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wlntrsldler · 6 months

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poisoned mercury | pink skies

a/n: bf!luke, who else cheered?; suggests that five star and luke spent the night but nothing explicit! i decided not to let the angst monster touch them. they're my babies!!!! five star and luke get behind me!!!

viii. pink skies by lany

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there were many things about luke castellan that surprised you. one being that he wore glasses, or at least is supposed to wear glasses. he refused to wear them, against the sound medical advice of his optometrist and his mom’s insistence. his first adult responsibility was buying his own contacts because his mom refused to set up the appointments for him out of spite. he only wore his glasses when he was around the boys and poisoned mercury’s management team, but never out in public, and definitely never on stage.

two, he loved jazz music. only a handful of people knew this about him and half of those who do, don’t believe him. he supposed it was hard for people to believe that a pop punk lead singer would have an appreciation for jazz music, but luke loved it. jazz always sounded romantic and sensual and there was something calming about it. he listened to jazz before each show. he’ll never admit this unless you twist his arm, but he wept like a goddamn baby when he first watched la la land.

third, he was a polyglot, which he says is a little ironic because according to his mom, he spoke his first words in english significantly later than his peers, but he picked up on other languages quickly. he first found out about his talent in high school when he started hanging out at the rodriguez household and chris’ mom and sisters started saying phrases to him in spanish. he started taking spanish classes in high school and kept teaching himself when he dropped out. so far he can speak spanish, italian, and a bit of french. he attempted to learn greek, but it never clicked for him. he knew how to read it but his pronunciation was atrocious. he promised he’d try again sometime soon, but who knows if that’ll happen.

fourth, his idea of pillow talk was the two of you asking random questions to each other to get to know each other better, which is how you learned all these things about him. after one thing led to another last night, you fell asleep to the sound of luke’s voice against your ear. it wasn’t even that late; the group hadn’t come back from their trip to get food after they left the party, but you and luke were sleepy as you lay in the tangled sheets of your bed, at peace.

you learned that he was ticklish on the side of his ribs and that he planned to get a tattoo there but when the artist tried to put the stencil on his skin, he giggled and moved around so much that the artist warned him about his placement. he didn’t end up getting the tattoo there, but instead got it a little lower on his torso. luke had six tattoos, making him the one in the band with the least amount. the stolls were tattoo fiends and made it their mission to get a small tattoo from each place they visited on tour. luke’s personal favorite was the single line on the side of their index finger. it was a messily done stick-n-poke after one too many drinks in new jersey.

when he was younger, he used to climb on the roof of his house in connecticut. his parents warned him that he was going to hurt himself one day, but he, being the rascal that he was, never listened. until one day, after a light rain, he’d gone up there and slipped on the shingles and fell face-first against the roof. he scratched his face pretty badly, hence the scar on his face now. he told people that he got the scar from a bar fight because it sounded cooler. one day his childhood pictures will be posted on some website and his cover story won’t be as believable anymore, but that’s a bridge he’ll cross when he gets there.

it was weird to fall asleep next to someone. you hadn’t found yourself in this position in a long time, longer than you’d care to admit. when you hooked up with people in college, you purposefully made up some excuse about why they had to leave before sun up. “my roommate will be back soon.” “i have a huge test tomorrow morning.” “my friend just called and said she needed my help so i gotta go.” but with luke, you didn’t feel the need to make up an excuse to kick him out. you didn’t want him to go.

he asked the silent question as he was putting his clothes back on, hesitantly approaching your bedroom door to exit. he didn’t know if he was overstaying his welcome. he didn’t want to rush you when it came to things like this. so when he’d asked where his other shoe went, not caring about where it landed in the heat of the moment, you shrugged your shoulders and said, “dunno. we’ll figure it out in the morning, come back to bed.”

you didn’t need to tell him twice.

luke woke up before you did. you were lying on his chest, face pressed into the crook of his neck. your breaths made his skin tingle. he twirled the ends of your hair around his fingers, taking in the view of you next to him. he could get used to waking up like this every morning, he thought. he couldn’t imagine a better way to start his day.

you stirred, craning your head to face him as your eyes fluttered open, a subdued smile on your face, “g’mornin.”

“g’mornin’, five star,” he replied, lips immediately leaning over to press against yours. he frowned when you pulled back, shaking your head, “let me kiss you.”

“i have morning breath,” you cringed, moving your arm from under you to caress the nape of his neck. you placed a kiss on the corner of his lips, making him groan.

“i don’t care,” he pouted, nudging your nose with his own. you rolled your eyes but let him kiss you. the kiss was lazy and languid, lips moving gracefully against each other. it was sweet and slow like you were both trying to soak in this feeling with each other. you broke the kiss when you broke out into a smile, suddenly feeling shy.

“it’s noon,” you said, glancing at your clock behind luke. “we need to get up soon.”

“five more minutes,” he placed a string of kisses on your shoulder blade, grinning at the red marks he left on your skin from last night. “let’s stay here a little longer.”

you had a feeling here meant something more than just the comfort of your bed. here was the bubble you both allowed yourself to stay in for the last twelve hours, a little universe that was just for the two of you. it was different kissing luke in the darkness of the night. you could blame it on the secrecy of it all, shadows hiding your feelings for him, no expectations or weight of the dreaded conversation, but in the morning light, you felt vulnerable. you knew the mature thing to do was to ask him about what last night meant. was it just a one-time thing? would things change between the two of you now that the chase was over? you didn’t know.

little did you know, luke was thinking the same things as you. he would prolong this safe haven for as long as he could in case he would never get to experience it again. luke tightened his grip around your waist, breathing in the scent of your shampoo as he kissed your forehead. he couldn’t stop himself. he got a taste of what it was like to be with you and now, he couldn’t get enough. he’d find any excuse to have his lips on you. he grinned at you as he pulled away, “you snore, you know that?”

you buried your face in your pillow, embarrassed, “stop it.”

he laughed, “it’s cute, five star! i don’t mind it.”

“are you sure?” you asked, scrunching your face up in disgust, “i can’t in good conscience let you sleep over again if you don’t even get any sleep because i snore.”

“consider your conscience cleared because i really don’t mind,” luke pressed his lips against yours again. gods, he couldn’t get enough of you. “this makes up for it.”

“ew,” you shoved him playfully, sitting up to start getting ready for the day. luke remained flat on his back on your bed, “you’re so fucking corny.”

he propped his head up on his extended elbow, a smirk on his face. the rays of sunlight that peeked through your blinds illuminated his toned chest. faint scratches and pink marks contrasted his tanned skin. “guilty.”

you got up from bed, digging out a clean sweater from your closet. you wandered around your room, organizing things as you went on. luke watched you from your bed, eyes following your every move. his white shirt was peeking out from under the sweater. your sleep shorts showed off your toned legs perfectly. your hair was a mess, braids undone, but you still looked gorgeous. he blinked as your eyes darted to him, “you look beautiful.”

you rolled your eyes, narrowing your eyes at him, “you can’t even see me properly. you don’t have your contacts in.”

he’d taken them off before he fell asleep. he hated sleeping with contacts in. he’d snuck out in the middle of the night to grab his glasses from his nightstand before slipping back into bed with you. he was thankful you were a pretty heavy sleeper because he didn’t want you to think he was sneaking out to leave you by yourself after last night. when luke returned to his side of the bed, you rolled over and cuddled into him in your sleep, like you’d been waiting for him to return.

luke reached over to retrieve his glasses from your bedside table and placed them on his face. he pushed them up on the bridge of his nose and shrugged, “still beautiful.”

you walked over to him, sitting on his lap with your thighs caging him in. you held his face in your hands, admiring how he looked with the frames on his face. luke’s hands made their way to your waist, steadying you. you smiled, “i like how you look with your glasses.”

a lopsided smile appeared on his face, boyish and charming. “yeah?”

“mhm,” you hummed, “you look like a nerd. s’cute.”

“pfft,” he scoffed, poking your side, “i’m not a nerd. i’m a rockstar.”

“shut the fuck up,” there was no venom in your voice, despite your words. you couldn’t muster any resemblance of annoyance when he was looking at you all doe-eyed and pouty-lipped. you moved from on top of him, crawling over to your empty spot, “luke?”

he turned to you, “five star?”

“what are we doing?”

“we’re spending the day in bed,” he replied, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. he knew that the conversation was coming in soon. he was scared of what you’d say next.

your smile vanished as your shoulders hunched over, “you know what i mean.”

luke rubbed his jaw, “you tell me.”

luke didn’t know what he should say. he didn’t want to say that last night meant nothing to him because he’d be lying if he said that and he didn’t want to lie to you, but he also didn’t want to scare you off by telling you how he really felt. it felt like a situation he couldn’t win. his pessimism was hounding him. he didn’t want to mess this up before it had the chance to start.

“are we just fucking around? is this casual because i–”

at first he thought he could handle it. he’ll let you take the lead, he’ll follow you. whatever you wanted, he’s game for it, even if it meant that he got hurt along the way. but then the word casual left your lips and it felt like he was slapped across the face. he thought he could handle it if you wanted you guys to be casual or friends who kiss sometimes or friends who occasionally do more than kissing sometimes, but actually hearing you use those words made him tense.

“please don’t ever use those words about us again,” luke breathed out, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “i don’t know if you’ve noticed five star, but there’s nothing casual about how i feel about you.”

“i think we need to start talking to each other more,” you pondered. “because there’s nothing casual about how i feel about you either.”

“throw a guy a bone sometimes. you’ve tormented me for two months. how was i supposed to know that?” he teased.

you cocked an eyebrow, “but yet you like me so really what does it say about you?”

just like that, the indecision faded. it was back to just you and luke. the same way you’d always teased each other and pushed each other’s buttons. you’d both been stressed about what the other was thinking when you should’ve just talked to each other. perhaps all the poets and the writers in the world were onto something when they said that communication is key because you two wasted so much time running away from what this could be. it was funny really, how the two of you were both keeping these things to yourself, too scared of how you felt for each other to make a move. how much sooner could this have happened if you told him how you felt the minute you realized it? would he have kissed you a month ago? would you have been waking up with him beside you on your bed for weeks? who knows?

“it says more about you, to be honest,” he said, “you’re irresistible. even when you’re mean to me, i adore you.”

“you’re such a flirt, castellan.”

“i need to up my game,” luke chuckled, “yeah, i got the girl but now i gotta work to keep you.”

you placed a hand on your chin, pretending to think, “i don’t recall being asked to be anyone’s girl.”

“you’re breaking my heart, five star,” he sighed dramatically, clutching his chest. he dropped his body weight on yours, making you squeal and attempt to push him off. he laughed at your efforts. “be my girl?”

“on one condition.”

“anything.”

“let me hear the song.”

luke let out a full belly laugh, rolling over on the bed. he shook his head, biting his bottom lip. there was never a moment where he wasn’t on his toes when he was with you. he didn’t expect you to say that. you really were stubborn when it came to things you put your mind to. that fucking song. “no, i told you it’s not ready!”

you stuck your tongue out at him, “then no.”

luke’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as a goofy grin appeared on his face. he pulled you on his lap again, back pressed against his chest. he moved your hair to one side, kissing down the other side of your neck in soft, quick motions. he mumbled into your skin, “fine, but i’m following you around like a lost puppy. i’m yours.”

you sighed dreamily, reaching over to place a hand on his arm. you couldn’t help but make fun of him despite the butterflies in your stomach, “simp.”

you felt him nod against your body, “that’s me.”

“we really need to get out of bed.”

“five more minutes?”

it had been at least fifteen since he last asked for more time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. you gave in and got back under your covers with him. you let him be the small spoon this time, your arms wrapped around his toned back, smiling at the soft sighs that left his lips when you ran your fingers down his spine. he kissed your collarbones, face relaxing as sleep overtook him again.

you watched him fall asleep and reached for your phone, trying not to disturb his rest. you snapped a quick picture of him, smiling as you admired his features. you were falling for luke castellan.

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x y/n #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson

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k1ngpin42 · 2 months

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For something a little different today, Abby is interrogating a trespasser (you) and everyone is surprised to see Abby go easy on someone for the first time ever.

If u guys like this I can write a part 2 reunite scene w smut but for now just let me know.

Victims and criminals are all imprisoned in cells throughout the apartments. Waking through, some would be shaking, some bleeding, some cursing and some saying nothing at all. When Abby is in charge of the interrogations, everyone knows about it. The wails can be heard from anywhere in the WLF base and whenever Abby even walks through to speak with Issac, they flinch and they beg for her mercy.

You are a skilled survivalist. One who creates traps, bombs and your own weapons. One as comfortable in shadow as you were in the skin on your own body. But above that you were loyal. Always helped those who needed helping for nothing in return and today you were paying the price.

You had been using WLF camps and lookouts for supplies for some time now. You preferred the seraphite weapons but bullets and “old world” materials were proving more valuable of late. Plus, the WLF soldiers were more careless than those sadistic cultists, so you decided it would be a safer bet.

Your best friend Janine was your ride or die on all assignments and this was the only time the two of you had gotten into a hairy situation you weren’t so easily walking away from. She was bit, long story short, only on her arm thankfully, which you had to ampetate. She was losing a lot of blood, and the WLF hospital was their only shot. Unfortunately, with what looked like hundreds of WLFS in such a close space, you were caught, supplies in hand, and were now being questioned by the bulkiest woman you had ever seen.

“Just caught this one in ICU, she was rushing out with antibiotics, stitches, alcohol and some pretty hardcore pain drugs.” Jordan said, tossing you to her. She looks you slowly up and down, her expression unchanged.

“She a scar?” She asks. Jordan and the others looked puzzled, saying nothing. She rolls her eyes.

“You a scar?” She asks you directly now.

“I don’t know what that is…” You admit, voice shaky. Jordan is still holding his gun to you.

“This is scar and WLF territory. You would have seen them.” Abby explains impatiently. “You know, horses, bows, hung bodies, etc…”

“Oh.” You reply in understanding. “Seraphites. No, I’m definitely not.”

She exchanges looks with the others before continuing.

“Why were you stealing our shit?” Abby pries, looking briefly at the med kit in your hand.

“It’s suicide coming in here, you’ve seen the numbers.” Her voice is pretty and non-chalant. You are planning on ways to get out of this as they question you, but you have only had to endure confrontation a few times. You shrug.

“I was rushing. That’s why I was careless enough to let you catch me.”

“Because you were rushing?” She taunts. “Going through our bases is suicide, we caught you because you were stupid.”

“On the contrary, I’ve been through 6 locations your people were stationed a-“ You stop yourself, realising just how quickly your smart mouth had landed you closer to having your friends life as well as your own, ended.

“It was because I was rushing.” You decide to conclude. Abby nods, clearly finding some part of you interesting enough to not beat.

“Why were you rushing. Who was this shit for? There more of you?” You take a deep breath in an attempt to explain, but even that small moment was interrupted.

“Well?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just a little hard to answer with your friends gun in my face.”

“Shut up.” Jordan said, moving the gun closer. Abbys eyes darken with anger at this.

“Jordan drop it.”

“What?! She just said she’s been stealing from us and-“

“I said drop it, or would you like me to point it at you next?” Jordan lets out a sigh of defeat and takes a large step back. You flash a grateful look in Abbys direction.

“It’s for my friend. Best friend. Arm was amputated on a sweep job.”

“Sweeping our fucking houses were you?”

“No. No not this time I swear it. We were just getting supplies from some abandoned apartments.”

“Shit.” Abby says, silence lingering long enough to have all of Abbys friends on edge.

“Where is she?”

“Why?” You shoot back, defensively. She rolls her eyes.

“So we can give her the shit. She can be on her way and then we’re gonna take you into confinement for stealing.”

“Why should I trust you? You really think I’m gonna give you my friends location?”

