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dragon-kazansky · 5 months

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Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter One - Mr Bridgerton

♡♡♡

A day late. No matter. At least you would be in London for the season, though you wouldn't be able to debut properly, much like the other ladies of the season.

It mattered not to you. You would rather keep to yourself than be shown off to the Queen in a satin gown, announcing to the ton you were eligible.

If you were to find a husband, it would be on your own terms. You swore by that. You would play the game much like all the others, but without shouting about it and making a statement.

Yes, you intended to marry. Perhaps not this year, but soon enough. It had been something you had thought about a great deal over the winter. Still, you'll see what the ton has to offer this year.

Though you were not there, you had received word that a Miss Daphne Bridgerton had been called a diamond of the first water by Last Whistledown in her gossip column.

Everyone was talking about it.

Bridgerton was a name you had heard but not quite familiar with on any personal terms. They were known for being beautiful. Handsome sons and beautiful daughters. Dowager Violet Bridgerton was very proud of her children, even when they vexed her sometimes.

But that was all you knew. It did not surprise you that her daughter would have the eyes of the ton on her. She would find herself a wonderful match, surely.

You sit at your vanity table and watch the reflection of your dear mother in the mirror as she enters the room. She saunters in and places your gown delicately on the bed. She then turns so elegantly toward you and smiles, coming to stand beside you. Her hand settles on your shoulder.

"You will look beautiful, dear."

You only smile softly and look at your reflection. You have no intention of standing out at all. You would go in, make yourself acquainted, and perhaps dance with a few friendly faces.

Within the hour, you were dressed and decorated with pretty jewels and accessories. Your mother owned a fine collection of jewellery, some of the few things she still had from the old house. Since the passing of your father, your belongings had shrunk as you moved around the country.

"Thank you, Mama." You touch the necklace with your gloved fingers gently, admiring the way it glittered in the light.

Before you knew it, you were on your way to the ball. Lady Danbury, a well-known figure in the ton, was hosting. Apparently, it was going to be quite the night. Your mother was most excited to see you dance tonight.

That is, should anyone take a liking to dancing with you.

The ballroom was well lit and full of colourful gowns and sparkly necks. Fans fluttered softly, barely brushing the chins of the beautiful ladies present. Gentleman circled the room looking for a partner to either dance or converse with.

You mother gave your arm a squeeze as she smiled, looking around the room.

"You shall find a man in this room, I am certain of it."

"Mother..." You sigh. You knew you weren't getting any younger, but you still had time to find someone for yourself. You did not want to feel the pressure of society weighing down on you because you were looking for someone suitable.

Love matches were rare, and you doubted you would ever be so lucky to have such a connection with someone. Your mother had not been in love with your father when they married, nor up until his death.

Love was rare indeed.

You scan the room, watching people dance, other converse, some take a turn around the room. There was much activity. All debutantes were here looking for a match.

"That young gentleman over there, I believe that's Colin Bridgerton. Mrs Brooks told me of that family in quite some detail." Your mother says. "Handsome, is he not?"

You hum softly as you continue looking about the room. A young woman in a bright yellow gown seems to be watching Colin Bridgerton with interest.

People star to turn toward the entrance. You move your head in the same direction to find three beautiful people entering the room.

"Ah, that there is Anthony Bridgerton, the eldest of eight. On his arm, I believe that is Daphne Bridgerton, and that's their mother, Violet Bridgerton." Your mother harpers on.

There is no denying the beauty that family holds. Each one is utterly perfect. They all look so like, yet differ in the most wonderful ways. You wonder what it would be like to have so many siblings, or any at all, for that matter.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

"Yes," you agree. Daphne was quite the sight. "She shall have no issue finding a husband, I am certain."

Your mother squeezes your arm. "Nor shall you."

You find it less likely than Daphne, but you will humour your mother for her own sake.

One such young man approaches Daphne, but after a short conversation with her brother, he scampers. You wonder what was said to leave a man looking so dejected. Surely she hadn't rejected him so easily. You begin to wonder if Daphne will have any ease at all.

You watch Anthony escort his sister around the room and decide you might do the same. No one was particularly paying you any mind anyway. You free yourself from your mother's hold and begins to drifting away from her side. She watches you go, sighing softly.

You stroll slowly along the sidelines, eyes fluttering from one couple to the next. A large group was already dancing. Everyone looked so dignified and elegant.

Not a single person was sparing you a glance. You almost expected as much. It was hard to stand out in a room full of such lovely people. You continued to watch other dance as you strolled.

With Daphne in Anthony's care, Violet Bridgerton felt she needed to take this chance to push one of her other sons in the direction of some of the fine ladies.

Colin was already out dancing.

Benedict was in her line of sight.

With a smile on her face, she began to approach her second eldest son. Benedict had been talking to Lady Danbury. However, when he caught sight of his mother coming over, he panicked. He bid a quick and barely audible farewell and hurried off into the crowds.

Violet came to stop beside Lady Danbury, knowing full well she wasn't going to chase her son down. The two ladies chuckled softly.

Not knowing his mother had decided to just let him go, Benedict fled further into the room. He was determined to put space between himself and his mother. He was so busy checking behind him, be wasn't paying attention to anyone in front of him.

It happened quite suddenly.

Benedict collided with someone. He moved so quickly, grabbing onto the other person and spinning them around to slow down his momentum and prevent them from falling over. He looked down and found himself looking into a pretty pair of eyes.

"I am sorry." You say, looking up at him. It clicks instantly that he's a Bridgerton. He looks like his brothers.

"No, no. Allow me to apologise. I wasn't looking," he says.

Benedict takes a moment to realise his hands are settled on your upper arms. He drops them instantly and takes a step back. No one seemed to take much notice, but he spotted a couple of people turning his way. People always notice his family.

You look at him silently for a moment. You feel awkward, not knowing what else to say.

"Well, good night," you curtsy and try to walk away, but he stops you rather quickly.

"Wait."

You turn back to him.

"Dance with me?" He asks suddenly. He can see his mother amongst the other faces in the crowd. She's looking for him, he is certain of it.

"Oh, um. Very well." You're caught off guard by his sudden invitation.

You take his hand and allow him to guide you to where the others are dancing. You get into position and begin. Benedict doesn't say anything for a while. He is keeping his gaze locked on the crowd. You break the silence between you by giving him your name. Benedict snaps out of his daze and looks at you.

"Oh, right. Yes. I'm Benedict. Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton." He gives a little smile.

"I've seen your other siblings here tonight."

"Yes. My sister is debuting." His eyes flicker back up to the crowd. Violet has spotted him she looks ecstatic. Benedict wonders if that's better or worse.

"She's breathtaking."

He looks at you again. "Yes. I suppose she is."

You get the idea that he isn't much in the mood for talking, and you keep quiet for the rest of the dance. When the music comes to a close, you curtsy, and he bows. The next piece begins to play.

"Well, thank you," you say softly.

Benedict snaps back into focus and looks at you. He takes your dance card and writes his name on it before excusing himself. You watch him go and sigh. You look at the card and see his neat penmanship.

"Benedict Bridgerton. Who would have thought." You mutter to yourself.

You leave the floor.

Your mother comes over quickly and snakes her arm around yours again. She looks delighted.

"You danced with a Bridgerton! That will certainly gain some attention for you." She sounded far too happy for your liking.

"Yes, I suppose it might."

As she begins to yap on in your ear, you turn in time to see Anthony and Daphne speaking to their mother. After a moment, they leave the ball altogether.

You wished you could do the same.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 -

#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #female reader #dragon writes

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itsharleystuff · 1 year

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↳ I. 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘓𝘋 𝘊𝘓𝘈𝘚𝘚 𝘚𝘐𝘕𝘕𝘌𝘙

Gif not mine! | Read part two here.

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!fem reader (no outbreak au)

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.4k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After two years of absence and finally graduating college, it’s time you go back to Texas; to come home with your dad. But the prospect of facing the Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend and your secret crush, has your mind scattered.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), smoking, alcohol consumption, age gap (reader is twenty four, Joel is late forties), oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, spitting, mentions of masturbation, pet-names (sweetheart, darling), moral conflict, semi-public sex, slight dirty talk, pussy-drunk Joel, no use of y/n. I think that’s it, let me know if I missed something:)

— a/n: I honestly have tons of ideas for this particular universe, so I might make more parts if y’all like it<3 btw, reader is a fashion designer in this. Thought it might be important to mention, lol.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You had never met him before. Not in person, at the very least.

Up until a while ago, you'd only seen him in the pictures your dad kept hanging around the house. And he had plenty of those: both of them in college, a road-trip with other friends or even after a hunt. Of course, you'd heard a lot about him too, but whenever you visited Texas your dad would dedicate his whole days to you exclusively. No time to visit his best friend-slash-neighbor, despite all the opportunities presented.

So the first time you ever saw him face to face was two years ago, in a Fourth of July barbecue he hosted.

Joel Miller.

Joel mother-fucking Miller.

Tall, broad, rugged looking, moody and with a seemingly stern exterior. An absolute dilf.

You always found him rather appealing— nothing but a silly little thought from whenever you would stare at the photographs. But meeting him personally was a whole eye-opening experience, like getting glasses after discovering you’ve had astigmatism your entire life.

"He liked you, y'know?" your dad had told you the next day. "Joel isn't usually that nice."

"Maybe it's because I'm your daughter," you joked. "I bet that helped with my impression."

"No," said him, laughing and shaking his head, "it was something else."

You didn't interrogate him on the matter. Whatever it was, you sure were glad to be in his grace.

That summer you saw a lot of him— specially since it was the longest you had spent in Austin ever since your mom passed away. You were twenty two at the time, right in the middle of your college studies. But the amazing thing about Joel was that he never made you feel patronized, neither did he treat you like you had to fit in the 'best friend's daughter' box. He was nice and made you feel comfortable in all ways possible.

Frankly, deep down you wanted him to be an asshole. If that were the case, you could've had the perfect excuse to push him away. Instead, your crush simply grew stronger.

Because, fucking hell, the man was hot in a striking, yet brooding manner. Joel Miller was attractive in the way a man is supposed to be attractive. Which was quite a contrast compared to the boys that usually neared you, who had no sense of themselves and were always fooling around with no idea what they were doing.

It was so bad that even now, after two years without seeing him —or your dad, for that matter— you feel anxious and eager at the thought of a reunion.

You're now officially graduated, and after a lifetime of traveling the states to visit both your parents, added to four years of college in New York, it's finally time to settle down for a while. To move in with your dad and make up for the lost time.

"Are you really going to stay in Texas?" Sophie, your best friend, asked through the phone speaker. "After all these years in the big city?"

"Yeah, I ought to stay with him. After all, we're the only family we've got," you replied, staring out the window of the cab. "When I told him I was coming he got so excited, you should've heard him. He said he'd throw me a homecoming party, can you believe that? Who's even going to attend?"

You hear her giggle on the other side. "What about that Mr. Miller you always brag so much about?"

"What about him?" you wondered with half strained voice.

"Oh, don't play coy, honey," she mocks. "We both know how much you want him to give you a sweet old Texan welcome."

"I have no idea what that is," you respond, smiling.

"I just made it up. No idea what they do in the south. I'm from Brooklyn." Of course she made it up. "But I meant it's pretty obvious how much you want his head between your legs..."

"Okay, yeah- I get it." You interrupt, starting to see familiar houses from your dad's neighborhood. "You're right. But he's... Righteous. Apparently."

"Sweetie, let's be honest," Sophie talks softly, "no man is righteous. Just show them a bit of skin and they'll be wrapped around your finger forever."

"I'm not sure I-"

"Try it. And keep me updated," she mumbles hastily. "I've got to go now. I have an appointment with the Ralph Lauren executives in ten minutes."

"Treat them nicely, Sophie. Don't waste my recommendation letter," the girl laughs.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm serious about Miller, though. Be sure to wear something low-cut. Bye, bye!"

She hangs up right when you're outside the house; the one you knew so well and at the same time felt so unknown. The one where you spend each summer and occasional holiday in. Your childhood home. Oddly enough, the door is open but you can't see your dad anywhere near. You hoped he'd be around to help you with the luggage, though it didn't seem like it.

"Dad?" You call for him from the entrance, carrying both heavy suitcases. "Anyone here?!"

The faint noise of footsteps is barely audible before you see him leaning against the kitchen door, arms crossed over his sturdy chest.

Breathtaking.

"M'not your old man but pretty sure I can help you with that," he says with that characteristic Texan drawl of his, gesturing towards your cases.

"But if it isn't Joel Miller in the flesh," he tilts his head with a faint smile, approaching your side. "You haven't aged a day since I last saw you."

It was true. Perhaps his skin looked a bit more tan, his hair somewhat longer and curlier, his beard starting to gray. But everything else remained the same. He smelled just like you remembered —fresh soap and musky cologne—, and still held onto the same mode choices: flannels, boots and dark jeans.

"Quite the opposite to ya," he says, taking both your suitcases from your hands. "I like your new hair."

"Are you implying I look old?" Joel grins smudgily.

"None of that, darlin'. I'd say mature." His words manage to make your pulse raise. "Shall I take this upstairs?"

"Yeah, I- I'll walk you to my room," he chuckles as he steps on the stairs. "What?"

The man shakes his head as he makes his way to the second floor, followed closely by you. Nothing about this house seemed different. Nevertheless, you felt different.

"Nothing. S'just..." he takes a deep breath, but changes the subject quickly. "Your dad went to the store to get some beers. He'll be back any second."

You nod, opening the door to your dorm. It was exactly the same as it was two years ago, simply tidier and with a poster that read 'welcome home and happy graduation' in messy, colorful handwriting over your bed.

"He made that himself. Though, I've gotta say, I'm glad he didn't pursue an artistic career." You both laugh at the comment.

"A for effort." Joel sets your luggage next to the doorframe, being monitored by your keen eye. "Will I see you tonight? I know you're not a big fan of social gatherings."

"Your dad'll kill me if I'm not. He's got me here since ten o'clock to help him out." You look up at him, feeling vaguely nostalgic when watching your surroundings. "But I'm also hoping we'll catch up. I'd like to hear all about your adventures in the big city, aight?"

"Oh, I'm not sure you'd like that," you retort. "I'm afraid you'll see a side of me you might disapprove of."

Joel's brows shot up in a cocky expression. "And here we were all thinking you were such a nice girl. Forget 'bout me, sweetheart. Your old man would drop dead if he gets the news."

You can't hold back the smirk that spreads across your face as you look him dead in the eye. Truth be told, you had wished for him to change, in any sort of way. Maybe if he had gotten a couple more wrinkles or grey hairs you'd be able to not find him attractive anymore. But age suited Joel. Maybe if he stopped being so warm to you, so kind, it might be able to fade away.

'Righteous', you'd called him.

But he isn't so much. No man ever is.

In your last visit you weren't bold enough with him, but each time you'd say something slightly suspicious, every occasional brush or brief skin to skin contact during a shared moment, had an effect on him. He reacted to you, even if he thought you wouldn't know. Sure, he was well restrained and you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't actually looking for any signs. That didn’t change the facts, anyway.

"I've never really been much of a nice girl, to be honest," you retaliate, dragging the words. "But I bet you can keep a secret, can't you?"

Something in your voice causes him to unconsciously stop breathing. His brows knit together and it takes him a second to regain composure. However, he doesn't get to say a thing, your dad's voice suddenly floating from the floor beneath.

With your blood rushing, you practically flee downstairs, seeing his face change completely at the sight of his beloved daughter.

"You're here early, what the heck?" The man mumbles with a kindhearted smile, embracing you in a tight hug.

"Figured I might surprise you." The boxes of beer he bought were quickly discarded when he saw you. "So, are you surprised?"

"Very. But I was supposed to pick you up at the airport. Did you take a cab?"

"Don't worry about that," you reassure with a gesture. "It was included in the airport bill."

"Oh, man..." your dad turns to see his friend, "you leavin' already?"

"I have to pick up Sarah," he explains, peeking at his watch. "She had soccer practice today."

"Can I expect to see her later, too?"

Joel nods at your question, faintly beaming. "F'course. She loves you."

⩇⩇:⩇⩇✧˖°

Shortly after Miller's departure your dad sent you off to bed, arguing that you were probably tired. And even if you wanted to stay and chat with him for a while, you had to admit he wasn't mistaken. Either way, you still had the rest of the day —and plenty more ahead— to do that. Besides, he still needed to sort some things out before the party.

So, without unpacking or undoing your bed, you slept for hours, dreaming about how your new life was going to be.

(...)

When you finally woke up, night had already fallen. Your dad mustn't have wanted to wake you, but it made you feel in a rush to get ready. You took a cold shower and kept your makeup neutral in order to be quick. Furthermore, Sophie's advice to wear something low-cut was taken under consideration.

Judging by the noise coming from the backyard, you guessed the guests had already started to arrive. You heard talking and music, aside from smelling the hamburgers your dad was preparing. There were kids running around and a couple of people chatting in the living room when you entered, setting all eyes on you.

You knew most of them, neighbors and friends of your dad's. They immediately monopolized your attention, asking questions regarding your career life, reasons why you chose your major and saying how much your dad loved and missed you. It wasn't bad, you liked the courtesy and praise; nonetheless, in the back of your mind you were solely expecting the Millers' arrival.

After a while, you excuse yourself and decide to join your dad outside, stepping onto the fresh air.

"How's everything here?" you ask friendly. "Need any help?"

He was surrounded by some other of his pals, all of whom you'd met in your last visit, except for one– still, you couldn't help but think that he had a familiar air.

"We're alright, honey." You greet them all with a smile as your dad hooks an arm over your shoulders, offering a beer that you decided to decline.

"My niece was right," said the man you didn't know. "You're quite beautiful." He spoke subtly and on the right lines, giving you a affectionate smile.

"Ah- I don't believe you've met Tommy," your dad chimed in. "He's Joel's younger brother."

"Oh, yeah..." you remembered, "he mentioned you last time I came. It's nice to finally meet you."

Now that you saw him up-close, he did resemble his brother in a certain way. There was something very emblematic that all the Millers had, a sparkle in their eyes that you picked-up on Sarah, but that enchanted you in—

"Speak of the devil..." your head jerked to the side, watching as your most expected guests come to join you.

"My goodness!" you speak in surprise, sharing a hug with Joel's daughter. "You've grown so much in the last two years... You're even taller than me now and I'm wearing heels." The girl giggles, charming as always. "Didn't you just turn seventeen?"

"A month ago," she answers. "But let's not talk about that, it makes dad feel old."

"Joel?" You look behind her, locking glances with him. "But he's in his prime!" he rolls his eyes sardonically.

"Come on, sunshine," Tommy says, "you know it's not polite to make fun of the elderly."

They laugh and you can vaguely hear your dad scolding him, but don't really pay attention to it as they go back to their conversation. In the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of his smile.

He looked handsome. To you, he always did. Tonight, however, he decided to change the flannels for an olive button up shirt and a black leather jacket. His curls seemed carefully styled and he smelled of sandalwood.

"By the way," you address Sarah, "I brought you something from New York. It's one of my designs..."

"Seriously?" Her whole face lit up at your words. "You know how much I love your work!"

"Yeah, thought you might like it. But I'll give it tomorrow. I haven't unpacked and my things are real a mess."

"That reminds me." The girl turns to Joel. "Did you bring it?" he nods and takes a small box from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to her.

"What's that?" you question out of curiosity.

"I got you a lil' present," Sarah answered.

"You, did what?" Joel countered with a reproachful tone.

"I mean- I chose a present..." the man clears his throat and she rolls her eyes. "We chose a present, which he payed for. Buuut, it was my idea so-"

His dad snorts and shakes his head, turning to chat with the rest of the men. The younger one drags you away to have some privacy, taking a solitary spot under the big apple tree. During your conversation, you discuss the details of your so called 'highlife' and open the tiny box they gifted, finding a shiny ring sitting on the bottom.

"Do you like it?" You grin and nod in response, deciding to put it on in that same instant. "Dad noticed you like wearing lots of rings.”

Joel noticed.

"I love it," you remark. "Thank you. Both."

Your eyes drift to the crowd gathered around the grill, men laughing and sharing beers. The surprising part was that when you finally found your target, he was already staring at you. If he was expecting you to notice or not, there was no sign. But the older one held your lingering glance and everything else seemed to fade away, suddenly becoming white noise in the background. There was a challenging fire behind his brown orbs, kind of like he was saying 'I know what you're doing and I can do it too'.

"So," you turn back to Sarah with a strange, thrilling sensation in the pit of your stomach, "what's up with you? How's high school?"

"Boring. You know the drill."

