#its kind of long though! and can drag on in some places....

[crescenthistory]

while we're both here; part two

Synopsis: Your chronic illness makes you a frequenter in Madam Pomfrey's infirmary – at some point you're bound to make a connection with her other favourite patient. Said patient is currently lingering around the infirmary, hoping to see you once more, even if that is to support you through an episode or two.

Words: 3.6k

Tags: fem!reader, undisclosed chronic illness that makes you hurt and faint (writer has hEDS and POTS), remus' pov with all its typical warnings, 'on-screen' syncope/fainting, flirting, physical affection, fluffy hurt/comfort, maternal madam pomfrey, remus is taller than you but you're not necessarily short, you have enough hair to fall into your face.

part one can be found here

Remus had been hoping he would see you again soon after that. It was odd to, for once in his life, want to go to the infirmary; it was even more odd to hope the girl that had caught his eye would end up there as well.

His frequent visits to the infirmary once felt like a massive obstruction in the little life he had miraculously managed to create at Hogwarts. It was the one place that had to be just his, somewhere his friends would rarely go. Part of Remus was well aware that if he asked any of his mates to accompany him on his visits, they would drop everything to do so. Most of him, though, felt like that would only be salt in the wound, would only highlight his difference.

It was easier to slip in and out alone.

To have somewhere that was just his would in many ways be Remus’ introverted dream, but with his tragicomical context, it was far from it. He resented having to spend so much time there, only finding solace in Madam Pomfrey’s kindness.

And then, in you.

Over the encounters, each one fertilising the bloom of whatever was growing between you, Remus found that he didn’t mind that this was where he met you. That he got to have you in this place that was just his, with none of his mates’ prying eyes or prior knowledge. 

You don’t have her, you twat, he would scold himself at that line of thinking. She’s not yours to have.

Remus was really good at reminding himself that he shouldn’t be thinking like that. Following through was an entirely different story.

He wouldn’t admit it when his mates began to hound him for the reason why he was spending so long in the infirmary for just small things, but he had begun to drag his feet every visit. Lingering by his bedside cabinet, slyly looking around, hoping to suddenly catch your eye and – wow, dove, I had not at all expected to see you here while I’ve spent 20 minutes picking up bandages!

There was a small war going on in his mind, waged between the dizzying pull you had on him and his better senses. He could hear Lyall speaking to him in his mind, “Son, it’s best you walk this life alone.”

Yet, here Remus – stupid, dreamy Remus – was hoping he might walk into you.

It was while caught up in this mental tirade that he did exactly that. 

He had begun to walk out of the long-term wing, heading for the exit, gaze focussed on his feet and mind elsewhere, when another set of feet emerged into his view seconds before the collision. Remus stiffened when a body bumped against his, hands shooting out to grab the poor sod by the elbows and stabilise them. “I am so sorry–” 

He looked up and cut himself off when his eyes landed on you.

It was not within his power to withhold the wide smile that blossomed on his face. “Oh, hey dove,” he breathed out, approximately two seconds before remembering himself. Remus cleared his throat and took a step back, squeezing your elbows reassuringly before hastily letting you go, though not without noticing how you leaned into his touch. His gaze was still on yours, but more reserved now, head tilted down. 

You looked equally perplexed, despite the oncoming tradition, but were quick to ease his thoughts with a small smile. “Well, if it isn’t Poppy’s golden boy.”

“Had to complete her set now that you’re here, yeah?” The words seemed to slip effortlessly off his tongue when he was around you, in sharp contrast to his inner turmoil. Remus dared hope that meant you didn’t pick up on it. “What brings you in today, love?”

He wondered if the way your cheeks appled at that perhaps meant he wasn’t the only one flustered in the other’s company. 

You recovered enough to roll your eyes heartily. “Professor Binns has requested I get the matron to write a note to excuse why I couldn’t make his lecture last week.”

Remus’ eyebrows lifted, though he wasn’t necessarily surprised at the professor’s audacity. “I hope he knows she’ll kill him for wasting her time with that.”

You hummed in agreement. “I believe he’s a bit too dead to care.”

You began inching around him, head perked up to presumably spot Madam Pomfrey, and for a second Remus’ chest panged with the realisation that you probably didn’t share his recent desire to linger in the infirmary. You probably wanted to be rid of him. Shame wrapped hotly around his veins as his eyes flickered over you, searching for a sign in your body language that you truly wanted him gone.

That was how he noticed the way you swayed as you stood on your tiptoes to scan for Pomfrey, looking worse for wear with every passing second, and he understood the actual reason for your urgency.

“Hey, why don’t you come sit down with me in the waiting room, and I’ll grab a hold of her when I spot her?” he offered, nerves sneaking into his voice despite his best efforts. “Would probably be easier for me, given my vertical gifts.”

You had called his ridiculously tall stature a vertical gift a few days ago when you saw each other last and it came up that he could see the birds sitting by the top windows of the infirmary. It was something he had hardly considered worth mentioning, but it seemed to amaze and please you greatly, so he couldn’t help but feel quite chuffed after the interaction. 

If your snort was anything to go by, you remembered your comment. You smiled at him and Remus tried not to feel like an arse for how quickly relief bloomed in his chest at the sight.

“You know what, that sounds like a much better idea than me straining myself like this.” You began to move towards the cushioned maroon chairs in the wide hall that just barely classified as a waiting room. “If Binns is strict enough about me not missing lectures to send me on an errand during his lesson, it serves him right if I miss the whole thing.”

Remus followed dutifully behind you, letting you choose a seat before sitting down beside you, knees angled in your direction. They were starting to preemptively ache as the full moon edged closer, so maybe it was good for him anyway to forgo the walk up to the common room and instead dwell here a bit longer.

“You’re supposed to be in his lecture right now?” Remus asked, frowning. At your emphatic nodding, he murmured an added, “What a twat.”

Your giggle made a smile grow on his face, like a flower seedling in the sun’s presence. 

“What, aren’t you skipping a lesson right now yourself?” You curled up in your chair like a perfect cat, legs crossed beneath you and propping your chin up on your hand.

He shook his head. “No, I’ve got a free period luckily.”

“And you decided that the best way to spend said free period was, naturally, hanging out in the infirmary?” 

There was nothing but goodhearted humour in your tone, but Remus’ face still felt warm and he tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Had to pick up some bandages. Now was as good a time as any, no?”

You eyed him curiously. “Are you planning on needing bandages in the near future?”

Usually, Remus’ cover-up lies rolled naturally off his tongue – he had had a lifetime to practice, after all. It didn’t even really feel like lying anymore, but suddenly, with you, that changed. Now it felt like pulling teeth. 

Remus was luckily accustomed to pain enough to push through. “They’re not for me this time, actually. James and Sirius are playing in the match against Slytherin tomorrow, so you can infer why we prefer to keep the dorm stocked beforehand.”

Your smile was genuine, even as your eyes seemed to grow more tired by the second. “You’re a good friend, Remus.”

He did not have it in him to unpack how that made him feel. Terrible and wonderful. He gave you a lopsided smile. “If you say so, dove. Are you going to the match?”

He had never seen you there before, but until your encounters began picking up in frequency a few weeks back, he hadn’t necessarily known to. These days he felt like a scout on a rogue mission to find you everywhere. 

There was a slight twitch in your face, an emotion that flickered briefly before burying itself. One Remus wanted to catch and interrogate – it didn’t seem like hurt per say, but it wasn’t a nice one either. You looked down at the armrest as you said, “No, my body doesn’t really agree with quidditch matches anymore. You know, stairs and hard planes and all.”

Remus kept his eyes trained on yours until you looked back up, so that he could gift you with a small, knowing smile. “Yeah, I understand that, dove. I’m the same way on bad days. Lily always says I’m not missing much when I can’t go, but it’s still not a great feeling.”

He decided to interpret the look in your eyes as grateful. Rather than dwelling on the issue, he tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. “What, uh, are you doing after this?”

It was the first question he could think of, escaping him before he could consider the implications more closely. His veins froze as he realised how you might receive it.

However, you didn’t seem too caught up in what he was saying. There was a certain haziness swimming in your irises and your eyelids were moving both too frequently and too slowly. Remus could somehow tell you weren’t completely yourself.

He reached a hand out tentatively, placing it on your shoulder closest to him. “Love?” His tone of voice was soft, albeit slightly nervous.

“Sorry…” you mumbled, trailing off. Your eyebrows furrowed. “I think I… I will…”

In this moment, he was grateful that he had gone to the library to do some reading on your conditions after you shared them with him in passing. He had felt like a total creep for it at the time, but now it eased his panic a little as he could see you starting to slip away.

With a swift, almost instinctual movement, Remus’ hand moved up from your shoulder to cup the side of your face securely, seconds before you lost consciousness. Instead of falling face-first onto the infirmary floor, you fell into Remus’ hand as he supported your head and kept you up.

“You’re good, dovey, you’re alright,” Remus murmured gently, getting out of his seat to kneel before you. His other hand came up to help lean your limp body lean further back into your seat, stabilising your neck.

He tucked some of your hair that had fallen in your face back behind your ear, large hands surprisingly delicate and careful. This was not something he wanted to mess up. His breathing was laboured – ironically matching yours – but he didn’t have time to analyse whether it was from nerves or proximity.

Remus looked down the hallway, trying to spot the matron with more motivation than earlier. “Poppy?” he called, quietly enough to hopefully not disturb patients in nearby rooms, but loudly enough that she might hear.

There’s only two students to his knowledge that call her by her first name, and right now both needed her help.

For a moment, he was met with silence and Remus was about to turn his focus back to you when he heard. “Mr. Lupin?” Her voice was inquisitive, confusion mixing with mirth, likely as she would have thought he had left ages ago.

“Could I get a hand? Quickly?”

There was no hesitation as he could hear her dropping whatever she was holding in favour of coming to his aid, the sound of her footsteps soft in the quiet infirmary. No questions asked – her steady presence made a warmth spread in Remus’ chest. She made him miss his Mam while also soothing the ache of his loss.

Remus looked back at you, still unconscious but with your eyelids fluttering slightly. His thumbs brushed back and forth over your cheeks, as if to calm you down. It was while cradling you on his knees before your chair, with his eyes trained on you, that Madam Pomfrey found you both.

She huffed in the doorway, making Remus look up at her like what he could only presume a small puppy would. Her hand was at her hip as she took in the scene.

“I– uh, she fainted,” Remus rambled, looking back at you. “I know it’s normal, but I figured we could use some help?”

“I can see that, Remus.” Her voice was once more laced with the mirth from earlier as she gave him a funny look. It didn’t deter her from hurrying forward though, sitting in the chair Remus had previously occupied as she studied you. He remained dutifully on the floor. 

“She’s alright,” Pomfrey concluded quickly after sneaking her hand between Remus’ still supporting your head to check your pulse. “She’ll come to shortly, we should just cool her down.”

Remus knew what fainting would look like in general, but less so for you. He had read up on it and he had listened to what Pomfrey said to you when you were coming to from a syncope while he was in the room – which was not the same as eavesdropping, he told himself. Still, he didn’t really know how to help, and found himself desperately wanting to.

So he followed Pomfrey’s every movement with rapt attention. She pulled out her wand and cast a wind spell, directing a cold breeze in the direction of your face. “If you can support her with just one hand, that would be best, Remus dear. Less skin on skin contact will help make her less warm.”

He couldn’t help but feel like she was indirectly poking fun at him with her tone as he quickly dropped his other hand. “What else will help?” he asked to distract from his flush.

“Laying down is best, usually, but right now it would likely be more uncomfortable to jostle her around to one of the infirmary beds. We really should get one in this waiting room, if only Helena and Godrick hadn’t thought that Hogwarts’ thousand students only needed the tiniest of infirmaries–” 

This was a rant both you and Remus had heard many a time before. She cut herself off and looked away from you to meet his eye. “Anyway. Usually a supine position is best, but leaning her back the way you have is great. Good job, Remus.”

That comment brought a smile to his face, but he didn’t feel like he could thank her for it either. “Alright, that’s good. Anything else?”

“Studious, are we?” Pomfrey’s look was knowing as she turned back to you, moving her wand slightly to improve the airflow in your face. “The recipe is to check her breathing and pulse to be safe, bring down both position and temperature, and sprinkle in some kindness and patience. Oh, and talk. She might be able to hear you at various points.”

Remus had read that, actually. He looked back to you as your eyelids fluttered again, but seemingly more purposefully this time as opposed to the almost jerking motion from earlier. He whispered your name, squeezing your cheek a little. "Hey dove, you're alright. It's just Poppy and I. The I in question is Remus."

Just to be safe.

“Atta girl,” smiled Pomfrey, keeping her wand pointed against you for a little while longer still, as you blinked your eyes open. “Keep supporting her for a bit longer, dear.” That last instruction was to Remus and he nodded and mentally thanked her for helping him save face as you came to. He didn't want you to wonder why his hand was on your cheek.

You looked at Remus first, bleary-eyed with furrowed brows. He smiled encouragingly at you. “What boring company must I be to have you faint on me like this.” 

The laugh that escaped you was confused but a laugh nonetheless. Remus hoped he wasn’t insane to think you were choosing to lean into his hold on you, as you looked towards Pomfrey. “Oh, there you are. Binns needs me to get a note from you.” Your voice was hoarse but still quintessential you.

Pomfrey’s eyebrows shot up into her greying hairline. “Now, dear, why would he think I care what he needs from me? Forget all that nonsense until we get you back on your feet.”

“See, that’s what I told him!” You were still somewhat drowsy, but clearly coming to. Your tone softened a little as you added, “Thank you for helping, Poppy.”

Pomfrey pinched the cheek Remus wasn’t cradling, smiling maternally at you. “It’s my job, child. One I carry out happily.”

Remus thought him and Pomfrey provided a good emotional support team for you, considering you were smiling and laughing within the first minute of being conscious.

Somehow, an apologetic tone still managed to seep into your expression as you looked back at him, as if remembering. “I’m sorry for fainting on you. It was a long trek down, I didn’t realise–”

“Shhh, don't be silly dove, you’re alright.” Usually Remus was adamant about not interrupting women, but he felt this was a worthy exception. “You’re just giving me a good excuse to skip out on Herbology.”

Pomfrey’s head whipped around to look at him. “Are you supposed to be in a lesson right now, Mr. Lupin?”

He grew a bit smaller, yet somehow managed to shrug nonchalantly. “Not yet, I don't think. Either way, I was simply helping a friend who fainted, matron.” At her still pointed look, he also gestured to his crouched position. “Not to mention, I now need some ointment for my knees.”

Usually, Remus held out on pain medication for as long as possible, but anything for a good excuse, apparently.

Pomfrey shook her head, waving a finger at you two as she got out of her seat, pocketing her wand. “You bairns are lucky I like you. Remus, help her lay down in the infirmary wing for a while and help yourself to your usual remedies. And then I expect you to head to your lessons at the soonest possible moment.”

Even with her hands on her hips and strict tone, you could see the affection in her eyes, exemplified by the quick wink she shot the both of you, effectively diminishing any threat she pretended to uphold. 

“Yes, ma’am!” He nodded abidingly at her, smile subdued.

Maybe he was abusing her favouritism, but Remus couldn’t bring himself to feel too guilty for that, at least not at this very minute.

“Thank you, Poppy!” Both of you chorused after her as she turned to head out, smoothing down her white apron, muttering something about “those kids”. 

As Remus turned back to look at you, he realised neither of you had moved from your positions. His hand was still on your cheek, thumb occasionally brushing over it instinctually. Your hand had come to fist a handful of his jumper's sleeve, as if grounding yourself.

You met his gaze, and he found a depth in them that enraptured him. With the last of Pomfrey’s presence melting away around you, Remus remained on his knees before you, and could not deny that he both looked and felt reverent. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from yours, his hand away from your cheek.

He tried to clear his throat to clear the trance, but you both remained caught up in each other. “A– are you good to walk to our wing?” he whispered. The term our formed itself on his tongue without his explicit involvement.

You blinked. Then, abruptly, as if remembering yourself, you nodded and sat up in your seat a little. “Yeah– yes, of course.”

Even as you agreed, Remus could practically see the wall of dizziness hit you as you sat up. He doubled down with his hand cupping your face and brought the other up to squeeze your elbow. “Alright there, racer. Slow and steady, yeah?”

You nodded again, slower this time. The smile being born on your face appeared in a similar fashion. “You’ve got enough time for that?” The teasing tone was back and Remus relished in it.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Remus stage-whispered, allowing himself to flirt openly with the confidence of your touch. “I have no intention of making it to Herbology.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” He tried to gauge your reactions in real time as he spoke. “Found something a lot more interesting.”

You grinned at him, a laziness sweetening its edges in the best way, as if you were comfortable with him. “And that would be the aftermath of a syncope?”

He hummed in agreement. “You’d be surprised what the right person can make fun.”

“Alright then, right person. Want to help me up?”

By Godrick, that he did.

[clarasdomain]

template by @/ai-kan1

Basic info:

Full name: Genevieve Adams

Height: 158cm

Age: 16 years old

Grade: freshman (1st year)

Birthday: June 8th (Gemini)

Nicknames: Gen • Vieve • Shrimpy (by Floyd) • Mademoiselle Mélodie (by Rook) • "player two" (by Idia, in private)

Favorite food: Spicy food

Least favorite food: Onions

Best subject: Animal Linguistics

Club: Pop Music Club

Hobbies: Singing, designing and sewing

Homeland: New York City, USA, Earth (2010s)

MBTI: ENFP

Personality:

Genevieve is an outgoing and sensitive girl with a deep love for fashion and romance. She's intense by nature, feeling everything to its fullest and treasuring even the smallest moments as if they were the most precious in the world.

The kind of person who always tries to help others and bring smiles to their faces, Genevieve is an eternal optimist, though sometimes she can be a bit delusional. She adores musicals and loves to sing and dance, but her true passion has always been fashion. With incredible sewing skills, she can craft an entire wardrobe by hand and never wears anything without adding her own personal touch. She’s also a talented designer, with a dream of one day launching her own fashion brand.

However, things took a turn when she arrived at Night Raven College. Some strange magic in this new world—unfamiliar with her presence—placed a curse on her. Whenever the curse is triggered, usually by strong emotions like love, joy, sadness, anger, or passion, the entire area around her is swept into a full-blown musical number. Lights appear, choreography happens (like a flash mob), and even those nearby are caught up in the moment, harmonizing with her voice against their will. She’s always the lead in these spontaneous performances. While it mostly happens when her feelings run high, the curse can also be triggered simply if she's already singing.

Backstory:

Genevieve had always been a funny girl—full of life and humor ever since she was little. But despite her bright personality, she never truly felt loved at home. From a young age, she knew her energy and genius was never celebrated around her house, being only tolerated instead. Her father remained emotionally distant, showing no interest in her life or struggles, while her mother was cold, selfish, and blind to the brilliance of the daughter she'd gave birth.

It wasn’t that they treated her cruelly. They didn’t flood her with chores or forbid her from having friends nor going out. No, they simply didn’t care. Not about who she was, what she felt, or what she went through.

Because of that, they remained completely unaware of what she endured at school.

Genevieve, with her bubbly energy, nerdy charm, and commonly being perceived as "naive", became an easy target for the crueler kids. Since the age of eight, she’d grown used to having her belongings taken and tossed into the trash, her drawings torn apart, and being called names—some of which she didn’t even understand. Every school day felt like a nightmare.

And yet, Genevieve never lowered her head. She greeted her peers with kindness, carried herself with a smile on her face, and held onto hope that, one day, things would get better. That level of optimism only made her bullies angrier.

On her last day on Earth, the first day of freshman year, she begged her mother to let her stay home. Though Genevieve was an optimist, the fear of returning to school and facing her tormentors weighed heavy on her. Her mother, as always, dismissed it as “drama” without even asking what was wrong.

That day turned out to be the worst of her life.

Everything seemed strangely calm—until the final bell rang. That’s when three girls grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the nearest bathroom, shoving her to the floor.

For ten minutes, they beat her, destroyed her belongings, and hurled cruel insults, words that cut deeper than the bruises. Just when she thought it was over, one of them pulled a pair of scissors from her backpack, grabbed Genevieve by her long, red waves—the part of herself she cherished most—and began to cut.

Everything blurred as her hair fell to the cold bathroom floor, her sobs drowned out by the sound of their laughter. When they left, she remained there—broken, humiliated, and alone.

Back home, the first thing she faced was her mother yelling at her, as if it were her fault her hair looked the way it did.

She spent the rest of the day locked in her room, silently crying as she played her favorite otome game for comfort. For the first time in what felt like forever, Genevieve’s hope was gone, like it was taken from her, along with her hair and her dignity.

That night, Genevieve decided she was done. Not just with school. Not just with her hair. With everything.

She stuffed a few belongings into a bag, pulled on the first pair of jeans she could find, and threw a thick sweatshirt over herself, tugging the hood up to hide her ruined hair. She slipped on her shoes, crept out the front door, and ran.

A few subway stops later, she found herself in the heart of the city: Times Square. She hadn’t planned to come here. She hadn’t planned anything. But the blinding lights, the endless hum of life, it stunned her. For a moment, the world felt louder than the ache in her chest. She wandered, wide-eyed and dazed, as though caught in a dream.

Then, as she crossed the street, a blaring horn snapped her back to reality. She stumbled, tripping forward. The ground beneath her gave way.

She fell. Into an open manhole. Into the dark.

She fell for what felt like forever, landing in something like water—but soft, shimmering, and strange. She could breathe. She could float. As the world around her turned into a bright blur, she could only hear her own confused screams.

And then she woke up, in a strange room filled with floating coffins, a bizarre creature yelling at her...

And her long red hair—perfectly intact, as if nothing had ever happened.

Relationships with other characters:

Overall, Genevieve has a nice relationship with most of the main cast, always trying to be friends with everyone else. Here are some highlights:

Grim: When she first arrived in Twisted Wonderland, se was in awe of everything, so nothing really scared her at first. With Grim, the start wasn't so different from canon, except for the fact that Genevieve couldn't leave him alone, always trying to pick him up and petting him like a little cat. Grim gets very very annoyed by her curse at first (since he's always around her, he's also always caught by it), but through time, both grew accustomed to it, even embracing it. Now, they're inseparable, and Grim is probably the first real friend Genevieve ever had.

Ace Trappola: At first, Ace thinks that Genevieve is just a naive and bubbly girl, probably assuming she's stupid, but as the events of Book 1 unfold (Genevieve climbing on the tables at Heartslabyul while her curse triggers, something with "Revolting Children" vibes or similar), he realizes how strong and resilient she actually is. Even though he continues to tease her, and sometimes gets irritated by her excessive optimism, Ace can't help but cling to his friendship with Genevieve. They argue a lot–Genevieve always points out Ace's senseless teasing of Deuce or herself–and sometimes they even seem like siblings.

Deuce Spade: Their relationship starts out similar, but they start to develop a great fondness for each other. Sometimes, when interacting with Genevieve, Deuce feels a little guilty because, back in his delinquent days, Genevieve could have been one of the targets of his former peers (and as he learns more about her past, this feeling of guilt gets worse). Genevieve always defends Deuce and encourages him to be the best version of himself, always. The two do their best to support each other—a very special friendship, indeed.

♡ Idia Shroud: Genevieve met Idia while she was running away from Grim during her first day on NRC. She bumped into him while he was trying to get back to his room and fell over him. As her eyes met his, it was "love at first sight". Genevieve believes Idia is her one true love, her prince charming, her soulmate, and has been trying to win him over ever since... And he's been avoiding her ever since. But, as time goes by, she finds her way into Idia's heart, and also begins to see him for who he really is instead of the idealized version she had of him (and loves him even more because of it).

Ortho Shroud: Ortho is one of the biggest Genidia (Genevieve and Idia) shippers, always helping her to find his older brother or letting her inside his room unannounced. Ortho thinks that Genevieve's outgoing nature might be just what Idia needs to get out of his comfort zone (and, to be honest, Ortho also knows that Idia had a crush on her from the start).

Fun Facts:

One of the first dresses Genevieve sewed at the NRC was made using fabric from the Ramshackle's curtains. Crowley was furious.

She's amazing at communicating with animals in this world.

The songs Genevieve usually sings when her curse is triggered are, in my mind, almost always real songs from musicals that exist in real life, whether they are from before 2010 (the year she came to Twisted Wonderland) or after. It doesn't matter if she knows the songs she's singing or not.

Genevieve has a great knowledge of fashion and fashion history, as well as a wealth of knowledge about some sociological subjects. Her knowledge often takes others by surprise.

If her dream wasn't to become a designer, it would probably be to become a theater actress (mainly musical theater).

Character Reference:

Twisted From:

[em1i2a3]

HII!! i’ve never really done an ask before, eeek! uhm i keep thinking about how the air that i breathe by the hollies is sooo bob. so i was thinking maybe a fluff based off of your interpretation of the song?

The Air That I Breathe

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bob have a comfortable night on the couch.

Warnings: None, just pure fluff y’all, we love fluff in this house lol

Author’s Note: Loving these requests! I liked the idea of writing something based on a song someone else requested! I also love the song as well, so I’m glad someone requested it! Thank you for messaging me and submitting it! Hope y’all enjoy!

Word Count: 3,474

Bob always came to you in silence–never asking, or needing to–like your presence was the only place he could remember how to breathe.

The most opportune time to do this was during the night, when the compound always fell into a strange, unnatural kind of stillness–something that should’ve been rare for a place that inhabited seven people and a cat.

It wasn’t peaceful though. There were too many walls that remembered shouting, and too many doorways that had been passed through with blood still drying on boots. But some spaces–specifically the ones you inhabited or settled in–held something different, something warm, lived-in and safe for someone like Bob.

The common room was dim that night, lit only by a single soft lamp in the corner. The flickering light casted amber warmth across the battered floor and uneven throw rug, its fringe curled from too many feet dragging over it over and over again. The main light switches had been left untouched, which was the way everyone tended to leave the room at night–it was an unspoken agreement that anything brighter would feel too artificial, and would hurt their eyes.

It smelled faintly of overly buttered popcorn, and hot chocolate–the lingering ghosts of whatever Yelena and Alexei had been snacking on before their bickering laughter faded down the hall an hour ago. There were mismatched throw pillows half-tilted on the couch, a Thunderbolts hoodie draped over the back of an armchair, and a half-empty soda can precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table. Someone had forgotten to turn off the console controller–its faint blue glow blinked lazily beside a mess of crinkled wrappers and a half-finished bag of a variety of sour gummy candy.

You were stretched across the couch like Alpine in a sunbeam, legs tangled in the too-long hem of your own sweatpants, one hand holding the remote as you flipped through channels with no real interest. You were just trying to seek out some background noise. A sitcom laugh track, clicked into a cooking show, then a rerun of some old space movie. You weren’t watching so much as resting inside the rhythm of the flickering screen.

Your own snacks were scattered across the coffee table–a bowl of chips gone mostly stale because someone left the bag open, a mug of Ceylon Gold tea you kept meaning to reheat, and a stack of napkins that you had just in case you made a mess. You told yourself you’d clean everything up in the morning. But for now, you just wanted quiet.

And that’s when you felt it.

The shift in the air, the subtle, unmistakable awareness. Not the tense electricity of an approaching threat–but the soft static hum of Bob. You didn’t look up right away, because you never really needed to. Your training made you hyper aware of your surroundings, so even if it wasn’t Bob and it was just. a regular old intruder–which would not be the case–they wouldn’t really stand a chance.

You let your voice float out into the common room, quiet but certain, “You okay?” There was an immediate pause, then the hush of his footsteps over the rug–careful and soft.

“I can never s-sneak up on you to s-save my life,” Bob murmured, voice low, filled with fondness. You smiled to yourself, before peeking over the back of the couch.

There he was–half-silhouetted in the dim safety lights that lined the hallway, soft and rumpled in the way that only someone comfortable could be. He wore a loose, oatmeal-coloured sweater that hung nicely on his broad frame–even though it hid his body very well. The sleeves were pushed up slightly, exposing the strong but gentle veins of his wrists and hands. His sweatpants were charcoal gray, slung low on his hips, the drawstring left loose. He looked good. Not fully put-together, but soft around the edges, his light brown hair tousled and curling slightly at the ends like he’d towel-dried it but never bothered to brush it out. There were faint smudges of exhaustion painted under his eyes, but it didn’t dim the quiet kind of brightness he always carried when he was near you.

He looked like he needed rest, not sleep.

You tilted your head against the armrest, eyes warm, “That’s because your footsteps give you away, you’ve got an odd shuffle and rhythm to your steps. Might as well give yourself a megaphone to announce yourself.” Bob gave a soft huff of a laugh, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck.

”T-That bad, huh?” You shook your head.

”Nope,” You responded, shifting yourself up the armrest a bit to make room for him in the subtle way you always did, “That familiar.” You added, correcting him.

That seemed to hit Bob somewhere tender, and his eyes seemed to soften even further, crossing the room without another word. You watched as he moved through the dim light, past the cluttered coffee table, being careful not to disturb a single thing–like he didn’t want to risk breaking the quiet rhythm of your space.

As soon as Bob reached the couch, you shifted instinctively. Your body moved with the ease of routine–pulling your knees up just enough to let him ease down into that familiar spot between your legs, right where he always settled. You lifted the blanket and let it fall gently over the two of you, your legs bracketing his hips while he lowered himself with a long, quiet exhale.

The back of his head pressed against your chest with practiced familiarity, as his entire body settled into the spot you had created for him countless times. You brought your arm around him without a word, your hand settling flat across the center of his chest–right where his heart always raced a little faster when you touched him. The other slipped into his hair immediately, combing through the soft light brown locks, smooth from the dampness that kissed them. The moment your nails scraped gently across his scalp, Bob let out a sound that was barely a breath, a complete embodiment of relief, all encompassed in a simple sound.

He melted beneath your hands, and his body softened against yours. You felt him reach down to hold your shin, his thumb dragging slowly over your silky flesh, grounding lines across the bone like he couldn’t stop himself from touching you–even if it was a quiet gesture, even if it was small.

You dipped your head slightly and kissed the side of his neck, just beneath the curve of his jaw, then again, just a little lower–gentle, and unhurried like you had all the time in the world to love him the only way you knew how.

“I was h-hoping you were gonna come to m-my room tonight,” He said after a moment, voice low, almost shy. It came out between one of your passes through his hair. You smiled against the skin of his neck.

”Well, I was going to finish watching something, then I was gonna pay you a visit.” You explained.

“Could’ve t-told me…I would’ve come here sooner instead of w-worrying and thinking I-I did something wrong.” You kissed him again, this time closer to his ear.

”You know I always end up in your bed somehow…And if you did something wrong I would let you know immediately.” He let out a soft, fond breath through his nose.

”This is true…T-Though sometimes I end up in your bed…”You nodded.

”Yeah that’s happened a few times,” You teased, fingers curling gently through his hair again, smoothing the locks down against his neck, “I wake up and suddenly you’re at my door, dragging your whole blanket with you like a sleepy cryptid.” Bob let out a soft hum, the kind of sound that came from deep inside his chest–content, unguarded. His body shifted slightly against you, nuzzling closer into you, like he was trying to disappear into your body.