“If you haven’t noticed, you aren’t yet screaming, which you will quickly learn is how I leave most people I meet, so if I wanted you dead you’d be dead. Second of all, my group can just do a whole sweep right now and have the building on lockdown, but by the time we’ve found her, I fear her chances of survival will be very. much. decreased. What’s your name?” Your eyes widen and you’re taken aback by her words. You hesitate, avoiding making eye contact.

“Why do you want to know my name?”

“Wanna know who the fuck I’m talking to. Stand up, gonna take your weapons too.”

You comply, your hands shakily going up in surrender. She puts her large hands over your body, making you shudder. She pats you down thoroughly and despite everything, your skin feels like its burning at the contact. She’s beautiful, intimidating as hell and quite literally has you at her mercy, the whole thing is terrifying and slightly arousing. Your cheeks are still burning when she finally steps away, your weapons in hand.

“Pretty name.” She replies solemly. You blush harder.

“Please don’t hurt her. I’ll do anything. You can torture me the rest of my days if you want. You can feed me to clickers or your dogs but please, let me heal her.” Abby tries to fight the things she is feeling. Perplexed is the strongest emotion, angry that you stole is another, but the incredibly constant and insistent urge to protect you with her life is even stronger still.

Abby moves in, lowering herself to your level, speaking more quietly now, as if the fact that she could do anything other than inflict harm was a secret that would provoke chaos for anyone who hears it.

“No one will hurt you, or your friend. At least not till she’s safe. You may be an idiot but…well I can respect doing stupid shit for a friend. Get up, you’re gonna tell me where she is.”

“Abby this is crazy!” Jordan argues. “Isaac will never approve-“

“Then go cry to him about it. She just needs some antibiotics, Mel is a great doctor, we’ll be back before it can even be considered a delay.”

Everyone is shocked by Abby and no one more than you. The way she stood up for you, the way she can speak so boldly with a voice so sweet had you soaking subconsciously.

“You two can follow, don’t want to keep the whole group for this.” Abby tells two of her men. They nod and follow.

“How many of you are there?” Abby asks, her voice softer now as you walked. You smiled ever so slightly.

“13. We’re more of a family than a group. We’re harmless though, until we need to be otherwise.”

“And you all sneak around like this?”

“No. The children don’t but those who are strong take rotations for supplies and clearing infected from the area.” “That’s….” Abby lets out a deep sigh, dismissing her previously cold exterior. “Actually pretty smart.”

You and the others find Janine and Abby immediately rushes to help her, using her medical skills her dad taught her for the better. You watch, bewildered, impressed and obviously aroused the whole time, even when the final bandage is secure.

You hug Janine tightly, though Janines guard is clearly still up.

“Who…who is that?”

“Don’t worry about that, she helped you. Her name’s Abby. It is Abby…right?” You ask, and for the first time you see some colour spread across Abbys face and a warm smile to match it. The indescribable feeling Abby has suddenly became a little clearer as she watches you, happy and safe with your friend. It’s terrifying and electrifying. Does Abby like you?

“Yeah. Abby Anderson. Now I suggest you both get the hell out of here before my trigger happy friend group decides to test my patience.”

“Both?? You’re letting me go?” You ask her. The other soldiers are nearby but not watching, all immersed in their own conversation.

Abby groans.

“I’ll probably- scratch that- definitely regret it, so let’s hope you’re gone before that happens.” You leap up and hug her.

“Thank you miss Anderson. We won’t go to your bases anymore. Sorry.” You ease off of her and quickly leave with Janine. Abby’s jaw is slack from the unexpectedness of the hug. She scratches the back of her neck.

She wondered if she’d see that strange girl again.

#abby anderson #tlou2 #abby x reader #tlou #abby x fem reader #ellie williams #abby tlou

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justabrunettewhowrites-stuff · 8 months

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'Pretty Girl'

Clarisse La Rue x DaughterOfAphrodite!Reader hc's💗

A/N:Felt like doing another one of these so here we are

So I feel like Clarisse La Rue with a daughter of Aphrodite as her girlfriend is a total power couple. Like, picture this – they totally clash with their godly parentage, but opposites attract,right?

I feel like Clarisse would call you 'princess' or 'pretty girl/thing,' just to tease you a bit, you know? And she deff calls you out for your lovey-dovey stuff, but secretly she LOVES it when you surprise her with flowers or write cheesy notes,even if she may not show it - but she does love it.

So I feel like she would totally be the protective one in the relationship - for obvious reasons - like no one messes with her girl. If anyone dares to flirt with you, Clarisse would be ready to throw a punch, no doubt.

I feel like Clarisse would have this tough exterior, but deep down, she's a total softie for you. Like,you'd have these secret moments where you just chill and talk about your day, and it's the cutest thing ever. She may not admit it, but she loves those moments.

She deff calls you 'angel,babe or princess' because, well, she's a daughter of Ares, and you're her partner in crime.

And when you fight side by side in Capture the Flag, it's like a power duo – Clarisse and her girl taking down anyone in their way - well,mostly Clarisse,but still.

I feel like she would lowkey enjoy doing little romantic gestures, but she acts all cool about it. Like, she might get you a small heart-shaped necklace, and when you thank her, she'd be all like "Yeah, whatever, it's just a dumb gift." but she'd secretly bite back a smile.

Clarisse would totally be the one to initiate sparring sessions just for the heck of it. Like, "Let's see if your lovey charms can protect you in a real fight, Princess." But deep down, she knows you can hold your own, and she respects that.

I feel like she'd have this signature battle cry, and whenever you hear it, you know Clarisse is coming to kick some ass.

She deff has a soft spot for your handmade gifts, like if you craft her a bracelet or something. Clarisse may act all tough, but she treasures those things like they're made of gold.

So I feel like Clarisse would totally get jealous if someone else challenges her in the arena. Like, she's the top dog, and no one should even think about taking her spot. But she'd secretly love the fact that you're cheering her on.

I feel like she'd have a nickname for you.And when she uses it, you know she's in a good mood or trying to lighten the mood after a tough training session.

She deff appreciates when you notice the small details about her, like the scar on her arm or the way she ties her hair back.It's like you see past the tough exterior,and Clarisse finds that pretty damn special.

Honestly, Clarisse would totally have a soft spot for animals, especially if they're cute or fluffy. Imagine her trying to act all tough while secretly petting a camp kitten - it's a sight to behold - and she'd love it - especially if you owned a pet(even better if it was fluffy.)

I feel like she'd be the one to surprise you with impromptu dates, like a late-night stroll around camp or a picnic under the stars.Clarisse may not say it out loud, but those moments mean a lot to her.

She deff loves challenging you to physical competitions, whether it's a race or an arm-wrestling match. It's like her way of bonding, and she secretly enjoys the friendly competition between you two.

I also feel like Clarisse would totally have this protective vibe when it comes to sharing stories about her past. She may act all tough, but she trusts you enough to open up about her struggles, and that's a big deal.

I feel like she'd be a bit possessive, like marking her territory, especially in public. If someone even looks at you the wrong way, Clarisse would be quick to put them in their place. It's kinda hot in a protective, possessive way, you know?

She deff calls you "Gorgeous" in the heat of the moment, especially when you're alone and no one is around to witness her softer side.

Clarisse would totally get jealous when other campers compliment you,but she'd never admit it. Instead, she'd just glare at anyone who dares flirt.

She deff calls you out on spending too much time in the mirror, but deep down, she appreciates how you always look stunning – even in the middle of a war.

A/N:That's all for now.Made this while in class because I got bored of it

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nthspecialll · 3 months

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The fandom glorifies Arthur Morgan

Now I am not talking about about low honor, I play high honor and got it as the top at the end of every damn playthrough but my Arthur, as it is the cannon Arthur, is not a good guy. I am not going to talk about all of the murder, robbing and stuff he does, because we are majorly aware of it, I am talking his sexism, casual ignorance and disrespecfulness.

I quite often see people say that Arthur Morgan is a woman lover, and he definitely is, he is better than a lot of men from that time (which isn't hard), but he would not hold up in modern times, because he is not from modern times.

Generally speaking, Arthur Morgan is a man who believes in gender roles, he believes in the idea of "a man being a man" and "a woman being a woman." He has opinions about what a woman should do and what a man should do.

I think the biggest hint at this is his relationship with Sadie, because while he accepts her running with the boys he doesn't seem entirely happy about it. "You got a pair of pants and all of a sudden you think you're Landon Ricketts?" "You want to ruuuunnnn with the men?" and also "can Ms Grimshaw spare you?" when the girls asks if they can come to Valentine with him.

Talking of that quest, when he runs off to get Jimmy Brooks he puts Uncle, a lazy old bastard, in charge of getting the girls home even though they are more than capable of doing it themselves as they are healthy young women who knows how to handle horses.

In several antagonize lines against women performers (which are just as cannon as his greet lines) he shouts things like "That isn't very ladylike!" or "Go back to the kitchen" and "go make someone supper."

People keep saying Arthur would "treat them right" and he would, to an extent, he would care for you, he would be nice to you, but he would force those gender roles. He does have a belief women are somehow "softer" and that he as a person with a provider gene should do more of the harsh work.

So now we covered that, lets talk about the racism, or as I probably should rather call it, ignorance, because it is very commonly know Arthur does not judge by the color of skin.

The first one is that Arthur uses the whites-only saloon in Rhodes. Tilly mentions it to Arthur that they don't allow people of color into it, and yet he still supports it, it isn't a big thing but it is something of notice.

Secondly, when he talks to Eagle Flies where he "sets him in his place" Arthur, honey, you are so wrong here. Eagle Flies is being chased by the government for the mere fact that he exists with a different culture, you are being chased because you murdered so many folks, you can run across the sea and live a good life, they are fucked regardless.

When we first arrive in Lemoyne Lenny and Arthur talks about the Lemoyne Raiders about racism and Arthur says "These boys got a manner about them but I haven't particularly noticed," Arthur of course you wouldn't, you are a tall, muscular, white man with sun kissed hair and blue eyes, you are the poster boy for eugenics.

Lastly, which will also bring me to the third point, the casual disrespect:

Arthur causally calling Javier a slur on the boat for no reason, did you really need that one-liner so badly? That goes for a lot of times in the game such as: "are you secretly normal" "what a lunatic" "we should find a better story for that scar" "But you continue to irritate me, I will kill you and make my appologies to the lady" "stick around and you might die for her as well" "oh I didn't know I was talking to a lady." All those were a slight bit disrespectful, enough to be able to annoy the majority of us if he said it to us, and they were also unnecessary.

He is also canonically chronically late, most notably we can hear Sean saying "that man will be late to his own funeral," and when you go around antagonizing characters in camp they are not surprised at all, rather they go "back at it again huh?"

All of this is just to sum up, Arthur is a pretty bad man (also counting in all the illegal stuff) and we tend to glorify him and forget some of these things, partly is also because Rockstar are amazing at hiding them, at making them seem natural, and they are because this is a historically accurate game! It is set in 1899 and this is a man from 1899 he is going to be casually sexist and disrespectful, and again, considering that he is from 1899 he is a decent guy because the majority of folk would be like Micah, not Arthur.

I definitely love Arthur, and I love Arthur exactly because the point of his character is him not being a saint but a human. His redemption is choosing to do good where he can, but even so, this is a man in 1899 and he is going to have a 1899 mindset. If you want to play a game that is set in the past but don't have that type of accuracy it is not Red Dead you want to play.

Also here is an Arthur pic as a thank you for reading all of that. I love him.

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #john marston #rdr john #red dead redemption community #dutch van der linde #rdr2 john #character analysis #red dead redemption two #red dead fandom #nthspecialll

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mockerycrow · 1 year

Note

could we get “here, you can sleep in my shirt” with neighbor!ghost after the reader gets locked out of her apartment in a thunderstorm maybe? i’m horrible w coming up w ideas but have been EATING UP your works lately!

Downpour (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist - crow’s mega masterlist

“Here, you can sleep in my shirt.”

A/N: LOOOOKKKKKK i usually keep prompts for events and this one got sent in after i ended the celebration, but i had to do it!!! i also apologize this took so long. i also made this gn, i know you used she/her pronouns but i finished this when i realized 🫠 i’m sorry!

[WARNINGS: none, tension perhaps!]

THE ENTIRE DAY, it had been raining nonstop. The humidity was raising by the hour, making everything sticky and somehow even more wet than it was before. You’d try to wipe your hands dry from the rain, but it’s like you were just spreading the water droplets around, the air so humid as it never gave the water a chance to dry up on its own. It didn’t help that your entire day went to shit, too. Your car ended up breaking down and you missed the bus by just a few minutes, making you late for work. You ended up missing the bud on the way back as well, forcing you to walk to work in the rain, and walk back home in the rain.

Lucky you, your boss wasn’t as mad as you expected them to be.

You shudder as your soaking wet clothes stick to your skin, making your way up a few flights of stairs to your apartment floor. You had goosebumps lining your arms under your soaked shirt, your shoulders uncontrollably shaking as you walked down the hall, tracking wet droplets onto the carpet that probably hasn’t been cleaned in a few years, but has one of those designs that hide the dirt and grime. You hiss quietly in an attempt to distract yourself, your hands patting your pockets for your keys. You grab them and pull them out and you insert the key into the key hole and you turn—but the damn metal breaks, your key successfully snapping in half. Your jaw genuinely drops as you stand there for a moment, a tense, “Are you fucking kidding me?” spilling from your lips.

It’s too late to call the building manager to come along and help you, and it’s definitely too late to call a locksmith of some sort. You know none of your friends or family are awake by this point, either. You curse quietly as you bend at your knees and pitifully attempt to wiggle the broken part of the key out of the deadbolt, you even try to turn the key by lining up the base of the key to the shaft—but of course, it doesn’t work. You’re so focused on your door that you don’t notice your neighbor across the hall has opened his door, watching you in silence for a moment. “Today of all days.” You angrily mutter, pathetically kicking the bottom of your apartment door, as if it’ll magically swing open for your convenience. You hear someone clear their throat and you jolt because it’s late, and you didn’t expect anyone to be around.

You turn around and blink when you meet eyes with your neighbor—Simon. He’s standing in the doorway, one hand grasping his door, the other leaning on the doorframe on the side. He’s a big man—tall and muscular, shoulders broad and wide, torso following and tapering off near his waist. His arms were big too, and no doubt his legs are the same. He has a strong jaw with little stubble, his hair a shabby blonde, paired with some dark brown eyes that certainly tell a story. He had a bunch of noticeable scars, but you weren’t one to ask about that sort of thing. You know he has a tattoo sleeve, but you’ve never been close enough to know the details of said tattoo sleeve. The thing that surprised you the most, though, is that he’s home in the first place. You knew that he worked in the military, although he was pretty private about everything concerning himself so you didn’t know details. During your small interactions, you’ve managed to become friends.

“Hi.” You say sheepishly, coddling your keys in your hand. Simon’s eyes roam your body from head to toe before his lips curl into the most subtle smile. “Got caught in the rain, hm?” He rasps out, tilting his head ever so slightly to the right. You nod and almost with comedic timing, you begin to shiver again. “Seems you’ve broken your key, too.” Simon adds unhelpfully, moving his hand from the doorframe. You huff and rub your upper arms in an attempt to somehow keep warm whilst dripping water all over the hallway carpet. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.” You reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Simon huffs, the sound nearing a chuckle as he speaks up. “It’s lieutenant, actually.”

Your eyebrows raise for a moment because Simon actually shared something slightly personal with you—his rank in whatever branch of the military he’s in. “Well.. Lieutenant Obvious,” You begin, your voice coming out as a gentle tremble as the cold hallway isn’t doing you any favors. “It’s nice to see you home safe.” Simon clicks his tongue against the inner of his cheek, his eyes boring into your figure without responding. He seems hesitant, his posture stiff as he scans your face and your body language. Simon makes eye contact with you once again, the air thick with tension until he makes his decision; he slowly opens the door wider and steps out of the way, wordlessly gesturing you to come inside.