"And the boys?" she almost looks flustered at the question.

"Complicated. Bet you know all ‘bout that." Your brows furrow slightly.

"What gave you that idea?"

"Just an impression," her fingers fidget nervously.

You shrug, deciding to change the subject. "You're graduating soon... Have you decided on any universities yet?"

"Not quite," she sighs. "I'm worried about my dad, really. I don't want him to feel alone if I move out."

A sly smile parts your lips. "He won't be. There's my dad, your uncle and... Me. I'll make him a Tinder profile. He'll be fine."

Sarah chuckles and shakes her head. "He talks about you, y'know?"

"What, Joel?" you ask in a sarcastic tone, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Hard to believe."

"It's true! I think he admires you, in a way..."

With a hand gesture, you stop her. "Are we talking about the same man here?"

"Ask him. He might deny it, but it's often your name is brought up in conversations," she unfolds. "When you got that internship in Ralph Lauren, the articles you've written, magazines you've appeared in..."

"It sounds extremely rare for someone like your dad would be interested in the fashion industry. Even if it's just for me, cause I'm certain my own dad is the one forcing all this information onto him."

"Maybe," Sarah agrees. "Whatever it may be, I'm sure he'll be alright if you're around. At least happy, I think."

⩇⩇:⩇⩇✧˖°

The kitchen was a good shelter from all the gossip and noisy kids that turned out to be overwhelming after some time. No one came in there unless they needed to; and as of now they all seemed more concerned with other sorts of business. Besides, it was pretty late and most people had already headed home.

A bottle of wine was opened and poured into a glass, accompanied by a Marlboro cigarette from the depths of your purse, enjoying them while watching the night sky through the window. All your mind could think about was him and his odd behavior: Joel picking up on details, Joel talking about you with Sarah. Him. Just him.

"Am I interrupting somethin'?" you shake your head without looking back, recognizing his voice.

He walks over to you silently. The man is somehow very silent for someone so big, to the point where you didn't even listen when he opened the door. He leans against the counter, his body so close to yours that you can feel his warmth even if you're not seeing him.

"Want some?" you ask, raising your half-empty glass of red liquid and whipping your body to face him, standing shoulder to shoulder, closing the curtain in the meantime.

"Thanks," he mutters, showing his can of beer, “m'not that fancy." You titter, taking a short drag from the dart. "I'll have one of those, if you can spare."

With the fag between your teeth, you take the pack of smokes from your bag and hand it to him, shooting an inquiry expression.

"What?" he asks with an arrogant beam.

"Nothing..." your voice comes out weird from holding back laughter as you take the lighter in your fist. "I just didn't know you smoked."

He takes one to his lips, keeping close eye contact with you all the while. The action sends a rush of excitement throughout your whole body as you duck forward to burn the unlit end, staring back at him with hooded eyes.

"I rarely do," he admits, setting the package aside.

If he wasn't hot enough already, the practiced mannerisms he had when smoking simply added to his sultriness.

"Why you hiding?" you wonder, ashing the cigarette over the sink.

"Not hidin'. Just sent Sarah home, but I wanted to catch you before leavin'."

It didn't surprise you, they lived across the street and, after all, he did say he wanted to talk.

"Did I mention how handsome you look today?" He sneers shortly.

"Well, my daughter was very clear 'bout not wanting me to wear flannels around a fashion designer." Joel takes a sip from his drink, holding the cig between his fingers.

"She gives me too much credit," you say, a bit embarrassed.

"You deserve it," the man replies grimly. "And you look absolutely beautiful, too. One of yours?"

His eyes briefly set on your chest, for such a short second that you actually believed you had probably imagined it. The dress you chose for the occasion was one of your first designs; pearl colored, cinched from the waist above and slightly loose over your thighs.

"Yes," you gulp, diverting your gaze to the glass on your hand. "So how's everything 'round here?" Joel shrugs his shoulders with indifference.

"'S alright. Same as always," he meditates on it. "Boring without you to keep us entertained."

You utter a mocking snort. "Do my silly little experiences really entertain you?"

The older one tilts his head to blow some smoke. "You always talk so freely about your dreams and the goals you've accomplished. And your dad's enthusiasm is contagious, I might say." He licks his bottom lip, thinking. "I don't know... I'm glad someone close is doing all 'at. Feels like you ain't afraid of anything."

His words put a bright smile on your face. "Life's a risk, isn't it? Better be bold if you want to end up somewhere."

He huffs a laugh, nodding in agreement. A comfortable silence veils between you as you enjoy the alcohol and cigarettes. It was always nice to hang out with him like this.

"By the way, how are you holding up?" the question clasps his curiosity. "Parenting a teenager can be quite difficult, I've heard."

"Jesus," he grunts, "it's driving me insane. Not her per say, but the whole 'boy talk' 's just too much."

"I bet," you chortle, "although, I wouldn't worry too much. It's just a phase."

"Yeah?" Joel scoffs. "You gon' tell me you ain't got tons of guys chasing around ya' anymore?"

"Oh, they're there," your tone matches his energy. "All these old ladies kept trying to introduce me to their sons a couple hours ago. Nevertheless, I gotta say..." He leaves the empty can on the bar across him. "Boys make me sick."

His eyes widen in surprise, but the rest of his face remained in composure. "How so?"

The atmosphere swiftly changes, a kind of heated tension rising to the top, palpable in your fingertips and waving in his chest.

"I've had my fair share of them," you explain playfully. "Guys my age never know what they want or what they're doing. I've decided to change my focus to men, instead."

He knows what you're up to. You can tell he does.

The question is: will he take the bait?

"Meaning?" Joel's lips curve around the orange filter in a smug smirk. You jerk your head to the right, setting the glass of wine aside.

"I'm not sure..." he laughs dryly at your hesitation.

"I think you are, sweetheart."

The abiding silence that followed that statement was nothing but electrifying. Clouds of burning tobacco linger around as you share an intense gaze, creating a solemn, intriguing ambience.

"Well, how am I supposed to tell you, out of all people, that I'm looking to get attended by an older man?" you rag. "Don't you think it's inappropriate?"

"Mhm," his grin is still visible under the dim, warm lights in the kitchen, "clever girl. I see what you're tryin' to do."

"I don't know what you mean," you murmur, scowling and intending to sound clueless.

He doesn't buy it.

"No-uh. You're many things, darlin', but dumb isn't one." He leans forward, his face barely inches away from yours, eyes scanning your features. Eventually, he decides to keep playing your little game. "Why's that, anyway?"

"See, Joel," you blow some smoke right under his nose, "boys I've been with always take. Everything's gotta be about themselves. I've never been the type to believe in relationships, but if they're gonna suck at that too, the least they could do is make you cum, not leave you drier than a fucking desert." Your words daze his mind and he finds himself pending for something that he wasn't supposed to. "Shit- I'm sorry... I shouldn't talk like this."

"Damn right you shouldn't," he rasps out, "what would your dad think if he heard you?"

Joel Miller never considered himself a weak man. Not once in his life. It's not who he is.

But right now, under your curious, passionate gape, he's slowly crumbling.

"Good thing you aren't my dad, then."

His heart is pounding in expectation and confusion. He keeps thinking 'this can't be happening'. He tries to convince himself that it's all in his mind, like he did last time you were in Austin. But you bat your pretty eyelashes at him an it feels like you're begging to be taken away.

"Sweetheart, I don't think you know what you're asking for," he talks strictly, like you wouldn't actually understand. "Say this things to the wrong person and they might take advantage of you."

You laugh under your breath. "Are you the wrong person?"

He remains silent for a couple seconds, contemplating your question, meditating this whole parade in order to keep his head cold and ignoring the increasing heat that soared all around.

"M'not sure," he huffs.

It's true. He doesn't know anymore.

Your cig has burned out.

"I think you are, Mr. Miller."

Oh, such a clever girl indeed.

Suspense is killing him, like he's walking on the edge of a blade. Your closeness is intoxicating, the smell of your perfume gets him dizzy and his skin burned there where your limbs brushed against each other's. His lungs felt like crushing under the weight of anticipation.

"Quit beating around the bush," he downright demands. "Tell me what you want."

Honesty is a virtue; one you didn't lack with him.

"You," his chest puffs with a shaky breath. "Ever since we first met, you've been the only man on my mind."

Dangerous. This whole situation is dangerous.

But Joel would be lying if he said he didn't feel the same. That was the worst part of it.

For little more than a decade he had been perfectly content with his singleness; the sole thought of going on a date being absolutely terrifying. His best friend did try to set him up with a couple of his female acquaintances multiple times; yet he declined or merely accepted out of sympathy, never taking things further than a one night stand. Joel never expected that the one woman that would grasp his attention would be you.

He had never been into younger girls, at least not that young. But there was something enchanting about you. Whether it was your charming smile, your cunning eyes or your confident, determined nature that made all heads turn in your direction when you walked into a place.

Something about you bewitched him.

Perhaps it was none of that and he was simply depraved. Perhaps it was all of that and more.

For all he knew, you could've put a spell on him. Since your last visit, you had been on his mind like a mist that fogged his senses. He felt torn apart by his morals and desires, trying his best to get rid of the ghost of you.

That was until your dad told him you were coming back to stay for an undefined amount of time. What kind of sick game was fate playing with him?

"You tryin' to get me killed?" he locks a snarl behind his teeth.

His cigarette has burned out too.

"I know I'm asking for much," you say, "that I put you in a difficult position. With my dad and all 'at." Swallowing hard, you muster enough courage to raise a hand to his jacket, just laying your palm flat there. He allows it. "So I understand if you say no. You can decline and we’ll just act like nothing happened."

If Joel were a better man, he would've.

He definitely should have.

"It's okay. I can always call the next older lad on my hotline," you joke. "Your brother Tommy... I think he'll be interested."

He'd be damned.

No. Joel was just a man, and like every other, he could only take so much.

Quicker than you'd expect, his hand catches your wrist and moves your arm away from his body, the other raising your head up with two fingers under your chin. His face is so close to yours that his breath tickles your skin.

"Is that so?" his voice drops an octave. "You disappoint me, sweetheart."

Your legs quiver, feeling suddenly weak on the knees and hot on your lower abdomen. "How?"

His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip, staring down at you as if he had you wrapped around his finger. Truth be told, he really did.

"Thought there was a bit more fight in ya'," he whispers, letting go of your hand and laying his palm flat on your hip. "I haven't yet given my answer and you're already thinking of fucking my brother?"

You lick your lips nervously, glancing at his own and then back at his eyes. Your breathing pattern is completely altered and the ache between your legs starts to grow.

"Or was that just to tease me?" he asks with a grin.

"I don't know..." your hands clench in fists, wanting to touch him but wallowing in this new power dynamic. "Maybe."

"That's rather vague, darling." He takes a step forward, eradicating the distance that separated your bodies. "I'll ask again..." his fingers curl around your throat, not applying pressure but merely holding you in place. "What do you want?"

It's too late to look back now. Though you wouldn't think of it. "I want you to fuck me, Joel."

Music to his ears.

He doesn't respond, eyes boring into yours intently. The unholy words that you spoke scatter his brain and all he wants to do is accept. But he wouldn't indulge so easily. If you wanted to play games, he'd teach you how to play better.

You tilt your head upwards, searching for his mouth with limited mobility. Your eyes briefly close at the feeling of your lips barely brushing against his own, waiting for him to kiss you. Except he does not, simply caressing the soft flesh teasingly.

Joel's body is flushed against yours, keeping you caged between the counter and him. The hand that rested on your hip gradually travels to your ass, splaying his fingers over your covered butt and giving a firm squeeze that makes you squeal. Every breath he takes is the very air you breathe. The proximity and his scent are slowly —but surely— making you lose your sanity.

"Such a pretty girl," he mutters hoarsely, "with such filthy thoughts." You look at him through heavy lids, gaining enough courage to move your hands to his broad chest. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Please, just- kiss me." The plea is so desperate and pathetic that it doesn't even sound like you.

"Can't do," he says at last. "If you want to be treated like a slut, you'll get treated like one. Sluts don't get kissed." You feel yourself get wet with his attitude, trying to clench your thighs together in order to create some friction. "I can't give you what you want, sweetheart. Not tonight, at least."

His lips move to your jawline, tracing open-mouthed kisses along your bare neck and collarbones that have you panting in seconds, his facial hair scratching your skin deliciously before coming back up again.

"But don't worry, angel," he pours into the shell of your ear, "I'll make sure you cum, since you want it so bad."

"Fuck, Joel-" you stutter when he abruptly spins your body around, his growing bulge grinding against your lower back.

His face nuzzles on the crook of your neck as his hand roams over your thigh, leisurely making its way beneath your dress. You feel his teeth lightly scraping your flesh, the hardness of his crotch poking your ass and your own arousal pooling in your panties.

"Jesus..." he groans when his fingers reach the dampness between your legs. "I've barely touched you and you're already soaked."

"I meant it when-" your sentence gets muffled by a strangled moan that escapes your lips, "when I said I've been wanting you for so long."

His body vibrates with a laugh, ruffling your hair with his breath. He starts rubbing small circles on your clit, making your whole body shiver and squirm while he pushes the fabric aside, gathering your slick with his index and spreading it all the way back to your bud, repeating his actions until your arousal covered his knuckles.

"Wanna know a lil' secret?" his voice comes out soothing and husky as he eases two digits inside you, stretching you out in a way that makes both of you groan. "I felt the same."

His fingers are thicker, bigger and rougher than yours, adding to a new, unlocked satisfaction you had not yet experienced.

Joel took his time to explore the spots that provided more pleasure, that had your hips chasing him and biting your lip to refrain from making noise. His other hand gropes your breast, caressing your delicate nipple over the thin fabric, easily done due to the lack of a bra. He keeps altering his ministrations, collecting the wetness from your core and bringing it up to your bundle of nerves, prior to sliding into your cunt again. All that can be heard in the kitchen are the squelching, utterly pornographic sounds of your pussy and your pitiful whines, inaudible to everyone but him.

"You like this, sweetheart?" he hums, feeling your sticky arousal drip down your thighs, rejoicing in your responsiveness to him. "Being fingered by a man twice your age while your dad's just a few steps away?"

You squeeze his thick fingers, picturing just how big his cock must be just from the boner pressing your back. "Y-yes..."

He simply loves the way he's got you so needy, coming undone with so little. You were easy to please, so he wondered how awful your past lovers must've been if they couldn't get you wet. A primal instinct surges on Joel, wanting to erase all of them from your mind, as he wanted to be the only man you ever think about if you're having an orgasm.

"That's my girl," he coos, thrusting his fingers at a nice pace, curling them upwards to hit that soft spot that made your knees tremble.

You hold onto the counter for dear life, throwing your head back and laying it on his chest. He sighs every time your cunt tightens around his digits, mesmerized by your enticing cries and whimpers that had him painfully hard in his jeans. The sensation is overwhelming, adrenaline filling both of you at the prospect of getting caught.

A burning sensation builds on your lower belly, tiny beads of sweat rolling down your temple at the incoming crescendo. His thumb kneads over your clit with the right amount of pressure and your body gives in to him, all tension melting away as your muscles relax.

"Just like that, darling." His deep voice reverberates through you, holding you up by the grip on your waist. "Take what I give you."

"Joel, Joel, Joel-" he chuckles once again at your delirious state, biting down the sensitive skin on your neck as he helps you carry out your high.

He pulls his fingers out and you mewl in complaint, mouth slightly agape. You can't see his face but you watch as he takes both his sticky fingers to his mouth, your chest rising and falling while trying to regain composure. He licks them clean, savoring your sweet taste and feeling his cock twitch from the mere idea of his tongue exploring your folds, taking that same flavor straight from the source.

"I'm not done with you," he growls, swirling your body around.

He's fucked up now. He has found his own, favorite drug between your thighs and can’t seem to stop himself from getting it. He had a small taste and now craved for more like he was a famished man.

"Can I get a kiss now?" Joel finds your insistence amusing.

Those eyes of yours were driving him insane, staring at him wildly, sparkling with an etching desire. Your lips were plumped and glossy, cheeks flushed red and hands fisting his shirt. Seeing this side of you was like displaying one of his darkest fantasies, the kind that would randomly appear in his dreams and had him waking up guilty and needy.

"No," he grumbles, cupping your face in his hand and forcing you to glance up at him. "Open up."

You obligue without hesitation, parting your lips shamelessly— which further spurs him on—. Almost instinctively, you already know what he's going to do, catching that inquiring look in his darkened eyes. With a light tap to his chest, you give him the green light and he spits right into your mouth. You don't think about it twice; in fact, you can't even process what you're actually doing, unconsciously swallowing down while keeping eye contact.

"Good girl," he purrs, caressing the side of your face with gentle stokes of his thumb.

His voice and praise send you to oblivion, managing to give you goosebumps. But Joel won't allow you to catch a break, glueing his lips to the hollow of your throat and making his way down, down, down, until he's kneeling before you, feeling the way you tense and shake for him. He grips your body strongly, the pads of his thumbs dipping on your hipbones as he rests his forehead on your lower abdomen, taking a deep breath in. Your hands run through his curls, tenderly grazing his scalp with your nails.

The man feels as if he's wasted; your scent, all around him, on him, intoxicating every fiber on his body. He'd be haunted by it, by you, in the upcoming days.

He reaches beneath the hem of your dress, fingers skating along the band of your panties and tugging them down at a tortuous pace, meanwhile his eyes pierce your soul. Joel lets the drenched underwear pool at your ankles and drags the thin, satiny fabric all the way up to your tummy, inhaling sharply at the sight of your sticky slick covering your inner thighs.

"Fuck..." he touches you like you're sacred, like he was granted permission to do so but couldn't fully believe it. "Jesus Christ, you're beautiful," he mumbles when he coaxes your legs apart.

You blush at the comment, growing partially embarrassed. A shadow of pure lust covers his gaze as he stares at your exposed, wet cunt. He basks in the view of your damp skin and swollen clit, feeling his mouth water and his pants strain.

"Joel-"

"Forgive me, darlin'. Been a while since I..." he clears his throat, trying to regain hold of himself, "since I went down on a woman."

Your fingers tangle on his locks and you give him a reassuring smile. "You don't have to-"

"But I want to," Joel blurts out. "I need to taste you, sweetheart. Would you allow me to?"

Did he even need to ask?

"Yes- god. Please..."

It's all he had to hear. He leaves small kisses on your swollen lips, taking pleasure in your silent gasps as his mouth inched closer to your clit. Your hips buck against his face when his tongue finally landed on that sensitive bundle of nerves, making you moan a bit louder.

"Fucking hell," you babble, gripping his hair tighter.

He groans, his tongue flattening above your delicate bud and sucking on it. Joel can see in your face how hard you're trying to refrain from making any noise, your brows slightly furrowed and mouth partially open as you throw your head back. His chest swells with pride, knowing he's the one making you feel this good.

Then you have to hold yourself up when he suddenly hooks one hand around your calf and lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder to keep you open for him. His face buries between your thighs, tongue sliding across your wet folds and savoring your arousal mixed with your previous release. He uninhibitedly whimpers, lapping up the slick that kept pouring out of you, devouring your pussy like he had never had anything as good.

The man can't take it anymore, he's reached his limit. One of his hands snake down to fumble at his belt, as he sloppily palms his bulge through the briefs, trying to get some relief. He's drunk, feral, when he eats you out most earnestly, finding your weak spots rather quickly— the ones that made you shiver, that made you shut your eyes from sheer pleasure or grind against his face, but specially the ones that had you tugging harshly at his hair.

"Joel- please, I'm so close..." you cry out lowly, the only thing that kept you standing being his hand on your waist.

His beard makes your skin feel feverish and it's nearly impossible for you to hold back a whine when his nose grazes your clit and right in that instant you're coming hard, nerves buzzing and ears ringing. You feel lightheaded, white spots appearing in front of your eyes as the orgasm rips through you intensely. He drinks you down, licking you clean as if it was a crime not to, and you gasp at the overstimulation.

He helps you steady yourself as he gets back on his feet, hovering above you. His lips were shining with saliva and your own juices, dripping down to his chin. You breathe rapidly, pulse still racing while you look up at him with glassy eyes.

It's right in this moment when Joel knows for certain that he'd do it all again, consequences be damned.

If he was going to hell for what he'd done, then he would gladly do it, knowing that he had seen heaven the moment his tongue was inside you.

"Did I live up to your expectations, sweetheart?"

Instead of replying, your hand shoots to his jaw, the pad of your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. He lets out a shaky exhale and you don't miss the opportunity to finally lean in for a kiss. And despite his previous declines to your wish, Joel happily corresponded. You taste him and yourself when his mouth explores yours in depth, feeling his unsteady heartbeat against your own chest.

