#I don’t really care what other people see
Text
Midnight
IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 11 - An Yujin
IVE's An Yujin x Male Reader Smut
13,838 words
Categories | toxic relationship, degradation, violence, cunnilingus, jealous!Yujin
Support me on Ko-Fi!
Taylor's Version because we're cultured here. For my @usedpidemo <3
Sorry for being gone. It will happen again.
“It isn’t rocket science,” snaps Wonyoung, “so just tell me what’s better: this hot pink top or this baby pink one?”
You stare at the clothes hanging from the idol's fingers. You’re not colorblind by any means, but the two shirts look exactly the same to you. No differing hue, no richer brightness. If you picked up a spyglass to observe further, you’d still be the same oblivious man.
“Wonyoung, I don’t know,” you say. You really don’t. It’s the same truth you’d profess with a gun cocked to your temple. The mournful would know you were a martyr of honesty. “I’m a guy. I don’t usually choose between crop top number one and crop top number two.”
She sighs, lowering the hangers. “This isn’t a crop top. It’s a baby tee.”
“Someone just fucking kill me.”
Amuse dances on Wonyoung’s expression, something the face mask can’t veil. She likes pissing you off more than the world does. But at the end of the day, you’re the only guy she’d allow to be friends with her. It traces back to playground days—on the swing, fingers linked.
You look around. All the clothes hanging from the racks—dresses, crop tops (baby tees?), knitted Bangkok coordinates—share the same primary color. What the fuck was Wonyoung going on about?
She slips an arm through the looped curve of your own. Her heels click as she’s leading you away from the hell of hyperfemininity, which just so happens to be her trademark. Not yours, though. Which is what makes this a problem. Which adds to the millions of other problems you have.
“I’m sorry,” she says. This is a tone of voice a friend uses when it’s time: sincere and loving. Wonyoung’s a good friend, your best friend. “I thought I was keeping your stress away from…”
The sentence fades out. Wonyoung avoids your eyes. You look down at your shoes. Hate it or love it, the girl you care about more than anyone else is fueling your emotions.
She’s not Wonyoung, as many people like to believe. You’re surprised, too. When you were twelve, Wonyoung was the most beautiful girl in the world to you—just not the one you’d end up with. This girl who has your heart’s taken her Aphrodite place and needs a mask to hide her identity, too.
The love of your life, An Yujin. Twenty years old, K-pop idol for longer than you’re able to fathom, and just about everything. It would take hours to list everything Yujin has going on. And although you know each one, it doesn’t stop you from longing.
You think about her all the time and sometimes, you pray that you don’t so the pain won’t splinter your heart.
“Wonyoung.” You’re tired.
“I’m sorry.”
The world is keen on keeping you in shreds. You see a mother and father shopping with their kid. The little boy has the same dimpled smile as your girlfriend. If only Yujin wanted to actually love you. There’s another young couple taking pictures in front of the wide mirror. Their arms are around each other, photo-ready for Instagram. Meanwhile, Yujin only posts about her ambassadorships.
Wonyoung doesn’t look at the price tags when she places the tops on the cashier counter. The cashier thankfully doesn’t recognize her. If he did, he didn’t show it at all. She slaps a black card into his hand and soon, you’re exiting the outlet. Thank god for it. You were sure you were slowly dying.
But it isn’t the shopping or the commute or the cash that’s killing you. It’s her absence. Are you just a fan again? Feeding on a relationship that’s almost as nonexistent as it used to be?
“Are you deaf?”
Raise your head. You’re still in the mall. The crowd bustles between you and Wonyoung, who’s looking at you weirdly.
“What?” you ask.
“I asked if you wanted ice cream.”
Oh. You clear your eyes with a blink, then realize you’re in front of an ice cream truck. Pink and white and pretty, a menu of everything delicious, and a childlike joy in the customers’s faces.
Sure is what you say. If that’ll keep my mind off her is what you don’t.
