes find you. And you see it in them. That something’s come undone in him today. “I dream about you,” he says. Your heart jumps. You blink, unsure if you heard right.

He walks forward. “You,” he repeats. “Every night. Every damn night. I can't sleep, eat, speak. I think about your hands. Your smile. The way you bite your lip when you try to fix something.” He stops in front of you. " That kiss ruined me even more." You look up, breath caught in your throat. He lowers his voice, hoarse and shaken. Your lips part, but no words come.

He needs more than a kiss.

Heat floods your cheeks and your throat closes up.

Your knees press together as your mouth goes dry.

“I think about it,” he continues, voice gravel. “About the way you'd sound. How you'd look beneath me. About the things I’d whisper in your ear while I made you cry with pleasure.”

You clutch the edge of the table, fingers trembling.

“And I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s wrong. I have wives. I’m not supposed to want anyone else, you said all that. But gods,” he exhales. “You make me forget myself.”

His hands cradle your face. “I’m going to make it perfect,” he promises. “I’ll make it so beautiful for you. You won’t forget it for the rest of your life.”

He leans down, eyes burning. “I want to get on my knees for you. I want to taste every inch of you. I want to make you fall apart with just my fingers, just my mouth—”

“Tengen-sama—” you whisper.

“Say my name,” he breathes. “Just my name.”

Your lips part. You whisper: “Tengen…” He groans, low and broken, and cups your cheek. He doesn’t kiss you. Just holds your face like it’s the most precious of metals.

“Wouldn’t you…” you whisper, voice barely there, “Wouldn’t you want our first night to be… more special?”

He blinks. Did you want him just as much?

You swallow. “Not just… rushed. But something meaningful.”

And for the first time, he looks stunned. Then he lets out a shaky, half-laughing breath. “Ohㅡ Oh my muse...” His forehead falls to yours, and you feel him smiling. “You’re right,” he murmurs. “You’re right. What was I thinking? I’m just a man. A weak, obsessed, broken man.”

“I do,” he says. “Because it’s you.”

You smile, shy and soft. “You don’t have to go that far…”

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶

He picks out a silk-lined robe in deep garnet. No armor. No weapons. Just him. His heart races.

Some days passed.

Tengen’s hands are meticulous as they arrange the room in a hidden villa tucked away in the mountains, far from curious eyes. One of his old performance hideouts. He dusted it, aired it, scrubbed it with his own hands. Changed the sheets three times before they were soft enough. Sprinkled crushed plum blossom into the bath. Polished every candleholder, lit them with trembling fingers. He’s sweating through his clothes.

The table by the window is set. Handmade sweets. Fruit sliced into roses. A single porcelain cup, because he knows you sip slow. There’s a bottle of plum wine, unopened, because he wants to watch your lips stain dark and sticky, just a little.

The bed is layered in silk with pale lavender and soft white, like you. The air smells like sakura and honey.

And in the center of it all, a gift. It’s not much. Just a comb. Gold-filigree, inlaid with amethyst, the color of twilight. He bought it a month ago and has carried it ever since; in pockets, tucked inside scrolls, clutched in his hand when he thought of you. It’s warm from his touch when he sets it down on the pillow.

When everything is finally perfect, he heads home to his three loving wives.

The silence in the Uzui estate is louder than any battle drum. Tengen steps through the door just past dusk, the scent of sandalwood still clinging faintly to his sleeves.

His wives are seated around the table, Suma with her brows knit in worry, Hinatsuru with her usual softness turned taut, Makio staring down at the food she hasn’t touched.

He notices it immediately. The tension coils in the air like smoke. “Welcome home,” Hinatsuru says, but it’s brittle. Makio doesn’t even look up. “Where’ve you been?”

Tengen removes his haori with a long, deliberate motion. “There was a mission.”

“There’s always a mission,” Makio mutters. Suma pipes up, her voice small. “It’s been happening a lot lately. You’re… always gone."

He smiles, the kind that once made them melt. Now, it feels thinner. Forced. “You think I don’t want to be here? With my radiant, perfect women?”

Makio’s gaze sharpens. “Don’t treat us like we’re stupid.”

Tengen doesn’t flinch. Instead, he moves across the room, kneeling before them. “I would never,” he says, voice deep and smooth as honey. “You three are my soul. My pride. You think I’d risk everything we’ve built, everything we’ve suffered for, on some meaningless indulgence?”

Suma blinks. “Then… why do you feel so far away?” He exhales heavily and leans forward, taking her hand, then Hinatsuru’s.

“You want the truth?” he murmurs. “I’ve been training harder. Pushing myself. I can’t afford to be weak when I’ve got three precious lives depending on me.”

“Why the secrecy then?” Makio asks, but her voice has softened. “Because I didn’t want to worry you.”

He lifts her chin, eyes glittering. “You know how I get when I take a mission personally. When someone gets under my skin. But it’s not about you. You’re my family. You’re the ones I fight for.”

Suma is crying. Hinatsuru pulls him close. Even Makio leans into him, breathing out slowly. And just like that, the tension loosens. He’s still the man they married. Isn't he?

They fall asleep soon after, curled into him, believing every word.

But as soon as night hits again Tengen doesn’t stay.

The air shifts the moment he enters his dressing room. He sheds his clothes like it’s armor after a long war. Washes his face, his hands. Scrubs the scent of his wives off his skin. Stares at his reflection with something close to guilt. Or maybe awe.

“You,” he whispers under his breath. “What have you done to me?” His hand hovers over his cologne, that's faintly spicy. You once told him you liked the way cloves smelled. He never forgot.

His voice is quiet. Like it costs him to say it.

In the drawer where he keeps his cufflinks, there’s a soft thing wrapped in tissue: a little embroidered corner of fabric. One of your handkerchiefs, fraying at the edge. He presses it to his lips.

Then, as a final detail, he tucks a single flower into his belt, fresh from the garden. Pale and pretty. You mentioned, once, how much you missed flowers from your hometown. Something dainty, something shy.

He looks in the mirror once more. Adjusts his collar. Touches his neck, still flushed. Then he whispers, half in awe, half in desperation. “Tonight.” And he walks out the door.

You got to the villa first, as he told you. When you walk in you can't believe your eyes at how beautiful everything looked. Couldn’t believe that he actually did all of this for you.

You wear something soft, something sheer, something that shimmers just enough when you move. Your hair is down. You smell of rose wine and early spring. You sit there with your hands folded in your lap, nervous, glowing, and you don’t even realize how utterly lethal you are.

The door slides open with a creak. You don’t turn. Tengen stands there for a moment. Silent. You know he’s watching you, the way your robe clings to your shoulders, how your hair spills loose down your back, the way you shift slightly, fingers wringing the fabric in your lap.

He breathes in sharply, like he’s been punched. Like your beauty physically strikes him in the chest. You rise slowly, head tilted, a shy smile touching your lips.

“Tengen-sama,” you murmur. His throat works. His hands clench. He doesn’t move closer. Not yet. He’s afraid that if he does, the hunger in him will swallow the whole room. The whole night. You. “Don’t speak,” he says, and it’s barely a whisper.

“Please don’t say a word yet. Let me look at you.” Your eyes widen. Your hands flutter nervously against your skirt.

He smiles. Shy. Unlike him.

“You look,” he says softly, “Unreal.” And your scent. Gods. You smell like blossoms and innocence and want.

You laugh, but your voice shakes. “You did all this?”

His hands twitch at his sides. “For you.” He takes one step forward.

“I’ve dreamed of this very moment. Of you.” His voice is thick, hoarse. “So many nights. I see you when I’m awake, too. Your smile in my mind when I touch my wives. Your voice when I lie to them. I think about your hands. Your skin. I think about what you sound like when you say my name.”

Your lips part. You tremble, slightly. You should feel guilty right about now, no?

He presses his forehead to the back of your shoulder. “Do you know,” he whispers, “how many times I’ve dreamed of this?” You swallow.

You still don’t turn. You feel him step closer. Hear the hush of his silken haori, the soft thud of his knees hitting the tatami behind you. And then his hands, warm and trembling, cradle your face from behind.

His hands slide down, slow, to your waist.

He moves, slowly, around you. And then he’s kneeling in front of you; proud, dazzling, yet undone.

“I’ve imagined this a thousand ways,” he breathes. “You in candlelight. You in shadows. You beneath me, above me. You begging, whispering my name like it’s the only word left in the world.”

Your lips part, but he shakes his head, gently. His thumb brushes your lower lip. “You don’t know what it’s been like,” he says, almost angry with longing. “To want something this badly. To see you every time I close my eyes. To crave you. Dream you. Need you.”

He leans in, mouth brushing over your shoulder, the curve of your collarbone, soft kisses that worship your burning skin. Your heart pounds so loud you’re sure he can hear it. “Tengen…” you whisper, voice barely a breath. “I—I don’t know what to do.”

“I thought I had control. I thought I could keep my hands to myself. I can’t.” His forehead presses to yours. “I want to ruin you so gently. So sweetly. I want you breathless and trembling beneath me. I want you weeping from pleasure and still asking for more.”

You shiver and he kisses your palm. "Tengen?" You shy away a bit and he looks at you like you've just slashed his heart. "Yes, my beautiful flower?"

"Pleaseㅡ just kiss me." You’re breathless.

He doesn't need to hear more. This time, it’s not soft. It’s hungry. Desperate. His hands cradle your face like a relic. His lips claim yours like a sinner at the altar. You melt into him. You gasp against his mouth, he moans into yours. "This feels unreal." he laughs like it hurts.

Your heart races, the air is thick with anticipation. You don’t answer him. You just let him decide. Let him take that final step into what he’s been yearning for since the moment he laid eyes on you. "Oh, to have you at my mercy..."

Your body responds before your mind can catch up, your hands find his chest, your fingers trembling, and the softness of your touch makes him shudder. His lips brush your neck, feather-soft. "May I undress you?"

Your breath catches. You nod all shy and he closes his eyes like that one gesture was a wish answered. His hands move with ceremony, slow and trembling with restraint. He unties the bow at your collar, brushes aside the fabric like it’s woven from morning mist. Each layer falls away under his careful touch, revealing more of you, inch by aching inch. His eyes never leave your face.

“You’re divine.” His voice breaks. He swallows hard. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. My beautiful flower. ”

You blush so fiercely it burns. You reach to cover yourself out of instinct, but he catches your wrists, firmly. “No,” he commads. “Let me see you. Please."

“Gods, l-look at you,” he stutters. “Sweet little thing, licking your own mess like a perfect pet.” You whimper around his fingers. He pulls them out slow, watches the spit and slick string between them and your lips, and then drags his thumb down your chin.

He smiles against your skin, and it’s soft. It's real. You're unreal. “Just be mine,” he says.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly he’s laying you down, careful like you’re porcelain, and you reach for him like you're afraid he'd let go. He looms above you, eyes wild. “Beg me.” And your breath halts. His large hands are on either side of your head, his body caging yours. “Beg me, my love,” he murmurs, like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, even though it is so dirty. “Let me hear how much you want me.”

And oh, you want him. Your face heats. You try to look away but he tilts your chin up, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Please,” you whisper, shaky. “Tengen— please touch m-me.”

A sound rips from him, low and helpless. His mouth crashes to yours again, like he’s starving. Like you’re the only meal he’s ever wanted. In a way, you are.

He breaks away just enough to look down at you. His hair’s come loose, falling around his face like threads of silk. His pupils are blown wide, his mouth damp. "Oh, my little flower,” he whispers and lowers himself slowly and kisses your exposed ribs, your stomach, the plush of your hip.

He growls something low in his throat, a sound more animal than man, his hands are everywhere, desperate. “Fuck— look at you,” he mutters, like he’s in pain. His lips trail fire across your nipples as he licks at them. “I’m not gonna be gentle, I can't. ” he warns, breathless. “Not tonight. I’ve waited too long.” His rough fingers pull at your undergarments and you jolt, embarrassed, overwhelmed and you try to turn your face away, but he catches your chin again.

“No,” he says softly. “Eyes on me. That’s it. Look at me while I touch you.” You do. You force yourself to, and he smiles. His hand slips off the fabric, and your whole body goes tense. “Shhh,” he whispers, eyes burning into yours. "There... Good girl."

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he says. “Every inch. Every sound you make. I want to hear it all. I want to teach your body how good it can feel. Can I do that for you, baby?” You nod, lips parted, dazed with heat. He leans in close again, mouth at your ear.

His fingers dip lower and you gasp. He watches your face, obsessed with every little reaction. “Fuck, you’re already so wet... All for me.” You gasp, arch under his touch, and he moans. “Tell me you’re mine,” he growls. “Tell meㅡ Come on.”

“I—I am yours” you whisper. “Tengen, please—"

He drags his mouth down again, hot and hungry, teeth grazing tender skin. His voice drops, guttural: “I wanna make you cry for me. Wanna make you scream.”

“Tengen—!”

“I want you ruined,” he pants, pressing kisses just above your exposed core, “so ruined you forget your own name and can only remember mine.” His hand replaces his mouth and you gasp, back arching. “That’s it,” he groans. “That’s it. Let me hear you. Louder.”

One of his thick digits poked at your dripping entrance before he finally pushes it inside, all whilst his mouth sucks at the shiny skin of your folds, your juices mixing up with his saliva, as soft wet sounds and your little whimpers fill the room. He pulls his mouth away to speak, finger still curled inside of you.

“Do you know what I’ve dreamed about?” he murmurs, voice low and raw. “The things I want to do to you, my flower…”

You whimper and he smiles, all dark.

“I’ve thought about tying you up,” he says, confessing. “Laying you out on silk sheets, blindfolded. Just your body, waiting for me. Dripping for me. I’d take my time. Tease you until you’re sobbing. Until you can’t even remember what it feels like not to need me.”

He makes a short pause to add another finger inside.

“Sometimes I think about keeping you,” he whispers. “Locked away. Pretty little pet in lace. No one else gets to see you. Just me. Just these sounds—” he curls his fingers again and your moan shatters the room. “Fuck, just like that.”

Your thighs start shake, yet he doesn’t let up.

“I’d ruin you every night,” he sighs. “Leave you shaking and marked. My name bruised into your skin. My mouth between your thighs until you can’t breathe, until you forget how to speak— except to beg.”

You gasp his name again, overwhelmed. He presses his forehead to your belly.