You try to hide your total and utter surprise, but it doesn’t last long as you quickly tread into his apartment, seeking warmth. You couldn’t say that you didn’t try to imagine what the inside of his apartment looked like—he always came over to yours. His apartment is fairly blank, but in its own way; it’s homey. Comfortable. It’s one hundred percent Simon. There isn’t really any photos of himself nor his family. There’s a couple of paintings that he’s bought over the years, definitely symbolizing different things you don’t know about him. There’s a couple pairs of shoes on a rack near the front door—some running shoes, a pair of working boots, and a pair of shoes that obviously haven’t been worn in years, judging by the layer of dust covering the toes of the shoes. Otherwise, from what you can judge from standing near his living room, you can tell he keeps everything neat and clean.

You hear the front door shut and lock behind you, and you hear his heavy footsteps begin to approach. “You should get warm. I’ll grab ya a towel. Take a shower, yeah?” His voice is low and nearly rumbling in your own chest as Simon approaches you, and you turn to look at him. He presses his lips into a thin line as he makes eye contact with you again, his eyelids naturally lidded. “I’ll throw your wet clothes in the wash for you in the mornin’.”

You nod and don’t bother to question anything at that time, your skin covered in harsh goosebumps, your clothes no where near the point of drying. “Where’s your bathroom?” Your voice is a bit meek as you speak, the coldness of the water is beginning to get to you. Simon walks over to a clothes basket near the couch, speaking as he does so. “Down the hall, middle door on the left. Door should be open.” You don’t waste any time and you quickly get yourself to his bathroom. You close the door behind you and your hand finds the light switch, flipping it on. His bathroom is a decent size—which is surprising for the size of the apartment. You don’t feel incredibly cramped, which makes sense for Simon.

You peel the soaked clothing off of you and they land on the floor with a gross slopping sound, causing you to wince. You decide to wring the remaining water out of your clothes into the bathtub before putting them in a pile on the bathroom floor, as Simon doesn’t have a clothes hamper in there. You put your phone on the sink counter, and luckily you managed to keep it dry. Being stripped from your sopping clothes, your skin is cold to the touch, but you begin to feel yourself naturally warm up. You draw back his shower curtains and manage to figure out how to operate his shower—you always found other peoples bathtubs and showers to be puzzles to use. You turn the knob a couple of times and feel the water that’s splattering down from the shower head into the tub, and you step into the tub after you deem the temperature the right one.

You close the shower curtain and you huddle yourself under the water that’s beating down onto you—it nearly burns as it’s running against your cold skin, but you grind your teeth and bare it because in reality, it isn’t that hot. You’re just incredibly chilly. You make sure to put your head under the stream of water too, and you’re enjoying the warmth so much you jolt when you hear Simon’s knocking at the bathroom door. Before you can answer, you hear the door open—but just a smidge. “I ‘ave a towel for you here,” Simon announces, raising his volume a bit so you can hear him over the water. “I’ll hang it on the towel rack.”

You shout a quick thank you over the water, hear him shuffle for a moment and then the bathroom door closing with a swift click. You appreciate his offer of comfort, while also respecting your privacy in such a vulnerable space. You make sure to take your time in the shower; allowing yourself to bask in the warmth coming from his pipes, the water running over your shoulders and down your torso, replacing any sense of coldness you’d earned by getting stuck in that rain. Eventually though, you decide it’s time to get out. You sigh and turn off the water, and you open the shower curtain and lean over to grab the towel. You shake the water off of your feet before stepping onto the bath mat in front of the tub and you get to work drying yourself.

Simon eventually knocks on the door again and opens it, but just enough for him to shove his hand through the crevice. In his grip is a shirt and some sweatpants with drawstrings. “Here you can sleep in my shirt. Your stuff is in the dryer.” His voice is low and muffled, and you smile a bit to yourself as you quickly snatch up the clothes. “Thank you, Simon.” You say with a soft tone, examining the clothes in curiosity. “Of’course,” Simon begins. “I got you set up on the couch, too. You’re welcome to my refrigerator as well.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise because this is such a drastic difference than a few months ago—probably a year ago by now. “Thank you..” You can’t help but repeat yourself, gratitude lacing your voice. He responds with a simple grunt before closing the bathroom door again.

You dry yourself off completely and you slip the shirt on, as well as the sweatpants. You tighten and tie the drawstrings if you need to, and despite these clothes being clean, they smell like Simon one hundred percent. You don’t complain, though; he smells kind of like freshly raked soil mixed with bourbon, as well as something you don’t quite recognize, but you guess is gunpowder. It’s comforting. It’s a main reason why you know Simon is home half the time; if the hallway smells like him, just a bit.

You find your heart skipping a beat and you can’t get the dopey smile off of your face as you hang the damp towel up on the towel rack, unable to stop thinking about Simon’s sudden kindness. You feel kind of special, from him letting you into his apartment all of a sudden. You take a deep breath in the bathroom mirror before opening the bathroom door, preparing yourself mentally on your neighbors couch; the neighbor you admittedly don’t know too well and probably shouldn’t trust so easily, but you do anyway. And it seems like he’s beginning to trust you, too.

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wannaeatramyeon · 9 months

Text

Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse

G/N. You work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. You meet bizarre characters on different nights. Part 1 | Part 2

The customers can usually be separated into 3 categories.

Drunks, students, and weirdos.

Unfortunately for you, lately the weirdos have turned into regulars. But fortunately the weirdos aren't so weird.

The one that made it a habit to check in on you, with the scars and the cheesy wink wasn't so bad. Jack, was it? You can't remember and it's been too long for you to ask. You awkwardly address him as 'you' and avoid any situation where you need to use his name.

He likes to ask how you are, tell a few jokes. Spirit undeterred even when you look at him with a blank face because bless his soul, he's not funny at all but at least he tries and he's a lot less weird than first impression.

He hangs around at odd times, then again you do only work at odd times. Telling you stories about this and that. Something about Big Deal, something about a guy called Sinu and something about another guy called Samuel.

It's difficult to keep track. It's like he wants to talk but he's cryptic and god, it's 4am who can blame you if your eyes are glazing over.

John, or is it Jerry, is waffling again. He seems to always be talking about Samuel. Who he apparently misses and wonders where it's gone wrong and hang on, he's never been explicit but you just had to know.

When he takes a breath to munch on a cookie, you ask, "Hold on, is Samuel your ex?"

Wait no his name is Jason, definitely Jason- freezes mid-chew, "Why would you say that? He's my friend!"

Joshua sprays crumbs all over you but you note how he doesn't say no.

(You think you see this Samuel one early morning. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him before and man, he really looks like shit.

Looks like the breakup is getting to him too.

Poor Samuel and Poor Jim.)

But sometimes weirdos are just weirdos.

It's ok. It comes with the territory so long as they're not in the habit of hurling abuse or whatever, you can deal with it.

In recent memory, there's only been two people that you have had to almost chase out with a broomstick.

You should have known they would be weirdos when one of them walks in in surprisingly teeny tiny purple camo shorts. Not that you're a pearl clutcher, but you're worried that one wrong move and he could be dangling out.

Besides. Purple. Camo. Shorts. Those words should never follow one after the other, and you repress a shudder at this guy's hideous dress sense when he comes up to you.

You thought the other one was alright, at least there's no hideous purple camo shorts in sight and his hair is nice (huh, this style must be popular, you’ve seen a lot of guys with this hair)-

But then he opens his mouth and asks for snakes and you think it's karma for judging camo-guy for his appearance when his friend is equally odd.

"We usually keep the snakes next to the ramen," you deadpan and the two men actually go to seek out the supposed snake (meat or pet purposes?) only to return moments later, empty-handed and looking confused.

"I think the snake is all sold out," Non-camo guy says as camo-guy glances around as if you might have hidden your snake stock elsewhere.

They must have thought you were stupid as you stood there opening and closing your mouth like a fish (or maybe a snake, do snake do these things), because come on, how are you even supposed to formulate a response to that?

Then you look at their eyes and also notice them looking snakey and surmise it must be some weird fetish thing. Pretending to be snakes and eating snakes and having pet snakes.

You want no part of this and tell them to get out.

"I'm Baek Hangyeol," a new face says, pointing to his ID badge pinned to the white coat.

"Doctor Baek Hangyeol." He stresses Doctor and Hangyeol and you wonder if he is waiting for a round of applause.

You don't say anything but you do notice he looks like a teenager and what idiot would let a teenager operate on them. (Drunk, student, weirdo. He could be all three.) Doctor Baek Hangyeol must be bluffing.

You decide not to call him on his bullshit.

"Cool," is all you respond with because you don't want another complaint for being too mouthy. You are half tempted to tell him you're not a doctor, that you just work here but that seemed kinda redundant so you keep your mouth shut.

"Do you believe in true beauty?" he asks when you finish bagging up his goods (a plain water with added minerals, a bottle of multivitamins and a protein shake) and you think what sort of question is that.

You give a halfhearted shrug and say "Sure" and he hands his business card over.

"If you're ever considering it," he tells you with a wild smile. After he has left you look down at the lettering, eyes zeroing in on ‘Plastic Surgery’.

Excuse me?! What is he trying to say?

You thought he was a weirdo but now he has firmly shifted over to asshole. You regret not telling him to go fuck himself while you had the chance. The complaint would 100% be worth it. Zero regrets.

On your break, you burn the card and feel a small sense of satisfaction.

A tall blonde guy with a creepy vibe (hold on, have you seen him before, he seems familiar. Then again, creepy blonde guys seem to be quite common around here-) walks in with the most billowing coat you have ever seen.

The entrance is kinda cool but the actual coat is kinda tragic with the cheesy red lettering and you wonder if you can pull it off any better than him.

You're still wondering about his coat when he's paying you, and hang on you have definitely seen him before because he says arigatou and hands over yen and you tell him no. Won only.

The idea of the coat, which has evolved into you fantasising about having a full blown cape, quickly loses its charm however, when the blonde gets caught in the automatic doors and you have to wrestle them open to free him.

Afterwards, you ask if he's ok, if he is harmed and can’t resist asking if the coat is ok too. You really don't want a lawsuit on your watch especially when the malfunctioning doors are not your fault.

Your kindness is repaid by him telling you he's not interested (what the fuck) and that his heart will not stray (again, what the fuck).

You accidentally eavesdrop on a couple of students lamenting about missing out on school work. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop ok, the aisles are tight and cramped, it’s a small space.

You peek over, and the one with big ears (seriously, they are huge) is telling the one with his back to you (goodness, his back is huge too) that school is important and he’s got notes the other one can use.

It’s sweet, you think. School is important and it’s good they recognise that. Nice of them to help each other out too.

When they both come to pay (holy shit, that’s a fuckton of chocolate milk), you’re surprised to find Big Ear’s friend, Big Back, looks anywhere between late 20s and early 40s but it’s never too late to catch up on education, you suppose.

You spend the rest of your shift feeling motivated.

“Going camping?” you ask the guy with the sandy blonde hair, chuckling nervously and ringing his items through.

Either he’s going camping or he’s gonna kill and hide a dead body in the forest.

He’s pretty stoic, only giving you a curt nod. You can’t help but probe him a bit more. You’ve got a feeling that if or when the dead body turns up, you want to at least clear your conscience that you’ve tried your best so you make some more idle small talk.

You mention how you haven’t been camping for ages, not since you nearly burned your tent down and singed your hair after you tried to cook some marshmallows over a fire that turned out to be more of a raging bonfire (and might have awoken your pyromaniac streak, but you keep that to yourself).

The blonde guy actually pipes up and says “Master Taesoo would never do that.”

You almost apologise out of principle due to how earnest he sounds, then he mentions something about how good this Master Taesoo is at catching and cooking snake and you wonder what the fuck is up with people and the snake obsession.

Either way, it doesn’t sound like someone is getting murdered. Only a snake (poor snake) so at least you can sleep easy later that day.

“Oh hi DG,” you say, “Sorry about your cryptocurrency falling through. Diegocoin was it?”

He blinks at you a few times in surprise and heavens above. What’s that saying, fool me once, shame on me; fool me twice, shame on you? This guy has fooled you exactly no times with his shitty disguises and his effort has substantially dwindled too.

He has only put his hood up and you did think you might get mugged at one point-

It’s an empty store, for crying out loud. Who comes into an empty store in the asscrack of night with their hood up, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

Then you notice the pink hair and shifty glance and duh.

“Is it the-?” he asks, putting his hood down and signalling to his hair.

“Yeah, it’s the-” you signal to your own head of hair. “Dude you really need to dye it if you’re going for subtle.” You pause, consider something, “Hold on.”

You walk over to the beauty aisle and grab the black hair dye.

“On the house,” you tell DG because this guy really has no self awareness.

“What do you mean no?”

“No." Your boyfriend peers down at you, arms crossed and at the end of his patience with you.

You open your mouth to argue-

“No. You know nothing about Taekwondo. How can you work here?”

You look around helplessly at the studio. He’s not exactly wrong but you’re sick of dealing with the weirdos and the snakes and the creepy blondes. “But your dad-”

“I don’t care what that stupid old man says,”

“Taehoon!” Hansu scolds from the other side of the room, and Hansu's class of toddlers all whirl their head around to stare.

“I can learn?” you offer and Taehoon raises one skeptical brow.

“So you’re going to be a student?” You nod enthusiastically, “And we’re going to pay you for that?”

Oh. Damn.

He’s got you there.

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readychilledwine · 10 months

Note

Hi Liz! I have been following you for a while now and I absolutely adore everything you write. You are incredibly talented and deserve all praise for it ❤️

I have never actually requested a story from any author simply because I will devour almost any content by fanfic authors and truthfully it makes me feel a little greedy and I never want anyone to feel forced to write anything. However, I have had this idea since I read one of your stories and I feel like no one else would be able to do it justice like you would.

Essentially, the reader is the youngest Archeron sister and is mated to Azriel (mating bond has been accepted and they have been together for a couple of months now) but she is inexperienced (her first time was with Azriel) and Nesta has been giving her some of her hard core smutty books and now the reader wants to explore some kinks with Azriel (somnophilia, cock warming, wing play, bondage) but she’s embarrassed to bring up the conversation with him. Anyway, she eventually has that conversation with Azriel (he’s all too happy about it because no one can tell me this male doesn’t have a corruption kink) and smut ensues.

First of all, thank you for the endless compliments 💜💜 I'm so excited you're here and have welcomed me into your world for entertainment purposes.

Second of all, I could NEVER deny an Azriel corruption kink fic.

Breathe

Summary - A year of sexual exploration hasn't even began to touch the things Azriel would like to do to you.

Warnings - throat fucking, breath play, references to knife play, auralism, jealous Rhys and cassian at the end, mentions of other explored kinks and sexual senerios

Azriel pushed his fingers further unto your throat, his shadows forcing your hair back as he held your book in his free hand.

“I've been wondering why you've been sending me wave after wave of arousal all day,” he rose a brow a passage involving the male character using a knife to pleasure the female main. “Is this what my pretty little mate reads when I'm away? Her big sister's smut novels?”

He watched as you gagged, drool and spit coming to the corner of your mouth as you struggled to breathe and looked up at him doe eyed. “Want me to fuck you with Truth Teller, mate? Does the thought of coming on a deadly weapon soak your little lace panties?” He chuckled darkly. Mocking your inability to answer.

“You're trained better than this, slut. You know to answer me when I ask you a question.” You whined around his fingers. You could feel the tension in his body, feel his need for stress relief.

The two of you had just began exploring physically together. The bond finally snapped after your 20th birthday. After the Mortal queen and the deathless God had been dealt with. After Elain finally let her claws out of him long enough for him to notice you. To feel you.

