#But i really am recognising something now
Text
eight: don't let this darkness fool you
Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader.
Chapter summary: after the reappearance of the junction, you try and find a way back to some form of normal
Chapter warnings: Reader is a single parent to a teenager, mentions of breakups, discussions of cults/religious movements and violence within these, threat of a gun, tension, lightly implied panic attack/anxiety, 18+ blog mdni,
Notes: Chapter title is from Call Your Mom by Noah Kahan (and the song that I personally credit with helping me through a rough patch last year) Thanks for all of your patience with this chapter - my life irl has been hectic but I'm good!
Word Count: 3.9k
Previous | Series | Next
You can’t even remember how you got home, but you’re in kitchen and somewhere in Jackson right now Sean is talking to your son, trying to explain it all to him and Beau and Joel are … they’ll have killed Ethan by now.
The loss of power, of agency in your own past’s return to Jackson makes you feel sick. You should be the one talking to Gabe, it should be your final blow to Ethan. This is your mess, this is your life, not theirs. Having others involved feels intrinsically wrong and yet, you’re grateful to have them to share this burden. So grateful.
Maria makes you tea in your kitchen without speaking. She’s told you that you can stay, that’s something. You wonder if she’ll ever truly trust you again though.
You open your mouth but you can’t find the words, you don’t know where to start. You selfishly don’t want to talk about it. You feel tired in your bones, in every single part of your body. It’s a weight pulling you down.
What if Jackson is at risk though?
“Will they come after him here?” Maria finally asks.
“I don’t know,” you reply.
“And you don’t recognise anyone here?”
“I’ve been out of that group for almost seventeen years, Maria, I - I don’t think I would know if they were here. Hell, you could be one of them for all I know.” You laugh bitterly and take a sip of your tea. “I don’t know how much he would have told them, he’s secretive. They could be … I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
Maria pauses. If this was a film then this would be the moment where you confess everything, where you bare your soul over tea and cry together. Maria would hug you and tell you everything would be okay, or perhaps say it’s too much, that she was wrong, you do need to leave.
You just have to say something. There are so many conversations you owe people now, Maria included, but in the immediate aftermath you don’t have any words.
Eventually it’s just you in the kitchen with a cold cup of tea and silence as your companion.
You’re alter when Gabriel comes home with Sean and you inwardly count your blessings that he even returned. You wondered if he would.
The silence is protracted and stilted in the kitchen around the three of you. You’re not sure what to expect: anger, upset, hurt, a combination of everything?
Sean has taken his hand of Gabe’s shoulder, has moved to leaning against a counter exactly halfway between you and your son who loiters in the doorway, illuminated by the hallway light.
“We should talk, Gabriel,” you say finally, rising from your chair and placing your cold tea mug down.
“Yeah, I reckon so.” You wonder when he grew up, when he changed from a little boy - your little boy - who believed in myths and legends to the almost man before you. Gabriel folds his arms and looks at the ground. “Was he really -”
“We’re your -” We’re your family you want to say, it’s us and it doesn’t matter about Ethan. He’s irrelevant.
It’s not what he’s asking though and it’s not what you owe him. You are all too aware that one wrong word will send him running like a skittish animal, that every syllable matters right now.
“Yes.”
“I look like him,” he says quietly. “When I looked at him, I could see … I could see it.”
“You look like you,” you say gently, “You’re you and only you, you’re not me and you’re not him.”
Gabriel swallows. “Did - am I-”
“No,” you reply vehemently before he can even finish the sentence.
“So, you don’t regret me?”
You pause, taken aback that your son would ask you this. “You saved my life, Gabriel, I would never regret you. Never.”
“How did I save you?” your son asks, curiosity flashing across his face.
“I knew I was pregnant and I didn’t want that life for you, that’s what gave me the courage to talk to Sean, to find a way out, for something better.” You think maybe with everything that’s happened today, the fact that leaving led to a difficult journey where you gave birth in a bombed-out warehouse and then a more than decade long misadventure in the Kansas QZ can be glossed over. You’re in Jackson, you’re here, right?
“That’s … I didn’t know that.”
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Gabe.”
“But if you had a time machine, if you could erase being with him”
“Then there wouldn’t be you and that’s not a decision I want to erase, that’s not a life I want. Would I have wanted you, just you, in a different world without infected or any of that? Sure, but I’d still want it to be you and without all this around us - maybe you wouldn’t be you and that’s not okay with me. I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
“I - I don’t know what to make of all this. Sean told me … he told me some of it, a lot of it I think, but he said I’d need to talk to you and I want to. I do. I’m just …” Your son looks exhausted, eyes red from crying, his posture more crumpled than you’ve seen it before. “I didn’t know what it was like, I didn’t know why or what or … it’s a lot to take in. There are years, years that you’ve told me different things and it’s all muddled in my head. I’m angry about that, really angry, but I - we can get through it, right? I want us to be honest now, please?”
“Yes. We can talk about it whenever you’re ready,” you say, “I’ll do my best to tell you what I can, Gabe, is that okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry for all of this.”
He nods.
“I don’t think I can talk about it all any more tonight,” he admits and you exhale slowly. “There’s too much for one night.”
“Today’s been a lot, it’s been … I can’t even imagine how you feel, but I love you so much. Sean and Beau love you and none of that has changed, could ever change in fact. I’m sorry I kept this from you, I wanted to protect you. I never thought something like this, like today would happen.”
“Sean said you all thought this group - you thought that they were around here recently.” Gabriel pauses, “Is that why you broke up with Joel?”
“We needed to be able to prepare, to run if needed. I need you safe.” It’s easier to just stick with that to admit than that being so close to Joel, to this kind and solid man had been too overwhelming throughout it all. That losing him was a suitable sacrifice if you could bargain your family’s safety. That the pain was the appropriate punishment.
“You liked him though,” Gabe says, “you haven’t been like that with a guy for a while. I mean … he’s okay, you were good together or whatever.” From Gabe, this is the highest endorsement any man you have ever dated has received.
“I thought you were at the age where the idea of your parents dating repulsed you?”
“Oh, I am and this conversation is something that’ll I never admit it. I just, I do want you to be happy.”
“You too.” You move closer, wrapping him into a close hug. “You too, kiddo. I was so scared,” you whisper, “I was so scared I’d lost you.”
Relief floods through you, you haven’t lost him, you haven’t.
Maybe there’s a way through this.
Maybe there is a way to stay.
You’re avoiding Joel. You’re avoiding as much of the town as you can actually. In the wake of the Junction’s reappearance to your life, you bunker down in your home like a hurricane is still to come.
It’s been over a week now and your creativity in avoiding the town surely deserves recognition. You’re immune to Gabe’s frowns now, to the whispered conversations between Beau and Sean.
You can’t face it yet.
This isn’t permanent. You know you should speak to Maria and Tommy, to offer some sort of guidance on how to tell if the cult is entrenched in Jackson, rotting your home away from the inside, but Sean seems to be handling that for you now. Everyone around you is treating like a wounded animal, afraid of you either self-destructing or lashing out.
You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do now, you’re not sure what comes next.
The bench calls to you.
You find yourself walking there without thought. You need peace, you need to be in a place where the buzzing in your mind can quieten down and where you can avoid prying eyes that mean well. If Sean looks at you one more time with those giant sympathetic eyes of his, you might scream.
You didn’t expect the bench would be occupied.
“It’s okay,” Joel says as soon as he sees you, “I can go if you want to be alone.”
“No, no,” you say quietly, “I want you to stay, Joel.”
You did that to him.
Guilt courses through your body and you look away from his careful gaze immediately.
It’s quiet at this time of night. So quiet. Even the wind is still tonight and while this serene silence would usually bring you peace, tonight is different. You can feel the weight of all the words you should say, and can’t say, and want to say in your stomach.
You sit down next to him, not meeting his gaze and instead remaining transfixed to the night sky ahead.
“I’m sorry you had to do this,” you finally say, pointing at his hand, “does it - does it hurt?” It’s not the question Joel expected, or even you for that matter.
“Hey,” Joel carefully reaches to touch your arm and then hesitantly withdraws, clasping his hands in his lap instead. “It’s not on you.”
“You can’t mean that,” you protest, “if I had said something to Maria, if I had stopped him before-”
“You can’t do this to yourself,” Joel says firmly, “Trust me, you did - you made the best choices you could then, right? Not just for you, but for your kid and that’s got to be enough. It has to be.” There’s something desperate in his expression, something you can’t understand because his reaction feels too vehement, too firm for the occasion. “You did what you did for your kid and I can’t argue with that, no one can.“
“But I could have changed things. We might still be in danger because of me.”
“We can’t live like that, can’t punish ourselves for things we’d never have known. None of us can. Not now, and certainly not before. It won’t help you. Trust me.” Joel exhales. “I spent years agonising over decisions, over every single move I made the night that - that Sarah - I went through everything I did, what I should have done. If I’d just bought the damn cake, if I hadn’t picked up Tommy, if I hadn’t worked a double. Maybe I could have made a different turning, or I coulda said something else to the soldier and then it would be different. I spent years on that.” Joel exhales. “I tore myself up every way I could over it.”
“It was an accident. It was a tragedy,” you say, “it wasn’t joining a damned cult, or dragging your best friend into it too.”
“And how’d you have known that then?”
“I know, I know all this. Logically it makes sense but it just can’t - I can’t make it fit in my head.” You sigh. “I have blood on my hands.”
Joel looks at his own hands before he speaks, “I don’t think anyone who’s alive now doesn’t.”
“You and Beau shouldn’t have had to -”
“I don’t want a man like that near Ellie, near my town, near the people I lo - care about,” Joel says simply. “Beau was of a similar view.”
“What - no, I - is it wrong I don’t want to know?”
Joel looks at you seriously and shakes his head. “Not at all, not at all.”
“Still, I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I mean, we’re not - not anymore. You shouldn’t have been obligated or anything.”
“Beau let something slip earlier,” Joel says carefully, “That you’ve suspected that group was nearby for weeks.”
“I know, I should have told Maria.”
“Right about the time you told we couldn’t - well, you remember what you said.”
You feel your cheeks heating up. Joel’s a smart enough man, if Gabe had worked it out, of course Joel would have.
You want to say it was because of the Junction, that you still want him. That you haven’t stopped thinking about him since then. Only it’s not entirely true, is it?
You’ve spent weeks in fight or flight, your only thought has been survival. Now people are telling you the worst is over, that you can start to heal again but you don’t know that. Even if it’s true, your body doesn’t know, it certainly can’t feel yet.
You feel on edge, nervous and unsure.
You want to jump onto Joel right now, feel his embrace and touch once more as you pretend the last weeks were just a bad dream. You also don’t want him near you, you’re scared it’s you, that you made Ethan’s worst side come out. He wasn’t a cult leader when you met him after all.
You want Joel, but you’re not sure if you’re ready to jump back in yet. You can’t go from planning an emergency exit, to confronting the man you thought was dead, and then straight back into some sort of mythical romance just like that. Joel might have slayed Ethan, but unlike a fairytale, there are marks on you that won’t immediately heal.
“I am not going pressure you into anything, I just want to say that if - oh hell, I don’t even know what I’m saying.” Joel swallows.
“You can just blame it on being moondrunk.”
“Moondrunk?” Joel asks with a chuckle.
“Yeah, look at that view. Moondrunk.”
“Moondrunk,” he repeats gently. “I mean it though, I- I’m terrible at this, but when you’re ready, if you’re ready …”
“Thanks, Joel.” You wring your hands together. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”
“Live?”
“That simple, huh?”
He smiles wryly, “That simple.”
“So, you’re back at the bench, huh? Haven’t seen you here in a while,” you comment, keen to change the subject.
“I thought you were there first, figured it should be yours. But I - tonight I needed to come here, clear my head. I didn’t know if you’d be here.”
“Are you okay I am?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course.”
You shut your eyes for a moment. For a second you allow yourself to pretend it’s weeks ago, that you and Joel are still together, the Junction a distant memory. For a moment you thought this would be your life now.
Can it still be?
Joel’s still here, he’s patient and kind and good. “When I’m ready,” you begin softly, “when I’m ready, you’ll know.”
You don’t open your eyes but you swear you can feel Joel’s smile. “Okay, that’s okay with me,” he says.
The two of you stay there until sunrise.
It’s the library that finally makes you leave your home. Sean lets slip that it’s been closed since you started your retreat from the town and it pulls at your heart. There are people who rely on the library - it’s an escape for them, or a chance to learn. It feels wrong to keep the place closed, another failing.
The library, like the bench, is a sanctuary for you. Only, unlike the bench it’s for the whole town. It’s a safe and comforting place. You’ve built something there.
“You should go back,” Gabe says one night as he picks at his dinner.
“I should?”
“To the library.”
“Oh.”
“You loved it there and it - it’s your place,” he says simply, “I think you should open it again.” It’s a truly polite way to challenge your new hermit state. You notice Sean and Beau raising eyebrows at each other from the table.
“I- I will.”
“When?”
You raise an eyebrow at your son. “When I’m ready.”
“I think it would be good for you,” he says.
“I will listen to that, Gabe, okay? I just -”
Sean says your name softly and the way everyone in this house suddenly infuriates you. You don’t want their kid gloves or quiet observation, the continued sense that you’re staying inside too long, that you’re becoming someone that they don’t recognise. It’s overwhelming.
“I’ll open it tomorrow,” you say, desperate to make them change the subject, to see that you are okay.
Beau looks over at you with surprise in his eyes. “You don’t have to. I’m sure that Maria can get someone to cover -”
“They’ll shelve things wrong, Beau, we all know that. I’ll - I’ve got this,” you say as decisively as you can muster, before stabbing a potato with your fork. You’re fine, you can do this.
For Gabe, you can do this.
The following morning, you find yourself nervously standing in the empty library. It smells fustier; the tension hangs in the air as you notice the books you were partway through shelving before you left it for the last time.
You curl your arms tightly around yourself and open your thermos of tea with shaking hands. It’s been too long hiding away, you’ve built up nightmares in your head of the Junction running into the library, or Jackson residents turning against you.
No one even glanced at you as you walked to the library this morning.
There’s no one here though. Perhaps word hasn’t got out that you’ve reopened the library yet, or perhaps Maria has told people to give you space when you eventually emerged from your hiding places. You appreciate it and throw yourself into rearranging a display, in picking out books for the school class who usually come by on Fridays.
“Hi,” a voice says from behind you.
You spin around to see Ellie standing ahead of you. Her hands are shoved into her jeans pockets awkwardly and she looks nervous as she meets your eyes.
“Ellie,” you say gently.
“Joel said I should give you space.”
“Did he now?”
“So did Maria in fairness.”
“Right. Of course they did.”
“Do you need space?” she asks as you pull yourself to standing from the floor you were kneeling on.
“Not from you, Ellie.”
“Good, because it’s been a while, man. How much space can you need?”
“You sound like Gabe.”
“Can’t all be wrong, huh?”
“Absolutely, so did you finish that space book?”
“Mmhmm and I’m going to be honest that I may have swapped it for another book while you were out.”
“The library was locked, Ellie.”
“There was a window and I got Ca- a friend to give me a booster. Joel and I had to do it a lot in um, when we were travelling.”
“So you learnt your break in skills from Joel?” You ask, fighting the smile on your face as you make a show of crossing your arms.
“Technically, I was breaking into places with my friend Riley … well, one time anyway. ” Ellie shrugs. “At least I owned up, right?”
“Sure. I feel you’ve pretty much exhausted our collection of books on space though. We could move you on to fiction though - sci-fi, lots of space.”
“That could work.” Ellie purses her lips together, clearly battling against saying something. You wonder what she really came here to say; is she angry that Joel got involved, that you endangered her and the town? Does she want you to leave?
You wouldn’t blame her.
“I’m sorry about what happened with that guy,” Ellie says.
“I should apologise to you, Ellie, you got caught in the middle and you shouldn’t have. None of you should have.”
“It’s not your - it’s nothing, honest,” Ellie says and her sincerity somehow makes you feel worse.
“I appreciate that, Ellie, thank you.”
“I wanted to talk to you, because - because before we came to Jackson, there were these people we came across.”
Your blood runs cold. What does Ellie mean? Did she and Joel come across the Junction, or something worse? Why would she say this? You look at the young girl and wonder what her and Joel’s story really is, the chemical burn, the vehemence at you not being involved that. What happened to Ellie?
“Ellie, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“I want to tell you. Do you not want me to?”
“No, it’s fine, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to share something you may not want to.”
“Noted. I’m good though. So this group, they were these … I don’t know, cannibals? but this guy, he was like religious, or so he said and it was -”
“I’m sorry, you ran into a cannibal cult?” you ask incredulously.
“Kinda.”
“Fuck, Ellie.”
“I mean, it wasn’t a cult centred around cannibalism, that was more incidental.”
“Oh, well, that makes all the difference.”
“Right? Anyway, we got away. I - I got away. Joel was hurt before and so I was on my own and I know he feels bad about that.”
“Elie”, you whisper quietly.
“For a long time, I tried to figure out why this guy, Da- he was so … respected and so …. I don’t know. He was dangerous but quiet about it. I always thought the threat would be like a clicker or bloater, something visible. You look at it and you know that’s bad; you know what you’re up against. Plus on our way here I saw so much. Hunters, well at least they don’t hide it. This guy did. I - I almost bought it.”
“I’m sorry, Ellie.”
“It’s fine. It was almost a year ago now. It’s the past.” Ellie pauses and looks up at you. “I just wanted to tell you that.”
“I appreciate that, Ellie.” You take a deep breath. “For what it’s worth, the understanding the guy thing? It’s not like it starts off dangerous, it’s just normal at first, maybe a little different but within respectability. It … appeals to you, this sense of belonging, I suppose.”
“Belonging?”
“I’d never felt like I fitted in anywhere and then the world ended. My parents were …. all I had left was Sean and I didn’t want him to think I was clingy and end up with no-one. So there was this group and it seemed normal. It was normal at first. It was a slow change and then really fast and I don’t want to, I’m not sure if I should - you’re a kid, Ellie.”
“I’m-”
“A great and cool one, and one who’s seen a hell of a lot and is very brave, but you’re Joel’s kid, Ellie.”
“He’s not my - ” Ellie breaks off. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”
You scan through the pile of books you were shelving and pass one to Ellie. “Try this one next, I think you’ll love it.”
“Thanks,” Ellie says, saying your name kindly, “I’ll read it next.”
“Well, let me know what you think. I’ll be here.”
Ellie smiles. “Good, I’d hate to have keep breaking in to steal books.”