You smoothed your hand over his chest once more, slipping down to the hem of his sweater to find the warmth of his skin. He didn’t flinch at the contact, he never did with you, though his breath hitched slightly, before steadying a few seconds later–like your touch sucked him into your rhythm.

That was the thing about you and Bob. You were together, and everyone knew that. It didn’t need to be defined or declared or shouted from the rooftops. There was no public claim, no ‘soft launches,’ because there didn’t need to be. Because Bob revolved around you like you were the sun and the moon and the space in between.

And in your own quiet, steady way–you revolved around him too.

You weren’t loud about it. You didn’t have to be. You showed your love and care for each other in your own ways. You showed it in how you saved him the last of your tea, even when you wanted to finish the entire pot. He showed it in how he brought you your favourite socks when your feet got cold, or how you took the time to sew any of his sweaters back together where the stitching had frayed from his nervous picking. He carried your bags without being asked, and you ran your fingers through his hair every time he settled between your legs like this–like you were his home, gravity and oxygen all encompassed in a body.

People could see it.

They saw it in the way Bob looked at you like nothing else existed in the room. In the way his voice softened when he said your name, like he was daydreaming about you constantly, and in the way he would hand over his heart, his peace, and his soul for you without hesitation, even though he already had, repeatedly.

Yelena had once muttered under her breath that the two of you shared one brain cell and one heartbeat, which was an accurate representation of how important the both of you were to each other.

Bob’s thumb continued its slow path along your shin, tracing a pattern only he seemed to know. A map, maybe–one he’d memorized without meaning to. You were still brushing your fingers through his hair, slow and rhythmic, and the moment you leaned down to kiss the side of his neck again, you felt the way his breath caught in his chest, as he cleared his throat a little, like there was a lump forming in it.

He shifted just enough so he could tilt his head back, eyes angled toward the ceiling like he was thinking too hard, or working up to something. You knew that look very well, so you waited for him to talk.

When he finally decided to start speaking, his voice was quieter than usual–thick with something tender and just a little unsure, “Do you…Do you ever think a-about what it’d be like if things were…Y’know, d-different?” You tipped your head down a bit, your lips brushing his temple.

”Different how?” The muscles of his stomach tightened and twitched beneath your touch as you traced a small square on his skin.

”Like…I-If we weren’t doing this whole…Thunderbolts thing…If w-we had time to breathe. Time to just…” He hesitated, then let out a breathy laugh, embarrassed by the sheer softness of it, “Get married…And stuff.” You raised your eyebrows at the way he casually dropped the word ‘married’ so easily, even though it shouldn’t have surprised you one bit–it still hit you hard right in the chest. You let out a sigh, trailing your kisses down to his neck again, slowly.

”You wanna marry me, Bob?” You asked gently, your breath tickling the shell of his ear. He could hear the smile forming on the words, and he replied immediately.

”I’ve wanted t-to since the first time I saw y-you.” Your hand stilled in his hair. He wasn’t joking, and you could feel it in the way his whole body tensed up slightly, and in the way his hand squeezed your leg.

”You didn’t know me then,” You whispered, nipping at his earlobe to give him a bit of a jolt. He let out a nervous laugh, and shifted against you again, his head turning to the side so he could see you.

Even in the dim light, his eyes burned like candle lit oceans–deep and quiet and startlingly blue. Not just one shade, but every possible one layered like secrets: pale frost near the center, ringed with a darker rim of indigo that made them seem impossibly vast. You could’ve drowned in them and not minded at all. There was something raw in the way they looked at you–like he wasn’t just seeing you, but eteching you into his brain. Like every breath you took bent the tide of something inside him.

“I know,” He replied, “But w-when I looked at you, I knew you w-were going to wreck me.” You smirked, feeling your heart pounding against your chest.

”Wreck you, huh?” He huffed again, as your arm tightened around him.

”I-I don’t mean it like that. I-I mean…The kind of wreck where you just change e-everything. Where s-someone walks into your life, and s-suddenly your whole world shifts, and everything y-you thought mattered stops mattering. I-It all just centers around them…” You could feel heat creeping up on your cheeks, “That’s what y-you were,” He continued, voice low and sincere, “You walked in l=like you didn’t even know what you were doing…And I thought–o-oh, there you are. There’s the r-rest of my life.” You took in a shaky breath, untangling your hand from his hair so you could gently cradle his neck, giving him the softest kiss you could muster.

It barely felt like pressure–more like a secret passed between breaths. It wasn’t rushed or rough, it was close. Your nose brushed his cheek as your lips moved together, slow and searching, and when he exhaled against your skin–shaky, sweet, desperate in the way only Bob Reynolds could be–it felt like your entire chest lit up.

He kissed you back with that same trembling care, one of his hands still resting on your shin, the other hovering just slightly over your thigh that was pressed against the couch, like he didn’t know where to touch without worship. His lips parted against yours, chasing you when you pulled back just an inch to breathe.

“I didn’t know that’s what you were thinking,” You whispered, your thumb grazing the line of his jaw, “If I had, maybe I would’ve made things a little easier for you when you were trying to ask me out.” Bob’s cheeks flushed deeply, his neck blooming a light pink.

”D-Don’t remind me of those d-days, I-I always thought I was on the brink of c-collapse when you looked at me.” You laughed–soft and sudden, causing Bob to let out a small groan.

But then, without warning, he shifted–carefully turning in your arms until he was facing you fully. The movement wasn’t graceful. His long limbs tangled with yours, one knee catching on the blanket and nearly dragging it off the couch. You snorted out a laugh as he fumbled, nearly knocking your half-full mug of cold tea off the edge of the table.

”Careful, Bob,” You teased, voice caught between a giggle and a gasp as he braced himself with a hand near your ribs, “You look like you’re gonna drop off the couch if you make one wrong move.” You could feel him rest his other hand by your hip, his body hovering over yours. His weight dipped the cushions just enough to shift you both deeper into the well-worn couch, and he huffed softly as he tried to arrange himself without squashing you.

”I-I’m trying to be graceful here.” He muttered with all the pouty indignation of a man who absolutely knew he wasn’t. You smirked, as you slipped your hands up the back of his sweater, fingertips grazing the expanse of warm skin.

”Yeah, you’re about as graceful as a bull in a china shop.” Bob let out a laugh–low and bright, that boyish sound that made your stomach flip. It crinkled the corners of his eyes and brought a fresh flush to his cheeks, one you felt bloom under your palms as you dragged them up the ridges of his muscles.

“C’mon,” He chuckled, dipping his head to nuzzle into your neck, his breath tickling your skin, “T-That’s pretty unfair…A bull at least h-has four legs to balance on.” You raised your eyebrows.

”And you’ve got two very long, very clumsy ones,” You shot back, your grin wide now as your wraps wrapped loosely around his waist, anchoring him where he belonged, “I’m just waiting for the day you trip over your own feet and Sentry slams a hole through the wall trying to keep you safe.” He groaned dramatically, lowering himself slowly so his chest pressed to yours, his heartbeat thrumming into you.

”N-Not my fault I’m built like a walking c-coat rack,” He mumbled into your shoulder.

”No, it’s not…But I love you this way regardless.” Bob didn’t say anything back immediately, he just laid there, slowly melting into you with every breath. You felt it in the way his muscles eased, in the way his hand slipped from bracing to resting–flat against your ribs like he needed to feel the rise and fall of your breathing. His other hand smoothed along your hip, curling into the fabric of your sweatpants like he couldn’t help himself.

And then he shifted just enough to kiss you again–slow and soft.

When he pulled back, his gaze was clearer now, blue and bare and honest. He reached up, pushed a stray bit of hair from your face with trembling reverence, and murmured, “I-If I had a ring, I’d give i-it to you tonight.” Your heart was thudding now–not fast, but deep, like a bell tolling softly in your ribs.

You searched his face. There was no hesitation there. No nerves, no fear. Just Bob. Warm and open and golden, stretched out above you like a man who had found the only place he ever wanted to be.

So you slipped one of your hands out from beneath his shirt, and reached up to cup his cheek, brushing your thumb gently beneath the soft blue of his eye.

“You don’t need a ring,” You whispered. “You’ve already given me everything I need.” Bob leaned into your palm, like the weight of your touch was the only thing he trusted. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, lashes brushing against the skin of your thumb like feathers, and when he opened them again, they shimmered with something unspeakably soft.

“I s-still want to g-give you one,” He whispered, voice so low you almost missed it, “Even if you don’t need it. Even if we never have the time…I–I want you to have something to wear…S-Something that says you’re truly mine.” He added, gulping down the nerves that filled his throat, “I mean…You’ve always b-been, but…” His sentence trailed off, and his confidence flickered. You could see in his eyes that he was being dead serious, and all the feelings that were stacked high for you began to topple and unravel. So you kissed him again.

Not urgently, not possessively–just long and lingering, a kiss that said I know and I’m not going anywhere. His mouth parted against yours with a softness that undid you, with a sigh that tasted like devotion.

When you pulled back just enough to breathe, your forehead resting against his, you whispered, “We’ll make time for it…If that’s what you really want to do.”

That made his lips twitch into the smallest smile. Not his usual nervous, bashful one–but the kind that came from deep inside his chest. The kind that cracked through the walls he still sometimes tried to hold up. The kind that only you got to see. His hand squeezed your waist gently, before drifting up towards your ribs, fingers splaying gently over the cotton of your shirt. His palm settled beneath the swell of your chest, not in a way that asked for more, but in a way that just held.

”I-I do…With my whole heart…”

[syoddeye]

heart rot. ghost x f!reader.

heart rot, a fungal disease, decays the inner heartwood of trees, creating weaknesses, while also providing homes for birds. short thing. all vibes, little plot/sense.

he finds her when he isn’t looking. 

or rather, she finds him. 

takes one long look as he drags the man who followed her into the toilet, and shoves him hard enough into the doorframe to rattle the walls. snaps his wrist like it’s nothing.

she decides.

she needs a place to hide. why not behind the biggest, meanest monster in the room? if the thing with teeth and blood on its knuckles likes her?

she’s seen worse.

she sees the ruin of him, too, the wet , festering rot. the hollowed-out hole in his chest, a place no decent thing should want to linger. and she decides that’ll do just fine for a home.

can’t be worse than where she’s come from.

his name is simon. he’s involved in the military. beyond that, it’s not her concern. it suits her fine, though, because he doesn’t ask about what’s behind her. what’s past is past, and he leaves it there.

he’s surprisingly accommodating. well, not accommodating. no flowers, no card. just a key, and no chain to hang it from. clean sheets, at least.

she brings with her all things soft, all things warm. a cup of tea waiting when he returns from whatever he won’t talk about. a comforting hand at the base of his skull when he wakes up tight with sweat, gripping his own throat tight. silence when he needs it. words, when he can bear them. she drags scraps of kindness into the hollow of him, weaves herself a bird’s nest within his ribs.

he warns her. more than once. 

tells her what kind of man he is, what kind of things he’s done. shows her. he’s not gentle. not safe. his moods shift like bad weather, and his hands—well. she ought to be afraid of them.

she isn’t.

she stays.

she continues to surprise simon.

there are nights he comes close, so fucking close, to gutting himself open, prying her out, and casting her off for good. shoving her away before he makes a mess of things, before he ruins this too, like he ruins everything. he’s good at destroying things. lethal. better at it than keeping them. before she learns and sees the full measure of what he is.

but every time, she only burrows deeper. tucks herself in like she’s not afraid of the dark and doesn’t mind the splintering, sharp edges. like she’s already decided, without his permission, that she’s staying.

and at some point, though he can’t say exactly when, he stops fighting it. 

realizes he’s sleeping through the night. that the cupboards are full. that he’s eating without thinking about it, without forcing himself to. there’s a steadying in his hands, a loosening in his chest, an easing in the places clenched tight for too long.

still himself. rough and weathered, but less teeth, more tongue. a longer, slower fuse. patience. letting himself stretch things out and savor instead of devouring it all in a single, starving bite.

and in the small hours, when his hands have left their mark on her skin and she’s pressed against him, breathing hitching but steady—he doesn’t let her go. just holds her, locks her to his side. luxuriates in the weight of her, the absurd, impossible fact of her.

he hopes she likes the cage of him.

because she’s not getting out.

[wheeboo]

"bluetooth hug!" | kim mingyu

SYNOPSIS. in which being long distance with your boyfriend comes with its perks. PAIRING. kim mingyu x fem!reader GENRE. fluff, comfort, suggestive, established relationship WARNINGS. mingyu basically using all the terms of endearment in the world, mingyu being absolutely smitten and so so in love with you it's ridiculous, they talk abt wanting to kiss each other A LOT save them from this distance, so yes kissing lots of kissing that i had wayy too much fun writing, lots of teasing from mingyu, brief shirtless mingyu moment, suggestive undertones, suggestive at the end, implied sexual content WORD COUNT. 8k

notes: personally after a kinda bad experience with long distance, i don't think i'd be able to do it LMAO. anyway! i had this idea for a while lmao n just couldnt stop thinking abt mingyu yelling out "bluetooth hug!" to the camera directors in TTT :((

“Wait, baby, baby, look at this!”

When you look back at the phone, Mingyu is proudly showing off his new collection of shot glasses, each one lined up on a shelf in his kitchen. He eyes each one before grabbing one up to the camera with a boyish grin.

“Ta-da!” he exclaims, gesturing like a game show host showing off a prize. “I told you I’d start collecting these when I travel, and look! Aren’t they cool? This one... I think... This one is from Jeju Island. This other one is from Paris…”

Your boyfriend has always been quite the adventurous kind. It’s the first thing you noticed when you tapped on his profile on Tinder and you were greeted by a plethora of photos of Mingyu in all sorts of places𑁋hiking in the mountains, posing in front of famous landmarks, and even one where he was holding a street food skewer with a bright, goofy grin. His bio had read, “Always looking for my next adventure! Maybe you can join me someday? 😙”

At the time, you had laughed at how cliché it sounded, but there was something about his energy, the way his smile lit up every photo, that made you swipe right.

The only catch was that he lived in an entirely different country.

Fast forward six months later, and here you are, completely and utterly smitten by the same man who had once been a stranger behind a screen. Even though your relationship is entirely virtual, it has blossomed in ways you didn’t think possible. Unfortunately, you’ve been occupied with studying for university and schedules filled to the brim, and Mingyu was quite busy checking things off his own bucket list, so there were hardly any opportunities for the two of you to finally meet.

Still, you loved hearing his stories and seeing the world through his eyes, even if it was through a screen.

Mingyu carefully places it back on the shelf before showing off another one to the camera. You can’t help the smile spreading across your face as you watch him enthusiastically present each shot glass. His cute little fangs show along with his grin, and it’s moments like this that make the distance between you feel just a little smaller.

“One day, I’ll fill this shelf up.” Then he turns his attention back to the phone, watching you diligently typing away some notes on your laptop. “Baby?”

“Hm?” You shoot a glance to the screen.

Mingyu juts out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, resting his chin on his hand.

“You’re not paying attention to me,” he whines helplessly, dragging out the words like a kid vying for attention.

Letting out a giggle, you scoot your laptop away from your phone, the screen dimming from off your face. You shift your position so that you're properly facing the screen now, giving him your full attention.

You raise an eyebrow playfully. “Yes, my precious, annoyingly clingy boyfriend?”

Mingyu’s only pout deepens, and he crosses his arms over his chest as if to make his disappointment even more prominent. “You’ve been so busy with work lately... I miss you.”

“How could you miss me when we haven’t even met yet, Gyu?” You jest teasingly.

His features soften at your words, uncrossing his arms and leaning in closer to the screen, and it’s almost like the huge distance between the two of you lessens slightly.

“I don’t need to meet you to miss you,” Mingyu explains sheepishly. “I just... All I have to do is think about you and it’s like you’re here, but not really here, you know?” He rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink that you can see even through the screen. “Gosh, the things I would do to just have you in my arms right now…”

A dreamy look lights up your face. You swear you could almost feel his presence right by you just from his words alone, but they aren’t enough to ease the longing ache in your chest, aren’t enough to fill the gap that stretches between the two of you. You let out a soft sigh, your heart warming at the thought of him.

“I think about it a lot, too,” You murmur gingerly, glancing down for a moment before meeting his gaze again through the screen. “About finally getting to be close with you.”

Even through the screen, you see the way his face melts, an expression nothing short of longing and expectation. His fingers drum against the counter, and you can tell he’s thinking of what to say next. The troublesome expression he wears tells you that it’s probably not something good.

“Tell me,” he says, resting his chin on his palm again. “What would we be doing if I was there right now?”

A thoughtful look crosses your features, but the answer is already so clear in your mind you could almost feel it.

“Cuddling?” You quirk a playful brow up at that. “Cuddling while listening to you talk... That would be nice. But then at some point, I’d get tired of hearing you talk, and just𑁋”

“Just what?”

“Hmmm,” You start, an impish flicker of your lips. “I’d shut you up with a kiss.”

Mingyu sputters in surprise at that, his brain and thoughts running haywire. “Oh? Oh?” He leans closer to the screen, a mischievous glint in his eyes now. “That’s dangerous talk, baby.”

You tilt your head amusedly. “Is it now?”

“You can’t just say things like that.” He pouts again. “Knowing damn well I can’t do anything about it. That’s just cruel. A crime, even.”

“Come on, I’m just speaking facts,” You retort back. “Now, tell me. If you could do something about it, what would you do?”

Mingyu lets out a sigh. “Don’t do this to me, babe.”

“I’m just curious,” You hum innocently, resting your chin on your palm now, mirroring his posture. “Would you kiss me silly?”

Mingyu’s gaze flickers back to you, and there’s something undeniably fond in the way he looks at you.

“You already know I would,” he grumbles. “I’d pull you in my lap and kiss you soooo hard that you wouldn’t be able to crawl away from me.”

You hum again, pretending to consider, despite the heat crawling up your neck. “Sounds nice.”

“Nice?” Mingyu scoffs at your indifference. “Just nice?”

You giggle. “Okay, okay𑁋really nice. Amazing. Wonderful. Fantastic. Perfect, even.”

He narrows his eyes playfully. “That’s more like it.” Then, he leans in just a bit closer to the screen, voice dropping slightly. “You’d be the one begging for me to stop talking then.”

Your stomach flutters, but you roll your eyes. “Okay, well, now you’re just being cocky.”

“Am I wrong, though?” He smirks, and you hate how good he looks doing it. “The moment I see you, I won’t be able to stop kissing you for a long, long time.”

For a moment, the teasing pauses, and all you can hear is the gentle hum of your heartbeat. You look into his eyes𑁋those same eyes that always made you feel both safe and that you could conquer the world all at once. You crave the feeling of his arms around you, his lips teasing you in real life, not just through words.

As you’re about to speak, though, a notification pops up on your computer.

When you read it silently, you let out a defeated sigh.

Mingyu notices your worry right away, like he always does. “Deadline notif?”

“Yeah,” You mutter, pulling away from the phone screen to force your laptop awake again. “I should wrap up this assignment, and you should go to sleep, Mr. Big Talk. You keep staying up for me.”

Mingyu groans dramatically, letting out a pettish whine. “The universe is always conspiring against me. I still wanna keep talking to you.”

You laugh softly. “I think you’ll survive, you big goof. I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?”

You watch as Mingyu picks up his phone, trailing over to where you could catch glimpses of his living room. He plops down on the couch with that same, irresistible sulkiness from earlier before a sudden gleam of mischief lights up his features.

“One more thing,” he says, sitting up excitedly, propping the phone down on the table before opening up his arms towards the camera. “Bluetooth hug!”

You blink confusedly. “Bluetooth what now?”

“Bluetooth hug,” he repeats, and you can tell how serious he is about it. “Since I can’t hug you in person, we do this instead.”

Your heart stutters at the sheer ridiculousness and sincerity of it all. “Gyu, you’re so𑁋”

“Shhh,” he hushes, wiggling his fingers like he’s beckoning you forward. “Just do it, baby. Please?”

With a chuckle, you shake your head, but you can’t deny him, not when he’s looking at you like that. Raising your arms, you mimic his motion, pretending to wrap them around his broad frame through the screen.

“Bluetooth hug,” You quip, and you can almost feel his body pressed up against yours at the thought. “There. Happy?”

Mingyu flops back onto the couch, a dazed look to his face. “Mmh, best hug ever. It’ll be our thing now before we end the call.” Then he pans the camera down to his chin, and gosh, he looks extra kissable right now. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you go now, okay?”

You give him a faint smile. “Okay.”

Some moments of silence pass, like neither of you want to break the spell that’s bound to you both. It happens basically every time𑁋where neither of you want to end the call, until one of you finally gets the guts to do it first, only to instantly miss the other right after. 

Mingyu stares at you for a few more seconds, like he’s trying to memorise every detail of your face before parting ways, and you do the same𑁋hoping to hold on to this moment a little longer.

“Okay,” he murmurs finally, his voice soft but resigned. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You whisper back, trying to fight the tug at your heart. “I’ll miss you.”

He grins at you one last time, his boyish charm lighting up his face, and his gaze is soothing. “Miss you more, baby. Sleep well.”

And with that, the screen turns to black. Even though he’s basically an entire ocean away from you, you still feel his warmth lingering around you.

“Wait, I think you passed it! Go back a little, baby.”

You furrow a brow as you push back the shopping cart, nearly saving your phone as it almost falls off from where it’s perched idly on the child’s seat. You show off the endless rows of foods and packaged goods towards the camera, giving a better angle for Mingyu to see.

“Like... here?” You tilt the camera slightly, showcasing the aisle packed with different types of pasta.

“Yes, that’s the one!” Mingyu’s excited voice blasts through your headphones. “Get the one with the red logo, do you see it? It’s the one I always use for my spaghetti.”

Mingyu had brought up your bi-weekly tradition of cooking together as a little date night. Since the two of you obviously aren’t able to cook in the same kitchen, this was the next best thing𑁋letting him guide you through the store to pick up ingredients and calling over FaceTime while making the same recipe. Although, this time, it’s Mingyu’s own special recipe.

You pluck the spaghetti noodle pack from the shelf and place it into your shopping cart. “Okay, got it.”

“Perfect,” he says, completely satisfied. “Now, next is Parmesan cheese... Oh, baby, get some garlic too. Fresh, not the pre-minced kind.”

You roll your eyes at his determination, yet a smile tugs endearingly at your lips. “Affirmative, oh-great chef.”

Mingyu wiggles his brows at that. “Say that again.”

You scoff, shaking your head with a laugh as you push your cart down the aisle, trailing towards the produce section of the store. “Nope. You get it once, and that’s it.”

He lets out a groan. “Ugh, you’re such a bully. Just say you hate me and want to break up with me already.”

“I lovingly hate you,” You tease, reaching for a bulb of garlic and holding it up to the camera. “This work for you?”

He narrows his eyes, inspecting it through the screen, his head tilted like he’s some sort of critically acclaimed food critic. “Hmm... yes, that one looks good. You pass.”

You chuckle, dropping it in your cart. “Lucky ol’ me.”

After you finish shopping for all the ingredients, you find yourself lining up at the register for check-out. You compare the ingredients to the list Mingyu had sent you. Spaghetti noodles? Check. Garlic? Check. Basil? Check. Parmesan cheese? Check. Tomatoes? Check...

“Okay,” Mingyu starts. “I’ve sent the money for the groceries to your card.”

Your eyes widen at that. “I𑁋Gyu…” Then you roll your eyes, knowing you can’t argue back with him. “You know, my frontal lobe may be averagely developed, but I’m a grown adult, with money of my own.”

“Yeah, well, I’m also a grown adult who wants to spoil his favourite girl,” Mingyu retorts back playfully. “Let me treat you once in a while, okay?”

You card a hand through your hair. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Mingyu simply grins at that. “I really am.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” You remark, pushing your cart up to the register. “I’ll call you when I’m home.”

“Drive safe, okay?” he says, suddenly softer. “Text me when you get there.”

Your heart does that annoying little flutter it always does when he’s sweet with you like this, swallowing down the warmth creeping up your neck, your fingertip lingering on the end call button. “I will.”

By the time you get home and call him back, Mingyu is already in his kitchen, phone propped up against the counter, sleeves rolled up to his elbow like he’s about to film his own cooking show. The sight of his exposed arms makes your stomach do a flip.

“Welcome, welcome,” he beckons with poise. “Tonight, I, Chef Mingyu, will be guiding the love of my life in whipping up the best spaghetti of her life.”

You snort, setting your phone against the kitchen backsplash. “Pretty bold claim, mister.”

His infectious grin only shines with confidence. “Just wait and see, princess.”

The two of you start cooking together, Mingyu guiding you through each step like a seasoned pro𑁋boiling the pasta, sautéing the garlic, and getting the sauce to the perfect consistency. All while he’s playfully critiquing your chopping and cooking skills (“Baby, what is that? Are you making garlic chunks instead of minced garlic?”), and you teasingly mock his over-the-top chef persona (“Should I start calling you ‘Gordon Kim’ now?”).

The comforting aroma of tomatoes and garlic fill your kitchen as the sauce simmers, bubbling gently under the heat. You find yourself standing at the stove, slowly running a wooden spoon through the makeshift sauce.

“Make sure you’re stirring it evenly,” he chimes in randomly, watching you intently.

“I am stirring it evenly.”

Mingyu squints, bringing the phone up to his face as if that’ll definitely help him see better. “Mmm… I don’t know, precious. Let me see the consistency.”

Rolling your eyes, you lift the wooden spoon, letting the sauce drip back into the pan. “Chef Kim, does this meet your expectations?”

He taps his chin theatrically. “You are barely passing, but I’ll allow it.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp. “I am literally following your recipe, Gyu.”

“I know, and I’m an amazing teacher,” he says smugly. “Okay, let's check on the pasta. Should be al dente now.”

You grab a fork and scoop up a strand, blowing on it before taking a bite. “I think it’s good?”

Mingyu hums, watching you closely. “Are you sure? Not too soft? Not too hard? Do the official chef bite.”

You raise a brow. “Please enlighten me on what the official chef bite is.”

He straightens up his posture confidently, dramatically miming the act of chewing like some Michelin-star judge. “You gotta, like, taste it with full concentration, eyes closed, and nod like you’re making the most critical decision of your life.”

You roll your eyes but comply anyway, exaggerating the nod just for him, claiming in your best food critic voice, “Ah, yes. Exquisitely divine. A fine noodle with a delicate texture.”

Mingyu beams at that, and walks over to give his pasta noodles a quick taste test of his own. He moves with a sense of elegance in his step, albeit slightly chaotic. He’s always been like this, always throwing himself fully into whatever he loves, especially cooking. And right now, he’s throwing himself into making sure you get this recipe just right.

As the two of you finish draining the pasta, you begin to toss it into the sauce, ensuring that it’s properly mixed. Mingyu watches you carefully, your lips pursed in concentration.

“Make sure every strand is coated and𑁋oh!” He leans in closer to the screen, watching you mix. “Don’t forget to leave a little bit of pasta water.”

You pause mid-stir, eyes narrowing at him through the screen. “Why didn’t you tell me that before I drained all of it?”

Mingyu’s mouth drops down to the floor. “Baby, no! The starch in the pasta water helps the sauce stick better.”

You huff defeatedly. “Guess my spaghetti is less Mingyu-fied now.”

“It’s okay, you’re still a beginner,” he assures. “My love and patience are boundless.”

“Wow, you’re so generous.”

You scoop the pasta into a plate, sprinkling a generous amount of Parmesan cheese on top of it, tucking in some loose noodle strands with a fork to make it cute for your little dinner date. Mingyu does the same, positioning his plate just right so you can see it on screen.

You set your phone up against the tiny succulent on the table, grabbing your fork in hand.

“Moment of truth. First bite together?” Mingyu suggests excitedly.

You nod, twirling some spaghetti onto your fork and holding it up. “On three?”

“One, two…”

“Three.”

An explosion of flavours coat your tastebuds, your eyes widening in surprise. You chew through it leisurely, savouring it with a pleasant hum, before diving in for another bite. Mingyu’s attention is solely focused on you as he takes a bite of his own, his face lighting up with triumph as he soaks up the way you’re enjoying it.

“Damn,” You wipe some sauce off the corner of your lip. “This is really good.”

“Yeah?” His eyes crinkle with pure happiness. “Knew you’d love it, sweetheart.”

The two of you continue to eat together, and it’s almost as if he’s sitting right across from you at the table. You catch him up on what the week has showered down on you, rambling to him about something in regards to one of your professor’s strict grading style, and he fills you in with a humourous story that happened to him with his coworker Soonyoung at work two days ago.

Even though you’re in different places, it’s moments like these that make the distance feel smaller, that make time feel infinite𑁋knowing one day, you’ll be with him in person.

And as you finish your last bite, you can’t help but think𑁋if love had a taste, it would be this.

“I’m stuffed,” You mutter after washing your plate in the sink, plopping back down in the chair. “And need a shower.”

Mingyu lifts a brow, smirking devilishly. “Take me with you.”

You shake your head, sending him a suspicious look. “In your dreams, pervert.”

“Can’t help it, love. You’re absolutely ravishing, even in dream-form.”

A lump forms in your throat at your boyfriend’s downright shamelessness, heat threatening to spread its way and infect all parts of your body. Mingyu basks in your reaction with a prideful grin, biting at his bottom lip to suppress a giggle.

Then, as if he had read your mind, he outstretches his arms towards the camera.

“Bluetooth hug?” he asks softly, wiggling his fingers in invitation, as if he’s attempting to reach out to you through the screen. He always knows how to get under your skin so easily.

You give him a roll of your eyes, before extending your own arms towards him as well, the two of you curling your arms, basically hugging the air. But even in the empty space, knowing that he’s right on the other side is enough to make it almost feel like the real thing. Almost.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, squeezing himself tightly. “That’s me, right there with you.”

Your heart stutters, warmth blooming in your chest. “I feel it.”

A pleased look paints his face, but then his voice turns teasing again. “Wish I could do more than just a hug, you know…”

Your fingers twitch against the screen. “Oh?”

“Oh.” His grin turns wolfish. “You’d like that, huh?”

You only sneer, but there’s no real bite to it. “Goodnight, you dirty-minded freak.”

Mingyu shoots you a kiss through the screen. “Goodnight, pretty girl. Dream of me.”

And as you hang up, face warm and heart full, you know sleep won’t come easy𑁋because every little word, every little tease, lingers, like the taste of his love on your tongue.

“I talk about you, you know.”

Your attention is momentarily taken away from the book in your hands, and you peer towards Mingyu on your phone screen, who appears to be completely submerged within the comfort of his bed. The sun has nearly risen on his end𑁋as he is stubborn and wants to fall asleep at exactly the same time as you𑁋while the sky is plagued with darkness on yours. He looks adorable, as he always does, and your chest can't help but tighten at the sight.

“What?”

Mingyu emerges slightly out of the sheets, revealing more of his pretty bare face. “To my friends, my family. I talk about you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at that.

“You do?” You murmur, setting your book aside and shifting under your blanket as well.

Mingyu only nods, resting his cheek against his pillow. “Of course. All the time. They probably think I’m obsessed with you.” He gives a sheepish grin. “Which, I mean... they wouldn’t be wrong.”

A quiet laugh escapes your lips, but it doesn’t quite mask the way his words turn your insides into mush. “What... What do you tell them?”

