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sehodreams · 3 days

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cherry blossom scars

TW and tags: tattoo artist!Wonbin x insecure!reader, surgery scar, pierced nipples, nipple play, mutual masturbation, tons of overthinking and word vomiting, corny as hell, fluff, kind of dom reader but not much.

WC: 9.3k

Comment: hi guys, I made brief descriptions of the scar, to be honest, I don’t have one or ever had surgery, so I’m not exactly sure how one would look, I just saw a couple of pictures on the internet and wanted to write something about it, hope it’s okay. I didn’t sleep at all to finish it because I knew I’d leave it in a draft if I didn’t write it in one go. Probably has mistakes and inconsistencies. I don’t know anything about piercings, tattoos, or early education.

While growing up, as weird as it sounds, summer was your favourite season. You remember a lot of things about it, how your parents would drive to the coast to spend the day at the beach, playing in the water with the friend your parents had agreed to take with you, and eating the most boring sandwich your mother could make in a busy morning that felt like a feast in your mouth after swimming for hours.

It was all good, until you started to grow up. Your parents had no time to take you anymore, your friends had better things to do, and you had entered the phase of your life in which you hated the idea of wearing a swimsuit if you weren’t perfect.

Perfection is, as you thought after a particular summer, simply not you.

Perhaps your mother hadn’t said it with bad intentions, she was your mother after all, and you were sure she loved you, but that little phrase had impregnated your head like the gum on your head one of the boys in class thought it looked good smeared on your hair.

‘’I don’t think you should wear this blouse doll’’ she said, showing you her selection instead.

‘’Why? I like it, and it’s too hot to wear normal shirts’’ you replied, feeling your arms sweat just with the simple action of changing into the clothes you were wearing.

‘’It’s just… the scar is showing’’ she said, pointing at the line that went from the start of your shoulder to the middle of your chest.

It was a long line, thick, slightly red and purple, noticeable from the way it would get deeper into your smooth skin, surrounded with thin little lines that looked like roots expanding to grow. You were just fourteen, not thinking much of it; actually, not even thinking about it until she talked about it.

You spent the summer with short-sleeved shirts, leaving all the dresses with thin straps and anything that showed your cleavage behind. You could, never again, wear anything that did.

It didn’t matter how many creams your mother bought, or how many treatments in clinics you received, it stayed there with you, like a mark of how fragile your body was, and how easily you could break with a simple fall.

You had gotten hurt after biking with your friends and making a wrong turn. You fell with a strong thud, and you don’t remember much about what happened that day anymore, because when you were conscious again, you already had the scar there. Less to say your parents banned you from riding a bicycle ever again.

So, it’s not difficult to guess why you hate summer now. You can’t wear the clothes you want, you’re a broke college student living alone with no AC, and you have to walk everywhere with the fear of getting a heatstroke.

To your luck, or disgrace, today you run out of clean t-shirts acceptable for the weather, and you simply refuse to wear a long-sleeved one, resolving to grab one of the thin straps that you usually wear when you’re alone in your room.

You don’t think much about it. You’re going to your friend’s place, and she should have a shirt to lend you around there. Still, not even the thought makes the journey bearable.

You’re anxious in your seat, listening to some podcast you had found about old music (you don’t know if to call it old since it’s the 90s, but your friends didn’t even watch programs that weren’t from your century, so to avoid all explanation you simply say you like old music), when you feel weirdly observed.

Looking in front of you, a mother is carrying his child in her arms, who is looking intensely at you. You smile because the kid is cute. He has big eyes, almost black, and chubby cheeks. He must be at least four years old, and when you wave your hand to say hi, he points at your chest. You know what he’s pointing, and you nod as if you explained everything with that move.

When the mother turns at you, directing her eyes at what her son is watching, and sees you, she smiles and then her face falls, almost as abruptly as you did that day from your bicycle, and she apologizes for her son.

‘’He didn’t do anything’’ you say, and she denies it.

‘’He shouldn’t be looking at you like that’’ she answers.

‘’Why?’’ you ask.

‘’Because…’’ she can’t finish her sentence. You kind of know what she refers to. Because you’re hurt, and we can all see it. You almost want to correct the words she didn’t say because the kid doesn’t look at you as if you were a monster, he’s just curious, while she is the one doing it.

‘’He’s cute’’ you say instead.

‘’Thank you’’ she answers.

‘’Be careful when he grows up’’ you say. ‘’Because…’’

Because he could look like me it’s implied, and the mother looks at you horrified, as if you had just cursed his son. She quickly gets up and presses the button to get off the bus with such desperation you feel bad for having talked more than necessary.

When you go back to your own thing, you notice something weird again. You lift your eyes, finding the seat in front of you, in which the mother had been sitting just seconds before, empty, and a man beside you. When you meet his eyes he smiles at you, a big grin with no teeth, he’s obviously older than you, with lines of age on his face, normal looking, almost kind, and then, in front of your face, he moves his eyes down to your chest.

Great, now you didn’t have to deal with people staring at your scar, now you had to deal with old men staring at your tits too.

You feel so creeped out by it that you get up and press the button for the next stop. It’s not your stop, but now you can understand why the mother was so desperate to get off. A creep, as normal as they look, it’s still a creep.

Walking the streets at a fast pace, you try to arrive at your friend’s place as soon as possible. You feel even more observed, perhaps it’s because you’re almost running at 36oC and you’re sweating your ass off, but you think it’s because of your uncovered cleavage.

The minute you arrive you start telling your friend everything, from the cute kid to the disgusting man, and she tells you that people usually act dumb, doesn’t matter how you look, people are just people.

‘’It’s their nature, they’re programmed to act like fools, especially men’’ your friend says.

‘’Well, they’re fucking disgusting’’ you answer, grabbing one of her t-shirts and sliding into it to cover yourself like you usually do.

‘’Boys will be boys’’ she finishes, and then she rushes you to finally leave.

You have to go to a pool party (a private party he has clarified), and you honestly would’ve refused on any other occasion, but Sungchan, the owner of the house and your friend’s boyfriend, was cool enough to not force you to go in when you said you weren’t fond of swimming, nodding in understanding as if you had told him the entire story tale of your life, which was kind of comforting.

Also, since he lives with his parents, he has AC.

At the party, a couple of hours later, when almost everyone is outside enjoying the water, you’re left alone in charge of the snacks and drinks, mixing shit as if you knew what you were doing.

‘’Could I have some of that?’’ one of Sungchan’s friends asks, pointing at the jug you’re holding. You nod, you have no reason to say no, and when he takes a sip of it his eyebrow frowns for a second before he smiles. ‘’Wow, that’s… good.’’

You know it’s not, it’s just rum coke with too much rum and almost no limes, to which you decide to add a bit of sprite to see if it does the gig. It doesn’t, but it could punch anyone into not asking for more and you nod content at the result.

‘’Thanks, I should probably make a career of it’’ you answer.

He flashes you a smile before he grabs a can of Coke to sip it. ‘’Sure, if your goal is to hook more people into going to A.A meetings’’ he says while opening a bag of salt and vinegar chips. ‘’I’m Wonbin’’ he smiles.

You tell him your name and serve yourself a cup too. You try to secretly add more ice to your drink, and he laughs louder when he catches you feigning you were getting ice for the whole jug.

‘’I’ll be honest, I feel like I’ve seen you before’’ he says then.

‘’Well, we’re kind of connected through the couple there, perhaps we crossed each other’’ your finger directs at your friend over Sungchan’s shoulders, laughing and screaming something you can’t understand with the music on out there.

‘’True, but not only that… weren’t you last week at the tattoo shop right next to the bookstore that sells old books no one reads?’’ he takes a sip of the drink with more ice, and he denies, adding the rest of the can of coke he had opened.

‘’Do you mean the Rip Tree? I mean, it’s not Barnes and Noble, but it does the job. I got a nice copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray for four dollars there, and they gave me a bunch of bookmarks for free. Of course, they had the publicity of a nursing home in the back, but I’m sure it’s a completely respectable place to read books at’’ you answer immediately, adding rum to the jug when he laughs so hard his head falls back and his eyes close.

When he leans more to the front and you see his arms flexing, you can’t help but suddenly feel conscious of how much you’re talking to a boy you have just met so freely. Maybe you’ve had too many trial drinks while you were mixing and it had started to get in your head without noticing, it wouldn’t be the first time, and sure wouldn’t be the last time.

He smiles at you with a closed mouth, just like the man you had met on the bus many hours before, but you like this smile. Wonbin, unlike the older man, looks at your face without trailing down.

‘’Well, were you?’’ he asks.

‘’Where?’’ you ask too, because half of the conversation you were having just disappeared from your head when you saw his necklace, almost as pretty as him, glint.

‘’The Ink, the tattoo shop’’ he repeats.

‘’Oh, well yeah, but I just went in because I was curious.’’

You’re lying. You hate lying, but again, you didn’t feel like telling someone you just met your whole life.

You had seen on the internet how some people covered their scars with tattoos, which honestly, seemed like a great solution to your esthetic situation. However, when you crossed the door all your bravery went to hell, especially when the gorgeous admin asked you to see it and then the next time told you that a skin-colour tattoo wouldn’t be possible in your case since the scar was too dark, and that a much better option would be to get one with colours. Obviously, she didn’t know your parents or your career, because who the hell will want to hire a preschool teacher with a colored tattoo? You could already hear the comments, you being so silly to try to cover a scar with a new one, and how improper was for a lady, a teacher, to have one.

He nods at your answer. ‘’Well, was it worth it?’’ he asks.

‘’What? Going in? I guess so, it’s a nice place, a bunch of colours and great walls, they have some interesting draws too’’ you say, also leaning and grabbing a few chips to eat while talking.

Your hand almost meets his when you reach the bag again, and you look at each other’s eyes. He smiles again and you get shy at being that close to him again, pushing your hand into the bag to pretend you didn’t feel your stomach flutter with that silly interaction. He lets you put your hand in first, and then he grabs a couple more, eating them slowly, looking as if he was thinking about something else.

Michael Jackson starts to sound in the background, and you bob your head as instinct to the rhythm.

‘’Didn’t take you for a Thriller girl’’ he says, tilting his head and grinning.

‘’Because I’m not, I’m a Rock with You girl, sometimes a Dirty Diana one too’’ you answer, happy to talk a bit about music you like. Your friends don’t like him that much, but they let you sneak a few songs into the shared playlist, and that’s enough for you.

However, you didn’t choose Thriller for this playlist.

‘’I guess you’re the Thriller guy then’’ you say.

‘’Yeah, I’m a failure’’ he stands, grabbing his cup and sipping before he continues. ‘’But I’d like to hear you teaching me something about him, so I stop being one.’’

Smooth Criminal, you think, letting him guide you to the couch.

While talking, you don’t even realize how much time has passed until you hear the laughs fall and some of Sungchan guests start leaving. The day is well behind, an orange sky out there at 6 pm, and you don’t want to go home.

Your friend had come with Sungchan to say goodbye to some people, and when she asks you if you’re tired, you say that you’re okay, just a little hungry. She nods and orders a couple of pizzas with Sungchan’s phone since hers is connected to the speakers outside.

There are only like 7 people left, including you and Wonbin, who decide to stay on the couch with you when another boy, Sohee, tells him that going to the jacuzzi to submerge his feet should be fine.

You don’t think much about what Sohee says, but you’re too cosy with Wonbin to even think at all.

‘’Won’t you ask why he said that?’’ Wonbin says when you’re alone again.

‘’None of my business’’ you say.

‘’I’m a bit curious though, if you don’t mind me asking why you would prefer to stay here in charge of the bar, because as much as I like your drinks, I don’t think you’re used to staying still in charge of things like this at parties.’’

‘’Well, you’re wrong about that, I enjoy being in charge a lot, and I can do it for many hours’’ you say, not noticing how odd it sounds. He looks a bit shocked at first, and then laughs hard. You can’t go back in time to correct yourself, so you laugh with him.

You start to think that maybe you can tell him, it’s not the end of the world, but you can’t even think about revealing something that deep to him. Well, it’s not that deep, you showed it to your friend literally the day you met her. You were in the cafeteria when you spilt your milkshake over your sweater, so you had no option but to change, and you somehow knew she would be your friend when she laughed and told you to grab her sweater if you were that cold, so you showed it to her.

Still, Wonbin is so pretty, even his teeth when he laughed were pretty, and you couldn’t imagine what he would think if he knew.

You don’t imagine a whole relationship with him to think about his opinion too highly, but there is interest, and you want to keep it there as long as you can.

Being your age and haven’t fucked a boyfriend under the light, you simply couldn’t feel comfortable enough to show it to a boy you barely knew and kind of liked.

‘’Just because’’ you say.

‘’I see’’ he says, knowing there’s something you don’t want to tell him. ‘’Well, a win for me anyways, I’ve learned a lot in just an afternoon’’ he says, making you sigh, glad he changes the subject.

‘’I’m glad I was able to tell you everything Wikipedia has about the most known person in the world’’ you haven’t even stayed on the topic for too long for him to learn something, you just said what songs you liked, then showed him some playlists and laughed when you had songs in common, mentioning little moments you remember while listening to them, like not being able to remember your lines in a school play when they suddenly put Beat It as background music, or playing The Way You Make Me Feel in the speaker when one of your friends wanted to confess to a girl (she rejected them so it’s banned from every shared playlist). You shake your head with a smile, not looking at him when one of his hands gets closer to you, resting behind you on the couch.

Oh, you say in your head. You don’t know how close you’ll let him get, but it feels so right.

You haven’t talked (kind of flirted, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself) with a boy that long in years. You kind of remember Anton from your Art, Music & Movement course with whom you went on a couple (unofficial) dates until he took an exchange program and had to leave for a whole year. Then you remember talking to Seunghan, a guy who gave you his spot in the queue for the bathroom at a concert and with whom you exchanged numbers after he bought you a really overpriced burrito, but he lived two hours away, and you had no energy or time to really be something. And then, then you got no one else.

The room is quiet, you notice. He’s not talking, and neither are you, so you fall into a comfortable silence. You hope he’s not tired yet, you’re not, but maybe your social battery has just died, so you lean into his side a bit more, letting your body relax and your head touches his arm behind you.

He looks at you with a small smile, and you start to inspect his face like you feel he’s doing with yours. He has dark eyelashes, thin, but they’re enough to mark his eyes, and they go well with his black hair. You also notice that his hair is shorter on the back and longer on the front, letting some locks fall around, creating little shadows over his face and covering the end of his eyes. He looks really good with the haircut, but you’ve seen him in pictures with Sungchan before, and he honestly always looks good.

Your eyes fall to his chest because you don’t want to make the moment awkward.

What he’s wearing is simple, a black shirt without sleeves that shows his well-toned arms, skin smooth, almost too perfect, and you can’t help but remind yourself how you’re not as perfect as him.

You doubt he has any flaw like yours, and you don’t mean a weird-looking mole or a scar that anyone could have from childhood, yours is different, too noticeable, impossible to ignore. His whole body was an uninterrupted harmony you couldn’t relate to.

Wait, you stop yourself from thinking too far away. What’s that?

You notice that there, in his chest, under the fabric of his tank top, there’s a bulge you haven’t noticed before, and it’s not his nipples, you’re completely sure of that.

Boys will be boys, and the words of your friend start to echo in your head.

You always hated that phrase. How could they all be so brute and inconsiderate of everyone else that weren’t themselves? The lack of respect to stare at your chest without a care of you disgusted you just hours ago.