Tag List
YHIM: @orcasoul@pedropascalsbbg @yoursoulsunbreakable @iamskyereads @genetics4life
@everyth1ngfan @frickatives @perennialdoll247 @joelsgreys @pedrobaby
@missladym1981 @noisynightmarepoetry @picketniffler @titlee78
Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#joel miller#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal character#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us#your hand in mine fic#fic: your hand in mine
69 notes
·
View notes
Text
regulily microfic [cross-posted on ao3]
@marauders-rarepair-fics • june 3: slytherin • 769 words
“Are you alright?” a curious voice breaks the careful silence in the secluded corner of the library.
Regulus flinches and ducks his head, quickly wiping at his tear-stained cheeks. “I’m fine.”
“You really don’t look it.” The intruder— because that’s what they are, Regulus thinks bitterly— has an accent. Irish, or maybe Scottish, he can’t quite tell.
“Well, I am,” he replies tightly. “So go away.”
“Mm, I don’t think I will,” the stranger says promptly before plopping down on the floor next to him. Regulus’ brow furrows in indignation and he whips his head up with a fierce glare, finally getting a good look at whoever had the gall to encroach on his space.
The first thing he notices is how pretty she is.
The girl is his age, or maybe a little older, and she’s wearing a Gryffindor tie. The colours draw out the deep reds of her auburn hair, which is pulled into a simple braid that falls over her shoulder. Her head is tilted as she looks at him searchingly, though when they make eye contact she smiles, her jade eyes bright and keen.
“Hello,” she says, sticking her hand out to shake. “I’m Lily Evans, second year. I don’t recognise you, so you must be a first year, right?”
Regulus ignores her hand. “I said go away.”
“I know.” She drops her hand back into her lap. “What’s your name?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he sniffs haughtily, though the effect is rather ruined by his teary eyes and splotchy cheeks.
“It became my business when I stumbled upon you crying in my spot in the library.”
It is moments like this that Regulus curses his pale skin, which turns a mortifying shade of red at her words. “Oh, your spot? Pardon me, I didn’t realise Madam Pince gave you ownership of these particular bookshelves.”
Lily levels him a stern look. “This corner is pretty much abandoned. My best mate and I are the only people ever back here regularly, so yeah, it’s my spot.”
“Typical Gryffindors, thinking the whole world revolves around the two of you,” Regulus says, fiddling with his sleeve in embarrassment.
“My best mate is a Slytherin,” she corrects, and Regulus’ whole world stops.
A Slytherin? Best friends with a Gryffindor…?
“What?” he asks dumbly, and Lily huffs impatiently.
“He’s not in Gryffindor, he’s in Slytherin.”
“And you’re still friends with him?”
Lily blinks at him for a second before some wave of understanding passes through her face and she softens.
“Of course I am. His House doesn’t change who he is.”
Regulus swallows thickly, looking away. “My brother said he hates me because I’m in Slytherin, and he’s in Gryffindor.”
“Well, your brother’s an idiot,” Lily says bluntly. “Anyone that hates people because of their House is a fool.”
Something in Regulus’ chest warms and he lets out a wet-sounding laugh, wiping at his eyes. “Well, Sirius has always been a bit thick.”
“Sirius?” Lily blinks, sitting upright in shock. “Your brother is Sirius Black?”
“Er, yeah. I’m Re—”
“Regulus, I know. Black wouldn’t shut up about his baby brother finally starting school the entire ride here.”
“Oh, lovely,” Regulus sighs, face warming for an entirely different reason now. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the bookshelf behind him. “He’s both humiliated and disowned me within my first few days of school.”
There’s a moment of contemplative silence before Lily declares, “I’ve got to smack some sense into your brother.”
Regulus’ eyes fly open in horror.
“Wha— No!” he exclaims, scrambling off the floor to follow a fiercely determined Lily, who is already standing as she smooths out the wrinkles of her skirt.
“Someone has to. He cares about you, he’s just too pigheaded to see that,” she turns to Regulus, her green gaze fiery and brilliant and piercing in a way that makes him want to squirm. “Besides, that’s what friends are for, right?”
Regulus’ gut swoops. Is that what they are? Friends? He’s never had any friends— not if you don’t count Kreacher— but he’s also never felt like this about anyone, so he assumes they must be.
He nods once, just for a second, a quick show of acceptance for the hand she’s clearly extending. Lily beams at him and her smile is intense and warm, just like the rest of her.
“Brilliant. Be back in a jiff, then.”
Regulus blinks, his mind piecing together the meaning behind her words just in time for her to leave their secluded space. Then, he’s chasing after her.
“Wait, Lily, don’t…!”
#marauders rarepair microfic#regulily#waterlily#regulus x lily#lily x regulus#regulus black#lily evans#marauders#marauders era#harry potter#microfic#fanfic#fanfiction#harry potter microfic#hp microfic#harry potter fanfic#hp fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#hp fanfiction#regulily microfic
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
.
#Recognising a mental health thing you have for the first time is a weird one.#I jave a lot of behaviours that look like Contamination OCD.#Which like. Make sense. Considering the whole pandemic thing.#That and a very close friend having a weak respiratory system. Who themselves lost someone very close to them to a preventable sickness.#People dear to me have weak immune systems and i get so worried about them that i avoid touching things like door handles#And dont touch things that until they've been in the house for 2 days#I had a conversation with a family member where we spoke briefly about Howard Hughes and it felt like a kind of sudden wake up call#Like it prompted me to start really reflecting on my behaviour in overwashing my hands and avoiding touching handles and the like#And i feel like ive finally really recognised there is something there. Has been since my anxiety first stsrted to develop in 2018-2019#Maybe not a coincidence that it coincided with a friend's cancer diagnosis#But i really am recognising something now#And i can start to address it#We move ever forward
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
I swear I have read your big post regarding Peter Parker's neurodivergence and why it is best to avoid labelling him, but he definitely has a weird brain
Can't find it and feel kinda sad about it cuz I deeply related to it
i know exactly which post you're talking about and i can't find it either! i've raked through my archive, and it's just - nowhere to be seen. i think tumblr eated it (it happens.)
really, tumblr's search functionality is so so useless, i don't know what to tell you. there are plenty of keywords i can search to find it that post, but the search functionality actually just does not work!
undiagnosed audhd-addled peter parker, my darling, my light, my life, my everything.
i think peter parker's such an interesting creature to write, because a lot of people will point to a certain behaviour about him and say "this is an autistic thing, right?" but a lot of those behaviours are actually, in my head, tied to certain traumas in peter's life too.
people say "oh, the food thing, peter's a picky eater because he's autistic" and yes, absolutely. but also it's tied to his trauma with his parents.
peter gets overstimulated, and yes, it's an autism thing, but also he was bitten by a radioactive spider and his senses are dialled to 11.
it's a similar case i've found for myself, too – where a lot of friends i have kind of diagnose me because i have autistic traits, but actually - i'm hesitant to claim the label or pursue diagnosis because, actually, i know where these certain behaviours come from, and they come from certain traumas. there are events i can pinpoint in my life and say "yep. that's where this behaviour comes from."
so - i think there's a lot of overlap between trauma and autistic traits. the brain is very complex! i think the reason for that overlap is maybe as simple as the fact that people with autism and people with trauma are both doing the same thing - developing behaviours to protect themselves or soothe themselves. so - i think it's nice to be able to see a character like peter parker, who may or may not be autistic, but recognise behaviours in him and see yourself in him.
people who go undiagnosed for whatever reason - people who are really good at masking - so good, in fact, that they have no idea they might be on the spectrum - everyone and anyone at all can look at peter parker and recognise themselves. because i think we discredit the thought that every single brain does the same thing! develops certain behaviours in order to survive. every brain has that same software - we've just all been faced with different hardships that we need to overcome, and that's were all the differences come in.
autism is a spectrum, i guess - everyone falls into it to some degree. and i think events in your life probably push you along on it. but i don't know, i didn't study brain science. probably what i'm saying is very stupid and uninformed. of course there's brain chemistry involved. but i know people in my life living with autism and certain events in their life have exacerbated certain behaviours or made coping with it a lot more difficult. so maybe trauma is a catalyst.
#a lot of my traits have been exacerbated lately and i remember it was much easier for me before#and some of my friends have said “oh it's because you've been masking too long and now you're facing autistic burnout.”#and that made sense to me i think.#but then i found out about the stress thing. me overproducing stress hormone. and that's a very physical thing.#and that explains why i've been overstimulated more than usual lately. and why everything feels like too much.#and i wonder how many of these traits of mine are going to subside once i have lamar removed#and it makes me wonder a lot of things. and it's so weird how much your brain is tied to your biology.#i wonder how much i'll change. i wonder how i'll feel. i wonder if i'll still feel like me. i wonder how much me is me right now.#and how much of me is being altered by weird freaky hormones. who am i?? who will i be??#i'm almost looking at this as like. a superhero origin story of some sort. like this is my spider-bite moment. maybe.#will i be different? will i cope with things differently?? now that my body isn't fighting something anymore??#maybe i'll be normal. i don't know. i don't know.#i don't know what it'll mean for me.#but all of these things mean i relate to peter parker in a certain kind of way#i don't think you have to be diagnosed with autism to recognise and empathise with those traits i think#i think everyone can see themselves in peter. and i think that's the benefit of having characters that aren't diagnosed.#because there's so much overlap in the human experience. and certain feelings aren't exclusive to just one group of people.#peter has such a rich identity actually. it's an autistic thing. it's a queer thing. it's a jewish thing. it's a trauma thing.#there are so many overlapping parts of peter's identity that inform who he is and how he behaves and it's never just one thing.#it's a product of all of his things.#just like me! just like everyone.#so me? i guess i can be a million things. you can explain what i am in a million different ways.#a hundred different psychologists can all come up with different ways to explain why i be the way i be.#i don't think it's something that can be simplified.#sorry wow. i'm really going off here in the tags.#i hope people don't think i'm stupid. i don't know brain science. i'm just philosophising as usual.#sci speaks
60 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hi this is a vent post! Continue scrolling if you'd rather not see that
#Giving time...#Still more time...#Wouldn't want to plague any previews#Maybe another filler. Just for some fun#Is this enough?#It certainly is now#Alright start:#I'm so bored. I am so incredibly; intrinsically; entirely bored. I have been taught the same thing for four years straight#'It's only four years!' that's literally a quarter of my lifetime right there. My formative years are being spent stressed and in a state /#/of constant self-loathing#I was watching a YT video and the phrase 'attention-starved STEM major' came up and I was like. Yea#What am I even working towards? The hope that my version of capitalist hell isn't as bad as everyone else's? I'm just so sick of not /#/having a stable future what with politics and normal working people becoming more and more oppressed#I don't want to work and that's not because I'm lazy. It's because my brain is recognising that there is no reward anymore#I used to have such a little spark in Yr7. I remember having things to say and wanting to share everything I've done#I still do that now; sure I do. I don't enjoy it though#I thought I liked drawing but I'm realising that all I really like is the attention. I COULD draw things I like drawing... but then I /#/ don't get attention which my mind then classifies as zero reward#I'm very tired of doing things for no credit; reward; or validation. This is becoming a theme#Then I wonder what I'm doing wrong. What part of the algorithm am I not hitting. Then I realise that I'm just not marketable in a way#God. I'm seriously breaking rn. It's not even only because of GCSEs#It's just a culmination of doing all these things to be told that I am unworthy of Having as a result. It doesn't matter if I'm smart; my /#/ parents still don't own their house and can't afford to pay for heating most days#Literally what am I doing this for#And then I realise that all of this is ALSO attention-seeking behaviour! I'm my own worst problem; I recognise exactly what's wrong with /#/ myself but the body wants what it wants. And what it wants is validation that I'm not going to get in this life#Hi guys! Maybe don't interact. That could fix me#Wean me off of needing virtual numbers just to feel something. Jesus#I can't even be happy with the things that I make for myself. Because I make nothing for myself anymore#It's just a whole sad existence of an expected 12hr+ of school every day until I get a job I guess. Then it's 12hr+ of job every day until
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
I wish I had a job cleaning up dead bodies because it feels like the only job I might fidn tolerable long-term. No need to do much thinking, minimal socialising and I'm not spooked by dead bodies so it wouldn't weight down on me.
#d#I'm doing this thing again where I'm posting but I can't get myself to look at the dash#I'm really antsy over other people#I always am but more than usual#I feel like even though my circumstances are better now than before#I feel worse than I've ever been#I can neither move on from the few relationships I botched and the lack of 'subtitute' worsens things#I just feel a different form of suicidal#Neither antsy and impulsive nor passive in the background#It feels like an active looming suicidality but one of resignation#A verh definite feeling of wanting to give up because nothing's going to improve#I cannot make the people I look up to even recognise I exist#And I have nothing going on for myself in isolaion#I just can't think of a reason to live and nobody's giving me any or answering my questions and pleas#It's like my frantic resentment is just a small sort of gloominess#One where it's difficult to resist the impulse for dying because it makes no meaningful difference#My life isn't valuable to the people I like so it's evident it makes no difference when I die#I've become too weak to sustain myself so I'm dependent on people who ignore me no matter how directly I try to ask for them to help#And I feel sick that I still feel like people think my problem is just that I'm too stubborn to 'ask for help'#As if there's anything subtle about how I feel and what I want#It may simply be pointless to ask and I disappoint myself by holding hope for anything#What a loathsome existence... years of effort to find I have never done anything meaningful or good is haunting me forever#At the very least I would die with a little more contentment if I could feel like my existence and actions were valuable#Not in the half-hearted 'everyone is intrinsically valuable' way#I want merit for something I chose to put effort in#Not because I want 'merit' alone but because I want the choice itself to matter#Because it just feels too much like it doesn't matter what I choose because everything I do is pointless and ineffectual#Knowing an action I did had the desired consequence makes me feel like there is still a 'point' to actively choosing and doing and changing#But because nothing comes out of my attempts despite the amount of effort suicide does not merely feel 'simple'#It feels inevitable in the way that the sun must always set at night
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
I hear a whisper
at the edge of my vision.
am I imagining it?
nay, I am not.
it's you.
I heard your voice as the voice of a stranger
now I know it was you all along.
but your voice is calling my name
and I wonder why
what ghost of the past
what past me
was worth remembering?
and I hear your voice calling my name
and I think
how do you know me still
I'm a shell of who I was.
how do you know me?
who am I?
if you know to call my name
does that mean I still have a name
does that mean I'm a person
that I just can't see?
everything crumbles
time tears everything down
nothing stays
but what about me?
have I lost myself
has time moved on leaving my consciousness here?
stuck beyond a time it should have faded
or been ripped, by other violent means
stayed too long and now I don't know it
I look in the mirror, there's only a stranger.
this is why I usually don't
look in the mirror.
I prefer to pretend I know myself
a pretty, but flimsy, pretence.
whenever I catch sight of myself
my words as well
I wonder whose mouth shaped those
whose fingers?
mine? but I've crumbled to dust
inside, I'm but dust:
empty, and old,
and when others look inside me
they choke.
#catkin poetry#this is about nobody in particular#well it kinda started out being somebody but devolved into something much more than the person with whom i have had only a passing acquaint#ance#i actually started with the line 'and i hear your voice calling my name' but it felt like it needed something before#this feels like it wanders and for any serious poetry thing would really need some editing because it's not tight or cohesive#oh well#incidentally there's no depersonalisation happening here (well maybe a bit) just that fact that i don't know myself#i know how i used to be#but i don't know how i am now#and when people talk about what im like i don't recognise what they're talking about#personal#catkin rambles#feel free to feedback or whatever
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
pop quiz what breed of childhood trauma borne neuroticism is it called when being condescended to on just the most neutral, limpid, nothing thoughts you express like you’re a little silly child, or “out of your depth”, or woefully misinformed, or just speaking on something you shouldn’t cause fuckin hell you’re doing it *wrong*, and with the most plainly obvious remark too, makes you want to chew on your own arm until you reach bone marrow
#i hate internet discourse i hate internet discourse i loathe online Big Fandom it makes me come out in hives#i'm not stupid. i'm NOT stupid. i know this. i'm not being mean and nasty and bitchy either. just saying shit wrong.#siiigh i don't want to just stop making shit and like speaking. about stuff. on the internet. but like also. why would you?#there are exceptions (who i hope would recognise themselves if not i apologise) but largely i am more miserable#and more self destructive more regularly since stepping out of anonymity and engaging with people online#except animal crossing. like everyone i've interacted with through acnh has been. really Nice tbh. which is nuts lol#the stories you hear are almost universally bad and yet everyone i've chatted with albeit briefly has been so nice#i get anxiety over whether or not some stranger i'm never gonna meet thinks i'm an imbecile or not like how stupid is that? it's ridiculous#my self esteem has somehow gone backwards???#it don't fuckin matter! proving a relative nobody wrong and keeping her in her place don't matter! i mean it's daft but what's the point#and i know i need to internalise that i KNOW but damn it's hard#i want to just say fuck it and leave. become like a fandom esque zombie or whatever. but i also want autonomy over what i've produced now#unless i just delete all that too ig#but why should i!!#i go through this cycle every month it's like having an extra self-loathing hormone#if you're super attached to something w my username on it just download it for yourself you have my blessing give urself peace of mind lol#in principle i want to ghost and all of a sudden i'm am unperceivable and none of it's my damn problem any more lmao#but then i'm too bullish and prideful and egotistical so i'm like 'bbbut my seven tumblr followers who always like my silly text posts uwu'#i'm the dw in this scenario. the sign says 'just leave you're a nuisance' and i'm looking right at it like 'he he. no <3'#even if just doing what the signs says would definitely go some way to help with not wanting to just perish. or the arm chewing thing.#i just. simply. think. i would like to know. what it is i have done specifically#i know the answer is somewhere between nonexistent and nonsensical like it's not worth thinking about#what i've done is exist in a way that is arbitrarily deemed stupid/distasteful/ugly/deviant/noisy/irriating/etc it's irrelevant#and yet. there is a burning black void of needing to know in me. anon hate get into my dms tell me why you dislike me so#nothing is scarier. is the phraseology#like a game of wackamole with every utterance. is this one gonna get bapped with the hammer of 'you are so wrong'? why? does it matter?#who knows....it is a mystery......#i matter so little! i have 50 followers! two (2) ppl read the fanfic and thought it was 'aight! i don't matter! i am such a tiny fish!#what is even the point just leave me be no one cares!#i *could* redirect this hysterical existential horror energy into my original work. i *should* do that
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
man, therapy is such a trip.