It's madness; a blur of wet, messy kisses as your hand coasts down his pants and underneath his briefs. You swallow down his lewd moans when you grasp his throbbing length, a deep groan coming from his throat when you circle the tip with one finger, coating it with his leaking precome. He takes your wrist to prevent you from going any further.

"Enough of that," he grunts, still not pushing your hand away. "I'm too worked up, I don't wanna be coming in my pants like a goddamned teenager."

You respect his decision, drawing your hand back and guiding your fingers to your lips with a cheeky smile. Fucking tease.

"I think it'd be hot," you murmur, dragging the words and leaning next to his ear. "Maybe afterwards I can help you clean up the mess..." you carefully nip at his earlobe, delighting in the way his body jumped and a sigh escaped him. "With my mou-"

"Fuuuck..." the mental image you were describing was not helping his situation. "We- we’ll do that next time.”

And before you can move a muscle, he gives you a soft forehead kiss and rearranges his pants, asking you to say goodbye to your dad in his behalf as he sneaked out. You stand there for a couple of minutes, dumbfounded and completely blown away from your post-orgasm bliss, still processing that all this had actually happened and it was not just another of your sexual fantasies and daydreams.

Joel was in a similar position. In spite of taking a cold shower and fucking his fist in the meantime, tonight's events kept being relived every time he closed his eyes, making him yearn for you all over again. It was a tough night of not much sleeping.

He thinks he might feel guilty in the morning.

Maybe he should. But he honestly doesn't.

Not even when he faces your dad the next day and he tells him how happy he is to have his darling daughter back home.

Nor do you. There's not a hint of guilt in your body when you go to his house in the next few days, solely to spend time with Sarah. No shame in the looks you share, regardless of the little to zero time you could spend together, always being surrounded by other people.

None of that mattered. All the while, the only question that roams your minds is: when will you do it again?

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #the last of us hbo #dbf!joel

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madaqueue · 5 months

Text

Lost Cherry

pairing: yuta okkotsu x f!reader

themes/content: dark content. yandere/stalking. non-curse modern college au. language, smut. scent kink (?), alcohol consumption, drugging (no nsfw during), oral (f receiving), semi-public sex. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.8k

a/n: "i love this guy and whatever undiagnosed anxiety disorder he has" is my fav yuta quote i've ever heard and honestly...me too (and yeah this is based off the tom ford perfume what about it)

Yuta noticed everything about you. How could he not, when the essence of perfection, an angel reincarnate, was here before him?

He truly saw you, his dark eyes boring into your soul as he soaked in your every move, every reaction, every thought.

When you met him your freshman year of college you thought he was sweet, albeit a little strange, his intense gaze putting you slightly on edge for a reason you couldn’t quite pin down. But nevertheless he was always the perfect gentleman, holding every door for you, driving you to class when it rained, bringing you your favorite foods when you were sick. He did it without question, as though caring about you came second nature to him, like it was his one true state of being.

The two of you continued growing closer over the years, sleeping on each other’s couches when study nights ran long, going to concerts of a band you loved together, cooking your favorite foods. It was almost uncanny how similar you two were, sharing the same taste in everything, Yuta’s smile never faltering as you gawked at him in disbelief when he recognized the obscure reference you made or when he happened to guess your coffee order. “I guess it’s just fate,” he’d grin as you laughed in awe.

But it’s not fate, he thinks. Fate would never be so careless as to risk letting you slip from his grasp; no, it was him. Time and time again he outsmarted the universe, foiling its plans to separate you. He knows you because he sees you, understands you, in a way no one else ever will (he’ll make sure of that). It wasn’t hard, really - he was always naturally observant, calculated, patient. All he needed to get close to you was a few chance meetings, accidental run-ins, where he could show you just how much he cares about you. And you, being as sweet and kind as you are, fell right into his open arms.

He loves you because he sees you.

He sees the way your lips curl into a smile as you sip your drink from across a crowded bar, a slight frown forming across your features as some pathetic excuse for a man tries to speak to you, making an idiotic joke you politely laugh at; he sees how you fidget with your hands, pulling at the chipping nail polish during class, a tell-tale sign you weren’t understanding the material (and an opportunity for him to explain it to you later while you studied); he sees the way you move when you’re alone, when you think no one’s watching, when you finally let your guard down and ease into the truest form of yourself.

It’s almost like you wanted him to see you, presenting yourself to him like a book with the pages peeled open and the cover ripped off, making it impossible for him to look away. It was only natural for his eyes to wander the words of your soul, mastering the lines and sentences of what makes you you.

So it’s no surprise when he gifts you a perfume that perfectly encapsulates your energy, your essence. After months of searching he finally found one that met his standards, living up to his mental representation of who you are. He knows you’ll love it, and you do - you begin wearing it everyday, the sweet scent of your skin filling his senses whenever you step into a room. The warm, amber notes become equivalent to you, a signal of your presence, a smile gracing his lips every time it wafts by him.

The one thing he doesn’t tell you is that he bought a second bottle, just for him, his best kept secret, the cherished liquid that evokes vivid memories of your laugh, your eyes, your skin, your voice, your everything when he smells it.

It’s harmless, really, when he sprays it on his pillow to help him fall asleep, calmness immediately washing over him as he pictures you there, holding him. He could practically feel the warmth of your body in his empty room, imagining how your soft hands would trace his body.

And when he wakes up, the scent of you still lingering, a smile graces his face as he nuzzles into the cool pillow.

It’s not his fault when he grows dependent on it, spraying the liquid into the air as he screws his eyes shut, picturing you. The way you’d kiss him, how smooth your skin would be, how soft your lips are, how your hands would feel wrapped around his cock, how warm and tight your cunt would feel around him. As he slides his fist around his length, he can’t help but moan your name, the idea of you filling his mind.

You.

One word, all-consuming. You occupy his thoughts, cloud his mind in bliss, every waking second. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

So when he sees you at a house party, wrapping your arms around his neck as you go in for a hug, why the fuck do you smell different?

“New perfume?” he asks, trying to hide how visibly taken aback he is as he pulls away from you.

Nodding, you take a sip of the drink in your hand. “Mhm,” you hum over the music. “Friend got it f’me. Y’like it?” you slur slightly, swaying in his grasp.

“I-it’s nice,” he stutters, his fingers beginning to dig into your arms.

How could you?

Glancing down, he notices the nearly empty cup you cling to, mind racing as he formulates a plan. “Want me to get you another drink?” he asks, steadying his thoughts and tilting his head innocently, hiding the rage he feels behind his dark irises.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, lip gloss glowing under the LEDs, as your eyes lazily make their way up to his. Reaching out a hand you ruffle his hair, placing a sticky kiss to his cheek. “You’re s’sweet Yuta,” you murmur against his skin, holding your glass out for him to take.

This would be sweet, if it wasn’t for the vile, traitorous perfume that suddenly overwhelms his senses. It’s too floral, too dry, too not you.

“Be right back,” he purrs, placing a kiss to the top of your head before stepping away, afraid that if he stayed any longer he would do something he regrets.

Besides, he can’t pass up this opportunity: he gets to show you he can take care of you, how much he adores you, and get rid of the chance that anyone thinks they know you like he does.

When he returns, you don’t even notice the weird taste in your drink; why would you? You trust him, like you should. When your body starts to feel too heavy, legs struggling to keep you up, you lean on him, like you should. When your head begins pounding and you just want to lay down, you let him take you home, like you should.

In the comfort of your apartment, one all too familiar to him, he helps you change into pajamas before bundling you up under the blankets of your bed. You look so sweet, so innocent, as your head rests against the pillow, eyelashes fluttering as you ease into sleep.

Your mind is cloudy as you rest, body still pulsing with each beat of your heart, suddenly sensing his weight shifting from where he sits at the end of your bed. “Yuta?” you whisper weakly.

He could melt just hearing you call his name, your voice like honey. “Yes?” he responds, turning his head over his shoulder to face you.

“Stay,” you murmur, reaching a hand out to him.

God, he could die happy right here. He could afford a few hours of sleeping next to you, right? It’s not like there’s any urgency now, he’s already lined everything up, now he just has to knock it down.

“Okay,” he breathes, getting under the covers next to you.

The warmth of your body envelops him as you lazily wrap your arms around his torso, uncoordinated motions to keep him, your one source of stability, close to you. Your thoughts are fuzzy as you fade into Yuta’s softness, letting him overtake your mind. Shifting his weight he leans into you, head resting on yours as you bury your face into his chest. He holds you against him, the scent of your shampoo lingering on your hair, a familiar one, a kind one.

He waits until your breathing slows, soft snores leaving your throat as you rest peacefully against him. Gingerly untangling his body from yours he rises, making his way to your bathroom. Sitting atop your counter is the target of his task: the sacrilegious bottle of perfume. It takes so little for him to knock it off the ledge, glass shattering as it hits the tile, the strong smell suddenly overwhelming the confined space, making his stomach turn as he pictures you in it. Never again.

He softly pads back to your bed, careful not to wake you as he rejoins your shared warmth under the comforter. Overwhelmingly pleased, his heart races as a contented grin spreads across his face.

When you question him about it the next morning, it’s easy to brush off.

“Yuta?” you question sleepily after you return from the bathroom, “Do you know what happened to my perfume?”

Normally the frown across your face would haunt him, tugging at his heartstrings to see you unhappy, but now it takes everything in him to not show his excitement. “Dunno,” he shrugs, “maybe you knocked it over last night?”

“Mmm, probably,” you hum, settling back in next to him as your head rests on his chest, hoping you don’t notice how his heart races at the contact, your mind still too foggy to realize you never even told him that the bottle broke. “Thanks for taking care of me last night. Sorry I got so drunk, I don’t know what happened.”

“Nothin’ to apologize for,” he reassures, his arms reaching around you, “I like taking care of you.”

“Thanks, Yu,” you murmur, nuzzling your head further into the softness of his t-shirt.

It’s so easy, he thinks. Everything with you is just that, easy: it’s easy to make you trust him, easy to look after you, easy to love you.

So when he sees you a few days later, eating lunch outside between classes, it’s easy for him to go over and sit next to you, the grass tickling his shins as he crosses his legs.

“Hi, Yuta,” you smile, your cheeks slightly rosy in the sun as you lean your head onto his shoulder.

Before he can respond, a familiar scent hits his nose, the one that is so, undeniably, you. “You smell good,” he blurts out, unable to contain his excitement.

A giggle escapes your lips at the sudden compliment, the sound soft and sweet. “Thanks,” you laugh, “it’s the perfume you got me, so I’m glad you still like it.”

“O-of course I do,” he stammers, “I picked it because it’s perfect for you.”

Looking up at him, you don’t miss the slight redness covering his face as his adoration for you begins to slip through the cracks of his resolve. All you can do is continue giggling, the most angelic sound in the world echoing in his mind, as he melts before you. “You’re too sweet, y’know that?” you ask.

Popping one of the cherries you brought for lunch into your mouth, a comfortable silence falls between you as Yuta continues staring at you in awe - how could you be so perfect? He has to stop himself from nearly drooling as he watches your tongue work the pit from the flesh of the fruit, the way your lips move absolutely tantalizing. He has to have you.

Sensing his gaze, you turn to face him. “Want one?” you ask politely, holding the bag out to him.

As you shift the richness of your perfume again wafts towards him in the breeze, tearing down any remaining walls of shame or embarrassment left encasing his feelings for you. Suddenly he leans forward, one hand going to the back of your neck as his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is messy, needy, as his tongue slides into your mouth. His body presses against yours, desperate for more of you, as you fall into the grass. His hands are everywhere, finally able to feel the one thing he’s been thinking about for years, as they roam your body.

Pulling away slightly, you breathlessly try to get his attention with a call of his name, but he doesn’t stop, only shifting his weight to kiss down your neck. Everything about you overwhelms his senses as he sucks against your skin, leaving a trail of bruises behind. His.

Your back arches off the ground as he moves lower, lips trailing kisses down your abdomen over your clothes as his palms grasp at your tits, your stomach, your ass, any part of you he can find, his touch hot. When he begins undoing the button to your shorts, a wave of panic overtakes you as you process what he wants.

“Y-Yuta,” you stutter, your hand reaching down to tilt his chin up, forcing him to face you. As he does, your face flushes at just how feral he looks, his pupils blown wide and lips parted as he pants expectantly.

“Please,” he whispers, “need to taste you,” his eyes moving back between your legs as he continues removing your shorts.

“B-but-” you begin, worried about the chance of being seen if someone were to walk past the small field you sat in, your gaze moving across the open space.

“There’s no one here,” he explains without looking up, sensing your nervousness. “I’ll make you feel s’good, I promise.”

Glancing around, you confirm the absence of any other students or professors, biting your lower lip nervously as you acquiesce.

Frankly, Yuta didn’t care if there was anyone around - once he started, he couldn’t stop.

He tugs your pants off, pausing only momentarily to admire the wet spot in your panties before pulling the flimsy material out of the way, his mouth attaching to your cunt. He moans as his tongue meets your folds, so much better than he could’ve imagined. The sound vibrating against your skin elicits a sharp gasp from you, your hands instinctively reaching down to his hair.

“Yuta,” you whine as his tongue glides up you.

God, he loves the way you say his name; he needs to hear it again.

His palms trace down your body to hold onto your thighs tightly, nearly leaving more bruises against your skin as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. Swirling around your clit he whines as your hips move up, desperate for more friction, his heart swelling at the idea that you need him just as badly as he needs you.

After years of loving you he knows just what to do, exactly how to move to make you feel good, his compendium of your body finally paying off. Slipping his tongue into you, another whimper escapes his throat as you moan his name. Bringing one hand down he roughly circles your clit with his thumb, using the exact pattern he’s seen you do more times than he could count, one he knows is guaranteed to bring you closer and closer and closer.

As your grip on his hair tightens, he knows it’s working.

His mind is flooded with you, your smell, your taste, your sounds, your everything. He loves it, he wants to crawl inside you and live in your heart forever, just like you’ve done with his. He wants to make a home in the corner of your mind, getting to see the most private and intimate thoughts you have that not even he could be privy to.

The only thing tethering him to reality is your soft voice calling his name, the most soothing rhythm in the world as your body begins to shake, heat building as you approach your release.

“Yuta,” you whimper, “m’close.”

Warmth spreads across his body, knowing he’s the one making you feel good, taking care of you, loving you, like nobody else ever could. His motions pick up, messily grinding his tongue against your cunt as you pull him into you. Everywhere he presses feels like flames, heat pricking over every inch of your body.

His name leaves your lips like a prayer as you come undone on his tongue, a series of whines reverberating against you from Yuta as he continues messily lapping you up, desperate for anything more you’re willing to give him.

When he finally pulls his face away from between your legs he’s immediately back on top of you, his lips pressing into yours with the same feral desire. His breath is hot against yours as you taste yourself on him, the entire thing overwhelming your mind as your body comes down from its high.

Pausing for only a moment, his eyes flutter open as he looks down at you, a gentle sheen of sweat across your features, grass surrounding your hair, cheeks a soft pink. Everything about you so, absolutely, undeniably perfect.

“Mine,” he whispers to himself, so quietly you nearly don’t catch it, before his lips are on yours again.

372 notes · View notes

hyunfilms · 1 year

Text

this time around (lee felix) | one shot.

—summary: life decides it's finally the right time.

—pairing: lee felix x f. reader

—genre: (18+) exes to lovers | fluff, smut

—word count: 3.9k

—content/warnings: blue haired felix ��‍💨, cussing/mature language, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex - but not super descriptive!!, lots of kisses and intimate/sweet moments, use of pet names: baby/angel/love, oc’s friend also uses ‘baby’ in a platonic way, quickly edited so pls excuse any mistakes!!

—INSPIRED BY: LOVE ME AGAIN - V

It’s funny how life works.

Especially when you’re sitting at this wedding, sipping on another glass of rosé— staring at the one man who, at one point, meant the entire universe to you.

Then, it’s also funny how life works; when life decides that this is your person, just not the right time.

“Girl, can you go and do something? He keeps looking at you. And don’t tell me he isn’t because I can see that blue head from miles away.” One of your bestfriends since college said. He nudges your arm, making you almost choke on the sip you just took.

“No, Reggie!” You almost whine, turning towards him. “It’s been so long, I don’t even know what I’d say to him.”

“Okay, but baby, he looks like he’s dying to talk to you. Poor Felix. Y/N always playing her goddamn games.”

“Quit it.” You nudge him back and he snorts.

“I’m kidding. But seriously, he looks like he wants to talk to you. Who cares if it’s been so long? I’m sure the conversation will flow perfectly. Give it a chance.” He takes a sip of his own cocktail. “Besides, if I remember correctly, you were head over heels for that man just as he was for you.” You sigh, setting your glass down— quickly reminiscing about the past.

You might have been young, and you may not have experienced everything life had to offer yet; but to say Felix was the love of your life would be an understatement.

He was everything to you.

Love, adoration, fun.

Sweetness.

He was also sadness, anger, hurt.

Pain.

Everything that entails love; being so, so in love.

And it’s just unfortunate that it wasn’t the right time because Felix was someone you pictured your life with. Everything about the relationship was right, and equally balanced. He showed you just how much he loved you and how much he adored you. You had more good times than bad with him. He taught you how to communicate better, to express your needs and wants, to enjoy life and live in the present moment.

He taught you so much that he really is part of the reason why you’re the person you are today.

After the three years of dating, Felix was graduating college and you were going into your senior year. Understandably, you felt like you needed to experience your last year by yourself, and you felt like Felix needed to figure out his plans moving forward. As much as you loved the way he factored you into every decision, you felt like it was wrong for him to do so— for him to feel like his life revolved solely around you. And of course, you loved him. This would’ve worked. But, it wouldn’t have felt right.

You needed to find yourself without Felix, and vice versa.

Breaking up with Felix was probably the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, but he understood. And because he loved you, he let you go. There was no bad blood, no hint of hate or anger; Felix had only left with more love and hope, praying that you’ll be okay.

Maybe one day, you’ll find your way back to each other.

It’s funny how life works.

“I’m not going to force it. I’ll let it happen if it happens.” You look at Reggie, taking another big sip of your rosé; eyes quickly glancing over to Felix from over the glass. He’s still conversing with a few mutual friends, eyes meeting yours from a distance. His eyes are soft, facial expression slightly unreadable.

Pressed, crisp black button down with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. Silver watch adorning the left wrist, slacks sitting nicely on his frame.

You’re sure of the butterflies you feel. It’s crazy how Felix still has this effect on you.

You clear your throat and revert your attention back to Reggie with a: “Can we go dance?”

“Now you’re talking.” Reggie laughs, grabbing your hand and leading you to the dance floor for a dance with other friends. The majority of the time you’re on the dance floor, you’ve temporarily pushed your thoughts and feelings away to enjoy being around friends you haven’t been able to hang out with or see in quite some time. You’re enjoying yourself, singing and dancing along to the music blasting in the venue. At one point, you don’t realize that Felix and his friends have joined in, creating one huge crowd in the middle of the dance floor that’s become the life of the party.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to the bathroom and get some air. I’ll be back in a few.” You say in Reggie’s ear. He nods, throwing up the ‘okay’ sign to acknowledge that he understood you through the loud music.

“You need me to come babysit your ass?” He leans near your ear to quickly ask.

“I’ll be fine!” You laugh, rushing off to the bathroom to relieve yourself from all that rosé. You take a couple of moments to freshen up and pat away at your makeup, hoping to keep it together for the remainder of the night. You fluff your hair a bit before giving yourself one last look before walking out and heading towards the back end of the hotel.

It’s a beautiful night tonight— one where the stars are twinkling brightly above, dotted throughout the night sky and circling around the full moon. There’s a faint breeze that feels awfully good on your skin right now, the waves crashing against the surface just right below the hill where the hotel sits.

“Hey.” A familiar, deep voice comes from behind you. You fiddle with your fingers a bit, bottom lip tucked underneath your teeth as you turn and come face to face with Felix— eyes completely fixed on the one man whom you’ve always loved; the one man who, at one point, meant the entire universe to you. “I’m sorry, I just came outside to make sure you were okay. But, I guess I should’ve figured it was since Reggie was still—” Felix shakes his head and lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “Nevermind. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Thank you for checking. I—” You lazily point at the sky. “I just needed some air. Was getting really hot in there.”

“Yeah it was.” He laughs a bit. “You sure you’re doing okay? Do you need me to get you water or anything?” Typical Felix, you think. He’s still the same. Everything about him has remained unchanged.