“I want to make you need me,” Another finger goes in and you see stars. “So badly it hurts. I want to own every sound you make. Every part of you. I want your first thought in the morning to be me. I want you crying into my pillow because you’re still sore but you still want more.”

He slows just for a second, just to feel the little pulse in your cunt. “I think about you walking around with my seed inside you,” he whispers. “My scent all over your body. Marked. Owned. Loved so good you never recover.”

Your nails dig into the sheets below you. “You’d take it for me, wouldn’t you?” he pants. “Whatever I give you. However I want. You’d let me use you, keep you, worship you, because you’re mine. You’re mine, right? Say it again. Please, say it."

“I’m yours,” you choke out. “Tengen—I’m yours—”

You come undone on his fingers, gasping, writhing, your pussy clenching, slick gushing around him in wet pulses he feels all the way up his arm. And he just watches, stunned and mesmerized, lips parted like he’s witnessing some divine miracle. You sound holy. You look holy. “Fuck,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “You’re so beautiful"

You’re still shaking when he pulls his fingers out, slow, glistening. Then his gaze drops to your mouth. “Open,” Tengen breathes. It takes you a bit to register, but you do, puffy lips parting soft and obedient, and he groans, the sound deep as he slides the soaked fingers past your lips.

“There,” he murmurs, watching your mouth take him in, knuckles-deep. “That’s it. Suck. Come on. Clean them off for me.” You close your lips around him and his head falls back.

“Fuck. That’s it. Just like that.”You swirl your tongue, shy at first, then bolder when you hear the way he loses it, grinding against you, cock hard and aching and leaking at the tip.

He unties the sash slowly and lets it slide off his shoulders, fabric whispering down muscle and skin like water. You barely have time to gasp before your eyes drop, and you finally see it.

His voice is velvet when he leans in again. “I should make you suck my cock next,” he whispers. “Make you beg for it. Let you choke on it while I hold your hair and tell you all the filthy things I’m gonna do to you.”

Then he kisses you. He tastes himself on your tongue, and it drives him mad. “You’re mine,” he pats roughly at your cheek. “You get that? I own every inch of you.”

He shifts back, slowly, kneeling above you, eyes raking over your flushed skin, your messy lips, your dazed expression. “You’re so good for me,” Then his hands go to his robes.

Oh..

Oh.

You don’t even mean to whimper. It just escapes you. A soft, panicked noise as your eyes widen and your whole body tenses.

He’s huge.

Thick and flushed and dripping, so hard, with veins standing out along the length, the head angry red and glistening. And it curves up heavy against his abs, obscene, like it was carved to wreck you.

You make a tiny sound in your throat and scramble back on the sheets, panic and arousal tangling in your gut. He just smirks.

“Oh,” he coos, voice low and smug. “Look at you. Don't be scared of it...” You shake your head, eyes still wide, heart hammering in your chest.

“You’ll take it,” he purrs. “You’ll be good for me. Let me stretch you nice and slow. Let me feel this tight little pussy open up around me inch by inch.”

“Thank you, thank you...” his forehead was pressing against yours, his whole body trembling. “Thank you, ahh— fuck, you don’t know what you’re giving me. Letting me have you like this—own you like this…”

Your breath hitches. Your thighs press together. “I’ll make it fit, dear. I’ll go slow. I’ll be so good to you.” He leans down, brushing his lips over your jaw, your neck, your racing pulse. He presses a kiss to your collarbone. “Come on, little flower,” he almost whines. "Lay down."

It's like your body listens to him before you even hear him. You obey his command, and lay down, and despite the fear, you feel yourself more slick than before, skin blushed and lips hurting from how much you nipped at them.

His hand runs down your side, warm and steady, until it curls under your knee, guiding your leg up to wrap around his waist. His other hand settles at your hip, holding you just so. He looks down at you like you’re made of glass, pupils wide, his cock heavy and flushed, nudging at your entrance.

“I’ll be gentle for now,” he murmurs. “You’re gonna take me so good, little flower. Just breathe for me.” You nod and then he starts to push in. It is painful, that in itself would be an understatement. It feels unreal how full you feel with just the tip in. Your body opens inch by inch, tight and trembling around the stretch. You clutch at the sheets, back arching, gasping his name as he groans low in his chest.

“Shhh, I got you,” he soothes, forehead pressed to yours. “Feels too big, doesn’t it? But you’re doing so good.” You whimper, clinging to him, and he doesn’t move, just stays there, buried only halfway, letting you adjust. He kisses your cheek, your jaw, your lips, hands caressing your sides, trying to soothe you, even as his cock throbs inside you.

"T-Tengen...Ohㅡ" your eyes well up with more tears as he pushes some more inside, and you swear you're being ripped apart. He waits for a bit, whispering sweet things, but then your legs curl tighter around his waist, pulling him down. And something in him snaps.

His breath stutters. He pulls back just slightly, and then slams back in. You cry out, body jerking beneath him, and he growls, low and filthy.

“Oh fuck— you want it like that? Huh?” His hand shoots under your thigh, yanking your legs up over one of his shoulder. You can’t even speak, your mouth is open, your voice caught somewhere between a sob and a moan. He braces one hand on the bed, the other gripping your thigh, holding you down as he starts to pound into you, deep and merciless, over and over.

“Listen to you,” he pants. “Crying for me already—shit, this pussy’s so tight— ah, so good, squeezing me like it was made for me.” You’re shaking, tears sliding from the corners of your eyes, tongue lulled out, your body overwhelmed and overstimulated, your brain blank.

“T-Tengen—! Oh, myㅡ I can't.." You whimper, ear ringing, you can faintly hear the wet sounds your cunt makes wrapped around him. Tengen growls, teeth bared. “You can take it. You’re gonna take every inch I give you.” Your vision blurs. You can barely breathe, barely think. You want to speak, but can't, you're drugged on him out of your mind, drunk on his voice and smell and the way he feels so deep inside of you.

“That’s it,” he whimpers. “Cry for me, little flower. Let it all out." He looks down, eyes catching the bulge he's made inside your lower belly as the loud plap plap plap sound fills the room.

Your body trembles beneath him, boneless and burning. The world narrows down to the weight of him above you, the way his breath stutters near your ear, the press of his hand between your ribs and waist as though he's holding you together and keeping you from unraveling entirely.

“You’re taking it so well,” he murmurs, almost reverent, yet wrecked.

His forehead presses to yours. Sweat beads at his temple, his mouth parted, whispering things you barely catch, mine mine mine. His rhythm deepens, drawn out, like he wants to memorize the shape of your soul through your skin. He doesn't slow. Doesn't soften.

Tears blur your vision, overwhelmed and stretched so full you think you'll burst. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s pulled you over the edge, making your orgasm; once, twice, three times? Your mind is syrup, your body trembling.

His mouth presses to your ear. “Tell me I can come inside,” he whispers, almost crying. “Tell me I can give it to you. All of it. I need you to let me—” he pleads.

"Hㅡah.. Yes, yes, yes please, Tengen." Your answer is barely a breath, but it breaks him. He sinks deeper, grounding you in place with the weight of his chest. He holds you folded beneath him, your knees nearly to your chest, your hips locked between his broad hands. “You feel that?” he rasps, watching the way your belly bulges each time he thrusts deeper. “Made for me. Soㅡah, perfect.” You try to answer, but all you can do is sob, your fingers scratching at his shoulders, your lips mouthing his name like a prayer.

He slows, just barely, “Want to fill you up and keep you like this. Want you round a-and glowing. Full of me. Mine.”

You gasp. Your eyes flutter open, glassy and wide like a doe, and he smiles like you’ve just gifted him heaven. “Yeah?” he smiles, dipping lower, kissing the tear-streaked corner of your mouth. “You’d let me? Let me breed you, keep you soft and heavy with my baby?”

Heavens help you. “T-Tengen…”

He shudders, his pace faltering a bit. “You’d look so fucking b-beautiful,” he moans, hips grinding into you now, deeper, deeper. “Swollen with my child. Dripping with me every night. I’d worship you, little flower. Kiss your belly. Talk to them inside you.” More, more, more. A breathless cry escapes your lips, your nails digging into his back, leaving red marks he's not sure how he's gonna hide. “Say yes,” he moans, nearly undone. “Say it again. Say I can give you all of me.”

“Yㅡes,” you sob, the word catching in your throat. “Please—please, Tengen—give me, ooh!” That’s all it takes.

He lets out the most broken, guttural sound you’ve ever heard from him, like he’s unraveling at the seams, like your words just carved him open from the inside out. His hips snap into you, brutal and deep, until your breath stops and you cry out again.

The consequences are the last thing on your mind at this moment.

You can feel it that moment he starts to lose control, the rhythm falling apart, the heat coiling tighter and tighter inside him. He adjusts his grip, arms locking around the backs of your thighs, folding you deeper into the mattress, and Gods...

He watches your belly again, mesmerized. Watches it swell with every desperate thrust. “Look at you,” he pants. “Already so full. Gonna make it stick, hahㅡ Gonna fill you up so deep they won’t even have a chance to slip out. You’ll feel me for days.”

His voice breaks. You’re crying again, shaking under him, and still you beg for more, your body clinging to him, greedy for everything he’s offering. It’s too much. It’s perfect. It’s him.

It hits him like a wave, violent, full-body. He cries out your name as he spills into you, hips twitching, the air between you two sticky and hot. You feel it flood you, thick and endless, and he doesn’t stop. Not even as you cry. Not even as you plead. He ruts into you, needing to mark you. You feel all warm inside.

“Take it, take it, take it— fuck, you’re perfect. Mine, you’re mine, only mine—”

Finally, finally, he slows.

And he doesn’t pull out. He stays buried deep, keeping it inside you, his big body draped over yours protectively. You’re both trembling. You feel the heat of his breath on your cheek. His lips graze your temple.

“I’ll take care of you now,” he whispers. “You’ll never have to lift a finger. I’ll cook, I’ll bathe you, I’ll kiss every inch of you when you’re sore. I’ll be so good to you, little flower. Just stay with me, yes? Just let meㅡ let me keep you.” Your lashes flutter, vision hazy. You're all sticky and wet. All you can do is nod. He kisses your cheek. Then your jaw. Then your lips.

#demon slayer #kny #tengen uzui #tengen uzui smut #tengen uzui x reader #tengen x reader #tengen #kny smut #demon slayer x you #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #fanfic

227 notes · View notes

hoonieyun · 28 days ago

Text

the apple ₊ ⊹

pairing: park sunghoon x reader genre: angst, romance, sorrow, lovers to exes warnings: religious themes, kissing, profanity, skin ship, cheating but its just a misunderstanding, mentions of death and suicide, yn and her mom get slutshamed by the church, talks of an arranged marriage, yn and sunghoon both have daddy issues, a lot of internalized trauma and mental issues, major character death, 18+, not proofread lol pls lmk if i need to add anything

synopsis: if life was anything like an apple, it'd be sweet, crisp, and bloomed on your tongue. being with sunghoon started off like that but after one incident, you find yourself teetering at the edge, a rotten apple staring back at you with a singular chunk bitten out of it.

wc: 10595

you’re sitting in a grassy field, leaning against a large tree, fingers grazing past the ink on the worn out pages of your bible. your eyes are attentive as they take in every word on the page, absorbing god’s graces and holding it close to yourself.

you were always taught to follow in our lord’s footsteps, that his guidance alone will lead you on the right path, and that you’ll find salvation.

but no matter how long you spent in the church, how long you spent reading the bible, and how long you spent on your knees praying at night– none of it ever stuck to you.

“yn!” your mother calls your name from the trunk, you hadn’t even realized the car stopped, indicating that you had arrived to where your mother has been driving the two of you for the last 13 hours. “honey, come help me, please. stop daydreaming.” she says with a grunt as she pulls out one of several suitcases from the trunk.

you blinked several times as a way to ground yourself, taking in your unfamiliar surroundings, the new neighborhood that had white picket fences, cars that were squeaky clean, and well kept lawns. it was something out of the movies; a picturesque neighborhood– the only thing was that usually in those movies when they show these perfect neighborhoods, there was almost always something wrong with the people that lived there. you pushed open the car door with a sigh as you walked to the trunk of your mom’s car to help unload your belongings into your new home.

the decision that came with moving to a whole new state was all your mother’s. she didn’t really consult you about her decision, just told you that you guys would be moving in one month and to start saying your goodbyes to everyone.

not that you knew that many people that would care about you were moving away.

except for your old neighbor, mrs. carol. she was the old lady that lived next door, 3 cats; all of them well fed and you can tell because they wobble when they walk, she had pretty bad eyesight so you often helped her with chores and things during the weekends. she’d always thank you with a freshly baked apple pie, a squeeze on your cheek, and then send you off– but not before she asks if you’ll be going to church that following sunday.

you nodded in response and left, but the both of you knew that you were lying.

the last time you saw mrs. carol was the wednesday before you moved. she had noticed your mom was giving away a lot of the things in your apartment and she thought it was just a simple spring cleaning but when she saw you with moving boxes she instantly knew you were moving away.

“you’re moving away, darling?” she asked, hunched over as she peeks through her front door; her three cats lingering around her ankles. you give her a half smile and nodded, mrs. carol doesn’t do anything but nod back. you thought you wouldn’t see her again but as you and your mom were putting the last of your things into her car, mrs. carol appeared at the top of the stairs at the front of the old and slightly rundown apartment building.

“yn, sweetie. come here.” she said softly. you quickly excused yourself from your mom and walked over to mrs. carol, telling her goodbye and thanking her for her company whenever you were lonely. “oh, dear. i should be thanking you, you’re such a blessing.” she says, pulling you into a hug. she was like your grandmother in many ways but also not like her at all because it was just you and your mom.

you didn’t have any other family besides each other so mrs. carol felt like family to you. she subtly places something in your hands before curling your fingers over it, “keep this with you at all times and you’ll never be alone. okay, dear?” she says and you nod, tightening your grip on the item surrounded by your fingers. you couldn’t quite tell what it was but you could feel the metal in your hands.

she gives you one last hug and sends you off. your mom was standing by the car waiting for you, a small smile on your face as you walked down the steps, “thank you for taking care of my daughter, mrs. carol. i promise to write to you for the holidays.” your mom says as you get into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind you.

you wave at mrs. carol through the window as the car begins to drive away, a bittersweet smile on her face as she watches your mom’s car get smaller and smaller in the distance. mrs. carol also didn’t have a lot of family. she was an orphan who was brought to the US and when her adoptive parents passed away, she didn’t have anyone else. the extended family of her adoptive parents didn’t claim her, she never married and had no kids, and she was also an only child.

mrs. carol saw herself in you and oh how she prayed you wouldn’t end up like her. she prayed for you to have a happy and fulfilling life and as sad as it was to see you leave, she continued to pray and hope that this new place would bring you joy unlike how your life was in the town you had grown up in.

you’re carrying the last box from your mom’s car when you see a boy on a motorcycle pull into the driveway next to yours. the roaring of the motorcycle catches your attention and you find your footsteps slowing down as you watch him park his bike and remove the helmet off of his face. his hair is windswept as the helmet reveals his face, a sharp nose paired with an even sharper jawline. his brows are thick and eyes filled with allure.

so much so, you find yourself accidentally tripping on a pebble, groaning and the sounds of pots and pans clanking together as you drop the box in your arms. your clumsiness catches your handsome neighbor’s attention and he’s running after you to help you up off the ground. “hey, you alright?” he asks, gently grabbing your arms to pull you up. you wince slightly as you get back on your feet, watching as his hands leave your skin and move to pick up the box you dropped.