He had not pushed sex, knowing from Nesta you were the only one of the 4 of you to hold onto that seemingly special thing so tightly. It had taken a year for you to spread those pretty thighs and let him take you, but after that, you fucked like rabbits. Trying every dirty thing and kink your mind wanted to explore.

Azriel had allowed you to dominate him, whining as you rode his cock and denied him orgasm after orgasm, fingers dancing his scarred wings.

He had tied you from the ceiling his dungeon, harnessed up like a swing and fucked you to sweet oblivion.

He had taken every tight hole, came anywhere he could. Marked you in his scent and musk more times than you two could count.

But you were still his sweet innocent girl.

His little untouched angel exploring your sexuality and urges like an animal in heat sometimes. Your recent needs were punishment. You liked him hurting you, dominating you, watching as you cried. You liked breath play lately, hence his fingers sinking deeper as you struggled, black beginning to form in your eyes until he took those fingers out and slapped you.

“Need you to suck my cock, princess,” he began unlacing his leathers, mind lost in the pleasure your mouth would bring him. “Open. Now.”

You obeyed, throat relaxing and mouth opening as his cock sprung free. Hard leaking and angry from weeks away from you. He pushed in without hesitation, setting a gentle pace as he tightened his grip in your hair.

“She couldn't breathe,” his deep voice began reading from the book, making you whine around his cock as he pushed it down your throat ensuring you couldn't either. “The feeling of the cold hilt in her warm walls causing her to feel wave after wave of shock and pleasure.”

He looked down at you, smirking at the sight of your flushed cheeks, at you swallowing around him as spit pooled the corners of your mouth. His eyes went back to the book. “There was something about the danger, the thrill of this deadly weapon being used to push her to the edge that had her crying out, begging and pleading for more and more as she met every thrust with her hips. Fucking herself harder and harder on her mate's weapon.”

You were aching, dripping for him, and tapped his thigh for a quick breath, watching as he pulled out and looked down at you unimpressed. You panted a few gulps of air before taking him back in your mouth and bobbing your head, hallowing your cheeks and licking each vein on his shift.

Azriel groaned loudly above you, setting the book down before his now free hand joined the other one tangled in your now messy hair. He began fucking your throat harshly. Barely allowing you moments of air as he chased his much needed high.

You could do nothing but hold on for life when he did this. When he lost control for you. He pushed all the way in, gagging you again and held you there, nose pressed against his skin. “Breathe,” he commanded in a moan. “Being such a good girl, y/n.”

Throat fucking as new to you. An unexplored territory you hadn't even considered until he had asked gently. You knew it was more for him than for you, but right now you felt this sense of power as he moaned above you, wings shuttering as his body shivered.

That power reached a deep set need in your bones, allowing you to relax and enjoy this more with a small moan. “There we go, angel,” he whispered. “Just like that for me. I'm so proud of you.” He began thrusting again, allowing you to hear his pleasure, allowing you to feel that power you had over him. “Keep breathing, baby,” his voice was almost a whimper. “Just keep breathing, I'm right there, y/n. Please honey.”

Him begging had you moaning against him, relaxing your throat further as your watched his breathing pick up, his plump lips part, his eyes scrunch.

Without warning he pushed all the way in, spilling down your throat, as a roar tore through his own. He pulled back slightly, releasing the last of his cum onto your stuck out tongue with a satisfied smile.

He kneeled down to you, shadows bringing him a notebook and pen and he wiped the small bits that hit your face off with his thumb before forcing you to suck that digit.

He flipped through the notebook, a page dedicated to each sexual act and kink you two had explored with a rating and comments from both of you before landing on the page he needed and the adjoining blank one.

“1 through 5?” He asked you gently, removing his thumb and kissing your forehead.

“3.5,” you admitted with guilt. “I only enjoyed it because you do, and it made me feel slightly in control.”

He nodded, writing your response as you two both moved to sit cross-legged from each other on the floor. “Do not feel guilty. I am just happy it ranked high enough to be in the rotation. How about the reading to you thing?”

“4 out of 5. I enjoyed it a lot when you were doing that.” Azriel jotted it down.

“And what the fuck is going on in this novel? Do you want to try knife play?”

“Only with you,” you answered.

Azriel leaned forward, kissing you gently. “It's one of my favorites. I've done it with a couple play partners. I can answer any questions you have.”

The two of you sat there, filling in a few more pages of the book you had started to keep during the beginning of your exploration a year ago, smiling at the things you've already done, going on your list of retries.

Love was free flowing down the bond, soaking the room and fabric in it's scent, filling the Riverhouse with its presence with every passing moment.

Rhys and Cassian sighed from downstairs, tapping their feet on the wooden floors as they waited for Azriel to come give them his mission report.

“This happens every fucking time,” Cassian sat down on the couch. “Is it us? Is fatherhood killing our sex drive?”

Rhys shrugged. “I don't know what's killing your sex drive, brother. Mine is fine. Hince 3 little ones. If you could figure out what's keeping theirs so... passionate, though, I'd appreciate it.”

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x archeron!reader

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koolades-world · 5 months

Note

Can you do headcanons with all the characters of an MC that has scars on their body from maybe a car crash years ago and how they would react to seeing them? Can you also do an MC who’s really insecure about them and tries to hide them?

Please and thank you 🙏🙏🙏🙏

hello! sure thing :)

idk why this one got so long? slight angst warning for belphie's (lesson 16 reference) actually might write belphie's as a drabble! if y'all are interested in seeing the others as drabbles too, let me know!

enjoy <3

Mc who's insecure about scars from a car crash

Lucifer

he didn't think much of it, since he too prefers clothing that covers basically everything, even down to gloves however, the attention to detail came down to how you behaved and the way in which you vehemently avoided any situation in which you'd have to change into something you hadn't selected or needed to wear something more revealing

one late night, you ran into each other in the kitchen, and while he expected it to be beel, raiding the fridge again but he found you crying on the floor

of course, he asked what was wrong, and while at first you didn't say anything, he stayed by your side. when the tears had slowed down and you could speak again, you told him it was the anniversary of the devastating car crash and you confessed how much it took from you

that was the first time lucifer had ever hugged you, and for once, you felt at home in the devildom. for the years to come, he makes sure to spend that entire day with you to make you feel loved

Mammon

he's the first to see them and learn of their existence because of how quickly the two of you grow close. you had many movies nights together where you ended up asleep on his shoulder and he caught glances of the scars

he never asked, but he was forever curious. he wanted to wait for you to tell the story rather than intrude on your privacy, even if that meant he never learnt

eventually after you deliberated with yourself, during one of those movie nights, you turned to him and told him everything after mentally debating

you could tell you'd help satiate his curiosity, but of course he was very sweet about it. he starts coming home with things he knows will make you feel gorgeous and expects nothing in return

Levi

the two of you spend a lot of time gaming, reading, and watching anime together. your favorite characters are said to be a reflection of you, and he noticed that pattern after enough time

now, he wasn't quite sure what to do with that information, how he would even start to go about addressing that, or if it was just him and he was looking into it too much. maybe you just had a certain type you enjoyed, although part of him hoped it wasn't that, because that would mean your type wasn't him

nevertheless, he kept this information to himself and dwelled on it until one night, you brought that very topic up yourself. at first you hesitated, but once he told you to think of it as your "lore" you became more comfortable with the situation and told him

he wasn't quite sure what to say, but offered you comfort. you spent the rest of the night watching your favorite anime and from then on, you got to see this more gentle, loving side of him more often. maybe one day, he'd tell you about his "lore" in depth too

Satan

he felt like the entire situation was something right out of a romance novel, where the two main characters slowly grow closer like the two of you were, and the exchanging of backstory that inevitable happens at some point

but, he didn't expect yours to include something so devastating in nature and how it affected your life in the aftermath. he's amazed at the way you have been healing yourself over the followings years. he admires your strength, and he knows that the scars and accident don't define you

you spent most of your evenings together, either at an outing or just at home together. it was one of these evening sessions by the fireplace together in the living room where the two of you were cuddling, and he noticed them on your shoulders. of course he didn't mention it, but you noticed him looking

since there was nobody else around, you decided to tell him since you would've at some point eventually. he doesn't make a big deal out of it because you didn't, but he lets you know if you ever need someone to talk to, he would be there

Asmo

he noticed that your entire wardrobe, including sleepwear and formalwear was all long sleeve and basically covered you head to toe

to try and get closer to you, he took you shopping and still saw you only picked out things that fit into your current wardrobe despite seriously eyeing several other pieces of clothing that were short sleeved. you didn't get them, but he could tell you wanted them, so as a surprise, he bought all of the items for you and presented it as a gift

through your tears, you thanked him and decided to tell him why you didn't get them. he apologizes profusely, but you tell him it was alright and that one day, you'd wear them

once you're finally closer, you wear one of the short sleeved pajama sets to a sleepover with just him, and he can feel his heart swell with the amount of trust you'd put in his hands. expect to be pampered <333

Beel

while he's not the first to see them, he was the first to catch on to their existence. he's very good with reading your emotions and could easily tell when you were uncomfortable. every time, he saved you from the situation but he was afraid of how you might feel when he wasn't around

the two of you had just gotten done with a jog that ended in a park, where the two of you sat in the grass to relax before headed home. while there, your conversation got rather deep and you ended up discussing thing you never thought might slip out

the manner in which you told him was detached and while you mentioned it in passing, beel was insistent you go back to that topic. he held you close, despite the fact that you were both sweaty and gross, because the thing that mattered most to him was how you felt

of course he wouldn't pry, and he didn't, but he will guard your secret with his life now. anytime you need him or just want to talk, or need a hug, he's there unconditionally

Belphie

when you initially met, when he was imprisoned in the attic and you thought he was human like he claimed he was, whenever you'd chat he could tell there was something you were holding back

he asked upfront what the matter was, not realizing he'd strike such a nerve. you took it not how he expected you to and you stormed off, upset. he was concerned he'd jeopardized his plan but there wasn't anything he could do about it now

later that night you returned, you had cooled off and apologized, and told him why you had been so disturbed by his comment. you showed him the few on your upper back and neck, and told your story. he almost felt bad about what he'd done

when he held you aloft by your neck, that same part of him that felt guilty chimed in again and made him remembered the scars you'd shown him and the kinship you thought you shared together, when you thought he was a human. it was a shame not all of him felt sorry for you

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me!#obey me levi #obey me mammon #obey me beel #obey me lucifer #obey me belphie #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #omswd

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inumkii · 20 days

Text

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ reunion - kazuha x reader

"kazuha fled inazuma after the vision hunt decree, regretfully leaving you in his wake."

wc: 800

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n: not really proofread because i didn't want it to sit in my drafts any longer. also im lowk extending the vision hunt degree's canon timeline to a few more years

kaedehara kazuha was the type of boy to sneak through your window at night when you were children just to stay up and talk to you.

initially, it was because you both were young and couldn’t extend your playdates past your respective bedtimes. but as you grew older, your traditional fathers grew weary of the implications of you two being seen together in the late hours of the night. but nevertheless, he snuck up without fail each night just to lay on your bedroom floor and talk for hours on end until you fell asleep and he returned home.

you thought about those nights endlessly.

time wasn’t kind to the two of you, separating your paths further each passing day. kazuha fled inazuma after the vision hunt decree, regretfully leaving you in his wake.

years had passed and you had eventually heard the town gossip that he had returned to stop the shogun’s very own strike. the very mention of his name caused a pit in the center of your chest to bubble up.

but when you set off to find him in the city, you had learned he already left with a fleet called the crux. you hadn’t recognized the name and it made you loathe how unfamiliar he was becoming to you- coming and going without saying a word. you arrived home disheartened, failing to notice the maple leaf pinned beneath the window from the night before.

weeks passed with you attempting to move on from the stewing image of the man in your head. the nights spent with hushed whispers and conversations about the future felt fewer than the time you forcibly spent without him.

it was yet another night of you lying down in the silence of your own home. fatigue weighed down on your body, yet you couldn’t help yourself from imagining kazuha on the floor beneath your bed, listening to the stories of your day. you turned in your sheets to push the thought out of your head so you could fall asleep with peace of mind.

your attempted slumber was foregone when you heard a gentle rapping at your window. your eyes fluttered open to see the silhouette of someone's figure on the other side.

either your state of drowsiness or innate sense of trust in the depths of your heart caused you to be less alarmed by the sudden intrusion.

he came back for you.

your body acted on impulse as you lept out of your covers to lift up the window separating your reunion.

the second the cool air broke into your room, you heard his laugh follow suit.

“it would be uncouth of me to sneak in as i had been prior.” he said with a calm smile. it was the expression he wore best, though you hadn’t noticed the undertone of pure elation hidden behind the twinkle of his eye.

there kazuha stood, the boy you grew up with, in essence. albeit, he wore a few more scars and there was a stronger air of wisdom in his posture, but overall he was the same man you grew up adoring.

he held onto a delicate flower as he gazed at you.

“i deeply regret not seeing you sooner. trust me, if i could have-” his apology was cut short by you leaning over to embrace him. it took a second to process, but soon his arms were tangling themselves with yours. neither of you minded the wall separating you two, as it hadn’t altered the gratification of his homecoming.

he briefly broke away from the hug to bring the flower back to your attention, hand reaching up to tuck it softly behind you ear, then pausing to admire the slight before him.

“it’s a glaze lily. native to liyue; they always reminded me of you. though this is a feeble attempt at reconciling the fact that i wasn’t allowed to see you last, i hope you accept it.”

prickles of tears threatened to form in your eyes as you wordlessly invited him in. as he skillfully maneuvered himself through your window, he let you into another embrace as he was allowed to fully connect the hug.

“kazuha,” you murmured into his shoulder. his grasp softened the second he heard his name grace your lips, “i understood, i knew one day we would reunite.”

“i thought of you everytime the moon reached its peak onboard the crux. not one night passed by without wishing i could have had a proper goodbye.” he reassured, not wanting to pull away just yet.

“i did too. truth be told, i was even thinking of our memories moments before your arrival.” you leaned back to look into his vermillion eyes. “i missed you.”

“i did too, dearly.” kazuha lowered his lips onto your forehead, sealing his sentiment in such a simple kiss, yet you soaked it in. “i’m here now.”

despite the many nights spent on your bedroom floor as a child, you quite enjoyed the unfamiliar sensation of his body pressed against yours as you drifted off into sleep. whispers of his journey danced in your mind as your consciousness faded. kaedehara kazuha would always find his way back to you.

#kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #genshin scenarios #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #kazuha scenarios #kazuha drabble #genshin fluff #kazuha fluff

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lunarpeonie · 1 year

Text

stay the night

in which you babysit megumi some nights and toji is sick of you showing up in those tight little shorts

1.3k words, nsfw

“Good evening, Mr. Fushiguro. I just put Megumi down.” You whispered as you held up the baby monitor. Toji hadn’t had one when you first started working for him and had purchased it at your insistence. You had been babysitting for the Fushiguro’s now for a few months, showing up whenever Toji had called. It wasn’t a regular thing, Toji had told you his job was a freelancer (whatever that meant) and his work wasn’t regular. Still, he paid decently and Megumi was a doll of a child, always so sweet and eager to have someone to babble to.

It also didn’t hurt that Toji was an absolute dilf. He had a perfectly placed scar on the corner of his lips that you wanted to paint pink with your lipstick. He towered over you and always had on shirts seemingly two sizes too small that outlined his hard abs and broad shoulders. You were waiting for him to lift his arm one day and have his shirt split down the middle. Long story short, you wanted him.

“Thanks.” He said digging in his pants pocket for his wallet to pay you for the night. He was never very talkative, especially so after he was done work. You had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t just with you. You turned around to grab your purse on the couch, not realizing how far your yoga shorts had ridden up. They had moved so far that now your peach colored panties were peeking out underneath.