And now, you start to ponder if, perhaps, in the end, you’re as brute as the man you met on the bus.

Poor Wonbin is finally filing the silence with something about how he had found a new band not long ago, giving you the exact same charming smile he’s had the whole afternoon, flirty but respectful, making you feel almost guilty from not being able to concentrate on the conversation, too busy trying to not stare at his chest.

You blink twice, trying to look at his eyes again.

It doesn’t work. You can’t ignore it.

It was impossible. They were there, standing under his shirt, calling for you to look at them.

Coughing, you move from the touch of his hand behind you, almost as if it burned you, and drink the almost pure water from the ice that melted in your cup.

You scold yourself. I’m not better than a man, you say in your mind before finishing the opaque result of water, rum and coke in your hand in one go, and then, not having anything else to distract yourself with, you bite the inside of your cheek to distract yourself with the pain.

‘’Sorry, am I boring you?’’ he says not much later, feeling the change in your behaviour.

‘’Eh?’’ you say, turning your body in his direction again.

You notice that his cheeks have a pretty reddish flush, and he stays still, letting you stare, waiting for you to talk. Without a doubt, he was one of the prettiest boys you’ve ever met, and in that moment, you were too dazed into him and his stupid pierced nipples to talk to him as easily as you’d been doing when you didn’t know about their existence.

‘’No’’ you finally say. ‘’I’m sorry, that was rude of me, I had other things on my mind.’’

‘’Like what?’’

You don’t expect him to lean even more into your space and show more interest in what you’ve been thinking about, making you more nervous for not being able to concentrate on another thing that wasn’t him and his pierced nipples so close.

It’s stupid, you can’t help but think. You’re treating him differently. You’ve changed after finding out he has pierced nipples, and it’s exactly what you don’t want to happen to you when people find out about your scar.

‘’Your cheek’’ his hand moves to your face, startling you since he hadn’t touched you that directly the whole night, and with his thumb he caressed the cheek you were obviously biting from the inside. ‘’Doesn’t it hurt?’’ he asks.

You gulp. ‘’Not really.’’

He hums, smiling even more when you move your eyes from his face to his chest, and then, after awkwardly blinking a couple times, looking down to your lap.

A strand of your hair falls out of the lame excuse of a hairstyle you tried to do (not daring to use a ponytail to a party and loose hair with the hot weather) over your face when you look down, and his hand moves on its own to accommodate it behind your ear, the pad of his finger slowly brushing a spot you didn’t know you like, making you melt with his touch like a popsicle in the street at 2PM.

‘’It doesn’t hurt either’’ he says. ‘’If you were curious.’’

Not understanding what he’s referring to, you give him a confused look.

‘’What doesn’t hurt?’’ you ask him.

‘’The piercings’’ he answers, laughing when your cheeks get red, and you shake your head to say no.

‘’I-‘’ I wasn’t looking at them, you want to say. It was just untrue, and denying something you’ve clearly been doing since you noticed them would make you look even more pathetic. So, deciding to be different from the shameless man who never apologized to you, you prefer to be honest. ‘’I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have looked at them like that’’.

‘’Why?’’ he asks, and you feel a sense of deja vu.

‘’It’s rude, to stare at your chest’’ you clarify. ’’At least, uninvited.’’

He looks as if he’s enjoying seeing you that embarrassed, almost as pleased as when you bravely talked to him at the bar, when you remember applauding your mind for creating fresh answers. At that moment, your brain seems to have suffered from all the rum you’ve had since you arrived, so it can’t change the subject or give you a quick joke to make the moment less humiliating.

‘’It’s okay, I don’t mind’’ he denies with a breathy laugh, hand moving down from near your face to your arm, sliding until he finds yours, interlocking fingers when he does. ‘’I invite you to do it, then.’’

‘’What?’’ your eyes become bigger and everything around you, mute.

You see his mouth moving and saying something like, I can show them to you, if you want, before he, not waiting for an answer, makes you stand with him. You can’t see what he says after that when he looks back to the crystal door separating you two from the others outside, and then without doubt he makes you follow him.

It wasn’t his place, yet he moved with enough confidence as if it was, dragging you by the hand to the second floor, a place you had never seen even with your constant visits to the place of your friend’s boyfriend. You always stuck to the first floor, not wanting to cross any boundaries with Sungchan, so you feel as if you’re seeing something you shouldn’t when on the second floor, after walking upstairs, you’re received with tons of family portraits showing you his childhood.

You don’t say anything, you let him move you until you both enter a bathroom you’ve never been to. Closing the door, suddenly you can hear again when you recognize the faint sound of music coming from downstairs and some people laughing.

‘’We have to be quick’’ you hear him say after he presses the secure of the door.

The bathroom is smaller than the one on the first floor, almost tiny. There’s only a sink and a WC besides, with a towel hanger under the light and a mirror over the sink. You can hear the vents working when he turns on the light, but you’re too distracted with his whole body trapping you between him and the sink, not giving you opportunity to put any space between you two, to care.

When he shows you a cheeky grin after you lean more into the sink to put a centimetre more between you, nervous of being there with him, close, and obviously about to do something you’re not used to do with people you’ve just met, you don’t care anymore.

His lips are pink and glowing after he licks them, and he’s too pretty for you to say no.

He moves your left hand to his covered chest, and you have to contain the surprised whimper your throat almost lets out when you feel the little thing that has caught your interest since you recognized it.

One of your hands is gripping the marble of the sink with force to maintain you sane, and it works, until he sighs when you flick it.

His face still has that cheekiness that you had understood, from your time talking, characterized him, but it was now mixed with desire, leaving behind the whole courtesy, making him look even better in front of your eyes.

You become needier, if he looks that good with just a flick, you can’t imagine how would he look if you two did more.

‘’Take it off’’ you urge him, not caring that the tone of your voice makes it seem almost an order.

The hand previously glued to the cold surface moves to the border of his shirt, feeling like a punch the warmness of his skin, pushing it up so he does what you asked faster.

‘’Shit’’ he grins, lifting his arms and allowing you to take it off for him. ‘’What happened to the timid girl from before?’’

‘’I’m not usually like this, I swear’’ you say. You want to tell him that no one had made you that eager before, even less with just a look, but again, you had never met anyone, especially a man, with pierced nipples, so he should understand your curiosity when you admire his naked chest and lick your lips before you look at his eyes again.

Growing up as a woman, you have seen firsthand how a good pair of tits could make the smartest and most respectful man a complete asshole. Even the most respectful men that you had gladly called your friends, have been caught by your always wary eyes looking at other women’s chests.

You don’t wear cleavage, so it doesn’t happen to you that much, but just that day a man did it on the bus, like a primitive caveman, a beast, and it’s so embarrassing that you’re acting like one of them in that moment.

Surely, Darwin would be especially disappointed with your regression as a human, but, in your favour, everyone becomes monkeys with the quantity of alcohol you’ve had that afternoon. Also, the weather has a lot to do too, because if it wasn’t that hot, Wonbin wouldn’t have been wearing a tank top, therefore, he wouldn’t have left his ample chest on your eyesight, and that has nothing to do with you. It was all climate change, so perhaps even Darwin would’ve forgiven you for wanting to lick some man’s nipples.

The rum in your system makes your mind babble nonsense and you have to shut your mind for a second. But you want to lick them so bad. You never thought you could fall that low, but there you are, in a bathroom only used to shit at, trying to not moan just from the sight of those pink nipples with little silver beams pointing at you.

‘’I believe you’’ he sighs with a smile, moving further to the wall behind him so you could see his chest better.

You can’t believe your eyes.

You can see the metallic object break through the pink flesh, two tiny spheres on each end of it to not let it move from its place, and you can officially say you have never seen anything that hot in your life.

Hypnotized by the way the object sparkles with the warm light above you two, you timidly move your index fingers to flick them again, making him breathe through his nose and bite his lip to contain himself.

‘’Do they feel good?’’ your curiosity, instead of getting satiated, is growing, and you have tons of questions appearing in your mind.

‘’Per se… sometimes, when I get conscious of them’’ he admits. ‘’But I usually have to touch them if I want to feel something’’.

You flick them again, to then grip them with your index and middle finger and, slightly, almost with fear, twirl them. ‘’Is this okay?’’ you ask, gulping the saliva accumulating in your mouth.

‘’Yeah, that feels good’’ he assures you, both of his hands going to your hips to maintain you in place while his head falls to the wall behind, and he closes his eyes.

You keep doing the same motion, loving the sighs that he leaves out and how a frown of pleasure starts to install on his face. At some point, his own chest is moving with how hard his breath has become, doing the work for you of tugging them while you hold them still.

His eyes are closed and his tongue salutes you when he wets his lips, pressing his hips against you. His boner is appearing there, pressing the mount of your abdomen, but you’re so concentrated on the image in front of you that you can’t care less about him using you to stimulate that area every time his hips push softly into you.

He looks so good like that. You can’t stop yourself from asking when, after twirling them harder, a particular moan leaves his mouth, making you wet. You’re not being touched at all apart from his hands marking your hips with his strength, but your sex was clenching with the pleasure you were giving him, as if those touches were gifted to you too.

‘’Can-Can I lick them?’’ you ask nervously.

‘’Fuck, don’t do that to me’’ his eyelids flutter and you stop all your movements, afraid you’re asking for too much. Shit, perhaps even he thinks I’m crazy, you tell yourself.

‘’Can’t I?’’ you ask, sad of him denying your question, or at least, what you understood as a denial.

‘’Don’t fucking stop’’ he says, one leg going between your thighs and bending it to touch you more. ‘’Do whatever you want honey, I know you’ll do it with care’’.

You don’t need anymore, and moving down your face to his chest, you look up at him with deer eyes, afraid of him stopping you again.

He nods at you, giving you the certainty you want to start doing it.

You’ve never licked another person’s nipples before, so you were unsure of exactly what to do, and remembering what your couple of partners have done before to make you feel good, you press the tip of your tongue over one of them, damping the pink tip and tasting the combination of the flavour of his skin and the metallic object.

Your pussy feels even better with the sensation of it in your mouth, stealing a moan from you.

‘’Shit, you like them that much?’’ he asked, obtaining a nod from you as a response. God, what would your friend say if she found you in that position? You feel sick for a second, but you quickly ignore that thought with the shake of his laugh inside his chest making you look at him instead.

‘’They’re really pretty’’ you say between laps, maintaining eye contact.

‘’Not as pretty as you baby’’, he praises you back.

You moan again with his words, and your eyebrows frown when you feel his knee pressing your cunt, feeling yourself dripping inside your shorts.

‘’You’re doing good baby, keep going’’ he smiles, making you happy with the idea of doing a good job for him.

It’s all so weird. The last thing you expected that day was Wonbin to have pierced nipples, even less, that you would be licking them in a bathroom. However, there you are, moaning while humping his knee and playing with one of the piercings while your mouth continues tasting the other.

Wonbin tastes and smells so good, you’re getting dizzy, as if his whole body was made from the sugar you needed to get completely drunk.

It’s all a bunch of frantic moves, you’re humping his leg while his hands push to the sink behind you, biting his lips hard at the sensation of your mouth drinking his chest.

‘’Fuck- that’s so good’’ his voice sounds in pain, and you bite the little mound in your mouth as you do with your cheek, controlling yourself to not hurt him, to what he shudders before his mouth falls open and a choked sound escapes his swollen lips. ‘’That’s enough, stop’’ he pushes you away, gaining a whine from you because you don’t want to stop, you want to continue, to see his gorgeous face break apart.

‘’Why?’’ you complain. His knee digs into you harder, and you move your hips more to the front as a response. He’s trying to control his breath, and you like how he’s looking at you, as if he was as bad for you as you are for him.

‘’I was about to cum’’ he reveals, and you can’t believe he just told you that, because the idea sounds so good you clench around nothing.

‘’Please, please’’ you beg.

Just minutes before you thought you were crazy for wanting to lick his nipples, but now you realize that you’re insane for wanting to see him cum like that. For needing to see it. You’re sure his cock is fucking pretty as well, and you want to see it spurring with cum so bad you don’t even ask before your hand starts to pull his belt open. He lets you, going to the hem of your shirt, and there’s when your whole euphoric state stops, and panic arises.

‘’No, wait, stop’’ you push his hand away and he lets you go immediately.

‘’What’s wrong? I thought-‘’ he doesn’t finish the sentence, clarity coming back to him too. ‘’Did I read things wrong?’’

He didn’t read anything wrong. You wanted to get even more intimate, but you’re scared. The light is on, and you can see him, which means, he can see you too.

‘’No, it’s just…’’ how could you say, please don’t get scared, or disgusted, I have a huge mark that goes from my shoulder to my chest that will never leave me alone, without sounding odd. You don’t think he’s ever heard or seen anything about surgery scars, from what you can see, he’s perfect in more ways than you can even explain. He’s handsome, yes, but his pierced nipples had added a touch of surprise to him, making him insufferably hot. He wouldn’t understand.

‘’What?’’ he asks, shaking you out of your mind vomiting sentences that make your insides stir with anxiety.

The moment is already awkward, the emotion and lust overpowered by your discomfort.

‘’I shouldn’t’’ you say, your words not making any sense since you can’t force yourself to tell him.

‘’You don’t want to continue?’’ he asks confused. ‘’I mean, you can change your mind, but I don’t get it, did I do something wrong?’’

‘’No, of course not’’ you say. ‘’It’s not you, it’s me.’’

Perfect, now you sound as if you were breaking up with him.

You can’t find the correct words. You’re sure what you’re feeling is perfectible understandable with how your parents had taught you that you shouldn’t just show it around, making you ashamed of it until you reached your vast age. But, you were a grown-up now, and you were about to be a teacher, how could you let your life be controlled by something you couldn’t change, even more, by something as banal as your physique.

You would be in charge of so many little lives in just a couple years, and you would never want one of them to feel ashamed of who they are solely because of their bodies.

You know what your mother did that day was wrong, but you know even more that you should start to change how you feel about it.

Also, you’ve talked the whole night, and if you were about to (probably) fuck him, you should at least make sure he wasn’t an asshole that found you disgusting by a mark.

Looking at him with pleading eyes, he stays silent, letting you take as much time as you need. You grab the hem of your shirt, and you want to sprint out as soon as your head starts playing the exact words you’ve heard every time you’ve gone shopping and tried on something that showed your skin. You shouldn’t.

To be fair, you correct that same voice, you’ve done a lot of things you shouldn’t, like entering a tattoo shop when your whole family and career were conservative as hell, or accepting a burrito from a complete stranger in the middle of the night in a concert, and you’re still alive.

His shoulders become smaller, and one of his hands goes to his shoulder, covering himself while his biceps show more.

‘’If it’s the piercings, I assure you I don’t have one down there, I’m not that brave’’ he laughs.

‘’What?’’ now you’re even more confused.

‘’Well, I know many don’t like them, I thought you did, but I could be wrong’’ he blinks like you do when you’re nervous, and you have to shake your head before you talk again.

‘’Wonbin, I was moaning while licking them just a second ago, I think that’s enough proof of how much I do like them’’ you say suddenly surprised with the way the confident guy you’ve been talking to the whole party has changed to a shy version of himself. You can’t seem to let him feel the problem is him, so you take all the courage you have, pull up your shirt and toss it to the floor, just like Wonbin did.

You’re wearing the top of a swimsuit, because even if you weren’t going to swim, you didn’t want to stay out of the theme. The thin straps don’t hide anything from you, and you leave the insecurity of your life on full display.