“uhm– yeah. thanks, sorry about that.” you huffed, dusting off the dirt from your jeans.

“you guys just moving in?” he asks and you nod, telling him that you literally just got there and it’s not starting off as good as you would’ve liked. “oh– i can take that, thanks.” you muttered as you attempted to grab the box from his hands but he refused, walking over to your front door so you have no choice but to follow him so you could open the door for him.

he follows you around your new house and the two of you wander around a bit too long before one of you says anything else, “hey, i don’t wanna complain but this is kind of heavy.” he says and you start to panic because you couldn’t remember where the kitchen was in your new house. the two of you had walked through the foyer, living room, and dining room but you just couldn’t find the kitchen.

“shit, sorry! you can just set it down right there.” you say and he squats to put the box down. “sorry, i’m not entirely sure where the kitchen is.”

“honey! did you grab the last box, i think it’s the pots and pans– oh! who is this, hon?” your mom says, emerging from the back of the house. she walks up to the two of you and you aren’t completely sure how to answer her as you didn’t even know him.

“oh– hi, i’m sunghoon. i live next door, um i saw her fall and trip so i thought i’d come and help bring the box in. sorry if i’m intruding.” you finally learn of sunghoon’s name as he introduces himself to you and your mom. she thanks him for his help and spots the box of pots and pans she was looking for. she attempts to pick it up but because it’s so heavy she decides to just push it through the house with her foot.

she returns to wherever she was, somewhere in the back of the house where you assume where the kitchen is.

“thanks by the way, i’m yn and that was my mom.” you inform sunghoon as the two of you walk back to your front yard. “don’t mention it.” he mumbles and you’re both walking in an awkward silence for a moment until a deep voice calls from a few feet away.

“sunghoon! dinner is almost ready, your mother is waiting.” the man calls as he stands, hands on hips waiting by the front door of what you assume is sunghoon’s house. “i’ll see you around, yn. let me know if you need someone to show you around town.” sunghoon says with a small smile, before walking back to his house. he sends you one last glance as he walks inside and his dad lingers just a bit longer, menacingly watching you retreat into your home.

great, not even 24 hours in your new town and you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your handsome neighbor and now his dad seems to be suspicious of you.

“did your friend leave already?” your mom asks as you enter the kitchen, leaning on the counter and taking a look at your surroundings. the kitchen was practically the size of your old apartment, you were absolutely baffled at the stark difference of your old life in the city to this new one in some small town you didn’t even bother looking up before you moved.

“he’s not my friend, just some guy who saw me trip and eat shit on the pavement.” you muttered, fidgeting with the knifecase your mom had unpacked onto the kitchen counter. your stomach suddenly grumbles and your mom sends you an amused look, “hungry?” she asks with a chuckle as you pull your hoodie tightly around your body.

“a bit, are you cooking anything?”

“not tonight honey, i don’t think we’ll have everything unpacked for me to cook and i still need to find the market in town. why don’t you take my car to that pizza place we saw just a few blocks away? grab a box of pizza and maybe some wings if they have it?”

you nod at her instructions and do some finger guns, catching her keys as she unhooks them from her jeans and tosses them over to you. “drive safe! just let me know how much it costs when you get home.”

the air has gotten much colder since you were last outside just a few minutes ago. weird, you thought. it was spring, damn near summer, but this little town seemed to send chills like it was winter down your back. you throw on the hood of your jacket and jog to your mom’s car, sliding into the driver’s seat and buckling up before starting the engine when a knock on the passenger door window startles you, “shit!” you exclaimed as a hand flew to your chest in shock.

you look over to see sunghoon hunched over with a smile on his face as he waves at you from outside. “can i help you? you fucking scared me.”

sunghoon laughs at your remark before answering, what a nice laugh you thought to yourself, “heading somewhere? want company?” he asks and you narrow your eyes at him. was it a good idea to let a complete stranger into your car and drive around a town you hadn’t even been in yet for more than an hour or so, maybe not– but since you knew where he lived and he didn’t give you any reason to doubt him, you unlock the car and sunghoon smirks when he hears the car unlock, pulling the door open and plopping down in the seat next to yours.

“where to?”

“pizza, i’m starving.”

“perfect, i’ll show you where to go.” sunghoon says, smiling even wider when he hears the word pizza.

“holy shit, this pizza is really good.” you say after swallowing a bite. you notice sunghoon stiffening up after what you said, contemplating on whether you should ask him about it because you were worried of offending him. “did i say something wrong?”

sunghoon wipes his mouth with a napkin before responding, “no, you didn’t. i just have never heard anyone say holy shit before.” he responds, whispering profanities like he was a small child speaking in secret, afraid he’d get caught by his parents.

you tilted your head to the side at his words and soon realized that he must come from a religious family, one so religious that those types of profanities weren't something he had ever heard uttered– and considering that he looked like he was in his 20s, that was a really long time. you muttered a small apology and he shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine and he doesn’t really mind. sunghoon explains that he comes from a church family, his dad was the deacon and his grandfather had founded the local church in town.

sunghoon found himself telling you more about himself than he had anyone else in his life, maybe it was because you were a complete stranger or maybe it was the fact that sunghoon felt instantly connected to you, he’s not entirely sure.

“wait, so you sound like you come from a picture perfect family but why am i getting the feeling that’s not entirely the case?” you asked.

sunghoon laughs and nods at your question, “there’s honestly nothing wrong– well, aside from the fact that my father wants to control everything in my life including who i marry; nothing really wrong.” he jokes and now it was your turn to laugh.

“and the motorcycle?”

“ah, that was just to piss off my dad because he was pissing me off.” the two of you laughed as sunghoon recalled the story. his dad originally gave him his credit card to buy his first car and usually his dad would’ve been there but he was preoccupied with the church so he trusted sunghoon to go alone.

bad idea.

sunghoon was already mad at his dad about an argument before that but because his dad kept nagging him about the type of car to buy, what color, what model, making sure that the license plate didn’t have any sort of resemblance to anything blasphemous– sunghoon decided he’d buy a motorcycle instead.

and because the bike shop doesn’t do returns– he got to keep it.

that was just a lie he and the shop owner came up with to ensure that sunghoon got to keep it.

“i should probably get going, i need to bring this box to my mom for dinner.” you say, wiping your hands with the napkin before scooting out of the booth, box of pizza in hand. “here, i’ll carry it.” sunghoon offers and you let him because a part of you feels like he wasn’t going to take no as an answer since the two of you got into a fight on who would be paying for the pizza.

you eventually agreed that he’d buy you a slice but you’d be the one to pay for the box of pizza you were taking home to your mom. sunghoon agreed reluctantly and all you could do was smile at his friendly eagerness.

“thanks for the pizza, sunghoon; and for welcoming me into town.” you muttered as the two of you got out of your car. the sun had dipped past the horizon and the moon was now high in the sky when you returned home. you checked your watch to see that it was only half past 8, but it felt so much later.

“no problem, welcome to edenville yn. enjoy your night and the best pizza in town.” he smiles before walking off and slipping through his front door. you smiled at sunghoon as you watched him enter his home but your eyes traveled to the window in the far side of the home, slightly startled when you see a figure watching you from behind the curtains.

you recognized him as sunghoon’s dad and as his gaze bore into yours, you duck your head low and rush back into your home, fidgeting with the keys so you could unlock your door and get inside– away from his dad’s piercing gaze. “creepy..” you muttered and your mom suddenly rounded the corner in her pajamas.

“what’s creepy– ooh, pizza. finally.” she says, eyes beaming at the box of pizza as she grabs it from you, taking it into the living room where she’s already got the tv setup with a random show playing it on it. you follow behind her and take a seat on the floor next to the couch, leaning your body and resting your elbow on the cushion.

“ooh– what’s this?” she asks, pulling out a piece of paper when she flips open the pizza box. “i think someone at the pizza shop likes you, that why you took so long?” she asks, handing you the slip of paper that had a phone number on it with a note that reads, “thanks for hanging out with me, i’ll show you some more spots. text me?”

you smiled at the note and knew who it was from.

“well?”

“uh– no, it’s from sunghoon. the boy next door, he ended up coming to get pizza with me, told me about the town and stuff.” your mom smiles at you teasingly and you’re instantly rolling your eyes at her, telling her that it’s nothing and he was just being nice.

“yeah.. sure, hon.” she says before taking a bite of pizza, not believing a word you say– and perhaps you don’t believe yourself either. sunghoon was sweet and kind, made you feel welcome and something about him being a complete stranger drew you to him even more.

him living next door didn’t help your natural curiousity to want to get to know him more.

and you just might.

settling into your new home was pretty easy, a few neighbors would stop by at random times to introduce themselves and it was nice– however it just made you think of mrs. carol, hoping that she was doing fine and hasn’t forgotten your reminder of making sure to turn off the stove whenever she was done heating her kettle.

you learned that the family to the left of your house was the kim family, they had a son named sunoo around your age and assumed similar to sunghoon’s as well. the house across the street from yours was the sim family who you learned had a cute dog named layla and a son named jake, who you later learned is sunghoon’s best friend.

it was nice that people took the time out of their day to introduce themselves and welcome you and your mom into town but they all had a shocked expression when they’d see the two of you and you knew it was because you and your mother looked close in age. she had you during high school and because her pregnancy came as a surprise, your biological dad told his parents and they put him into boarding school in a whole other country– leaving your mom alone to raise you on her own at just 16 years old.

you didn’t care what people thought of you and your mom, but you could tell it bothered her so you tried your best to protect her when you could. it also didn’t help that it seems everyone would ask where your father was when they meet you and you’d just have to awkwardly smile before telling them he wasn’t in your life.

sunghoon’s mom had stopped by very shortly to introduce herself, sunghoon awkwardly standing behind her as he waved at you, cheeks slightly puffed out making him look like his face was made of bread. you couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“this is my son, sunghoon, he’s told me you’ve already met?” she says, pulling herself forward as he greets you and your mom. you explain to sunghoon’s mother that he helped you move a heavy box into your house and then you two got pizza afterwards.

she smiled at your words but it wasn’t one of amusement, the smile was more one of irritation that she tried to mask with joy. “didn’t know you liked that place, sunghoon. we’ll talk about that over dinner with your father. speaking of my husband, sorry he couldn’t be here to introduce himself; he’s very busy with the church but i’ll extend his welcome to you both…

uhm, welcome to edeville.” she says, another fake smile on her face as she walks down the stairs to go back home, turning around and tugging sunghoon’s sleeve when she realizes he doesn’t instantly follow her.

you and your mom go back inside the house but you watch the two of them walk away from your window, you can faintly see sunghoon’s mom scolding him as they got closer to their house, sunghoon’s head hanging low as his mother scolds him, her pointer finger directed at him with so much aggravation you could almost feel it.

“what a strange lady.” your mom mumbles, shaking her head before walking to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. you silently agreed and followed her, telling her about how you saw sunghoon’s dad a few times when you first moved in, leaving out the part of when you saw him staring at you menacingly from the window.

you tell your mom you were going to freshen up before dinner but she stops you before you could leave, “oh, by the way. we’re going to church tomorrow so don’t be up so late.” and you weren’t really sure why you were going to church. it wasn’t until high school when you stopped attending a religious school that had a church open 24/7. that was where you learned of things in the bible like salvation, adam and eve, when god said let there be light, and the garden of eden.

it’s been maybe 6 years since you’ve last stepped into a church and because you weren’t sure why your mom suddenly wanted the two of you to start attending again, you chose not to question and decided to just see it through.

observe your mother at church and see why for yourself.

church the following day was filled with awkward glances and short greetings as your mom introduced the two of you to random churchgoers. you smiled and nodded, keeping it cordial as you didn’t want to cause any problems while at church even if you could tell they were all judging you.

you spotted sunghoon sitting at the very front of the seat and you could see his mother to his right; you were wondering where his dad was but when he emerged from behind a statue of jesus, bible in hand, you remembered that he was the deacon.

sunghoon briefly stretches his neck and sees you from the corner of his eye, eyes widening as he waves over to you. a smile on his face that revealed his sharp canines. you waved back at him but his attention is quickly averted to the front of the room when his mom nudges him to straighten up and focus.

this was going to be one long sunday service.

you and your mom are walking back to your car when you hear a faint whistling sound, so you look around to see where it’s coming from and you see sunghoon hiding behind a brick wall, waving you down when you finally spot him.

“oh, mom. i think i forgot something inside, i’ll be right back.” you tell her, running off before she could even respond. you round the corner and find sunghoon pacing back and forth, thumb in his mouth as he anxiously bites on the nail.

“mysterious… is there a reason we’re hiding behind this random brick wall right now?”

sunghoon looks up when he hears you speak, a smile on his face when he sees you; “hey..” he breathes out. “sorry, need to hide from my parents.” he explains and you nod in response, puckering your lips at the awkward silence.

“why haven’t you texted me?” he suddenly asks and you giggle at his cute expression. looking up at you through the strands of hair blocking his eyes, a small pout on his lips. “sorry, i guess i’ve just been taking it all in.. why? did you miss me already?” you tease and from the way you could see the blush creep on his cheeks and the way sunghoon shyly turns away from you, you had guessed right.

“my mom is probably looking for me but i’ll text you tonight, ok?”

