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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 10 months

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Soundly (Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader)

Summary: You’ve injured your arm, leaving you frustratingly helpless to complete everyday tasks, like cleaning yourself. Your boyfriend and colleague Simon understands your apprehension towards accepting help for such a task and tells you how he does.

AN: Working title was “Sprain” for those of you who voted in the poll. I’ll be posting the Soap fics shortly and posting another poll for my other upcoming fics afterwards! Meanwhile, let me know what you think in replies or inbox me, tell me your thoughts on fics - present or future.

I just want Ghost to feel loved and to recover from all the shit he went through. I did a fic for that and sharing a bed, so I’m doing this one for the reader a.k.a. me. Plus I like the head canon that Ghost is actually kinda talkative, like in the Alone mission. I know he’s probably partly chatting to Johnny to because he’s trying to keep him focused, guiding him to regroup and survive. But he’s telling dumb jokes and joking about watching his torture video. He’s got banter and trauma!

Content warnings: Allusions to Ghost’s time being tortured by Roba and the Mexican Cartel - specifically his SA as well as the reader’s. Reader is GN, no use of Y/N

Masterlist // AO3

For “just a sprain”, your elbow hurt like a bastard. It was resting in the hammock of the sling your doctor ordered you to keep on. Almost smugly, it sent a few stings across the bone when you were also instructed to restrict your movements and get support to complete day-to-day tasks before you were signed off on a month’s medical leave – pending review at the end of it for being brought back to work.

It was half your fault. The sprain in the first place was caused by some asshole who would not go down quietly and attempted to dislocate your limb. Thankfully, your training automatically twisted you into a position preventing that but then you had to shoot that asshole and your gun was in the arm he’d injured. The bullet that you fired solidified the damage and you were forced to focus hard on aiming with your non-dominant hand whilst slugging it over to the Heli half a klick to the west for recon. You didn’t have to shoot the guy straight away. You’d kicked him down and he was too far from his own weapon to have made it before you could have swapped your gun to your other hand and ended his life the same miserable way. But nah, in the heat of gunfire, you’d decided to end the fight as quick as possible then ran like a bat out of hell back to safety where the rest of your crew was headed.

Simon had known you long enough – and dated you long enough – to not treat you like glass. He wouldn’t insult you like that. Therefore you were very grateful that he was the one to take you home, and that his driving was a lot steadier and smooth on the motorway.

Letting you open the front door, he carried both his and your bags inside, ready to start your medical leave this instant. He was heading out of the hall with his shoes dropped loudly onto the rack when he asked:

“You want anything specific for tea?”

“Nah, I’m good with whatever.”

Despite years of therapy, this injury had dealt a hefty blow to your pride; you didn’t want to be any more of a burden than you were going to be over the next few weeks. Thank God you’d been to his place enough times for it to be considered familiar.

From the airing cupboard, you collected the towel that Simon had bought you after your fifth stay here and smiled at the memory of shopping for it together. He’d asked for what colour you preferred then gathering other items into the trolley that were the same shade: toothbrush, wash cloth, cup to sit by the bathroom sink. He was nice like that.

The bathroom door locked behind you, the final ebbs of afternoon reaching in through frosted glass. You thanked the sun for enabling you to keep the lights off; the buzz that accompanied their stark spark on the silky tiles was always too much for you. However as warm as the daylight was, it failed to soothe your state. When you tried to retrieve the memory of how you’d gotten this t-shirt on in the first place, your mind offered you a blank slate and tears of frustration bubbling over, stinging worse than the injury as you tried to warp it against its will. But to no avail. Your bitten tongue surrendered so that the crying could commence with your t-shirt still stuck on your body.

Gentle rapping at the door didn’t halt anything. Surrendering felt like an admission of weakness, failure, and it poisoned you against yourself as you twisted the lock in the handle and slumped on the rim of the bath.

A pair of plain-socked feet appeared at the top of your line of sight, lingering on the cobalt carpet side of the door frame.

“Can I borrow your scissors please?” You asked, toying with a stray string dangling from the hem.

“You gonna stab me?” Simon inquired semi-sarcastically.

“Yes.” It was a pathetic little reply. But Simon pushed off the bath, belongings tinkling against one another as he rooted around then retrieved a small pair of scissors from the top shelf.

He sat down beside you on the rim, holding out the scissors by the blade, “It’s a nice shirt.”

You wiped your nose on the hem before taking the scissors, “It’s just Primark.”

“I can help you out of it, if it is Primark’s finest.”

“Was just cut it off.”

But of course your dominant hand was tied up in the sling, and you only just realised now.

“I could help you take it off.”

You’d never been undressed around Simon. The closest you’d gotten were jogging bottoms you’d cut into knee-length shorts and the sleeves of your t-shirt pushed onto your shoulders whilst you both worked out at opposite ends of the gym. Towards the end of your set, you mopped at your brow with the hem of your shirt once and the sliver of skin nearly sent Simon into anaphylactic shock.

He knew why you grappled with the notion of undressing. But he didn’t ever linger on you going elsewhere to change. Across your relationship, and even before it started, he’d shown you love in so many other ways that you would forget about what had happened to you.

Today was the first time he addressed it: “I understand why you wouldn’t want me to help.”

Without moving your head, your watchful stare latched onto his adjusting to the nuisance of sitting on a thin perch of porcelain. He withdrew his skull balaclava from its suffocating in his pocket and began kneading at it until the eyehole faced the ceiling you’d stared at many times, wishing you could be more intimate with the man you loved more than life.

“Your reasons aren’t so different from mine.” And he held out the mask to you.

The olive branch was accepted and you thumbed over the skull plate as best you could with the scissors still in your grip. Only when your thumbnail caught against the paint depicting a cheekbone did it dawn on you what your boyfriend was referring to.

“Simon-”

“None of that,” He interrupted you, gently, firmly, “I get it. I don’t wanna bother you if you don’t want me here.”

He rubbed along your shoulder as you matched your deep breaths to his, resting your eyes to bask in his comfort and crushing the mask in your loose fist. You’d always equated it to anonymity. Never had you thought of linking it to another form of comfort.

“You can bathe with your clothes on,” Simon suggested after a minute’s silence.

“Do you know how hard it is to remove wet denim?” You muttered with a crooked smile.

“I do,” and he pressed a kiss to your forehead – his preferred place to do so. “Let’s give this a go.”

You handed back his balaclava and took in his bare face, the medical mask – the one he’d been wearing whilst you were in the hospital and all the way home - gone, his expression carefully crafted to be neutral so that you didn’t have to be.

He eased your sling off you after the taps were thundering steaming water into the tub. Then he vanished to his room, returning with a pair of baggy sports shorts. Cradling them like a baby, your nose welcomed their softness and the steam whilst Simon knelt onto the fluffy bathmat, nodding after splashing the bathwater and twisting the taps into silence.

“I’m gonna stink if I don’t wash properly,” You whispered.

After opening his palms to you, Simon took your shorts and arranged them on the floor, “I’ll get you some wet wipes to use while we wait for your arm to heal up.”

You held onto his shoulders whilst he undid your jeans and eased them down your legs, his hands careful to stay hidden in the fabric whilst you stepped out of them and into the shorts. Simon to pulled them up to your hips.

“Why did the magician take a bath?” He asked you as you lowered yourself into the water.

“I dunno, why?”

“To clean up his act.”

Your chest quivered, struggling to hold in your groans and giggles whilst Simon pumped some blueberry body wash into his palm, “That’s good.”

Tenderly he circled the soap across your forearm, “Fancy another?”

“Go on.” You were nothing if not his little enabler, indulging in his humour even after the rest of 141 had lightly roasted him for it.

“Knock, knock.”

Your free hand fiddled with the sodden hem of your t-shirt, “Who’s there?”

“Dwayne.”

“Dwayne who?”

Soaking the flannel and wringing it out over your arm, Simon began to wash the suds away, “Dwayne the bathtub before I dwown.”

Your smile was not dampened by the tears that rolled down your cheeks and dripped onto the shallow waterline. Instead, you focused your blurry vision on Simon’s hoodie sleeves that were pushed up to his elbows, those broad forearms sprinkled with droplets and soapsuds.

When Simon was lathering up some more body wash, you offered your own joke: “What did the man say after he swallowed a clock and went to the toilet?”

“What?”

“Watch out.”

Simon snorted loudly whilst carefully manipulating your injured arm amidst the blueberry bubbles.

You wiped a new tear away on your shoulder: “I’ve already told Kyle but you can tell it to Johnny.”

“Much obliged.”

With permission and a slow touch, he started soaping up your shins. His contact always lingered for hours on your skin. This felt like a polish, not a scratch or a dent, which is why you felt so overwhelmed now, just as you did that first time he gave you a proper bear hug. You didn’t mind the blueberry, something else to focus on instead of letting yourself meander towards conjuring disturbing imaginations of what you’d just learnt about Simon’s capture in Mexico.

He let you take over for washing your thighs, sitting on the toilet still talking to you with a smile that cracked up his face like the scar, from lip to brow. His eyes never strayed from your face, though it never felt like you were a target down his scope, more like feeling the sun first thing in the morning with a delicate breeze that danced around your being. Such a gaze wasn’t alien to Simon, even if he rarely showed it to you, and never to anyone else. You were just grateful that he was able to be like this, and that he still chose to.

That same stare, he held it whilst draping a towel around your shoulders, patting over your arms before he gathered it at the front for you to hold in your healthy hand. Then he collected a pile of clean clothes from the bedroom, placing them onto the closed toilet lid, you noted the crisply ironed button up folded on top. You settled for nestling your head against his chest since you were unable to hug him.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll make dinner.”

The door was locked after Simon disappeared behind it. You did end up cutting yourself out of the shirt, rest in peace. Fogged-up, the mirror wasn’t so bad to stare at whilst you moisturised with your good hand. You could still feel where Simon’s calloused hands had brushed over your skin, tingling in each follicle, and it was protected by the button-up you were able to slide on – one of the few Simon owned. His bulk was once again your gain; the shirt was loose enough to give you some wiggle room whilst dressing.

Clattering from the kitchen caught Simon in the act of putting away the ironing board. He was taking loud and rehearsed deep breaths that hissed through the fabric of his freshly-donned balaclava, the board under his arm before he tossed it into its assigned slot. His hand shook as it released the cupboard door handle, searching for something to distract himself with until he latched his stare onto you bunching your shirt in the front.

“I can’t do my buttons up,” You said quietly.

Your stomach impulsively sucked in on itself when his hands reached for the buttons before it, joining them with the fabric. Nevertheless, your gaze found solace in the thatch of fine chest hair growing in the lowest peak of his V-neck.

Simon started from the bottom button and made his way up. With each wince, his fingers stalled. But you knew he’d never hurt you, never on purpose and never like that. He made steady progress until complete and even helped you replace your sling. But then he sniffed and brushed his nose briefly, stepping away and back to the kitchen. For five minutes he alternated between sifting through the cupboards and staring helplessly into the fridge, his face washed out by the stagnant light inside. You took the time to help him in one of the ways you knew how.

“I’ll order us a takeaway.”

Immediately he slammed shut the fridge door, “You’re a fucking star.”

You were not put off by his pacing back and forth, nor were you by his hovering over you like a gargoyle whilst you tapped at the screen – which you held in a way for him to see clearly in case he wanted to add something. A wide berth allowed you to approach him on the couch with the takeaway when it arrived half an hour later (always reliable, hence why it was your go-to takeaway place). Simon also accepted the drink you brought him, but only because he’d already gotten you one plus two pain meds he made sure you took after getting some food into your stomach first.

The cushioned lap trays you’d invested in were already paying for themselves.

Dinner inhaled and rendering you quite soporific, you mirrored Simon’s earlier actions and tentatively shuffled closer to him, “Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” His arm dropped to around your waist, and you tugged on his wrist to keep it there. Only then did you tentatively wrap yourself around his full belly.

“Fuckin’ softie,” He said under his breath. That didn’t stop him from giving you a little squeeze – his hand no longer trembling - and sinking himself lower so that there was no pressure on your sprain. He turned the volume down a little, which sparked inspiration in your mind.

Half hiding in his t-shirt, you projected loud enough for him to hear you: “The local TV controller museum shut down due to no visitors. Turns out people aren’t remotely interested.”

“Have you been researching these instead of doing your paperwork?”

“What makes you think I haven’t been doing my paperwork?”

Simon looked down at you, those expressive eyes communicating both the “are you fucking for real?” and the “you’re lucky you’re cute” in equal parts. But from the way his balaclava was balanced on his face, you could tell he was smiling at you. So you smiled back at him then snuggled back against him with a contented sigh and the existence of your new joke book still a secret (for now).

The next time you opened your eyes, it was much darker in the living room. A blanket was tucked around your legs. The glow of “Are you still watching Phil Wang: Philly Philly Wang Wang?” from the flat-screen, despite that not being what you were watching when you first drifted off, bathed you in enough low light to allow you a comfortable adjustment period. You squinted up at your boyfriend. Head back in the pillows, his chest was rising and falling with each breath he drew and released through his nose. You adjusted the blanket around to cover his legs too and, tucking yourself back into your bundle, both you and Simon slept soundly.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley oneshot #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod oneshot #mw2 fanfic #my writing #r: gen #wc: >2k

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niphredil-14 · 4 months

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hey so how do you think the rottmnt boys would deal with having a published writer s/o. I imagine s/o has made Leo a jupiter jim fanfic which feels way too accurate it could be one of his comic books. Or like left little poems for Donnie lying around to cheer him up and discuss feelings with it or Fantasy short story for Mikey?

Oh, how the writer in me loves this request!! (also, welcome back to my inbox! nice to see you again! c:)

Leonardo:

Ever since Leo had found out that his lover could write, he had been begging them to write fanfiction for him. They had most likely been forced to watch all of the Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu movies before they even started dating Leo. But no matter how much he had begged for fanfiction, they had refused. They were just too busy working on the next volume in their series! But little did he know, that in the weeks leading up to his birthday, they had been brainstorming, plotting, drafting, and editing a special story just for him. When they handed him the gift, wrapped meticulously in Jupiter Jim themed wrapping paper, he was so excited! Before even unwrapping it, he knew that he would love it, just based on the look of pure joy and excitement in their eyes. He ripped the paper off, and found a deep blue binder, filled with paper. On the cover was written, "Happy Birthday, Leonardo" in large letters, and below it, in smaller letters, was written, "All my love, Y/N <3" His heart warmed, and he flipped the binder open, and almost squealed in excitement. Jumping over t them, he pulled them into a tight hug. He did not put it down until he finished reading it, and then he would just reread it. After he almost dropped it while on patrol, he asked Donnie to transcribe it and put it on his phone.

Raphael:

He found out early on in the relationship that his partner was a writer, and while he was very impressed with them and their talent, he wasn't much of a reader, so he didn't fully grasp just how amazing they were at first. While Raph could read, it was always hard for him, and he would have to go back and reread paragraphs over and over until they stuck. Out of love and interest in his darling, though, he began to listen to the audiobook versions of their books while he worked out. And he found out that worked for him, and was enjoyable. And though he often found himself wishing that it was their voice reading their stories to him, he knew from their conversations just how awkward they felt reading anything they wrote aloud to people, he knew how much they hated it, how vulnerable it made them feel, so he never asked. How much and often they talked about their work to him varied, though when they did it was usually just them complaining to him about their publishers/editors, or asking for his advice on the plot, or just using him as a fill in for them to perform the rubber duck theory. However, one day, they burst into his room, holding a book, and practically shaking. He had been sat on his bed, and they quickly sat down beside him, with the book pressed close to their chest. Before he could get a word out, they had begun to speak.

"I have a gift for you!" They trilled, they voice high, and sing-songy. A grin had stretched across his face, even wider than it had when they had first entered the room.

"Aw, Babe, you didn't have to get me anything!" He said to them.

"Well, It's not really that kind of gift, so..." They trailed off, and instead opted for just pushing the book into his hands, forcing the knitting needles aside. He looked down at the book, and found their name written below the title. How they had managed to keep the fact that they had published a new book a secret from him was beyond him, and he paused in wonder. "Open it!!" They exclaimed. And so he did, he flipped through the pages until he came to the dedication, and his eyes began to water at what he saw. Typed in a fancy, swirly, italic font was written,

"To my dearest, Raphael, who has given me endless support, love, and inspiration, who's the best muse anyone could ask for, and who's character is better than any I could create, I have written you into these pages so that your essence may be as immortal as my love for you is."

They had all the talent when it came to words, and he was left with only speechlessness as he pulled them into a tight hug, fat tears falling down his face as he buried his beak into their neck, holding them as close as he could.

Donatello:

It had never been a secret that Donnie was incredibly impressive, and taking that fact into consideration, it was no real surprise that anyone, even as talented a writer as his love, would find themselves often speechless in his presence. With their emotions running too high to properly verbalize them in the moment, they would often find themselves writing out how they felt in long paragraphs until they were able to cut down the words into poems, vague and intricate enough to not be fully clear, and yet so powerful as to make someone know exactly the emotion the poet felt while scribbling the words. Donnie had a very clear understanding of their experience with being unable to verbalize just how they felt, as he often experienced the same thing, and resorted to building things as a way to show his love. Which was why he was so moved when he had found their journal. He knew that all of their final drafts were kept on an ever-growing document on their computer, but he never knew just how those drafts came to be final. And yet, there was a pain in his chest as he held the journal, a disorganized mess of thoughts, in his hands, and was able to see their word vomit be carved down into pure art, not unlike a sculptor chipping away at wood or stone, to reveal the heart of their creation. He had known that he was important enough to them for them to gift him some of their poems, but to be able to look at the proof, to be able to hold it, and to touch it, the proof of just how strong the emotions he stirred up within them were, that was a powerful experience. It was as if his brain had completely shut off for the moments that he held their raw thoughts in his grasp, and all he could think of was how impossible it would be to ever completely and successfully express the same level of depth that his emotions had for them. But he knew that he'd be damned if he didn't try. And with that, he placed their journal back down on their desk, and made his way to his lab, already brainstorming.

(I got kinda carried away with Raph's, I'm not sure what came over me lmao. guess i got possessed by some kind of inspiration ahaha)

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tieronecrush · 1 year

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cool about it

joel miller x f!reader

(part II of water in your hands)

rating: E (18+ ONLY, MDNI)

word count: 14k (i'm sorry, please grab a snack or some water or read it in stages!!)

summary: I'm trying to be cool about it / Feelin' like an absolute fool about it / Wishin' you were kind enough to be cruel about it

You and Joel have been together secretly for months now, sneaking around behind his wife’s back. He hasn’t made a move to break it off with her, and at this point, you aren’t sure if he ever will. That is until he’s forced to face his problems, and you’re left with all the guilt.

warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, adultery/infidelity, marriage, age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is 20s/30s), use of pet names, mentions of water/drowning, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), one instance of spitting/drooling, praising, undefined relationship turned committed relationship, slightly possessive joel & reader, alcohol use, ANGST, hurt/comfort, separation, degrading language (homewrecker, slut, mistress, etc.), self-deprecation/insecurity

series spotify playlist / apple music

a/n: thank you to everyone who requested a part 2!! i really love these two even though i make them suffer BUT i would LOOOVE to write some more little stories for them so drop any requests in my inbox! i don’t wanna say goodbye to them just yet :(

dividers from @saradika

It was a rare occurrence for your shift to line up with Joel’s. Lately, he’d be working early mornings or overnights, and you would be afternoons or evenings at the bar. Today, however, is a gift from the universe. He’d been assigned a handful of shifts that ended in the afternoon, and for some reason, Tommy scheduled you early to come deep clean and organize the back bar and stock room for the Tipsy Bison. Joel and you could see each other in the light of day, for maybe only the sixth or seventh time in the months that you have been sneaking around with each other.

He walks straight into the unlocked doors of the bar, an eager grin on the side of his face when he sees you. He beelines for you as you stand in front of the counter, wiping it down.

“Mmm, been thinkin’ about you my whole shift, sugar. Even got a little distracted with you on my mind - got yelled at to keep it moving at one point,” his voice is a little hoarse from booking it over here from the stables, slightly sweaty arms wrapping around your waist and flexing as they squeeze you tight and turn you around, “Was just itchin’ to get over here.”

His lips find that spot under your ear that sends goosebumps over your skin every time, a playful smirk pulling the corners of your mouth up. Your hands rest against the plaid flannel covering his arms, the added warmth necessary for the early spring weather. It reminds you of what he’d been wearing a year ago when he’d started settling into Jackson; sleeves rolled up to show off the delicious veins that bulge when he was working hard. The thought gets you a little light-headed and you take a quick breath to calm your racing mind.

“Well, can’t blame me for you being horny. Gotta keep it in your pants on patrol, sir.” Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes shine with a tease as you watch Joel’s eyebrows shoot up keenly at your statement and the polite title.

“I think I can blame you. ‘Specially when you’re the one calling me sir.” His eyes darken with hunger - and the knowledge that you’re going to be the one to satiate it. His arms loosen from their tight hold around your waist, large hands skimming down your back to grab at the cushion of your ass greedily.

“Did you only come to get something from me, Miller? I think I should be offended that you didn’t just want to visit me.”

“Oh, darlin’, y’know I came here to just get a glimpse of that pretty face to keep me going for the day. But then I got one look at you, and you just always do somethin’ to me. Can’t ever get enough of you.” His lips attach to the notch where your jaw meets your neck, teeth grazing skin as he works his mouth down to your collar. He hooks two fingers in your shirt there, pulling it back to reveal the blossoming purple mark that he had left the other night when the two of you were glued to each other in your bed. It was his parting gift as the sun rose, the usual warning sign for him to get back home.

“Can I give you another, sweet girl? Or maybe a couple? And you can wear one of those cute little tank tops next shift. Gotta let those gawking boys know you belong to someone.” His low, syrupy twang sends humidity across your exposed skin. Your head tilts back involuntarily, hands gripping his forearms that rest against your hips, his hands still palming your ass.

“You can give me as many as you want. Just wish I could you some.” Your gaze moves down to meet Joel’s eyes, the slightest pout on your face that pulls him away from your collarbone. He looks at you tenderly, one hand leaving your backside to brush your hair back from your face with care.

“I know, darlin’. I wish you could, too.” His thumb rubs against one of your cheekbones, and your eyes close to focus on the touch and feel the weight of his words. He still hasn’t told you those three words that you give him all the time, still never crossing that line.

The cool metal of his wedding band stings your face when he slips his hand down your cheek and along the nape of your neck as if the universe was sending you a quick reminder about who he was promised to.

“You wanna get out of here, sweet girl? We’ve got a few hours just to ourselves.” Your eyes open again at the sound of his voice, a soft smile spreading his lips as he speaks. He gets a mischievous glint in his eye, eyebrows wagging as his large hands slip into the back pockets of your jeans, giving one strong squeeze.

“Maybe we can have a little afternoon delight? Hmm?” He looks genuinely pleased with his cheeky suggestion, and you can’t help but chortle at the horny teenager energy he’s got.

“Play your cards right, Miller, and maybe you can have a little treat.” You wink at him, opening your mouth again to send another quip, only to be taken by surprise as he captures your lips in a fervent kiss. His tongue licks into your mouth, your front pressing tightly against his to the point where you can feel him half-hard against your thigh.

You pull away from the heated kiss, tsking quietly as you pull his hands off of you.

“We won’t ever make it out of here if you keep that up. And that isn’t ideal for either of us.”

Joel groans, the end of the sound hitching up into a soft whine.

“Fine, fine. You’re right. But I can’t fucking wait any longer. Been waiting all morning…” He trails off in thought, his eyes lighting up with an idea.

“Just come to mine. It’s closer.”

“Yeah, by only like 100 feet, Joel. And what if Heather’s home, hmm? How are you gonna explain your hard dick and me likely bent over whatever surface is closest to the front door?” Your arms cross over your front, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“She’s teaching today. She’ll be at school all afternoon. C’mon, it’ll be fine. Never get to have you in my bed.”

It’s not just your bed, you think to yourself. Your stomach turns a bit at the not-so-friendly reminder from your conscience. Your eyes flick down to the ring on his left hand, a sigh escaping as you study the shine of the metal before meeting his eyes once more. You could see the eagerness in them, the want. He wasn’t going to let it go, and you knew if you kept arguing it would end up with him propositioning that it’s either here in the bar or the privacy of his house.

“Okay. We’ll go to yours. But it’d better be a quick one.”

Joel smirks devilishly, hands grabbing at your body. He pulls you away from the counter, fishing out his house keys from the front pocket of his jeans.

“You’re gonna be changing that tune once I get you inside, darlin’. Gonna want to take your time.”

Decision made, Joel left out of the bar first to get a head start back home. Finishing up with your last tasks quickly, you closed up and started down your shared street, sending friendly waves to neighbors as you made your way. You came up with an excuse in your head as to why you were walking up to Joel’s door, just in case an overly curious bystander wanted to be nosy.

You send three quick knocks against the wood, peering in through the small glass windows in the door to see Joel making his way over from the kitchen. He grins sweetly when he opens the door, inviting you in. To an outsider, it all seemed to be a perfectly normal, neighborly exchange. Perhaps you were going to catch up over coffee or Joel was helping you out by getting you a tool to borrow.

Little do they know what he was really about to give you.

It was an awkward exchange at first, Joel stumbling around his words as he gave you a sort-of tour while leading you upstairs. You’d been in his house before, invited in by Ellie when she needed help with a gardening project for school and she’d come to you for advice based on the flora in your front lawn. You’d even been there when he and his wife were there, canoodling on the couch. It stung, seeing him laughing and holding her close. Nearly made you snap the pencil you were holding in your hand as you read over Ellie’s project plan.

But now you were here, alone, and he wanted you in his own bed. Their bed. Their literal marital bed.

It gave you a rush of anxiety as he pushed open the door to the room, turning towards you as you give the space a once over. You ignored the touches of her in the room — the throw pillows around the bed, the perfume on the dresser vanity, and clothes hanging slightly out of the hamper. Instead, you focus on the little details of him that you were finally privy to.

A novel on his nightstand, The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemmingway, the small ceramic dish that he now discards his wedding ring in, the owl mug that holds his morning coffee, smatterings of clothes around his side of the room. It all feels very comfortable, reminding you of pieces that you get of him in your own space. These touches of him give you a sense of home and safety; it all feels very Joel.

He pulls you out of your observations, your eyes meeting his lustful gaze. He towers over you, hands holding the sides of your jaw to tilt your head back. He slants his lips against yours, a light kiss turning salacious with want. Your hands find the waistband of his jeans, tugging lightly while his tongue dances with yours. Soft moans escape with the breaths you both take, and he peels away from your lips to pull your t-shirt over your head, mouth attacking your collarbone to leave more marks as he had promised earlier. Your head tilts, eyes opening for a split second when he bites a bit harder. His tongue soothes the nip, but you still feel the tinge of pain when your eyes lock onto the lacy panties haphazardly discarded near the hamper. You can’t look away, bile burning your throat as your mind gives you an image of the two of them together, of Joel enjoying anyone but you. The thought of those not belonging to you and being for him makes jealousy canker across your heart. A new determination is shocked through you - you want to give him a memory of you being the one pleasing him in this room, for him to think about whenever he has his wife in the same position. You wanted him to be moaning your name, praising you, being under your spell, even for a moment.

Pressing your hands against his strong chest, you push him back with a step. His head shoots up from your collar with surprise, a little smirk pulling at his lips. His eyebrows raise in question as you push him to the end of the bed, hands gripping his broad shoulders and maneuvering him to sit. Eager hands find your hips, grazing over to your ass as he looks up at you standing over him.

“Whatcha wanna do, baby? You wanna ride me, hmm?” His voice is lecherous, dripping with desire and satisfaction over you taking some control.

You shake your head at him, bending down in just your bra to pop open the button of his jeans and slide the zipper down as it strains against his bulge. He buries his face in the exposed skin of your breasts that are now eye level, humming contently.

He lets you work his jeans down to his mid-thighs, cock springing free. He still never bothered with underwear most of the time despite the slow, normal life he’d adjusted to in Jackson.

You keep eye contact as you kneel in front of him, his keen stare unblinking as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. You settle in front of him between his legs, hand wrapping around him and stroking slowly. He looked down at you with hooded eyes, mouth opening in a small gasp at the languid stimulation. A rush of saliva floods your mouth at the thought of tasting the beads of pre-cum that were starting to trickle out of his swelling length.

Giving into your bodily reactions, you lean in and press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the soft skin. Your thumb brushes against his tip, a hiss of pleasure sounding from above. One of Joel’s hands finds the back of your head, tangling fingers into your hair. He doesn’t move to guide you, simply wanting to touch a part of you.

Your free hand gently cups his balls as you press a featherlight kiss to the tip of his hard cock. A kitten-lick swipes up the dribbles of pre-cum that have collected and Joel’s fingers tense against your strands. You hum satisfied with the reactions you’re drawing from him, looking up to see splotches of redness growing across his cheeks and neck at the frustration. He groans out your name as your mouth works to tease him more, not having taken him fully in.

“Fucking hell, baby, quit teasin’.” Joel rasps as he watches your methodical seduction. He applies the smallest pressure against the back of your head when your lips finally wrap around just the tip of him, a moan of relief rolling from his chest.

Your eyes stay glued on his face, relishing in every response that he’s having to your mouth working him. Your head starts a slow bob up and down, growing wet at the weight of him on your tongue. You focus on half of him with your mouth, your hand working what isn’t inside. His noises grow louder and in quicker succession, his cheeks visibly warm and eyes dark with a craving when he looks down at you again.

“Such a sweet girl. Look so pretty with my cock in your little mouth. Think you can take more, baby? Think I can fit in your throat?” His words flood your panties, feeling the fabric stick uncomfortably against you. You shift in your position slightly, a sigh exhaling as your thighs rub together to relieve some of your ache.

The rhythm of your head brings his cock deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. You swallow around him and it squeezes him just right, a loud moan coming from him above you. He loses some of his composure, the large hand at the back of your head pushing him down your throat further and causing you to gag. Tears spill from your eyes and spit drips from the sides of your mouth, the blow job quickly turning sloppy as Joel takes more control.

“Fucking hell, darlin’. Taking me so well on your own, being such a good girl for me. You gonna let me fuck your mouth?”

The two of you are tunnel-visioned on each other, with no thoughts in your head except for getting Joel to come down your throat and no thoughts in his other than the sight of you taking his cock in your mouth. Had the two of you sensed anything happening in the house, it might have saved you.

Heather, Joel’s wife, returned home on her lunch break, hoping to run into her husband when she grabbed something to eat quickly. She heard the familiar timbre of Joel’s voice coming from upstairs, not making out any words at first. She climbed the stairs, the sound becoming clearer. Joel was definitely there, but he wasn’t alone. Wet sounds accompanied his pleasured moans, her ears perking up when she stands next to the closed door and hears him ask to fuck the mouth of whoever he’s with. Rage burns, the handle twisting and the door flying open. She’s greeted with you kneeling in front of Joel, his eyes trained on you with a lustful tenderness, mouth agape in awe.

The sound of the door smacking against the wall brings Joel’s attention away from the way you're taking the slow thrusts of his hips as he fucks your face. Immediately, he sees his wife standing in the doorway, shock, anger, and betrayal evident in her expression. His stomach rolls with anxiety, working quickly to push you off of him gently, tossing the throw blanket from the end of the bed in your direction to cover up. He scrambles to shove his still-hard dick back into his jeans and zips them up quickly, hands shamefully covering the bulge as he stands.

His mouth opens to try to excuse the pornographic sight that his wife’s just witnessed, but his brain is coming up empty. His eyes just shoot back and forth between the woman in the doorway wearing his ring and you, standing up from your knees with the blanket around your shoulders and a look of panic in your eyes. His hand twitches to reach for you, to comfort you, and his heart cracks at the glossiness in your eyes when you turn away from him.

The only sound to come is from his wife, her voice flat and resolute as she speaks directly to you.

“Please, get your shirt back on and go home.” She’s calm and resolute, with no malice in her voice as she demands you from her home. You oblige willingly and quickly, grabbing your top from the floor and slipping it over your head. You discard the blanket politely back on the bed, making eye contact with Joel one last burning time before turning to scurry out and back to your place across the street like a reprimanded child. Tears sting your eyes as you exit, the insides of you feeling like a storm at sea, uncertainty of what happens next for you and Joel thrashing around in your gut.

Back inside their shared home, Joel is still at the end of the bed. The situation has shriveled his arousal, the bulge in his jeans no more as his wife stares him down with indignance. She turns on her heel, a silent command for him to follow her as she makes her way downstairs. He climbs down the stairs petulantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for her to start screaming at him. He can’t find the energy to fight back if she does; he’d take it if it finally freed him of the mess that was his own creation.

Heather motions for him to sit in one of the wooden kitchen chairs; she leans back against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest. He plops down into the hard seat, a quiet sigh exhaled as he leans back, bracing himself for what is bound to ensue.

“Was this the first time?” Heather asks, voice steady, composed. Her eyes finally look at him, nothing given away from the empty stare in them.

He thinks about lying to spare her feelings, but the thought of continuing to suffer through sneaking around to be with you guides him into an honest answer. He’s going to give her the whole truth.

“No. No, this wasn’t the first time.”

“How long?”

He hesitates, the truth burning his throat as he prepares to confess that he’s never been a faithful husband, not when it came to you.

“Since the week after we got married.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel. Are you fucking kidding?”

He shakes his head, bowing it in shame as he continues his attempted repentance.

“I’m sorry. I know it probably means nothing to you, but I am sorry that I put you in this situation…We met when Ellie and I first stopped in Jackson to find Tommy. Before we went to, uh…I couldn’t stop thinking about her. But I didn’t think that I was good for her; I’m older, I have so much shit that I’ve done, and I didn’t think I could give her the life she wanted. When I came back, I tried to stay away. But when I saw her, I couldn’t help but be drawn to her. It was like a fucking magnet or gravitational pull. And well, eventually, I broke all my resolve. We slept together, out in the field behind the storage barn. I felt so fucking guilty afterward that I ignored her, for months. And, uh, I asked Tommy to set me up. Which is when I met you,” he interrupts his speech with a deep breath as he continues his full confessional, each sentence he speaks feeling like a brick being broken down from his walls.