You heard a faint rustling of clothing before feeling a large, calloused hand grip your waist. You stiffened in surprise and quickly turned your head to look at the man behind you. His hand traveled up in between the valley of your breasts and he tugged you so that your back was flush with his chest. His extremely muscular chest. You could already feel your face heating up.

Toji leaned his head next to your ear to whisper. “You didn’t have to wear those tiny shorts for my attention, you already have it. Do you know how hard it’s been to hold back all of this time? My self control has worn out.” It wasn’t as if you wore those shorts on purpose for this exact outcome… or that was what you told yourself to feel better about the fact that you desperately wanted the single father with an ambiguous job who always came home late.

“If you want to stop, say so now because once I get started, it’s too late.” He groaned into your ear. You shook your head vigorously no, unable to muster up the words to speak. He slots his lips against yours, swallowing your mewls of excitement. Toji nipped at your lower lip, inviting you to open for him. When you did, he slipped his tongue past your parted lips dominating your own.

“I’m gonna stuff you full,” he groaned, kissing up the side of your neck before pushing you hard onto the weathered sofa.

“I can barely wait to come home to my pretty little cockslut waiting for me.” His voice was teasing, one of his hands dipping under the waistband of your shorts, slowly working its way down and pulling both your shorts and underwear down with it.

“Taking care of my kid all day, waiting for me to come home and give you your reward.” He dipped two calloused fingers into your heat and groaned. “How are you so wet already?” He started off slow, but with your encouraging mewls, he began to aggressively scissor his digits in and out of your hole.

“Ah, Toji…” you trailed off as he lifted his fingers out of you, a trail of your essence following them. He guided his fingers to his awaiting mouth, scar stretching to open wide. Sucking hard on his two digits, he slid them slowly from his mouth and let go of them with a pop.

“I would play more but…” he trailed off, but you knew what he was thinking. You couldn’t waste time when you had a toddler down the hall that could wake up any moment. You feverishly unbuttoned the jeans clinging tight to his thighs and pulled down, gasping at the outline of his cock in his silky black boxers. You palmed the large bulge with your hand, feeling the pulsating veins even through the thin layer of fabric. It twitched as you began to run your hand up and down the clothed erection. Toji wasted no time in revealing it to you and let his boxers pool at his ankles before kicking them away. He was long and thick with a nest of black hair resting at the base of him. The curtains do match the drapes.

“Oh my god.” You whispered, but not quiet enough for it to escape Toji’s notice. He shot you a devilish grin before pushing you so your back laid on the faux leather couch.

“Next time, I’ll take my time on you. Maybe shove my face between those thighs and lick your pretty pussy. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” All you could do was vigorously nod your head in response, excessively aware of the fact that Toji had moved the head of his cock so that it was poking at your entrance.

“But what about…ah!” You started, trying to warn Toji that you hadn’t used any protection, but he was already plowing through your wet heat. You tried to quiet your mewls, but couldn’t hold them in as he thrust deep within you. Toji shushed you and buried your head in the crook of his neck.

“You’re so whiny. You’re gonna wake the kid.” You can feel his grin against your skin while he says it, not seeming at all worried about the possibility. In fact, he seemed pleased with himself.

He lifted your leg, folding it against your chest and angled his hips up. You choked back a moan as he hit your g-spot. Toji picked up the pace, thrusting fast and hard into your heat. He felt himself lose all control in the wet, gummy paradise between your thighs. Each thrust felt like he went deeper within you, carving out a space for himself within you. He slid a hand down to play with your clit, rubbing tight circles until you started to feel a familiar tension within your stomach.

“Ah, Toji I’m -“ You whimpered.

“You gonna come for me? Good.” You bit down on your lower lip to try to quiet your noises of pleasure, but he still slaps his hand across your mouth to muffle the noises you couldn’t contain. Finally, the tension snapped like a rubber band and your body flooded with release. He pushed his forehead against yours as he fucked you through your orgasm with deep thrusts that had you nearly shaking with overstimulation.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum.” He hissed, leaning so your foreheads were touching. “I’m not pulling out. You’d be such a good mother, wouldn’t you? You take such good care of my son, maybe I’ll give you one of your own.” Your eyes shot wide open in alarm, shocked that you liked the idea so much. You chanted yes, yes, yes, as you felt him groan and shoot his load deep inside of you. He stayed there for a moment, before slowly pulling his cock all of the way out and pushing his cum back in you. Toji rolls to lay his back on the sofa, grabbing your body and placing you on top of him.

“You’ll have to stay the night. I’m not done with you yet.” He grinned. Somehow, you were completely fine with that. (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

#toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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lunaoyabun · 5 months

Note

can you do jjk men x finding out their so self harms if ur comfy w writing that?

Sure, but I hope you're fine?! 😕🙏🏻🩵✨️

Tags: Triggerwarning!self-harm, fluff, angst, depression, minor characters are aged up

How jjk men react if they find out y/n self harms:

Gojo:

I believe he saw it coming but couldn't stop you because he wasn't there to stop you. He's very aware of you and your feelings and feels bad about the fact that he has to work so much and can't be there for you as much as he wants. It was one of those nights where your depression and anxiety reached your limits, and Gojo was already away for two weeks. You didn't text him as much as the days before, and even though he had another week of work, he cut it short and came home as soon as you didn't pick up the phone. He found you in the bathroom, sitting in front of the tub crying your heart out. As soon as he heard your whimper he rushed through the door and almost broke the door handle as he slides over to you on his knees, taking away the scissors/blade you used carefully and throw it into the tub, before he pulled you into his arms. "Shh, don't cry. It's okay... I'm here" he hushed while he almost crushed you in his embrace. His heart was racing, and you could hear his heavy breath while he was rocking you both back and forth. "Do you wanna talk about it?" he would ask carefully. And whatever you decide in this moment, he would make sure to take care of you as you need. Whatever that is. Questions could be asked later when you're more stable. He wants to make sure that you're feeling safe first and help you clean the blood and patch you up without saying anything because he doesn't want to trigger you. After that, he would make sure, that you don't feel to bad about what you did and tell you something like it's battle scars against yourself and everytime you feel like that again you should look at them and try to win this battle this time and not hurt yourself. And it helped. He really wants to make sure that you feel strong and safe. You would also joke about it when you're more stable a curse could never leave scars on you and that you're the strongest women and curses should watch out that you don't give them those scars instead.

Choso:

When he first saw your scars, he thought you had them from a battle. But after he found out you did this to yourself, he couldn't believe how you could do this. After you explained to him why you do that and that it's kind of a stress relief for you, he looked at you deadpan and pulled up his sleeve. "Do what you need to but not on your arm. Use mine. I can heal it, and I don't want you to feel any pain. If you really need to cut flesh, cut mine." And he was so serious about it, that everytime he sees you, he searched your whole body up for new scars and if he would ever find one, he would cut himself on the exact same place and refuse to heal it so you match scars. He really can't stand seeing you in pain. He adores you too much for his own good.

Megumi:

This guy probably wouldn't really know how to react and maybe even got mad at first since he doesn't understand why you do this to yourself. But similar to Choso, I feel like he would use some kind of emotional manipulation to stop you from doing it. He wouldn't hurt himself though but he's so scared that you feel this bad that even if he doesn't like texting that much he would make sure to shoot you enough texts throughout the day so that you don't ever feel lonely or tempted enough to do it again. Be prepared for lots of cuddle sessions. He's not good with words, but his actions will show.

Yuji:

This guy saw your scars multiple times and never knew what they were from. But lately you got new ones and your stories don't really match up anymore so he searched up 'visible scars on the wrist' and was so shocked to find out about self-harm, that he immediately visited you and as soon as you opened the door he hugged you and started to cry. "Please don't hurt yourself again! Talk to me when you feel lonely or depressed! We can search for a therapist or something! Or do you want to try some meds? Or we could have more fun dates! Or just stay in bed all day! Whatever you want but please, don't hurt yourself!" He would feel so helpless and guilty, even though it's not his fault. He loves you so much that it hurts him to know what you're going through, and he makes sure to be the best boyfriend possible so that you don't have to ever self-harm again. And every time before going to sleep, he would ask you about your day and how you feel. He literally became your diary and would try his hardest to help you with whatever you're going through at the moment.

Sukuna:

Would look at your scars deadpan and call you pathetic. "If something or someone bothers you, why would you hurt yourself? That's stupid. Just change it. Seek for justice. And if you can't handle shit yourself, ask me. Don't do stupid shit like that, silly human." He would be annoyed and maybe even don't really know why it upset him so much. He doesn't know why he's so interested in you in the first place, but something about you makes him not want to kill you immediately. Even though you're just a pathetic human. If he ever sees you with a new scar, be prepared that he will find out what made you do this and handle it himself. No questions asked. Be careful with names. He would even kill your friends and family if they're the reason for your struggle. "Come here, women. 'Need to check for new scars. Don't keep anything secret from me. I'll find out. Whoever fucks with you, fucks with me. Understood?" And yes, he literally searches up your whole body for new scars and even if their just from your cat or something, you'll have to make sure to have a good reason and explanation for a new scar. Or else he's going on a killing spree.

Toji:

Similar to Sukuna, I believe he would become mad at whoever makes you do something like this to yourself. "Just talk to me. There are so much better resolutions than fucking hurting yourself, babe. Tsk... look at those..." he would hold your wrist up for you to see your scars and look into your eyes. "Do you really want to remember the pain people gave you? Do you really want to look back at those scars and remember shit people did to you?" Even though he's grumpy, he would hug you more, make sure you feel safe and call you from time to time when he's at work. Later on, he would try to convince you to cover up those scars with a tattoo. "You would look so sexy with a tattoo, babe. Let's make sure you forget this shit and look at something you want to remember." Maybe he would get the same tattoo to match you, same spot and all. It would be his kind of affection and promise that he'll always stay by your side and that you won't cut your beautiful skin there again. And even if you feel bad to ruin the tattoo with new scars, if you ever tried to self-harm on another spot on your skin, he would make sure to make you cover that up too. "If you need the pain so badly, just get your whole body tattooed. This way, we could spare the time going through the healing process of your ugly scars." Ugly because what people did to you made you do them.

I'll stop it here since I'm going out of ideas rn. If you want a part two, let me know and who I should include there. I hope you like it! 🙏🏻🩵✨️ stay safe~

#divider by cafekitsune #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #toji fushiguro #yuji itadori #choso kamo #sukuna ryomen #jjk requests #anon request #megumi fushiguro

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pinescent-and-gingerbread · 3 months

Note

Can I request a drabble where Arthur comforts a female reader who has a broken heart? The reader's ex-boyfriend cheated on her and left with another woman.

Here we go! I took the liberty to name Reader's ex Jim (pretty random name for that place and time so I thought it would fit alright.)

I hope you'll like it anon!!🙌

࣪ ˖✧ The World is living.

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Warnings/Tags: Mention of cheating, reader's ex is a loser (boo him), reader is in a pretty bad mental state but Arthur is here to save the day, cursing cause he's mad as hell someone hurt you. ✦ Words: 1,5k ✦ a/n: As Anon had requested a drabble I tried to keep this short! Takes place in Clement's Point because the lake is so good for that kind of work, reader is part of the gang. Clearly this drabble is a big hug to all my sis out there who have been poorly treated by their ex🫶🏻

You were sitting by the shore, just behind camp. Flat Iron Lake was always beautiful at that time, just before dawn. Frosty, pastel colors on the sky and the water surfaces, melting into a soft shade of pale lavender and teal blue. You could only hear the occasional chirping of birds, splashing of an adventurous fish jumping out of the water, and lonely howls of coyotes.

The World was living.

You couldn't understand how. How did the World was still turning while you were hurting that much? It should have stopped. It should have. This was the only option after what you had been through.

You felt tears watering your eyes again. You couldn't sleep, as often lately, so you just had decided to come and sit here in the sand to do something, anything else than just lying in your cot, alone in the cold night, alone in the cold silence, alone in the cold emptiness. Alone, so alone even though you were surrounded by people at camp; it didn't mattered. He was gone now, and everything felt tasteless without him, everything looked drearier, even the beautiful morning scenery under your eyes.

You were now crying hard. Damn it, you didn't even knew you still had water in your body for it. You had cried so many times in the past few days your eyes were permanently red, your cheeks scarred by two trails of dry tears; you felt like one of those oranges that people squeeze to get the juice, leaving behind only a corpse of fruit devoid of all substance.

You couldn't do it anymore, it hurt too much. You buried your face in your hands, sobbing once again, trying to let out the sorrow that was eating you up from inside like a noxious parasite since he had left you.

"Y/N? Is everythin' okay?"

You tilted your head up, a slight feeling of panic and shame crashing on you as you searched for your interlocutor.

It was Arthur. He was a few meters away from you, empty bucket in his hands. He probably was on his way to the lake to fill it, but had heard you crying. You weren't too surprised to see him this early, Arthur had never slept much, he was always up before you in normal time, already helping everyone around camp.

He looked at you in the eyes, waiting for an answer. He seemed genuinely concerned; you realized you hadn't seen him for a while since he had been on a difficult job for weeks, he probably should have came back during the night, but you were far too deep in your own dark thoughts to have noticed it. He was clearly clueless and surprised about your state, his arms hanging awkwardly by his sides, his blue work shirt's sleeves rolled up carelessly.

"N-no..." You only answered, trying to wipe what you could of the literal torrent of tears flooding out of your eyes, but it just wouldn't stop, you felt even more ashamed. You must have looked pitiful right now.

Arthur let go of the bucket, letting it fall on the ground without an ounce of care. He then slowly approached you, and sat down in the sand next to you, leaving a little space between your two bodies. He didn't look disturbed or annoyed, but almost as stoic as usual. Except for his eyes. His eyes were telling a hundred stories even if he didn't wanted it. Their azure color bright and deep, you almost recognized a hint of sadness in them, as if he was pained seeing you like this.

"What's happenin' to ya, miss?" He inquired, voice deep and maybe a bit more empathetic than usual. He wasn't extremely expressive in usual times, so yet you could feel just by his presence how he cared about your well-being.

"It's Jim... He... He slept with one of these pretty girls from the Parlour House and he left me for her..." Saying it was making it all even worse. It was making it all too real. You struggled to get those words out, your tone cracking up as if they were crushing your vocal cords.

More tears, your eyes shutting close in a pained expression, the ache in your heart physically hurting you, as if someone had opened your thoracic cage and was crushing it with his bare hands. In a way, that's exactly what he had done to you.

"Goddamn piece of shit..." Arthur mumbled before looking at you, his intense indigo stare fixated on your face. He felt genuinely sorry, and outraged for you. Who in the world could have to audacity to hurt such a sweet girl like you? He was starting to clench his fists, feeling his blood boiling, a silent kettle on a burning fire. After a few seconds of hearing you cry, he couldn't hold it anymore, empathy getting the better of his rage, and opened his arms to gently pull you against him.

His strong, wide body enveloped you, and you let him. You buried your face into his chest, not really thinking about it, your hands wrapping around his waist, and gripping tight on his shirt. Looking clingy or odd was your last concern, you were way too blinded by your pain. You started crying loudly, wanting to make everything go out of you, your pain, your sadness, Him, everything.

"Yeah, that's it girl, let it all go..." He encouraged you, in a calm and quiet whisper. One of his hands had found its place behind your head, gently caressing it, the other resting around your waist. He carried you, as you screamed your pain to the World, as you poured all these gnawing feelings outside of you.

"He's a damn fool, Y/N. You deserve way better than him, lemme tell ya." Arthur murmured to you, voice still deep and caring. You could also hear behind that a hint of genuine anger in his tone, as he truly was pissed at Jim for having harmed you like this. "And you're gonna be okay, alright sweetheart?"

You slightly nodded into his chest, barely able to answer something properly. His scent and warmth were enfolding you, and you felt like you were somewhere else now, somewhere sunny. Somewhere pleasant. Somewhere better.