He looks at you and blinks.

‘’So, you want to continue?’’ he asks.

You blink, not believing that he’s not making any question about it. Your first boyfriend asked you desperately what had happened to you, expecting a sad story with tears, and you didn’t feel like receiving that pity look again, so you never fucked him, or anyone, in daylight ever again.

You also broke up with him after fucking two times.

‘’I mean, I want to, but don’t you have any question?’’ you ask unconvinced. Was he ignoring the elephant in the room or were you to pretentious to think everything was about your mark and everyone would focus on it your whole life?

‘’About what?’’

You start to feel stupid (which was probably right).

‘’Is my scar… okay to you?’’ you ask then.

‘’Why would it not be? I’ve seen it before’’ he says.

You lift your hand to stop him. You have to stop everything from moving forward in that exact same second.

‘’What do you mean you’ve seen it before?’’ you can’t believe it. You’ve hidden it so well some of your friends have never seen it in years of friendship. You’ve hidden it so well that you have family that has never heard of your fall when you were a dumb child who obliged their parents to take off the training wheels before they learned how to fully drive a bicycle.

‘’I’m a tattoo artist at The Ink. The admin sent me a picture of it to check if I could do the nude tattoo. I told you that I saw you there. I wanted to talk to you to convince you to a coloured one, but you had left when my other appointment ended.’’

He says it with such calm you can’t help but feel calm too, even if incredibly dumb at the same time. He didn’t look like usual tattoo artists, he had his arms empty, like blank canvases waiting to be painted, and you had to be honest, you imagined them all to have no empty space in their bodies.

Where was the tweety you imagined them all to have?

You nod, understanding. You’re such an asshole, you’ve done to him everything you didn’t want people to do to you. You’ve judged his appearance, his career, everything out of the stupid traditionality of your ideas.

‘’I see’�� you say, and he smiles.

‘’Did you think I would push you away the second I saw it? As if it was a scarlet letter?’’ he says with a breathy laugh, as if he found funny how dumb you were for thinking it was a problem.

‘’First, I didn’t know you read. Second, well yes, don’t laugh at me, I’m all vulnerable and almost tits on air’’ you say, looking at his chest to distract yourself from the shame. At least, you think, it’s not because of your body anymore.

He laughs louder, getting closer to your body and leaving his head on the space of your neck and putting his hands over yours, which were gripping the surface of the sink. It feels like a hug, but you doubt it could be described as that when he wasn’t wrapping you with his arms. He was just there, close, chest to chest, pressing his hard piercings against your flimsy bikini top.

‘’I have something to admit though’’ he says after a second.

Of course, there was something, everything was too good to be true. You sighed, nodding and giving him permission to say it.

It’s weird. Looks a bit ugly. It’s hard to digest.

‘’I think it’s really pretty, especially the color, it reminds me of cherry blossoms.’’

You swear, Wonbin can’t stop surprising you.

‘’Shut up’’ you smile shyly. He moves apart and when he sees you becoming all timid again, he cups your chin and makes you lift your eyes to him.

‘’I have a scar too, although not as pretty as yours’’ he says, moving the locks of hair covering his left eyebrow and showing you the nude line there.

You press your finger there. He’s a bad liar, not because he sounds unconvincing, but because what he said is blatantly not true. His scar is prettier, so much that it looks as if it had been done in purpose to make him look more handsome.

‘’Dumbass’’ you smile, pressing the pad of your thumb over his almost perfect eyebrow. If you’re honest, it looks perfect to you.

He uses your distraction and gives you a quick peck on the lips. You can’t react to it when he’s already away.

‘’What was that?’’ you laugh loudly, finding him adorable.

‘’A kiss, I hope’’ he answers, smiling so wide you see his bunny teeth.

Fuck, I like him, you think.

You kiss him again, this time for longer, so it’s a real kiss.

His hands go play with the straps of your top and you move your hands to your back to undo the knot holding it in place.

When you let it fall, he admires you like you did to him before. His hands, bigger than yours, go to your chest, playing with your nipples, to then go higher and follow the trail of your scar.

‘’I would die to draw flowers over them’’ he comments, index drawing the line. ‘’It would be a good branch’’ he notices. ‘’The flowers would be blossoming, at their best point, full of colour’’ he sighs, eyes dropping as if he was getting hot with the mere idea of tattooing your skin. His middle finger touches the little lines that move outward, like they’re born from the thick, uneven line. ‘’It would be a perfect tree’’ he finishes.

You’re getting wet with the image he plants in your imagination. It blooms in your sex, which is getting more wet with every second that passes. In your ears, he’s singing the hottest song you’ve heard in your life, watering the seed he had buried in your mind.

‘’I want to be a teacher. I’d get fired if they saw it’’ you lament.

‘’Don’t think so, every student would think you’re the coolest person around’’ he whispers. One of his hands goes down your abdomen, cupping you over your denim shorts and pulling a soft whimper from you. ‘’Just like I do right now.’’

‘’Welcome to the fan club,’’ you shake your head, opening your legs a little more, unnoticeable, and then punching his chest. ‘’You’re such a simp.’’

He grabs your hand and maintains it over his chest, cupping you harder to feel how wet you’re getting. He’s not touching you directly, but he knows you’re wet under all the clothes, and he smirks proudly. ‘’What can I say baby, you rocked my world.’’

You can’t believe he’s using one of your favourite songs to turn you on. He didn’t need to. You’re so wet you’re sure your bikini bottoms are drenched and it’s probably reaching the hard fabric of your shorts.

‘’Shut up’’ you order, touching his clothed erection and unfastening his belt. The metallic sound of it echoes inside the small room, covering the sound of the vents and your throat gulping the saliva accumulated.

‘’So, you do enjoy being in charge’’ he clicks his tongue, smirking. ‘’Now I just wonder how many hours you can boss me around.’’

‘’You said we have to be quick’’ you remind him, pulling down his zipper and smirking too.

‘’You’re right, sadly we’re not alone’’ he agrees, doing the same action with you. ‘’We’ll take out time the next time.’’

His fingers finally touch you directly, sliding a finger between your lips, gathering the wetness that pools there. You almost roll your eyes, feeling the quick touch over your clit electrifying. Still, you must have the last word. ‘’Bold of you to assume there’ll be a next time’’ you say like you can, hand going inside his trousers too.

He groans when you touch his cock. It jumps inside your grip, making you smile until he talks. ‘’With how wet you are, I’m sure it’ll be soon.’’

You want to say something even more cocky, but you can’t answer when his fingers press your clit again. You’re sure you’re making a mess inside your shorts and that you’ll be fucking uncomfortable downstairs, but if you’re going to go around with your clothes all dirty, he should do it too.

Playing with the head of his cock, you have to contain yourself from pulling down his underwear to catch the sight of it naked. The skin feels soft in your hand, and he’s so hard that, when you press it, you feel what he’s made. You’re sure he has a pink tip, just like his nipples, and that seems to drive you a bit more insane. The picture you create in your head is nearly orgasmic. His hard coke, with its thickness and bloody colour, angrily pointed at you for being the cause of its pain.

This is really something you shouldn’t be doing. You shouldn’t be giving a boy you just talked to that day a handjob. It’s so nasty and improper, much more than your scar or any tattoo you could get done.

When you use those adjectives, you notice, that you’re mostly referring to yourself. Could you see Wonbin as nasty and improper? He has pierced nipples, but you thought they were incredibly hot, not to be described as those words, or to be categorized with you.

‘’Your pussy is dripping so much. I want to lick it until I drown in it’’ he sighs, fingers smearing your juices and making a wet sound. ‘’You’d come in my mouth so good, I’m sure I’d be able to taste you the whole night.’’

Oh no, he is nasty and improper, just like you.

Your hand is a bit dry. The only thing helping you touch him good is the little pre-cum you’re using as lube to slide your hand. You spit in your hand while maintaining eye contact, and his grin gets wider, as if he’s glad he has found someone as sick and perverted as him.

You’re not, you try to convince yourself, but you know there’s no use. You were licking his nipples as if your life depended on it moments ago, and you’re sure you’d do it all over again.

Remembering they’re there, at your whole disposition, your free hand moves to touch one. You play with the beams, flicking it up and down, to then pull them. He groans harder when you do it, and you feel his cock get somehow thicker, but instead of loosening your grip, you tighten it and jerk him faster, touching the tip and the base so fast he hisses.

His hips move when you suddenly stop your hand, and you smile, liking how desperate he looks. He notices it, so to erase that smudgy grin, he plugs two fingers inside you, obliging you to part your lips with the sensation of him filing you and the sound of your pussy squelching. His fingers are long enough to shock you, and the pain of pleasure building is starting to hit you as much as him.

‘’Let it free, please’’ he asks nicely. He’s so polite and looks in so much pain you want to do it, but you’re sure that, if you asked the same, he wouldn’t comply your begs.

A dark spot is appearing in his black underwear. You can see it with the orange light on. He’s also sweating so bad with the temperature of the room that you see a drip fall from his damp hair to his neck and die on the bone of his clavicle.

You want to lick that place too.

‘’Don’t want to’’ you say, doing the fast motion again, making him grunt.

His fingers move faster too, pushing a bit down your shorts so he can finger you better. It sounds almost like a dessert, and you moan when he curls his fingers. Fucking tattoo artist with talented hands.

‘’Don’t be mean or I’ll be even worse’’ he warns you.

You twist his nipple harder, and he whimpers.

His hands are ferociously fucking you, two fingers deep inside you and his palm brushing your clit, making you wish you had the liberty of cumming without consequences.

You do it too, you keep his pace, moving your hand up and down, not thinking much about it, just following him. You’re the one touching him, you’re the one being mean while jerking him off inside his trousers, yet it feels as if he was the one commanding you to do so.

He starts thrusting the hold you have on him, simulating the force and speed he’s using to fuck you with his fingers.

‘’You’re so bad, the next time I’ll make you beg for me to use my tongue on you’’ he painfully says.

You’re getting closer, you feel it coming. Your pussy is already dripping what you feel as your close orgasm, and so is he with the twitching of his cock, you just know it. You frown, mouth open, and you don’t analyze your question when you do it.

‘’Why would I beg?’’ you innocently ask.

He doesn’t have to say anything. He opens his mouth, flashing you the silver ball in his rosy tongue, and you lose yourself, cumming with a silent moan and shaking legs. He does the same. Feeling your orgasm splashing his hand, he shoots his cum, marking with the marbles more than one spot in his underwear.

You finally pull down his underwear when you feel he has finished cumming, and you see, even if not as hard anymore, the prettiest cock you could’ve imagined. To fuck with him, you spread his cum along his softening shaft, and he does the same with you, sliding his fingers a couple more times before he takes his hand out. Watching it glossy and drops sliding down to his wrist, he looks at you and licks them before they get to his forearm.

You’re both a couple of nasty, improper, sick and pervert people.

Not much later, when you’re both getting decent again, he talks. ‘’Come to the studio, I’ll give you the tattoo’’ he says with a drunk voice. You’ve cleaned as much as you could with toilet paper, and you meet his eyes in the mirror. He’s behind you, knotting your bikini top for you, and looking extremely placid for doing it, as if he was still in the haze of the moment. ‘’Of course, after that, we should go on a date too’’ he says more firmly than his previous offer.

He’s perfect and imperfect in so many senses: he has rosy delicate lips, yet he has uttered the nastiest words you’ve ever heard, he has shaped eyebrows, yet a scar interrupts the harmony of them, and he has the beauty to attract anyone with all his odds, yet he chooses you.

No, he is perfect for you, just the way he is.

You’re still in the blissful state of your post-orgasm, kind of there and at the same time far away, so you don’t even think twice before you nod at his proposal.

‘’We should.’’

When you both eat the remaining cold pizza, he rests one of his hands on your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side, nodding when you tell him that cherry blossoms do sound good.

#riize smut #riize x reader #wonbin x reader #wonbin smut #riize fluff

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luvingtsumu · 23 hours

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( MIYA ATSUMU X FEM!READER )

the question ‘do you see us getting married?’ comes from his high school sweetheart, and he doesn’t know how to answer. he thinks he’s young, he thinks he has time, but you were not gonna wait forever.

content— angst with happy ending, slightly suggestive.

author’s note— more 3:00 am thoughts.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds, letting the words sink in before he scoffed.

“What are ya talkin’ about? We’re young, why are ya thinkin’ about marriage?”

Your head raises from his chest, serious eyes staring back at him, making him bite his tongue to prevent himself from talking.

“We’ve been dating since we were 16, we’re 22 now.” you sighed “I mean, yes, we’re young but…”

You pause, his hands traveling down your back, rubbing it slightly to encourage you to continue talking.

“I do see a future with you, marrying you.” you looked down, slightly embarrassed “We dated since we were very young so I wanna know if you see us together in the future.”

Atsumu stayed quiet, he didn’t liked serious talks, but he understood where you were coming from.

His friends used to tell him that if he stayed with you he was gonna loose all his youth being loyal to you, and he started thinking about it. It’s not like he wanted to go and fuck every girl in his way, and he loved you, he really did, but you were right.

You two had been dating since a very young age, would it be possible for you to get older together? Without a possible divorce happening —in case you two did get married—?

Would he get tired of you?

It was too much compromise, thinking about settling down at this point wasn’t in his priorities.

“I don’t know.” he said, and he immediately regret it by the way your eyes seemed disappointed by his answer.

“Okay.” you muttered, and Atsumu kissed your forehead.

“Stop thinkin’ about that, it’s not important right now.” he said, ‘reassuringly’.

But it was important to you.

You wanted a family with Atsumu, you saw him in your bed every morning for the rest of your days, and you couldn’t even think about finding someone else.

But his ‘i don’t know’ was an enough answer for you to realize that he was thinking about a future where he got bored of you, he didn’t wanna give you an answer because he couldn’t picture himself with you every day of his life.

That was alright. You couldn’t force him to marry you.

But it still hurt a bit, because now every day it was more of a preparation, more wondering about if this was the day he was gonna get tired of you.

You continued the relationship because you loved him, even if you shouldn’t have because picturing a future without him was getting more difficult every day.

You wanted everything with him but now you couldn’t help but wonder if the possibility was even in his mind.

“Mika invited us to her wedding.” you told him.

“Mika? How many years she’d been with her boyfriend?” he asked before taking a bite of your his burger.

“10 years, high school sweetheart’s too.” you chuckled “And to think I used to tell her to dump him.”

Atsumu chuckled too “Tell ‘em congratulations for me.”

“Already did.” you sighed, placing your phone down “Everyone is getting married lately, hm?”

“Right?” he continued eating, licking the mustard off his thumb “Everyone is settlin’ down this days.”

It had been a year since you asked him the question, and you were about to ask him again, just so see if the answer might’ve changed, but before you even had the change to consider keeping your mouth shut, Atsumu said something that answered everything.

“I don’t understand the need to get married.” he cleaned his mouth with a napkin “I mean— ya get me right?”

“Mhm.” No. You didn’t get him.

“Ya always do.” he smiled, and you just smiled back.

That’s when you realized this was just wrong.

If Atsumu didn’t see a future with you, why were you still here? Why were you waisting time and feelings?

And that’s how the next month’s became just about you slowly drifting apart.

You thought Atsumu wouldn’t notice, but he did.

You were like water escaping through his fingers and he didn’t knew what to do.

It was so subtle that if he didn’t loved you to the bones he probably wouldn’t even realize. But it was so obvious to him even in the way you send him messages.