“And I thought that if I made the decision to move on, to date, to get married, that we would both get over each other. I am so sorry that I did this to you. I just thought that you were a nice woman, you weren’t looking for anything really since you’d lived your life with your husband before. It was easy for me. Selfish, and easier than facing reality. But, when I went to check on her after she didn’t show up to work all week after we’d gotten married, we slept together again. And we kept meeting up in secret, having an affair. Have been for months.”

Heather continues her empty, faraway stare as she processes everything Joel’s just laid out in front of her. Silence falls over the room as he gives her time to formulate a response.

“Do you love her?”

That surprises him. Did she actually ask that? Is this the part where she screams and cries and shows her anger? His head shoots up from its hanging position and hands clasp together between his knees as he keeps eye contact with his wife across the room. He thinks back on all of the time you spent together and finally comes to admit what he’s known since that first conversation.

His voice breaks as he speaks, thick with the emotion that the first time he’s saying this is to the completely wrong person, “Yeah. I love her. With everything I have. I’d do anything for her.”

Heather nods shortly, arms uncrossing and dropping to her sides. She looks around the room, her brain working as she thinks about what to do.

“Okay. I’ll make it easy for you then. I’m leaving. We’re separating, since we were never legally married in the first place. If you can give me tonight, I’ll be out tomorrow. Just, I don’t know, ask Ellie to sleepover at Dina’s and spend the night at Tommy’s or at hers, I don’t really give a shit. Don’t come back until the morning, please.”

“I won’t. I’ll do whatever you need me to. I’m sorry again, Heather. I shouldn’t have made such a stupid, selfish decision.” Joel’s filled with genuine remorse, anguish flooding his gut about how to move forward from this.

She looks at him with pity, then her eyes move to the window in the direction of your house.

“It was selfish. And not just towards me.”

At that, she walks away from the kitchen and upstairs to start packing. Joel takes this as his moment to leave, wandering to go find Ellie to tell her to spend the night at Dina’s. He thinks about going to Tommy’s, to tell him everything even though Joel’s sure that he already knows. Instead, he continues to wander, not quite ready to face you and tell you what he’s been too foolish to admit to himself.

Taps sound softly against your front door, three quick and one lingering - Joel’s signature knock. The nerves tossing in your stomach ease at the thought of him being near again, only to wash right back when you open the door. It’s a split second that you see the heartache in his expression before he’s smiling with tender sympathy, but it sticks in your mind. Did he want to stay married that badly? Was this all just fun for him? Just an affair?

The thoughts tamper in your mind when he steps inside the entryway, brawny hands cupping your cheeks to study your eyes before they drop to your waist and wrap his arms around you in a secure embrace. His gentleness is enough to bring tears back to your eyes, some spilling over as he tucks his head into your neck and takes deep, shaky breaths. One of your hands caresses the back of his head, the other holding tightly to his bicep to keep him close. Nothing is said for minutes, the two of you standing there with the front door wide open.

It’s only when you hear his sniffle muffled against your neck, your immediate reaction is to hold him close and rasp out, “Oh, Joel…It’s okay. We’ll figure it out if you have to stay -- if it’s easier to…” You can’t bare to finish the sentence - if he had to stay with her, if he wanted to stay, you knew you couldn’t last.

He pulls out of the crook of your shoulder, glossy eyes meeting yours with deep contrite behind them. He shakes his head slowly, calloused fingers tracing along your jaw before cradling your cheek. You can see in his eyes the moment his heart breaks just a fraction more, and you’re convinced the next thing out of his mouth is going to be that he has to leave you, for good.

“Darlin’, no. That’s not why - I’m not - Shit, I’ve really messed this up.” He turns away from your stare, your anxiousness returning tenfold with this reaction. He takes your hand, shuts your front door gently, and guides you over to the sofa.

He sits first, delicately handling you into the spot next to him. He cheats his body towards you, hands intertwining with yours. You look down at his larger ones encompassing yours, placed together in your lap. His thumbs soothe your skin, lulling the tightness in your chest to relax some with the comfort of his touch.

“Look at me, sweet girl.”

His croony voice pulls your attention away, following the tender command. The twang of his voice is coming out more with his emotion and it tugs your heart that you only get to hear it at its purest when he’s upset.

“Did you think I was coming here to tell you I was staying with her?”

The directness of the question steals the air from your lungs, your mouth agape when you scramble to try to cover up the clearly obvious thoughts you were having. It was as if he was inside your head, and at this moment, you didn’t necessarily appreciate how vulnerable it made you feel. He takes your silence as an answer, nodding to himself while he murmurs under his breath. Joel takes a deep breath before his gaze locks on yours.

“She’s leaving me. I told her the whole truth. And now I’m here to tell you all of the truth that I told her. It’s the least that you deserve.”

His eyes have glossed over again, no tears daring to spill out -- he’s trying to keep it all in, but you can see his emotion despite his best efforts. You’ve never seen Joel this unguarded, and it breaks your heart that he’s feeling this pain. You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to tell you anything, that he doesn’t owe you anything. But you also don’t want to close him off again, to brush this all under the rug.

“I don’t want anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. I knew from that first conversation with you. That beautiful damn smile did me in the second I saw it. Hell, I’m pretty sure even Tommy and Ellie knew from that moment. I was so scared. I didn’t want to ever fail you, so I didn’t even give myself the chance to try…But I wanna try now. Completely. No more hiding, no more secrets. Just us. I love you, darlin’. Been in love with you for ages, I just couldn’t pull my head out of my ass long enough to say it to you.”

A jolt of adrenaline is shot through your body, jitters lightening your limbs as your heart beats faster. The words that you have been waiting for, dreaming of, just said so matter-of-factly by him. It feels like a figment of your imagination, so unbelievable to you at this moment that your hands reach for his chest, checking to make sure he’s really there.

A light chuckle leaves his mouth, his hands coming up to lay over yours, holding them against his pounding heartbeat. Once you believe that he’s really there, your eyes trace up from his chest. Pure affection oozes out of his brown eyes, the tiniest smile tugging the corners of his lips as he awaits your response.

You realize it’s been silent for a minute, the surprise of this conversation stealing your words. Hands press harder into his strong sternum, weight supported by him as you shift to kneel over him. You lean down and slant your mouth against his in a ghostly kiss. His mouth chases yours when you pull your head back, eyes locked into each other’s when you finally respond before kissing him passionately.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to realize that.”

It’s been a few weeks since that afternoon. Heather completely moved out of Joel’s, leaving the house with just him and Ellie again. He’s told Ellie, not the full extent of everything that’s happened because she’s only fifteen, but that he and Heather are separated and that the two of you are together. He knows she’s not naive, especially after all that she’s been through, but he couldn’t really find the courage to face her and tell her the whole truth about his stupidity. So, the rest of the gaps are to be filled in by inference or imagination.

He’s told Tommy the whole truth, though. Another reason for Maria to dislike him, especially because she was friendly with his now ex-wife. Tommy is his brother, at the end of the day, and despite him not condoning Joel’s actions over the last year, he’s said that he can’t help but feel relieved that this can all be put behind them. And that his brother, and you, his close friend, can be happy together.

Joel’s asked you to move in about four times now. Each time he asks, he knows the answer, but he can’t help but try again in the slight chance that it’s changed. You always tell him that you will, eventually, but you don’t think it’s the best idea right now. Especially with all of the shit that you have been getting that Joel seems to be ignoring.

Time passing means it’s also been a few weeks since you and Joel have been able to be around each other publicly. To express your affection, hold hands, kiss. It all feels so foreign - like you still have the risk of being caught when people look at the two of you. It doesn’t help with the glares or dirty looks you get from some people of Jackson. It festers the growing mold of insecurity in you, feeling the guilt of breaking up a marriage, even a loveless one.

The worst instances have been when you’ve been at work and Joel stops in, either on his own or with Tommy and some patrol guys. Nothing has changed from his routine before, but now he doesn’t have to hide his reactions to your hands brushing when you pass him a drink or wait around all night just to be able to kiss you and walk you home.

Joel’s handsy, to say the least. Especially with a drink or two in him. He’s constantly running a hand down your side or to your ass when you bring over a tray of drinks to the high-top table he and his buddies are at. Or he’s leaning over the counter to grab a kiss from you when you drop a glass of whiskey in front of him. He’s even gotten to a point where he was tipsy enough to climb behind the bar in the opening at the end, stealthily creeping up behind you as you organize glasses to wrap himself around you and give you a sloppy kiss. He’s cheered on by his cohort and all but chased out from behind the bar by his brother who grumbles annoyances as Joel shoots a cheeky wink in your direction.

All of his displays make you smile, and you haven’t been happier to finally have Joel to yourself and for everyone to know just how in love with you he is. But, it hasn’t made it any easier when you hear all of the nasty things said about you.

The worst of it comes one night when you’re working. Joel’s been put on an evening patrol shift, but he’d promised to swing by the Tipsy Bison to pick you up and take you back to his to spend the night.

Most of the shift comes and goes uneventfully - some friends stop in and keep you entertained for a few hours, the music playing not making you want to bang your head against the wall. Tommy’s working with you tonight, having taken some time off of patrol to help out more around the house and with his now one-year-old son. He approaches you at the bar polishing glasses, nodding to a group of women around a table that are on their fourth or fifth round of the night.

“Think you can take the next round over to them for me? Really gotta take a piss.” You laugh at Tommy’s excuse, nodding and taking the order from him.

“You could just ask, y’know. Didn’t need the extra information.” He rolls his eyes and quickly jets off to the bathrooms. You prepare the cocktails and grab the two beers from the fridge, arranging everything on a tray to make your way over to the ladies.

About three paces away, you tune into their conversation and your stomach sinks to your feet.

“Can you believe that she can still show her face around here? I would be holed up in my house if I were her.”

“She probably feels great about herself. I bet she’s going after the other brother now, have you seen them joking around all night with each other? She’s basically throwing herself at him. What a slut.”

“I think I’ll actually feel bad for Joel if that happens. But, you know what they say, once a homewrecker, always a homewrecker.”

“She probably gets off on being the mistress or something. Adds the excitement since she’s probably gotten fucked every which way at this point in her life.”

Tears prick your eyes and you blink them away, steel expression as you close in on the table. You stay silent as you deposit the drinks on the surface, turning away with the tray under your arm only to hear one of them shout after you.

“Homewrecking whore!”

They dissolve into cackles, the tables around them all now talking in hushed tones as they stare at you. The burn of humiliation creeps up your neck, watery eyes bubbling over. Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break, you’re already pathetic enough right now without them seeing your face. Your legs book it into the bathroom after throwing the drink tray onto the counter, the black plastic skidding to a stop in front of the younger Miller.

Tommy’s heard what was shouted, the bullies snickering away and satisfied. Anger bites in his throat and he holds back from shouting across the room. Instead, he saunters over and starts picking up the nearly full drinks onto the tray again, the group staring at him incredulously.

“Excuse me, we’re drinking those?”

He simply shakes his head, smiling politely at them.

“Nah, you’re leaving. Now. And you’re gonna stop harassing people if you wanna come back.”

At that he walks away, dumping the drinks in the back bar sink and watching the group exit in a huff.

When you come out of the bathroom puffy-eyed and see the empty table, the thought occurs to you that Tommy must have said something. You give him an appreciative smile, and he says nothing more of it for the rest of the shift.

Your mind continues to replay all of the horrible things they said about you, starting to wonder if there was a layer of truth to it. You were distracted for the rest of the night and when you escaped back to the stock room to pull what was needed at the end of the night, Tommy took the opportunity to pull Joel aside when he walked through the doors to pick you up.

“Don’t tell her that I told you this, but something happened at work tonight.” Tommy keeps his voice down from the lingering patrons, one arm across his torso, the other holding his hand to his mouth to pinch his lip. His eyes dance around to make sure there’s no one eavesdropping.

“What? What are you saying, what happened? Is she okay?” Joel’s brow furrows, feet stepping towards the back to find you. He worries immediately, his mind used to jumping to the worst scenarios from the shit that he’s seen.

“She’s in one piece, quit panicking. Just, some unsavory things were said. There’re this group of women that were drunk, but I think they said some stuff about her. All I heard was what they shouted at her when she walked away, called her a ‘homewrecking whore.’”

Joel grimaces, his heart breaking at the thought of you being subjected to such torment. His temper swells in his chest, and his first thought was to go find whoever it was and sling insults right back to them. It wasn’t even true, he was the one who got you all into that mess, but of course, to an outsider looking in, they were going to blame the third party involved in a marriage that fell apart.

Joel nods in understanding, not willing to dare repeat what Tommy said, the words sitting bitterly in his mouth while he leans against the counter waiting for you.

Your eyes are trained down when you enter the main room again, counting the stock of the bottles in your hands under your breath. At someone’s throat clearing, your head snaps up and the slightest smile grows on your face at the sight of Joel leaning over the bar with a gentle, boyish grin.

“Hey, sweet girl. Boss man says you can head home early with me.” He jerks his head in Tommy’s direction, his brother smiling with a hand raised in a wave. You smile wider, waving your thanks back as you set the box of bottles on the counter. Making your way out and over to Joel, his arms scoop you up against him with a sigh of contentment.

“Missed you, darlin’. You ready to head home?” His lips press into your hair at the top of your head, the tiniest bit of tension from the night relaxing in his embrace.

“Ready. Let’s go home, cowboy.” Joel chuckles lightly at the nickname, keeping one arm wrapped around you as you both start down the gravel street. He recounts his shift with you, telling you about a family of bunnies he saw to cheer you up and cracking a couple of jokes. You barely smile in his direction, laughing a beat too late when you register that he’s been jesting with you, much too quiet for your normal, bubbly self. You act completely cold about it all, with no anger or emotion burning in you to share with him. It squeezes his chest, the fact that you’re in pain and keeping it distant from him. Those horrible fucking words that he wishes he could just wipe from your brain sit sour in his mouth. All he wants is to block them out so you never have to hear them again because they are the furthest thing from the truth.

He wishes you would tell him what happened tonight; you feign an uneventful evening when he asks about your night. All he wants to do is reassure you, but without you opening up, he doesn’t want to push you if you don't want to talk about it.

The two of you walk into his house, trailing up lazily to the bedroom. Per your request, the room has been rearranged and the bedding has been changed to an extra set you had at home, making the space once again solely Joel’s. Instead of bits of her sprinkled into the space, there are pieces of you lying around that make his heart beat a little faster and a smile crosses his face each time he notices them. Clothes in his dresser, earrings on the nightstand, the book you’re reading on the desk where it’d been left this morning.

Changing from your work clothes, you leave them hanging over the chair. Your pajamas are a pair of boxers that he hasn't touched since moving to Jackson and one of his old t-shirts, the fabric worn in just the right way to make it ideal for sleeping. He strips down, slipping on a pair of grey sweats and staying shirtless. He crawls onto his unmade bed, peeling back your side, and patting your spot, a soft smile on your face as you take the invitation.

Joel’s hands find your waist, bunching up the cotton of his t-shirt to press his palms to your warm skin. He dips his head down to your chest, nuzzling his hooked nose against your breasts. He presses sweet kisses to the soft cushiony tissue, forehead resting on your sternum. He hums against the fabric covering you, lifting his hands at your hips to pull the hem further up. You relax under his affection, quiet, breathy sighs leaving your lips.

“My sweet girl, can I help get you out of your head?” Joel’s question sends a wave of arousal between your legs, his broad frame rolling you from your side to your back. He moves to hover over your form from the side, hands coasting over your curves. Thumbs tweak your nipples through your shirt, a whimper falling from your lips. Your complete trust and devotion stare back at him as you fully comply with his request.

“Please distract me.”

Joel groans at your submission, eyes blown wide with hunger and awe.

“Gonna give you exactly what you need to feel better, baby. Gonna remind you how much I love you.” He pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it over the side of the bed. Lips attach to the supple peaks of your breasts, sucking gently and pulling moans from your lips. He works the opposite one with his fingers, swapping his attentive mouth when he feels you arch your back to press your chest into his face. His lips separate from your nipple, hot open-mouthed kisses trailing down your stomach. Every few, Joel’s tongue slips out and skates against your skin, the sensation rippling goosebumps along the surface.

Once he reaches the waist of the boxer shorts you’ve got on, he sits up to admire your form under him. The spots of his saliva glisten in the low, yellow lamplight, your breasts perked up as they rise and fall with your shallow breaths. His fingers hook into the elastic band, slipping them down and sending you soft praise when you lift your hips for him.

“Good girl.”

The shorts join your shirt, rumpled on the floor somewhere. Joel sits back on his heels, gripping your ankles gently to bend your knees and spread your legs open for him. You mold to his positioning like clay, one leg falling to the side lazily to put your glistening cunt on display for him. His tongue wets his lips as he drinks the sight of you up, wishing he was any good at drawing or painting so that he could reproduce you like the work of art you are.

His touch floats up your calves and your velvety thighs, focus zeroing in on the dripping folds in front of him. He shimmies down the bed onto his tummy, arms hooking under your thighs to pull you closer to him. He rests on his elbows partially, and you watch as his gaze becomes fully entranced by the vision of your wet arousal that is all for him.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’. Everything about you, but especially this gorgeous pussy of yours. She’s just weeping for me, isn’t she? You want me to take care of her? Show her she’s mine? Show you how much I love you?” His words only cause more dampness to flood your core, soft whines drawing out of you as you move to sit up. You lean back on your hands, desperate to watch every detail unfold of your man worshipping you from between your legs.

“Please, Joel. Pretty please,” you mewl.

A satisfied smirk crosses his face, loving how desperate you get for him. His eyes fall to the space between your legs, his mouth salivating. He leans in, letting spit drip onto the coarse curls that cover your mound, his hardening cock twitching as part of him coats your sex, marking you as his in addition to the love bites waxing and waning in phases across your body. He reaches a hand around your leg, coating his fingers with your wetness and using it to mix and smear his spit and your arousal all over the hair and skin there.

He presses a delicate kiss to your hood, the contact sending a jolt to your thighs and jerking your hips. One large hand pushes down on your stomach to keep you in place as he swipes his tongue from your taint to your clit, the tip of it slipping in to tease your entrance as it skates along through your slick. He savors the taste of you, a sharp sweetness that’s become his favorite flavor.

A groan rumbles from his chest, vibrating against you before his mouth sucks at your clit. Moans tumble from your mouth, breath hitching as you inhale when his tongue moves down, pressing into your entrance slightly. Like eating ice cream in a heatwave, he moves to catch any dripping arousal with his mouth or chin, your name falling from his lips as he feels himself achingly hard in his sweatpants against the mattress. He starts to fuck his hips into the cushiony material, tongue easily slipping in and out as he starts to thrust in your cunt.

“Fucking love your little sounds. Love how sweet you are for me, darlin’. Never gonna get enough.”

Fingers work circles in your clit, the motions tightening the knot in your stomach. Your head falls back with a moan of Joel’s name, chest rising and falling rapidly as you try to keep breathing while your pleasure builds its pressure inside of you. His mouth and fingers swap positions, suckling at your clit with lewd noises while two of his large fingers slide in between your walls. His hand fucks your tight pussy, praises rasped against your mound as he takes a breath to press kisses against the curls there. Another finger is added, the girth of all three working you towards your bliss.

“Fuck, ‘m so close, baby. Gonna come, oh my god. Feel so good.” Your voice is high-pitched, whining as the pressure pushes harder inside of you, taut coils ready to snap.

Joel looks up at you, pupils completely blown wide in ecstasy. His hips still work his hard cock against the mattress, his own release building inside of him.

“Be my sweet girl, come on my mouth.”

With his words and his lips attached to your cunt again, the pressure built in you releases with a mind-clearing, blinding pop. Your wanton moans echo in the room, the bawdy sounds of your pleasure and your wetness mixing together as Joel continues to work you through your orgasm.

His hips move faster as he watches you come undone from his handiwork, the noises you’re making sending him over the edge. He comes in his sweatpants with a moan of your name, dry humping the mattress like a teenager. He feels like he should be embarrassed, but after all that he just witnessed from you, it’s a miracle he didn’t bust when you simply opened your legs for him.

Untangling himself from you, he excuses himself to the bathroom to clean himself up, throw his pants in the hamper and grabs a warm, damp washcloth for you. He patters back over to the bed and takes care of you, discarding the washcloth and gently closing your legs. He climbs back into bed with you, pulling the covers up once again. He nestles in behind you, curling his frame around you protectively. Your mind’s foggy from your orgasm and exhaustion floods over your body, no protest from you as you start to drift. He nuzzles into your hair, pressing a delicate kiss at the back of your neck as he whispers to you.

“It’s only you, darlin’.”

Another month passes after that night at the bar where you heard what was being said about you around town. The gossiping didn’t stop, especially when people found out that you had finally caved in from Joel’s relentless (yet charming) pleads and agreed to move in with him and Ellie.

Everyone seemed to have an opinion on how fast you both had moved, how you were shoving everything in his ex-wife’s face, how you were staking your claim so publicly and like a “whore.” Whatever it all meant, it was heard in whispers at the bar, in the market, in town meetings, you name it. If you were present, people were talking.

It influenced you the more you heard it; the repetition of it all made it sound like truth to your weak mind. You kept these feelings of guilt and shame inside, burying them deep in an attempt to keep everything copacetic for Joel. He was happy these days, smiling more and cracking jokes. He was more involved in the community and Ellie also found her place with Joel behind her and fully content in Jackson. You dreaded being the one to cause any more problems than you already did for the last year and a half, so you shut your mind up in an attempt to compartmentalize.

If Joel didn’t know what all was being said, that was for the best. You weren’t going to be the one to burst the love bubble that he had for you, so you were just going to keep cool and try to get out of your head about everything that was left undiscussed.

But, that only made going into town and going to work hell. You weren’t acting like yourself anymore, no small talk with customers or catching up with neighbors and friends that would come to visit you. You did your job and walked home each night silently, even when you were with Joel. Every shift you would hear some new comment or rumor about you, adding it to the file that you had accumulated in your mind. Your subconscious flicked through it every night in your dreams, pulling out some of the worst to relive when you should have been dreaming of being happy with the man lying beside you.

The guilt was pulling you under, each new comment acting like a brick to weigh you down into the sea of liability and disgrace you were lost in. There was shame over how you were characterized in the outcome of all of this, guilt over breaking up his marriage, anxiety over becoming a burden to Joel and anchoring him down into the depths again. You’d thought it all would wash away with the changing of tides, since you and Joel could be together openly, but it only brought you to the ocean floor while Joel was floating on the waves above you.

It was an evening that Joel had off, opting to stay in and play Boggle with Ellie. You left the two of them to head to work after playing a few rounds yourself, both you and Ellie completely annihilating Joel. The acid in your stomach sloshed around, pressure building in your torso and pushing the burning sensation up your chest and into your throat as your steps closed in on the Tipsy Bison. Your tongue feels heavy and dry in your mouth, breaths jagged as you attempt to calm yourself outside the wooden building. You stand there for what feels like an hour, wrangling all your anxiety into a small lump in your throat. This is where it would sit for the rest of the night until you could finally let it all back out on your walk home.

The beginning of your shift was normal, nothing said to or about you. That all changed, though, when the person you least expected to see comes and sits on the stool in front of where you’re polishing glasses.

Heather.

Your eyes widen in surprise and nervousness, the lump in your throat starting to seep its way back into the burning acid of your stomach and the tightness of your chest. Ears brace themselves for either an insult or something degrading to be thrown your way. After a beat of silence, you scramble to resolve the awkward tension.

“I can get Tracy to serve you, she’s just over--”

“No, no that’s not necessary. If you’re fine with serving me, that is.”

You nod quickly to relieve the discomfort, your people-pleasing tendencies rearing their ugly head. You actually don’t want to be serving her, but you also really don’t want more drama to inevitably spread about you walking away to get someone else for her - there’s no chance that it wouldn’t be spun against you.

“Um, yeah no, totally cool. What can I get ya?”

She gives you her order and you quickly make it up, depositing the glass in front of her. Silence falls between the two of you again, but this time she’s the one to break it.

“So, um, how are you? How’s work?”

The questions take you off-guard. You were friendly with Heather before, as her neighbor you would bring over extra garden crops and she would offer to mend clothes of yours. She was always polite and made small talk with you. Well, that was before she knew you were fucking her husband.

“It’s good, I guess. Not much to change around here. How’re things at school? You’re still teaching there?”

You're an idiot. Why are you continuing this conversation as if you guys are long-time acquaintances? You’re trying to be cool about it, just ignore the elephant in the room, but something’s gotta give at one point, right?

“Things are great. We’ve got some open volunteer positions if you’d be interested. It wouldn’t be with me if that’s a concern.”

“No - no. I mean, I’d love to volunteer for Ellie’s class if there’s anything…” you trail off, the thorny pricks of awkwardness becoming too much for you. You start to speak, only to hear Heather at the same time.

“Listen, I really am sor--”

“It’s not all your fault--”

The two of you laugh lightly, tension coating the conversation. Your eyes glance around at anything but Heather’s face before finally meeting her gaze and nodding for her to go first.

She clears her throat, adjusting her position on the stool before starting again.

“It’s not all your fault that my marriage fell apart. I mean, yeah, you’ve got some culpability in the fact that you were having an affair with Joel, but he also told me that you had been with him before we even dated. And, as a woman myself and someone who fell for Joel, my best guess is that you’ve been in love with him since that first time. And Joel told me - what he felt for you the whole time, too. I just, I wanted to say to you that I don’t blame you. Joel is the one who made a stupid, selfish decision that affected both of us. Having an affair with him? Yeah, not really great, but I’ve thought about it for a while, and I would’ve done the same if it were my first husband. He was the love of my life, and I never wanted to lose him. So, yeah. I wanted to tell you that I understand. And I completely despise what everyone says about you. It’s disgusting, and I’m so sorry you have to hear that all the time.”

She’s apologizing to you. The woman whose husband you had an affair with. Granted, she was right that you were together once before they even dated. And that you’ve loved him ever since. But there is actually no sane world in which she should be apologizing to you. Have you made the impression that you were expecting this? Was she feeling guilty towards you?

All of these thoughts eat away at you, crashing around your mind and making that burning pressure alive again in your gut. You chew your lip, eyes wide, and stare a thousand miles away. Remorse overtakes your mind, words caught in your throat.

Why couldn’t she have just come in here guns blazing? Screamed at you? Called you all those names you’ve heard for weeks?

Her being cruel would be way better than her being kind, understanding even.

It makes your chest tighten, air squeezed out of your lungs in a panic.

You have to say something, so your voice squeaks a response.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry, too. I really didn’t want to hurt you, I just-I couldn’t let him go.”

Heather nods, a glint of a past life in her eyes. She presses her lips in a tight line before exhaling deeply. Standing from the stool, she nods again, giving you a quick goodbye and making her way out.

She really only came here to say that to you. To apologize.

You're an utter piece of shit, guilt, and shame finally filling your lungs and stealing your breath away from you.

Quickly, you turn to your nearest coworker, mumbling out an excuse that you need to leave early. Instead of waiting for any confirmation, you all but run out of the building, feet carrying you past Joel’s house with the lights still on, and past your old little cottage that now sits dormant. The overgrown lawn tugs at your heart, begging you to take care of it again. You turn back towards Joel’s, seeing him laughing with Ellie through the window, and the tugs on your heart pull harder towards them.

You pass the residential area, approaching the site you haven’t seen in months. Following around the tattered, weather-worn red siding of the old barn, the open grazing field comes into full view. You climb over the split-rail fence, mind reeling over what tonight has entailed while muscle memory carries you to the small clearing in the tall grasses.

Not even realizing you were holding your breath, a sigh escapes your lips. Dewy earth dampens the seat of your jean shorts, the sticky summer air keeping you warm. Thighs press to your chest and your arms envelope around your knees. You rest your chin in between your kneecaps, eyes combing up to the night sky above you. The lack of light pollution these days has made the stars brighter against the deep blue atmosphere. They blur from the tears welling in your eyes, one blink creating tiny streams on your face. They feed into the ocean of guilt and shame that you’ve made your home, the feeling of it’s waters choking your lungs to breath out sobs.

You sit like that for a while, fuzzy constellations kaleidoscoping in your vision. Your attention is only pulled away from the midnight blue when you hear a twig snap. Turning over your shoulder, the back of you hand wipes your eyes clear to see Joel standing behind you. Hands in the front pockets of his jeans, he stands tense and looks down at you softhearted and doleful.

Without an invitation, he closes the gap between you, groaning quietly as he bends down to take the spot next to you. You’re transported back to countless nights before, Joel and you under the same sky to spend your fleeting time together before sunrise.

“Got real worried when you didn’t come home when you usually do. Checked the bar first, and your old place. Guess I should’ve had the thought to come here a lot sooner.” His voice is low, gentle timbre vibrating the tightness in your chest and giving some slack to the taut pull of it.

“‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you, I just--I couldn’t go home right away. I didn’t want to ruin your night with Ellie…” your own voice is meek, cracking slightly from disuse. You sniffle, the back of your hand swiping under your nose and the heel of your palm rubbing the tear stains from your cheeks. The evidence of your emotion makes you embarrassed; here you were, your anxious fears coming true -- you’re officially a burden to Joel. He’s had to cut his night short with his daughter, traipsing around town to try to find you because you couldn’t bother to swallow your sorrow and head home like normal.

“Darlin’, you don’t need to apologize. It’s okay that you needed time alone, but even if you had come home, you wouldn’t have ruined our night. We love you…” he clears his throat, tender touches tucking hair behind your ears and rubbing the nape of your neck before continuing, “What’s wrong, baby? What’s got you so upset?”

“It’s nothin’. It’s nothin’, I’m fine. Just, tough night at work…” You lie through your teeth, avoiding Joel’s gaze to keep the facade. One look in your eyes and you know he’d see right through you.

“It’s clearly not nothin’ if you’re crying about it, darlin’. You can tell me anything. I wanna help you, be there for you, protect you. Did someone say something to you? Something mean?”

Your eyes snap up to him, the knowing look on his face cluing you in that he’s known about what’s being said around town. You don’t really know what hurts more in the moment - the fact that he knew all of these horrible things were being said and he didn’t comfort you or that you’ve already been a burden to him, already been another problem for him for much longer than you thought.

You think about lying to him, but you know he would be able to tell - he can always tell - instead opting to just break down the damn of everything you’ve been feeling, letting it all rush out at once.

“It’s all of it. Everything that people are saying about me, it feels like it’s the truth. I did break up a marriage. I did have an affair for months with you; you were someone’s husband. I love you, but it doesn’t negate the fact that what happened was still wrong on some level. And what everyone’s saying about what I did, it’s made this sea of guilt and shame and I’m drowning in it. I can’t keep my head clear above water, it’s all consuming right now. And I feel so anxious about being a burden to you. You’ve been so happy lately, with us being together and living together and Ellie being adjusted. You’re so much lighter, floating even. I couldn’t bear to drag you under with me when you finally caught your breath.” It all tumbles out of you in a stream of consciousness, and in the end, Joel is silent as he takes it all in.

The thought occurs to you that you’ve been wanting to know how Joel has felt about all of it. You haven’t talked about it at all; if he felt just the same guilt and shame, maybe it could help you both work to absolve your sins. If you were in it together, then maybe you had a chance to make it to land.

“Sweet girl, I hate that you’ve been feeling that way. And I hate that you thought you couldn’t tell me, just cause I’ve been happy to have you finally and I feel like we’re creating a lil’ family. But, I have to say, I ain’t got any regrets. I’ve got you now, I’ve got you in our home and with my daughter, it’s all that matters to me. I couldn’t care less about anything that people are saying about you, it makes me pissed, but getting angry at ‘em just fuels the fire. We can just move on, darlin’. We should just live our lives, fuck whoever doesn’t want to be happy for us.”

Bile creeps up and scorches your throat, a whirlpool swirling in your stomach and the choking feel back in your lungs. You hold it all in, letting Joel wrap his arms around you and pull you up to take you home.

Does he really have no regrets? Would he still get married if he was given another chance? Would he still choose to put you through this pain that has been a constant dull in your heart for the last year and a half? Would he choose the path that makes you the target of so much contempt, disgust, antipathy from so many?

Those thoughts have plagued you for days now. You had swallowed your searing pain, the guilt cold in your lungs as the hurt settled in your stomach, seeping throughout your body to make your limbs tender and heavy. Every step felt like it took too much effort, every fake smile plastered on your face made your cheeks sore in the wrong way. You had become a method actor in your own life, optimistic contentment used as a mask to hide the truth. You went through the motions of the days off you had, enjoying breakfast with Joel and Ellie, laughing at their bickering, and making them both their favorite way to eat eggs - Joel’s scrambled and Ellie’s over medium. You were a family, just as Joel had said, and you were playing the role of the dutiful, delighted partner.

Once they both left for the day, you deflated. Took off the mask and stared at yourself in the mirror, taste of bitter metal in your mouth as you watched the remorse, the regret crawl out of your chest and into your eyes, across your face. It disgusted you, angered you, yet you forced yourself to study it, punished yourself because everyone had told you that you should.

That was how it had gone for the last handful of days. Today was your first day back at work, and you got ready outside of the bathroom to avoid facing the hideous manifestations of your sins. Exiting your shared bedroom, your face pulled tight again, smile ghosting across your lips and eyes crinkled with subtle joy. Joel was standing at the bottom of the stairs, kneeling to lace up his boots. At the sight of you, he grinned and stood up, hands reaching for your waist and pulling you in for a chaste kiss.