“Hmm,” he hums, pretending to think hard. “I tell them about how amazing you are. How we met on Tinder and how it grew from there. How you make me laugh so effortlessly. How you somehow always know exactly what to say. How you’re unbelievably pretty and cute and sexy when you’re focused on something𑁋like, seriously, it’s unfair, babe.”

His words swirl around you like a thick fog, settling over your body and creeping in within the crevices of your heart. A smile crawls its way across your features, half-buried in the pillow, but for some reason, it simmers just slightly.

Because you talk about Mingyu too𑁋to your friends, your family, hell even strangers you’ve known for a day. He probably doesn’t realise himself how much you speak so fondly of him day-to-day. Yet, the thing is, there are people who have told you that long distance relationships hardly ever work. Or that meeting Mingyu through a dating app meant that your connection with him is bound to fizzle out after some time, that it wasn’t real love. Those words stick to you like an annoying flea sometimes.

But if those people could see you right now𑁋see the way your heart leaps out of your chest when Mingyu smiles through the screen, the way his voice alone can make the world feel a little more bearable, the way he talks about you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky𑁋maybe they’d understand.

However, there’s always that tiny part of you that worries.

Because what if they’re right? If love isn’t this, then what is?

“...and I tell them I’d do anything to finally just… be with you, you know?” Mingyu continues mindlessly, before stopping, as if sensing the sudden shift that you weren’t entirely listening. “Baby?”

You blink, shaking off the thoughts. “Huh?”

Mingyu’s brows knit together slightly. “You okay? You kinda went all quiet.”

You hesitate for a moment, caught between shoving your thoughts away and admitting the quiet fears that gnaw at your skin during the wee hours of the night. But Mingyu knows you too well. He always does.

“Yeah,” You respond quietly, but it’s more than obvious how unconvincing your tone is. Even a three-year-old could probably sense it.

Mingyu doesn’t press, at least not right away. He watches you carefully, waiting, giving you the stage to decide how much you want to say. That’s one of the things you love most about him𑁋his patience when it comes to you being vulnerable with him, his effort in wanting to communicate with you, his willingness to listen when you’re ready.

So you exhale, pressing your lips together before whispering, “Do... you think this will last?”

Mingyu adjusts his position to get a better look at you. “What do you mean?”

You swallow nervously. “I mean us. Long distance, life pulling us in different directions one day. People say it’s not sustainable. That... maybe this isn’t real love.”

Mingyu’s eyes darken at that, his jaw tightening as if his body is physically rejecting the idea. “Who the hell says that?”

You let out a weak, humourless laugh, giving a shrug. “People who think love only works if it’s easy, I guess.”

Mingyu’s expression just softens, his gaze carefully boring into you as if he’s searching for every ounce of doubt in your words. He leans closer to the screen, making the distance feel smaller, if only for a moment, just as he always does.

“Listen to me, angel,” he prompts. “Love isn’t easy. It never is. It’s work. It’s effort. It’s choosing someone over and over again, even when it’s hard. If things ever get hard between us, then we fight for it. Because this? Us? It’s real, precious, no matter what anyone else thinks. I’d literally walk the entire earth just to tell you that we’re okay.”

Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you don’t respond. Because this, you realise, is what love is, right? It’s not just the soft, dreamy moments of cooking together through a screen or whispering sleepy goodnights before ending the call. It’s this𑁋being honest about your fears and knowing that no matter what, the person on the other side isn’t going anywhere.

That this𑁋he𑁋is worth every mile. And no matter what anyone says, this love? It’s real. You know it is.

Mingyu’s voice drops, more gentler now. “Do you believe me, love?”

You could only let out a soft laugh, letting the warmth bloom throughout your face at his words. “You’re too confident for your own good sometimes, you know that?”

“I’m confident because I know what I want,” he replies matter-of-factly. “And what I want is you. I love you. I could scream that to my next-door neighbours right now if I wanted to. I’m in this for the long run, so... I guess you’re stuck with me now.”

You scoff a little. “I guess.” Before your expression merely melts, your worries lifting off your chest. “Thank you, though. I... I really needed that. I love you too.”

His grin turns radiant, like the sun peeking out at sunrise, so full of adoration that it makes your heart stutter. “Yeah?”

You laugh softly. “Yeah.”

Mingyu clutches at his chest in a dramatic fashion. “Say it again, please. I need it in writing. Maybe a voice memo for proof so I could replay it for hours.”

Though you’re notorious for leaving him on the edge sometimes, this time, you can’t help but cave in.

“I love you too, Kim Mingyu.”

You swear you see the temptation in his face that he could practically leap off the bed and bounce off the walls in his room from giddiness, just like an overexcited puppy. His mouth stretches into a cheesy, toothy grin, and he lets out some sort of muffled squeal𑁋half a cheer, half a laugh, all purely Mingyu.

“God, baby, I think you killed me again,” he tells you, cheeks pained from all the ridiculous smiling he’s been doing. “I wish I could kiss you right now. Like, really kiss you. Wouldn’t even hesitate.”

You breath hitches at the thought, but you attempt to play it cool. “And what if you come here and discover I’m the most disastrous kisser imaginable?”

Mingyu’s eyes widen in comical horror. “Impossible. There’s no way I’d believe that. You’d have to try really hard to be a bad kisser, babe.”

You roll your eyes, trying to suppress the smile threatening to break free. “I’m serious. What if I’m an awful kisser and ruin everything?”

“Then I’d just kiss you again,” Mingyu responds, completely unbothered, as if that solves everything. “And again. And again. Until I figure out how to teach you properly. I’d take a hundred bad kisses if it means I get to kiss you a hundred times.”

“Wow,” is all you can utter out. “You’re really down bad for me, aren’t you?”

Mingyu’s grin widens even more, if that’s even possible at this point. “Down bad? No, baby, I’m crazy for you. To the point I think I’ll suffer from a heart attack one day. There’s a difference.”

You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head fondly at how absolutely unapologetic he is in his affection. It’s one of the many silly quirks you love about him𑁋how he wears his heart on his sleeve and isn’t afraid to show it, even from cities away.

When you shift in your position within your covers, a yawn escapes from you as the exhaustion finally begins to catch up with how late it is. You don’t really know how long the two of you have been calling, but you don’t bother to check for yourself.

He’s your little infinity.

“Tired?”

“Mmh, yeah. A little. Been a long day,” You respond with a low mutter, stretching your legs out under the sheets.

Mingyu thinks for a moment, before reaching out to grab the pillow right next to him, wrapping an arm around it and squeezing it tightly.

“Bluetooth hug!” he exclaims eagerly, voice muffled into the pillow.

The corners of your mouth lift as you grab your own pillow, squeezing it with the most affection your body could muster. It’s the closest thing you have to him.

“Bluetooth hug,” You repeat back with a sleepy smile.

“Fall asleep with me?” Mingyu proposes with a sly look.

“Unless you want your phone to explode later on,” You remark playfully. “Sure.”

The two of you are swift to curl yourselves comfortably under the sheets, the only sounds being the occasional shift of Mingyu in his bed and your quiet breathing. You feel Mingyu’s eyes still on you even as you’re struggling to stay awake, a simple, comfortable silence taking over in the way you both simply exist in this bubble of virtual connection together.

“Gyu?”

“Mhm?”

“I love you. Goodnight.”

Maybe love isn’t easy. But with him, it feels like the easiest thing in the world.

“Goodnight, baby, I love you too.”

You don’t really need to say anything more than that; the simple truth of his presence, even through a screen, is enough. The love, the connection, the trust you share together𑁋it’s all there. It’s real.

Eventually, the call fades into silence, the sounds of your quiet, rhythmic breathing and the steady fall and rise of your chest being the only things Mingyu can see and hear. He stays like that for a few minutes𑁋just simply taking you in within the darkness of your bedroom he hopes to share with you one day, admiring you from afar, knowing you’re just a screen away yet somehow right there beside him.

When he’s sure that you’ve fallen asleep, he lets out a breath he’s been holding within his chest.

“One more month,” he whispers to himself as he closes his eyes, the gentle sound of your breathing lulling him into a peaceful state. “One more month, and I'll finally get to hold you.”

One more month, and everything will be right.

Your overthinking may as well make your brain combust.

Mingyu hasn’t called you or has been answering his calls for the past ten hours, and it’s making you worried sick.

Your mind runs through all sorts of scenarios, ranging from the logical to the most absurd. Maybe he fell asleep. Maybe his phone died. Maybe he’s just busy. But ten hours? Mingyu always, always makes time to send at least a quick text if he’s not available, always makes time to call you at least twice a day, and would definitely let you know if he can’t call at all. What in the world happened?

This was definitely not how you imagined you’d start your March break with, with your boyfriend basically going AWOL-radio silent on you for almost half a day. You try not to let your thoughts spiral too much, but your chest tightens nonetheless. Is he okay? Did something happen? What if he got into an accident? What if he lost his phone? What if𑁋God forbid𑁋he’s ghosting you?

No, that last one is absolutely out of the question. This is Kim Mingyu we’re talking about. He would rather cut off his own limbs than ignore you for this long without a good reason.

You chew at the inside of your cheek as you stare at your phone, debating if you should call again or to send another text, or if you’re going overboard from being worried over literally nothing. You’ve already spammed him enough𑁋eight texts, four missed calls, and a voice memo where your tone was a mix of concern and frustration.

Just as you’re about to work yourself into another wave of panic, your phone vibrates on your nightstand. You scramble to grab it, barely registering Mingyu’s name flashing on the screen before answering, bringing it up to your ear.

“Mingyu? Where have you𑁋”

“Hi, baby,” he interrupts, voice warm like melted chocolate, but there’s something else there too𑁋something you can’t quite place. “Sorry I didn't call earlier. Were you worried?”

You let out a breath, flopping back against your pillows. “Worried? That’s an understatement. I was already debating if I should call that Wonwoo guy to track you down. I thought you got kidnapped or something!”

Mingyu lets out a breathy chuckle, the sound oddly laced with amusement. “I promise, no kidnappings today. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, love.” There’s some rustling sounds on the other end, like the sound of a piece of clothing being adjusted or the wind breezing through the air. “Are you home right now?”

“I𑁋Of course, I am. Are you? You sound like you’re outside.”

On the other end, Mingyu clears his throat. “I... uh, I had to do a lot of errands today.”

“Errands?” You frown, sitting up straighter in bed. “Since when do you run errands for ten hours straight without answering your phone?”

“Um, since... today?” he tries, voice holding that signature boyish charm, but there’s an unmissable nervous edge to it.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Gyu, what are you up to?”

“Nothing, nothing!” He laughs, but it sounds a little too forced. “Just… stuff. Important stuff.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“You caught me,” he teases, but you hear the sound of a door closing on his end, the faint rustling of fabric, then𑁋what was that? The beeping of an elevator? Your brows knit together in confusion.

“Gyu,” You deadpan, your tone serious. “Where are you, really?”

“Home, obviously,” he answers, his footsteps echoing on the ground through the phone. “Can you do me a favour, baby? It’s a quick one, I promise.”

You huff a breath, unsure how much more you can tolerate him avoiding your questions. “What?”

“Check your front door.”

Your heart skips a beat at that, pursing your lips together at his words, throwing the covers off your body anyway. “Gyu…”

“Go open your door,” he repeats, voice soft now, almost giddy. “Please?”

“Did you send me a package?” You ask back. “I swear to God, Gyu, I’m going to be in a lot of debt just to pay you back.”

You hear the smile that blossoms on his face, even through the call. “Nonsense, baby. It’s just a small gift.”

Your mind races, breath catching in your throat as you practically throw your phone on speaker mode and stumble clumsily out of bed. With each hurried step towards your front door, your pulse thrums louder in your ears. This better not be a joke. This better not be some elaborate prank where he’s made you run to the door for nothing, or else you’ll kill him.

Pausing in front of your door, you take in a deep inhale.

Hand shaking slightly, you unlock the door and pull it open𑁋

𑁋and nearly stop breathing altogether.

Because standing right there, under the dim glow of the hallway lights, is Kim Mingyu.

Your Kim Mingyu.

Live. In person. Not pixelated through a stupid phone screen with spotty WIFI.

Kim Mingyu, in all his six-foot-something, broad-shouldered, grinning glory, standing on your doorstep with a suitcase propped by his side. His eyes glow under the dim apartment light with unrestrained joy as he takes your vulnerable appearance𑁋barefoot, hair slightly disheveled, drowning in an oversized hoodie that he bought you for Valentine’s day, your face a mixture of disbelief and awe. He’s drinking in the sight of you just as much as you’re drinking in him, standing frozen in the doorway.

“Bluetooth hug?” he requests shyly, voice slightly breathless, holding his phone up and ending the call. 

Before you can even fully register everything, your body moves on autopilot. One second your feet are rooted to the floor, the next you’re launching yourself at him.

Mingyu barely has time to react before you’re in his arms, wrapping yourself around him in a tight embrace, your face burying into his chest. He lets out a soft, breathless laugh before his own large arms curl securely around you, pulling you in as close as humanly possible. His scent washes over you𑁋warm, familiar, safe𑁋and the moment his hands splay across your back, the reality of it all finally sinks in.

He’s here.

For the first time ever, he’s really, truly here.

And you’re sharing your first ever hug together. Not a Bluetooth hug, not that little hugging emoji he sends you through text. A real one.

“You idiot,” You mumble against his chest, clutching at the fabric of his sweater. “I can’t believe you𑁋”

“Believe it, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the crown of your head, his hold on you tightening. “God, you feel so much better than a pillow.”

You let out something between a laugh and a sob, tilting your head up to look at him. His gaze softens instantly at the sight of you, his hands cradling your face like you’re a precious gift. For a second, his eyes drop down to your lips, before coming back up to your face. You’re so much more beautiful in person. A phone screen is incomparable.

He sucks in a breath.

“You flew here?” You ask him, still caught in a daze of disbelief.

Mingyu chuckles, his thumb caressing the skin of your cheek. “Of course, I did. Didn’t want you spending your March break alone. But, uh…” He licks his lips, eyes dipping to yours again. “I really need to kiss you right now.”

You let out a soft hum, peeking up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“Hmm, well, do you?” You murmur, allowing your fingers to trail lightly over the nape of his neck. “I think you’d have to earn it.”

Mingyu blinks at that, letting out a choked sound𑁋half-frustration, half-amusement. “I just crossed an entire ocean for you, you little devil.”

And you know you can’t counter anything back with that, because he did.

“Yeah,” is all you can say with a heartfelt look, flickering a gaze at his lips as well, granting him permission to cross that line. “You did.”

And then his lips are on yours.

It’s slow and tentative at first𑁋like he’s taking his precious time memorising the feel of your mouth against his for the first time. It’s way better than what his dreams have given him, way better than what his fantasies have showed, way better than anything else he could imagine. But then you sigh against him, melting into him completely, and a coil within him snaps.

Mingyu presses into you firmly, causing you to stumble back towards the doorframe, deepening the kiss with a low, pleased hum and a wicked smirk that you could feel. You part your lips slightly, coaxing his tongue to sweep against yours, and he swallows the sounds that elicit from your mouth. It’s full of need, full of want, full of desire. His hands tighten around your waist, fingers gripping at the fabric of your hoodie like he never wants to let go.

Your knees feel weak, almost like jelly, and you swear you might actually float away if it weren’t for the way Mingyu holds you in his grasp, the way he keeps you his.

“Sweetheart,” he rasps against your lips, the heat of his kisses blossoming its petals throughout your body. “You taste like home.”

When you pull away slightly, breathless, Mingyu chases after your lips with a small whine.

“Come on.” You take his hand in yours for the first time, and it’s almost familiar in the way he fits perfectly in your hold. You can definitely get used to this. “Let me show you around.”

It’s the last night of your March break.

Which means, it’s also Mingyu’s last night with you too.

You don’t know where all your time with him went𑁋how it passed by so quickly yet so slowly. You’ve shown him so much of your world in just this miniscule window of time, shown him various spots in your city that created a particular chapter in your life, and yet, there’s still so much you want to share with him.

You watch as Mingyu stuffs some of his belongings into his suitcase. His flight is not until the next day, but seeing him begin to pack already makes your chest squeeze tightly. You feel as if he’s already perfectly settled his way into your chaotic routine, as if he’s already belonged in your day-to-day life. Even if it’s inevitable, the thought of your relationship going back to what it once was𑁋behind a simple screen, a simple text𑁋makes your stomach twist into a knot.

But you can conquer it, right? Most of your relationship has been spent doing long distance, anyway. He could always fly back to see you again, and you could always wait for the opportunity for your schedule to be free to finally cross that threshold into his own life.

This is merely the beginning for the two of you, merely the start of something new.

“You keeping that?” Mingyu’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, his affectionate eyes watching the way you're threading your fingers through one of his shirts.

“Yeah,” You give him a faint smile. “Smells like you.”

An airy chuckle leaves him, his gaze taking in the saddened, defeated features of your face. He drops the pants he was folding up and picks himself up, sitting down right next to you at the edge of your bed. Leaning in, he presses a reassuring kiss to the tip of your nose, making your face scrunch cutely.

“You know this isn’t the end, right?” he assures, reaching out to lock a hand with yours. “I could always come visit you again. In the summer, most likely.”

“I know,” You reply dispiritedly, running a finger over his knuckle. “but I... I don’t want you to feel pressured to come visit me all the time. You have your own life, Gyu. I don’t want you to put everything on hold for me.”

Mingyu exhales softly, tilting your chin up so you're looking into those dark, warm eyes that seem to hold entire galaxies in them.

“Baby,” he murmurs tenderly. “You are my life.”

Your breath catches at that, and before you can say anything else, he’s already leaning in, capturing your mouth with a slow, sweet, loving kiss. A low whimper leaves you when he trails his lips to place one at the corner of your jaw, his hands finding its way to your waist, drawing you closer to him.

You don’t have it in you to resist𑁋you never could when you’re with him, anyway.

“I don’t care how far apart we are,” he whispers against your skin, the warmth of his breath fanning over you. “I’ll always come back to you. Every single time. I’ll make time for you, no matter what, as long as you have me.”

And you want to have him. For a long time. His words wash over you like a calm, ocean tide, one that laps deliciously up your skin and drags you deeper into his embrace. Your heart beats in time with his, and it feels like you can’t get close enough. His lips brush back along the line of your jaw, and then, with a daring shift of his mouth, he presses a soft kiss to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You inhale sharply, feeling a surge of heat rush through your body.

“Gyu…” You breathe out weakly, but he hears it, of course, the way your body reacts to his touch.

“You’re so cute,” he continues, lips ghosting over the column of your neck. “My girl, my princess, my entire heart. And I’ll make this entire night worth it for you, yeah? So you don’t forget it when I leave.”

The sweet promise of his words spikes up your pulse, rendering you breathless and melting into the arms of your mattress. Mingyu pays particular attention to a sweet spot on your neck, one he’s gotten to know very well now, nipping lightly. Then he lets a hand slide under your shirt, causing you to let out a gasp. The room suddenly feels confining, almost too suffocating to breathe in, yet you crave the closeness to him, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only girl that matters in the world.

“God, I need you,” he pants thickly. “I can’t leave without having you just one last time. Will you let me, baby? Let me love you tonight?”

The only thing you can do is nod, and that’s all it takes. Mingyu slowly peppers his kisses back up to your mouth, pulling away slightly to gaze at you. Desire clouds his half-lidded eyes, but his features reveal nothing short of devotion, adoration, just pure love. Compared to his other kisses from before, the one he simply gives you next is soft, languid.

Then he pulls away from you fully to stand up, and you watch as he grabs the hems of his shirt and pulls it off effortlessly, granting you with the sight of his chiseled, sculpted torso, his honey skin glowing under the dim lighting of your bedroom.

You gulp down a lump in your throat as he steps back towards you, looming over you with the familiar, teasing smirk tugging at his face. Then he dips his head down to catch your lips in a slow, tantalising kiss. His hands find their way to your waist again, fingers pressing firmly as he gently coaxes you backward down to the bed, easing you down with him.

He delicately cages you within the safety of his arms, his warmth swallowing you whole as he hovers above you. His lips don’t just kiss𑁋longing plagues how he lingers, how he tastes you like he’s memorising every inch of your mouth, like he’s afraid to forget the way you feel beneath him once he leaves.

His body shifts slightly, pressing you further into the mattress, slotting a knee between your thighs in a way that makes your head dizzy.

When he pulls back, he relishes the flushed look to your face with pride.

“My pretty girl,” Mingyu praises under his breath, already pushing up the ends of your shirt. “I’m all yours. Always.”

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[risingoftime]

SANCTIFIED LIES | REMMICK X F!READER| PART III

synopsis: they say the devil drinks blood and hides in the woods just past the burned-down church. But you know better, the devil wears charm like cologne. The devil has hands that once pulled you from a fire. The devil kisses like he remembers every version of you and mourns each one. You should run. When he looks at you like you’re the last beautiful thing left in this godforsaken town, the hate dissolves on your tongue, and all you can taste is the ghost of his mouth sweet with lies.

18+ mdni, mentions of the KKK & racism, remmick has a saviour complex, explicit sexual content, blood play, predator & prey, vampirism, biting, rough sex, southern gothic erotica, reader is a hoodoo practitioner, slow burn, fire, manipulation, swearing, spit kink, submissive!remmick, oral, face fucking.

You bit the inside of your cheek, grounding yourself in the sting. What did he want with you? He hadn’t said. Not clearly. Just riddles and veneration, as if your name were some long-lost hymn he was trying to remember. And maybe that’s what scared you most. The doorknob twitched. Not turned. Twitched like the house itself was holding its breath.

“Come on then,” you whispered to no one. Maybe to him. To God. To whatever force was pulling the strings in this haunted place. “You already dragged me out here. Might as well finish what you started.” The door creaked open, slow and deliberate. He knew you were watching like he wanted you to.

And there he was, Remmick. Leaning in the doorway, shirt unbuttoned, his chiselled chest and abdomen were left bare for you to see. Something in his eyes was not quite human or kind. It unsettled you when his gaze was on you, and you weren’t sure if that was good or bad.

“I figured you’d be dressed by now,” he said softly. You didn’t speak. Just stared, pulse fluttering at your throat. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a hushed click.

“If you dragged me all the way out here just to kill me, then go on and do it. At least I’d finally get some damn rest.”

Remmick tilted his head, and a sliver of a smile curled one corner of his mouth. Amused and intrigued, he reacted in a way that you’d just told a particularly bold joke.

“You think I brought you here to hurt you,” he said, voice low and smooth, with that eerie softness only killers and lovers had the nerve to wear. He took another step, the floorboards not daring to creak beneath him. Your fingers dug into the fabric of your nightgown, the only shield between your skin and his gaze. It wasn’t fear exactly, though something close enough to it itched beneath your ribcage. It was anticipation wrapped in unease. “But you’re wrong.”

“Then why? You haven’t given me much reason to believe otherwise.” You stiffened.

“You’ve got something old in your blood,” he murmured, fingers lingering at your jaw. “Something they thought they burned out centuries ago. But it’s still in you. Burning brighter every time I touch you.”

Your breath caught. “You’re not here because I want to kill you,” Remmick said, eyes dragging over you like candle wax down your skin. “You’re here because I can’t.” Your breath caught. He closed the distance in another slow step. “You’re the thorn in my side, sweetheart. I’m not sure if I want to worship you…” His hands fondled the edges of the bedsheets, and you were fighting not to give your escape one last try. Remmick’s tall frame loomed over your seated position on the bed now. “Or ravage you.”

You shuddered before you could stop yourself, not from his closeness but from the feeling that crawled up your spine. Something feral inside you was waking up, reaching for him with trembling hands and barbed teeth. “Ain’t I tell you I don’t belong to you?” you said, your voice barely steady.

“No,” he agreed. “But you will.” His hand lifted, slow and deliberate, like he meant to touch your face, then stopped, hovering just an inch from your cheek, trembling like he didn’t trust himself. That’s when you realized it wasn’t the control he was playing at. It was restraint, and it was wearing thin. “I always collect what belongs to me.”

You lifted your chin and met his eyes head on. “You think you own me,” you said, steady. “But you don’t even know my name.” Remmick’s smile twitched slightly, not from amusement but from the thrill of the challenge. He loved it when they pushed back when they didn’t make it easy.

“But I will,” he said. “I’ll learn it from the inside. One drop at a time.”

You stood up slowly, letting the sheet fall from your lap. The hem of your nightgown brushed your thighs, sheer in the moonlight. “So that’s what this is?” you asked, stepping toward Remmick. “You dragged me out here just to feed?”

“I brought you here to know you,” he replied, gaze raking over your body like a hunger he barely kept at bay. “To taste what has been hidden from me. There’s gold in your blood like sunlight, ain’t it?”

You stopped inches from him, heart pounding. “And what happens when you do? When you take what you want?”

His nostrils flared. “Then I burn slow from the inside out. And walk in the daylight with your fire in my veins, even if it’s only for one day .”

He reached for your wrist, but you caught his hand in midair this time. His skin was cool, but your palm radiated warmth like something holy. It hissed where your fingers touched.

“You sure you want to play with the sun, Remmick?” you asked, voice low and dangerous. “You might walk in the light for a moment. But I’ll kill you sweeter than any stake could.”

“You’re not what I expected,” he whispered.

You smiled, wicked and glowing. “Good.” And then, like the fool he was, he leaned in anyway, unable to help himself. His mouth was closer to yours than it had any right to be. Stilling yourself, you didn’t move or dare flinch this time. This wasn't about hunger; it wasn't even about you. It was about power.

Remmick didn't crave just anyone’s blood. He craved yours. The kind that came threaded within you from women who whispered devotions and spoke curses into the cotton fields. Your grandmother had warned you once, or at least you think. “They’ll come for us; they always know how to find us. Our pleas are like a church bell ringin' just for them.” At the time, you thought she was talking about the white hooded men, not the beasts in the night who bared fangs.

It was too late for a mother’s warning. In front of you stood a creature of the night drawn to the rhythm running in your veins. The reason Remmick hadn't killed you yet was because he couldn't. He needed you alive. He needed your fire, your rootwork, and your inheritance. A single taste could buy him a few hours in the daylight. But a bond? The more he feeds on you, the more he will become complete, sealed in the flesh that could buy him forever. That's why he looked at you the way he did.

“I see it now,” you murmured. “You want to possess me as a charm and think I’ll keep the sun from turning you to ash.”

“I want what's mine.” Remmick’s jaw clenched, and you were close enough to see the stubble begin to sprout along his cheek.

“You think I'm yours,” you shot back. “But baby, I ain't even mine most days.”

A laugh ghosted past his lips, but no humour existed. Only the sound of a man who'd waited lifetimes for something he had never meant to touch. Still, he leaned closer, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “I'll wait, I'll burn, fuck, I’ll even bleed for it.”

“Oh, trust me, you will.”

His eyes darkened at that. You knew how tightly he held himself back and could see that he wouldn't be able to stop the moment he let go. Your lips parted, and a breath catching between you was all he needed. His mouth came down to yours in claiming. Remmick kissed you like he meant to memorize your taste before it was taken from him. Rough, unrelenting and feverish in the way his hands held your waist. Trapping you in place, keeping you like a prayer he hadn't dared to whisper aloud. The warmth of your body against him unmade him.

“You have no idea what you're doing to me,” he whispered into your mouth.

You pulled back with a tight throat. “Then show me.” That was all it took.

He backed you into the edge of the bed, never breaking the kiss. His hands slid under the hem of your nightgown like he'd done this a thousand times. Fingers brushed your thighs, waist, and ribs, mapping their way around your body. When the backs of your knees hit the mattress, he paused just long enough to look at you, to see you.

“This ain't about power,” he said softly. There was a tremor in his voice. “It's about you. What you carry and what you are.”

“You sure you wanna play with it?” you responded.

“I’d rather burn with you than live without it.” His smile was crooked, breathless. Then Remmick was kissing you again, deeper this time. You felt his hand press over your chest, palm flat, where your heart pounded like a drum. Lips tracing a downward path down your jaw to your neck with an achingly slow movement. Each touch pulled the breath from your lungs. When he reached the hollow of your nape, he paused, inhaling your scent.

You knew what would come next. Remmick’s fangs sank deep into you, making you surrender. You gasped a startled, breathy sound that melted into a moan. The pain bloomed sharp, then faded beneath a heavy warmth. Your knees gave out, but he held you steady, his arm locked around you, drawing you tighter to him as he drank. He was gentle at first and then desperate.

With each pull of your bloodline, he was pulling pieces of you, tasting your strength, your grief, and your lineage. You felt your grandmother's voice in the air, your mother's prayers pulse, and the earth under your feet humming with your bones. And still, he drank. It was a wonder if Remmick felt it all through you.

You gripped his shoulder, nails biting into his skin, and let out an almost silent order, “Don't take too much.” The warning was lauded as a tender threat. He pulled back, lips slick with crimson, pupils blown wide. His breath was ragged.

“I can feel it… inside me.” He rasped. You stared at him with a strange, knowing ache blossoming in your chest.

The heat between you didn't break. It deepened and darkened with the beginning of the vampiric bond. He looked at you like you were divine. He couldn't decide whether to fall to his knees or pin you to the mattress. He chose both.

Remmick looked dazed and wrecked as if your blood had undone an archaic side in him.

“You done?” you asked, voice sharp, hand fisting in his curls as you yanked his head back just enough to make him look at you. You tilted your head just enough for him to see the pulse still thudding at your throat, defiant, alive, yours.

Remmick groaned low in his throat in a mixture of pain and desire and shook his head, tongue darting out to lick the blood and drool from the corner of his mouth.

“Didn’t think so,” you muttered.

Remmick lowered you onto the bed with a reverence that bordered on idolization, eyes never leaving yours. Your nightgown bunched high on your hips. His hands trailed down with purpose like he was tasting you through touch alone. His fingers slid beneath the fabric, brushing over the warmness between your thighs.

You gasped more in surprise than fear, and he paused, his eyes searching yours like a man who’d just found a sacred thing and wasn’t sure he deserved to touch it.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.

You didn’t.

Instead, you reached for him, dragged his mouth back to yours, and pulled his hips between your legs. The copper, slippery warmth of your blood is still wet on his lips; you could taste your blood on his tongue. The act of it all felt sacrilegious. He groaned low in his throat, the sound of constraint slipping. His fingers found you again, sliding through your wet entrance like your body had known he was coming long before you let him in.

He pushed your legs apart, burying himself in the cradle of your body. Raw and urgent. There was no teasing now. When he sank into you, the breath punched from your lungs. He filled you slow at first, then harder, each thrust dragging a broken sound from your throat.

Your hands clawed at his back, legs locked tight around his hips. The bed creaked under the rhythm, an old house bearing witness to something primal, something ancient. He buried his face in your neck, mouth brushing the bite mark he left behind.

“I’ll never stop wantin’ you.” he rasped.

You believed him because every thrust was desperate like he was trying to carve his name into your body. It felt as if Remmick was trying to remember what it felt like to be alive. Your body met him over and over, hips lifting to match his rhythm, to pull him deeper. You could feel the bond stitching between you, a tether forged in magic and lust.

You came with his name on your lips, a cry that shattered the silence. He followed moments after, spilling into you with a moan. It hurt to let go. His body trembled above yours, then laid beside you, chest heaving.