Why your ‘can’t wait to get home to see you 💗’ became ‘heading home now’?

He was desperate, so desperate that he broke his number 1 rule and went to ask his twin for advice.

“I just don’t know what’s happenin’ with her.” he sighed.

“Maybe she thinks yer not that serious with her.” Osamu lazily answered, cleaning some of the glasses.

“Whaddaya mean!?” he looked at him “We’ve been datin’ for 7 years, does that not sound serious ‘nough fer ya?”

“I mean, yer takin’ too long in givin’ her the ring. Even ma asked me if ya were plannin’ on doin’ it this year.”

Atsumu blinked a few times “‘m bot plannin’ on givin’ her any ring— I mean! She knows that, I already told her ‘m not sure about marriage.”

Osamu looked at Atsumu in disbelief and then he thought back about the time you came to the restaurant with some of your friends and he heard you talking about your dream wedding.

“After 7 years yer still not sure?”

“Marriage is a difficult thing.” he sighed.

“So yer practically takin’ her fer granted?” Osamu clicked his tongue “I wonder what yer problem would be.”

“‘m not takin’ anyone fer—” he stopped mid sentence.

He blinked a few times as a rush of thought’s suddenly hit him.

He loved you and said it, he was used to the normal routine, he was used to waking up next to you and he was used to coming back home and seeing you laying on the sofa waiting for him…

But you haven’t done that in a while, now that he thinks.

He is taking you for granted. He’s thinking so hard about how he’s still young and how there’s still much time left that he forgot to actually show you that he loves you.

He was so stupid.

Saying ‘i love you’ had become a routine more than a feeling he had to show, and he was letting it happen as if it was nothing, as if you weren’t the only thing he waked up in the morning for.

And he loved you, fuck. He did. He would rip his hair out even thinking of a life without you. So what was he waiting for? Why couldn’t he just marry you? Make you his pretty wife?

Wife definitely sounded so much better than girlfriend.

He now understood. Marriage wasn’t necessary because his love for you wouldn’t change, but marriage was the last step, the part where he said ‘i wanna be with you for the rest of my life’, even if he already knew that.

So after 7 years, what was he waiting for? What was he doing if he wasn’t giving you a ring right now?

He never understood why you got so excited watching wedding videos, but he sure did now. Marrying the love of your life sure was beautiful, and it was the step he wanted to take.

That day he kissed your breath away as soon as he got home, and made you cry on his cock for the rest of the night.

He kept grabbing your hand, holding you fingers making sure to think about what ring he was gonna give you.

And there and then, that’s when he realized, when he had his tongue on your sweet pussy.

Looking up at you, seeing your red face being hit by the moonlight, tears shining in the dark as you moaned his name, your thighs wrapped around his head, hips grinding against his face and your hand pulling his hair.

That’s when he realized it was just what he wanted for the rest of his life. What he always wanted. What he knew he wanted. And he was gonna earn it now, no more playing around. You two had been together for 7 years, goddamnit! He needed to show you how much he loved you, how he would take his heart out in a second to give it to you if you asked for it.

“I love ya, I love ya so fuckin’ much.” he said as his cock reached for that gummy spot inside of you.

You were moaning, feeling as if you were gonna pass out. And then he said it.

“Fuck, I wanna marry ya, baby. Make ya my pretty wife.” he kissed your jaw “I love ya so damn much.”

And just like that he had you cumming all over his cock, his words ringing in your ears before you passed out.

You knew. When he said stuff during sex. He meant it.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #hq atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu miya #msby atsumu #atsumu x reader smut #atsumu fluff

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oatberrytea · 1 day

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Ok, I didn't give up on my Sunflower save and instead did make a brand new save and plopped the house down; it seems ok so far! Despite the 200+ missing items message, not too much CC was actually missing, mostly rugs and paintings so I was able to have it back to normal pretty quickly. I played 10 sim days and there were only a few very minor glitches (mostly some sims taking a little long to move onto their next action) so we are good to go!

Since I did play 10 sim days though all the sims in the household (all 10 of them and 1 horse) got to know each other and a lot of friendships and 1 enemyship were formed, and even a little bit of romance!

My original plan was to play 5 sim days and then eliminate the sim with the lowest relationship score with Ofelia but since I played 10 sim days there is actually (and sadly) 2 sims with absolutely NO romance bar with Ofelia. These 2 sims will be going home but I want to post some gameplay pictures with all of them first because I had a really fun time with them all.

I didn't control anyone except Ofelia and only to tell her to repair the sinks and toilets that each broke 300 times. Every sim was pretty good about doing household chores and keeping themselves from dying all the while forming relationships so I was pleased.

I probably won't be doing any of the more "story" styled posts until after the 2 sims leave the house because it is just too hard to pose and control that many sims. I can't even get them in to CAS since I'm using MCC to have more than 8 sims in the house right now. I haven't been able to fix missing clothing or make up because I just got defeated with the idea of moving sims out of the house, editing them, then moving them back in (I already did it once just to quickly change incorrect eye colors and missing hairs for 10 sims).

Once I'm down to 8 sims (going to have Bebita, the horse, go stay with Chance until I get down to 7 sims and then she can return hehe) I will focus more on having "story" posts and more attention paid to special interactions and "events" with Ofelia and everyone else.

Ok, this is so long, but I'm finished explaining my plans! Thank you if you read this and see you in the next post 💙

#the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 #rancho azul #sunflowerbc #ofelia robles #huge long ramblings under the read more #oh also!#this is ofelia with my new default skin and using default eyes #I think she looks real sweet =^)

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firstlov3-latespring · 15 hours

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☆loser!ellie hcs part 7☆

warnings / tags: modern au, loser!ellie, fluff, established relationship between r & ellie, not explicit whether the r is fem or masc, ellie being soo dawn bad for you, mentions of younger ellie, all of these are self inserts🤓, really bad writing..

note: these are kinda short sorry:(

taglist: @dynsdiary

daily click. don’t buy tlou. read this. and this. help palestine

☆ ellie loves to pull you by the belt loops of your pants. she thinks she sooo cool and sexy for doing it she is but she’s just a loser who LOVES YOUUUUUU and loves to do that:))

☆ i feel like ellie loves to ruin photos she’s in. like when you’re trying to get a picture of the two of you and she’ll just make a funny face or do a weird pose or smt. and you’d get mad at her but wouldn’t be able to contain your laugh because ellie is soooooo funny..

☆ when you post a picture or videos of yourself on like tiktok or instagram ellie will comment shit like “woof woof 🐕”, or “damn mama are you single by any chance?👀😛”, or or “its the niagara Falls down there😼”, or if there’s any that your holding or sitting it she’d say “and suddenly i’m *whatever it is*”

☆ ellie will definitely have “in love with my beautiful wife” in the caption on her social media but your not even marriedyet 😈

☆ has letterboxed and when reviewing a movie she just watched ellie will go in detail on why she did it didn’t like this movie. list all the pros and cons. literally she’ll make a whole list in the caption

☆ in middle school ellie definitely was one of those people who when someone asked her to do smt and it was like boring and no one else wanted to do it and she didn’t want to seem weird bc she really wants to do it she’d be like “what noooo i don’t want to do that..” i’m the most sarcastic and i-want-to-do-it-so-bad voice ever. if any of that even makes sense???????

☆ you know that trend that’s with this song and it’s like ‘everywhere i go i keep a picture in my wallet’ the gf trend(PLEASE KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABT)you and ellie would 1000000000000% do that!!!!! it’s so cutee too because she has sooo many pictures of you in her wallet<33 she collects them in a non creepy way…

☆ ellie loves to tell you all about the dream she’d had when she was sleeping. and you love to listen to them bc they’re always so random like the weirdest thing ever. for example: she dreamt of that you and her were on a date and you went to this little, cozy restaurant and when you walked in there were human size bug sitting at some of the tables and eating like they were real people (a real dream i had once btw)

☆ definitely walks into walls bc she was staring into her phone and not paying a single amount of attention to her surroundings. and then complaining that it was the walls fault because it was standing in her way………….

☆ ellie definitely put a sticker on her phone not the phone case the actual phone and thought it was so cute. but then when she wanted to take it off, it just wouldn’t come off so she’d have to walk around with a stupid sticker on the back of her phone

this is what i imagine the stickers would be:

fun fact i actually have the shrek sticker on the back window of my car

☆ ellie is and ipad kid. that’s it, that’s the hc

☆ yk that sound in tt and it’s like ‘i think i like this little dyke’ you’d definitely use that on ellie and she WILL look at you as if you just betrayed her. as if you stated he run that back.

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whoishotteranimepolls · 2 days

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I've been waiting to respond since you made that post mocking us for wanting problematic characters banned from your polls because apparently you are not taking legitimate criticism of anime seriously. Because it is full of poor representation of minorities and lgbtq+ and you and all of your followers are laughing about it like it's nothing.

I will start with Yamato because everyone acts like one piece even though it's so full of misogyny. Having a trans character is amazing when I don't even think Yamato is actually trans. I'm pretty sure it's a translation error and everyone has latched on to it. So again that is not good representation if it's not confirmed representation and even if it was confirmed, it's not good representation. Yamato because of the one piece art style by default Yamato is full-blown a fetishization of trans people because all one piece characters if they are drawn, female presenting are drawn like sex dolls. So unless they go through an actual gender transition and not just a pronoun change. There cannot be good representation with Yamato because Yamato is a fetish, not a fully fleshed out character. I mean to boil it all down. I don't think the author is capable of having any good lgbtq+ representation one piece is just not a sophisticated enough story and the characters are just too shallow for that to be possible

Bleach did a similar thing with Yoruichi acting like it was so amazing to have a character of color and she is supposedly bisexual but she's just waifu bait and it reeks of misogyny and fetishization of BIPOC. She's a furry to top it all off. It doesn't help that the bunny chick from my hero is basically the new gen version of the same character, but at least she is disabled too. So at least they tried to do something with her character other than waifu bait

So I would like to know why every character I've seen promoted as great representation in anime for either the BIPOC or LGBTQ+ communities seem to only be horribly fetishized, useless, waifu bait. Not actually a good character.

And even when Japan is dealing with its own ethnic minorities and indigenous populations it still does a horrible job by playing into the Noble Savage stereotype Hollywood likes to play into. Have you not seen the anime Golden Kamuy? It's about Japan's own first Nations tribe and it's So disrespectful to that. I swear they could not have had a single person from Hokkaido, much less a member of the actual Ainu people involved in the creation of that anime or manga. And yet I've seen so many people brag about that anime and manga and how it's so good for diversity. When again, every single Ainu character acts like a bad native American stereotype from like a 1950s American Hollywood western. It's that bad and don't get me started on the fan service in that show. It's at a level that could be considered exploitative but it's okay. Some of the characters might be gay so it's representation. To top it all off it reinforces white colonial beauty standards because the main Ainu character is specially because she's half white and has blue eyes like her white dad and she talks about how she's going to be a new kind of better Ainu for the future because she's white passing. That show is a reductive racist dumpster fire and I can't believe anyone says otherwise.

But you said you won't ban characters unless the fandom becomes too toxic. But you really should consider looking out for the LGBTQ+ and BIPOC communities by not promoting toxic problematic characters and actually banning these toxic problematic characters and shows

Fandoms vs Illiteracy #1

Feel free to critique the essay but not the person nor the person's intelligence. Do not call names, degrade the person, or personally attack them in any way. The purpose of this series is to critique/analyze the arguments contained in the essays.

For those unfamiliar with the characters mentioned, here are pictures. The names are in the alt text.

And here's one of the promotional images for season 2 of Golden Kamuy

So now that everyone is a little bit more familiar with everything mentioned in the essay and knows the rules, feel free to do your own research and respond.

#fandoms vs illiteracy #fandoms and media literacy #yamato #one piece #yoruichi shihouin #bleach #rabbit hero: mirko #rumi usagiyama #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #golden kamuy #whoishotteranimepolls

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littleslvtsworld · 1 day

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mommy's little pornstar

mommy likes to take pictures and make videos of me when I'm changing clothes, when I'm in the shower and when I get out of the shower, when she breastfeeds me, always when I'm naked.

she says I'm her little pornstar, I don't understand what she means by that, but I trust her, I love my mommy. <3

last night, some of my mommy's friends came to our house, they were older women like her. mommy told me to be a good girl and behave, because those girls wanted to touch me and see my little body naked.

mommy explained to me that their friends saw hot pics and videos of me that mommy took, so they wanted to try my body like mommy does.

I heard compliments while they were groping me. they said I am a princess, a baby, and that my body was so small that they wanted to destroy me. they were groping my body in a way that made me feel good, I liked the attention. while they were groping me, mommy was playing with her pussy, she said I should be quiet and enjoy the moment.

after a few minutes being groped, mommy said they could start playing with me. mommy started kissing me, and one of her friends started taking off my panties, I just loved the attention I was getting, all of mommy's friends were touching me, and in a matter of minutes, I was being fucked while my nipples were licked, each of my mom's friends had a role, one was licking me, another was fucking me, one was groping me, I was being raped and mom was just kissing me the whole time, I was loving being raped like that by so many hot women, mommy said I was a real pornstar now that all her friends were fucking me.

I was fucked for so many hours that I ended up sleeping when we finished. when I woke up, I was in mom's bed, she was next to me, and when she saw that I woke up, we started cuddling, Mom said she was proud of what a good girl I was.

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strawberrypoundtown · 1 day

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Orc x Halforc!fem!reader

You're the clanleaders mixed race eldest daughter. Your older brother has one of his friends watch over you as you start to get eyed by other males in the clan, only for you to eye the rugged brute in charge of protecting you.

Contains: sexual tension, nudity, mentions of biting and scratching

Being the clanleaders eldest daughter was difficult enough, but being a half orc made your daily life annoying. Your mother was a very beautiful and brave woman, especially considering your father was one of the most feared warriors in the world before meeting her. After they had met, your father doted on your mother constantly, and still does to this day. He's still a terrifying warrior, he just doesn't go on raids as much anymore.

However, as you got older, you realized that your parents had painted a picture of your innocence for you that made finding a a partner difficult. You had always been one of the best warriors among everyone else around your age when you were growing up, but your parents always acted like you were the most fragile little thing. So what if you broke your arm a few months ago while on a hunt that got out of hand? You didn't need to have your weapons and armor confiscated.

You let out a deep sigh and rubbed your eyes, before your tent flaps are rudely ripped open, earning a groan out of you. You stubbornly rolled over in your bed and pulled the blankets over your head, not even looking at who might have stumbled into your tent.

"Go away idiot. Let me sleep." You groaned, closing your eyes as you assumed it was one of your many siblings coming to wake you up way too early. You hear the person clear their throat and your eyes shoot open. 'That's not one of my siblings'

"Grobur asked me to come and get you. He wants to talk to you." You're thrown off by the deep voice that haunts your dreams and your cheeks flush. Why did your brother have to send him everytime?

Gan. You have had a crush on him for years. Almost as long as you can remember. He was only a couple year older than you and your brother Grobur's best friend since childhood. He was always so stoic and calm around you, even when you were kids. He was the only person that seemed to actually treat you like you could take care of yourself, while still being protective over you. You loved how protective he would get with you at times, making sure the other men stayed in their place when they went too far with you during practice. Seeing him spar and beat the crap out of the person that tried to beat you put a strange thrilling twist in your stomach. Watching him fight with no armor and barely any clothes, seeing his sweaty green skin glistening in the sun. Each muscle rippling as you would think about how gently he hugs you for a big brute like him. You had to stop watching him so much when you caught yourself drooling one day.