“wait– meet me at this place at 9? ok?”

he grabs your hand suddenly and pulls a pen out from the pocket on the front of his dress shirt. he quickly scribbles an address on your palm and blows on it briefly to dry it so the ink doesn’t smear. “please come.” he says and you smile, nodding your head before walking back to your mom’s car.

smiling to yourself as you look at the writing on your palm but before you could get to your mom’s car, a figure stops you in your tracks. you look up to see who was standing in front of you and crane your neck upwards to see sunghoon’s father.

“yn! how nice of you and your mother to join us for sunday service. welcome to edenville.” he says, a somewhat sinister smile on his face. you returned with a smile of your own, yours much smaller than his. “i know you and your mother are new to town so here’s some advice.” he says before leaning down and getting closer to your ear.

“i know the kind of girl you are, stay away from my son.” he whispers and it sends a shock to your system, his breath tickling your skin in the most uncomfortable way possible. when sunghoon’s father pulls away, he’s got the same wicked smile like he was trying to put on a face for those around who may be watching the two of you as anyone outside of this conversation would just be seeing the kind deacon of the church welcoming the new girl into town.

you swallowed the lump in your throat before walking off and staring at the address on your palm again, only now it feels less exciting and more unnerving.

you had been contemplating on whether or not you’d go out and meet sunghoon at this address. you decided to write it down in your phone just in case the writing on your hand would smear and become unreadable. you had looked up the address and found out it was a waterfall just a few minutes on the outskirts of town.

it was around 8:30PM and you still hadn’t decided if you were going to show up or not. you stared at the ink on your hand and then back at sunghoon’s contact in your phone. you weighed the options and the warning from sunghoon’s father weighed heavily on your mind, on the other hand; a part of you naturally gravitated towards sunghoon and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to see him.

that’s how you found yourself telling your mom that you were going out for a quick drive and that you’d be back soon. sliding into the driver’s seat and inputting the address into your phone so you could follow the GPS. it was only 15 minutes away so you’d definitely get there by 9PM, you just hoped that you could find sunghoon quite easily.

before you drove off, you took note that there was only one car in sunghoon’s driveway, his motorcycle nowhere to be seen so you assumed that he was already there. you made the drive to eden falls silently, wondering about what the night will bring and how you were really hoping sunghoon’s father wouldn’t catch wind of your secret rendezvous with his son.

the drive doesn’t take long before you’re pulling onto a dirt path, your headlights shining over a boy leaning on his motorcycle, he uses his hands to block the lights and you quickly shut it off before stepping out of the car.

“you came.” sunghoon says enthusiastically and you can’t help but smile at him. you jogged over to sunghoon and are surprised to see him extend his hand out for yours, so you accept it. he gently wraps his hand around yours and guides you to a small bench just a few feet from the falls. you could see the large waterfall to your left and assumed that below would be a large pool of water where the waterfall led to. the loud rushing of the waterfall fills your ears but not enough to drown out sunghoon.

“i almost thought you weren’t going to show up..”

you shyly look away for a second before turning back to him, “i almost didn’t…” you confess and sunghoon looks at you, urging you to elaborate. you weren’t sure if you should tell sunghoon about what happened with his dad but because he didn’t give you any reason not to trust him and given his relationship with his dad that he’s told you, you decide to tell him what happened.

sunghoon was shocked to find out the news and he’s shaking his head in disappoint when he listens to what you have to say. he’s profusely apologizing and explaining to you that his father had previously mentioned not approving of the new neighbors because your family was incomplete– meaning he didn’t like you and your mother because you didn’t have a dad present.

you scoffed at his words but couldn’t be too mad when sunghoon rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. “im sorry… but if it makes you feel better i definitely don’t feel the same way as my dad. as a matter of fact, i think you’re probably the best person i’ve ever met.” sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s telling you this, his naturally shy demeanor melting away whenever he’s with you.

“sorry– i don’t know why i said that, please forget what i just said.”

you laugh at him, squeezing his hand slightly, “don’t apologize– it’s cute. plus, you’re also probably the best person i’ve met in this town, by a large margin might i add.”

you and sunghoon spend the next hour or so learning about each other. you learn that he was a figure skater as a child but had to stop when he turned 18 because his father told him it was time for him to man up and follow in his footsteps, it irritated you that everything you’ve learned about sunghoon’s dad was something terrible and it hurt you to know that sunghoon had to deal with such an overbearing father.

outside from the daddy issue’s that you and sunghoon bonded over, you also learned that he really like tiramisu, he had a small dog when he was little named gaeul, and he also had a small interest in fashion but it never went anywhere because he knew his dad would just shoot it down. you frowned at his words but sunghoon seemed to be optimistic regardless. he came off as shy at first but he warmed up to you fairly quickly, whenever he laughed it was hearty, he loved to crack corny jokes, and he had a habit of zoning out randomly.

“we should get going, it’s pretty chilly.”

sunghoon agrees and the two of you walk hand in hand back to your vehicles but not before he quickly shrugs off his coat and wraps it around you. once again you try to refuse but sunghoon insists on you wearing it because you mentioned being cold. you smiled at him with a small thank you and he smiles at you, eyes crinkling as he watches his large coat cover up most of your body.

“thank you for tonight, sunghoon. i had a lot of fun.”

“me too. i’m glad you showed up.”

“i’m glad i did too..”

you and sunghoon part ways as you walk over to your car that is parked just a few feet away. as you’re turning the key in the engine and starting the car, you’re startled when you hear a knock on your window, jumping at the sound.

sunghoon laughs to himself when he sees your reaction, apologizing when you lower the window down, “you really gotta stop doing that..” you chuckle and he apologizes again. “don’t show anyone this spot, ok? it’ll be our own little oasis.” sunghoon says while he sits on his bike, helmet hanging from his arm before he slides it over his head.

your own spot with sunghoon. you liked the sound of that.

two months into living at edenville and everything seems to be normal. the judgemental glances have died down for the most part, you only noticed it most when you went to church with your mom since church was only one day out of the week for only an hour, you choose to just ignore them. plus, seeing sunghoon in his sunday’s best was a great way to balance out the awkwardness at church.

“man, my dad was on one today.” sunghoon huffs as he takes a seat on the bench. the two of you would text each other every day and fall asleep on the phone every night, sunghoon was becoming a regular part of your routine and you would become the highlight of his day. you weren’t necessarily one for relationships, the only boyfriend you’ve ever had was the boy who gave you candy during valentine’s day when you were in the 4th grade but aside from that, you weren’t ever interested in dating.

being with sunghoon felt so innocent and calm yet he revitalized you and made your days brighter. whenever the two of you needed to relieve some stress or just wanted some time alone together, you and sunghoon would send each other a water emoji, indicating to meet at your spot at eden falls in the next 10 minutes– and every sunday after church, you’d meet there too.

“his service was extra long today, thankfully i had some coffee beforehand or else i probably would’ve snoozed through all of it.” you muttered, kicking around a pebble on the ground with your shoe. sunghoon hums in agreement, you could tell there was something on his mind and you wanted to tell him that he could tell you anything, that you'd listen and be there for him no matter what.

“cmere.” he says, offering his hand out to you and you take it eagerly. sunghoon’s hand basically covers yours as he takes your hand in his and it surprises you when he pulls you into his lap instead of the empty spot on the bench next to him. you fall into his lap with a small hum and he laughs in admiration. scanning your face, sunghoon’s eyes trailing from your lips to your eyes that were already planted on his.

“you look so pretty..” he whispers, slowly brushing some of your hair behind your ear so he could get a better view of your face. he smiles at you when you get shy but he holds you firm but gently to stop you from hiding away from him. “your lips look really soft.” sunghoon says, causing you to bite down on them momentarily and you can feel and hear sunghoon take in a sharp breath.

“ca– can i kiss you?”

your lip falls from in between your teeth and sunghoon’s eyes are glued to them, almost like he was studying their shape, every line and engraving on your lips– his eyes flutter upwards to yours and you blink several times at him before nodding.sunghoon’s hands travel from your waist to the back of your neck and he pulls you closer, connecting your lips with his.

soft.

sunghoon was right, your lips were soft. incredibly soft.

as humiliating as it may sound, this was your first kiss– but as your lips matched sunghoon’s rhythm and as your mouths melt, and blend, and fit into each other's, all you could think about was the fact that you’re pleased to have sunghoon as your very first kiss.

when you pull away from sunghoon and your eyes flutter open, you find that sunghoon has a dazed expression on his face– like he was in some dreamland while he relished the feeling of your lips on his. a string of saliva keeps the two of you connected for a brief moment before it eventually breaks as sunghoon sighs at the absence of your lips.

“i was wrong..” he says and you furrow your brows at him.

“your lips aren’t just soft, they’re really soft.” you laugh at his remark, playfully slapping him on the chest as the two of you laugh. he holds you close to him for just a moment longer before you both decide to go home for the day. since it was still sunday, sunghoon’s dad would be expecting him for dinner. his family had dinner every night but on sunday’s it was mandatory for him to be there per his father’s orders.

as you’re walking away, sunghoon quickly grabs your wrist and pulls you back towards him, your hand lands on his chest again and he kisses you some more. lips dancing together with more passion than before– “hoon, come on. your dad’s probably gonna be upset.” you say after pulling away.

“fuck that guy.” he huffs and you laugh in amusement at his use of profanity. sunghoon wasn’t one to use them often but you found it funny that when he did use them, it was to damn his father, the deacon of the church.

you shoot him a wink before getting into your mom’s car and driving off, sunghoon riding on his motorcycle in front of you. his broad shoulders covered by his black leather jacket, his long legs straddling each side of the bike, and the feeling of your lips lingering on his face. you couldn’t tell because of his helmet, but sunghoon had a smile on his face the whole time he was driving home.

sunghoon gets home before you do because you’ve decided that you guys can’t arrive home at the same time to avoid suspicion, specifically from his parents. you get home about 5 minutes after he does when he sends you a text that he’s arrived home. you send him a heart emoji before pulling into your driveway and heading inside.

you spend the rest of the night just lounging, doing minor house chores and having leftover soup for dinner. your mom was working overtime so she wouldn’t be home until much later in the night but you didn’t really mind because it was nice to be home alone every now and then.

it’s around 10pm when you’re suddenly awoken by someone yelling outside, their voices were loud enough that you could hear it but still faint that you couldn’t fully comprehend what they were saying. you were planning to just go back to sleep until you hear a string of profanities followed by the sound of a door slamming. you decide to look out the window and find sunghoon’s dad pacing back and forth in their backyard pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, irritation clear in his actions.

you could only assume that sunghoon must’ve been arguing with his dad and that’s where all of the noise was coming from and from what you’ve heard about his dad from sunghoon himself, you were worried for him– but you didn’t want sunghoon to know that you were basically eavesdropping on him and his father. you ultimately choose not to do anything about it but you keep it in the back of your head all night.

over the course of the next few days, your interactions with sunghoon have decreased to just short stolen glances and the occasional text message. whenever you ask if he wants to talk on the phone when you go to bed or meet at your spot, he gives you some excuse of why he can’t, one that you don’t fully believe but choose not to argue over.

you’re chewing on your bottom lip as sunghoon’s father is going over the service, extending god’s praises to everyone at the church as they all hail in his words. you weren’t paying attention because all you could think about was how it’s been a whole hour of being in this church and sunghoon has not once turned around to glance at you, even when you sent him a text saying that he looked handsome, he just looked down at this phone and quickly stuffed it into the pocket of his trousers.

you weren’t sure what was going on with him but it was getting to a point where it bothered you more than it should. you and sunghoon weren’t official but you spent so much time together that it felt like those moments were special enough to mean something. it did to you but you weren’t sure if it did to him. it also didn’t help that it seemed like sunghoon was suddenly distancing himself to you right after you kissed, it was humiliating honestly– to have your first kiss with a boy that you were starting to really like and all of a sudden he’s barely even speaking to you anymore.

sunghoon sat upright, face forward, and shoulders back as the service was ending. you were going to talk to him one way or another, just not here. you couldn’t risk causing a scene at church of all places, you weren’t religious but you had enough respect not to start any problems there.

you weren’t sure how you were going to get sunghoon alone to talk but the opportunity arose when you saw him head to the back of the church once service was over. you figured that if you could quickly slip away before his parents were to find him then you could quickly talk about what’s going, maybe figure out what’s been going on with him and get clarification on the distance that’s been created between the two of you.

you tiptoed towards the back of the church, glancing behind you to make sure there wasn’t anyone following or watching you. you pick up the place slightly out of fear that you would be caught or the small window of privacy would slip away but you’re halted in your steps and crouching behind a wall when you see sunghoon standing there.

for a second you think he’s alone but when he shifts slightly, you can see him crouch downwards and hug someone. a girl. you didn’t really know her but you recognized her from church. she was always there every sunday, sitting in between her parents as she wore a white frilled dress with matching shoes.

you’re left speechless at the sight before you and you didn’t know what to think. were they dating? just friends? but your mind went to the worst possible option as you come to the conclusion that sunghoon has probably stopped talking to you because he no longer found interest in you now that he was with this new girl. she was beautiful, her skin appeared as soft as silk, her hair was done perfectly, and her smile could rival the sound of an angel singing.

she was perfect and you were far from that.

you’re about to run away when your body collides with someone behind you, sunghoon’s father. you fall to the ground with a grunt as the gravel pinch into your skin– gathering sunghoon and the girl’s attention.

“yn?” he asks, letting go of the girl in his arms.

“what are you doing here? are you ok?” he asks, running over to you in an attempt to help you off the ground much like he did the first time you met– but this time his father stops him. putting out his hand to prevent sunghoon from getting any closer as they all watch you.

your eyes bounce from sunghoon to his father, a scoff leaves your lips as you stand onto your two feet, dusting the dirt off of your clothes. you couldn’t be there any longer so leave, pushing past the deacon and ignoring sunghoon’s attempts at calling your name to stop you from leaving but his dad holds him back.

“let me go!” he shouts, snatching his arm away from his father.

“why do you insist on going after that girl? she’s nothing!” his father yells and thankfully you’re far enough that you don’t hear any of it, which also means you don’t hear sunghoon’s defense.