Part of you wondered if he could taste it on you - the bitter, sour feeling that sat in your mouth. How much his lack of regret had crumbled any resolve you had left, any room for forgiveness you had in yourself.

He walked you to work before heading off on patrol. Walking inside, you instantly wanted to turn back and hide away at home for weeks longer. The thought of having to keep up your act for the whole night was making you nauseous. An hour into your shift, you couldn’t take the feeling anymore, so you snuck a shot of whiskey to attempt to take the edge off. The tingle of the alcohol soothed the lump in your throat, warming your cold chest and settling your woozy stomach. It gave you a break, for just a moment.

You chased that moment of peace all night, taking pulls whenever you could. You chatted more with patrons and coworkers, bubbling up giggles as your brain shut off from your inebriation. It was so tranquil to not have that frigid shame in your lungs, the thoughts of all that has been said to hurt you in the last few months silenced, even the voice of Joel saying he has zero regrets about what he’d done is muffled.

No wonder why Joel got drunk all the time at the beginning of this. It’s the only medicine that works for guilt.

By the end of your shift, you’re nearly wasted. Not quite to a level where you’ve lost motor skills but to the point where your eyes lids feel heavy, your vision is blurred on the edges, and your words start to slur together. When you’ve snuck to the backroom to take another swig, pushing the limit of how drunk you can get in the next ten minutes before your shift ends, Joel saunters into the bar. His eyes scan the room for any sight of you, pouting slightly when he comes up empty. Tommy’s working tonight, so he makes his way over to the end of the bar where his brother stands. Joel leans against the counter, nodding a greeting to Tommy and asking where you’re at.

Tommy looks at him, lips pressed together and eyebrows raised. He glances back at the entrance to the stockroom before leaning in.

“She’s back there. Probably downing a couple more shots of whiskey.”

Joel’s eyes widen and his brow shoots up, a look of shock at what Tommy’s said. It’s not like you to drink at work, hell, you barely ever have a nightcap when the place is all cleared out. Joel can count the number of times he’s seen you drunk on one hand, and this is certainly not an occasion that would have you indulging. He clears his throat, eyes focused back on his brother.

“She’s drinking at work? Is she drunk?”

As Tommy opens his mouth to respond, the door to the stockroom swings on its hinges and you stumble out while whistling. The moment would normally make Joel chuckle, the way you’re completely carefree is somewhat endearing to him. But right now, he can’t help but worry that something else has happened to make you upset, and this time you’ve taken a coping mechanism out of his book.

Your mouth forms a perfect circle, surprise washing over your expression as you look around for anyone to share your reaction. A small burp comes from behind the hand you put up to your mouth, down turning your gaze away from him. Feet shuffle along to Joel, arms crossing over your chest as if the warmth in your chest will heat you up like sitting in front of a fire.

“Well, hello there, darlin’. Feeling good?” He chuckles lightly to hide his concern, Tommy backing up from the two of you and quickly making an exit from what is bound to be a bit of an awkward moment.

Painted smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes, hand reaching for his as a hiccup shoots from your chest.

“Guess so. Turned my brain off for the night, ‘was nice.” It was just what he was panicked about. That you had done what he had done so many months ago, gotten drunk out of his mind to grapple with all the remorse he had felt constantly.

He hated that you felt the same. He was the reason you were going through this. His actions hurt you, even beyond the time that you were his secret. He failed to pull you out with himself, leaving you to take on the weight of all that he had done, sinking you deeper while he had made it to the surface.

A stiff smile stretches across his face, hand reaching for the small of your back to guide you home.

“Alright, let’s get you home, sweet girl. Think you might need to clock out for the night.” He sends Tommy a wave and you turn to do the same, tripping over your feet. Joel catches you at your waist, righting you on your way out. He keeps a hand on you, eyes trained on your profile to keep watch. You keep your stare ahead, silencing falling over the two of you.

The fresh air has sobered you up some, thoughts infesting your mind again. The alcohol has kept you from getting back into the act that you’ve kept up around Joel, even working your blood to boil with anger towards him for the words that have been branded into your heart.

I ain’t got any regrets.

“Fucking bullshit.” You think out loud and the words stop Joel in his tracks. Brows furrow in confusion as his lips pucker to one side.

“What’s that, darlin’?”

“It’s fucking bullshit, Joel.”

He laughs apprehensively, unsure of where this is going. The words cut with bitterness behind them, and he can see in your eyes there’s pain burning.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I’m gonna need a little more from you.” He tilts his head to the side, the line between his brow deepening.

You can’t hold it in any longer, a river of anguish, guilt, pain, and more rushing out of you.

“How you just can get over it! We can just act like everything’s fine and nothing is fucked up about the way we got together! And you can feel all the relief of not having to hide an affair from your wife anymore and not hiding me, but now I’ve been passed the massive fucking weight. Now I’m known as the homewrecker, the slut, the mistress. You’re still Joel. It’s always ‘There’s Joel and the homewrecker. She’s so bold to be able to be with him after she broke apart a marriage.’ It feels like I’m barely keeping my head above water sometimes like this huge sea of guilt is going to drown me. I can’t understand how you can just have no regrets about it all when it’s hurt me so much. How I loved you, still love you so fucking much despite how much pain you’ve given to me. Purposefully or not, it all hurts the same. I’m so glad that you can show everyone that you love me, but I can’t keep pretending like we’re the picture-perfect couple and make a home together and live life now without addressing all of this shit. I can’t just pretend to be cool about it anymore.”

Tears have poured out of your eyes in the middle of everything, mixing with the runny nose that you sniffle back. You probably look a mess, but you can’t bring yourself to wipe it away. You want the sight to face Joel along with your words. You need him to see it all, to realize how much you’ve been harboring, how badly you need him to take some of the weight off of your chest before the water fully fills your lungs and takes you under completely.

Joel's tears burn his own eyes as he sees exactly what his stupidity has caused. He thought he could help you get over it by acting like he had moved on in hopes that you would do the same. That you guys could start fresh, leave it all behind. It was another stupid choice that he’d made. Of course, you couldn’t leave everything in the past; the way you built your relationship was in secret, hidden away. Of course, you should have been given reassurance when the two of you could finally be together. He should’ve shut everyone up instead of hoping that the insults and rumors would die out. Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.

He had more regrets now than he ever did.

His voice is thick when he finally responds, hand reaching up to grasp at the nape of your neck and the other on your cheek, holding your gaze in his.

“Of course I have regrets. I said that to try to put that thought in your head. I thought if you heard that I felt that way, you would start to feel it, too. That you could let go, be the carefree, light person that I fell in love with. That I am in love with. I am so sorry that you feel like you are carrying this all by yourself. I have so much remorse for the past. I tell myself every day that if I could go back, I would have never doubted what we could be together. That you loved me completely, that I wouldn’t fail you. I choose you, over it all. I love you so much, and I am so sorry that I’ve hurt you. You don’t ever have to pretend around me. I’m the only other person who could understand what you’re feeling, I want you to tell me everything. Yell at me, cry about it to me, whatever you need to do. But please, don’t keep it from me. I should’ve reassured you. I should’ve been honest with you. I should’ve protected you, told everyone in this fucking town what I think of anything they have to say. I am so sorry that I failed you. You’re it for me. This has to work. I will do anything to make this work and to make you happy, 'cause I have no clue what I’d do without you. I finally have my shot at a life with you, and I’m not giving that up.”

His words drive a knife into your chest - you realize that his biggest fear has come true. He’s failed you. Or thinks he’s failed you.

Yes, his actions have hurt you, but for a long time, you were choosing the pain. And yes, you’ve taken on the guilt for both of you, and you realize you are still choosing the pain, but this time it's all too much to take on alone.

Not once did you think he failed you. You’ve thought you would fail him, dull him, lose him. That you couldn’t work through your own shit to be happy with him. Both of you have avoided communicating and miscommunicated at the same time.

The two of you have been so absorbed in trying to give the other what you thought they needed, that you’ve ended up doing the opposite.

Truth was, that you both needed the same things from each other. You needed the other to fully knock down the walls, to be vulnerable, to be honest. You both tried so hard to placate the other, to make the other one feel better about everything, that you’ve ended up on completely opposite ends.

You can’t help but laugh. Only the two of you could be so troubled with trying to make the other happy, at ease, or content that you end up making it worse. It hasn't been easy for the last year and a half, and as soon as it could be, you've found ways to complicate it.

Joel stares at you quizzically, the sound relaxing his concern. He can’t help the grin that tugs at his lips, shaking his head in disbelief at you.

“Okay, did I say something funny? Or wrong? Is this whole thing about to be over and you’re laughing maniacally?”

That makes you giggle more, tears of laughter now rolling down your perked-up face. You catch your breath, inhaling a few times through your chuckles to finally calm down enough to speak. You press your hands to his chest in reassurance, shaking your head with a genuine smile aching your cheeks.

“No, no. Absolutely not. That was - that was exactly what I needed to hear. I just - I’m sorry, I’m laughing because we are both so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, sweet girl, it’s only me --”

“Nah, uh huh. Both. I don’t mean to call you stupid, maybe silly is a better word. We’ve just -- we’ve been so focused on trying to spare the other, to make the other happy that we’ve totally missed what we both needed. And what we need from each other is exactly the same.”

“And what is that?” His confusion has lessened, but still hasn’t left. What’s vanished has been replaced with a content smirk quipped up to the side.

“Being honest. Being vulnerable. Communicating. I should have told you how I was feeling this whole time so that you could understand, and I should have known that I could come to you even though I thought I would be a burden. I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner. We're in this together.”

The light bulb goes off for him, eyes brightening as he comes to his own realization.

“No need to apologize, darlin'. Like you said, 'm just as guilty in this mess. We chose each other -- we should be partners, not adversaries. I should’ve been honest about how I felt about everything that happened. I shouldn’t've pretended everything was fine.”

You nod, tender smile as you stare into his eyes. Your expressions have softened, tears have dried, and every bit of pain has been replaced with forgiveness, perspective, and love. Joel chuckles himself, and you break into a fit of giggles together.

“God, we really are a pair of fools, huh?” Joel’s voice is light, teeth pulling his bottom lip under them as he gazes down at you in his arms.

“Wound up as bad comedians mocking our own lives. The creators of our own suffering.”

“Wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else, darlin’. But, do you think we could come up with something new? Maybe something actually fun?”

That makes you laugh again, Joel’s chest warming at your joy. His hands fall from your neck and face, snaking around your waist to hold you close. You nod in agreement with a gentle, content grin.

“Only the good stuff from here on out. Maybe we can even sprinkle in some shitty puns?”

“Oh yeah? Got any on your mind? Hit me, I’ll decide if it gets added to the act.”

You think for a moment, a cheeky smirk twisting your mouth.

“Hmm…how about “You must be a planet, and I must be a moon, 'cause I totally revolve around you!”

Joel’s head rolls back with a grumble of laughter, a grimace on his face once he looks at you again, shaking his head.

“'M sorry, darlin’, but that is so bad.”

“Okay, well you try it then!” The two of you start your walk back to your home, tangled up in each other. You pinch his side at the rejection, looking up expectantly.

“What did Neil Armstrong say when no one laughed at his moon jokes? I guess you had to be there!” He laughs as if it’s the funniest thing, and the dad joke gives you the slightest chuckle.

“Oh, c’mon, how is that any better than mine?”

“Cause it’s actually funny! Can’t help that I’m such a natural-born comic.”

“That is such a lie. You definitely got that from ‘No Pun Intended: Volume Too.’ I know your sources, Miller.”

“Fine, fine. You got me there. Guess we'll just have to let Ellie choose the winner.”

You smile at the thought of returning home to her, warmth in your chest melting some of the guilt away as you reach the door. The two of you tumble inside together, giggling away. You toe off your shoes, and Joel watches from the entryway as he unties his boots. Flopping down on the couch next to his daughter, you’re immediately rolling into the story behind the little competition that she’s going to be the judge of. He takes in the sight under the warm lamplight, happiness swelling in his chest as he watches the two people in front of him start to playfully bicker back and forth about the best kind of joke.

It might not be a sheep ranch on the moon, but it’s certainly his dream come true.

taglist: @joelsversion @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @aleatoria2000 @thelightnessofthebeing @mangosandmimosas @runestavia @dianaffddz @beee-haw @bigboiseason123 @xyz32 @mrsvedder12 @tuquoquobrute @moriartyyouwhore @justsumtuffstuff @tryingtonotcryconstantly @alymaliktommo @cambleuu @iwrotethissky @pascalislove @pedr0swh0r3 @agentwhiskeysgf @jenna-ortega @juniperandthornz @wildwollff @pascals-djarin @missfeanor @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lil-stark @gracie7209 @pedrostories @nic0lodean @mymultiveres @v-mack @theelishad @cutie-with-that-booty @danelleee @harriedandharassed @mingiast (tagging some more mutuals, lmk if you want to be removed <3) @johnwatsn @undrthelights @ladamedusoif @pedrit0-pascalit0 @ruinedbylanadelrey @thetriumphantpanda @pedgeitopascal @midnightswithdearkatytspb @dinsdjrn @thepascalofus @pedgito @soaringcloud @somedayauthor @alloftheimagines @pr0ximamidnight

#joel #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x yn #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #me #writing

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ediths · 3 years

Text

baby

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: pure smut

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Harry wants a baby, and you’re more than happy to help him make one.

Warning(s): slight mention of oral (m receiving), boot humping, slapping (face, thigh, pussy), degradation, breeding kink, choking, orgasm denial, overstimulation,

A/N: listen, i know the title is :/ but who cares? not me! anyway yeah here’s a piece that’s literally just smut because i was talking to some of my friends about harry having a breeding kink and here we are :))

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“Fuck, just like that, puppy,” Harry pants as you slide your tongue along the vein that runs from the base of his cock all the way to the angry red tip.

You look up at him through your lashes, blinking slowly as you take the head of his prick into your mouth. He hisses at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth enclosing around him, and the sound makes your thighs clench together. He growls when he catches sight of the movement. He grabs ahold of your hair, tugging you back as he forces your legs open with the toe of his boot. The stiff leather grazes against your clit, causing you to whine high in your throat.

He chuckles darkly, tutting lightly as he tightens his grip on your hair. “You’re so fucking needy, puppy.” His words cause your cheeks to burn, but there’s something about the embarrassment that makes your arousal soak your panties even more than it was before. “You’re so desperate for anything that I give you that my boot touching your cunt gets you all fucked out.” He releases his grip on your hair to cup your face, leaning down to smear his lips against yours for a split second before taking your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging. He stays close to your face, close enough that you’re breathing his air. “You’re so greedy for it, puppy, so go ahead and grind your pretty little pussy against my boot until you cum, alright?” You nod eagerly, and he smirks. “Then go ahead, but just know whatever mess you make, you’ll be cleaning up.”

He pulls away and takes a seat on the bed, leaning back on his hands as he waits for you to begin. You crawl towards him, the soft carpet rubbing against your hands and knees as you make your way over to him. He watches you with hungry eyes and a wolfish grin, taking in every movement that you make. Once you’re finally close enough to him, he cups your cheek once again as you mount his boot. Letting the leather press down on your clit, you begin to grind against him as you look up at him through your lashes. His mouth is slightly ajar, heavy breaths escaping his lips as he watches you get yourself off.

A dark smirk comes across his face as you breathe out moans of his name, the pleasure from rubbing yourself against him getting the best of you. “You’re so fucking easy for me, pet. Just a little whore that would do anything I asked of you, yeah?” He chuckles demeaningly when you whine high in your throat, nodding vehemently in agreement. “Pathetic little thing, I could tell you to bring yourself right to the edge while grinding on my boot over and over again and you’d do it.” You open your mouth to speak, but he stops you quickly by leaning forward and sticking his thumb in your mouth. He pushes down on your tongue as he slides the digit further into your mouth. You feel yourself gag lightly, but you can’t pretend that you don’t enjoy the absolute power he has over you at this very moment. “Should I make you do that, puppy?”

“No!” you all but beg around his finger, the word coming out a garbled mess. He laughs, mocking the sound. The embarrassment that courses through your veins sends flames licking up your spine, the feeling causing you to grind down harder on his boot, your arousal slicking your path even through your panties.

He tuts, shaking his head. “What happened to that ‘whatever you want, daddy!’ attitude that you had when I walked through the door a few hours ago?” he pouts mockingly as he removes his thumb from your mouth, dragging the slick digit down over your lip and letting the skin catch there. He groans lowly as he notices your thrusts begin to falter, your steady pace becoming messy as he clutches your jaw in his hand, squishing your cheeks together so that your mouth is puckered open just the slightest bit. He lets his arms roam your face for a moment before puckering his lips and letting a trail of his spit fall from his mouth into your awaiting one.

“Swallow for me,” he commands, but the grip he has on your face makes it hard to do so. He watches you struggle for a few moments before retracting his hand and letting it come back down onto your cheek. The smack isn’t hard enough to hurt, or to even leave a lasting mark, but the impact and the complete submission that it pushes you into makes your back arch as pure pleasure washes through your body. You swallow the spit in your mouth before gasping for air as your entire body is overtaken in a white hot ecstasy that only Harry can bring you to.

“So fuckin’ pathetic for me,” he drawls. “Cumming all over my shoe because I smacked you around a bit. What a fucking whore,” he spits, pure dominance radiating through his tone. When you look up at him, he’s got his hand around the base of his cock, and the sight alone makes you whine. He drags his hand up to the tip, collecting the pre cum there and dragging it back down to the base in one languid stroke. He continues, repeating the actions as he looks down at you. “Now clean me up, puppy. Want you to lick up your mess. You wouldn’t want my boot to be dirty, would you?” His voice has a teasing lilt to it, and it makes you just that much hotter as you look up at him. You shake your head quickly before backing up and leaning down until you’re face to face with the toe of his black leather boot. You press the flat of your tongue against the material, licking it clean. You can taste smoky leather mixed with your arousal and the taste makes you groan as your eyes roll back into your head.

After a few minutes, you pull away as you look at your work. Finding it satisfactory, you lean back on your heels as you wait for his approval. He just removes his hand from his cock and curls his fingers in a ‘come hither’ movement. You automatically obey, scrambling to your feet and into his arms. He pulls you into his lap and he groans at the feeling of your slick folds rubbing against his aching cock. He captures your lips in a searing kiss that has you breathless in moments.

When he pulls away to let the both of you catch your breaths, he flips you both over so that he’s on top. Running a hand up your forearms, he stops at the wrist, holding both of them together in front of you with just one of his large hands. He pins them above your head and you gasp at the sudden change. He grinds his hips down into yours, eliciting a wonton moan from your lips.

“Do you want it, puppy?” he asks, grasping your hip with his free hand in order to hoist himself up into a sitting position. You nod eagerly, raising your hips from the bed. He brings the hand that was on you hip down onto your thigh, smacking the skin. The impact makes you jump, but the heat of the spank goes straight to your core. “You know better,” he spits, voice hard. “Use your fuckin’ words.”

You rush to comply, but when he releases your hands and slides that hand down to your throat, squeezing hard enough to restrict your air flow the slightest bit, it becomes hard to choke out the words. “P-please, want you to— want you to fuck me,” you gasp and he chuckles, loosening his grip on your throat but still leaving his hand around it, letting you know that he’s in charge, that you’re his.

“You want me to fuck you, puppy? Want me to fuck you like the little whore that you are for me?” he asks, bringing his free hand down to stroke his cock as he waits for an answer.

“Please, daddy. Want you to fuck me. I need you,” you whine and he groans.

“How can I say no to my baby begging for my cock?” he asks, teasing slightly as he guides his cock into your weeping entrance. He groans, grip tightening on your throat as he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Your wetness makes it easy for his length to fit inside of you, but the stretch still takes a moment to get used to.

He falls onto his forearm, propping himself up with the one arm while the other one tugs you closer by your throat. He dips his head, bringing his lips to the shell of your ear. “Haven’t even done anything besides slide in and you’re already gone for me,” he teases, nipping at your ear and making you clench around him. “Can’t wait to see how you are when I cum inside you, puppy. Do you want that? Hmm? Want me to fill you up until you’re dripping with me and there’s no way you don’t make me a daddy?”

You moan unabashedly at the thought, nodding as you claw at his back. “Please, fill me up daddy, wanna be full of you.”

He groans, dropping his head to the mattress beside you as he begins bucking his hips into yours. You wrap your legs around his waist to get him impossibly closer, and he raises from his spot to look at you. Squeezing your throat, he pistons his hips, fucking into you with no mercy. “You’re gonna look so fucking pretty dripping with my cum, puppy. And when I’m done I’ll fuck it into you with my fingers until I’m ready to fill you up again.” You clench around him, crying out at the pleasure that courses through your veins at his words. “Yeah, you like that don’t you?” He brings his hand down to your puffy clit, circling the nub repeatedly and applying just the slightest bit of pressure. The combination of that, his thrusts, and his grip that’s progressively getting harsher on your throat has you seeing stars. “My little fuckin’ slut.”

“I’m gonna, gonna—“

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” he spits, removing his hand from your clit just to bring it back down harshly, smacking the bundle of nerves. You cry out at the sensation and he smirks when you clench around him. He brings his hand down once more, repeating his action and you whine high in your throat. Looking down at your swollen clit, he spits on the nerves and continues rubbing against the bundle with the pads of his fingers. “You’ll cum when I tell you to, if I tell you to. After all, you have acted like a whore all night. Do you think pathetic little whores get to cum?”

You want to say yes, because you want to cum more than anything at the moment, but you know the answer. He knows that, too. So if you look at him and say yes, you really won’t get any release tonight.

“No, daddy,” you whine, grinding your hips down to feel him deeper.

“Then I guess you’re not cumming.” He shrugs, thrusting into you harder and applying more pressure to your clit. “And if you do,” he warns, “I’ll make you keep cumming until you’re begging me to stop.”

As he continues his ministrations on your clit, you decide that maybe him making you cum over and over again isn’t that bad of an option, so without a second thought, you let go. Your back arches as you cry out his name, repeating the syllables until they’re nothing but incoherent mumbles. Your thighs shake around him and his hand tightens on your neck, cutting off your air supply just the slightest bit. He applies more pressure to your clit, rubbing harshly as you ride out your orgasm.

He doesn’t let up when you’re finished, he does exactly what he told you he would do. He continues his actions, grunting out a quick “Keep cumming, puppy. You fucking wanted it so here you go.” and rubbing quick circles. You continue to convulse around him, cumming over and over again as he thrusts into you.

“Since you don’t know how to fucking listen, I don’t know if you deserve my cum, puppy. What a shame, I wanted to fill you up so bad.”

You immediately begin to babble on, almost incoherently, “No, no, please! Want— want you to cum inside me. Please, daddy. I’m sorry I didn’t listen, it won’t happen again,” you beg as his hips begin to falter in pace.

You shudder around him, clenching his cock with your walls as he brings you to get another orgasm as he buries himself to the hilt and let’s go. The feeling of his warm spurts of cum filling you up make your eyes roll back in your head. Grasping onto any part of his body you can reach, you pull him closer to you as he calms down from his high.

Before you can say anything, he slowly pulls from you and slinks down your body. His eyes are wide as he watches his cum drop from your hole, and before you know it, he’s rubbing his fingers through the mixture of your releases with his fingers and fucking it back into you. Your breath hitches and he chuckles, letting his head come to rest on your thigh as he continues his harsh thrusts. “Told you I’d fuck it back into you until I was ready to go again. Wanna make you a mommy.”

Your back arches at his words paired with his fingers curling up to graze against that spongy spot inside of you that has your legs shaking and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He continues his ministrations as you clench around him, shaking in pleasure and right on the edge of another orgasm before he pulls away completely.

You whine, but the sound gets caught in your throat as he runs the head of his cock over your folds and smirks at you. “Ready for me to fill you up again?”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry smut #harry angst #harry fluff #harry writing #harry styles writing

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baepsaesbae · 3 years

Text

Babysitters Club

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— SMUT, fluff, babysitting au, strangers to lovers au

Warnings— Dom!Taehyung, roleplaying, face fucking, oral sex (m and f), bondage, explicit rough unprotected sex please stay safe irl, squirting, choking, hickies, a surprise cameo from Spring Will Come Again!Jungkook because I have no self control

Word Count— ~7.6k

Summary— A generic summer job hunt leads you to babysit rowdy (but still cute) kids alongside the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. What shenanigans will you get into with Taehyung by your side?

A/N— HUGE shoutout to the lovely @kimtaehyunq for making this beautiful banner for me! This was literally the Taehyung I had in mind while writing this uwu. This fic is the epitome of self indulgence but I truly hope you guys like it too! Please let me know what you think! My askbox/inbox is always open, don’t be afraid to come chat with me. Love you all, hope you guys are safe <3

Crumpled up newspapers littered the floor as another ball was apathetically tossed aside. A sigh of defeat escaped your lips as you looked up at the ceiling in desperation.

“Still at it with the job hunt, huh?” your roommate, Hyuna, said when she saw your mess, “I told you to search online. Or try to get a job at a cafe or a boba shop or something.”

“Easy jobs online seem sketchy, and I told you I don’t want to work in the food industry ever again,” you groaned.

“But you’d rather...be a babysitter?” she questioned as she held up an ad, “Wait you could get paid up to $15 an hour? That’s pretty good.”

“I didn’t see that one. Is it an agency or something?”

“Not sure, take a look,” she handed you the paper.

“Oh, it seems like it’s a daycare run out of someone’s house. They’re looking for multiple applicants. You wanna do it with me?! I think it could be fun!” you ask excitedly.

“And spend most of my summer vacation with a bunch of snot nosed brats? I don’t think so. You have fun though!” she blew you a kiss as she walked away.

You whipped your phone out and immediately called the number in the ad. This job was the only one that seemed bearable, and you thought kids were cute for the most part. You’ve had a few babysitting gigs in the past so this shouldn’t be too bad.

“Hello?” a deep voice answered the call.

“Hi, I saw your ad in the paper! I was wondering if there was still a babysitting position open?” you inquired.

“Oh yes! Yeah there’s still a spot open. Um, can you give me a sec?” the man said quickly as you heard wailing kids in the background. After two minutes or so he returned to the phone.

“I’m terribly sorry about that. You don’t have a criminal background or anything right? Gosh, I’m sure this sounds unprofessional but--”

“Nope, I don’t have any charges or anything like that. Should I call back later?” you offered since it seemed like the man was a little preoccupied.

“It’s like this all the time. Why don’t we do a practice run tomorrow? Oh! I mean, whenever you’re available to start. Or technically have an interview? I guess? Hey, don’t put that in your mouth!” the man chastised at someone in the distance.

“I can come in tomorrow!” you said.

“Great! Just use the address in the same ad you got this number from! Oh, and please get here by 9am! See you soon!” the man hung up abruptly.

“That was chaotic…” you said to yourself.

A moment later your phone began to ring. It was from the babysitting guy.

“Hello?” you answered.

“I realized I never got your name! I promise I’m not always this frazzled,” he laughed as rambunctious laughter erupted behind him.

“Oh, I’m ______,” you gave him your first and last name.

“Cool. See you tomorrow Miss ____!” he said before hanging up again.

You were actually excited to babysit. It had been a while since you had done it, and playing with kids was usually fun. Then again, you’ve never had a bad experience with babysitting before. You prayed that this gig would continue the positive trend.

Donning shorts and a simple Mickey Mouse t-shirt, (you figured some kid was bound to like the mousey character) it was time to head off to your potential workplace. The babysitting place was actually fairly close to you, only about a 10 minute drive. It was 8:55am by the time you arrived. A couple of parents walked past your car to drop off their kids. All of the kids seemed to be pretty excited to enter the house, which was definitely a good sign.

You gently knocked on the door at exactly 9am. There was no response as you awkwardly waited for about a minute or so. All you could hear was shrill laughter and thumps that you presumed was the kids running about. You realized there was a doorbell, and sighed at your foolishness.

The door opened seconds after you rang the doorbell. A tall man with dark hair greeted you with a warm smile. You were taken aback by the handsome guy, suddenly questioning whether you were at the right place or not until a child popped up from behind his shoulder and yelled out a loud “Boo!” that caused you to jump.

“Ah, sorry about that! This one is always trying to play pranks,” the man laughed as he playfully jostled the child that was latched onto his back, “You must be ______?”

“That’s me!” you say with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Cool. C’mon in, I’ll introduce you to the kids,” the man led you inside.

The living room was littered with toys, from cars to building blocks to barbies. This place was definitely a kid’s happy place. Four little kids were playing with various things when you walked in. All of the kids there seemed to be between the ages of 4 to 6. At a glance, it seemed like they were all playing house. It took you a few seconds to realize that one of the kids was actually playing by herself; she was just physically close to the other kids.

“Everyone! This is our newest helper! Her name is Miss ____. Let’s all play nicely with her okay?” the man announced.

The kids playing house immediately stopped what they were doing and rushed to you. Two boys began asking you questions in a rapid fire succession, while the little girl merely clung to your leg.

“Those two are Kota and Bel,” the man pointed to the two boys, “The little girl stuck to you like glue is Ava, and the one playing over there is Lucy,” he continued to name each child.

“AND I’M SAM!!” the last boy exclaimed over the man’s shoulder.

“Yes, this troublemaker here is Sam. That’s basically the whole gang! We could get a few more additions as the summer goes on, but these guys are the OG crew. They’re all really sweet kids, once you get to know them. Any questions so far?” your employer asked.

“I don’t think I ever caught your name, sir,” you say politely.

“Oh! No need to call me sir. I think we’re probably around the same age? Not that I’m assuming your age or anything but--”

“He’s my horsey!” Sam interrupted.

“No, he’s the chef!” Kota yelled.

“No, he’s our dad who’s not our dad,” Lucy chimed in.

“My mom told me he was a babysitter?” Bel added, now visibly confused.

“I am all of those things,” the man reassured the children, “But my name is Taehyung. The kids call me Tae or Mr. insert whatever title I have in the game we are playing on that day. Pleasure to meet ya,” Tae extends a hand out to you, “Let’s see how your first day goes.”

The first few hours consisted of a rather intricate game of pretend set up in a fantasy world. You played a princess who was captured by an evil dragon, who was played by Taehyung (you couldn’t help but think about how you wouldn’t mind being his hostage).

The boys were valiant knights on their quest to rescue you. The girls played different creatures that aided the knights as fairies or unicorns or any other things they wanted to be. Most of the game consisted of you and Taehyung sitting together in a corner of the living room. Even though you didn’t have to do anything, it was fun watching the kids play. Their imagination amused you.

“Enjoying yourself, princess?” Taehyung asked as he also watched the children run around.

His deep voice sent chills down your spine. Something about the way the word “princess” rolled off his tongue was so enchanting. You cleared your throat before answering.

“This job has been pretty fun so far, Mr. Evil Dragon,” you smile.

“Hey! I’m not evil, just misunderstood,” he protested.

“Oh no! The dragon is about to eat the princess!” one of the boys cried out.

“What? No, I’m not going to eat her,” Taehyung said defensively.

“You need to pretend to eat the princess so that the knights save her,” Lucy, the quiet one, scuttled over to whisper to the both of you before hurrying back to her spot.

Taehyung turned towards you to appease the kids as they held their breath in anticipation.

“Rawr! I’m going to eat you!” he said in a deep voice.

“Oh no! Somebody save me!” you cried out, playing along.

A few moments passed but none of the kids moved. You both turned your heads towards them in confusion. They stared back at you blankly.

“You need to bite her!” Sam demanded.

“What?” you and Tae said in unison.

“Bite her! Bite her! Bite her!” the boys started to chant.

“But not too hard!” Ava expressed her worry for you, making you smile.

“I…uh…” Taehyung was at a loss for words.

“They’re not gonna stop, are they?” you whispered to him.

He nodded with a sigh as their chanting got louder. You offered him your arm. Kids can be crazy stubborn over silly things. Besides, you’ve done worse for less (college is crazy).

Taehyung shot you an “are you sure about this?” look, to which you just nodded. Once he got the okay, Taehyung grabbed your arm and pulled you harshly, causing your face to be a mere inches away from his.

“Fools! You think you can save the princess? I will devour her before your very eyes!” Taehyung declared with an even deeper voice. He opened his mouth menacingly, as if to show off his fangs. Then, he proceeded to bite your bicep. To be honest, he was being so forceful that you thought he was going to bite you for real, causing you to involuntarily close your eyes.

Instead, he gingerly placed his teeth on your skin so lightly that you could barely feel anything. You opened your eyes to see Taehyung grinning at you with your arm in his mouth.

“Aaaaggghhh GET HIM!!” Sam yelled, leading the other boys straight into Taehyung.

Taehyung quickly let go of you before he rolled out onto the floor. The boys began to pummel Taehyung with their foam swords and pretend bows and arrows. The girls came to your aid to help you escape during the battle.

The little boys triumphantly stood over their defeated babysitter who pretended to be passed out on the floor. You applauded their victory as the girls sat by your side.

“Okay! Good game, it’s almost lunchtime,” Taehyung announced as he quickly popped back up.

“Chef Tae makes the best mac and cheese!” Ava informed you excitedly.

“I wanted dino nuggies!” Sam puffed out his cheeks in disappointment.

“Sam, you know it’s Ava’s day to pick out lunch. It’ll be your turn tomorrow okay? I promise! You guys can stay here and play with Miss ____ till food is ready,” Tae called out as he walked to the kitchen. Lucy silently followed Tae.

“Lucy likes to help out in the kitchen a lot. She sets the table,” Ava explained when she saw you watching Lucy.

“You’re good at being a princess!” Kota butted in as he ran to hug your leg.

“I like your shirt! I like Mickey Mouse too. I saw him in DisneyWorld last year,” Bel said as he clung to your other leg.

The kids took turns holding onto your legs as you tried to walk around. Apparently the thought of making you tumble over was an exciting one, and that kept the kids busy until Taehyung called for everyone.

Five little bowls of mac and cheese were set up on the dining table. The kids took their seats as Taehyung handed out juice boxes. He positioned himself by your side as the little ones began to chow down.

