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onlyswan · 2 years

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summary: in which a shameless ex-lover makes your bad day worse and jungkook can’t help but to go wherever you are.

> fluff, dashes of angst / wc: 4k

> warnings: mention of blood bc oc gets scratched :( + is ready to throw hands at jk’s ex and then cries lol, taehyung cameo and mentions of yeontan :P + a line of jk reminds me of the orpheus drabble <3

note: last one for a while as i take a rest from writing and process jimin’s album <3 reblogs and feedback are always appreciated! it goes a long way :]

—

“jungkook, you’ve been in there for an hour! answer your phone!”

you click your tongue in annoyance, bouncing your thighs up and down as you fiddle with the controller and collect your kills with reckless tenacity. the ringing of the third phone call he’s receiving in the past ten minutes is overpowering the volume of the game, which you turned all the way down just enough so that you can faintly yet clearly hear it. well, right now, you can’t anymore. again.

“baby, you’re home?!” jungkook yells in surprise, and you spare him a glance.

half of his naked torso is peeking out of the bathroom door, and he looks like a maltese puppy who heedlessly jumped into a swimming pool, hair still dripping wet and pure excitement painted all over his face.

“who’s calling anyway? you can answer it for me!“

“can’t. i’m playing call of duty.”

“you’re what?!” he exclaims, but his voice enters your ear then escapes from the other as you remain deeply absorbed in the game. he disappears for a minute before emerging from the bathroom, half-naked with a striped white and khaki towel wrapped around his waist down to his knees.

you’re situated on the floor with your back leaning on the couch. he stands beside you with his hands on his waist, watching the television screen in sheer curiosity, which then morphs into astonishment. “wow, you’re actually playing it… i haven’t seen you touch your controller in months. but why are you sudden- yah! what is this? how are you doing so good?!”

the phone lying on the center table lights up once more. the incessant noise is seriously getting into your nerves and you’ve had enough of it, gritting your teeth as you snap. “i’m begging you. answer it. or i might break something.”

the irritation embedded in your voice makes him jut out his bottom lip sadly. more than that, your facial expression and body language evidently scream that you’re feeling on edge. you didn’t even bother to let him know that you’ve come home, and he’s uncertain if you nearly muted the volume because you don’t want to listen to the ear-shattering sounds of ammunition being fired or you don’t want him to hear them.

he picks up the phone per your request, eyebrows knitting in confusion when he fails to recognize the number flashing on the screen.

“it’s an unregistered number. i don’t know who- oopsie-” he scrunches his nose, chuckling because he accidentally ended the call when he muted the device. it vibrates with a new message from the same person not too long after.

“it’s my ex?” he blinks with a blank expression on his face. he intently reads the content of the text, tugging at the silver ring piercing the corner of his lower lip. “uhhh- she’s… asking me to put in a good word for her… because she applied to be an in-house choreographer at- at the company.”

on the other hand, you feel like a bucket of ice water was dunked over your head at the mention of your boyfriend’s ex-lover. your vigorous focus on the game wavers, but luckily, you’re already so close to finishing, and you still maintain half a mind to end the game in your own terms. the word ‘victory’ flashes on the giant screen, and you almost break down into tears because god knows you needed a fucking win today.

jungkook gasps in amazement, whipping out the camera app to capture a photo of your achievement. “did you just fucking win solo versus squads?”

the thing is… you’re not the biggest fan of these games. sure, you play occasionally (only using his accounts because you like how he already has most items unlocked and you can freely play around… you like to pretend that you’ve never been scolded for making him rank down before), but you prefer the relaxing types with adorable and colorful graphics. and just like he said, you haven’t touched your controller in months, which must be the reason why he’s pleasantly surprised. you won’t be shocked if you get bombarded by his gamer friends to play with them tomorrow, by the looks of your boyfriend proudly typing away at his keyboard while smiling from ear-to-ear.

“don’t move on too fast.” you breathe out a deep sigh before standing on your feet. “which ex? that bitch you broke up with because she kept on picking stupid fights with your friends? and now she wants to work with them?”

the combination of your harsh intonation and the recollection of dreadful memories make him wince. that relationship didn’t end on good terms, so this is confusing to him as well. it was a person he wholeheartedly liked, but they barely lasted six months because the way she treated those who are near and dear to him, unkind and discorteous, eventually turned him off and made him nothing but angry. she tried to convince him that she could change, but it was his decision that could no longer be changed.

does it even matter? he didn’t dwell on it too long, anyway. because then, he met you.

“yes,” he shortly answers, flipping his phone so the screen is facing you.

your brain chooses to not register any of the other characters used in the text except for those at the end: the flirty ‘Thanks babe! I miss u so much. See u around soon. Let’s catch up’ and winking emoji blowing a red heart next to it. you release yet another sigh, this time shaky and frustrated, and you gently move his hand aside to get the phone out of your sight. a headache is beginning to blossom at your temples, and you truly do not have the energy to deal with this bullshit right now.

“you must know how i feel about this, right?”

“i’m not sure-”

“like if she calls you ‘babe’ infront of my face i won’t hold back and i will claw her eyes ou-“

“okay, okay, baby, i got it!” he chuckles, taking a hold of your arms to pull you closer to him. he plants a sweet kiss to your lips, hoping that would aid in putting your mind at ease. “i won’t let her call me that again, hmm? or do anything that will make either of us uncomfortable for that matter.”

“good. i trust you. do whatever you want.” you speak softly, giving his rosy cheek light pats. he always looks a dash more attractive when fresh from the shower, so entrancingly hypnotic when bare-faced that it makes you want to fall on your knees and worship the stardust making up his existence.

unfortunately, your mind is too clouded and restless and you can’t stay to admire him some more. you withdraw from his hold, the cold drops of water from his hair sliding down to your forearm and you wipe them away on his towel.

“i’m going out for a bit. i need to buy something at the convenience store.”

you don’t wait for him to answer. you head straight to the bedroom to collect your essentials.

“wait for me. i’ll go with you!”

you return wearing a long purple jacket over your blue t-shirt and white sweatpants, also carrying your phone, wallet and pepper spray.

“i’ll be fine alone. i got this.” you wave the small bottle infront of him before stuffing it in the pocket of your sweatpants.

the front door rings as it opens and shuts, and jungkook despises the weight sitting on top of his chest— heavier and heavier with your absence. he still wanted to insist on tagging along, worried because it’s already late at night, but he gave up when he sensed that you really need to be left alone.

“shit, let me take care of this first.” he tilts his head to the side, and then the other, cracking his neck before he scrolls through his contact list to make an important call.

—

the soles of your sneakers scratch the rough asphalt as you lazily drag yourself to the convenience store. you’re having one of those kind of bad days- you woke up this morning mad at the world for a reason you couldn’t decipher, and it only got worse after you left the house for work. you brushed against someone while chasing the bus and the zipper of their bag scratched your arm that it bled uncontrollably. the nearest restaurant to your workplace was closed and you had to walk an extra kilometer. you didn’t have the time to text jungkook and complain about the shitty day you’ve been having. and you had to suffer the bus ride home beside an old teacher from high school who never ran out of uninteresting stories to tell.

oh! and how can you not mention that you were subjected to remembering that your boyfriend fell in love with other people before he knew you? the mere mental image of jungkook being emotionally and physically intimate with somebody else is a strong punch in the gut that makes you want to run in a corner and hurl.

and to rub salt on the wound, his ex-girlfriend, who is more than comfortable to reach out to him with an old term of endearment, wants to work at close proximity with him after saying ‘i miss you so much’… was the ‘so much’ necessary? was saying ‘i miss you’ necessary at all? you don’t know her intentions or if she even has any, and you don’t care if they’re good or bad. you simply cannot bear the idea of having to be constantly plagued by these vexatious musings.

maybe a good cry would help, but the tears won’t come out of your stinging eyes blinded by bright and flickering neon shop signs lined up beside the street. they’re saltwater in your lungs, making it difficult for you to breathe and to make sense of why you don’t feel like yourself today. it’s hormones. it’s always the hormones, you try telling yourself.

—

you’re sitting infront of the glass wall separating the sidewalk and the convenience store, watching the humans and the cars speeding past without much thought in your head… except for the hellish torture you’re inflicting on yourself. you sniffle loudly as you chew the spicy noodles in your mouth. your tongue is tingling and almost numb, but you lift up the flimsy wooden chopsticks to eat more of it because somehow, this is exactly what you needed. perhaps, it wasn’t accidental when you ended up pouring most of the buldak sauce.

however, your own little bubble gets popped by a tattooed hand you recognize all too well. it sets down a bottle of cold water infront of your cup of noodles.

“hi there.”

jungkook kisses the top of your head before occupying the stool on your left, which is the second seat farthest from the door that chimes every time a new customer walks in. he is very much not naked anymore, wearing a plain white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. his hair is still damp, bangs forming a perfect comma on his forehead, and the thin silver chain dangling from his delicate neck sparkles when the light grazes it.

“aigoo, why are you so messy?“

the doe eyes behind his glasses smile at you warmly as he wipes your swollen lips, the paper napkin you’ve been neglecting now stained with the dark red sauce.

“you’re here?” you ask dumbly, wanting to slap yourself right after the words escape your mouth because yes, what the fuck, he’s here. he’s touching you, and he’s real.

“of course, i’m here,” his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he answers, sounding upset. he removes his glasses and places it on top of the long white table. “i just wore the first things i saw then speedwalked here. i was sorting out the laundry and your handkerchief had blood all over it! care to explain?”

you guiltily avoid eye-contact, reverting your attention to the food as you poke and mix the noodles that have gone dry due to the cold air. “you didn’t have to. i already cleaned the wound twice- my left arm just got scratched.” you shrug your shoulders meekly. “i had a bad day, that’s all.”

“who do i have to fight, huh? who hurt you and ruined your day?” he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, lifting it up to make you look at him. his sincere concern is written all over his widened round eyes and creased forehead. “tell me, baby. i’ll make them pay.”

“well,” you anxiously sink your teeth on your bottom lip, a hesitant effort to control yourself because the particular word tastes too sour on your tongue. “your ex was just my last straw, you know? i don’t even want to call you ‘babe’ anymore.” your voice gradually quiets down in exasperation.

“why not?!”

you roll your eyes with a huff, pushing his hand away. “you’ll just remember her every time i say it.”

you grab the bottle of water, twisting off the cap and hissing when its ridges scratch the heel of your palm. you take big gulps of the beverage, feeling refreshed after the burning onslaught that assaulted your mouth.

“oh, come here. you- i need you closer.”

you squeak when you feel the heavy metal chair moving closer towards jungkook’s direction, one hand flying to your mouth and the other gripping his shoulder in fear of falling. he jokingly copies you when you send him a sharp glare. he puts an arm around you to affectionately hold the curve of your waist, anchoring his elbow on the table to rest his face on the palm of his hand.

“i took care of that, alright? i asked the company and they told me they put her on the waitlist. pretty sure she knows, too- that she’s not getting the job.“ he raises his perfectly shaped eyebrows in jest, playfully sticking out his tongue. “i told her i can’t help her, and not to contact me again in the future because i’m in a committed relationship. with you.” he squeezes your hip to reiterate his words. “then i blocked her number. i thought i did it before, but i guess i forgot to? ah, i don’t know!”

a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips and he happily grins when he notices, deep dimples making an appearance. unable to resist the urge, he briefly draws closer to kiss your cheek.

“besides, i forgot she even existed. why would i think of her when my favorite person is right infront of me? that’s absurd.”

he was truthfully flabbergasted at the foggy memories that resurfaced when he read her name, had one of those ‘oh, that’s right, this happened,’ and ‘why the fuck did i like this person again?’ moments.

“you’re the only one i think of when i hear the word ‘babe’. and when i hear love songs, or breakup songs, because they make me imagine us breaking up and i get so fucking sad.” his expression crumples into a look of sheepishness after spitting out the unplanned confession.

it’s terrifying at times, how an imaginary breakup with you feels more painful than his past heartbreaks combined. he almost lost you once, and he won’t let that happen again. he removes his hand on your waist to tenderly caress your hair when you bury your face in your hands.

shaking your head, you giggle at the genuine distress lacing his voice when he said the last sentence. “what are you saying?”

and then it finally happens.

restrained sobs replace the carefree giggles racking your body. your hot tears soak the palm of your hands until they drip down to your wrists. your frail voice comes out trembling, shattered, and disgustingly vulnerable for a space scattered with prying eyes and ears.

“…i just- fuck, i don’t want to say this but- i don’t think you understand- that i’m selfish. and i want you all for myself. i can’t stand that everybody wants to have you. i hate it, jungkook.”

your name rolls off from his tongue with a soft sigh as he pulls you in for a tight embrace. the comfort of his love and warmth further breaks you down, and you almost make yourself bleed to keep your cries quiet. his silken lips brush against your temple before he puckers them for a kiss that lasts four, five, six… seconds. you begin wondering if he might just stay like this forever, not that you mind, until he detaches himself to speak and you hear the smooching sound that signals the end of it.

“shhh, trust me, baby. i do.” he rubs your shoulder to soothe your tensed up body. “but i don’t care about that. they can die trying because i only want to be yours.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as his reassuring words tug at your heartstrings. you wiggle out of his secure arms, wiping your tears with the paws of your jacket as you force a smile. “it’s embarrassing. i don’t want to cry here.”

“how about in there, then?” he teasingly undoes the third button of his shirt, exposing more of his honey skin to the cool air. it reveals the rest of his silver chain, and his defined pecs are also peeking out. you whine in protest of his scandalousness, pounding his chest lightly with your closed fist.

he chuckles, corners of her crinkling with mischief as he buttons himself up again. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding-” he cradles your face in his hands, gingerly wiping away the tears still rolling down your cheeks.

between the two of you, he admits that he’s the one who cries more easily. it takes a colossal build-up of emotions for your tears to be released, and today’s influx caused your sink to overflow at long last. seeing you weep, it feels like a direct stab to the heart— especially unbearable, twisting deeper, when he’s part reason why. even so, it’s a big relief when the weight you’re carrying is being unloaded. but he understands that you don’t want to do that here… not here.

“as if you’ll let someone steal me away from you, huh? i know you, you cunning minx.”

you feign innocence, batting your eyelashes. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“that’s exactly what i’m talking about.” he smirks before planting a chaste kiss on tip of your nose. “don’t cry anymore. i love you.”

“i love you, too. but-” you sniffle, frowning at him as you motion at the cup of noodles infront of you. “why did you have to go and make me feel better? i don’t feel like finishing this anymore. it’s too spicy.”

“yeah, i can tell. look at your face. oh-” he squeezes your puffy face in one hand. “you were already crying eating that, poor baby… i’ll just finish the rest, how about that?”

“please,” you smile sweetly, delighted with his preposition. “i’ll buy ice cream. do you want anything? beer?”

“beer-” his face lights up like a christmas tree when it dawns on him that you said the word simultaneously.

you beam proudly, recounting the time you’ve been well-acquainted with every nook and cranny of jungkook’s essence of being. “did i pass the test? i’m taking my master’s degree in kookology.”

—

after jungkook finished your spicy noodles, he claimed his appetite only treated it as an appetizer and it demanded to be served ramyeon for the main course. that brings you to this moment, your boyfriend applying bandaids on your arm while he waits for his food to be cooked. concurrently, you devour your cone of vanilla ice cream.

“babe, i think two is enough.“ you attempt to stop him from opening another one of the teddy bear patterned bandaids. he found them displayed by the counter when he paid for the ramyeon, and only then did he realize that he forgot why he ran to you in the first place.

“they’re not- it goes all the way down your elbow.”

and you can’t argue with him because he looks undoubtedly pissed off, his expression instantly darkening when he saw the damage that damn zipper did to your skin. if this happened to him, he would be in a terrible mood for the rest of the day, too.

he plants a healing kiss on top of each one and your heart flutters at the loving gestures, but you feel a little ridiculous walking around with three bandaids running across your arm. you decide to wear your jacket again in order to hide them, since you’re freezing beside the airconditioner anyway.

jungkook starts eating his second round of noodles, but not before boasting that he perfectly separated the wooden chopsticks unlike you. you roll your eyes at his cocky grin and tiny dance of celebration, taking another bite of the cone you’ve consumed halfway.

the two of you comically freeze at the same time when a familiar ringtone tickles your ears.

“who would be calling at this hour? it’s 1am!” jungkook puts down his chopsticks to fish out his phone from the depths of his pocket, his thick satoori accent slipping out as he chides the person on the other line. he shakes his head with a laugh when he sees the name written on the screen. “ey, of course, it’s him again. i knew it.”

you watch him with an amused smile, his reaction giving you an inkling of who it is.

he answers the video call and props up the phone on his tall can of beer, grabbing his chopsticks to resume eating. “hyung, did you just wake up again?”

judging by the background, taehyung is in his gaming room. the given keywords being messy hair and eyes as puffy as yours, you’re pretty sure the answer to your boyfriend’s question is yes.

his deep and rough voice rumbles through the speaker. “jungkook-ah, i just caught up to our gc. where’s ___?”

“with me. why?” jungkook answers, words muffled as he chews and bounces his legs with the pleasure of having his food craving beyond satisfied.

taehyung ignores his question for the second time, instead calling out your name to catch your attention.

“whyyy?” you mimic his sulky tone, slightly shifting the phone to the side to show him your face.

you snicker when he flashes you his famous boxy smile, almost choking on your ice cream when his following remarks cause jungkook to throw a fit.

“play with me. no one else is awake and i’m getting bored of jungkook. he doesn’t want to play new games.”

“yah! you know i can still hear you, right?!” he takes a break from chugging his beer to throw his retort.

“i know, i wanted you to.” taehyung blows a raspberry at his best friend.

you grimace, stealing the opportunity to butt in before their banter lengthens. “listen, i’ll play with you if you let me play with tannie again.”

he opens his mouth to answer, but he quickly closes it again to stare at you nonchalantly. you impatiently quirk an eyebrow at his silence. “soooo?”

“wait there. i’ll think about it.”

and then he ends the call.

jungkook throws his head back, bursting into vibrant laughter after witnessing the interaction, and your head drops on the table with a pitiful whimper.

with bam staying at the training center for the meantime, you awfully miss the rush of happy chemicals flooding your brain in the company of man’s best friend. it was two weeks ago when you and jungkook hung out at taehyung’s house. you spent some time with yeontan at the park after you complained about getting bored watching them play ‘i’m on observation duty’. and he wasn’t… very happy when his dog started flat-out ignoring him in favor of your presence ever since you came back from the walk. tannie was adamant on sitting on your lap during dinnertime, even almost following you past the front door when it was time for you to leave.

“aww, my baby.” jungkook strokes your back with faux sympathy. “he hasn’t moved on from it yet. give him some time… maybe, like, five more minutes?”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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steftastan · 1 year

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Carian Stroll

“Tell Blaidd, and Iji…I love them.”

Before this piece, I had been wanting for a long time to create my own piece of Elden Ring fanart featuring Ranni. I had tried several sketches unsuccessfully, just wasn’t particularly feeling the ideas I had sketched up until that point.

One day of usual internet scrolling, I stumbled upon this gorgeous piece of art by Shimomura Kanzan.

I knew immediately I wanted to do something like this for my Elden Ring fanart. In fact, if you look at this piece, there is tons of inspiration that I drew from the original artwork, such as the style of the yellow leaves and the main subject matter being a prominent silhouette of the brightest value, placed at approximately the bottom third of the image.

The main character is cleverly shrouded amidst various layers of trees and foliage, giving us the impression that we're peeking into candid moment of their life. In the case of the fox, we caught it during a mid-day snack. In the case of Ranni and her party, we caught them in a leisurely stroll, while Iji outfits the dreaded Fingercreepers with their iconic rings.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to capture a happy moment, but Ranni goes as far as to ask us to deliver to Iji and Blaidd the message that she loves them dearly as her quest draws near its end. I would imagine they all must have had fun moments together as a family. Hey, maybe even the hands liked to be around them?

The process

youtube

I started this on my iPad using the procreate app. Sadly the full process is not captured on video, as I switched to Photoshop for the rendering phase of the illustration. This video is a fun window into my chaotic process and how I iterate on the fly on the same canvas. I probably wouldn't do that in a professional setting where you often need to have color keys and iterations to be reviewed and analyzed. I like to I cut myself some slack when doing personal art to keep things fun.

Trying and failing some more

This illustration was not a straightforward path. I haven’t been very diligent about personal art, and at some point I started deviating too much from my reference by adding too many levels of depth to the background and suffocating the piece. I got into a weird loop where I would randomly open the PSD, play around with the values, pushing Iji to the back, then bringing him back, cranking all the levers on Ranni, etc., decide it would look horrible, then begrudgingly determine I’d never complete this image and go on with my life.

As artists we likely have unfinished work sitting everywhere, be it in our sketchbooks, canvases, or hard drives. But it’s a different kind of sting when you feel like you can’t even nail the fundamentals.

Anyway, so a couple weeks ago, I decided to give it another go, but this time I would get rid of all the unnecessary stuff, even stuff that I had been trying to render for ages. I would not hold on to anything, I would try and recapture what drew me to Kanzan's beautiful painting to begin with.

After it became a matter of pushing and pulling pixels until the image was finished!

That’s about it. I didn’t go crazy in depth but lately I’ve been enjoying reading into artists’ processes and I’d be remiss to not share my own thought process also.

Thank you for viewing!

#elden ring #lunar princess ranni #blaidd the half wolf #war counselor iji #illustration #artists on tumblr #fromsoftware #digital art #video game #fanart #Youtube

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legendofmorons · 7 months

Note

Hello there! Can I request a work on a gender neutral reader being a parental figure to the chain? Reader is both wise but chaotic, and has little quirks like humming or holding on to the boys clothing to keep them from walking to far from them.

Parental instinct

Hi! I'm so sorry this was late, but I had so much fun with it. I might just do more of it.

Pairing: chain & reader

Rating: G

Summary: A look into life and the chain's parental figure

Warnings: none

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know

You don't actually have a 2024 bingo card, but you know that being sucked into an adventure with nine heroes wouldn't be on it anyway. You should start making yearly bingo cards.

You step into something of a parental role, out of necessity mostly, but you're also probably a caretaker at heart.

So, after a few months, you've gotten the boys to really start listening to you. Which is a feat.

On days like today, you're thankful for the help Warriors, Time, and Twilight present. You need all the help you can get while coralling the heroes through the more modern hyrule.

You say modern, but you're all in the 1980s, with big hair, blur eyeshadow, and a lot of shoulder pads.

"Wind!" You call loudly, grabbing the back of his shirt to stop him from crossing the cross walk.

A car speeds by.

"What?"

"Please don't get run over." You say with that long suffering tome familiar to those responsible for chaotic gremlins.

"Didn't (Y/n) just go over traffic rules?" Legend huffs as if he didn't also have to be stopped by Warriors and the captain'squick reflexes.

"Shut up Legend you're just as bad." Wind sticks his tongue out.

"Boys!" You interject, "We're clear now, let's go."

You follow the chain, bringing up the rear.

Hearding them to a hotel and booking last-minute rooms is an experience that involves keeping Wind near you at all times.

(You promise yourself to find one of those cute animal backpack leashes. Or maybe nine of them, actually. That'd make keeping the boys in line easier.

Maybe Legend needs a monkey one.)

After you've gotten the rooms and divided them, you all settle in your room.

Four and Legend have taken a bed to themselves sitting side by side.

Sky, Wild, and Warriors sit on the couch. The three too tired to cause much trouble.

Time and Hyrule sit beside you on the third bed.

"We should totally try that pe-za." Wind declares as he flops himself over your lap.

"Pizza. But yeah, sure." You say as you toss Wild the remote to the TV.

Wild takes a minute but figures out the remote and starts flipping through channels.

You are ordering several pizzas through an app. You've got several large pizzas, lots of breadsticks, a few orders of salad, a few liters of soda, and a bunch of deserts by the time it's all ordered. Thank Hylia for rewards programs.

Wild has found full house and pit it on. Whether good or bad, nostalgia is probably there.

"(Y/n)!" Legend calls, "Tell Four to get his feet off my side of the bed!"

"Four." You say with a pointed look, "Stop tormenting poor Legend."

"He started it." Four says evenly, as though he isn't currently sticking his cold feet onto Legend.

"Hylia, grant me some patience." You mutter to yourself.

"Not strength?" Sky asks.

"If she gave me strength, I'd shake some sense into all of you."

Wind is laughing then, a little too much like a hyena, but he's happy, so we'll take it.

-------

After dinner and showers, the boys all gone to bed. You find yourself beside Time.

The old man is lying down, trying his hardest to sleep. But something seems to be bothering him.

It's instinct to start humming. The tune is old and familiar as your voice takes it on.

After a while, you look down, finding Time's face serene the way only peaceful sleep grants. Good. He needs it.

You didn't expect to gain nine kids this year, but you wouldn't trade them for the world. Ganon better watch his back, though. You'd kick his ass in a heartbeat for all he's done to your boys.