Wonyoung asks for the largest ice cream. For a girl whose physique is slim and toned, she loves to eat. You picked the habit up from her, too, but you can’t stand making her pay for your own food. A mini cup it is.
You don’t realize your silence. It’s natural—like taking another breath, like taking another look at your phone to see if she’s messaged you.
The stretch of quietness leaves you time to ponder. The sweetness fills your mouth and you can only think that there are other people sweeter—someone with a smile worth gold and a playfulness you never get tired of. It’s not worth the trouble; you doubt that she thinks of you as often as she crosses your mind. She probably doesn’t at all.
“It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it,” Wonyoung adds, thumb stroking the red long spoon. “So we can just eat here and call it a day. Quick and simple.”
Yeah right.
You release a sarcastic huff of breath. The soft hills of the ice cream are delicious but none go in your mouth. “It’s fine,” you mutter. “It’s not like I have anyone to go home to.”
Every day consists of mourning and longing for a girl who isn’t even dead. She’s everywhere in Korea—TV screens, advertisements, large tarpaulins, shop standees—but the only place she can’t be is by your side.
She’s always with you if you count your phone wallpaper being a stolen picture of her. But besides that, it’s like she’s gone. Cremated in an urn and thrown into the ocean. She’s left you behind for good.
Wonyoung puts down her cup. Sincerity’s evident on her face. “You have to understand… it’s really not all on her.”
Sure, it isn’t. But it’s hard not to put the blame on someone when the other side of the bed is empty. When your phone’s full of messaged apologies and I-love-yous that don’t mean anything. It’s fucking draining.
You laugh. Nothing’s funny. “Are you saying it’s my fault?” you ask.
“Of course not.”
“So what the hell do you suggest I do?”
Your voice comes out louder than you expect. Eyes dig holes into your being. Your conversation is a song everyone wants to listen to. They‘ll pick it apart, formulate theories, and wonder who’s the featured artist.
Wonyoung’s face is full of sadness. You hate that she worries about you the way she would a child. You don’t need parental comfort and a “get well soon” balloon; you need Yujin. And that alone guarantees a wave of pity.
“Well?” you prompt her. She’s got a lot to say, and now she’s refusing to speak about Yujin.
She doesn’t continue.
Lower your tone, for both your sakes. You don’t want a fight to break out here. And she doesn’t need attention when she’s already got enough as an idol.
Your false smile cracks and you don’t think you can hide the depth of your sadness. In this busy mall, you want to make a scene. Not just a scene, but one that involves a little illegality, which you no doubt would have done if you were raised differently.
You want to tear at the nearest man’s throat. Have him choke, slowly die, and leave his blood as a warning to everyone. His veins would be all over the floor.
You want to break the porcelain plate of banana split over a kid’s head, just to see his cracked skull. Nobody can be happy if you aren’t. There isn’t a treat that would fill the hole in your heart like Yujin does.
You want to hurt anybody, everybody, to make up for your own that’s starting to corrupt your mind.
“We can have this conversation again and again,” you manage, choking up tears, “and she still won’t come home to me.”
Wonyoung looks down at her lap. There’s two perspectives here: yours and Yujin’s. She knows her bandmate’s side better as someone who’s going through the same. She can’t play both roles, choose who’s the victim and villain.
She’s utterly defeated. But she tries to make you get it. “It won’t be like this forever,” Wonyoung says quietly.
Forever is months of a long distance relationship. You’re in the same country but with the way she never visits and neither do you, you might as well be on the other side of the globe. It’s always texts that go unreplied, occasional pictures reacted to with a heart, that kind of stuff. Always no Yujin, always you looking for her.
You’re a puppy searching for his owner. You’re lost, lost, lost—all while Yujin’s found fame and success. But you don’t need that. You need her.
It looks like fame is more attainable.
You lift your shoulders. Blink back your tears. “Sure looks like it.”