#i have now been with my therapist for four whole human years.#and there's stuff that is only just coming up now!#so funny to think back to when I thought I could sort it all out in a couple of months lol#one thing I've learned is that when I go to a session with no real idea of what i'm going to talk about today#is when i get into the deep shit.#the past 3 sessions have been so painful!#i'm feeling so tired and sensitive. coming face to face with lifelong patterns of social exclusion is really fucking rough#it's hard to look at my life and not come to the conclusion that there is something inherently wrong with me#that has caused me to be so continually othered/sidelined in group dynamics#but i'm trying to be kinder to myself#and recognise that I am carrying a metric shit ton of trauma#and that circumstances have rarely been in my favour#anyway. i deeply crave community and am still feeling pretty isolated#but unsure how to approach this just yet! still so terrified of rejection that I simply avoid group activities!#i need a group hug and a forest stream and a puppy#that'll fix me surely#delete later probably idk
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Early morning thought : it really is saying a lot about my upbringing that with the amount of anxiety I have I am not more superstitious, eh? 🤔
#i am absolutely not#the only moment i show something akin to superstition is that i do not like to make comments/jokes about death just before someone leaves#(have i told you how awful my separation anxiety is ? well guess what i gave it to one character in a fic now and i feel bad for them)#(like bitch you really do live like that ? --- yeah)#this post is sponsored by my husband leaving for work while i don't today and i'm feeling bad 👍 as usual#but eh now i recognise it! still can't do shit about it but now i now
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
After suffering a gunshot wound, you wake up in a hospital bed with Ghost sitting by your side. Unfortunately, the effects of anaesthesia leave you unable to recognise him and, worse, confuse him with someone else.
A/N: Fluff. Based on a request I received a while ago. Hope you like it, anon!
———————————————————————
A machine on your left beeps rhythmically. The taste of something metallic lingers in your mouth, and the iodine smell stinks your nostrils. Your eyes open slowly, but the bright ceiling light forces them shut again. You lick your lips and attempt to swallow a couple of times. Dry. Your mouth is dry. You need water. Your hand moves towards your face, but a low, raspy voice advises you against it.
“Careful now,” it says, and a hand gently grabs your wrist. “Don’t pull the IV off.”
You turn your head towards the figure beside you and squint. It’s a man, but your blurry vision doesn’t help you identify him. Your eyes travel to your wrist and focus on the closest part of him: a skeleton’s hand.
You try to shake your hand off his grip, but it turns out futile. Frustrated, you give up and raise your middle finger at him.
“Not my time yet,” you declare. “Fuck off.”
“Pardon?” he asks.
“Not ready to go yet,” you reply, tucking your middle finger in your palm and lifting it back up again. “And also, fuck off.”
The man releases your wrist, placing your hand gently beside you. He clears his throat and leans forward. Though your vision remains blurry, you spot what looks like a human skull with a hood over it.
“How are you feeling, love?” he asks, his tone softer.
“How am I feeling, love?” you repeat. “Did Hell improve their customer service?”
“I’m not-” The man begins but pauses. He sighs, shakes his head and rests his elbows on his thighs. “Never mind.”
“Where am I?” You ask.
“Hospital.” He replies. “You took a bullet.”
Directing your attention to your body, you feel a dull throb in your chest. You wince as your fingers brush against the bandages.
“You are joking.” You reply and slap your hand on the bed. “Why? How?”
“Well,” He says and tilts his head to the side. “You exchanged a few shots with the enemy, your gun ran out of bullets, his didn’t, and here we are.”
“My gun?” You ask, shocked. “I have a gun?”
“Several.” He nods.
“SEVERAL?” You shout. “Why would I possibly need several guns?”
“It’s your job, love.” He replies.
“My job is to have several guns?” you ask. “And shooting at people?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he explains, “but it’s mainly for defence.”
“Well,” you shrug and wince at the pain. “Doesn’t look like I’m that good at defence—especially for having several guns.”
“I was really worr—”
“Water,” you interrupt and gesture at your mouth. “I need water.”
“Doctor said it’s not the time for water yet,” he replies.
“Why?” you ask, pretending to check a non-existent wristwatch. “What time is it?”
“No, love,” he replies and muffles a chuckle. “Doctor said you need to wait until you have some water.”
“You throw the ‘love’ thing a little too freely,” you mumble, licking your lips and lifting your index finger. “I’d be really careful if I were you.”
“Really?” he asks, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Why?”
“I,” you say and point at yourself, “got a boyfriend, thank you very much.”
“Oh,” he exclaims and tilts his head. “Is that so.”
“Yup,” you nod. “And he can kill you.”
“Can he?”
“Can?” You say, and a smug smile forms on your dry lips. “He will absolutely, one hundred and a thousand per cent kill you.”
“Is he that good?” He asks.
“I mean,” you shrug, motioning at the bandages on your chest. “He’s much better than I am.”
“Oh wow,” he exclaims and leans forward. “Is he as good of a boyfriend as he is a shooter?”
“Far from it,” you reply, letting your hand fall to your side.
The man doesn’t speak. He doesn’t seem that comfortable all of a sudden. He shuffles in his chair, trying to find a better position, and when he does, he clasps his hands together.
“Go on,” he finally says. “Spill it.”
“Ok, so,” you begin, “first things first, he doesn’t listen to me when I want to vent, and whenever he does, all he says is nonsense.”
“The lad gives you solutions,” he snaps, “and you call them nonsense?”
“I don’t want solutions, man,” you reply, shaking your head. “I want him to just listen to me.”
“Even if the solutions he provides are literally the answers to your suffering?”
“Even then.” You confirm.
“Gotcha,” he nods. “What else?”
“Oof,” you sigh, “how much time do you have?”
“I’m immortal,” he reminds you, “plus the next reaping is in five hours.”
“Oh boy,” you reply. “Business not going that well lately, huh?”
“Not many deaths to take care of,” he spits. “I guess some people could use some serious training when it comes to their aim.”
“Speaking of training,” you say, “he’s always at work and never spends much time with me.”
“The guy’s trying to spend as much time with you as he can, for fucks sake!” he shouts, throwing his hands up. “He even lied to get you on his team!”
“How do you know he put me on his team?” You ask.
“I keep a close eye on him.” He replies.
“What did he lie about?”
“Your precision in aiming,” he jokes and motions for you to continue. “Next one.”
“I can’t think of anything else,” you reply. “Other than he doesn’t say how much he loves me.”
“You’re having a laugh now, aren’t you?” He says, and his tone feels almost threatening. “He’s showing it to you daily; offering advice, keeping you close to him, even risking the possibility of being accused of nepotism for crying out loud! He doesn’t need to say it as well for you to know it!”
“It’s just nice to hear it sometimes,” you sigh and twist a thread from the bed sheet. You turn your head slightly toward him, and he lowers his head to the ground.
“How about you?” You ask. “You have a girlfriend?”
“I do,” he confirms.
“Shut up!” You shout, widening your eyes and immediately closing them back again. “Where did you guys meet?”
“Hell,” he replies. “Right in the pits of it.”
“How is she?” You ask.
“Perfect.” He states.
“Bullshit,” you murmur. “No one’s perfect.”
“She is to me.” He says, shrugging.
“Do you love her?” You ask.
“Absolutely,” he replies, nodding slowly. “One hundred and a thousand per cent I do.”
———————————————————————
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x f!reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x female reader#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x f!reader#simon riley x female reader#call of duty#modern warfare 2#simon riley#cod mwii#cod ghost#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley fic#simon ghost riley fluff
10K notes
·
View notes
Text
Tattoo
masterlist ko-fi ao3
Tattoo Artist! Bucky Barnes x Bookshop Owner!Reader
Summary: When Natasha begged you to come with her to get her new tattoo done, you didn't expect that her actual plan would be to set you up with a fine-as-hell tattoo artist.
Word count: 5.8k
Warnings: +18❗️smut, p in v sex, oral sex (r receiving), protected sex, dirty talk, strangers to lovers, Bucky is hot as fuck, shy and socially awkward reader, insecurities.
Author's note: sooo, it took me forever to write, but I finally finished it and I'm kind of proud of this one. Bucky with tattoos and a low bun? yup, I'm totally ready to do whatever he desires! I hope y'all will like it too. feel free to leave comments or fic ideas💘
“I’m going to be there almost for a whole day. I love those idiots, but I still need my best friend to cheer me up." Natasha threw her hand over your shoulders, trying to convince you to go with her on a tattoo session. It was not her first time, but now she wanted to get a much bigger one on her thigh, and, for some reason, she really wanted you to go with her, using the fact that it was your day off.
“Nat, you know that I hate going to such places. I’m socially awkward; what am I gonna do there for so long? I don’t even know those people.” You frowned, already feeling a bundle of nerves in your stomach.
You were what others may call boring, but you rarely went to unknown places or hung out with random people. You would rather stay with a book in your apartment and read for a whole day than get into such situations. Not to mention, that tattoo salon was full of men, and it made the whole situation even worse.
“But you’re going to be with me. They are the nice guys, I promise. You will sit with us in the room; we can talk, or you can read another book, while Barnes will do my tattoo. I just don’t want to die of boredom there. Please?” She pulled you even closer, and you knew that she wouldn’t let that go. So you had no other choice but to agree.
You didn’t know what you were thinking when you decided that wearing a light, flowy dress would be a good idea. Because now, following Nat out of her car to that tattoo studio, it felt too short, too open, and just too much. You tried to calm down, thinking to yourself that there was nothing serious; you were just going to wait in the corner, and other people probably wouldn’t even pay attention or talk to you. Natasha, with her boldness and openness, was always the center, and you were totally fine with that.
But you were so wrong.
As soon as you walked inside, four men stopped talking, turning around to face you and Nat, and you honestly thought that you were going to faint.
“Hey, guys. Hope you don’t mind that I brought my friend. So I do not have to listen to your boring asses complain all day." She teased, dragging you by the hand like a mom who tried to encourage her kid to talk. You were round-eyed, and a wave of heat washed over your body when you were face-to-face with a blonde and big guy. But before either of you could say or do something, a person who you didn’t recognise at first stepped in, pulling you into a hug.
“Isn’t it my favorite book girly ever? How are you doin’?” Sam’s enthusiasm and energy were always so refreshing to you, so when he quickly pulled away, instead wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pushing you further into a studio, you tried to stay calm and not freak out.
"I didn't know that you were working here. How’s Sarah?” You asked, looking up at him.
“Yup, for a few years. She is doing great, but AJ and Cass are a pain in the ass. They are growing too quickly, you know." He chuckled. “Now, say hi to those idiots.” He moved his head toward the men who were silently observing your interaction. “Tony, Steve, and Bucky.” Sam named them in order. Tony just nodded to you, Steve smiled with the friendliest smile you had ever seen, and Bucky...
Your head became empty as soon as your eyes landed on him for the first time. He was leaning on the wall at the back of the room, so you didn’t pay much attention to him at first. He was hot. Unbelievebly hot. He was tall and muscular, with a low bun at the back of his head and tattoos covering the visible parts of his arms and neck. And as your gaze moved to his face, you almost choked on a fucking breath.
Piercing blue eyes looked right directly at you, and the slightest smirk curled the corner of his lips. You didn’t know whether you felt too cold, too hot, or if you just wanted to vanish right on the spot. Your face heated, your eyes started running around the room, and your heart was beating a few times faster. It was overwhelming, and you thought that you would have to go out of there, but right on time, Natasha stepped in front of you, dragging all attention to herself.
Bucky had to admit that once in his life, Sam was right. Sam tried to convince Bucky to go to that book shop for a few months, saying that he had to meet with the girl who worked there, but he was way too stubborn.
He would have done it a long time ago if he knew you would look like the most precious, cute, and sweet person. Bucky could not take his gaze away from you as soon as Natasha dragged you inside, absorbing everything—from the way you looked so soft and pretty in that dress to the way you blushed and were nervous about the whole thing.
He saw your reaction—how you became even more flushed after your intense stares at each other. Bucky was never the type of guy who liked to tease you, but Goddammit, he wanted to see how you would react if he stepped closer and talked to you. He also wasn’t creepy towards women, but the only thought that came to his mind was that he wanted to taste you. The desire to shove your back into the wall, lift up the skirt of your dress, and fall to his knees was shocking; he had never felt such an instant pull toward another person.
“Barnes, are we going to start, or you’re planning on standing and staring for a whole day?” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest as if she were annoyed, but you thought that you heard something weird in her voice, as if she held back a smile.
And then she quickly looked back at Sam and nodded with a smirk.
You just followed Nat and Bucky to his own part of the studio. Too lost in your head because of your friend’s weird behavior, you sat down on the sofa in the corner, and the next thing you noticed was the tall figure leaning above you. You probably got carried away to much because now there was a cup of tea standing in front of you on the table.
You looked up, only to meet those pretty blue eyes again. Bucky looked down at you with the same smirk on his lips, and you could barely form a normal thought in your head.
“Hope you don’t mind a hot tea, princess?” Yup, you were dead. Of course, he had to have the sexiest voice you have ever heard in your life. It was not enough for him to be charming or look like a fucking sin—he also had to sound hot.
“Thank you.” You almost whispered.
Bucky gave you another mysterious smile before going back to his place, where Nat was already without her pants and ready to start.
You and Nat were talking for the next few hours—well, she was mostly talking about a girl named Maria that she met not so long ago, and you were nodding, listening, and sipping your tea. That way, you almost forgot about Bucky sitting in the room with you because he was too focused on his job and didn’t even look away from the tattoo.
To be honest, you accidentally looked at him one or two times because it was hard not to notice a few curls slipping out of his bun, or the way his tattooed and veiny arms seemed so sexy, or that perfect face profile... Fuck. But everything was good until Nat suddenly asked him to stop for a few minutes.
“I really need to pee, Barnes.” She quickly jumped out of her place, winking at you as she walked away.
“Natasha…” You hissed at her when she left you and Bucky alone in the room, your insides already shivering with nerves. She was fucking doing it on purpose. You were sure that everything here was her plan to set you up with Bucky because she had never left you anywhere alone, knowing your nervousness.
“Are you afraid to stay with me alone?” Bucky chuckled, stretching his neck from an uncomfortable position. Your cheeks heated, and you unconsciously started scratching the surface of your phone case. He was charming. He obviously knew that, judging by the way he acted to tease you. When his question was left without an answer, he just shook his head, smiling to himself. “I didn’t know that Nat was dating girls.”
Bucky was desperately trying to make you talk. He saw how you looked at your friend when she left you alone with him, and knowing Nat, she would not have done it if you were truly afraid of him. So he was hoping that you were just too shy to talk to him and that he could make something out of it.
“Mhm. What, you hoped to have a chance with her?” You finally looked up, and you couldn’t hide the disappointment in your voice. Of course, Bucky was just trying to hit on your friend. Everyone tried. And you knew that she was so pretty and an amazing person, really, but you just wanted to experience it yourself at least once.
“With Nat?” Bucky almost laughed, genuinely taken aback by your response. “Nah, she’s cool, but not my type.”
“And who is your type?” You asked before you could even think about it.
"You know, those cute and shy girls who can barely talk to anyone and easily blush or get nervous." You froze in your place, and you swore that the blood in your veins had done the same. Your eyes widened in shock, looking at the proudly smirking Bucky. Did he really mean that, or was it just a stupid joke?
Natasha came into the room, curiously looking between you two, but you just stayed silent and looked away again, staying even quieter until the end of the session.
“Why did you do that?” You frowned, looking away from Nat and crossing your arms over your chest. As soon as she was done, you almost ran out of that place, the mixture of weird feelings bubbling inside of you, and you were too frustrated to even talk to someone there.
“Did what?” Your head snapped back at her innocent, unbothered voice. She rolled her eyes, not looking away from the road. “I did that because I love you.”
“And I love you too, but I hate that you and Sam put me in this position!”
“I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable. Don’t be mad at what I’m about to say, but I know that you feel lonely and that you want to have someone or to date someone. I understand your anxiety; I really do, but I wanted to help you.” Her voice sounded so genuine, and even if you were mad, you knew that Nat had always tried to do what was best for you. “Bucky is a good guy. He’s attractive, he’s kind, he’s funny, and he's definitely not a player. I just wanted you to meet him, and from what I saw, there was a sparkle between you.”
You didn’t say anything to that, because she was totally right. Even if you had never said that out loud, you wanted someone to like you. Was it that much to ask? It was just hard to believe that someone as attractive as Bucky, who could easily get a good handful of women whenever he wanted to, had actually flirted with you.
The next day, when you finally returned to your favorite place in the world, it was crazy. For some reason, too many people came to the bookshop, and almost everyone needed your advice or help. You were running around the shelves, putting the books in their places, receiving the payment, and then welcoming new customers. So when, at 9 p.m., you put the sign ‘closed’ on the door, you felt the relief that the day was almost over.
You still had a lot to do, though. Taking the pile of books from the front table, you went to the back room, where you stored some of them. Suddenly, you heard the bell ringing and heavy footsteps on the wooden floor.
“I’m sorry, but we are already closed. Please come tomor—” You forgot what you wanted to say when you looked out of the room into the main part of the store and saw the last person you ever expected.
“Hey, princess.” Bucky put his hands into the front pockets, which made him seem even bigger, and smiled at you in a way that made your knees weak. He looked similar to what you saw yesterday—a low bun, black jeans, and a shirt that revealed some of his tattoos. God, his tattoos made you imagine things that were too inappropriate to say out loud. “Sorry that I came so late, but I just got off work, and I really wanted to see the place Sam has been bugging me about for weeks.” He noticed how you were looking at him again, but he decided not to tease you about it.
“Um, hi.” You dusted off your hands and fixed the bottom part of your dress to make sure that everything was in it’s place. Bucky couldn’t help but follow your hands, staring at the way the hem of your dress moved around your thighs. “Do you need something? Like a book? Or you came just to get rid of Sam?”
“Yeah, maybe a fantasy book or something like that.”
“I can show you where we have it, but I, um, need to finish the work here, so it would be great if you'd find a book that you like by yourself. Is that okay?” His stare was intense, and you really didn’t know what to do with this. Was he always like that with women? But Nat said that he wasn’t a player, and you trusted her more than yourself.
“Totally.” You nodded, calmed down your nerves as much as you could to not embarrass yourself in front of him, and you showed the way to the shelves at the back of the shop.
“Take as much time as you need; I’ll go... there.” You pointed behind you to the piles of books, and Bucky chuckled at the way you were nervous around him. That was so fucking cute that he wanted to just scoop you up in his arms and make you blush again and again.