#chocolate-marrianitos #lu #linkeduniverse #misty writes #linked universe x reader #lu four #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu sky #lu time #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu wild #lu wind

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lbxbx · 8 months

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Cockpit 6 | knj

Pair: Namjoon x reader

Summary: Namjoon goes through a rough time while getting a divorce, meeting you at the club two weeks in a row when attraction becomes unreal.

Rating: +18 mature content, Smut, divorce, fatherhood

Previous | Next

a/n: let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

taglist: @wecanpretendit |

You open up your eyes the next day, you didn’t get enough sleep but your phone just buzzed a notification, you click your tongue when you recall that you fell asleep before putting your phone on silent or do not disturb, you woke up with a mild hangover from last night’s poker game. You rub your eyes and immediately dig between your pillows to locate your phone.

You scrunch your eyes at the brightness when you unlock your phone, two notifications caught your attention, one being an email from the medical association, announcing that there’s a conference happening in Ilsan on Monday and you have to prepare a lecture for it. You’ve always attended those kinds of meetings but just as listener, but this year it’s your first time as a speaker since you managed to be one of the best in your department, the first notification made your day already, you’re proud of yourself.

But this email was sent a couple hours ago.

The second notification showing that someone texted you something two minutes ago and they unsent it, you click on the app and scroll through it, you even try googling how you can see who’s the sender, but you got zero results.

You scroll down and spot your chat with Namjoon, you click on it to see his last seen being a minute ago, but this doesn’t prove anything, it could be just a coincidence.

Although it isn’t.

Namjoon is dragging his carryon with him on his way to the terminal, he throws away his third empty cup of coffee before grabbing his phone, he’s been thinking about you the entire night, he wants to talk.

“how are you?”

“can we talk?”

It doesn’t even take a split second for him to unsend those messages, he can’t do it over text or over the phone, and he has to fly in less than an hour so he can’t really do anything until he lands in Seoul. He needs to see you face to face.

He swipes the app away and locks his phone when he arrives to the terminal.

“Shouldn’t the hospital pay for your ticket?” Jungkook asks out of breath, both of you are running on the treadmill, you’ve been working out together for some time now.

You and Jungkook met in the states in your first year in university, you both had majored in medicine, but he couldn’t keep up with the pressure, he went through so much that he just had to switch majors, he took the first plane back to Seoul and finished getting his degree to become a teaching assistant in Seoul’s university. You lost connection with him for a long time and you ran into him years after in a club and you became closer than ever.

“Yeah, they do, but I think I should take my car so I can move freely around there.” You shrug, he looks at you before squinting his eyes. “Honey it’s just one day, just go do your speech and fly back. Plus, the hospital is paying so you don’t have to spend anything.”

“It’s not about the money honey.” You mock his words, “It’s just that I don’t mind driving.”

“Don’t, really. Flying there is much safer.” He finally stops running when he finishes his miles. “You can’t drive there and back here on your own anyway, it’s not safe.”

You roll your eyes before turning off the treadmill, you grab your bottle of water and drink some to quench your thirst. “Whatever dumbass, you have to help me with my lecture.”

Both of you decided to shower at the gym and head out to Hoseok’s, they helped you choose a subject for your lecture and you finished it in a couple hours, it was a piece of cake with their help.

“Is it true what I heard?” Hoseok shuts his laptop and grabs a slice of pizza, you and Jungkook both turn to him in confusion. “What?” You ask.

“I heard some stuff from Seokjin hyung.” Hoseok takes a bite and wipes his mouth clean, you try and act oblivious but Jungkook is getting curious. “What?” He looks at you then back at Hoseok.

“Y/n hooked up with the guy she kissed at the club.” Hoseok shrugs. “It’s okay to talk about it since it’s over now, right?”

The younger looks at you with a shameless smirk on his face. “Nice.” He nods his head. You squint your eyes and elbow his chest. “Shut up.”

“So you totally agreed to hook up with a stranger but not with me.” He genuinely seems offended.

“Get over it Kook,” Hoseok huffs. “The guy is married.”

You study Hoseok’s face, is he pretending that he doesn’t know about the divorce? Or did he not really read his papers?

“You slept with a married man?” Jungkook exclaims a bit too loud that you rub your ear. “Okay first off, the neighbors don’t have to know, you don’t need to be loud.” He pouts.

You rub your forehead, you recall that night clearly when you tried to guess what’s his job, you literally had his hands in yours, there wasn’t a ring on it. “And in my defense, he didn’t tell me he’s married.”

“You should’ve asked.” Hoseok points and Jungkook agrees which makes your jaw drop. “Why would a married man flirt with a stranger? He’s the one who started talking to me.”

“Men don’t get enough-” Hoseok shrugs and gets interrupted by Jungkook. “No no, men never get enough.”

You knew all along that some men are pigs but now you somehow find this very unbelievable, and you’re positive that your friends might be pigs too, they’re men too after all.

“He has a child.” Your voice barely comes out, you’re in denial.

“So?” Jungkook asks as if having a wife and a son isn’t enough of a reason, you look at Hoseok, he’s just eating carelessly and totally not shaken by Jungkook’s question and the cringe on your face.

You close your eyes and shake your thoughts out of your head. “Okay, we need to stop talking about this, it was just a one time hook up and it won’t happen again, I don’t even know the guy.”

Monday came in a blink of an eye, surprisingly you weren’t that nervous, you got into a formal attire and filled your handbag with everything you could ever need, your flight is scheduled at 9 in the morning, you’ll be landing in Ilsan an hour later, and your flight back is scheduled to land in Seoul around 7 in the evening.

You grab your phone to find your friends active on the group chat wishing you good luck, you hover your fingers over the screen and respond to them with a smile on your face.

You take a cab to the airport and check in and head to your gate, you’re on your iPad re reading your lecture again while listening to music, you take a sip from your coffee and you spot a bunch of cabin crew and you scoff.

You didn’t realize how wrong Namjoon did you until now, everything seems to remind you of how bad things turned, and no matter how hard you convinced yourself that he’s just a stranger and you won’t have to see him again, you still grit on your teeth. You’ve always been smart and wit, your gut feeling was always right and you question yourself, why did you decide to ignore it this time, you have no idea.

Maybe something deep inside you actually had a thing for Namjoon, not a crush or something, but he just ticks everything on your list, and you find him quite close to your ideal type of men, but oh well, the man is married.

Well, he’s getting a divorce too. You think and you widen your eyes at your own thoughts before you burry your face in your palms.

Even if he was already divorced or whatever, that wasn’t your problem now. The man lied, and he’s a total red flag for you now, you didn’t have full trust in him to begin with, and now you can’t trust him at all.

Do men really not get enough? You recall what your friends said days ago, they can’t be totally right, you’ve seen healthy relationships before where each partner finds the other more than enough and they’re totally happy with each other.

You lift your face back up and you see the cabin crew again, you could clearly see what seemed to be the pilot flirting with one of the flight attendants, and goodness there’s a ring on his finger. Men.

Namjoon could’ve totally slept with so many women and convinced them that he’s single just like he did to you.

Speaking of which.

Namjoon is in the airport bathroom soaking himself with perfume before he heads to the terminal, he’s a few minutes behind the rest of the cabin crew.

The past few days were extremely hard on him, he’s been flying nonstop all over the republic just to distract himself from over thinking and just to waste time. He was going to try and contact you but he still isn’t brave enough to do so. He even drove to your place and stayed in his car for hours, hoping that you’d head out of the building any minute, but you were staying home the past few days.

He knew if he called or texted you wouldn’t answer, and he’s right.

The moment he walks to the terminal and boards the plane is when your face is in your palms because you’ve been having a debate with yourself earlier.

You didn’t see him, and neither did he.

“Where have you been?” His co pilot speaks as he enters the cockpit, Namjoon puts his carryon in the overhead bin before putting his phone down on his seat. “I was having a smoke.”

Boarding finally starts and you walk through the boarding bridge while carefully slipping your iPad in your bag making sure it won’t touch your heels, you chose to wear a pair of sneakers on your way there and change into your heels when you finally get there.

A queue is forming near the airplane door and you hear the flight attendants giggling with the passengers, you step a foot into the plane and one of the cabin crew welcomes you with the fakest wide smile ever. “Welcome aboard, may I see your boarding pass?”

“Thanks.” You hand her the ticket not bothering to mirror her smile, “I’ll take it from here.” A deep voice resonates that makes you lift your face up to see him.

Fucking Kim Namjoon.

Out of all the flights your hospital could’ve booked, they chose the one that Namjoon was flying.

Your eyes meet and it feels like you’ve seen him not long ago, you feel yourself getting charged with hate and anger again when you see him and you hardly control yourself to not snap at him and make a scene.

He snatches the ticket from the flight attendant and looks closely at it. “Come, I’ll walk you to your seat.” An immediate frown sits between your brows, you know he’s not authorized to walk you to your seat, and you can hear the other cabin crew whispering between each other.

You don’t have to take a long walk to your seat since the hospital booked you a business class ticket even when it’s just a one hour flight. Namjoon leads the way and you walk after him, he stops near your seat and points his head towards it. “Here you go.”

He didn’t leave you a good amount of space to enter your seat, so you stand super close to him before putting your bag down and take a your seat. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He bends down on his knees and leans his arm against the seat in front of you. ”How long are you staying in Ilsan?” And you immediately answer while trying to look careless, unlocking your phone and scrolling through it. “None of your business.”

“Y/N, please, we need to talk.” He begs with his voice barely whispering. “I’ll be waiting for you when we land-“

“Save it Namjoon, I’m going there for business and I don’t have the time.” You look at him, a sigh escapes his nose and he swallows when he looks at your lips for seconds, before looking back into your eyes. “I won’t waste your time, I’ll drive you wherever you wanna go. But please.” He begs again, his hand nearly falling on your leg but he stops himself and rests it on the back of your seat.

You scoff and shake your head, you look through the window for a second, then look back at him. “Look at you.” His eyes are locked onto yours. You continue. “Just so you know, there’s nothing you could say to explain yourself.”

“Namjoon, they need you in the cockpit.” A flight attendant nudges his shoulder, he nods without even looking up at her, then leans in closer. “Don’t get off the plane when we land, just stay here and we’ll leave together.”

You sigh in response and his hand finally lands on your knee for a quick touch of affirmation, he gets up and makes his way to the front of the plane, you eye him from head to toe, your eyes piercing through his big body, and he knows you’re watching.

You fasten your seat belt and lean your head back on the chair, you were hoping that you’d catch some sleep on the plane but you can’t.

You can easily predict what he wants to talk about, and you really used to fancy this man in general, but now he looks like a total different human being to you, and you can’t say you’re not disappointed.

You’re not going to over think this anymore, you’ve had enough, you’re gritting on your teeth again and your jaw tenses, you feel yourself about to get a headache. You’re seeking for closure.

The announcement bell rings and your eyes widen when you hear Namjoon’s voice radiate through the speaker. “Good morning and welcome aboard, this is your captain Kim Namjoon speaking.” You find yourself breathing heavily suddenly, you look all the way to the front of the plane, you can see the cockpit door still open, and you could see just the side of Namjoon’s body and the rest is blocked by the stupid giggling flight attendant.

“First I’d like to welcome you on Korean airlines flight number KA87 heading to Ilsan, we are currently third in line for takeoff. We are expected to be in the air in approximately 14 minutes, we’ll be up to a cruising altitude of 32 thousand feet, flight time will be one hour, if the seat belt sign is turned please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened.” You can see him shifting in his seat, before your phone buzzes a text, you grab your phone and see that he was the one who sent the text.

“I’m happy to see you :)”

Your stomach does this weird thing inside you that you haven’t felt before, your hand hovers over it and you try had to calm your breath but now your heart is fluttering.

“Please switch off your mobile phones, or turn on airplane mode for safety reasons.” He speaks through the speaker and you put your phone back into your bag with your jaw down. You cannot believe him.

“In about ten minutes after departure the cabin crew will be coming around to offer you a light snack and a beverage, until then, sit back, relax and enjoy your flight, thank you.” He closes the speaker and the back of your hand sits on your burning cheek, you’re totally confused on what’s happening to you.

You unbutton the first two buttons of your shirt and fan your face, if any of the flight attendants saw you they’d think you’re afraid of heights or you’re panicking but really, you’re not. You’re just.. Overwhelmed, if that’s the right word to use.

“Cabin crew please be seated for takeoff.” He speaks one last time before he moves the entire plane towards the runway.

Namjoon did his hardest to stay focused on the only thing he had to do, his mind was rushing with thoughts, each one interrupting the other, he has no idea how to start talking, hell he’s not even sure if you’re going to wait for him or not. He couldn’t fight the smile that’s slowly creeping on his face, it doesn’t go unnoticed by the copilot, he even smirks before asking Namjoon. “Is that your wife?”

The question robs the smile away from Namjoon’s face, and he finds himself cringing. “No.”

She could never live up to you, no offense to her. But she doesn’t put any effort in the way she looks, she never cared, in fact Namjoon doesn’t recall the last time he saw her styling her hair or putting on makeup. She’s unemployed since she’s taking care of Jay most of the time, but Namjoon opened a bank account for her so she can do whatever she wants or even buy something for herself. But she never did.

And you, gosh he doesn’t even know where to start. You’re just you.

The second you stepped foot on the plane and he saw you, he felt his stomach twist and his heart skipped a beat, he could feel a hint of tightness in his boxers as his body starts pumping blood everywhere. He really is happy to see you.

Meanwhile you’re in your seat less than an hour later as the flight attendants take their seats to prepare for landing, and you may seem biased when you admit that this was the smoothest landing ever. Namjoon must be really good.

People almost immediately rise from their seats to claim their luggage from the overhead bin, you grab your phone and turn off airplane mode, you’re welcomed to Ilsan with a few text messages from your mobile network, the moment you clear this notification you lift your face up to see the passengers beginning to exit the aircraft, and you spot Namjoon standing with the flight attendants and saying goodbye to the passengers one by one with a soft smile with his stupid dimple showing.

His eyes pierce to you between each passenger and he’s glad you actually stayed, he grabs his carryon from the bin above his head and puts it down on the floor before nodding to you.

You take it as a sign to get up and you do, throwing your bag over your shoulders and lowering your sunglasses down to cover your eyes, you walk towards him and you feel your body heat up the second he puts his hand on your lower back. “How was your flight?”

You look at him and roll your eyes at how cocky he’s getting and he lets out a soft laugh. “I’m just messing with you.” This motherfucker.

“What brings you to Ilsan?” He starts talking as you’re walking down the stairs of the plane, and you take a second to give him a blurry answer. “I’m here for work.”

“Work?” He asks as both of you make it inside the bus that’s driving you to the airport gate.

You look around the bus and it’s packed with people and there isn’t a single seat empty, you lean your back against the window near the door and you try finding a hand grip to hold onto, Namjoon leans both his palms behind you and nods. “Hold onto me, it’s okay.”

The smell of his cologne mixed with cigarettes wafts through your nose, you’re sandwiched between him and the window, and you’re surrounded by so many people that it’s physically impossible to push him. You look into his eyes to see him staring at your lips, your eyes wander lower to his neck to see his necklace.

It’s the necklace you saw on his neck the morning he left your place.

Your fingertips move towards his neck before you fish out the necklace from underneath the buttoned shirt. The look on your face makes his heart shatter, and even his heart melts when you breathed. “That’s your son.”

He looks down to your fingers and he touches the small necklace too, making both your fingertips touch, you feel his touch in a form of electric current and you lower your hand immediately. “That’s my son.” He whispers.

You study his face for a long second.

Despite the fact that he cheated and what he did was wrong on so many levels, he looks like he totally regrets it, and he seems like he genuinely wants to make things right with you. You’re ready to hear him out.

“Alright.” You sigh and he smiles softly, tugging softly on the loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

The bus starts moving and you immediately hold onto his wrist for support, his smile goes wider before he grabs your hand into his, intertwining his fingers between yours which settles this weird feeling down in the pit of your stomach. What in hell is going on?

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He takes a step closer to you, the smell of his cologne getting stronger and chest barely brushing against yours. You remind yourself that this man lied to you once and you can’t just let him off the hook this easy.

It’s a five minute ride to the airport and it felt like five hours to you, you’re getting worried at how your body is reacting around this man.

You finally get to the airport and finish all your paperwork, he fishes out a pair of car keys and leads you to the parking lot.

“You’re renting?” You question him while buckling up and he shakes his head. “It’s my sister’s car.”

“Ah yes, you’re from Ilsan.” You remember that he told you this before and he nods, you lean down to take off your sneakers and socks off, you switch to the pair of heels you have in your bag, you can feel his eyes on you so you turn to look at him. “What?”

“Where are we going?” He asks, you show him the exact location that the conference was held in and he nods and starts driving, he doesn’t even bother opening maps or anything, he knows every alley in Ilsan. “How long are you staying here?”

“Namjoon, you’re the one who’s supposed to be talking.” You sounded too mean and he starts feeling pressured, his breath becoming slowly irregular. “Fine, fine.”

You look at him while he’s driving, he’s forming small sweat pebbles on his forehead and his grip around the steering wheel gets tighter. “I’m sorry.”

You’re fed up with how hesitant and scared he seems. “Yeah, I know, and?”

“I uhm.. I should have.. told you since day one.” He clears his throat. “What I did was really wrong and unfair to you.”

Your hand sits on your chest when you exclaim. “To me? You’re married, you should feel sorry for your wife.”

A frown sits on his face and he feels his blood pressure elevating by the second, he gets really irritated at the mention of her. “No, y/n, you don’t know anything.” You frown. “Enlighten me.”

He rubs his face and his jaw tenses, he opens his mouth to start talking, but he shakes his head instead and looks through the window. “For fucks sake Namjoon.” Your voice starts getting louder, he slams the steering wheel and finally bursts. “I’m miserable, okay?” He’s louder than you are.

“I’m fucking miserable, I’m not happy, and I’m lonely.” His chest heaves up, he runs his fingers through his hair before continuing. “My life is a fucking nightmare, y/n.”

You feel your heart clenching when his voice starts getting shaky. “It’s killing me.”

This man lied to you once and you don’t feel like you can trust him again, for all you know, he could be lying to you again. You’re unsure if the reasons he listed earlier are valid enough for him to cheat on his wife.

“I feel like shit for doing you wrong.” He stops the car on the side of the road and looks at you. “You have the right to be mad at me, I know I’m a terrible person.”

And right off the top of your head you ask him. “Is she not good to you?” Your voice comes out in a form of a whisper. He scoffs and shakes his head before looking down. “I’ve known her for years, but she still feels like a stranger..:”

You lose it when you see tears forming in his eyes. “We painted this fake image of us holding hands in front of people and smiling just so they think that we’re happy, but we’re not even an inch close to happy. I tried so hard to compromise but I got nothing in return, it was always me who has to work hard for this marriage and I got nothing. I thought that life just goes on and maybe that’s what all married couple are like, but no. I’ve made so many wrong decisions in my life but she was the worst ever.” His tears finally roll down on his cheek and he just sobs, gravity does its job and his tears fall onto his lap.

You’ve never seen a man this weak and vulnerable, you feel your heart squeezing at his state, he looked so firm and happy on the outside, he looked stable, but he was able to conceal it all very well, that must’ve drained him through those years.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and sit on your knees, you grab his head into your hands and brush his tears with your thumb softly before hugging him closer to you, he wraps his arms around you and speaks. “Imagine being silenced for years.” He pulls back, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’ve been through this nightmare for three fucking years and I couldn’t say a word to anyone about how fucking miserable I am.”

“Shh. It’s okay.” You whisper, cupping his jaw in your hands and tracing it with your thumb, you brush your nose against his and close your eyes. “I’m here.”

He grips onto your top with his fist and pulls back, “What?”

You feel the need to help him escape this, the man is clearly going through severe depression and he’s emotionally deprived from any act of affection or love. It’s not like you’re offering to love him, but you need to help him get back on his feet.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” You smile softly at him and offer him your hand, he locks his eyes into yours and grabs your hand pulling it closer to his face, he leans his head onto it and kisses it softly.

“Thank you.” He whispers while mirroring your smile. You giggle and adjust your seat. “We have to get back on the road Namjoon.”

He nods and turns the car back on before hitting the road again, you felt the need to explain to him the reason you’re in Ilsan and he ends up offering to attend the conference with you, actually no, he insisted on attending.

He parks in front of the building and both of you exit the car, he opens his carry on and manages to change just his top before entering the main hall.

“Miss y/l/n.” The head of the medical association approaches you while reaching his hand out to you, you shake his hand firmly and smile. “Lovely to see you Mr. Baek.”

“I’m so glad you got to be a speaker this year.” He smiles back, his eyes spotting Namjoon behind you, you pull back and put your hand behind Namjoon’s back, pushing him closer to you. “Let me introduce you, this is my friend Namjoon.”

“Nice to meet you.” Namjoon shakes his hand firmly before the old man speaks to you. “It’s lovely for you to have support, we’re all so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” You smile before hooking your arm around Namjoon’s. “Pardon us.”

Even when you just introduced Namjoon as your friend, he’s not used to being touched like that in public because he was never touched like that in the first place.

Speaking in front of a huge crowd was never a big deal for you, your lecture was interesting to begin with and your powerful personality made a strong presence on stage, you almost forgot that Namjoon was between the crowd watching you with his jaw slightly open.

The second you stepped on that stage he felt… Euphoric.

He listens to every single word that comes out of your lips attentively even when you’re using complicated medical terms, he scans your body language and your hand movements and he swears he hasn’t been this impressed by a woman before.

He’s proud of you.

You’re the woman he’s always imagined having in his dreams, he was quite the ambitious person himself and he had so many goals he wanted to achieve but his personal life always stood in the way.

He finds himself charged when he’s around you and not only sexually, he’s suddenly in a better mood and his brain and body function better, he finds himself way less anxious than when he’s around his family, although he should feel this way around his son too, but your aura is totally different.

His heart skips a beat again when your eyes meet in the middle of your lecture and you smile softly at him as if he’s the one who needs support. He finds your smile contagious and he gives you one back with a soft nod, he’s really proud of you.

You finally end your lecture and they applaud you, you know you did great. You bow your head and get off the stage to be welcomed by a few colleagues who shake your hand and make small talk with you about how good your lecture and where your sources were from, they even ask you a couple questions about your topic.

You got offered two jobs on the spot in two different hospitals around the republic but you were kind enough to refuse, the hospital you currently worked at is the hospital that helped you get where you currently are.

You thank them and make your way back to your chair, Namjoon gets up on his feet and grabs your hand into his. “You were great.”

“I know, thank you.” You grin when he pulls you closer for a soft kiss on your cheek, he pulls your chair back for you to sit next to him, and both of you sit back to listen for the rest of the conference.

It’s a couple hours later, Namjoon is driving you back to the airport while you’re on your phone texting your friends on your group chat, they had planned a dinner to celebrate you tonight, so Taehyung was supposed to pick you up from the airport since he already lives close to it.

“Can’t you please stay for tonight?” He manages to turn his head towards you for a split second while he’s driving, you lock your phone and put it down before you speak. “I’m supposed to meet my friends for dinner and I’m on call tomorrow morning.”

His shoulders sulk in disappointment and a sigh escapes his nose, his eyes are now focused on the road and it’s clearly showing that he wants to be around you more, which kicks your ego up to the top.

At the same time he doesn’t argue and he doesn’t insist, he just wants to give you your own space so he won’t pressure you, you chuckle before running your fingers to the back of his head, scratching his scalp with your nails. “You know I can see you back in Seoul.”

You know your hand drives him crazy and you could care less If you crash, you want to leave him edged and thirsty for more and you like it. His eyelids starts to feel heavy and he fights it so hard to stay focused on the road. “It’s just that..” He breathes, your fingers move down to scratch his neck, he swallows before he proceeds. “.. I wanted us to be alone and away together.”

You take a long breath before you retrieve your hand back onto your lap, you’re not going to give him what he wanted immediately. You did offer your help but you didn’t forget about the terrible lie he played on you. So he deserves to be denied for the mean time. “If that’s your way of inviting me to bed than save it.” You smirk. He lets out a quiet laugh and stretches his hand to sit on your inner thigh, his fingers squeezing your covered flesh softly and stroking it, “Fine, I deserve to be punished after all.” He bites on his lip.

“Good boy. I’m glad you’re aware of that.” You managed to play the role of the tough cookie but you can’t deny that his touch is doing wonders to you, the warmth of his hand against your covered skin and his soft strokes gives you flashbacks of that night you spent together, and the other nights where you made him cum just by hearing your voice.

You finally get to the airport and he turns off the car in the parking lot, he looks at you while unbuckling his belt. “Are you sure you don’t have the time?”

“The gate is already open Namjoon.” You look at the time on your wrist, you unbuckle your seat belt and fish out your documents from the bag. “Thank you for keeping me company.”

“I’ll see you back in Seoul?” He coaxed, you giggle and take your time to answer with a slow nod. “I’ll see you back in Seoul.”

He leans in and you think he’s going to kiss you on the cheek, but he moves further down to brush the tip of his nose against the pulse of your neck, he takes a long inhale through his nose, collecting whatever he can of your smell which arouses him, he closes his eyes and whispers. “I can’t say it enough, but I’m truly sorry.”