“I’m okay, Felix. Thank you.” You respond softly. “It’s nice to see you.” He digs his hands into his pockets, head tilting to the side.

“It’s nice to see you, too. It’s been so long.” He smiles. He’s the first to step forward and envelope you in a hug, taking in his scent as you hug him back. Oddly enough, everything feels the same. Felix’s hugs have always been the best, and part of you hates having to part once the moment is over. “You look amazing, Y/N.”

“You do, too.” You point at his hair. “Though, I have to say the blue hair was a surprise?” He laughs and nods.

“Uh yeah, was kinda a bet with some of my friends.”

“It looks good though, you pull it off well.”

“Thank you.” He licks his lips before nodding towards the bench further down the path. “Do you wanna catch up?” He pauses. “I-I mean it’s fine if you wanna get back to the party, totally understand. I just thought we could kill two birds with one stone and–”

“I’d love to.” You cut him off with a sweet smile, letting Felix lead the way to the bench.

And so here you are, sitting side by side with Felix— enjoying the night while the music continues to play in the background. You start by telling Felix what you’ve been up to all these years, how your parents have been, living life in the city. Felix says he’s been in and out of the city, traveling back and forth between Australia to hang out with family in between work. You share lots of laughs when you update each other about family and their whereabouts, reminiscing about the times when your families would have lots of fun together. The both of you also talk about how it’s been awhile since everyone’s been under the same roof, but it’s a nice occasion to be together. Then, somehow, the conversation shifts to love and dating. You awkwardly tell Felix that you haven’t really been in a serious relationship since graduation. You’ve dated around, but nothing felt right.

Nothing felt equally balanced, or like it was meant to be.

But, it’s okay. You reassure him you’ve been okay focusing on you and doing your own thing. In time, you’ll welcome whatever is meant to be in your life. And Felix tells you he’s glad to hear that— that he’s also dated around but things just didn’t feel right, either.

“Y/N.” He calls for you as he looks out, then shifts his attention back to you. “Are you happy?” He looks at you, really looks at you, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Almost like he’s doing his best to read you, to find the answer deep within your orbs, your body language.

“I guess so, yeah.” You softly smile at him before looking at the view. “Are you?” He shrugs a bit.

“Yeah. Think so.” He licks his lips and lets out a small breath. “As long as you’re happy, then that’s all that matters to me.”

“Thanks, Lix.” There’s a comfortable silence that falls between you two after that conversation. But, something shifts in the air; shifts enough to the point where you feel Felix’s eyes rest back on you from your peripherals. The sudden tension could be felt from miles away, but you’re not sure how to act on it. The simplest thing you could do is—

“I’m sorry, is there something on my face?” You break the silence and ask, a bit confused as to why Felix just keeps looking at you, staring; fixed. He lets out a small laugh before shaking his head.

“No, there isn’t. I just—” He pauses. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Always been. I can’t help it.” He says, eyes softening again as he settles on your features. He gently brushes the hair away from your face, thumb trailing down to your cheek to caress the surface. You lean into his touch a little more, having to pull away when you realize the reality of this all.

It’s funny how life works.

“You know.. I think I’m gonna call it a night.” You shyly chuckle and look down at your lap, hands awkwardly rubbing away at the fabric of your dress as you let the excuse linger in the air for a second. “I didn’t realize how exhausted I was after all that dancing and singing.” Felix chuckles. He feels a little embarrassed, but he also dug himself into this one. He shouldn’t have reached out so quickly. He couldn’t help it.

“Do you need me to drive you anywhere?”

“No, I rented out a room for the night solely for this reason.” You stand with Felix following suit.

“Let me walk you to your room then?”

“Oh, you really don’t have to Lix. I’ll be okay.” He smiles hearing the nickname roll off your tongue.

“I want to.” You look at him with a small smile and nod.

“Okay. I just need to grab my things.” He follows behind, keeping a safe distance just to keep you comfortable– not knowing that you’d rather have him close than far away.

Inside, everyone is still keeping up the energy except for a few that have either left, or decided to sit down for the remainder of the night. Reggie is drinking water at your table, and he can’t help but throw a certain look your way when he sees you walking in with Felix following right behind you. You catch on though, and you simply shrug while Felix returns to his friends to let them know he’s heading out.

“Okay so.. what exactly is happening here? Miss ‘It’s been so long, I don’t even know what I’d say to him.’” You roll your eyes and grab your things.

“I’m heading up to my room. Felix is just walking me there.”

“Walking you all the way up to the second floor? Goodness me.” You laugh and shake your head.

“You should get to yours soon, too.”

“Mhm, I want a progress report tomorrow morning.” He puckers his lips before eyeing you up and down.

“Stop it.” You glare at him. “I love you, goodnight.” You simply tell him before turning on your heel to bid your other friends goodbye, along with the bride and groom.

“Get it girl, I love you too!” You hear him respond just as you continue your goodbye’s until you’re near the entrance, with Felix waiting right outside the doors in the hallway.

“Hope you’re ready for a good long trip up to the second floor.” Felix laughs.

“Yeah, sounds pretty exhausting, honestly. It’s been a night.”

“It has, but I had lots of fun.”

“I did too.” He steps inside the elevator after you, leaning back against the railing. He eyes your figure, the way the dress hugs your curves nicely, heels strapped around your ankles. You’ve always been so beautiful; everything about you, inside and out. You can see the way Felix is focused on you through his reflection on the elevator doors in front of you, and it makes your heart do flips.

Because he does that thing he always does— when he tilts his head at a certain angle just to see you, read you, perfectly. Knowing you’ll meet his eyes at some point just for him to pull you in closer.

To plant a kiss on your lips,

Down to your jaw,

Collarbone—

“Y/N, is this not your floor?” Felix asks, breaking you out of your thoughts when you realize he’s holding the elevator doors open.

“Oh, right. Yeah, sorry. Just zoned out for a bit.” He lets out a tiny laugh as he watches you walk down the hallway, turning right at the end to get to the second door. You tap your hotel key against the reader, hand twisting the handle to unlock the door. Before you can open it fully, you turn back to Felix— seeing him quietly standing there with his hands dug into his pockets. “This is me. Thanks for walking me to my room, Lix.”

“Course. I guess I’ll let you be.” He smiles toothlessly at you. Your inner dialogue is conflicted right now, wondering if you should just let him be and let this end right where it is—

While the other half is yearning to keep him around, to have his company, to just be with him even after all these years.

“Have a good night, pretty girl.” He continues, hoping that he really doesn’t have to part with you right now. He’s not gonna force it though, and he’s not gonna say anything else— even though he feels like he has a lot more to say to you tonight. Maybe this is how it was meant to be after all, which Felix will have to learn to put to rest if it truly ends this way.

But, before he can turn on his heel to walk away, you follow up with:

“Actually, do you wanna just stay and hang out a bit more?”

“If it’s not a bother.”

“Never. Sorry, I should’ve asked earlier. I just didn’t want to make it awkward or whatever.”

“Could never be that way with you, Y/N.” You chuckle, stepping in and letting Felix follow you in. You set your clutchbag onto the side table at the corner of the room, undoing your heels and setting them aside.

“God, that feels amazing.” Felix laughs as he sits on the edge of your bed, watching as you get comfortable. “I can’t wait to get comfortable. You have a room here, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you wanna change and just come back here? I feel bad that I’ll be the only one getting comfortable.” He laughs a bit and shakes his head.

“I’m good for now. I promise.” He watches as you undo your necklace. “Need help with your dress?” You look at him through the mirror as you set your necklace down onto the drawer and silently nod. “I got you.” He says, getting behind you to help you unzip your dress. It’s something small, but so intimate and sweet.

And with Felix, it feels perfectly right. Even if years have passed. You never feel out of place with him, and he only feels like home to you.

He slowly unzips your dress, eyes trailing down as his hand falls down to the small of your back. You feel his breath tickle the back of your neck, body only inches away from yours as he keeps his position there.

“Felix.” You softly call his name, and he can tell. He just knows. He looks at you through the mirror, hand slowly wrapping around your waist.

“Is it weird to say that I’ve really missed you?” He says lowly as his eyes trail down your neck this time, fixed on the weak spot that he remembers so, so well.

“No. I’ve missed you, too.”

“I mean it.” His fingers are fiddling with the strap of your dress. “When I saw you tonight, you were all I could think about. Not that anything’s changed, but—“ He lazily slips the strap down, letting it fall to the side as his finger traces a line up your arm; to the curve of your shoulder. “I just couldn’t believe that I was finally seeing you again.”

“Lix.” The way you breathily release his name from your lips tells him everything he needs to know. You’ve missed him too, you’ve really, really missed him, too. And of course he feels the same way you do— absolutely. If it wasn’t for shit falling into place at the wrong time, Felix was sure that he’d still be loving you the way he was before.

No question.

Nothing has changed. The love he’s had for you will always mean more to him than anything in this world.

Felix still feels like love, adoration, fun.

Sweetness.

And if you let him, he would also feel like sadness, anger, hurt.

Pain.

Because Felix is love, and everything that love entails.

“Missed everything about you.” He says, planting a feathery kiss on your shoulders. “Missed the way you laugh.” Another kiss on your shoulder. “The way you smile.” Another near the base of your neck. “Just you.” He says near your ear, reading your expression. You bite onto your bottom lip and finally turn to face him, his hand coming back up to rest on your cheek. “Always been you, love.” His thumb is caressing the surface, giving you leverage to plant a kiss on the palm of his hand.

“Always been.” You mutter back, allowing Felix to fully take you—all of you— in this moment.

Sooner or later, your dress is on the floor while you continue to keep your lips pressed against Felix’s in the heat of the moment; afraid to break the kiss and create distance. You don’t ever want Felix away from you again, no. You want him close— with you, for you, by you.

Just you.

He takes his time with you, letting his hands roam across every inch of your body while he takes you in and settles in between your thighs; pressing his pink, plump lips across your body like he’s soothing you, making up for the years that you’ve lost.

You’re tangled up in him, but you find that there’s no other place that you’d rather be than here; giving Felix the freedom to love you, love on you, however he chooses to tonight. You trust him to take care of you because he always has, and he always will.

It’s not long before your hands are gripping the sheets, repeatedly calling Felix’s name like a mantra. He praises you as he picks up the pace, pounding relentlessly to show his need for you. His lips graze the surface of your neck, collarbone, chest, whispering sweet nothings into your skin:

Missed everything about you.

So perfect for me, love.

So beautiful, so pretty.

Always been you.

All about you.

He continues, and continues— holding you close to his body while he tries to go slower, deeper; hitting all the right places that you like so much just to hear you, see you, writhe underneath him.

You.

Let me be yours.

“Fuck, Lix. I’m close—“ Is the only thing that you’re able to say as you feel the coil within you threatening to unravel. And he must feel it too with the way that his hips begin to stutter, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he tries to hold on. He feels your walls completely tighten around him, pulsating as your face contorts in pleasure and a silent moan leaves your lips.

“Baby, where do you want me— fuck— I’m—“ Felix barely lets out. You reassure him that he’s okay to let go inside of you, and not a second passes before he’s painting your walls. His forehead falls onto yours just as the both of you come back down from your highs, focusing on regulating your breathing after the intense pleasure that washed over you. “Are you okay, angel? You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks, close to a whisper. He kisses you lightly on the tip of your nose, before he seals one off on your lips. He holds it there for awhile before pulling back, realizing you still have yet to respond to him.

“I’m okay. Not hurt.” He nods.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Felix takes his time cleaning you up and soothing you, helping you get washed up and ready for bed just before he leaves to do the same.

For a moment, you feel like everything is over. That maybe, that was the closure you needed to finally close off that chapter in your book. That maybe, that was it to Felix and you’d return to being [somewhat] strangers again. It makes you a little scared, a little anxious.

But, it all blows away when Felix comes back, dressed for bed just as he had said. He shuts off your lights and slips into the bed next to you, pulling the sheets up so that you’re comfortable.

“For a second, I didn’t think you were actually going to come back.” He lets out a small, breathy laugh as he wraps his arm around you and pulls you flush to his body.

“What, why not? I’m here to stay, love. Not going anywhere.”

“Even when tomorrow comes?”

“Even when tomorrow comes.” He kisses the back of your head. “Unless, you have other plans already?”

“No. Just you.” He chuckles.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” You snuggle closer to him, allowing his warmth to completely envelope your body. Before you know it, you’ve fallen into a deep sleep in Felix’s arms, and he does too. Even when the morning comes, you still find yourself wrapped around Felix and snuggled against his body, light kisses being pressed against your head when you wiggle in his arms.

It’s funny how life works.

Because this time around, Felix is here, lying beside you; making things feel right, connected. Balanced. You shift in your position to look at him because this time around, you’re staring at the one man who, up until now, still means the entire universe to you.

Then, it’s also funny how life works; when life decides that this is your person, and this is finally the right time.

This time around.

—perm taglist: @ppiri-bahng @jihanlovic @meloncremesoda @sweetlikecherry @asjkdk @hanji-cafe

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astridthevalkyrie · 6 months

Text

a weak heart | rafayel x reader

“Let’s go all the way, tonight, no regrets, just love,” she sings, and her voice is a little pitchy but Rafayel could listen to it all day, “we can dance, until we die, you and I, we’ll be young forever!” How very wrong she is about that last part. It’s almost funny. Someone with such a weak heart shouldn’t be this cocky.

cw: reader has she/her pronouns, fluff, light angst, rafayel being bratty but also down incredibly bad

word count: 1.4k

There’s a dip in the bed that alerts Rafayel to her presence. He’d already known she was inside, even though her footsteps were hushed. He’d heard her walk in and feed Reddie, and he almost gave up the vow he made to himself not to engage with her just so he could snark about how she was more invested in seeing the fish than in seeing him.

(Of course, she very well may have gone to the studio to look for him and decided to feed Reddie while she was already in there, but. He doesn’t want to be reasonable right now. He wants to be upset with her. And she gives him so little to get upset with because she is and always has been some kind of angel descended from the heavens with an embarrassingly weak heart, so he needs to take whatever chances he can get.)

A soft touch to the back of his neck is followed by a quick kiss to his cheek. “Rafayel?”

He doesn’t answer.

“I know you’re awake, Raf.” Well, his eyes are open so. Great observation, idiot. “You’re not even gonna talk to me?”

The window he’s staring through is so fascinating all of a sudden, all bright and stale with an afternoon light he’s painted a billion times. Literally a billion. That’s how old he is. One would think he’d learned to be patient in that time, but one would also think that after waiting for a woman for centuries, she could cut him some slack and not make him wait any longer.

(Not that she knows that but. Still.)

“It was really last minute.” She kisses his cheek again, hovering over him and he wants so badly to gaze up at her, because that will be something he’s never painted before—he’d title it Requiem For A Bland Thursday and Thomas would sell it for a couple hundred million and he’d tell her that and she would only ask him to buy her a rainbow popsicle because there isn’t a greedy bone in her body.

“I was going to text, Raf, I promise I was, but I’d pulled a night shift already and my phone was dead and Xavier and I both left our chargers at home, and we didn’t have a chance to stop and charge anyways.”

Always an excuse. Always a valid excuse that he can find no fault with. But it isn’t fair. The people she works with—Tara, Xavier, Captain Jenna who she’s definitely a little in love with—get her attention and her time every hour of every day. If there’s a mission to do, she’ll drop everything and do it. And Rafayel gets the crumbs, the vacation days and the after hours, whenever she remembers him enough to spare her time.

What’s worse than that is the fear. He doesn’t let it show through text, always opting to send whatever he thinks will make her smile, but everytime hours pass without a response from her, fear seizes his poor heart. All the twisted and cruel things that could possibly happen to her start playing on repeat in his head.

“Rafayel,” she pleads, tilting her forehead against his temple. “Please, look at me?”

His chest burns hot.

When he finally looks up, he finds he’s absolutely correct in his hunch. She presents like a masterpiece, hair mussed from whatever fights Xavier clearly couldn’t protect her from. Her eyes shine tiredly, lighting up when they gaze into his. And Rafayel’s heart releases a painful thump, thump, thump because if he could spend eternity with her looking at him the way she is now, he’d easily live the rest of his immortal life the happiest person in the universe.

She leans down and pecks his lips apologetically. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

(It’s what she always does.)

“It’s what you always do,” he says, not harsh but definitely blasé enough to make her wince. “Why should this time be any different?”

A sigh escapes her, and he starts to feel that old guilt again. To hold her up to a standard because he fell in love with two other versions of her, and to give her grief for being late as though she wasn’t doing an incredibly important job keeping people safe—it’s not exactly fair. To either of them, but specifically to her.

And yet, it’s not like he spends his time with her imagining a princess running through the sands calling his name. This version of her makes his heart pound all the same, whether she’s absolutely beating his ass at the card game in the cafe, or resting her head on his shoulder from behind while he paints, or when she’s in his bed just like this.

The biggest similarity is that damn sick bleeding heart.

“What do I need to do for you to forgive me?” She tilts his chin up with her index finger, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. Rafayel could never imagine being spoiled like this even if he was to be sitting on the throne in Lemuria right now, with jewels and gold surrounding him and beautiful maidens offering their hands.

Somehow, this is more. Somehow, this is better.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he answers flatly, “and there’s nothing I can do. So let me be mad at you in peace.”

Her response is to brush the bangs from his forehead and drop a kiss to his forehead as well. “You make me feel like I’m in high school all over again,” she teases quietly, a small smile playing on the corner of her lips now. “My teenage dream.”

He groans. “Don’t—“

How very wrong she is about that last part. It’s almost funny.

Someone with such a weak heart shouldn’t be this cocky.

“Is this my punishment?” His nose wrinkles. “To hear you sing terrible renditions of already overplayed songs?”

Her giggle is the real music to his ears. “You’re an artist, you should know talent when you hear it.”

“I do,” he insists, realizing too late that he’s giving in. The lightness in his stomach is a bit frightening too. This is the same woman who carved out his heart. This is the same woman who needed to do nothing but flutter her lashes at him to make him give in to her any request. If, tomorrow, she were to ask him to rip his own scales from his body and place the bloody pieces in her palm, he’d do so without question.

Her hand comes up to rest on his cheek and he leans into it with a soft sigh almost on instinct. Such power she possesses, over the God of the Sea, and she’s the only person who would never even fathom abusing it.

“You’re cold,” she murmurs, caressing his cheek. “Why do you always keep your house so cold?”

(So that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can—)

“It’s better for blood circulation.”

Her thumb gently brushes over his lower lip, like she’s mapping out her quest to treasure. “That’s like, objectively not true, Raf. My friend’s a doctor, he told me that cold is better for short-term pain and warmth is better for—“

“If you’re cold,” he interrupts, “get under the sheets.”

A brilliant, blinding smile lights up her face as she does just that, slipping under next to him and laying down at a slightly elevated level so she can tuck his head into her chest. Warmth runs through him like a flood, even the leather of her uniform is comforting because it’s smooth and light and smells just like her. Her lips press to the top of his head.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers, running her fingers through his hair, “I’ll do my best to text you and let you know next time, okay?”

And if she doesn’t, Rafayel thinks, curling into her more, they will still end up like this, quiet words and mutual teasing, memories of the past that he will forever be cursed by and she will never be burdened with, a heart that dances to the tune of her commands, wrapped up in each other, and absolutely nothing will change.

Because who really has a weak heart?

(It’s not her.)

#love and deepspace #l&ds #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x mc #rafayel #valkyrie stories

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tobifuyu · 9 months

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Snowflakes In My Stomach When We’re Kissin’

RAN HAITANI x f!reader

cw: nsfw, mdni, smut, fwb to lovers, oral (male reciving), tiny bit of angsty themes with happy ending, sappy fic, ran being a simp as always to feed my “he’s a self-centered bitch until he finds the one” agenda.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: surprise… i’m back with a christmas present! this is the first fic in a three pieces installment, which can all be read as standalone but come from the same universe and evolve in the span of three different christmases. in case you didn’t know, in japan christmas is a holiday in which people spend time with their partners because they reserve new year’s for family (not only i’ve seen it in a whole lot of shoujo anime but i’ve asked my japanese coworkers to confirm eheh). it’s also customary to eat cake! ;)

“Though you said you just wanted to get a coffee.”

The only thing peeking from the red scarf is the tip of his nose, flushed with the same color of the fabric that’s wrapped around his neck. You imagine his lips curved in a smirk under it.

When he came to pick you up earlier this morning, you thought he made a bold choice pairing the red garment with the unusual color of his hair. Up until then, you always believed red and purple would clash.

But Ran made it work, somehow. Like most things in his life, he did it with a confidence that made you question your world and how you view it even if for just a second.