Almost ten minutes later, you showed up again with a few books in your hands that were from the fantasy section, and as much as you wanted to escape Bucky, you also wanted to finish your job. He just quickly looked at you, too interested in the book in his hands, but didn’t say anything.
You tried to reach the highest shelf to put the book in it’s place, but it was too far away. Usually you used a small ladder, but it was somewhere else now, and you just tried to do it standing on the tiptoes.
“Let me do it, princess.” Bucky chuckled, closing his book and putting it down, and reached out to help you.
“No!”
“You won’t reach it. Just give it to me.” He placed his hand on your back, stretching the other one.
“I can do it myself!”
You couldn’t. Because the next thing you know, the book slipped out of your hand when you tried to make more distance between you and Bucky, and you also lost control of the ones you held near your chest. Everything fell onto the floor with a loud ‘boom’ and you prayed that nothing got damaged.
Your head snapped back to say to Bucky that it was his fault, but he was already looking down at you, and you immediately forgot about everything. Only then did you realize that he was so close to you; his hand was holding your waist, and your back was almost pressed against his hard chest.
“Sorry.” He didn’t know what he was sorry for. That he distracted you and made you drop everything, or for what he did next. After his eyes quickly looked at your plump lips, his right hand fell onto your cheek, and he kissed you.
Your instant thought was to push him away, run, and hide in the storage room, but the firm hand on your face and waist made it impossible to move. Bucky almost devoured your mouth and completely controlled you, and you could barely keep up with the rhythm of the kiss.
He was good at it.
No one ever kissed you as if it were the best thing they'd ever tried, but Bucky just couldn’t stop. He spined your body, so you were not in that awkward and uncomfortable position anymore. Now that you were standing chest to chest, your back got pressed into the shelves, and Bucky was towering over you. It felt unknown but so right at the same time. Your experience in this area was really poor, but the adrenalin in your blood made you a little bit more sure of yourself.
“You’re doing something to me.” He breathed into the kiss, and you just whined without realizing it. He connected your lips again, tightening his hands on your waste and, that way, pulling you even closer. You had no idea where to put your hands, but your body seemed to work on autopilot, so they landed on his chest.
You felt something hard on the lower part of your belly, and the thought that Bucky had become hard solely because of the kiss nearly drove you insane. Hot, handsome, and charming men had never kissed you as if you were their last meal, teasing you with their bulge in the middle of your shop.
God, he must be big.
Your heart started beating so fast that you heard it in your ears. Was it the right thing to do? What should you do or say after that? Did he think that you kissed badly?
“I can almost hear the thoughts in your head. Why are you worrying? You don’t like or want it? Just say, and I’ll step away.” You licked your lips, as if you tried to taste him again. You felt how your face heated again from being so close to Bucky. He didn’t sound or look as if he were judging you, and it made you feel safe enough to tell what was going on in your head.
“I just—I'm not really familiar with it. I barely know you, and you just kissed me, and I am at a loss for what to do." You said, nervously playing with the material of his shirt. Bucky's hand cupped your cheek, making you look at him. It surprised you that he didn’t try to do anything to push you, like many other men who just think with their dicks. Your stomach tightened from the way he stared at your face.
"I understand and that’s okay if you feel a little bit scared. I’m not pushing you and you can say no to me. I really came here just to talk to you, but I cannot think of anything else but you. Can I kiss you, princess?” Your eyes closed when you felt his breath on your lips again. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it too, so you just slightly nodded to his question.
Bucky kissed you deeper and slower, allowing you to follow him. He stroked your cheek gently as his tongue slid into your mouth, causing you to moan. You swore that he smiled at your reaction, and it encouraged him to push his other hand from your waist to your thighs.
Your skin started tingling when you felt it going under your skirt. Tattooed fingers traced the soft lines on your legs until they reached your underwear. Only then did you realise that you were getting wet. This whole time, it was not just nerves; oh no, your body actually just craved that man in front of you and now you could do nothing to hide it. In your last attempt, you tried to push your legs together, but you made it worse when Bucky’s hand slipped higher and touched the wet spot.
“Holy fuck.” He growled, ending the kiss and looking down, where his hand stayed under your clothes. “You are not so innocent, huh?”
“Shy and innocent are two completely different things, Bucky.”
“Right.” Biting his lip, he looked up at you again with darkened eyes, and you felt his hand pressing onto your dressed core more firmly. “Can I taste you?"
Your eyes widen in shock. You were not a complete virgin, but unfortunately, you had never experienced that before. “My sexual life is actually really, and I mean really, meager, and no one ever asked me to do it.” You whispered, almost in embarrassment.
“So you’re telling me that no one asked to eat you out, princess? Well, that’s a shame. I bet your pussy is as sweet as you are.” He ran his nose across your cheek, enjoying your delicate skin and the light scent of your perfume, until he reached the sensitive part of your neck. “Your scent drives me crazy... You’re so sensitive, God. When was the last time you were with someone?” You tried to act normal and not shiever, but when Bucky’s finger was running up and down the soft cotton of your panties, it was nearly impossible to do.
“I don’t know. I did it just a few times, and I don’t date. Guys are not really interested in me.”
“Loosers.”
“Bucky.” You moaned his name when he suddenly fell to his knees. That view was so surreal for you. He seemed desperate to touch and taste you, to please you, even though he was painfully hard in his jeans. But he did not go too far because he was waiting for your response. “What if someone walks in?”
“There is a sign on the door. Are there many people who go to bookshops at that time?” Bucky took your left leg, slowly putting it on his shoulder. Your eyes followed every move with curiosity and a hint of worry when he turned his head to softly kiss your thigh.
“Okay.”
Bucky took your leg off his shoulder but only to slide his hands under your dress and take off your underwear. He did not break eye contact when he helped you step out of it and then put them in his jeans pocket. With a quick motion, your leg returned to it’s place near his face and you blushed, realising how close he was.
With his right hand on your thigh and the left one slowly creeping up your other leg, Bucky started leaving kisses higher and higher, until he finally reached your pulled-up dress. When his head suddenly lowered and you felt the first touch of his tongue, you almost died.
Up until that moment, you didn’t even realize how tense your body was, but that first lick sent a hot wave over you and you could not hold back a whine. You just became a fucking puddle under his touch.
Bucky was not much better than you. He gripped your thigh harder, as if he wanted you to be even closer, and moaned when your taste blossomed on his tongue. He knew that he was addicted now and that he could spend hours in between your legs. His tongue slipped across your folds, collecting your juice, and then circled around your sensitive clit.
“Fuck, princess. You’re s’ sweet.”
"Bucky—oh my god, please!” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but that tight knot in your stomach was becoming almost too painful, and you felt tears forming in your eyes. As if Bucky had already understood your body better, he put two fingers of his left hand at your entrance, slightly pushing in just the tips.
You moaned again, your hand moving on it’s own and grabbing Bucky’s hair in despair. He slowly slipped inside, letting you adjust while still not stopping the movements of his tongue. You felt so fucking tight and wet around his fingers and his cock painfully twiched in his jeans. He started pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, and if you weren’t so far up in your head, you would’ve been embarrassed by the noises coming out of you.
The combination of his thick digits and tongue pushed you into your first orgasm. Your back arched, and your legs unconsciously tried to close, but Bucky did not let that happen, gripping your thigh tighter and holding you in place.
“Cum for me, pretty girl. C'mon, don’t be shy.” He encouraged you and that was everything you needed.
You had no idea what happened next because your body felt like it was floating and your head fell back with a moan of Bucky's name. He let you go through it, slowing his pace and pulling out his fingers. As much as he didn’t want to stop, he knew that it was enough for you for the first time.
You felt how Bucky jently lowered your leg and then, holding you by the waist, stood up and shamelessly licked his shiny lips. “I can’t believe you actually just did that. No one has ever given me an orgasm.”
“Princess… You’re unbelievable.” He got closer to you, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your scent. You could feel hardness in his pants, and while Bucky did not try to push it any further, the desire within you made you bold.
“Do you have a condom?” Bucky immediately pulled away from you, his eyes darker than before and his hands tightening on your waist. You bit your lip and lowered your gaze, as if you said something wrong.
"No, no, no, you can’t get shy after you just asked me this. Eyes on me, princess. Do you really want it?"
“I do.”
Bucky connected your lips, distracting you from unnecessary thoughts, and you felt two hands on the back sides of your thighs. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, as if your body knew what to do better than you. You both moaned when his bulge met with your dripping core; Bucky’s grip tightened and he slightly moved your hips.
Firmly holding you in his hands, Bucky stepped away from the shelves and went to the table that was standing nearby. He blindly moved aside some books there, dropping a few on the floor and receiving a groan from you. He put you on the flat surface, not moving away from between your legs.
Your hands finally felt more confident to study his tattooed skin. You never realised that you were into people with tattoos, but now, looking at the variety of things covering his tanned skin, your belly tightened with anticipation. Your hands slowly reached his neck, slightly pulling him closer.
“You didn’t answer my question. Do you have it?” Instead of replying to you, Bucky, not breaking eye contact, reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He opened it, taking the shiny square that was sticking out of there.
Your eyes shot up at him, meeting his half-hooded and full-of-lust eyes. Bucky looked right back at you, mesmerized by your beauty—by the way your cheeks heated and your lips were slightly swollen. He quickly unbuttoned his pants, sliding them with boxers down his legs, until his hard as rock cock was free with pre-cum leaking from the tip.
“If you’re going to look at me like that, then I might cum like a teenager before everything starts, princess.” Bucky growled, squeezing your thigh in his hand. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, then looked at his face again. You didn’t want to stare at his cock, but holy shit, it was better and bigger than everything you’ve seen before. You wondered what it would taste like, and that one thought made you clench around nothing.
With a quick, smooth motion, Bucky opened the package with his teeth, sliding the condom down his shaft. His hand moved you closer to the edge of the table, so now your faces were just a few centimeters away and you could feel his cock through the fabric of your dress.
“Be a good girl and hold it here for me.” Bucky folded your dress on your stomach, guiding your hand there, so he had better access to your sweet pussy. He had to see how he was disappearing inside of you with his own fucking eyes.
“Bucky…” You whined because of the way you were exposed to him, but you still did what he said. With wide eyes, you looked at how he moved even closer to you, slightly brushing your folds with the tip. Your free arm gripped his tattooed forearm, digging in your nails.
“So wet for me, so pretty... God, princess. I won’t be able to keep my hands from you. Say you want this. I need to hear it.” He palmed the side of your face, making you look up at him, and held himself at your entrance at the same time.
“I want it. Please.” You whispered, your eyes running back and forth between his pretty blues.
When he finally started slowly pushing into you, your mouth opened with a silent moan, and your eyes almost crossed with the way your whole body got covered with goosebumps. Bucky could not tear his eyes away from the place you two were connected. He felt every movement of your body and felt how your pussy almost sucked him inside.
He knew that you would feel good, but he did not realize that it would feel like the most correct thing in his life.
Bucky finally bottomed into you, stretching you the way you had never been before. You both thought that you could cum in that exact second, but you also both wanted to extend this moment as much as you could.
“Princess…” That sounded so desperate when Bucky finally started moving his hips, dragging his cock out and then pushing right back in. "Fuck, I need to kiss you. You feel like a fuckin’ heaven, holy shit.” Not stopping sliding into you at a steady pace, he dragged your face closer, as if his life were depending on it. Bucky greedily bit and sucked your bottom lip, swallowing every moan and whine you let out.
“Mh— I can’t— oh, Bucky!” You cried, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck.
He pulled you back away from his body, holding you that way so he had a better view of your face and body. He felt the way your thighs tried to squeeze together, your face started to heat and you tried to look away.
“Don’t you dare become shy when I’m balls deep in you, princess.” He slowed his movements and teased you until you almost begged him to fuck you properly again. “You need to cum, huh? Show me those pretty eyes; don’t hide from me, c’mon.” You looked up, almost whining from the way he was looking at you. Pupils blown out, eyes slightly narrowed, and running around your face with interest and desire. “Do you need something? Speak up, sweet girl.”
“I want to cum. Let me, please.”
“Good fucking girl.”
Bucky started fucking you with a new forse; the table under you was squeaking with every move, making the whole scene even dirtier. You could not care about embarrassment anymore, moaning Bucky name and begging him to be harder.
You both felt how close you were.
Your hand, with your skirt in it, tightened around the fabric, your spread legs were trembling and you started uncontrollably squeezing Bucky’s cock inside of you. His dirty words made your vision foggy with satisfaction and the way he didn’t stop hitting your sweet spot was enough for you to go crazy with an overwhelming orgasm.
“Bucky! Bucky, oh my— fuuuck!” You cried in pleasure, feeling a few more thrusts of his throbbing cock, until he finally slowed down and emptied himself in the condom. Your body fell forward right into Bucky’s chest, too tired to even sit straight. He wrapped his hands around you, slowly stroking your back and kissing your temple.
“You are fucking amazing, princess.” He mumbled into your hair and you just hummed in response. After a few quiet minutes, when your head started to clear up and the whole weight of this situation fell on you, you finally pulled away, hiding your eyes from him again. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I just… I don’t know what we are supposed to do in this situation; I mean— it was just sex for you, right?” You asked, focusing on one particular tattoo on Bucky’s neck to not show how nervous you were.
Bucky didn’t answer for a few seconds, but you felt the weight of his eyes on you. Then he lifted your face with one of his hands and softly smiled at you. “If it meant nothing for me, I would’ve already been on my way home. I want you. I wanted you from the moment I saw you and I won’t be satisfied until you let me take you out. Are you free tomorrow evening, sweetheart?” He cooed, playfully tilting his head to the side. That man and his charm would be the death of you…
“Um, okay. I’m free, if you’re not kidding.”
“Not in the slightest. Now get dressed. I'm taking you home.” He pecked your lips before slowly pulling out of you and getting rid of the condom. You slowly jumped from the table, legs trembling from two mind-blowing orgasms, not missing how Bucky’s smirked at you.
“You don’t have to take me home, Bucky.” You fixed your dress and hair as much as you could without a mirror and then picked up the books from the floor that were forgotten during your makeout session.
“Well, I didn’t see a car near the shop, so I assume you’re walking home. And it’s dark.” He walked behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist and burying his face into your neck. “I don’t like this idea. I’m driving you home, princess.”
“Fine. You won.” You playfully made an annoyed voice to what Bucky just chuckled and held you even closer.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x you#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes smut#bucky x y/n#marvel smut#marvel fanfiction#marvel x reader#marvel fic#marvel fanfic
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
into the night | jeon wonwoo
SUMMARY: when you call wonwoo late at night telling him you're stranded, he drops everything to make his way to you (and bring you home safe)
PAIRING: biker!wonwoo x reader
THEMES: biker au, established relationship, terms of endearment, comfort fluff
WARNINGS: speed, fluff, kissing, a little suggestive (only at the end)
WORDCOUNT: 3.1k
A/N: just another very self-indulgent fic
the cool wind blows in your hair as you stand next to your car on the verge of tears. you really don't know how you ended up here - well you do actually. you were upset, overwhelmed from work and exhausted. you just wanted to run away for a bit, get away from life. but right now it seemed like life had caught up and was showing you the reality of your situation.
you pull out your phone from your sling bag and unlock it, your hands opening your contacts, your finger hovering over wonwoo's number. it was late, almost going to be midnight and here you were in the middle of nowhere because your car decided to break down. you wonder whether you should bother wonwoo tonight, having second thoughts, but your finger taps on his contact anyway, dialling his number. you don't think he is going to pick up after a few rings and you move your phone from your ear. that's when you hear the line pick up on the other end, wonwoo's voice floating in your ear.
"yn?", he asks, his voice tinged with a little sleepiness. "i-sorry did i wake you up?", you ask softly, looking down at your feet.
"no, i was up. are you okay?", he asks you, and that question gets you. you bite your lip in an attempt to not cry, feeling overwhelmed all over again.
"wonwoo", you say softly, feeling like an idiot for getting yourself in this situation.
"my love, what's wrong?", his voice comes through, concern laced in his voice and you can hear the sound of some shuffle on the other side.
"can you come get me?", you finally manage to choke out, your voice cracking, betraying your composure. "where are you?", he asks, his tone more alert now.
"i'm kind of stranded", you confess softly, and wonwoo catches onto the tremor in your voice, getting worried. "i don't know where i am, i was just driving and the car broke down", you try to explain softly, a lone tear rolling down your cheek.
"driving? why were you driving so late", he presses, to which you don't respond. you bite your lip in hesitation, unsure whether you want to tell wonwoo the truth or not.
you can hear him sigh softly on the other end before he speaks again. "send me your location and wait in the car, okay. i'm on the way", he says before hanging up.
after sending wonwoo your location, you settled into the quiet of the car, exhaustion weighing heavily upon your eyelids. despite your best efforts to stay awake, you unintentionally dozed off, unaware of the passing time and wonwoo's frantic attempts to reach you, the phone on silent.
in wonwoo's mind, each unanswered call heightens his worry, his imagination conjuring the worst-case scenarios, thinking something might have happened to you. it was unlike you to not respond to his calls. you'd usually reassure him with a quick call or text, but right now you were unreachable and panic ignited in his chest, propelling him to rush towards your location on his bike, each passing moment feeling like an eternity.
he finally reaches your location, finding your car on the side of the road with the blinkers flashing. with wonwoo's heart pounding with every step he takes, he approaches your car, his knuckles knocking against the window, startling you awake.
jumping up at the sudden noise, you blinked groggily, confusion clouding your senses. a figure stood outside, casting a silhouette against the darkness. fear momentarily gripped you until clarity dawned, and you recognised the familiar leather jacket that belonged to wonwoo.
with a shaky exhale, you reached for the door handle. as you stepped out into the cool night air you heard wonwoo say something like "thank god" under his breath as you stepped out.
"are you okay?", he asks, worried, his hair a touseled mess, falling over his forehead and eyes, blowing gently with the breeze. he looks you up and down, looking for any signs of injury.
"i'm okay, i just dozed off", you tell and relief seems to flood in his eyes. "you got me worried there, i called you but you weren't picking up", he says, looking at you, relieved to see you safe and sound.
a gush of wind passes, making you shiver. you cross your arms over your chest to offer some sort of warmth to your body. you stand there in front of wonwoo, avoiding wonwoo's gaze, dreading the question he might ask you about why you were driving out so late in the middle of nowhere. but the question never comes.