You clear your throat before you move your hand up to his jaw and caress it with your thumb. “I know you are.”

He keeps his face buried in your neck for a couple seconds before he pulls back and locks his eyes with yours, you see the face you saw earlier this morning, apologetic and full with regret.

“I have to go.” Your faces are extremely close that he feels your hot breath hit his glistening lips, he nods and fully pulls back to collect his phone and keys. “Come on, let me walk you inside.”

“I don’t know if we say this enough y/n, but we’re totally proud of you. We’re always there for you and we’ve got your back, we truly love you.” Taehyung lifts his glass of champagne up on the air before all you clink your glasses together. “To y/n.”

You sip some of your drink and put it down before Yoongi starts. “So how was your trip?”

“It was quite chill, it’s my first time on a business class, other than that everything went great, I also got a few job offers.” You slowly nod your head. Yoongi sips more of his drink and lifts up an eyebrow. “I heard some stuff from Jungkook.”

You snap your head towards the youngest who’s totally avoiding eye contact with you, his face flushing at the sudden mention of his name.

After all, what were you expecting? Seokjin told Hoseok, and Hoseok spoke in front of Jungkook, and now Yoongi is discussing this around the table where not only your friends are sitting, but also a couple of their partners.

And by the looks of it, his wife already know since she’s studying your face and waiting for confirmation.

Do they just go around talking to each other about you? Your hookup with Namjoon will haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Yeah it’s true.” You spit out, “Namjoon’s married?” Jimin asks and your eyes almost fall out from their sockets, as far as you remember, he knows you hooked up with someone, but not with Namjoon specifically.

“He’s married?” Taehyung dramatically drops his fork which makes you roll your eyes. “I actually saw him in Ilsan.”

Your statement was followed by a complete silence around the table, you feel everyone’s eyes on you as they’re waiting for you to elaborate, you clear your throat and open your mouth. “Relax, we didn’t go together, he was flying that plane.”

You realize that they still don’t know what he does when they look at you like you said something in a foreign language that they don’t understand. Hoseok turns his body fully towards you. “Flying the plane? Like fly fly?” He blinks repeatedly.

“He’s an aircraft pilot.” You take a sip from your champagne and you clearly see Mia and Jade, Taehyung’s girlfriend, swoon over the man, you nod with a smirk. “I know right?”

“And did you talk?” Seokjin hesitates, leaning his elbows on the table and closer towards you so he can hear you better. You nod. “Mhm. He apologized and I guess we’re okay now.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to see him again.” Taehyung whines. “You can’t be the mistress.”

Taehyung’s words woke some sense in you and you actually admit that you cannot be the mistress. You scold yourself because you shouldn’t have let him off the hook that easily and offer him closeness immediately.

You jump in your seat when your phone buzzes and speaking of the devil, it’s him.

“Call me when you’re home.”

“I miss hearing ur voice.”

A knot sits between your eyebrows and you actually leave him on read. You are not going to reply to him and that’s it. You lock your phone and put it back in your purse. “I’m not going to be the mistress.” You firmly say, and you cross your arms above your chest.

It’s later in the night, you had already finished your dinner with your friends that night and headed back home, you showered and put on a face mask, and went to bed really early since you’re on call in the morning.

A little past midnight, your phone vibrates repeatedly and you think it’s work because they usually call for consult during the night when you’re at home. But it’s Namjoon again.

“can I call you?”

“I’m at the hotel room”

“I’m flying back to seoul in the morning”

“I’m so glad I got to see you today”

Your fingers hover above the screen and you purse your lips, debating whether you should answer or not, but again Taehyung’s words echo in your head, which makes you quickly turn off the wifi when you see him typing, you lock your phone and put it on your nightstand.

Oh so you’re going to ghost him now?

You don’t hesitate for a second, you fall back asleep in a snap of a finger.

Meanwhile, Namjoon is freshly out of the shower, his hair dropping small pebbles of water on his neck and back, his phone is in his hand and he’s getting concerned of the fact that you’re not replying to his texts.

He actually saw it coming, and he knows you’re not going to reply to his texts or ghost him for some time, of course he’s not going to pressure you to answer, so he just puts his phone down and lies down flat on his bed. He knows he deserves the punishment.

He’s in Ilsan but he doesn’t always stay at his parents. Since he’s there partially for work, the aviation he works at provides him a room at the airport hotel, so he just stays there before he flies back to the capital.

To say you wake up cranky the next day is an understatement, your period started today and your tummy and back are killing you, and your headache is getting stronger by the second.

Hoseok who decided on picking you up to and from work today has been blabbering since you stepped foot in the car and you’re waiting for him to stop talking.

“Men actually love it when women are mean with them, don’t over think stuff with that man, I remember once I hooked up with a girl and I was planning on not calling her the next day, she wasn’t that special and she wasn’t really worth the shot, but I swear the minute she started being mean with me I liked her a lot better.” He even laughs and your face falls inside your palm, you could beg him to shut up.

“When she started being nice to me I got the ick and totally blocker her number, it’s just how the world works you know, and I’m not-“

“Hobi please.” You snap. “Shh.”

And the man sulks with a pout on his face, you’re not even sorry, you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today and your body isn’t giving you a break. You could’ve called for a day off but no one wanted to switch shifts with you.

The moment you step foot into the department, the nurses actually give you a few meds to help you go through your shift, it was hectic that day.

You grab your phone a few hours later and finally turn back on the wifi, Namjoon sent one text early in the morning, which is probably right before he headed to work.

“i hope ur okay, take care.”

Your fingers hover over the screen and you decide on messaging him back even when you don’t want to.

“fly safe J”

Your heart beats faster when he reads the message seconds later, you’re about to lock your phone but he’s calling you, and you can’t just ignore his call when you just texted him.

You wait a couple seconds later and finally answer him. “Kim Namjoon.”

He lets out a low grunt before laughing, you can’t see him, but he’s in bed stretching, he’s sleeping on his right side with his phone under his ear, his eyes immediately shut close when he hears his name. “Good morning.” His voice deep and sleepy, also low so he cannot be heard.

Fuck, he’s not helping you keeping your hands to yourself when he does that.

“Did you miss your flight or what?” You grab your white coat and make your way out of the emergency department to take your call. He breathes into his phone and speaks. “No, my flight was early in the morning, I’m in Seoul now.”

You can’t help but ask, even when you really know that it’s inappropriate and really none of your business, you even stutter. “Is she there?” And it comes out as a whisper. You’re really asking him about his wife.

It takes him a few seconds to process the question, uncertain whether he should actually answer the truth or not. Because she’s home and in the next room, if he was an octave louder he would be heard.

Although he did promise himself that he won’t lie to you, so he answers. “Yes.”

Your heart clenches and no matter how hard you think you’re going to accept it, it’s just really hard to digest.

You clear your throat and bite on your nails, and as if he can see you, he laughs quietly and whispers back. “I wanted to say this to you face to face, but you have to know, whether you showed up in my life or not, I would’ve gotten the divorce any way, so don’t worry.”

Namjoon never knew what it felt like to be taken care of or shown love, and neither did you, you’ve never been in an exclusive relationship with anyone before. Of course you’re loved by your family and friends, but someone actually offering you affection and care who is neither a family nor a friend feels weirdly good.

It’s like the missing piece in your life that you just realized you needed.

But still it feels concerning when Namjoon talks about you like that, and you actually spit it out to seek for an answer so you won’t have to overthink it. “Come on Joon, it was just a one time hookup, why are you talking like it’s more than that.” You even fake a laugh to make it sound nicer than you truly mean.

And he just blurts it out. “Because it is more than just a hook up,” And he can sense that your tension over the phone is increasing, you realize you’ve been holding your breath for a second before he speaks with an audible smirk on his lips. “Come on y/n, we both know it’s more than just a hook up.”

It slightly irritates you at how smug he sounds, you scoff before speaking. “Wow you surely sound confidant about that. I hate to break it to you, but really, it’s not true.”

“Okay.” He’s totally not convinced, you hear him muffling under the blanket in his bed. “I’ve been thinking about you the entire night.”

Now it’s your turn to make his life a little harder. “And did you make yourself cum?” He takes a long breath before he hums. “I made myself cum when I imagined the way I wanted to please you, y/n.”

You’re ashamed at the way your body reacts, even when you’re on your period, your body acts upon his words and your face flushes, you press your thighs together to ease the increasing heat between your legs.

What he just said suddenly filled a certain void inside you that you never knew existed, you’ve always wanted a man seek after your own pleasure.

Even when you absolutely enjoy the dirty talk, and even when it makes your cunt tingle, you still manage to ask him. “Hm, so I guess you called just to ease your morning wood?”

You doubt the fact that this man thinks before he talks, he sounds so convincing and genuine when he replies so fast. “Just so you know, I don’t just see you in that way.”

Of course you’re going to doubt that, but he’s is in fact serious, he does think you’re insanely attractive and really good in bed that it makes him sometimes wonder how you’re still single, but on the other hand, he finds your job and your lifestyle very interesting and attractive, it’s been a month since you guys first met at the club, he thinks he knows enough to really fancy you, but when he attended your lecture and saw how successful you are at what you do, it made him see a totally different version of you.

“Whatever Namjoon, I need to hang up.” You sit up from the bench, he doesn’t hesitate when he asks. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

You actually have nothing planned for tonight, but you know you’re going to be kicked in the ass from your current shift and you’re also on your period. “Maybe.”

You can hear him stretching, he lets out a low grunt before he speaks again “I feel the need to take you somewhere, that’s if you don’t mind of course.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Somwhere?”

“I know a wine tasting tour held today, it’s on the outskirts though and there’s a huge farm there and it’s the harvest season, so we can actually go and check out the entire process, If you want to of course.” He seems excited when he’s speaking, still making sure he isn’t heard by the other two living under his roof.

You’re intrigued, your mind wants to say yes so badly, but your body is barely holding on for work. “I can’t today, I’m not feeling well.”

He shifts in his bed before he sits up. “Oh no, are you okay?” His voice coming out so soft and sweet, you try to stifle a grin but you can’t, and he actually hears it through the phone when you speak. “Oh my back hurts, that’s all.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

Screw you Kim Taehyung for saying those words, they still echo in your head and for a split second you shrug it off, fuck it, your body is aching for Namjoon and you’re a little ashamed to admit it.

“Yeah, I mean-“ You bite hard on your poor lower lip before you realize that even if he showed up, there’s nothing to do when it’s your time of the month. “Sure, come over.”

Namjoon finally leaves his room after he finished his call with you, Jay was crying his lungs out and he was on the floor throwing a tantrum, and his wife is nowhere to be seen.

“Daddy.” Jay stretches his arms up when he sees his father which makes Namjoon’s heart melt, he kneels down and holds his son closer to his chest, rubbing the back of his head softly. “Daddy’s here, what’s the matter?” He kisses his forehead softly. “Why are you crying?”

“Mommy won’t give me my ice cream.” He cries even louder and his father barely understands a word. Finally she gets out of the kitchen and starts picking up the little toys from the floor, “Jay how many times did I tell you, crying will not get you the ice cream.”

And the little toddler’s crying is loud and he starts kicking his legs, Namjoon holds him closer and smothers his tiny faces with kisses. “Shh, it’s okay.”

He turns to shoot a glare at the demon picking up the toys, he actually feels nauseated when she’s around, and ever since he met you, he just can’t look at her, so he forces himself at the second. “Why won’t you give him his ice cream?”

Jay is Namjoon’s only point of weakness, he cannot stand seeing him want something or crave something without getting him whatever he wants, he’d give him the world if he asked and he’s willing to sacrifice anything for him, that all makes Jay adore his daddy.

“He didn’t finish his bowl of cereal and he even spilled it.” She throws the bag of toys down in the corner of the room, “No ice cream and no toys for the whole day.”

“He’s a baby, playing is all he’s got to do, you can’t just punish him like that.” Namjoon sternly speaks before standing up, still carrying his child.

“But daddy, I was too full and I said sorry.” Jay hugs his daddy tighter while wiping his own tears, “No you’re not going to get anything before you have your breakfast.” She approaches the little one and grabs him, Jay cries loud again and holds onto his father for dear life.

It aches Namjoon’s heart when he sees his child like that, he turns away and uses his palm to gently stop his wife from approaching them again. “Let me deal with this, he’s my child too.” He frowns before he goes to Jay’s bedroom and puts him down on his bed, he kneels down and cups his cheeks. “It’s okay baby, mommy wasn’t wrong, you can’t have your ice cream before breakfast,”

“But the bowl was too big, I’m full.” Jay rubs his eyes, his crying finally coming to an end, but the child is still sad. “Hmm, don’t you wanna be tall and big like daddy?” Namjoon pokes his son’s nose softly, “It’s okay you don’t have to finish your breakfast today, but I’ll tell you a secret,” He even whispers and inches closer to his son, a smile already starting to creep on Jay’s face when he’s enjoying the tiniest interaction with his father.

“We’ll go get you ice cream, but we cannot tell mommy, she’s not invited to our ice cream party.” And Jay looks at his father and it breaks Namjoon’s heart to see his son broken and crying over some stupid ice cream.

“Who were you talking to earlier?” She asks and gain’s his attention, she standing near the door frame with her arms crossed over her chest, he looks at her and wonders for a second when was the last time this woman showered?

He turns to his son’s closet and picks out a pair of sneakers. “Let’s get you dressed.”

“Who were you talking to?” Her voice gets louder and Namjoon doesn’t even flinch, he’s used to her being crazy and asking useless questions, he gets back on his knees and helps his son with his shoes. “Why do you care?” He asks, not looking back at her again.

“Just so you know, your son has been crying the entire morning asking for you, and he didn’t finish eat breakfast because you were too busy being on your phone.” She’s blabbering and even her son ignores her and asks his father. “Can I bring mister broccoli with me?”

Mister broccoli was a stuffed toy that Namjoon got as a gift for Jay when he took his first flight ever with his father, the little one is extremely attached to this toy specifically and he wouldn’t let any of his cousins touch it.

Namjoon nods eagrly. “Go get him.”

Jay runs back to the living room and Namjoon rolls his eyes before he looks at his wife one last time. “I would appreciate it if you try and not pick an argument in front of him.” He cannot stand this woman.

She scoffs, “At least try and be a good father, try and be there for your son. He cried all night.”

Namjoon hates being called a bad parent, he isn’t. He finds himself gritting on his teeth and his heartbeat pounds faster in his chest. “Oh trust me, I’m a better parent than you are.”

Jay’s presence back in the room that eases Namjoon down immediately, even though he guaranteed divorce, but still he has to contain himself in front of his son, last week’s incident was a tough lesson for him.

“Daddy can I put mister broccoli in the back seat with me? I also want him to wear the seat belt.” Jay’s playful tone makes Namjoon mouth twitch in a smile, he nods and prints small soft kisses all over his son’s face. “I’ll let you put the seat belt for him, deal?”

Namjoon’s been flying nonstop and he’s very tired and he needs to catch some sleep to make it up for the nights he stayed up at work, he’s very exhausted but he can never say no to his son.

He grabs Jay’s tiny hands and leaves the place, leaving the woman behind him fuming. They get down to the car and Namjoon even gives Jay the key to unlock the car, and the little one is staring at his father with heart eyes, he always tried his best to give him anything he wishes for.

Namjoon opens the back door and puts mister broccoli next to the car seat, he teaches his son how to buckle the seat belt and Jay ends up doing it on his own, Namjoon gets this cute aggression around his son that he grabs his face tightly and sucks his cheek into a kiss. He can do it forever.

He finally helps Jay get into his car seat and buckles him up, before they head to their ice cream date.

Your shift is finally over by the afternoon, you hand over everything to the team on the next shift and you call a cab home, you were near breaking down and balling your eyes out, nothing major really, you’re just hormonal and tired.

Hoseok was supposed to drive you back home but you instantly regret it when he calls you from the court and says that he needs an hour to be there because something was scheduled urgently today.

You get home and take your clothes off, instant relief when you ditch the fabric off of your skin on a hot summery day, you change into your pajamas and head to the kitchen to turn on the kettle for tea, you don’t usually get that big of an appetite when you’re on your period so food is the last thing you consider making, your doorbell rings and you head to check the cameras, it’s the man you told to come over, the man you’ve been waiting for.

You unlock the door and a warm breeze of air immediately wafts through the entrance carrying the smell of his musky perfume, “Hey, Come in.” You tilt your head inviting him to come on in inside, and the second he steps foot inside your house he inhales, the smell feels nostalgic to him even when he’s been here only once.

Your place has this distinctive smell, it smells clean and fresh, a hint of fruitiness to it, your diffuser is always on so it always smells good, and Namjoon has picked up the hint of the floral scent you spray your furniture with, and also picked up your smell. Your odor is engraved into his head and he can smell it even when it’s layers away or even miles away, he finds it arousing.

He enters the house and hands you a small grocery bag that’s been sitting in his hands. “Are you okay? You look tired.” He steps closer to you and tugs your hair behind your ear.

“I’m fine, what’s that?” You open the bag to check out what’s inside, your heart melts when you see that he actually put in the effort to buy you pain killers, a heating pad and chocolates, even when you already have every item in your household. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” A genuine smile creeps on your face and he smiles back at you before pinching your cheek softly, you inch closer to him and give him a soft peck on his dimple that leaves him blushing, but hardly noticeable though.

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” He takes off his shoes and you see him walking inside, again even when he’s been here once, he knows this place like the back of his hand, you know that he’s comfortable around you even when the two of you haven’t known each other for long, he feels familiar and he feels close.

You walk into your bedroom and he follows you, he takes a quick scan at your room and he can tell that you’ve been in bed and you’re planning to spend the rest of your day in bed even when he’s here, nothing sexual planned at all though.

“Do you want me to help you with the heating pad?” He’s standing so close behind you that you feel his breath his your neck, you swallow and exhale with a shiver running through your spine, you nod softly and fish out the heating pad from the bag, “On my back please.”

“Okay.” He softly speaks before going down on both of his knees, you grab your top and pull it up for him to have better access, and he opens the wrapper and takes the pad out, he prints the softest kiss on your lower back right by the end of your tatted spine before he sticks the pad onto it and pulls your top back down. “There you go.”

You could swear he kissed your pain away, or it’s probably the endorphin rushing through your entire body when you saw him at your doorstep.

“Make yourself at home, I need to make tea first.” You’re about to turn but his hands sit on your hips, putting a soft amount of pressure, he presses his lips against your shoulder for a little kiss and whispers. “It’s okay, get in bed, I’ll make you tea.” He even kisses the same spot again before heading to the kitchen.

What is he doing to you?

You get to take a quick glance of his back when he’s leaving the room and you feel your face heat up, your hand sits on your cheek and you try to ease your quickening breath, you never felt this way towards anyone and it feels different, your stomach is pinching you and you’re unsure if it’s the cramps or what?

You’re worried for a second, you don’t know if he’s doing this because he wants to, or because he’s trying to get you into bed again? You know he’s in a miserable marriage so he might just do everything because there’s a benefit for him.

You make your way to your bed and you hear his footsteps coming closer and your heart races again at his aura, he enters the room with a cup of tea in one hand, and the box of pain killers in the other one, he approaches your side of the bed and rests the cup onto the nightstand before handing you a pill from the box, you look at him in the face and you tilt your head, his eyes lift up and lock into yours.

For a long moment both of you are studying each other.

You were never able to find out people’s intentions right away, you are very smart and really wit, you sometimes make assumptions that turn out to be true just out of coincidence. But Kim Namjoon was too difficult to read, well at least to you.

Or maybe he is easy to read, but after you found out that he masked his misery and his years long marriage, it became difficult for you to really find out what were his intentions. You appreciate what he’s trying to do, but you don’t know why he’s doing it.

You actually consider introducing him to your friends just because they know how men think and what are their real intentions, Taehyung can easily judge people and he was never wrong.

As for him.

His eyes travel between yours, then move down to your nose and lips, up to the loose strand of your hair that’s tickling your jaw, he feels drawn to you in ways he cannot explain, and if he wants to reflect on the overall situation, he easily admits that he changed after he met you, you changed him, he’s a better version of himself when he’s around you, he’s looking at you and memorizing every single detail on your face, you’re not like her, you’re not like any of them women.

Actually it’s way easier than you think, Namjoon was too easy to read, if you just stop the over thinking for a second and see the way he stares at you, you could easily tell that the man is developing something for you, let’s just call it a crush for the mean time, you don’t know the effect you have on this man.

“Thank you.” You grab the pill into your mouth and chase it with water before pulling the blanket over your body, he stands up and takes his shirt off, after all, it was really warm that day.

And goodness you forgot how big this man is, you immediately look away because you know your body gets way too excited at the thought of Namjoon naked. And you also hate to admit it, but your sex drive is usually on fire on your first day of your period.

“You can sleep if you want to, I’m here if you needed anything.” He walks to the other side of the bed and lies down next to you.

You simply nod, maybe he was right when he told you this morning that this is more than just a hookup.

Minutes later, you close your eyes but you’re not asleep, he probably thinks you are, but you can’t, you open one eye and look at him, he’s lying on his back with one arm behind his head and his phone in the other hand, he’s reading something, clearly a book. His eyelids feel heavy and he puts down the phone on the night stand next to him before he adjusts in bed and falls asleep while hugging a pillow.

And suddenly you feel this flood of emotions wash through your entire body, and you feel bad for the man, a smart good looking sensitive man whose desperate to feel loved and touched after all these years, he’s practically a virgin even when he isn’t.

You huff and hide your face under the blanket, you cannot believe that you actually validate his reasons and give him the right to cheat, you even start thinking that him cheating should be worth it.

He’s a human being with feelings, and you feel like you can offer him some of his needs.

You crawl closer and pull the blanket over his body, you even grab the pillow away from him and hold onto his wrist to and put it around your waist, he’s not in deep sleep yet, so he opens his eyes for a second and processes the fact that you’re going to sleep in his arms, he tightens the grip around and pulls you even closer to him whilst whispering in your ear. “Do you want me to get you anything? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You bury your face into his neck and both of you fall asleep in a click of a button.

It’s almost like both of you felt safe enough to go into deep sleep when you’re around each other.

You don’t know yet, or maybe you do but won’t admit, but you’re developing something for him too.

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katz-chow · 1 year

Note

im a ghost girlie but my love for soap is literally incomprehensible and i have this headcanon where its ghost x reader but soap third wheels all the time and its not like in a mean way at all, they’re just a trio that is basically inseparable. i also hc that they make so many jokes about being a throuple to the point where its not rlly a joke anymore lmao. anyway, this is all to ask if you’ll write some headcanons about that dynamic. fluff ofc! if u feel comfortable writing a little bit of poly soap x reader x ghost, i’d be very gracious 🙏🏽 but no pressure!

soap, simon, and the not-so-single parent

warnings: gn!reader, ghost x reader, soap x platonic!reader, my interpretation of ghost & soap, domesticity, fluff, johnny being johnny, simon being simon, reader being the concerned parent, third-wheel soap

a/n: this shit be on my mind constantly that johnny just loves to annoy and thirdwheel reader & simon. some of this is inspired by irl stuff. i'm not really into a poly triangle personally and i just can't imagine them, especially simon, to be okay with it, sorry!

humble beginnings

johnny didn't find out that simon had a romantic partner until you two reached past your 1 year anniversary. it happened by pretty much chance too, here's how that went: simon forgot a file, you were off of work, you drove to base, you dropped off said file using your dependent clearance, he kissed your cheek goodbye right in the doorway of his office (masked), johnny turned the corner, and as simon pulled away, you looked at johnny who was desperately trying to seem busy on his phone as he walked away hurriedly. he was on the calculator app. simon and you gave each other a look and he nodded, knowing that you've been wanting to meet the colorful coworkers (and his closest friends) for a while now. you called him over, soap, as you've remembered, not everyday you see a mohawk. johnny freezes and turned around to see you beckoning him back to the frame of the office, and simon with his arms crossed, staring a bit annoyed actually. he was chill when you two introduced each other, not wanting to embarrass himself. his eyes lit up though, when he heard you invite him over for dinner. "lovie..." simon started out, a gentle hand on your back. you hit his chest with the back of your head playfully, "no, no, this will be good for us. first diner party in our new house" "HOUSE? HOW LONG HAVE YOU HAD SOMEONE" he wanted to scream at simon's face, what came out however was a "i dinnae want to be a bother to you both" you insisted and he felt bad (but also curious), so dinner it was. simon took off his mask to please you and well, it was the comfort of his home. he rolled his eyes as johnny quipped that he certainly was "quite the opposite". from that day forward, it was the three of you against...manchester i guess?

children, the both of them

johnny tags along whenever you two are running errands on leave or on off days when they're both stationed at home. sometimes it's just you and him, or him and simon, or all three of yall. it started with a "we're having brunch, wanna join?" and now it's more like "we're going to the zoo, 9 am, get there" they make up the weirdest challenges and it feels like you're babysitting them both. simon, doesn't see it, he's a grown adult man, he's not silly. johnny says it's just in his nature like how it's natural that wombats poop in cubes (he walked ahead to read that tidbit and walked back to regurgitate it back at the two of you). challenges include: simon and johnny getting into a long debate about which is better, the smoked salmon crepes or the chocolate crepes, and when they mix them together, who can eat it all without puking? who can get to the butterfly sanctuary the fastest without running? who can find your favorite fish in the 30,000 gallon (113562.35 liter) fish tank WHILE holding their breath as if they were swimming in the water johnny telling you that his jokes are the best, simon butting in and using the "i'm your boyfriend, surely my jokes are better" card. you wanted to throw them both out of the car as they kept going back and forth with the most stupidest, tasteless, dad jokes ever. johnny saying he can drive better than simon. simon saying he can fly a broken helicopter and land safely. you're in the driver's seat. simon quipped that he would be a good artist compared to this shit's canvas (picasso) and johnny saying that his cat can paint better. simon said dogs can do it better. johnny said- you get the idea simon threw up after the 8th time on a rollercoaster. johnny threw up on the 9th. you, however, went through a nice scenic boat ride :)

quiet mornings

you three are closer than yall think. whenever they're both away, you always miss the noise they bring in the kitchen, trying to figure out how to make muffins or...popcorn. the three of you doing the daily wordle, crossword, and sudoku. "what's c for?" "c4 is an explosive, bonnie" "no johnny, what does C STAND FOR? fucking idiot..." mornings when you both are expecting johnny are never quiet, especially when he announces that he's there by knocking on the front door and saying "it's johnny!" when someone opens it. even when he's not there, you can at least hear simon's almost silent breaths if it wasn't for how close you two were. you miss them when they have to leave, you know it can't be forever, but damnit you missed the buzzing of them both. you don't miss, however, johnny and simon playing drunk monopoly.