“Well, that we did,” He shakes his hand, his long fingers easily supporting the weight of the full cup. You can see the steam rise from it and wonder if he’s not drinking it because he’s scared to burn his tongue or because he’s not ready to go home yet.

The two of you are currently walking around Shiba Park, not too far from Roppongi Hills. The peak of Tokyo Tower is hidden in plain sight behind the trees, stripped naked by the season, and adorned by strings of fairy lights.

In daylight they look clear, void of color, and empty, they come alive at night. Just like we both do, thinks Ran.

Ran does like winter. He believes winter poses more opportunities to forgo going out and staying in bed. He loves to gaze out of his apartment’s window and spot rain pit patting against the glass, watching the water droplets leave streaks behind as he lets himself get lulled back to sleep.

He also likes that he can layer more clothes, the more the merrier, he says, it’s easier to style it. You would agree, because he looks particularly elegant with his long black coat, left unbuttoned to glimpse at the nice sweater under it. The sight of his tightly clad body alone ignites a fire inside of you, one that is meek but insistent, and will soon start to burn you inside out.

What Ran doesn’t like it’s the cold. The wind is not fair against his pale skin, it leaves it red and stinging, much like his heart when he wakes up after a night together and doesn’t find you there. He does not like the cold, the cold of the sheets around him when you’ve left hours before.

He would like to pretend he’s clueless as to why, the same way you’re staring at him now, but he knows the reason behind it.

“Are you gonna tell me why we’re wandering around without a destination in freezing weather?

“Can’t you just live a little?”

You scoff at his words, taking another sip out of your hot chocolate to bite back an insult. He’s already testing your patience, and you have very little of it left today of all days.

“We should go eat some cake, I’d love an excuse to grab a Mont Blanc for later at that bakery by your apartment. Y’know I like it there.”

Cake. You don’t like cake, and you don’t like what eating cake with him would mean today of all days.

“Why do you have to make everything so complicated, Ran?” You sigh, head shaking in disappointment.

When you decided to start this with Ran, it was because you believed the man to be on the same wavelength as you. Ran had seemed like someone who knew what he wanted, and you had been sure that was not you.

He had promised that would stay the case. Your heart could not afford to be cared for by somebody.

When you look at him this time, you don’t notice how the wind is whipping the skin of his high cheeks red because his scarf is now covering everything but the lidded eyes staring at you.

At this rate Ran might end up hating winter: you seem to get colder with the season. He doesn’t think he would pick sleeping in over you, so if he could, he would like for summer to last all year long.

He’d like for you to cling to him even when the temperature is so high you can barely breathe in your cramped room, sweat sticking to both your skin and his, like your very first night together.

Because where the holidays bring glee to most, to you they’re a reminder of times that are long gone. A childhood spent decorating the tree and wishing for the perfect Christmas gift, now turned into a life of solitude. Your fast-paced job and lonely apartment away from home don’t leave space for the frivolity of Christmas.

“Didn’t wanna leave you alone,” he speaks so clearly of his intentions you almost feel shame, “Did ya think I would’ve left you bask in your gloominess, today? ‘M not that bad of an ass.”

You don’t think Ran owns you anything. He shouldn’t be picking up the pieces of you that other people left scattered and putting them back together as if it were a kids’ puzzle.

Ran knows you don’t really have anyone, he thinks he’s much like you, and would be just as bitter if he didn’t have his brother.

“You left Rin by himself?”

You hear his muffled laughter, “‘course not. Haruchiyo’s there. Y’know how they are.”

Yes. In love, you suppose. And you wonder if Ran thinks that is what it is. And what is it between you two?

You can feel his body warmth as he gravitates closer to you, “‘M cold,” is his excuse when his now ungloved hand catches yours. He intertwines your fingers, brushing the back of your hand with his thumb, before hiding them away in his coat pocket.

Gotta warm your cold heart up, he thinks.

“Saving you from this freezing weather,” is what he says out loud.

But you know it’s because the movement brings you closer, he pulls you so you’re now shoulder to shoulder, and you’re not strong enough to keep your head from falling on his. As if you were fresh snow in the sun, you melt in his presence.

“Let’s go get cake,” your voice is but a soft whisper, running past him like the breeze through the dying leaves, the wind finally settling down.

And that’s how he ends up in your apartment. Sounds of wet skin slapping against one another fill the void as he buries himself deep inside of you.

The sweet pastries Ran bought long forgotten over your kitchen counter, as he’d much rather taste the honeyed nectar spilling from between your thighs.

He’s grabbing at them now, the hold on your flesh sure to leave marks behind as he folds your legs so that he can loop his arms under your knees, keeping you spread open for him.

Big body caging you under his warmth with his forehead pressed against yours, and open mouths a breath away from the other, sharing sounds of pleasure without ever meeting in the middle.

It had been a tantalizing dance when you first started sleeping together. Like most people in your situation, you had both concluded that it would be best if you refrained from kissing. Deeming it too intimate.

Ran had caved after the third time you ended up in his bed, lips too needy to be kept from yours. He had let out a soft plead before you met him in the middle.

From then on you made it your mission to never kiss him outside of your bedroom activities, too scared of the power his kisses held over you. He and his annoying self had taken it as a challenge, always on the edge of his seat waiting to see who’d kiss the other first.

“Oh fuck this,” Ran groans before giving in.

You catch sight of his eyelids fluttering shut, hiding that violet color that you love so much, and your lips lock in a kiss that takes your breath as much as the hips still snapping against yours.

The coarse patch of hair on his navel repeatedly brushes against your puffed-up clit, making your hips jump up to chase the friction. The man is shamelessly shallowing your moans and caressing your tongue with his, teeth closing around your bottom lip when you go to pull away.

“Ngh, you taste like cake.”

Ran had snuck a bite of one of the pieces the moment he stepped out of the bakery, and the sweet taste on his tongue was, in your opinion, way better than the real deal.

His hand grasps your chin with firmness, the tips of his fingers squeezing your cheeks and making your blushed lips pucker up.

“So you do like cake, mh?”

“No, I don-“ Ran squeezes harder, and your mouth parts. A glob of spit falls on your tongue, one that you shallow under his scrutinizing gaze.

The moan that he lets out at that reverberates through your chest as he bends so close your bodies are now completely pressed against one another, sharing body heat.

This is what sex with Ran is, a concoction of rough touches and fucking that turn soft and slow when you least expect it. He likes to tease and surprise you, stealing the prettiest sounds from your lips and making them his. Making you his.

“Y’don’t like cake, s’okay. I know you like me,” one of his hands teasingly pinches your right nipple, respective eye closing in a wink.

You like that he makes sex fun, cracking jokes as if his cock weren’t pumping inside of you. You like it, you like him, but you can’t have him know that.

“That’s not-“ he interrupts you once again, this time with the snapping of his hips. He starts fucking you like he means it. Calculated thrusts hitting against the sweet spot only he knows how to find.

Ran is on his knees now, hands firmly planted on your raised hips, guiding you back and forth over his length.

“Fuck! Ran, fuck that feels good- so good-“

Slurred words leave your panting mouth as your hands hold onto the pillow behind your head for dear life, back arched and chest exposed to the greedy eyes that are raking over your body. From your perked-up nipples, begging to be played with, to the way your cunt is stretching around his cock.

“Don’t have enough hands for the things I wanna do to you,” Nonetheless, he repositions his right one so that it’s splayed over your navel, thumb reaching down to rub tight circles on your slicked clit.

“Fuckin’ cunt squeezing me so good,” moans spill from your mouth at his words, his voice is strained but maintains that hint of icy superiority and poise that is characteristic of Ran.

The way your hole flutters around him is maddening, Ran can feel your walls clenching against his length so perfectly. He can feel everything.

As a matter of fact, so do you. No matter how dumb he fucks you, you can’t ever miss out on the sweet feeling of his bare skin caressing your wet cunt. The squelching sounds are filling the air around you, making your cheeks heat up and your head lull to the side, trying to avoid his eyes in shame.

Half face buried in the pillow, you beg for him, “Ran, please, please. I need to cum so bad.”

His thrusts slow down, thumb stilling over your clit, and you hear him hum, pensive.

“Maybe if you looked at me, pretty, I might think about letting you.”

Gathering your remaining strength, you open your eyes to the sight of his glorious body above yours.

The wetness of his skin shines under the light of the outside street lamp, peeking in from the window, full body tattoo so enchanting, you watch it move and bend over his rising chest.

With violet eyes fixed on yours, he stands tall, unreachable.

The purple strands that fall from his gelled-back hairstyle are the only giveaway that he’s not so perfect and pristine after all, but he still looks like a god in your devoted eyes.

“Ran,” you call his name so softly he tumbles from the skies right to you.

His body bends to lay over yours, weight supported by his arms at your sides. With a snap of his hips, he breaks the longing stare you’re both sharing, mushroom tip hitting the spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Oh my god, that feels so-“ “I know, baby, s’okay.” One of his hands caresses over your head, before stopping at your neck and closing around your windpipe. The pressure of his touch against your feverish skin is delicious.

Your nails are now creating indents in the flesh of his arms. You want more, you need him to break you.

Ran can’t stop thrusting, pounding, burying himself inside of you to the hilt. He’s never wanted to be this close to someone before, never needed their warmth as he does yours.

He stops you before you can reach your clit with your fingers and, wanting to be the one to take you over the edge, he uses his free hand to rub over it vehemently.

“Coming, I’m coming,” are the rushed words that fall from your lips before you hit your peak. Wanton moans are gracing Ran’s ears, making his balls strain from holding back, but he wants you to bask in the glow of your orgasm before he reaches his.

“Doin’ so well fo’ me, look at this pretty pussy. Gushing all over my cock.” He looks down as he says this, watching how good he’s splitting you open, his cock coming out of you covered with the white sheen of your arousal, then plunging back in.

Your spent body is overstimulated, twitching in his hold as if trying to run away from the pleasure.

“You’re the only one, baby.” Ran lets slip, the sight of you in your most vulnerable state makes him just as weak, “S’all yours, so take it.” And he means it, you’re the only one.

Before you, life used to be in black and white. Ran had tried everything to paint it some other color, from violence to sex, but nothing ever came close to holding you in his arms.

Color is always all around him, but Ran’s devoid of it until you touch him.

You pull him down to you at the confession, arms wrapped around his neck, chests pressed against one another, hard nipples tickling the soft skin.

The pace suddenly turns slow, and you wonder if Ran does not care about coming anymore. His focus is on you, and you’re staring back at him with just as much affection.

“Let me take care of you,” it’s what you suggest once you’ve come down from your high, fingers pressing against his shoulders to have him lay back in the sheets. Short hair sprawled over the white pillow like a halo behind his troubled head.

Both of your thighs are circling his hips, too scared to have Ran pull out, and be prevailed by that sense of emptiness and cold that comes from being away from him.

Fighting a whirlpool of emotions, you feel the need to silence your mind with his lips on yours. The clashing of your noses does nothing to stop you from kissing each other passionately.

The blame should be on Ran for making you fall for him and gifting you a brand new reason to celebrate Christmas, but you should’ve known better when he walked into your life with that snarky smirk that makes you sigh just thinking about it. You bite his lip in retaliation.

The feeling of Ran’s hands traveling over your skin and sinking with his strong grip on the flesh of your hips is what makes you separate your two halves, pussy clenching around the length that has been filling you up so perfectly. The need to make him feel just as good swells up on the inside.

“Fuck, please,” A choked whisper, falling from the pearlescent of his lips, wet with your love, blood pouring out of the bitten skin.

Purple and red do look good together, you think.

Your hands are warm, trailing up his stomach like the ink on his skin. He feels as if you’re moving too fast, scared he might blink and lose the moment, and at the same time too slow for his liking. He’s begging and he doesn’t know what he’s begging for. But you do.

Ran’s hands tighten around the bedsheets. He wants to touch everywhere you’ve been, wants to get stained in you. Like fresh paint that sticks on skin, he’s now colored in your shades.

Wet kisses are being left on the top of his shaft. Ran’s right hand finds your hair, waving his fingers between the loose strands to uncover the sight of your pretty face.

Lidded eyes are watching you glide your tongue down his hardness, caressing the bluish veins running across its sides, tasting yourself on it.

When your lips wrap around his sensitive tip you have to hold down his hips with both hands.

The peace you set is slow, taking him in your mouth inch by inch. His girth stretches your lips and he thumbs the lower one as you look up at him with tears forming at your lashline.

“Mouth feels like fucking heaven, angel.”

Ran can barely contain himself, dangling from the edge, his balls heavy with his release.

When your nose is buried in the hair at the base of his cock, you know you’ve successfully taken him whole. A huge accomplishment on your part, considering how blessed he is.

With your throat clenching around him, it doesn’t take long to feel him twitch in your mouth.

“Yeah, pretty girl, just like that. Make me cum, fuck!”

Bobbing your head at his request, you’re hasty in sucking your checks around his length, letting him come on the back of your tongue with languid moans that contain your name.

No need for him to ask, you’re one step ahead by swallowing his semen, making a show of it before leaving a wet kiss on his tip, to collect the white drop that was spilling over.

“Better than any cake.”

Booming laughter fills the space around you as you scoot closer to his tired body, laying on his naked frame and stealing all his warmth.

“I do like you.”

“I know,” Ran looks down at you, left check cutely smushed against his pecs, “Let’s spend New Year’s together.”

The faint movement of your hair brushing his skin tells him you’re agreeing, “And what about… next year?”

“Let’s spend them all together.”

You’re warm in his hold, and he figures the fairy lights might’ve come on in the park.

Ran thinks back to the rest of the untouched cake on your kitchen counter and is happy enough that the two of you have exchanged Christmas gifts in your own special way.

After all, he took away the cold, and you’ve brightened up his life.

That’s more of what you could’ve wished for.

#ran haitani #ran haitani imagines #ran haitani smut #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x y/n #ran haitani x you #ran imagines #ran smut #ran x oc #ran x reader

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hamofjustice · 10 months

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y'know, it's funny, from replaying pokemon scarlet / violet basegame, i'm pretty sure if you're not internet poisoned, then one of the most memorable things about nemona could be that she only battles you half or less of the times that she checks in to help you because she wants it to be perfect and fair for you and really doesn't want to annoy you, to the point it almost seems like she's making excuses NOT to battle you, not that she's a wild dog that's stalking you and will not leave you alone. one of her earliest character establishing moments is looking directly into the camera with puppy dog eyes and apologizing profusely for wanting a rematch because she had fun

she's in the gyms because she's also doing the gyms! she gets really embarrassed that it looks like she's following you around and decides not to battle you to prove she's not! if she is, she's probably following you because geeta asked her to, and clavell literally said she should take you under her wing! she usually gives you advance warning that she's going to be taking you on soon!

in particular, once you're out of the tutorial she talks to and helps you without battling you for the first three badges of her own questline

it's always, like, clavell and geeta being like 'smh get a load of this girl, she needs to back off, who does she think she is, gary oak?' with their body language. the "oops, nemona didn't realize that cutscene didn't heal you" thing the game keeps doing feels kinda forced.

maybe it's just pokemon writing being what it is (i really don't know why they act like she'd use her champion team against your starter, she just picked a starter, what are you talking about. make her look overeager in a way that makes sense with her character or anyone over the age of 5 please) but the way nemona actually is not matching the way everyone talks about her seems to be a thing in universe and out, and i want to remember this rather than fall into a telephone game of what the plot actually was

if anything, I wish she was less afraid to annoy the player, and more present in the game! y'know, appearing in the sidelines during gym battles with the rest of the crowd rather than the text simply saying she was, for example

idk, I wonder if things would be different if the most vocal pokemon "fans" didn't hate characters interacting with them. maybe I want a brock and misty with me the whole game. maybe biri biri and after the rain are the experience I want

acting like the character who puts our enjoyment above her own and is afraid to annoy us still annoyed us is how we get a DLC that never mentions her or the other main characters of the story in 9 months of promotional materials and, maybe someday, a gen 10 with no friends at all.

#pokemon sv #nemona #pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon scarvio #nemona pokemon #nemonaposting #sorry for editing this ten times while it got its first reblog

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bluebayousblog · 5 months

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RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 18)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: Christmas Morning

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART SEVENTEEN

Drew didn’t want to let go of Isobel, and he meant that in so many ways. When he was fourteen he laid eyes on her for the first time, and hadn’t expected to like her as much as he did—his entire family liked her. She was so shy with them all in the beginning, but he still managed to be enamored by the fraction of her she presented to his family within those first few weeks of them meeting. He knew she was special and it was easy for him to want to treat her as such because in his head doing that meant she would stick around, it meant she would open up around them.

When college came around they ended up at the same university, so he never had to consider parting ways with her in that regard, it was when she began dating Grayson that he experienced what it felt like for her to be slipping away from him. He didn’t register the feelings as jealousy, no it was more like a discomfort he felt about her being in a relationship. A discomfort that he chalked up as him being protective because that is what made sense to him at the time. He couldn’t stop her from dating, so he learned to live with it—learned how to share Isobel with another man who didn’t deserve her—until they broke up three years into their relationship. And though she returned to him heartbroken and not quite the same happy girl she was before he’ll always remember the relief he felt.

The last two years of college he spent probably annoying Isobel beyond lengths but that’s how he got his fix. He enjoyed walking her to class when he could, no matter how brief, it was always enough for him to see her face and hear her sweet voice. When weekends came he invited her to his parties because it was an excuse to have her around without having to worry about her wellbeing somewhere else. And at those parties he couldn’t help but give most if not all of his attention to her when he wasn’t entertaining some random girl. How could he not when she was in the same room as him, it was close to impossible for him to ignore Isobel’s presence.

Drew had been with so many women in his life, and never once had he felt that pull he did with Isobel after simply realizing he could be attracted to her. After years of knowing each other he’d kissed her once and had been overcome with the need to have her to all to himself. He’d always felt this way but having her in such an intimate way made it so much clearer. Being with Isobel created a fear within Drew because although he felt for her in the capacity that he did, it didn’t mean she felt the same way for him.

And just because Drew had fallen in love with Isobel didn’t mean she would ever fall in love with him.

Isobel let him hold her in his arms after he told her he loved her, she rolled over and hid her face in his chest instead of running away from his confession. He felt whole with her in his embrace, the way she relaxed with him made him feel like she would never leave him, so it scared him when he had to slip away to the bathroom to clean up and discard the condom. The mere thought of the bed being empty when he returned making him linger in the bathroom a little longer just to brace himself.

He eventually couldn’t help but go back to her, holding his breath as he approached his bed, and when he saw her body still resting there on his side of it, he exhaled.

“You took my spot, Izzy Bear.” Drew stated with a smile as he slipped himself under her body, and he melted when her soft hand ran up his stomach so she could wrap an arm around his torso.

She looked so adorable under him, her long hair framing her face, her soft skin bare, and her brown eyes warm with unspoken emotion that made his grip on her hip tighten, “Your spot was warmer than mine.”

He could only smile in response as their eyes remained locked, it felt completely different than before and they both knew it was because what had just transpired between them. Isobel hadn’t expected having sex with Drew to leave her feeling so needy. She hadn’t thought about what it would be like after, and now she was feeling so many confusing emotions all at once. She felt scared of his feelings—of her own—but she didn’t want to leave him. Isobel had already done that, and it only hurt them both. So she clung to him and silently thought of everything that had happened tonight. The unnecessary fighting followed by intense sex followed by his confession.

“You love me?” Isobel whispered with her lips moving against the arm her cheek was lying on, and she couldn’t ignore the twinge of hopefulness that was buried deep in her tone. Only someone who desperately wanted to hear the emotion could distinguish it beyond all of her layers she put forth, but she had a feeling her body knew Drew was exactly that—desperate for a part of her no matter how minuscule. She wanted to look away before he answered her, not in fear of him not saying yes, but the fear of simply looking him in the eyes as he answered her.

“Yes.”

Her face immediately heated at the short response that despite its conciseness had her heart pounding inside her chest, and despite her internal transgressions her eyes couldn’t help but find his blue ones. It was unbelievable how one or three words could mean so much—could make her feel so much. She’d once felt this way before with someone else, she’d also ran away from this feeling, but it still managed to find her and still knocked the breath out of her. She knew her cheeks were red when he swept his thumb across the warm skin of her face, “When did you realize it?”

It was like Isobel was in front of a mesmerizing flame she shouldn’t touch, but couldn’t help but stick her fingers through. Although, the closer she got to him, to the heat, the fire wasn’t so scary anymore—like it wasn’t even really a fire to begin with.