As the minutes went by, and his embrace didn't loosen, you slowly started to get out of your personal darkness, breath calming, thoughts clearing. You were taking in the fact that usually, Arthur wasn't frankly fond of hugs or other physical attention, and you felt thankful. He was doing this just for you.

"You're gonna be okay." He repeated like a silent vow. You felt like he was going to make sure of it. And for the first time in days, you honestly believed these words. You were going to be okay. It would take time, of course, but you just knew you would, as certain as the Sun was rising and setting every day.

You gently pulled back, both of you still holding each other in your arms, sitting on the sandy shore, but not as close, so you could look at this face. Your tears had soaked his shirt. You tried to apologize for it, but he quickly opposed it, telling you he had been covered in far worse than your tears. You smiled a bit, knowing he was right.

"Thank you so much for that Arthur..." You told him, genuinely feeling so grateful.

"Eh, I may be a cold-hearted killer, but I wouldn't have let a sweet lil' flower like ya cry..." He asserted, a slight grin on his face. You noticed how he looked a bit reassured himself, less worried. Maybe, just like his affection towards the other members of the gang, Arthur actually cared much more about you than what he was letting everyone see.

He carefully wiped the last tear from your cheek, thumb feeling rough but gentle against your skin, before getting up, his hands leaving your body but not going too far away as he proposed one of them for you to take and help you get up. You gladly took it, enjoying the warm contact of your fingers on his skin.

"I just feel like... I'm not enough..." You concluded with a pained tone, your eyes looking down at your feet. The fact that on top of having broken up with you, Jim had left you for another woman, was absolutely destroying you, making you feel like you were worthless. It was also this feeling that was so hard to handle; so hard to live with.

"Listen t'me." Arthur told you a bit more firmly, his eyes searching for yours. He knew how you felt, he felt bad about himself every day of his life. He didn't wanted you to feel like this in any way, ever. "Don't let this bastard make ya feel shitty. You're a beautiful, sweet, kind young woman, that is the truth." He asserted, his hands squeezing yours in a comforting gesture before letting go of them.

"Thank you, Arthur..." You said once more, feeling like you were repeating yourself, but he didn't seem to mind. He was walking back to where he had left the bucket, grabbing it to finish his chore.

"Ah, no worry, miss." He said to you with a smile, now feeling better as you felt less depressed. "Let me tell ya, this piece of shit better be far by now, 'cause I'm goin' to beat the Hell out of him if I ever see him again." He added, still smiling, but you knew he was being dead serious, and he was way more than capable of it. You almost chuckled, thanking him for the third time and telling him you wouldn't mind if he did.

He noticed the little grin that had curled up your lips. He loved it. His days at Clement's point weren't the same without your bright smile and your pleasant presence.

The Sun had completely risen now, the camp slowly emerging from its slumber. The first drowsy voices of your companion softly filling the air, yawning, saying greetings, some already teasing, merging with the sound of nature around you.

The World was living.

And now, so you were.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #pinefic #arthur morgan comfort

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stringsbasement · 8 months

Note

May we get a bit more about UFY!Dalv? (Also ig in extension corn yaoi as collateral)

apologies for the Late Reply!! I've been brainstorming What To Say to this ask for days, since before this i didn't think about dalv/vlad all that much. so here's a hopefully Cohesive peek into his (and martlet's!!) character and backstory + some doodles!

(i have plans for a bigger piece that ill start Later On when i have the Time.)

i do want to bring vlad a more active role to the story in yellowfell compared to uty. but like the au itself, he and martlet are still a work in progress, so dont be too surprised if things change in the future.

one day, vlad met this strange, spunky teenager named martlet and now she Wont Leave Him Alone. she tells him she sticks around because she likes the fact he didn't try to attack her at first glance, to which she took as a cue to attach herself to him and now they're somehow on friendly??? terms? (the same thing that happened to chujin. its pretty effective, apparently.)

vlad would never admit he likes her company, if only because she wont stop bullying him about being a "lonely, sad adult who's only friend is a homeless kid," (she's right)

his response was, "if it wasn't for those stripes, you'd be fried dust," except, he didn't say that out loud because his social anxiety Wont Go Away even in the presence of a dumb teen

okay, now for the major plot divergences: kanako wasn't involved in the snowdin attack. rather, it's Vlad and martlet.

they do get hurt— vlad mostly, the scar never really healed— but luckily chujin was at the scene and chased the human away to waterfall with axis (and proceeded to Not kill them)

of course, chujin wouldn't want to get reported for hiding a living child away to poke needles at (politely), so for a while, Vlad and Martlet are made to believe they Did (indirectly, but still in some way,) caused the death of a child.

a human, but Still a child.

they try not to think too much about that, or how they could've died that day.

(it doesn't work that well)

(martlet is suspicious, but she wouldn't dare question chujin.)

then, it comes time that chujin needs a subject. he needs a monster's soul, from someone "pure" and "uncorrupted".

but no, Chujin couldn't ever touch Kanako or Ceroba. Not himself either, his family needs him; he can't be reckless, no matter how much he wants to Help Everyone. he hates hurting others, he truly does, but in this world, he Doesn't Have A Choice, does he?

he needs somebody Nobody Will Miss if they were to one day disappear.

so, he visits snowdin. he finds Vlad, already packing up to shamefully retreat into the ruins. He... "convinces" him Not To. he gives him the Opportunity to be a savior, to be greater, to be somebody other than himself. All he has to do is to come with him instead. start a New Life, somewhere far away from snowdin and those ruins.

offer up his soul because then, and only then, will his Sins be Forgiven.

possible amalgamation form?

vlad agrees, because it's easier to believe someone else's words about you serving a Greater Purpose rather than accept that you are nothing. so, he moves into a little town far east and meets someone very, very special :)

#utyellowfell #uty spoilers #undertale yellow spoilers #uty au #uty #uty fanart #undertale yellow #undertale yellow fanart #undertale #uty chujin #chujin ketsukane #uty martlet #uty dalv #uty starlo #my art #artists on tumblr #underfell #underfell yellow #underfell au

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years

Text

don't hold hands, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You're fucking your ex-boyfriend's ex-best friend. You also now own a condo with him and owning this condo has made you house-poor. Yeah, it's not the usual love story and it's not going to be one. Not until you paint the walls black, that is.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mostly conversations and feels tbh; minor smut (fem reader, marking / scratching, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU; guitarist!music producer!Yoongi x novelist!reader - fwb / roommates-to-lovers

just a story about two people who shouldn't fall in love falling in love, I have plenty of nasty smut so this is a different beat for ya lmao

“Is it fun being tortured?”

“Not really, no.”

It wasn’t fair to be this critical but, as long as you didn’t let these words travel outside this room, it was fine, right? At least, you kept telling yourself that. Delusion at its finest.

“It’s so stupid that people enjoy sticking their nose in drama that doesn’t involve them only because their lives are too boring to have any,” you sighed, tossing your phone across your desk, letting it skid into a pile of post-its covered in scrawled notes. “All because I deleted some photos.”

Notifications were now blocked.

“Some people mistake privilege with right.”

You glared at your phone even though the contents were the offender and not the device. Rolled your eyes, knowing you would be coming back to a shitstorm, but you couldn’t take it anymore. There had to be a limit. And the voice beside you had been telling you to put the damn thing down and stop deleting comments one by one, but the stubborn ram in you thought you could just headbutt through the bullshit.

And that imagery was gonna end there, thank you very much.

Your forehead found the palm of your hand and you sighed again, suddenly feeling the weight.

“I’m never doing that again.”

“You don’t have to.”

Minutes passed.

Silence never felt so serene.

Then it was cut through by steady, slow acoustic guitar, the notes drifting out from behind you. It almost made you feel more guilty. Almost. How fucked was that? You, sitting here right now, staring at nearly bare walls and a table covered in notes and your trusty laptop, almost feeling guilty for the guy that had backed out of the joint loan for this condo in the city that you didn’t even fuckin’ want, but you had been too far into the process to not lose a whole lotta money and too angry to let yourself lose.

How ironic, feeling guilty for the guy who cheated on you.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” was the guitar player’s response. “And you shouldn’t be either. For anything.”

You knew you shouldn’t apologize. It just felt like the thing to do, because you hadn’t been wholly right either and, even if you weren’t more in the wrong, you were still wrong, and wasn’t that fucked, putting levels of blame on a situation that, at the end of the day, was all said and done and left everybody bitter and full of scars.

The shitty part was everyone was on your case now and blaming you.

This was what you got for dating the lead singer of a punk band that skyrocketed to popularity on social media. Looked all elegant dark romance on TikTok and Instagram, just screaming and hate-fucking behind closed doors. Constant content to cover up the toxicity. And maybe it was your fault too, letting it get to your head that maybe you really were the beautiful, mysterious muse that the followers painted you out to be. You glossed over red flags – late nights, drugs and drinking, sleeping in rooms of girls that called themselves fans – all part of the industry. Nothing happened. Honest. But the greatest mistake was letting him tag you on Instagram. How cool was it that you were an author?

This bastard.

Not only had you given him some of your best quotes for his lyrics, but now you couldn’t publish those words as your own because this bastard would fuckin’ sue you for plagiarizing.

The guitar continued behind you, on the mattress on the floor.

So, not only were you getting crucified on social media at the moment because he had called you a backhanded bitch in his Instagram stories but also because you had deleted all photos of him on your profile and said fucking nothing. Silence to be polite and all that. He cheated on you, he was leaving you for some whore you had plenty of suspicions about, and, worst of all, he waited until you and him were finalizing the down payment for this expensive-ass-fuck high-rise condo – that money was out of your own pocket, not his, how convenient – and backed out of the loan for the mortgage. His reasoning?

You cheated on him first.

Hello?

With his former guitarist.

Hello?

Your ex-boyfriend had fired his former guitarist ages ago because you and him had gotten too friendly.

Alright, man.

You liked the guy, sure. Talked to him when he was in the studio and found you had a lot in common. Plus, he was crazy talented. Made most of the melodies, self-produced a lot of the songs for the band so they could save money, even contributed to lyric writing so they didn’t have to spend on that either. He even had a good voice, although sadly the band rarely used it. Your art of words paired with his knowledge of music made some viral hits. But then tensions rose between him and your ex when they started butting heads for no reason (there was a reason and it was ugly jealousy). Then arguments rose between you and your ex, but instead of breaking up, you buried yourself into writing your next novel to let the situation cool off.

Sigh, okay, call a spade a spade.

You were avoiding the confrontation.

He fired his guitarist and got a new one.

Then things were good.

Until they weren’t.

Of course, they weren’t. You didn’t solve shit, and he was fucking every girl that threw themselves at him behind your back. Good thing you had strict rules about condoms, otherwise you would probably have some lasting consequences right now. So, when the ground cracked and split apart from under you, what did you do?

Yup, this was the part that made you no better.

You found that former guitarist and fucked him.

Word travelled around. Word also travelled around that somehow you got someone to be part of that insane loan you got talked into. And, oh, shit, did things get messy once a certain someone knew who it was.

But here you were.

Feeling guilty.

You probably couldn’t publish for at least six months to a year because, harrowingly, your demographic was young adult – you had even relied on social media for self-marketing, fuck – and the half of a novel you had now had to be scrapped considering that so many of the quotes were now distressed in dark venues by the lips of an egomaniacal dick that you allowed into your pussy far too many times. Once was already too many.

Fuck.

You didn’t even want to live in the city.

It’ll be so much easier for me to get bigger opportunities. Don’t be a selfish bitch and only think about yourself.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to throw your laptop into the wall and break it into smithereens, but you didn’t because this piece of technology was currently your only chance of making money. Fuck. Me. Always talking about himself like he was only important member of the band, even though it was the other guys who wrote most of the music and lyrics. No one sided with you, obviously. This was their job and technically not their romance. They were sympathetic but not empathetic to the point of jeopardizing their jobs. Obviously, you hadn’t signed any contracts for royalties or credit. This was supposed to be your soulmate.

Soulmates weren’t so generous to give you pennies.

You’re being greedy and self-important. Oh, so you’re only in the relationship for the money? I’ll give you money once we make it big. Once we get it all, I’ll buy you everything you want. But you gotta help me out now. We’re starving artists, ya know?

You should have asked your parents for monetary help, but you didn’t. Your pride didn’t want to hear the told-you-so speeches for dating a guy they didn’t choose for you. You also didn’t want the arranged marriage appointments back in your life either.

So.

Trapped in white walls, post-its of false starts, and impending doom.

Dramatic, but you were a writer.

“Come here and sit down with me.”

Some part of you didn’t want to face him. It was really dumb. He was your new roommate now. You were fucking him when you were too sad to avoid it, and it was pretty obvious he knew. You were living off his money. Sure, he only paid for half the rent but then food mysteriously appeared in the fridge, bathroom necessities were stocked when they were running low, cleaning supplies neatly sorted into the closet, and all that other shit. None of that wholesale stuff either, but the nicer things normal households could afford.

It wasn’t an exaggeration that you cried into the soap during your shower last night.

All because you finally acknowledged it wasn’t one of those shitty bars that made skin feel like plastic but actually fragrant lathering liquid that you could put on the dense, not-falling-apart-in-one-use loofah that you hadn’t bought. You would have been satisfied with cutting coupons and living on the dregs of the bare minimum, but someone cared enough to not let you do that, and you currently couldn’t do anything to contribute and probably couldn’t for a while.

And that made you feel undeserving.

Maybe you were only fucking him because that was all you could offer.

Pathetic.

The guitarist called your name softly.

Like a beaten dog, you got up and sat down beside Min Yoongi.

He continued to play a melody you didn’t know on his black acoustic guitar. He hadn’t moved in all his instruments and equipment yet. You had told him he could have the whole living room for his studio. He had asked if you were sure and you responded that you were sure that you weren’t going to have anybody over ever so, unless he wanted a living room space, you didn’t want one.

“Shit always happens, you know,” the deep voice reminded you.

“This happening was of my own doing and now I’ve ruined my own life,” you muttered, bitter over a boy and hating that you were bitter over a boy.

A small chuckle. “You have to admit you had help.”

Stupid boy.

“Can’t be helped. Humans are animals of regret.”

It stung to regret.

The guitar playing stopped and now you were met with silence.

Don’t cry.

But it was so tiring to be angry. So easy to be sad. So easy to think, my fault, for being swept up in what he was but not who he was, for believing that you knew what was best when clearly it wasn’t, for being spiteful on purpose. For avoiding looking at Yoongi in the face because you were too ashamed to acknowledge what was going on here.

For being too afraid to ask what he thought of it.

“I regretted not stealing you from him sooner. Thought you were too fuckable for that loser from the first day we met.”

A strange feeling.

Skin prickling, glancing the that pale hand of graceful, callused fingers simply resting on the neck of that guitar, not looking at Yoongi’s face even though you knew it quite well in profile.

“That’s one way to make me feel better,” you replied.

“I’m not trying to make you feel better. Just being honest,” he replied, tapping his fingertips on the wood. “You are ten times too talented and a hundred times too pretty for a guy like that.”

You twitched. “Are you shitting on my standards?”

“Back then? Yeah, I am.” A calm hum, setting aside his guitar and placing his elbows on his sweatpants-covered knees, charcoal gray and worn. “Pretty clear you went full desperado for a guy that didn’t deserve it. Also, he ain’t hot shit like he thinks he is.”

Ow and what the fuck. “Fuck off.”

You felt movement and tracked his hand raising, spinning a finger around his temple. A brief glance and the details sank in. Long, windswept black waves, light cream skin, pointed gaze directed forward and not at you, pensive slight frown of pink lips. You looked away again, past his loose white t-shirt and to your hands.

You used to be proud of them.

They used to be able to type prose like no other.

Now they were twisted in an oversized, olive-green sweatshirt that you picked up from the sale bin of the convenience store for dirt cheap and they didn’t write jack shit.