“I normally just eat the rest out of the pot, but since you’re here I can get you a bowl. Sorry about biting you earlier, the kids really like it when I get serious about my roles,” Taehyung chuckled as he scooped out your portion.

“It’s no problem, you’re a great actor. Thank you,” you say politely as he handed you a bowl.

Lunch was spent making small talk with Taehyung. He was a newly graduated college student trying to make extra money before starting a real job hunt.Taehyung had been running this makeshift daycare since he was a senior in highschool.

“Summers are always fun with them,” Taehyung said while smiling fondly at the kids, “How has it been so far?” he asked.

“I’ve been having a good time. The kids are all really sweet! They have so much energy,” you answer.

“They do indeed, which is why playtime is so important in the morning! It makes what comes next easier,” he winked at you before collecting the empty bowls, “Okay kiddos! Who’s ready for nap time?”

Lucy quietly raised her hand while the boys groaned. You figured it would be hard to get those active boys to settle down, let alone to take a nap. You helped Taehyung set up blankets and pillows in the game room. The kids made a beeline to their designated blankets without a fuss.

“Do you sing, Miss _____?” Taehyung asked out of the blue.

“Um, not really?” you say hesitantly.

“Ah, I see. No worries. Everybody ready?” he said.

“Yes!” all the kids replied.

“Alrighty. Do you have any song requests, Miss ____?”

You thought about which songs would make for a decent lullaby, “Do you know Adore You by Harry Styles?”

“I’ll have to look up the lyrics but yeah I like that song! I like his whole album actually,” Taehyung nodded as he pulled out his phone and took a deep breath, “Walk in your rainbow paradise~”

You were shocked by his vocal talent. His voice control was superb and the quality of his voice was downright euphoric. Even though Taehyung’s voice is deeper than Harry Styles’, his range was incredible. He was still able to go as high as Harry without any trouble. All the kids had fallen sound asleep by the time he finished the song.

“This is when I typically have about an hour of free time,” he said after quietly leading you back into the kitchen.

“You have such a beautiful voice! Do you sing to them every day?” you praised him.

“Thanks! Yeah, I sing to them every day. They used to get duets actually,” Taehyung sighed.

“Did you have another coworker before?” you asked.

“Yep. My best friend actually. He’s my roommate too, but he landed an internship this summer so he couldn’t be here. I’m very proud of him! But usually this is a job for two people so I decided to put that ad out. I’m happy you came out! The kids seem to like you,” Taehyung gave you a thumbs up.

“I hope so! Lucy might be scared of me though,” you recalled the way she mostly avoided you all morning.

“Nah, she’s just really shy. She told me that she thought you were really pretty though, so that’s a good sign!” he tried to reassure you.

“I guess it must be true then. Kids are brutally honest,” you smiled.

“She definitely wasn’t lying,” Taehyung smiled back at you.

You had to look away awkwardly to hide your blushed cheeks. There’s no way you could handle a direct smile from this guy. How was it possible for someone to be that handsome without even trying?!

“So what happens after naptime?” you quickly asked to change the subject.

“Basically more playing until their parents come. It honestly just depends on what the kids wanna do. We can play inside, in the backyard, and sometimes we go to the park,” Taehyung answered with an amused smile, “Let’s use this free time to conduct a more formal interview, shall we?”

Taehyung then asked you a series of questions about your summer schedule, if you’re willing to work every day of the week, how you feel about the kids, along with other things. You answered truthfully and kept up a professional demeanor. Taehyung seemed to be satisfied with your answers and leaned back in his chair.

“That all works for me! The people who really need to approve of you are the parents. I’ll introduce you to them later this afternoon. I’m sure they’ll all be fine once I vouch for you,” he nodded.

Soft giggles caught your attention. Taehyung signaled that break time was now over and led the way back to the living room. Kota and Bel were wrestling each other while the others threw pillows at them.

“Did everyone have a good nap?” Taehyung sing songed.

“Yes!” they replied.

“Can we play house now?” Ava asked.

“Yeah! Miss ____ can be the mommy now!” Sam bounced up in excitement, “Our last mommy used to be a boy.”

“Jimin was a great mommy and I’m sure he misses you all dearly. Jimin is my roommate/best friend/ex-cobabysitter,” Taehyung explained.

The game of house was more hands on from your end. The kids demanded you to carry them and read them stories like a real mommy would. It was mainly the girls who wanted to play with you, while the boys took turns wrestling with Tae or riding on his back. You were braiding Lucy’s hair when the doorbell rang.

“Kota! Your mom is here!” Taehyung called from the front.

All the kids trickled out one by one as their parents arrived. Taehyung introduced you to each parent; their reactions were all positive, especially when their kids raved about you being the new Jimin.

“If she’s anything like Jimin, then I have nothing to worry about. I trust your judgement, Taehyung,” one of the sterner looking parents said (Sam’s father to be exact).

“Congrats! You got the job,” Taehyung congratulated you once all of the children were picked up, “We get paid on Fridays. I’ll basically just split what we earn 50/50, cool?”

“That’s fine by me! I’m looking forward to working with you,” you bow graciously.

“Ah! No need to be so formal. We’re partners now! I’m not your boss or anything,” Taehyung gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder, “See you tomorrow!”

Summer was about to get rather eventful. All of the children warmed up to you surprisngly quickly, even timid Lucy (who had arguably grown the most fond of you). As the days went on, you couldn’t help but admire Taehyung’s kindness and patience when it came to the kids. From firm to understanding, he was everything a caregiver should be. He handled spats between kids with ease, often by making them forgive each other then laugh at some silly joke of his.

One afternoon, the kids voted to watch a Disney movie. All seven of you curled up on the couch together with you and Taehyung in the middle. Lucy sat in your lap while Bel sat in Taehyung’s. Halfway through the movie, Taehyung fell asleep. The kids didn’t notice since they were so engrossed in the movie. You however, DID notice. Mostly because he rolled his sleepy head onto your shoulder.

Your heartbeat quickened as you slowly turned to take a peek at the handsome man sleeping beside you. He looked angelic, and you realized that he smelled pleasant too. He had a sweet scent that was uncharacteristic for a young man. You took a deep breath and pretended not to notice him. He didn’t wake up until the doorbell rang near the end of the movie.

He seemed to be confused and perhaps even slightly flustered when he lifted his head from your shoulder, but quickly shrugged it off to go answer the door. The incident (and the drool on your shoulder) was never mentioned.

It had been a month since you started babysitting with Taehyung, and it honestly had been a lot more fun than you expected. The kids are wonderful silly little beings and Taehyung is...well...Taehyung.

You were cleaning up the living room on a late Friday afternoon after all the kids had been picked up. Taehyung was somewhere splitting up the week’s paycheck. Once all the toys were back in their respective bins, it was time to gather your stuff and go.

“Great work this week,” Taehyung commended as he handed you your cut.

“Thanks! Same to you as always. I’ll see you on Monday,” you wave as you open the front door.

“Actually um--” Taehyung cleared his throat.

“Yes?” you whipped around with almost too much eagerness.

“My friend is part of an art gallery showing tomorrow night and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me? I heard there will be drinks and finger foods…” Taehyung trailed off, presumably due to imagining what kind of snacks will be served.

“I’d love to! I’m not an expert on art or anything, but it sounds cool,” you smile.

“No worries, I’m no expert either. I’m just a guy who appreciates neat expressions of creativity,” he nodded humbly, “I can pick you up at your place, if you’d like.”

“Sure, I’ll text you my address. Oh uh, what’s the dress code like? I don’t really attend these things,” you ask shyly.

“I’d say a step down from formal? Like no t-shirts or jeans. Pretend like you’re going on a date to some restaurant that isn’t a michelin star but is still classier than Olive Garden,” Taehyung tried to explain.

“I’ll do my best,” you smile at his peculiar way of describing the appropriate attire.

A smile never left your face as you drove home. A chance to hangout with Taehyung one on one without any kids around? All of his attention will be on you? Yes please. You love the kids and all, but you finally have a real chance to get closer to Taehyung. To be honest, you might have the teensiest little crush on him, but who could blame you?

The next day was spent preparing for your night out with Taehyung. It probably wasn’t a date (90% sure it’s not), but you wanted to look irresistible anyway. You put on a purple dress with flowy sleeves that made you feel like a princess. It was on the dressier side, but being slightly overdressed never hurt anyone.

You usually only had time to slap on mascara and a lip tint in the mornings before babysitting, but now you had abundant time to play around with your makeup. You settled for a soft yet glamorous look with shimmery eyeshadow and eyeliner. Sparkly lip gloss tied the whole look together and made your lips look tempting (or so you hoped). You decided to leave your hair alone since you were having a miraculously good hair day.

“Wow are you sure this isn’t a date?” Hyuna whistled when she walked into your room.

“It’s not! This is just the first time Taehyung will see me actually trying to look good,” you say defensively.

“You’re cute even in ratty t-shirts, but I get what you mean. Have fun tonight!” your roommate gave you a tight hug.

A strong knock on your front door indicated Taehyung’s arrival. Hyuna tagged along as you went to answer the door; she wanted to see the guy you’ve been gushing over for the past month for herself.

Your mouth hung open in shock for a split second when you opened the door. Taehyung also dressed up. He was wearing a bright sunflower shirt paired with a black blazer that perfectly combined fun with sophistication. He wore a red silky bandana looking belt for an added pop of color with his black pants.

“Hey Taehyung!” you greet him happily.

“Good evening, Miss ____. You look spectacular!” he complimented you immediately.

“So do you! It’s funny seeing you not in a t-shirt, though I’m sure you’re thinking the same thing,” you say.

“You’re charming even in your graphic tees, but this is a nice change of pace too,” Taehyung agreed.

“Hi! I’m Hyuna, ____’s roommate,” Hyuna butted in to shake his hand.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung, ____’s babysitting partner,” he introduced himself.

“We should get going,” you say politely before Hyuna could start to get chatty.

Hyuna mouthed an exaggerated “oh my god” coupled with a double thumbs up as you waved goodbye after Taehyung was already out the door. You playfully rolled your eyes but blew her a kiss anyway.

“I didn’t realize you lived so close to me,” Taehyung said as he pulled away from the curb.

“Yeah, it made the job even more appealing,” you nodded.

“I really am glad that you applied,” Taehyung said softly, as if to himself.

“Sorry, what was that?” you couldn’t hear him properly.

“Nothing! I said I’m glad you agreed to accompany me tonight!” Taehyung quickly stated.

“Thanks for inviting me out! I’m actually pretty excited,” you admitted.

The gallery was somewhere in the swanky part of downtown. You gazed out of the window at all of the high end stores Taehyung drove by. Everyone walking around the stores looked like supermodels, which was actually pretty intimidating. What if the people at the gallery looked like that too?

“We’re here!” Taehyung announced, interrupting your thoughts.

There was a decent amount of people wandering around the venue when you both entered. It was basically one big dimly lit room with spotlights on pieces scattered around on the walls plus some sculptures in the middle. Thankfully, the patrons already inside looked like normal people, most of them probably students like you.

“Taehyung!” someone called from the side of the room.

You both made your way towards the voice, only to find a man who was just as handsome as Taehyung greeting you with a bunny like smile. He had long hair that almost covered up his assorted dangly earrings. He definitely had art student vibes mixed with a dash of bad boy. The boys greeted each other with a ferocious hug, indicating that they’re probably good friends.

“Oh! What’s up, I’m Jungkook,” the boy shook your hand once he noticed you.

“She’s my babysitting partner this summer,” Taehyung said proudly.

“She’s replacing Jimin huh?” Jungkook laughed, “Taehyung and Jimin are like my brothers. We were all pretty close in college and are batchmates, even though I’m younger than them,” he stuck his tongue out at Taehyung.

“Yeah yeah okay whatever. Skipping grades in elementary school and bringing in a ton of transfer credits will help you do that I guess,” Taehyung shook his head even though he was still smiling.

“Are these your pictures?” you asked Jungkook, motioning to the mounted pictures behind him.

“Yeah! I took most of these in Madrid, I’ve been working abroad for my dream company,” Jungkook answered you proudly.

“Who’s this?” Taehyung pointed to a picture of a girl laughing by a giant tree.

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous!” you added.

“She’s um...a good friend. She was the perfect model,” Jungook said with a faraway look in his eyes that told you there was more to the story.

“Tell me more about her on our next phone call. Tonight is for celebrating you!” Taehyung picked up on Jungkook’s sudden change of tone.

You enjoyed listening to their old college stories as the boys reminisced about their past together. Jungkook relished telling you all of Taehyung’s embarrassing moments at various parties. Taehyung returned the favor by recalling Jungkook’s past run-ins with women. Despite his natural charm and god like looks, apparently Jungkook gets really nervous around girls.

You and Taehyung were on your own once Jungkook was flagged down by an older patron interested in purchasing some of his work. Taehyung stayed close to your side as you explored the rest of the gallery. Each artist was so incredibly talented as their pictures told stories with just a single frame.

“____ look! They have those fancy charcuterie boards!” Taehyung grabbed your hand and excitedly dragged you over to the snack table. You couldn’t help but smile at his childlike elation.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ve been getting tired of being force fed fruit snacks every day,” you laughed as you ate the assorted appetizers.

“I completely understand. Unfortunately, the kids are too sweet when they want to share. I don’t have it in me to turn them down,” Taehyung agreed.

Once the food was eaten, you resumed walking through the gallery. It was fun making up stories to go with each picture. Taehyung seemed to gravitate towards adding a romantic twist to each story, while you opted for a bit of mystery. At the end of the event, Taehyung met up with Jungkook once more to say his goodbyes.

“Thanks again for coming with me, I had fun! I hope you enjoyed yourself,” Taehyung said as he drove you back.

“It was really neat! I liked hanging out with you outside of work,” you nodded.

“Would you say it was a successful date then?” Taehyung raised an eyebrow with curiosity. Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes widened with surprise.

“Was...was this a date?” you asked quietly.

“Did you want it to be?” Taehyung teased.

“I wouldn’t have gotten so dressed up otherwise,” you said defensively, taken aback by his sudden cheekiness.

“I realized I should’ve clarified that after you had already left. My bad,” Taehyung shot you a boxy grin, “But then I figured maybe you would be more relaxed if I didn’t mention it.”

“That’s odd logic, but I guess it worked,” you admitted begrudgingly.

Taehyung walked you back up to your house. He sweetly kissed your cheek and bid you goodnight, leaving you frozen in place.

“S-see you on Monday!” was all you were able to stammer out, to which Taehyung just smiled and waved back.

Hyuna happily freaked out with you once you were back inside. She was watching you from the moment Taehyung pulled back up. She shrieked with excitement once you told her that Taehyung confirmed that it was a date. Hyuna didn’t let up with grilling questions about how your night went. She even asked if the Jungkook guy you met was single, to which you truthfully answered that you didn’t know.

“Besides, he told me himself that he’s scared of girls. You’re scary enough as is,” you teased her.

“Oh shut up. So is Taehyung like, your boyfriend now?” Hyuna asked the million dollar question.

“I don’t think so. I think it was just a date, but that’s a good start!” you declared optimistically.

Babysitting on Monday went on like normal. Taehyung didn’t act any differently, which was both concerning and relieving. You were in the backyard pretending to eat whatever dirt concoction the little kids were serving you.

“This one is for you,” Lucy quietly offered Taehyung a clump of dirt sprinkled with blades of grass, topped with a dandelion.

“Oh, how pretty! What is it?” Taehyung played along.

“It’s a love potion. The next person you hug will fall in love with you,” Lucy smiled.

A smirk crept on Taehyung’s face as he pretended to eat Lucy’s love potion. He made a satisfied “Ahh” sound that made Lucy giggle.

“Tae has to hug me now! He loves me the most!” Sam yelled as he ran over to latch onto Taehyung.

“No, Tae loves me!” Bel argued as he pulled on Taehyung’s shirt.

“That’s not how it works!” Lucy huffed as she yelled at the boys.

You watched with delight as the little kids chased Taehyung around the backyard, demanding that he has to hug them. It was easy for him to juke them out as they constantly ran back and forth. You were content with just watching them until Taehyung began to make a beeline for you.

“Oh no no no,” you cried as you got up to run.

Taehyung (and the kids) chased you around for a little bit. The backyard was on the smaller side, so there wasn’t much space to evade all of them coming for you at once. To make matters worse, Taehyung actually started to try and catch you. His speed was no joke; he was much more agile than you gave him credit for.

With one pounce, Taehyung tackled you to the ground. Somehow he managed to whip himself around while you were falling, so you ended up falling on him. Now wrapped up in his arms, Taehyung smiled up at you with a shit eating grin.

“I guess you have to fall in love with me now,” he smirked.

“You wish,” you laughed as you pulled yourself up.

“Aw now he loves Miss _____,” Sam pouted.

“No, now Miss ____ has to fall in love with Tae,” Ava corrected him.

“That’s dumb,” Kota shook his head.

“Tae! Kota said a bad word!” Bel immediately tattled.

“Kota, remember what I said about bad words. No one wants to play with someone who says mean things,” Taehyung chided him.

“Sorry,” Kota mumbled.

“Let’s play go play inside. Who wants juice?” Taehyung patted Kota’s head.

The kids followed Taehyung inside like little ducklings. You loved that sight, you always thought it was the cutest thing. The rest of the day went by without a hitch.

The topic of favorite movies came up during lunchtime the next day.

“I like Frozen 2,” Ava stated, and Lucy nodded furiously in agreement.

“Detective Pikachu was better. Pikachu is funny,” Sam interjected. The other little boys then began to argue about which pokemon was better/stronger.

“I’m not really a big movie watcher,” Taehyung confessed as he took a bite of a dino chicken nugget.

“Have you at least seen the classics? Harry Potter? Lord of the Rings? Star Wars?” you listed with concern.

“I’ve seen Harry Potter and Star Wars. I think I saw the Lord of the Rings? I can’t really remember. I know I wanted to watch the newer Lord of the Rings movies,” he chuckled at your growing disbelief.

“Newer Lord of the Rings? You mean the Hobbit series?” you were disgruntled.

“Yeah those. I didn’t realize you were a nerd,” he nudged you.

“What of it? All of those are great movies. I have copies of the Hobbit series if you ever wanted to watch them,” you offered.

“Do you wanna watch them with me?” he perked up.

“Sure, I love them! You wanna do a marathon? It’ll take up a full day though,” you warned.

“I’m down. Are you free this Sunday?”

“I believe so.”

“Great! I’m excited to see you geek out over hobbits. Okay kids, naptime!”

You drove up to Taehyung’s place Sunday morning, you weren’t kidding when you said it would take all day. Taehyung said to dress comfortably so you showed up in your sweatpants and oversized college tee. He answered the door wearing gray sweatpants and his favorite CELINE shirt. His dark fluffy hair fell over his forehead and was almost long enough to cover his eyes.

“Good morning! I hope you’re hungry. I made some waffles to eat while we watch the first movie,” he greeted you.

His humble abode smelled heavenly as the scent of dough tinged with a hint of cinnamon wafted through the air. The soft belgian waffles were delicious as they practically melted in your mouth. Taehyung asked a ton of questions with nearly every scene, but you didn’t mind. You were happy to flex your knowledge of Tolkien lore.

Hours later, you found yourself cuddled up with Taehyung as the final credits of the Battle of Five Armies began to roll. Taehyung was still trying to process everything that happened as he asked you clarifying questions about each character.

“Well crap, now I’m sad,” he pouted.

“Yeah, the ending is kind of a downer, but that’s what makes it so good! The Lord of the Rings has a happy ending if that makes you feel better,” you look up at him from his chest.

“You look cute like that,” he observed.

“Like what? Tiny from your angle?” you tilted your head.

“I guess so? Tiny, maybe submissive,” Taehyung’s voice lowered with his suggestion.

“Submissive? Is that how you see me?” you sit back up completely with defiance.

“Not at all. You’re pretty feisty, which is why making you be submissive is even more alluring,” he raised his eyebrow in a suggestive manner.

“Do you want me to be a damsel in distress for you? Not happening,” you smirked.

“Pretty princesses are good for one thing,” Taehyung hopped off the couch.

Before you could say anything, he promptly grabbed you and swung you over his shoulder. You were too shocked by his boldness and physical abilities to retaliate.

“They’re perfect for kidnapping!” he let out a dramatic evil laugh as he carried you off to his bedroom.

Once there, he roughly threw you on the bed. You couldn’t help but look around curiously since this was the first time you’ve ever seen his room. It was surprisingly neat; his bed was made and there were no messy clothing piles in sight.

“Are you an evil dragon then? Capturing princesses and such?” you teased.

“Evil dragon, dashing captor, I can be anything you want me to be. Just please not an orc,” he let out a chuckle before getting back into character, “Just know that you’re trapped here with me. No one is going to rescue you.”

“Oh no! What a terrible situation to be in! What on Earth is this extremely handsome dragon going to do with a poor defenseless princess like me?” you taunted.

“Ok this is all very hot but before we go any further, are you okay with this?” Taehyung asked sincerely.

“I can’t think of anything that I’ve wanted more,” you nodded.

“Perfect. Safe word is red,” he winked at you, “Now strip for me, princess.”

“And if I don’t?” you challenged.

Taehyung grabbed a fistful of hair on the back of your head and forcefully brought you up to his face, “I suggest not making me angry,” he sneered.

You didn’t think you were one for being manhandled, but god damn that was hot. There was already a tingle between your legs and he hadn’t even really touched you yet. You complied with his request, and quickly tore off your shirt and pants. Though you weren’t wearing any fancy lingerie, you were wearing a gray bra and gray panties that could pass off as matching.

“Mmm what a pretty treasure. It would be a shame to let it gounappreciated,” Taehyung stretched out that last word as he gently ran his fingers from your torso up to your neck before firmly grasping it.

Taehyung straddled you as his long fingers were wrapped around your neck. Slowly, he leaned down to kiss you. Though apprehensive at first, he gradually got more bold with it. His tongue dipped into your mouth the instant your lips parted. His other hand crept under your bra to fondle your breast.

“You take your clothes off too,” you said as soon as the kiss broke.

“You don’t get to make any demands, silly princess,” Taehyung shook his head.

You pouted and reached out to tug at his pants anyway. Big mistake. Taehyung slapped your hand away and slammed you back onto the bed.

“You don’t listen, huh? I’ll have to do something about that. Stay still or else you’ll make things worse for yourself,” he ordered.

You reluctantly obeyed, partly because you were curious about what he was going to do, and partly because you were actually intimidated by him. He returned back to the bed a few seconds later, but with a familiar silky red belt in hand.

“Give me your hands. Good girl,” he smiled deviously as he bound them together, “Remember the safe word is red, okay?” he gently reminded you.

He looked down at you with a satisfied grin as he began to take off his sweatpants. He had an obvious bulge in his underwear that outlined his massive dick. You were further entranced by his physique when he took off his shirt. He wasn’t ripped, but he was still fit, as you could plainly see when his chest was finally revealed.

“Open wide, princess,” he demanded.

You opened your mouth, and even flattened your tongue out a little bit for him. He pulled his cock out of his underwear, finally exposing his full length. You doubted you could fit even half of him in your mouth, but at this point it wasn’t up to you.

Taehyung lowered himself down to you, and teasingly tapped the tip of his cock on your tongue. He slowly eased himself into your mouth, forcing you to open your mouth even wider to account for his girth. He made his way back out once you gagged. He grabbed your head to hold you steady as he fucked your mouth once more. He got closer and closer to the back of your throat until he finally hit it. All you could focus on was breathing as tears welled up in your eyes. Taehyung thrusted a couple more times before he pulled out completely.

“Good girl indeed. Well done, princess,” he softly stroked your chin before wiping your tears away. All you could do was smile meekly back at him.

“Don’t worry, it’s time for your reward,” Taehyung smiled down at you as his hand slipped under your panties, “Oh you’re so wet. I can’t wait to taste you.”

He positioned himself between your thighs after he tore off your panties. His thumb fiddled with your clit, causing you to squirm. He placed a strong grip on your thigh to hold you down as he circled your clit faster. Your helpless whimpers were music to Taehyung’s ears.

Without warning, he easily stuck two fingers into you. He didn’t even let you adjust as he rapidly fingered you, his fingers curving to graze your g-spot with every stroke. His tongue swirled around your clit, adding even more toe curling sensations.

Him adding a third finger was the catalyst for the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had in your life. There wasn’t even a build up, everything just hit you at once. Suddenly you were crying out even louder as you violently came. Did it occur to you that you were squirting all over Taehyung and his bed? No. Were you doing exactly that? Absolutely.

“Delicious,” Taehyung said as he licked his lips, “Look at the fucking mess you made.”

“I-i’m sorry,” you managed to stutter, you were still recovering from your orgasm.

“It’s only fair that it’s my turn to make a mess now. Do I need to get a condom, princess?” he cooed.

You weakly shook your head. You needed to feel all of him, right now. Taehyung chuckled at your neediness as he aligned himself with your pussy. He slowly inserted his entire length into you until the base of his cock touched your soaked pussy. You moaned together as he stayed still for a second. You looked up to see Taehyung’s face lit up with pure bliss.

“You’re still so fucking wet,” he growled as he began to mercilessly buck his hips into you.

You moaned with every thrust as Taehyung shook the entire bed. Taehyung placed both of your legs on his shoulders, allowing him to hit you even deeper from this new angle. He leaned over to plant his lips on your neck as he fucked you. What started as a gentle peck took a violent turn as he harshly sucked on your neck. He left dark spots wherever his lips touched, and soon you were covered in dark blooms.

“Do you want me to soil your back or your chest?” he asked in a guttural tone.

“Back?” you answer dubiously.

You were immediately flipped over. You were laying flat on your chest waiting for him to prop up your ass, but he never did. Instead, he simply spread your legs wider and fucked you flat against the bed. Taehyung grabbed your ass and spread your cheeks to get a better view of your sopping pussy. You could feel another orgasm brewing as he fucked even deeper into you, and his cock was continuously dragging against your g-spot.

“Taehyung, I--”

“I know, princess. Let it all out. I want to feel you come on my dick,” he demanded.

A few more strong strokes was all it took for you to go limp under him as your orgasm took over. Seconds after you hit your high, Taehyung pulled out and came all over your back.

Once you were all cleaned up, Taehyung untied you and kissed your forehead.

“How was it, princess?” he asked as he stroked your hair.

“I’ve never been fucked by a beast before, but now I don’t want anything else,” you admitted before kissing his neck.

“Good. I was worried about going overboard. As I told you before, I really like getting into character,” he laughed.

“I’ve never been into roleplay but I’m willing to change for you. Oh shit, it’s late already,” you noticed the time on his alarm clock.

“Just stay the night. I don’t think the kids will care if you’re wearing sweatpants or not. I can lend you a turtleneck to cover up those hickies though,” Taehyung yawned.

“Are you sure?” you questioned.

“Yeah, I don’t mind. Be warned, I’m a cuddler,” he pulled you closer to him.

“I guess I can sleep in a little later then,” you reasoned.

“Perfect. Goodnight, princess,” he quickly kissed your lips.

“You’re sleeping like that?”

“Like what?”

“Butt naked?”

“I can put clothes on if it makes you uncomfortable. I just figured it would make things easier for tomorrow morning,” he said sleepily.

“Tomorrow morning?” that got your attention.

“You’ll see! Be patient, princess. Night night.”

Never in a million years would you have guessed that applying for a babysitting job would result in this, but you weren’t complaining.

#bts smut #kim taehyung smut #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #btscreatorscorner #bts fanfic #kim taehyung fanfic #v smut #v fanfic #bts fluff #kim taehyung fluff #kim taeyhung #v #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #purplearmynet

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rubysunnday · 3 years

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orion and pleiades

Request by Anon - prompt #2 just screams Colin Bridgerton to me “Don’t say a word, just dance with me.”

A/N: I hope this is alright, anon! These requests (and the few in my inbox) will probably be the last few I write for sometime x

Colin was enjoying himself.

He’d found a nice spot in the far corner of the ballroom where he could drink and watch the dancing without being cornered by the mamas and ladies. Anthony and Benedict had been apprehended by their mother and were currently being paraded around the room like dresses in the modiste. Colin was trying not to take too much pleasure in the discomfort of his brothers but it was actually a very difficult task.

Benedict kept sending him glares and looks of hope at being rescued but Colin was strategically ignoring him.

Penelope Featherington weaved through the crowd, in the direction of what Colin had named ‘Colin’s corner’.

“You alright, Pen?” Colin asked as Penelope walked up to his corner.

“Mmhmm,” Penelope hummed, nodding as she poured herself a drink. “Why do you look so pleased with yourself?” She asked, side-eyeing Colin suspiciously.

“My mother has accosted Anthony and Benedict,” Colin said, chuckling as Penelope glanced over at where his brothers were and tried not to laugh.

“I feel for them,” she said. “Mama has just dragged me around the ballroom for most of the night.” Penelope paused. “Have you seen Y/N at all tonight?”

Colin shook his head. “No. She said she was coming, however. Perhaps she’s been held up.”

“Or perhaps she’s running in your direction right now?” Penelope suggested, gesturing to the left.

Colin turned and saw Y/N running towards him, looking increasingly panicked.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” He asked as she all but collided into him. He caught her by the arms and caught her as she skidded to a sudden halt, her balance off by her sudden halt.

Y/N grabbed his hands. “Don’t say a word, just dance with me,” she said, dragging him towards the dance floor.

Colin let himself be dragged through the crowd and, to his credit, said nothing. He noticed that Y/N didn’t relax until they were well ensconced in the middle of the crowd and were well into the dance.

“Do I get the pleasure of discovering why I was accosted and dragged onto the floor?” Colin asked, his eyes glinting with delight as Y/N groaned and dropped her head onto his shoulder.

“My mother,” she said, dragging out the last word to add more emphasis. “I have been dragged around this room all night, being forced upon every single eligible man within a five mile vicinity - including your brothers.”

“That would have been the highlight of the evening for them, I guarantee you, Y/N,” Colin laughed. “There are far worse people they could’ve had forced upon them.”

“Including Philippa Featherington? Because I saw Anthony dancing with her when I was trying to escape my mother’s clutches.” Y/N looked at Colin’s terrified expression and giggled. “The terror on behalf of your brother is very amusing, Colin.”

Colin twirled Y/N and then dipped her. “What can I saw, I know how my fellow soldier feels.”

Y/N laughed and the sound was like music to Colin’s ears. “Are we really that bad?”

“Your mothers are,” Colin replied. “The ladies... depends. You, Miss Y/L/N, are a goddess.”

“Do I have a halo?” Y/N asked, letting Colin lift her up.

“A beautiful, sparkly, golden one,” he replied. “And a beam of sunlight follows you everywhere you go, lighting up the entire room.”

Y/N smiled, entirely unfazed by the shower of compliments. “Ok, what do you want?”

“Nothing!”

“Colin, you only ever compliment me when you want something,” Y/N replied, giving him a raise of her eyebrows and an unconvinced stare. “So, what is it?”

“Well, I did save you from your mother by dancing with you,” Colin countered, realising he had leverage against her.

Y/N paused and sighed, cursing softly. Colin heard her curse and, whilst his eyes widened, he just snorted. He'd grown use to hearing her curse, even if it was extremely un-ladylike.

Y/N was just like his sister, Eloise - a woman who didn’t conform to society and didn’t, particularly, care what people thought of her. Colin liked her for her honesty and for the fact she didn’t spend the balls sucking up to men and pretending to be something she wasn't.

“Ok, fine,” Y/N said and Colin blinked, trying to remember what they’d been talking about moments earlier. “I owe you. What do you want?”

Colin smirked. “For you to be glued to my side the entire night.”

Y/N stopped dancing for a split second. “Have you been talking to Hyacinth?”

“No, why?”

“Because the girl is obsessed with the word glue and all connotations that go with it,” Y/N muttered, shaking her head. “Glueee. Anyway, so, my challenge is to not leave your side, is that it?”

“Well, it’ll keep my mother off my back,” Colin said, smiling.

“Oh, and here I thought you just enjoyed my company, Colin,” Y/N said, pouting.

The dance came to a grand finish and Colin bowed to Y/N as she curtsied to him.

“So, glue,” she said, grabbing his arm and allowing him to lead her off the dance floor. “What, precisely, does being glue entail?”

“Oh... well, it mainly entails not leaving me alone with my mother,” Colin replied, leading them over to where Anthony and Benedict were hiding from Violet.

“Well, there’s all sorts of things I could do to be glued to your side all evening,” Y/N said, making great effort into looking like she was thinking hard. “I could fake swoon -”

“We both know you’re better than that -”

“ - I could take you for a turn around the room -”

“Please don’t -”

Y/N stopped, turned, and looked up at him. “Or, I could just say I twisted my ankle dancing with you and since you feel like it was your fault, you don’t want to leave me alone and that my wellbeing is your top priority.”

Colin raised his eyebrows. He’d known Y/N for many years and also knew when he teasing was also partly true. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you twist your ankle?”

Y/N avoid his gaze. “No.”

“Y/N.”

“Ok, I rolled it a bit,” she said, meeting his gaze. “It was when I ran into you, I had a little too much momentum and went over on it.”

“Of course you did,” Colin muttered. “Come on then, my little invalid, let’s sit you down.”

“I’m not a child, Colin,” Y/N grumbled.

Despite her complaint, however, she still allowed him to guide her across the room and to the safety of the terrace outside.

It was a beautiful evening and the stars were visible up above. Y/N sat down on a nearby bench and tilted her head up at the sky, her hair falling over the edge of the bench the further she titled her head.

“I wish we could see the stars from London,” she said softly.

Colin sat down next to her - his leg brushing hers. “Have you ever heard the tale of Orion?”

Y/N turned her head to look at him, eyes filled with curiosity. “No.”