“Isobel, I think I have always loved you.” Drew settled on an answer after thinking it over. He didn’t want to overwhelm her, but it also felt impossible for him to keep what he was thinking to himself. It was like when she gave herself to him he couldn’t hold in his feelings for her any longer.

And If he was being honest he couldn’t remember not loving Isobel. The time from when they were only family friends to when they hooked up for the first time felt like one convoluted memory of Drew falling for her without knowing it.

Isobel had no idea what to think, someone had fallen in love with her and he’d done it so easily—so effortlessly. And it melted all of her resolve considering the fact that he’d told her on a holiday she held so close to her heart. She was going to remember his devotion to her every Christmas thereafter.

“I don’t know what to say, Drew.” She shyly admitted, now looking away from his gaze. He just sounded so sure from the first ‘I love you’ as he dropped down on the mattress beside her after he rolled off of her, and it was his certitude along with his admission that stole the air from her chest.

She didn’t want to hurt him because of her own reservations, but she also hadn’t come to terms with her own feelings for Drew like he had for her. The last thing she wanted to do was compare what she had with him to her past relationship but her trauma made it hard to distinguish the two. Though, Isobel knew better because the way Drew made her feel wasn’t comparable to the man she had before. Even the way he told her he loved her was different, there was no flood of expectancy—he just wanted her to know but still she couldn’t help but wonder if her silence was disappointing him.

Because despite all of her fears, something that remained consistent for Isobel was that she believed his word.

“I don’t need you to know what to say, Isobel, I’m sorry I couldn’t help it.” Drew swallowed, wanting to do everything he could not to scare her anymore than he already had.

Isobel’s heart melted at his words, he was being so vulnerable and honest and it only made her want to tuck herself further into his arms, “You don’t have to apologize, Bear.”

He looked so handsome staring down at her with that same glimmer she always saw in his blue eyes, but now she knew exactly what he was feeling behind them. She couldn’t help herself as she leaned up to press their lips together in a gentle kiss, hoping it conveyed everything she couldn’t say because though she couldn’t articulate her feelings for Drew, it didn’t mean she didn’t feel anything at all.  They kissed slowly like time was infinite for them, reveling in the feeling of their lips against each other, and each slow peck eased her nerves. She felt how intentional he was with his kisses like her mouth was made for his own, like he’d found something he’d been always looking for, while Isobel just tightly held on.

Never did she think she’d be in Drew’s bed as he sensually kissed her lips after telling her he loved her on the early hours of Christmas morning. It was unimaginable at one point, but in the moment it made perfect sense. The feeling of his wet lips, the warmth from his body against her own, and the idea of Drew falling in love with her—for the most part.

Isobel suddenly pulled away and looked into his eyes, looking for the answers to the questions she was afraid to ask, the questions she thought may make her look weak in his head. She hated letting her insecurities show, but they would only continue to haunt her if she kept letting them choke her until she was rendered silent. It was easy for Isobel not to be a burden to her friends and family, but what she hadn’t realized was just how silent it made her that she became sort of nonexistent.

And for once she didn’t want to feel that way with Drew.

“You won’t get tired of me?” She quietly asked, forcing herself to keep their eyes connected as she waited for him to speak. Isobel could confidently say that was one of her biggest fears, someone getting tired of you loving them because she’d experienced it first hand. And though it came out like a question, it was more of a plea.

Drew’s eyebrows creased at her question. Not only because the possibility could cross her mind, but at how raw and vulnerable her voice sounded as he listened to her. It was crazy how you could spend an abundance of time with someone and not know how bruised they are, then they let you in and you don’t understand how you couldn’t have seen it all before.

“I could never get tired of you” he stated with emphasis like the thought was rudimentary, he said it with a gentle force like it was truly impossible, and he promised it to her with sincerity because he could never reach that point. He wanted from the depths of his being for her to understand that she had nothing to fear because Drew tiring of Isobel simply could not be.

Drew never thought he could ever be frustrated with Isobel until he fell in love with her. He was frustrated with her for things she couldn’t help, frustrated at things that happened to her, and frustrated that he he’d taken so agonizingly long to realize just how important she was to him that she’d found love in someone else and been burned because of it.

“You promise?” She gave him a gentle smile, but he saw right through it and he knew just how important it was to give her what she needed.

Reassurance.

God, he just wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her entire body until she understood him and all the doubt in her mind was no more when she looked at him, touched him, and simply thought of him. But this was Isobel and while he did want so badly for her to trust what they had, there was also a part of him that wanted to see her slowly heal no matter how long it took because he was coming to find out, to truly know Isobel was to love her for the sides of her she allowed people to see while also loving the hidden parts of her that weren’t invisible—they were just barely on the surface.

“I promise, Izzy Bear.” He whispered and when she smiled, a real smile with her teeth on display just for him to see, the frustration he’d just been feeling felt so insignificant to the warmth currently inhabiting in his chest, “Give me a kiss.”

“I don’t think I heard you, Bear, can you say it a little firmer?” Isobel smirked.

She leaned her body on his chest and brought their mouths so close their lips brushed, barely keeping a slither of space between them. Her smirk grew into a full grin when she felt his arm wrap around her lower back and squeeze her upper thigh in his hand.

“I said give me a kiss, Isobel.” Drew looked unamused as he stared into her eyes while his hand wandered upward to rest on her ass.

Isobel didn’t listen as he repeated himself just as she asked, instead she moved her lips to his neck, running her mouth across the contours of it, his skin salty on her tongue. She couldn’t tell if the increase in his breathing was because her defiance was pissing him off or turning him on, but she didn’t mind either, “Hmmm I don’t think I feel like kissing you right now.”

“You always feel like kissing me.” He gritted through clenched teeth as she laid a full kiss on the center of his throat making her giggle. Isobel knew he was referring to just how pathetic her attempt was to keep things platonic between them for the holidays. How she’d cracked within days, no within minutes and hadn’t been able to keep her mouth off of him since. God, did she love having her lips on Drew.

Isobel chose not to respond as she continued to plant kisses down his neck and chest, every peck deliberate in her wake as she made her descent. She wanted to show Drew that she felt for him just as intensely as he did for her even if she couldn’t put it into words. This was the only way she thought to herself, atleast that’s how it worked for her in the past. Then Drew’s hand found her cheek and she froze before he pulled her back up his body so she was back where she began—chest to chest, nose to nose, and just slightly brushing his lips with her own.

“You don’t have to do that, Baby.” He mumbled as he pressed their foreheads together, staring into her brown eyes as if he was really trying to make sure she understood him, to remind her that he knew her.

Isobel’s eyes widened as she stared back in a sort of disorienting realization at the sincerity in his eyes and how she’d thought she’d loved before when really that hadn’t been what it was at all because what she was seeing in front of her in this moment was incomparable to anything she’d witnessed before.

“I want to kiss you.” She voiced her thoughts, it came out naturally like Drew was meant to know everything she was thinking.

“Then kiss me.” He barely finished before her lips were covering his in a gentle kiss.

One of his hands immediately found her jaw, squeezing her face as he pulled her further against his mouth. He could feel her as she immersed herself in the feeling of them being connected like she was wordlessly giving him another piece of herself that only he could interpret. Drew couldn’t help but release a deep groan at the intensity of it all, at how packed full of emotion this all was. His hands slipped down her jaw onto her throat before sliding to the back of her neck so he could bring her closer, desperate for all she was willing to give to him.

They kissed until they were out of breath, until Isobel was panting for him and desperate for his touch. His tongue massaged carefully into hers as he took his time tasting her. Her lips were starting to feel swollen and bruised but every time he released the pressure on her neck she kissed him deeper so his grip would return. She whined against his mouth when he disconnected their lips and looked up at the ceiling obviously drowning from his own arousal. She didn’t know where to go from here as she stared down at him, his eyes tightly shut and trying to control his breathing. Here she was in bed with a man who didn’t need her to prove herself to him, and she was completely and utterly lost in it all, “You’re making me feel things I don’t think I’ve ever felt before.” Isobel whispered as low as she could and rested her chin on the warm skin of his chest .

His eyes remained closed, but when she felt the rumble of a groan travel up his throat she knew he’d heard her and she smiled.

Isobel then couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let her tell him she loved him with his eyes closed, but she knew that’s not how she would want it, she couldn’t imagine it that way. In her head, when she let herself hope, she would say it when she wasn’t afraid to look him in eyes as she gave him her heart.

But for now she’d whisper it in riddles with his waiting stare hidden behind his resting eyelids.

She fell asleep comfortably in his arms and woke up to Drew staring down at her that Christmas morning. They’d obviously switched positions during the night as she was now tucked into his warm body as his back shielded her body and he leaned on his side, putting all his weight on his right arm, “You always wake up at this exact time on Christmas Day.”

Isobel didn’t have to look at the time on her phone to know it was seven in the morning. Her parents were most likely awake and lounging around in the den downstairs while she was cuddled up with Drew in his bedroom instead of waking up in her own. In just thirty minutes they would be listening for her descent down the stairs because that’s how it went every year they spent Christmas together, but things were changing to her dismay.

“How do you know? You usually don’t wake up until breakfast is ready.” She poked his side and giggled when he jumped at the feeling.

Drew couldn’t help but smile at the years of memories from all their holidays spent together, “For some reason I always wake up the moment you walk past my door to the stairs.”

If she already wasn’t a puddle from how sweet he was to her last night, she would’ve melted further into the mattress.

“You sure you weren’t feeling me two years ago, Bear?” Isobel joked though they’d been spending holidays together in this cabin for far longer than two years. Meaning he’d been feeling for her for so much longer.

He wrapped both of his arms around her body so he could pull her into him, he was getting used to his days starting with Isobel’s, especially on one of her most cherished.

“What did I say to you last night, Is?” He breathed and brushed her bare hips with his hand.

‘Isobel, I think I have always loved you.’

The more she heard him say it the more she wanted to hear it, like a song you didn’t quite understand the first listen but as you absorb the melodies, the words, and meaning you can’t help but want to hear it on repeat.

When Drew saw Isobel bite her bottom lip as her dark eyes glazed over in thought he swore he felt his heart rate drop before it began pounding in his chest. He loved this about her, how her body betrayed her and revealed exactly what she was feeling. Drew just loved when her guard was down with him. His grip tightened on her hips as if it would slow down the thumping in his veins.

“I have to get dressed.” Isobel released her lip and pouted knowing her mom would come check on her if she didn’t come downstairs soon, especially since she played sick yesterday to avoid the man she was under at this very moment.

“Okay.” Drew could only watch in a trance as she slipped from under him. He was mesmerized watching her leave the bed and stand before him with nothing covering her body. His tongue swiftly poked out to wet his lips when she swiped her pajamas off the floor and began to slowly get dressed—knowing his greedy eyes were watching, “Come here Isobel.”

She was working on the first button of her top when he interrupted and she wasted no time before walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed so she was facing him. When his big hands took over what she’d been doing, she let him as he buttoned up the silk pajama top just as slowly as she’d planned on doing. Although, with his fingers grazing and nudging the curve of her breasts as he made his way up to the last button it had a very different outcome.

“I’ll see you down there, baby.” Drew wiped his mouth with his thumb as he darkly glanced at her breasts through the red satin then back up to her pretty eyes. For some reason Isobel couldn’t help but grin in amusement at how boyish he was being, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was always that way in the morning.

“Maybe you should come downstairs a little earlier than usual?” She suggested and cursed to herself for not wearing any slippers when she decided to come here last night. When she got to the door she turned and gave him a soft look before having to go back to reality, a reality she wasn’t sure she wanted to maintain anymore.

“I’ll be right behind you, Isobel.”

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

Text

part 1 | part 2 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)

day 03: first kiss

a/n: not sure if I vibe with this part, but I hope it's okay. also don't think you're getting fluff

A broken heart is such a thing that will make you live either in the past or in the future; never in the present moment. Lovesickness feels like a virus is attacking the very fabric of your universe, distorting time and space and leaving you floating; directionless and hurting.

That is how Steve feels as he goes through the motions of his life, getting his kids ready for finals, for their oral and written exams, or planning end-of-year school trips. While school provides a great distraction and he has mastered the art of switching into teacher mode almost effortlessly, he feels like he’s just an inch or two beside himself. Beside where he should be.

He’s dwelling in the past or mourning dozens of possible futures, an infinity of them that will end up unrealised, unlived, unloved. His heart is heavy all the time, his head hurting, and his phone chiming with an endless string of messages that go unopened, unreplied.

It’s been a few weeks since the engagement party, since he last saw Eddie — who asked if he was okay, who has been asking to see him again, to hang out, have a drink, just catch up. But every time he does, Steve just hurts, and he finds excuses.

— Sorry, it’s finals season, I’ll be spread thin for the next few weeks :(

Eddie had replied with a litany of sad, brokenhearted emojis that were at equal measures ridiculous as they were exactly what Steve was feeling. Is feeling. Will probably always be feeling, for the rest of his life and beyond.

So far, Eddie hasn’t asked him to be his best man. Steve sort of doesn’t want to give him the opportunity for that. He’s cowardly enough to wish he could avoid Eddie forever if only that meant he wouldn’t have to see his face fall and crumble when he tells him, No.

No, I can’t be your best man. I can’t make it to the wedding. I can’t make it, I can’t do this, I can’t stand by and watch as you show me and the rest of the world that your dream life is not with me. Never with me. I can’t hand you over when all I wanna do is hold you. Hold your hand. Walk you down the aisle and then sweep you up in my arms, just to run out, run away; anywhere, as long as it’s with you.

It doesn’t make sense. There won’t be an aisle, there won’t be any sweeping, there won’t be a future for them. Never has been. Not like this.

Although there was a brief moment in time where their futures almost aligned. Almost. The timing was never right, though, stumbling through the motions and currents of two lost boys’ emotions. But it was almost there, almost enough.

And it's what's been on Steve's mind all week, playing and replaying, tearing at him from the inside out, leaving him with a jigsaw puzzle of infinite pieces of could have beens, would have beens, and what ifs.

"You know," he tells Robin one evening, who has practically moved in now, claiming that broken hearts are best nursed together. "I was actually Eddie's first kiss."

To her credit, Robin doesn't drop the carton pizza at Steve's non-sequitur. She just swallows hard and looks at him in that careful way she has now, where she's trying to read him and ask his eyes to tell her what it is that she should say next. It's frustrating. It's the greatest kindness anyone has ever shown him. It makes him want to punch a wall, and it makes him want to wrap her in the warmest hug and never, ever let her go.

"You were?"

Steve just nods, his lips trembling as his throat closes up again.

"No," she says in the gentlest voice, taking his hand as she guides him to the living room couch. "I didn't know that. Do you wanna talk about it?"

He shakes his head, tucking his feet under her thigh and leaning sideways against the backrest of the couch. His head is heavy and he's tired. He's always tired, even though he doesn't cry as much anymore. It's been four weeks since the engagement party.

"No, I just, uh– Just wanted to say that."

She nods, her eyes boring into him for two, three, four seconds before she finally turns to her pizza.

He looks past her, his eyes unfocused as his mind travels back to that day when they were still in high school.

~*~

The day that Eddie told him he was gay. And Steve had asked how he knew, because he'd been wondering about his own sexuality.

"I don't know, I just know."

"Well, have you ever kissed a boy?"

And Eddie had blushed a little, charred with his feet in the dirt like he always did – still does. "No."

"Okay."

And Steve, ten years ago, had thought, why not kill two birds with one stone. "Would you like to?"

"Huh?"

"Well, I mean, I'm kinda on the fence about it? Sometimes I think I might like guys, but then other times not so much. But I've never kissed one either, so," he shrugged. "If you, like, want to? We can."

"You want me to kiss you?" Eddie sounded incredulous, but his eyes were very big, very dark, very vulnerable. And it was not a no.

"Only if you want to."

A grin split Eddie's face then and he raised his eyebrows suggestively, but there was something forced about it. "Well, what If I fall madly in love with you, Steve Harrington, hm? What then?"

"Oh, please," Steve had only snorted; the thought that Eddie would fall for him out of all people was just too absurd.

And then something had shifted between them, the air turned into something sizzling as Eddie's smile fell and he stepped closer to Steve, raising one hand to his cheek.

"Here goes my first kiss," he murmured.

"Ever?"

"If we discount Lisa from kindergarten, then yes."

Steve huffed, looking down at Eddie's lips, the moment strangely intimate – but not uncomfortably so. Being this close to Eddie wasn't something new, Steve was used to his friend's tactile nature. "Fuck Lisa from kindergarten."

"I'd really rather not," Eddie smiled before finally, finally leaning in and capturing Steve's lips in a kiss.

To this day, Steve is not sure why he went and deepened the kiss like he did. Was it because he knew this was Eddie's first and he wanted to make it good, make it last? Was it because something deep inside of him knew that he liked boys, too, and that he liked Eddie, even though that realisation wouldn't come for another year at least?

He doesn't know why, but he feels it on his lips still, the memory of their first kiss. Their only kiss. A spectacular one that ended with twin smiles after Steve showed Eddie how to move his lips, how to tilt his head, how to open his mouth to let him in. How to capture the little sigh that he would make.

Eddie had looked at him, a little dazed, and Steve grinned at him, delighted at his expression more than at the kiss itself.

"A-And did you," Eddie started, pulling his hands away from Steve and shoving them deeply into his pockets. "Did you get any closer to, uh, to finding out?"

"If I like guys?"

Eddie nodded.

Steve thought about it; about the kiss and how it wasn't as soft as making out with Nancy or Allison. How he would swallow their moans and run his hands along their soft bodies. Eddie wasn't like that. Eddie was just Eddie.

"I think I'll just stick with girls for now," he shrugged with a smile, patting Eddie on the shoulder and squeezing lightly when the other boy began to sway a little.

"Suit yourself, Harrington," Eddie said, shoving him a little. "But you're missing out."

Years later, Eddie had drunkenly confessed to him that he'd had a crush on Steve back then. For years. And Steve had wanted to ask about it, ask if it's still there, that crush, that connection on a deeper, closer level; but then Eddie told him, "Remember Chrissy? We're official now."

And all the words had died on Steve's lips. All those questions, or the confession that, Yeah, me too. Though Steve's crush on Eddie was much later, years after their first kiss, – and it never really ended.

Still hasn't. And it's not a crush. It's more. It's everything.. He's in love. In it. Caught, stuck, trapped inside, while Eddie and everyone else is on the outside, just watching him struggle.

~*~

Later that night, on his umpteenth re-run of the First Kiss Episode that's keeping him from falling asleep, leaving him frustrated and sad and wondering, his phone rings. Eddie's name pops up on the screen, the impersonal Eddie Munson feels like a knife through his heart. He couldn't bear any of the silly nicknames that Eddie's always had in his phone, and needed to go back to a clean slate.

It hurts, though. He watches, considering to let it go to voicemail – but he hasn't talked to his... to Eddie in four weeks. Barely even talked to him on his engagement party.

And even though there's a chance opening for Eddie to ask him or to talk about his wedding, Steve answers the call.

"Stevie," Eddie says, somewhere between a sigh and a hum, and immediately takes away Steve's breath.

"Hi," he rasps. His heart is racing, his hands begin to tremble and he's shaking even under the thick, warm blanket.

"Did I wake you?"

He hums a negative, not trusting himself to speak, and it comes out a pathetic croak, because God, he missed Eddie. Part of him was missing – part of him will always be missing now, he knows –, and it makes him cry. It's not a sob, not a wail, not anything that Eddie can hear or something that would alarm Robin in the other room.

They're silent tears, and he presses his face into the pillow. He should hang up.

"Stevie?" Eddie asks again, his voice so small, so gentle, so worried. "Are you okay?" And after a moment of Steve being unresponsive because he can't catch his breath without gasping, Eddie asks, "Are you crying?"

And just like a kid that tries to be brave through the pain after falling down, but breaks the moment someone asks if they're hurt, Steve lets out a tiny, broken little sob.

"Oh, Stevie baby," Eddie sighs, and he sounds so sad, so compassionate, Steve never wants to hear his name like that ever again. "Do you want me to come over?"

"No," he croaks pathetically, hitting himself once, twice, three times for not keeping it together. For not being strong enough.

I can't do this.

"What do you need?"

"Sleep," he sniffles, stupidly.

"Okay. Then I'll stay here and be silent company, yeah? Don't need to be alone. Is Robin there?" He hums again, affirmative. "Good. Want me to say something? Read to you, tell you a story? Play you some music or–"

"Eddie," Steve manages. I love you. "Just silence? But you don't have to."

"Nah, I'll stay with you," Eddie says before Steve even finished his objections. "Until you've fallen asleep, yeah?"