"Today, princess." He grumbled with a hint of sass, breaking you out of your daydream. It was his nickanem for you. It was his way of teasing you. He loved calling you princess, but you always wish he would call you his princess. You grunted and pout as you sat up in bed, staring up at him as you held the blanket up to cover your body. You had picked a bad night to go to bed naked.

"How about you get out so I can put on some clothes? I don't think Grobur would appreciate you parading me around camp naked." You giggled teasingly. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape before quickly coughing to cover his embarrassment and turning around to avert his eyes completely and to prevent pitching a tent of his own. He kinda wished you would show him your gorgeous, bountiful breasts, but then he quickly shoved that thought to the back of his head so he could speak

"I-I'm so sorry. I didn't realize. I'll be waiting outside for you." He said softly before leaving your tent. You sighed softly as you got up, slipping into some random clothes quickly, trying to calm your blushing face by rubbing your cheeks. After brushing your hair, you exit your tent and walk up to Gan. God he was massive. He was the largest male in the clan. Your eyes wander down his body briefly, wondering how big his di-

"Are you ready?" He asks you, interrupting your thoughts as you look back up at his face. He wasn't looking at you, seemingly trying to avoid looking at you while he took a step and started to walk ahead. You smile to yourself a little. Maybe you made him flustered?

"O-oh, uh, yes! Let's go." You stammer as you jump to follow him, doing a light jog to keep pace with him.

As you walk around camp, you don't notice the longing and lustful glances many of the males your age get on their faces as you walk by. The rugged orc leading you was the only male you had your eye on.

However, Gan does notice them. It infuriates him to no end that you're subjected to being seen by other males as a plaything, a trophy. None of them deserved you in his opinion. He could tell that in other males eyes, they just saw lust for you.

Gan made sure to look as intimidating as possible as he walked through camp with you, the other males quickly looking away from you when they saw him. When you started getting looks year ago, he started volunteering to escort you wherever you needed to go, under the guise of being sent there by your brother to make sure you were safe. He didn't trust anyone else to guard you, but him. Not like you particularly needed it. Your frame may only come up to his pecs, but you still had orc-like strength. You were strong even when you two were growing up, often besting him in sparring matches when you were little until he got too big for you to pin down.

His mind wanders until he remembers how your hair and clothes would get tousled around when you two had your last sparring match a few months ago. He loved it when you looked so determined in battle, licking and bearing your short, sharp tusks as you tried to catch your breath. Seeing you all sweaty, breathing heavily because of him drove him crazy. Your body was strong, but soft to the touch. Your curves drove him nuts and the muscles under your softness were to die for. You were so soft to him that it was like you could bruise at any moment, but you never did. He could throw you around for what felt like hours and you'd leave with barely a scratch, while he was left with your scratch marks and bites all over his arms and shoulders. Your sharp little tusks had left a few scars bethind over the years. You liked to fight dirty, and he loved it. He'd never admit it tho. He had to let you get him in a hold so he could tap out when he had noticed himself getting a bit too excited.

As you approached the large dining hall tent, you heard your brother and your parents talking happily at the head table, along with the rest of your siblings. Your brother is seated next to his wife, a stunningly beautiful female orc that waves to you with one hand, the other on her swollen pregnant belly.

"(Y/n)! Good morning!" She cheerfully greets. Everyone else at the table smiles at you and welcomes you to sit at the table. You wonder what they're so chipper about.

"Good morning everyone." You say softly before yawning, rubbing the last of the sleep from your eyes as you stood next to Gan.

"We have some good news for you sweetie." Your mom says with a smile. "You know how we've been worried about you getting a mate? Well, we decided to pick someone to watch over you-"

"Mom, I can take care of myself. I don't need someone watching over me all the time." You cut her off, already not wanting to entertain the idea of having a personal babysitter.

"(Y/n), we just want someone to keep an eye on you so no one tries to hurt you. We know you can take care of yourself, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't have someone watching out for you." Your brother says before rolling his eyes, his wife harshly nudging him with her elbow, making him grunt and clutch his side.

"I don't understand why you're so worried about me all the time. I rarely ever see anyone try to look at me, let alone talk to me!" You threw your hands up in the air in frustration, having absolutely no idea that you were standing next to the reason why.

"I don't think you realize how some of the other males have been looking at you lately. You're more than old enough to find a mate now, so males are going to start trying to get your attention more. Some of them might end up getting dangerous..." your mother said softly, an empathetic look on her face as she looked at you. She knew this frustrated you, but she wanted to make sure you were protected if anything were to go wrong. You looked back into her eyes and sighed softly. You knew it was better to have protection than not, and you knew they all meant well.

"I understand. I just hope it's temporary." You say with a hopeful smile, and your father nods.

"It will be. We promise. Once you've found a mate, your guard will be dismissed." Your father states and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Who's the poor sucker that has to try and keep track of her?" Your 13 year old brother chuckled to himself before shoving more food into his mouth, earning a punch to his shoulder from your 16 year old sister.

"I will be." The voice next to you states in a low grumble, glancing at you briefly with what you could swear was a small smirk.

God damn it

#monster x reader #monster fucker #monster imagine #monster boyfriend #orc x reader #orc #half orc

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tookthe-405 · 2 days

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VBS

Chapter 2 (part 2)

Love me Anyway ~Chappell roan

DAILY CLICK🇵🇸 DONATE ON

LINKS🍉🍉 GOFUND.ME!

rebel!ellie x fem!reader

a/n: i just really wanted to show what happens after the "prank"

summary: you grew up religious without questions adn in summer you would get send to vacation bible school. The camp felt like prison to you, until a very interesting girl appeared.

The night was very stressful, for you and for Ellie. While you couldn't sleep because guilt was eating you up from the inside, Ellie couldn't sleep because because the excitement of seeing the pastor's face kept her brain up. You'd be lying if you said you didn't regret anything, because you do. Just not enough to tell anyone.

If you could have ratted out Ellie, everyone would know that it was done out of manipulation, even if that's really not the case.

Ellie isn't manipulating you, you're just under her spell. And you're pretty sure she doesn't know anything about it, so how manipulative can it be?

This morning you got up earlier than everyone else. you hardly slept at all and only listened your heartbeat getting faster and faster. Around 4 a.m. you dozed off, but it was more of an uncomfortable half-sleep. You looked at yourself in the mirror and thought about the many years before, where you would´ve been scared of Ellie, afraid of being thrown out of camp and losing the respect of the church.

That fear still exists, but you no longer felt it in your blood, because no matter what happened you would find a place, maybe even the one where you belong. It would also be nice if Ellie would be part of this place.

After the sermon in the morning, buses arrived at the youth hostel to take you to the small town that was half an hour away. Hood River was a small town in Oregon and you visit it at least twice a year to talk to people about God. In fact, there are already many believers there, but Pastor Toby is never really satisfied with this small town, as if he has a private dispute with the pretty place.

You were still outside and waiting for the bus with Ellie and the others, when you saw the many group leader loading the candied apples into a separate car. The reality of the prank hit you again.

But Ellie calmed you down and told you and the girls about the many crazy pranks that the middle school students had pulled at her school.

She seemed to be fitting into the group more and more, changing parts and information about herself to fit into the picture and it made you a little sad to know it. Having to watch it.

Ellie is great exactly the way she is, she shouldn't have to change. In no world she should ever feel out of place.

After the trip, the organization started. The town is a bit big, but you already know where Christians live and you only go to the houses where non-religious people opened the door last year, or closed it again very quickly.

"We're taking over the lover lane and we´ll just move forward to the eugene street," announces Louisa, who has completely prepared for today.

She goes ahead with a city map and lots of candied apples in her cloth bag.

"Ellie, I have such a bad feeling about this"

"It's all good, we haven't been anywhere yet."

When you arrived on the quiet street, the mid-20-year-old explained that it would be smarter if everyone answered the doors one at a time, as it would be quicker that way.

"Does everyone know their sayings and verses?" Sometimes, Hazel seems more professional than Louisa herself.

"Yes Hazel, how dare we forget it" ellie sighs

the curly haired girl almost hisses at Ellie.

"We'll meet everyone here again when you're done with your houses."

You all split up into parts and the thought of being separated from Ellie makes you incredibly nervous.

The first house is house number 10.

The house itself looks peaceful. Blue painted, with the American flag proudly hoisted and a car parked in front yard.

You go through all the steps again.

ask if they believe in the lord

if not, try to demonstrate that god can help in every situation

help through bible verses

distribute the message of the church

deliver the (poisoned) apples

Great.

Your fist hits the brown wooden door, not too quietly and not too loud. You could see Ellie grinning in front of you and talking about God whether she really meant it or not.

“Hello?”

you quickly put on a smile.

“Hello, sorry to bother you, I’m part of the community a little further south of here and wanted to ask if you’ve already found your way to jesus?"

You notice that Christians always talk in "Not yet" Terms.

As if we expect every person to find god one day, and the ones that haven´t already are just behind in life.

How annoying it must be to have a stranger to dictate your future.

"ok sweetie i have, but i still worry daily"

That suprises you, normaly the answer is just yes or no. But this lady is ready for a whole conversation on her foot step.

"What kind of worries?"

"i always did what god told me to do and i think i did a good job, but my poor son just doesn´t follow him. I swear i thaught him better! Now he has children who don´t belive and follow jesus path and i dont want them to go to hell!"

The older woman sighs sadly, at the edge of tears.

You´re not really sure what to say to her.

"well i´m positive that god will show himself to every human at some point. Maybe that just hasn´t happened to you family yet?"

The woman turns back slightly and screams a boys name into the house.

"im sorry young lady, but my grandchild is over for the summer and i really want him to hear this"

She squeals in delight, but your blood freezes. It feels as if the child's entire future is in your hands and you briefly thought about handing out the apple now so that she would just throw you out.

"Oh God, this child! Please come in, miss."

That's not on your list of things to do, but something makes your legs wander in anyway.

You can hardly say no now.

"Just sit down, sweetie, I'll get him out of the garden for a moment."

You nod to her and turn your head around the room. Everything looks very… old and religious.

Out of respect, you take off your shoes in the hallway and see that the old woman has slippers just like your grandparents. Large, heavy leather slippers.

The house was definitely old and you wonder if maybe her husband built it. The wallpaper is new, or at least in very good condition, but the old wood on the door frame shows the true age of the house.

You hesitantly sit down on an old chair at the round dining table and peek into the old woman´s kitchen.

Overall, a beautiful house, made for a child's summer, but looks can be deceiving.

You're just staring at the little cross on the wall. For a moment you feel very watched, but you shake the anxious thoughts out of your mind and concentrate again on the here and now.

"Come on! It won't take long, darling."

A young boy sits down on the opposite end of the table, probably not older than 10.

He doesn't feel like being here. Ellie would like him.

You quickly unpack your little Bible and introduce yourself to the boy. He doesn't say anything and just stares at you silently.

His grandma snorts. "unbelieveble, his name is Marcus"

You nod slowly and realize how uncomfortable this situation is.

How are you supposed to convince Marcus, who would rather play outside, to believe in God? The fuck thinks his grandma who you are.

"Well Marcus, your grandma wanted me to tell you about how much God loves you and how much he wants you to be with him at the end of your life-"

"I don't care"

"what"

"I don't want to hear it, grandma!"

His grandmother looks at you forgivingly, but you can also see a desperate pleading.

"Young man-"

"What is that?"

You follow his, finger pointing to the floor where the basket full of garnished apples lies.

"Oh that-"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Now would actually be a good time to die, or at least to be dragged out of this house, by someone who finally realized how cursed this whole mission was from the start

"cool! can i have one"

Marcus suddenly seemed to have found his concentration and respect again. His grandmother also looks at you expectantly.

"Sure."

you slowly take out a wrapped apple, silently hoping that Ellie will breaks into the building and tells you that it's all over. You hand him the apple on a stick and just hope that he isn't hungry yet.

"What the dear lady wants to say is that you should give the lord a chance. He loves you very much and absolutely doesn't want you to end up in eternal fire for-."

You nod very slowly and stare at that damn apple. Poor Marcus. The old woman drives forward.

"What your father taught you is-"

The boy bites into the apple with a grin and it takes exactly 2 seconds until he spits it out again.

You grimace with a sigh.

"Fuck"

"excuse you!"

The Grandma stares at you in disbelief, you worry for a moment whether her old googly eyes might fall out and you imagine how she looks at her grandson like that, every day when he forgets to say amen at the end of a prayer.

Luckily for you, he also starts crying and you probably underestimated his age a bit, or he's just way too dramatic

"what's wrong honey?"

"um i need to go, have a good day"

like a reflex you get up, put your church's contact details on the table and run down the narrow, old but young hallway, put your shoes back on and run out of the house.

Summer air blows through your hair. You seem to have lost all control over your legs because you run and run and run, even when the American flag is nothing more than a small mixture of red, white and blue.

For some reason you suddenly think about a summer with oranges and ellie, another world who is so possible but yet so far away from reality, it almost makes you cry.

The many colors of the houses fly past you and you just grab your bag tighter, so that those shitty apples don't fall out and someone else has to eat them.

You don't even notice where you are until you find the roundabout who lead to the many streets.

"God.." You take a breath over and over again, resting your arms on your knees, but your lungs seem to be allergic to air because it feels like nothing is getting in.

"Hey…"

A hand on your shoulder and you jump back, a small scream leaving your lips, worried that the old lady might have followed you.

Red hair, green eyes and freckles.

Your hand is on your chest and you are breathing deeply and quickly.

Your eyes eat each other up and you are sure that you have never had such an intimate relationship with anyone else in the world.

Thank you so much for being here, for playing a role in my life and for not just being a nameless girl.

She looks at you, the sweat on your forehead and your loose shoes that you probably didn't even tie.

God, does she even know how precious she is to you?

"You scared me"

"I noticed, sorry…"

After a few moments you feel like there was enough eye contact, even though you're pushing for more, so you look away. Pay attention to anything else, the birds in the background, the lake that you can almost see from here or all those American flags.

"Sit down first, you're about to fall over"

Ellie gently grabs your hand. Your hands aren't really linked, she just grabs yours and leads you both to the side of the street, to a small bench.

"It worked, by the way. The apples taste really bad."

Ellie chuckles next to you and lets go of your hand, why does she have to do that?

"I know, a guy almost set his dog on me when he tried one. He was such a disgusting creep, who probably hasn’t showered in days and he was standing in front of me in my bathrobe."

That makes you laugh.

"Those are always the worst. They made little boy cry… he was really mean, but I still feel kinda bad. He didn’t want to listen to anything I said about god”

"Funny guy" Ellie replies and you smile shamelessly at her from the side.

Then she clears her throat and looks forward again.

"I'm sorry if I… dragged you into this. I didn't mean to force you to do anything."

You're now holding her hand, that's resting on her knee.

"You didn't force me to do anything Ellie, you gave me something I always wanted as a child"

"To make a boy cry?"

“Freedom,” you correct her, grinning.

She smiles shyly back and you watch intently as her cheeks become redder and redder. How beautiful this life is!

"Hey guys!"

as quickly as it happened, you take your hand away again and even Ellie slips a little further away from you, still red.

Kate walks down the street towards you with a weak body.