You climbed over him, straddling his hips, your thighs slick and trembling but steady. Remmick let you. Hell, he looked like he’d been waiting for it.

The nightgown was useless now. Spilled blood

stained the front. You gripped his still-hardened dick in one hand and guided him back inside you, slow and mean. No ceremony, no gentleness.

He cursed again under his breath“Fuck.” As your pussy swallowed him whole again, the pool of your arousal was enough to make even a dead thing believe in resurrection.

You rode him like you meant it. You were trying to make him feel what it cost to crave you. Each grind of your hips was rough and punishing, your nails dragging across his chest hard enough to sting.

“I ain’t your charm,” you said through clenched teeth, bouncing on him with a rhythm that slams the bed frame against the wall. “And I sure ain’t your salvation.”

Your thighs ached, muscles burning from how long you’d been riding him, but you didn’t stop. You wouldn’t stop. Not until he understood. Not until every inch of him was carved with your memory.

Remmick moaned like it was killing him. You had given him exactly what he wanted. His hands came up to your hips, gripping tight, trying to meet your pace. But you slapped them away and leaned down until your lips hovered over his.

“You don’t get to touch unless I say so.”

His eyes rolled back slightly, the tension in him sharp and coiled. “Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“I fuckin’ hope so.” You smiled darkly, dragging your nails down his stomach.

Remmick lay flat beneath you. Body strung tight like a pulled wire, eyes glazed, and jaw clenched. His hands twitched at his sides like he wanted to hold you down, like instinct demanded he take back control, but he didn’t dare. You’d already made it clear. This was your show.

You leaned over him, hips grinding slow and deep, the drag of him inside you hitting the spot that made you see stars behind your eyes. Sweat dripped from your brow onto his chest. You let it. Marked him with it.

“You’re takin’ it,” you panted, riding him harder now, your hands braced on his chest. “All of it. Ain’t no sweet thing for you to use and toss out come sunrise.”

He tried to sit up, to grab your hips, but you shoved him back down with a palm to his chest, eyes flashing. “I said stay down, Remmick.”

He groaned, head slamming back against the pillow, the veins in his neck taut. “Fuck— yes, ma’am.”

That pulled a smile from you. A cruel, satisfying one. “That’s what I thought.”

The sound of skin on skin filled the room, wet, rhythmic and obscene. Your pussy gripped him with every bounce, dripping down the base of him, pooling at his thighs. Every roll of your hips dragged a lewd sound from his throat.

You felt his fangs graze the arm keeping you steady, lazy, aching to sink in again. You took the chance to use your other hand to tangle your fingers in his hair, tug his head away, and press your bitten neck right against his lips.

“You wanna feed?” you dared, breath hot in his ear. “You better earn it.”

His body bucked like a wild thing under you, but still, he obeyed. He opened his mouth and suckled gently at the already broken skin, lips cherishing the wound he’d made.

As he drank, you fucked him harder and meaner. The double sting of pain and pleasure made him whimper, hands fisting the sheets like he might tear the bed in half. You could feel him close, his stomach tensing, his thighs trembling beneath yours.

“You hold it,” you growled, tightening around him just as he started to lose it. “You don’t come ‘til I say.”

“I can’t,” he stuttered, mouth smeared with red, hands finally flying to your hips in a frantic grip. “I can’t—fuck, please!”

You slowed, grinding your hips in a punishing circle. His eyes rolled back. “Please what?” you asked, voice soft and taunting.

“Please let me come,” he begged, voice wrecked. “Please—I need to… oh baby.”

You leaned down, licked the blood from his mouth, and whispered, “Go ‘head.”

Remmick’s teeth clenched, his body jerking beneath yours, and he came with a cry as he fucked his cum into you. You followed right after, clenching hard around him, shivering from head to toe as heat bloomed in your gut and squirted on his thick and long dick.

When it was over, you collapsed onto his chest, both of you slick with sweat and blood, panting like animals that had survived the hunt.

Remmick’s voice was barely a whisper. “You gonna kill me like this.”

You smirked against his throat. “Nah. Not yet. There’s no fun in that.”

Then you brushed your lips against his and whispered low, “Next time you wanna take from me, Remmick, you better come harder than that.”

Because you knew now that every drop he took only stroked the fire, your blood might let him touch daylight, but eventually, it would consume him. When it did, you'd be left standing in the ashes. Still whole and still you.

part one | part two

a/n: debating if I should keep it going or leave it like this.

taglist | @marley1773 @iheartamora @childishgambinaax @klssngss @remmickcherie @sinnersappreciation @fadingbelieverexpert @carriemill @blankface333 @slugstarzz @king-cookiex @theelusivemidnighthoe @spicyscorpioo @xxx-aurora-swirls @riellarielle25 @z0mmba3 @emilia-the-artist @casarahsisland @avidreader73 @moyavsemoya

[afro-hispwriter]

Interview Shenanigans(TGC)

Tom Glynn-Carney x actress!reader

Request

Warnings- not edited, brief titty grabbing

wc-1.2k

-

Staff members were running around making sure lighting, sound, and cameras were ready. The interviewer was standing off to the side, waiting for their queue. 

Your makeup artist did some more touch ups and the show's publicist gave another talk. 

“You’re so far.” Tom put his hand under your chair and dragged it so your chairs touched. The sudden movement made you grab his shoulder so you didn’t fall. 

“Do you not get enough of me at home?” You whisper.

“I never can.” He flashed you a smile and squeezed your knee. You scrunched your nose at him and kissed his cheek. 

It was so hard for you two to keep your relationship away from the public. Especially since Tom is extremely touchy.

“Everyone take their places.” The producer calls out and everyone takes their seats. The interviewer walked into the small space and shook you and Tom's hand. The producer then started counting down from five. 

“Alright guys, we're going to jump right into it. I know you have had a long day so I have some fun questions and some would you rather.” 

“I'm excited.”

“Fun.”

“You guys have been working together for a couple years now. What's the best thing about each other?” They ask and you and Tom look at each other.

“Ooo that's such a sweet question.” You smile brightly and look at Tom. “Why don’t you go first?” You look at him with squinted eyes and he gives you the same look.

“Fine. I think the best thing about Y/n is how kind she is, she is very resilient and always tries to see the bright side of things and she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” 

“Awww.” You cooed and smiled. “You’re so sweet.” 

“And she is a good cook.” You doubled over slightly and laughed. 

“I know you love it.” You leaned back against your chair and Tom looked at you lovingly and you sighed. 

“Tom, he um.” You start and pause to think.

“Oh whatever should you say since there is so much to choose from.” He says over exaggerating his words making you laugh.

“Tom, he makes sure that I am seen and even if he has nothing to say he still listens, always. I believe we all need someone like that and I am glad I found him.” You grab Tom's knee and squeeze it. 

“Do you fancy me or something?” He says jokingly, making you laugh again and so does the interviewer. 

“He’s just such a good guy and I hope this isn’t the last time we share a screen together.” Tom nodded and lifted his fist up and you gave him a fist bump. 

“That is so sweet, I can feel your chemistry right now.” It was very cheesy for them to say but it made Tom's cheeks burn red and your face warmed. “Now to some would you rather questions. Would you rather go get a pint with Daemon, Joffrey, or Aemond?” 

“Aemond.” You immediately say and Tom’s head immediately shoots to you. 

“Why?” You smirk at him.

“You know why.” He playfully rolled his eyes and leaned back. 

“I would go with Joffrey.” Your eyes widened in shock. 

“And you questioned mine!?” 

“W-Why?” The interviewer asks and Tom goes to answer but stops making you laugh.

“You don’t have to say anything.” You whisper to him

“Well with Joffrey people would leave the pub and it would be quiet.”

“Yeah but I think with Joffery, three pints in and it can get a bit.” The interviewer grimaced. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be near him.” You leaned slightly into Tom. 

“I reckon I can take him though.” Tom says.

“Tom vs Joffrey?” 

“Yeah I’ll just choke him out.” Tom makes the choking motion with his arm and then he dropped them. 

“I'd pay to see that.” You say and Tom laughs and his arm makes its way around your chair. 

“Who would you rather have as your Ride or Die? Jon Snow, Khalessi, or Daemon.”

“Khalessi.” You say immediately again. “Everyone is gone when she is an option.” 

“Your obsession with her is concerning.”

“You can’t blame me.” 

“She is very loyal so I understand.” The interviewer says.

“Im sorry whats a ride or die?” Tom asks, looking between you and the interviewer. 

“It's like me and you.” You say and he still looked at you in confusion. “Like I will do anything for you and you’ll do anything for me no matter what.” You grabbed his knee and you nodded. 

“What were the options?” Tom chuckles.

“Jon Snow, Khalessi, or Daemon.” 

“Oh probably Khalessi then, you know she’s got all the dragons.” 

“Ugh you are so predictable.” You rolled your eyes and he shrugged. 

“I love whatever you love.” He poked your side and made you twist. 

“You’re so cheesy.” You rolled your eyes playfully and looked back at the interviewer.

“Would you rather rule the seven kingdoms of Westeros or be a minister of magic in the wizarding world?”

“Oooo.” Tom lets out.

“Minister of Magic.” You say and Tom nods.

“Likewise.”

“I feel like I would have a higher chance of surviving if I was in that universe.” You say and Toms fingers dipped into the material of your open backed outfit. 

“Well it's still not an easy gig is it?”

“But compared to westeros…” 

“True. There are still a lot of eyes on you.” Then Tom says the stupidest thing. “Wingardium Tapioca or whatever it is.” Your jaw slacked in shock and then your face palmed. Tom looked embarrassed and slapped his legs and started laughing loudly. 

“Oh my gosh Tom.” He grabbed his cup of water and took a sip. 

“I'm going to go cry in the shower after this.”

“Next time we hang out we’re watching all the Harry Potter movies because that was really bad. It's Wingardium Leviosa.” 

“Nerd.” Tom says under his breath in a teasing manner and you squint your eyes.

“Watch yourself sir.” You bumped him with your arm.

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Unfortunately that's all the time we have left.” You and Tom groaned but you secretly knew you were happy it was over. You both held your hand out to the interviewer and Tom's assistant came up.

“The car is outside to take you back to the hotel.” You thanked them and Tom held his hand out for you to grab. Your fingers entwined together and you swung them back and forth to the car. 

-

The hotel room was a welcome sight. Tom threw his hat on the floor and kicked his shoes off. 

“They’ll come by and get these clothes tomorrow most likely.” You say taking off your bottoms, leaving you in your underwear and top. That came off too and so did your bra. Tom stole a look and he smirked and let you put a shirt on. You flopped down on the bed and settled under the covers. Tom was down to his boxers and he settled in behind you. 

“I love you.” He says and kisses the back of your ear and wraps an arm around your waist.

“I love you too.” You twist your head back and pucker your lips. Tom’s lips met yours and he squeezed you. His hand dipped under the shirt and his gingers instantly grabbed a breast and he squeezed. The noise you made was a mix of shock and a moan.

“Tom!” You pinched his arm and he drew his hand back and pouted. “Perv.”

“You love it.” He gave your cheek a big wet kiss, making you grimace and wipe it off.

“Order us some food.”

‘Hmph’

-

Comments, reblogs, and likes are greatly appreciated!

[theonewiththefanfics]

Homecoming (one-shot)

Synopsys: When Y/N goes missing during a simple supply run, she comes back with world-shattering news for Astarion. News he never thought to hear, and now he has a decision to make, one that will shift his life on its axis once more.

Set after the main events of BG3

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, a bit of SMUT, but nothing explicit

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, but nothing explicit, kidnapping

Word count: 8397

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

Part 2(ish) - Love Conquers All (one-shot)

A home was not something to ever be taken for granted, that much they had learned during their adventures.

A home was a fire slowly crackling in the hearth, warmth expanding through the living room. A home was Astarion sitting on a loveseat, a book in his hands while he waited for his love to finish puttering around in the kitchen. A home was drying tea leaves and making preserves for the coming winter as she shooed him out, saying that his fussing would only hinder her process.

He’d huffed, puffed and whined, trying to make Y/N pull away from her plans just so they could curl up and read together, but she was adamant.

“I’ve already started.” She dropped an orange peel and pressed some lemon juice into the steaming pot. “It’ll be wasted produce if I just leave it now.”

“But it will take you hours!” Astarion whined like a child and even stomped his foot, making her snort.

“And it will take me twice as long if you don’t stop annoying me.” Y/N threw him a saccharine smile over her shoulder, batting her lashes at the pouting vampire. “Now, be a good boy, and quit pestering me. We’ll have all the time in the world, once I’m done.”

Astarion just groaned, going up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist, the incisors he usually sank into her neck now nipping at her lobe. “I can be a very good boy if you only let me prove it.”

“My love, you will be getting absolutely no sex from me, if you don’t let me at least finish this batch.” A shiver rushed down her spine as he licked at her neck, so close to that sweet spot he always used as a place to bite and drink from. But she had to be strong. The jams wouldn’t make themselves. “Every additional minute you keep me from this will be an additional day of your dry spell.”

The vampire spawn jumped back from her as if he’d been scalded, scarlet eyes narrowing in on her. “You wouldn’t dare. You wouldn’t last an hour!”

Y/N turned around, crossing her arms as a devious smile bloomed on her lips, a brow raised in challenge. “Would you like to test those waters?”

Astarion stood, staring her down. His crimson gaze was blazing from underneath his lashes, but she didn’t budge. They’d played this game for close to three years as a couple now, and she’d learned very quickly – Astarion was very much so a cat. But especially – he was a cat that liked to knock things over while keeping direct eye contact with you, though the second you placed a palm underneath whatever it was he wanted for to fall, all his need for chaos disappeared. It just wasn’t fun anymore.

For twenty long seconds, Y/N and her pale elven lover didn’t break, hoping the other would crumble and be announced as the loser, but part of what he loved about her, was her stubbornness. It was because of that part of her personality, she’d stuck by him when his doubts had crept in, when his own mind called him worthless and not good enough for her, almost as if to spite those vicious words in his mind. She didn’t give up on the people she loved, and as luck would have it, Astarion owned her heart.

But Y/N also knew how to handle a cat like him, so just after a few more tense moments, his eye twitched, and he huffed in defeat.

“Fine,” he scoffed. “But if you are not done by sundown, I shall have no other option but to drag you away from the stove. Kicking and screaming preferred.”

Y/N simply shook her head, and went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling the man into a deep, breathless kiss, but not before nipping at his bottom lip, dragging the piece of flesh between her teeth and making him let out a desperate moan. “I’ll even let you tie me up if you wish to do so.”

Astarion’s pupils almost swallowed the red irises in a matter of seconds, as he threw his head back in a groan. “My love, you’re absolutely killing me here.”

“Then I hope whatever punishment you deem fit for me, will be just oh, so sweet.” Y/N stepped back, untangling herself from him, but the mischievousness in her eyes didn’t lessen.

She could see how the words tortured him, how it took every single last piece of his fraying self-control, to not rip off her apron and the clothes underneath and just lay her down on the kitchen table, legs spread with his mouth licking into her until she orgasmed.

With eyes holding nothing but pure lust and hands clenching and unclenching, Astarion retreated. Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t hot and bothered and absolutely dripping between her thighs, and the thought of finishing those jams was the last thing on her mind, but she did have to do it. If only to keep him waiting longer, knowing whatever his beautiful brain was cooking up would leave her screaming and shaking for hours.

They’d been growing their own vegetables and fruits, Y/N tending to them during the nights to spend more time with Astarion as he fussed over his flower gardens, so it would simply be wasteful to leave their berries to rot. The year had been very generous and offered a variety of things to gather, so a while back, she’d decided to pickle some of the tomatoes and cucumbers, turn another batch of peppers and tomatillos into sauces while the sweeter things would be turned into syrups and jams.

Y/N shook her head, trying to clear it from the haze of lust, as the aroma of lemons and cranberries, raspberries and oranges wafted all around, encasing her in the scent. She was just about to add the sugar when the tin rattled with the sound of the last grains left.

Her brow furrowed as she opened the lid and looked inside. Sure, enough it was empty.

The woman huffed. She was absolutely positive she’d gotten the right amount during the last trip, but somewhere along the way it seemed a miscalculation had happened, and now she had to get more. Y/N would have asked Astarion, and had the sun dipped below the horizon, he would have jumped at the request, but alas his little vampiric predicament forbade him from walking during the day, the sun still high in the sky from what she could see through a tiny slit in the shutters.

Quickly, Y/N snuffed out the flame below the pot, untied her dirtied apron and grabbed a basket from the pantry, tying a pouch of coins to her side. She only needed sugar, but maybe she would grab some other necessities as well. They were low on Astarion’s favourite wine, one he claimed didn’t taste like vinegar at least.

“I’m off to the market really quick,” Y/N announced as she peeked into the living room, taking in Astarion as he flipped a page in a book. “Do you want anything?”

“No, my love.” He looked at her like a love-sick puppy. “Just your darling self back as quick as you can. I have picked up some… inspiration for your punishment if you will. Just as you suggested, of course.” He closed the book, showing the cover to her.

Heat crawled all over her body as she read the title, one of her smuttier romances she had started to read, and when she could do nothing but gulp and nod, his smile turned from a sweet one into a wicked-fanged thing. It was all she needed to know whatever awaited her once she was done would leave her unable to walk. Gods, she needed to finish this whole thing up as quickly as she could.

Y/N was out the doors like the wind, the usual stroll to the market cut from half an hour into a brisk fifteen-minute jog, the thoughts of the man waiting back home for her at the forefront of her mind.

The needed sugar, some coffee beans, a loaf of fresh bread, Astarion’s wine and some sour cream were all bought in quick succession, Y/N didn’t even try to haggle. Her eyes drifted across various stalls and merchants and she almost deemed it done when her gaze caught onto a rose seedling. It was a beautiful bloom with blood-red petals that whitened at the very tips. She smiled and went to buy it. Astarion would love the symbolism even if a bit too on the nose.

Once satisfied with everything, Y/N marched across the market and was back on the road to home. It was a humble little house they’d purchased with whatever had been left in their pockets after all was said and done with the tadpoles, but Astarion had bigger plans. This was only a temporary situation.

“I want a whole room full of books. Nothing but books from one end to the other and then some,” he’d confided in Y/N one night after both were panting and spent from multiple rounds of bringing the other to ecstasy.

“And a large ballroom,” he continued, and Y/N couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped her.

“A ballroom? And what will we do with that?”

“Why, have grand balls, of course!” He threw his hands up in the air as if her question was preposterous.

“Star…” Y/N tilted her head to look up at him from where she was lying on his naked chest. “You hate people. A ballroom full of them – it would be your literal nightmare.”

“I don’t hate people.”

“I don’t count.”

“Alright,” he conceded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. Y/N placed her palm atop where his heart was and rested her chin on it, looking deep into his eyes. “I hate most people, simply dislike them, but I wouldn’t be opposed to a get-together, from time to time. Maybe… maybe see our friends. Catch up on how they’re doing. I absolutely despise to admit this and will say you are lying if you ever mention it to anyone, but I – I miss them… even Gale…”

A gentle smile lifted her lips as she brushed a wild curl out of his face and tucked it behind his pointy ear. “I think I’d really like that too.”

His eyes were so soft and full of love, that Y/N swore she could feel his heart beating once more in his chest, thudding against her palm in a confession of adoration.

She was almost out of the city by that point, already on the small, secluded road leading to their house which lay on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate right by the edges of the woods, so Astarion had easier access to game in between feeding on her when her attention was drawn back by someone calling out.

“Miss!” the voice, male she made out, yelled after her. “Miss, please wait!”

Instantly, her guard was up, but when a breathless man, looking to be in his late sixties appeared from behind a copse of trees, she somewhat relaxed. Y/N was still cautious, but if anything, she had a dagger holstered against her thigh. She was always prepared.

“Miss,” he gasped out, leaning his hands against his knees to catch his breath. “Miss, you are a quick one. I’ve been calling for you since by the rose stalls."

“Oh, I – I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you!” Y/N said but didn’t move forward. “How can I help?”

He huffed, as if regaining her breath, before fishing out a piece of fabric from his pocket, and extending it towards her. “You dropped this by the flowers.”

When she took a closer look at what he was holding, it seemed to be some sort of a silk scarf. She narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t own silk scarves and definitely hadn’t worn one on such a warm day. “You must have mixed me up with someone, as it’s not mine. Sorry, for you to have troubled yourself like this.”

“No.” The man furrowed his brow, taking a step closer. “I am fairly certain I saw you drop it. Such a fine piece… didn’t want you to lose it.”

Y/N took a step back, angling herself in a defensive position with the basket in front of her. She didn’t like the tone he was speaking in, nor the way his eyes seemed to be appraising her. “No,” she asserted. “It’s not mine.”

His back stiffened, eyes growing cold, the grip on the scarf tightening as he hummed. “Well… a pity then.”        

She took another step back, but he was already lunging at her.

Dropping the basket to the ground, she reached for the knife strapped at her thigh, but he was quick as a viper as she hadn’t even noticed when a rope appeared in his hands, lashing it at her. Years of having fought had kept her agile and aware, but years of domestic bliss with Astarion had dulled her senses a bit.

The rope caught and wrapped around her ankle, knocking her to the ground. Y/N’s teeth clattered and snapped, her tongue almost in between them, but as he rushed to pin her down, she twisted her leg around the rope and pulled, making the man lose his balance and stumble.

It was enough for her to swipe her leg underneath his, and send him sprawling. It was enough for her to untangle her legs and roll away as he snapped it at her head. Her clothes were dirty as was her face, but it didn’t matter. She’d cover herself in blood if needed.

It was almost animalistic how she pounced – teeth bared, a snarl ripping from her throat and hands forming claws as if she would gouge at his face with just his nails, but as her palm brushed her thigh, unclipping the holster for her dagger, Y/N didn’t see the man had crouched on his knee and swung the cord.

It knocked the air out of her, as it wrapped around her chest, and he pulled her down, hard. Her ribs were screaming as the tether tightened and tightened with every pull, but as she thought this would be it, something strange happened – instead of offering her the killing blow, he opened a palm, now covered in a leather glove, and blew the contents of it onto her face.

Y/N coughed and sputtered, but whatever it was, was fast-acting and her lungs, still incapable of proper breathing due to the rope couldn’t expel it. In just a few seconds, the bright day around her turned into darkness.

She didn’t know how long she was unconscious for, but enough time had passed to dry out her throat. Or was that a side effect of whatever was blown into her face? In any case, as she slowly came to, Y/N noted there was a soft mattress under her body, which was an oddity for someone kidnapped. She could even tell the dagger was still by her thigh, the comforting weight of the blade pressed under her. Even weirder, if you asked her, to not disarm your victims.

Darkness still encompassed her, but the soft cloth against her cheeks told her she hadn’t permanently lost her vision, but with her sight obscured, she had to rely on her ears. That’s when voices invaded her senses.

There were three people somewhere further away, most likely in a different room if taken by how muffled the words were. She focused harder on what they were saying.

Two men and a female, Y/N differentiated, when the woman spoke.

“This is not what we agreed upon!” she hissed, and a grumbly-sounding man scoffed.

“You said to get her to you. I did. You never specified how.” It was the same man who’d knocked her out.

“We want her to help us!” A different male voice, this one softer, even kinder, rebutted. “I highly doubt kidnapping is a good incentive for that!”

“Look,” her assailant said. “I fulfilled my end of the deal. She is unhurt, maybe she'll sport a couple of bruises and a headache, but that is her own fault. She could have come willingly but didn’t. Other than that, though – she is completely fine. Now you do your part!”

As the trio argued between themselves, more angry whispers than shouting, Y/N started to shimmy her hands which had been bound, out of the restraints. She had a good inclination they needed her alive but had no want of staying as a prisoner.

Though her fighting skills seemed to have mellowed, which she was not happy about, even a couple of years without mortally dangerous adventures, hadn’t changed how quickly she could slip her wrists from their bindings.  Astarion might need to get more creative during their debauchery.

Y/N froze the second she heard a door open and shut, two pairs of footsteps moving closer and closer to where she was. Her breathing was shallow and almost imperceptible, as she tried to make it look like she was still unconscious.

She could sense two bodies enter the room and one move to stand where she faced, the other going to her back.

Y/N tensed. In just a few moments, whoever was behind her, would notice her undone binds. But she’d be ready.

“Darling, please be careful,” the woman said, a tremble in her voice.

Good. Let them be scared.

“Don’t worry,” the man replied. “I’ll just make sure she’s – what in the -”

But Y/N was already up, the blindfold off and ready to pounce. This time, she’d have the upper hand.

For a second, the light in the room blinded her, but her sight refocused fast enough to take in her captors’ faces.

The woman was beautiful, with high rosy cheekbones, and jade green eyes so vivid they looked like actual gemstones. Her hair was long and dark, down to her waist while grey strands seemed to have invaded the brown tresses in some places, but she was still ethereally gorgeous, her pointy ears covered in piercings.

Y/N snapped out of the shock quicker and using this to her advantage, she was behind her in a matter of a blink, her dagger pressed tight against her throat.

A gasp entered her ears, but she just pressed the blade harder, making her whimper.

“Please!” the man made her look at him, but instead of bracing for an attack, he had his hands up in surrender. “Please don’t hurt her! We just want to talk.”

“Funny way of having a conversation you’ve got there.” Y/N tightened her grip on the knife, surveying the man. Again, those same pointed ears, but his eyes were the most brilliant blue she’d ever seen and his face was marred with more age lines than the woman’s, yet he still was as gorgeous as she. “Typically, only my enemies would knock me out and tie me up before spilling their grand plans. But I will be kind and give you a choice – what would you like to be – friends or foes?”

“Friends! Friends! Please! We – we’re looking for our son!” the elven man pleaded. “And we – we heard a rumour that you might know him. Have even seen him.”

Y/N narrowed her Y/E/C eyes, piercing his with her gaze. “I’ve known and seen a lot of people. Usually, others just ask me about them, they don’t have someone kidnap me.”

“And we’re sorry, we’re so very sorry, but we had to make sure you came. It went too far and we apologise, but please…” He took in a deep breath, worried eyes flipping between his partner and her. “Our son – his name is Astarion. Astarion Ancunin. Have you – do you know of him?”

Hearing his name, knocked the breath out of her as if they’d snapped a rope around her chest again, making her stumble back. Her grip on the woman released, and she used the moment to leap over to her partner, using the bed as a buffer. He instantly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her half behind his back, but not before checking if Y/N’s dagger had pierced the skin.

Tears brimmed in the eleven woman’s green eyes as she looked at her, not even caring that just a moment before she was so close to having her blood dripping on the floor. “Please,” she whispered. “I – I know we didn’t go about it the right way, but please… is it true he’s alive?”

"I,” Y/N stammered, her gaze snapping back and forth between the two.

Astarion.

They were Astarion’s parents.

Even after all this time, they were searching for their missing son.

Y/N should have noticed the details – how the woman had a small mole on her cheek right where Astarion did, how the shape of the man’s eyes was the exact same as his son’s. Astarion even had the same high cheekbones as his mother while his sharp jaw was that of his father.

What had his eyes been like before? Green like his mother’s or the sky blue of his father's? What had he been like as a child? No doubt as mischievous and scheme-prone as he was now, but who had he gotten it from? So many different questions rattled through Y/N’s brain as she kept glancing back and forth, before shaking her head and pulling her out of the shocked stupor.

“You – you’re Ancunins?” She had to ask. Had to make sure she hadn’t overheard them or maybe hallucinating because of the powder she’d inhaled.

“Yes.” The woman nodded, brushing tears from under her eyes. “Our son has been missing for more than two hundred years, and we almost lost hope until… until we heard about you and your company a few years back. How one of the party members resembled our little Star so much.”

They hadn’t been inconspicuous, though they had tried, so it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that tales of their adventures had gone far and wide, especially after saving Baldur’s Gate, killing Cazador and the absolute, and Gods know how many other evils along the way. But she never thought Astarion’s parents would have heard of it.

In fact, Astarion had barely even mentioned them over the years, and, for whatever reason, Y/N had concluded they must have passed, despite knowing elves lived extremely long lives. Had he maybe tried to find them on his own and couldn’t? Or had he forgotten about them?

Until Astarion and Y/N had become an official couple and she’d commissioned a portrait of him as a gift on an anniversary, he hadn’t even seen himself in two centuries. He’d forgotten what he looked like. It didn’t seem too crazy to assume, the memories of his parents’ names or their faces, might’ve slipped away as well, or even the love they had for him. Especially knowing how deeply Cazador had ruined that notion for him.

She needed to get home. She needed to see Astarion, and then she could figure out what to do.

“I need to go.” Y/N nodded to herself, muttering under her breath. “I need to think.”

“No, please!” the woman lunged, trying to grasp at her, but she had a knife pointed at her chest in an instant, making the elf shrivel back, but still, she pleaded. “Please help us. You’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate! If you can’t help, who will?”

“I promise I will do my best,” Y/N said. “But I need time… I – I need to figure all of this out.”

Her mind was swirling like a hurricane, but the man interrupted her breakdown as she realised how pretty much her in-laws, had kidnapped her. “At least tell us this – is – is it true he is alive? Or have we travelled across Faerun under the pretences of false hope?”

In truth, Y/N wanted to take them by the arms and drag them to her house, but whether Astarion wanted to reach out and reconnect, was up to him. That sort of a choice was not hers to make, but she could grant them this one request.

“He is.” Y/N nodded.

And then she left as quickly as she could because if she had to stand there and watch as the elves crumbled into one another, cries of relief and joy escaping into the slowly setting day, she would crumble too. Their faces were already permanently burned into her mind, and she needed a moment to process everything.

By a stroke of luck or fate, Y/N instantly recognised she was in the woods on the other side of Baldur’s Gate, so retracing her steps to the market was fairly easy even though the whole way back home, she was pretty much stumbling around in a daze, knocking into people and tripping over her own two legs.

Her discarded basket was right where she’d left it, gold coins scattered around it. The pouch must’ve broken during the struggle. Y/N made sure to pick every single piece up and was more than relieved to see, that the rose bloom was still intact.

By the time she arrived, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, and as the last rays warmed her back, she extended her palm to open the door, though she didn’t even get to touch the handle as it was ripped open by a visibly distressed Astarion.

His eyes looked like he’d been crying, his hair as if he’d been relentlessly raking his fingers through the locks and his lower lip so bitten, there was a small hole where one of his incisors had gone through.

“Oh, thank the Gods!” Astairon instantly grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her in a bone-crushing hug, burying his nose into the crook of her neck. “Thank the Gods!”

Y/N dropped the basket over the threshold and closed the door with her foot, her own arms weaving around his middle, a palm soothingly brushing along his side, as he soaked her in.

“I’m alright, Star,” she said, kissing his temple and didn’t even make a noise as he gripped her waist tighter, right where bruises were forming. “I’m sorry I was gone so long, but I’m alright.”

“What happened? You said you’d be quick, but you were gone for hours! And you know what the worst part was – I couldn’t even go out looking for you because of the damned fucking sun!” Astarion cupped her face, turning it this way and that way, trying to find any injuries, but the biggest one would be in her head as she tried to figure out how to explain to him what had happened. “Gods, I am never letting you out of my sight again!”

Y/N indulged the vampire in the hug he pulled her in, holding him against her chest, trying to comfort him, but she was way too consumed with her new findings. Too quickly, as evident by the frown on Astarion’s face, she untangled herself from the embrace, anxiety immediately flashing over his handsome features.