Steve just nods into his pillow, even though Eddie can't see or hear it.

He's watching the seconds turn into minutes as the time passes. He's so tired, but he doesn't want to let go yet. Not when Eddie is right there. Not when there's still the phantom feeling of his lips capturing Steve's, a memory that is ten years old and still as strong as the very first second.

He should have known, then. Should have leaned in for another kiss, should have told Eddie that he knows he's into boys now, too, and ask Eddie to keep kissing him.

He shouldn't have taken years.

He should have created a new world just for the two of them, with an infinite amount of futures, and all go them happy. All of them SteveAndEddie.

But he didn't. And he wants to apologise. For being so slow, for not knowing until it was too late. For pulling away these past few weeks when that's the last thing he ever wants to do. For not being strong enough; for being too weak.

I'm in love with you, he thinks. Over and over and over. Mouths it voicelessly into the silence between them. Says it out loud when after almost two hours, Eddie hangs up with a quiet, "Good night, Stevie. I miss you." He says it when Eddie's gone, the beep of an empty line the only response he gets before that cuts out, too.

And then he's all alone again.

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @imzadidragonfly @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae and thanks to everyone who said nice things about this 🤍🌷

come back tomorrow for: here come the tears (and hurt/comfort, maybe) | read part 4 here

#steddie fic #steddie #steddie week fic #steddieweek2023 #maybe I'll write the first kiss scene as one later. when my eyes dont hurt and the thought of posting doesnt make my brain eat itself #will I ever post a steddie week thing not around 2am?? -- unlikely #the emotions are dulled unless they are sharp because heartache is fun like that (and so is anxiety can I get a wahoo)#dio words #I hope I got all the tags I dont think there were any requests in reblogs but if I missed them pls dont be mad 🥺

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tragedyofdevotion · 8 months

Text

Dependency

Yandere Kalim x reader

Please check tigger warnings ⚠️

Mentions of sexual assault, pregnancy and having thoughts of suicide (nothing explicit)

"Good evening, y/n!"

The man came in, looking as energetic as ever. No matter how much he grew up, he did not lose his childish enthusiasm, a trait that you would have appreciated if you were not in this situation.

Ignoring your lack of response, he continued, "I have a present for you today. Here it is. I knew it would be beautiful on you as soon as I saw it."

Opened before you was a box which had a pair of dangle earrings in it. Even if you were to sell all your organs to illegal trafficking routes, you probably would not be able to afford the red stone of the earring adorned in the middle by the gold decorations.

"Let me put this on you."

The man put the box down on the table alongside the other presents he gave before, and sat down on the sofa beside you. Then he proceeded to lift you up only to sit you back down on his lap.

Back at the college when you were spending days nonchalantly with your friends, you would not have thought that he was this strong. Compared to the beastmen or the eel brothers, his body was on the smaller side after all. But now you knew that he could be strong, too, when he wanted to, like when he is holding your wrist down as you struggled beneath him.

It felt disgusting. To feel a person's warmth though poor excuse of a clothing he had put you on. But you did nothing to stop him from taking the earrings from the table and put it on your ears.

No, it was not that you had become obedient to him. It was not that you grew to love him either.

It was just that this life here was not that bad.

You were here in this world without a penny to your name nor a talent to make up for the lack of money. So, you just thought that being the pet of the richest man in this world would be a better option compared to dying like stray cat on the side of the road.

Back when you were in your own world, you had to worry about your tuition fees, your bills, and the constant pressure from your parents and relatives. And when you arrived Twisted Wonderland, you had to worry about your food cost, your lack of magic and the overblots.

Howeved, in this lifestyle, you had to worry about nothing. When it was time for meals, the maids brought the most delicacies this world had to offer to you. And other times, you could just laze around in this room doing whatever you want. You could even wear the most beautiful dresses and the most expensive jewelries.

It was actually a good deal. All you had to do was stay in this room and never step a single foot outside. You were an introvert and a shut-in anyway so it did not matter much that you could not go out. After the hustle and bustle of the college days, staying alone without minding for your social battery and patience running out was something you were even glad about.

But of course, with being in this room came being accessible to him at all times. And at first, as a normal response of the kidnapped, you did fight back, you tried to claw his eyes out, tried bite off his tongue, or even your own tongue.

But still it felt revolting that his skin had touched yours. And what made it worse was that he took your lack of struggle as your affection for him, like right now as he was looking contently at you as he played with the earrings he just put on your ears.

However, after being experienced the crushing defeat that came with his servant's magic, you learned that struggling was futile. So, you, instead, tried to take your mind off what was happening in the moment. It was a kind of escapism from the reality. He would be kissing your chest and your mind would be wondering if there really was another universe beyond the black hole.

What a delusional little prince.

Sometimes, you wished he died, from poison, or from assassination or from being hit by a thunderbolt or from being swallowed by the volcano eruption, or from anything else that made a human dead.

But then again, when he was not here who would take responsibility for your living expenses. You had grown used to living a life of luxury under his watch where you did not have to lift a single finger. So, you did not want to go back to those tiring days anymore.

Well, it would be a useless thought since he still was not dead.

As such, the relationship between you and him were in a standstill with you not resisting anything he did, but never opening your heart to him either, until a few days ago. But that fragile balance was shattered into a million pieces when you realized you were carrying his child.

A child, a living being that had the blood and flesh of his, was now living in your uterus, growing bigger as it consumed your energy. Now that there was an actual proof his "love" existing in your body, you could not escape reality anymore.

Moreover, you did not have the confidence to care for another soul when you were incapable of even caring for yourself. You realized that your mind was already a few screws loose. You were not the most suitable person to raise a child.

Most of all, you could not bring yourself to love it. You could not feel what should naturally come to a mother, the maternal instinct to love her child. To you, it was the evidence of his crime on your body. And no matter how much you convince yourself that the child had no sin, you could not think of giving birth to his child.

To start with, you hated children even before all of this. And you never thought of getting married because of the idea of having children, even if it was with someone you loved. To think you would bear the child of his...., although it should not be too surprising considering the sexual intercourse that was repeated night after night. It should even be considered a miracle that it took this long.

You suddenly felt your body tilted as he pushed you down on the couch.

"Y/n..."

He said appearing lovesick, his iris looking heart shaped that you often saw in some characters in anime.

"Kalim..."

You called his name. He widened his smile as he heard your voice for the first time today.

"Please..."

You looked into his eyes, pleading. Normally, he would grant all your wishes if you looked at him like that.

"Kill me."

Yes, after thinking for several days, you figured that was the only solution for you. You don't want to live with him. But you can't live apart from him. So, the only solution is to not live at all.

#yandere kalim al asim #yandere kalim x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere kalim x you #yandere kalim x y/n

156 notes · View notes

bvidzsoo · 9 months

Text

Love Me Like A Rockstar (3)

ー☆ Chapter 3: Itch

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: use of the word "fuck" ー☆ Word count: 4.2k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone, here's my present for you all. Excuse me if this chapter is a little confusing, although I hope it isn't, I tried hard to put her feelings into words and describe it accordingly. The taglist is open, so let me know if you're interested. Please listen to the song in the playlist (Itch) before or while reading! Thank you and I hope you enjoy! Your feedback is always very much appreciated!

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @juicy-red @scarfac3 @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

『There's a rumbling

In my head

It's getting louder

Louder』

The weather hasn’t drastically improved nor gotten better even a little bit as the sky was grey and the wind blew harshly. Before my mother left for work she warned me to have an umbrella with myself today as it could start pouring at any given moment, and I listened to her. I swear to God that woman has some sort of supranatural sense as her predictions are always right. I didn’t have classes today, but I had to work on one of my assignment’s, and after realizing that if I were to stay at home I’d be laying in my bed all day, I dressed up in comfortable clothes and packed what I had to bring with myself before I headed to my university’s library.

The bus ride was quick as traffic has dispersed since the early hours of the morning, making it easier to get to my destination. After getting off the bus I headed to the closest coffee shop, knowing I would need some caffeine if I planned on not falling asleep at the library. It wouldn’t be the first time. Sometimes the quiet and warm ambience gets to me, and without meaning to, I fall asleep at the table instead of studying diligently. I didn’t plan on doing that today as I was nearing the deadline. I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but I didn’t deal well with stress and it was currently eating me up as I ran over on my phone of the assignment’s requirements while I entered the main building of my university. It was buzzing with life as everyone was busy doing something and I nodded at the familiar faces before beelining it for the stairs, headed to the top floor. The main building was an old one and it was rather cold inside at all times, the library being the only one actually heated up enough that you wouldn’t freeze during the winter. I sighed in content as I pushed open the big doors, warmth seeping into my bones instantly. It wasn’t too cold outside, but I forgot to wear a jacket today, and the tank top and hoodie I was wearing over it wasn’t keeping me warm enough. The library was quiet and the ceiling lights were dim inside, desk lamps turned on by the students having to study. I walked past the front desk and greeted the librarian quietly, trying to ignore the disapproving look she threw at my coffee in hand. I wouldn’t be using any books; I just needed a desk and chair to be able to do my homework. So, before she could ask me to leave or throw away my coffee, I turned around and speedwalked down the main lobby, headed towards the next room where the large tables were placed in four rows. It was the study room, basically.

I sighed and took a sip of my coffee, looking around for a secluded spot, away from prying eyes, as I slowly walked down the middle aisle, appreciating the sweet taste of my Caramel Macchiato. Nobody really paid me any mind and I was glad as I didn’t feel like striking up a conversation with anyone. I spotted an empty seat to the left at a table where not many sat, and decided to claim it as mine as I turned left, going down another row of table and chairs. One student threw me a nasty look as my tote bag accidentally crashed against their arm and I gave them a cheeky smile before continuing to walk, not exactly sorry for disturbing them. I took another sip of my coffee as with my other hand I placed my phone back inside my back pocket, and noticed someone kind of familiar. My eyes narrowed as I continued walking towards them as they sat in the way of my claimed spot. I didn’t mean to stare, but I couldn’t tell straight away who it was as their head hung low and shoulders were slouched as they were writing in a notebook. He had headphones over his ears and was bobbing his head to the rhythm of the music, and as I got closer, my steps slightly faltered. I stopped mid-sip as I realized who it was. Mingi remained oblivious to my surprised face as I quickly snapped out of it and quickly took off, whizzing past him and the long table he sat at, adamant on ignoring him and finally reaching my own seat. He hadn’t noticed me, after all, so I didn’t think he was aware that I was here too. My mouth pulled into a grimace as the thought of being at the same place as Mingi was rather inconvenient right now, I wasn’t in the mood to face him today. I didn’t feel like arguing or bickering, and if he were to approach me, I knew it was inevitable. I sighed as I reached my seat and allowed my bag to fall onto the table, creating a light bang. Someone from the other end of the table glanced at me, but quickly went back to their work.

I placed my coffee on the table and sat in my chair, opening my tote bag. I quickly emptied the bag of its contents, grateful that I haven’t forgotten anything at home. I placed my big sketchbook in front of me as I organized the rest of my things on the table. My smaller pencil case was placed next to my coffee, where my right hand was. Then, the bigger pencil case which contained all sorts of pens and pencils, was placed in the middle, just above my sketchbook. I placed the hard cover sketchbook, my personal one in which I always draw and consider my journal, to my left where it wouldn’t bother me as I worked. I placed the book on color theory I have brought with myself on top of my sketchbook and opened it, flipping through the pages, searching for the one I was supposed to read before starting my assignment. We were supposed to make an abstract drawing using acrylics. I sighed as I found the page and realized I had to read five before starting to draw. Five weren’t many pages, but it felt like I didn’t have the mental capacity to read. Seems like the coffee hadn’t kicked in yet. But I had to do it, so, after taking another sip of my coffee, I placed my elbow on the table and after placing my cheek in my palm, I started reading with a loud sigh. My eyes ran over the words lazily only half paying attention to them as I felt my phone buzz in my jean’s back pocket. I was itching to check the message, but I knew I wouldn’t do any studying if I was to check my phone right now.

As I was reading the third page, I heard firm footsteps stomping in my direction, but I didn’t look up. I have finally somehow found the power to concentrate on my task, and besides, I was in a library, it was probably another student headed to sit at the table I was sat at. After all, I have chosen this table because it had few people who could bother me. However, I soon became aware that the approaching person stopped right across me, and as I looked up confused, my mouth involuntarily dropped a little. The chair was already pulled back and before I could even complain, Mingi’s lean body dropped into the chair as he pulled it closer to the table. His things were gathered in his arms and he very loudly dropped them onto the table, creating the other student at the table to glare in his direction. For a second, I found myself speechless as I stared at a very casual looking Mingi. His black hair was pushed back, his forehead on display for the first time, and his eyes had no makeup as he blinked at me through his black glasses. I had no idea Mingi wears glasses? It was resting rather low on his tall nose and I snapped out of my staring as a lazy smirk appeared on his cherry-red lips.

“What are you doing?!” I whispered furiously, eyebrows furrowing as I placed my book on the table. Mingi’s smirk turned into a small smile.

“Catching up on some homework, and you?” Mingi’s answer made my eyebrows furrow even more. Did he seriously think I was interested in whatever he was here for?

“No!” My voice almost raised, but I was able to control it, “Here. With me—why did you come sit here?! The other table seemed perfectly fine to me—”

“Ah, so you have seen me.” Mingi seemed pleased with himself as he fished his phone out from underneath the three notebooks he had dumped on the table, “I just didn’t feel like sitting alone. Is that a problem?”

I opened my mouth to fire back a ‘yes’ at him, but found myself hesitating instead. I didn’t exactly understand his motives. He was sitting by himself up until now, who knows since when, so what changed now? Why did he want to sit with me all of a sudden? He was definitely only here to bother me.

“We’re not friends.” I raised my eyebrows at Mingi, voice sharp, “And you seemed pretty fine by yourself.”

Mingi just sighed and organized his notebooks, pushing two away from himself as he opened the other one. He grabbed his headphones from around his neck, but he didn’t lift them to his ear yet.

“Is it such a crime that I want to sit at the same table with you?” The defeat in Mingi’s voice took me off guard, and I gulped, jaw clenching as I avoided his disappointed gaze. What was he disappointed about? It’s not like we were friends. Did I say something wrong? And why should I care if I have hurt his feelings? I was only voicing the truth.

“I sat here because I want to be alone.” I threw him a sharp glare and Mingi’s lips turned into a thin line as he slid down in his chair. He wore a loose black t-shirt which reached below his elbows, jacket discarded on the chair next to his. He wore grey sweatpants too; it was the most casual I have seen him. Compared to how he would usually dress, this look gave him an aura of someone who you are safe with and radiates comfort. It was unusual compared to the always cocky, witty, and smirking Mingi. I didn’t know where to put him, it felt like he was vulnerable right now, almost showing a side of his I haven’t met yet. Could this be the real Mingi? Before I could start dwelling on such thing, I shook my head and the thought out of my mind.

“I won’t bother you.” Mingi tried to coerce me and I just sighed loudly and long, letting him know he was an inconvenience to me right now as I aggressively closed my book and pushed it aside. I knew enough about colors already, and I wasn’t in the mood to read anymore thanks to Mingi, who threw me off my sudden burst of motivation. I threw Mingi one last disapproving look before looking down and opening my sketchbook. I pulled my smaller pencil case closer to myself and opened that as well as I fished around for the black acrylic.

『There's a shaking

In my bones

It's getting stronger

Stronger』

I willed myself to ignore Mingi as I started tracing lines with the acrylic, shutting out every noise which could bother me as I sucked my lower lip between my teeth, wondering what I was drawing. Usually when I had an assignment, I had an idea of what the drawing would be about, but right now, I had no idea what I was doing and it didn’t feel nice. It made me feel like I was losing control, like I wasn’t myself. I grabbed the burgundy acrylic and darkened the right corner of the paper, fingers feeling oily from the tool I was using. I tried finding something in the lines, a vision, something which could give me guidance, but it was simply a mess and it caused me to feel defeated as I grabbed another color mindlessly, having stopped paying attention to the color combination. The one and only thing I should have paid attention to. But the drawing looked like nothing and my hand was moving faster as I traced lines and made circles on the paper, creating an amalgam of colors. The top of the drawing was dark and heavy, it made me feel mad and desperate the longer I looked at it. Then, the lower half of the drawing had the lighter colors, colors which felt like there was something good in the world, something worth living for. But the middle of the drawing remained blank and my hand halted as I became stuck. What was I supposed to do? Was I to connect the two worlds of whirling emotions? Was I to leave it blank because there were no existent roads leading the two together?

『There's a hunger

In my heart

It's full of promise

Promise』

And then I looked up, eyebrows drawn together as I felt numbness creep up into my chest, not finding a way out. I have forgotten Mingi was here, with me. And as our eyes connected, I realized he was here. And he was watching me. Lips slightly parted, his eyes seemed to hold a sincerity I have never seen in anyone else before, his eyebrows slightly raised. Suddenly, I felt breathless as his deep gaze kept me locked in, as he silenced my thoughts. I didn’t understand the look on his face, or what his eyes were trying to tell me, but suddenly my heart started beating so fast that I dropped the acrylic I had in my hand and gasped. Why was Mingi here? What did he want? Eyes turning into a glare, I looked down and furiously dug around in my pencil case, looking for the grey acrylic. I didn’t mean to do it, many times I don’t mean to do what I do, but my hand came crashing down against the table and then I was scrabbling at the blank space, creating a big nothing. A void. I paused for a second thinking that I have ruined the drawing and now I would have to start over, which was the smartest thing to do, probably. But for some reason, in the mess of scribble, I saw lines. Lines looking like paths, which were made to connect the top half and the bottom half of the drawing. I grabbed the yellow and purple acrylic and started tracing those lines, shading over the grey void, everything blending together seamlessly. My lips parted as an incredulous breath left my lips, confused at everything I was feeling at the moment. I did usually let my emotions pour into my drawings, but this was new. This was intense and it hasn’t happened before. I didn’t even understand it myself as I felt myself smile a little bit, almost as if my body felt relief, almost as if my heart became less heavy.

『There's an itch

Under my skin

It's under my skin

Under my skin』

The flipping of a page snapped me back to reality and I was once again aware that I was in the library and—Mingi was sitting right across me. And as I looked up, all previous feelings disappeared as my eyes fell on what held Mingi’s attention. My sketchbook. The one which was like my journal. I gasped, loudly,

“Stop.” I didn’t mean for my voice to be so loud, but several students turned our way as Mingi’s hand froze midair. The page he was about to flip fell back, and he looked up slowly, “I never gave you permission to look through that.”

Mingi held my fierce gaze for a second before he hummed, acting nonchalant, acting as if he hadn’t looked through something which was personal, something which contained my feelings and thoughts as I always doodle a few words in the right bottom of the page.

“My bad, I didn’t think it was personal,” My jaw clenched and before I could say anything, Mingi continued, “You’re quite good, did you know? You’re talented.”

I scoffed and looked around in disbelief before my eyes fell back on Mingi. He was smirking, looking way too amused at my annoyance, “Of course I’m good, Mingi. I’m more than just good. I’m the founder of the Fine Arts club at our university, I’m supposed to be the best student.”

“And are you?” Mingi raised an eyebrow and it made my blood boil even more. He was able to make my mood change way too easily, it pissed me off.

“I am.” I whisper-snapped and Mingi hummed again, acting as if it wasn’t a big deal. It was. I could never lack. I always had to deliver, and constantly had to prove myself that I was the best. Everyone had high expectations of me, but perhaps, it was myself who set the bar so high that I sometimes felt like I was crumbling, “Give it back.”

I swiftly leaned over the table and went to snatch the sketchbook back from Mingi, but he clumsily grabbed it and pulled it towards himself, out of my reach. The page he wanted to flip when I caught him was accidentally flipped and we looked down at it at the same time. My eyes widened in mortification and my heart dropped to my stomach as Mingi stared at his own eyes in my sketchbook. It was the first drawing I have made of them, it was somewhat scribbled over, but it was painfully obvious whose eyes it was. Hoping that he hadn’t recognized his own eyes, I quickly snatched the sketchbook back and slammed it shut, feeling a slight burn in my cheeks. That wasn’t good, I shouldn’t be blushing. And my heart also needs to calm down, I can feel my pulse in my neck. I looked up at Mingi through my lashes only to see him already staring at me. He looked incredibly surprised and confused at the same time, it was as if I was looking at a puppy, before his expression formed into something more detestable.

“Who’s eyes are those?” He whisper-asked with a glint in his sharp eyes, resting his chin in his palm as his ring-clad fingers tapped against his cheek rhythmically. His reaction was better than the one I was expecting, I thought he had figured it out, I could lie my way out of this.