"There's something wrong with these apples"

Thanks for reading and for all the sweet comments and reposts!! Somehow I can’t comment anywhere, not even in my own posts and tumblr won’t help me fix this 😭

by the way, i realised that "tobi" (the pastors name) is fucking german and that in english its toby, so i changed that so sorry guys.

But it means "god is good" which i find pretty fitting

But a biggg thank you to anyone who reads and enjoys my story’s it means a lot to me🫶🫶

Don’t forget to interact with the links!!!!

Taglist: @elliewilliamgfooc @bready101 @a-little-bit-of-everybody @vqxen @hersuniverse @nelzooo @shiimer @bellaramseysgirlfriend @sonthingwithl @vi0lentb3rry @elliewilliamsblunt @be3flow3r @adelaide013 @abbysbraids @liasxeatt @jungkook-37

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slippinmickeys · 1 day

Note

Okay if you feel like this is interesting for a Proof of Life fic...

just little windows into their first pregnancy, lounging and being happy, traveling for work maybe, and then meeting the baby for the first time or something.

1. He is staring at her face, but he doesn’t care. He is clocking every shift of her eyes, every microexpression; dying, dying to know if he’s done well, if he’s done the right thing.

She stopped next to the real estate SOLD sign and is studying the outside of the house. It is modest, especially for this neighborhood, but it has nice lines, and verdant hydrangea bushes out front weighed down with so many pink and blue blossoms that you can hardly see any green.

“It’s got great curb appeal,” she says, and Mulder lets out an enormous sigh of relief.

“Let me show you the inside,” he says, digging deep into his pocket for the set of keys the realtor had handed him only that morning.

It takes two tries to get the door open, and Scully stands there wearing a patient smile, her hands resting on the soft swell of her stomach.

“There we go,” he says, and he stops halfway over the threshold. “Do you want me to carry you in?” he asks, turning back toward her. He doesn’t want to fuck this up.

“Let’s save your back for the boxes,” she says. “I’m afraid you’re on your own for all the heavy lifting.”

“Roger that,” he says, and reaches out instead to grab her hand, pulling her into the small foyer.

“A front closet,” she immediately observes. “That’s good. And room for a bench and shoes.”

With every nice thing she says, pounds upon pounds of weight lift off his shoulders.

She was in Haiti far longer than either of them anticipated, and he offered to fly back to the States to start looking for a house for them to settle into once she was done. She’d given him a long list of requirements, and he’d kissed a lot of frogs before finding this house–a mid-century modern ranch in Alexandria with three bedrooms, two baths, and a check mark next to everything she’d requested. When he’d looked at it the first time, he’d felt it was right, and his realtor told him that if he wanted to put an offer down, he shouldn’t wait.

“There are fifteen offers on it already–I mean, at this price, in this neighborhood?” She’d said. “But it’s an older couple that’s downsizing and they want it to go to a young family. I may have mentioned your wife’s condition and there’s a possibility I showed their realtor your picture from the Pulitzer ceremony.” She had glanced at Mulder with a look that screamed I hope I did the right thing. “They’re waiting on an offer from you. If they don’t get one today, they have another buyer picked out.”

And so after three phone calls to Scully’s cell phone that all went unanswered or were met by a recorded voice telling him the number he is trying to reach is unavailable, he put in an offer, which was accepted twenty minutes later and by the time Scully called him back, they were homeowners and she hadn’t so much as seen a picture of the house. Mulder had been there for the inspections, and escrow closed while she was still on Hispaniola.

He likes the house. He hopes she loves it.

“The kitchen is through here?” she asks. He nods and follows her in.

“Wow, the appliances look new,” she says, and he simply smiles at her.

They are new. Brand new. He’d bought them himself and had them installed before she got back to the States. The ones that came with the house were archaic–avocado green monstrosities with abysmal energy ratings. But the kitchen layout was great, and the countertops and cabinetry were acceptable and could be improved or replaced in the future.

She runs her hands along the mantle in the living room, peaks out the window to look at the spacious backyard. She wanders into the master bedroom, complimenting the closet space, and when she gets to the back bedroom, she stops in the doorway.

“The nursery,” he says quietly, putting a gentle hand on her lower back.

The room is painted a soft yellow, and in the corner stands an enormous stuffed giraffe with a large bow around its neck.

“From James, and the crew at the We clinic,” he says. “They say his name is Twiga.”

She turns to him with tears in her eyes. “Perfect,” she says. “It’s all perfect.”

2. “I can’t believe the only piece of furniture you own is a coffee table,” Scully says, putting her feet up on said object.

Mulder is in the kitchen fiddling with the various bags of take out, assembling plates for them both.

“You’re lucky I had it,” he calls to her over his shoulder. “Seeing as how Ethan got everything in the divorce.”

“Don’t even joke about that man,” Scully says, reaching down to adjust her wedding and engagement bands, making sure the small Indian diamond Mulder got her is perfectly centered. “When I moved in with him, he had nicer furniture, so I got rid of all mine. You know this. But even my old coffee table was better than this one. It’s hideous.”

Hideous might not be the right word, but it is certainly not to either of their tastes. She doesn’t know furniture styles all that well, but it looks practically colonial, with wooden legs that round into clawed feet, and nearly all of it is covered in intricate carving. It’s like a miniature version of the Resolute Desk. With feet.

He appears from the doorway that leads from their kitchen to the living room carrying two plates laden with at least five different kinds of Chinese takeout.

“That one has history. It has provenance. There’s a reason I kept it.”

He kept nothing else. He’d had a small storage unit in Boston with the coffee table and twelve boxes of photography equipment.

He sets his food down on the aforementioned artifact and hands her the plate he made up for her, along with utensils, a cheap paper napkin, paper-wrapped chopsticks and a fortune cookie. She dumps the chopsticks and fortune cookie on the table next to his and balances the plate on the enormous rounded drum of her stomach.

“You don’t even need a table, Scully. You’ve got one built-in.”

She has to admit it is handy. It is next to impossible to pull up to a dining table (not that they had one) with the enormous mass of her stomach, so couch eating, using her stomach as a platform makes for a comfortable, tidy solution. Unless the baby kicks, then all bets are off.

She gives him a look and continues to gaze at him. “If there’s provenance, I want to hear it.”

“My dad had it in college,” he says, taking an enormous bite of egg roll that he has to fully chew before he can go on.

“So far I’m unimpressed,” Scully says, turning to look at the table and then her plate. The plate is absolutely laden. She doesn’t know where to start.

Mulder wipes his mouth and continues. “Dartmouth. One of his roommates was this super rich guy from Hyannis Port. Grew up next to the Kennedys. Rose was particularly fond of him. When he moved off campus in college, she found out and gave him a shitton of furniture from one of the Compound rooms she was redecorating to outfit the new digs. When Dad’s roommate graduated, he took everything but this.”

“I can’t blame him for leaving it,” Scully says, winding a bite of lo mein onto a fork. “It’s awful.”

“It’s interesting,” Mulder corrects her. “Probably three generations of Kennedys have put their scotch down on that table. It’s historic Americana.”

“I bet the Kennedys used coasters,” she says. “This piece of historic Americana,” she gestures to the table. “Looks like it was made from the captain’s berth of a whaling ship and is sporting what looks like at least five different water rings from Dartmouth Pabst.”

“At least one of those rings is mine and it was iced tea,” he says, standing up. “Speaking of…you want one?”

“Sure.”

“Captain’s berth or not, this is what we’ve got for now,” he says, coming back into the room and handing her a cold Snapple. “Once we add a few more water rings and the dazzling crayon stylings of Scully Jr., we’ll donate it to the Smithsonian.”

“All I took from what you just said was that we can eventually get rid of it.”

“Fair enough,” he says. “But please keep in mind that the only furniture we currently have is a mattress still in plastic, the couch we’re sitting on which is on loan from your brother until his next posting and the Dartmouth Pabst Americana coffee table.”

“Hey, that’s a lot for two people who mostly lived in tents the last half decade.”

“And how,” he answers.

Scully takes one more bite of food and slides the plate onto the only table they own.

“You okay?” Mulder asks, instantly tender. “You barely ate.”

“If I eat more than five bites I’ll be up all night with heartburn,” she explains.

Mulder obliviously wolfs down the last three bites of his own food and sets his plate down.

“Here,” he says. “Swing your legs up here and I’ll rub your feet.”

Scully doesn’t hesitate and Mulder is digging into her aching arches before her head even hits the arm of the couch.

She lays there blissed out for a moment. “Want to split a fortune cookie?” she asks after a moment, reaching for the one she set on the table.

They break it in half like a wishbone and Scully gets the half with the fortune in it. She pulls out the little piece of paper and takes a crunchy bite of the cookie. Heartburn be damned, she can’t resist.

Mulder raises his eyebrows. “So?” he says. “What’s our fortune?”

“You will soon find yourself in a Pottery Barn,” she reads.

3. It’s the first time he’s been away from her overnight since she’s been back in the States. He hates it. She hates it. They both hate it. But they have a month to go before the baby is due, and he’s still looking for a full-time job. When he got a call asking if he wanted to be a part of a week-long photography symposium in California for a decent amount of cash, it was an opportunity he couldn’t turn down.

He calls her as soon as the plane’s wheels touch down at National. He can’t wait to hear her voice.

“Hey,” he says when she answers. “I just landed.”

“How was the flight?” she asks. Her voice is a little breathy, like maybe she was walking up a set of stairs.

“Not bad, all things considered. A little weather over the Rockies. Are you out and about?”

He really hopes she isn’t. All he wants to do is go home, plant a massive kiss on her lips and then fall into bed with her in his arms and sleep until next Tuesday.

“No, I’m home,” she says.

“Oh,” he says. “Good.”

“You’re taking the Metro home, right?” she asks. “You left your car at the Kiss & Ride?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I didn’t want you to have to come and get me.”

“Okay,” she says. There’s an odd quality to her voice that he can’t place, but forgets about it when she says “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he says, his own voice going soft.

The woman in the seat next to him looks at him and smirks, but he doesn’t care.

“Listen, we’re about to pull into the gate. I’ll see you soon. Love you, Scully.”

“You too,” she says on a breath and then disconnects the line.

The next hour is a pain in the ass. His luggage takes forever to come in and his hard case of camera equipment is dented on one side, so he has to go through each piece of equipment one at a time to check for damage. Luckily everything checks out. Outside, it’s a rush hour mob scene and the rain makes the train cars humid and smelling of funk and he’s half soaked by the time he makes it to his car. It’s not a long drive from the lot, and once he’s on Fort Hunt Road the traffic has finally thinned, but he has to stop for gas. By the time he pulls into their driveway, it’s dark, and he’s exhausted. He half hopes Scully’s asleep so he can just slide into bed too and lose himself to oblivion.

He enters and kicks off his shoes, leaving his luggage by the door. The house is quiet and the lights are dim. He tries the master bedroom first, but she isn’t there.

“Scully?” he calls out.

There’s a noise from the living room. When he enters, his stomach falls into his socks.

Scully is half on the couch and half off, her arms resting against the cushions as if they're holding her up. It looks like she has maybe fallen. He cannot see her face.

“Scully!” He skids to her side on a bright burst of adrenaline and she turns to look at him weakly.

“What happened? Are you okay? What’s-” The words all tumble out of his mouth one after the other and she reaches over and squeezes his arm, shutting him up instantly.

“I’m fine,” she breathes. “It’s just…” She clenches her teeth, unable to finish, and Mulder instantly reads the situation. She’s in labor. A whole damned month early.

“How far apart?” he asks her, breathless.

The contraction seems to have passed and she gives him a weak smile. “Not very.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“You got teleporting abilities I don’t know about?” she asks, and he helps her move up and onto the couch. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You should have called your mom, you should-”

Another rough grab of her hand to his arm. “I’m not doing this—any of this—without you.”

4. They’re not left alone, the three of them, until they’ve been moved out of the spacious and plush Labor and Delivery ward and into the small, confining cell of Recovery. When at last the on-call nurse leaves the room with a smile and instructions on how to use the call button, the room descends into peace. A quiet, hovering peace.

The baby is asleep, nestled into the crook of Scully’s arm, warm and oddly heavy.

Mulder still has a dazed and exhausted look on his face and is wearing the same clothes he traveled in yesterday, rumpled and a little bit worse for wear. He also hasn’t stopped smiling. A single, gentle click punctuates the silence and then he sets his camera down on the bedside table.

He is as quiet as the room itself and leans over the bed, staring at the baby. He only moves his gaze once, to flit his eyes to Scully’s, running a soft hand through her hair.

“You did it,” he whispers.

“I did,” Scully says happily, tiredly, following his gaze to look down at the small miracle of their child.

The baby has a button nose, orange peach fuzz, and eyes that so look like Mulder’s that Scully can hardly look away herself.

“Can I hold her?” he asks tenderly. “I don’t want to wake her, but…”

He’d cut the cord, he’d gotten to shout “It’s a girl!!�� He’d held her while the nurses helped Scully into the wheelchair to move floors. But he hasn’t yet had the chance to commune with the life he helped create, and Scully knows that’s what he wants and she knows it’s something he needs.

“Of course,” she says, immediately moving the tiny child up and around so that Mulder can take her, tubes trailing down from the IV line taped to the back of her hand.

His hands are gentle and tender as he lifts her, and big, so big that the baby practically looks like an egg in a baseball mitt.

“Hi,” he says to her once she’s settled in his arms. He wears a big smile, brushing eyes with Scully before staring back down at his daughter. “Hello Emily,” he says, like he’s trying on the name. The baby snuffles, settles.

Beyond the walls of the hospital, airplanes cross and fly overhead. Beyond the walls of the hospital, are arguments, traffic accidents, war. People are kidnapped. People are killed. Beyond the walls of the hospital is everything else.

Mulder settles into the chair in the corner of the room, his daughter laying snuggly in his lap, and he doesn’t move for a very, very long time.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #au #prompt #proof of life universe #are you guys sick of these yet?

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fortunekookie07 · 2 days

Text

X amount of time ago, I got my first request for a story. I am still over the moon about that. And being that Xavier's new memories just dropped, I chose him per requesters prompt.

Potatosugar this one is for you

Moment Forever Lost

Rafayel, just thinking or hearing his name sent butterflies coursing through your stomach. Your best friend, the person you felt closest to in the world. The one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

Rafayel, the one existence in this world you felt you could never reach. Not after she entered the picture. How many plans had been rearranged, canceled, or simply forgotten because for Rafayel, she always came first.

When Rafayel told you that she was the one who had rescued him as a kid, and then confided in you that I'm that moment he fell in love with her. Your heart shattered into a million pieces.

After all, how could you compete with that? She was a hero to Rafayel, and he was smitten. The first time you met her you wanted to abandon all hope. She was beautiful.

Perfect, straight, long dark brown hair. A small frame and delicate features. It was like fate had created a perfect girl and then sent her your way to destroy the future you'd wanted.

You had begun to war with yourself internally. Half of you instantly hated her for stealing your place. The spot next to Rafayel had belonged to you. You'd been the one friend who stuck by him since middle school. Rafayel's personality was a bit off putting to most people after all. Even she had found his manners a bit extreme.

The other half of you actually liked her. She was nice, friendly, and very likeable. Her smile alone put anyone at ease. Then there was her talents. As a Deepspace Hunter, her skills were unrivaled amongst her graduating class. She had been named the best and she'd gotten to join the Unicorns Team that took on the most dangerous missions. It was no wonder that Rafayel was smitten with her.