“i don’t give a damn. she’s everything to me even if i have nothing.” sunghoon says, jaw tightening as he glares at his father. sunghoon and his dad have gotten into arguments several times but lately it’s gotten more frequent as he’s noticed you and sunghoon have become closer even in your attempts at hiding it.

the argument that you had faintly heard between him and his dad before all of this went down was about you and the girl that stood just a few feet away from all of this. she didn’t play a part in any of this, at least not willingly. when sunghoon got home that night he and his dad got into an argument because sunghoon was late to dinner, now it would’ve been fine if it was just any other dinner but this wasn’t just an ordinary dinner.

sunghoon’s father had invited a good friend of his and his family to have dinner with them. this man was of high status as he was the town’s mayor and with his attendance came the attendance of his wife and daughter. the dinner was filled with tension as sunghoon would attempt to push back at his dad whenever he could to try to embarrass him in front of his uptight friend but that was when his father dropped the bomb on sunghoon.

“sunghoon, mayor kim here and i have been talking and we think it would be a good idea if you and his daughter were wed. we’ve gone over all of the details already.” those words were ringing in sunghoon’s ears, vision beginning to be tainted red as he could feel his blood boiling. marriage? with a random girl? when he had you? he wasn’t about to let that happen.

he looked over at the girl who seemed to be just as shocked as he was but before sunghoon could fully process everything, he abruptly slid out of his chair, the wooden piece of furniture slamming to the ground as he left the room without a single word, his mother apologizing on his behalf. his actions at dinner, although justified, is what led to the huge argument with his dad that you had witnessed and what would eventually lead to him distancing himself from you when his dad ends their argument with a few simple words.

“if you don’t stop seeing that girl, i’ll make sure you don’t see her ever again.”

sunghoon didn’t know what his dad meant by those words but he had never seen his father so angry before. his eyes bore into his son’s with a type of fury that instilled fear inside of sunghoon. so much so that he decided to stop talking to you out of fear that he’d lose you completely if he did, at least this way he could admire you from afar.

“sunghoon if you follow that girl you’re only damning yourself. she’s corrupt and i refuse for my son to be corrupted by some whore.” his dad says and this sets something off inside of sunghoon. his vision turns red again and before his dad could react, sunghoon’s left fist is connecting with his dad’s face, a cracking sound emitting from the contact.

his father stumbles back onto the back of the church, leaning on the wall for support as he clutches his jaw in shock. the girl standing to the side gasps and runs over in shock, making sure that sunghoon and his dad are okay.

“sorry, you had to see that.” sunghoon mumbles to the girl.

“it’s fine… go..” she says, pulling out the handkerchief from her purse. sunghoon furrows his brows at her words for clarification.

“go after her.” she says, giving sunghoon an encouraging smile.

so he does. sunghoon runs after you, knowing exactly where he could find you. he wished that he brought his bike but his dad insisted that they all arrive together to church in the same car so that they appeared to be the perfect and well put together family that they tried so hard to look like.

sunghoon had been running through so many things in his head while his father was at the front of the church doing his usual service. all sunghoon could think about was you and how guilty he feels for ignoring you and how hurt you must’ve felt but because he was afraid of his father and wasn’t sure what he’d do to you if he continued to see you, you chose to silently protect you– but he was growing tired of it.

he craved you more than you could think. he missed the way you laughed at his stupid jokes, the way you smiled at small things like seeing a caterpillar scooting across the surface of an apple, and how your lips felt against his.

sunghoon wanted to feel the softness of your lips against his so badly and he’d make sure that your kiss from before wasn’t going to be the last. when the service ended, sunghoon hurriedly rushed out of the church and told mayor kim’s daughter to meet him back there. he was planning to apologize to her and tell her why he acted that way and surprisingly enough, she understood him.

she mentioned how her father was setting them up for an arranged marriage because both of their fathers didn’t approve either of their lifestyles and who they fell in love with. sunghoon, who fell in love with a girl from an incomplete family but found a way to complete the missing puzzle pieces in sunghoon’s heart and kim minjeong, the daughter of the mayor who had fallen in love with yoo jimin, the chief of police’s daughter.

sunghoon was relieved to hear that minjeong was as opposed to the idea of an arranged marriage as he was and they decided to hug it out in solidarity with each other– and that’s when it happened. sunghoon’s father somehow had seen you creeping behind the church and was going to put a stop to whatever you had planned and eventually that’s how it all played out. you saw sunghoon hugging a girl and paired with his father’s intimidating aura, you felt so small and could feel yourself crumbling under all of their gazes.

sunghoon’s lungs were burning as he continued to run, the pavement under him made his feet sore with each step he took but he didn’t care. he was going to get to you no matter what, he was going to explain everything, and he was going to kiss you and show you how much he loves you.

his father was wrong. you weren’t corrupting him, you weren’t a bad seed or the temptation of the apple that the snake gave to eve. you were his salvation, his light, and you’re the only person who has shown him true happiness.

and he wasn’t going to let that go.

you had made it to eden falls fairly quickly, your mother not questioning on why you wanted to take the car but she could tell something was bothering you and decided that she’d talk to you about it once you’ve had some time to clear your head. your mom wasn’t privy to all of the whispers of the people in town and especially not to those in the church.

she heard their comments about how she was a slut or a whore because she didn’t have a husband and it didn’t help that people took notice of your closeness in age; adding more fuel for them to judge you and your mom when they figured out that not only did you not have a dad, but your mom also had you when she was a teenager.

but your mom didn’t care. sometimes it would bother her but then she thought about you. her beautiful daughter who smiled through adversity and the mundane, you were an inspiration to her and when she heard about your budding romance with sunghoon she was elated. she gave you the usual mother daughter talk when it came to boys but she pushed you to go after what you loved.

she wasn’t going to stop her daughter from finding love just because she didn’t have someone to call husband. you didn’t deserve to live in the mistakes that she made but if you heard her call these things a mistake you scold your own mother and tell her that everything is the way it should be and you were happy to have her as a mother.

you’re wiping the tears off of your face as you sit on the bench, letting the loud rushing sounds of the water drown out your thoughts but your heart is pounding too loud and your head is aching too hard for any of it to be drowned out.

was this what heartbreak felt like?

but no matter how hurt you felt, you couldn’t just let sunghoon go like that, you refused. your mother told you to fight for what you believed in and for those you loved; your mom was a testament to that as she showed you day in and day out how much she cared for you, going as far as working so hard that she was able to move you out of your small one bedroom apartment to the house you lived in now.

you decided you would fight for sunghoon, show him how much you loved him and wouldn’t stop at anything to get him back, not even if his father or anyone else at the church tried to keep the two of you apart. sunghoon came into your life like a miracle. everyday was the same back in your hometown and you were starting to think it would be like that for the rest of your life but when you moved to edenville and met sunghoon, everything changed.

you smiled more, you laughed more, and for the first time ever; you felt what love was like from someone other than your mother.

that feeling was too good to let go of and you sure as hell weren’t going to let go of it.

with a deep breath in and out, you close your eyes to gather yourself before deciding you’d take the car to find sunghoon and tell him everything you’re feeling; but the sound of a soft thud catches your attention. your head turns toward the sound and you find no one there and just as you’re about to get up and leave, you see an apple fall from a tree just a few feet away.

you hadn’t noticed that there was an apple tree at eden falls but since you were usually engrossed with sunghoon you hadn’t really paid attention. you looked around to find that there was only a single apple tree in all of eden falls. you find yourself walking over to the apple tree but are careful in your steps because of it’s closeness to the edge of the falls.

the tree seemed to be calling to you as the wind that blew past sounded like a song. the apple in your hand snapped off as you lightly tugged on it, like it was ready to be pulled off and eaten. you weren’t sure what came over you but you found yourself shutting your eyes as you brought the apple to your lips and took a bite. a crunching sound from the bite filling your ears as you chew on the apple. it was sweet and crisp, almost blooming on your tongue.

however, when you open your eyes and look down at the apple in your hand, a horrendous gasp leaves your lips as you see the inside of the apple was black and rotted, maggots crawling throughout the crevices of the fruit. you spit out the apple in disgust, wiping your mouth of the feeling as the idea of the rotten fruit and worms cause you to gag.

you drop the apple in a startle and before you could react, your feet are slipping on the mud that surrounds the base of the tree and you feel yourself falling over the edge of eden falls with nothing to hold onto to pull yourself back up.

the fall is slow, you can hear the water in your ears before you can feel it but the impact of the freezing cold water was enough to shock you out of your trance. you flailed underneath the water, fighting to get out and poke your head through the surface before you ran out of air but it seemed like eden falls led to an endless pit of water and despair.

they say when you die that your life flashes before your eyes and when you take your final breath as your eyes close shut, all you could see was sunghoon and his smile. a smile appears on your face as your body continues to sink lower into the body of water. your body is dragged around until it couldn’t be moved any further, leaving you floating in the basin of eden falls.

when sunghoon arrived at eden falls, his eyes lit up at the sight of your mom’s car, it gave him enough energy to run even faster to your spot at the bench but when he got there; you weren’t anywhere to be seen.

he looked around, yelled out your name, called and texted your phone, but nothing.

maybe he was too late but your mom’s car still being there left more questions than answers. he dropped his head in disappointment but not in defeat, he was going to fix all of this but he just wasn’t sure how. when he finally opens his eyes, tears begin to fall onto the dirt below him and that’s when he sees an apple with a single bite taken out of it. sunghoon looks at the fruit and wonders where it could have come from since there weren’t any apple trees in all of edenville. he wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his blazer as he sniffles, picking up the perfectly good apple that glistened under the sun.

no maggots or signs of rotting to be found.

for the next week or so sunghoon does everything he can to get in contact with you but they all fail. he eventually walks over to your house to talk to you but your mother answers the door with tears streaming down her face.

when he asks her if everything is alright she goes to explain that she hasn’t seen you since last sunday. it’s now saturday afternoon and sunghoon realizes that the car isn’t in the driveway, meaning it’s probably still at eden falls, but where were you?

he extends his care and worry to your mother before going back inside his house to grab his phone and call you once more, but something on the tv catches his attention as the newscaster’s voice boldly says, “breaking news: deceased body has been found at the edge of eden falls on the other side of town.”

sunghoon easily recognizes the sweater of the deceased girl, it was you.

his world is instantly crumbling and he blinks at the tv, hoping that it would just miraculously disappear and that the news wasn’t true. he can hear your mother wailing from outside as she runs out of your house, running over to where they had mentioned you were found.

this can’t be true.

you were gone and it was his fault.

the next day at church, sunghoon is forced to sit through his father spewing some bullshit about your passing. your mother hadn’t shown up to church because she was in too much pain dealing with your death. sunghoon could barely stand to listen to his father and his lies, telling the people of the church of how much he prays for your mother, that you were a good girl even though he said you were corrupted, but it isn’t until his father says a certain thing that sunghoon finds himself storming out of the church.

“she was broken… and she’s in a better place now.”

“what the fuck did you know about her?” sunghoon spits at his dad, the people of the church gasping at him. “you didn’t know anything about her, you called her corrupt and said she’d ruin me and look what fucking happened.

you drove her away from me and she’s gone! it’s your fucking fault!” he shouts, veins protruding from neck and forehead as he yells at his father. “i loved yn. i still love her and that isn’t going to change, even if she’s gone.” sunghoon grits his teeth as he stares at his dad with so much anger his ears were turning red and his jaw would start to tremble as the anger surged through him.

sunghoon’s father was making it seem like you had killed yourself because you were “broken” and “corrupt” and whatever bullshit he knew that townsfolk would believe but sunghoon wasn’t having any of that. sunghoon knew you had your fair share of issues but you never showed any signs that would lead you to killing yourself, he just knew you wouldn’t but there was no way to prove him wrong.

he knew that he was to blame for some of this, that if he didn’t distance himself away from you and if he just fought for you harder then none of this would’ve happened. that you’d still be here, he’d be able to hold you in his arms, feel your soft lips, and tell you just how much he loved you.

sunghoon’s father made it seem like you were the apple that was used to tempt adam and eve but he knew better than that. you were eve, a beautiful woman who held the world in her heart and sunghoon was the apple and your eventual downfall.

the garden of eden

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @manaah02 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @kristynaaah @17ericas @heeseung64 @leipforggy @enhastolemyheart @starcandybby @bussolares @lovelymelon

#kiki diaries #enhypen #kpop #kpop au #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #enha #fanfiction #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #park sunghoon #sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen fic

220 notes · View notes

revelboo · 20 days ago

Note

May I request a Hound update pls? I need to eat him out fr 👀✨️

Sure!

Heavy Boots Pt 6

Hound x Reader

• Why isn’t he yelling? Is he just waiting until you two are alone? Because this is worse, watching him hover as the medic he’d introduced as Ratchet runs a scanner over you. Waiting to be punished and knowing it’s coming. Anxiety making it hard to breathe as the medic mass shifts and cleans the shallow cut on your palm, bandaging it while occasionally shooting Hound censoring looks.

• You have a few sprains, but nothing’s broken and it’s a relief. Even if he hates that you got hurt at all because it’s definitely his fault and your skin is coloring, darkening with bruises everywhere. He’d driven you to this. And you’re so silent as Ratchet patches you up, not protesting even when Hound carefully scoops you up and starts toward his habsuite, hesitating in the hall. Can feel your heart pounding and you won’t look at him, little shoulders hunched. Optics shuttering, he changes direction, cradles you against his chassis and carefully transforms around you, driving out of the base.

• Tense, you wonder where he’s taking you. His tires bounce over the ground and you have the thought that in a different life, you’d love this. Had always enjoyed scifi as a kid, but living it yourself? It’s terrifying. Stretches of dirt and scraggly bushes give way to grass and trees and he heads into the tree line down a rutted out path. Why won’t he say something? Anything? Maybe he’s dumping you like a dog he no longer wants, carrying you far enough away you can’t wander back home. “Please don’t leave me out here,” you whisper.

• You really do think he’s that awful, don’t you? Not that he doesn’t deserve it. “I’m not. I just, I wanted to show you the lake. That’s all,” he says as he stops and carefully transforms, crouching to cup you in his hands. “I, we need to talk.” Moving closer to the lake and easing down, hesitantly lets you slide out of his hand into the grass and your fingers fist in it as you stare at the lake, not him. Deserves to be snubbed. “I’m sorry. About everything.”

• Staring out at the sun shimmering on the water’s surface, you don’t trust this. Because your family doesn’t talk things out. They scream at each other. At you. Throw things, backhand each other. It’s why you’d bailed and got a crappy apartment with a friend first chance you got. You’re broke all the time, but you’d been free. You’d not been afraid and anxious. “I was doing okay. For the first time ever, I was okay,” you whisper, surprised you can say the words and he shifts behind you to make you tense.