Wonyoung takes your hand. Her gaze is soft. “She’ll perform with me at a festival sometime next week. I’ll take care of her, pull some strings, let you guys have some time together. Right now, she just needs space.”
Space. Okay. You can do that.
A flash of lightning cracks too close. No storm on the forecast though. Embedded in the illumination, you think you saw Yujin’s face. You see her face everywhere actually—even when she’s not there.
Turn to the empty third chair beside you. If you opened your eyes wider and wished harder, would she come? Or would she be another figment of your imagination?
-
Things weren’t always like this. Once upon a time, Yujin was a love you could go back to. You met everyday, ate together everyday, talked everyday. You’re glad you were there for her after IZ*ONE’s disbandment, a great loss for K-pop.
She sat beside you in the practice room. Gorgeous. That’s what she was. Yujin was the first love of your life, and the only one. She was pretty back then, too. She had that kind of friendly beauty—it started platonically, but oh, if you were to fall, it wasn’t a surprise.
Somebody take me back.
Her hair was long and brown, your knuckles sliding down on it. She was dressed in baggy clothes that made her look small despite her height. You couldn’t fall more in love.
“I’m sorry about the… you know,” you said, before stopping to place an arm around her shoulder and kissing her. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but how are you?”
“Things can be better,” Yujin said with a shrug. “We’d be having our world tour, if things went differently.”
“Damn, Covid was a bitch, huh?”
Then, despite it all, Yujin laughed—that beautiful, loud laugh which made her eyes crease and the cute dimple show. You poked it, and she leaned into you once more, just how you liked it.
She nodded. The remaining parts of her giggles fought their way out of her. “Yeah.” Her eyes locked on the door of the room, as if expecting eleven girls to come back in. She wasn’t laughing anymore. “Yeah.”
Her voice faded out. Dreams were there. A bigger discography was on the way, a last in-person concert was supposed to happen. Each was crushed by circumstance. Yujin was not. She withstood every battle and came back holding a bigger sword each time.
It’s not to say it was easy.
“I can’t believe it ended that quickly.” Her sweet and remorseful smile made your heart crack. “One minute I was fifteen meeting all these cool girls, then I’m all grown up and they’re gone.”
She had to move past it. Experience battered her into maturity but she still yearned for younger days. You knew that feeling well. Barely young but barely old. You didn’t know it at that time, but it was the perfect balance. Youth was right there while adulthood waited patiently. Things went by fast and yet it didn't matter. You had each other.
“You know who won’t be gone?”
“Who?” Yujin propped her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes glimmered with repressed tears.
You thumbed away one that let go from the side of her mouth. “Me.”
-
You keep your promises as hard as you can, even if it hurts you.
-
You | Hey baby. Good luck on the music show!
Still nothing. You sent it today, eagerly waiting for her appearance on TV. But Yujin left no sign that she got your text.
So, nothing unusual.
You sit down and try to assure yourself. That’s fine. Yujin’s fine. She just needs space. She needs to focus on her job where people focus on her and she can’t focus on you. Okay. It’ll be alright. It hurts, but if it’s how things should go, do you have any other choice?
The song comes on. The show is dark red with the background playing a looped animation. It’s a heart, stabbed with an arrow over and over. How familiar. The girls are beautiful, as always. Preppy but kitsch outfits were chosen for them to perform in. The varsity jackets cinematically slip off their arms and the skirts sway like they were paid to look that good.
Smile, because this is what Yujin loves doing the most: dancing and singing for a crowd. She gave everything up for this. She deserves all this love, and she knows it. Her confidence is the sexiest thing about her.
“Baddie, b-b-baddie baddie—”
That’s your cue. You’re on the edge of your seat. You’ll cheer for her, even from afar.
However, it’s… not her.
The voice and backtrack are different. Another girl’s taken her place. She’s tall and pretty, too. She performs the line with overflowing charisma, but she’s not Yujin. She could never be Yujin.