You constantly compared yourself to her. Frustration rising whenever you thought about the goal you once had. Your Evol had never really developed. Making the ground shake around you would not benefit you or your partner at all. Often times you couldn't even control it. Whenever your emotions got out of hand so would your Evol. It drove you crazy to see someone else living your dream.

You hated yourself for having such negative thoughts about someone so kind. She ha never once been cruel to you. Even if she constantly seemed to but in whenever you were spending time with Rafayel.

*******************************************************

Today was your birthday, twenty four years old now. The same age as Rafayel. By a few months, as he constantly reminded you. Proud of being the older, and therefore wiser one.

Rafayel had insisted on going out to celebrate. He'd wanted to take you to his favorite restraint. It was high class and typically only catered to famous individuals and top notch business men and women. It wasn't unusual to see this place booked out for some high tech companies meeting.

Rafayel had persuaded you to come here. He wanted to make you feel important. Not just to him, but for yourself. He wanted to make this a day to remember. He had reserved a table with a fantastic view of the city below and gotten you a beautiful dress to wear.

The color was a deep, dark blue. A sheer outer skirt of intricate lace. The lace went all over the dress and the sleeves. Fitting your figure perfectly. Complimenting all of your best features.

You arrive at the restaurant and walk to the maitre'D. "Reservation for two. Under Rafayel, has he arrived yet?" You ask with a smile. The man looked down at the tablet in front oh him, scanning the list of reservations for the night.

"I'm sorry miss, I don't have any reservations for Mr. Rafayel tonight". The man looked apologetic as he relayed the news. "Oh maybe he made the reservation under my name"? You say with a question and rattle off your own name. The man shakes his head again. "No miss, no reservations under you either". You felt your heart sunk as you stepped away from his podium.

You fish your phone out of the small hand bag you'd brought and immediately call Rafayel. It goes straight to voicemail so you leave a message. "Rafayel, I'm here at the restaurant but they don't have a reservation for us. I'll just wait for you. See you in a few". After hanging up you go to sit on the cushy bench just outside the entrance doors.

Five minutes goes by and you check your phone anxiously. Nothing, no calls or texts. You tuck your phone back into the bag. Couples drift by you once in a while. Some of them glance at you curiously as they walk inside.

Fifteen minutes go by and Rafayel has still not appeared. A sinking feeling in your stomach knots your insides up. This is not the first time you've been stood up, but like a puppy everytime he calls your name you go running back. A burn in the corners of your eyes start as you desperately try not to cry.

You pull your phone out again and call Rafayel once more. It still goes straight to voice mail. "Rafayel where are you? You are coming right? I'm still here waiting for you". Your voice cracks a bit at the end before you finally manage to stave off your tears.

Still wanting to belive that he would not ditch you on your birthday, you continue waiting. Perched on the seat, hoping, just praying, that Rafayel will suddenly appear. Hair disheveled from running and face apologetic, but it doesn't.

For forty-five minutes you sit on that bench and wait. When some of the people who'd gone in for dinner are now coming out you stand up, shame burning your face red. The looks on their faces clearly peg you as having had your date ditch you. You can't take being judged by people you don't even know and run off. The tears have broken free and are streaming down your face.

You don't know or care where you are going at the moment. Just away from there. You stop running after you stumble and realize you've made it to the edge of the downtown area. The restaurant is some thirty blocks behind you. Thankfully it isn't too late and this is a well traveled area. You're able to get a taxi.

Your phone rings as the taxi pulls up in front of your apartment. Rafayel's name and picture flashing on the screen. You send the call to voice mail and pay the driver.

As you're unlocking your door your phone starts ringing again. Rafayel's name and picture showing up once more. In anger you just turn your phone straight off and stuff it into the bottom of your bag. A voice speaks behind you.

"Wow, are you so against taking my call that your abusing your phone too"? That haughty tone can only belong to one person. Rafayel.

You turn and pin him with your angriest glare. "I don't even want to see you right now, much less hear your voice." You spit, hurling all the venom you can muster with your pain and humiliation.

He reaches out to take your hand and you're quick to slap it away. You hide the wince at the loud sound if the smack and the stinging on your palm. His arm is still held out towards you. The back of his hand red with the marks of your fingers.

Tears gather in the corners of your eyes again. "I get that I am not first in your life and that I never will be, but how could you stand me up on my birthday with plans that YOU made"? You ask not looking at him as your voice cracks. He moves in closer and forces you to look at him.

"You are important to me, you're my best friend. I am so sorry about tonight...". You cut him off placing your hand over his mouth before he can say her name. "I don't want to hear it Rafayel, don't say her name. Especially right now". You feel like your soul will shatter if he utters her name now.

He brushes your tears away one handed and you finally realize he's been holding his other arm behind his back. Before you can ask he's drawing his arm from behind his back and presents you with a bouquet. The fragrance hits you before your mind can register what you are seeing.

In his hands is a dozen of the largest white chrysanthemums you have ever seen. The bloom easily bigger than his hand. You didn't even know the flower could get this big. You close your eyes breathing in the scent of your favorite flower.

"I am sorry, this couldn't be avoided. It was an emergency. Let me make it up to you tomorrow. It's the first day of the lantern festival. Let me take you". You look at him in surprise. It was a well known fact that Rafayel hated crowds, for anything. It was one of the reasons why he so often skipped out on his painting exhibits. He didn't care for all the noise either. You'd never been able to get him to go to one before.

"R-really"?!? You ask hardly believing your ears as your heart soars. He nods before replying. "Really, let me take you". You hug him tightly in response. The ruined birthday all but forgotten now.

"I'll pick you up at 6:30 tomorrow". He says when you finally let go. "See you romorrow"! You tell him excitedly before going inside.

Once in the kitchen you search for your flower vases. Finding the perfect one that can hold such a large bouquet, you fill it with water and csrefully place them in it.

You take a deep whiff of the flowers before heading to your bedroom. As you get your pj's on you feel a sense of dread, like something bad is going to happen real soon. You squash it down and force yourself to sleep.

The following day can't pass fast enough. All day long you are distracted, even you co workers notice that you aren't getting much done. Seeing as you are usually zipping through your work it isn't hard to notice.

Finally the end of the work day has come. You excitedly clean up your desk and shut your computer down. Being an office consultant had its drawbacks but the job was easy and the pay was good. Even if it was boring sometimes. It was the safe and stable direction your parents had encouraged you to take after failing to qualify for the Hunter's Association.

After you got home you were quick to jump in the shower and freshen up. You only had an hour before Rafayel would be knocking at the door.

You decide to wear easy to move in clothes. A white dress and sandals with no heel. The dress is simple and cute. Having a halter style top and a point cut skirt that swishes while you walk.

Just as you finish tying your hair into place the doorbell rings. You grab your phone, keys, and wallet then slip them into your small off white knit bag and run towards the door.

Rafayel smiles in the other side and draws you into a hug. "You're right on time"! You say brightly closing thr door behind you after locking it. Rafayel casually takes your hand as he's done many times before and you start walking.

He asks you what you want to do first when the first lights appear just ahead of you. "Let's walk around the stalls and play some games"! You say just as a familiar figure comes into view. Your blood freezes as you recognize her.

You turn and look sharply at Rafayel and stop short. He tries to mask his expression and you can stop the look of betrayal on your face. You jerk your hand out of his. "Did you invite her to come with us"?!? You ask your eyes darting back and forth across his face searching for a denial.

She quickly interjects. "Rafayel didn't invite me. He told me he was going and I decided to come too. I didn't know I was interrupting a date". She says holding her hands up to calm you down. Her face is genuinely sorry and guilt is written all over her face.

"If it makes you feel better I'm meeting up with someone too. I though we could walk around as a threesome. But we can make that pairs. He's my partner from work. His name is Xavier, he's a good guy. Easy to get along with. You might like him". She says with a bashful smile.

Oh, OH there's that look on her face. You recognize it as you'd worn that same expression whenever you thought about Rafayel before. You glance at the man in question. His face is tight and there is a forced smile on his lips.

"There he is now! Xavier"! She calls waving wildly to someone coming up behind you. Turning you see a tall man with ash blond hair and a pair of the deepest blue eyes you've ever seen. "This is Rafayel and his friend". She introduces the two of you to him. He nods and looks you over before nodding with a small smile. "I'm Xavier, nice to met you". He says going to stand beside her.

This man radiates calmness but you can feel a dangerous aura lurking beneath that. As well as a fierce protectiveness for the small woman beside him. She grabs your hand and tugs you into the bustling crowd ahead. "Come on, or were going to miss all the fun"! Her excitement is contagious and your earlier anger had completely disappeared.

It seemed for once that Rafayel had not interjected her into your plans. That happiness was short lived when you noticed he kept paying attention to Xavier and suggesting that he play this and that game with her. Alot of the time she agreed, sometimes she would decline and play with Xavier. Most of the time she would play twice with both of them.

You were beginning to feel like a third wheel and regretting ever having come to this festival. Rafayel was hardly doing any of the activities with you and it stung sharply. Wasn't this supposed to be his apology for ditching you on your birthday?

Finally you could stand it no more and you stopped walking. The only one to notice was Xavier he looked back at you and asked "Are you ok"? You shook your head. "I'm not feeling well, I'm going home". You turned and walked straight back the way you'd come. Ignoring the protests from everyone coming this way and them telling you, you were going the wrong way.

It seemed like it took forever but finally you made it back to the entrance of the festival and you sat down. The tears came again. You just couldn't understand how and why you were so ignored by Rafayel. Your jealousy burned as every scene played back in your head. Rafayel had only played a few games with you and every time had been when she hadn't wanted dtonolaybwith him first. It had only been then, once she'd rejected that he would ask you like a second choice.

Once again you found yourself completely distraught for the second time, for the same man in only two days.

You walked home alone. Mood completely sour and expression dark. Fishing your keys out as you stood in front of your door you noticed your phone. Unlocking it you were unsurprised to find that there were no messages. Either Rafayel hadn't noticed you were gone yet, or he just didn't care. You shut it off and opened the door. Silence greeted you, just as it always did.

"I'm tired of being alone". You say out loud to no one. "I don't want to be in love with someone who doesn't even see me anymore". You cry sinking to the floor and sobbing again. You don't know how long you sit with your back to the front door crying. Your thoughts are jarred when the doorbell rings. You say nothing and listen. The bell goes off again two and then three more times.

Rafayel's soft voice comes from the other side. "Why did you leave without saying anything to me? Why didn't you tell me you were feeling sick in the first place. I was worried". He says and the concern in his tone irritates you. You stand up and yank the door open.

"Were you actually worried? How long did it even take you to notice I was gone??? Did you even look for me? Why did you ignore me almost the entire time I was there? Am I just a doormat to you? Am I supposed to act grateful any time you decide to toss me even a SECOND of your precious time"? You hurl all your pent up frustrations at him as more tears slip down your face.

Rafayel frowns and you can see him getting angry but you cut him off. "I'm tired Rafayel, I'm not a puppy that will keep running back to you every time you call my name. I will not be grateful just because you remember that I exist. I can't do this anymore. Loving you hurts to much and I just can't take it. It's killing me inside". You try to wipe your tears away.

"I never asked you to love me. I told you she was important to me a long time ago. It was your stupid choice to fall in love with me knowing all that". He spots back at you angry now. Not since your days in middle school when you first met has Rafayel spoken to you this way.

"You think she'll come to love you back?!? Open your eyes and look you stupid ass! She's in love with someone else too! She won't choose you"! You slam the door in his face before he can respond and run to your room and throw yourself into your bed. You sob yourself to sleep and wish that you had never met Rafayel. He's finally driven you into that dark place you'd tried so hard to avoid.

In the days that pass you feel numb to the world. Two weeks have gone by and not a single message or call from him. Not that you were expecting any or wanted any. The last message was from him and one of the silly stickers he liked to use.

If your heart wasn't broken and you weren't trying to recover from the severe emotional beating you'd taken, you might care that your phone was so silent for the first time that you could remember.

Several times you'd opened your contacts and went to trash all his messages and then block and delete his number all together. You just couldn't bring yourself to do it yet. Maybe in a few more days. You kept telling yourself that over and over again. You were caught in this vicious cycle. Wanting to move on and finally free yourself from him altogether and being unable to do just that.

You had adjusted to your life without Rafayel in it. A few times you'd seen his writing a message bubble pop up in your conversations but he never sent anything. You still didn't care.

Two months had gone by and nothing. Once Thomas had reached out to you asking why you hadn't been to the gallery recently but you didn't answer that message either. Under different circumstances you might have felt guilty leaving him on read.

After work that day you decided to change your pace for the first time in weeks. You went to the coffee shop you used to frequent. The Cafe style had always been cute to you and the chairs were so comfortable. Just as you put your hand on the door you noticed a familiar figure in your favorite chair.

Rafayel was slouched in the chair, completely unlike him. His wavy purple hair was messy and ot looked like he was neglecting his sleep. Badly at that, if the dark circles under his eyes were anything to go by. His head was perched on his hand and he was tapping the arm of the chair.

As if sensing your gaze he looked up. His eyes went wide and he immediately stood up and took a step in your direction. You let go of the door handle and stepped back blending into the people walking as you hurriedly left. The moment your eyes met you felt a twinge in your heart. You weren't ready to see him again.

The next day at work your mood was positively black, as if a heavy thunderstorm was hanging over your head. Everyone steered clear of you. Only coming to speak to you when absolutely necessary.

The day passed by slowly and you paid little attention to anything around you. By the time you noticed that it was quiet everyone had already gone home. You packed your things up slowly and were getting ready to leave when the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. There was a strange energy in the room and your senses screamed danger at you.

Just then a strange screech echoed in the room and something hit you out of nowhere. You flew up into the air and across the room just as alarm bells went off in the building. Metaflux! Your alarmed brain screamed at you through the pain as you were crumpled on the floor where you'd fallen. A Wanderer was inside the room with you and you had no way to defend yourself.

Sheer panic overtook you ss you lifted your head and looked behind you at the horrible monster bearing down at you. That was when the tremors started and you screamed as it's blade bore down on you.

Just as it was about to strike you a gunshot rang out. The monster was knocked sideways and it's blade swung off course. Cutting the desk in two, instead of you. The creature screeched as a flaming dagger sunk into its arm. Rafayel had showed you his Evol many times before. You knew that dagger even at a glance.

The screen around you changed suddenly and then you weren't in your office building. "Protofield"! A female voice called out. Finally you could see Rafayel and her. He called your name and tried to come to you but was held back by the group of Wanderers.

"Just stay put we'll rescue you"! She called tone serious. You couldn't exactly move. Pain and fear had you rooted to the ground. You'd read about protofields before but lacking the skills, you'd never been in one.

Gunshots, screeches, grunts, and communication between the pair sounded all around as they fought the Wanderers off. Just as quickly as it had appeared the protofield vanished. The last Wanderer seeming to have been destroyed.

The two made their way over to you, picking across the damaged desks and scattered paper. Rafayel knelt next to you. Assessing your injuries as she made a call on her watch. Relaying the situation back to the Association as well as medical support.

You hadn't realized it yet, but your breaths were coming in short gasps and you were starting to feel dizzy.

That was when the floor started shaking again. This time the tremors were violent. Rafayel glanced around as he stood up trying to hold his footing. "Earthquake"? He asked glancing at he watch. She shook her head as Rafayel looked around some more.

Only you realized where the tremors were coming from. You'd never told Rafayel you had any Evol at all. He'd believed you when you said you were born without one and had never developed one after the Wanderers first appeared.