"let's go home", he says softly, reassuring in a way, holding out his hand for you to take, making you finally look up at him. you take his hand, walking along with him. he holds your hand gently but there's something comforting about his touch.
that's when you finally spot the bike - wonwoo's sports bike parked on the side of the road, making you turn your head to him.
"it's gonna get cold", he remarks, his voice gentle as he retrieves another jacket from his bike. he holds it out to you and waits patiently as you slip your arms into the sleeves, his touch tender as he settles the jacket over your shoulders. though it was slightly oversized, the garment seemed to embrace you in its warmth, a comforting shield against the biting night air. wonwoo's heart swelled with pride at the sight of you wearing his jacket.
"we're going home on this?", you question, apprehension evident in your voice as wonwoo zips up the jacket around you.
"why? are you scared?" he teases lightly. he knew all too well of your unease with riding on his bike, a fear you had yet to conquer since the beginning of your relationship. the whole thing seemed so intimidating to you, but wonwoo never pushed you to overcome it, understanding you and respecting your space. but tonight, it seemed like you were finally going to face your fear.
"it was the fastest way to get to you", he adds softly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear as your eyes dart around nervously, still grappling with the idea of riding on his bike.
"do you trust me?", he asks, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. you lift your eyes to meet his, and nod slowly. "then let's go home".
wonwoo sits on the bike, manoeuvring it into position. he extends his hand, helping you to get on the bike and take a seat. once you're settled in the seat, you can't help but notice its height and weight, a realisation sinking on what you were about to embark on.
wonwoo hands you the spare helmet he brought along with him, and you accept it, your fingers tracing the smooth surface nervously.
"okay, some ground rules," he began, his gaze turning serious as he turns back to look at you.
"hold onto me no matter what or else you're gonna fall off", he says, his gaze turning amused when he sees the flash of panic in your eyes.
"woah not like that, i mean, it's better to hold onto me you know", he adds, chuckling softly and you make a face, smacking him lightly.
"tap me once to tell me you're comfortable, tap twice if you want me to slow down and tap thrice if you want me to stop or you don't feel okay", he instructs carefully. you nod at his intrusions.
"okay?", he asks again and you nod again.
"words, i need words my love", he prompts and you finally speak, squeaking out a small yes, still scared about being on the bike and the corners of his mouth tug up in a small smile.
you watch as he puts on his big biker gloves before taking the helmet from your hands and placing it on your head, adjusting as needed. he puts on his helmet too and waits. you're confused and hold onto his jacket to brace yourself. he opens the visor on his helmet before speaking.
"love, you gotta hold onto me", he says, startling you for a second. "i-i-am", you stutter out in surprise.
"that's not going to work", he says and wordlessly reaches out his hands to yours, guiding them around his waist and you hold onto him now. "that's much better", he remarks, satisfied before telling you he was going to start, putting down his visor.
the bike starts and wonwoo pushes off, riding in the direction home. and fuck, you had underestimated the speed that you'd be going at. your grip around wonwoo tightens and he smiles to himself. wonwoo's grateful for the helmet because gosh, he was melting under your touch truly. he finds you cute, so so cute and all his.
he still remembers the day he first met you. it was at the convenience store where he found you feeding a few of the stray cats that he usually feeds. he'd just gone in to buy some food for them and when he came out walking around to the back, he saw you. you were crouched down as you handed the cats some food and watched them eat with a tender smile on your face. it's was only a few seconds later that you had finally noticed his presence, standing up in a rush.
seeing the strange man in front of you all of a sudden, you panicked, taking a step back until wonwoo spoke.
"you feed them too?", he inquired, tilting his head to the side with geunine curiosity. he remembers the way you nodded your head shyly and the way you took him in, your gaze lingering at his tattoed arm that was exposed, the sleeves rolled up a bit.
from that moment on, your paths seemed to cross more frequently. wonwoo found himself drawn to your presence, often finding excuses to linger around the convenience store in hopes of encountering you once more. you'd get so nervous and shy every time he'd come around on that big bike of his, wearing that leather jacket that made him look so cool and his hair that had grown into a mullet that was a little long and shaggy and fell over his forehead and eyes, making him look hot, paired with the tattoos that covered his one arm, he looked irresistible. and not to forget his towering height - oh he was hot.
it had been almost six months into dating and you'd still never ridden on his bike before, until now. wonwoo gestures his hand in a thumbs up, asking you if you are okay and you tap his chest once. he smiles, glad, but really, you were scared, hanging onto wonwoo for dear life. you feel his hand gently intertwine in yours to reassure you as he slows down at a signal. you sit up a little straighter now, allowing your grip around his waist to loosen just a little.
he starts up again, accelerating again. you clutch onto him a little tighter than last time, closing your eyes. the rush of speed and nerves overwhelming you. you tap him twice, indicating you want him to slow down a little and he does, slowing down at a manageable speed for you but still going at a steady pace. as the minutes pass, you find the courage to open your eyes, lifting your head to take in your surroundings. to your surprise, you realized that you were in familiar territory—the neighbourhood where wonwoo lived. with his home now just a mere ten minutes away, a sense of relief washed over you, tempered with a newfound sense of accomplishment for conquering your fears, if only for a moment.
the rest of the ride is smooth. once wonwoo reaches his home, he parks the bike, turns off the engine, mountings his legs on the ground. your arms are still around his waist, gripping him tighter than ever because the bike was now leaning towards the left since he'd put it on the stand. you were somehow convinced that you were going to fall off if you didn't hold onto wonwoo. he takes off his helmet and sets it down in front of him on the gas tank.
"you okay love?", he asks when you haven't let go of him yet. "yeah i'm okay", you manage out softly, your voice muffled through the helmet.
you reluctantly take your hands off wonwoo and move your hands up to take off your helmet. wonwoo gets down first, his height and long legs making it easier for him than for you. he takes both helmets, placing them on the small bench in his yard.
as you remained perched on the bike, a hesitation rushed through you, with the sudden reluctance to dismount the bike. gazing down at the ground beneath you, you tried to steady yourself, despite knowing there was no real risk of falling. with a nervous gulp, you raised your eyes to meet wonwoo's, finding him regarding you with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
wonwoo shakes his head a little, letting out a soft exhale, letting his hair breathe finally. he runs a hand through his dishevelled hair, the strands falling in an adorable mess around his face. he continues to look at you, wondering why you haven't gotten off yet.
"need help?", he prompts. "how am i supposed to-", you trail off, feeling embarrassed. you manage to swing your one leg to the other side and now you're settled in a sideways position, holding onto the bike so you don't slide off entirely. wonwoo walks forward and wordlessly holds onto you, his hands finding your waist to steady you as you peer up at him.
"i'll pick you up, just wrap your legs around my waist," he says calmly, and you furrow your brows for a second before nodding in understanding. wonwoo lifts you up effortlessly and you instinctively encircle your legs around his torso as your arms wrap around his neck for support. his one arm supported you, securely wrapped around your waist as he held you up. the proximity made your heart rate rush and you lean more into him so you don't fall off.
he grabs the bike keys before heading to the door, unlocking the door with ease and walking inside with you, holding onto you securely. you admire wonwoo up close and gosh, he was so handsome and pretty.
wonwoo sets you down on the kitchen island countertop, his hands lingering on your waist for a moment as you look at him. as you meet his eyes, you can't help but notice how your height almost matches his towering height now. he gives you a small but comforting smile before his hands move off your waist. he unzips his jacket, taking it off, only to expose his tattoed arm as he slides the jacket off, making you gasp ever so softly at the sight. you'd seen wonwoo's tattoos plenty of times before, but they never failed to leave you in awe every time you saw them. despite wonwoo's intimidating appearance - for someone who looked cold, badass and was so buff, he was so soft, sweet and gentle. it was a contrast that never failed to captivate you, drawing you closer to the enigma that was wonwoo.
wonwoo's wearing a sleeveless compression shirt and as you look at him, it's slowly turning your brain to mush with the way it was hugging his body perfectly at all the right places, showing off his build and muscles. the way the fabric hugged and accentuated every sculpted muscle of his sent your thoughts spiralling in a whirlwind. you have to tear your eyes away, opting to look at your lap instead, feeling the rush of heat flood your cheeks. wonwoo smirks to himself when he catches you checking him out and stealing glances at him, a little boost to his ego.
he takes off the gloves, placing them on the counter and finally, his attention is back on you. he looks at you, stepping forward so that he was closer, standing between your legs as he lifts your chin up so that you can meet his gaze.
"what's going on?", he asks softly, his hand caressing your cheek as he looks at you sweetly. your eyes dart to the side before returning to his unwavering gaze.
"i-i don't know", you confess as you look at him. "i just needed some space i guess, everything got too much", you tell and his gaze softens as he looks at you.
"next time you want to escape, at least call me, i can take you", he murmurs, his words carrying a sense of reassurance and comfort. you gulp at the closeness and his words as he stares into your soul.
"yeah-okay", you mumbled softly, blinking at him, getting nervous again. the way wonwoo could render you a shy nervous mess in mere seconds was something that needed to be studied.
before you can dwell on your response more , wonwoo closes the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender and gentle kiss. a rush of warmth floods your body and in that moment, everything seems to stop. he pulls away and you hope he can't hear how loud and fast your heart is beating.
you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him forward as you bury your face in his chest, engulfing him in a hug. wonwoo's arms instantly wrap around your waist, pulling you a little closer to him, letting you bask in his embrace, the comforting weight of his presence grounding you as he hugs you back, burying his face in the crook of your neck. at that moment, amidst the warmth of his embrace, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment of quiet intimacy.
bonus: the intrusive thoughts really won here
you riding the bike with wonwoo again, the wind is refreshing as he glides on the roads. after that day, you'd gotten a little more confident and okay with riding on wonwoo's bike. but now, it was like second nature to you. your hands are around wonwoo's waist before you have a little mischievous thought and you smile to yourself. your hands slowly creep up to his chest, your fingers finding the buttons of his shirt as you slowly undo them. wonwoo has no idea what's happening until he glances dow n at the feeling of your hands on his chest, seeing what you are doing.
"what are you doing?", he asks, his voice filling your helmet and you suppress the urge to laugh.
"i'm showing the world how sexy my boyfriend is, though i should be gatekeeping you actually", you tease, undoing another button as wonwoo's shirt now hangs on for dear life. your hands creep up under his shirt and you hear the soft groan he lets out as your hands caress his abs and you grin, satisfied knowing the effect you were having on him.
"oh love, you are so in for it when we get home", he says making you chuckle as you hug him tighter.
taglist: @biboramp3 @naaaaafla @weird-bookworm @icyminghao @kyeomyun @lvlystars @blue-jisungs @wootify @ihrtboo @idubiluv @n4mj00nvq
@joshuaahong @fallingforshua29 @itsveronicaxxx @frankenstein852 @mirxzii @wheeboo @writingmeraki @wqnwoos
#another very self indulgent fic#skye's writing!#k-labels#caratlibrary#seventeen imagines#seventeen fluff#seventeen x reader#seventeen fanfic#seventeen scenarios#seventeen drabbles#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo fluff#svt imagines#svt fluff#svt x reader#svt fanfic#svt scenarios#svt drabbles#jeon wonwoo
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
TWISTED WONDERLAND'S HOUSEWARDENS WITH A READER, WHO IS INSPIRED BY THE PROTAGONIST FROM THEIR STORIES
A/N: I didn't add Kalim or Jamil, because I feel their storyline is too much Aladdin & Jafar inspired already to do anything else with them.
Riddle Rosehearts. ❤️
— That was definitely a dislike from the first sight. He predicted you to be his future reason of headache as soon as the mirror sent you to the Heartslabyul;
— Riddle sees you as an air-headed fool, who only asks too many unnecessary things, daring to question the wishes of the Red Queen, instead of serving to your dorm as a proper student would do;
— You, from the other side, struggle with understanding what makes Riddle hate you so much. You were nothing but kind towards him, always suggesting to eat some sweets together, and trying to ask him to take a break from his studies to hang out with you or others;
— When he overhears that your signature spell makes you others to tell you the truth, Riddle is... Intimidated. He is afraid that you will use is against him, and so, he starts ignoring you more often.
•
”Housewarden acts like an asshole towards you, though.”
Riddle doesn't even need to think twice to recognise a loud voice of Ace Trappola, another troublemaker in his form. He knows that he should just give him a punishment and leave for a lesson, but instead, he hides in the nearest bush, waiting to hear the rest of the conversation.
”Oh, Ace. You are being rude,” you mutter softly, sighing at your classmate. ”Perhaps, a housewarden doesn't like me, but this feeling is not necessarily mutual.”
Riddle raises his brows in surprise. Why, though? He is aware that his attitude is nothing but awful when it comes to you. He doesn't have a proper reason for that, either.
”You should, really,” Ace rolls his eyes. ”Dude has a problem with you liking white. And what else? Being nice?”
That isn't true. He is fine with you liking white—though, he admittedly got frustrated when you asked him on your first day why painting roses red, if they are prettier when they are white—and being nice. He just considers you too naive for this world.
”I think, you are... Misjudging him.”
That is right, Riddle mutters mentally. Tell him, Y/n.
”I think, the reason why housewarden is so... Let's say, annoyed by me, it is because I am everything he grew up hating and being restricted with. And it is harder, when something you should never be interested in, is nice and interesting. I think, housewarden is just confused.”
He feels his cheeks blushing furiously.
What did you say—
”And I think you are just being delusional,” Ace chuckles, patting your shoulder softly. ”Now, please, let's get out of here. I want to find Deuce.”
Riddle listens to the sound of your rushing steps, but he can't care less about it now. All he can do, is to recite your words, again and again.
Does he really think you as a nice and interesting?
Yes.
Does it make him hate you even more?
No, but he wishes it could work this way.
Until now, though, he merely returns to his studies. Maybe, you can be honest with yourself and everyone, but this kind of thing is not for him at all.
Leona Kingscholar. 💛
— Leona didn't notice you at first. Honestly, never planned too, until you started to cling to him in some idiotic attempts to be... What? Friends?;
— You remind him so much of Cheka, but he actually likes his nephew deep inside. And your presence is absolutely insufferable;
— You are too childish and annoying, and all you do is sway your tail as you try to befriend him, while pretending that you actually like him. Leona knows you have ulterior motives. Stop lying to him!
— He finds it stupid how someone so moronic as you managed to pull out such an interesting signature spell. Manipulating dreams of others? How cruel.
•
”Stop doing that,” Leona hisses, digging in your wrist as you try to touch his hair. ”I am seriously going to kill you, if you keep doing this. Do you hear that?!
A few weeks ago—approximately since you figured out your magic—Leona started saw dreams. Very colourful ones, cheerful even. And each, with the same meaning: he becomes the king, and his family and people adores him.
He hates it.
And he hates you for doing that.
Because, of course, he doesn't need your fucking pity. Your condescension. Your gifts. He doesn't need to be mocked!
”Ah? Leona-sama, what is it?” You blink, confused.
”What is your problem, huh?” He hastily jumps on his legs, towering on you. ”Don't you have anything to do? Go and mind your business, brat!”
Your lostness shifts in sadness. You are not scared of him, you are never are—another proof that you don't take him seriously—but you dare to look at him like that. As a kicked puppy.
”What did I do?”
”Stop sending me these stupid dreams! I don't need your pity, do you hear me?!” He yells, still gripping your wrist tightly. ”Go and dream of your family or something, instead, would you?”
”I... I am sorry,” you mumble, and your eyes dart on the floor.
Leona closes his mouth, when realisation dawns on him. You don't have a family to dream about; you are an orphan. Yours, the previous crown family, were killed by his great predecessors.
He doesn't know why he feels bad, when you picked the fight first.
”I will never bother you again, Leona-sama. I apologise.“ You repeat, and your voice suddenly sounds numb.
That is not the sight of you he, or anyone else, was used to. Not a single emotion on your face. You just snatch your wrist from his hold, before leaving him alone as he asked to.
”You are such a jerk,” Ruggie whistles from behind, appearing almost from nowhere.
”Shut up.”
”You know that they can't send any control dreams, right?” He continues, hands on his hips.
”What?” Leona unwillingly turns head on his vice.
”Dunno, but they only can adjust if it is going to be nightmare or a good dream,” Ruggie yawns. ”They are just a first-year, so... It is your brain that decides where is where for now.”
Fuck.
Leona hisses furiously.
He is so fucked up.
Azul Ashengrotto. 🩵
— Oh, so this is love? He notices you in the crowd of other students, as you flinch from loud voices from dynamics, clearly knowing very little of this world, and he is amused. Someone is clearly more social awkward than he is;
— Azul thinks you don't like him that much, though, because you only wave at him, and when he once tried to speak, you merely nodded and smile all the time without answering him properly;
— It is until twins tell him that you don't have a voice. You were brought to this world completely mute, because of the family curse, and though you hear everything, your only way to communicate with others is writing. Or a sign language;
— But if anything gods blessed you is your magic. Everything you touch turns to gold, and that is actually the main reason why you were kept isolated over years. Azul is over heels for you now...
•
”I am glad that you took time to accept my invitation, Y/n.”
Azul locks his hands together, looking at you with unhidden excitement. He is always too nervous in your company—luckily, you can't read a room—but today is a special day.
You smile at him, instead of answering.
”The reason why I asked you to came here, it is because I have a deal for you,” he continues carefully, weighing his every word. ”Do you see that?”
He points with his finger at the middle of the table. There is very beautiful necklace with pearls and a little seashell, looking quite normal and mundane. You nod again.
”That is something that could break your curse,” he explains, enjoying the way your eyes widen in the poor shock. ”Yes, yes, you heard me right. With that, you could speak easily.”
Azul can't help but soften as you tear up instantly. There is a whole minute, when he fights an urge to give it to you for free, but... He built his reputation too long to break it so easily.
”But, of course, I will need something from you in return.”
You tilt your head in question.
”I...”
I need you to love me.
”...I need you to use your power for my business when it will be required.”
And with that, Azul quickly shoves another contract to you. You blink a few times, but there is no back thoughts in your head. Quickly, as if afraid that he will change his mind, you took the pen, and leave your signature on all places, where it was needed.
Ah... Angelwish, why are you so naive! It kills him! What if he tried to use you? You didn't even read a contract! You really should be glad that Azul loves you so much.
Before he realises that, you are already putting a necklace on yourself.
One second, two. Three.
You are staring at him.
”Well?” He asks, anxiously.
”A... Azul?”
His heart drops.
Your voice is amazing. And hearing you saying his name is even better than he expected. He blushes.
”Azul... Thank you?”
”S-sure.”
Seems, like it is his turn to be speechless...