“Someone’s.” I answered as I closed my other sketchbook too, needing to flee. There goes my strong and convincing answer. I was crying on the inside, emotionless on the outside.

“Mine?” My body froze and I slowly raised my gaze to look at Mingi, who was smirking and slowly pushing up his glass on the bridge of his nose. My jaw clenched as my heart started beating faster.

『'Cause I just wanna feel something real

'Cause I just wanna feel something』

“No, Yunho’s.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think. My jaw clenched as I mentally cursed myself. What are the chances Mingi knows Yunho, though? And I haven’t said his family name, it could be anyone. I didn’t wait to see Mingi’s reaction as I quickly started packing away everything, cursing myself for leaving my acrylics laying around on the table everywhere. My muscles were tense under Mingi’s watchful eyes and I bit my lower lip as I was finally able to shove everything inside my tote bag, I had zero intentions of organizing them nicely inside. I was just about to stand up when Mingi’s quiet, deep, voice reached my ears.

“By any chance—are you talking about Jeong Yunho?” The breath was knocked out of my chest as I gaped at Mingi with wide eyes, thoughts whirling fast in my mind. Mingi knows Yunho? How does he know him? What were the chances? I’m fucked.

“Uh, yeah.” I answered quietly before clearing my throat, not expecting Mingi’s eyes to suddenly light up and mouth to pull into the biggest smile I have ever seen on him.

“How do you know him?” He whispered in excitement, leaning forward in his seat. I cleared my throat in discomfort, stalling my answer as I scoffed quietly, trying to look nonchalant with my answer.

“We were sort of friends during highschool.” I answered, my voice void of any emotion as Mingi looked surprised.

“Really?” Mingi muttered before his confused expression morphed into that of an excited one once again, “He’s my best friend. We’ve been friends since childhood, it’s a bit surprising he never mentioned you—or have I forgotten? Yunho was always popular, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he mentioned you and I forgot, because I always had to keep up with all the new names and people. He was quite the charmer during highschool, wasn’t he? Did you know he’s gone to a different city to study?”

“Uh,” I blinked, trying to digest all the new information and Mingi’s change of character. I’ve never seen him so alive before, so excited, and happy like right now. It made me want to blame it on Yunho. He made people feel like this. Whoever had the luck of knowing him would be forever charmed, webbed up by his bright and warm personality. He could make you feel like you were the most special person on Earth, like you were the center of his life. Yunho was a very rare to find person, one you had the luck to meet only once in your lifetime. And if you were lucky enough, perhaps he’d keep you around long enough. Mingi seemed to be that lucky guy as he continued beaming at me, waiting for my answer. But all I could do was focus on the bitter feeling swirling inside my stomach and the quiver of my lips. I wasn’t good enough to keep Yunho around. I lacked what Yunho liked in a person, and yet, here Mingi was, being the epitome of everything Yunho liked. My throat closed in on me at a very sudden realization, I felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore, “Yeah, I did—I didn’t. I—I have to go.”

I didn’t wait to see Mingi’s reaction as I jumped out of my seat and grabbed the coffee mug, gripping it so hard I could’ve broken the carton. I had tunnel vision as I raced out of the library and down the marble stairs, breathing hard with tears in my eyes. I burst through the heavy doors of the main building and ran off, trying to find a somewhat secluded spot on the path as I doubled over, heaving for air.

Song Mingi. Jeong Yunho. I should have known. I should have realized so much sooner, I was such a fucking idiot. My lips quivered as all the memories came back: Yunho’s dashing smile and warm hand as we lay in each other’s arms, his voice low as he whispered about his day. Song Mingi’s name rolling off his tongue effortlessly, face content and eyes glazed over as he recounted everything about their day, about Mingi. He loved the warm breeze; he hated rainy days. He loved going out for walks, he hated staying cooped up in his room all day. He hated playing video games, yet he learned a few just for Yunho. He was allergic to pollen, but he bought his mother a bouquet of flower every Sunday. He was tall and lanky and insecure, so he started working out with Yunho. He hated his glasses because people thought he was a nerd, so he never wore them and his eyesight worsened. Song Mingi, who’s laughter was either silent or too loud, head always thrown back as his eyes turned into slits when he laughed. Song Mingi, who was insecure about his blemishes until Yunho called him the handsomest gal he’d ever seen. Song Mingi, who stopped painting his nails after he was bullied for it. And Mingi, who despite looking intimidating and cold was the sweetest and nicest person Yunho has ever met. There wasn’t a day when Yunho wouldn’t mention Mingi while we were dating, and the fact that Mingi couldn’t even remember if Yunho mentioned me or not, said a lot. It hurt. It felt like a knife was plunged deep inside my chest, twisting and ripping everything apart with its sharp blade. I am over Yunho; everything happened a long time ago. But it was proof, once again, that I have never been someone important in his life. He would never talk about me like he talked about Mingi. I would never mean the world to him…like Mingi meant to him.

『I just wanna love

I just wanna touch

I just wanna see

Something』

❱❱ Next chapter

169 notes · View notes

zeruby16 · 1 year

Text

reasons to love studying- kim taerae

18+ MDNI

genre: smut, fluff, romance

summary: when you find yourself in the need of a tutor, matthew recommends his close friend, kim taerae. you finally figure out some way to like college algebra.

word count: 3.2 k

warnings: afab! reader, switch taerae; usage of pet names (sweetheart); cursing; oral sex (giving); fingering; penetration; protected sex (always use protection); slightest degradation kink; please let me know if i missed any

notes: i did not grammar check this, so please have mercy. the ending might be a bit rushed because i wanted to find some way to finish this imagine. please enjoy!

REMINDER: 18+ MDNI

school was never your forte.

you depended on websites for homework answers and decided how c’s could still get you a degree, so you lived your life carelessly.

however, there was one minor bump in your plans. you couldn’t pass college algebra.

you took the class three separate times and dropped it before you could fail. being a fashion major, you never anticipated anything dealing with numbers unless it was measurements, but here you were.

the amount of drops allowed had caught up to you and the last class you needed to graduate was college algebra. there was no way around it, you needed to take the class and pass with a c or higher.

you had to graduate college if you wanted to go on and own your own boutique. the thing was you tried taking college algebra seriously, but nothing worked. you needed genuine help.

“why don’t you hire a tutor?” matthew, your closest confidant and first hand witness to your hatred of math, asked.

“i’m a senior trying to pass a freshman class, it’s embarrassing if i hire a tutor,” you sulked.

“it’s the only option left if you want to actually understand the class,” he pointed out, making you sigh in response as he was sadly right.

“i just don’t want anyone to know, it would ruin my good rep,” matthew rolled his eyes.

“you ruined it the moment you presented in speech visibly hungover,”

“in my defense, she said presentations were a huge part of the grade and no excuses could be used unless given by a doctor. she got what she asked for and i still got a b,” you shrugged towards matthew and saw the glint of actual disappointment in his eyes.

“you know what, i have a friend who works in the tutoring center. maybe he’ll be able to tutor you privately without others knowing,”

“is he cute?”

the canadian looked at you begrudgingly, “is that all you care about?”

“no…”

“you’ll see for yourself, once i convince him to take you in,”

“take me in? what am i? a lost cause?”

“at this point, you are.”

what matthew failed to tell you was that his friend was taerae.

the kim taerae. the vocal prince who made rounds around the university for his angelic voice and radiant smile. the cutest being you’ve ever encountered and now your tutor.

you considered canceling on him as you felt like your focus would be towards the attractive boy, but you didn’t want to cause any trouble.

he managed to find time after his vocal class to schedule you in. he was willing to come to your dorm, so you could study privately and avoid being seen by other students. it came at a cost to you, but you appreciated how much he helped.

you pulled out your textbook and notes as you finished tidying up your desk. your dorm wasn’t a mess, but you two needed a workspace. once you heard a knock on the door, you stood still for a second, mentally preparing yourself to bathe in his presence.

the boy knocked again and you rushed to the door realizing how long you had left him standing there. you opened it to taerae’s charming smile as he had his glasses on and held his bag on his shoulder.

“y/n, right?”

“yes and you are taerae, matthew told me about you,” you smiled as you gestured for him to come inside.

“i can’t thank you enough for agreeing, i really never saw myself in this position,” you nervously scratched your neck as he placed his shoes near the door and his backpack on the floor.

“it’s no worries, algebra isn’t the easiest subject,” he politely understood your concern.

he looked towards your desk and pointed at your textbook and journal, “i assume this is the work you’re struggling with?”

your eyes widened as you realized how there was only one desk chair.

“oh yes, let me find you a chair!” you frantically looked under your bed for the extra chair you knew you had while taerae chuckled at your antics.

“thank you, let’s get started shall we?”

taerae was phenomenal at his job. he fully taught you the concept of exponential equations and how they were solved. he explained how to graph and solve for the equations.

better yet, he looked hot as hell as he did it.

you comprehended what he said and how he did things, but you couldn’t help yourself as your eyes would wander off to his lips, his nose, or the little pieces of hair that fell in front of his face.

thankfully, he was oblivious to your eyes, but when he neared you to point towards a graph in your textbook, your heart rate soared and you were slightly turned on.

“okay, think you can solve a problem now?” taerae asked, turning his face towards you as you distracted yourself with your textbook to calm down the butterflies in your stomach.

“yeah, totally,” you gulped, writing down the equation he wanted you to figure out.

you figured out the x-axis of the equation, plugging in multiple numbers to confirm your answer and proceeded to write it down as an answer.

“good job, now try graphing it,” he encouraged, pulling out a loose sheet of graphing paper near him.

you drew the lines and plotted your points, but hesitated to draw the function.

“what’s wrong?” his eyebrows furrowed at your resistance.

“i can’t tell how to draw the line,”

“well since the equation is in a fraction form with an exponent, is the slope positive or negative?” he asked as he came closer next to you to point towards your work.

your heart nearly stopped. his shoulders were touching yours and his arm brushed yours as he moved it to help explain the equation.

you could smell his mahogany scented cologne. you heard his breath as he rambled on about slopes and solutions.

“is it a negative slope?” you questioned your answer while taerae nodded enthusiastically.

“you can see it forming too, so connect the dots downwards and make sure the line doesn’t touch the x-axis.”

the pencil in your hand magically moved itself, drawing out the line he told you to. once you placed your pencil down, you stared at the question for a second to distract yourself from your thoughts.

“see, that wasn’t too hard was it?”

the problem wasn’t hard at all. you actually understood after he explained, but he was making you flustered and you couldn’t conjure any thoughts.

“are you okay?”

“what?” you jumped a bit.

he laughed at your clumsiness, “you seemed a little spaced out. did the problem make your head hurt?”

you waved his idea off, “no, it wasn’t the problem! you explained it well!”

he leaned back on the chair and crossed his arms, smiling mischievously.

“what was the problem then? you hesitated answering the graph section,” your eyes widened at his observance.

“oh that- i just forgot slopes for a second,”

“are you sure?” your heart rate picked up as he sat upright on his chair.

“definitely,”

“nothing’s bothering you?”

“nope,” he looked at you suspiciously.

“okay then,” he surrendered to your delight, “let me write up another problem.”

he took the pencil and wrote down an equation for you to graph, handing the pencil back to you once he finished.

“give it a try,” he gestured towards the paper and you switched your focus onto it.

you stared at the problem confusedly, realizing it seemed impossible to figure out.

“this is solvable right?”

he nodded playfully, “what you suddenly forgot how to solve for x?”

“no, i just can’t focus,” you mumbled.

you were flustered, he could tell, and you knew for a fact this problem had no real solutions.

“you what?” he leaned towards you, trying to hear you once again.

“i can’t focus!” you frustratingly yelled.

you looked at him to see him smiling sheepishly.

“it’s adorable how riled up you get,” he bluntly stated.

“what do you mean?” you panicked, slowly coming to the realization that you were fucked.

he turned his body to face yours and placed his hand on your thigh gently, sending shivers down your spine.

“did you think i wouldn’t notice the staring?” he caressed your thigh as his voice slightly deepened.

“i wasn’t staring!” you protested.

“sweetheart, you were fucking me with your eyes,” his words went straight to your core.

“i-i-”

“now, i’ve got you speechless. how cute,”

he lifted one of his hands from your thigh to your face as he caressed your cheek. you avoided his gaze, not wanting to fall deeper into the hold he had over you.

“if i checked your underwear right now, would it be soaking?” he placed his hands down to open your legs, placing his thighs in between them to prevent you from closing them.

“n-no,” you let out, earning a deep chuckle from him.

“you are just a liar, aren’t you?”

“liars deserve punishment, don’t you think?” he seductively asked, biting your lips nervously, you disagreed.

he took his thighs out of yours and stood out of his chair, you followed his every movement as he stared down at you.

“can you stand up sweetheart? i think it’s time we switch seats,” you immediately stood up and moved out of the way for taerae to sit on your rolling chair.

he sat down and rolled back, patting his lap afterwards. you hesitantly placed yourself onto him, feeling the tent popping out of his pants.

“here’s what we’re going to do, you are going to answer the next five questions. if you get a single thing wrong, i’m going to stop,” he commanded.

“that’s not fair,” you whispered under your breath, knowing how he would make you lose your focus.

“what’s that?”

“nothing,”

“it’s either that or you get nothing at all, do you really want that?”

“no!” you whimpered, accidentally grinding yourself on his lap.

“exactly, now start on your problems,” he placed his hands on your waist, keeping you still.

you shut your eyes, thinking the action would get you to concentrate on your work. the first problem was the easiest. it was too good to be true.

once you got to the second problem, you felt taerae’s hands moving your waist slowly over his clothed hardon. you whimpered, realizing how difficult the next four questions would be.

you finished the second problem and went to the third, while taerae started to kiss your neck feverishly as a reward. you felt him biting lightly, knowing he would leave marks for the next day.

the real problem came when you got to question number four. taerae had stopped moving your waist, but held it with one hand while the other undid your shorts.

you looked at the graph, trying to figure out the slope of the function and getting closer the answer, until taerae’s finger grazed over your clothed core. you shivered from pleasure as you placed one of your hands on the desk to get ahold of yourself.

“focus,” he growled into your neck, continuing to pepper it with kisses.

he kept on rubbing your clit over your underwear, while the hand on your waist started to make its way under your shirt.

you continued the problem, moaning softly at his ruthless teasing. you sighed in relief as you drew the line of the graph and made it to the fifth question.

to your demise, taerae took it as a sign to place his fingers past your underwear and feel your heat.

“you’re soaking,” he scoffed.

“you don’t even deserve this much,” your whimpers drowned out any thoughts involving math.

“finish the question,” he demanded, proceeding to slip his finger into you. you moaned at the action, accidentally scribbling a line on the graph you were trying to work on.

he moved his finger at a rapid pace, while you tried to finish the last part of the question. you gripped onto the desk as if your life depended on it and muffled your moans. you were bathing in pleasure as he kept going with no stops.

once you placed the pencil down anxiously, taerae looked over your shoulder and took his finger out. you looked at him with dismay, complaining about the emptiness until he smirked.

“what’s this line?” he pointed, using the finger with your juices coated in it.

“an accident! i scribbled it when-”

“don’t care, you got the question wrong,” he concluded.

“but i didn’t mean to write it! this is the line-” you protested, trying to convince him to spare you.

“sorry sweetheart, i told you liars deserve punishment,” he started to lift you off of himself, his tent still showing.

“but-”

“but what?” he looked at you expectantly and you suddenly gained confidence as you dropped to your knees.

“i can help you,” you mentioned, starting to palm his hard-on.

his eyes closed behind his glasses in pleasure as you continued to move your hand over him.

“you think you can get away with lying by making me cum?” he tried to clearly say, your eyes staring right into his as you unbuttoned his pants.

“please?” you begged, hands starting to touch him over his underwear.

he hesitated in answering as you proceeded to pull down his underwear and grabbed his cock, rubbing the tip. you kept stroking him, spitting on your hands at some point.

“i just want to thank you for helping, isn’t that fine?” you teased, placing his tip into your mouth and rubbing your tongue over it.

“fuck!” he groaned, placing his hands on your hair to grab ahold of you.

“you haven’t said it’s fine,” you scolded, stopping your movements.

“okay! just don’t stop!” he begged and you smiled, continuing the motions you went through before.

taerae was thick, so consistently moving your mouth on his cock proved to be a challenge, but with his hands guiding you, he neared his orgasm.

“god, you’re doing great y/n,” he praised, groaning as he found your eyes.

his moans sounded beautiful as he let them out frequently and you fastened the pace of your mouth.

“holy shit,” he moaned, cumming in your mouth. you cleaned all of his cum off, swallowing the contents.

you looked at him dazed. he could cum again at your fucked out state. your hair tangled from his grip, your mouth glistening with his juices, and your eyes dilated at the pleasure.

he grabbed your chin and lifted your mouth towards his, pulling you into a feverish kiss. the kiss went on heatedly as you two fought for dominance, taerae winning as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. you went on until you pulled away breathlessly.

taerae patted your head, picking you up from the floor as he smiled.

“only because you’ve been a good girl,” he said, pulling you towards the couch adjacent to your desk.

you followed him, deserting the algebra work he came to help you with.

as much as you wanted to pass college algebra, you needed kim taerae to fuck you more.

he grabbed a condom from his backpack before he sat himself down on the couch, slipping it onto his cock. he proceeded to take off his shirt as he openly checked you out.

you removed your shirt as well and unclasped your bra, showing taerae the handprints he left from grabbing your waist earlier.

you faced him as you sat on his lap and grabbed his cock to line it up with your core. he pushed into you slowly, bottoming out and letting you adjust to his length.

“how are you so wet, yet so tight?” he groaned as you placed your head on his shoulder.

“cause you didn’t fuck me earlier,” you muttered under your breath, wanting to rile up the boy.

taerae placed his hands on your hips and stopped your motions.

“what did you say?” he looked at you expectantly.

“nothing,”

“you’re lucky you’re getting to ride me, consider this your last warning sweetheart,” his hands guide your hips and you start to ride him at a fast pace.

his name came out of your mouth so easily, if only you could answer the questions left on your desk the same way.

his motions fastened as well as he felt you getting closer to your climax.

“taerae please,” you begged, trying to bounce faster as he continued to hit your spot mercilessly.

“you’re taking me so well sweetheart, tell me did you ask for my help just to fuck me?” his voice lowered as your eyes closed in pleasure.

“no, i-” you couldn’t get any words out of your mouth, “i needed help.”

“are you sure? what did i say about lying?”

“i promise!” you yelled, not caring about your neighbors. as long as taerae was the man you were with, you wouldn’t shut up.

“i’m so close,” you cried.

tarae continued his motions, adding a finger in between your bodies to stroke your clit. your moans became louder and the only words left you could say was his name.

“go ahead, y/n, come like the dumb slut you are,” his words pushed you towards your orgasm, resting your head on his shoulders afterwards.

he kept pushing himself inside of you until he came again, groaning your name.

you two stayed in your positions until you heard taerae chuckle.

“what’s so funny?” you slightly pouted, looking at his cheeky smile.

“i’d never thought i’d be tutoring someone as gorgeous as you,”

“shut up, you’re only saying that because of the position we’re in,”

“no, i’m serious.”

he grabbed a piece of your hair from your face and pushed it behind your ear.

“every time i saw you around campus, i would secretly pray about you needing help. i even told matthew about it,” your eyes widened.

“so matthew asked you to tutor me because you found me attractive?” you claimed, looking at him suspiciously.

“maybe,”

“i really didn’t think it would get to this point,” he added.

“well i never hid my feelings for you from matthew, so i guess we both lucked out.”

taerae let out another one of his adorable chuckles and placed his forehead on yours.

“we seriously need to get you to study again, you learned nothing from this session,”

“it’s not my fault you’re hot,” you lifted your hands to your defense.

“how about this, after we get dinner next week, we’ll have a productive study session?” he suggested, your cheeks were tinted with pink.

“are you asking me out, taerae?”

“yes sweetheart, i am. unless you only want to stick to-”

“no! i want to go out with you!” he laughed at your rushed response.

after you two rested for a while more, taerae pulled out of you and threw away the condom in the nearest trash can. he also prepared towels for you and cuddled with you on the couch until you fell asleep.

matthew was not one bit surprised when he knocked on your door the next morning to find his friend sound asleep on your couch.

you could care less though because in your last semester of college, you finally found a reason to like studying.

a/n: thanks for reading, sorry for any grammar mistakes

@zeruby16 on tumblr | est. 2023

#kim taerae #zb1 smut #zb1 hard hours #kim taerae smut #kim taerae x reader

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