The shaking got worse and cracks appeared in the windows as it seemed like the whole building was moving. "Danger"! You managed to gasp out feeling like your energy was being sucked out of your body. You lay on the ground feeling dizzy and nauseous. The windows busted out, sending glass straight to the ground ten floors below.

Rafayel took as step towards you just as a violent shudder went through the building and the floor gave way beneath you. Then you were falling. You tried to scream as you fell. Above you Rafayel was falling too. Seeming to have jumped through the hole after you. Groaning metal and breaking glass was all that you could hear before you blacked out and then silence. Nothing but silence.

*******************************************************

Three months later

Rafayel sat at your bedside. He was usually here at this time of day. It was part of his routine now. He'd gotten used to the beeps of the machines in your hospital room. He'd thought back again and again. The Dr's had determined the earthquake like tremors had come from you. When you had panicked your body's natural instinct to protect itself forced your Evol out of control.

The result had collapsed the building you'd worked in. Thankfully everyone else had gone home for the day. His injuries were nothing compared to yours. Bumps, scrapes, and bruises. He hadn't even needed to be checked into the hospital.

You on the other hand, the list was long and scary. Broken ribs, a punctured lung, skull fractures, a dislocated arm, broken leg, the list went on. He had tried not to read all of it.

The Dr's had treated all your physical injuries and you'd had to under go three different surgeries. The skull fractures had caused the most concern for them. A concussion was the least of your problems.

Right now you were comatose. Your body had shut down all necessary functions to try and repair the damage. The extent of damage to your head had been undetermined as long as you remained asleep.

Rafayel looked at you again, glad most of the bandages were gone now. Beeing wrapped in gauze nearly from head to toe was hard to look at. He took your hand again, careful not to disturb the IV.

"Hurry and wake up, I'll even let you yell at me. I don't mind anymore. You can be mad all you want. Just don't sleep anymore. Please". His voice was a weak whisper as he rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand.

For the first time your hand twitched in his and he looked up sharply at your face. He called your name and the heart monitor picked up your increased hear rate immediately.

He waited anxiously with baited breath and then after what seemed like hours your eyes fluttered open. He leaned over and pressed the call button on your bed after informing the nurse you were awake he turned his attention back to you.

"I'm sorry for everything that happened. You were right. I acted like a jerk, and I didn't treat you very well. I knew for a while that my feelings wouldn't be returned. It's not like she didn't tell me about Xavier before. I just didn't want to listen. If you'll just forgive me, I don't need anything else. " Rafayel said in a rush. Spewing everything out that had crossed his mind in the last three months.

Confusion had knit your brows together. You were looking at him with an odd expression. The door opened as the Dr came in just as you started speaking in a raspy voice. Your words had his heart sinking to the floor.

"Who are you?"

****************************************************

Uwahhhhhh I just realized how long this was editing and proofreading 😵‍💫😵‍💫

I really do torture myself, but then again, short stories aren't very common for me. Oh, well.

I do hope you liked this one. It's a no happy end one. Unless you want to pick it up from my ending and make it happy.

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #lnds #lnds mc #lnds xavier #love and deepspace xavier #lnds rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #angst #angsty #angst with a sad ending #@potatosugar #request fic #request prompts #requested

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oohnotvery · 2 days

Text

Edges of the Night (Chapter 16)

**tw/cw implied suicidal thoughts**

Thank you so much for keeping up with this story  I loved writing that last chapter but truthfully, I haven’t had the stomach to read the comments yet because I’m scared!

In other news, one of my favorite characters to write is angry, outraged, incensed, deranged Scully. I think those were Gillian’s best moments on the show, and I can just picture her seething and frothing with fury here. I hope you enjoy my iteration of Angry Scully.

She didn’t mean to do it.

She didn’t mean to fall asleep.

She knew better than to let her guard down, not while Mulder was spouting off crazy things like your life will be better without me. But he had settled them so comfortably in the bed, forehead to forehead, and his arms had felt so good around her shoulders, and his breathing was so slow and steady in her ear, and her body was so exhausted from fighting for so long . . .

The moment she opens her eyes, Scully knows what he’s done.

She sits up so fast her vision blurs. She whips around to the other side of the bed, finding his place empty, gone cold many hours ago.

Panic, then fear, then anguish hit her like tidal waves, and then she’s sprinting through the upstairs rooms. He’s not anywhere to be found, so she flies downstairs, tripping over the last step. Alan appears out of nowhere and reaches out to steady her but she shakes him off.

She zeroes in on Frohike, who looks awfully suspicious leaning against the front door.

Indignation swells in her chest and she storms over to him, reaching out to yank him away. Her fingertips are just brushing the edge of his jacket when Byers throws an arm in between them, blocking her. Without thinking, her hand flies out and she smacks him across the cheek. Byers stumbles backward in shock and she gapes at him, surprised by her own actions.

A long moment passes where the entire room falls still with anticipation. Scully’s gaze locks onto Byers’ bewildered look, and as a red mark slowly starts to bloom across his cheek, she blinks.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathes.

He shakes his head slowly and raises a palm to his face, as if to check whether she really did slap him. His eyes turn somber. “No, we’re the ones who should be apologizing, Agent Scully.”

She glances around at Frohike and Langly, who are studying her with awkward, guilt-ridden looks. Sensing Alan and Skinner nearby, she twists around, seeing them standing shoulder-to-shoulder like a pair of soldiers. A low, boiling sensation curls hot in her belly.

Each and every one of these men betrayed her.

Each and every one of these men helped Mulder leave her.

“You have to tell me where he went,” she warns them all darkly, her voice trembling with rage. If Alan is put off by her intensity, he doesn’t show it.

Byers shakes his head remorsefully. “We don’t know.”

She turns on Frohike, stabbing a finger at his chest. “You have to know. If he were going to tell anyone where he was going, it would be you.” Her chest heaves and she sees a flutter of acknowledgement in Frohike’s eyes. She seizes on it. “You do know where he went, don’t you?” Her eyes turn feral, accusatory. She steps forward, pushing Byers aside. “Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to shake it out of you?”

The little man looks momentarily alarmed, but then his face assumes a mask of composure. “I—I don’t know where he is,” he says weakly, “and I would do almost anything to take this pain from you,” he adds with sincerity. His brow creases in agony. “But I—I don’t know . . . .”

“You’re lying.”

He shifts uncomfortably and she wonders if she really has it in her to hurt him, if she’s really willing to do that to get to Mulder.

“I won’t—I can’t—I don’t know where he is,” he repeats defeatedly, but he is unwilling to meet her gaze.

“Then you are dead to me,” she spits. Frohike’s eyebrows shoot up and she steps in closer, lowering her voice. “You think you know what’s best for Mulder? Or for me? Do you think Mulder gets to decide what’s best for my life? When am I going to get to make my own goddamn choices?” She whips around to face the rest of the room. “When are any of you going to realize that my life isn’t yours to manipulate?”

“Dana,” comes Alan’s soothing voice, and she draws in a lungful of air, willing herself to breathe. But there’s no air in this room. No air, no life, no hope. She turns over her shoulder to glance back at Frohike, whose face has turned pale with shame.

“I don’t know, Dana,” he finally whispers, and a flicker of doubt slides down her spine.

If Frohike isn’t lying—if he really doesn’t know where Mulder is—then there is no hope of ever seeing Mulder again.

Despair slips into her bones, begins to paralyze her muscles. Her vision spins and she takes a staggering step forward, pushing past Frohike to open the front door. Wintry air blasts her face as she stumbles down the porch steps and into the shelter of a grove of pine trees. She glances up at the darkening sky through tired eyes and prays for night to consume her. And then she turns her back on the house and throws up.

The plan is simple.

Skinner delivers the details to her a few hours after she storms out of the house, but only after trying and failing to get her to eat. He doesn’t bother apologizing or even acknowledging her anger. Instead, he is all FBI boss, briefing her on the facts and only the facts.

In the morning, he will drive her and Alan to the nearest regional airport, where they will board a plane for San Diego and, as Skinner shares through gritted teeth, “return to your normal lives.” To appease friends, family, work, the media, and the shadowy cohort of villains that has done this to her, Scully will sit for one short press briefing about her recent experience. She will tell the world that Fox Mulder kidnapped her and that once he was apprehended, he took his own life. If asked about her own gunshot wound, she will say Mulder inflicted it upon her.

She closes her eyes at this detail. It is beyond excruciating to think about publicly blaming Mulder for her suffering.

Skinner, she learns, is expected to return to the FBI as if nothing happened. He doesn’t offer up the details of his own experience and she doesn’t press.

She doesn’t really care, not about him, and certainly not about the Gunmen. When they try to bid her goodbye the next morning, she refuses to acknowledge them beyond a curt nod. She knows she should thank them for saving her life, for helping them get to safety, for providing a safe house in Montana, for coming to her rescue in the hospital . . . but she can barely look at them, much less speak. She’s afraid if she does open her mouth, it’ll be just to blast them all with another angry tirade.

But she’s operating on pure tunnel-vision. All she can see is Mulder, alone in this great vast world, alone in his suffering, never to see her ever again.

It’s Scully’s fifth time going down to the beach this week. She’s exhausted and her body needs rest, but she every time she closes her eyes, she sees Mulder. It’s been a week since she left the house out in West Virginia, a week since she and Alan flew back to San Diego.

Her life has been intolerable since returning: an unbearable press conference followed by a visit from her mother, an awkward phone call with her boss about taking leave. Oh, and then whatever happened last night.

Alan has visited her apartment every day since they returned to the west coast. He’s been good to her in a way that she hadn’t anticipated, especially since her behavior has been objectively unpleasant. First, the poor man was an unknown onlooker during her heartfelt reunion with Mulder; then he witnessed her enraged outburst at the house; and now that they’re back home, he’s got a front-row seat to her complete physical and emotional withdrawal.

But it hasn’t stopped him from bringing food over every night, or from running to the store for pain meds when her shoulder injury brings her to tears, or from filling her prescription antibiotics, or from driving her to the press briefing, or from changing the channel anytime the news mentions Mulder.

He hasn’t pressed her for anything, not for reciprocity, not for physicality, not for intimacy, not even for conversation. She assumes he’s anxious to return to the way things were between them, but her body feels more closed off than ever. Every night after he leaves, she cranks up the shower and slips inside to cry. Alan hasn’t so much as touched her hand since they left the home in West Virginia.

But tonight as he was preparing to leave, he took a step into her and gave her a quick, friendly parting hug. Their bodies didn’t even touch; just a brief touch of his arms around her shoulders. But it startled her so badly that she jerked away, and then watched with a sense of uncertainty as he apologized, then left.

Simply put, she isn’t ready for another man to touch her body. She’s relieved he hasn’t tried to kiss her. Even though she knows it’s absurd to want this for the rest of her life, she wants Mulder’s lips to be the last hers ever touch.

After Alan leaves, she debates slipping into the shower and giving into the desire to purge her emotions with a long cry. But tonight, the hug seems to have left her bereft, and a shower sounds emotionally exhausting. Instead, she tries to sleep, but like every night, rest doesn’t come easy. She’s considering taking a dose of the sleeping pills she used to rely on so heavily, but something about the prospect of drugging herself has been off-putting since she returned. So instead, after an hour of tossing and turning, she slips into sandals, loose pants, and a sweater, and heads down to the beach, just like she has every night for the past few days.

Her emotions confuse her as much as they overwhelm her. She knows, logically, that her brain is trying to process trauma. She recognizes the symptoms, knows that this vacillation between numbness and hyperarousal is normal. She recognizes that the ping-ponging between disconsolate grief and gut-wrenching anger is also normal. She also recognizes that her anger feels better than her grief, and so she nurses the anger whenever it comes up.

As she stomps down the sand towards the ocean, she feels overcome with fury. Fury towards Mulder, who once again decided he knew best. Fury towards Skinner and Frohike for the same reason. Fury towards Alan for touching her tonight. And most agonizingly, fury towards herself for falling asleep the day Mulder left.

Here on the beach, her muscles tense as that fury washes over her, as it burns through her system. It leaves her gasping aloud and clenching her fists so tightly that her skin breaks under her sharp nails.

The fury sings through her so fast and so feverishly that she keels over, clutching at her aching stomach. She knows she can’t go on like this. The rage inside her is exhausting.

She’s staring down at the waves lapping at her feet when it hits her—for the hundredth time this week—that she may never see Mulder again. That, even if she spent the rest of her life searching for him, she may never find him. As this thought overwhelms her, her anger slowly starts to morph into agony. She pushes at that feeling—no, go away—because while the anger is exhausting,the heartache is literally unbearable. She knows she cannot let herself give into her anguish. But before she can tame the thoughts and feelings whirling in her mind, her body catches up to her grief, and sweat breaks out along the back of her neck. She collapses to her knees. Waves crash around her legs and waist and saltwater stings at the small cuts on her palms. Her eyes burn.

How is she supposed to go on? What does life even look like without Mulder?

A strangled laugh escapes her. Hell, just a few weeks ago, there was a perfectly clear, perfectly pleasant answer to that question. Life without Mulder looked like Alan, and beach life, and a stable job, and California. Life without Mulder looked like sleeping pills at night, a mental blockade in her mind, and a heart that was partially stonewalled.

And then Mulder re-entered her conscious mind, and now here she is, as bereft as a grieving widow, lonely, heartbroken, angry, disconsolate. A large part of her wishes that he had never tried to save her life in the first place.

What is my life without him in it?

Scully stares out at the sea and her thoughts drift to another lifetime, to all the times she watched her mother valiantly hold back tears as her father sailed away. Her father dictated her mother’s life and emotions for so long. He called the shots with his comings and goings. And Maggie Scully was always expected to accept his choices.

A wave laps at her wrists and Scully’s mind starts to shift, to turn. Why is she, too, letting these men control so much of her life? What if she told them—all of them, Skinner, Mulder, the Gunmen, the super-villains who wanted Mulder dead—that her life is her own? That her choices are hers to make? That she’s in control of her own narrative?

Fuck you, living out the “normal life” that Mulder so desperately thinks she needs.

Fuck you, California and Alan and a prosperous career as a doctor.

Fuck you, a life built on choices other people made for her.

She stares out at the deep, dark, ocean, and begins to imagine the weight of the waves gliding over her body, begins to fantasize about the calm, peaceful pull of the sea as she slips down, down, down.

She could do it, right here, right now. She could wade out into the ocean and make her own fate. This time, the choice could be hers. Slowly, she rises to her feet and takes a step deeper into the sea. The waves pull at her knees, like they’ve heard her thoughts and relish the idea of this sailor’s daughter joining them in the saltwater depths.

How else can she take back control? she thinks erratically. Is this really the only way?

She stands in the breakers for a long time, so long that the moon rises above her head and tiny fish start to nip at her ankles. Everything and nothing pass through her mind. The hopelessness of her future, the grief that will follow her wherever she goes.

Will her life be bearable?

Grief is a noose around her neck, dragging her deeper into the water. And then, out of nowhere, she feels it. The tiniest, most insignificant trickle of hope.

Because Mulder isn’t dead, nor are they estranged. He’s out there in the world, alive and in love with her, and that means she can find him. As long as she’s alive, she can spend the rest of her life looking for him. And for a few critical moments, this faint sliver of hope is enough.

With one last look at the sea, she drags her feet out of the heavy, wet sand and slowly, resolutely walks back to the beach.

#mulder x scully #dana scully #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #xfiles fanfic #x files #msr fanfic #msr #txf

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