You | uh
Wonyoung
Where’s Yujin???
You take no interest in the stage playing out before you. Your only concern is where their best member is.
The response takes painful hours. It’s a live stage, so of course you have to wait till it’s over. But everything feels so wrong—the catchy beat doesn’t sound quite as good when Yujin’s rich voice isn’t playing over it.
Wonyoung | i thought she was with you? what are youu talking about?
Yujin definitely isn’t with you. But she needs space. Besides, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. She might have just needed to visit family that would be announced by the company later. Nothing worth the panic.
But as you look at the screen, you can’t help but feel a little pain in your heart. Like grief that happens a few days in advance.
-
Wikihow doesn’t offer a proper guide in dealing with a girlfriend like Yujin. You’ve resorted to articles, to YouTube videos, to question forums. None of them help you out.
They say, in order to make the long-distance relationship better, you should communicate.
Yujin doesn’t reply to your messages. They’re always left in the conversation without a read receipt, or even a simple reaction.
They say to gift her flowers and sweet things, all through a trusted courier.
The staff always throw them out. They probably think you’re a crazy fan.
They say to let it take time.
She never shows up. Letting it take time means that it’ll happen. But you only meet her twice a month, if you’re lucky. This time—you haven’t seen her in person at all.
But, like a dog waiting for its owner to unleash it, you wait.
-
And wait.
(What’s lost of Yujin remains as a memory: you and her in a café at midnight, looking sullenly at your cups of coffee. Who gets coffee at 12 a.m.?
Perhaps a couple nearing the parts of their journey where they crash and go up in flames. The police would be too late.
“Okay,” said Yujin. She crossed her arms and leaned back into the detailed metal chair. “Not to be, like, you know, a nosey bitch or anything. But you’re awfully dismissive.”
Charming. “And you aren’t?” you fired back.
The thing about you and Yujin is that you could beat around the bush for days. She would ignore you, give blunt answers, and keep to herself. You would go around for a drive, sleep in a separate room. It’s all fair and square. She doesn’t bother with you, why should you?
In the end, however, you have to come to a conclusion. It isn’t pretty.
“Babe, if this is about those MC partners I have,” she told you, sounding every bit the nonchalant partner you made obvious she was, “be a little mature. It’s a job. It pays.”
That was all that mattered to her. She grew up to be the breadwinner of her family and now the feel of paper in her palms was all she looked for.
You looked past her. The sidewalks and pedestrian lanes were full of people, from all walks of life. There were many women who were kinder than Yujin in the masses. So why did you stay?
“You spend more time with those men than me.”
“Then step up your fucking game.” Yujin regarded her iced latté with a cold gaze. “I don’t remember the last time you got me flowers.”
“I told you, your shit security guard has—”
You paused. Something just hit you. It was a slap that messed up all the curves and chemistries in your brain.
“They bring you flowers?”
That’s your thing with her. Yours. You bet that she’s more confident posting the bouquets some stupid florist made for her than the ones you handpicked. Always left in the dust, always turned away.
Yujin rolled her eyes then took a sip of her drink. “There he goes.”
She didn’t see it in the same light you did. You got the thing about keeping the relationship a secret. You knew that. Yet what was better here, a rumor with a fellow idol or someone unknown?
She gave no fucks about it at all. There she drank the overpriced coffee and looked at you casually. Yujin was ashamed of you, and she hid it so badly it was laughable.
“Thanks for being such an empath,” you said.
“Anytime.”
“Do I seriously mean that little to you?”
“I never said that. You’re the one getting your panties twisted over some sunflowers.”
“Your favorite flowers. Maybe if you showed a little more gratitude to the ones I get you than the crap they paid a florist to—”
Yujin sighed loudly. “For fuck’s sake.”
She slammed her cup down on the table. The plastic cover was no soldier to the pressure and let the brown liquid explode all over the surface. The open design of the white table let the coffee spill on your pants.