Colin smiled and looked at her. “Well, as the legend goes, Orion was a great hunter who fell in love with the seven sisters.” Colin put his arm around Y/N’s shoulders and took her hand. “He was after them for twelve years. For twelve, long years, he chased after these sisters, trying to gain their favour and affection, However, Zeus, king of the gods, found out about Orion chasing after them and turned all of them into stars.”

Y/N was too enamoured with the story and looking at Colin’s beautiful face to sat anything.

“Orion can chase the Pleiades - the seven sisters - forever, but he can never catch them. He'll follow them across the sky and beyond the horizon in his attempt to catch them.”

Y/N smiled softly at him. “Well, isn’t it a good job I don’t have any sisters, then?”

Colin chuckled. “Isn’t a good job we’re allowed to be together.”

Y/N said nothing. She smiled and felt her cheeks grow hotter. “Colin -”

Colin leant forward and kissed her on the lips. He moved back, shot her a beautiful, mischievous smile, and then kissed her on the cheek.

Colin stood up and sighed. “I’m hungry,” he announced to no one in particular.

Y/N tried not to glare at him as she stood up. She huffed out a laugh and followed after him. “Colin, if all the food in the world was turned into stars, you would turn into one and follow it all around the skies.”

Colin paused and turned to look at her. “If you turned into a star, dear Y/N/N, I would follow you no matter where you went.”

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Note

a little birdie told me to request surfer san at a party idk what that was about but i do kinda want to see skater boy yeosang there too if you're up for that 👀👀👀 heheheheh love u linaaaa <333

/chants/ surfer san surfer san SURFER SAN thank you very much mai for putting this in my inbox I adore you <3 skater yeosang will be up next so I hope you enjoy what I end up spitting out for that one too !

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

Set in the same universe as Kickflip (My Heart) (skater!Yeosang) and Hey, Hey - Let Me Kiss You (surfer!Juyeon) :)

I’m gonna cry this ended up being way longer than I thought it’d be but you know what I’m 100% turning this into a full scenario so fuck it it’ll be as long as it has to be

Title: Truth or Dare

Pairing: San x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Triggers: cursing, alcohol, shirtless woosan for a hot minute, implications of sex towards the end (NOTHING GRAPHIC)

Okay, so in hindsight, maybe coming to Hongjoong's party knowing you were going to be here was a mistake. In his defense, the water probably wasn’t out of his ears when he told Wooyoung he would come, despite the latter having told him specifically you were going to be there. It probably caused some temporary brain damage. That, and San has never really made the best decision when it comes to crushes.

Especially you. You’ve been the worst so far. Around all of the others, he’s been able to keep a measure of his confidence, able to flirt a little and initiate something here or there, if it’s reciprocated. But you...

You’re something else. Always have been, ever since Hongjoong introduced him to you in all your gorgeous glory. Which is probably why Wooyoung looked so surprised that San agreed to come without much trouble - he probably thought San would be chicken out immediately and he’d have to convince him.

San’s here, though, several drinks in and very much buzzed if not drunk, sitting in a circle of people that includes you. Even five or six drunk adults away, San can feel his face heating up when you look in his direction and throw him a wink with that gorgeous smile spread across your face.

His heart thumps a little faster.

“You look like an idiot,” Wooyoung hisses, jabbing him in the side. “What did I tell you about playing hard to get?”

San rolls his eyes. “Since when did your advice ever make enough sense for me to take it?”

Wooyoung huffs. “You look like a lovesick idiot,” he sniffs.

San doesn’t deign to reply.

“Okay, okay.” Hongjoong comes back from wherever he was and settles between Seonghwa and Mingi, a bottle in hand. “Shut up, everyone. We’re playing truth or dare.”

Someone raises an eyebrow. “What is this, high school?”

“The way you all act, I wouldn’t be surprised.” San stifles a laugh at your reply.

“Says you.” Hongjoong snorts.

You grin. “Did I ever exclude myself?”

Everyone breaks into laughter that Hongjoong has to calm before setting the bottle in the middle of the circle. “Rules are the same. Spin the bottle, if it lands on you, pick truth or dare. If you chicken out, take a shot.” He raises an eyebrow. “Got it?”

They all get it, even the ones who look a little like they’re on the way to passing out, and so truth or dare begins.

It’s fun. That might just be because San has been drinking, but when Seonghwa is dared for the second time to write some gross in the air with his butt, he and Wooyoung are falling over each other with tipsy laughter. Hiccuping with giggles, San answers a question about who in this room he’d lick peanut butter off of - “Hongjoong, I like his body.” - and then takes off his shirt for five turns and keeps it off because it’s kind of hot, anyway, and he doesn’t really want to bother putting it back on. Wooyoung isn’t much better - he got dared to take off his pants but Seonghwa forced Yunho to amend it to his shirt, and San pats his friend’s pecs affectionately before the next person goes.

Eventually, the bottle lands on you. You raise an eyebrow. “Truth.”

“Is there someone you like in this room?” Mingi blurts.

There’s a chorus of groans, complaints of ‘Okay, this is too high school for me,’ and ‘For real, Mingi? Seriously?’, but San’s attention is on you and the way your expression has turned slightly uncertain for the first time tonight. You bite your lip, staring at the shot glass in your hand like you’re really contemplating chickening out, but then your eyes flicker up and in his direction.

San’s breath catches in his throat. You didn’t look at him. You definitely didn’t. That was just coincidence. Don’t get your hopes up, San.

“Alright, alright, shut up.” You raise your voice above the noise of people teasing Mingi. “The answer is yes. I do.”

The complaints turn into oooooohs and wolf whistles and ‘Who is it? Who is it?’ but you’ve already got the bottle in hand and are spinning it in the center of the circle. San barely notices, even when Wooyoung’s hand squeeze his knee - who is the person that you like? There’s like fifteen or twenty people here. It could be any one of them. It’s probably Yeosang. He’s pretty and everyone has had a crush on him at least once. Or Seonghwa? Maybe even Wooyoung?

Cheers erupt all around him and San looks up, startled, to see you glaring at the bottle like it personally wronged you in a past life.

Because it’s pointing at you again.

“Truth or dare, Y/N?” someone yells.

Next to you, Yeosang whispers something in your ear. Your eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would.” Yeosang grins.

You glare at the bottle some more. “Dare.”

“Everyone shut up, I’ve got this.” San watches in confused silence as Yeosang sits up. “Y/N...” A grin that looks more suited to Wooyoung spreads across his lips. “I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in this room.”

San’s heart drops with every second that passes. He wants it to be him, badly wants it to be him, but in a room full of people who look like Seonghwa, who look like Dahyun, who look like Juyeon and Chaeyoung and Yeosang and - god, San can’t even list all of the names -

How would it ever be him?

You make a very rude gesture to Yeosang that has everyone cracking up, but you don’t eye the shot glass this time. Instead, you throw your shoulders back and let your eyes rake over the room.

“Wooyoung.”

San’s heart drops. Of course it’s Wooyoung, his best friend in every life, one of the prettiest people San himself has ever laid eyes on -

“Move over.” Suddenly, you’re up in San’s face, pushing Wooyoung away. He blinks. When did you come all the way over here? But he doesn’t even have time to ponder the answer to that question because your smile is so close, now, just half a foot separating your lips, and you’re reaching out a hand to cup his cheek and San is short-circuiting as you say -

“Stop me if you don’t want this, okay?”

San blinks. Don’t want what? His heart is beating so fast, faster even than when he catches the highest wave of the afternoon, you’re so close and this is all he’s ever wanted, why would you even imply that this is something he doesn’t want -

Your lips press against his, and San’s mind goes blank.

You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him because you think he’s the prettiest person in the room - he, San, Choi San, surfer boy who turned into a mess the day Hongjoong introduced him to you - you think he, of all people in the room, is the prettiest -

It occurs to him that he’s still shirtless. He doesn’t exactly know what to do with that information.

You pull away and San gasps for breath, eyes staring wide into yours. You smile at him softly, lips slightly swollen with the kiss, and like he’s underwater, San can kind of hear everyone screaming and whistling and whatever in the background, but when you speak, suddenly, everything is crystal clear.

“Was that okay?” you whisper.

Yes. Yes. Oh, God, yes - San nods once, twice, three times and then blushes when your smile grows wider and the sparkle he likes so much turns brighter in your eye.

Nothing he’s ever seen could be more beautiful than you right now, eyes sparkling and lips smiling under the dim lights of the party, pulling him forward for a second kiss.

. . .

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Truth or dare ends, San takes another couple of shots, and you’re somehow by his side the entire time until the party’s over. Both of you stay behind to help clean up a bit, but at around two, Seonghwa shoos the rest of you home, and Wooyoung meets up with San by the door to walk back to the apartment.

“Move it, Woo.” You appear again, shoving Wooyoung out of the way. “I’m sure San won’t mind if I walk him home instead.”

A horrible grin splits Wooyoung’s features and he nods quickly, giving San a very unsubtle wink made worse by the fact that he drank way more than San did after the game. “Sannie, do you mind?” he asks. Then, not waiting for an answer, he loops an arm through Yeosang’s, who looks very confused. “I’ll see you at home! Or not!”

You and San walk out of the house in silence, mostly because San has too many thoughts at the moment and they’re all jumbling up into one big mess. The euphoria from kissing you earlier has worn off slightly as the alcohol left his system - he’s mostly sober now - which means he’s thinking. Too much.

“San.” You look over at him, a streetlamp lighting your face. “Come on, I won’t bite.” You smile. “If you have something to ask me, you can say it.”

He blinks. Blinks again. Then, as though your words unleashed a flood in his brain, he asks -

“Did you really think I was the prettiest person in the room?”

You stare at him, eyes narrowed and surprisingly lucid given how the party went. “Yes, I did. I still do.”

Oh. Oh, okay. San feels a little like he needs to sit down. So the kiss wasn’t just a one time thing - you’d do it again, probably, if he’s interpreting your words correctly -

“Why?”

This time, you look a little incredulous when the word leaves his mouth. Then you shake your head. “You really don’t think you’re beautiful, do you.” It isn’t a question.

San ducks his head. For all his usual surfer bravado, the confident face and smile he presents when he’s about to hit the waves, he can’t seem to find the courage to look at you in this moment, to let you really see everything brewing behind his eyes.

Fingers settle under his chin and tip it up so that he’s looking at you again. “I don’t bite, San,” you remind him again, still smiling. “I happen to think you’re very pretty. Beautiful. And even though I still want to slap Yeosang over the head, I’m very glad he gave me the opportunity to show that tonight.” Your fingers walk upwards to cup his cheek the same way you did when you kissed him. “In case you were wondering, by the way, you were the one I was talking about when I said I liked someone. And I didn’t only kiss you just because you were shirtless.”

A small smile settles on San’s face. It’s strange, the way you seem to be able to read his mind without him saying anything, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it. “I like you too.”

“I know. It was a little obvious.” You laugh when San whines, going red under your touch. “I wanted to say something before, kind of ever since I saw you in that wetsuit when Hongjoong introduced us, but it felt like I’d scare you away.” You raise an eyebrow. “Am I scaring you away now?”

Are you scaring him? A little, kind of, but not in a bad way. It’s more like you thrill him, make his heart race faster and faster the longer your fingers linger on his skin. You’re not scaring him away. If anything, you’re scaring him towards you - it’s weird, but that’s the only way San can describe it. He shakes his head. “No.”

“Good.” You grin. “Because if I was scaring you, you probably wouldn’t want to kiss me, and right now I really want to kiss you again.”

Your lips meet once, twice, three times under the dull glare of the lamp on the empty street, San’s arms settling around your waist, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck. When you break away after the third kiss, eyes hooded and lips swollen enough to make San’s mouth go dry, a soft glint appears in your expression. “Want to come home with me?” you ask. “My roommate’s out of town.” San follows the movement of your eyelashes as you blink. It’s captivating. “Feel free to say no. I won't take offense.”

If it were anyone else, San doesn’t know if he’d believe them. He might stop it here politely, even tipsy as he is, and ask to just go back to his place instead. But he trusts you. Has trusted you from the day he met you. Because nothing in your words or your face ever seems to mask a lie, and besides, his fingers are itching to find their way up your shirt and somewhere else as he kisses you again and again -

He kisses you, laughing against your lips. “I guess I should let Wooyoung know I’m not coming back tonight.”

“Oh, he’ll get the message even if you don’t say anything.” Your grin is brighter than the stars. “Come on, pretty boy.” You kiss him again. “Let me show you how beautiful I think you are.”

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awkwards · 3 years

Text

Kinktober Day 3. Deep Sea Desires : Oviposition | Bakugou

Day 3: Oviposition

Title: Deep Sea Desires

Pairing: Bakugou x F!Reader

Count: 3.6k

Summary: You save a guy on the beach. Little did you know that would open your eyes to a whole world you never knew existed.

Warnings: Noncon, kidnapping, manipulation, forced breeding, oviposition, drowning

Note: man, did I spend so long trying to make tumblr accept my gif for this one ^^; Well, here we are! Also, thanks for all of the support! My inboxes are open~

There was something so beautiful about the ocean.

For as long as you could remember, your family had always called you a child of the sea. If they couldn’t find you, it was likely you were down in the sea foam. From a young age you were more comfortable in the rolling waves than on land. Whether it was being one with the waves, traversing the sandy beaches, or bathing in the sunset, it didn’t matter.

Years have gone by and your fascination has never wavered. Even after your family passed on, this was still your home.

Even now, you found yourself returning to the sandy beaches. In your stress, it never failed to calm you down.

Making your way to the secret alcove always allowed you a peace of mind. No one knew where your little cave resided. From there, you had direct access to the ocean, and the solitude away from wandering eyes of the beaches behind your home.

Today was no different. One hard breakup led to you rushing back to the comfort of your ocean.

What you didn’t expect was the body residing inside your cave.

When you finally slipped into the hidden alcove, a startled gasp left you.

A rather large man with blonde hair looked as if he had washed up on the beach, unconscious. When the water pulled away from his body, you could see a large gash in his shoulder, as if he had been speared. Blood soaked the sand beneath him.

“Oh my god!”

You rush over, hauling your bag off your shoulders. You always kept a med kit and snacks with you just in case of something like this.

Kneeling next to the man, you immediately place your hand in front of his mouth to feel for breathing. A sigh of relief floods you. At least he was still alive.

You pull your jacket off of your shoulders and quickly drop it over his nude waste, respectfully not looking at his rather large package.

Inspecting the wound, you grimace. The skin was ripped in a way that only a spear could have done so. Cleaning the wound as best as you can, you begin prepping the line to stitch him up. Not without poking yourself first. Sucking off the blood from your finger, you start. Making quick work to not disturb the man, you work diligently to stitch up the gash. His skin is so cold...

By the time you finish, the afternoon sun has sunk to a beautiful sunset. You let out a sigh, sitting back to examine your thorough work when you notice his eyes are on you. You flinch.

Vermillion eyes appear to be examining your face. They suck your breath away.

How long had he been watching you? Why didn’t he say anything? He hadn’t even flinched.

“I just finished patching you up… how did you get here? What happened to you?”

A grunt from low in his chest has your skin crawling. He uses his arm that’s okay to push himself up into a sitting position, his face directly in front of yours now. His eyes narrow.

You can feel your heart rate pick up. He’s so close, you can feel the warmth of his breath as it washes over your face.

“I’m… y/n.” You say softly. “What’s your name?”

The scowl on his face loosens just barely, as if he recognized the name. His eyes roam around the cave.

“Whoa, sir? You don’t want to move too much! You might rip the stitches.” You touch his arm hesitantly.

In an instant he turns, his arm gripping the wrist of your hand that touched him. His eyes seem to glow as he glares hard at you.

“Oh.”

It takes a second too long to realize he’s hurting you. Fear crawls up your spine as you try to pull your wrist out of his hold. His hand is huge, you realize, and he’s strong too. He doesn’t even budge as you try to yank yourself away.

A small tch sound comes from him as he lets you go. Before you can blink, he’s standing up and walking towards the mouth of the cave. You avert your eyes as your jacket drops to the sand beneath his feet. What a great ass…

Then, he just vanishes into the water.

You scrub your eyes. You’re sure you watched him walk out of the cave. Then a large wave crashed over the sand and he was just… gone.

What the fuck?

~.~.~.~

Despite the scare in the cave, you find yourself returning daily. Maybe it was in hopes of seeing the blond stranger again, maybe it was to try and tell yourself that really happened.

Besides, everytime you return to the cave, a new and pretty shell and stones appear. It’s almost as if the sea was offering you gifts. Who were you to refuse such pretty things? Today was no different. There was a perfectly round and smooth piece of gold about the size of a quarter.

Still, part of you misses the stranger. You couldn’t say why, but it was as if you’ve met him before?

Shaking that thought from your mind, you lay down in the sand, eyes watching the light from the ocean reflect off the roof of the cave. You hold onto the piece of gold in your left hand, the same one with a bruise from the stranger. It was cool to the touch.

Your eyes begin to drift closed with the water caressing your legs.

When you rouse from your sleep, it’s easy to notice a few things before you open your eyes. Even with a foggy mind you can tell something’s off.

Firstly, your body is chilled to the bone. The sun has made its descent, leaving you to the chill of the ocean’s water at night.

Second, your legs feel like they’re being pinned in place by something heavy and slick, all the way up to your hips.

Lastly, warm air seems to be rushing over your face.

Forcing your eyes to open, it takes them a moment to adjust to the darkness. In the darkness you can see glowing vermillion eyes.

Gasping, you try to yank yourself away from the blond who is laying on top of you. He’s braced on his arms next to your head, looking down at you.

“Finally.” He growls softly. His voice is too gravely to sound human. It’s jarring, enchanting.

You can’t move, and your eyes look down to see why. Your breath hitches when you see what has your legs pinned in place. You freeze, and stop moving completely.

Where his waist should be is a tail. A tail. A giant, dark vermillion tail.

Wonderment fills you. “A mer.”

Something akin to a cocky smirk covers his face. His razor sharp shark-like teeth glimmer in the moonlight as he nods. For some reason your earlier panic subsides as you take a close look at his face.

Your eyes glance down to his shoulder, no longer having any stitches. That’s strange. The only remnants of the wound is a faint white scar. Your hand trails up and runs over the white line. “How?”

“Healed.” He grunts out. You drop your hand down by the side of your head, amazed. That’s when it hits you. All of the shells. “Wait. Have you been leaving all of the shells for me?”

One of his hands moves, laying over top yours which lays vacant near your head. His palm presses into yours, and you can feel the cold of the gold piece pressed between your hands.

“You accept?” His voice gravels.

“The coin? Um. Yes. It’s very pretty.”

Something changes in his face. His eyes dilate. His breathing changes. It’s almost like his whole body shudders in excitement.

The rational part of your brain is screaming at you. You should probably be afraid of this man with razor sharp teeth and extreme strength, who you probably shouldn’t accept anything from. The other part of you is so transfixed with him, though, as if this was the world you belonged to.

Chilled by the waves lapping at your legs, brushing up to your hips, it takes you a moment to realize his hand grips yours with the coin in it. Not only grips it, but begins to tug on it as he shuffles back into the water.

“Whoa, where are we going?” You stumble, being pulled into the frigid water.

Your limbs lock up as he pulls you towards the mouth of the cave where the water is to your chest when standing.

Instead of using words, he makes a sound akin to a seal bark before yanking you into the water under the moonlight.

Gasping, you force your head to stay above water, all while he begins to drag you farther from the land.

He comes to a stop, pulling you close enough to wrap his free hand around your waist, eyes analyzing your face. The cave is much too far for you to try and swim back to now, with your body seizing from the cold. Shivers wrack every inch of skin as you press into the mer.

“Where are you taking me?”

His grin comes back. Instead of answering, you feel him wrap your hands around his neck, his wrapping around your waist as he nudges your legs to wrap around him. “Take a deep breath.”

You barely have enough time to before he launches the two of you under water. The rapid change in pressure makes you press your head against the mer, eyes shut tightly, the salt water rushing around you. You’re rapidly losing your breath. Panic rears up in your chest, sharp and choking. Your chest is already aching from the lack of air, and you’re not able to thrash against the mer as you’re dragged farther down. You’re so disoriented that you’re honestly not even sure what direction you’re going anymore; the salt burns your eyes when you try to open them, and everything is so dark that you can’t see anyways.

For a moment everything goes dizzy. This is how you die, clutching a golden nugget as a mythical creature drags you to the depths of the ocean.

~.~.~.~

Consciousness returns to you slowly and painfully.

The first thing you register is the soreness in your chest and ribs. Every deep breath is an effort, and it feels as if your lungs are actually catching fire. You inhale sharply, which only leads to you sputtering in pain. When you finally crack your eyes open, you think you’ve gone blind, the darkness refusing to fade even with your eyes no longer closed.

When you push yourself up into a seated position, it’s easy to feel that you’ve been sprawled on the wet, rocky floor of a cave. You move your head slowly to try and take in your surroundings. That’s when the darkness gives way to a glimmering blue light all around you. Bioluminescent algae offers a slight glow, and your breath gets caught at the absolute beauty of it all.

You’re sprawled on a ledge of the cave, the other half of it submerged in the most beautiful clear water you’ve ever seen. Beneath the clear water is a depth of pure darkness; it makes you shudder as fear clouds your brain again.

Regardless, you’re still alive, and the relief at still being alive fights the growing sense of unease in your mind. You can’t see an entrance to the cave, which means you have to be in an oxygen pocket somewhere far under the surface of the ocean.

A splash to the left of you practically makes you leap. You whip your head to the side to see where that noise comes from, and part of you relaxes when you see those glowing vermillion eyes. They seem even brighter from down here. You can only barely make out the top of his blond hair, his nose and everything else submerged in the endless water.

“Y/N”.

You jump at your name, the voice echoing in the cave. It’s like the water carried his voice. Instead of gravel, it was smooth and silky, making you shiver at how pleasant it was. You go to run your hands over your arms and realize the gold piece is still wrapped firmly in your hands.

“You said my name…”

“Katsuki.”

“Katsuki?” As you say his name, the sound of water rippling catches your attention, and you watch him. His body smoothly cuts through the water until his body is perched against the front of the rock.

A pleasant rumble from him distracts you, making it feel like a nice, pleasant hum echoes in your mind.

His hand, with extra long talons that you did not notice before, wraps around your ankle and pulls you closer to him.

“Where are we?” You mumble, your words suddenly feeling heavy in your mouth.

His eyes, which were still dilated greatly, turn from your legs to your gaze. “My home. Our home.”

You blink. “I’m sorry, what?”

A soft growl escapes him as he pulls his upper half out of the water far too gracefully for someone with a body like his. He lays his torso across you, his hands gripping at your waist as his nose rubs across your stomach. “You accepted my mating advances. The gifts, our blood mixing, accepting my personal token.”

Your jaw drops. You inhale so sharly that you nearly choke all over again. “I- excuse me? No. I don’t. I don’t want this- get off me!”

His chest rumbles as he nips at your hip, making you gasp and instinctively roll your hips.

“You can’t even let go of the coin,” he chuckles, his vermillion eyes latching onto yours. “It’s already starting to take effect.”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but when you feel his chest rumble again, a pleasant haze fills your mind. The heat in your blood hurts.

“Let me show you.” Katsuki leans in.

The kiss is clumsy at first, your head far too hazy and distracted. That is until you feel the stark difference between the two of you. Your body is beginning to heat up like an inferno has entered your bloodstream, and he’s cool and soft.

He pulls away from the kiss, leaving you blinking stupidly after him. He pushes your shoulders till your back is pressed into the mossy ground underneath you, and it’s so soft.

“So fucking warm,” he coos, nuzzling your throat, and running his tongue along your pulsepoint. His hands skim your sides, the claws dragging just enough to make you shudder against his chest.

His clawed hands drag up to your wet tshirt. “Stop, please.” An amused chuckle leaves his lips. Even to your own ears you sound pathetic.

His fingers tug irritably at your clothes. In his frustration, he decides to forcefully remove them, his nails easily cut through the fabric, and the wet material is yanked away from you. Followed quickly after is your shorts.

Katsuki wastes no time in exploring your soft skin, his thumbs rolling your nipples. You gasp, and can’t help but grind your hips up into him where he’s pressed in between your legs. Katsuki laughs a breathless, snarling laugh before grinding back into you, the base of his tail just under where his human half ends. He’s gripping you by the hips, grinding against you. You can’t help but twitch your hips back against his scales when he hums against your pulse point.

He slides further down your body, easily prying your legs apart. Almost all resistance is gone from you now as the fire consumes you within. “You smell good.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, burying his face between your thighs and inhaling your scent. Your hands cover your face, but don’t make any effort to pull away. His tongue is a cool salve to the heat burning you up.

When his tongue starts to prod at your clit, your whole body jerks in surprise. His tongue is cool, and it ebbs some of the heat pulsing in your veins. He pins your hips in place, his noises vibrating against your dripping pussy.

He hums loudly, licking at your slit. His tongue finds your clit, and he sucks it so eagerly, your back arches completely off the ground. You gasp, writhing in place. Your noises only encourage him, and he’s obscene with how vigorously he eats you out.

“I wonder if you’re this hot inside, too.” He murmurs.

“Oh god.” You whimper as your head swims with pleasure. You need more.

Katsuki drags himself back up to your face, chuckling before he presses his mouth to yours again.

That’s when you feel it. There’s a bump in his tail where it presses against your cunt, about where a man’s penis should be. It moves slowly, grinding into you. Then, all at once, the tip of his penis pushes out from a slit you hadn’t seen, rubbing along your folds and your stomach.

Your breath hitches when his tail grinds between your legs. Your knees fall open wider, your head swimming with heat and pleasure. He hums again as he gives languid licks along the ridges of your neck. “I’m going to mate you now.”

A moment of clarity hits you then, just briefly. “No, wait! I don’t want this. Stop -”

You gasp as the tip of Katsuki’s dick presses into you. Your eyes glance down as the slide of his dick stretches you open.

He moans long and low as he clutches your hips. Any semblance of moving slow vanishes instantly as he snaps his hips into you, bottoming out completely. You’re full.

Your vision goes white from pain and pleasure. Katsuki’s dick is big, the textured scales of his tail pressed flush against you. He pants into your neck, flexing his hips.

He pulls his hips back only to slide back in, smooth and fast. Your toes curl as your breath escapes you. His eyes are half-lidded, locked onto your face. He holds your hand that is still clutching his gold coin, and sets a brutally fast and hard pace. His rhythm is smooth, hitting so deep inside of you that it renders you completely speechless.

Breathless moans roll from you as the sound of slapping and grunts fill the cave.

“You’re so fucking warm,” he grunts out. “Gonna fill you with pups.”

His cock rubs that perfect spot inside of you, it has you hurtling near the edge. The coil is twisting so fast, you’re barely holding on.

Katsuki pushes so hard forwards, all you can do is whimper as his cockhead kisses your cervix. He snarls, his teeth latching onto your pulsepoint just shy of ripping your skin. The pain tips you over the edge. Your body convulses as pain and pleasure make your eyes roll, gasping as you rut into him.

His body goes taut as he pins you beneath him. You whimper as his cock presses past your cervix, burying deep inside your womb. That’s when you feel something else pushing into your entrance, slipping into your stretched pussy.

Eggs. You choke on a moan as they grind past your g-spot. Crying out due to the overstimulation only makes Katsuki hold you tighter, allowing the eggs to travel all the way until they plop into your womb. You cry out, cumming again at the sudden pleasure that shakes you to your core.

He lets out a deep grunt as he rocks his hips against you, two more eggs pushing past your barrier.

“Oh fuck, oh. Katsuki-” you babble mindlessly. The burn in your veins finally disappears, leaving you shaking in the aftermath of your orgams.

Katsuki gently rubs your stomach, making you cum again. He hums softly, satisfied, as his hips roll against you again with too much force. Blackness dots your vision as you feel the dizziness return to your head.

Finally, his cock twitches inside of you as cold cum fills you up, shooting directly into your womb with the eggs. He pulls out slowly, causing your whole body to shudder at the feeling.

Your hand presses against the bulge of your stomach that he’s rubbing gently, fondly.

“Pretty mate,” he coos, kissing your lips gently.

Exhaustion crashes over you instantly.

“Why did it hurt so much?” You croak softly.

His grin turns cheeky. “You can’t expect to raise a litter of sea pups on land, can you?”

Katsuki drags your limp body into the soothing cold water. You press yourself into his arms, seeking comfort. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the King of the Mer needs a Queen of the Mer.” He rolls his eyes, although his amusement is clear as day as he holds you close. “Soon, you’ll be just like me. A mer who can walk on land.”

Is that why he didn’t have a tail when you first saw him?

“Stop thinking.” Katsuki rubs your stomach again, making your whole body shiver as his hum lulls you towards the darkness. “It’s time to sleep. The change is a long one.”

You hum, drifting off to sleep as he drags you under the surface of the water.

#kinktober 2020 #awkwardskinktober #bnha x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #mermaid bakugou #TW : forced #tw : noncon #tw : dubcon #tw : oviposition #tw : breeding #tw : drowning #awkwards kinktober

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izukuwus · 4 years

Text

This is Home (NSFW)

A/N: Title references the song This is Home by Cavetown, which you can’t tell me isn’t an entire trans mood. Give it a listen, y’all. It’s one of my faves <3

This fic is part of @birds-have-teeth‘s Izumonth collab to celebrate Izuku’s birth month. For the lineup, head over here!

(izuku with binder edit and overall banner both made by me)

Summary: When your boyfriend starts distancing himself not long into your relationship, you decide to confront him and remind him just how loved he is. (trans!Izuku x reader)

Notes: Izuku is a pre-op, pre-T trans man for this fic. Reader is implied to be a cis girl. I am trans. In this fic, I am writing Izuku experiencing something I have and do struggle with and I swear to god if anyone clowns in my inbox because I wrote this I will literally fling them out the window, killing them instantly. Not on this one, assholes.

Warnings: smut, oral (reader giving), gender dysphoria, smut smut smut, I cried but you might not

Word count: 5555 (sexy)

Izuku has been avoiding you.

It's not obvious, not at first. Your honestly wonderful boyfriend is more than happy to text you good morning and good night as always, even on the nights where he goes to sleep at 4AM, and it's not as though the amount of cute emoji following the texts has changed. He still eats breakfast with you after his (very early) morning run, still eats lunch with you and your combined friend group, still eats dinner with you whenever he doesn't forget to eat. (You're working on getting him to remember to eat at all the right times.)

But one-on-one study sessions get cancelled. He now trains seemingly whenever you can't, even though you used to train together all the time. It's all the small things, like how he used to kiss you suddenly all the time whenever it was just the two of you, but now, you're hardly ever alone together often enough even if he still did. And maybe you're imagining it, but the usual sleep and wake texts are less enthusiastic than before.

You want to believe that maybe the two of you are just progressing from the honeymoon stage of your relationship, but this doesn't feel like progress.

This feels like distance.

This feels like he’s afraid to be alone with you.

You don't want to pry, but something's up with him, and you've got an inkling of exactly what. One thing's for certain, though—you're not letting him go another day thinking he can't talk to you about it. Knowing him, no matter what the issue is, he's convinced himself it would bother you for him to ask for reassurance or something to that effect.

And so, perhaps a bit shamelessly, you corner him.

Well, not physically. You're not that mean.

But when you knock on his door when you know he's there alone and he answers, you don't give him a chance to brush you off. You shove your way right into his room and take a seat on the edge of his bed.

"Talk," you demand, crossing your arms as he flusters and shuts the door behind him.

"[n-name], is something wrong—"

"Talk," you repeat, leveling a glare at him. "You've been acting weird around me lately. If it's something you're not comfortable talking about, that's okay, but if I've done something to make you avoid me, I want to talk about it and figure out how to fix it."

Izuku flinches, taking an awkward seat on his bed. (The other end of his bed. You try not to let show just how much that stings.)

"Y-you haven't done anything wrong," he forces out evenly, not looking at you. "I swear."

You shift closer to him, placing a hand over his own. "Izuku, look at me."

Green eyes meet yours. There's guilt there, and an underlying fear with a source you can only guess at.

"I love you, babe. I want to help you. You don't have to let me, but I really—fuck—" You sniff, pulling back to wipe at your eyes before you let any tears fall. "—shit, sorry. I just... I'm worried about you, and I don't want to lose you, y'know?"

He panics, crossing the distance between you within moments to pull you into a tight hug. His hand winds into your hair, the other settling in the small of your back and rubbing soothingly as he shushes you. "No, oh my god, angel, I-I never meant to make you think you did anything wrong. Really, it's not you, it's me!"

Your blood turns to ice in an instant at his words. "T-that's the kind of shit people say when they're explaining why they're breaking up with you, Izuku."

"N-no! That's not—That's not what this is. I love you too, I love you so much, I just... I'm scared, okay?" he admits, face pressed into your neck.

"Scared?"

He nods, hugging you just a smidge tighter. "Yeah. Scared."

"Of what, handsome?" You finally relax into his hold, snuggling into his shoulder with a sigh as you try to rein in the tears.

"It's probably stupid, and it doesn't really matter that much."

"Izuku babe."

"Yes?"

"Did it make you feel something?"

He hesitates before nodding slowly.

"Then it's not stupid, and it matters to me."

Izuku shudders in your arms, mumbling something you don't quite catch.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

He shifts, repeating himself just loud enough to be heard. "I wanna go further with you but I hate my body and don't want to take my clothes off to do it," he says, speaking so quickly you almost miss it a second time.

You freeze, a light blush on your cheeks. It's true that you've not gone that far with Izuku—he always seemed content just to kiss and cuddle and exchange sweet words behind closed doors, and god, you were happy just to have him in any capacity. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—there's bigger problems at hand than "your cute boyfriend wants to fuck you".