Vil Schoenheit. 💜
— He originally had nothing against you... Until other students didn't start to call you the most beautiful person in the world, following you everywhere obsessively, and suggesting you to become the next housewarden;
— Vil now officially hates you. Each time you come to him ends up with short anger impulses that he hardly hides from you, and he wishes you could just disappear;
— He is quite... Cruel with you. He wants you to change your dorm, actually, so he desperately pushes you to the edge by giving you impossible tasks to fullfil, and turning others against you;
— And he thinks your signature spell, speaking and controlling animals is another proof that you should leave Pomefiore for Savanaclaw.
•
“I don't think you are stupid, un petit entraîneur.”
Vil narrows his eyes, leaning slightly forward from his balcony. The sight of his vice speaking with you—hunter's interest in you was his another concern—annoys him instantly.
”What do you mean, Rook?” There is a big cat in your lap, clearly another of your minions.
”You know that our dear housewarden wants you out of here,” he murmurs, moving closer to you. ”A fair exchange with Savanaclaw, I would say. He doesn't like you here.”
You sigh.
”I figured it out, trust me. He made it very clear by always putting me in dangerous situations and giving me outdated products for skin, making me look like a fool in front of others.”
You don't mention how he makes you clean dark and messy rooms of other students.
”Yet, you are not willing to give up?” Rook touches the strand of your hair curiously.
”You know, I actually liked him a lot,” you admit suddenly, patting the cat behind its ear. ”Vil was the world for me. I was so amazed by him. By how collected he was, how hard he worked. I was excited to become his student... I wished to show him what he is worthy of. That others see his hard work.”
Vil's breath hitches. He remembers you mentioning that you were his fan, but he punished you for this remark; he didn't need to be so violently degraded. But... Was it a truth, then?
”...It is in the past now. I witnessed his true colours, and I will not tolerate it,” your smile twists in something more vicious, a ghostly fondness leaving your pretty face. ”He doesn't need to be scared of me being better anymore. Because I am going to be so much worse.”
He shudders as he hears that, your voice cold, and eyes gleaming dangerously. And as if Rook addresses him, he sighs suddenly, with the strange excitement in his voice:
”Oh, mon doux karma. What had you done?”
Idia Shroud. 💙
— From the minute you open your mouth in his presence , Idia knows he will hate you desperately... It is not serious, though;
— You are unbelievably loud, and too cheerful, and too proud, and you are so self-centred? Also, a fucking bimbo. Idia has no idea why everyone so into you, and what you are even doing in Ignihyde! Go away!
— You annoy him so much, and he actually hates the way you try to befriend him and make him more normie! Stop be like that! You are not welcome!
— Idia is absolutely not impressed that your signature spell is an instant tactics creation. Fuck you, by the way.
•
“You do know, that doors exist, right?” Idia hisses, not even stopping his game to spare you some attention.
”I do!” You say, climbing through the window with a loud thud.
”Then, why don't you use them, idiot?!”
Idia has no the slightest idea why anyone, let alone you of all people—he means, since you genuinely think that it is healthy to spend all your time outside of the room—would want to become his friend. But here you are. Trying to befriend him for a month already.
”Because you never open the door, Idia-sama,” you shrug easily.
”Take a hint, maybe.”
You close the window behind yourself, taking place behind his chair. Putting elbows on it, you hum thoughtfully, glancing from Idia to the screen of the computer, where the game flashes on. Another few minutes, and familiar yelps fill the room:
”Shit!”
Game over.
”Idia-sama,” you frown, ”maybe, I can help you?”
Idia snickers, rubbing his tired eyes. As if.
”Have you ever played this game, even?”
”No,” you murmur shyly, scratching the back of your neck. ”But I am good at tactics. And it is combat game, correct?”
Idia ponders for a while. That is surprising, because... You are actually absolutely correct. For once.
”Sit down, first year,” Idia exclaims, suddenly excited. ”I am going to teach you how to play this game.”
You smile widely, doing as it was told.
Finally, you cracked the code! And they said you weren't for this dorm...
Malleus Draconia. 💚
— Of course, he missed you as the new student at first, since he forgot to arrive at the orientation day. But it is not that long as he starts hearing others praising you, Lilia especially;
— You are quickly becoming the part of the school life as everyone loves you, and calling you ’the heart of the school’. And while Malleus wants to befriend you, too... He also can't help but feel envious of how easy it is for you. The socialization;
— You are quick to fall asleep everywhere, much like Silver. And since Malleus can't find courage to speak to you, he wanders around, when you are asleep at the strangest places, instead;
— When the first overblot incident happens, your signature spell kicks in. To everyone's horror, it is absolutely terrifying. Your magic is about thorns. Thorns, that wrap around Riddle's weakened body, when he touches you. He almost dies. And the same thing happens with Ace, who accidentally brushes your skin. Now... Everyone shun you away.
•
”Hello, Malleus-sama,” you mutter, eyes sleepy as you look around. ”I apologise.”
Malleus doesn't quite mind you falling asleep in the class, where his gargoyle's researches are going currently. He is the only member, anyway. But he nods.
”I had never seen you here before,” he notices in a poor attempt of the small talk.
You shrug.
”There is no other students here. And it is better for me not to show up around them.”
What a familiar thinking process... Somehow, he finds it easier: to approach you know, when you are not everyone's favourite anymore.
”I see. You can stay, then. I am not welcomed by them either, so no one is going to enter this classroom.”
You offer him a smile. It is short, strained at the edges, but still sweet. Malleus thinks he understands how you so easily charmed others in the last months; you are much like sunshine, when you are happy. It is a shame you are not, anymore.
”You know, Malleus-sama, I always wanted to become your friend,” you admit suddenly, making him open his eyes in surprise. ”And, I think, you wanted to be mine friend, too.”
You? Why would someone like you want to have him as your friend?
”And why would you think that?”
You fold arms on your chest slowly.
”You are always here, when I am sleeping,” Malleus feels blush touching the tips of his pointy ears. You elaborate. ”I am not sure people realise, but I sleep too much not only because I am lazy, but also because I feel surroundings better like this. I remember everything I hear in my sleep, and I do feel if someone is around.”
Ah. So, that is the secret of yours. And he wondered how you master in all your classes, when you sleep all the time...
”...I see,” Malleus mutters, ashamed. ”I apologise, then.”
He reminiscences of how often he whispered you some nonsense when you slept—childish complaints about how he hates you for being so easily loved by others, random poems that came to his mind as he sat down by your side, stories from his childhood—and feels like disappearing in the shame wouldn't be that bad.
”You know, Malleus-sama, you and I... We are not so different. We both do what we have to do to keep our loved ones to ourselves,” you sit down on the couch beside him slowly. ”But it leads only to one thing.”
Malleus gazes at you curiously as you suddenly curl on his lap, much like a cat. Your eyes met as he helps you to settle more comfortably.
”To destiny?” He asks aloud, tilting his head.
”To pain.”
There is a beat of silence in which your smile suddenly appears to be more bitter, less serene. Malleus doesn't know what happened with you in details, and how awfully these changes in your reputation affected on you, but he can say that it was hard.
”Now, if you don't mind, and I believe, you don't, Malleus-sama, I would like to dream a little bit.” You warn him, already closing your eyes, not really waiting for the answer.
Still, Malleus nods. Though that is not something you can see.
”Sleep, then... Beastie,” he sighs, patting your hair gently.
You snicker, before your breath slows down, alarming that you completely drifted off.
Malleus stares at you openly now.
Ah, who would've thought? He had finally made a friend.
Part two with Leona & Vil is here.
#twisted wonderland#twst wonderland#leona kingscholar#malleus draconia#leona kingscholar x reader#malleus x reader#vil schoenheit#riddle rosehearts#azul ashengrotto#idia shroud x reader#idia shroud#malleus draconia x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
In my life (I love you more)
Part 2 of Say Something (Alternate ending)
Summary: Navigating pregnancy is an adventure on its own, but doing it with your recently divorced ex-husband is on a whole new level. But maybe it's the perfect opportunity to find your kinship once again.
Word count: 8.3k
Tags: Female reader, established relationship, ex-wife reader, reader is an architect, cheating, smut, pregnancy symptoms, pregnancy sex, fingering and oral sex, lactation kink (briefly), chilbirth (not descriptive), lots of fluff, open ending, happy ending, not beta read
Relationships: Lewis Hamilton x Reader
Notes: Again, sorry if it's rushed or something, I was just going with the flow. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx
Find me on Twitter!
It’s different getting settled on your new, divorced life, and with a baby on the way. You kept trying to establish a new routine in your new place, while going over and over on what to do in your head.
You knew you were keeping the baby, because that’s something you always wanted. And for a few weeks, you weren’t sure if you would tell Lewis.
Then, you started thinking about going through the pregnancy alone, which you knew you couldn’t do. Then you thought if, god forbid, something happened to you during childbirth, if you died, who would take care of your child? What would happen to your baby? But also, you got lost in thoughts about the future, about the kid not having a father growing up, about your kid finding out you had hidden them from their father. You wasted only a couple of weeks until you made up your mind.
You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night keeping something like this from your ex-husband.
That’s how you were a little over twelve weeks when you finally sent Lewis an email. You could’ve called or texted him, but you were only willing to talk in person.
I’m not sure if you’re interested in hearing anything from me now, but I urge you to come meet me this Saturday at 11 am. I have some important things to talk about with you.
Attached, you sent him the address of your new home. It was a complete shot in the dark, adding the fact that he never replied to your email, you were unsure if he was gonna show up.
Hugging yourself inside your winter coat, you wondered if you did right by inviting him to your home. But then again, you didn’t want to have this conversation in public and risk Lewis being recognised.
You made tea and were waiting outside on the porch when he finally showed up, right on time.
God, he was easily the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, still. He was dressed in a dark blue coat, and simple cargo pants. He stopped when he saw you, visibly emotional.
“Hi, lo- Y/N” he almost slipped up.
“Hi, Lewis. I’m glad you came,” you whispered with a small smile.
You were just as stunning as the day Lewis saw you for the first time, beautiful skin, sweet smile and the kindest eyes.
“What happened? Do you need help?” He asked, and you just shook your head, with a small smile, and he added “you look so content. So different from the last time I saw you.”
“I am, Lewis. Still adapting but I really am,” you gestured for the house, you started walking, “come on in. It’s cold outside.”
You two entered, and removed your shoes by the door, getting comfortable.
“I need to tell you something, Lewis.”
“Is it about the divorce? You know I would come back to you whenever, you just need to say the word and I ca-”
As he started rambling, you just removed your coat, showing your little baby bump, now starting to show. Lewis stopped talking abruptly. He was shocked, jaw slack as he stared from your face to your belly a couple of times.
“I’m dreaming,” he turned around, slapping his own cheek as if to wake up.
“I’m pregnant, Lewis.”
Lewis turned around again, taking in your figure. You were wearing those elegant pajama sets you’d always wear whenever you wanted to feel comfortable at home, but the shirt was hugging your figure tightly, specifically around your middle, displaying the baby bump.
He felt a lump on his throat. He had dreamt of this throughout your relationship, but even more after he lost you. Lewis would dream of you and your family almost everyday, waking up crying over what his mistake cost him.
But now, now you were right in front of him, pregnant with his kid.
You mistook his silence for confusion, so with a heavy heart, you said:
“The baby is yours, but I don’t mind if you want to take a paternity test. I know it’s been a few months with no contact, so I understand if you have doubts ab-”
“No, no! I believe you- I do!” He interrupted your turn to ramble, “I guess I’m just a little bit shocked.”
There’s a brief, awkward silence as you two stood there. Lewis was staring at you so intently, so in awe that it made you squirm, so you walked further inside, going to the kitchen to leave your cup of tea, now empty by the sink. Lewis still walked after you, still looking at you like you had hung the moon or something.
“You’re stunning, Y/N. Just how I imagined you would be when pregnant.” He whispered. You felt yourself blush with the open compliment.
“Thank you, the morning sickness is dying down now, so I’m feeling much better these past few days.” You told him.
Someone rang the doorbell, and you went to check followed by Lewis. You opened the door to your new neighbor from down the road. He greeted you quickly, and handed you a small box full of cherry-tomatoes.
“Oh, thank you so much, James! You’re a lifesaver!” You waved at him, as he got in his car and drove away.
Happily skipping back to the kitchen, you washed and put the cherry-tomatoes on a plate, seasoning it with a little bit of salt and pepper. You ate the cherry-tomatoes raw, only after the second bite, noticing Lewis was still there, even more confused.
“Who’s that guy?” Lewis pointed to the door. He didn’t like the idea of other men coming to visit you. Especially that James guy who looked at you as if you were the most beautiful goddess to grace the earth. Well, you were the most beautiful goddess, but still, only Lewis looked at you like that.
“He’s my neighbor down the road, a couple of kilometers down. Him and his mom have a small plantation of fruits and vegetables. I told her I was craving cherry-tomatoes and she kindly sent them to me,” you said, taking another bite right after, “this is the best I’ve ever had. So fresh!” You exclaimed, eating a couple more.
Lewis looked at you, giddy with your little cherry-tomatoes, and he felt something in his chest expand. He smiled at you, looking so happy and healthy. The last two images he had of you were, you miserable around the house in Monaco, and the other was of you making love with him so passionately but so sad. The last time he touched you intimately, and lovingly, it was painfully obvious it was a goodbye to you, but to him it had been a chance, he had let himself be blinded by hope.
He had so many questions about the pregnancy, about how you had been feeling and what you wanted to do that he couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. Still, he took a deep breath and just said:
“Have you been having lots of weird cravings?” He asked, staring at you, still munching on the cherry-tomatoes.
“I’ve been craving fruits a lot this past week, the other day I wanted green mango with salt, but it’s so hard to find tropical fruits around here!”
Lewis grabbed his phone and texted Kevin, one of his assistants, telling him to find fresh mangoes anywhere as fast as possible.
“How are you? How are you feeling?” He put the phone away, eyes focused on yours.
“In regards to health, me and Peanut are completely fine. I’ve been really sleepy, taking naps all the time…”
“Peanut?” He smiled, eyes shining to the little nickname.
“So, the first craving I had was so bad I spent three days eating anything with peanuts. People have some really creative recipes on the internet.” Your words made Lewis laugh out loud, that one giggle that you had not heard in months. One laugh that used to make you so happy, “but really, we're fine. I’ve had some doctor visits now.”
“That’s good. I told my family about our divorce. Mum tore me a new one.” He gave an awkward smile.
“I know, she called me to apologize.” You let him know. You were still in touch with his mom, not having the heart to cut her off.
“Hey,” Lewis leaned in, his expression serious again, “I know I failed you in our marriage. But I won’t fail you in this pregnancy, ok? I want to be there every step of the way, if you allow me to.”
“I know, Lewis. I never doubted you would,” you sighed, pushing the plate away. You always knew Lewis would want to be there for you and his kid, “I just- I’m sorry it took me a while to reach you. I was confused and overwhelmed, heartbroken, everything at once, and I had to comprehend what I wanted to do. In the end, I couldn’t allow my baby to grow up without a father, and I know you will be a loving one.”
“Thank you, I hurt you so deeply, just- Thank you for letting me know about Peanut.”
“I know it will be difficult to get over our problems and the divorce, but I was hoping we could co-parent, as friends,” you told him.
“Whatever you want, I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I’m aware that's not how we planned things to go…” your eyes were wet with unshed tears, sometimes you still mourned the future you had with Lewis before, “... But we can do it, right?”
“We can do it. Peanut will be so happy.”
He was so sure, so confident, that it gave you a weird sense of security, knowing he will be there no matter what, knowing Peanut would have a loving father. It was a huge weight lifted from your shoulders, and now you could just focus on trying to go through a safe pregnancy.
“Tell me about your routine, how are you adapting here?” Lewis stood up, looking around.
You told him how you had reduced your work hours, to only work during the mornings, usually finishing up around noon, then you had lunch, then if you had any errands to run, you’d go to the city, then prenatal yoga class, and doing your hobbies the rest of the day.
While you were explaining your routine, you went to the pantry and got cat food out, your new companion showing up, meowing.
“You got a kitten.” Lewis pointed out.
“That’s Olive. I’ve always wanted one,” you said as if he didn’t know it, your fingers scratching behind her ears. Your voice didn’t have any malice, but Lewis’ own blame made your words feel like a jab.
“I know.”
Lewis stared at the fluffy gray cat. You had always talked about how growing up you had a cat that passed away when you were around fifteen. You had mentioned adopting a new one a lot after you got married, and still, Lewis never felt inclined to support the idea, he thought you two already had Roscoe, who you had to leave with a caretaker most of the time. He just thought you two wouldn’t have the time for another pet. It made something inside him burn with shame seeing that now that you were divorced, you finally got the little pet you always wanted.
You kept talking, telling Lewis how your parents are constantly traveling here to keep you company on weekends, and how you had been changing a few furniture, because you bought the house already furnished, but you wanted it to feel more like you, including a flowerbed by your porch. How you met a couple of neighbors, and how you had been exploring Edinburgh’s museums and galleries at least once a week.
It hurt him hearing about how you were moving on, meeting people and places, buying things and making plans when he was still stuck in the past. He was still wishing every morning he would wake up in your arms again, how he would share one big cup of coffee with you in the mornings, how he used to hold you in silence for a good 20 minutes after you woke up because you don’t like talking as soon as you wake up. How you would peck his lips every time he had to pack a bag to leave. How he would kiss your ring finger every time before he hopped in the car for a race.
Now he would walk past your office, and your work supplies weren’t there anymore, and the furniture didn’t have charcoal stains anymore, and the house didn’t smell like your tea and the bedsheets didn’t smell like your strawberry body scrub and shower gel thing.
Lewis spent the day with you, chatting like you were just two friends catching up. There was still a lot of baggage none of you wanted to touch just yet, so you just brushed past any awkward silence, and distant, cold chatter. It took a couple of hours to feel fully comfortable with each other. You had seen Lewis as the love of your life for so long it was mind boggling now having to put him in a “friend” category.
He left by the end of the afternoon, after leaving dinner ready for you.
“Will you unblock me?” He asked, getting ready to leave. You laughed but nodded, “You can text me anything. If you need something, anything really, call me or text me, yes?”
“Will do, Lewis. I’ll text any pregnancy updates too,” you walked him to the door, “Oh, wait! I forgot something.”
You went back inside scrambling into your purse for the sonogram image you had gotten the last doctor visit. You went back and handed it to Lewis. His eyes shone with tears as he understood what it was. He ran his thumb through the picture, tears falling down his cheeks.