You were horrified. Everyone was looking at you. You drew a crowd every time you were out with Yujin and for no good reason.
“I’m tired of every conversation, every conversation we have turning into another fight.” Her chair creaked as she shoved it up to the ruined table. You flinched again. The aggressiveness wasn’t the only thing that scared you—she had this snow-cold tone that made you melt in all the wrong ways. “So if you want to say something that’s actually not trash about my job, say it now.”
You held her glare for a while. It was a new record. It was deadly, the expressionless plaque of her face. Her teeth were clenched, her whole being was tense, and all the strength she had was spoken through her eyes. You lost at keeping it.
The lurk of silence felt longer than the hours the moon was in the sky. Yujin waited. Perhaps she wanted you to speak. She smiled bitterly. Whatever response she expected, it didn’t come.
“Thought so.” She licked coffee off her thumb and let her hair be the last thing you saw of her.)
-
And wait.
(Yujin smiled when you saw her again. She threw her arms around your neck, kissed you, too.
You never forgot what happened. You didn’t want to bring it up—she was so happy that it infected you, too. Still, flashbacks of that moment churned in your head as she picked away at her favorite food and joked around.
“I’m a terrible cook,” she said. She forked a burnt broccoli in the air and shook her head in amusement. “I can’t believe you still eat it.”
“Someone has to.”
Her smile was beautiful. Then, broccoli to your lips, she said “I’m happy you’re here,” and it was better again.)
-
And wait.
(Who’s surprised? It all went down once more.
You never told anyone that sometimes, you were tired of it.)
-
And wait.
(What now?)
-
“That’s the nineteenth time you checked your phone.” Sunghoon leans forward on the floor, thumbs mashing into the controller. He shoots you a look. “Yep, I counted.”
You’re that in love with Yujin. No surprise at all. That doesn’t stop the red in your ears though.
She still hasn’t texted you back. No calls were made, which goes the same for TV appearances. No tall girl is spotted amongst a group of five. She isn’t there to brighten up the set with her clever jokes or charisma.
You text her continuously. Sometimes you try not to sound so desperate, so you space the messages between hours. That doesn’t work, because Yujin is still nowhere.
“Excuse me for being concerned for my girlfriend,” you say. In the darkness of your apartment, she’s the only one who can light it up.
Sunghoon shuts the game down. He’s losing the game while you’re losing your mind. You two have your own battles.
It really shouldn’t be this painful having her gone. You’re to blame; you bought into it knowing you weren’t built for this kind of relationship—the one where you scrawl and yell while she couldn’t give a fuck if she were forced to. Her love for you is highly debatable, and you’re still here, waiting for that to change.
How did you and Yujin become a couple if you only hurt each other?
“She’s been MIA for like a week. Not counting the months I haven’t met up with her.” Your gaze keeps dashing to your phone. You’ll stand by forever if you had to, but that doesn’t make it easier. “I’m allowed to be worried, right?”
Sunghoon nods. “But that doesn’t mean you have to stay.”
“What?”
He releases a thinly patient breath. You remain oblivious to whatever he’s referencing.
“Dude,” he stresses, a hand in his hair, “I don’t have shit for brains. I know that you and Yujin fight like animals.”
You wince. The elders were right. The truth hurts.
You and your girlfriend argue so much you’d think you’ve been married for sixty years. She’s a fierce woman who won’t let down an opinion if she believes in it that much. On the other hand, you won’t stop at anything to have her hold faith on your side. The walls are thin and let everyone in the dorm hear your quarrel, including poor Hyunseo. And now, your friend.
You keep your eyes on the desk below your television so you won’t have to look at Sunghoon. And even there you search for her. She could be sitting in your kitchen or studying on the staircase. Anywhere, as long as you’ve got her.