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highvern · 10 months

Text

Teach Me IV

extra credit

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au, frat!svt

Warnings: mentions of drug use (weed) and alcohol , phone sex, exchange of nudes, both are down horrendous, mutual masturbation, making out, dry humping, idiots in like, dokyeom has a praise kink and isn't ashamed, snippets of disgusting fluff

Length: ~5.1k

Note: ugh ... anyways! i know i mentioned potential angst in an ask but i'm weak

read more here

The best part of starting Fall Break on a Friday is having to do absolutely nothing for five blissful days. But because he is easily swindled by his friends, Dokyeom is ass over tits and the clock hasn’t even chimed 8PM. After the incredibly awkward week following your latest tryst, he’s thankful for the mind numbing freedom of alcohol, weed, and nothing but miles of mountain and woods.

Or he would be if wasn’t still upset you turned down his invitation to join him this weekend.

So he sneaks into his room and pulls up your Instagram. You're at the top of his results when he clicks into the search bar.

You posted a new photo this afternoon. A memory of a girls night out, sandwiched between two of your friends outside some bar, nothing but wide drunk smiles and closed eyes under the flash of the camera. Dokyeom already saw it. Already liked it.

He keeps scrolling, down down down till he reaches his favorite picture. A frozen memory of you outside some cafe, slumped in an iron wrought chair, sunglasses obscuring half of your face; your mouth is spread over a wild guffaw, teeth flashing and the corner of your lips arched high in amusement. Whatever had amused you pulled your entire body in, shoulders curved up as your chest caves, chin tipped back.

The soft pink sundress hugging you snugly is an added bonus.

And somewhere in his muddled mind, Dokyeom decides he needs to talk to you. Right. Now.

After the third ring, the call connects.

“Heyyy, pretty lady.”

“Oh my god, are you drunk?” You laugh, and Dokyeom can imagine the same expression from the photo flashing across your face.

God, she even sounds pretty. He thinks.

He whines through the goofy smile plucking the corners of his lips, “Nooooo.”

“Oh, really?”

“Maybe I’m a little drunk.”

“Only a little?” You jest.

“Maybe a lot-tle.”

“I can tell.”

“Wish you were here.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Haven’t seen you in like a week.”

If he wasn’t wasted then he might feel embarrassed, but Dokyeom finds the words slipping past him without a second thought as he rocks back and forth, caught in waves of emotion.

“How’s the cabin been so far?”

The sudden change in topic scratches unpleasantly but he lets it go.

“Would be more fun if you were here.” He confesses. “What are you up to?”

“Laying in bed, watching Love Island.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Seriously?” You scoff.

“What?”

“You’re so lame, Kyeom.”

“I’m curious about what you do when you’re alone.” He tries to sound innocent. “You’re alone, right?”

“Yeah, Ava left for the weekend.”

“So what are you doing this weekend?”

He’s fishing for the real reason you told him you couldn't come with him to the cabin. You’d been purposefully vague the few times Dokyeom probed since last Thursday, claiming any excuse under the sun: a friend coming to visit, getting ahead on assignments, pulling a few extra shifts at the library. Anything to avoid flat out rejection.

“You know, this and that. What about you guys? Any big plans?”

“Some of the guys mentioned a hike tomorrow. And Beer-lympics Sunday.”

“God, you’re such a frat bro.”

“I can do better.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. What are you wearing?” He tries again.

He hears you huff, “Pajamas.”

“Sexy.”

“I actually think this is your shirt.”

“Oh? Send me a pic.”

“What do I get if I do?”

“What do you want?”

“Are you hard?”

“I can be.”

“I’ll send you a picture if you send me one too.”

“Fuck, okay.” He agrees, tapping open his camera app and trying out a few angles, working himself up in the process.

Dokyeom settles for cupping the bulge over his pants, outline of his cock pronounced as he lightly squeezes. He’s highly aware of your obsession with his hands, so he tries to flex his arm forcing the web of veins to rise as the muscles clench.

“I’m waiting.” You goad on the other end of the phone, knocking him out of his concentration.

The five photos he’s snapped all look about the same. Settling on the least blurry one, he quickly opens your messages and sends it before changing his mind.

A sharp inhale announces its arrival on your phone.

“Your turn.”

He can hear the rustle of clothes and blankets through the speaker, and a whispered curse following a dull thud. Dokyeom can’t help the chuckle that escapes as he pictures whatever caused it.

The photo you send back takes him a second to decipher. You're definitely wearing his shirt, the bottom hem bunched across your breasts, the swells of flesh peaking out near the top of the picture; perfectly omitting your face. Tracing down your bare stomach, your hips are wrapped in powdery blue cotton panties. And if that wasn’t enough, one hand is stuffed underneath, pulling the elastic taunt across the crease in your hip as it stretches to accommodate your fingers.

Holy shit.

“You like it?”

“You're evil.” Head rolling back, Dokyeom groans as he takes it all in. “You want me dead.”

You giggle at his tone.

“Fuck,” he mutters, continuing to study your figure. “You’re so hot.”

“Kyeomie,” you whine, obviously embarrassed under his attention.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Yeah,” you mewl.

“Dirty girl.”

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?”

The back and forth of your relationship is the funnest part, in Dokyeom’s opinion. You like when he puts you in your place as much as he enjoys you putting him in his. It helps that even when he assumes the more dominant role, you still praise him as if he’s the best thing since sliced bread. It scratches that submissive part of his brain that always wants needs to be good. Especially for you.

“I can think of a few things.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Phone sex is unfamiliar territory. He isn’t sure how much is too much and the awkward parting last week still stains his brain. But you just sent him a photo with your hands down your underwear so Dokyeom tries to go with the flow.

“Could make you cry on my cock.” He flushes when you remain silent for a second too long . “Sorry, that felt awkward.”

“No!” You object, voice crackling through the speaker at the sharp increase in volume. “It, ugh, that’s hot.”

“What? Crying from my dick?”

“You don’t think so?”

Dokyeom’s cock twitches, as if to signal its eager agreement.

“I think anything involving you near my penis is hot so I’m not really a good judge.”

“Well, just imagine it. Remember that time we fucked at Wonwoo and Mingyu’s house party?”

“Not appreciating you saying other dudes’ names while my dick is in my hand but yeah.”

You snicker at his reprimand. “Anyway. Remember how I wanted you to fuck my mouth?”

Dokyeom takes a sharp inhale as the memory rushes forward. You on your knees, eyes glossy and lips bruised, begging him to stretch your throat. The second the request reached his ears Dokyeom nearly came on your sweater covered chest, but he’d ignored your request, hauling your ass up onto the counter in favor of stuffing your cunt. You hadn’t complained.

“But you wouldn’t because you didn’t wanna mess up my makeup?”

“You looked pretty… didn’t wanna ruin it.”

“Yeah but I wanted you to.”

Another squeeze of his cock as he slips his hand under his boxers, “Yeah?”

“You’re really hot when you tell me what to do.”

“Fuck.” He groans, vocabulary limited by the husky timbre of your voice. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Mhhmm, doesn't feel as good as when you do it though.”

A pathetic thrust through his fist at the praise. “I know but I’ll make it up to you next time. Promise.”

“How?”

“Might tie you up. Fuck you till your screamming.” Dokyeom doesn’t know who he’s become but you seem to like it.

“Oh?”

Your reply is all breath, the same way you sign when he gives you his fingers after a long study session. The beads of pre-cum on his tip increase as he works his cock, almost able to fill the way you’d coat his fingers if he was there to give them to you.

“You like that? Want me to use your tight little pussy? Fill it up?”

“Want you to come inside me again, Minnie. So hot.”

“I know, pretty girl. So desperate for it aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” you squeak, “Are you close?”

“Send me another picture.”

Only a few seconds pass, filled with muffled groans on his end and the clack of your nails on yours. Dokyeom rushes to open the new attachment you’ve blessed him with, heart clenching when his stomach caves around a moan.

The photo is blurry from your haste but he doesn’t care. You're drenched. The crotch of your panties tinged darker as you pull them aside, flashing the way your entrance stretches around three of your fingers. Your clit just barely visible, puffy and swollen from neglect.

“Fuck, baby.”

“Minnie—” Your voice sounds far away, and he realizes you've put yourself on speaker so you can use both hands.

“Can you do something for me?” he grounds, squeezing the base of his cock to stop his impending end.

“Anything.”

Another deep breath before he lays himself bare, “Drive up here tomorrow.”

“What?” You ask, the springs of your mattress squeaking as you sit up, clearly confused by the switch in pace.

“I wanna see you.”

“I—”

“Promise I’ll make it worth your while.” Dokyeom scrambles.

Another pause before a timid, “How?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Dangerous words.”

“Pretty sure I’ll enjoy it just as much as you.”

“I don’t know…”

“If you don’t want to, it's fine but,” he sighs, “if you can I want you to come. And not just because of sex.”

“Then why?”

“Because I like—” He cuts himself off hastily. “Because I like spending time with you.”

As seconds tick by without response, Dokyeom is sure you're going to call his bluff. Or worse, laugh in his face. He’s sweating, heart beating irregularly as he waits for your reply.

“Really?” Shyness creeps into your voice.

Dokyeom nods before realizing you can’t see him. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll come.”

“Really?” Dokyeom asks, eyes wide and jaw slack. No way it's this easy.

“Really,” he can hear you smile. “But only because you said you’d give me whatever I want.”

“You’re gonna make me regret that aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” You tease, enunciating each syllable as his heart beats in time. “But Kyeomie…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m still wet.”

“Can’t have that.” He tsks.

“Please,”

“Be a good girl and play with your clit.” Dokyeom instructs, slipping right back in.

A hitch in your breath precludes a satisfied “hmmm”. He wishes he could taste both on his tongue.

“Touch yourself too.” You plea.

Dokyeom’s wound so tight a gust of wind would have his load all over his stomach. He tells you as much.

“Shiiit” You curse, catching up to him. “Close.”

“Yeah? Think you deserve it?”

If he was there, Dokyeom knows he’d see the frustrated kick of your legs and feel the daggers shooting from your eyes.

“You ignored me all last week, I don’t know if I should let you.”

“Dokyeom, please!”

“But since I get to see you tomorrow.” he tuts, covering up the catch of his breath as you plea again. “Let me hear it.”

The call devolves into choked curses and groans. He keeps the screen close to his face as he focuses back on the picture you sent, painting his fist with streaks of white as you beg him to cum, choke on how much you want to taste. Your stuttered “ah”s floating right into his ears as you twist and shake in your bed hours away.

When Dokyeom can feel himself returning to his body, he soaks in the lull of you catching your breath.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” You sigh dreamily.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Send me the address.”

“Oh and Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m happy you’re coming…”

“Goodnight,” you chuckle at the double entendre.

“Night.”

Even with the satisfaction of an orgasm coursing through his veins, the fizzing bubbles of happiness in his chest have nothing to do with the cum cooling in his underwear.

The drive to the cabin is two hours and thirty seven nerve wrecking minutes. Dokyeom has been up since six, texting you the address, asking you to let him know when you left, keep him updated on any pit stops you needed to make. Not to rush up the mountain and drive safely.

The digital clock on your dash reads just past noon as you slowly creep up a narrow gravel road, praying another car doesn’t swoop around the bend. Of course a pack of frat boys would choose some creepy woods to set up camp for a long weekend.

You dial Dokyeom’s number just to be safe. Barely a full ring passes before he picks it up.

“Hey!”

“Hey… I think I’m pulling up to the right place?” You scan for any sign of a driveway on either side of the road without any luck.

“Oh shit, I’ll come outside. Jun got us lost yesterday when he drove up so it’s tricky.”

Taking a left as you finally spot the red mailbox with a beaver carved into the dark wooden post at the end of the lengthy driveway, a two story cabin comes into view between the trees. Dokyeom jogs from the porch to meet you at the edge of the yard. Rolling down your window as he makes his way over, you greet him.

“Hey,”

“Hey,” he smiles, bright enough to blind a village.

“Um, where should I park?”

“Just pull up behind anyone, it doesn't matter.”

“Alright.”

Dokyeom walks next to you as you pull in behind a white sedan. Once in park, you pop the trunk before slipping out the door. He already has your bag tossed over his shoulder, tangling your fingers with his as he pulls you towards the house.

“Some of the guys went on a hike earlier so I’ve been helping Seungkwan and Mingyu clean up.”

“Oh, you didn’t need to wait for me.”

“I wanted to.”

Before you can think too much on that statement, Seungkwan interrupts by tackling you in a hug.

“Oh thank god you’re here.”

“Hi to you too.” You say, carrying his weight as he goes boneless.

“Hi,” he responds with a squeeze, before turning to Dokyeom with a blunt, “Goodbye.”

Seungkwan pulls you inside the front door, beelining for the sliding glass doors that lead to the back porch.

“Hey!”

Without slowing, Seungkwan fends him off. “She was my friend first!”

“Yeah well,” Dokyeom flounders like a washed up fish.

“You dazzle with words. Now go away.” Seungkwan sniffs.

Sending an apologetic smile over your shoulder, you allow Seungkwan to usher you along. You spot another person in the kitchen, face shadowed by the hood of his sweater. He doesn’t look up when you and Seungkwan shuffle pass.

“Ignore Mingyu, his girlfriend broke up with him yesterday.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, anyway.” Seungkwan plops onto one of the chairs circled around the patio table. “Speaking of girlfriends—”

“Did you finally get one?”

“Being mean is bad for your health.” He deadpans. “As I was saying, did Dokyeom ask you to be his?”

“His what?”

“His girlfriend.”

Your ears ring at the nonchalance in Seungkwan’s tone.

“Why would he ask me to be his girlfriend?”

“Why else would you get up at the ass crack of dawn to come to this dump?”

“He said he wanted me to come.” You answer, turning your head to observe the lake beyond the thin tree line.

“After you told him no? Wow, didn’t realize he was that good in bed.”

Your hands itch to circle his neck and shake but Seungkwan is saved by the very man in question.

“Hate to interrupt but I thought you might want some coffee?”

You turn around, smiling as Dokyeom leans out of the sliding glass door, “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“We aren’t done talking!” Seungkwan calls as you reach the door.

“I am!”

Mingyu apparently retreated to his room after you stepped outside, nowhere to be found in the kitchen or living room beyond the counter.

The isolation makes you nervous which is strange because it’s just Dokyeom. But his words last night over the phone, coupled with Seungkwan’s on the porch twist your guts uncomfortably.

It’s too late to bail. You can’t claim illness since Dokyeom will fawn over you like some mother hen. Besides, you don’t actually want to leave. You just can’t stand the nagging voice in the back of your head insisting this isn’t what friends do. Even if said friends are having sex.

“Wanna show me your room?”

“Sure!” Dokyeom is still cheery, eagerly leading you upstairs and down a maze of hallways.

The outside of the cabin, while daunting, failed to betray how big it actually is as you pass door after door on your journey.

The room Dokyeom is sharing with Soonyoung is cozy. Two full sized beds with little room for anything else and an en suite the size of a closet. But at least you won’t have to battle it out with anyone else for a bathroom during the next three days.

Dokyeom was lucky enough to claim the bed closests to the bay windows, framing a pleasant view of the backyard, dock, and sprawling lake. When you step closer, you can spot Seungkwan’s mop of hair as he leans on the edge of the railing that borders the porch; hand animated as the other holds his phone near his mouth.

Turning back to the bed, you spot your bag on the floor at the foot of it. The room is ten degrees hotter when you realize Dokyeom was lying right there as he talked you through an orgasm barely twelve hours ago. You awkwardly shuffle on your feet as you try to find something to say.

Dokyeom seems unperturbed, flopping onto the mattress, arms thrown wide in invitation. A shy grin twists your lips. Hair a mess, and cheeks flushed, Dokyeom looks cute. He’s always cute but navy crew neck and gray sweats transforms him into a cozy dream. The mattress dips under your knee as you crawl to lay next to him.

Settling your head over his heart, arms twining around one another, you feel your own give a peculiar squeeze. It’s truly no different than all the other times you’ve cuddled, albeit those were post-coitous; except it is. Dokyeom told you he wanted you here, that he likes spending time with you, and now he’s squeezing the life out of you as he snags one of your legs to wrap around his waist.

When sleep tickles your nose, pleasantly warm and inviting, you ignore how Dokyeom isn’t your boyfriend. What you have right now is perfect enough.

—

The sweet hum of Dokyeom’s voice lulls you awake, a simple melody you vaguely recognize from his playlist he insists on blasting during your hangouts. Gray light from outside casts the room sullenly dark. Storm clouds, swollen to a near black, eclipse the late afternoon sun. Dokyeom’s neck is the perfect place to escape the unavoidable sounds of the cabin filled with life, eyes firmly shut as you inhale the smell of laundry detergent and pine.

One of your hands managed to twist under his sweater in your sleep, fisting his thin T-shirt as you attempt to beckon sleep out of hiding and back towards you. A pathetic whine escapes when Dokyeom jostles you in an attempt to find a more comfortable position, only silenced by his lips against your forehead and his stroking your elbow.

“Shhhh,” he coos. “Go back to sleep.”

“What time is it?”

“Like five.”

Lifting back from his neck, you pout. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

A gentle peck to your lips in response leaves you speechless, a soft quirk to his lips as you gape. Collapsing back into his chest you’re left to bask in each other's presence as you take to silently drawing shapes on his stomach, smiling as he giggles from ticklishness. His thumb traces the curves of your hip, digging to the soft flesh of your waist.

A banging on the door makes you both jump out of your skin before Seungkwan’s voice cuts the air. “Come on love birds, dinners ready!”

“If we don’t get up, do you think he’ll go away?” Dokyeom whispers into your hair.

“No.”

On queue the door flies open, smacking against the wall and rebounding into Seungkwan’s face.

“I said it's time for dinner. Now get your asses up!”

“Go away, Boo!” You demand, chucking a pillow in his direction.

“What happened to respecting your elders?” Dokyeom asks, eyes sharp as he tries to kill the younger man with his eyes.

“When my elder does something respectable, I’ll consider it.” Seungkwan claps. “Now chop chop!”

The dinner Seungkwan so adamantly demanded your presence at is a huge pot of spaghetti and some loaves of garlic bread. Nothing overly complex but the bustling atmosphere downstairs is nice, comfortable.

Dokyeom introduces you to some of the fraternity members you haven’t met, as well as their dates. Squished between him and Seungkwan at the dining table, you barely engage in conversation. Not that you need to. They both fill the space with their own joking easily enough.

Instead, your mind focuses on the warmth of Dokyeom’s shoulder brushing yours, and how he rests his arm on the back of your chair once he finishes his plate.

When the mess is cleared away, a few people scurrying off to who knows where, Soonyoung insists on a game of Beerio Kart as dessert. Excited to have a new person to torment, he drags you to the couch before you can object. In a blink, you find yourself wedged between the armrest and Dokyeom as he explains the game.

“The rules are simple my friends! No drinking and driving and you have to finish your drunk before the race ends. If you fail to do so you’ll be publicly shamed.” Soonyoung claps his hands together, the maniacal glint in his eyes a little too intense for such a silly game.

“And for additional chaos,” Seungkwan adds. “I’ve changed it to blue shells only.”

“Now may the best driver win!”

“Alright, the first round is Jun, Marci, Sam, and me.”

“This is gonna be a bloodbath.” Someone calls from the other couch.

And it is. Jun uses height to hold Seungkwan’s drink out of the younger man’s reach, resulting in Seungkwan launching himself from the couch in a flying kick. They’re both so occupied with one another they don’t notice the race is long finished and neither of their characters moved past the starting line.

A chorus of boos rises as the race times out, designating them as 11th and 12th place.

“Alright, next is DK, Y/N, Wonwoo, and myself.”

“Can I forfeit?”

Dokyeom turns to you. “You wanna quit already?”

“Considering my opponents, yes.”

“New rule: no quitting allowed.” Soonyoung interjects.

“You can’t make that a rule!”

“I just did!”

You respond with a thumbs down, much more effective than the middle finger you want to throw his way.

“It’s okay if you’re scared, Y/N.” Wonwoo taunts from across the room.

“I’m not scared!”

“That’s exactly what someone who is scared would say!” Soonyoung chimes in.

Dokyeom just shrugs his shoulders when you look at him for assistance. Figures. He’s part of the reason you don’t want to play. He and his roommate rile each other up too much under normal circumstances, let alone when things get competitive and alcohol is involved.

“Fine, let's play!”

Soonyoung divvies out another round of lukewarm beer cans you’re required to drink as Wonwoo picks the track. N64 Rainbow Road because apparently he’s an asshole. The way he reclines back in his seat confirms it.

To avoid the inevitable mess Dokyeom will make in his haste to chug before the race begins, you stand, shuffling closer to the safe zone at the edge of the coffee table. He tugs at the back of your shirt for a second, prompting you to shake your head.

Dokyeom pouts but stays silent.

“Alright lady and gentlemen! Start. Your. Engines!”

Cracking open your can the second the countdown begins on screen, you gag at the taste of cheap beer as everyone whoops around you. You manage half the can before you have to stop under the threat of it coming back up. Dokyeom and Soonyoung are still drinking, the later shuffling in place restlessly. Wonwoo hasn’t even opened his beer, focusing on getting as far ahead as he can.

Hopefully Seungkwan’s meddling takes care of him.

The race track is chaos as you press your character forward, occasionally blown off course by a blue shell moving to knock out whoever is in first. Half way through the course, you chance a glance at the other corners of the TV. Soonyoung and Dokyeom have finally started lap one, only for Soonyoung to fly over the edge at the first turn and wait to be rescued. Wonwoo is caught in the mess at the front of the pack, only able to maintain first for a fraction of a second before being sniped by a shell.

Once you round the third lap, you take your chance. Stopping in a corner of the track to down the rest of your drink, hoping everyone is too engrossed in the events on screen to see you start moving despite still swallowing a mouth full of beer.

This is when you see Wonwoo make his mistake. He pauses right before the finish line, cracking his can open and nearly choking on the large gulps in his haste. You're gaining quickly, barely a quarter of the last lap remains between your carts. When he finally finishes the can and picks up the controller, you unleash the blue shell you’d been saving. Rosalina goes flying as you sail by, Yoshi claiming fifth place.

“Suck it!” You scream, jumping up and down in victory; joined by Seungkwan who hollers with you as if he won too.

Wonwoo is shell-shocked, literally. He finishes seventh overall, pulling behind another computer character. Soonyoung is on the floor as he and Dokyeom fight for second to last place. The shame goes to Soonyoung as the race times out once again.

When you turn back to the couch you're met with another blinding smile as you drop into his lap.

“Looooooserrrr,” you taunt as you flick his nose gently.

“Yeah whatever.”

“It’s okay, maybe I can teach you sometime.”

He laughs, squeezing you into his chest. “God, you’re annoying.”

“It’s so lonely at the top.” You furrow your brow in mock sorrow.

Another race ensues, more chaos and screaming echoing through the living room. The heat of Dokyeom’s chest sinks through the back of your hoodie, strong plains of muscle shaking as he laughs with the group. When Seungkwan and Soonyoung face each other in a rematch you tempt Dokyeom upstairs, kissing behind his ear before leaning back and giving him the “look.”

The “I-want-your-dick-in-my-mouth” look.

Of which he very is familiar.

Dokyeom lurches forward, eager to appease, forgetting you're still in his lap until your weight knocks him back down. Shaking your head you stand and pull him up behind you, moving towards the stairs uninterrupted as Seungkwan and Soonyoung threaten each other's life and limb behind you.