• Venting as you go still, shoulders lifting, it clicks to make him feel even worse. You really do think he’s going to hurt you if you say something he doesn’t like. Moving slightly away, he sits beside you. “I royally fragged this up,” he murmurs and you glance at him, your body dappled in sun and shadow through the leaves and he lays back in the grass. “I don’t know what I was thinking-no. I wasn’t thinking. We’ve just been fighting so long and I don’t want to do this anymore. I wanted,” he begins and trails off embarrassed.

• It’s easier when he’s not looking at you. Slowly realizing that maybe you’re not going to be punished. That he’s more angry at himself than you and it’s a new feeling. “What did you want?” You ask, voice a whisper, drawing your legs up and picking at the bandage around your hand with your nails. Your whole body feels bruised, aching, but the sun is warm.

• “I guess, to not be alone,” he admits, optics shuttering. Doesn’t mean to admit it. To lay it all bare. “It was stupid, but I’d convinced myself that I was helping you, keeping you from being snatched by the Decepticons, but I’m just as bad as they are. Frag,” he growls, clearing his vents loudly. “I had this thought that if I helped you, I wouldn’t be alone anymore. Wouldn’t be lonely.”

• He’s lonely? “There’s a lot of you in the Ark?” You’ve only seen a handful, but you’ve heard him mention names when he tells you about his day, trying to coax you into talking to him. But you can understand being surrounded by people and still so lonely it hurts. “Loneliness still doesn’t make it right.”

• “No, but maybe we can start over? Be friends?” That’s all he wants. Someone to be there waiting for him. To talk to. Dying a little inside in that quiet habsuite. “If you want to?” Head turning, he stares at you looking out at the lake. ‘I don’t know,’ you say, head turning away like you can feel his optics on you. And he deserves that. Knows he does. But it wasn’t a no.

#transformers x reader #g1 hound x reader #g1 hound

168 notes · View notes

sunsburns · 1 year ago

Note

Luke Castellan losing virginity with the reader

can i kiss you?

let's push a loser!luke agenda pls pls pls guys pls see my vision he's a loser villain who just needs his dick sucked! [nsfw 17+]

the thought of luke castellan being a charming, skilled, intelligent, and mentor to most of the younger campers places him at the top of the food chain at half-blood. he’s practically the golden boy; the guy every girl wants and every boy wants to be. so, it sure does take you by surprise when he pauses at your kiss-swollen lips, brows furrowed in embarrassment as he whispers, “i haven’t… i’ve never gone this far before.”

you haven't done much. you've only palmed his crotch. he's hard to the touch, warm too.

your chest is pressed against his, luke's hands roam up and down the backs of your thighs as you sit on top of him, and he does it as if to soothe and steady himself, to have some kind of self-control while he kisses you. but at some point (maybe it's when you started running your fingers through his hair and tugged), he can't help the buck of his hips against your own.

when you dropped your hands from his hair and reached between the two of you, he pulled away, looking at you through his lashes, eyes lidded and lips parted to tell you a secret. the great luke castellan who has girls kissing the ground he walks on has never been touched before.

it makes you excited.

luke was a lot of your firsts; first love, first boyfriend. gods, he was even your first kiss years ago because of a silly dare from the aphrodite girls during a campfire night. but you never thought of yourself to be one of his firsts. you've always known luke was out of your league, so you've assumed he's far more experienced in the whole dating life and intimacy thing than you were.

but gods, were you wrong.

you could've stared at him all day, the glossy look in his eyes, and the shade of red that's started to grow on his cheeks after his admission.

"we can stop," you start to say. "we can just kiss."

suddenly the sun shining between the leaves of the trees starts to burn at your skin. you think there are peering eyes but there aren't. there can't be. you're too deep into the forest for anyone to find you and luke tucked away in a clearing of bushes filled with sweet berries.

when you move to get up, he holds onto your thighs tighter, stopping you. "no." you stare at him as his mouth opens and closes. he thinks hard about what he's about to say next. his voice drops when he tells you to stay. "please. don't stop."

you can feel a smile, well maybe more of a smirk, growing on your lips when you see the desperate look in his eyes. he pulls you closer, brushing his nose against the pulse on your neck before he licks and sucks at it.

he lets out a low, deep groan when you run your fingers through his hair again, tugging at the ends of it to pull him away. he's looking at you with those pretty doe, brown eyes.

"what do you want, luke?"

"you."

you laugh, it's soft and endearing. "yes, i know. i meant what do you want me to do for you?"

he doesn't know what to say. luke sputters. you raise your brows at this. how could it be that this is the same guy who's the best swordsman at him in the last, what, hundred years? he's melting into putty at your hands.

you lean closer and whisper in his ear, "do you want me to kiss you?"

he swallows, "yes."

"where?"

"anywhere."

you press a wet kiss by his jaw, "here?"

he doesn't say anything, only sighs.

"what about here?" you suck next to the skin by his adam's apple until there's a bruise. you can feel the vibrations in his throat against your lips when he groans again, a low, seductive sound that makes you nearly tremble in want.

you poke at his side, "can i go lower?"

luke nods. "yes."

"how low?" you're fucking with him now.

he rolls his eyes and stares at you, annoyed. but there's no true bite to his glare, not when you palm at his crotch again. he bucks his hips once more, chasing after your touch and your fingers fumble with the buttons of his shorts. "can i kiss you, luke?"

"fuck, yeah," he huffs, and he moves to meet your lips with his own. luke freezes though, when he watches you lean back, dodging his kiss.

"can i kiss you down here?" you correct yourself, palming him again. hopefully making your intentions more clear to him. you find a delight in watching him become so flustered so quickly.

he nods. once, twice, and then stutters out an eager yes. gently, you smooth the palm of your hand up and down his knee, then the skin of his thighs, not so different from how he caressed you earlier. you push his shirt up to his stomach and lean down to kiss his abs. you can feel him heave below you as you make your way lower.

your fingers trail over the hair on his skin, tracing the waistband of his boxers teasingly, and you can't help but giggle when his hips jerk up.

slowly, you pull down his underwear and take him into your hand. poor luke, he's so hard and so so warm; red and leaking and begging for some kind of attention.

he moans when you've only touched him. you lean closer, looking up at him as you press a kiss on the tip. then he whines, loud and long when you lick a long, wet stripe from the base of his cock to the throbbing head. naturally, his hands find a home in your hair. "shiiiiit."

"feels good?"

"so goo- gahhh-"

you barely give him a chance to answer as you're taking him into your mouth. he watches you take more and more of him, fingers curling into your hair. he whispers your name when you pump the rest of him with your hand.

you flatten your tongue and ease your throat to take him as far as you can. you're doing your best. it's not like you're a pro at this, you've only ever done this once before and that was in behind the bathrooms with some kid from ares' cabin. but the way luke moans above you, pulling your hair and calling your name, you like to think you're pretty good at this. you want to be if it means you'd hear luke whine and whimper like this more often.

"yeah, just... keep goin'"

and you do. you suck and swirl your tongue against him until there's a faint strain at your neck and he's struggling to keep his hips still so he doesn't buck into your throat. that's when you pull off him with a wet pop and your hand fists his length to keep the pace.

"use me," you gasp, trying to catch your breath. "want you to use me. i wanna make you feel good." luke's dick twitches in your hands, 'cause fuck, you're a sight to see.

you're sinking back down on him, doing that thing where you swirl your tongue against his head and now you're playing with his balls-

"fuck- fuck!" his hands pushing you down until your nose brushes against his pelves and you're gagging around him. he holds you there for a few seconds before pulling you back. and then he pushes you down again, and again. luke slowly grows confident, his hands push and pull to the point he's not nearly as gentle as he had been at first, increasing his speed while he finally finds the nerve to buck his hips into you again.

"you're so pretty like this, baby," he moans, brushing your hair out of your face. "yeah, yeah, so, fuck, you feel so good." his thumb on your cheek cleans the tears running down your cheek. "beautiful."

his abs start to flex and tremble when you hallow your cheeks at the head of his cock, your hand working the rest of him. "i'm- i'm..." he's stuttering again, "wait, baby, i'm gonna-"

when you hum against him, he comes into your mouth. moan sputter from his lips, along with hushed curses and whispers of your name. luke holds your face gently, pulling you up, up and up until your lips brush against his in a phantom kiss. you're smiling at him as he tries to blink away the haze from his eyes. "can i kiss you, luke?"

he huffs, "shut up." and he brings your mouth to his and kisses you hard.

#i should be studying #luke castellan smut #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fanfic #luke’s cabin #faye’s writing ⭑.ᐟ

2K notes · View notes

hwaslayer · 10 months ago

Text

vivrant thing (jwy) | one.

—SPOTIFY PLAYLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST

—SUMMARY: after getting into a little accident, wooyoung decides to do his sister a favor by pretending to be your date at the company summer party. as soon as the night ends, wooyoung would go back to his usual routine of hanging out with his boys, keeping his distance from committed relationships and being a typical brother to jiwoo. except, the favor comes with more than what wooyoung expects and he finds you occupying his mind more than usual.

—PAIRING: jung wooyoung x f. reader

—GENRE: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriend’s brother au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—WORD COUNT: 6.7k

—CHAPTER WARNINGS: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, mentions of a small car accident due to texting & driving (pls do not ever do this), lots of sibling bickering (i promise they love each other ok), alcohol consumption and intoxication, mentions of toxic relationships (not oc), mentions of sickness and death in immediate family

"Are you actually fucking kidding me?!" Jiwoo yells as she heads outside to meet her brother. "Wooyoung, you had one job!"

"And I got the job done, didn't I?" Wooyoung holds the grocery bag up. "Just got into a little accident, that's all." He points to the dent on the front of her car.

"A little?! It's a huge dent! What did you do?! Mom!" Jiwoo yells as she heads back into the house. "I told you I didn't want Wooyoung driving my car!"

"Your car was already out in the driveway." Wooyoung adds, rolling his eyes as he leaves the grocery bag on the counter.

"Yeah, so ask me to move next time!"

"Stop yelling, your voice is giving me a headache. It's annoying."

"Mom! Dad!"

"Jiwoo, stop yelling." Their mom comes from out of the room, followed by their father. "You don't need to yell—"

"I do, because Wooyoung took my car and dented it!"

"What happened?" Their father asks, his hands on his hips.

"It was an accident—"

"You haven't even said sorry!"

"And I won't if you keep cutting me off and yelling." Wooyoung glares at her. "Yeah, fucking keep it up—"

"Hey!" Their father chimes in, cutting Wooyoung off. "The both of you, be quiet! I'm not going to ask again. What happened to your sister's car?"

"It was an accident." Jiwoo crosses her arms as Wooyoung repeats. "I just didn't brake in time so I gave the car in front of me a 'lil love tap."

"You were texting and driving, weren't you?"

"For the record, I responded to one text."

"Ugh." Jiwoo groans loudly. "I literally just got the car, Wooyoung!"

"Say sorry to your sister."

"Now, is that necessary? Cause I'll—"

"Jung Wooyoung." Their mother sternly calls for him, making Wooyoung let out a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry." He looks at Jiwoo.

"You make sure that car gets fixed, Wooyoung. And take care of the costs. Your sister needs her car."

"What am I supposed to drive in the meantime?! Wooyoung's car?" Jiwoo smirks at him.

"Hell no!" Wooyoung spits. "You'll probably try and crash it into a tree the first chance you get."

"You can drive our SUV until it gets fixed."

"No!" Jiwoo looks at Wooyoung. "Wooyoung can just drive me around."

"I have shit to do that isn't on your time. Take the SUV." Jiwoo groans and rolls her eyes, brushing past her brother to get ready for the party.

"You're unbelievable. Seriously, what kind of brother are you?"

"Enough! Can we finally get ready for the bbq, please? People are going to be over soon. Can't get one moment of peace in this house when you two are home." Their mom checks the time, walking off to the kitchen with a loud sigh. "I hope you got everything from the list, Wooyoung." She yells just as she's about to dig into the bag.

"Wooyoung."

"What?"

"Be a little nicer to your sister."

"She's the one always jumping to conclusions and getting all mad. I didn't purposely try to get her car wrecked. At least I'm fine and not hurt, right?" Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

"I know, and yes, thank god. But, still. All you two do is butt heads, jeez. Can't you both try and get along sometimes?"

"Whatever." Wooyoung heads up to his room, already annoyed by the fact that he has to be here with his family all up on his case about the accident. He can admit, maybe he should've paid better attention on the road. But, it's the way none of them even asked if he was okay— Jiwoo constantly whining and yelling at him, his parents getting on his ass and backing her up. His little sister was definitely the favorite, being the top student and all. Golden child. Was in band and the church choir, never really rebelled. While Wooyoung skipped a class [or the whole day], talked back to his parents, stayed out late and just.. enjoyed having fun. He had his good days, but he also had his bad days. He wasn't necessarily cold, but he wasn't going to sugarcoat shit either.

He's a stark contrast to his little sister.

So, he shouldn't be surprised that his parents are taking her side. He shouldn't be surprised they'd come to her rescue first. He shouldn't be surprised at all. He can't wait to get the fuck up outta here when the bbq is over. He'll be out as soon as the morning hits, before any of them can wake up and pester him about anything else.

You gather your hair back and secure it with a claw clip, running your cherry-flavored chapstick across your lips before pressing them together to spread it out. You check yourself in the mirror once more, not entirely crazy about your outfit for Jiwoo's family bbq today.

But, it'll do.

You had known Jiwoo since elementary school, meeting her in the 2nd grade when you sat for lunch alone and the boisterous girl joined you. She was the new girl, but she surely didn't act like it and you admired that about her. Since then, she never left your side despite your shy nature— not engaging in much in the conversation, only humming a few words or sounds in response when she ran through list of never-ending questions.

Even though her and Wooyoung were 2 years apart and very different, you felt like they were alike in many ways [which they'd deny until the very end].

That's how Jiwoo became your bestfriend. Because throughout all of life's changes, through your losses, she was your constant. She stayed, never wavered. Was your biggest support system alongside of your grandpa. Without her, you're not sure where you'd be. You owe alot of the push you've done in life to her.

yeosang: i'm downstairs!

you: cooooool, be down in a sec

*yeosang liked your message*

You check your outfit in the mirror once more, smoothing down the fabric before spraying a bit of perfume on your wrists. You press them together and rub it down your neck, down your clothes— a simple yellow floral tube top, white distressed jeans and your tore up chucks. It seemed fitting for a summer bbq; not one to wear dresses, shorts or mini skirts like that.