“Oh, wow. That’s my baby.”
You noticed how Lewis was still wearing his wedding band, and your chest constricted a bit. You knew more than anyone that it would take some getting used to remove the ring as you were still getting used to not wearing yours, but you had forced yourself to leave it behind. You wondered if Lewis had gotten rid of it after the divorce was finalized.
“Can I- Can I tell my family about the baby?” He asked you, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.
“Yes. Tell Carmen to call me after you tell her.” You smiled softly at him.
He stared from the picture to your belly, your small bump.
“Wanna touch?” You offered, and he smiled.
“Only if you’re ok with it,” he muttered. You nodded, raising your shirt up.
You pulled his wrist, placing his palm against your stomach. His hand was warm, calloused as you were used to feeling them on your body. His thumb moved up and down, caressing your bump and raising goosebumps in your skin. It took him a full minute to let go, like it was physically painful to leave.
“Take care, yeah?” He told you, walking away.
“You too.”
You went back inside after locking the house, the sun was already setting as you sat down to eat the dinner Lewis prepared. He had promised you to come back in a couple of days after his work commitments.
The next morning, you were working when the doorbell rang, and it was a delivery guy. He handed you a box and left. You opened it on the kitchen counter, and it was full of fresh mangoes and a small note.
“Anything you need. -L”
Lewis came back three days later, letting you know when he was at the airport. You knew he had told his family, since Carmen had called you and you spent a good hour talking to her on the phone the night before. You heard a noise outside and you went to your porch to see Lewis arriving in a pick-up truck.
You walked up to Lewis with a small smile. He closed his fists, physically restraining himself as to not hold your pretty face and kiss you silly.
“Hi,” you said and your voice was sweet.
“Hi, beautiful mama,” he whispered, which made you blush. You eye the back of the truck.
“What is that?”
“I bought some stuff,” he patted one of the boxes, “this is an ergonomic chair, appropriate for pregnant women, I thought it would be useful since you’ll still be working for a while. And they had it in your favorite color too!”
“Lewis.”
“I also bought a few books on pregnancy, maternity and paternity. Already sent a few copies to my place too. There’s a bunch of baby clothes over there, a few are gifts from my family but most of them I just bought because I thought they were pretty cute.” He pointed to the other boxes.
“Lewis, it’s too much!” You wanted to reprimand him, but it was also sweet how dedicated he was being.
“Nothing is too much for Peanut and Mama,” he dismissed you, “and I didn’t even buy a lot of stuff because I thought we should do it together.”
He carried the boxes inside, while you got started on the meal for lunch.
“Why is this ladder here?” Lewis pointed to the folded ladder in the hallway.
“Oh, I was going to change the light!” You told him.
“Are you crazy, woman?! You can be doing all that while pregnant!” His voice echoed from the hallway.
“I’m pregnant, not ill!” You screamed back, and he laughed out loud.
There was only silence for a few minutes, so you checked the hallway to see Lewis changing the lights. As he came down the ladder, he put both hands on his waist.
“Anything else needs fixing?”
“You wouldn’t happen to know how to fix the door handle, would you?”
“Please, how would you doubt me?”
After Lewis fixed the bathroom door handle, he came back out and started helping you with the food. You ate while Lewis told you about his family’s reaction to the news. He guaranteed everyone was happy, but they were refraining to call and text you so as to not overwhelm you.
While you were on the phone with your mom, Lewis decided to unbox the new chair and take it to your new office. He looked around, seeing how this office was smaller than the one at home, but cozier. You had a big window with lots of natural light bathing the room. Whenever you were working on your projects on paper and charcoal, you liked using natural light to draw. There were a couple of scented candles around too.
He took a little while to fully assemble the new chair, but as he came back down, you were taking a nap on the couch. He grabbed the blanket and covered you, and went back to put the dishes away. It was different, he hadn’t been so domestic in so long, and certainly not when you were married. Now he was just happy to be of service, to help you around just like things had never changed. He noticed you had put a panel on the kitchen, just like in the project for your family home, and your planner was there. It showed you had a doctor visit by the end of the week and pregnancy yoga twice a week in the afternoons, it also had your next museum visit marked for after the doctor. He took a picture of your planner, to align his to yours.
“Y/N, hey,” he woke you up softly, confused, you stared at him, “you have yoga class in like an hour, will you go today? I can drive you to the city.”
“Yes, sure.” You got ready and Lewis drove you there right on time.
“I’ll just drive around for a bit, text me when the class is over,” he said as he dropped you by the gym’s door. He ended up going shopping for baby stuff, and had at least seven shopping bags by the time he went back to pick you up. He stopped the car by the entryway of the gym, where a man had been excitedly talking to you. Lewis made a face, it seemed like everywhere he went, there was someone into you. Of course, you were radiating this glow and charm of a pregnant woman, seducing everyone around.
Impatient, Lewis honked softly to catch your attention. He bit his tongue as you said goodbye to the man, who hugged you way too tight for Lewis’ taste. You were happy and Lewis hated that you were giving that rando your sweet smile and attention. He didn’t say anything as you got closer and he left the car to open the door for you, instead, he showed you all the stuff he had bought you and the baby.
When the end of the week came, Lewis also came back as you were leaving for your doctor’s appointment. You had invited him but he also had taken a picture of your schedule.
At the doctor’s you laid on the bed and the doctor started the ultrasound, Lewis gripped your hand firmly, his eyes never leaving the screen.
“See, here, this is your baby,” she pointed at the little gray mass on the screen, she gestured to the nurse, “and this is their heartbeat.”
The sound filled the room, and Lewis felt like his world stopped and reset, a warm sensation in his chest, finding what felt like something to live and something to die for. He listened while you asked the doctor for updates, but his eyes never left the screen, where he could see Peanut.
As you left the room, with your next appointment scheduled, Lewis stopped you in the parking lot, pulled you to his chest, holding you firmly and breathing into you. He was crying, you held him and that moment, something started to heal inside you. Maybe you’d never get your husband back, but you could count on him as a friend, as the father of your kid.
“Everything’s gonna be alright, Lewis. We’re gonna do great for Peanut.” You whispered into his shoulder.
-
You and Lewis managed to get a routine, he was coming back frequently, he claimed your guest room and was staying for two or three days at a time, only leaving for his commitments. Both of you already did therapy separately but you also decided to go a few sessions with a family therapist to try and navigate the new family dynamics as divorced parents to an unborn baby. You talked about the cheating a lot, which brought big emotions during most of the sessions, with the therapist mediating until you could talk again. Lewis for the most part accepted taking you anger and sadness and hurt, apologizing profusely over and over again, reassuring you that he made a mistake he regretted every breathing moment. It took a while to make peace with the fact that his mistake shouldn’t define him forever, to accept and give him the opportunity to grow and learn for the sake of your baby.
“The season will start soon,” he told you one day, late at night as you ate quietly. You only hummed a response, unsure of what he wanted you to say or what point he was trying to make.
“Ok, understood,” you muttered, knowing he probably was letting you know he wasn’t going to come visit you as much, which honestly made you a bit sad, kinda used to his company by now.
“What I mean to ask is, can I move here? I know I won’t have much free time, so instead of going back to Monaco, I was wondering if I could come straight here. Of course, I would need to bring a few things, training gear, stuff from my office,” When you didn’t answer him, jaw slacked, he thought you might not like the idea, “But it’s ok if you rather not, too. I mean, if you prefer your privacy and all- I totally respect-”
“It’s ok, Lewis, you can move here for the remainder of the pregnancy,” you calmed his rambling, and he smiled seemingly relieved.
“Thank you, I don’t want to miss anything,” He whispered, crouching down by your side, putting his hand on your belly, “right, Peanut? Daddy’s gonna be right here.”
The next morning, you woke up, the breakfast was ready, and you looked around for Lewis, until you found him outside. He was wearing gardening gloves, making a hole on the ground with a trowel, and behind him a wheelbarrow loaded with flower pots. He was also shirtless, sweat glistening on his skin and above his tattoos, back muscles prominent with every move, which had your pregnancy hormones feeling some kind of way.
“Morning, what is going on?” You asked, hugging yourself as you approached him.
“Well, you said you wanted a flower bed on the entryway. So I had the time and thought I would do it for you.” He shrugged, removing the gloves.
“You didn’t have to, but thank you.”
As he stood up and when he turned to you, your eyes fell on his necklace, and more specifically, your wedding band hanging from the necklace like a pendant. You had wondered if he had gotten rid of your wedding ring, but now you knew where it was. Lewis swallowed like he was self conscious, putting his hand over the ring. It was so different whenever you thought about the cheating and the divorce, about the new normal you had to get used to. You weren’t angry at him anymore, but it would require a lot to rebuild the trust you once had in him. You decided to not address the elephant in the room, so you just looked away.
“I’m going to eat, thank you for breakfast, also.”
He only nodded as you got inside, swallowing the lump in your throat with a glass of juice and slices of bread. You didn’t mention the ring, but you could notice he kept wearing the ring under his shirts.
You went back to watch his races, commenting about it with Olive and Peanut, cheering when he was going well and complaining when he wasn’t. You’d hug him whenever he came back, for emotional support, you’d tell yourself.
You two decided you wouldn’t find out if Peanut was a boy or a girl, leaving the mystery to whenever they were born. And as the pregnancy progressed, it was inevitable that you and Lewis got closer, almost like best friends as he had seen your many lows of the pregnancy. That one time you craved cauliflower with barbecue sauce, or when you ate corn with sprinkled smashed cheetos on top, or when you farted loudly. He also had seen you cry because the delivery guy didn’t wave back to you as he was leaving, or when Olive hunted a small gecko and gave you as a present and you started just bawling. Or when Lewis hummed a song by a rapper you disliked and you started going off, snappy.
Honestly, Lewis took your mood swings and weird cravings like a champ with the patience of a saint. He had read about how pregnancy could cause your emotions to be all over the place, with outbursts of sadness or anger, and according to what he read, he just needed to help you let it all out. He had studied hard about pregnancy and was always willing to help. Funnily enough, you saw him more that season than all the five seasons you witnessed when you dated and was married to him.
One night you went to bed early, and when he went to your bedroom to check on you, you were moving a little, grunting in your sleep. Lewis immediately went closer, shaking your shoulders to wake you up from your nightmare.
“Hey, hey,” he called and you opened your eyes wide and you looked a little winded, “had a bad dream?”
Your eyes started tearing up, and he sat by your side, putting an arm over your shoulder for comfort. He ran a hand up and down your back as you wiped your tears.
“Are you ok?”
“It wasn’t a bad dream!” You whined like a little kid about to throw a tantrum.
“Ok, you want to talk about it? Maybe I can run you a bath?” He offered.
“It was a sex dream!”
Your words caught him a little off guard.
“I’m sorry?” He tried to understand what he should do or say.
“Goddamn pregnancy! I’m horny all the time now, but I can’t cum with my fingers! And I bought a bunch of toys but the delivery had messed it up and it never arrived!” You cried even louder now, and Lewis had to bite his tongue so as to not laugh and cause more anger.
“I could help you with that,” he offered, softly. He was actually scared you’d punch him in the nose for offering.
Instead you just stood up huffing and puffing, and went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.
“Sorry!” He shouted, standing by the door. Then a minute later you opened the door again, poking your head out.
“Will you help me?” You pouted.
“Of course, baby,” he walked inside, and you stood there wearing only a t-shirt and panties, “do you have something in mind or do you want me to freestyle?”
“Freestyle. Fuck, I just need to cum.”
Lewis sat by the closed toilet and patted his lap. You walked over to him, letting him position you sideways on his lap. God, you were so frustrated, and so horny your panties were shamelessly wet from the dream. He cupped you, running his middle finger up and down between your legs.
“Lewis, fuck,” you moaned, hyper sensitive, but still not enough, “if you’re going to tease me, I better finish the job myself.”
“Calm down, woman! I was just creating the buildup!”
“I’ve been building up for the past three weeks, Lewis. I need the finishing!” You whined and Lewis chuckled, pushing your panties down until they hung from your foot.
A loud moan escaped your lips as he ran his finger over your cunt, spreading out your wetness and when the pad of his finger found your clit, your hips jerked. You nuzzled into his neck inhaling his perfume and laying your weight on him, letting him do his thing. You had been feeling so sensitive because of the pregnancy, every single touch made your body jolt, curling your stomach already so close.
“More, Lewis, please,” you moaned into his skin, and he only hummed, pressing a finger inside you. His other arm was around you, holding you firmly against his chest.
“Like that, baby? That’s how you want it?” He asked, egging you on, going harder.
You could only moan as he took his time pressing into you, curling his finger and finding your most pleasurable spot.
“Oh, Lewis, fuck-” you moaned all the way up to your orgasm that had your toes curling and eyes rolling back. It took all his restraint to not eat your moans with a sloppy kiss.
Lewis slowed down, but he didn’t stop fingering you, and when you almost felt like it was too much, he kept going, cooing you.
“That’s ok, baby. Give me one more, yeah?” As you whined, pushing his hand away, he gave you a couple of seconds and went back, “you can take it, love. Gonna sleep so well after. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”
He practically pushed you into the second orgasm, shaking, hand pressing your nails into his skin and you bit into his neck to muffle your moans.
Breathless, you just melted into him, sleepy again after cumming so good. Lewis cleaned you and carried you back to bed, letting you fall into slumber.
Raging hard, he ended up in the bathroom of the guest room, fisting his own length thinking of your moans and your teeth on his neck, that’s how he finished under the running shower.
The next morning, he smirked as you walked inside the kitchen, his winning smile hidden behind a mug.
“Shut up, Lewis, or I swear I’m gonna cut your dick off!” You warned. He held back a laugh.
“I didn’t say anything!” He raised both hands in surrender.
“Yeah, but you thought.”
“Look, whenever you need release, I’m right here for you to use me any way you want.” He smiled slyly.
“SHUT UP!” You threw a grape at him, which he caught in the air and ate. “I won’t be needing your services anymore, but thank you.” You whispered begrudgingly.
“If you say so…” He shrugged.
But that same night you ended up laid on the table, your dress hunched around your waist as Lewis ate you out like a man starved for the better part of an hour. You came loudly, grinding your hips to his face, pulling on his braids as he pulled orgasm after orgasm. Until you were limp and sleepy, and he cleaned you up and took you to bed.
It kept happening, but you never kissed or fucked, he would just relieve your tension with hand and mouth, and the few times you tried to reciprocate, he denied and said you were pregnant and needed the stress relief. You’d usually go to sleep right after he pleasured you.
After he left for a race week, you received a medium box full of sex toys, ranging from vibrators to suckers and dildos. He left a note saying it was for whenever he wasn’t there to fulfill your needs.
One morning, you were working, finishing up the last of your projects before going on maternity leave, when you felt a little poke on your belly, from inside. You squealed, and in mere seconds, Lewis was speeding up the stairs and barging into your office.
“What happened? Are you ok? Do we need to go to the hospital?” He panted, getting close to you. You just held his wrist and pressed his palm against your bump, where you had felt the thing.
“I think Peanut just kicked!”
You two stayed silent as you waited, and then you felt it just as Lewis felt on his hand. You cried, Lewis cried, and then he crouched, pressing his face to your belly, feeling a little kick on the side of his face. He laughed between tears.
“Peanut, daddy’s right here! You’re going to be so strong, baby!”
As your bump got bigger, and the pains got a little bit worse, you tried new sleep positions because of the back pains. Your feet swelled and your boobs and nipples got a bit more sensitive, so you had to change bras. Lewis was such a great help throughout the gestation, that you’d always remember him as a great source of strength. Sometime after you were seven months along during Summer Break, Lewis ended up taking you to a spa resort one week, somewhere in Greece, where you had one of the best times ever. You got massages, went into the hot tub, swam in the pools and went to the beach.
One random day back home, you were feeling particularly bothered by the backache, laying down in different positions and walking around with a muscle pain tape glued to your spine. Whenever you felt like that, your mood got irritable due to the pain.
“I saw something on the internet, I think we could try,” Lewis suggested.
“What?”
“Just trust me, yeah?” He asked and you nodded.
He stood right behind you, his chest pressed to your back, and his arms circled your waist, both hands settling under the bump. Then he just pushed up softly, taking the weight of the baby. You moaned feeling instant relief on your back, your head falling down on Lewis’ shoulder as you breathed deep.
“It’s ok, take your time,” he murmured close to your ear, “we should do this a few times a day to ease the pain.”
Eventually you two sat down to discuss baby names, and decided on each making a list and then comparing if you had put the same names. The boy names list ended up with three names matching and the girls’ list had only one match. You came around with choices for both, but ultimately decided to leave the decision for after Peanut was born.
When your birthday came in late July, Lewis took you to another trip, for a surprise.
“Where are we?” You asked as he blindfolded you on your way out of the private jet.
“We’re in London.”
“Oh, I love London!” You whispered excitedly, getting inside a car.
“I know you do.”
It took a few minutes, but eventually, he took you out of the car and walked you a few steps. Then, he removed your blindfold, and you stared at a big house. Not any house, but the home you had designed, your family home. The one you would give him on his birthday, but he saw when you were at the low ending of your marriage.
And it was just like the project, the same materials, the same colors, the same height and size. With all the little details you had poured your heart into.
“Happy birthday, this is yours.” Lewis whispered, handing you a key set.
“Lewis? What?” You turned to him, feeling your eyes watering.
“I know that we divorced, and things are different now… But I think it’s only fair that you get to raise Peanut in the home we dreamed of,” he said and you just nodded, the tears falling down, “and I hope you save me a guest room, for when I want to spend time with Peanut and Mama, if you allow.”
It was time you admitted that you and Lewis had grown so much closer than you ever did while married. It was good and most of the time you’d say it was everything for the sake of Peanut, but you knew better. You could silently admit to yourself that Lewis was an indispensable presence in your life. You needed his steadfast support that you been getting throughout the pregnancy, you needed his company in the mornings and his laughter in the evenings, you needed the feel of his hands on you be it for comfort or for intimacy.
And you fucking loved him.
It was like you’ve never stopped, even through the pain and the divorce, like your heart had always been in the palm of his hands.
But the pregnancy was like falling in love all over again.
You turned around and pulled Lewis by the coat, pressing your lips into his. It felt so right, like you should’ve never stopped. Lewis held your neck, pressing you into him.
“Lewis…”
“We can talk about it, yeah? Take as slow or as fast as you want. I just-” he paused, pecking your lips twice like he couldn’t get enough, “-I love you, my baby. And we can do whatever you want.”