Tacky wood shiplap digs into your spine uncomfortable as Dokyeom crowds you against the wall. His lips ghost along your jaw, hands on either side of your head to prevent him from crushing you. You don’t have the same concern, pulling him closer with the fabric of his sweater. The door to his room is a few feet to your left but the idea of separating for even a second to make it inside is pure agony.

“What does the winner want for her prize?” he whispers, teeth grazing your earlobe.

“Depends.” You sigh, grinding against the bulge of his thigh.

“On?”

“If my prize is separate from what I get for driving up here.”

Dokyeom nips your chin, dodging your attempt to connect your mouths.

“Depends on what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“I’m gonna do that anyway.”

“I wasn’t done yet.”

He stays silent, teeth bruising the sliver of shoulder peeking out under your collar.

“I want you to fuck me,” cut of with a hiss at his vigor, “and I want to film it.”

Backing out of your neck, Dokyeom blinks at you, mouth wide.

Peeking at him through your eyelashes, you wait for Dokyeom’s brain to restart. His mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out. Not a rejection or an agreement. Just surprise.

A heaviness curls in your gut. You thought he’d like the idea, especially from his reaction to the pictures you sent last night. And the videos he’s sent over the months you’ve been hooking up. Videos of him jacking off, cumming on his own stomach, your name on his lips. But maybe you assumed too much.

“Ifyoudon’twanttowedon—”

But a scream interrupts your rant as he lifts you by your thighs, ankles locking around the top of his butt and arms tangling around his neck like a koala. You hold on for dear life as he carries you down the hallway.

Palming your ass harshly with one hand, the other scrambles to open the door as he licks up your neck. The door rattles on its hinges as he kicks it shut but the blood rushing through your ears muffles it.

“Yes, yes. Holy shit, yes.” He’s whining into your ear, hips rutting into your core as he lands unceremoniously on the bed, crushing you underneath him.

You’re shocked for a second, woefully unprepared for his enthusiasm. But another harsh rush against you, coupled with his hands pawing up your shirt to palm your chest makes you bold.

Two things you know to be true about Dokyeom:

First, he has a ragging praise kink. If you tell him he’s a good boy, he can come almost untouched.

Second, he loves the sight of his cum streaking across your body.

He was right to say he’ll enjoy this as much as you will.

“Yeah? Wanna come on my face?”

Another pathetic whine against your neck as he keeps curling his clothed cock against you. All of his weight settles between your hips as drives you to madness.

“Then go lock the door.”

#svthub #lee seokmin #lee seokmin x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt #dokyeom #seokmin x reader #seokmin smut #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom smut #🫡 highvern

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kitsune-pop · 5 months

Text

Hazy Daze

CW: casual vore, weed, digestion

Hazel sat down on her living room floor, leaning against the couch. It was her day off, and she was gonna make it a good one, starting with some smoke, snacks and games. She carefully packed a bowl for her trusty Kirby bong, lit it up and popped open a box of cheese snacks to nibble on while she booted up her Wii for Mario Kart. Today was gonna be a good day.

0o0

Hazel was having a great time. Her living room was sufficiently cloudy, she was beating the computer drivers within an inch of their lives and she was relaxed enough that even the occasional Blue Shell didn't bother her (or the following Red Shell, or Green Shell, or Star…). Even so, she was still hungry. Two hours into the day and she'd already eaten all the snacks.

She shook her bangs out of her eyes as she crossed the finish again, dirty blonde hair falling right back into her face as she reached for her phone. She had told herself she wasn't going to order anything, but her tummy had started grumbling at her–which she absentmindedly rubbed through her tank top as she looked at her delivery options. Pizza was always a good choice, plus it wasn't too expensive. She cracked a grin when a popup of "Still hungry? Order the delivery person for dinner too! Take advantage of our Delivery Delivery deal today!" showed up on the app.

"Not this time, capitalism. I'm watching my bank account today." Hazel giggled a bit, ordering her pizza and packing a tad more in her Kirbong. It shouldn't take more than half an hour for her pizza to get here, and she wanted to have the perfect amount of munchies by the time it got delivered.

0o0

After the third time of falling off the track on Maple Treeway, Hazel paused her game to laugh at herself. The pot was definitely affecting her now. She guessed after a few hours of smoking even someone with her tolerance would start to feel it. Polite knocking grabbed her attention and she got to her feet, throwing a pair of pajama pants on before she answered the door.

A cute girl stood on her dingy welcome mat, complete with a hat starring a pizza logo and a single pizza box balanced in her hands. She barely came up to Hazel's chin, but at 193 cm most girls were shorter than her anyways.

The delivery girl looked up at Hazel with a brilliant smile, beaming up at her. "Thank you for choosing Happy Helper's Pizzeria! I hope you enjoy your order!"

Hazel blinked slowly, brain struggling to break through the fog before she reached for her pizza. "Thanks, I'm starving." Her belly gave an audible grumble, which she tried to stifle by placing a hand on her midsection.

The smaller girl glanced down shyly before looking back up at Hazel's face. "It sure sounds like it! Good thing you ordered the special!" She reached up and took off her hat–straight dark hair dropping to just above her shoulders–before moving to unbutton her work uniform, still smiling all the way.

Hazel quickly raised a hand to stop the delivery girl (although not before giving her a quick once-over), lifting the pizza box in one hand over her head before speaking up. "Uh, I only ordered the pizza. No offense." The shorter girl looked up at Hazel before pointing at the pizza in her hand.

"On your order it says you upgraded for Delivery Delivery though."

Confused now, Hazel looked at her receipt to see, yup, one pizza and one Delivery Delivery special. She quickly grabbed her phone, opened the app and looked at her orders. As she did, the clouds in her head parted just enough for her to remember opening the app shortly after placing the order and adding the deal to her delivery. Looks like the munchies took another victory on her bank account.

She shrugged, pocketing her phone and opening her door up for the delivery girl to walk in. "Hey, I won't turn down a meal like you! Especially after I already spent the money…"

The girl laughed, her smile not as brilliant as before but much more genuine. "Pretty sure we've all made bad decisions when we're high." She finished unbuttoning her top, tossing it on the floor before she reached down to untie her shoes, giving Hazel a fantastic view of her next meal's assets.

A plump ass, juicy thighs, smooth skin, this was someone who took good care of themselves and probably knew they weren't gonna last long around predators. As she kicked off her shoes and socks she turned around, showing off a small muffin top and perky boobs. Catching Hazel staring she laughed and winked at the tall pred before dropping her pants and panties in one movement, stepping out of the pool of clothes and smiling salaciously.

"So, how do you want me?" The girl posed a little bit, showing off for Hazel as the tall girl put her long forgotten pizza on the counter. The pred walked forward, grabbed the girl's shoulders and quickly stuffed her head into her mouth, moaning at the taste of natural shampoo (coconut?) flooding her mouth.

She quickly worked her way down, gulping down her neck and shoulders, giving some extra attention to her prey's tasty tits. She felt the girl jerk in surprise before feeling soft hands kneading her stomach, giving gentle rubs and pinches. Wasting no time Hazel lurched forward, relaxing her muscles and stuffing the girl into her throat down to her belly button. Now for the annoying part.

Hazel leaned back, picking her prey up off the ground and holding the young girl above her head. The experienced pred stepped back, leaning against her counter before beginning to gulp her meal down in earnest, gravity helping deliver the girl into her stomach. With a few powerful swallows Hazel quickly had the girl tucked away in her belly, tank top riding up and pajama pants pushing down under the dome of overstuffed gut.

Hazel stood there, panting to herself as her meal shifted into a more comfortable position inside her. Already she felt her stomach groaning and squeezing around her meal, and she grabbed her pizza before waddling over to her couch and plopping down on it. The pred moaned at how full she felt, rubbing her stretched skin as she felt her passenger start to play with herself even as her belly did its best to digest her.

Hazel started to get hard listening to the muffled pants and moans coming from her tummy. Unable to think of an excuse not to, the buck toothed pred reached under her stomach and into her pants, grabbing her cock and beginning to rub one out. With one hand in her pants and another rubbing the taut skin of her belly Hazel was quickly bringing herself to orgasm. The feeling of a stuffed, bloated belly was made even sweeter with the gasps and moans coming from within, the noises starting to get drowned out by the grumbling of the organ itself. She could feel every twitch and movement from her prey inside her, and could tell when the smaller girl came, her stomach deforming slightly as the girl arched her back, screaming in pleasure before relaxing.

Of course, relaxing just meant Hazel's body won the little war of attrition they had between them. The muscles quickly clenched and squeezed the girl within her into a tight ball, and a final powerful belch signaled the last of the air being forced out. Hazel came hard as she burped, panting and moaning as she made a mess of her pants. She leaned back against her couch, breathing hard for a minute before glancing at her Kirbong, a smile on her lips. She still had the whole rest of the day to herself, didn't she?

0o0

Hazel jerked awake at a loud bang, followed by some choice cursing. "Seriously, Hazel?! What the fuck! We were supposed to go to the movies tonight!"

The tall pred looked up at her friend Trixie. The short girl was fuming, red faced and glaring. Hazel looked around her living room, noting the empty pizza box and her character idling in front of a wall in her game, the race long over. She rubbed her head before belching, putting a hand on the much smaller bulge in her middle.

"Sorry, I didn't think I was gonna fall asleep." She noted Trixie's flushed face and the way she completely refused to look at her bloated belly. Grinning, she leaned forward, her stomach gurgling as another burp popped out of her mouth. "But that doesn't mean we can't find something to do here."

#silly millie speaks #v0re #v.ore #digestion vore #casual v0re #casual vore #same size vore #trans female pred #female prey #intoxication kink #intox kink

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tasteleeknow-remade · 2 years

Text

— bridges and storms

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, established relationship [husband!minho], soft!dom minho. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 3.2k

summary: on your honeymoon both you and minho help each other through your fears. emotional hurt/comfort where minho distracts reader from a storm.

afab!reader. unprotected intercourse. minho is afraid of heights and reader storms. possessive behaviour. pet names. breeding kink. emotional hurt/comfort.

“I think we have to cross it,” you said, holding your phone out to your husband so he could see your planned route. It was the third day of your honeymoon and you were attempting to find your way to an art gallery. The only issue was that you were on foot and the only thing between you and your destination was a high pedestrian bridge across the river that ran through the city. Your new husband wasn’t the biggest fan of heights, at all.

“Do you have to see this place?” Minho asked, staring across the long bridge ahead of you. Today was about your interests, you knew that. Your husband hadn’t put up any protest when you’d suggested your plans for the day even though you knew very well there were plenty of other things he’d rather do than wander through an art gallery for hours. You were planning a surprise for him later to make up for it, much more up his alley.

“I guess… I can always see it another time.” You tried to keep the disappointment from your voice. It was honestly the thing you were most looking forward to seeing the whole trip. You had a whole list of pieces you wanted to see. You opened your notes app with your list of things to do in the city. You’d spent the last few weeks before your wedding researching for your honeymoon, unbeknownst to Minho.

Minho took one of your hands, his fingers intertwining with yours. “You might not get another chance,” he said, “just…don’t let go of my hand.” You squeezed his warm hand in yours, failing to keep a smile off your face.

“I’ve got you, love. Just tell me if it’s too much,” you said, kissing his cheek—his eyes still fixed on the other end of the bridge. He started forward, eyes fixed ahead. He did well at first, you kept glancing at his face—trying to discern his comfort level. You kept quiet, not wanting to overwhelm him. The wind picked up the closer you got to the middle, the breeze cooling your skin—slightly sticky with sweat from your walk. It wasn’t until you’d made it about a third of the way across that he suddenly stopped and you looked up to see his eyes squeezed closed. You stood in front of him, hand still grasping his. “It’s okay, I don’t need to see it. The exhibition is the main thing I wanted to see and it's overpriced anyway. A scam, really.” You reached up to play with his earlobe, something you often did mid conversation with him. The first time you’d done it he’d stopped mid sentence, waiting for an explanation. You’d pulled your hand away, embarrassed. You smiled at the memory. “Remember the first time I did this?” you continued speaking as he kept his eyes squeezed shut. “We’d only been dating a week or so and you made a face at me like I’d just done the oddest thing you’d ever seen. It was so embarrassing…”

“It was cute.” His eyes were still squeezed shut. “I can always tell when you’re about to do it; your eyes drift to my right ear, always the right.”

You looked down at your feet, “I don’t know why I do it, I don’t do it with anyone else.” You lifted his hand to play with his wedding ring before looking back up to his face. “You must have irresistible earlobes.”

He smiled, eyes still closed but not squeezed tightly. “Keep talking to me.”

“Hm?”

“Distract me.” He tilted his head down, chin nearly on his chest so he could peak his eyes open to watch his feet. You stood aside and he started off again. You kept your eyes ahead to the end of the bridge, his hand grasped in yours, as you considered which memory to distract him with.

“Remember when we introduced the cats?” When you first moved in together you’d been nervous about introducing your cat to his three. Your baby had always been scared of other cats, you’d assumed he’d had a bad experience before you’d adopted him. “We did it one at a time, so we didn’t overwhelm Loki. Remember how nervous I was? You kept saying how nice your babies were, that they wouldn’t hurt him.”

“I was right, wasn’t I?” His voice was a little timid, but he was still moving so you continued.

“I was never afraid they’d hurt him. I just didn’t want Loki scared to death all the time, in a new environment as well.”

“I gave them a lecture before you arrived.”

You looked at his face, his eyes still fixed on the ground. “A lecture?”

“I told them they had to be nice to their new brother.” He squeezed your hand. “I had to explain how important you are to me and how I needed you to live with us.” His voice sounded clearer, apparently successfully distracted.

“They must be very good listeners then, they were very well behaved.”

“Of course they were well behaved. They’re always well behaved.”

You noted how close the end of the bridge was. “Do you think they’re missing us?” you asked. His parents were babysitting and had been sending daily updates.

A small smile formed on his face before he spoke, “Me more than you, probably.”

“You spoil them, that's why they always come to you first.”

“They just love me more.”

“I guess I can’t blame them for that.” You stopped walking, bringing his hand up to your mouth so you could kiss his knuckles. “You did it,” you announced, smiling. He lifted his eyes to yours then turned around to look back across the bridge.

He was silent for a moment, and then the corners of his mouth curled up. “Easy,” he declared. “Let’s go then.” He tugged you forward, adopting a confident stride.

After 4 hours of being very patient while you wandered around the exhibit, Minho announced he was about to drop dead of starvation. Luckily you had a plan and within only a 10 minute walk you’d arrived at a cat cafe where you could read anything from the large book collection, eat delicious food, and play with cats. You’d discovered the place on google the day before when you were trying to find some way to thank him for spending half a day at the art gallery with you. His stomach was now full and he was in a cosy nook with a cat on his lap, looking very content. “I was thinking we could ride bikes around the river tomorrow? There’s a really nice bike track apparently,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Okay,” he said, not looking up from the cat in his lap.

“We could do something else if you have anything in mind?”

“I don’t care,” murmured, still not looking up.

“You don't-You don’t care…” You dropped your gaze to your screen. You knew he didn’t mean to sound dismissive but you felt a bit like you were dragging him around unwillingly. You had tried to make the last few days fun, keeping your time as full as you could. You hadn’t spent much time away with him before and you had been a little nervous that when he was forced to spend all his time with you for an entire week he might discover he didn’t like you as much as he thought. It was ridiculous really; you were married, you’d been living together for two years. You’d just never spent a whole week straight together. The cat that had been lounging on your husband's lap for the past 20 minutes brushed against your leg. You looked up to see Minho shifting from his side of the little reading nook, shuffling across until he was cramming himself into the small space next to you. He took your hand in his and started playing with your fingers.

“I’m just happy spending time with you. I don’t care what we do tomorrow because whatever it is, I'll be doing it with you.”

“I dragged you around an art gallery for hours today.”

“I very willingly came to the art gallery with you where I got to listen to all your very interesting thoughts. You’re cute when you’re excited.”

“So you don’t regret marrying me?”

He burst into laughter, reminding you of how ridiculous you were being. You pulled your hand from his as he was distracted attempting to contain his outburst. You fiddled with the rings on your finger. He’d rolled out of bed one Saturday morning and reappeared 10 minutes later with the small ring box. When you’d said yes he’d fucked you into the sheets and then cooked you your favourite meal, making you feel like you’d reached the peak of conceivable joy. It wasn’t possible for a human to feel happier than you did that day.

“How would the cats cope with a divorce, hm?” His voice broke through your thoughts. You looked up at his face, his eyes glinting with amusement. He patted his thighs with his palms. You hesitated, then climbed into his lap. “You’re mine now. Forever,” he whispered, hand brushing your hair away from your face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, bringing your lips to his.

Your biking plans were ruined. It had started pouring before you’d left the cat cafe and by the time you’d made it back to the hotel it had developed well and truly into a thunderstorm. You hated thunderstorms. You remembered as a kid hiding under your blankets with your mum playing with your hair until your terrified sobs had exhausted you enough to fall asleep. Minho had ordered dinner to your room and watched as you picked at your food, too anxious to have much of an appetite. You really just wanted to hide under the blankets, like a child. The claps of the thunder would startle you every time, making your heart race. Eventually Minho had told you to go to bed, he’d join you after showering. So you had.

You waited with the covers over your head, attempting and failing to listen for the sound of the shower over the heavy rain. You jumped when the covers lifted, Minho’s face appearing as he peeked into your cocoon of safety. “You alright?” he asked, his voice had taken on the gentle tone he used with his cats or when you were afraid. You reached out to grab his arm, prompting him to join you under the covers. You pressed your face to his bare chest, breathing in the scent of his body wash. His arms wrapped around you, rubbing circles into your back. “You’re okay,” he soothed. You closed your eyes as tears formed in your eyes, attempting to calm your breathing. You always felt silly when this happened, you knew logically nothing was going to happen to you; that you were okay. If only the rest of your body would get the message. A booming clap of thunder startled you, pushing you over the edge—a sob leaving your lips. “Please,” Minho pleaded, his arms tightening around you. “Don’t cry. I’ve got you.” You took a deep breath and held it. Minho pulled away from you, moving his hands to cup your cheeks and lift your face to his. “Breathe,” he whispered before leaning in to kiss the tears from your cheeks. You took a breath for each kiss he left, they were slow—slow enough that your deep slow breaths calmed your racing heart. By the time he was finished his lips were moist with your tears.

“Distract me,” you breathed. He rolled on top of you, body covering yours—both of you still under the covers. You couldn’t imagine any situation that could make you feel safer than under the covers with your husband's body over yours like this. When you were a kid you’d had the most vivid nightmares, sometimes you’d wake up and swear you could see the creature from your dream in the corner of your room. You would pull the covers over your head, using them as a protective barrier. You’d make your breathing as quiet as possible and attempt to convince yourself it wasn’t real; that you were okay. Your protective cocoon worked the same for you now, except you weren’t alone now—you had someone else to let you know you were okay.

“You need me to distract you, baby?” His warm breath tickled your neck as one of his hands slipped under the hem of your t-shirt. His fingers traced the skin on your stomach in patterns before moving to cup one of your breasts. “My girl has had such a big day…needs me to make her feel better, hm?” Light filtered through the covers as the room lit up with lightning and you reached for his arm—his skin warm under your palm. He withdrew his hand from your shirt and brought it to cup your cheek. “It’s okay, honey. Just focus on where I'm touching you, yeah?” His hand moved from your cheek…down your neck…down your torso and came to a rest over your clothed cunt. “You like when I grope your pretty pussy, don’t you? What about when I'm between your legs? When I play with you until you get all puffy… I love watching you get all twitchy and wet for me…” His fingers started lightly stroking you back and forth over your underwear, barely any pressure at all. His lips pressed to the skin on your neck, just above your collarbone—his lips were still wet from where he’d kissed the tears from your cheeks. He pressed slow kisses up to your jaw and then to your lips, all while continuing his slow strokes over your underwear. His lips tasted a little salty as they moved against yours. When he pulled away you watched as he pulled his hand from between your legs and pushed his index and middle finger into his mouth—sucking on his own fingers as he kept his eyes on yours. You pushed your fingers into his hair as he removed his fingers from his mouth. The covers had shifted down from your movements, both your heads free from your blanket cocoon. Your grip tightened in his hair as he slipped his wet fingers into your underwear and through your folds. You whimpered into his mouth as he reattached his lips to yours. “I know, honey. Feels good, yeah? Want you to feel so good,” he muttered into your mouth between kisses.

“L-Love…. love-” you stuttered against his lips.

“Me? My fingers? What do you love?” His fingers played with your entrance, the tips nudging against you but not quite pushing in. A clap of thunder startled you again, making you jump—his fingers sinking into you in the same moment. You threw your head back into the pillows, back arching off the bed—nipples pressed into the warm skin of his chest. “That’s it, honey,” Minho murmured, his fingers filling you. He started fucking you slowly, his eyes fixed to your face. Every now and then he’d let his fingers slip out of you and trail them up to your clit, circling you a few times before re-entering you again. It didn’t take long for him to build you up to your high, the more sounds you made the more he muttered along with you, “Gotta get you all relaxed so I can slip inside you…come for me, honey…then I can fill you up properly, yeah?” You clenched your eyes closed as you came, Minho’s mouth sucking a hickey into your neck as he circled your clit—drawing it out. By the time you’d come down from your high, opening your eyes again, he was between your legs—the covers well and truly abandoned now.

“Minho?”

He looked up from where he’d been focused on your sensitive pussy. “Mm?”

“You. I love you,” you said, voice a little shaky.

He smirked before covering your body with his again. “Not my fingers?”

“Those too.”

His hand moved down to pull his boxers down his ass. “What about my cock?”

“That too,” you whispered as you felt him rest his erection against your still sensitive cunt. He pressed his lips to yours, his hips rolling a little as he kissed you—his cock spreading your puffy folds as he moved. The day he’d proposed he’d kept his cock pressed to your swollen pussy as he cuddled you—leg thrown over you. He’d edged you both by grinding against your cunt until you were begging him to fill you. He liked when you begged. Tonight it seemed he was being generous because he pressed inside you without a single please required. Each of his elbows were pressed into the mattress on either side of your head, trapping you beneath him. His mouth hovered over yours as he slowly began fucking himself into you. He kept his eyes on yours as his slow deep strokes filled you.

“Should we make a baby?” He kissed you. “You wanna get back from our honeymoon already bred nice and full, hm?” Another kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him down so you could keep your mouth on his—moaning into his mouth. You’d talked about having babies one day, in the future. You were on the pill, you knew you couldn’t get pregnant right now but just the way he talked about it… like it was a real possibility; the next step in your lives together. You loved the idea of anything that would intertwine your lives together even more. You wanted to entangle yourself with him like a mess of fishing line, impossible to untangle—knotted together forever.

“Forever…” you muttered, hips rolling to meet his thrusts.

“Hm? What is it, my love?”

You pulled his head down to the crook of your neck, hands entwined in the hair at the back of his head. “...Mine,” you finished, voice just above a whisper.

“That’s right, honey,” he murmured into your skin. “Yours forever.” He sounded really out of breath now, his thrusts much shallower and faster than when you’d started. “Can you come again for me? Just once more…”

You whimpered, pulling his head back up so you could kiss him.

“I know…I know, baby…” he started chanting, panting into your mouth. “Gonna fill you… gonna-” His forehead dropped to yours as you felt him press all the way inside and flood you with his cum. You imagined you were off the pill, that he really was breeding you—you gasped as your second orgasm of the night took you by surprise. Minho collapsed onto you, pressing you into the mattress.

“Heavy,” you panted, attempting to shove at his shoulders. He groaned, rolling off you. Your panting breaths were the only sounds filling the room. The only sounds. “When did the rain stop?” you asked, rolling to your side so you could rest your arm across his torso.

“A little while ago, were you distracted?” He grinned, grasping the hand you had laid on his chest in his.

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

↳ masterlist ↳ part two: watermelon 🍉

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #lee know smut #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #x reader

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octuscle · 1 year

Note

hey can your app help me?

Im in my third year of uni and i’m really not sure why I took this degree. I finish in a year and have no clue what i want to do with my life. I go to uni in a very chavy area and they all seem so chilled and laid back. it makes me very envious. I’ve always worked hard in school and at uni too and now I wish I could just relax and do fuck all like them. I’m swamped in deadlines and just need to get rid of all this stress. any solutions your app can offer?

Mate, I wouldn't just throw away all the hard work I've done over the last few years now. Ever thought about taking a vacation? Just switch off for a few days. Mallorca is supposed to be lovely this time of year. The air is pleasant, the sea is still warm…

Okay, the flight from Stansted to Palma was really exhausting. When you have the scallies as close to you as in the plane, they are not relaxed. Then they are loud. Then they are obtrusive. And then they have a dubious body hygiene. You just want to get out of the plane. In such a hurry that you take the wrong bag out of the hand luggage compartment. But you only realize this when you are sitting in the cab and want to tell the cab driver the address of your hotel. The only thing in the side pocket is a Thomas Cook voucher booklet. With vouchers for bus transportation. And for a two-star hotel in the third row in Magaluf. Damn, your wallet is gone, your documents, your money. How are you supposed to go on vacation for a week with 200 pounds in your pocket? Okay, according to the voucher even 10 days. But all inclusive. Fuck, make the best of it.