"Yo." Yeosang quickly scans your outfit just as you plop into the passenger seat and greet him. "You look nice."

"Thank you." You smile. "And thanks for picking me up." He reciprocates the smile, waiting for you to buckle up before driving off to Jiwoo's parents' house. From your tiny studio, it's about 25 minutes of a drive. Yeosang doesn't have to take the highway or anything, but he does have to navigate through the busy streets of the city before reaching their neighborhood. Jiwoo's parents celebrate their birthdays a day apart from each other, but it fell during the work week this year. So, they decided to throw a bbq with family and close friends on the weekend in order to be with everyone.

"What'd you do today?"

"I just went to get some groceries and bought a little gift for Jiwoo's parents. What about you?"

"Uh yeah, I just got their gift right before I picked you up." Yeosang chuckles. "Otherwise, I slept in a bit too much and by the time I knew it, half of my day was gone." You laugh.

"Yeo." You laugh. "You should really try waking up early. It's nice to get the most out of your day."

"It is, but you know what's also nice? Being under my covers." You laugh and shake your head, eyes fixed on the view through your window. The rest of the ride is comfortably silent with Yeosang's music playing in the background, especially since it isn't much of a drive. He does chime in here and there when he's reminded of random things he has to do or thinks about. Besides that, Yeosang is good at leaving you to your peace. When he pulls up to the street, he's having to park across from the house— Jiwoo's family and their close family friends already filling the spaces nearby.

"Oh! Y/N, Yeosang!" Jiwoo's mom sees you first, pulling you both into a hug before gesturing towards the kitchen. "Jiwoo is in here!" You both greet her happy birthday before following her into the chaotic scene that is the kitchen, Wooyoung quickly brushing past with a huge bowl of marinated beef in his hands and almost bumping into Jiwoo as she holds a huge pitcher filled with juice in her own.

"Wooyoung, move!" Jiwoo nudges him away and he glares at her.

"Stop! You'll make me drop this."

"What about me, butterfingers?"

"What about me, butterfingers?" He mocks her with a look before rolling his eyes and heading out to the backyard to meet his dad by the grill.

"I swear to God." She groans, before finally shifting her attention to you and Yeosang.

"Hi." You smile at her and you expect her mood to be lifted, but she continues to pout.

"Y/N, Yeo. Finally. Get me out of here. Please, let's just slip through the front door, no one will notice."

"Where's Joong? He has to come on our escape plan, too." You playfully go along with it.

"He's not here yet." She sighs.

"What's wrong?" Yeosang asks with a small chuckle. You look at Jiwoo with a slight head tilt, reading into the frustration in her eyes.

"Today is just so messy." She whines a bit, setting the pitcher down onto the main dining table. "Wooyoung's dumbass used my car and got into a little accident earlier."

"Oh, is he okay?"

"Yeah, look at him! He's the fucking same. But, you know what isn't? My car! The bumper is all dented and everything. You didn't see it walking into the house?" She lets out another frustrated groan and shakes her head. "Whatever, anyway, he's gonna make sure it gets fixed. He better."

"Was it his fault?"

"Yes." She sighs. "Texting and driving. Like an idiot."

"It'll be fine, Jiwoo. It's unfortunate, but I'm glad he's okay. I'm sure your brother will make sure it gets fixed in time." You add.

"He's so frustrating sometimes. Can't trust him with anything." You both follow her out to the backyard that is already filled with familiar faces.

"It's okay, it'll get fixed." You give her a small smile and squeeze her arm. "Let's just enjoy today, okay?" She gives you a small smile and throws her arm around you, bringing you over to one of the free couches near the back corner of the yard. Some of her family members are playing badminton on the other side of the backyard, while another cousin is playing music and has Wooyoung and his friends hovering around, conveniently close to the grill.

"Oh, Y/N. I wish I could be like you, sometimes. So much patience and grace. Things I need to be successfully related to Wooyoung."

"You have it. Just.. needs more practice." Yeosang responds, making you chuckle. You finally find her dad and greet him happy birthday before greeting the rest of her family members. You, Jiwoo and Yeosang hang around the backyard for a bit, talking about work and the upcoming summer party. You don't chime in much, nor do you want to being that it'll be your third year not attending. Luckily, at this point, Jiwoo's boyfriend, Hongjoong, walks into the backyard and starts greeting everyone before he plops himself right next to Jiwoo.

"Yo! Sorry I'm a little late." He looks at you and Yeosang. "Friends! I missed you, guys. It's nice to see your faces." You laugh.

"Hi Joong."

"Where were you? I was texting and calling you!" She pouts. "We had an escape plan ready."

"Escape plan?" Joong cocks a brow up.

"Yes, so I can get away from this mess named Wooyoung and cry to myself in peace."

"Baby, I'm sorry. I was caught up with my dad, he needed help with a few errands. The car will get fixed, okay? Glad no one was badly hurt." You smile to yourself as he kisses her on the temple. Hongjoong is a really good guy. He's perfect for Jiwoo and has a lot of patience for her. He cares for her a lot, and it's so clear you wouldn't ever second guess his feelings for her. He's selfless and would do anything for his lady without question.

You wonder what it'd be like to experience genuine true love like that. You've been in a relationship before but you couldn't exactly say it was love. Not a genuine, raw form of love, not a deep connection. Just a relationship where you learned about your partner and they learned about you, but that was far as it went. You don't remember feeling like the relationship was special, or like it was meant for you. It was more so another experience, another lesson in your book.

How does it feel to be completely, utterly, disgustingly in love and smitten with someone?

"I'll be back, I'm gonna get a drink." You mutter mid-conversation, getting up from the seat to head back into the kitchen. To your surprise, Wooyoung is there, sorting through some of the drinks set out.

"Oh, hey." Wooyoung gives you a small smile while you silently wait for him to move away from the counter where all the drinks are sitting— soda, juice and hard alcohol bottles spread across the surface. "Want me to make you something to drink?"

"Um." You softly respond. "It's alright, I was just gonna grab some juice." You point at the pitcher.

"You sure? You aren't driving anyway, right?" He points to Yeosang who is now talking to one of their cousins near the wading pool.

"Mmyeah, I came here with Yeo."

"Alright then." He smirks. "I'll make it pretty light, hm?"

"Okay." You smile sweetly at him. You've always had the sweetest smile and Wooyoung does enjoy seeing it, he won't lie. "Thank you, Wooyoung."

"Course." You twiddle with your fingers as you watch Wooyoung make a pretty concoction in a cocktail shaker, pouring in peach schnapps and cranberry juice with a dash of vodka. He transfers the drink into a fresh cup, handing it over with a smile on his face. "Wanna taste it before you go?" You sip on the drink, eyes lighting up at how good it tasted. You weren't exactly a fan of cocktails [or alcohol in general], though you wouldn't turn down a drink or two on some occasions.

"Mm, it's good!" He chuckles.

"Yeah? Kinda pulled the measurements out of my ass but I didn't put too much vodka."

"What're you doing?" Jiwoo walks into the kitchen.

"Listening to Y/N tell me how good my drink is." She looks at you with a brow cocked up.

"You don't have to lie to him." You giggle.

"It's actually good." You hand her your cup to taste the drink. She takes a good sip and nods in approval, shifting her attention to her brother.

"She wouldn't lie to me." Wooyoung winks at you.

"Can you make me one?"

"Nah. Bar's closed now. See what all that doubting does?" Wooyoung puts the lid back onto the vodka bottle before turning on his heel to walk away.

"You're a dick."

"Love you too." He says as he walks outside and returns to his bestfriend, San.

"You okay?" You ask her as she pours some juice into her cup.

"Yeah, I just came in here wondering why it was taking you so long to get juice." You laugh as you follow her back out into the backyard and to Yeosang and Hongjoong.

"Caught your bartending brother before he closed."

"Bartending brother?" Yeosang and Hongjoong both ask.

"Mm, Wooyoung made Y/N a drink and didn't even make me one." They laugh.

"Of course."

"Anyway, do you guys wanna sit at the wading pool? Dip our feet in and watch my family act a fool?"

"Sure. That sounds fun." Yeosang shrugs.

Throughout the rest of the bbq, you, Jiwoo, Hongjoong and Yeosang engage in a few other activities with her cousins besides hanging around the wading pool with her baby cousins— karaoke, some rounds of badminton, watching Jiwoo go head to head with her brother and older cousins in beer pong. From time to time, you catch Wooyoung looking over at you, giving off tiny smiles to be friendly. It isn't entirely uncommon, Wooyoung was always nice to you despite the distance. You don't talk much, but he doesn't necessarily treat you like a stranger especially after all these years.

It's a nice thing about him, their family— they're there for you.

They're there for you so much that Jiwoo comes up with the most incredible [in her terms] idea while she catches you cheering for Wooyoung during the very last round of beer pong against their cousins. It gets rowdier and rowdier, Wooyoung and his cousins yelling back and forth; their voices echoing into the sky. You try to sink behind Yeosang, jumping at the sudden cheers and random banging.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just a little loud." You scrunch your nose, Yeosang throwing his arm around you to provide some kind of comfort during the round. When evening officially hits, the partying doesn't stop. If anything, it gets a little more rowdy with alcohol running through everyone's system.

"Oh, fuck!" Wooyoung says, the beer tipping out of his cup when his cousin rams into him and spilling onto your jeans.

"Jung Wooyoung!" You hear his mom yell while his dad laughs alongside of her, nudging her to let it go.

"Oh shit, Y/N. I'm so sorry." He looks at you before glaring at his cousin. "You dipshit, look at what you did!"

"Wooyoung!" Jiwoo yells, dabbing a napkin to the wet spot on your jeans.

"It's okay, Jiwoo—" You try to chime in, but your response gets drowned within the ruckus.

"It's Sebeom's fault, not mine! Why is everyone calling my name!"

"You both are idiots!" She groans, taking another napkin to your leg.

"The hell is the napkin gonna do, Jiwoo?" Wooyoung sets his cup down before gently grabbing your wrist. "Let's go dab some water on that." You silently follow behind, letting Wooyoung politely drag you into the kitchen. He's clearly drunk, fighting with the paper towel roll before he successfully peels off a few sheets and runs it under the water.

"Wooyoung, it's okay. I can always throw it in the wash."

"Still, it'll get sticky and smell like beer in the meantime." He says, crouching down and dabbing the wet towel to the spilled beer on your jeans. "I'm sorry, Y/N. You know how my family gets."

"It's alright." You watch as he pinches the edge of your jeans and tugs it outwards, widening the surface area as he continues to wipe away.

"It might look worse at first, but the water will help." He clicks his teeth. "Did it get anywhere else on you?"

"Just my left arm but it's fine—" He stands, albeit a bit wobbly at first, taking another end of the napkin to dab away at the small wet spots on your arm.

"Okay." He says, tossing the tissue away. "Better." He gives you a toothless smile. "Won't do it again."

"Thank you, Wooyoung. It's fine, it's not a big deal. Really."

"As long as I did a better job than Jiwoo." He says, leading you back out to the backyard.

"You made it worse!" Jiwoo yells.

"It gets worse before it gets better! Plus, the beer smell won't be lingering." Wooyoung scoffs. "At least Y/N is grateful for it." As soon as you've settled next to your friends, everyone begins to sing happy birthday to Wooyoung and Jiwoo's parents before digging in for more food and sharing the ginormous cake Jiwoo ordered from a mutual friend. Wooyoung brushes Jiwoo off to the side, determining that he has the best cake-cutting skills between the both of them.

"Here, Y/N. For you." Wooyoung hands you a hefty slice of cake, eyes still glazed over from the alcohol he had been drinking. You watch as he licks the icing from his thumb, shaking his head in ironic approval. "The cake is so good. Thank god Jiwoo got it right for once—"

"Wooyoung, shut up!"

"Don't start again!" Their mom yells from the other end of the table, yet the two continue to bicker. You, Hongjoong and Yeosang stay out of it and eat away at the cake, continuing to mingle with their family members for the rest of the night until Yeosang feels his social battery dying.

"You ready? We could stay if you want, though." You shake your head.

"I'm good. Let's go say bye to Jiwoo and her parents." He nods. You find Jiwoo first, talking to one of her aunts off to the side. You squeeze her wrist as a signal that you and Yeo are getting ready to leave, her eyes widening. Bottom lip poking out. Whines ready to leave her lips.

"Nooo, you're leaving me? Please take me with you." You laugh and rub her back as you pull away from the hug.

"You'll see me tomorrow. I'll be expecting you to come over."

"First thing in the morning. Leave some room in your bed." Yeosang shakes his head and turns to Hongjoong to bid him farewell.

"Make sure you bring her girlfriend home safely." Hongjoong says seriously, patting Yeosang on the back.

"Will do." He nods. You follow Yeosang out towards the front door, clinging onto his sleeve as you navigate the busy house. You almost slip out successfully until Wooyoung pauses in his steps, doing a double-take when he catches you on his way back to the backyard.

"You're leaving?" You nod, chuckling to yourself when you see him drunk-whining just like his sister. "It's early!" He whines a bit. "Were you not gonna say bye to me? I thought we were cool, Y/N."

"Bye Wooyoung." You wrap your arms around his waist as he pulls you into a rough, but tight bear hug. "Bye San." You wave at San, in which he responds with a tiny smile and wave.

"Drive safely!" He calls out before leaving. You finally get out of the house, Yeosang waiting for you by the front door. You're not even gonna lie, you are pretty exhausted already, and you're excited to get washed up to lay in bed and pick up your current read. Jiwoo's family was always fun, so lively and full of energy. They fit so well together, like they were all perfectly molded and crafted as one. They've become like your second family, and you wished you had your own you could be the same with. But, that also goes to say, their parties always leave you exhausted.

When Yeosang gets you home, you thank him for the ride and give him a hug once he's dropped you off at the door. You slowly waddle into the studio, a smile on your face when you see your bed, your nightlight— the smell of incense still lingering in the room. You quickly hop in the shower and get ready for bed, looking at the big, bright 10:27pm in white on your nightstand clock. You slip into bed, getting cozy under your sheets before grabbing your book. Jiwoo is texting you and Yeosang pictures from today, including ones of her cousins getting crazy during beer pong.

Today was fun. It's over, and it was fun.

Today is not over for Jiwoo, though.