She slid her arms from around his waist to take his palms into hers. “I – I don’t even know how to say this… How do you say something like that?”

Worry instantly marred his brow, and Y/N pressed a practised thumb between them, trying to soothe them away.

“Shit…” he muttered. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No!” She cupped his cheeks. “Astarion you’ve done nothing!”

“Then – then what?” He was tentative, still, scared Y/N might be angry at him. Or worse – wanted to leave, but her next words erased all that doubt.

“I…” She took in a deep breath. “Astarion, I met your parents today.”

Whatever he had expected, clearly that hadn’t been it. Probably a confession she’d met a past love, that their feelings were reignited and she wanted to go with them. But definitely not that.

He blinked once, twice, trice, completely and utterly stupefied before a small whisper of “What?” passed his lips.

“It’s why I’m so late,” Y/N explained. “They’d heard a rumour, that I knew you and had travelled with you during our tadpole situation, and came to me. Astarion, your parents are looking for you…”

A million thoughts seemed to swirl in his head, but Y/N held onto his hand through all of them.

“What,” he cleared his throat, “what did you tell them?”

“That I’d find them once I figured out what to do?”

“Which means?”

“Which means I would come home, give you this information and let you figure out what you’d like to do…”

So many emotions flashed across his face, but Y/N no longer needed that mind flayer tadpole connection it created – Astarion was an open book for her to read.

Joy. Such indisputable joy shone in his scarlet eyes before being consumed by confusion. Then anger and disgust and love, but by the end of it all his heart settled on one feeling – fear.

It’s what it knew best, though Y/N had tried her hardest to reduce it to ashes, yet still it lingered. She understood it, despite not being happy he ever had to feel it.

He feared what to do, what would be the right choice to make, he feared their reactions and what they would say of his disappearance or of his newest… condition. Would they accept him? Or would they be repulsed by him?

“What – what would I even say to them?” Astarion searched her Y/E/C eyes as if they held an answer, but when one magically didn’t appear, he hung his head, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I can’t even remember what they looked like. Their names, the house we used to live in… it’s all a fog.”

Y/N tried to give him an encouraging smile. “Well, your mother – she has the most beautiful green eyes. Like that dress you made for me for Summer Solstice, that same shade. And – and she has a little beauty mark on her cheek.” With a gentle thumb, she brushed over the mole. “Right in that same spot.”

His brows furrowed in concentration; his lips pinched tightly. “I – I remember blue eyes. Not green.”

“That might be your father's. His are azure I’d say. Like the summer sky. Gods, Astarion,” Y/N breathed out. “You look so much like them, but… honestly, the only thing you need to know right now is that they looked relieved.” Her voice was soothing as he tried to find lies in her words, but there would be none. “I didn’t tell them anything apart from the fact that you’re alive, and all I saw was complete and utter relief.”

Y/N placed a strand of hair behind his ear as he pondered. His carmine eyes slid to hers. “Do they want to see me?”

“Yes. It was the whole reason they sought me out because I might have a single scrap of information on you.” She’d mention the kidnapping later. Or maybe never, depending on how everything went. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

“Is it,” he hesitated, as if ashamed to be asking such a question. “Is it alright if I think this over for a bit? I’m just – there’s so much going on in my head…”

“Of course, Star!” Y/N cupped his cheeks and placed a reassuring kiss on his forehead. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, his shoulders dropping, but she just shook her head.

“Nothing to thank me for. Not for this.”

And so, they continued on like that for a few days – Y/N didn’t bring the subject up, but she made sure Astarion knew, she’d be there whenever he needed to talk. Yet her mind couldn’t help but worry about the two elves in that little cottage on the other side of the town. How horrid it must be to wait for an answer that might never come, but her love was her first and only priority. When he decided it would be time, she’d support him no matter what.

It was a week after the revelation (and subsequent freakout on Astarion’s part when Y/N had removed her clothes before him, and he saw the raw skin and bruises on her ribs. She spent the whole night convincing him it was fine and talking him down from hunting the mercenary and bleeding him dry. She didn’t mention it had been his parents who’d hired him but rather said it had been an unfortunate coincidence), when Astarion awoke with a certain determination, shaking her awake.

She swatted at him like an insect buzzing by her ear. “Leave me be, you blood-sucking, elf!” Y/N grumbled, burying herself under the duvet. “It’s too early. And stop hogging the covers!”

She was just about to elbow him in the ribs if he didn’t let her sleep more, but what he said was like cold ice being poured over her, waking her up completely.

“I think I want to see my parents.”

Y/N was sat in a second. The sheet dropped down, exposing her naked chest, but she didn’t even feel the chilly air biting at her skin, even though Astarion’s gaze immediately dropped down to her breasts, eyes blazing with want.

Rolling her own eyes, she pulled the cover so that it obscured her indecency. Though it was his favourite outfit of hers, they needed to focus on the important things. “Are you sure? You can take all the time you need. There is no rush to this, and it’s a huge decision to make.”

“I’m sure,” Astarion sighed, running a hand through his moon-white locks and dropping back onto the pillows. “It’s pretty much all I’ve been thinking about.”

Y/N worried her lip before sliding back down next to him, letting him wrap his arms around her body. She knew in moments like these, Astarion needed reassurance, and he craved being close to her. Holding her grounded him, and made his scattered thoughts into something solid.

She kissed right above where his heart lay. “If, you’re sure.”

“I am… I just… Will you be there?” Astarion looked down at her.

The woman gave him a smile. “Nowhere I’d rather be than by your side.”

Gently, he brushed a finger against her cheekbone and leaned to kiss her, thankful he’d found someone to walk the world with, especially during the moments he feared he might break.

The day before they’d decided on meeting, Y/N ventured out to the cabin to inform the elven couple of Astarion’s decision. Once they’d seen her walking up through the window, they were out before she even managed to get to the door, faces full of hope.

“Astarion, he wants to come and see you, but there are some… conditions…”

His mother’s brow furrowed, the grimace so familiar it sent a pang through Y/N’s heart, but she swallowed it. “Whatever he needs. Whatever you both need. Anything for our little Star.”

“So… please just don’t question this, but umm… physical contact – I know I can’t possibly understand how you feel, but let him come to you first. It might not make sense, but it’s important that he is the one to make that step.”

“Of course,” Astarion's father nodded, his mother eagerly agreeing.

“And umm… he’ll be different. He might not look like the elf you remember him being. The world wasn’t kind to him for a long time… Please don’t mention this.”

Pain flashed across their faces at her words. They must have assumed something horrible had happened to him, but to have it confirmed was a different kind of agony. But as Y/N had asked – they didn’t question, simply nodded, holding onto one another a bit tighter.

“Alright.” Her heart was somewhat settled. “Thank you. We – uh- we’ll see you later tonight then.”

And with that, she left only to find Astarion pacing the inside of their hallway upon her return.

“Is it sundown already?” He snapped his neck to her as she removed her cloak, visibly upset when Y/N shook her head.

“A couple more hours, I’m afraid,” she said, taking his hand and kissing his palm, placing it against her cheek. “Please stop worrying. It will all be alright.”          

“But what if I’m making a mistake?”

She raised her brow. “Do you think you’re making a mistake?”

“N-no?” Astarion huffed. “I don’t know. I know I want to see them at least once, but what if it’s best to leave the past in the past? Why torture myself and exhume it, so to speak?”

“You can leave it all behind if that’s what you wish. But, Star, you also have the rarest of opportunities people get – a second chance.” She stepped close to him, pulling his head down by the nape of his neck so they could rest their foreheads against one another. “But you can always leave. You can always say “no.” And if someone doesn’t get that, no matter who they might be, I will gut them navel to throat.”

Astarion chuckled, brushing his nose against hers. “My knight in bloody armour, always ready to ride into battle for me.”

Y/N pecked his lips in response. “As long as I get my kisses at the end of it – without a second to spare.”

They spent the couple of hours waiting until the sun went down cleaning up around the house and then it was time to go.

As Astarion took a deep breath before closing the door, Y/N squeezed his hand. “We can turn back whenever you want to.”

But he seemed determined, only giving her a reassuring smile and twining their fingers together, her hand in his solid hold.

They walked slowly, enjoying the warm night gracing Baldur’s Gate, and soon enough they were through the city and past the woods, a small log cabin coming into view.

He stopped them a few feet away, taking in a moment to gather his thoughts and emotions.

Y/N glanced at him encouragingly. “Are you ready, Star?”

Astarion took in a deep breath, held it in for a moment and then exhaled, nodding. With this confirmation, she released his hand and ventured to the door, gently rapping her knuckles against it, immediately returning to stand beside her lover.

Instantly his palm was back into hers, as if he needed her to ground him, reassure him everything would be alright as nervous energy coursed through his veins while they waited for the inhabitants to come and see them. And though it was probably no more than ten seconds since she’d knocked, it felt like time had stood still. Once the doors opened, even nature quieted down.

The breeze shushed the tweeting birds and seemingly even the worms digging underground stopped their burrowing as finally, after two hundred years, the lost Ancunin son returned.

They stood like that for what seemed like ages, just taking one another in, before a small sob of Astarion’s name from his mother’s lips broke the spellbound silence.

It’s when he rushed for her, the elf already on her feet, meeting him halfway. Her arms wrapped tight around his body, hands smoothing down the back of his head as all the while she kept whispering “My Star, my little Star, you’re home.”

Y/N was on standby, ready to rip her away if Astarion became overwhelmed. She’d asked them to allow him to be the one to make the first step, and they had, but with such all-encompassing feelings, she just wanted him to be safe.

Though all that anxiety dissipated like ice under the blazing hear of the sun when Astarion practically melted against his mother, his fingers digging into her shoulders and back as if he never wished to be let go, both of them crumbling to their knees, still in each other’s embrace.

Tears welled along Y/N’s bottom lashes and when his father joined them, wrapping his arms around his family, they fell like rain on an autumn evening. She had to press a hand against her mouth to not sob out loud, but it didn’t seem like anyone would care, as Y/N noted Astarion’s shoulders shaking while his mother and father were freely crying, all the while touching and caressing his face, trying to ingrain the memory of having their son back in their arms.

She couldn’t imagine that feeling, didn’t ever want to, of finally being reunited with a family which you were so brutally ripped away from. Y/N almost wanted to resurrect Cazador, just so she could drive a stake through his heart again, but that might’ve been a bit too morbid of a thought in such a tender moment.

“You’re home.” His mother pulled back, cupping Astarion’s cheeks and smiling from ear to ear. “Our little Star is back home.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he choked out, but his father shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re here. That’s enough for us.”

Y/N watched as he took in the people who’d searched for him relentlessly. He never knew they’d never given up. She wondered if there would be a time, he’d believe he was worth all it. She certainly hoped so.

“Thank you,” the elf with eyes like jade said, snapping her eyes towards Y/N. “You have no idea what kind of a gift you’ve bestowed upon us. We will never be able to repay you.”

She could only wave them off, a knot in her throat. “You owe me nothing. Seeing this – this is enough for me. I’ll – uh – I’ll leave you to it then.”

Just as she was about to turn around, Astarion jumped to his feet, untangling himself from the limbs of his parents, eyes full of concern. “What? Why? What’s wrong?” He was by her side in an instant, pulling her hand to rest against his chest.

“Nothing!” Y/N shook her head. “I just – I just think maybe I should take my leave. I can be back in a few hours if you’d like, but this just all seems like – like a private family reunion.”

Astarion scoffed, his free arm weaving around her waist, completely offended. “And what exactly do you think you are to me if not family, my love? Arguably, you might be the most important part of it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that -,”

“Hush now!” he scolded her. “You promised to be by my side through everything. Are you breaking that promise?”

“No, I just,” she stammered. “Are you sure you don’t want me to leave you to it? This just feels awfully personal.”

“My love, you are the keeper of my heart. You are my true home.” Astarion cupped her cheek, resting his brow against hers, chest against chest, not caring who might see. “Without you, none of this would have happened. I could still be on that beach with a mind flayer tadpole wriggling behind my eye.” He took her hand, and kissed her knuckles, sighing as they brushed against his jaw. “I don’t want to do this without you. I want to relearn who my parents are, and I want them to get to know me, but a non-negotiable part of that is you. That is if it’s alright with you?”

A tear slipped down her cheek, as she looked deep into those ruby eyes that once held nothing but fear and pain, only to now show love and compassion and happiness. When she smiled, her grin could have rivalled the sun itself. “I’d be honoured.”

When they glanced at the two elves by the threshold of the house, they noted the horrified looks on their faces. Astarion’s guard was immediately up, but his mother beat him to it.

“My Star, I am so sorry!” She put a hand over her mouth. “We swear we didn’t know you two were lovers! We just...” She glanced at her husband in desperation, but it seemed the little scene they’d put on had rendered him speechless. “Had we known, we would have never…”

Astarion squinted at her, a dangerous note appearing in his voice. “Never would have what?”

“Oh Gods, we had your partner kidnapped,” his father finally got out, eyes only widening in more shock as it settled that Y/N wasn’t just a travelling companion or a friend, but just what she really meant to Astarion.

“You did what?!” His head snapped to Y/N who now retreated to stand between the two shocked elves, and her quite furious boyfriend.

“Astarion, it’s alright,” she tried to calm him down. “They didn’t know! Besides, I heard them arguing with that mercenary. They didn’t hurt me. In fact, I,” she let out a nervous chuckle, “I held a knife to your mother’s throat. So, call it even and let’s move past it?”

His gaze was hot like the flames, as it burned into her. “We will discuss this later.” He pointed an accusatory finger at her before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “This is absolutely not how I ever imagined a family reunion to go, let alone the introduction of my partner.”

Y/N’s shoulders dropped as he broke the settled tension, but something in his eyes told her she’d pay for her omissions. And oh, how delicious that punishment would be.

His mother still seemed to be all nerves as she invited them inside, spouting apologies in Y/N’s direction, but when she took the elf's hand in hers and gave a comforting embrace, she relaxed a little. “Let’s let the bygones be bygones.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she smiled, and wrinkles of age and time appeared around her eyes.

It was awkward at first, two centuries of hurt laying between them, two centuries of torture on Astarion’s end, of lost love and people, but slowly they opened up. And when his mother mentioned how he always used to bury his nose into strawberry fields, because it reminded him of his mother’s hair care products, it was like a damn had been opened.

The memories were still there, buried under layers of pain and horrors, but there. Maybe a little jumbled up and out of sorts, but with every hour spent together, locks were being broken and a light long lost lit up again.

Astarion had changed, but so had his parents. He let them know of his adventures, how he met Y/N and how she had turned his world upside down but abstained from the more gruesome parts. He wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever, but if he so wished, she knew his parents would be there to listen and welcome his vulnerably with open arms.

An hour before the sun resumed its place in the sky, Y/N nudged Astarion, telling him it was time to leave. She had little doubt in her mind, his parents had caught onto what he was, even if they hadn’t mentioned Cazador. If not for the shape of his elongated canines, or the colour of his eyes, which Y/N had found out had been a beautiful shade of pale green, then because of the brutal scars on his neck. But they still pulled him into a hug with such vigour, it was like they feared they’d never see him again, which was probably a thought always haunting their minds.

“Would – would you like to come over to ours?” Astarion asked, still holding onto his mother’s hands. “It’s a bit of a mess, our place, but if you come after the sun’s down, I’m sure we can have it proper enough to take on guests.”

It was an odd request, but thankfully, neither his mother nor father said anything about the specific time request, simply hugged him once more and promised to be by their door the second the sun dipped, wine and lemon cakes in hand.

As they waved their goodbyes, Astarion slipped his palm into Y/N’s and made sure they walked all the way back like that. Once behind a closed door, he pulled her into his chest relishing in the way their bodies melded together – two puzzle pieces finally connecting and forming the most magnificent picture to exist.

“What is it like to be finally home?” Y/N asked as he swayed them to a tune only, he heard.

Astarion shook his head, pulling slightly back so he could cup her jaw. “My love, I have been home for a long time now. I’ve been safe and cared for, all thanks to you.” His eyes were so full of love and adoration, she almost choked on a breath. “Now… now it just feels complete. So thank you… thank you for being my home,” he muttered that little confession against her skin, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

“Always, my love.” Y/N didn’t hide the tears rolling down her face and he brushed them away with a soft thumb. “Always.”

When their gazes locked, all she could see was excitement for what the new day had to offer, and she knew whatever was in store, as long as they were by one another’s side, there was nothing they couldn’t overcome.

But for all that, there was an important thing she was unaware of.

As Y/N entered their living room, talking to herself and making a list of what they had to do before his parents arrived, Astarion stood and watched her, leaning against the doorframe, all the while his hands rested in his pocket, where in one of them, a beautiful ring was being twirled between his fingers.

Before they’d left, his mother had slyly pulled it off her own hand, pressing it into his palm, and whispering to him while hugging that she didn’t want to see Y/N without it the next time around.

Astarion had no intention of living his life without Y/N as his fiancé for a second longer.

When she turned around to find him on one knee, he didn’t even get to ask the question before she responded with a shout of “Yes!” and jumped on him, pulling him into a kiss he swore breathed life into his still chest.

He couldn’t wait to reintroduce Y/N to his parents as his intended.

Now all was as it should be. He was finally home. And somewhere in the garden, a rose bloomed in full.

Tags:

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird

A/N: This idea was inspired by that one post of a painting Astarion's parents probably had of him, but had put away somewhere just so they didn't have to look a the son they lost, so I rectified it (Link to the inspo pic :) :( Now they have a portrait of Astarion and his love right above their fire place :)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don't plagiarise or repost on other platforms.

[azsazz]

Found

Vampire!Azriel x Human!Reader

Summary: Reader is trapped. Azriel saves her.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1336

Notes: Directly follows: Might Bite Back & Lost

_________________________________________

A window leaks the midnight hour into your cell. The vibrant moon in the sky, reminds you so much of the male that nearly drained you dry tonight. Or was it last night? Days ago? You can no longer tell. You don’t know how you ended up here, on the cold, hard floor in a room that feels like a meat freezer.

Azriel.

Is he alright, is your first thought. Here you are, helpless, trapped in this room with seemingly no entrances or exits, and you’re wondering if the vampire who’s all but claimed you as his own is alright. You could be seconds away from dying—again—and yet, he’s what you’re worried about.

But there’s something about Azriel that’s different. While he puts on the front of a monster, you’ve been around him long enough to notice his mask crack. They way his eyes soften when he thinks you’re not looking. The way he begrudgingly cares for you, even though he hasn’t been around humans for years. He is not the beast he wants everyone to see him as. He’s soft, lost, and looking for the same thing you’ve longed for, love.

You hope he’s okay.

Your head pounds as you sit up, bones aching as you peel them from the stone. The room spins and your eyes flutter, still weak from the blood loss. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, feels like you’re licking sandpaper as you drag the muscle across your parched lips.

You try to get your feet under you, but you’re too weak. Pain throbs at your neck, and it takes a great amount of effort to lift your hand to tenderly poke at the wound. You wince as your fingers brush against the slowly forming scabs. Two puncture holes, side-by-side, from Azriel’s sharp teeth.

You can still remember the feeling. The warmth that bled throughout your body. You felt like you belonged in Azriel’s arms, and you thought for a moment that he felt the same way about you, with how desperately he held you to his chest. His grip didn’t feel like the iron trap of a predator slowly draining its prey, it felt like…home.

You remember the euphoria that shot through your veins like a bullet. How your muscles coiled in pleasure and wetness drenched your panties. Azriel’s fingers digging into your skin in a biting pleasure, marking you in more ways than one. His harsh breath on your neck, ragged and shuttering as your ground your hips against his painfully hard cock.

You remember when he took it too far, lost too much blood, and how Azriel ripped himself from you as soon as your uttered plea broke through his haze.

You remember how he took care of you, carried you to the sofa before the crackling fire in the hearth, so large its flames threatened to lick his pale, scarred skin. You still don’t know why he started the fire in the first place. In the time that you’ve spent with him in his home, not once has he allowed a single hearth in the manor to be lit. You’ve gotten used to the constant chill in his residence, of himself, and you found an eerie sort of comfort in it.

The iciness of the cell you’re in now is unlike that at all.

“Hello?” Your voice sounds like gravel, and the silence the responds to you isn’t like the kind where you know Azriel is creeping around his home, watching your every move. This silence is the kind that threatens, that warns that something bad is coming.

The hair on your arms stands tall.

You manage to drag yourself closer to the sole window. You must be in some sort of basement, for the window is small and towards the ceiling of the room. It’s barred off, like people have been trapped down here before.

“Azriel,” you whisper. “Where are you?”

You shuffle until you can rest against the wall. It takes more effort than you have, and you’re dizzy again, vision swimming. There isn’t anything in the room for you to lock your gaze on, so you pin it on the moon through the slits in the bars.

You don’t know how long you sit, catching your breath, mustering your strength, scrambling for a solution of how to get out of this place, when something all but slams against the iron bars of the window, scaring you.

 It can’t be your time, it can’t be. You want to see Azriel again, need to tell him how it felt when his canines were in your neck and he held you close.

Even your startled movements are sluggish. You have no weapons, nothing to fight against any of the monsters of the world you’ve found yourself in.

Before you can part your lips to scream, mewl in fear, anything, the person at the window speaks.

Azriel’s hazel gaze locks on you and your name slips from his mouth in a breath of relief. You sag back against the freezing cold wall. He’s here, he’s going to save you.

He tests the bars across the window. They creak, but don’t otherwise budge.

“Let me in, and I’ll come get you.”

You swallow tightly, recognizing that frenzy in his eyes. The same look he wore when you crept down the stairs of his manor in worry. “You bit me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he pleads, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen a vampire look so human before. His hazel eyes are tortured, like if he could take it back in an instant, he would.

Azriel’s lip’s part, but you don’t get the chance to hear the rest of his thoughts before his mouth snaps shut. His spine straightens like a frightened cat. He’s listening to something, you realize, but no matter how hard you strain to hear, there’s nothing but your labored breathing.

“Let me in,” his voice isn’t pleading this time, it’s demanding. The bars groan under his grip. “Something much worse than Eris is coming for you right now, sweetheart, and if you don’t invite me in, I can’t help you.”

You hesitate. While your heart knows that Azriel wouldn’t hurt you like that again, your mind protests, locking your limbs and your words in your throat.

At your pause, he says, “I’m not leaving here without you.”

Warmth blooms in your chest and Azriel pretends that he doesn’t like the sound.

“Azriel?” You question, and he doesn’t like how your tone switches to something more confident. As if you aren’t worried about the beast that’s closing in on you. The one you won’t survive.

And maybe he’s something you can’t survive either, but Azriel isn’t going to let what happened tonight happen again. He will never ever hurt you again.

“Yes?” He all but hisses, worry creeping into his tone. He’s scared, he realizes, and it’s the most emotion he’s felt in a long time. If his heart were still beating, it’d be pounding in his chest. If blood still coursed through his veins, it’d be an erratic beat in his eardrums.

“If I let you in, you’ll finish the job.”

He falls still. He didn’t hear you correctly. You want him to finish the job? No—he shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “I—” He sees that sparkle in your eyes, the small quirk of your lips that tell him all he needs to know about what you mean.

Despite his best efforts, his cock rouses in his pants. He bites his lip, not even minding the harsh sting when his canines pierce his flesh and the familiar tang of blood tickles his tongue.

That ravenous feeling washes over him, pupils dilating as he takes you in.

Footsteps pierce through his dizzying thoughts. It’s prowling closer to what’s his, and Azriel would be damned if he isn’t the one who gets to turn you. “Yes,” he agrees quickly.

Your triumphant smile is sharp, blinding. “Come in, then, mate.”

[w3haw3ll]

Five Summers Gone- Oscar Piastri OP81

Enemies to Lovers × Second Chance × Small Town 5.6K Words (Masterlist) Five years ago, Y/N L/N left Melbourne without saying goodbye—no calls, no letters, nothing. To the town, she disappeared. To Oscar Piastri, her best friend and childhood crush, she shattered everything they’d built.

Now she’s back. Temporarily. And Oscar? He isn’t exactly welcoming her with open arms. Not when he’s spent years pretending he doesn’t care.

TW: Smut but its not essential to the story and can be skipped. 18+

The door to 'The Melbourne Tavern' creaked open, a gust of warm, dry air pushing in with the sound of cicadas buzzing outside. It smelled like dust and sunshine, a hint of salt from the nearby coast mingling with the earthy aroma of wood and old leather. The tavern wasn’t much to look at from the outside—a simple building of peeling white paint and rusty corrugated iron that blended with the small-town landscape. But inside, it had a kind of rustic charm that only decades of local history could create. 

The walls were a patchwork of weathered timber and exposed brick, with old beer advertisements and faded photographs hanging crookedly. Some of the frames were cracked, but no one had bothered to replace them; they were part of the place’s charm. The soft golden glow of hanging lamps cast long shadows across the wooden floors, which were scuffed from years of boots and bare feet dancing to the sound of country tunes. 

At the far end of the room polished oak with brass handles glowed under the light. Behind the bar, shelves lined with bottles of gin, rum, whiskey, and every kind of beer imaginable caught the light, the labels faded from the sun’s harsh glare that filtered in through the half-open windows. The taps hissed and gurgled, sending chilled streams of amber liquid into glasses that clinked softly against each other. 

Near the window, the jukebox sputtered, blasting out the familiar hum of country music, though the volume was low enough to let the conversations around the bar flow freely. The sound of laughter and murmured gossip drifted over the buzz of cicadas from the porch outside, where a couple of men leaned against the rails, pints in hand, talking about everything and nothing. 

The air inside felt thick with the heat of late afternoon, the sun casting a deep golden glow across everything—spilling in through the long windows, illuminating the wooden tables with their mismatched chairs. The long, worn bar counter had a few stools scattered in front of it, some occupied, some empty. A couple of regulars lounged by the dartboard, a few more tucked away in the booths by the back corner, whispering quietly, the flicker of dim candles lighting the space between them. 

There was a smell in the air, a blend of fried fish and roasted meats from the small kitchen in the back. The place was both familiar and a little overwhelming, like stepping back into a dream she hadn’t quite realized she was in. Every detail—from the scratches in the tables to the old ceiling fan that lazily stirred the air above—felt like it had been here for a hundred years, holding memories of the people who’d come and gone. 

 The low hum of chatter from the handful of locals drinking in the dimly lit room died down as soon as she stepped through the door. And now, standing here in the doorway, she felt the weight of time—five long years of distance of lost memories, and of unfinished business. 

Y/N froze at the threshold, her heart doing an awkward, painful little skip. It had been five years since she last stood in this place—five summers spent in the faraway noise of the city, with the distant hum of life and everything that wasn’t here. But now, the familiar smell of spilled beer, fried food, and wood smoke hit her like a wave, dragging her back to a time she hadn’t wanted to revisit. 

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag, her gaze scanning the bar. The worn wooden floors creaked beneath her boots as she took a step further in, half-hoping someone would jump out and shout a cheerful welcome, but everyone was strangely quiet. Eyes flicked toward her, some curious, others with that mix of recognition and judgment that could only come from small-town gossip. 

On a stool infront of the bar, Oscar Piastri sat with his back to her. His broad shoulders were tense, the back of his black T-shirt clinging to his frame. The man who had once been a small-town kid chasing dreams now stood in the glow of Formula 1 stardom. He was no longer just the boy she’d left behind—he was a racing icon, the kind of person whose name was known across the globe. 

But in this pub, to the people who knew him as a child, he was still Oscar—still the young man who had once dreamed of getting out of this town. The same man who had watched her walk away without a word five summers ago. 

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she stepped further into the tavern, her boots echoing softly on the worn wooden floors. The sound seemed to cut through the room, catching the attention of the few locals scattered around. She felt their eyes on her, a mix of curiosity, judgment, and old gossip filling the space. But her gaze remained fixed on Oscar. 

His back was still to her, but the moment he sensed her presence, he paused. The glass in his hand was set down slowly, as if he had suddenly forgotten the motion. 

The years hadn’t softened him. If anything, they had made him harder—his shoulders broader, the scruff of his jaw more pronounced, his eyes darker, like he'd been worn down by something deep inside. 

Her heart thudded in her chest. The space between them felt like a chasm, but the pull was the same. That magnetic tug she had always felt, the one that was impossible to ignore. 

His expression was unreadable at first—until it softened just the tiniest bit, just enough to show that the years hadn’t erased everything. His lips tightened into a hard line. 

But what struck her the most was the distance in his eyes. The same eyes that had once held nothing but warmth and admiration for her now seemed cold, distant, almost like she was a stranger. 

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and distant, as though her name was a question he didn’t want to ask. “Didn’t expect you to come back.” 

Y/N swallowed, the weight of his words sinking into her chest. She had imagined this moment in her mind for so long, rehearsing her apologies, wondering how she would explain everything. But standing here, now, with the entire tavern waiting for something—anything—from her—it felt too real, too raw. 

His words hung in the air, thick with the tension of everything unsaid. Five years. She’d thought about this moment more times than she cared to admit, playing it out in her mind over and over again. She had imagined the words, the apology, the explanation. But now that she was standing here, with the dusty warmth of the tavern wrapping around them, everything she had planned to say felt inadequate. 

“I didn’t plan on it either,” Y/N replied, her voice quieter than she meant it to be. She glanced around the bar, a few familiar faces still scattered around. “My aunt... she left me the house.” 

Oscar didn’t respond to that, his brow furrowing. He didn’t need to. They both knew what that meant. She wasn’t here just to visit. She was here to close a chapter. The kind of chapter that had ended in a storm, the kind of chapter that had never really been finished. 

She shifted uncomfortably, noticing his intense gaze on her, like he was weighing every word. Her fingers fidgeted at her sides. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed this place—the familiarity, the feel of being home. But it also hit her like a ton of bricks, the reality of what she��d left behind. 

Oscar set the glass down, his hand brushing the countertop with a soft scrape. His gaze never left hers, studying her like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. 

“You just show up, after five years, and that’s it?” he asked, his voice sharp, his eyes cold. “No explanation? No... nothing?” The anger in his voice made her flinch. 

She swallowed, guilt creeping into her chest. “I—I didn’t know how to explain, Oscar. I didn’t think you’d understand.” 

His chuckle was low, bitter. “And you thought running away was easier?” 

Y/N's stomach twisted. She hadn’t expected to hear that in his voice—the years of hurt, the bitterness. It stung more than she’d anticipated. 

She took a small step forward, but the distance between them felt monumental. “I didn’t want to leave. But I had to.” Her voice faltered, but she pushed on. “It was personal... Too personal that I couldn't even tell you about it.” 

Oscar’s jaw clenched, and his gaze flickered briefly to the floor. “You could’ve told me, Y/N. You didn’t even give me a chance to understand.” The words were raw, exposed, the kind of words that could break a person if they weren’t careful. 

Oscar’s expression shifted then—anger flaring briefly in his eyes before it was quickly masked by something colder, more distant. "You think I wouldn’t have understood?" he asked, his voice tight. "You think I wouldn’t have been there for you?" 

She quickly shook her head, feeling the weight of his accusation in her chest. “I thought I was protecting you,” she whispered. “But I was wrong.” 