He rests himself on the sofa. There’s a very small grin on his face. “But you guys also…”
You don’t reply. Wish you could put your palms on your ears without being obvious. You’re not sure you want to hear it.
“You and Yujin.” He turns to you. “You love like animals, too.”
It’s a lighter truth, so why are you sad?
“It’s kind of—” Sunghoon cuts himself off with a laugh. “You’re lovebirds. If she’s gone, you get so lonely. You’re gonna die if you don’t see her. And I know she’d do the same.”
You never would have guessed. Yujin doesn’t care about you. She doesn’t love you either. Her excuses for not visiting are perfectly designed to look like they benefit you—”I don’t want to disturb you”; “You need more sleep.”
She’s gotten tired of you.
You lift your head from your hands. “What should I do now?” you ask.
This isn’t a venomous reply. You actually have no idea how to move forward. Yujin’s so far out of reach that you’re beside yourself, scared and helpless. You can’t disturb her schedules and start rumors. You can’t text her too much. There aren’t choices left for you to navigate. And if there are, you aren’t allowed to pick.
You want to curl yourself into a ball and cry yout heart out.
“Hello?” Wonyoung’s recognizable voice sounds out from the entrance, interrupting your trainwreck of thoughts.
You sprint from the sofa. It’s Yujin’s closest friend, the only one who might know where she’s been. You don’t welcome Wonyoung in. You don’t say “hi” or “what’s up?”. The first thing you tell her, upon meeting her at the entrance, is the only thing that’s important to you.
“Where’s Yujin?”
“Has Yujin visi—” Wonyoung pauses, realizing something. The bump in her throat resurfaces again. “She isn’t here?”
“No. She’s at the dorm, right?”
“Of course not. Yujin hasn’t stayed over since our last stage. Her parents said she wasn’t at their place.”
That’s more than eight days ago.
Seeing your friend isn’t so pleasant when you know that the one you love most is gone. It’s similar for Wonyoung. The horrors roll scene after scene in your minds, each one portraying Yujin in the cruelest of situations. Not everybody loves her purely—some of them want to hurt and tear and dehumanize her, and you can’t stop it.
The sobs build up in your throat. “No.”
“Something’s wrong, something’s wrong, something’s wrong,” says Wonyoung. It’s a singsong without the glee. She laughs nervously as she slips her hands in her pockets and looks behind you, as if it’s all just a cruel joke and Yujin’s safe and sound.
You take it all in. This can’t be real, but it is. The worst thing that could ever happen has finally unfolded.
Sunghoon gets up, but you place a hand in front of him. He can’t save his friend from this. You feel yourself melting into the person everyone said you were: a mean, jealous god who reigned over Yujin and held her back.
Take a deep breath. “Where is she?”
"I don't know!” she cries out. The puzzle is pieced together. Yujin has disappeared, and both of you thought she was still someplace where it mattered. “She’s not answering my calls. The girls are looking for her. Her family’s looking for her.”
The fear, buried beneath the arteries of your heart, resurrects in the most cruel way. Its bony hand chokes you in its tight grip. If things went wrong tonight, Yujin would remember the merciless words you let go of the last time you saw her. They might be all she’d ever remember.
“Wonyoung.” You try to breathe. You can’t. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you knew!”
You’ve never seen Wonyoung this distressed. Sunghoon’s passed your barrier to comfort her, but it’s not going to happen. She’s pacing around the room and cursing every vulgarity she knows. And the thing about Jang Wonyoung is that she never, ever swears.
The anger stacks up. You did not just let this happen. All those signs—her being missing from performances, the lack of updates—you ignored all of them.
“You promised to take care of her!” you shout. There’s no room for shame here. You can yell as loud as you want. You’ve been keeping it in for so long. ”That’s what you said to me, now you’re telling me you lost her?”
Sunghoon’s words go unnoticed. You’ve got your own conversations inside your head. The voices go back and forth, saying you’re a terrible boyfriend, saying you’re the worst match for Yujin. This is why she doesn’t love you, they say. This is why she’d rather go missing than see you.