"Oh, Izu," you breathe. "You know you don't have to push yourself, baby. It's okay if you're uncomfortable with—"

"B-but I shouldn't be!" he insists, wriggling away to look into your eyes with a pained look. "I don't wanna be uncomfortable. Not with you. I just... don't know how to... how to not be, and I didn't want things to escalate if I got alone with you because then I'd probably panic and push you away and then you'd probably feel hurt a-and it'd be my fault so I was avoiding you so I couldn’t hurt you before I was ready and then–"

"Izuku," you say firmly. "Don't push yourself for my sake. I'd feel awful knowing you did something like that for me. It's okay if we just kiss. It's okay if we never kiss. What's not okay is you forcing yourself into a dysphoric breakdown because you wanted to please me. If we fuck, I want it to be something we both enjoy, and I can't enjoy it if it's upsetting you or making you uncomfortable."

He tears up, yanking you back into a hug. "I'm s-sorry, [name]."

You laugh, tangling your hands in his curls and gently working knots out with your fingers. "You don't need to apologize, baby. I love you. And you know..."

"Mm?"

You smirk, looping a curl around one finger. Perhaps deliberately, your voice drops into a seductive, teasing voice. "If your biggest problem is either of us seeing your body, there's a few solutions. No one said you had to take your clothes off when we fuck, handsome."

He squeaks, and you swear you can feel his face heating up in your shoulder when he whines. He doesn't protest, so you continue, a grin spreading across your face.

"If you don't want me seeing you, you can always blindfold me," you offer, "or we could turn the lights off, or if you don't want to have to see yourself, I could blindfold you..."

"[N-name]!" Izuku yelps, burying his face into your chest to hide. "Stoooop, oh my god–"

Laughter bubbles from your throat. "Sorry, sorry. But those were honest suggestions. If you really wanna mess around with me a bit, I'm happy to let you set the pace. We kiss as much as you want, however heavy you want... Hell, I might even be into it if you order me around a little. Who knows?"

"O-order you?" You don't have to see him to know how red his face is—you can almost feel it through your top, the rush of embarrassment displayed on his freckled cheeks.

"Mhmm. I won't do anything you aren’t explicitly okay with. And the moment you want to stop, you tell me as much, and we can stop. But you know, I'm in love with you no matter what, and that includes your wonderfully strong body and your cute, handsome face. You light up any room you enter and make me want to work hard for my future. It’s not about your body. The fact that you're hot is a bonus, not the selling point."

He sniffles gently. You carefully go back to working through his hair. "But again, no matter how you want this to go, I'm okay with it. Your comfort first, baby."

He pulls out of the hug, worrying his lip between his teeth as he watches you. "If you're really okay with it, then... i-is it okay if I just kiss you, and we feel it out from there?"

You smile softly. "Go ahead, handsome."

Despite all the kisses you've shared before, every new kiss between you is charged with affection. Izuku can't help it if he melts into every kiss you share—your lips are so soft and you smell so nice and he loves you so much! Before he knows it, he's smoothing a palm against the back of your neck and deepening the kiss, moving his lips hesitantly against your own. He parts just enough to murmur against your lips: "I love you" and "tell me if you want me to stop" and "you can touch my arms if you want". (He knows you do. You only confirm it when your fingertips immediately drag along his upper arms, appreciating the muscles there.)

Before he knows it, he's swiping his tongue against your bottom lip tentatively and pulling you into his lap. You've been more than charitable—your hands remain carefully on his arms, your tongue in your own mouth even as he explores yours. You really won't go a step further than he asks for, and his heart swells at the confirmation. When he breaks the kiss, both of you are breathing heavy, a fact which draws extra attention to the fact that he's still wearing his chest binder.

"I-I want to kiss your neck. I-it's okay if you touch me, j-just please not my chest o-or my... Um, you know."

You mock-salute, a comically serious look on your face that clashes with your flushed cheeks. "Yes, sir! No chest, no ass, no between-thighs!"

The smile that pulls at his lips is utterly love-drunk as he leans back in, first pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips and trailing tiny pecks along your jawline. When he reaches your neck, he hesitates, and you wait to slide your arms over his shoulders. "Hun?" you say gently. "Still good?"

Green eyes flick up to yours, intense but wavering. "Y-yeah. I can do this."

Without any other warning, he places a hot, open-mouthed kiss directly onto your pulse, drawing a gasp from you when his teeth graze you just enough for you to feel it. Your hands slide down his back to find purchase as he continues, switching between peppering light kisses to your neck and honestly, doing pretty much anything that won't leave a mark.

Meantime, it's all you can do to gasp and whimper as he finds all your soft spots and goes on the full attack, and his hands roam your sides, climbing up until you're sure he's going to grope you–

And then he flinches and pulls back, just slightly. There's a quiet hiss through his teeth at the movement.

You'd love to whine at the loss, and normally, you probably would. But this is Izuku, and if you're going to let him set the pace, you're damn well going to let him set the pace.

You remove your hands from him completely, watching him with concerned eyes. "Everything alright?"

His heart twists at how gentle and concerned you are. One moment, you're huffing and looking at him with nothing but lust as he kisses your neck, the next, your brow's furrowed as you search him for any signs of fear or panic.

He really doesn't deserve you.

"Do you want to stop?" you ask, voice soft in the way he's seen you use to talk to frightened animals.

He shakes his head, flattening a palm against his chest. "Sorry, sorry. M-my chest is just hurting a little."

"How long have you been binding today?" you ask without missing a beat.

A hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. "I, uh, I took it off during Hero Basic earlier..."

"And had it on all day before?" you ask, hands on your hips. "And all day since then?"

He nods sheepishly, refusing to meet your eyes.

"Izuku..." You sigh. "I said I wanted you to be comfortable, but I also want you to be safe. Please take your binder off? I can look away while you do, I just don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I..." Izuku sighs, twiddling his thumbs nervously. "A-actually, could you, um..."

"I can leave the room if it'd make you feel better," you offer.

"N-no! That's not what I meant." He wraps his arms around your waist, refusing to let you leave. "I-I, um, wanted to try..." His face is beet red, and in a panic, he buries his face in your chest to hide his embarrassment. "C-can you help me out of it?" he finally squeaks out.

"Oh, Izu. Of course I can help you." You gently maneuver his face away from your chest, carefully reaching up to work at his tie. "Let me know the second you want me to stop, okay?"

He nods, squeezing his eyes shut. "Okay."

"Would it help if I kissed you while I get your top off?"

After a long moment, he nods, hiding his blushing face in his hands. His hands stay there until you gently pull them away with a soft giggle. "I can't kiss you if you're hiding your perfect face, handsome."

He gives you a wobbly smile, and you pull him towards you with a gentle tug at his tie. You're careful not to push too far as you kiss him—soft, open-mouthed kisses that have him whining as you try furiously to get this damn knot untied. How'd he even manage to get it like this?

Nevertheless, eventually you do manage to get the knot undone and start working carefully on the buttons of his school shirt. Once you're halfway down, you pull back to murmur a soft "are we still okay?" against his lips.

He responds by crashing his lips back onto yours, a hand roaming up your side until this time, he does actually begin to palm one of your breasts over your shirt. Soon, the other hand joins him in just feeling you, and you can't help but sigh against Izuku's lips.

When you reach the lower buttons, you're careful to not let your hands get too far down as you carefully un-tuck his shirt from his pants. You have to force him to stop massaging your breasts long enough to slide his shirt off his shoulders, stopping to roll your eyes in amusement when you find him wearing an undershirt above the binder. You carefully slide the tank top off, leaving him in just his pants and the colorful All Might-themed chest binder you'd sewn for him shortly after he came out to you. Fingers reach for the zipper tab on the front, but don't close around it just yet. Not when Izuku's breathing quickens the way it does, not when his eyes widen in panic.

"Do you want me to step out while you get out of this and put something else on?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head in silence. "Please just... Wait a minute." You nod, hand slowly retreating as Izuku calms himself.

"C-can we, um, l-level the playing field a little?" he asks when his breathing is a bit steadier.

You blink in surprise. "In what way, 'Zuku?"

He drapes both arms over his face as he answers in a truthfully adorable squeak. "L-like, um, s-so I'm not the only one t-topless..."

Your smile is fond as you pat his cheek and lean in. "Can I give you a show?" you whisper.

He shivers, nodding almost too excitedly, and you pull away with a little giggle. "Stay right here." You scamper to the door, making doubly sure it's locked, and turn back with a sparkle in your eye. With his full attention on you, you cross back to him and tease at the edge of your shirt. You're slow in your movements, teasing, and his eyes are glued to you, jaw slack as you give him a mini strip-tease.

Man, it's hard to have low self-esteem with a boyfriend like yours. He drinks in the sight of you like it's the first sight of water he's had in months, adoration and awe and lust and all things positive written plain as day in his expression. When your shirt's properly discarded, you give Izuku a little wink and press a gentle, sweet kiss to his lips. "How are we feeling?"

"Good! G-great! T-this is—yeah. Yeah." His face is flushed, pupils blown. His eyes keep darting between meeting yours and somewhere lower

You quirk a smirk at him, trying not to laugh. "So am I good to unzip you, baby?"

His hands come up to cover his face, green peeking out from between his fingers as he nods. "I-I-I think I'm good."

"You sure? I don't want you to push yourself if you're not comf—"

His hand snatches your wrist, forcing the palm of your hand flat against the center of his chest. You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips. "I-if it's you, I can do this. Please."

"Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?" you hum, carefully pinching the zipper tab and pulling it down slowly. His hand doesn't leave your wrist, but he lets you, exhaling softly when you unzip his binder all the way and free his chest from its confines after a long day.

Izuku panics. Not in the way he feared—he doesn't shove you away, doesn't run, doesn't freeze. But he panics all the same, dragging you into a hot, open-mouthed kiss before you can look at him, before he can see your disgust, before you can make fun of him or change your mind or or or or—

Gentle hands slide the binder off his shoulders with an appreciative hum. You're gentle as you straddle his waist, hands tangling in his hair, and when you go to pull back, he chases your lips. You giggle, trying to pull away to speak, but Izuku's too scared to let you—he almost whines as he continues pressing his lips against yours.

"Everything good, sweetheart?" you ask as best you can amidst his onslaught.

"No—" slips out from his lips. "—I need you to keep kissing me."

"Hm, I can do that. But tell me if something's wrong, okay?" You punctuate your question with a kiss to his nose. He responds by meeting your lips once more.

He pauses, tugging you into a hug moments after breaking the kiss. "I'm a little scared right now," he admits. "You wouldn't... Hate me for how I look, right?" Tears brim in his eyes and wet his voice as he whispers.

"Never in a million years, Izuku. You're always going to be my handsome, strong boyfriend, until you decide you don't want me around anymore. I love you for who you are, not who you want to be, and I'll tell you as many times as it takes."

His arms shake around you. "Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too," you whisper, slowly pulling back as he releases you. "Is it okay if I kiss you, baby?"

"We were already kissing," he says, trying not to laugh.

You press a slow, sensual kiss to his neck. "I know," you breathe out in open, hot breaths, delighting in the way he shivers. "I meant... escalating."

"O-oh." His face is red, as if it could ever stop being red, and you break into a grin when he nods sheepishly. "I-if you want..."

"I very much want." You nod quickly, dragging your nails along his upper arms and around to his shoulders. Goosebumps follow in your wake. "If you'll let me, I'd like to show you all the parts I love about you. But first?"

"M-mm?"

"Say 'yellow' if you need me to pause or 'red' if you want us to stop entirely, alright? The moment you want me to stop. If you aren't sure, 'yellow'. Please? I don't want to cross any boundaries with you."

"Safewords. Okay, I-I think I can do that. Yellow to pause or slow down, red to stop." He nods slowly, a determined pout on his face. You grin and shoot him an adoring gaze before returning to his neck, one hand finding his to intertwine your fingers. His hand trembles in your grasp, but when you squeeze his hand to reassure him, he's quick to squeeze back. "Green to keep going?"

You nod.

"Okay. I'm okay."

You're slow and careful as you begin to kiss down his body, trailing along his jaw and each shoulder. The pads of your fingers massage along the lines where the seams of his binder had been digging into his skin, eliciting shivers beneath your fingertips. Intermittently, he squeezes the hand you've kept intertwined with his, letting out shaky gasps when you drag your tongue back up to his neck.

"You're doing so well," you purr. It's hard to keep your free hand in one place–you drag it back up to indulge in the fluffy curls atop his head only a moment before lightly dragging your nails down his spine.

Next, you trail your lips back down to his chest, pausing to toy briefly with his chest as he lets out a cascade of moans. "[N-name]..."

"Mm?" Your eyes meet his innocently as you lathe your tongue over his nipple, your heart skipping at the lusty, adoring look on his face. You release him from your mouth with a small pop!, tilting your head. "Still good?"

"No, come back," he whines, tugging at your hand.

A giggle escapes you. "Well, since you asked so nicely..."

He shudders as you dive back in, switching to take his other nipple into your mouth. With your closest hand still occupied in holding his, you aren't able to play with the side you'd previously been kissing at, but Izuku doesn't seem to mind as he practically pushes his chest into your face with another gasp.

Soon, all too soon, you continue in your journey to kiss every inch of Izuku's body, palming at his chest and placing one soft kiss against a freckle situated just above his heart. You giggle when you feel his pulse jump beneath your lips before moving on, pressing kisses in a line down the center of his chest until you've found soft skin.

Your free hand finds his belt, toying with the buckle as you get off his lap and rest on the floor in front of him. "Color?"

He eyes you warily, running his thumb across your hand in a way that feels more like he's soothing himself than you. He doesn't answer.

"Izuku, I need to know if this is okay. If you don't answer, I'll stop."

"Y-yellow," he admits meekly. "I-I think it's easier if I don't think about it, but I just... I want this to happen but every second I'm reminded of all the ways this could end in you leaving me, a-and..."

You immediately move your hand away at his admission. "Thank you for telling me. You’re overthinking it, hun. I’m not gonna leave you. Can I help you at all?"

"Distract me?" He pouts at you, leaning down for a kiss. He's even so bold as to slip his tongue into your mouth as you fumble with his belt buckle one-handed, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down your bare back until you finally manage to get his belt unbuckled and his pants unbuttoned. Once he's unzipped, you smooth your hand over the small of his back, sitting up on your knees to press into the kiss.

Getting him out of his pants with one hand is a challenge, but you make it work, leaving him to toe off his socks and sit there in a loose pair of boxers, looking nervous and innocent and adorable but mostly just scared.

Now that you've got him mostly undressed, you can finally move back to your mission of making him feel utterly loved and working away that fear of his, littering his stomach and sides with tiny pecks and nibbles that have him giggling as he tries (and fails) to squirm away from your onslaught.

"Great job so far," you mumble, nuzzling your nose into his side playfully. "You're really brave, 'Zuku."

He gasps for air between his laughter, scarcely gaining enough time to breathe before you finally relent enough to let him catch his breath. "I love you," he pants out when he finally gets a chance to look down at you. "Thank you."

"I love you more~" you practically sing, punctuating your sentence by blowing a puff of air at his stomach. He squirms, trying not to laugh any more than he already has. You reach up, gently caressing his cheek, and he presses into your touch. "Color?"

Izuku gnaws at his lip. His face is flushed, cheeks flaming red as he pants. After a long moment that you can only imagine is filled with thoughts too fast for anyone else to understand if only they could hear, he speaks. "Green."

A single soft kiss as your hand slips beneath his boxers, giving his ass a teasing squeeze before sliding them off his legs. His tongue slips in your mouth and roams freely as your hand caresses his inner thigh, until all that's left for you to do other than tease him relentlessly is go for broke. You break free from the kiss, watching his face with a smile as you drag a single finger up his slit, finding his clit with ease once you dip between the folds.

No anxiety rears its head now. His jaw goes slack, eyes squeezed tight with pleasure as you slowly rub his slit, a red flush crawling from his cheeks and down his neck as he tries not to moan too loudly. "[n-name]~"

"Hm?" you purr, pausing your finger as it circles his dripping heat teasingly. "Do you need to stop, green bean?"

"N-no!" His eyes snap open, shooting you a pleading, desperate look. "P-please, green, I need more—"

You drop to sit on your knees in front of him, gently spreading his legs to sit between them. "If you're sure, baby. Thank you for asking nicely."

The only sound that escapes him when you finally, finally lean forward and dart your tongue between his folds is a drawn-out moan. Instantly, his free hand finds your head, tangling through your hair and pulling you close. You welcome the momentum, slipping your tongue inside him and using your thumb to rub small circles against his clit. He moans and writhes against your mouth, hips bucking so uncontrollably you're half-tempted to wrap your free arm around his waist and hold him down as you work him up. (If he didn't still have his fingers entwined with yours, you probably would.)

When it gets too much and you're running out of air, you pull back, panting and gazing down at him in appreciation as he whines. "[naaaaame], I was so—"

"Shh," you coo, replacing your tongue with two deft fingers. "I just need a sec to breathe. You're doing so well, Izuku."

His walls pulse around your fingers at your words, green eyes shining with tears that almost make you stop completely if not for the fact that he's still trying to fuck himself on your fingers. You curl them experimentally, brushing against a spongy spot inside him that has him keening and thrashing against you. You re-position clumsily, dragging him into a kiss to muffle his noises as you continue to assault his g-spot. It’d be bad if someone heard the two of you, after all.

It's not long after that that you manage to push him over the edge, his pleasured moans spilling into your mouth as his walls flutter around you. A scarred hand squeezes around yours tightly as he manages to babble your name. You pump your fingers into his dripping cunt just a little bit longer, giving him something to ride out his orgasm on until his moaning turns into whimpers and his hips still. You smile softly when, upon trying to pull away to sit in a less awkward position, he pulls you back to kiss you again

You slowly remove your fingers from him, taking the small window he gives you to sit beside him on the bed and kiss the scar on his hand. His shoulders shudder as you pull him into your lap and a tight hug. "You did so well, Izuku," you coo into his ear.

He sniffles and would have launched himself at you if not for the fact that he was already as close as he could get—his arms lock you into place, snuggling into you tightly as he sobs.

"Is everything okay, Izu? What’s got you upset, green bean?" You carefully wipe your fingers on the sheets before beginning to card your fingers through his hair.

"I-I don't—I don't know! I'm sorry, I—"

"Shh, it's okay. You're okay, Izu. You did so well." You begin to pepper his temples in light kisses.

"I-I always thought that—that I'd never get any of this. That if I ever—ever found someone like you and loved them and they actually loved me, that they'd never... 'cus I'm... f-for a lot of reasons, they wouldn't ever want to do anything like this with me," he babbles, finding every word more difficult to force out than the last. "They'd... they'd get to this point and then they'd realize that this isn't... that I'm not what they want. What they ever wanted. But... this is real. It is, isn't it?"

"It's real, Izuku."

He breaks at that. "Thank you. I'm sorry. I love you."

You patiently run your fingers through his hair, working through any knots you find and trying not to let yourself cry with him. "It's okay, baby. I love you too."

"I'm sorry," he repeats. Hot tears begin to drop onto your shoulder as he tries to bring himself even closer. "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for, honey," you insist. "Really."

"I-I never thought I'd be..." He trails off, lets out another sob.

Your heart wrenches, and you smooth your hand over his back. "Loved?"

His silence speaks volumes.

"Oh gosh, Izu." You want to hold him close, to kiss him until he forgets every self-deprecating thought he's ever had. But you're already holding him, already as close as you can get, and genuinely, if you see his face right now, it won't be long before you're also bursting into tears. So you stay there, rubbing circles into his back as you search for the words—any words—to help him understand just how you feel. "You know I love you, right? I said it earlier, and I'll say it as many times as you need me to."

"I love you too," he mumbles, his tears finally beginning to subside. You wriggle your way from him, just enough to press soft kisses to his face.

"I mean it. More than anything, I love you. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for being honest with me, and thank you for confiding in me." With every "thank you" and "I love you", you pause to press another kiss to his face. The wrenching in your chest finally subsides when, after the fourth tiny kiss, he lets out a giggle. "Thank you for existing, baby. I'm so fucking glad I met you, and even if we'd never done this, even if we'd never gotten together, I'd still be glad I met you. You're loved, Izuku, and I'll remind you every day, every hour, if you need me to. As often as it takes for you to never question it again."

"Thank you. Sorry."

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his nose. "Stop apologizing. We here at [name], Inc. are of the official opinion that Mister Izuku Midoriya has never done anything wrong, ever, and will not be accepting constructive criticism at this time."

Finally, a proper laugh bubbles from his throat, and he finds it in himself to smile at you—complete, adoring, loving. He even lets himself believe it as the two of you lay down cuddled up to each other.

As long as he's by your side, he thinks he can continue to believe it.

He's complete. Adored. Loved.

#midoriya izuku x reader smut #izuku midoriya x reader smut #deku x reader smut #trans izuku midoriya #bnha x reader smut #not sfw #my fics

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mochii0park · 3 years

Text

meraki; chapter 01 I jhs

Title: Meraki

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader / Jin x Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: angst I fluff

Pairing: literaryscout!hoseok x writer!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: Throughout your whole life you lived in your sister’s shadow, watching from side-lines as she formed herself into a successful businesswoman with an envying life. Never being able to fill her shoes you gradually understood the meaning of an estranged family and the burden it carried. The twenties began slowly slipping from your grasp which had been embedded with insecurities and longing for fulfilment. Pouring your heart out to strangers with a pseudonym meraki, you began second guessing the decision when an email lands in your inbox.

Author's note: unedited, it's 2am I'll reread it tomorrow

Taglist: if you want to be added to the taglist message me

@namsope32 , @cuteipat , @ofvopemin

Masterlist

Meraki masterlist

< intro | chapter 02 >

Seokjin got engaged and moved to the USA.

Your lanky fingers hover over the keyboard, the reality of the situation still lingering in the air. The send button felt heavy, as if the action would make a shift in your universe. You have already made mends with how things were going between you, but it still felt crushing.

Sucking up the little pride you had left after lying to your friend, you push the button and lock the phone hoping to gain some sanity in your walk back to the apartment. It had been a regular night out with your friends. Coffee chitchat alongside freshly baked cookies which you got as an apology for being late.

Your mutual friends felt the need to notify you of the sudden change in Seojkin’s life, wanting you to hear it from them first. Pushing it to the back of your mind as nothing but an additional fact, you continue through the night with a smile. That lasted until you the rounder the corner.

Seokjin had been your friend through university and even later as you grew up and struggled to make ends meet. You had been there for him when his girlfriend of five years decided to dump his ass having a shift in her feelings towards him. You mended his heart through late night talks and rides across the city. He was your kiss partner after breakups, picking up your self-esteem and gluing it together. In conclusion, Seokjin was your everything. If only the feeling was mutual.

Days before deciding to confess to him, he blasts your phone with messages about a girl that pulled all the strings in his heart and awoke oceans of memories. Kim Jisoo was his high-school crush with whom he lost contact after entering his last relationship. Reconciling through social media the two hit off where they last left it and suddenly you became the dust under his shoes.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months of not seeing him. With a deeply rooted pain in your chest and a jealousy for the new girl in his life you stepped down allowing Jisoo to consume his being. Afterall who were you than a mere friend, easily replaceable.

The last slap came when you drunkenly confessed, having enough of their roller coaster like relationship. That was the last time you’ve heard of Seokjin’s teary-eyed voice telling you goodbye over the phone. No matter how many times he told you this sounded like the end and the suffering he felt was unbearable; it was nothing compared to the sound of your heart shattering into pieces.

Sehun told you many times that the timing was so off it made him uncomfortable, but that’s the thing about you and Seokjin. Everything was off with the two of you. From kisses to cuddles to nudes after midnight to serious conversations about pineapple pizza. Friends don’t do that, is what you kept telling yourself when the feelings for him slowly grew from platonic to romantic.

In midst of your thoughts your phone rang. Sehun the attachment dealer flashed across your phone. Giggling at the memory of how the nickname came to be, a warm feeling nest itself inside your chest. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“I left the Howl Cafe, I’m near home.”

He hums, the sound of the blinker echoing in the distance. “I’m there in five. Meet me at the bus station at beginning of your street.”

There were instances when disobeying Sehun felt like the biggest thrill of your life but right now when feelings you couldn’t pinpoint ran through you clouding your judgement, Sehun felt like a silver lining. As you wait for him to arrive, you can’t help but scroll through your phone in search for that one picture of Seokjin.

The only one you’ve saved after your last conversation. He was leaning against the wall of the bakery, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. His bleached hair fell over his rimmed glasses giving him an emo vibe. It was somewhere around three am when you’ve taken this photo.

Both of you exhausted from running aimlessly around the city. He begged you to visit this bakery at the top of a hill, assuring you about the quality of their goods. You remember that night vividly, how you would steal a kiss or two in the shadows hiding from the reality. How he would woo you with his terrible French accent and you would answer him in your broken German.

You miss him. You miss him to the point where it physically hurt.

Sehun honks ever so caring about the people sleeping peacefully in their homes. He bursts into laughter at your jumpy reaction making you feel annoyed as you lock your phone. Settling yourself in his car you wait for his I told you so, but it never comes. Instead, he turns on his Spotify playlist clicking on Olivia Rodrigo’s good 4 u blasting it a such high volume all thoughts you had were overridden with the upbeat song.

Sehun had been your friend for the same amount Seokjin was. The two knew each other through a few short encounters, for some reason they never crossed paths for longer than ten minutes. For that you were thankful. The song comes to a finish and Sehun observes you from his seat. The lights of the city painted on the window illuminated your face, giving him a prefect view of your perplexed expression.

“How are you feeling?”

You knew he would ask this question, after all the sole reason you were driving on a highway was because of your damped mood but in whole honesty you didn’t know the answer.

“A part of me had expected it. He talked about marrying her, but he also talked about wanting to drop everything and own a cottage in Sweden.”

“Your taste in men is terrible. Remember Mark? The guy who had so many career goals but couldn’t leave his house because he thought having a life outside work was overly distracting for his oh so important career as IT support at ZARA? Or Mino who was so high you couldn’t recognise him when he dropped the weed after your breakup.” Sehun snorts.

You roll your eyes at him. Surely your boyfriend track wasn’t the best but it’s not like you seek out boys with issues, it seems that they attach themselves to you and you can’t get rid of them without a major heartbreak. “Whatever.”

Sehun stretches forward pulling your favourite chocolate bar out of the compartment, throwing it in your lap. You smile, munching on it as you switch the song to Zayn and Sia’s Dusk Till Dawn.

“I just expected him to inform me.”

Sehun shakes his head. “I am not sure why you expected that. You two haven’t shared one conversation in two months. You’ve asked for space when he told you he can’t choose between you and Jisoo. Plus, that was a dick move to be honest making him choose between his girlfriend and his best friend.”

“Space,” you emphasise,” not utter silence. He didn’t move two fucking blocks Sehun. He moved to a whole fucking country without telling a soul. Our mutual friend finds out through an Instagram story. Fucking Instagram. And I don’t care, he was a dick that started this charade might as well end it.”

By now you were fully shouting, the tears that threatened to spill before now rushing down your face. In this moment you didn’t care much about Sehun’s awkwardness regarding tears and crying, that was pushed aside when he backed Seokjin’s decision and pissed all over yours.

“Y/N,” he whispers, turning down the volume as you whimper, “there is not much you can do. You must respect his decision. You can’t force someone to love you.”

It was your turn to huff at the stupidity of his words. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t go about kissing people. Respect decision? Fuck that. Did he respect me when he made a fool out of me?

“No.”

Sehun exhales knowing that in this case you weren’t in the right mind to have a rational conversation. Seokjin was your weak point, he knew that much. Your emotions began to pour out, leaving you a sobbing mess in his car.

“Look, I can’t stop you from having all sort of emotions for him. I can only advice you to turn off your phone for tonight and give yourself time to process the information before doing anything you might regret.”

“I won’t blast his phone with insulting messages if that’s what you think.”

“Good, also don’t eat out your emotions. You can’t stand too much sugar in your system.”

“Thanks doctor. I’ll just write out my emotions instead.” You say leaning into the seat, closing your eyes as you listen to the music.

“You still write on that blog?” You can hear some amazement in Sehun’s voice, and you know it’s not to mock you but to praise you for managing to stay faithful to one thing this long. You had a reputation for giving up on things in early stages because you couldn’t finish them perfectly.

The rest of the ride was spent with you eating out your emotions with the food Sehun bought from your local fast-food restaurant. Not much was said between you and him as he drove into the night letting you process the whole situation, only dropping you off at home when you felt yourself calming down.

Once in the confides of your room you strip yourself of any pent-up emotions letting all the pallet of different feelings overran you. Taking a pen, you let your heart pour into endless words scribbled away in your notebook. When you’ve felt empty the high gone, you take your laptop opening the site you’ve a long time member of. It came to you on Instagram in a form of a poorly done advertisement. It was a website for people wanting to share their poetry with strangers.

At first, you’ve done what you always do: began self-doubting your poems and their worth. Most of them were written in a spur of a moment when you felt like you would burst from the number of things you felt. But one night, when sleep couldn’t come to you and the pain of losing the person you held dear lingered in the air threatening to choke you; you signed in posting your work. It was raw and you suddenly felt exposed and naked in front of the world.

That’s how Meraki came to be. How your pseudonym became your shield, allowing you to burden it with any thought or emotion you’ve felt. In the online world Meraki was a fierce writer, letting her readers know of the pain and suffering she felt. In real world Meraki was an introverted person hiding herself from anyone willing to come close.

____

It was a hot Wednesday morning when you’ve gotten an e-mail from your sister informing you of her whereabouts. Due to your mother’s work preventing her from traveling, she decided to pay you a visit instead; much to your delight. The days to her wedding were numbered and so was your sanity.

Luckily for you she and her fiancée decided to stay with your parents.

The thought of her roaming the halls of the only place you’ve managed to cover in comfort was disturbing you. It wasn’t that you hated your sister but although you’ve dealt with your own insecurities some parts of the trauma still hung over you.

You’ve managed to avoid her for a good number of days since she landed in Seoul but now a week later you ran out of excuses. That’s how you found yourself sitting in a posh sea food restaurant, juggling your anxiety during the family dinner.

The last time you saw your whole family was at your grandfather’s birthday (which happened six months ago). The event left a bad taste in your mouth after you’ve spent majority of time listening to your sister’ success only receiving attention when she addressed you.

Solar and her fiancée Minho discussed the menu as they skimmed through different meals. You have been so busy staring at one spot that you’ve never noticed the waiter taking orders.

“Y/N?” Solar spoke catching your attention.

“One chicken fillet for me please.” You were so preoccupied with different thoughts you never saw what they had to offer therefore you went with your go-to food.

The moment the waiter leaves the table with the menus, your mother scoffs. “Aish you’re eating chicken again, we’re in an exclusive sea food restaurant and you’re embarrassing us. “

“Mother, let her eat what she wants.” Solar interrupted your mother’s complaining, switching the topic to her wedding dress. Your mother beamed at the photos she showed her.

It was somehow sad how much power Solar had over your parents. One word was enough to ease them into doing whatever she liked whilst you had to beg and crawl your way and even then, you were no match for her.

You felt severely out of the place. The two talking about preparations while your father and Minho gushed over their new apartment in Tokyo. You sat there in your chair counting down minutes until you could leave. Any other day you wouldn’t bother to attend the dinner but now Solar insisted you showed up. Something about the sight of her family warming her heart, bunch of bullshit.

“How are you doing Y/N?” She asks ignoring your mother as she mumbles under her breath about your bad habits, one being smoking.

You took up smoking in your last year of university when the pressure of getting a master’s degree and balancing your parents had been too much to take in. A lot of your friends decided to find comfort in weed, but you never understood the thrill of it. Rather than spending enormous amounts for just one puff, you could buy a pack of cigarettes and still have money left for some booze.

“Not much, same old same old.” You answered pushing your nervousness away.

There wasn’t much happening in your life. You’ve started a job in a bookstore and spent your free time either with Sehun or Jihyo.

“How’s Seokjin?”

That one question had caught the table’s attention and suddenly you felt a terrible need to smoke one. Your families were acquainted through work, your fathers working together on a project. They had been shocked when they discovered that you and Seokjin had been close friends for a long time.

“He’s fine.”

“I heard he got engaged,” Your mother spoke up,” to Kim’s daughter Jisoo. Ah what a wonderful being that one is.”

“Oh?” Solar gave your mother a perplexed look narrowing her head at you. You played with the glass in front of you, the object suddenly becoming interesting.

“I thought you and he were dating.” Minho joined, telling the words that were stuck on the tip of your sister’s tongue.

“Y/N and Seokjin? Don’t make me laugh. They are worlds apart. Seokjin is so focused on his career while our Y/N thinks writing will make her a fortune.”

Taking a sip of water, you try your best to wash away the nasty words threatening to leave your mouth. Your parents never approved of your career choice not that you even cared about their opinion.

Solar hums pulling her lips into a straight line. “I’ve must’ve mistaken then. I was sure I saw you-“

“Here is your food.”

And that’s how you were saved from the embarrassment of having to explain to your sister that what she saw was imagination playing tricks on her and not you and Jin making out in front of your house. It was awkward enough when she pestered you about it the next day.

The conversation takes on a different dynamic and you breathe out in relief. You were still trying to process the news and talking about him wasn’t helping your soul. You gather yourself before your façade could fall and mask it with a stoic expression continuing your countdown till desert when Sehun would call you for an “emergency”.

Right on time you think as your phone began to ring.

You pretend to gasp covering your mouth to show concern as Sehun sputtered nonsense. He kept talking about his trip to the gym and how his feet hurt from all the exercise he did while you tried not to show disgust as explained in detail how hit his little finger against a metal device . Solar shot you a worried look as you excused yourself from the table.

“And the award for the best actress goes out to Y/L Y/N” Sehun pitches once you close the door of the restaurant. Shooting a quick apology message to Solar, you jump into his car deJa’vu hitting you.

“I should get paid for spending so much time with you.” Sehun dripped in sweat, his black shirt sticking moistly to his body, hair pushed back.