The cab driver throws you out of the cab. Obviously you have no money. The first bus to your hotel has left in the meantime. But the Thomas Cook representative shows you where the next one is waiting for you. In the bag was a pack of cigarettes. Actually, you don't smoke. But it's a vacation.

At the hotel, the lady at the front desk tells you that you have a voucher for half a double room. Your roommate is already upstairs. She can't give you a second key. If you want a single room, it costs 50 euros. Fuck again! Fucking Euros! You don't have any… You thought there was no euro since Brexit. Dude, get a grip… You can't get a clear thought together. Before you go to the room, you take a sip of the free sangria. Shit, that's sweet! A Guiness would be better now. One of the scallies from the plane bumps into you from behind. Your Sangria flows over your shirt and your pants. "Don't giv two shites, mate," says the chav. "but ya're wearin' way too much for a vacation in mallorca anyway." And laughs. It doesn't help, you have to go to your room and change. You knock on the door. Once more. Once more. One more time. "Hey, what the fuck, i'm fuckin' reel na," you hear from the room. "Mate, let me in, i dinnit hav a fuckin' key!" Did you really say that now. Your mate opens the door. Condom over rock hard boner. Makes high five, turns around and fucks the chick again.

You go into the bathroom with your bag. Fuck, your mate has already done a great job. You count at least five condoms. In the toilet, on the floor, in the sink. You take off your wet and sticky clothes and look what's in your bag. Five minutes later, you're standing in front of the mirror in surf shorts, wifebeaters, long white soccer socks and Adidas flip-flops. Now put on the fake gold chain. Hehehe, perfect for the pool party!

It is 02:00 o'clock, when you are drunk again at the room. From inside you hear your roommate snoring. You yell until angry shouts come from all the other rooms except yours. Hehehe, in the room next to you lives one of the horny guys from Liverpool, whom you have blown a while ago. He lets you into his room and you climb over the balcony into yours. Try it at least. You fall. Fortunately, you are on the first floor. Nevertheless, you have to puke from shock. And then you fall asleep in the flowerbeds.

After a week, you know which waiter you can bum cigarettes from. And which guest will give you ten euros for a blow job. Best vacation ever. Fuck yeah, your underpants are all either pissed or jizzed. You don't have a single clean t-shirt left, but on the beach you bought some fake soccer jerseys for a few euros. And the EA7 sports shorts look like real ones too. Hehehe, Liam lost his shirt in some chick's room again. And Darren is drunk again! Without you they wouldn't even find their hotel….

Tonight Germany plays against England. You want to go by bus to Palma. Watch the game. And no matter how it ends: Afterwards there will be a juicy brawl with a few German fans. As I said: Best vacation ever!

Fittin' pic found at @scallyplanet

#male tf #reality change #chronivac #male transformation #inked man #age reduction #chav tf

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tame-the-lion-writes · 2 days

Text

[arthur morgan] the stories stars tell

This is reposted from my AO3!

Every night, Arthur Morgan is visited by a face that slips from his grasp the moment he wakes up. And then, one fateful evening, he finds himself meeting a stranger at the saloon, whose presence feels like the nostalgia of a storybook.

tags: modern au, reincarnation

Illusory.

A girl from a daydream, caught in a nightmare. A breath of fresh air in the fields of the Heartlands, a flame purer than any fuel from the grounds. And as far as Arthur was concerned – imaginary.

“... Damnit.”

It’s a soft whisper of pain as she passes through his fingers again, features blurring until he can see her no more in the dark of closed eyes. He then passes into consciousness, morning sun streaming through the window, dust floating about as though remnants of the woman left behind. In the dry air, there lingers the scent of flowers – those his dream-self had crushed nervously in all-too-rough hands, tentative in pining approach.

He runs those rough hands over his face now, feeling the leathery skin and clearing the sleep from his eyes.

The alarm hasn’t sounded, but he sheds the cotton sheets from his body, swinging ever-sore legs over the edge of the bed. Calloused fingers mess aimlessly with the phone charging nearby before they finally manage to make their way to the clock app – shitty technology, no? – and switch off the bell before it can ring. There was only five minutes left, anyway.

But he couldn’t wait to go back to sleep.

** * **

Wake up. Work. Sketch. Drink. Such had been Arthur’s routine for nearly ten months, yet beneath it all, was a longing that stretched beyond years. Tangible years, even.

Every ride into town, every race on his steed was a moment of deja vu. Perhaps that could be chalked up to Valentine simply being his hometown – he’d never left the place as far as he knew – but there was something else that kept him tied to the place. Something that often made him doze off with eyes wide open, as though something was falling into place while falling apart. Something about second chances.

Some days, he’d walk into the saloon like he did now and wonder why he felt so empty in the only place that made him whole.

After taking off his hat, shrugging off his leather jacket, and hanging both on the coatrack by the bar’s front door, Arthur Morgan let a heavy sigh run through him. God, after the shitshow that was today’s work — a bull breaking down the fence, and a lamb that passed — he was in desperate need of a drink. “A whiskey, will ya?” he hummed, sliding a bill over the countertop. He then paused before adding another. “You know what? Make that two.”

– “Two off the bat?”

The young woman – you – who just happened to be sitting a seat over, a beer to her lips. speaks up.

– “Bad day, huh?”

Arthur glances over his shoulder with a raised brow. Unfamiliar face, unfamiliar smile – and yet, something so oddly comfortable about her presence, as if she had been there the whole time.

“You could say that,” he replied gruffly, accepting the two whiskeys from the bartender with a brief nod of thanks. He downs the first shot in one go, hissing slightly at the burn, before continuing– “Bull broke outta the fence, one of the lambs took a turn. Just… nothin’ going right today.”

“Ah,” she exhales, followed by a slight frown. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

He nods once, then takes the second shot slower. And orders a third. “Ain’t seen you around here before. You just passin’ through?”

“Mm. Came from the city," she confesses with a small smile, turning slightly to face him in. "And yeah-- just passing through. Roadtrip through the states. Had to get away from civilization.”

"City folk, huh?" Arthur says with a wry smile. He shakes his head knowingly. "Can't say I blame you for wantin' to get away. Must get awful cramped in those big places. Well, welcome to Valentine. Cozy little spot, but I reckon it's a sight better than the city." It’s then that he extends a hand in greeting. "Name's Arthur. Arthur Morgan. Been here most of my life, so if you need any pointers on the area or get yourself in a spot of trouble, you let me know. Where you headin’ next?”

"You seem nice enough. Might take you up on that offer," she laughs, though it’s clear she doesn’t expect much surprise on her trip. “I’m going south to Lemoyne. Rhodes. I like the weather here so far, though. All nice and open -- but if I'm honest, I bet the view was better a hundred years ago. Must've been nicer without all the noisy cars, and all the people."

She pauses for a moment, lowering her beer.

“I mean, not that I hate people. But I dunno. The world feels so claustrophobic these days, not just the city. A part of me longs for the wild, but maybe that's just the silly ideals of a city slicker."

Arthur raises his brow thoughtfully at her words. She spoke with a wistfulness, a longing for a simpler time, that resonated deep within him in a way he couldn't explain.

"The wild, huh? Can't say I blame you for feelin' that way," he replies, taking his third shot as he gazes out the window into the fading light of dusk. "World's changin' fast these days. Gets louder and more crowded every year. Sometimes I think about saddlin' up my horse and just ridin' out into the open country, leavin' it all behind. Find a bit of peace… Maybe a hundred years ago is when I'da liked to been alive too. Less rules, less noise. A man could still live free."

Draining the last of his whiskey, he sets the glass down and meets her curious gaze. "Hey– you ever ride before? I got an extra horse if you wanna see the countryside before headin' south."

At that, the woman nearly snorts on her next sip of beer.

"Oh, god, no-- I haven't been on a horse since I was a kid. God knows I'd get reared off or something."

Arthur chuckles at her response. "Well then, consider this your chance to relearn. I won't let nothin' happen to ya, promise. It'll do you some good to get outta the city mindset. And my horse Freckles’ as gentle as they come. Perfect for gettin' your feet wet again."

Sliding off his barstool, Arthur tips his hat politely.

"What do you say, miss? Fancy a ride through the countryside before dark? I'll even buy you another beer after, if you don't get yourself thrown."

“Before I say yes to such a charming, mysterious cowboy-- promise not to kidnap me or something?"

“Promise.”

** * **

"Easy boy," Arthur soothes, running a hand along the stallion’s neck before turning to you. "Now just put your foot here, and swing your leg over. I'll be right behind ya."

Once you’re settled in the saddle, Arthur mounts up behind you, taking the reins in hand.

"Alright, you're all set. Just relax and go with his gait. I won't let anything happen."

With a soft click of his tongue, Arthur nudges Freckles – aptly named due to his speckled brown coat – into an easy walk, guiding them down the dusty main street as the last glow of sunset paints the sky.

"What do you think so far? Feeling any braver about horses yet?"

"I'm certainly more comfortable with such a sturdy backrest," you huff gently, hands grasping the horn – though you’re sure the only reason you’re not falling off is because he’s there to lean into. To think you were just talking back at the saloon, and now out here and alone. But there’s no hesitance to this quiet intimacy, riding out beneath the sky. He felt familiar back at the bar. He feels familiar now.

Back to his chest and shoulders rising and falling in unison.

“Obliged,” he replies, a chuckle evident from the rumble against your back. "We’ll be headin’ over to Horseshoe Overlook. Just a little ways outta town – got the finest view, both day and night.”

He guides Freckles into a leisurely amble, taking the long way around town so his new companion can soak in the sights and sounds of rural life. Lamplight glows warmly beyond glass windows as the sky deepens to indigo overhead.

"Pretty little place, ain't it?" Arthur asks softly. "Not as flashy as the city, but it suits me just fine."

You take a deep breath, letting the cool air seep into your bones.

"The less flashy, the better. I've always liked places where you could see the sky. No telephone wires or skyscrapers. Just me and the big blue. Feels right that way."

"The city folks, they never seem to look up," Arthur muses softly. "Most city folk, that is – no offense. Too busy rushin' around, missin' all the simple beauty right above their heads. Out here, that's all a body needs to feel at peace."

"Ha-- none taken. When I was younger, my parents had a playground in the backyard. Used to climb up there nearly every night just to watch the sunset above all the houses, all by my lonesome. That was until a buncha black widows took over the playground, and I couldn't go up anymore without fear of getting bit. Ever since, I’ve also been too busy to look up. Forget to in the hustle and bustle of things."

Arthur chuckles at your story, guiding Freckles to where buildings fade into forested countryside.

"Black widows, huh? Nasty critters, those ones. Can't say I blame you for wantin' to keep away."

Freckles follows a dirt path down a grassy slope, and Arthur reins the horse to a halt near a wide, slow-moving stream. Fireflies dance over the glassy water like floating lights as crickets and frogs serenade the deepening night. Dismounting, returns to help you down, hands lingering a moment on your waist before dropping away.

"Reckon this is as good a spot as any to take in the sky. Not a building or soul in sight. Care to join me for a spell?”

At his question, you smirk. “Can’t exactly say no and go on running or riding back to town now, can I?”

Arthur just shakes his head with a grin and crouches down, patting the grass next to him. “Suppose not, miss.”

Soon, you’re settled next to him, having folded your arms across your knees to keep warm. Your eyes go soft at the sight of fireflies, and you fall even quieter as they dance around your hands. The city was never… well, if you thought about it proper–

"You know... this is the first time I've seen fireflies,” you whisper. “Too sensitive to pollution that, hell, even on all my previous roadtrips, I've never seen them."

Arthur smiles in sympathy as he watches the fireflies flitting about. "Ain't they somethin' special?"

Silence falls as you two soak in the darkening sky, and the stars that both rise from the earth and shine from above. Arthur leans back on one elbow, gazing up at the inky sky – and you do the same. So many lights – each its own tiny world, just as alone yet together in the empty.

"You watched the sunset – I used to stargaze as a boy," Arthur says, breaking the silence. A gentle sigh escapes him. "Memorized so many constellations… Seems like a lifetime ago now. But sometimes I still like to find the patterns, let my mind wander free like it did back then. I– I know it’s an odd question to ask a practical stranger, but… what do you suppose those stars might say, if they could talk?"

You chuckle, looking over at him.

"Odd question indeed, but I’ll entertain it.”

With a scoot, you move closer as to further shelter against the cold.

“They'd probably tell a million stories of a million lives gone by. Could be dying or gone, as far as we know, but we still see the light. Proof that they ever existed."

“Must be nice tellin’ stories. Another silly thought: imagine becoming a star. You pass, then you fly on up there – tell stories about yourself, of everyone you ever knew. Everyone you ever loved.”

After a long time looking up at the stars, his blue eyes shift to look into yours, and he goes all quiet again.

“... You ever loved someone, Mister Morgan?”

Your unfamiliar face, unfamiliar smile – and yet, something so oddly comfortable. Like a girl from a daydream.

“Think I have. And I’m startin’ to.”

#x reader #reader insert #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption community #drabble #fanfic #cowboy #wild west #reincarnation #reincarnation au #fluff

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hwadess · 1 year

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[00:28] stoner!yunho (s)

this is actually my first fic ever on this account and i haven’t really kept up with writing since like 2019??? lol… here goes nothing! i did not fully proof read this so if there are any errors pls let me know 😭 also, i feel like this goes without saying but obviously i know weed is NOT legal in south korea, but this is a work of fiction and i like having fun. i am 100% projecting. yep! anyways,

warnings are underneath the cut!

MINORS DNI, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!

remember, tumblr’s algorithm works off of reblogs. i love and appreciate likes but please reblog my work as well if you like it ♡ much love!

warnings: reader has female anatomy and is called gendered terms associated primarily with females, !!!usage of marijuana!!!, dom!yunho, some light stoner terms, reader tells yunho to stop but doesnt mean it, size kink, use of nicknames/pet names/titles (baby girl, tiny, angel, doll, good girl, yuyu, sir), obv strong language, unprotected sex (please always stay safe during sex!), creampie, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (f receiving), degradation, humiliation. if i forgot any i will add!

word count: idk i edited it in app and lost track (jk update its 3,479!

your friend group was definitely a crazy one, hosting escapades you could never imagine by yourself, making so many memories. all of your firsts were with your friends by your side. hell, you would be with your friends every single second of every day if you could, but today when yunho came home talking about how he had someone in the group find some really good weed, you knew you had to try it alone with him. even though you knew you’d definitely hear from wooyoung about it later. yunho told you that he was sworn to that it would create one of the best highs you had ever faced.

god, you were hoping that his friend was right. you knew how you were when you smoked, you were excited. of course, the two of you could not waste such an opportunity, right?

your head is filled with warmth as your body started feeling floaty, the harsh coughing from the first hit of this third blunt really helping the feeling set in. the drug began to hit you even harder at this point, turning your entire world into a dizzy, yet comfortable daze. you look over at yunho, eyes half lidded from the effects of the bud, bright with the reflection of the led lights that outlined the corners of your bedroom walls.

you took a second to absorb every single detail of his appearance, his hoodie somehow big on him, making you wonder how you’d look wearing it, remembering how big he is already. he was wearing sweatpants, the string on it tightened just enough to hold them loosely around his hips. the weed had the gears in your mind grinding even harder than usual, he looked fucking amazing.

you don’t know if it was the overwhelming urge to be close to him, or what got into you, but before you knew it, your leg was thrown over his lap, and you were there, straddling him on the sofa in the bedroom. taken back by this a bit, yunho breathlessly laughs before cocking a brow at you, head lolling back lazily along the back of the couch from laughing. you take your almost completely cashed blunt, placing it in the ashtray beside the two of you, immediately bringing light kisses to the part of his neck thats barely exposed by the oversized hoodie. fuck, he was so perfect.

that’s all it took, his body began to react what seemed almost instantaneously, his hips subconsciously pressing against you, starting the process of getting hard, as he grabbed your waist for leverage.

“ooh what’s this, pretty girl,” he cooed out, pushing your hair back out of your face, exposing all of your features even more to him. you were so pretty, “some weed got your little pussy wet?”

“no, you did,” you barely managed, the breath barely leaving your lungs. he smirked at you before tapping your side, automatically remembering that’s his sign for wanting you to raise your arms to sneak off your shirt.

“well, i’d better take care of this little problem i created, don’t you think doll?” with large yet gentle hands, he eased you off his lap on the sofa to take you to the opposite side of the room to his bed.

the room was coated in a haze of smoke as the bed creaked ever so quietly underneath the weight of you two. the harsh smell of this particular leaf clung to your senses but you were used to it, the smell didn’t bother you as much as you thought. even if you weren’t used to it, you weren’t sure how much you could even pay attention to the smell of anything when your tall boyfriend was pulling off his sweatpants to reveal his semi-hardened cock. your mind was full, the thoughts mixing in your head, enough to make you fucking dizzy. the effects of what you smoked had long since taken over, you were feeling so much.

“you wanted to start this, so go ahead.” he said, moving back onto the bed with you and then laying down against the bed, head on the pillows, gesturing down with his chin.

you knew better than to act stupid. your whole body shuddered when you looked up at him and saw him wearing the cockiest smirk you swear you had ever seen in your life. he was gonna be the death of you.

you crawled on top of him, taking the same position you had on the bedroom sofa, but this time you took his thick cock in your hand, positioning the tip of him at your entrance.

“wait, angel” he interjected, grabbing your wrist to make you release his cock. your swear your need was about to boil over any second now, mind burning with the thought of how close he was to filling your needy hole up.

“do you think you can take me like this?” he asked, looking at how big his cock looked next to your cunt. you stared back at him, blinking blearily, you were overtaken with confusion and the empty feeling in your chest having the pleasure of his cock that was so tantalizingly close ripped away from you, so hungry for his cock buried in you.

“just a couple more things, doll,” yunho adjusted in his spot, putting pillows underneath the back of his head, so he was laying up a bit more. he brought one large hand to your waist to stabilize you so you stayed still on your knees above him while his other hand slid between your thighs, spreading your folds to run his finger down to find your wet entrance. when he felt the arousal seeping from you just by gliding his fingers through your slit, he hummed softly, sinking two digits inside you which drew a pathetic cry from you.

his fingers were coated in your wetness as he pulled them out, but he still took a moment to tease you by brushing the pads of his fingers along your clit and dip his fingers in just an inch or so a few times until he was satisfied enough with how worked up you were. it wasn’t until yunho retrieved it that you realized he had his unfinished blunt tucked behind his ear, licking off his fingers coated with your juices before grabbing the lighter on the nightstand and lighting it, unexpectedly blowing all the smoke right into your face, making your eyes burn with tears. if they were from the smoke, or from need, that you weren’t too sure of.

“alright pretty baby, you should sink down for me,” he ashed his blunt before looking back at you, cocking an eyebrow at you, making you shiver.

his eyes were on your shaky ones as you eagerly positioned him at your entrance. the moan you let out as every single inch of thick cock grazed against against your walls menacingly slow was absolutely sinful. the neediness in your moan made yunho’s cock twitch inside you as you slowly worked him deeper into your wet cunt.

“now that’s a good girl, huh?,” yunho groaned out, one arm beneath his head on the pillow and the other gripping your waist. between his lips was the blunt, smoke going up in a helix from the burning tip and the corner of his mouth as he panted, feeling your tight walls squeeze him, filling up your little stretched out cunt.

your body was so sensitive to every touch, every single feeling running through your body. you could feel yunho’s cock everywhere. it was so overwhelming. all you could think about was how delicious it felt that his cock was ramming into that one particular spot that made you feel like you were going to pass out right there on his dick splitting you open.

your whole body was so sensitive from the pot, so much so that you found yourself on the edge quickly. your body began to tremble harder than you have before and you gasped out to your boyfriend, hands reaching to bring him closer,

“fuck. i’m gonna cum.” yunho laughs, feeling your cunt clench around his cock, “already, huh?” he mocks you, taking another hit while he watches your trembling fingers leave the grip on his shirt to find your swollen clit to hurl yourself into your crashing orgasm. your hips spasmed uncontrollably and your cunt was squeezing him as you came all around his thick cock, but you continued to ride him, abandoning your clit in favor of going back to grabbing onto his hoodie for leverage.

“fuck, tiny, you’re so good,” he grunted, rutting his cock up into you deeper. “yuyu, y-your c-cock is… s-so g-good,” you barely managed to choke out, bottoming out and grinding your clit against the base of his cock as you felt another orgasm already building in your tummy.

“gonna cum again?” he laughed this time, making your cheeks sting with humilation, but if anything this fueled you working yourself over the edge for him until you were trembling on top of his cock once more.

“fuck!” you yelped out, focusing on your bouncing to aim his cock to brush against the spot that feels the best. you didn’t even give yourself a break, eager to find your next release, eager to make him cum. you just wanted to be so good for him, all you wanted him was for him to fill you up with his cum.

yunho was basically panting, skin glowing shiny under the blue led lights in the room as a light coat of sweat coated his forehead, and he couldn’t deny that you looked so gorgeous right now. he adored when you were so insatiable to the point where you lost your mind on his cock, using him as your toy to make yourself cum. he was more than happy to sit there and let you take what your body needed.

and you, you were a sight for sore eyes. sweat beading over your body with your head thrown back, as you ground down on him with your little cunt filled with his long cock. you had already cum so much already, and you weren’t sure how much or what time it even was. time was a blur at this point, and it was the last thing you were gonna think about. the creases of your thighs, as well as his were both covered in your cum, creating sloppy, loud wet noises every time your skin met.

you were positive you had stained the bed beneath the two of you now, there was no way it hadn’t. it was filthy and you both fucking loved it.

“fuck, yunho!” you pathetically wailed, holding yourself down as deep as possible once you bottomed out, reaching down with a desperate hand to brush against your swollen clit gently enough to initiate the most toe-curling orgasm out of yourself that you think you have ever experienced. yunho groaned, pulling the blunt out of his mouth to blow a lungful of smoke back into your face as you gasped for air from cumming so hard.

“god, i can fucking feel you cum like that doll,” he groaned, tucking the rillo back in his mouth in to grab onto your tits, relentlessly pinching your hardened nipple between his fingers.

“jesus fucking christ,” you groaned, placing your hands behind you on his thighs, using him for leverage as you began to bounce onto him again. you had no idea how the burn of your thighs wasn’t bothering you as much as it should’ve been, but you just equated it to the thc flowing through your system. “you feel so fucking good, yuyu, fuck!”

“what was that?” something shifted in him, watching you through dark and heavy eyes as you lost yourself on his cock. his cock twitched in your cunt so hard, “your tiny cunt’s so fucking sensitive, couldn’t stop cumming even if you wanted to, huh?”

“fuck. yuyu, i’m gonna cum.” the nickname took his breath away, he loved how pathetic and small you looked while hungrily bouncing on his cock, calling him such a cute nickname. he could never admit it but the nickname made him fall apart, but he wasn’t going to admit that. yunho hisses, feeling your cunt clench around his cock that he swears has never been this hard before.

your head went blank, everything was subconscious at this point, digging your nails into the skin of his thighs, grinding your clit against the hilt every time his cock filled you to the brim.

yunho scowled, seemingly unsatisfied that you weren’t answering him. he sat up slightly, tangling a hand into your hair and gripping a fistful tightly to force you to stop bouncing on him, making your eyes meet his worriedly.

your pupils were blown, eyes shining with tears of need. your body was trembling above him as a sign that you were desperately close to another orgasm, and he stole that from you. this was the first time he had really moved since you got onto the bed, and the sight of him taking another long, thick hit, tapping off the ash off the side of the bed carelessly, and then blowing the smoke right into your face with a blank expression had you clenching pathetically around him.

“hmm, i asked you a question, angel,” he cooed, speech a little mumbled as he held the blunt between his lips again to free up both of his hands. wrapping both hands around your waist to shove you onto his cock the deepest it could possibly reach.

“i, i didn’t hear what you asked…” you whimpered, his cock making contact with your cervix from the angle he was sitting at now.

“i know that. poor thing,” he loosened his hold on your hair to move to cup your face almost a confusing amount of gentle, “so fucked out on my cock you can’t even think? is that what’s happening here?”

“y-yes sir,” you whimpered, the attempt to grind down against him unnoticed failed as your clit throbbed so painfully from the neglect.

“sir, huh? cute. sir fucked you dumb?” he smirked, reaching up and taking away the blunt completely now, putting it fully in the ashtray that was at the nightstand.

“y-yes,” it was a small reply, not able to get anything out that was more than that. you just wanted to cum for him again.

“my stupid little baby girl,” he chuckled, his lips against yours. you immediately responded, the pot aftertaste lingering in his mouth. you wrapped your fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss as you began to bounce on him again.

“fuck,” you cried, feeling close as you ground your clit against his pelvic bone every time you sunk down onto him. yunho lowered himself back down against the pillows again, but this time, he wasn’t letting you take control in any sort of way this time. he started to fuck up into your dripping cunt instead of leaving the work to you completely.