"I didn’t want to drag you into it," she whispered. "I didn’t want you to feel responsible." 

Oscar’s lips twisted into something that could have been a smirk, but it was empty. "I’m not a little kid anymore, Y/N. I’m Oscar Piastri now. You think I don’t have my own burdens to carry?" 

She could hear the echo of his Formula 1 fame in his words—the pressure, the expectations, the weight of a career that had taken him far from this dusty town. But beneath it, beneath the success, there was still a man who had loved her and still carried the scars of her leaving. 

The bartender's voice broke the silence, offering them both drinks, but neither moved to take one. The tension in the air was thick, heavier than the summer heat outside, and all Y/N could do was stand there, staring at the man she had once loved, wondering if there was any way to undo the damage.  

The silence between them was heavy, thick with everything they hadn’t said in years. Then, without warning, Oscar turned his back to her, grabbing his empty glass and beginning to inspect it. 

“Do you want a drink?” he asked, his tone colder now, guarded. 

Y/N hesitated, unsure of what she wanted. Everything felt wrong, like stepping into a dream she couldn’t wake up from. The man she thought she’d never see again. The town she thought she’d forgotten. And yet, standing here now, she realized she hadn’t been able to move on, not fully. 

She nodded, her voice soft. “A gin and tonic.” 

Oscar didn’t reply as he requested the drink from the bartender, his back still turned to her. But the tension in the room had shifted. She could feel it in the air. The unsaid things were heavier now, waiting for the moment when they would finally have to confront everything. 

He handed her the glass without a word, their fingers brushing just for a second. The warmth of the gin mingled with the warmth of the evening as the first crack in the wall between them began to show. 

---

The tavern was nearly empty now. Outside, nighttime had fully settled over the countryside, a velvet sky scattered with stars, cool wind sweeping in through the open windows. Crickets chirped steadily in the distance, and the scent of dry grass and old smoke hung in the air. 

Inside, only a soft, flickering pendant light remained above the bar, casting a honeyed glow across the polished wood. Y/N sat alone on a stool, her fingers tracing circles in the condensation of her untouched drink. The glass had gone warm. 

Oscar sat by the bar, pretending to count the bottles on the back shelf. He hadn’t said a word in ten minutes. Neither had she. 

Finally, she broke the silence. “You’re quieter than I remember.” 

He didn’t turn around. “You’re not.” 

She let out a small, humorless laugh. “Right. I’m still the mouthy girl who left.” 

Oscar turned then, slowly, a bitter smile ghosting across his lips. “You don’t get to make jokes about it.” 

Y/N’s chest tightened. “I’m not trying to.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “One minute we’re planning a future, the next you vanish. Gone. No note, no message. Just—nothing. Like I never existed.” 

She stared at him, jaw clenched. “You think I wanted to leave like that?” 

“You didn’t stop yourself.” 

“Because you made it impossible to stay, Oscar.” Her voice cracked. “You made everything about racing. Everything was about the next circuit, the next win, the next interview. There was never room for me.” 

He scoffed. “That’s not fair.” 

“Isn’t it?” she said, her voice rising. “I came second to your career every day for two years, and I was supposed to be okay with that.” 

“I was doing it for us,” he snapped. “To give us a better life.” 

“No,” she said. “You were doing it for you. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe I was stupid to think I’d ever matter as much as the next podium.” 

Oscar stared at her, and for a moment, she thought he might yell. Instead, his voice dropped low, tight with something darker. “I used to imagine you in the crowd. Every time I got behind the wheel. I used to look for your face.” 

Y/N’s breath caught. 

“I used to tell myself that if I just won enough, if I just kept going, maybe you’d see me on TV and… I don’t know. Remember you loved me once.” 

“I never forgot,” she whispered. 

“Then why didn’t you come back?” 

“Because I was scared,” she snapped. “Because every time I thought about you, I felt like I was being tortured from the inside out. Because I couldn’t remind myself that I was just someone who once mattered to you.” 

Oscar’s face shifted, something soft cracking through his carefully held anger. “You never stopped mattering.” 

There it was again — that unbearable ache. The one that settled into her bones the moment she saw him next to the bar. 

She looked down at her hands. “I thought if I left, it would hurt less than staying and watching you drift further away.” 

“You should’ve stayed.” 

“You should’ve asked me to.” 

That silenced him. 

The air between them buzzed with the weight of everything they hadn’t said in five long years. It was too much. Not enough. Something in between. 

He stood and walked slowly, each footstep with purpose until he stood in front of her. 

“You think I didn’t feel abandoned?” he said, quieter now. “You think I didn’t sit in that empty apartment and wonder what I did wrong?” 

Y/N’s voice was trembling. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I was being suffocated by how overwhelmed it made me” 

“I would’ve made space for you.” 

“You didn’t see me, Oscar,” she said, eyes glassy. “You saw a girl who was supposed to wait. Who was supposed to clap from the sidelines and smile while you chased everything we dreamed about together — but you did it on your own.” 

He looked stricken. And more than anything else, he looked like a boy who had lost something he hadn’t realized was irreplaceable until it was already gone. 

“I hated you for leaving,” he whispered. “And I hated myself for not stopping you.” 

Tears welled in her eyes. “I hated that I had to leave to save myself.” 

Oscar exhaled like he’d been punched. He stepped back slightly, pacing a few steps away, running a hand through his hair. The silence returned, but now it was shaking, fragile, raw. 

Then, the faint hum of a song they both knew too well began playing over the radio. He began to tap his fingers on the bar along with the melody. 

Y/N froze. 

Their song. 

He still remembered every note. 

She walked over slowly, standing beside him. “I haven’t listened to this since…” 

“After you left,” he finished. “Yeah. I couldn’t. Felt like it hurt too much.” 

“It still does.” 

“Yeah,” he said, glancing at her. “But maybe some things are meant to hurt. If they didn’t, it’d mean they never mattered.” 

She didn’t answer. She just watched him tap his fingers, the pain in his movements, the years stitched into each tap on the wooden bar top. 

When he finished, she stepped forward, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. “You’ve changed, Oscar.” 

“So have you.” 

“But I think part of me still knows you.” 

His voice dropped, almost a whisper. “Then don’t go again.” 

She swallowed. “I can’t promise I won’t. But I can promise I’ll try.” 

He stood, close now—so close the tension between them was electric. 

“I hate that I still want to kiss you,” he said, breath warm. 

“I hate that I want you to.” 

They didn’t kiss—not yet. The moment lingered like a breath not yet taken. 

A door creaked in the distance. A chair scraped. Someone was still here. 

The moment passed. 

Oscar stepped back, eyes burning. “You should go.”  

Y/N hesitated, heart pounding. “Yeah. I should.” 

But neither of them moved. 

---

The sun bore down mercilessly on Albert Park, casting a shimmer over the track and painting the race paddock in hues of black and red. The smell of gasoline and scorched rubber clung to the air, thick and sharp. Crowds pressed at the fences, their excitement electric, a kind of collective heartbeat that pulsed louder than the engines in the distance. 

Y/N stood on the edge of it all, fingers curled tightly around the lanyard that bore Oscar Piastri’s name. 

She hadn't planned on coming. She’d told herself over and over she wouldn’t. That she couldn’t. 

But when she’d found the VIP pass slipped under her door, attached to a single note — “If you come, I’ll know” — something in her cracked. 

Now she was here, at the very place she’d sworn never to return to. The world she’d tried to leave behind. The life she'd tried to untangle from her heart. But it never really left her. And neither did he. 

Oscar stood by his car in the garage, helmet under one arm, race suit hugging his form like a second skin. He wasn’t looking at her. But he didn’t need to. He knew. 

She didn’t know what they were now. But she knew she couldn’t walk away this time. 

Not again. 

Now she stood in the shade of the garage awning, watching the man she’d once loved — maybe still loved — suit up, visor down, the sun glinting off his helmet as he prepared for the race. 

Oscar didn’t look at her, but she knew he knew she was there. 

He always knew. 

The race began with the scream of engines and a blur of motion. 

Oscar took the first few corners clean, locking into P2 by Lap 3, breathing down the neck of the Ferrari in front. His movements were precise, razor-sharp. But there was something underneath — something Y/N could feel more than see. 

He wasn’t just racing. He was pushing. 

Too hard. Too fast. Too much. 

And she recognized it. That desperate, reckless edge. He was driving like he had something to prove — or something to lose. 

The commentary praised him. "He's on fire today—like a man possessed." 

Y/N’s stomach twisted. 

The commentators said it was brilliant. Ruthless. But Y/N’s chest tightened with every lap. 

By Lap 20, Oscar was still in second but gaining, corners carved with fury, tyres crying against the asphalt. The engineers were calm, but Y/N could hear the tension in their voices as they radioed him. 

“Oscar, box in five.” 

No response. 

“Oscar, do you copy?” 

Still nothing. 

Her heart climbed into her throat. 

She knew this Oscar — the one who didn’t hear anything but the roar in his own head. The one who couldn’t stop until the fire inside him burned out everything around him. 

Then, Lap 41. 

He went wide into Turn 10, trying to force a move where there wasn’t one. The Ferrari twitched. Oscar overcorrected. 

The car clipped the curb. 

Sparks exploded from under the chassis. The rear end snapped. 

And then it happened. 

A sickening spin, tyres lifting momentarily before the car slammed sideways into the barrier with a thunderous crack that silenced the crowd. The halo held strong. But the front wing had completely disintegrated. Smoke poured into the sky. 

The screen froze on the impact.  

The screen showed the wreck: smoke pouring out, marshals racing toward the scene. The safety car was deployed instantly. Mechanics scrambled. 

Gasps rippled through the paddock. 

Y/N couldn’t move.  

She didn’t breathe. 

Her mouth was dry. Her body ice-cold. She felt everything and nothing all at once. Around her, the team was in motion, alarms blaring, radios crackling. 

But all she could hear was the silence in her chest. 

Then—movement. Oscar’s head, helmet still on, shifting. 

He was alive. 

But she was already running. 

She didn’t wait. 

She ran. 

The medical center was a blur. She pushed through crowds, security, yelling voices — she didn’t care. Not when she could still see the image of his car mangled against the wall. Not when every second that passed without seeing his face felt like a countdown to collapse. 

"Miss, you can't be here—" 

“I have to be,” she snapped. “He left me a pass. He wants me here.” 

The nurse gave her a cautious look, then sighed, stepping aside. 

“Y/N?” 

And there he was. 

Sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, shirtless, bruised, a long scrape down his ribs, and his arm cradled in a sling. He looked up at the sound of the door. 

And everything in her broke. 

“You complete idiot,” she whispered. 

His lips curled into the faintest smile, worn and pained. “Hi.” 

She crossed the room in two steps and shoved him. 

“You reckless, stupid, arrogant—” her voice broke as she hit him again, this time open-palmed to his chest, and he winced. “You could’ve died, Oscar! What the hell were you thinking?!” 

“Y/N—” 

“You could’ve died!” repeating as she sobbed. “I saw it. I saw your car hit that wall and I thought—god, I thought that was it. I thought I’d lost you again.” 

He grabbed her wrists, gently, holding them between them. “I’m here.” 

“Why were you pushing so hard?” she asked, shaking. “You were leading! You had it.” 

He flinched. “I just thought that maybe if I won, you’d see I’m not the same guy you left.” 

“I never needed you to win anything!” she shouted. “I needed you to fight for me. For us. Not throw yourself into a wall just to prove some twisted point!” 

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks now. “You were always enough. It was never about the trophies.” 

“I missed you,” he said, voice raw. “Every single day. Even when I hated you. Especially then.” 

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. “You don’t get to say that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you didn’t come after me. Because you let me go.” 

“I thought I was giving you what you wanted,” he said, looking at her like the truth might kill him. “You left without a word.” 

“Because I was falling apart!” she cried. “Because I didn’t know who I was outside of you, and I was terrified you wouldn’t love the version of me that didn’t orbit your world.” 

Oscar swallowed hard. “I loved all of you. Even the parts you tried to hide from me.” 

Y/N moved closer. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Then why did it feel like I was always chasing you?” 

“Because I didn’t know how to slow down.” He met her gaze, broken and honest. “Until now.” 

The silence between them was thick — loaded with pain, regret, and everything they'd never said. 

He looked at her then — really looked — like he was seeing every version of her he’d ever loved, ever hated, ever mourned. 

“You came back.” 

“I couldn’t stay away this time,” she said, voice shaking. 

There was a pause, the kind that holds all the weight of things finally understood. 

And then he kissed her. 

It wasn’t soft. 

It was desperate. 

A collision of grief, guilt, love and longing, five years in the making. Her fingers threaded into his curls as his hands slid to her waist, pulling her between his knees. The kiss deepened, their breath mingling, hungry and terrified and real. 

His hands pulled her in, even with the pain in his arm. Her fingers gripped the back of his neck, their mouths crashing, devouring, pleading. 

She pulled back first, breathing heavily. Her forehead rested against his. “Don’t do that again.” 

“I won’t,” he whispered. “Unless you leave again.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

Oscar’s fingers brushed down her cheek. “Promise?” 

“I promise,” she said. “But you need to promise something, too.” 

“What?” 

“That next time you want to prove something to me… just tell me. Don’t nearly die over it.” 

A breathy laugh escaped him. “Deal.” 

Y/N smiled through her tears and gently, slowly, leaned into him again. This time the kiss was softer. Tender. Like the feeling of forgiveness. 

And outside the walls of the medical center, the race raged on. 

But here, time finally slowed. 

--- 

Outside, the city pulsed with celebration. A dull roar of nightlife drifted through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but up here, the world had narrowed into something quiet. Almost sacred. 

The suite smelled faintly of rain on pavement and clean cotton sheets. The lamps cast a warm, amber glow, softening the sleek modern lines of the room. A forgotten bottle of sparkling water sat half-finished on the nightstand. The television playing the news on mute, replaying the crash over and over — the same brutal spin, the same moment Oscar’s car hit the barrier. 

Y/N had turned her back to it. She couldn’t watch it again. 

Instead, she watched him.  

Oscar stood by the window, one arm braced on the glass, the other resting in a black sling across his torso. The light haloed around him, outlining the sharp lines of his shoulders and jaw, the mess of his dark curls slightly damp from a rushed post-hospital shower. His T-shirt was wrinkled from the day but still clung in the right places. Bruising peeked from beneath the collar, dark and angry against his otherwise golden skin. 

She hadn’t been able to stop touching him since they returned. Just little things — her hand on his arm, her fingers brushing his ribs to make sure he was real. 

Oscar hadn’t stopped looking at her either. 

“You don’t have to hover,” he said quietly, not turning around. “I’m not going to spontaneously combust.” 

She sat on the edge of the bed, heart a clenched fist in her chest. “You kind of already did.” 

He finally turned. 

There was something showing in his eyes emotionally stripped raw. His defenses were down, fractured open by the impact and her lips hours ago in the medical centre. The heat in his gaze wasn’t just desire. It was regret. Longing. Need. 

“I’m sorry,” he said simply. 

“For crashing?” she asked. 

“For everything.” 

Y/N stood and crossed the room slowly, until she was inches from him. The city lights outside cast fractured reflections across his face — half in shadow, half in gold. 

She raised a hand to his chest, letting her fingers splay over his heartbeat. “Don’t be sorry right now” she whispered. “None of that is important now.” 

A beat passed. 

Then she added, softer, “I missed you. I hated how much, but I still did.” 

He exhaled slowly. “Every time I thought I was over you… it would blindside me again. In the shower. In the car. Walking past someone who smelled like your perfume.” His hand lifted to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. “Tonight, when I saw you in the garage, I thought I was hallucinating.” 

“You weren’t,” she murmured. “You pulled me back.” 

Oscar leaned in, breath ghosting her cheek. “I’m tired of pretending it didn’t miss you.” 

“So, stop pretending.” 

He kissed her gently; he put so much emotion into such a simple and delicate kiss. The kiss was telling Y/N all the words she needed to hear from Oscar. She gently lifted his shirt taking a glance at his bruises and cuts. 

“I should be the one taking care of you,” she whispered. 

“You are.” 

She kissed the line of his jaw, breath stuttering. “You feel like home.” 

He smiled against her mouth. “Then stay.” 

And when they collapsed into the sheets the world outside faded. No engines. No lights. No press. Just the aftershock of something deeply real. 

Oscar pulled her into his chest, his voice barely a rumble against her hair. 

“This time,” he said, “I’m not letting you go.” 

And Y/N, wrapped in his heat, whispered back, “Good. Because I’m done running.” 

--- 18+ (CAN BE SKIPPED)

The city below them had long been quiet, but inside the hotel room, the air still burned. 

Y/N lay stretched across the sheets, chest rising and falling in quiet waves, her fingers tracing idle patterns over Oscar’s bruised skin. He watched her from where he sat, propped against the headboard, eyes heavy-lidded and unreadable. His sling was off now, set aside like every other barrier between them. 

Her fingers moved lower. Across the sharp dip of his hipbone. The waistband of his boxers. 

She felt the shift in him immediately — the way his stomach tightened beneath her touch, the soft hitch of breath. 

But he didn’t stop her. 

Instead, he caught her wrist. “Don’t tease me.” 

The heat in his voice made her clench around nothing. 

“I’m not,” she whispered, crawling over his lap, straddling him slowly. “Unless you want me to.” 

His hands gripped her hips. Firm. Possessive. 

“I’ve wanted you,” he murmured, voice wrecked, “since the second I saw you again. And it’s fucking killing me how good you still feel in my arms.” 

Y/N leaned in, brushing her lips over his ear. “Then take me like you’ve been needing to.” 

Something in him broke. 

He surged up, flipping her onto her back with a sharp exhale, mouth crashing onto hers. It wasn’t soft. It was messy, all tongue and teeth and barely contained hunger. Her thighs fell open around his hips as he pressed against her, hard and aching through his boxers, grinding into her like he couldn’t help it. 

“Tell me this is mine,” he growled, dragging her panties down her legs, his fingers slipping through the wetness between her thighs. 

“It’s yours,” she gasped, legs trembling. “It’s always been yours.” 

He pushed two fingers into her without warning, his thumb circling her clit with practiced precision. She cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as her body bowed up against him. 

“Look at you,” Oscar muttered, watching her writhe beneath him. “Dripping for me. I’ve barely touched you.” 

She bit her lip hard. “Stop talking and fuck me.” 

He smirked. “Say please.” 

Her eyes flashed. “Oscar—” 

“Say it.” 

She reached down and wrapped her hand around him through the fabric of his boxers, squeezing just enough to make his breath stutter. 

“Please.” 

He shoved his boxers down, not even bothering to kick them off fully before lining himself up and slamming into her in one desperate, blinding thrust. 

She cried out, the stretch brutal and perfect. 

His hand tangled in her hair, dragging her mouth back to his as he thrust again, hard and deep. “You feel so fucking good.” 

Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper. He moved like a man unhinged — hips snapping, breath ragged, forehead pressed to hers. 

Each thrust was laced with everything they hadn’t said. Every heartbreak. Every unanswered call. Every regret that clung to them like a second skin. 

“I thought I lost you,” he panted, voice breaking. “Every day I told myself it didn’t matter — but it did. You did. You fucking destroyed me.” 

Y/N cupped his face with shaking hands, dragging his mouth back to hers. “Then ruin me right back.” 

And he did. 

He fucked her like it was the only way he knew how to continue living. Like claiming her again might put the broken parts of him back together. 

She moaned his name over and over, clawing at his back, thighs trembling around his hips as he pounded into her relentlessly. Every thrust sent stars behind her eyes. Her orgasm hit hard and sudden, clenching around him with a cry. 

Oscar’s rhythm faltered. His jaw clenched. “Fuck, I’m gonna—” 

“Inside,” she begged. “Please.” 

That broke him completely. 

With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep and spilled inside her, hips jerking, body shaking with the force of it. 

They collapsed together, skin slick with sweat, limbs tangled. 

Silence settled around them like ash after fire. 

Oscar didn’t speak. He just pulled her close, pressing kisses to her hair, her shoulder, her temple. Everywhere he could reach. 

Y/N clung to him, heart still racing, the weight of what just happened heavy and terrifying in her chest. 

But when he whispered, “I’m not letting you leave again,” she believed him. 

For now, that was enough. 

[gilbertscurls]

Heyy can you do a matt x reader one where reader is filming a car video with the triplets and they told people to send in questions for her some one put” give me a chance y/n I’ll treat youill treat way better than Matt” replies with “hit me up yk my insta” Matt gets mad for rest of the video and when they arrive at their shared home with the trips they make up and cuddle

hope you like it!! <3

Hit Me Up ➵ Matt Sturniolo

The car was filled with its usual lively energy, the kind of banter that made the Sturniolo Triplets’ videos so entertaining. You were sitting in the backseat, right next to Nick, with Chris and Matt in the front. The camera propped up in the front caught everyone’s reactions, as usual. Today was special, though. They had asked their fans to send in questions for you.

As someone who had appeared on their channel here and there over the years, people were always curious about you—how you fit in with the triplets and, more specifically, about your relationship with Matt. Today’s video was meant to be light and fun, a chance for you to answer some of the silly and random questions their followers had sent in.

The laughter came easily as Chris read the first few questions, and you answered, giving playful responses while Nick threw in his sarcastic commentary. Everything was going fine, until Chris’s voice trailed off as he read one of the questions that had come in.

“Oh, okay, we’ve got a spicy one,” he said, holding back a laugh as his eyes darted from the screen to you and Matt. “‘Give me a chance, Y/N, I’ll treat you way better than Matt.’”

Your stomach dropped, and for a split second, the air in the car felt heavier. You could feel Matt tense in the front seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. The joking atmosphere shifted.

Instead of brushing it off, you felt a mischievous grin tug at your lips. You looked straight into the camera and, with a playful tone, replied, “Hit me up, you know my Insta.”

You could hear Nick and Chris laugh at your response, but Matt… Matt didn’t say anything. His jaw clenched ever so slightly, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. You could feel his mood darken from where you sat, and the lighthearted energy in the car shifted awkwardly as the conversation moved on.

The rest of the video felt different. Whenever someone tried to involve Matt in the conversation, he gave short, clipped answers, his usually playful tone replaced with something colder. You glanced at him through the rearview mirror a few times, but he avoided your gaze, his eyes glued to the road or the questions on his phone.

It wasn’t long before Nick noticed Matt’s shift in mood. “What’s with you, Matt? You good, bro?” Nick asked, eyeing him curiously.

“Yeah,” Matt muttered, his voice tight, “just tired.”

That was a lie. Everyone in the car knew it. You tried to shake off the sinking feeling in your chest as you realized he was actually mad about your joke, and though you wanted to say something, you knew this wasn’t the time or place. Not on camera.

The rest of the video dragged on, Matt growing more and more snappy with each passing minute. When it was finally over, Nick turned off the camera, and you all sat in silence for a moment before heading back home. The tension between you and Matt was palpable.

When you arrived at the house you shared with the triplets, Matt was out of the car as soon as it was parked, muttering something about going to his room. He didn’t wait for anyone, didn’t say a word to you. The door slammed behind him, leaving you standing there with Nick and Chris.

Nick gave you a look, his eyebrows raised. “What the hell was that about?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off even though your heart was sinking. “I think he’s mad about that question.”

Nick chuckled. “You’re kidding, right? It was obviously a joke.”

“Yeah, well, Matt’s being Matt,” Chris said, his voice a little softer. “Maybe you should go talk to him?”

You nodded, already dreading the conversation that was about to come. You made your way inside and up to Matt’s room. The door was closed, and you hesitated for a moment before knocking gently.

“What?” His voice was sharp, but you could tell he was trying to keep it in check.

You slowly opened the door, peeking inside. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor. His usual laid-back expression was replaced with a frown, his whole body tense.

“Can I come in?” you asked, your voice soft.

He didn’t look at you, but he gave a small nod. You stepped inside and closed the door behind you, walking over to sit beside him on the bed.

There was a beat of silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you.

“You’re mad,” you finally said, though it wasn’t really a question.

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Of course I’m mad, Y/N. How am I supposed to feel when you joke about that?”

You frowned, the confusion and frustration starting to bubble up inside you. “It was a joke, Matt. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t feel like one.” His voice was tight, the hurt seeping through despite his attempt to keep it at bay. “It’s not funny to hear someone say they’d treat you better than me, and then for you to play along with it? What was I supposed to think?”

You stared at him, your heart sinking further as you realized how deeply it had affected him. “Matt, I didn’t mean it. You know that I’d never actually—”

He cut you off, finally looking up at you, his eyes filled with frustration. “But you said it. You said, ‘Hit me up, you know my Insta,’ like… like it wouldn’t bother me at all. Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Like I’m not enough.”

His words hit you hard, guilt settling in as you realized how much your thoughtless comment had hurt him. You reached out, placing a hand on his knee. “I’m sorry, Matt. I didn’t think… I didn’t realize it would hurt you like that. It was stupid. I shouldn’t have said it.”

He let out a slow breath, his shoulders sagging as some of the tension left his body. “I just… I don’t like the idea of anyone thinking they could take you away from me.”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice, and you moved closer, wrapping your arms around him. He tensed for a moment before finally relaxing into your embrace, resting his head on your shoulder.

“No one could ever take me away from you,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of reassurance. “I’m with you because I want to be. I love you, Matt. You’re more than enough for me.”

He didn’t say anything at first, but you felt his arms slowly wrap around you, holding you close. The warmth of his body against yours made the tension in the room start to melt away, replaced by the comfort of being together.

“I love you too,” he mumbled, his voice quieter now, more gentle. “I’m sorry for snapping at you… I just— I don’t know, sometimes I get insecure.”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, brushing a hand through his hair. “You don’t need to be insecure. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Matt gave a small nod, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Okay.”

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, and he closed his eyes, letting out a content sigh as he leaned into your touch. For a moment, you both just sat there, the weight of the argument fading away as you held each other.

“Come on,” you said after a while, your voice soft and teasing. “Let’s go lay down.”

Matt nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he followed you to the bed. You curled up together, his arms wrapped securely around you as you rested your head on his chest. The warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart beneath you was all the reassurance you needed.

“I’m really sorry,” you whispered again, tracing small patterns on his chest.

He kissed the top of your head, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back. “It’s okay. I just… I love you so much. It freaks me out sometimes.”

You smiled against his chest, your heart swelling with affection for him. “I love you too, Matt. Always.”

And with that, the last remnants of the argument dissolved, replaced by the comforting quiet of being in each other’s arms. The world outside didn’t matter anymore — it was just you and Matt, together, as it had always been.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274

[cocoakrispis-blog]

SCENT

pairing ~ ellie williams x fem! reader

summary ~ you try and take your girlfriend out to pick out a new perfume but she claims that she likes the way that you naturally smell more what could that possibly mean?

warnings ~ smut written by a minor, nsfw, porn with some plot, ellie is a MUNCH, idk she’s kinda nasty in this one but in a really hot way, oral (r! receiving), lots of foreplay, making out, light nipple play, its kind of straight filth ngl, spitting, licking, biting, spitting, hair pulling, panty sniffing, cursing , lmk if i missed anything!!

wc ~ 1.8k words

“what about this one ellie?” you rose your arm so that you or wrist could be placed directly under your girlfriends nose.

“uhhh like probably like maybe vanilla?” ellie gave you a hopelessly confused look.

you sighed at elile’s extremly halfassed answer and roughly pulled you wrist away from her.

“you’re not even paying attention dude.” you roll your eyes before waking away to go investigate another bottle of perfume.

today you had decided to drag ellie to your local bath and body works to hoepfully find a new scent for the fall since it was fast approaching. while also escaping your unairconditioned shared apartment. however what was supposed to be a cute outing/escape from the heat for you and your girlfriend turned into what felt like dragging around a whiny toddler.

“this was supposed to be fun ellie you always tell me you love how i smell so i thought you would love this.” a defeated sigh leaves your lips.

ellie frowns at your obviously upset tone and shifts awkwardly at your statement. “i-i do love how you smell but whenever i say that i’m not talking about the perfume.

you raise a curious eyebrow at what ellie says and silently urge her to continue.

“i mean l-like i love your natural scent.” ellie mumbles out, very clearly emabrassed.

she groans when she sees you’re not understanding her and roughly places her red face into her sweating hands.

“can we just go home so i can show you what i mean.” ellie gives you those puppy eyes she knows you can’t resist.

“wha- but ellie we haven’t even bought anything i dont even understand what’s going on.” your hands wave in frustration at the confusing predicament.

very gently ellie grabs your hands and squeezes them tightly with yours.

“please?”

a large groan leaves your lips before you curse and comply with your girlfriend’s pleas. luckily the store was walking distance from your shared home so you didn’t have to worry about waiting in traffic or at long drawn out red lights. the only downside to this was that it was the middle of the summer and at this time of day the sun was at its peak. in other words it was hot. as hell.

still cursing to yourself at how easily you folded for your girlfriend you unlock the door with a huff before ushering her and yourself inside before slamming the door. you frowned once again once you fully entered your apartment that was barely cooler than outside.

“alright ellie fess up and tell me what you mean by my natrual scent” you make sure to put air quotes on the phrase natural scent to show her just how ridiculous you really though she was being.

without any explanation ellie grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into a hot and heavy kiss. the kiss caught you by surprise and you gasped into the kiss in shock. ellie used this to her advantage and stuck her wet tongue inside of your warm mouth to deepen the kiss.

you moaned as soon as you felt her skilled tongue against her own you whined into her mouth unconsciously. the intensity of the kiss almost made you forget what this was all about so before she could make you loose yourself anymore you reluctantly pulled away from the intimate makeout session.

“ellie woah slow down you still haven’t explained anything and you’re sure as hell not gonna kiss your way out of it.” you give her flushed face a stern look.

“it’s embarrassing though.” she whines while playing with the waistband to your shorts.

“eyes up here sweetheart.” you grab ellie’s chin to force her to make eye contact with you.

ellie attempts to move in for another kiss but you quickly dodge her and tighten your grip on her chin.

“explain.”

once ellie sees that you’re obviously not going to give this up she sighs before dragging you into your shared bedroom and gently lying you down. you wait patiently before she warily climbs on top of you and stuffs her face into your neck.

“i’m sweaty baby get off.” you softly try to shove her off of you.

“no you wanted me to show you what i meant so here we are now.” ellie responds back sassily before latching her lips onto your sweaty neck.

you softly moan when you feel her suck on that sensitive spot on your neck and immediately move to grip onto her auburn locs. ellie continues to kiss around your neck and suck softly on your skin before finally deciding to speak up.

“this is what i mean.” ellie sighs between kisses to your neck. “smell so damn good like this.”

you whine softly at her words and mumble out an excuse. “but i’m sweaty and gross.”

“no you smell so good like this smells like one hundred percent you it’s addictive.” a soft gasp leaves your lips when you feel ellie straight up lick you.

“taste good too.” ellie gives you a smirk before gently easing your tank top off of you so she could see your exposed breasts.

“fuckkk baby no bra.” ellie bites her lip at the sight before wasting no time to latch onto one of your perky nipples.

“was too hot for one.” you throw your head back at the euphoric feeling or ellie sucking on your nipple.

to maximize our pleasure ellie takes her other hand to grab and pinch at your neglected nipple. your moans rise in pitch at the feeling and your grip on ellie’s hair tightens which makes her let out a groan around your nipple. ellie pulls away with a pop before moving to the other one to make it even.

once ellie finishes she licks a stripe up in between the valley of your breasts for good measure.