You also hated olive-green.

Nothing personal. It just wasn’t your color.

“You’re a psycho bitch to put up with him,” Yoongi commented.

He wasn’t wrong. “I’m a psycho bitch all the time.”

“Yeah, and I don’t date crazy.”

You thought you would feel insulted, but you were past the point of caring. Also, there was something about the way his calm voice said it. Like he knew what he was doing. Huh. That was a silly thing to think. Of course, Yoongi knew what he was doing. He did it. He let you in his studio when you tracked it down and camped out until he showed up. He had listened to your psychobabble and didn’t back away when you pinned him to the wall.

This wasn’t dating.

“At least, I thought I didn’t,” Yoongi added, not touching you.

He fucked you too. He wasn’t a starfish in bed, that was for sure.

“I wanted to get back at him too, you know,” that deep, hazy voice murmured beside you. “That bastard turned my friends against me, stole my mixes, and cut out all my connections. Made me start from the ground up, alone.”

Yeah, you did know that. You helped badmouth Yoongi. In the name of love.

Shit.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry.”

Ouch.

“And you shouldn’t be, ‘cause what’s done is done and being sorry isn’t going to change anything.”

You untwisted your hands from each other, realizing your knuckles were white from anxiousness, and relaxed them on your bare knees. Best you could, anyway.

“Yeah,” was the best response you had. This fucking boy ruined your life and stole your eloquence too, apparently. Motherfucker. “You’re right.”

Neither you or Yoongi said anything.

Minutes passed.

Another night in the condo and both of you were sitting on a mattress with a single blanket, deflated pillows, and a box of condoms on the floor.

You touched his forearm the same time his hand moved to grip your thigh.

And then it was the don’t-look-him-in-the-eyes challenge, and he was doing the exact same thing, eyes averted, black hair over them, lips grazing your jaw. Breath against your ear. Hot. His neck under your lips, flexed, fair skin with remnants of bruises, and your teeth sank in, making new ones, listening to his hiss and feeling his hands slide under your sweatshirt. Weighted palms and blunt nails. Digging in.

“Harder.”

He scratched you up as you climbed into his lap, tasting flesh.

Those firm hands gripped your hips and forced them down. Grinding. Softness to growing hardness, unhooking your bra, hands all over like you had lost your mind, your thighs squeezing his sides, yanking his shirt collar down and licking up his collarbone, dripping spit, shivering as you saw it glisten over his marred skin.

Clothes coming off, thrown aside. Guitar sliding to the hardwood floor as bodies tumbled. Your hands on his chest, your hard nipples pressed into the sheets as Yoongi slipped his hand into your hair and shoved your head down. Mouth open, tongue curling around. Moan striking the air, echoing in the nothingness.

Hard, hot, now wet.

Up, down, hitting the back of your throat, unable to choke in the adrenaline of lust, in need, in desire for pain, rubbing your tongue all over as Yoongi face-fucked you hard and fast, thick cock swelling in your mouth, your lips grazing the swollen head and making him shudder, saliva slipping down your chin that was smacking into his balls.

Was it shameful that you were good at it?

Sex solved nothing but you sure had a lot of it as if it did.

A sharp gasp and salty cum filled your throat, drinking, swallowing with effort and the burning sensation of your locked jaw, maintaining the soft tightness. Tongue tracing the contours, keeping him hard, hearing the rip of a foil packet above your head.

You hadn’t even realized that Yoongi had let go of your hair, letting you lick him all over at your own pace.

“What position?” Yoongi panted, husky and breathless in the mostly empty bedroom.

Mattress, chair, desk, laptop. Oh, and guitar.

Bodies on the floor.

You didn’t say anything.

You just turned around and slid down, elbows on the bed, knees spread, ass up.

“Alright then.”

You bit your lower lip.

You almost turned your head, almost looked back, just to check, right, just to check he was okay with it, and then strong hands gripped your hips, lifting them, sliding in, condom on and stretching you out right away, his knees pushing your knees apart and forcing you to arch your back for the angle.

No chance to look back.

You gasped, gripping the sheets, blinded by pleasure and the fading resonance of pain.

Hard.

Deep.

You pushing back, deep not deep enough, hitting your preferred depth and letting your eyelids flutter, veins burning with the repeated ecstasy. One of your hands lifted and reached back, squeezing his hand on your hip, and the grip became tighter, fingertips digging in, smacking his hips into your ass, and your body threatened to throw him back, carnal power meeting his every thrust, clenching around his hard length, and you could hear Yoongi growl your name, low and deep and voracious.

Somehow, his name fell from your lips too.

Rough and sinful, no better than an animal.

His nails dug into your back and dragged down, burning lines into your skin.

Your head tipped back and you moaned, a clear, shameless sound that would become familiar to this ceiling. Pooling wildfire, tightening muscles, wasted nectar sticky between joined thighs, surge after shivering surge of orgasmic apex stinging your veins as you barely registered Yoongi’s shudder and blissful groan, feeling the pulse inside you made than hearing the sound.

The rush of blood roaring in your ears was far too loud for you to hear anything.

Your face felt hot, so hot.

Gripping the sheets, twisting them, pulling them off the edge of the bed.

This moment.

Very few things were as intense and exigent as an orgasm. Fleeting, but a violently memorable. Pure nothingness of soaring high. You chased it. Again. And again. And again, your fingers tangled in Yoongi’s dark hair, pulling it over his face but he didn’t look at you anyway, eyes closed and teeth trapping his lower lip, breath trapped in his chest, driving his hips into yours again and again.

You both kept going until the limits were reached.

The darkness willingly swallowed you up.

Min Yoongi always considered himself a rational person, which was precisely why he found himself entangled in the break-up between his former best friend and the only woman he ever considered committing a felony for.

Yeah.

He also didn’t believe in love at first sight.

She was still way too hot for that idiot though.

His eyes could communicate well enough with his dick. The short skirt and exposed thighs didn’t really help either. Still, Yoongi had let it be. Respect was keeping his distance despite racing heartbeat and keeping calm despite shaking hands. He got used to it once the late-night talks about music and wordplay became a regular thing. Sometimes they talked about general life and were surprised on how well they aligned. Still, she never spoke poorly about her then-boyfriend even though there was plenty to talk about.

Scorched earth was their sacred ground.

It was painful to witness.

Yoongi regretted valuing the friendship, mostly because it didn’t mean jack shit at the end of the day. He regretted believing in the elegant, age-old saying.

Bros before hoes.

Tch.

But mostly, Yoongi regretted pretending like nothing was wrong.

He would see the pain in her expression and not say anything. Watch her pack it all away and greet him with warmth that he didn’t deserve because he had a racing heart and shaking hands every time they met. He would watch his former best friend disappear into hotel rooms without explanation and Yoongi knew damn well it wasn’t right, but he kept his mouth shut because he was a coward, something he figured out later.

He could have washed his hands clean of that shitshow, but instead his hands had held her shaking shoulders and watched her struggle not to cry on that cold night.

Yoongi considered himself a rational person, but never a good one.

Too many ways to judge, and her lips had already connected with his as soon as his shoulder blades hit the wall. He didn’t stop it. Maybe it was bitterness. Vengeance. Hate.

No, it wasn’t any of that, actually.

He didn’t know exactly what but, in that moment, Yoongi knew that he would murder that asshole if he saw his former best friend’s face right then, ready to commit a felony all because those beautiful eyes couldn’t look at him, closing instead to blink back the tears that bastard didn’t deserve.

That meant something, all right.

He knew it could take a long time. He knew it would almost certainly be hopeless. He knew he would probably end up with a broken heart and broke as hell. He knew it was a bad idea and he knew it was going to tear him up, this spiral, but when he found himself looking up to the ceilings of these mostly empty rooms, this condo he now half-owed with the woman that was formerly his best friend’s girlfriend, and Yoongi found he didn’t know and he didn’t care what the future held.

She had trouble sleeping.

Less trouble after exhausting themselves.

He had trouble sleeping too, but that was because he was staring at the ceiling and wondering just how rational he really was. One hand behind his head, under the pillow. The other resting on the blanket, on the curve of her hip, feeling the steady hum of her breathing.

She never cried in front of him.

He knew she did cry, because he heard her in the bathroom sometimes. But never in front of him. Showed anger, yes, but never acted helpless even though it was perfectly reasonable to feel that way after everything that happened. Living on the least for his sake, even to the point of skipping meals and spending all her time trying to write, trying to get back to her livelihood, trying to get past all the false starts. Personally, Yoongi felt that she should give up for now and heal herself, but he also knew how it felt to feel stubborn and useless.

Hah.

It was weird, being so close and yet so far away.

He felt it most in the nighttime, even though that was when he was closest to her.

He was never going to be the same. He knew that. He already wasn’t, surprising himself with his own recklessness, and for what? He didn’t even know what she was capable of reciprocating after receiving all those scars. Didn’t even know if he was the right one, if he was better or worse, if…

If he was believing in something that wasn’t there.

Yoongi closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Livid.

It was weird. Feeling it. In the past, you buried it, numb, and promptly lived in delusion. But now you could feel it. What was more, you let yourself feel it. There wasn’t anything to stop you except for the occasional mental peanut gallery of you’re a bad person if you feel jealousy, but anger could overtake anything if you let it.

You stared at the scene before you, several meters away.

Seething.

It felt good.

Mostly because it was honest.

It surprised you. You hadn’t expected to feel anything. Sad, maybe. You had already been cheated on, so naturally you assumed the cycle would begin anew, just with less promises and in the gray area of uncertainty. But, no, instead of being distraught and delusional, you felt maddeningly, viciously, nearly on-the-edge of making a fist and dislocating Min Yoongi’s jaw from his skull because he was speaking to a female-presenting human at the entrance of the building that housed his and others’ music studios.

Did you lack context? Yes.

Would that get you arrested? Yeah, probably.

Would that probably not get you laid anymore and label you as an unhinged psychopath? Without a doubt.

But would it feel good?

Don’t know.

You had never punched someone before, although maybe you should have practiced on your ex-boyfriend. He was probably a more deserving candidate. In any case, you remained frozen in perplexation at your willingness for violence because you were pretty sure your… relations… with Yoongi were nothing more than a lonely bitch and a spiteful silver tongue executing revenge, so the amount of fucks you should give about Yoongi speaking to any human being – other than the obvious health and safety precautions – should be zero.

None.

Basket of fucks empty.

And yet.

Clearly wasn’t since you were mentally calculating the angle and force for jaw dislocation while having zero experience in doing so. In any sort of non-virtual manner, that is.

Hm.

Your hands were firmly in the pockets of your black cargo pants. The hip ones, although you had plenty of choice. You kept them there for the safety of passerby or, maybe deep down, yourself. This caused your jacket to fall open, the outlines of the sew-on patches and thick, bunched-up black denim crowding the space between your forearm and waist, your black cropped tank exposed to the chill evening air. You used to wear a plethora of band t-shirts, but, well, those were probably in a landfill or rotting in a secondhand shop.

You figured you would be cold. Unsurprisingly, the anger kept you warm.

Huh.

You thought about turning around and just straight up leaving, petty and picturesque of course, and then Yoongi seemed to sense your projected violence, looking up from the conversation. Dark waves over his cheeks, striking body line, backing away, hiding his eyes for a moment, not that you could see them that well from this distance. You twitched.

The girl reached out.

Yoongi simply bowed, out of reach, and pushed the glass door open.

Honestly, her role in this moment was so miniscule that you completely ignored whatever she did or possibly could have said to Yoongi’s retreating back. Sharpened gaze, and then he crossed the street with the crowd, walking past oblivious bystanders who may or may not become the harrowed audience of the next thirty seconds.

He stopped before you. Bomber jacket, white shirt, black track pants. Monochrome elegance.

You looked up at him, saying nothing.

Over one shoulder was his usual guitar bag that held said instrument and his yellow notepad sticking out of the pocket. He used it to jot down whatever came to him. You almost said something. Almost. Then you remembered that if this, this between you and Min Yoongi, if this was supposed to be nothing, then weren’t you supposed to do nothing but voice your casual annoyance for making you wait rather than, well.

Admit insecurity?

You looked away quickly.

No, it did not matter how reasonable it was, you didn’t like knowing that somehow you had been weakened by an ex-boyfriend, barely a man, no, a mere locust at best, so it was better to not say anything and accept that this was–

“Sorry, I got caught up with the staff about ending my lease.”

Compromised.

You didn’t look at him. “What?”

“Gonna end my lease this month and move my studio stuff to the condo. I can’t afford both.”

He had told you this already. It had been your idea. You already knew you were overreacting to a situation that you created in your head rather than reality. And, yet, the best your mind would allow was uh huh, a plausible explanation, sarcasm included.

“Ah. Right,” was your sharp, mildly frigid reply.

“I can’t read your mind.”

Do you intend to be exhausting?

Your mental peanut gallery was super annoying.

You breathed in. Cool, crisp air. The sound of cars and people bustling in and out of stores. You breathed in again. Did you really intend to be exhausting, irrational, and, worst of all, dishonest? Really, after all that had happened? After getting here, standing here, arriving to pick up Yoongi at his request to do the grocery shopping together?

You turned back to look right into black-brown, piercing orbs.

“I just realized that I have the ability to be jealous,” you exhaled, draining your lungs. “It’s unpleasant and not nearly as delightfully pivotal as the media makes it out to be.”

Something fluttered in those orbs.

Or maybe it was the wind catching his bangs, drifting black strands over his eyes shadowed by dark circles.

Yoongi half-smiled.

“Makes for good songwriting material though.”

There was an air of helplessness to his words. A tone you couldn’t define, except for the understanding, which left you both baffled and with a sense of guilt. There were emotions in that barely-there smirk on those familiar lips. Relief. Maybe a slight bit of shame. A shadow of guilt too. You realized people were glancing at you and him as they walked past, wondering why you both were at a standstill on the sidewalk. Yoongi seemed to not notice them or care.

You pulled your hands out of your pockets.

“Come on. We should go before it gets dark.”

Before you noticed it, your hand was rising.

You pulled it back, but not fast enough.

Yoongi’s free hand reached out and grasped around yours, strong fingers enclosing. Sliding up, calluses on your palm. Your hand lowered, slowly, your eyes moving in the opposite direction. Lips parting. His hand was colder than yours.

You stared at Yoongi.

He looked back, expression unreadable.

“I don’t hold hands,” you said, suddenly breathless.

You tightened your grip.

“Neither do I,” Yoongi replied, taking a step, on the cusp of walking past you, his hand around yours. “I simply just don’t like the idea of yours getting cold when I can do something about it.”

Previously, when you held hands, it was always with a purpose of showing public affection. The look-how-real-this-is-because-there-are-clear-witnesses show. Front row tickets nobody asked for. But this.

This.

You blinked hard and the sting was inside.

The sting of wasted time.

Your name in that raspy, soft voice. Familiar. You looked up, not saying anything and hoping the eye contact was enough. All Yoongi did was smile lightly and tug your hand.

“Let’s get take-out and shop tomorrow. We have plenty of time to eat healthier.”

“You can cry in front of me.”

Min Yoongi heard her breath hitch and still.

Seconds that felt like hours ticked by. It was the dead of night. Or maybe one could call it the time when honesty came to life, if the conditions were right. He knew this time well usually with a drink in his hand, but this time he was laying on his side with bruises of bites and carnal memories lingering on his fingertips.

“I wasn’t crying.”

Her voice was thick and strained from trying to keep it even. Her moment of jealousy had happened days ago. He had recognized it right away. Call it personal experience. He also recognized that she didn’t like to feel that way. It was obvious from her torn yet furious expression. It confirmed a lot of things for him. Still, she seemed pleased to help him move and set up his things in the bedroom. They found the living room to be a bit too echoey due to the large space so they switched the two, pulling the mattress to the living room and setting up his equipment in the center of what was formerly the bedroom.