A few of their family members linger around while Jiwoo and her mom continue to clean around the house. She orders her lazy ass brother to haul out the bags of trash to the garbage can and to clean up the remaining mess from the beer pong game out in the backyard. Once all of the cleaning as finished, Jiwoo rushes to the bathroom to beat her brother for a shower. She feels like she can finally relax, finally settle down, finally set her plan in motion—

"I need you to do me a favor." Jiwoo leans against the doorframe of Wooyoung's old room as he folds his clothes neatly into his duffle bag, grabbing a new pair of clothes to change into once he's showered.

"Depends." He mutters, not taking his eyes off of his bag.

"No, you at least owe me this." He scoffs.

"Nevermind, I need to shower. Come back to me in 3-5 business days—"

"You didn't even make me a drink earlier!

"Not my fault you doubted my bartending skills." He furrows his brows. "Plus, I already told you I was getting your car fixed."

"Great, then you can do one more favor for me." Wooyoung sighs as he turns to look at her.

"What, Jiwoo?"

"Can you be Y/N's date to our company's summer party?"

"What?" Wooyoung furrows his brows and lets out a pathetic chuckle. "You're kidding, right?"

"What's that supposed to mean? She's my bestfriend."

"Yeah, clearly. Why can't she find someone else to go with her? Like that guy you two are close with, Yeosang?"

"Um, that's weird." She furrows her brows. "That won't do. If she wanted to go with him, she would've done it a long time ago. You know her. She hasn't gone the past two years, I'm not gonna let her pass up on this one."

"So then go ask your man if he has a friend he can spare?"

"She's not gonna wanna go with any of his friends!"

"Too damn bad."

"You cleaned up her jeans like a saint earlier!"

"Because it was the right thing to do! What does that even have to do with this?!"

"Wooyoung." She whines, almost stomping her foot. Wooyoung pauses to look back up at her.

"Even if I agreed, you do know how awkward this might be, right? Not only for me, but for her, too." Wooyoung shrugs. "I know she's been your bestfriend for years but we aren't exactly close like that. We're two very different people. We can't exactly spend a whole evening together. Alone."

"I'll be there with Hongjoong."

"That's what I said. We'd be alone." Jiwoo groans.

"She'd definitely be more comfortable with you than someone else!"

"Doubt that. She's quiet and shy. Very much the opposite of me?"

"Yeah, big ass mouth."

"That can be useful." He smirks, making Jiwoo wince in disgust.

"You're so disgusting, Wooyoung. Maybe I should take this back."

"You really think she'd play along with this?"

"Yes!" Wooyoung squints his eyes.

"You didn't even tell her about this plan, did you?"

"She'll go along with it. Please. I just want her to go and have fun for once."

"Hm." He hums, deep in thought. "Nah."

"Just one night!" Wooyoung sighs.

"No."

"Wooyoung!" She pouts.

"Jiwoo, seriously. Quit."

"You owe me! I've had your back so many times, and I've never asked you for anything else out of the ordinary." He looks at Jiwoo and he actually feels a bit bad about the car situation. And it's true, even though they don't always get along, Jiwoo has always had his back and covered for him when she didn't entirely need to. She's always had his back even when he didn't really deserve it. He subtly nibbles on the inside of his cheek, letting out a deep sigh before shaking his head.

"Whatever. Tell me the details." She squeals and he quickly turns. "And by the way, this is your idea. Not mine. I'm only doing you a favor so you can stop hounding me about the car. It's one night and that's it. If she gets mad, that's all on you."

"Fine. Consider your debt paid." She gives him a small smile. "Thank you."

"What are you talking about, Jiwoo?"

"I want you to go to the party and have fun." She pouts a bit, brushing your hair away from your face. You furrow your brows at her, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

"But, parties aren't really my thing." You shrug. "And besides, I don't really have anyone to go with. I hate to say it, but I don't wanna show up alone. Everyone has dates they can bring. You have Hongjoong." You look over Jiwoo's shoulder and catch Yeosang talking to his team members at the far end of the room. He catches you looking over, flashing you a small smile before returning his attention to his coworker.

Yeosang was great, no lie. He was a good guy, everyone could see that from miles away. He was smart, diligent, kind, and the biggest team player. He started at the same time as your cohort of new hires, Jiwoo starting a couple of months beforehand. When you saw him in person, you did find him attractive. He was at a good height and well-built, black flowy hair framing his chiseled face. At first, you thought Yeosang was just being nice to you. But, slowly, he'd accompany you to the break room for coffee breaks. Bring you coffee and pastries from another shop on random mornings. Occasional outings to lunch. Until finally, he'd accompany you to casual dinners where it felt a little too serious to be considered casual— you just didn't wanna dwell on it. Too shy to say anything or bring it up because your brain goes on overdrive and makes you think you're reading into this more than you should.

He was just your friend, being your friend. So you'd like to think.

You weren't really sure what you wanted out of this, but at this moment in time, you felt like Yeosang was good enough as that. If people found out you weren't entirely into him, they'd probably think you're crazy. And you probably are, but as much as you appreciate Yeosang's company and his kindness, you fear you'd be forcing yourself into something with him.

That's not what you think Yeosang deserves.

If anything were to develop, you'd like it to develop naturally. It hasn't yet, so maybe this was a sign that you two were actually better off as friends? You're not good at this whole dating thing, reading into signs and signals.

"I know you don't really wanna go with him either."

"It's not that. I just feel like it'd be awkward and I'd ruin our friendship. It'd feel way too forced for me."

"Y/N, you're gonna have to tell him sooner or later." You shake your head. "Then?"

"Then, I don't know. I just don't know about him. That's why I'm perfectly fine staying home and being away from all of that."

"What if my brother goes with you?" Your eyes widen.

"W-Wooyoung?" She nods. "No, Jiwoo. Is this what this is all about?"

"Look, don't get mad, okay? Just hear me out." You cross your arms as she lets out a breath. "I asked my brother to accompany you to the party and he agreed to go."

"What?!" You say a bit louder than expected. "Is it because he feels bad for me?"

"No! Shh!" Jiwoo furrows her brows at you. "I mean, he also owes me, but—"

"Jiwoo, I'm not a charity case!" You harshly whisper.

"I know, I know! You aren't. I just really want you to go." Truthfully, if this were any other person or circumstance, you'd probably feel a little hurt [even with good intentions]. You'd certainly feel like a charity case, and you'd feel sorry for yourself; especially for having to be set up in this way.

But, you're surprisingly not all that hurt by it.

Again, you know Jiwoo has good intentions and she would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. She does have a point— you haven't really gone to any of the big summer parties. You didn't mind it, but now that you think about it, you feel like you can't hide forever. The feeling of missing out settles in the pit of your stomach, and it's awful.

You're probably the only person who ducks out on these things. You're the one to blame for choosing not to be involved and for shielding yourself away from people, any inconvenience, etc. Shielding yourself away from fun, happiness. Life doing its thing.

"Mm yeah." You look at her. "I'm not close to your bother like that, though." It's true despite how he can be in person. Although you and Jiwoo were glued to the hip growing up, Wooyoung had his own group of friends and didn't pay much attention to you and his little sister. You both knew the basics about each other, have gone on trips together, tagged along with Wooyoung when he was the only means of transportation for you and Jiwoo. Why would he be worried about you, anyway? You two were busy fangirling over B2K, young Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You and Sean Patrick Thomas in Save the Last Dance, screaming at the top of your lungs whenever your favorite songs came on and shopping for hours at the same mall almost every weekend.

Not exactly Wooyoung's cup of tea.

Wooyoung was always rough-housing with his friends or going on casual 'dates' with different girls, blasting his 90s music in his room [like Vivrant Thing by Q-Tip, it's his fave] that'd shake Jiwoo's walls and drive her crazy. He had a few relationships that always ended up crazy toxic and you've seen the girls crying over him on their doorstep or throwing shit at his window to grab his attention after days of no communication. Despite that, he's not entirely a bad brother. He did his best to support Jiwoo throughout all her milestones in life, never missing an important event or being there for her when she needed her brother more than anyone else. They bicker and fight. A lot. But, they'd be there for each other in a heartbeat if needed. No question.

"You are, enough! You know he's full of himself and gross." You give her a look.

"Okay, really? That's supposed to make this better?"

"Sorry, kidding. Just my defense mechanism as his sister." She crosses her arms and sighs. "But, Wooyoung isn't exactly a stranger. And knowing my brother, he'd lead the entire time. Just let him accompany you to the party and call it a night! At least you'll be there with me and we can have fun together."

"You're gonna be busy with Hongjoong." You slowly walk back to your desk.

"I'm not. At least not entirely."

"Jiwoo." You look at her.

"I won't be too busy with him! I promise." Jiwoo looks at the date on your computer. "It's up to you, Wooyoung already agreed. But, today's the last day to RSVP."

"I feel bad, I told Yeosang I wasn't going."

"This isn't entirely how I'd go about things but hey, he'll see you with my brother. Maybe that'll initiate a talk, and you can tell him you don't want to ruin your friendship."

"Mm." You hum and pull up the email with the RSVP button, not really trying to think about the whole thing too deeply. "I don't have anything to wear."

"It's fine, we'll go shopping soon! We have some time before the party." She softly squeals as she watches you type away and send off your RSVP.

"Jiwoo, I don't know how to get ready for these things. I can't even do my hair and makeup properly."

"Babe. I will help you get this sorted out. Don't even worry. We're gonna have fun! It'll be good. I'm just happy you're finally coming." You give her a small smile.

"I hope it'll be good." Your bottom lip slightly pokes out. "Am I supposed to text your brother and thank him?"

"No. Don't worry about him."

"He's accompanying me to the party, of course—"

"Seriously, don't. It'll be fine. I promise."

"Papa?" You gently open the door and walk in, setting your shoes aside.

"Is that my girl?" Your grandfather comes from around the kitchen, holding two small bowls of rice in his hand. "You made it in time for dinner!"

"I can never miss dinner with you." You giggle, stepping out of your shoes and placing your things down before taking your place at the table. "How was your day today, papa?"

"Good." He sits in front of you with a smile.

"Did you exercise like you promised?"

"Yes." He gives you a look, making you chuckle. Your grandfather was 77 years old and still active, still healthy as can be. When you moved out, you made him promise he'd continue his exercise regimen and that he'd continue to keep himself healthy with wholesome foods. Reading. Going out and exploring the town. After all these years, he's the only one who has taken care of you well— having lost your mom and dad at an early age due to illnesses, same thing with your grandma. Despite the adversity, your grandpa made sure to put you first even if he was hurting, if he was tired, if he was stressed. He never took that out on you. He never made you feel like you were a burden, or like there was love lacking under his roof.

It was time for you to do the same.

"Good."

"How was the bbq?"

"Good! It was fun. Loud. Chaotic. Per usual at the Jung household." He laughs.

"Sounds like you had a good time." You nod. "How about work?"

"It was okay. It was pretty busy at first, but eventually settled." You avoid contact, digging into your rice when you grab a piece of samgyeopsal sitting in front of you. He watches you closely, seeing how you've gotten quieter in the last few minutes, signaling you were hiding something.

"Did else happen today that's making you watch the rice in your bowl?" You give off a tiny laugh and shake your head.

"Mm, well. Jiwoo convinced me to go to the summer party."

"You're going?" He smiles from ear to ear, happy to hear that you're finally going to enjoy yourself at the summer party you always avoided. He never forced you to do things outside of your comfort zone, but he did wish you'd go and enjoy yourself from time to time. Be happy. Have fun. "Good, I'm happy you're going! Is Jiwoo going with Hongjoong?"

"Mhm!"

"Then.." Papa looks at you with a small smirk. "Are you going with Yeosang?" You shake your head.

"N-no."

"No?" He looks at you, surprised. You've definitely talked to your grandfather about Yeosang and how you were feeling about everything. Even then, he was still surprised you weren't going together as friends.

"I'm going with Wooyoung."

"Jiwoo's brother?" You nod.

"Papa, it's kinda stupid. The way everything happened and how I ended up going."

"Nothing is stupid. Try me. How did you end up with Wooyoung as your date?"

"Well, now I'm gonna sound like a charity case."

"You are not." You give your grandpa a look before stuffing your face with more rice and pork.

"Wooyoung got into a little accident while using Jiwoo's car."

"Is he alright?" You nod.

"Yes, he's okay. Jiwoo is having him cover the car.. but also slipped in another favor." You shyly look up as you continue to nibble on your food, and your grandpa laughs.

"Ah, and that favor is the party, I'm assuming."

"Yeah. It's silly."

"It's not. She's coming from a good place and just wants you there. The whole car thing is unfortunate but for her, seems to be the right stroke of luck to get her bestfriend at the summer party." You giggle.

"I guess you could say that." You sigh. "I'm just worried about Yeosang. I told him I wasn't going and I'm not sure I will."

"You'll just show up with Wooyoung?" You shrug.

"I don't know how to do these things, Papa. I don't wanna hurt him, but I really can't see myself being his date or taking this further. I don't know what to say or how to say it yet."

"Eventually, you're gonna have to, you know that, right? For the sake of your friendship. He seems like a great guy, and I'm sure he'll understand whatever the case is, Y/N."

"I know." You shake your head. "I will. But, not now." Papa nods quietly before eating another spoonful.

"It'll turn out fine, okay? Don't worry about it too much."

"Thank you." You softly smile.

"Anyways, back to Wooyoung—" He pauses to eat some more. "It's not the most common way to find a date. But, weirdly, I'm glad it happened this way. I want you to go and have fun." You silently look at him. "Life doesn't slow down, you don't get any younger. Take the opportunities no matter how silly it may sound at first. Make more memories."

"I know. I'm just.. I feel awful that Wooyoung even has to go with me. He's probably going to have the worst time."

"Don't say that. He's going with you and the both of you will have fun. Let yourself have fun. Plus, it's Wooyoung. You know him. I'm sure he'll do what he can to make sure you are comfortable."

"I guess so."

"Enjoy, and have fun. Don't worry about anything, promise me that?"

"I'll try."

"That's all I can ask for." Because all he wanted was to see you happy. Genuinely happy in your own skin. Enjoying yourself. Having fun.

All he wanted was to see you smile over life again.

—PERMANENT TAGLIST: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @heyitsmetonid

#wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #kpop imagines #kpop #wooyoung x y/n #jung wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung angst #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung angst #jung wooyoung smut #hwaslayer: vivrant thing

492 notes · View notes