“rub that clit tiny, cum on my cock again,” he panted out, grabbing your free hand, which had been busy playing with your nipples, to press your fingers against flush your clit. “fuck that’s it,” he praised when he felt your pussy flutter around him, watching you gently circle the bud as you rode him to your high.

the sight of you just using his body for your own pleasure while feeling your warm cunt wrapped around his throbbing cock was beginning to become too much, he could feel the heat of his own orgasm beginning to sneak up on him. the amount of self control he’s able to show after all this time was still astounding to you, and you just wanted to break that and let him paint your insides with his cum.

“fuck, fuck, i’m cumming again,” you got out in between broken words and gasps for air, thighs trembling as your high washed over you so hard it almost hurt. this time, the force from the orgasm was so intense you were unable to hold yourself up and you leaned down to rest your face against his chest as you panted and trembled through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

everything happened way too fast, and suddenly you found yourself on your back with yunho towering above you. his cock slipped out of you in the process, making your hole clench pathetically when you realized you weren’t full anymore.

“what are you doing…” you whined, arching your hips in a lazy attempt to get him back inside you.

“im gonna eat you out,” he mumbled, instantly lowering on the bed until his head was between your thighs. “oh fuck, you’re soaking,” he used his thumbs to spread your folds apart, exposing your entrance and swollen clit to the chilly air in the room. “how many times have you cum?”

“i don’t remember,” you muttered almost lifelessly. it felt so nice to be lying on your back again and giving your legs a break. you were so gone at this point, how could you remember?

“what a slut,” he growled, dragging the flat of his tongue against the tip of your clit, before shoving his tongue into your hole, coating his tongue in your delicious juices. your hands shuffling to yank at his hair when he used the tip of his tongue to graze your clit gently.

“holy fuck, that feels so good,” you whined out, arching your hips to grind against his tongue, making him chuckle.

it was unfair, how fucking good yunho’s cock felt in you, and how he had a sinfully good mouth. the feeling of his tongue licking over your swollen bud and you remembering how good his cock felt filling you up just minutes ago had you you cumming so much, spiraling into another screaming orgasm. this time, however, as your eyes rolled back and you let out a shriek of his nickname that he loved so much, you felt yourself utterly gush against his tongue.

“fuuuck,” yunho growled, sitting back on his heels before immediately sliding into your embarrassingly wet cunt without a second thought. the noises that came when he sunk into you would have embarrassed you if you not for the weed and the adrenaline pumping through your system.

“c-can’t anymore, yuyu, please stop,” you whined, but made no attempts to halt him as he began pounding into your sopping wet cunt.

“fuck. i. got. you. babygirl,” he whispered through grunts, attempting to give your lips little pecks although his deep and rough thrusts offset them a bit. “can you cum once more for me?” he panted out, eyes scanning over your fucked out, dumb expression.

“if you cum in me,” you compromised, drawing a dark change in his eyes from him as he nodded.

“anything you want, tiny,” the two of you fell into relative silence aside from your whines and moans mixing with his grunts and the wet sound of his cock fucking so deeply your cunt. he licked his pretty fingers before reaching down to spread your lips open and found your swollen clit, brushing against your bud softly as he knew how sensitive it would be and it felt like someone was shooting electricity down your nerves.

he continued to fuck you until you reached your last high, thighs clamping and trembling around his waist and your hand ripping his away from your throbbing clit. with a handful of powerful, deep thrusts, ropes of his thick cum were filling you up, and a long drawn-out groan came from his sweet lips.

the both of you were still for a minute, just sharing a moment to take a few deep breaths as his cock softened inside you before he pulled out, making you gasp from the realization of how spent your hole was. his cum leaked out of you, dripping down onto his blue comforter. he sighed, before catching it with his fingers. he brought his wet and soiled fingers to your lips, and you eagerly took them into your mouth with a small whimper; the bitter flavor of his cum spreading over your tongue.

watching yunho sink his exhausted body down to force your thighs apart wasn’t an uncommon occurrence when the two of you were done. you were tired but you sighed, letting your eyes gently shut as his tongue slid between your folds to catch the mixture of both of your cum thats leaking out of you profusely at this rate, while being gentle enough to not even brush against your clit anymore tonight.

“i love you,” yunho pets your head, fingers combing gently through your hair, “so good for me.”

“i love you, yuyu,” you hum. you don’t think you’re ever smoking with any of your friends present ever again.

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sarahowritesostucky · 29 days

Text

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 3061

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, kidnapping, cannibalism, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, ignoring of sexual boundaries, dub-con bordering on non-con, (mostly humorous) gore, (mostly humorous) body horror

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen" ... or something like that

12. Tenderize

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter. Story Masterlist

youtube

Steve:

Bucky spends the afternoon doing what he calls "meat prep." Steve tries not to look, he really does, but the House Hunters show he puts on the television doesn’t really hold a candle to the morbidly fascinating process that is Bucky, "prepping" Melissa’s leg.

Bucky sends it up in the dumbwaiter after taking Erica her lunch. He washes his hands meticulously at the sink and dries them, picks the leg up and plops it down onto the counter with a flourish. It’s the lower leg. Left or right, Steve doesn’t take note, he just sees the painted toenails, the tattoo on the ankle that he can’t quite make out. He sits on the couch and peers over the back of it, watching Bucky work.

Bucky moves with a sort of glee, almost like a dance, as if he can hear music that Steve can’t. He looks very in his element, and very handsome and capable as he works. Steve would probably spend more time admiring that, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s also watching the man slicing pieces off of a woman’s calf.

“I usually take the non-dominant forearm, first,” Bucky tells him as he’s working. “This was Melissa’s … third cut? Anyway, it’s all I’ve got left of her now. I defrosted it a couple days ago. There’s this Italian guy who always orders shank, specifically.”

Jesus fuck, Steve thinks. "Shank." He actually calls it that.

“I send it with everything he needs for my grandma’s osso buco,” Bucky declares. “Herbs, wine, specifically-curated olive oil. All that and like, some hair or some panties or something. Because, you know: perverts.” He rolls his eyes and Steve has to suppress a horrible urge to laugh. Bucky looks up and catches sight of his twitching mouth, and he smiles back. “Yeah, I know. Good ol’ Gammy made hers with beef. But trust me,” he points his knife at Steve. “This way is so much better.”

Steve chews his lip. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You-don’t-have-to,” Bucky sing-songs from the kitchen, in his element, happy. “You’re welcome to try any cut you want, anytime.” He produces a meat tenderizer and starts pounding away at the slices of meat he’s produced.

Steve winces as the hammer comes down hard, and then lighter in a series of almost loving taps. Christ. “I’ll pass for now,” he murmurs, unsure if Bucky’s heard him or not. He continues to watch the macabre display for a bit, but goes back to the television once Bucky is vacuum packing the meat with the herbs and spices.

He's very surprised (and honestly a bit grossed out with himself) that he doesn’t get more upset from watching the actual process. He doesn’t even get nauseous. Oh, it’s weird for sure. Downright shocking when he very first sees the leg lifted out of the dumbwaiter and plopped onto the countertop, the pedicured foot still attached, Bucky slicing away and hacking through bone. But Steve doesn’t retch and get sick like he thought he would. His stomach doesn’t once roil or threaten to turn. It’s like he’s already been desensitized to it, just from the sheer amount of stuff he’s imagined, from what Bucky’s told him and shown him so far, eating kidneys and ‘other-bacon’ right in front of him.

He thinks of Clint and watching Midsommar with him, asking him how he could stomach all the gore.

“It’s not real. Just movie magic, dude.”

His own lack of a physical reaction to this actual gore is what disturbs Steve the most, so he forces himself to sit back on the couch facing the tv, and actually pay attention to the show. The young married couple is searching for a house in Toronto. They need to upsize because they’re having another baby. Steve watches the show. He hopes they pick the middle house. They wind up picking the last one.

Absently, Steve wonders what osso buco is.

Bucky:

“What’s osso buco?” Steve asks.

Bucky’s just finished with his meat prep and woken Steve up from his nap on the couch. He’d been so sweet lying there, looking so peaceful. Bucky hadn’t wanted to wake him, but it's getting late, and he’s already started chilling the wines for dinner.

He smiles at Steve and sits at the opposite end of the couch from him, tangling their feet together in the middle. He describes what osso buco is. “I was surprised you watched,” he tells him gently, honestly. He rubs his socked foot against Steve’s bare one. “What’d you think?”

Steve is quiet for a long time. When he finally answers, he simply says, “You were right. We do look a lot like beef.”

Bucky busts out in a laugh and leans forward to slap him on the thigh. “Told ya!” He gets up to go and finish the final elements of their dinner. “You ready for date night, my dear?”

Steve watches him from over the back of the couch again. “Mmhm. What’re we doing?”

Bucky beams at him. He’s been looking forward to this all day. “First, we have our appetizer: La Pissaladiere.” He’s begun speaking in a very fake French accent, and Steve scoffs.

"That's terrible."

"Yeah it was kinda terrible, huh?”

Steve laughs, and then Bucky laughs with him, and for a second it feels just like one of those genuine, laughing stupidly together moments that they used to have. And it makes Bucky’s heart squeeze painfully as the brief moment fizzles out. He can see it in Steve’s face too, how it hurts.

Bucky looks down, clearing his throat. “Um, yeah. And then we’ve got this salad, pretty simple. And the main, which is …” he does a drumroll on the countertop. “Osso Buco!” He does that one in an equally terrible Italian accent, but Steve is not amused.

"What?! No! No fucking way!" he cries, tiny and furious and kneeling up higher on the couch cushions. Bucky marvels at him and has such a strong urge to tackle him into submission and sex right then and there, that he has to look away. “Bucky,” Steve growls. “You promised you wouldn’t make me—”

“Calm down, babe,” Bucky hurries, not wanting Steve’s temper to ruin their date night. “It’s the two version meal again, don’t worry. Yours is 'vegetarian'.”

Steve deflates some, but Bucky can see that he’s still wary. “Prove it,” he says, and Bucky sighs dramatically to cover up the disappointment he feels at Steve not being able to trust him yet.

“Okay, come here.” He unlocks Steve’s tether at the couch and brings him over to the island countertop, locks him there. “Look.” He points to each crockpot that’s been braising the meat for hours. He’d put tape on each one to label them. The right one reads “Vegetarian,” the left one reads “Melissa.”

He's pleased as punch when Steve rolls his eyes and even laughs a little. “This is so crazy,” he mutters. “Why can’t you just enjoy cow like everybody else?” He’s asking in a good enough natured way, so Bucky indulges him,

“I told you, Honey. We’re just better.”

“Yeah yeah, I remember. ‘Tastes like roadkill in comparison’.”

“It does,” Bucky insists, though he can see Steve rolling his eyes. “Only one way to prove me wrong,” he challenges, leaning over the counter with a smirk. Steve scowls and says no way, and Bucky backs off. Instead, he tries to explain it to him, musing, “And you know, it also just makes the whole meal more of a … a spiritual experience.” He meets Steve’s eyes, and they’re riveted on him. Bucky licks his bottom lip slowly, eager to explain, to make Steve see. “When it’s not just an animal? When it's us? Well then you’re not just eating. It's so much more than that. You’re taking someone else inside yourself. You’re consuming them. It’s …” he inhales deeply. “It’s heady. It’s meaningful.” He sees Steve gulp and knows he’s playing with fire here, but he pushes onwards, taking Steve’s small hand from over the counter and covering it with his own. “No matter what they did in their life, they’re still a person. And a person matters. In a way an animal never can.” He watches the movement of Steve's closed lips, the nervous rise and fall of his Adam's apple. Bucky shivers and breathes, “It’s a very powerful thing.”

Steve pulls his hand back slowly, never looking away from Bucky’s eyes. Bucky can’t tell if he’s terrified, or fascinated, or both. He’d take both.

He breaks the tension of the moment by pulling back and standing up straight again, giving Steve some breathing room after that—admittedly impassioned—speech. “And then of course, we have Dessert: le tarte tatìn—with fennel ice cream, though I think the French would arrest me for serving it à la mode.” He moves away to go check on the crock pots and then the oven where the Pissaladiere is baking. “Almost ready,” he says brightly, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go set the table!”

Steve:

After dinner, they decide to finish watching The Hunger Games. They’ve only got the last movie to go. Bucky puts it on and they snuggle up close together on the couch. Steve is left untethered to any cord or chain, and he spends at least the first ten minutes of the movie eyeing up every solid object in the near vicinity, imagining what would or would not be suitable for bludgeoning Bucky with.

It’s a dreadful train of thought, and when Bucky pulls him in cozily against his side and kisses his hair and whispers that he’s so happy to have Steve back with him like this, Steve almost feels guilty for his scheming. He knows he has to stay strong, though. He just sat through an entire—admittedly delicious—dinner service where he watched the other man consume wine and salad and human shank.

Excuse him, he means osso buco.

Steve’s "vegetarian" version had been delicious. Bucky is an excellent cook and Steve really, really wishes he was just a normal boyfriend. Because cute little cooking-at-home-together dinner dates are so much fun with him. If only, if only. It’s so horrible that it’s laughable, and that’s what Steve’s found himself doing more often than not. Laughing about the absurdity of the situation in which he finds himself. He tells himself that it’s okay, that it’s a coping mechanism, and not him becoming used to anything. God forbid.

In the end, Steve concedes that Bucky was right: Peeta is a much better match for Katniss. “But only due to their circumstances,” he argues, as they’re eating their dessert on the couch, the credits and soundtrack music still rolling up the tv screen. “I mean, they’re just bonded through PTSD, basically. If things had gone differently, Gale would’ve been the one to know her better, deeper.” He shrugs. “Plus, he’s cuter. And taller.”

Bucky counters by pointing out that it’s always about your circumstances. “You can’t play that ‘what if’ game,” he says. “We live through what we live through. And it changes us, and that’s okay. Life doesn't always turn out the way we planned. Happiness comes from acceptance of that.”

He’s staring straight at Steve as he says it, and Steve finds his next mouthful of tarte tatìn going down with some difficulty. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I guess so." Does Bucky really expect him to accept all of this? He shifts uncomfortably and holds out his bowl. "I ah, I think I'm done with mine.”

Bucky takes it with gentle fingers and a soft expression. “I hope you liked everything,” he says. “I wanted to make this special for you. A real treat.”

"Oh." Steve flounders with his heart in his throat. “It ... it was.”

youtube

“Mm.” Bucky sets both of their bowls on the coffee table, then he comes back and crawls over to Steve on the couch, crowding him back, and back, until Steve is lying down and Bucky's over top of him. Steve shudders, parts his lips to say something in protest, but Bucky kisses him before he can.

It’s not just the kiss, is the thing. It’s the way that Bucky’s elbows and forearms box him in. It’s the way his hands slide up Steve’s shoulders, how they trace his neck and his jaw. It’s how his full body lies atop him, how his weight pushes down, sinking Steve into the cushions as good as any restraint could. It’s how he fits so perfectly between Steve’s legs, and how his hips roll, slow and purposeful, while he kisses him.

Without meaning to, Steve moans, and the moment his hands come up to hold Bucky’s shoulders, he knows it’s game over: He's lost, tonight.

He still protests the loss, of course. Tries to stop it on the couch, and then in the hallway, and in the bedroom. But Bucky hushes him endlessly, kisses away his whimpers and licks his moans into existence, taking them as permission, as Steve conceding his loss.

Steve really, really doesn’t mean it that way, but there’s only so much he can do, and so much he can take. He’s been alone and scared for weeks now, and every time Bucky touches him it’s like a dagger in his guts, a sharp and painful reminder of how they used to make love before all this happened. How good Bucky used to make him feel, how well he’d played his body and taken him apart and made him come and cry. Steve wants that again, god damn him. He wants to feel good again.

So, somewhere in-between the leather couch and the luxury bedcovers, he really does give in.

The second he stops squirming and starts really kissing back—not just accepting it, but participating—Bucky moans louder. He bites Steve’s lip and says, “Yes, baby. Come on. Let me make you feel good.”

And isn’t that just what Steve wants? It’s certainly the best he can have, in his present situation. He shivers full-body as Bucky undresses them both, then lies out over him, warm and naked. They’re both hard, and Steve pants when Bucky slots one of those thick, firm thighs between his legs and pushes, rocks his hips so his own cock drags against Steve’s belly. “Fuck, Honey,” he breathes, kissing him. Hot kiss after hot kiss, that dominating tongue rolling in and keeping Steve’s thoughts short and disjointed.

Steve keens sharply at a particularly good roll of their hips. “Oh, oh, yeah …”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, nipping his chin. “What do you want, baby? You want my fingers? Want Daddy to make love to you?”

Steve groans and turns his cheek into the pillow to escape it, the kisses and the words, both. Bucky just hums knowingly and takes up residence at his throat instead, sucking and licking and biting at the skin. Even after all that’s happened between them, he’s still remembered that one slip Steve had, when he'd let the word tumble out of his mouth: Daddy. He squeezes his eyes shut and writhes against Bucky’s larger body, dick blurting out precum at the way Bucky touches him and treats him and talks to him. He’s so fucking perfect. ... Well, except for the whole cannibalism th—

Bucky wraps a hand around his cock and starts stroking just in time to put an end to that train of thought, and Steve gasps, his belly tightening in such sharp pleasure that he thinks he might come. “Sl-slow down!” he gasps, unable to stop his hips from jolting up. “I-I can’t. Wait, wait ..."

Bucky listens, cooing apologies and praise at him and petting his dick back down against his belly. His hand is slick. Where the hell did he get lube? Steve stops wondering when the hand ventures further back. “Tilt up for me, Honey,” Bucky murmurs, kissing his collarbone, humming an approving sound when Steve listens. “There you go. Good boy.”

Steve squirms harder at his embarrassing reaction to being praised. But it’s something he’s always gone for, and hearing Bucky say it in his gorgeous voice, from his gorgeous lips, makes it hit even harder. He feels a finger go in, and Bucky finds it easily, just like he always had before. He strokes over his prostate, never too rough, always gentle, letting the pleasure and pressure build inside Steve at his own pace.

“Shit,” Steve curses, gritting his teeth and rolling his hips against Bucky’s hand. Another finger joins the first, so easy, and Steve humps down harder against it. “Bucky,” he chokes, gasping. “W-wait, wait.”

“So sensitive, baby.” Bucky eases his fingers out and kisses at the corner of Steve's mouth, speaking smugly against his lips. “So wound up. What’s the matter, Stevie? Haven’t you been getting laid?” Steve grits his teeth and snarls a half-hearted “fuck you” at him, but it only makes Bucky laugh and slick his cock up and fit the head right to Steve’s entrance. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, propping himself up with his other arm, pushing in just a little, so slow, letting Steve’s body suck him in. “I’ll be gentle.”

He is. He pushes in so incredibly slow. So slow that it becomes torturous, makes Steve wrap his arms around his shoulders and hook his feet over the backs of his thighs, pulling him in closer. “Fuck,” he exhales against Bucky’s ear, dragging his lips over it. “Oh, Bucky.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck me.”

Bucky starts rolling his hips, rocking into him and pulling out just a little, just enough. It’s like he doesn’t want to get too far away from Steve, doesn’t want to separate from him long enough to make their sex anything but close and deep. Steve cries out and moans and makes all sorts of shameful noises, because it feels amazing. Grinding down against Bucky and slipping a hand between their bodies to stroke himself off, it feels so goddamn good that he cries.

He tells himself that they’re tears of pleasure, of ecstasy. But that’s not entirely true. Bucky seems to know that by the tender way he kisses them off his cheeks, by the way he whispers "it’s okay, it’s okay" to him as he fucks him, and by the way he holds him so tightly once it’s over and they’ve both spent all over Steve’s stomach. “Shh sh sh,” he calms him, forcing him still once he starts to panic and cry out and pull. “Shhh. It’s okay.” He kisses his hair and holds fast until Steve collapses, giving up the struggle, exhausted. Steve cries sluggish tears, and Bucky hugs him and says quiet things into his hair for a long time. One of them might be "I love you," but Steve isn’t sure.

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lewkwoodnco · 6 months

Text

and I hope it gets to you on some Pacific wind - Lockwood x Reader

will you love me like you loved me in the January rain? will you love me like you loved me and I'll never ask for more.

and I never minded being on my own, then something broke in me and I wanted to go home to be where you are but even closer to you, you seem so very far and now I'm reaching out with every note I sing and I hope it gets to you on some Pacific wind wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here

I didn't choose this town. I dream of getting out. There's just one who could make me stay...all my days.

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST part 1: I Can See You

a/n: WOOOO almost a month since my last fic (tl;dr got terribly sick, got my a level results, scholarship apps, trying to decide what I wanted to do with my life until I remembered, oh, right, I hate doing that, so now its back to fic writing) anywaysss watched miss peregrines home for peculiar children while i was sick and omg. the end credits song??? deCEASED. anyways heres a fic inspired by that song which you should definitely listen to and i definitely wont cry if you dont cbnjvfkjva bye going to get chocolate cakee

warnings/tropes: reader (unexpectedly) missing lockwood desperately after moving away, pining for someone w every fiber of your being, handling grief (NO major character death tho), angst, no happy ending :/// but some snippets of humour!

word count: 6.3k! (my longest fic yet!)

"You won't believe what they're doing at Fittes."

She slid into a seat at Portland Row's kitchen table, oblivious to the fact that she had just stolen George's seat. George glared at Lockwood for a minute, who looked appropriately sympathetic yet slightly distracted, before picking another seat.

"Hi Y/N, how nice to see you. Again. For the third time this week. Please, make yourself at home."

"Oh, Georgie, you're so sweet." She was too distraught to pick up on George's sarcastic tone or his eye roll, though Lockwood spared him an apologetic glance. She slammed a letter onto the table, upsetting the salt and pepper shakers, which Lockwood started curiously scanning. "Unlike my daft supervisors."

There was always a flurry of activity whenever she visited Portland Row. She somehow always had so much to say, and she had to say it within the first five minutes of her being there. That usually meant Portland Row's own activities would come to a brief halt, but her news was more often than not too entertaining to incite many grievances from the inhabitants.

After their joint case involving Winkman, Lucy and George had felt the air shift between them, in a way they couldn't quite put their finger on. Something had obviously happened, especially since she had started stopping by Portland Row. They'd exchange a few obligatory insults, share the highlights of their week, and somehow not bite each other's faces off. Over time, the insults faded into the background, but they still threw in the occasional jab when things started seeming too friendly. Why they were still pretending to get into tiffs when Lockwood had slipped her a spare key was completely lost on George and Lucy.

One unfortunate consequence was they became stuck in this weird limbo. Neither friends nor enemies, but something more rather than in between. And yet, some part of them always hesitated, and so they remained as the two singular, lonely entities they had always been. That wasn't to say they didn't have it in their hearts to feel appropriately outraged for the other when the circumstances called for it.

"Layoffs?”

"Layoffs!"

"What the hell are they laying you off for?"

"Exactly! Never mind that my team has the lowest mortality rate, or that we've never caused destruction worth any more than 500 pounds - no offence, Lockwood."

"Er, yes. At least they're giving you a decent severance package."

Apparently, that wasn't the right thing to say, and this time the egg cups went down as well.

"Overrated ass agency with fuck ass headquarters in the middle of London that I never wanted to spend the rest of my career at anyway, fuck Fittes bitch fucking Rotwell's wannabe-“

"What about Kipps?"

Her face twisted and the others braced for impact a third time. "If they don't put his head on the chopping block, I will-"

After a few cups of tea and a few more rounds of nonsensically excessive swearing, she had finally gotten her disappointment under control.

"Maybe a little rapier practice will take your mind off things?"

She pulled a face. "But my shoulder's so tired."

"Your shoulder's been tired for three weeks now. If your break goes on any longer you'll forget everything I've taught you about grips."

"Aw. Oh no."

"Yes, yes, you're very funny."

"What a tragedy."

"You could at least try to pretend like you care."

"I care! I so care. Of course I care. I've got the hottest instructor this side of the Thames."

"Only on this side of the Thames?"

"Yeah, 'cause he's also a dork ass loser who wears confetti-coloured socks."

Still, she joined him in the basement for a little bit of practice, just to refresh her memory. After that, they tried to venture into some basic lunges, which was where things started going downhill again.

"It's no use." She drove her rapier into the stand and started pulling her wrist brace off, despite Lockwood's deflating encouragement. She sat propped up against the wall, frustratedly combing through her sticky hair. "I'm hopeless at this. Maybe Fittes did know what they were doing when they laid me off."

Lockwood sighed. He put away his own rapier and joined her on the floor. "You're not the only employee they've dismissed. You just got...unlucky."

"Now I feel worse."

"My point is, things will start looking up once you move on." He fiddled with her wrist brace. hesitating. "You do know what to do next, don't you?"

She sighed. "I'll start sending out applications tomorrow. There's this agency in Canterbury I've worked with before. Maybe they'll consider having me full-time."