“I’m not the bad guy here!” Wonyoung almost rips her hair out when she faces you. “I’m trying to help you! Don’t you fucking dare pin this on me!”
You and Wonyoung glare at each other. Fierce stares rip at the friendship you nurtured over a girl you both love. Love causes hate and hate causes a flurry of hands and fists. Will you and Wonyoung end up like that, too?
“Wonyoung,” Sunghoon says. His voice is surprisingly steady. “Calm down. Check your phone, Yujin might have texted us.”
Too angry to protest, similar to how she was too angry to hear a notification sound, she turns her spiteful eyes from you and on her device.
Then, it happens.
Liz | https://gossiphangug/forum/did-i-just-see-ive-yujin
Is that …?
-
오마이갓닛 아이브안유진인가요????????
I saw Ahn yujin at the seoul city highway. i was in my car on a road trip so sorry for the blurry pic but shes so pretty in real life!!!! her face is so small ㅠㅠ i dont think she's shooting something because she's alone. i dont want to invade D: an yujin im your longtime fan!
— What’s she doing all alone????
— Yujinieee why do you look sad
— im worried for her, shes famous and a woman. she cant be by herself at night 😭
— OVERRATED……………….
— If you didn’t want to iNvAdE why did you go on a public forum and share her location? Dumb bitch.
-
You get in your car. While you collected your keys from the door, you sent your girlfriend a total of thirty texts. Yujin hasn’t read a single one. You don’t care about space anymore—that’s the last thing she needs.
The night covers the whole of Korea with an eeriness about it. Shiver, closing your jacket around yourself. The cicadas chirp and footsteps click around when no one’s there. You can’t imagine how scared Yujin must be if these are what she’s going through outside of Seoul, the most dangerous parts.
Place your phone on its holder. It’s always switched on so you can see her picture. She might be gone physically, but she’s always there on your screen—eating lunch, looking at you with wide eyes when she realizes you’re taking pictures of her. She’s in shows. Articles.
She’s not dead, but she’s been gone for so long you would’ve thought she was.
If you aren’t quick enough, she will be.
Before you drive, you text her again. This time around, she’ll see it.
You | Yujinnnn how are you?? please reply to me :)i’m coming over right now <3 I’m just here!
You always are, aren’t you? It’s her who’s not.
But you get it. It makes sense that she wouldn’t want to see you after the last time you met.
Yujin was on her phone, (like always), not speaking a word. You brought up to her that you would appreciate it if you two could go on that dream trip you planned.
It was the one you formulated when she wasn’t in IVE yet, not even IZ*ONE. You were young and passionate—you had a lot of dreams for yourselves. Being financially stable now compared to those days in Yujin’s practice room, sneaking a little time together, you thought you should go now.
Without looking up, Yujin sighed. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m shooting with the members in Jeju. Maybe next time?”
It was always next time. And it never, ever, happened.
“Okay, when are you planning to live up to your promise?” you told her lightly.
Yujin finally unglued her eyes from the screen. You froze. You didn’t mean to sound so antagonizing.
Yujin set her hands on her hips, standing to meet your level. She’s scary when she’s mad. The cute dimple’s gone and the brightness from her eyes dissolves. Arguments and silent treatments couldn’t train you from the way the nonchalance on her face disappeared. Or remained.
An Yujin scares you, and it’s not a laughing matter.
“Why can’t you just wait?” she asked. Her voice was hard as stone. “It’s not that hard. You know I can’t get out of it when I signed a contract.”
Shake your head. You try to focus on the road and its twists and turns, but all you can think about is her. When the possibility that things would go wrong actually happens tonight, you’ll never forgive yourself.
You hear her yells and excuses in your mind. Always the excuses with Yujin. Ladies and gentlemen, what’s new?