You shrugged falling into a comfortable silence. Half an hour later he stops at the number 13, the windows of your house distinguishable by the large number of flowers catching last rays of Sun before the night settles.

“That will be 100 won and a Mcdonald’s later when you’re free.”

“Yeah, not happening” you tell Sehun, already halfway out of the car, rucksack slipping from your shoulder.

He raises a brow at you.” I am not your personal driver Y/N. I had to leave my girlfriend to drive you back.”

You scoff as you roll your eyes at him.” I’ve told you to call me for an emergency. There was no picking up included.”

He mimics your words mockingly before pressing the gas pedal leaving you behind him. Unlocking your apartment door, you’re greeted with your dog sleeping in the hallway not giving you a second glance as you pass over him. Haku’s snores echo through the empty apartment warming your heart. The Shiba became your companion two years ago when you were going through a rough patch. It took some time for you to get used to each other but now you couldn’t image not having his snot buried into your business.

Turning on the lights you sit at the kitchen table pulling your leg up to rest your head on the knee. Opening your laptop, you see a few notifications popping up on the sideline about your recent orders. Just when you were about to close the notification center you see one mail standing out. The name Jung Hoseok makes you jolt in your seat.

Dear writer aka meraki,

I hope this e-mail find you well. My name is Jung Hoseok, I’m the CEO of ZER Publishing company. I’ve taken interest in your poetry and would like to have a meeting to discuss a possible collaboration between us.

Kind regards,

Jung Hoseok

The scream that came from you couldn’t possibly be human. Closing the laptop as if it will burn you, you throw it on the sofa choosing to avoid it until tomorrow.

You didn’t know how he found you giving that any personal information on the site was strictly private. Pacing back and forward you facetimed Sehun. He picks up after three very long rings making your heart beat erratically against your chest.

“I swear to God if this is another one of your emergency calls.” Sehun stands there in nothing but a towel hugging his waist. He moves to the other side of the bathroom, bare feet pacing against the marble floor.

“I got an e-mail.”

He curses, his voice muffled from the towel pressed against his face. ” You called me to tell me about a mail?”

“Not any mail, Sehun. I was contacted by Jung Hoseok.” You whisper still walking back and forward, Haku following every step of yours. Sehun tries not to pay close attention to you, getting slowly dizzy from all the commotion.

“And something tells me I should know who that is?”

You halt taking a moment to stop yourself from starting a conversation about common knowledge again, it was a sour subject. “He messaged through the mail used for Meraki.”

This time Sehun is quite for a few seconds taking in your words. You don’t see him, but you can hear deodorant spray and shuffle of clothes. “How? Isn’t that private?”

“Yes.”

And suddenly the anxious feeling was back. The poems you wrote there were strictly private, the mention of your love life and your hardships with your family were never meant to be linked back to you. You’ve checked the websites policy not wanting anyone to associate you with the account. If that were to happen you can immediately start packing your things to move to another continent.

“I am sure he didn’t hack it; nobody is that desperate. Maybe he contacted the website owner?” Sehun takes his phone, hair freshly washed strands falling over his face. He moves from the bathroom to the kitchen placing you carefully , so you could see the whole room.

You think for a second, there was a possibility. “Isn’t that a violation of my privacy?”

“I can try to read out the rights and policy. Come up with a text signed as your lawyer but Y/N” Sehun’s voice is soft, something he did to calm you down. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, eyes having an internal battle, the look you’ve seen on him in rare moments.

“Yes?”

“I am sure if you refuse, he won’t bother you. I am also sure you don’t have much to lose if you agree.”

____

Hoseok was on his fifth coffee by noon, deprived of any sleep last night. He was starved for a good literature piece that would leave him in myriad emotions. Sadly, he came up with an empty line. He spent his days cocooned in the corner of Suho’s café reading page by page poetry that awoke no emotion except irritation. He was on the brink of losing his mind.

Suho slides into the booth, careful not to startle Hoseok.” Have you found anything?”

Hoseok ruffles his hair before resting his head in his hands. He was desperate enough to visit fanfiction sites in hopes of stumbling upon work that had the spark.

“Maybe you should take a break? Visit those open mic nights where people recite their poems?”

Hoseok shakes his head having already used that option last week. “I’ve been to three mic nights and not one was interesting. I am on a verge leaving everything behind to become a stripper. Yoongi did say I have an amazing body."

Sehun by now used to his friend’s dramatic antics shrugs his shoulder.” You should really take a break. You’ve been searching for a month now.”

Hoseok wished he could take a break, but the existence of his firm lay in his hands. That enough gave him tremendous worry pushing him way above his limits.

“I know but if I don’t find a good piece in a month, I can close the firm. Do you know what that means? Hundreds of people losing their job.” Hoseok wasn’t the one to crumble under pressure but now he felt like crying. Suho offered him a smile he’s seen before, the pity smile. Patting his shoulder he gets up at the sound of doors opening ,customers swarming in.

At the end of the day Hoseok thinks everything has turned against him. His laptop dies in the middle of reading, and he discovers he forgot his charger at home. In all the despair and anger he accidentally knocks over the mug spilling coffee over important documents and his newly bought jeans. The stain will probably leave a small burn that he wasn’t ready to face today. He’ll take care of it tomorrow.

On the side Suho observes his restless friend. He felt bad for not being able to help him more, but he already used all his resources and sent them anonymously to his mail only for Hoseok to turn it down.

Sehun walks into the café with his gym in one hand and candy in the other, drops of sweat forming on his forehead. He was waiting for a call from Y/N, prepared to jump into his car at any second. He greets Suho, his sight landing on an exhausted Hoseok bumping his head repeatedly against the table lightly. He hoped to never reach this point of insanity.

“What’s his problem?”

Suho follows Sehun’s line of sight. Hoseok sits in the booth, forehead rested against the table. Both his mind and body were tired, and the clock was ticking. “He needs to find a good poetry piece to publish otherwise he’s toast.”

In that moment Sehun weights his options. He knew how self-conscious you were about your work thinking it lacked emotion and quality and this seemed like a good opportunity to prove you otherwise. On the other hand, there was the issue with people closely linked with your poems. He takes his time picking between different sugars, steering the coffee slow enough to buy him at least one more minute.

Pushing the bills to Suho he takes a sip. “There is a website called Nora, it had lots of good poetry. I've read some.”

Suho nods following Sehun out of the café promising to deliver the message to Hoseok. Once locked up he slides back into the booth watching Hoseok pack his belongings ready to call it a day. “This costumer told me about Nora site. You should give a shot.”

“Nora?” Hoseok mocks, he heard of all the websites used for writing but Nora didn’t ring a bell.

“I think it’s new. I’ve never heard of it but he seemed sure of his words. The worst that can happen is he lied and knowing Sehun that’s unlikely.”

Hoseok nods eager to go back home to his cat Nobus and prepare himself a warm bath to release the tension built up in his muscles. Waving goodbye to Sehun, he exits the shop from the back door and turns on the engine of his car driving away to the beat of classical music easing him.

Entering his small apartment located in the centre of Seoul, he throws his shoes to the side not bothering for order tonight. Slouching himself on the couch he pets Nobus, the cat bumping his head against his arm purring softly. With eyelids half closed he opens the website on his phone, picking poetry as his preferred category.

Selecting a random writer he opens the first poem, eyes scanning the text.

I love you like the habit I picked up in college of sleeping through lectures or saying I’m sorry when I get stopped for speeding because I drink a glass of water in the morning and chain-smoke cigarettes all through the day because I take my coffee Black and my milk with chocolate because you keep my feet warm though my life a mess I love you because deep down I know you'll never be mine again (author of the poem: Nikki Giovanni, I added three last sentences)*

With every word that Hoseok took in he felt himself back in university, all drunk on the idea of loving the girl that sat two seats in front of him during microeconomics. He relives the ecstasy of having love running through his veins, he feels the desire under his fingertips for just one touch, he crumbles at the pain of finding her kissing his best friend. Hoseok feels like his heart had been ripped apart with just few simple letters placed in a neat poem.

He sees the words meraki scribbled in a messy handwriting under the poem and he feels as if his prayers have been answered.

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relaxxattack · 3 years

Note

(i dont care to do c! tags bc theres. so many characters. if i dont say cc! then im talking abt the characters) normally i am not one to think much about the syndicate bc outside of ranboo being there to protect tubbo the syndicate Frustrates me a bit but. if phil starts to realize just how fucked over tubbo got by schlatt being erased from the narrative (and especially how shittily techno has treated tubbo) then i really hope they lean into like. the fact that the syndicate may soon turn into phil, niki, ranboo, and possibly the mystery member (im including mystery member mostly because i think tubbo is on good terms with almost everyone except like. dream, possibly wilbur but we'll see, and like the eggpire ppl but none of them are likely options but it is possible that the mystery member could just be neutral) all like. wanting tubbo to be safe and phil is *just* reasonable enough that i think he'd realize how unfair it is for tubbo to have been subjected to so much shit just for techno to introduce even more fear and the need to hide in his life

like phil already keeps the bee duo marriage and michael a secret, he lets tubbo come over and while of course its mostly from the semi lore vibes phil seems vaguely fond of tubbo already (i dont think phil and tubbo have father/son vibes tho, more just like. tubbo is just That Kid that adults cant help but adore even though the kid will rob them of house and home. slightly amused elder watching a tiny fucking gremlin make sex jokes and talk about soviet russia), niki from what i remember still cares about tubbo (probably because she cant redirect any anger towards him without realizing how unjustified it would be kcnsks she can come up with excuses for hating tommy but tubbo didnt do anything that niki has a problem with outside of her maybe having a bad view on butcher army if she knows about it?), ranboo is. ranboo. i dont need to clarify. and then like said theres a very low possibility of the fifth member *disliking* tubbo or being unable to sympathize with him.

people talk a lot about how techno needs to lose in a way that he cant easily come back from without introspection and i think while the rest of the syndicate standing up for tubbo would increase technos grudge against tubbo initially its also like. something that i think would maybe force techno to see tubbo as a person because now theres nothing techno can box (haha gettit. tubbox tubbo in a box tubbo getting boxed into certain roles by people who refuse to let him out techno esp doin this teehoo) tubbo into that wouldnt just. acknowledge that tubbo is a person. hes not apart of the government anymore, not planning any failed revolution, the most negative title to his name is being one of the nuke makers but even then thats out of fear and safety and techno knows that. otherwise tubbos current crimes are nothing thats special to tubbo (like. stealing and searching for evidence in ppls homes and stuff, the latter of which techno doesnr even know about). right now tubbos a husband, a father, a friend, a kid, *ex*-government, a person. and just.

i think that with how much foreshadowing about tubbos execution no longer being a secret amongst the witnesses and tubbo himself and soon being something that people close to techno like phil and ranboo know about as well (in that i want phil to learn that techno did it and for ranboo to learn about it in general bc hes just biased enough for tubbo and just smart enough that i think even if somehow he wasnt told who did it he could figure it out), and with the fact that tubbos lore has been confirmed to now be something thats actively going to be played into? i think (or at least hope) that it might spur phil and techno into finally seeing tubbos side of the story (and probably also get into the possibility of tubbo opening up to tommy and ranboo but i do think realistically either tubbo will try to play it off/not truly open up about how much its effected him or tubbo will at first shut down or go into complete repression mode, especially if phil and ranboo get the story from other people rather than tubbo himself [but god do i hope they confront tubbo himself]. either those two or tubbo talks about his emotions through fucking snapping at something/someone like he did at quackity when reminded of his execution, which as long as its Not tommy or ranboo ill absolutely be cheering on him for)

which is all a very convoluted way of saying uhh. *grabby paws at the ccs currently involved in the arc of clearing up personal misconceptions about l'manberg (and especially tubbos involvement and how easily those around him judged him based off of their versions of the story)* tubbo lore? tubbo healing tubbo talking about his problems? characters learning to see him as a person and recognizing how traumatized he is and that hes not uneffected but actively repressing any effects? please? (also ending note as the cherry on top of this essay that im sorry for dropping into your inbox: im kind of glad that tommys healing arc and tubbos possible healing arc are going to happen at similar times but are still separate. something something its nice to see acknowledgement that tommy and tubbo wont heal in the same way and arent going to know how to help each other but theyre still going through it together. their arcs are intertwining without removing their individuality and as someone w major co-dependency issues its kind of nice idk. you can be there for someone and still acknowledge that you have your own things to go through too and that while you wont be alone you shouldnt force those around you to support you. the bench trio are all helping each other out of free will and genuine love for each other while still realizing they have some problems they arent ready to talk about yet that arent forced to the open because theyre all doing their best to handle each other with care and i just. bench trio my beloveds. the kids are alright.) -🎭🎪 (also as the actual end note if theres ever a need to refer to me as something other than the emojis mask or eyez works fine but the idea of my name being the emojis is also Very Funny to me so do what you will)

im working on my aperture camera college assignment rn and my brain is sort of fried so i dont have an intelligent answer, but i got the happy chemical reading this.

yeah. i think we all know here that my favorite character is tubbo, and i REALLY hope we get him addressing anything that’s happened to him in canon. pretty much all of what you said sounds very good. *grabby hands* spare tubbo lore? please? spare tubbo lore?

perhaps during the three weeks wilburs off in the fucking woods (/lh) we could have a the-others-find-out-what-happened-to-tubbo-(and in DETAIL)-arc. pleaseeeeeeeee and ty

#🎭🎪#lol #anonymous

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

Note

anakin/hugs is my otp please give this man all the hugs ever he is so touch starved

Since you’re literally the only person in my inbox who suggested he get a hug instead of more pain, you get the first reply of the day.

Ahsoka knew that her apprenticeship was anything but ordinary. Her Master hadn’t picked her out of her clan after seeing qualities he thought he could nurture, but Ahsoka had been chosen by Anakin nevertheless. At the beginning of their partnership, she had had her doubts whether they had been truly made for one another or if Anakin wouldn’t see another Initiate at the temple when they were allowed shore leave and found somebody stronger, better. But her Master, unconventional as he might be, had picked her again and again. Perhaps bonds forged in the aftermath of tragedy and victory were stronger than any other. Nobody could doubt that when watching Obi-Wan and Anakin fight together. They continuously supported one another, made up for each other’s weaknesses and strengths.

Ahsoka wanted Anakin to be able to rely on her like that as well. She wanted, no, needed to be a pillar for him.

Now more than ever, or so it seemed.

Anakin had always been unusual. He was the Chosen One, even if he disliked the title and would prefer it if everybody just forgot about it. He also had a very loose relationship with the code and how a Jedi should conduct themselves in public. He taught Ahsoka mantras about while they were practicing ‘saber stances in mock combat. He also never had a problem with openly showing his affection. If anything, he had a hard time avoiding doting too much on the people he cared about. Whenever they had made it out of another bloodbath with death still clinging to them, the last words of dead soldiers still echoing in the Force, he made sure to hold her close.

“Stop listening to that,” he said. “Focus only on me.”

It was easier to let go of it all when Anakin’s warmth and heartbeat reassured her that this battle at least was over. They didn’t always win, they didn’t always lose. It was difficult to see a silver lining when every battle appeared to have the same result. But as long as enough people survived and they were still here, Ahsoka thought he could keep marching for another day.

Most Jedi divided their lives into before the war and after. Ahsoka couldn’t do that, not anymore. The peaceful days of her childhood seemed so far away. For her instead it was now before when Anakin was still alright and after when he was hurting. She didn’t entirely understand what had happened, why exactly he had collapsed on that battlefield. She had gathered the basics, learned about visions of a horrible future lived, but Ahsoka didn’t understand how it could be so horrible that her Master could forget how to walk and eat, treated his body like an extension of his blade.

“This lightsaber is your life,” he had said after she’d lost it for the first time in his presence.

Now it appeared as if he thought his life was the blade instead.

He still checked up on her, ensured that she was healthy, but even the softest and most gentle of touches made him uncomfortable and freeze up. It was easy to see how much he longed for contact, yet he seemed terrified of it. Ahsoka hated it. A good Jedi didn’t hate, but her lineage was made up of mavericks, even Master Obi-Wan. For all that he claimed to be the sane one, Ahsoka saw the looks other Jedi sent him when they thought he wasn’t looking. So Ahsoka figured this distance, this pain Anakin was experiencing, she could be allowed to hate.

For all that her emotions ran so deeply though, Ahsoka couldn’t bring herself to knock on Anakin’s door. She knew he was awake. She could count the hours she had caught him sleeping in the last weeks on two hands with fingers left over. It was ridiculous. She shouldn’t need comforting because of a stupid nightmare. She had had plenty of those since the war began. They didn’t even include any special warnings of the Force, just endless battlefields and ruined planets.

Mind already half-made up, Ahsoka turned around when the door suddenly opened. Anakin looked tired, he always did. The deep bags under his eyes had become pretty permanent and he had lost weight as well.

“Credit for your thoughts?” He said.

His voice was so flat. He made breaks in his sentences in regular intervals that made no sense to her and added a strange intonation to it all.

“I- I couldn’t sleep,” Ahsoka admitted. “I had a nightmare.”

She sounded like a helpless youngling, it was awful. She should be stronger than this. She was a Padawan already.

Anakin studied her, then stepped away from the door to let her inside, all while making sure that he was within arm’s length distance, never touching her.

Anakin’s bed was freshly made, or perhaps he had never even sat down in it. The sight offended Ahsoka so much, she decided to claim it for herself and dropped down on the blankets. Anakin meanwhile kept standing. That was another habit he had picked up since Ahsoka’s new divide.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

Ahsoka shook her head. She didn’t want to describe how she had seen Obi-Wan getting impaled on Grievous’s stolen lightsabers, Barriss being locked up and tortured, Anakin burning-

“Can I- can I have a hug?” Ahsoka’s voice sounded so small, even to herself.

Anakin’s eyes widened and surprise, fear, and apprehension took over his expression. That was another new thing. He couldn’t really keep the expressions he made under control. It was getting better already, but it was far from the usual calm and neutrality Jedi tried to show.

“Ahsoka, I’m not-“

“Please? I don’t want to be alone in my head.”

Silence followed her statement, then Anakin slowly sat down next to her. Their thighs were touching. He was so tense as if he was ready to bolt any second, afraid of being hurt or hurting her- she couldn’t tell. He put his arms around her shoulders and Ahsoka buried her face in the crook of his neck. She didn’t cry, didn’t want to show how everything was too much. Her shoulders trembled either way.

“Focus,” Anakin mumbled, half-order and half-plea. “Just focus on me. The universe becomes smaller. There is just this planet. Just this ship. Just this room. Just me. Focus on nothing but me. There are no nightmares here.”

Anakin’s hold on her slowly became a little tighter, a little more comfortable, a little more like the hugs they used to share.

They were going to get there again. Everything would be alright.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #medical trauma time travel au #fanfic #ask #anon #in this house we remember that Ahsoka is a child and should not be fighting a war #anyway they are a FAMILY #and ahsoka is worried about her space big brother/dad/jedi master #Anonymous

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tmngoose · 3 years

Text

Cause for Concern: an OC one-shot

Alternate Title: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Rikki, Red Fox, Jupiter Jim, Clem, Rikki's mom (mentioned) Tags: ANGST, Anxiety, Distress, Poor familial relationships, Abuse, Minor Injuries/bruising/scabs, Hurt/Comfort, Blanket forts, Lots of comforting, Additional Tags to be added... Summary: Rikki gets a letter in the mail and Red has a right to worry. Word Count: ~1,799 -x- A/N: I know what you're thinking. "Goosey! This isn't any of the updates you promised us >:C what's up with this OC baloney?" -- Ok, yes, but listen; I wrote this mainly to practice writing Red Fox and Jupiter Jim since I'll be (ahem) writing them very soon for a certain somethin'-somethin' (Also? I need to update Let's Make a Deal and this was good practice to get back into writing for Rikki). I won't be uploading this to my Ao3. Read Cause for Concern under the read more:

It started with a letter—a small black envelope that came in with the rest of the mail: the bills, the take-out menus, and the weekly Stock and Shop circulars.

It was addressed to Rikki, which was odd to Red since Rikki never received mail; at least nothing intimate.

"Hey, Rikki! You got mail today!" Red said as soon as the mongoose returned from her shift at Clem's. She presented Rikki with the black envelope, her tail swishing excitedly.

"That's for me?" Rikki raised a brow.

They settled down at the kitchen table. Red sat across from Rikki, who examined the mysterious piece of mail. There was no return address, and the envelope was perfumed with something that made Rikki's nose wrinkle. She turned the envelope over, and that was when she saw it; the ivory wax seal depicting the image of fang—her family's crest.

Red's grin shrank as Rikki tensed, the color draining from her face, "Well? Who's it from, Rik?"

"It's… ah…," Rather than answering Red, Rikki reached for their salt shaker and unscrewed the metal cap. She poured a perfect circle onto the wooden surface, then dropped the envelope into its center.

Suddenly, it burst into a column of purple flames.

"Oh, my stars!" Red gasped. Her red banded-tail morphed into a giant hand and reached into the cabinet under the sink for the fire extinguisher.

"Don't worry, it'll put itself out," stated Rikki, unbothered by the phenomena. "It's a hex message."

"A 'hex message?'" Red furrowed her brow as the flames flickered before them, contained within the circle of salt. "I've heard of chain letters cursing folks, but this is just plain rude! Who would do such a thing?!"

"My mom."

"Oh," Red's tail twitched. It was a touchy subject they never discussed, mainly because Rikki avoided any conversation regarding family relations—especially if they were about her mother.

When the purple flames disappeared—embers and all—a scorch mark was left behind; Rikki buffed it out with the sleeve of her hoodie. Now that the letter was 'cleansed,' she sliced open the side of the envelope with her claw and emptied a folded piece of parchment into her hand.

The apartment fell silent as Rikki read the letter. Red knew better than to pry, even if the suspense kept her at the edge of her seat.

"Mom wants me to come home—for a visit, not to stay," Rikki grimaced, "She wants to 'talk.'"

"When?" Red asked while Rikki calmly tore the letter into tiny squares.

"A-sap," Rikki brushed the bits of paper into her palm and stuffed them inside the pouch on her hoodie. She went over to the tiny coat closet by the front door and retrieved an old backpack that would suffice as an overnight bag.

"W-wait, you're leaving now?" Red pushed back her chair. Her stomach twisted, and a feeling of dread penetrated her bones. She had no idea where the influx of anxiety came from, but it was enough to get her fur to stand on end.

Rikki shrugged, "I can't keep the lady waiting."

"What about work?"

"I'll tell Clem somethin' came up. Besides, that's what PTOs are for..."

"Is everything alright?" Red's ears flattened, perturbed. "You're not in trouble, are you?" Why would she think Rikki was in trouble? Maybe Rikki's mother always communicated via hex messages. Perhaps that was just how yūrei's spoke to one another; a cultural thing.

Rikki didn't answer. She quietly stuffed her toiletries into a plastic baggie, then went into her bedroom to gather a change of clothes. The silence between them only told Red that she was right to fret about her roomie's well-being.

"… It's nothing, Red," Rikki answered, slipping her headphones around the back of her neck. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

Red's unconvinced by the string of reassurance; they sound a lot like empty promises, "Rikki…."

"Red, I'll be fine," Rikki crammed her chargers and electronics into the small pocket of her backpack. "I should be back sometime soon-ish. We'll order sushi and throw ourselves a little party, ok?"

"… okay," Red stepped out of Rikki's way, reluctantly letting the mongoose pass by. She escorted Rikki to the elevator down the hall and playfully elbowed her in the arm, "Call me if you need back-up, yeah?"

"Whatever floats your goat, space ace," Rikki snorted as she waited for the elevator's arrival. She slung her bulky backpack over her shoulder, "And speaking of goats, I better call Clem…."

Rikki forced a smile as the elevator doors slowly closed. Red saw past the mongoose's attempt at feigning confidence; the distant, fearful look in her eyes gave her away. Red suppressed the urge to summon the elevator and prevent Rikki from leaving.

Red told herself that it was all in her head, the idea that nothing good would come from Rikki's trip to her mother's. She knew Rikki could take care of herself.

Rikki will be back before you know it, Red thought to herself. It'll be alright. I'm sure her mother's a lovely person...

__________

Rikki didn't come home the next day. Or the following day. Or the day after that. When Red tried reaching Rikki on her cell phone, her attempts led her directly to the mongoose's inbox.

Not even Clem heard from Rikki, although he was instructed to 'use her sick days if she ran out of PTO.'

Red kept herself busy with menial chores to steel her nerves and stop her imagination from crafting worst-case scenarios. When she wasn't cleaning the apartment, the yōkai volunteered at the community theater, ran errands, and hunted for Scor-Pion with Jupiter Jim.

"Why so blue, Red?" Jupiter Jim asked during one of their stakeouts atop the eccentric actor's apartment building. "You mustn't let Scor-Pion get you down. The elusive fiend will show himself soon enough!"

"It's not that," Red sighed. "It's my roomie/friend! She's been gone for almost a week, and I've lost all forms of direct communication with her! And even if I wanted to go searching for her, I have no idea where she could be!"

"Hm, that is quite the predicament. I wouldn't be surprised if Scor-Pion is behind your friend's mysterious disappearance!"

"I doubt it…," Red peered through her binoculars and scanned the city's skyline, hoping to spy Rikki. She perked up when she felt Jupiter Jim's hand clasp onto her shoulder, "Sir?"

"Have faith in your friend," Jupiter Jim consoled. "The universe is a vast place, yet we all find our way home sooner or later. We must welcome the weary when they return, but to do so, it's crucial to keep our spirits high."

Red smiled weakly at the profound piece of wisdom, "Thank you, Sir."

The mood was ruined when Jupiter Jim mistook an old lady with a green skin complexion as Scor-Pion. Fortunately, Red's prehensile tail was strong enough to hold the space adventure back from ambushing the strange senior citizen.

If only Red used her tail to keep Rikki from leaving...

_____________

It was Wednesday night. Red had finished washing the dishes and was now standing at the kitchen counter, prepping vegetables for dinner. She was so preoccupied with peeling potatoes that she failed to notice someone unlocking the front door.

And that someone was Rikki.

"Hey, I'm back," Rikki announced as she closed the door behind her.

"Rikki!" Red exclaimed, dropping the potato peeler and spud into the sink. She ran over to Rikki and hugged her tightly, "Leaping light-years, you have no idea how worried I was! You didn't call or text, and Clem said—"

Red froze. Her eyes darted from Rikki's black eye to the bruise on her cheek. Several small knicks speckled the side of her brow. They were scabs now, but the implication that Rikki had bled was still there.

So this was the kind of relationship Rikki had with her mother: a bad one.

Rikki isn't put off by the horrified look on Red's face, "Honestly? It's not as bad as it looks. In fact, I think things went better than I expected." She tried maintaining a modest tone, but it faltered.

I knew I shouldn't have let you go, Red frowned. Hesitantly, she tried reaching up to touch the bruise on Rikki's cheek.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Rikki said as she casually ducked away from Red's hand. "I had to take the long way back, and I'm kinda gross. Do you need the bathroom?"

"N-No, you go ahead. I'm making stew for dinner. Would you like some?"

"Naaah. I'm not that hungry…."

Red nodded, "Copy that." She watched Rikki's bushy tail drag across the floorboards on her way towards the bathroom.

The universe is a vast place, yet we all find our way home sooner or later…

"Hey, Rikki?"

"Hmm?"

"Welcome home…"

It's such a warm, simple greeting, yet it meant so much to Rikki. She got as far as the hallway before she grabbed onto the wall for support. She sank to the floor and curled in on herself, trembling.

In a split-second, Red's beside her. She held Rikki close, protecting her by wrapping her striped tail around her body. She never heard Rikki cry before; the mongoose is quiet with the occasional whimper that breaks Red's heart.

Red held her tighter, "… We can still order sushi if you want…."

Rikki sniffled, "Yeah, I-I'd like that."

"Heh heh, good! Honestly, I was getting tired of peeling all those potatoes!"

_____________________

Stacks of aluminum take-out containers are left on the kitchen table with empty plastic cups of soy sauce. They make good on their promise to throw themselves a party. So Red and Rikki dragged their mattresses out from their bedrooms and constructed a blanket fort around them.

Once their nightly bathroom rituals are completed, they pile into their fort. Red noticed a few more bruises on Rikki's forearms that were previously hidden by the mongoose's hoodie.

"Clem said he'd give me the day off tomorrow," Rikki said as she slid her phone underneath her pillow. "I told him I had a rough trip. He understands."

"Aw, that's nice of him," Red yawned as she rolled onto her side, facing Rikki. Goodness gracious, who would've thought all this worrying could be so exhausting...

"Hey, Red?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," apologized Rikki, her voice hoarse. She stared up at the canopy of mismatched blankets and bedsheets, "I'm sorry I didn't keep you in the loop..."

"Don't worry about it, Rik," Red scooched over towards Rikki, "I understand."

They nestled against each other, their tails entwined--another layer of comfort. Red felt obligated to ensure Rikki fell asleep and didn't stay awake to think about whatever cruelties she endured at her mother's. Only when Red was sure Rikki was fast asleep did she finally allow her eyelids to shutter.

#rottmnt oc #Rikki #rottmnt Red Fox #Jupiter Jim #rottmnt Clem #(not a shipping fic! they are just roomies who care about each other I swear to pizza supreme in the sky)#tmngoosepost #tmngoosefic

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livesincerely · 3 years

Note

dude you should totally write a fic off run away w me if you like haven’t alr 👀👀

DARLING.

You know me. You know what I’m like. You know you can’t just drop amazing ideas like this in my inbox and expect me to leave them alone until I actually have time to do something with them... 😫😫😫

So.

Background: Davey makes it through his SAT, then exits the building, throws up, and passes out in the parking lot, which isn’t the first indication that something’s wrong but it’s the beginning of the end for how much Jack’s willing to let him get away with it. He’s been a nervous wreck for months, not sleeping and not eating, anxious and irritable and so obviously neglecting his health that it makes Jack wanna scream. No one else seems to see it—Davey’s not a great liar but he’s excellent at deflecting, though that’s never stopped Jack from seeing right through him. Davey manages to hobble his way through the fall semester, keeping his grades up and finishing all his college applications through sheer force of will. His parents are so proud of him, he’s set to be valedictorian and he’s expecting to get several college acceptance letters, and he’s so worried about not doing anything to disappoint them. He and Jack get into several arguments about this that never come to anything except teary, biting stalemates.

Until finally, Davey gets his college acceptance letters. The envelopes come over the course of several weeks and he can’t hardly stand to look at them. Full rides to NYU, Colombia, UCLA, and several other amazing schools. Davey gets halfway through opening the first envelope, hands shaking so bad he can barely hold onto it, before he’s running to throw up. He realizes, suddenly, that unless something gives, he’s looking at another 4+ years of this: of working himself into the ground and being miserable, of never feeling like his wants are valid enough, of always competing and working and grinding, against others sure, but mostly against this imaginary, perfect, unattainable version of himself, of always living the life his parents want him to lead, and he can’t hardly stand it. He can’t imagine going to college. He can’t imagine not going to college.

We open on him calling Jack, crying and freaking out. Because he doesn’t know what to do and he just needs someone to be in his corner and advocate for him, because at this point Davey’s not even sure if Davey’s in his own corner. Jack opens all the envelopes and he doesn’t tell Davey what they say, doesn’t confirm if any/all of them are acceptance letters or anything, just reads through them expressionless. Then he closes them back up, tucks them into the inner pocket on his jacket, and says, “Davey... run away with me.”

“What?” Davey whispers.

“Run away with me, Dave,” Jack says. “Let me take you away from all’a this. We’ll hit the road, drive ‘til the pavement ends, ‘til we’re far away from all these expectations and standards and supposed to’s. Because it’s crushing you. It’s making you fucking miserable, and if distance is what you need to find steady ground and make a choice for your own sake, that’s actually about you and what you want? Then I’m your ticket outta town.”

“Jackie...” Davey says, utterly floored. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, stuttering with something like anticipation and fear and terrible, terrible longing. “Jackie, we can’t.”

“And why can’t we?”

“Because,” Davey insists, because one of them has to be reasonable. “Because, we can’t just pack up and leave. It’s the middle of the semester, we’ve got another three months of school left, we need to graduate, and fuck, can you even imagine the fallout? My parents would kill me, just hunt me down and murder me if I left.”

“I’m still not hearin’ any reasons not to,” Jack says, and he keeps looking at Davey with those warm, steady eyes.

“I just told you—“ Davey starts.

“No,” Jack calmly interrupts. “You gave me a bunch of excuses for not going, not reasons. There’s a difference. I’m waitin’ for something more along the lines of ‘my stupidly long legs make roadtrips super uncomfortable’ or ‘our friendship won’t survive us traveling together for weeks in close quarters’ or ‘I wouldn’t trust your rusted old Chevy to take us to the state line, let alone across the country,’ or even just ‘Jack, I don’t want to.’”

Davey’s mouth closes with a soft click, swallowing heavily around a sudden lump in his throat.

Jack keeps looking at him, and the intensity of his gaze is almost to much to handle, simmering with something quiet but fierce.

“I’m not gonna stand by and watch you kill yourself over a life that you don’t even want. Not anymore. Not when it makes you call me at one in the morning, sounding like the weight of the fucking world’s on your shoulders and you’re terrified to set it down. Not after seven months of watching you waste away right in front of me, moving around like a goddamn shadow, pale as a ghost and hollow inside. Not unless you can look me in the eye right now and tell me that college is gonna make you happy.”

Davey can’t speak. Something’s gone taut in his chest, like a piano wire about to snap. Davey could prevent it. He’s not sure if he wants to.

Jack steps closer and takes both of Davey’s hands in his own. His palms are warm, or maybe it’s just that Davey’s freezing, has been so painfully cold and lonely these past few months, withering away in the shadow of his parent’s expectations. But the tangle of their fingers threading together is like a balm on Davey’s soul—the spark that reignites the embers of a dying fire.