“Let’s just, let’s take it slow first, yeah? See what- see what happens.”
He nodded, kissing you once again before taking you for a tour of the house. It was just as beautiful as you had imagined. The house was already baby proofed, and it had electricity and water already running.
“You can move here whenever you feel like it.”
“Yeah, I think I will soon rather than later. But I’ll keep my place in Edinburgh too.”
When the due date came, you had already moved to the new home, and it was so much closer to your parents and Lewis’ parents to visit, so Carmen was coming to see you a couple of times a week. She usually cooked for you, leaving meal preps for the days she couldn’t come.
To keep everything on the low with the media, you and Lewis decided against a baby shower. No one knew about the divorce, nor the baby.
“Lewis, it’s time to pack your bags,” you said walking into the room.
You were honestly so fed up with being pregnant that you just wanted to give birth. Your body was uncomfortable, you couldn’t sleep right in any position, your breasts were so full that it was leaking all the time and the bump got in the way of pretty much anything.
“I don’t need to,” he said, sleepily turning off the alarm.
“Lewis, you’re going to miss the flight!”
It was race week, which meant he would leave and only come back Monday. Hopefully, Peanut will be born next week. You were already a little over 39 weeks so you’d give birth pretty much any minute now.
“I’m not racing this week,” he said simply.
“You what?! You can’t do that! You need the points!” You exclaimed, pacing around.
“Love, Peanut will come any moment now, I won’t be away and risk missing this.” Lewis stood up, holding your shoulders and standing behind you. He held your bump and lifted it just like he had been doing, which helped you feel immense relief.
“Lewis, I can’t believe this! You’re literally competing for the championship! You can’t afford to lose any points.”
“I won’t be able to get in the car and drive knowing you’re here mostly alone or maybe that you’re going through labor alone. This is not up for discussion, I have spoken to Toto and everything is already set.”
You wanted to cry. You had not told him about how you were worried he might miss the birth, but he must’ve picked up somehow. You two had been in an entirely new level of connection, Lewis attuned to your wants and needs without you needing to express.
You turned around, kissing him. He held you close, reciprocating as his hands explored your body. And with just a little make out you were lit up and horny again.
“Can we make love?” You asked him, between kisses.
“Are you sure?” He mumbled, nipping at your bottom lip.
“Please, I miss your cock,” you whined, pulling his shirt.
That did it for him. He undressed, and you eyed your wedding band on his necklace. You pulled your dress up and Lewis groaned as he saw you were wearing only a support bra underneath, no panties.
“We need to see what positions is more comfortable though, I-”
“Spooning, missionary or cowgirl” he kissed you again, taking your hand and leading you to the bed.
“How do you know?”
“I read a book.”
“A book about sex?” You giggled.
“A book about pregnancy sex.” He corrected which made you laugh even harder.
“Ok then, get in the bed. On your back,” you bossed him and he obeyed.
You didn’t take too much time to straddle him, his cock between your pussy lips as you ground up and down on him, leaning down to kiss him. You were dripping wet, finding comfort on the way his abdomen held most of the weight of the bump. You looked down to him, his lips were open and he helped you up until you had him lined up and into your cunt. Both of you moaned out loud. The first time for both since your goodbye before the divorce.
Lewis sat up and pawed at your boobs and you moaned with sensitivity. He tried to remove your bra, but you stopped him.
“It’s going to leak everywhere, Lewis.” You shook your head.
“What kind of husband do you take me for?” He asked as if you were being silly. He unclasped your bra and as soon as you were free, ready to complain, he mouthed your nipple, sucking hard. The relief of the milk coming out was so great it had you groaning.
“Oh, Jesus! Fuck, fuck, fuck-” you moaned out loud with the relief his sucking caused, so much that your cunt clenched with the pleasure, “that’s so good baby, fuck- you’re so good!”
You started moving your hips, the experience so otherworldly that you could only ride him, letting him suck at your tits as your mind exploded with mind blowing sex. You shook so hard through the orgasm that Lewis had to stop and hold you firmly, only moving his hips under you to cum hard to the feel of your cunt milking him.
He stared at you like you were the most beautiful woman on earth, with so much love and devotion that you couldn’t help but bash in it.
You fucked any given chance for the next few days, making up for lost time. Lewis’ favorite position was spooning while he fucked you from behind, holding your body flush against him, kissing your neck and shoulder.
Saturday evening, you started feeling pain, sometimes every few hours. Lewis wanted to go to the hospital immediately but you, having talked with your doctor, knew it was too soon, and you’d only wait for hours in a hospital room.
You slept on and off the entire night, the jolts of pain waking you up every couple of hours. In the morning, you and Lewis had breakfast and decided to watch the race to see how Mick was going to do. You didn’t make it past ten laps, when the water broke when you got up for snacks.
“Oh my god! Ok, now we’re going to the hospital, yeah?” He asked and you nodded, taking your phone to let your doctor know you were going to the hospital.
Lewis was a mess, running up and down the stairs to grab your hospital bag, then he forgot the car keys and went back up again.
“Ok, stay calm, we’re fine,” he said, helping you up.
“I’m calm, Lewis.”
“Yeah, I’m talking to myself.”
You laughed as you two got in the car and to the hospital. You still felt these jolts of pain, each contraction getting closer and closer from the one before. You were put in a bed to wait for the right moment for the baby to crown. Lewis never left your side, even to call his family and your parents to let them know, he stood by you.
When it was a little while before the time to labor, you couldn’t handle the pain anymore, opting for an epidural on the spot which made the pain bearable. Then finally came the time to push, and Lewis stayed there, holding your hand and whispering words of comfort when necessary, and words of strength when needed.
“You are doing great, love. Come on, on three you push with all you can yeah? Promise I’ll stay right here! Come on, no- no-” he held your face softly, “I know you’re tired but you can’t rest yet! Stay here, and we’re going to see Peanut soon! Come on, when the doctor calls three, you push!”
Your memory would be hazy but you’d never forget Lewis’ patience and strength dealing with you. His voice guiding you through every single hour, his eyes that were so kind and his hands on you.
“I can’t Lewis!” You cried, but he held your face, looking deep into your eyes.
“You can! You can because you’re the strongest person here! I love you so much. You can, I’m right here with you. One more push, Peanut is almost out.”
Then, there was the loud cry of the baby in the doctor's hands. Gasping, Lewis stared at the baby while the doctor cut the umbilical cord. You looked at Lewis, who was bawling, face sweaty but the complete adoration in his eyes said more than any words could ever.
“This is your baby girl, Mom and Dad!” The doctor handed you the baby curled on a blanket.
“Oh my god. Love, this is Luna, right?” Lewis leaned down, whispering and watching his baby’s face.
“Luna…” You whispered, looking at her perfect little face.
“Our Luna…” Lewis whispered.
-
You were making tea in the kitchen when you heard Luna starting to cry, progressively louder. You could hear Lewis trying to calm her down, and when you came back to the living room, he was softly nursing Luna, and she was still whining.
“Everything ok, Dada?” You asked him, saving him a mug with tea.
Chuckling, he held Luna against his naked chest, and she was getting calmer and calmer. You sat on the couch, watching them. But then Lewis started mumbling a song, softly like a lullaby, and after a few seconds he sang a bit louder so you could make up the lyrics.
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life, I love you more
Funnily enough, Luna started to drift to sleep again, curled on her Dad’s chest. He put her on the little carrier, covering with the blanket then sat beside you, pulling you into his chest.
“Can you believe that? We made the most amazing bundle of love!” He said, kissing the top of your head, “Thank you so much for taking a chance on me, for letting me be part of this. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, honey.”
“I told you we were gonna make it.”
You felt like your heart was going to burst with so much love, for Lewis, for Luna and grateful for the second chance you took on this life and these dreams. You knew there was still a lot of work to put in, not only in raising your daughter but also in rebuilding your life with Lewis, but you were sure you'd have the rest of your lives to work on it.
#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1#formula 1#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton +18#f1 smut#smut#Spotify
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
entertainer (teaser) | jjk (m)
Summary: Growing singer Jeon Jungkook is as charismatic as he is self-absored – that is, until he meets you. Caught in a web of secrets, he finds a riddle in you he urges to solve; even ready to turn the spotlight towards you until nothing remains… but regret.
➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader
➳ rating: 18+
➳ genre: strangers to lovers (or something); angst, bits of fluff, smut
➳ warnings: do not fall for this jk i repeat do not f– 🚨 he's kinda hot though; (not so) silent yearning, flirting, sexual tension, he is so attracted to her :'), mystery, oc is a big question mark, full jk pov!, dark past(s), crying, fear, confrontation and fighting, cocky kook, secrets and revelations, explicit sexual content (kissing, fingering, teasing, drunk shenanigans, sooo much lust, big dick jk, etc.), more warnings on drop day once the fic is finished!! not much for the teaser itself, though <3
➳ wc: 1.8k :') (around 20k for the full thing)
➳ a/n: scratches head. this has been a long time coming and i'm beyond curious how y'all will like it :') very new and experimental, so let's see how it goes!! as always, drop a message to lmk what you think of this lil glimpse, i'll be waiting with dangling feet hehe!! <3
➳ give the Entertainer playlist a first listen! 🖤
TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs
“Why are you the textbook definition of a fuckboy, honestly.”
“Fuckbo—”
“Nevermind.”
If he wasn’t well acquainted with this little game, he would’ve missed your subtle, nearly veiled intent to tease. But he’s done that a million times before — hence, catches the faint twitch of your gorgeous lips immediately.
You’re enjoying this. So he should join… right?
Yet.
You’re not being entirely insincere. In fact, he hates how he picks up on the note of truth in your velvety voice.
Trimmed nails scratch the back of his head, and he barely notices once the two of you halt in front of another piece of work. Distracted, he doesn’t bear the art any mind, instead asking, “You really think of me like that?”
You shrug a shoulder. Nonchalance a constant feature, but so natural, even somewhat gentle, that he can’t help but feel drawn to you. “A little.”
“Well, shit.”
“Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the art.”
“Sure.”
Reluctantly, he glances to the canvas. It’s a mess of hues; a random arrangement of spontaneous emotions. Resembles the masterpieces he used to create in Microsoft Paint, back when his legs would still dangle off the chair.
“So,” he starts, nodding towards the painting, “what do you see in this?”
You hesitate. Or maybe it’s not hesitation — more like… a thinking pause. Sometimes, when Jungkook notices a whirring mind, he sees a steaming brain through a skull. Working at full blast.
But somehow, he only recognises a tranquil ocean as he observes you gather your thoughts. Everything about you is tender, but wrapped in dark mystery.
How much mental training does it require to become this inscrutable?
When you finally speak, you’re saying similarly odd things.
“I see… colours.” Right. Stating the obvious. Jungkook chuckles, delivering a head tilt. “And am wondering how the painter got to create this at all. I mean, this looks so meaningless at first, doesn’t it?”
“But it’s not, yeah?”
“We’re fast to think that. Most of the time, there must be a trigger, or a thought on something, no matter how small. Something might have been bothering him. This is—” A hand gestures towards the painting. “Such a chaotic mind.”
Interesting…
“Is this what you usually think about all day?” Jungkook wonders.
You scoff. “I’m just a person, too. I think about a lot of random things.”
“Ahhh. Like what?”
“Like… seeing all the green in this exhibition made me realise how that colour makes me cry.”
Jungkook takes a haphazard look around. Now that you say it — there’s no hint of a nature theme, but the abundance of green is striking. It’s as calm as you. No wonder you’d immerse yourself in a showcase such as this.
You continue, as if tracing and reading his mind like an open novel, “It’s soothing, right? And unique. These earthly things sometimes make me feel like not all of us are deserving of seeing such beauty. Like it should be reserved for those who've earned it.”
Earned it? How?
Jungkook can’t see your thoughts as clearly as you’re apparently capable of doing, but he has an inkling of what you might mean. Truly dazzling souls merit the stunning bloom of the world, right?
And then…
If that’s what it is.
He wonders — do you think he deserves to see the colour green? Or is it already over if he has to ask? Perhaps, should he be perceiving it as grey right now? He doesn’t know.
He doesn’t know how you think of him — doesn’t know anything about you at all. You’re a tough nut to crack.
“Hmm… that’s a way to think about it,” he says.
“Only because it’s the same for people. And I’ve had this thought about humans a lot… I…” You hesitate, blink, and then grant him your gaze. “I knew someone who was the colour green. Not everyone deserved them, either.”
Someone…
Poetic minds carry a certain pain in their eyes.
He’s been seeing it in yours. He just doesn’t know how to handle it. So he doesn’t. Yet.
Instead, he asks, “What else are you thinking about?”
“Uhmmm,” you voice, straightening your back a little, as if waking up from a dream — a nightmare? “I’ve been thinking about trying that, too. Painting, I mean. It doesn’t have to mean anything or be good. Just a great way to capture something that resonates with what I feel.”
Every word you’ve uttered today was otherworldly. You didn’t talk like this when you were at the meeting, or in his office. Your soul is somewhat free-floating here, and he doesn’t understand why.
And it’s a behaviour he usually strays away from. The vulnerable ones can be dangerous.
But somehow… you’re too strong of a magnet.
One who shrugs all the puzzles away — and he sighs in despair. Maybe it’s not time to find out what you feel just yet. What resonates with you — even though he’s dying to hear it.
He inquires, “Are you always this much of an open book?”
“No. Not at all.” Of course not. Rhetoric question — he knows this much. “But I like thinking out loud sometimes.”
“I’m glad to be a sounding board then.”
“Hah. Well, I was also thinking how I appreciate that I met you here.” Pause. Oh? What a surprise. Strokes his ego, though. And then, out of the blue again, “You wanna go to the museum restaurant?”
Jungkook has barely inhaled half of the exhibition yet. But just for today, he couldn’t care less.
Perhaps this is enough for now, visiting the overpriced restaurant, watching you from afar as you inspect your nails calmly. You’re not busy on your phone like the rest of the crowd — entertained by the same media that he’s part of.
Maybe he can be a bigger part of their lives one day — be the one flitting over their screens, the one they adore. The one they worship.
But you don’t seem to indulge in those mind-numbing devices for now. You might be an addition to his team, but privately, you float in your own world. Distracted by the thoughts you won’t disclose.
Your hands retreat, arms crossing on the table and lips curling into a smile once he strolls back to you. Satisfied, he informs you, “One cake to go with the coffee. As the lady suggested.”
“Oh. One?” you ask, “Don’t you want one?”
“I do.”
“So…” You stall, and he waits until it clicks, your head tilting in understanding. “Are we sharing?”
Jungkook lifts a thumb, pointing over his shoulder, back to the register, “Those chocolate cakes are sweet as hell. I’ve got a sweet tooth, but believe that it’ll be enough for us two.”
You laugh — a candied, disarming chuckle before you breathe an, “Alright.”
Jungkook doesn’t know you well enough to feel any skip of his heart; yet, you stir something else in his mind. While he does avoid them, it’s still always people like you who intrigue him the most — those who veil themselves in a coat of secrets.
He sighs.
“That was fast,” you note, eyes at a point behind him.
And he understands when the waitress arrives a couple moments later, serving two perfectly prepared cappuccinos and a mouth-watering chocolate fudge piece.
You thank her with a gentle smile, and tuck a hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your dangling silver earring.
And he watches.
Watches as you nod towards him, urging him, “Start then.”
Observes your smile as he signals you to start instead. And he gazes at you as your delicate digits reach for the fork, tearing off a piece, wrapping your lips around the utensil.
And then… oh God.
He feels his guts twist; hears all background noise fade; blood rushing away from his head.
All the way through his body as you slowly relish the sweetness and then drag the wet tip of your tongue over the fork. Licking away the leftover chocolate.
Jungkook swears it happens in slow motion. And witnessing your elegance in snail’s pace… makes him sick.
When your eyelashes flutter, gape lifting to meet his, the sound around him comes alive again — as does he. He averts his stare from your mouth, covered in the same colour as the coffee, but you notice.
You catch him looking. And it makes you… smile? Shit.
But you don’t boast your effect; only digress as you say, “Well… tastes as fancy as it looks. Try.”
You’re as relaxed with him as you can be. But you always are; with everyone. He craves that bit that’s only reserved for him — and maybe he’s too zealous too fast. He hasn’t known you for long.
Making you smile must be an achievement, though, right? If only… you didn’t think of him like…
He nods, and then leans over the table ever-so-slightly. His knees brush against yours, a soft but deliberate move. He places an elbow on the table, grasping the fork, close to you. If he lifted his hand, he could touch your cheek.
He wishes he could.
His eyes meet yours through his bangs, the cake’s taste irrelevant to your presence. And when his ego doesn’t let him live, he finally asks, almost as if insulted, “Do you actually perceive me as a fuckboy?”
The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, furrowing your eyebrows, and then giggle before questioning back, “Jungkook… that’s bothering you this much? Mmmh. How would you like to be perceived?”
“Just. As a decent guy who wants to get to know you. And I know you know.” You blink, but he doesn’t buy it. So he elaborates, “I’ve been trying to make clear that I find you interesting. And somewhat attractive.”
People usually display a flicker of glimmer in their eyes upon hearing such praise. But you don’t budge; in fact, your eyes remain the same, if not a little darker. Why?
Yet, you cock an eyebrow, sporting a teasing, playful tone, “Somewhat, hm?”
He shakes his head, clicks his tongue.
“You’re pretty and I think you know,” he blurts, “and I don’t want to screw up right away.”
Is it the habit of never failing; getting what he wants? The urge to solve an enigma? The chance to dive into you until you’re bared to him? Why are you so interesting to him?
You’re just a person.
Maybe it’s just the unsettling need to discover what you’re hiding — it won’t let him rest. There’s something about you that screams to him to unravel.
He doesn’t know what it is. Doesn’t know if you’re even from the same world as him — even though you seem to have crossed his realm before.
No matter what it is; Jungkook only understands for now that he wants to take off your layers.
Wants you to be the colour green for him.
wrote most of it now and while sick, so it might change hehe! but i hope it's okay so far, and it shall only get better!! i'm so so excited for this, like i've been working on it and putting thought into it since october, so i hope it's worth the wait <3
as always, send your thoughts, questions, complaints lol lemme know what you think or i might perish sniff. super curious to know!! also, here's the taglistttt 🤍 love and appreciate you all <3
#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#bts smut#bts fluff#bts angst#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fic#jungkook imagine#jungkook
1K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
lea-the-mudokon
Tmntfanart
unopiner
Untitled
rinrinlovee
local serotonin dealer
your-character-creater-blog
Shiran Ryder