“you’re nasty baby.” you sigh at her, to which she only gives you a grin back in response.

ellie quickly switches gears and rips off your shorts to reveal your half-soaked through panties.

“this all for me?” ellie gently runs her hands across your thighs while making embarasedly intense eye contact with the wet spot that was steadily growing on our underwear.

“all for you ellie.” you smile down at her.

without shame ellie engulfs her head right into your cunt and deeply inhales your most intimate parts scent.

you shakily exhale at how hot the sight off your girlfriend was from in between your thighs but gently push her head away to ask her a question.

“what are doing down there baby?” you softly rush your fingers through your lovers hair.

“just doing what you asked me to do, and showing you how good you smell.” ellie looks up at our through her lashes with her big hazel eyes making you bite your lip softly at the sight and nod.

once ellie doesn’t sense any objections she stuffs her face back in between your legs and gives your cunt another sniff, almost like your scent was the air that she needed to breathe.

soon after ellie slyly slips her tongue out off her mouth to begin to lap at your cunt which was still covered with your panties. in response you whine softly at the feeling and tug harder against her hair which makes her moan. “stop teasing ellie and do it properly.”

ellie ignores your plea and continues to eat you out through your panties which just make you feel more and more needy. she makes sure to bring up a finger to press against your covered cllit and continue to lick your dripping hole.

“ellie!” you cry out even louder.

at your second request ellie finally decides to comply and gradually tugs your panties down with her teeth.

without wasting another second she latches onto your clit and moans loudly at the taste, providing even more stimulation. due to the fact that she had been playing with you over your panties now everything felt ten times more intense.

your moans increasing volume as ellie grips at your thighs tighter and pushes her own head further into your pussy to keep eating. she was eating you out like a woman starved and wasn’t loosing any steam.

some subtle movements catch your eye and you let out a groan when you see that ellie is grinding against the covers just from your taste.

ellie briefly takes her mouth off of your clit to spit on it before immediately stuffing her face back in. your eyes roll back into your head at just how filthy the whole thing was and you start to feel your orgasm approaching.

you start chanting ellie’s name like a prayer which makes her realize that you’re being close. once she notices she doubles down on her actions and starts sucking at your clit even harder.

“oh my f-fucking god ellie gonna make me cum so h-hard baby.” you’re barely able to get out in between moans and gasps.

you feel ellie smile against you pussy, when ellie lightly brushes her teeth against your clit you see white and immediately feel yourself fall over the edge.

a scream rips from your throat at the pure intensity of the orgasm and your thighs lock around ellie’s head in response.

your vision slowly starts to come back and you whine in overstimulation when you feel ellie still lapping at the cum that was slowly dripping out of your hole.

“enough ellie.” you weakly push at the auburn girls head to release yourself from her mouth.

ellie give your now twitching and swollen clit a kiss before finally removing her head from in between your thighs.

once ellie is up she temporarily leaves the room to grab you a cold wet washcloth and water bottle. after she come backs she very gently cleans you up and opens the water bottle up from you so that you can access it when you’re ready.

“holy shit ellie that was a lot.” you sigh into your girlfriends chest blissfully. “i can’t even remember how we got here.”

“cause you wanted to know what i meant by natural scent duh.” ellie jokingly rolls her eyes while rubbing soft circles on your back.

“yeah yeah i totally get it now you’re a freak who like it when im sweaty and sniffing my pus pus.” you laugh at your own statement.

ellie groans at your words and tries to further explain yourself. “that’s use when and where you smell the most authentically you it’s comforting.”

you smile at her soft words and squeeze her into a tight hug.

“i’m just joking silly i know what you mean and i think it’s adorable.”

ellie smiles at your response and nuzzles her head into your hair.

“you’re still going shopping with me to get a new perfume though.”

ellie cries out dramatically and then proceeds to beg you not to force her to go through that nostril prison again.

a/n: idk yall im kind of actually proud of this one i feel pretty good about it and didn’t cringe that much reading over it. watched a lot of lesbian movies today maybe that helped. i was also listening to really freaky music so that also assisted me. i really wish tumblr had an autosave feature i deleted half of this and had to rewrite it but whatevs. anyways i hope you guys enjoyed love yall!!

[synthetickitsune]

Full Stomach, Full Heart ✧ w.jh

Pairing: Wen Junhui x reader (gn) Genre: angst, hints of comfort Summary: What was the last thing you ate, actually? Yet better question would be when was the last time you ate a full, nutritious meal. You don’t think you can remember though. And you know Jun will hate to hear it. Word count: 2.2k Warnings: food struggles, mentions of reader not eating properly

You feel something’s wrong within the first hour after waking up. Deeply wrong, but you’re equally deep in denial, so you write it off as a side effect of getting up too early and immediately scrolling on your phone, so you go back to sleep. When you wake up again, you’re not really sure you slept at all. Somehow, though, the time has passed too quickly for you to just be spacing out in bed. You need to get up. 

The feeling is still there, a weight on your chest and your mind feels like it’s clouded by a thick fog. Your bones feel heavy. Just standing feels uncomfortable and draining. You get some water and crawl back into bed. A text from your boyfriend is waiting for you, wishing you a good morning and asking if you’ve eaten yet. Your stomach churns at the idea of eating, so you ignore the text in favor of more sleep. 

Only sleep just won’t come. Not for long anyway. It’s all brief flashes of unconsciousness that leave you disoriented and tired once you wake up. Switching between unsuccessful attempts of napping and mindless scrolling on your phone, with some spacing out on the side, time passes. You try to make yourself get up again and do something, try to guilt yourself into being productive, all without result. Nothing works, nothing feels right.

You can’t tell what’s wrong exactly, but somehow it feels like everything is. It makes you upset, most of all with yourself. There is nothing that needs to get done, however you can come up with a list of a hundred things that you could get done if only you dragged yourself out of bed. There’s no reason you should be like this, you tell yourself. It is what it is, you tell yourself next and close your eyes again.

Without your permission, time passes. It slips away from you, then forcefully reminds you of its existence when your phone starts to ring.

It’s Jun.

“Hey,” you whisper. You hope he heard over the commotion around him. Suddenly you realize you really hate people today. Staying in bed seems even more appealing. Nobody is going to bother you here.

“Are you alright?” Jun cuts straight to chase. His voice is kind but laced with worry. “You never responded to my text.”

Oh. Shit.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess I am,” you hesitate a little, “Just don’t feel too good.”

You can see the frown on his face when you close your eyes and focus on the brief pause. The background noise, the voices, get distant and quiet. Somewhere on the other end of the line, a door clicks shut.

“‘Not good’ as in…?” he asks and you sigh. Worrying your lip between your teeth, you regret being honest in the first place. Just a little. But then again if you haven’t told him, he’d drive himself crazy with worry and that’s the last thing he needs during practice.

“I just don’t feel much of anything,” you admit, “I’m just really tired. I don’t want to do anything, don’t wanna talk to anyone.”

He hums in sympathy. It makes something warm flicker in your chest. You can imagine the hug he’d give you if he was here - enveloping, like the world doesn’t exist, his hand cradling your head, the other on the small of your back pulling you close with just the perfect amount of force. He’d hold you until something made him let go, and then still kiss you and promise to be right back.

“I’m sorry I called,” he whispers, “I just got worried.”

“No, I don’t mind you,” you reassure him even as every word drains more energy out of your already exhausted body, “You don’t count.”

“Why thank you,” you hear the smile in his voice. It’s natural for you to smile as well without thinking, if only you had the energy too. Regret wells up in your chest, even though Jun won’t know about this little turmoil. “Have you eaten?”

Your heart pauses for a beat. The answer is clear, but what was the last thing you ate, actually? Probably just instant noodles or something like that. Better question would be when was the last time you ate a full, nutritious meal. You don’t think you can remember though. And you know Jun will hate to hear it.

“...no,” you admit quietly. You curl under the blanket. He might get disappointed and worried but he won’t yell at you, you know that, yet it still feels uncomfortable. The silence drags on and leaves you suspended in anxiety. You beg him to talk inside your head, to say anything - to snap at you, anything will do. Just not the silence.

“y/n, it’s so late…” he says and you know he’s not scolding you, that he’s as gentle as he can be, but it still sounds like you’re getting scolded.

“I know,” you murmur, “I’m not hungry though.”

It’s an understatement. The idea of eating itself makes your stomach churn. And maybe it’s hunger in disguise, maybe. Most likely. You know you should eat. Food feels repulsive, though.

“You need to eat,” he insists, quietly, still gentle. You can hear the change in his voice when he adds: “I’ve been busy a lot, huh?”

“Jun…” you shake your head, “It’s not your fault. I need to take care of myself.”

“I want to be there for you when you’re not feeling well,” there’s a moment where his voice gets higher. You can imagine the lightbulb appearing above his head and it makes you slightly concerned. “I’m gonna help.”

“Wait, no-”

“Shh, no arguing,” he shushes you. You can hear his voice get more distant. “I’ll order you some food. A lot of it. So you can choose.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna see anyone. Please. I promise I’ll eat later, just not now,” you try to change his mind. It’s pointless, you’re well aware that Jun is the most stubborn when your wellbeing is concerned. The silence on the other end of the line, occasionally broken by tapping noises as your boyfriend’s fingers dance across the screen, tells you resistance is hopeless. Still you try.

“I don’t want to go anywhere to pick up the food. I won’t even go downstairs,” you warn him,

“I won’t pick up the phone if anyone calls. I won’t talk to anyone,” you sulk.

“Jun, please forget about it-”

“Will you cook?” he interrupts you, a slight edge to his voice. You shrivel under the blanket.

“No but-”

“Are there any leftovers you can heat up?”

“No, Jun-”

“Don’t ‘no Jun’ me,” he sighs, “I’m gonna figure this out, okay? Don’t worry.”

Before you can ask for an explanation, beg him to let it go, anything, he hangs up. You groan and pull at your hair. It’s pointless to argue with Jun, however, and although you’re frustrated you know you can trust him. So you return to numbly lying on bed.

It’s some time later that you’re woken up - from sleep or daydreaming, you have no idea - by a text. You frown and pick up the phone, already annoyed. Who dares to bother you now?

Joshua: hey i’m downstairs so don’t get creeped out when i come in with the food

Joshua: if you're awake

Joshua: if not - sorry! ><

…what?

You don’t have much time to process what’s happening before you hear the code being put in and the doors opening. You’re tempted to pretend you’re not home but also what the fuck is he doing here? Taking a quick look at Jun’s messy hoodie and sweats you’re wearing, you ultimately decide that it’s not your fault Joshua’s going to see you like this. He came in uninvited. So much for not talking to anyone. You get up and groggily walk out of the room and look for the intruder.

You find him in the kitchen… putting food containers on the table?

“Hey,” he greets you softly with a friendly smile without pausing his actions.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, confusion written all over your face. Your arms are wrapped around your body protectively. Joshua doesn’t even look at you as he meticulously takes everything out of the bag.

“That’s my line. You should be in bed” he chuckles. Finally he looks up and upon seeing you don’t get the situation at all, he shakes his head with a small laugh.

“Jun said you’re not feeling well,” he explains, “So he asked if anyone could bring you food while you rest. Are you okay to eat now or should I put it in the fridge?”

You stop yourself from screaming aloud. And sighing. And hitting your head against the wall.

“Thank you,” you say instead, “It really wasn’t necessary.”

“No problem,” Joshua smiles at you again, “So?”

“I’ll eat in a bit,” you decide, relaxing slightly. You don’t feel like eating if you’re being honest but you also think the nausea starting to kick in is caused by hunger at this point. You should make yourself eat. Somehow.

“Okay. Do you need anything else? Medicine, dessert?” he jokes and you roll your eyes at him even though the target should really be Junhui.  

“I’m fine, thank you,” you try to smile at him despite your irritated mood. You make a mental note to thank Joshua again and apologize later because he leaves as quickly as he came. You should also talk to your boyfriend about using his friends as couriers.

Speaking of which…

Your phone rings again the moment you sit down and angrily stab the utensil into the closest container. You really can’t be bothered to use dishes that you’d have to wash later.

You accept the call and put your boyfriend on speaker.

“Hi… Joshua texted me he dropped off the food?” Jun sounds timid, careful almost.

“Yeah, he did,” you play with the food without raising any to your lips, “I hope you paid him.”

“No, but I owe him one,” he chuckles, still tense, “You know how he is.”

You hum. You do. But that still doesn’t mean your boyfriend should take advantage of his friend’s kindness to bring you food when he’s too busy. It’s not like any of them ever have too much time on their hands to be doing this.

“I… I just thought it would be okay this way,” his voice softens, “That you could avoid social interaction but still get the food delivered. I told Shua to leave you alone.”

You hum again. Not that you mind talking to Jun, he’s always the only exception, but you’re tired. And hungry, yet the idea of picking up the food, chewing, swallowing just seems so exhausting.

“I’m sorry,” Jun’s voice drops into a whisper, “But you need to eat.”

“I know,” you murmur, “And thank you. It’s just I really don’t feel like it even though I’m so hungry right now.”

It’s quiet on the other side for a moment, and then you hear him talking away from the phone - asking Soonyoung for a short break. You can’t hear what the response is but the next thing you hear is the door closing and Jun’s fast steps.

“What happened?” you ask, smiling a little as you imagine your boyfriend speeding through the corridors.

“I’ll facetime you in a bit, yeah? We can eat together,” his voice is full of determination and confidence that you don’t share.

“You’re going to eat in the middle of practice?” your eyebrow raises on its own.

“...Yes.”

There’s another slight pause.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Sure,” you chuckle. You still haven’t found the will to take a bite. Sharing a meal with Jun sounds nice, though. It’s highly unlikely it’s actually going to help with the predicament you’re in but the idea really is nice.

“You don’t have to eat much, I won’t either,” he coaxes you softly. You hear more doors opening and closing. Then something that sounds like a fridge and him rummaging around. “Just eat something, yeah?”

“I’ll try,” you promise.

“I’ll turn on the camera now,” Jun warns while he, at least judging by the sound, puts the food in the microwave. 

You just admire his pretty face while he waits for the food to warm up and try to push down the nausea. It’s hunger, it must be. But it does nothing to help you feel like eating. Your boyfriend yaps on about his day so far, about the practice, whines a little about how hard the new choreo is. It’s soothing, comforting. Ultimately, though, it doesn’t help much.

New wave of guilt washes over you when he sits down with his food and looks at you hopefully. You need to eat. You really need to. If for no other reason, then at least so that he doesn’t worry and can fully focus on the practice.

Finally you force your hands to move, your lips to open and your jaws to chew the first bite. Jun’s bright smile feels much better than the food you swallow.

“There we go,” he whispers to himself, trying to bite back the smile as he digs into his own lunch. You hear it anyway.

You smile a little too as you fight against your head to share a meal with him.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

ANGST ❦

The cemetery is quiet. Way too quiet for SAM MONROE's liking.

It was the kind of silence that pressed against your chest, made your ribs feel too tight, made your breath feel shallow, making it stop right in your lungs, choking you with every memory, every little feeling of sadness you'd feel.

Sam walked with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, cigarette dangling from his lips. After the death of one particular person, his addiction to any drug came back like a jojo. Cigarettes, pills, cigarettes, weed. He took a long drag, letting the smoke burn his throat, curl around his lungs, press harder into his ribs, suffocating him in. Yet, It didn't help to stop the upcoming tears or the shattering feeling of pure, deep sadness

Nothing really did help to overcome that feeling

It was cold that day. The grass crunched under his boots. He knew everything he needed by heart now—third row, second stone on the left. His feet carried him there without thought.

And then he’s standing in front of it.

Vincent Monroe, it writes in dark black front

But for Sam its just Vinnie.

His lil dude. Little ray of sunshine

Sam swallowed hard, shifting on his feet. He should say something. He always does.

"Hey, buddy." voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. He rolled his eyes at himself before he cleared his throat, forcing a chuckle. "I, uh… I brought you something..again"

He kneeled down, reaching into his pocket. Another toy car. Bright blue. Vinnie’s favorite color.

"Thought you might get bored up there with only one toy" he muttered, placing it gently against the headstone. Like Vinnie’s gonna pick it up and start rolling it around like he used to.

His fingers linger on the stone. Cold. Solid. Too final.

He furrowed his brows at the light moss creeping up on the stone. Cursing at himself for not cleaning it earlier, he made sure to get it clean again

Then, he leaned back on his heels and took another drag from his cigarette. Exhaled slow. His hands are trembling, holding the half-used cigarette

"Y’know, I, uh… I tried makin’ your milk the other night." He let out a breathy laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Did it the exact same way I used to. Stood there, waitin’ for you to waddle in and yell at me ‘cause it wasn’t fast enough."

His chest tightened after the last sentence sank in. He blinked up at the sky, trying to push down the already forming lump in his throat.

"Felt so fuckin’ stupid, man." He shook his head, voice cracking. "Just standin’ there, holdin’ the cup like an idiot, like—like maybe you’d just pop outta nowhere and laugh at me or somethin’."

He sniffed, dragging a hand down his face once more, trying to hide his emotions from people passing nearby

"You didn’t, though." He muttered after making sure he was alone once more

His gaze dropped to the headstone again. His lips pressed together. Damn. He stubbed his cigarette out in the dirt.

"I don’t—I don’t know how to do this, Vin." The confession comes out broken, barely there. His shoulders shake, vision blurs. He blinks rapidly, grinding his teeth together. He can’t. He can’t cry. Not here. Not again. Not when people could watch

His fingers clenched into fists. His jaw tightened.

"They keep tellin’ me to let go," he muttered "To move on. Like you were some fuckin’ phase I’d grow outta." His breath stuttered "Like you weren’t the best thing that ever happened to me."

His hands run through his hair, tugging at the strands, like maybe the pain will keep him from breaking completely.

"I dunno if I can do this, buddy." voice is small, tear falls down on the ground. "I don’t—fuck, man, I don’t know how to be here without you."

The wind picked up. It rushed through the trees, rattled the leaves, whispered through the grass, danced with people's scarfs

Sam closed his eyes. Pretends it’s him.

Pretends it’s tiny fingers tugging at his hoodie. Pretends it’s a little voice calling for him, giggling, being completely alive.

His breath shudders out. His head bows forward.

And for the first time since Vinnie died, Sam prays

Not for himself.

For Vinnie.

For wherever he is. For him to not be alone. For him to be taken care of, by whatever higher power exists. For him to be safe, warm, happy—even if Sam never will be again.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy-deactivated20250 @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden

[shysuccubusstuff]

day 25: Hate fucking + Deepthroat + Agoraphilia + Dacryphilia + Gaming + Degradation + (slight) Mindbreak + (slight) DubCon? - Streamer! Kinich

Summary: The streamer company you work for decided to throw a huge party in order to congratulate the great revenue of this year, inviting only the greatest. That included you, as well as that mysterious streamer called Pixel Dragon.

Content: Kinich has this kind of alter ego (Ajaw's personality) when he streams, that is the reason why he's extra mean!! + Non proof-reader, as always.

Word count: 4,5K

Note: I've been trying to end this for so many days but I always ended up burning out so it took me so much time... I didn't even realise that I had written 4K words... Sorry for taking so long, I hope all of you enjoyed this little Kinktober!! I'm already working on some other stuff for different fandoms ♡♡ Stay tuned!

It was November, finally the time in which the great parties for streamers took place. You had been invited, of course, after all, you had been able to remain the top creator during over five months, tightly followed by that gaming streamer, PixelDragon.

The name was a bit cringy, but he had been able to quickly rise to the high rankings thanks to his great skills on many of the different games he had tried, ranging from FPS to soul-like games.

When you finally arrived, you were greeted by the smiling sponsors, taking your hand and guiding you to the darkened room, the place being lightened by the dim red lights. You took a sit close to a masked man, the man moved to the side, allowing you to sit close to him while he checked his phone. You were barely able to imagine the face underneath, his lips shinning under the red lights.

“Are you going to drill my face the whole evening?” The man kept his gaze fixated on his screen, his fingers scrolling down mindlessly.

“How did you even---? Sorry, I was just curious about what you truly looked like under the mask.”

“Well, you are not definitely getting any glimpse if you keep it like this.” He turned off his phone, putting it on his pocket and looking into your eyes, his green orbs glistening as the spotlight moved towards where you were. Outraged, you decided to get up, rapidly taking your stuff before fleeting the scene.

By the time you were back to your usual self, the party had already reached its’ highest peak, with the music booming all over the place and the floor feeling sticky form all the drinks that had been spilled. You threw yourself against one of the many sofas that were laying around the place, suddenly hitting your head against something extremely hard. You turned around annoyed, only to find a red-faced man, his hazed green eyes shinning under the red lights of the club. “Are you ok?” Your words were a bit dragged, your whole mouth feeling a bit funny as you tried to talk as normal. “Do you hear me?” You screamed to his hear, perhaps he wasn’t answering because of the loud music. The man moved to the side, his face looking slightly annoyed.

“I can hear you perfectly, no need to scream.” He furrowed his eyebrows, moving a few strands of hair that were bothering him.

“Who are you? I didn’t see you before during the dinner.” You took out your phone, scanning through the many names of people that had been invited to the party. “I suppose you’re not the one called PixelDragon, am I right? God, that dude seems like such a prick, he’s always flexing about his skills during the collabs, even when we are supposed to be friendly about them, plus, he has been keeping his identity hidden even to his own workmates, I get that he wants to avoid leaks, but it’s not like the rest of us would be such losers, even I, who kind of hates his guts wouldn’t do something so fucking low. He always acts as if he’s far too good for the rest of us and it gets me so pissed off, though, I do have to say that he does have some good points, like his great abilities, or his deep voice, and yeah, his hands may look kind of sexy while smashing the buttons but that’s all, you know?” The alcohol was definitely getting the best of you, as you wouldn’t be able to stop your yapping even if you tried. “Are you listening to me, mister?”

“Yeah, I am. I hate to say it, but this might be a skill issue, like straight up.” The man laughed out-loud, his hand moving a few strands of his hair out of his face.

“Nice one, jackass, real funny. Anyways, how come I missed such a hot dude in the diner? You were def one of the masked ones, right? Promise I won’t leak anything, not like it would benefit me, you know?” You laid your head on one of his shoulders, turning around so you could touch the small part of his chest that was exposed because of his unbuttoned shirt. “Are you trynna get someone to accompany you tonight? You will def get a good one with me, handsome…” You smiled, enjoying how he started to react to your touch.

“You sure get comfortable with some random man, what if I’m some weird sicko that is planning on kidnapping you?” His right hand moved towards your hip, caressing it as his gaze started to darken.

“Then you wouldn’t be here, this place is exclusive for those working for our company, it’s ok, I can find some other dude, don’t wanna pressure you or anything, let’s see each other later, yeah? Next time you should tell me the name of your channel, we could make a collab or something!” You got up, leaving him with his words still in his mouth.

By the time you finally opened your eyes again, you were being taken by the arms of some random man, you quickly struggled, trying to get him to let you go, “Hey, don’t know who the fuck are you, but you’re def not someone I---”, the man put his hand on your mouth, turning on the flashlight on his phone so you could see his face, it was the hot dude at the party.

“Sorry, I saw some weird due trying to take you home, I know I can also be considered a weirdo, but hey, at least we talked, I guess, let me take you to your room, I won’t try anything weird, ok?” Your body relaxed, allowing him to carry your limp body to his room, finally allowing you to lay down on his king size bed.

“Thanks, hot stuff, promise I will compensate you tomorrow…” Just as you were about to drift to sleep, a known voice resonated from the man’s phone, it was that damn PixelDragon. Annoyed, you quickly got up, the nauseas getting to you, forcing you to stop for a second before speaking.

“Why are you listening to that jackass? He thinks he is some kind of big shot just cause the president started to pay more attention to him than to those who have been more time in the company. He may have nice hands and all, together with a real hot voice, but that is all that he has, he ain’t even that good, I mean---”

“You talk too much about him for you to simply hate him, aren’t you like lowkey wishing you knew how he looked? All your yapping about how he isn’t that huge of a streamer makes you seem even more of a fan than those crazy ones that send him his panties and stuff. Bet you want him to finger you with his slender fingers real bad, uh?” Your face flushed, feeling your head even more warm than before.

“You’re def projecting, I don’t want to fuck him or anything like that, why would I want that asshole’s fingers inside me—”

“Oh yeah? Then you will have no issue with that same asshole touching your whole body, uh? I’m sure that you have already imagined it so many fucking times. Tell me, are you really that naïve that you didn’t think eve for a moment that the man with the dragon-like mask was actually PixelDragon? It’s not like the mask that the president gave me was that mysterious, but I suppose that you can’t expect nothing great from an airhead like you, right?” The guy smiled as he started to change his clothes, leaving his jacket, gloves, and his necktie on top of the small desk that was within the room. “How about we do that collab that you wanted so much? Bet you would love to gain some more attention from my viewers, right? I can do a special live, just for you, what do you think?” You stopped for a moment, I mean, you were actually just a masked youtuber, and you were only focused on mature audiences, so, there should be no issue, right? You could probably use the mask he had used during the party. You nodded, crawling out of the bed and getting closer to the setup that he had already built for the duration of the event. “Oh, I forgot, can you plug in the cable under the table? I forgot to do it, but I have to keep on preparing the stream.” Once again, you were simply able to nod, getting on all fours and going under the table.

“Hey, there’s no plug missing or something like that, are you sure---?” You covered your mouth as soon as you heard the sound that marked the beginning of the live. You hit his leg, trying to remind him that you were still under the table, he lowered his gaze, trying to avoid making it much obvious. He smiled wickedly, moving one of his hands towards his trousers, carefully pulling down the zipper of his pants together with his underwear, the tip of his cock being left dangerously close to your mouth.

“So, yeah, we had a small gathering for the company, not that important, now it’s time to finally get back to what truly matters, am I right?” He read some of the comments that were already pilling up, answering with snarky comments to some, while he simply laughed to others. How was he even able to act as if he wasn’t with his cock out? A wicked idea crossed your mind, you could suddenly get out of there, making sure that the viewers were able to see you run out of frame, thus stealing his spotlight even further. That sounded like a great idea, of course, that changed until you realised that this little plan would lead to the boss yelling to both of you. Just as you were about to try and get out, his legs trapped you, causing you to end up almost hitting your face against the raging erection. “Oh guys, wait a sec, I gotta check that everything is in order.” He stopped the live for a second, making sure to disconnect the camera and mic. “Didn’t you want to make a collab?” Your face flushed, you weren’t really sure if it was because of how you felt your blood boiling, or maybe it had much more to do with the fact that his cock looked delicious, his tip flushed with a slight red tint. “If it’s too much for you, you can simply leave, I swear I won’t say anything to no one from the company, not like it would benefit me, right?” He moved to the side, allowing you to leave if you truly wanted to. You were about to do so, but then you realised something. Wasn’t that like admitting defeat against him? He would get the upper hand, making you feel as if you had to be grateful for his “mercy”! Not on your watch, oh no, so you swallowed all the embarrassment that you had been feeling, starting to leave small kisses all over his length. “I supposed so, oh wait, let me help you with a little something.” He got up from his chair, rummaging in his suitcase and then sitting back again, he made a sign for you to turn around, so you did, your ass facing his way. Suddenly, his slender fingers were moving your underwear to the side, a small object being inserted inside your cunt. “There, I hope this can keep my precious slut in place while I work, wait for me.” He waited for you to move back to your place, his eyes filled with a certain sense of superiority.

“Shut up, you’re just making it more difficult for me, keep your mouth shut for a while.” You nagged, trying your best not to stutter as you started to feel the small device starting to move. Just then, you heard how the live started back again.

“I’m back, missed me?” He went back to reading the comments with a playful smile. “Oh, shut up, not like I spent more than a few minutes. K, now let’s try to see who will be able to join the game….” He waited for a few minutes until the results of the online roulette popped up. “Well, congrats, I’ll send you the link to the VC, hope you all are ready.” You listened to him; it was quite impressive how he was able to keep his voice stable despite having your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. “Dude, it must be real sad to see me play almost everyday and most of you are still hard-stucks, sucks to be you, uh?” His snarky comment caused the viewers to get wild, some were praising his skills, while others had gotten truly angered by his remarks, the sound of the flow of comments filled the room. You were just about to smirk at how even his own fan hated him, but your moment of bliss was suddenly stopped as soon as you started to feel how the small vibrator had suddenly moved much more rapidly than before. You clenched the fabric of his shirt, glaring at his extremely satisfied grin. “Anyways, get ready for it, promise me not to cry in the chat, I don’t want my mods to get tired from deleting your comments.” As the game started, you could perfectly hear how he was clearly cleaning the floor with his viewers, this was of course the perfect time to mess him up, right? So you did.

You started to move your tongue, slowly licking on his tip, while sometimes wrapping it over his length, making sure to let out a few noises in case that would actually rile him up, your eyes completely fixed on his face, not noticing even a single frow. If he wanted to play hard to get, then you would simply raise the stakes. You introduced his tip into your mouth, sucking on it as you used one of your hands to masturbate what was still left outside. It was then when one of his eyebrows furrowed, his lips forming a straight line as he tried to keep his mouth closed as best as he could, you were already celebrating your victory over him when you heard the sound that marked the end of his first victory, your head suddenly being pushed further down.

“GGs, next time send someone who is at least as good as me while playing with a stirring wheel. Let’s for the next game, yeah? No need for a break.” The players were once again chosen at random, quickly preparing the next game as one of his hands kept pushing your head, only releasing it when the game finally started. Your eyes were already watering a bit from the difficulty to breath, so you decided to step your little game even more, starting to take his whole length (or at least as much as you were able to manage without feeling as if you were about to throw up. His face quickly flushed, the grip on the mouse starting to strengthen, his jaw clenching and his eyes starting to darken. Despite his clear reaction to you, he was shameless enough to start to buck his hips, forcing his length further inside your mouth, not stopping even as you hit his lower stomach, trying to get him to either slow down his rhythm, or to simply give you a small break. Sadly, none of the choices were given to you, forcing your poor mouth open, his hand sometimes lowering just to carefully caress your hair.

Once again, you were soon able to hear the chat being flooded by comments after the great crushing he had done to his helpless viewers. “I gotta go now, remember to keep on playing so you all can at least hit me with a single bullet next time. See ya.” He quickly turned off the stream, his hands quickly gripping your hair. “Bet you had fun, uh? Sucking my cock while you heard my chat blowing up, pretty sure you must have been wishing they heard you under my desk sucking my cock. You must be fucking dripping, uh? Show me just how much you’re craving it.” He lend you his hand to get up, your legs almost giving up on you as you tried to stand up, his lean arms stopping you from falling. “Oh, I was sure that you were supposed to hate me, didn’t expect you to be the type to fall head over heels, but I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with someone as hot---” His sentence was cut short as soon as you hit him on the stomach with your elbow.

“What the heck is that attitude? You kept on pushing my head against you, next time I will just bite your fucking dick off, bet that would give you more action that you have ever had.” You wiped down your tears, together with the saliva that had been running down your chin. “Why the heck would you even have something so--.” You stopped before ending the sentence, wondering just what would happen if his ego got even bigger.