He’s so tired of being cold.

“I just want to know that you’ll be happy,” Jack says after a moment—softly, like he’s afraid he might shatter Davey if he speaks any louder, sending the broken shards of him scattering into nothingness. Davey’s not sure he’s wrong. “And I know you, David, and this isn’t making you happy.”

“This is crazy,” Davey breathes out, and it’s not what he means to say but it comes out regardless. “It’s... Jack, this is insanity.”

“Who cares about what’s sane?” Jack says. “Fuck sanity.”

“Jackie.”

“Tell me you’re happy,” Jack says, and the gentleness of the command doesn’t make it any less compelling. “Tell me you’re happy, that you think you’ll be happy with all this, and I’ll drop it. I’ll drop it right this second, I swear.”

Davey’s eyes slip shut. He breathes in and breathes out, feeling his ribs press against that band in his chest, the last threads of it holding fast.

“Please, Dave,” Jack murmurs. “Please.”

In and out. In and out.

And the wire snaps.

“Okay,” Davey says, fingers tightening around Jack’s, his lone anchor as the world tilts out from underneath him. “Okay.”

“You’ll—?”

“Let me pack a bag,” Davey agrees.

Cue road trip shenanigans. The only people that they tell before they leave are Medda, Crutchie, and Les. Both boys have some money saved up from their part-time jobs but Medda gives them a credit card to use on the trip and helps them get things set up to finish out their last couple months of school through online/remote methods. Even still, it’s a lot of frugal, simple, happy living on the road. They drive without any goals or expectations, taking in the sights and the beauty of the countryside, sleeping in Jack’s car and in various motels.

Davey starts to get better. Just, the freedom of getting to make choices for himself and dropping some of the stressors in his life. His parents are angry, then confused, then worried, then begrudgingly accepting, then actually accepting. Medda helps mediate back home, and they eventually realize that they’ve been suffocating their son. Davey makes no promises about coming home or continuing on with college.

At some point, Davey realizes that he’s in love with Jack and has been for a while. He’s not sure what to do about this, or even if he should do anything about it. Because Jack is wonderful, he’s the best friend he’s ever had, the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and the thought of anything jeopardizing that makes Davey’s heart hurt. Until, one night they’re out somewhere in the desert, staring up at the stars from the roof of Jack’s car. Davey’s been telling stories about all the different constellations, pointing out each one as he goes, and he turns to look at Jack only to find that Jack is already staring at him, and the look on Jack’s face is just....

“Oh,” Davey says, and he’d always imagined that a realization like this would hit like a bolt of lightning. Instead it’s like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a long day. “You’re in love with me.”

Jack blinks at him, then lets out a soft chuckle, easy as anything. “Just now realizing that, are we?”

Davey stares.

“You didn’t say anything,” he points out, perhaps needlessly.

“I wasn’t exactly hiding it,” Jack responds, tilting his head back towards the stars. “And ‘sides, you weren’t ready to hear it.”

A length of silence stretches between them, not uncomfortable but more charged than it had been.

Eventually Davey says, “What if I am?”

“What do ya mean?” Jack asks.

“What if I’m ready to hear it, now?”

Jack turns towards him, and for the first time some of the relaxation slips from his posture, his spine straightening from it’s casual slump into something more active, more engaged, ready to pursue.

“S’that so?” he rumbles.

“Yeah,” Davey says, wetting his lips. “That’s so.”

Something something, getting together, romantic moments on the hood of/in the backseat of Jack’s car, something something ending.

The whole thing would be very dramatic and romantic, but ultimately about how home and freedom can be in the safety of another person, just like the song. Tada, I guess? 😅😅

Working title, “we’ll be on the road like some country song”

00000

@bound-for-santa-fe

#newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #javid #*ask #*the writing desk #*editor's note #ideas for later #run away with me fic #I realllllllyyyyy did not need this prompt in my life right now so I hope you’re happy lol #look what you did #this was just a stream of consciousness dump so please excuse any typos #🤗😅🤗😅

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

saving grace | 5

muses. duke!yoongi x lady!reader

universe. arranged marriage / minor traces of magic in history

concept. driven into a corner with the new king, seokjin, offering to marry you off to a prince in a foreign land and a persistent mother who would seize the chance of a lucrative marriage for her daughter, you’re forced with the only other option to secure your freedom ‒ enter into a beneficial agreement with the man who reaped the seeds of war, the duke of cralon, yoongi min.

words. 6.7k

warnings. mentions of war, it’s cliche and cheesy all in one package

index. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / finale

after your return from the min mansion, your mother, ever the loving parent, greets you at the door. her bright smile can be seen from miles away as she stands with her hands planted on her hips like someone who’s looking at her life’s worth investment.

“well?” she urges with an unfaltering smile.

“well?” you blink once, head lulling to the side as you stare at her for an explanation.

“don’t pretend to be ignorant,” she clicks her tongue but the contorted expression on her face is short lived as the smile returns, its force almost compelling you to take a step backwards, “did you two-”

“oh, ___, you’re back. i heard that you stayed the night at the duke’s.” your father, having emerged out of his office on the second floor calls for you and for some reason causes the woman in front of you to freeze as though haunted by guilt.

oh.

with a disarming smile, you wave at your father before recounting the reason you couldn’t go back right away after the party, “oh yes, it’s because mo-”

“i’m sure our daughter’s hungry, i’ll have the chef prepare something right away and in the mean time, we’ll be having tea in my parlor,” with that, the woman who has her hand clasped over her mouth whisks you away and into a narrow corridor right under where your father was standing.

huffing, she fixes you a displeased frown, “gosh, i only wanted to help my beloved daughter secure a good future!”

“mother!” hands planted on your hips, you fix your mother an incredulous look, “by getting rid of any other means for me to leave the mention in hopes i’d seduce the duke to sleep with me and get him to marry me quickly in fear for my being pregnant with an out-of-wedlock child?” your shoulder line are stiff as you watch your mother not even batting an eye at the issues arising within that narration and instead grins in approval at what seems to be a mutual understanding between a mother and a daughter.

“i knew you were smart!”

not wishing to burst her bubble of joy, you excuse yourself to your room, saying the fatigue of hosting a garden party hasn’t entirely left you just yet. fortunately, she the matter of whether you’ve spent the night in yoongi’s room has dissipated in the air as she wishes you a good rest before murmuring something about writing a letter to marchioness jung to invite her to tea or rather, to boast about the daughter that’s marrying the duke who’s several ranks higher than a count’s.

you wonder how she would react once your matchmaking succeeds and krystal ends up becoming a candidate as seokjin’s queen but you decide that your mother’s wounded pride would be a matter of a future that you need not yet concern yourself with.

“leslie, prepare to go to vivian’s.” you question as the maid pulls down on the zip of your dress and allow you to step out of it until you’re staring at the woman in a white underdress in front of the mirror.

“but my lady, that boutique is...” the woman trails off, eyes slanted to the ground in search for the proper words to describe the handiwork.

you’re not entirely sure why she’s against it either but if there’s anything leslie’s good at, it’s being meticulous in her tasks which includes making sure you don only the best clothes, “don’t worry, i won’t be buying the engagement dress there. i just wish to confirm something.”

with that, her eyes lights up and for some reason, the same way your mother does when she offhandedly commends your ability to think just now, “right away, my lady!” the beam doesn’t go away nor so much as falter throughout the ride.

“we’re here to see mademoiselle vivian for my lady’s engagement party,” leslie approaches the worker that greets you when you came in.

you don’t miss the stare shot your way as you study the dresses wrapped around the mannequins until his jaw drops, possibly from the realization of who you are, “r-right this way, lady ___.”

the room you’re brought in is furnished with leather couches and extravagant patterns on its walls and curtains that make you wonder if there is such a thing as illegally pairing colors together.

only the higher ranking aristocrats, namely those from count families and above, would be able to afford clothes made by mademoiselle vivian, a foreign woman from a country across the seas who moved to cearis in search for a lover she’d met and fell deeply in love with but up until now, she still hasn’t found said lover.

or so the story goes.

perhaps it was a selling point to catch the eyes of helpless romantics - rich ones at that. but either way, she’s proved her talent through her intricate designs that time and time again sets off a new trend when a fairly influential noblewoman goes to a gathering in the dress she makes.

it’s no secret that krystal is a loyal customer to vivian’s. but then again, it has more to do about her looks than the dresses she wear. not that it matters to vivian because she’ll be dropping names of noblewomen who ordered dresses from her to gain trust from new customers.

but you’re not here for that.

“are the designs not to your liking, lady ___?” the woman’s bespectacled eyes bore into you after you let out a troubled sigh, eyebrows pulling together as though in deep dilemma.

“no, no, they’re all beautiful,” you let your words hang in the air for suspense before setting down the catalog and turning your whole body towards the woman, “it’s just... i want something that makes a statement, you see.”

“a statement...” she echoes.

“something like...” you murmur to yourself while she echoes your very words a second later.

“...a dress that tells other ladies that they can’t compare without being loud!” you clap your hands together, pleased that you’ve found the words you’ve been searching for.

it takes a moment of the woman burning a hole into the catalog of her designs while you take a sip of the lavender tea. it’s harder to find such tea and fewer can afford it because of the limited import and the high tax rate imposed seeing as only well-off nobles would usually have them at homes.

“i see it now,” she seems to have returned from a walk down the rabbit hole of laces and ribbons, “i don’t usually recommend this since the ladies that come to my shop need a little bit of help standing out - and my dresses do just that but! i think simpler designs would fit you and enhance your beauty like lady jung.”

you mentally cheer at the mention of the name, adding in a blink of surprise, “do you mean... krystal?”

“oh yes, she has the beauty of a crescent moon. a mysterious allure that attracts men and women alike...” vivian drones on with glazed eyes as though she’s descended over to another realm where the walls are tower high and plastered with krystal’s portraits posing in different dresses and her cat-like eyes seem to move wherever one goes.

“...but it’s a shame that her engagement with duke gillmore’s son’s been cancelled!” she ends with a dejected sigh as her shoulder line falls.

“the engagement’s been cancelled?” the fruit of your visit is turning ripe by the second as you clasp a hand over your ‘o’ shaped mouth.

almost as though realizing her slip up, vivian’s own hand shoots up to her mouth but for a different reason than yours, “oh, i shouldn’t be telling you this that since it’s not officially announced yet,” she meets your gaze with a hint of sparkle in them, whatever remorse she felt for revealing what isn’t due, has dissipated into the air, “bit to think the dress i made specifically for her engagement party would not be seeing the light of the day! it pains me so!”

the gillmores are the fourth and last of the ducal houses with the mins being the first and strong supporter of the royal family for hundreds of years. understandably, only two of the houses bear marriageable heirs to the title but with yoongi taking on the name grim reaper, naturally marquis jung would never allow krystal to marry him which leaves duke gillmore’s son as the only available candidate.

that was... until the crown prince who was engaged to a foreign princess was heartlessly murdered by his half-blooded brother. judging from how objective driven krystal is, she must have her eyes set on a bigger price than becoming duchess of the gillmore’s dukedom. and coincidentally so, as vivian mindlessly laments, the engagement was said to be cancelled two months ago which is around the same time seokjin must have called her to have her spread the rumor about you and yoongi’s engagement.

“my lady, have you gotten what you came here for?” the woman sitting across from you in the carriage finally breaks the silence after loyally following your lead as you bid vivian a half-hearted farewell because ‘i’ve realized i can’t make decisions like this on my own! please have the catalogs to the min residence. i’ll review them with my fiancee once he gets back.’

“leslie,” you feel a smile bloom across your face, “we’ve got ourselves a queen.”

for the rest of the week, you find yourself swarmed with letters and invitations to more social gatherings. back then, when you were just a marquis’ daughter and not a duke min’s fiance, invitations have not been scarce yet they’ve never been this overflowing. white envelops with varying house seals litter the white table in front of the window each day. before you can even finish reading those that accumulated in the inbox yesterday, a new bulk would have gathered by the end of today.

so when you hear the knock on your door, you don’t even bother asking who it was, only a short, “come in.”

in your engrossment in reading a letter sent from irene, you fail to notice the lack of footsteps after the noticeable click of the door swinging open and then shutting until it’s too late.

a black gloved hand props itself on the table while another gently settles on your shoulder, a distinctive scent of mint filling your senses. but the husky voice drumming in your ears is no stranger to you,“you’ve been busy.”

“yoongi!” the letter almost slips out of your hand as you crane your neck to gaze into a familiar pair of crimson eyes. but the surprise is short-lived as you become unnervingly aware of how close your faces are, so much so, you can feel his hot breath on your lips.

judging from how he still has his cloak and the formal knight uniform, he must have rode straight to your mansion after entering the boarders of the dukedom. why he chooses to do so, you don’t wish to indulge in.

“w-welcome back, how was the-” the words die on your throat as the coolness of his gloved thumb grazes your bottom lip.

you barely register the delicate “i missed you, ___,” that’s spoken within the minute space between his lips and yours before he closes the distance.

you’ve known those pink lips were soft from the kisses he leaves on the back of your hand but having them on yours are a separate matter altogether. it feels almost unfair that he’s the one who initiated the kiss but wouldn’t go further than a feather light peck before he pulls away, almost as though he thinks you’d break under the slightest pressure.

the faintest smile graces his features as though content to have felt you, to know that you’re not a dream. but on your part, it’s not enough and it will never be once you’ve had a taste of what sweet sacrilege tastes like.

you don’t have the time to admire the way those usually unbothered eyes widen, taken aback as your arm wraps around his neck, locking him within a birdcage large enough for him to stretch his wings but too small for him to escape.

when you break apart for air, you indistinctly register the burning sensation on your lips until yoongi’s eyes slants over them, finger hooked under your chin as he apologizes, “i might’ve been too rough.”

you’re not quite sure what he means, choosing to ignore such statements because he was every bit gentle - passionate, is a whole different story that you rather not think about as you invite him to sit in the chair across from you but instead, he drags it around and plops next to you. your knee brushes against his from time to time but you rather like the feeling of having a part of him touching you one way or another.

“your mother led me to your room,” he says simply, “i assumed you’d been informed.”

almost as though your mother’s scheming smile is ingrained in your head, you barely bat an eye at yoongi’s words as you sarcastically mutter, “i’m sure it must’ve slipped her mind.”

when leslie comes in with snacks, her lingering stare on your face does not go unnoticed but her free smile allows you to shake off the matter almost instantly.

“the inspection resulted in a graver findings,” yoongi apprises, blood red eyes holding your gaze as his next words sends a spear piercing through your heart, “we found children in the basement of the granary. the count’s been involved in human trafficking - nobody knows yet and the knights won’t say a word but once i report this to seokjin, it’ll be the only thing the capital will talk about for awhile.”

no nobility has ever truly lived an honest and clean life. if one were to dig even just the surface of a noble family’s activities, it isn’t hard to find corruption, bribery and even explanation to murders but to have been involved with human trafficking...

the smiling faces of the orphanage not too far from your mansion, flash at the back of your mind. the children had been in the poorest condition the first time you met them. but over time, they’d gained strength from the supplies you’d brought monthly and would come running to you and seokjin whenever you visited. it’s been awhile since you saw them after seokjin’s coronation and the distribution of supplies had been done by the people from the palace with the help of the servants from your house. the circumstances has significantly improved over the year but the thought of someone going as far as exploiting young children, those who were supposed to be under his care and protection makes your stomach churn.

you should have known. should have looked deeper into the activities of that degenerate count-

“not matter how much resource you have, you couldn’t have seen this coming.” the arms that wrap around your body are warm as they pull you flush against a chest. you don’t even realize you have your hands clenched into fists and trembling for the longest time until your shoulder line sags and all the strength inside your body seems to seep out your pores. if yoongi hadn’t held you, you would have hit the ground. either because of unbridled rage or unadulterated hopelessness.

you’re not sure how long time has passed with him holding you in his arms, but you don’t allow yourself the time to mope around more than you should. when you pull away, yoongi seems to have already expect the words that come out of your mouth, “i’ll make sure he’s stripped of his title and so are the people around him who stayed quiet.”

“i don’t doubt your capability,” his thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand, “but that would mean punishing every single commoner in his territory.”

the sound of your gritting teeth drums in your ears as your jaw sores, “they probably didn’t have anyone to turn to when their own lord was behind the atrocities plaguing their village,” a lump forms in your throat, you can only imagine the state the children were found in.

a hand wraps around yours, thumbs smoothing over each of your palms, “you saved them. if you hadn’t thought to suggest the trade, we wouldn’t have a solid reason to inspect the park family’s territory.”

“it was all his doing- he burst out first,” you swallow thickly, “i just reaped the seed he planted.”

a sigh drums in your ears, forcing you to look up and meet the duke’s molten gaze as his shoulder line falls. almost as though he’s surrendering to a fight he knows won’t be in his favor, “no words i say can possibly lift the heavy burden off your chest.”

you don’t deny it.

“would you like to come with me to the palace? i’ll be heading there in three day’s time to report our findings to the king,” his eyes doesn’t seem to search through the windows of your soul, perhaps because he’s learned that he’ll reach a dead end - a wall of thorns. the only way he’ll ever figure you out is if you let him through.

but he at least knows your answer if he’s leaning back against the chair, almost as though he’s turning his back on the wall and chose to tread back to the direction he came from, “i’ll pick you up some time at noon.”

yoongi is reluctant to leave the mansion - or rather, you. the look in his eyes when he looks back at you before mounting his horse, reminds you of the puppy you had when you were a child. she would always rub her head on your leg whenever she saw you dolled up to leave for a party your mother was taking you to. as though begging you not to leave. but she’d always been the first to ligh up when she saw you alight the family carriage when you returned.

you find yourself stepping past the doors of the mansion where you’d intend to wave him off and coming to a stop a few feet away from the horse, “yoongi, can i visit you tomorrow?”

the faint smile breathes fire into your soul as those blood red eyes bore into you like a molten lava, “i was hoping you would. every single day until we get married, in fact.”

it is only after you watch the sleek black stallion disappear through the gates and into the streets, do you notice the maids who have gathered at the doors since the beginning. but their huddled forms as they swoon is the least of your concern.

“so something finally happened.” your mother gathers, nodding in approval as you walk past her with full intention to minimize the interaction - you’ve still not forgiven her for failing to alert you of yoongi’s arrival but even if you quiz her about it, she wouldn’t be able to see the wrong in her actions even if it’d slapped her in the face-

“was that your first kiss as a couple?”

whirling around on your heels, you feel the heat creep up your cheeks almost instantly, “mother! wh-what are you talking about? a-and in front of the maids at that!”

it seems that’s all the answer she needs as she laughs to herself, “dear daughter, i’ve been alive longer than you- you think i would believe you if you said that cut on your lips was from you walking into something?”

“what cut-” the memory of yoongi’s unsettling closeness floods your mind before his peculiar apology echoes in your ears, ‘i might’ve been too rough.’

five minutes later, after you all but sprinted to your room and made a beeline towards the mirror that stands a head taller than you beside your bed, does a bloodcurdling scream fill the recesses of the mansion.

“luckily, it’s just a minor cut, my lady,” leslie assures, her ever smiling features doing better to calm your rapidly beating heart and increasing bashfulness than your mother ever could.

you silently weep at the minute red line on your bottom lip. she’s right. it’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of cut and barely stings as you lather a thin sheen of healing ointment the woman brought after you requested it.

“this is humiliating,” you announce, holding a half-hearted vendetta towards the man whose eyes occasionally glaze over your lips during his visit but choose not to say anything else besides a cryptic indication of his lack of self-restraint.

it takes a whole evening of refusing to have dinner at the dining room and a pity party for yourself with flower petals for the muscles in your body to finally relax.

“what of the report i asked you to gather?” you quiz, hearing the pitter patter of someone’s footsteps going around the bathroom.

“most of them come up with similar information - nothing my lady does not know,” leslie’s fluttery voice reverberates against the walls.

“as expected, i’ll have to ask consult seokjin,” the sound of your teeth gritting drums in your ears, “the thought of him getting so smug just because i had to go to him makes me nauseous.”

with the issue human trafficking coming to light, it seems you can’t go around investigating about the nobles as you please, nor can any of your maids be seen asking around about it. discussing the matter with seokjin and gathering the intel you both have to unravel the nobles’ hidden trails would be a more reasonable course of action since they’ll be on high alert of yoongi since he was the one who brought the crime to light. from now on, even your movements might be closely watched.

yoongi bursts into your room the next day in a similar manner - unannounced - with a sort of expression you can’t pinpoint.

“don’t tell me my mother-” at first, you’re just about ready to storm to your mother’s room like a child throwing a tantrum until yoongi refutes, “i let myself in, the countess wasn’t around and the butler was too powerless to stop me.”

it takes you a moment to register what you heard, an image of the old family butler flashing at the back of your head. perhaps, it’s because it’s been awhile since you’ve been on the receiving end of yoongi’s frightening glare that you forget just how terrifying it is.

you’re suddenly pulled out of your thoughts when a hand tilts your chin upwards, leaving you with no other choice but to study the yoongi’s handsome face as he inspects the cut.

“i’m sorry,” the ghost of his touch burns your skin as takes a seat in the chair next to you, “i should have been more gentle.”

silence stretches on for the longest moment as you gather your words and sort out your thoughts but most importantly, you make sure to sound nonchalant about it, “you don’t have to... i liked how you kissed me.”

your mistake is letting your eyes roam up to his at the low hum that escapes him. a smirk curls on his lips as he gazes at you with his head propped against his hand, “should we do it again?”

“th-that-!” you hastily reply only to stop dead as the words get stuck in your throat. averting your gaze to the italic writings on the paper, you murmur, “...i’m not opposed to the idea.”

true to your words, you too easily comply when his gloved finger twirls the end of the ribbon around your neck, pulling you to him until your lips meet. a familiar sense of butterfly bursts in your stomach as you savor the taste of something sweet like chamomile tea on his lips.

for the rest of the day, you spend it by walking down the same street you did when he whisked you away from a dreadful tea party held by your mother right after the rumor of your engagement was confirmed by you dancing together at the ball. except now, you’re wearing a black hat with a veil covering your almost healed lips.

the day you’re to meet seokjin, the carriage with the min crest rolls into your residence some time a little past noon. not matter how many times he’s shown his unfaltering interest towards you, you can’t help but be surprised. today, he’s donned in his black and golden yellow knight uniform, signaling the formal business he has with his the monarch of the kingdom.

he presses his lips to your gloved knuckles, murmuring a soft, “how have you been?” as if reserved only for you and him.

“better,” you say, holding in a chuckle when his blood rushes to his cheeks and paints them red at your next words, “now that you’re here.”

you don’t miss the way he peeks at something over your shoulder, possibly where your parents stand at the doorway you just passed through. the chuckle you’ve become familiar of and rings like chimes hits the air, “___, why don’t we quickly get into the carriage and away from the count and countess’ eyes?”

“careful, duke,” a grin spreads across your face, hidden underneath the fan you hold just below your cheekbones, “if one were to overhear, we’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”

and yet you don’t delay stepping into the carriage and plopping down next to the window where you can still see your father’s gentle smile that contrasts greatly with your mother’s deep frown.

“no! you absolutely will not go!” she hadn’t meant the palace - or perhaps, she did mean the palace since seokjin is the one who’ll ultimately decide whether you have permission to travel to-

“yoongi,” your fingers curl around the hand on your cheek, breath coming out heaved and eyes barely focusing as you pull away from the aforementioned man.

he doesn’t seem like he’s interested in a conversation but he’s not chasing after your lips either, almost as though his conscience is telling him to be the gentleman he’s raised to be and listen but the beast in his eyes is restless to continue devouring your lips.

so you go on, “i’m going to ask for seokjin’s permission to travel to the park family’s territory.”

the hand in your grasp remains still so does his entire body. the only indication that he’s affected at all is the way those crimson eyes widen with surprise, “what?”

almost as though belatedly registering the weight of your words a second later, he falls to the spot next to you, the legs cradling both your sides leaving you and even with these layers of clothes, you begin to feel the cold creep onto you, “sure,” he begins after what seems like a moment of pondering, “it’ll take a day at most to gather the knights but a royal notice takes at least three days to arrive-”

“i don’t need them... knights, royal notices... you might as well announce our arrival with horns,” you pause, studying the man’s gaze as it bores into you whilst you meet him head on. your deepset hesitance and worries still hovers over you like a haunting ghost, but you don’t want to keep any more secrets, “there’s something i need to tell you about my mother’s side of the family.”

your mother was from a nameless baron family. nobody truly knew them until she’d made her debut and started mingling with high society. just like you, she was the only daughter. the lineage was to end with her had it been just another penniless noble family.

“they run an informant group and call themselves the kairos,” the carriage shakes, as though trembling with fear at the mention of that name. you would have thought yoongi had known all along - that seokjin had told him, if not for the briefest twitch of his eye, “they supply information for anyone who’s willing to pay but keep an eye for those asking for information that could threaten the royal family - even though the queen was a noblewoman who married into the royal family, my mother, the leader then had been reporting to her up until...”

up until the bells that hung high in the tower at the entrance of the palace rung somberly that day.

all of a sudden, the sun that seemed to shine brighter than diamonds underneath the sky started shutting everybody out, including her husband and daughter. there were times when the door to her study was wedged open just the slightest bit. your mother who had noticed the creak of the hinges that needed oiling, wiped her tears and held her arms out for you.

the 10-year-old you didn’t understood what she meant when she promised she’d started living for you.

all you knew was, that was the point where she started becoming more present in your life. it took you another few years to learn that your family, greatly influenced by the countess rather than the count, had taken a full on neutral stance on the political matter and the rising rumor about the half-bred prince against the crown prince for the throne.

and a few more, after meeting said half-bred prince, to convince your mother to trust you for the decision you were about to make as the leader of kairos - to support seokjin as the next king no matter what it takes.

“i thought we eliminated scums like jimin as soon as seokjin took the throne but...” the words seem to be lodged in your throat, unable to slip past your lips.

yoongi heaves out a sigh, legs stretching over the space between the seat you’re on and the one across from it as he slumps against the cushioned backrest, silver hair brushing against his brows as crimson eyes stare at the cushioned ceiling, “so it was you? the one who tipped us about the king’s illegitimate son being sent to the battlefield?”

the war yoongi had been in had ceded faster than expected - though his victory was as sure as the ground you walk on. it was because yoongi and his men managed to single out the the warring king’s beloved son who he was forced to send to war because the palace had been a different battlefield that he still couldn’t fight, and held him as a war prisoner until the king surrendered.

“one of the enemy kingdom’s spy managed to infiltrate the palace and knew of our reputation from one of the maids who was sent by them since three years ago - we managed to dig out some information from him that not many outsider knew about before we eliminate him,” you muttered simply, the scream of the faceless spy had drummed in your ears and chilled you to the bones. unlike you who had to turn away in the last minute, seokjin had looked at the man’s eye whilst he thrust his sword into the spy’s gut.

he’d only sat on the throne for a month then but it was far from his first kill.

"when we first found the basement where the kids were held captive,” yoongi rasps somberly, “i was glad you didn’t come with - it wasn’t something i want engraved into your head.”

“i understand your wish to protect me from the viciousness of the world,” you slip your hand underneath the gap between his palm and knee, making him crane his neck to look at you, “i would’ve done the same thing even if you’d already seen them all at war but that protection we wish to cast upon each other only serves to paint a faux image of daisies and rainbows - an unrealistic euphoria.”

“your want to change things with your own hands will never cease, it seems,” he comments, crimson eyes clouded with a sort of reluctance yet he presses a kiss to your forehead, “we’re different in that aspect - you and i.”

“how so?” perhaps it’s the obvious question you’re asking the grim reaper that makes him laugh and flick your forehead right after he kissed it, perhaps it’s the childlike wonder but he explains it anyway, “you grasp fate at its neck and threaten to throw the entire world into chaos if it doesn’t let you decide your own path, and i...” callous thumb caresses your gloved knuckles, “...i follow mine with contempt and despise the goddess for the cursed blood that runs through my vein.”

“if it weren’t for that blood, i wouldn’t have considered striking a deal with you and end up marrying you,” your hand slips out of yoongi’s grasp only for it to wrap around his hand with your free one, “the blood that grants the power for its master to swing his sword and protect his kingdom could never be a curse.”

“that’s not what the rest of the world thinks,” he refutes, a dry laugh escaping his lips.

“does what the rest of the rest of the world think matter more than of those who actually know you?” you’re not sure of his answer. or if what you’re asking is even appropriate. the organ beating in your chest writhes with agonizing anticipation as the man’s crimson eyes bore into you like a liquid fire.

but if there’s anything you’re more sure of, it’s the fact that the servants at the min mansion has never shown a shred of fear while you worked with them to prepare for the garden party. the same couldn’t be said for the other noble families who were infamous for their ill treatment towards those who serve them.

grim reaper is but a name that does yoongi no absolute justice. he’s possibly the most dignified noble you’ve ever met.

“no - not anymore,” he murmurs, the faintest hint of smile curling on his lips as crimson eyes melt like ice come autumn.

he gathers you in his arms and you gladly let yours drape over his stomach, cheek pressing flush against his chest. you stay like that, in complete silence as the carriage shakes with each pebble and hole in the road, for the rest of the ride until it rolls to a stop in front of the palace walls.

“child trafficking is a serious crime,” seokjin speaks after a long, strenuous pause once yoongi finished reporting his findings within the park territory, “i bet park isn’t showing any sign of remorse, did he?”

a foreboding cloud hangs over the room as the man hunches over the oak table, elbows propped on its surface and clasped hands hiding half of his face. though he hides his expression well, you can see the way his shoulder line tremble with rage until he looks up at the silver haired man.

“actually,” yoongi’s lips press into a flat line as he seem to stare off into nothingness for the briefest moment before frowning, “he all willingly admitted that he’d committed the crime by himself.”

“what about his lackeys?” seokjin quizzes, fully aware that no lord does the dirty work.

“the dungeon was empty of save for the children - most likely they abandoned their lord for their own lives when they heard we were coming,” the head knight deduces.

a pause hovers over the as silence blankets the room.

“it’s suspicious no matter how you look at it.” your voice cuts through the air like knife.

“no man admits to his dirty crime just like that,” seokjin agrees and judging from yoongi’s knitted brows, he seems to know something you don’t.

“we didn’t believe it was that easy either but there was no proof of any other involvement besides the count,” he confesses - they must have raided nearby smaller granaries and questioned the people who you can easily guess, were tight-lipped.

“your majesty,” you take a step forward before dipping into a bow, an arm slanted over your chest as your hand clasps over the spot where your heart it, “i swear upon the honor of the leader of kairos, i will drag every last person involved in this to hell - please allow give me your permission to go to the park territory to investigate this matter further.”

this time, it doesn’t take long for seokjin to respond, “i was wondering why you didn’t storm over the moment you heard about the duke’s findings,” he leans back against his seat, eyes glazing with a ghost of the past, “love changes people, huh?”

“i-i’m not sure where you’re-” before you manage to barely calmly deflect seokjin’s ludicrous assertion, another voice speaks over you, forcing you to swallow the remaining of your words.

“your majesty, i ask your permission to escort lady ___ in her journey,” yoongi mimics your position in your periphery.

it takes a moment for his words to register and another for you to debate on the pros and cons of having a knight, bound to uphold the law, join you in a not so equitable quest for a justified cause.

yet you lower your head, “his grace will be my only other companion, your majesty. please allow it.”

but the answer you thought to receive isn’t one that he gives, “what about miss leslie? you always go with her.”

standing straight, you study seokjin’s deep frown before coming to a conclusion that you’ll probably never understand the man’s way of thinking even if you tried.

“i believe his grace will do a better job at guiding me since he’s been there before.” is all you say.

“this is unacceptable!” the sound of skin smacking a hard surface echoes against the wall, you have to resist to check if his hand is red from slamming it onto the table that hard, but he persists like without blinking, “an unmarried man and woman travelling together without servants... what would people think?”

“the question is, your majesty, why are you thinking anything would happen besides his grance and i working to unravel the people involved in this syndicate?” your voice takes on a dangerously low tone as you meet seokjin’s startled gaze.

“e-either way, i’m the king and i say jungkook will go with you,” he announces.

“y-your majesty? b-b-but-” the man in question’s head snaps in the king’s direction faster than you can blink. almost as though seeing a ghost, jungkook’s complexion pales instantly at the order.

“you’re sending the prime minister to do undercover work. outside of the capital, at that.” you point out in a matter of factly. as the silence stretches on, the more ridiculous the scenario seems to be but seokjin isn’t seokjin if he doesn’t try to refute you.

“he hasn’t taken the governmental examination yet,” he holds his chin high like that of a king.

“he’s been filling in for the prime minister anyway,” you challenge, refusing to back down as you hold the king’s equally defiant stare, “and it isn’t so kingly of you to stop your most loyal subjects from serving the kingdom - his grace and i going as leader of kairos and head knight to carry out your bidding, your majesty.”

it’s the jab at his position that makes his eye twitch. after having spent over five years by the other’s side, you know each other’s strengths enough to trust the other with your lives. but the downside is, you also know the other’s weakness like the back of your hand.

“ah, that’s true,” when his tone turns sweet and his shoulder line relaxes, yours stiffen as you narrow your eyes at the man’s sudden shift of personality - and true enough, you don’t like how he decides to take a jab at your- “since members of kairos have been decreasing and as a result, the guild barely have any influence outside of the capital, i suppose you would benefit from having yoongi come with you.”

he knows full well you hate relying on others because of your chest full of pride. yet you force on a smile that points in all the wrong anger, head lowering as you mechanically mutter, “thank you for your consideration, your majesty.”

note. and that is all for this chapter! (apparently we’re not having just 4 chapters + finale).

taglist. @fanfuckingfic @ayujmi @deathkat657

#bts smut #yoongi smut #bts x reader #yoongi fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #bts scenarios #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts x you #bts x yn #yoongi x yn

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