If she notices Lockwood being mildly taken aback, she doesn't remark on it. He manages some strangled response of approval, and their rapier practice session ends there. It's too late for her to return home by then, so they wash up and get ready for bed. It's clear the day has taken a sizeable chunk out of her when she almost immediately falls half-asleep. Lockwood worries over their conversation in the basement. He glances at her relaxed face. Yeah, she was probably still awake.

"Y/N. Y/N."

"Mm."

"You awake?"

"Mhm."

"I just wanted to tell you that...I was perfectly serious that time. When I said you could come work for me. In case you were wondering. Y/N?"

She doesn't respond, and after a few minutes, her breathing evens out again. He isn't sure if she's heard her, and is even less sure why she's doing everything in her power to stay away from Lockwood & Co.

One cold, January morning, she had been at the Archives with Lockwood & Co. where they were doing some research on their latest joint case. By the time that January morning had turned into a chilly January afternoon, George was telling Lockwood off for leaving one of the maps behind at Portland Row. Naturally, Lockwood was sent to fetch the missing materials, who, not-so-naturally, enlisted her help.

As reluctant as she may have appeared to join Lockwood on this errand, she rested her buzzing head against the soothing, cold glass of the cab gratefully. She had been a little distracted all morning; working at a slower pace, fiddling with the large volumes disinterestedly, staring off into space. She was simultaneously irritated and relieved that Lockwood had noticed. She stared out at the foggy streets of London with her own foggy eyes, trying to make sense of the day.

She had decided to wait on their front porch while Lockwood nipped in to get the papers. While waiting, a sharp rap on their tin awning startled her. Peering up at the sky, she watched the first raindrops of that January shower land in Portland Row's garden. Soon enough, it started to pour generously. The delicate, almost curious winter daffodils drooped their heads under the violent force that was the rain coming down in sheets. In the grey of the clouds and the streets, their yellow petals made her dream of something half-happy.

Tentatively, she walked down the path and stepped into the garden. And then another step. And then another. She was frolicking in the rain for the first time in her life, and there was no one around to stop her.

She felt the rain pause, and turned to see Lockwood holding an umbrella over the two of them. She wrapped her fingers around his on the handle and, with a bit of difficulty, closed the umbrella over their heads. It was only a matter of seconds before the heavy raindrops started weighing his coat down and flattening his otherwise perfectly coiffed hair. She watched the hues of curiosity and amusement shift in his eyes, all of them tinged with the mauve of love. She watched him love her wholly, unabashedly, asking for nothing.

She felt sorry for ruining Lockwood's nice clothes only for a moment, before throwing her arms around his neck, clutching him a little stronger than what was strictly necessary. Papers forgotten, rain soaken, daffodils smitten…she never wanted it to end.

And that was when her life started to fall apart. Being laid off by Fittes had drastically changed their dynamic, and hardly for the better. It was no longer banter from one agent to another - it was one agent and the bad habit he had picked up over the months, one he didn't seem too keen on kicking anytime soon. She didn't ask to stay, and he didn't ask her to leave. And so she spent the rest of her days of unemployment at Portland Row, helping out however she could, filling out and mailing her applications.

Which brought her to her next problem - letters of recommendation.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, reading through the advertisements in the newspaper while nervously shredding its bottom corner. She didn't even look up when Lockwood placed her mug of tea in front of her. He shifted it right on top of the ad she was picking apart.

"Oh. Thanks."

"How's the job search going?"

"Not good." She sighed. "A lot of them require a letter of recommendation."

He slid into the seat next to hers, resting his chin on the back of the chair. "I'll write you a letter of recommendation."

"From my previous employer."

"So? Go over to Fittes and ask for one."

"I don't know," she said, disintegrating the final scraps of newspaper. "Seems a little awkward to go back there after they laid me off."

Lockwood took a look at his watch. "I've got a client meeting at 2, so we should leave after breakfast."

He was already climbing out of his chair and talking to George about the stove misbehaving again by the time her brain caught up. "Hang on, we?"

Lockwood seemed to very conveniently not hear her. "Y/N, if you're not going to drink your tea, we should leave now."

She crammed the last of her toast into her mouth while shrugging her coat on, and joined him outside where he was counting out some coins in his hand.

"Should be just enough for the two of us."

"Just enough for what?"

"The bus. Lovely day, isn't it?"

The trip to Fittes was one of the worst she'd had in her life. She almost felt ashamed for getting laid off and was driving herself crazy obsessing over it. Halfway through she felt a warmth settle over her hand, and glanced down to see Lockwood's palm covering her own. He was looking out the window as if nothing had even happened, and she was looking at him. She couldn't quite tear her eyes away from the sight.

When they reached, she went up to the customer service counter while Lockwood hung back. He looked around the first-floor lobby languidly, watching everyone hurry about their da- hang on, was that Barnes coming out of a conference room?

Lockwood smiled at him while Barnes averted his gaze and started walking out a little faster. Yes, that was most definitely Barnes. He started walking towards him and was just about to call out when he was interrupted by a slightly heated voice coming from the customer service counter.

"What do you mean you don't offer letters of recommendation?!"

A few days after they were almost-but-not-really kicked out of the Fittes headquarters, she and Lockwood were in the library reshelving some books a little before lunchtime. George and Lucy were in the kitchen, so for a while all that could be heard was the smooth sounds of books being pulled off and being put onto the shelves. Lockwood glanced at her and cleared his throat, forcefully injecting a certain nonchalance into his voice.

"I was talking to Barnes the other day."

"Hmm?"

"I think I managed to convince him that we're a big enough agency now to need health insurance."

"Health insurance? Well, don't tell George, or he'll fling himself off the roof at the first chance."

Lockwood stifled a laugh, turning it into a cough though his voice was still comically strained. "Don't go giving him any ideas, now."

They continued rearranging the books in silence until he steeled himself enough to pick up the conversation again.

"So, what I wanted to say was...if you wanted to join Lockwood & Co... you wouldn't have to worry about your mother. Not anymore."

She paused her shelving and frowned at him. "Why do you want me to join Lockwood & Co. so badly?"

"I think you'd be...a valuable member of our team."

So close, yet so far from the few words she wanted to hear. Please join us, Y/N. Forget about all these other agencies. I'd miss you more than I could bear if you left. Go on. Say it.

"Is that all?"

"I...I suppose."

She turned back to their task, disappointed. "I've been wanting to leave London for a while now. To get out, explore...see what's out there."

He stilled for a moment, before bowing his head regretfully. "I see."

Ask me to stay. Please.

They were sitting cross-legged in the garden on Lockwood's coat, the winter daffodils now resting their tired heads on their knees. She squinted up at the sky, now that the rain had come down to a light drizzle.

"My mum never let me go out in the rain." She smiled bitterly at him. "The rest of my friends would go out into the street in their...raincoats...wellingtons...and I'd watch them from the kitchen window. She always said I'd fall sick. And I'd always think...how terrible would it really be if I did?"

She stared at the ground and tried very hard not to cry. "I was a kid. I just...I just wanted a bit of fun." She pressed a shaky hand to her eyes, then dragged it up to her forehead. "And now, all I want..."

The silence filled in for the words she didn't say.

"I never thought I'd miss that."

She glanced at his face anxiously, trying to gauge his reaction. In a way, she mused, Lockwood, and whatever this was, was not all that dissimilar from the rain. It was some wish for a sickness for a fleeting moment of peace. A fleeting moment of being wanted.

He blinked away the raindrops weighing on his eyelashes. "You won't have to. She'll be alright."

"How do you know?"

He stared at a limp daffodil, whose head was being cradled by the bend of his knee, and sighed. "I don't. But some things you just have to...believe."

"I'm sick of believing."

"Then I'll believe for you."

She never knew what it was like to have someone hold onto faith when she couldn't. To have someone hold her up when her knees were buckling under her, to do what she wasn't strong enough to do herself. She cleared her throat, suddenly embarrassed.

"You don't have to do that."

"Someone's got to do it. I'll do it for you."

It was around this point that Lockwood suddenly started getting a lot busier. He somehow never had the time to stay in the same room as her for longer than a minute, and any short passing conversations they shared felt stunted. Other than a cursory smile when they passed each other in the hallways, Lockwood seemed further to her than ever, with his cool demeanour that was somehow forever occupied with matters greater and more important than her.

After a few days of struggling with her applications on her own, Lucy suggested that she pay a visit to DEPRAC for a letter of recommendation. Thankfully, her request for the letter was successful, but her joy was short-lived, barely lasting the bus ride home.

She watched the hopelessly in love couples on the bus whisper to each other, hold hands or even just enjoy each other's company in silence. There was a guy with his hair styled in an unnervingly familiar way. It triggered a sick image of Lockwood sitting on this very bus, next to a girl with lazily attractive eyes and hair prettier than hers could ever be. It made her feel nauseous.

When she returned to Portland Row, she walked around the seemingly empty house, perplexed, until she finally found the three of them pouring over a large book in the library. Lockwood was fiddling with the shirt sleeves folded at his elbows and was the first to glance up as she gently pushed the door open.

"Hey," she smiled at them faintly, avoiding Lockwood's gaze, trying to keep the worry gnawing at her synapses at bay. She stepped inside,

leaning over the huge book, tracing the letters with her eyes interestedly.

"Is that the -"

Lockwood slammed the book shut, cutting her off and sending Lucy into a coughing fit over the dust it released.

"Y/N! Find your way to DEPRAC alright?"

It was a heavy book, she kept repeating to herself, of course it was going to take quite an effort to close it. However, from the way his forearms flexed aggressively as he stuffed the book back into its cloth cover, she wasn't entirely convinced.

"...yes. I took the bus."

"Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?" The three of them exchanged a look while Lockwood firmly tucked the book in. The grey skies peeking through the curtains looked hardly lovely. George finally caved, glaring at Lockwood.

"We were just finalising our plan for next week's case."

"I used to draw up mission plans for my team at Fittes. Maybe I could -"

"I think we're fine." Lockwood crossed his arms, his expression unnaturally surly and his jaw set in a way that gave her a sinking feeling. George threw the book at him, who only barely managed to catch it at the last second.

"Told you we should have waited for her."

Unfortunately, matters refused to ease up over the next week. And so she somehow learned to live without him. One morning, she decided to get an early start to the day since she was going to be accompanying Lucy to the DEPRAC headquarters to submit some company paperwork. She paused at the foot of the stairs when she heard a bit of a ruckus in the kitchen, followed by some soft swearing. She crept towards the kitchen to see Lockwood scrambling to gather up an upturned first aid kit while a dark red patch swelled on his socks, still in the same attire as when he left for a solo case the previous evening.

He looked at her furiously, trying to hide his injured ankle behind the kitchen table. He seemed to become further incensed by her helping to set the first aid kit right. "Leave it. I can do it on my own."

"I'm only trying to help! Don't look at me like that, you got yourself hurt in the first place."

He spoke emphatically through gritted teeth. "I don't need your help."

"Lockwood, your sock is nearly soaked through with blood. So shut up."

Maybe the blood loss was starting to catch up to him, but for once, Lockwood did as he was told. He certainly wasn't happy about it, but he allowed her to peel back his sock and wince at the sight of the wound. As she cleaned and dressed the injury, she couldn't help but be reminded of old times when they would snap at each other, her more than him, whenever they were within ten feet of the other. It was almost nostalgic but slightly worrying to be back to square one.

When he could hold himself back no longer, he pried the bandage roll out of her hands with an unexpected gentleness, shakily winding it messily around his ankle. When he was done, she put it away with the first aid kit, and when she returned, his nose was buried in the day's paper, once again as distant as an island.

Soon after that, George and Lucy joined them for breakfast, and George almost immediately picked up on

"Lucy, George won't leave me alone!"

"Lockwood's a pent-up git that never says what he feels!"

Lucy gave them a sidelong glance. "...right. Y/N, ready to -?"

Eyes watering, she chugged the last of her tea and clambered out of her chair, but Lockwood beat her to it. He folded the newspaper sharply, and straightened from his seat, albeit a tad unsteadily.

"No need. I'll come with you, Luce." She and Lucy exchanged a glance, and she slowly sunk back down into her seat. Lucy took in the ectoplasm on his trainers, his slightly charred shirt and the purple under his eyes.

"Are you sure? You look a little...tired."

"I've been out all night. One more trip isn't going to kill me." He patted Lucy firmly on the shoulder, his grip looking a little painful as he swayed imperceptibly, voice trailing off as he started shuffling towards the door.

His limp was unmistakable now, but the three of them knew better than to question him when he was in a mood like this, with his uneven voice and rough words dangerously close to becoming slurred. "Come now," he was saying, "let's not bother Y/N with Lockwood & Co. matters." His shifty eyes finally settled on her for the first time that morning, but she didn't like the brooding spite behind them. "Not when she has all these important applications to fill out."

The silence that followed prickled uncomfortably. Lucy scoffed and stepped out, Lockwood following her determinedly. There was some muffled argument in the hallway, then the sound of the front door opening and closing, and then silence once more. She stared at the dregs of her tea stonily, hating the way her face burned with shame. When she finally looked up, George had left, but there was a sympathy jammy dodger within reach.

It was getting dangerously close to half an hour in the rain, yet still the heavens beat down on them ruthlessly. They had retired to the front steps just outside the awning, now almost completely drenched. She shuffled her feet nervously, trying to scrounge up some warmth, while the rain flowed down Lockwood's nose freely. He was staring at the rich dark earth at his feet, like he had forgotten where he was, his coat long forgotten. She stood up and jabbed him between the shoulder blades sharply, making him snap his head up.

"It's getting cold. I'm going inside." Lockwood blinked, raindrops decorating an eyelash or two, and nodded after a moment. She sighed impatiently.

"Don't you want to come inside too?"

"...I'm not cold."

"No, but you'll fall sick if you stay out any longer."

He rubbed his face wearily, his back muscles shifting mechanically under his translucent shirt. "I'll be alright."

She bristled instinctively. The raindrops somehow got even louder as they pelted the tin awning. "I'm serious, Lockwood."

"So am I."

"Then come inside before you catch something awful."

"I'll come inside when I want to."

The torrential downpour continued unabated, viciously attacking their home's exterior. The rapping of the raindrops against the tin rung in her ears like anger.

"Why must you be so stubborn?"

He finally looked up to meet her eyes, his own filled with a despair she had rarely seen. "I want to be alone."

It was the night of the big case that Lockwood & Co. had been preparing for for a week now, but two of its three members had come down with the most awful stomach bug she had seen. Apparently, there was something off with Arif's doughnuts that day, and now Lucy and George were down with food poisoning. She was in her room, listening to Lockwood wear down the floorboards outside her room with all his pacing. Finally, he stopped in front of her door, and after a moment, gave a short knock.

"Come in."

He opened the door to reveal a fully decked-out Lockwood extensively decorated with flares and lavender. She raised her eyebrows.

"Wow. That is...wow."

"George and Lucy are down with food poisoning," he began impatiently, "and I could really use an extra pair of eyes." He softened his stance at the critical look in her eye, taking on a more apologetic demeanour. "...please."

"But I don't even know how to use a rapier."

"Not much room for one, anyway. It's a two-room cottage."

She toyed with the idea of saying no. The idea of watching the hope in his eyes flicker out, of watching him go do the job...alone...without anyone's help...without anyone to help him if he got injured, or worse-

"Fine. I'll meet you downstairs in two minutes."

The cab was waiting for them by the time she was hurrying down the stairs, and she flipped through the summarised research report on the way there. She winced at the circled deduction that the Visitor was likely a Fetch, which Lockwood picked up on.

"Is something wrong?"

"...no." With some difficulty, she tore her eyes away from the report and closed the file. In all her years of experience, Fetches were the one Visitor that she still struggled with. It didn't help that her encounters with them had been few and far between. She glanced at Lockwood, who was staring out the window coolly as if barely nonplussed by the anticipation of coming face-to-face with one of the most dangerous Visitor types.

The taxi driver was quite a bit intimidated by Lockwood's superfluous attire, and so refused to go any further than the foot of the hill at the top of which the cottage was located. As they lugged their equipment up the hill, she felt her frustration towards Lockwood swell and swell until it finally reached a breaking point. She dropped the duffel bag she was carrying with a clatter, making Lockwood stop and turn around to face her.

"What's wrong?"

"Why have you been so off lately?"

His features hardened and his jaw set like it had so many times before. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. Obviously."

He stared at her hard, before dropping his own duffel bag. The tension over the past two weeks had clearly come to a head and it was happening right there on the hill in near-darkness. "I thought we were a team."

"We are."

"Well, it sure as hell doesn't feel like it."

"I just want to be independent."

"No, you don’t. You want to be alone."

“That's not true!” She hesitated. "That's not fair." At that moment, she felt so terribly small and insignificant, in a way she hadn't felt since having a particularly cruel supervisor in her first year of being an agent. Her eyes prickled unpleasantly, and she was suddenly engulfed with memories about that January shower. Oh, no, she thought. He was never going to hold her like that again.

She shook her head as if trying to shake some sense into herself. "I don't...I don't want to be a burden. I can do this on my own."

"You want to do this on your own."

"How could you possibly think that?"

“All I see is someone too scared to stick their neck out for something real for once in their life."

“What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't think you know what you're running from!"

She looked around in despair as if searching for some way to make him understand. "I'm not running from anything."

He stepped closer to her, and it was all she could manage to not burst into tears with his face twisted something ugly with hurt.

"You're running from me."

I'm not, she wants to say, but the words get caught in her throat. The silence rings out harshly between the two of them until Lockwood picks up his bag and resumes the trek uphill. After a moment or two, she follows him.

When they reach inside, they go through the motions of setting up their chains and investigating the areas of the Visitor's appearance, the way they've done hundreds of times before. Eventually, they split up and pace their corresponding rooms, the malaise growing stronger in the air by the minute.

After an hour or so, she felt it. A prickling in the hairs at the back of her neck. Waves of nausea washed over her and she felt paralysed by fear. She knew that when she turned, she'd be faced with something too terrible to comprehend. But she's too weak to brave seeing something so terrible, and so she doesn't turn. At that moment, she unravelled, and covered her eyes with her hands like a child, gasping with sobs that she struggled to suppress.

Suddenly, the cold breathing down her neck was replaced by intense heat as the hiss of a flare eating through a Visitor filled her ears. She felt rough hands desperately clutching her wrists and peeked through her fingers to meet Lockwood's panic-stricken gaze. Panic-stricken over her. His eyes shifted to the Visitor behind her and lobbed another flare at it in the nick of time.

She started creeping along the walls, running her hands over every nook and cranny until she came across a picture frame radiating strong feelings of anxiety. She scrambled for the iron still folded in her pocket and threw it over the frame. The Visitor instantly evaporated, leaving Lockwood staring at the corner it had just been occupying with a haunted look in his eyes. When he had regained proper control of his senses, he turned to her.

"I didn't know-"

"I thought I'd be able to manage it, okay?" She avoided his gaze. "I'm sorry. Can we just go h- go back now?"

The ride back was somehow even quieter than the ride there, both of them burdened by thoughts that would clearly never see the light of day. He paused at the hat stand near the front door while she shrugged her coat off.

"Y/N-"

"I think I'll go to bed now. Goodnight, Lockwood."

She cut past him brusquely, heading straight for her room, though it would be many hours before the buzzing in her head quieted enough for her to fall asleep. As she got undressed, her mind drifted back to when Lockwood was standing right in front of her, holding her wrists with a long-forgotten gentleness, and the close shave with the Fetch. Too close of a shave. Tonight could never happen again. She had to make sure of it.

Over the next few days, their relationship returned to being suspiciously amicable. Perhaps it wasn't as glaringly obvious to the others with the distraction of their stomach bug, but George's squint at her when she handed him a glass of water was enough to see that he was onto them.

She had been in the basement polishing their iron chains when Lockwood knocked on the door. She put the chains down for a moment as he pulled out a minimalistic envelope.

"This just came for you in the mail."

It had the address of one of the agencies she had applied to written on it. She nervously ripped it open and started scanning the contents before she remembered where she was. She looked at Lockwood, who had a cool expression of polite curiosity.

"So? Did you get it?"

"They want me to start next week." Lockwood's lips curved into a half-smile, and it was the first smile he'd given her in weeks that reached his eyes.

"That's...that's amazing. You deserve it. That is, if you're going to accept it."

"It's a rather decent offer. Think it would be quite a shame to pass it up. Don't you?"

He gave a slight pause. "Of course. Yes."

"...but?"

He shook his head and gave a short laugh. "It's...it's silly." He was staring at a patch of grease on the floor which he was very focused on rubbing out with his shoe. "I've known you for...for as long as Lockwood & Co.'s been around." He looked up from the floor to meet her gaze, his eyes open and honest.

"I don't know if I can do this without you."

She looks into his flighty brown eyes and drinks in as much as she can of him. Next week, she'll be in a different town, at a new job, meeting new people until he becomes just a distant memory, some dream she had once upon a time, and she'd be freed from her shackles of longing. But now, in his eyes she sees the two of them spinning round and round, forever together in a January shower in some universe.

"I should start packing."

Her goodbyes were fairly uneventful. They exchanged promises to write, to keep in touch. Lucy and George waved her off from their front door. Lockwood didn't come down from his room. Now she was in her new home, miles away from any feelings that may have tethered her from Portland Row, and all that was left to do was sit and wait and try to forget.

Except. Except.

Here she was, lying on her bed with an all too familiar weight on her chest. Those feelings she had promised to bury with the winter daffodils were here - travelled miles to plague her mind with restless thoughts of which nothing could ever come. How was it that all this distance only made her crave Lockwood even more? He stained her mind and hung from her lips like a broken promise, like an unheard prayer. It was there when she woke up, it was there when she went to sleep, it laid next to her and embraced her like a lover till she couldn't breathe.

Three months later, she still hasn't moved on and has almost entirely given up on any hope for sleep. She replays her memories of him like a tired VCR, and every night the image grows fainter and fainter. What, exactly, did his voice sound like? Did he have dimples? He had a scar on his collarbone, she was fairly sure. But how did he get it? She waits for the sky to light up for those few short hours after her work for the day, but be it day or night, the sadness remains.

For years she had been so strong, so tough, so ready to do anything and to do it alone. Too independent to even work properly with his agency. But after meeting Lockwood, it all felt like a farce, like she had just been pretending and hoping and closing her eyes through as many horrors as she could handle until she finally reached her breaking point. Something had snapped in her soul - some ill-gotten desire to fasten herself to him from the moment she had kissed him after Winkman's. To have him be her home.

Even so, she still had a job to do, so she carried these feelings around with her. There was this one particular case where her team was tasked by the city council to clear out an old, abandoned mansion of any Visitors. She had been creeping through the third floor when she saw him standing there, in the shard of moonlight peeking through the rafters. Lockwood was standing mere feet in front of her, sleeves rolled up to his elbows without his coat, whole and uninjured.

"Lockwood!" She closed the distance between them. "What are you doing here?"

He turned to face her, smiling mildly as if she had done nothing more than greet her. Y/N, he was saying. His voice reverberated differently than what she was used to, but she put it down to the weird acoustics of the mansion.

Why did you leave me?

"...what?"

Why did you go away? You've made me sick with worry.

"I...I have?"

Day in, day out, you're all I think about.

"No...no, that can't be right. That's me, not you."

Are you sure? Think harder. What do you remember about me?

"I don't know, I don't know. Why are you doing this, Lockwood?" Something was very, very wrong. What was he of all people doing here, and why weren't his lips moving when he talked?

How can you be so in love with me if you can't even remember me?

I do! I do remember you! Please don't say I don't.

Why'd you leave me, Y/N?

"Wha...what? I didn't - no - I didn't mean to leave you-"

I wanted you to stay.

"Then you should have TOLD ME!"

But I did tell you.

It still hadn't fully clicked in her brain, but she gleaned enough to tell that this wasn't Lockwood. Some obscene bastardisation of him, perhaps, but nothing of any real substance. She walked back a few steps, keeping her eyes trained on him, and against her better judgement threw a flare at him. It hit the centre of his chest, which began to fizzle up and corrode away at the figment until there was nothing left but the dying embers reflected in her misty eyes. He had looked...so solid. So real. Real enough for her to believe. Oh god, how badly she wanted to believe.

That night, she had barely pulled off much of her excess gear before slumping into bed, which she did not leave for the next three days. Obviously, that hadn't been Lockwood, it was a Fetch. But it only had her memories to work off of. What was it that had happened that made her feel like he had told her to stay? She drove herself mad picking apart every interaction she had had with him since she was 13. What did she miss? Where was the mistake?

Maybe she was just hoping for a mistake.

I miss you. I wish you were here - not miles away in London, here, beside me. I wish it was you lodged in my chest instead of this acrid longing. I'm the one who can't do this without you. Please come back to me. I'm so tired of being strong. Please come save me. I need you here. I wish you were here. I wish you were here. I wish you were here.

TAGLIST: @mitskiswift99 @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

P.S. until I changed my mind at the very last minute this WAS going to have a happy ending I wrote it out and everything but then deleted and Grammarly won't let me ctrl z my way out of this :(((

#lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood netflix #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood angst #anthony lockwood x reader #florence and the machine #wish that you were here

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