He told her to paint the condo.

She had mentioned in passing that someday she would like to paint her entire living space black. Not this place, because he owned it too, and you probably think I’m crazy for wanting a dark space, huh, Yoongi? He asked her, why wait? No one lives forever. We’re just passing through.

She had given him a weird look.

We own this condo. Paint it.

There were cans of black paint waiting.

Yoongi had intended to go visit his family over the weekend. His parents and his brother who had recently been promoted to head chef at the classy restaurant he worked at. Someone in the family needed to have prestige. Well, that was his own personal feeling. Surprisingly at this point his parents had given up on telling him to get a higher-paying job. They told him to simply be happy.

And get married.

Yeah, about that.

He was still trying to get used to the music producer thing, for fuck’s sake.

“Are you afraid I won’t understand?” Yoongi let himself say, not turning around yet.

Sometimes, people didn’t want you to see them weak. He could understand that.

Call it personal experience.

A shuddering sigh. Deep breaths. Words bogged down, drained.

“I can only be so pathetic before I lose my mind recalling the past,” she mumbled. He felt her weight deepen on her side of the bed, as if she was trying to melt into the mattress. “I made things hard for myself. For you. It’s pointless to cry about it anyway. In the end, it only makes me look ungrateful.”

Yoongi thought about it.

“It’s true that you probably shouldn’t have involved me.”

He shifted, laying on his back now.

“But I’m not a good person either. I agreed, after all,” he murmured, his skin tingling with bruises and carnal memories. “Hm, to be honest, he was always a dick though, from high school till now. Always will be, I fear.”

“You’re easygoing enough not to be affected by his asshole behavior.”

“Not my job to change people. I leave that to parents and clueless fools.”

A pensive silence. Surprisingly not an irritated one. She seemed to accept it.

“Why did you become his friend?” she asked, staring at the ceiling with him.

“We just happened to like the same thing. Music.”

“I’m lucky you decided to become his friend.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I’m lucky that somehow he managed to bamboozle a hot and clever girl, two things he’s obviously not.”

She almost laughed. Almost.

“Who the fuck uses the word bamboozle?”

“You had to admit you were bamboozled, because you sure as hell weren’t dick-drunk.”

“Oh? You think you’re that good, huh?”

“No, I just know he’s that much worse.”

The faintest of chuckles.

“You… You get better every time,” she admitted. “I think I just caught you off guard the first time.”

“Firstly, I don’t like wasting time and, secondly, I had given up for a while before…” I met you. “Romance seemed like an expensive, worthless distraction when I could be using that time and money trying to push the band forward,” he pivoted, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “Then that went to shit.”

“Sorry.”

Automatic.

He chuckled darkly. “I’m confident I got the better deal.”

A trembling pause.

“Why do you think that?”

He reached over and placed his palm on the top of her head, lacing his fingers in her hair. Messing it up.

“Tell me the truth. Was he good at sex?”

A burst of laughter. “Really? Alright. No, he wasn’t. He sucked. Thought he was a piston of a muscle car instead of a human being. Oh, and once he fell asleep on top of me.”

He cocked an eyebrow. Turned his head and forced hers to turn as well.

She was smiling.

Yoongi found his chest tight and breath shallow.

“And you didn’t leave him then… why?” he pressed.

She winced, albeit playfully. “I yelled at him. A lot. I don’t know, maybe he was tired.”

“Not an excuse.”

“I know, I know…” Sigh. “I… I didn’t want to believe I made the wrong choice.” Her eyes shifted, but her body was still turned to face his. “I… It made my entire family angry, dating him. Especially my parents. They would never forgive me and hold it over my head forever. I had to make it work. I thought, if only I worked hard enough…” Another heavy breath, squeezing her eyes tightly. “I know it was pride, but I wanted to prove to them and myself that I could do anything. Bad choices? Maybe. But they were mine. I don’t want my life decided by what is best for me. If I suffer for it, those are my consequences.”

Her eyes opened, but barely.

Yoongi kept his hand on her head, running his fingers through her hair.

“I… I feel like shit because now you’re stuck in my mistakes,” she breathed.

He liked to touch her hair. It felt comforting.

“You know what your problem is?”

She glared under lashes and dared him.

Undeterred, he continued. “You blame yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened.”

A disapproving frown. “Hah?”

He tapped her forehead. “You think it’ll bother me if you cry, but what truly bothers me is that you cry alone.” Pushed back the strands, and now he was closer, sharing breath. “You think I’m stuck in your mistakes. Mistakes don’t inherently have only negative consequences. They almost always exist in a gray area.”

“I... I know that,” she grumbled, face against his chest.

“I did say you were clever.”

A drifting, drowsy silence.

“I’m not clever,” she whispered to his skin, pulling her body closer. “I just like you.”

Yoongi felt himself losing to sleep.

“I’ve always liked you, since the moment I saw you,” he muttered into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent, so quietly that he wasn’t sure if he said it at all.

“Ah? Yes? Sorry about that. Oh, yes, uh, I’m painting. Everything. Yes, I’ll be sure the keep the windows open. Thank you.”

You closed the front door of the condo. Well. You had expected nervousness, but somehow the conversation between you and the downstairs neighbor had been very calm. Apparently, he worked from home and wasn’t expecting the loud crash of the ladder from your unit.

In your defense, you hadn’t expected it either.

Thankfully, you hadn’t been on the ladder, only trying to figure out how to set it up. It was one of those compact ones that saved space but required some innovative thinking to get the taller height you needed. One crash and a YouTube video later, the ladder was now secure, and then came the knock on the front door.

The thoughts flew by – I don’t belong here, I can’t do this alone, they’re going to scold me and I haven’t even done the upper half yet – but the guy just seemed curious and confused. Didn’t even comment on your awkward outfit of navy boys’ basketball shorts and ill-fitted gray sports bra. Both on super sale. You were still wearing your bra because of the incorrect size, so the gray blob was bordering on ugly-ass tank top.

Look.

Some people had clothing they didn’t care about to paint in and some people had to dive in sale bins because they left behind most of their wardrobe and, with the clothes, their bad memories.

That was the intent.

Things rarely go as intended.

For instance, you thought you were going to feel imposter syndrome for a neighbor knowing that you were painting your own goddamn walls. You turned away from the door after you locked it, frowning. That’s right. Like it or not, bad decisions and minus an ex-boyfriend later, these were your walls. You looked up, out the large, floor-to-ceiling living room windows, and saw the sunlight sparkle over the sprawling city, walls painted half-black and half white surrounding you, and you could say that you never wanted to be here, but.

It was a sick view.

We own this condo. Paint it.

Your muscles were sore from the repeated swiping motion of the paint roller, but there was still this inexplicable energy coursing through you.

“What if it doesn’t look good?” you had asked Yoongi.

He had shrugged. “Then we paint it again.”

“It’ll be dark.”

“Wow, really? I thought black was supposed to be bright and cheerful,” was the sarcastic quip. “Just believe you have good taste and paint the damn walls.”

This condo was an investment that made you poor.

That was the truth you needed to face.

You have good taste.

You scrunched your face slightly as you remembered Yoongi’s facial expression. Was he… praising you or himself? You squinted. This guy. Picked up the paint roller again and saturated it with ink black, making crispy crinkly sounds as you shuffled over the plastic. Good taste. Well, that was relative, wasn’t it? Everything was at the end of the day. You climbed onto the ladder and began the repetitive, monotone motion once more but at a higher elevation. You should have put your music back on. Your phone was on the plastic-covered mattress and you were not about to go back down until you finished this section or ran out of paint. This was going to be a long process, but you had several days and too much time as Yoongi had already left to visit his family.

Now you were alone with a lot of paint and mind-numbing fumes.

Shit, you should have opened the window.

You would have to paint a second coat anyway. Who cared if the first coat was shitty?

Sigh.

Climbing down and doing your due diligence before returning to your post.

You had forgotten once again to put your music back on. Hah. Well, that was fine; you had yourself. You didn’t mind being alone. Heh, sometimes it was better to be alone. You continued rolling away, hardworking in the consistent rhythm. Thinking about it now, this might have been the first time in a long time that you were okay with being alone. Before, you had felt guilty whenever you weren’t thinking about your relationship. Huh. Odd. Was it some kind of mental self-reassurance when you knew something was off? It was hard to tell, but possible.

Everything was off about that relationship. You just had too much pride to admit it.

You sighed, climbing back down to reload.

Wait a second. Was this why there was that wider step towards the top of the ladder? You poured some more paint in the tray and carried it up with you. Oh shit. Wow. Innovation. You coughed and went back to a different patch of wall. No one saw that. See, perks of being alone.

Well, you didn’t hate Yoongi being here.

You stopped painting.

You didn’t just think that.

You went back to painting. Shut up, nagging feeling. You furiously painted on, ignoring your soreness, telling that little voice in your head to shut up, because there were plenty of reasons not to think stuff like that. Firstly, you weren’t ready to think stuff like that. And what if it was only hopeful transference rather than genuine feeling? Asshole or not, your ex-boyfriend’s betrayal of trust was not something so easily overcome. It wasn’t fair to Yoongi either, pretending to like him if you weren’t sure.

You liked Yoongi before you broke up, too.

Wasn’t that fucked up?

You sighed and came back down, careful to scoot the ladder without spilling and causing a mess. Back up and at it. Of course, it was fucked up. And you knew it was, which might have been why you let it get that bad. Might? Was why you let it get that bad. Two hypocrites were meant for each other. You huffed, puffing your cheeks. It wasn’t enough to hold the ticking grenade; you had needed confirmation it was a, in fact, a bomb.

Maybe even hoping it would end you.

It didn’t.

For some reason, you thought Yoongi could see that in you.

Damn, he’s really living in your system, hm?

You frowned.

Your phone rang.

You almost jumped, startled at the sudden sound of an old song you used to enjoy. Back when you were a teenager, and the memories came back as you climbed down. A kid who just really liked rock’n’roll, and parents who did not, but that kid didn’t care, annoyingly setting it as her ringtone on her shitty flip phone. Couldn’t you be her again? Before you had time to ponder, you checked your hands for paint and picked up your phone, answering it.

“Hello?”

“Did you eat?”

You blinked, sitting down on the crinkly plastic upon hearing that deep, raspy voice. “Uh, no. I was gonna stop by the convenience store when the first coat was done.”

“No, you weren’t. You were gonna skip a meal,” Min Yoongi tutted. “Because you don’t want to be a nuisance and use the money I had left you.”

Damn. He knew you, all right.

“If I forget, I forget,” you grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, pick up the food order from the front desk when it comes. They told me about thirty minutes.”

“You don’t have to order food for me. I’m not a kid,” you hissed.

“It’s the pho spot you like and if I don’t put food in front of you, you won’t eat. You intend to do all that hard work without some fuel?” A pause. You made a disapproving noise. “And I know you’re not a kid. By the way, what’s your waist measurement?”

You remained a grump. “Why?”

“I’m here, so I’m going to buy you some clothes.”

“Don’t buy me clothes. Don’t spend money–”

“You need things,” Yoongi cut you off. “Unless you want to come with me? You don’t trust me?”

“That’s not it and you know it,” you snapped back. “It’s not worth–”

“Of course, it isn’t. It’s vain and silly and superficial. And I’m still going to buy you things, so tell me your waist measurement.”

“Yoongi, this is your hard-earned money,” you puffed out, exasperated.

“Yeah, and I make money to provide you with a good life because I think you are the most important person to me. So, do you want me to guess with my hands or are you going to meet me halfway?”

Dead silence.

He called your name, softly.

You told him in centimeters.

“Got it. Don’t forget to check the front desk in thirty minutes.”

“I love you.”

His hair was stuck to his face due to sweat. “What?”

“I said I love you,” she said, staring right at him, their chests shuddering from exertion.

Yoongi couldn’t believe it, but also he wasn’t surprised. The room still smelled faintly like paint. The windows still had no curtains or blinds. They were still fucking on the mattress in the center of the living room and he was holding the used condom when she said I love you.

The walls and ceiling were all black, covering them in darkness as the city below glimmered with light.

“I love you,” was his reply.

It startled him, the suddenness of his response. He knew he did. Of course, he did, and he turned away quickly, making his way to the kitchen and throwing away the condom, skin tingling, cheeks aflame, and he was startled by the feeling that remained. He hadn’t expected those words to come out of her mouth even though he was sure of his own feelings. Yoongi had resigned himself to not hear it from her lips. He also didn’t need to hear it to know that it was true.

He saw her head to the bathroom.

Time was funny sometimes.

Suddenly they were both staring at each other on the mattress, the usual ritual completed, and the moment suspended.

“You didn’t have to say it,” he finally said. “For my sake.”

“I didn’t.” Her hair curled over her shoulder, caressing her curves. “I said it for my sake.”

Blankets and pillows and questions.

“I wondered about the validity of it,” she admitted to him. “Been wrong before and all that. Might still be wrong. So, I said it just to see if I regretted it.”

“Ah.”

They stared into each other’s eyes.

“Do you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

He half-smiled. How very simple yet complicated. He understood. “All the paint fumes really got to your head, huh?”

She looked up at him and he realized with a start that she, too, was half-smiling.

He reached out, smoothing her hair.

“You have a pretty face, Yoongi,” she teased, eyes sparkling.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I thought it would be too cliché, you and me,” she continued and the tone was different now, softer and more serious. “I thought you would get tired.”

She meant, of me.

He had thought this was cliché too. Cliché didn’t mean worthless though. His hand fell, and rested over hers without a second thought. Warm and against the sheets. “If I felt that way, I would have stopped speaking to you long ago. You could take care of yourself too.” Not safely, but could. “Except for money.”

She smirked.

“So you’re saying I need a suga daddy.”

Yoongi twitched.

“Part of me wanted to sell the condo as soon as possible,” she went on, casually glossing over the comment. “But the realtor said it would be a bad idea. I wouldn’t have any buyers without a minimum of six months or a year. Too many superstitions. Part of me thought I should…”

She looked up to the ceiling.

It was a high-rise, after all.

“All the reasons to move here were his. More convenient, better opportunities, owning rather than renting for the investment… I believed in it, more than myself.”

He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t because all those things had benefitted him already. He didn’t only agree to move in help her out. He was still a working music producer. But she didn’t seem to be saying it to condone him.

“I didn’t really think this place was mine until I painted the walls.”

Yoongi thought he should at least confess this part. “That’s why I told you to paint them.”

A small laugh. “You don’t like it, huh?”

“Don’t you remember the walls of the old studio were dark gray? That was my doing. I always resented the last place I rented because they didn’t let me paint the walls.”

“Ah… He painted over the gray.”

“I bet he did.”

They had fallen to the bed now, side by side.

“I didn’t think this would work out,” she breathed.

“I thought it might,” he hummed.

“Why?”

“You’re hot and clever and I wanted you from the first day I saw you.”

A warm chuckle. “Just like that?”

“Well, you had to give me a chance. Couldn’t make the first move due to the circumstances.”

“It was a convoluted and confusing one.”

“Eh, life’s unfair.”

“Your husband already paid.”

Your what?

“What?”

The cashier waved you away. You shuffled back, dazed, seeing Min Yoongi emerge from the bathroom in the corner of the restaurant, tucking a bit of his long black hair behind his ears and finding you in front of him.

“The cashier just called you my husband,” you declared.

He shrugged.

“Surprise.”

You blinked at him.

Patrons chatted and laughed as if this was a normal day. The music was horrendous covers of cheesy 2000’s pop. It was very strange, but the pho was good and well-priced, which was why Yoongi and you came here often after his meetings with music companies. Popular talent was in high demand.

He ticked his head to your outfit. “I know you like this dress I bought you, but you’ve left your coat at the table.”

“Oh, shit.”

“You’ve been scatterbrained ever since you started writing again.”

“Shut up.”

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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