“So… what? Finish the sentence.” He playfully touched your hair, his big hands petting you as if you were something precious. The heat was starting to rise to your cheeks, so you hit his hand, your gaze moving towards his temporary set.

“What is the code for this mic, pretty sure it’s one of the most expensive ones, right? Bet you must be blowing up your checks uh?” You got close, tinkering a bit with his stuff, moving all that was lying on top of his desk and looking around in case you were able to find a single tip on how was he able to keep his skills on point,  “Man you’re really—”

“Look, I’ve been trying to just act as if nothing is going on, but come on, you’re so bad at acting it’s almost embarrassing. You always walk around with that huge smile on your lips, shaking your hips as if you were trying as hard as possible for all the people around you to lick you from head to toe… You enjoy the attention, right? It gets you so high to feel as if you are better than the rest. Never had anyone show you where you truly belong, guess it’s my duty to do it then.” He took you by the arm, throwing you to the bed with just enough strength for you not to damage yourself. He quickly got on top of you, his body pressing against you as his hands started to get rid of all your clothes, your blouse and your skirt being thrown to the floor, soon followed by your bra and your underwear. “Since you want to behave like a brat, might as well and treat you like one.” He suddenly kissed you, his kiss being filled with hunger, rather than love or lust, he was planning on eating you whole.

“Come on, you’re just saying that to scare me, right? There’s no need for that, just, just let me go for now, I can, I can talk to the boss, you’re just being like this because you’re trying so hard to scare me, I get it, no need to keep this any further, just---” You put your hands on his chest, trying your best to avoid his eyes as they scanned you up and down.

“Open your mouth.” Your sentence was once again cut off, the room being filled with the sound of his clothes falling to the ground close to yours. He crawled, swiftly making his way to your face, his hardened dick facing you. “Do you expect it to suck itself? Open.” He grabbed his cock with one of his hands, the tip of his cock rubbing against your soft lips. You silently opened your mouth, unable to think about anything smart to say because of the current situation. “That’s right, open wide.” He carefully inserted the tip of his cock in your mouth, a deep breath leaving his mouth from the pleasure. “God, you should really consider becoming my own if you decide to leave the YouTube thing… you have such a pretty face and your body is just perfect, I will treat you as a queen, how about it?” His voice kept resonating inside your head, almost sounding a bit too good to pass on it, well the vibrator that was still inside you was definitely not helping you to stay sane. You sank your nails into the palms of your hands, trying to keep your own mind together while he kept on thrusting your mouth. “Just like that, you’re doing so good for me…” Tears once again swelled your eyes, your nails now digging on his abdomen as you tried to get him to let you rest even if it was or a second. “Oh, it seems you’re still able to put up a fight, let’s just change this then.” He finally let you breath, coughing as you were finally able to breath, this didn’t last much more, as you were suddenly lifted by him, then letting you sit on his lap, both of you facing the big mirror that was hanging on the wall. “You just need to realise what position are you on.” He lifted your body for a moment, taking off the vibrator, slowly inserting himself into you.

“Wait! I need a second to…to adjust, it’s difficult to do this without like, actually preparing.” You let him slowly make his way inside of you, finally bottoming out. “Fuck, just what do you even--- Shit…”

“Guess I was finally able to shut that reckless mouth of you, shouldn’t you thank me?” Of course, he just refused to give you even a single moment of peace, always running his mouth even as you were clearly able to feel his cock throbbing.

“Sure, like your dick isn’t barely holding on, you talk so much shit for someone who is balls deep inside me, I may not be able to kill you in the game, but I’m damn sure I will last much longer than your sorry excuse of a dic—” Your words were cut off as soon as he lifted you abruptly, your air leaving your lungs as his tip hit your cervix.

“You really don’t have any fucking clue about when to keep your mouth shut, uh? Always answering back even when I have the upper hand… Fuck.” His hips kept on bucking against you, not stopping even as the veins on his neck pumped up from his effort of not cumming. “This is no use, fuck…” He got up, not before taking the vibrator that had been inside you, his arms still holding you from under your thigs, walking until you were quite close to the mirror. “Look at your fucking face as I make you cum, yeah? Just fucking watch.” His hips started to move again, the position making it impossible for you to grip at anything in fear of him letting you fall, still, you tried to cover your mouth with both of your hands, denying him the possibility of hearing those sweet moans that were leaving your lips. “Cat got your tongue? You’re surprisingly quiet for someone as chatty as you, let’s see if I can fix that.” The rhythm of his thrusts sped up, forcing your eyes to roll to your skull as your insides got rearranged without you being able to do anything about it. Just as you were about to cry from the overstimulation, he suddenly let you stand on your two feet, well, if not because you almost fell face first to the floor, his hands gripped your hips with strength, his fingertips leaving marks on your skin. He took out the egg vibrator he had used previously, rubbing it a bit around your entrance before carefully inserting it inside you, he then decided to play with you a little by gliding his dick up and down, his tip constantly grinding against your clit. Before you were able to say anything, he entered you at once, the stretch making you squeal as your nails once again dug into his skin.

“Sure…Sure talk a lot of crap when you have still been unable to make me cum even once, your dick is so lame—” …Well, you surely had it coming this time, maybe the previous one as well, and well, maybe more times than just the last ones. But you never learnt, apparently.

“Fucking brat, just learn your position!” His last straw had been lost as soon as he saw on one of her streams you had been non-stop laughing at his supposedly small cock and your lack of bitches. He tightened his grip on your hips even further, lifting you from the floor and slamming his hips against your tender ass, your lips parting as those lewd sounds were once again filling the room.

“St-stop! My mind is turning really weird… Give me a second please!” You once again tried to hit him as an attempt to ease the unyielding rhythm he had established. He lowered one of his hands, suddenly levelling up the small roulette that controlled the vibrations, his fingers then moving on to start rubbing your clit, a degenerated smile appearing on his face as he saw your cunt dripping and some of the juices leaving your poor hole each time he slammed himself against you. Your vision was already starting to blurry a bit by the time you felt as if he was giving you even a tiny break, even the, it didn’t seem to have any plan of stopping, not even as you could faintly hear someone’s voice and hits on the wall from the close-by rooms.

You could clearly tell that he was about to cum, his lips bucking from time to time as he tried to keep that relentless rhythm. Just as you thought he was about to cum, he rapidly pulled out, his sperm staining your cheeks and part of your lower back. “You don’t even deserve my cum inside of you, next time you’ll learn how to keep your mouth shut, brat.” He let you down on top of the bed, walking towards one of the small doors that still concealed the rest of the room. Suddenly, he was back, a warm towel being passed around your whole body, his eyes showing a slight sign of concert. “…Name’s Kinich, I forgot to say it, I’m sorry.” …Was that brat really blushing? Fuck, even you were now flushed because of his teasing… Right?

[dae-chwiita]

Wrecked and found

Pairing : reader x ranchowner!Hongjoong

Summary : One morning, you pick a bag, your car keys and take the road, wanting to get far from the life you've built, needing to get away from your breakup as you can. You come back to reality the moment your car crashes on the side of an unknown road in the middle of nowhere. Thankfully, a cowboy was on a walk right where you are.

Warnings : mention of breakup, being unsatisfied with life, slow burn but also quick time wise? Pure romance and kinda long lol mb

A/N : so the cliche country trope BUT, I really wanted to do it and nobody could have stopped me. Also spent a lot of the fic describing things, really wanting to put an ambiance so if you want solely romance not the best place, especially since its a slow burn oopsi but the romance is good and sweet !NOT PROOFREAD!

---

You didn’t expect your car to break down in the middle of nowhere. Not when you’d been pushing it as hard as you had, the old rental grumbling with every mile. The car wasn’t built for this kind of journey, and truthfully, neither were you. But that didn’t stop you from throwing everything you had—what little of it there was left—into the backseat and leaving the city behind with your whole life still there. It had been an impulse decision, fueled by heartbreak and the suffocating walls of your empty apartment. The breakup wasn’t fresh, but the sting of it hadn’t dulled. You’d spent weeks pacing the same cramped space, surrounded by the detritus of a relationship you didn’t know how to pack away. You’d been desperate to escape, to outrun the memories that clung to you like smoke.

So, one morning, you did.

There was no plan. You’d tossed a duffel bag together with a few essentials—clothes, toiletries, a water bottle, and an old dusty road atlas you found buried in a drawer. You didn’t even pack food, there wasn’t time to think, not with the buzzing anxiety driving you forward. You left your phone charger behind, too, though you wouldn’t realize that until hours later when your battery died somewhere on the open road...You’d driven west, or at least you thought it was west, the sun was your only guide as you fled the city limits and plunged into the countryside. At first, it felt exhilarating—freedom in its rawest form. The highway stretched endlessly before you, flanked by rolling hills and wide, open fields. It was the kind of scenery you’d only ever seen in movies, and for a while, it was enough to distract you from the gnawing ache in your chest. But as the miles piled up, so did the doubts; you hadn’t thought this through. You had no destination, no safety net, the money in your wallet wouldn’t last long and you didn’t even know where you’d sleep tonight. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that you’d figure it out as you went, but as the hours dragged on and the car sputtered ominously beneath you, the weight of your choices pressed down hard. By the time the engine gave out, you’d been driving for what felt like an eternity. The road you were on wasn’t even marked on the atlas, a desolate stretch of cracked pavement cutting through an ocean of dry grass. The sun was a merciless glare overhead, beating down on the hood as you rolled to a stop, the noise of the car breaking almost mocking you. Smoke billowed from the engine, and you cursed under your breath, slamming the steering wheel. You popped the hood, but the sight beneath it offered no answers—just a mess of metal and wires that meant nothing to you.

Great. Just great.

You glanced around, hoping for some sign of civilization, but there was nothing. No houses, no gas stations, not even a distant power line, just the endless expanse of golden fields and the occasional tumbleweed bouncing lazily across the road. The realization hit you all at once: you were stranded. Alone, with no phone, no charger, and no idea where you were. The panic crept in slowly as you came out of your frenzy, tightening your chest and making your hands tremble as you leaned against the now useless car. What now? You didn’t have a backup plan, you didn’t even have a place to go back to ! You’d left everything behind in your frantic need to escape, and now you were paying the price. Every serial killers cases start like this; with a stranded lost young woman in the middle a desolated road. It wasn’t just the breakup that had driven you to this point, it was everything—the job you hated, the friendships that felt hollow, the sense that you were stuck in a life that wasn’t yours. Leaving had felt like the only option, a way to reclaim some control of your own life. But now, standing on the side of the road with the sun beating down on you, all you felt was foolish for leaving your comfort. You didn’t cry, though, you wanted to—you could feel the tears threatening, burning behind your eyes—but you forced them back. Crying wouldn’t help. You had to figure something out.

That’s when you saw him.

He rode up on a chestnut colored horse, the kind of sight you’d expect to see in a movie rather than real life. His dark brown cowboy hat was tilted low, shielding his eyes from yours, but you could feel his gaze on you as he approached. The fringed leather jacket and worn boots covered with dried mud were straight out of a western, yet there was something effortlessly modern about him. He reined his horse to a stop a few feet away, dust kicking up around him, and you swore the sun flared brighter just to frame him perfectly.

“You lost?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

You blinked, trying to process the sheer magnetism of the man in front of you. “Uh, more like broken down.” You gestured to your smoking car with a weak, tired laugh.

His eyes flicked to the vehicle, then back to you. He lifted his nose a little, finally showing you his dark eyes. They were sharp, assessing, but not unkind.

“You’re lucky I came by." He said, titling his head to the side. "Not many folks out here this time of day.”

You tried not to stare as he dismounted with a practiced ease, his boots crunching against the gravel. He was smaller in stature than you expected, given how tall the horse made him look, but he carried himself with an air of authority that made him seem larger than moutains. His hair, a deep dark brown, peeked out from beneath his hat, and his sun-kissed skin glowed in the harsh light.

“I’m Hongjoong,” he said, offering a gloved hand. “I own the ranch just a mile up the road. Let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”

You smiled, relaxing your shoulders. "Thank you, really."

---

You didn’t expect to end up at his ranch, but Hongjoong had insisted your car wouldn’t make it anywhere until morning so it came naturally to offer you to stay at his ranch until then. His property was sprawling, acres upon acres of open land dotted with grazing cattle, a barn that looked as old as time and a modest but charming farmhouse perched on a hill. The air smelled of hay and sun-warmed earth, and the sound of horses and cows nickering greeted you as he led you past the stables. He explained, in his calm and deliberate way, that he’d call the local mechanic in town first thing tomorrow. For now, you were his guest. You felt out of place among the rugged charm of the ranch, your then white city-worn sneakers kicking up dust as you trailed behind him. But Hongjoong? He moved like he belonged here, like he was part of the land itself. He guided you across every corner of his land, and you were struck by how expansive it truly was. What you thought might take an hour stretched into the better part of the afternoon, but you didn’t mind. With every turn, Hongjoong revealed something new: a crystal-clear creek winding its way through a cluster of trees, the wildflowers that painted the meadows in vibrant swathes, and the rolling hills that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon. You followed him without question, each new sight leaving you in quiet awe. There was a serenity here that you’d never felt before, it felt almost surreal, as if your car breaking down had been less an accident and more a deliberate push into some kind of hidden paradise. That feeling lingered even as the sun began its slow descent, casting the ranch in warm golden light. When Hongjoong finally led you back to the house, you felt a pang of reluctance, as though you weren’t quite ready to leave the perfection of the outdoors behind. Inside, he insisted you sit at the modest dining table while he prepared dinner. The smell of sizzling meat and fresh vegetables soon filled the air, making your stomach growl in anticipation. You sat at the table, chin resting on your hand as you watched him move around the kitchen. His movements were fluid and precise, like he belonged in this space as much as he did out on the ranch. The way his fingers worked deftly to chop vegetables, the soft hum of concentration in his throat, the quiet clink of utensils against the pan—it all felt oddly intimate. The golden light from the setting sun streamed through the window, catching the sharp line of his jaw and the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, his forearms, now visible since he took his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves, flexing with every movement. He looked almost unreal, like he’d stepped out of a dream, and yet here he was, cooking for you with such easy kindness as if he knew you for months. Your chest tightened at the thought; how could someone so effortlessly handsome, so gentle and kind, be real?

When he set the plate before you, the first bite was enough to make you pause. The flavors were rich and vibrant, the kind of freshness you’d only ever heard about but never tasted.

“This is amazing!” you murmured between bites, your voice thick with genuine appreciation.

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched you eat.

“Glad you like it.” he said simply, his tone carrying just a hint of pride.

You didn’t notice the way his gaze lingered on you—how he seemed amused and charmed by the soft sighs of satisfaction that escaped you as you worked through the meal. For you, everything about the moment felt perfect, from the taste and smell of the food to the warmth of his quiet company. When dinner was done, he led you to the room you’d be staying in for the night. The cozy space was simple but welcoming, with soft lamplight illuminating the carefully made bed. Your bag was already there, placed neatly by the door.

“You’ll be comfortable here.” Hongjoong said, his voice low but warm. "It's been long since someone slept in here tho, might be dusty."

"It's ok, really." You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Thank you. For everything.”

He dipped his head slightly in response, hiding his face with the front of his hat, before stepping back, his presence leaving a quiet stillness in the room. As soon as you lay on the bed, a deep, contented sigh escaped your lips. Your eyelids grew heavy almost immediately, and before you could even process the day, exhaustion took hold. You drifted off to sleep, the last thing on your mind being the image of the man who had turned what should have been a disaster into something extraordinary.

---

You woke up to the sound of birdsong and the faint, rhythmic clinking of metal tools outside the guest room window. The bed beneath you was firm but comfortable, a far cry from the lumpy motel mattress you’d imagined you’d end up on when you’d left the city. The room was simple, with whitewashed walls and wooden furniture that seemed lovingly handcrafted. The window framed a picturesque view of the ranch, with golden fields stretching as far as the eye could see. You got up as you rubbed your eyesn walking towards the window to investigate what was making such a noise. You spotted Hongjoong by the barn, his figure silhouetted against the morning sun as he hoisted a bale of hay with an ease that made you wonder just how strong he really was. You didn’t feel right about staying here and doing nothing, he’d already done more than enough, taking in a complete stranger without hesitation. The least you could do was help. You quickly took the change of clothes neatly put on the desk, getting out of yesterday's clothes before heading out of the room. When you made your way to the barn, the fresh air of nature caressing you as gently as the sun while he glanced up, his sharp eyes softening slightly when they landed on you.

“Mornin'.” he said, wiping a gloved hand across his brow. His voice was rough from sleep, but it held a warmth that made your stomach flutter.

“Morning!” you replied, fidgeting with the hem of your borrowed button up shirt—one of his, which hung loose on your frame.

Hongjoong cleared his throat softly.

“I talked to the mechanic in town,” he said, his voice steady but careful, as if gauging your reaction. “Your car will be ready in a few days.”

You nodded slowly, the words settling over you like a weight. A few days. That was all the time you had left here.

“Thank you.” you murmured, your voice quieter than you intended.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his eyes unreadable under the shadow of his hat. “Don’t mention it.”

You sighed, looking around before looking at him again, closing an eye to shield it from the rising sun.

“Need any help?” You asked, smiling warmly.

"Help?" Hongjoong arched a brow, clearly skeptical. "With what?"

You gestured to the bales of hay stacked neatly behind him.

“Anything. I feel bad just sitting around while you’re doing all the work.”

His lips quirked into a lopsided smile, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You don’t have to do anything. You’re a guest.”

“Then let me earn my stay.” you insisted, crossing your arms. “I’m tougher than I look, you know.”

"“Alrigh", city girl." He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Let’s see what you’ve got."

You regretted your bravado almost immediately.

Hongjoong handed you a pitchfork and showed you how to spread fresh hay in the stalls. It seemed simple enough, but after the third stall, your arms were already aching. Sweat trickled down your back, and your sneakers—already caked in dust from yesterday—slipped on the uneven barn floor. Hongjoong didn’t say much, but you caught him watching you out of the corner of your eye, his expression unreadable.

“Am I doing this right?” you asked, pausing to wipe your forehead, anxious about his staring.

He stepped closer, his boots crunching against the hay. Without a word, he took the pitchfork from your hands, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment.

“Like this.” he said, demonstrating the proper technique. His movements were fluid, precise.

Then, to your surprise, he stepped behind you, guiding your hands back to the pitchfork. His chest was close enough that you could feel the faint heat radiating off him, his voice right at your ear.

“Keep your grip firm,” he murmured, his warm calloused hands adjusting yours gently.

Your breath hitched, the proximity sending your thoughts into a whirlwind. You could barely focus on his instructions, the closeness of him sparking something unfamiliar in your chest—a nervous flutter mixed with a warmth you hadn’t felt in ages.

“See?” he said, his tone soft as his hands lingered just a moment longer before stepping back. “Not so hard, right?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, your voice lost somewhere in the haze of nerves and something undeniably new. It took a few tries, and a lot of calming your heart, but you eventually found a rhythm.

“Not bad...” he said, leaning against the stall door. “For a beginner.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Thanks, I think.”

By midday, you were exhausted but strangely satisfied. Hongjoong had taken over the heavier tasks, like lifting the hay bales, but he let you help with feeding the horses and mucking out the stalls.

“You didn’t have to do all this.” he said as the two of you sat on the porch steps, sipping glasses of cold water he’d brought out.

“I wanted to!” you replied, staring out at the fields. “It feels good to actually… do something.”

He glanced at you, his expression softening. “You did good today.”

The compliment warmed you more than the sun ever could.

---

The second day began much the same as the first, but this time, you were ready.

You joined Hongjoong outside with the same button up he landed you the day before just as he was saddling up one of the horses, a sleek orange like mare he introduced as Grami. She was a beautiful creature, her coat shimmering in the early morning light.

“You’re up early.” he remarked, adjusting the saddle.

“I figured I’d save you the trouble of convincing me to help again.” you teased, earning a small chuckle from him.

“Fair enough. Think you’re ready to meet the rest of the ranch?”

You blinked. “There’s more?”

"A lot more." He nodded, leading Grami out of the stable. "The cattle are grazing out in the north pasture. Thought I’d check on them today. You’re welcome to tag along."

“On foot?” you asked, eyeing the distance he gestured toward.

"On horseback." he corrected, giving you a knowing look. "We’ll take Grami."

You blinked. “Both of us? On the same horse?”

He shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Unless you want to walk.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the playful glint in his gaze made it impossible to argue.

“Fine.” you muttered, trying to ignore the way your heart thudded at the thought of being so close to him.

Hongjoong swung up into the saddle first, moving with a practiced ease that made you momentarily envious.

“Come on city girl.” he said, reaching a gloved hand down to you.

You hesitated for only a second before placing your hand in his. His grip was firm and steady, effortlessly pulling you up behind him.

“Hold on.” he said, glancing over his shoulder at you.

You swallowed hard and wrapped your arms around his suprisingly tiny waist, your fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt. You felt the warmth of his back pressed against you as you tried to focus on anything else—the soft sway of Grami’s movement beneath you, the sound of the horse’s hooves on the dirt path, the gentle rustling of the wind in the grass, the faint sound of water flowing far away. The ride to the north pasture felt like it stretched on forever, but you didn’t mind. Hongjoong’s presence was steady and grounding, even as your thoughts kept drifting to the closeness of him and his comforting warmth.

“You alright back there?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence.

“Yeah!” you said quickly, hoping he couldn’t hear the slight tremor in your voice as you got out of your daze.

Grami carried you both through a sunlit meadow, the scent of wildflowers hanging heavy in the air. The moment felt oddly intimate, and for a brief second, you let yourself relax against him, your cheek almost brushing his shoulder. When you reached the pasture, Hongjoong dismounted first and turned to help you down. His hands found your waist as he guided you to the ground, the touch brief but enough to leave your skin tingling.

“Thanks...” you murmured, avoiding his gaze as you smoothed your shirt.

The rest of the day unfolded much like the first, with Hongjoong showing you how to check the fences and tend to the cattle. He was patient as always, his quiet explanations punctuated by moments of comfortable silence.

---

By the time you returned to the farmhouse, the sun was dipping low in the sky, painting the horizon in fiery shades of orange and pink. As you sat down to dinner, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him across the table, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the kitchen light. There was something about him—his quiet confidence, his kindness, the way he carried the weight of the ranch without complaint—that made it hard to look away. You felt a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the food or the cozy farmhouse and as you lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly where you were meant to be.

This place, this man… it was starting to feel like something you didn’t want to leave behind.

---

The days passed in a blur.

One day turned into two, then three, as the mechanic faced delay after delay. You couldn’t be upset, though, not when Hongjoong was… well, Hongjoong. He was kind but guarded, the kind of man who said more with his actions than his words, he’d hand you a glass of fresh juice after a particularly hot afternoon without a word, or fix the loose porch step you slipped on two times. He’d taken to showing you around the ranch in the mornings. It started small: a walk to the stables, a brief introduction to the horses but over time, he seemed to open up. He’d tell you about the ranch’s history, about how it had been in his family for generations.

“Most people don’t want this kind of life anymore.” he said one evening, leaning against the fence as the sun dipped below the horizon. “It’s not glamorous. It’s hard work, and it can get lonely.”

You watched him as he spoke, his profile illuminated by the golden light. There was a wistfulness in his voice that made your chest ache.

“I don’t think it’s lonely.” you said softly.

He turned to you, brows furrowing slightly. “No?”

"You’ve got the land, the animals…" You shrugged, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. "It feels peaceful. I would say it's a good kind of lonely."

Hongjoong didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you in that moment made your heart stutter.

You weren’t sure when the shift happened.

Maybe it was the way his hand brushed yours when he handed you a tool while fixing the barn door. Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered just a little too long when you laughed. Or maybe it was the fourth night when you’d joined him on the porch after dinner, the stars stretching endlessly above you as he played a soft tune on his guitar while you hummed to the unfamiliar tune as he stared at you, like he so often did. He’d asked you about your life, your dreams, your fears. And you’d told him everything, surprising even yourself with how easy it was to talk to him. From moving to the city for your ex, leaving your family and close friends behind to the breakup and you deciding to leave everything again but, this time, for yourself.

“You’ve got a brave heart.” he said quietly, his fingers stilling on the strings.

"Brave?" You laughed, the sound tinged with disbelief. "I’ve been running away from my problems for months."

He shook his head, his gaze intense. "You’re here, aren’t you? Sometimes that’s the bravest thing you can do—just show up somewhere unknown."

It was slow, this thing between you.

A stolen glance here, a fleeting touch there. The way he’d smile when he caught you watching him, or the way his voice softened when he said your name. You found yourself lingering in his orbit, drawn to him in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. And Hongjoong? He seemed to feel it too but he held back more than you did, always keeping a careful distance, like he was afraid of what might happen if he let himself fall, watching you from afar seemed enough for him. The night it all came to an end, the fifth one, was one you’d never forget.

---

A storm had rolled in, sudden and fierce, forcing you and Hongjoong to rush through the downpour to secure the horses. Now, trapped in the barn, the rain hammered against the roof in relentless waves. You huddled together in the corner, both drenched to the bone, your breath mingling in the chill air. A new button-up shirt he'd lent you clung to your skin, his scent faint but unmistakable on the fabric, a cruel reminder of just how close he felt yet how far away he always seemed. He’d been nothing but kind—steadfast, patient, even protective—but there was a wall around him, one you couldn’t seem to scale no matter how much you tried. Every time you thought you might be breaking through, he’d pull away, his quiet reserve leaving you aching with questions you didn’t dare ask. You turned your head slightly, catching the profile of his face as he nervously watched the storm, his jaw was set, his brows furrowed in thought, and you couldn’t stop the longing that twisted in your chest. Why did he have to be so careful with you, so distant? The words escaped before you could stop them.

“Why do you do this?”

Your voice was barely audible over the storm, but he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.

“Do what?”

“Push people away.” you said, your heart pounding as you catch your breath. “I can see it, Hongjoong. You’re afraid of letting me get close.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might brush you off. But then he sighed, running a hand through his damp hair.

“It’s not that simple.” he said quietly. “This life… it’s not easy. I’ve lost people before, I don’t want to go through that again.”

"But what if you don’t have to lose them?" You reached for his hand without thinking, the warmth of it surprising you. "What if they stay?"

He looked at your joined hands, then back at you, and you saw something shift in his eyes, now so visible without his hat in the way.

"I don’t want to lose you." he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Since you've been here, everything feel perfect, like the missing piece, and I don't want to get used to it only to loose it."

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the storm outside was nothing but a distant hum.

“You won’t.” you said, your voice steady despite the chaos in your chest.

His lips parted, but no answer came right away. The seconds stretched, his silence only making your chest tighten more.

“I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep-” he said finally, his voice thick with something unspoken.

“You won’t.”

For a moment, the words hung in the air between you, raw and fragile. You bit your lip, steadying your breath as you searched for the courage to say what you’d been holding in for days, your head spinning with how quick everything was going.

"For the first time in a long time, I feel like my life is… right. Like it means something." You took a shaky breath, holding his hand tighter. "Maybe it’s just the change—everything so different and new—but I don’t care if it’s an illusion. I want to try, and I want it to be with you. But only if you’re willing to try too."

Hongjoong’s gaze softened, the storm outside and the noise of the horses seeming to fade. Slowly, he leaned forward, his eyes fixed on yours as his wet hair fell in front of his face.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” you breathed, the word tumbling out before he could even finish the question. “Please. Finally.”

His lips were on yours before the last syllable left your mouth. The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as though he was still convincing himself you were real. But when your hands slid up to his drenched shoulders, pulling him closer, something shifted. His fingers tangled in your damp hair, his other hand finding the curve of your waist as the kiss deepened, the warmth of him chasing away the cold that clung to your skin. The warmth of his hands seeped through the damp fabric of the shirt, anchoring you to the moment. His touch wasn’t hurried; it was deliberate, like he was savoring every second, every sensation. Your fingers curled into the material of his shirt, clinging to him as if letting go might shatter the fragile, electric connection between you. His lips moved against yours, gentle yet insistent, and you felt every ounce of his hesitation melt away. The storm outside was relentless, but it only seemed to heighten the intensity inside the barn, the roar of the rain a distant hum compared to the wild beat of your heart. When he pulled back for air, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and uneven on your cold skin. He looked at you, his eyes searching, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and something far deeper.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me...” he murmured, his voice low, almost hoarse.

You let out a breathless laugh, your hands still gripping his shirt. “Pretty sure I have an idea.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating between you, and for a moment, the tension broke, replaced by something lighter, softer. But his hands didn’t leave your waist, and you didn’t step away.

“I meant what I said.” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. “I want to try, Hongjoong. Whatever this is, I want it.”

He nodded slowly, his thumb brushing against your side in an almost absent-minded motion, as if he couldn’t stop touching you.

“So do I.” he admitted, the words coming out like a confession.

Your chest swelled at the vulnerability in his tone, the weight of his walls finally crumbling in front of you. You smiled, leaning in to press another kiss to the corner of his mouth, the simple act filled with a quiet certainty that this—whatever it was—was worth the risk.

“Good to hear, cowboy.” you said softly, your lips brushing his. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

"You really aren't since your car isn't working."

You both laughed slightly, leaning against each other. And with that, he kissed you again, this time deeper, his hands pulling you closer

The kiss deepened, desperate now, as if both of you were clinging to the moment, afraid it might slip away. His hands roamed, pulling you against him, as if he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you, his touch frantic, hungry. His lips were insistent, pushing against yours with a wild urgency that made your pulse race, each movement of his mouth eager and desperate. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into the small of your back as he pulled you even closer, his body flush against yours. You could feel the heat of him, the way his chest rose and fell erratically as his breath mingled with yours, soft groans of need escaping him. Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling in the wet strands, pulling him closer, if that was even possible. The intensity of the kiss matched the ferocity of the storm outside, the rain hammering against the barn roof as though it too was desperate to kill the fire between you. You felt his lips move down to your neck, kissing, nibbling, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. The sensation made your back arch instinctively, a shiver running through you from feeling him so close, so urgent. But then, just as quickly as it had started, you felt him stiffen against you, his hands halting their movements, making you sigh in frustration. He pulled away abruptly, his breath ragged, his eyes wide with something that looked almost like panic while his lips where red and full, making it hard to not kiss them again.

“Hey.” Hongjoong said, his voice rough, but with a tone of concern.

“Mmmh?” You hummed, staring at his lips while biting your own.

“We should go back inside.” He pulled back slightly, his hands on your arms now, steadying you. “Before you catch your death out here.”

For a moment, you just looked at him, breathless and confused, the remnants of the kiss still lingering on your lips. He seemed to have pulled away not because of you, but because of something else—something in him that was fighting with the intensity of his emotions. You nodded slowly, feeling a mix of disappointment and warmth at his words, unsure whether it was the cold or the abrupt end to the kiss that left you feeling so undone. He gently took your hand, guiding you back toward the farmhouse as he ran, the storm still raging above, but for the first time since your breakup, the world didn’t feel so chaotic. Not with him by your side. You entered the house giggling as he quickly wrapped a blanket around your wet body while you looked at him in awe. He snickered before kissing you again, as gently as he could. The rain drummed on the roof above you, but you didn’t hear it. All that mattered was the way he tasted, the way his body pressed against yours, the way his kiss made you feel like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

Thank God your car broke down.