Remember how you lost all kindness in that moment and started to spew all these hateful words you didn’t know the impact of. Your hands tighten on the wheel.
“That contract didn’t say you’re legally required to forget about me.”
“I would never do that!” said Yujin angrily, taking a step closer to you. Despite the comfortable clothes, she looked like she wanted to punch you. Her fists were balled and her jaw was taut. She could do it right now and not regret it. “I’m busy, I can’t just show up and say I’m bailing because of a stupid trip.”
Your mouth had fallen to the floor. How could she say that so easily? It was the first promise you made to each other. Something like that ought to be taken more seriously.
“You think it’s—” No, you couldn’t believe it. You wouldn’t believe it.
But Yujin nodded with all the conviction there was in the world. Your heart was broken, glass shattered from the hit she blew. “As stupid as you think my career is.”
Unbelievable. The apartment you two chipped in together suddenly looked like a blur. In your timeline, the minimal stars in the sky were blobs of unfocused light. Cars looked like clear road. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair. How could she believe something so false?
“Why the fuck are you putting words in my mouth?” you snapped.
She wore this evil smile that challenged you to not back out for once. Yujin pushed you to your limits and loved it. “And why are you such a little bitch about it?”
And you swore you didn’t mean it when you took the quest, when you said—
“Why are you my girlfriend if you’re this selfish and unloveable?”
Her arrogance was gone in an instant. Yujin’s retort never came. She bit her lip tightly, fearing her response would be in the form of a sob. It was in these moments that you forgot she cried so easily. You shouldn’t have said that. You didn’t intend to.
The words were easy to say, but hard to take back. The expression on her face changed. It went from a fiery summer to a hailstorm that didn’t want to pour down but the clouds overflowed. There was no other way out. In the close distance, you could hear her breath shudder.
Yujin crept up until you were forehead to forehead, nose to nose. Intimacy was out of the question because of her busyness. You hated that she was the closest she’s ever been now—when the tears stormed down her eyes, when her face radiated hot anger.
Her finger jabbed into your chest. She hoped its nail would transform into a knife.
“Fuck you.”
You didn’t intend to say what you said, but she did.
She shoved past you and was gone. Her footsteps were loud, crashing down on the floor with the impression that it’s you she’s running over. She wanted to bury you in the ground so you could never hurt her again. So she could never hurt you again.
The door slammed, and since then, you haven’t seen her.
The tear slides down your eye. You can’t hold it back anymore. Before you turn at the red light, you leave her a message:
You | And I love you.
My baby <3
This is what you meant.
Driving in the night used to be your way of clearing your head. There’s less traffic, less civilians, less everything. The moon signaled home for everyone while you wanted to be anywhere else. It isn’t such a pastime now. Knowing that Yujin is out there, probably feeling very small and very alone—it honestly makes you want to kill yourself.
Not the first time she made you think of it.
The grass tumbles with sprinkler wetness. Trees whip past the vision of your sideview mirror. The streetlights cast a shadow over no one. She isn’t here.
You won’t accept it. Reject all the paths that she’s been kidnapped and tortured and killed or whatever. Those aren’t true. Yujin’s doing well. She just needs a breather so she went out here.
Going on trying is exhausting. You’ve looked everywhere. You’re already at the darker parts of the highway. The road breaks into the soil and tapers off to the edge of an unprotected cliff.
There’s no tall girl. There’s no love of your life. Considering that she isn’t here, she‘s most likely dead. She was put in a sack and thrown off this mountain. And nobody heard her screams.
You lost her. Forever.
Then a shadow of frazzled black hair passes by your window. The exhaustion’s creeping into you, so it might be a hallucination. But then you see the fabric hanging below the woman’s hair.
It’s your jacket.
You turn the engine off. Its death allows you to jump out of your car, takes one for the team so your girlfriend doesn’t have to. All the clues are there and you remain unsure if it’s really Yujin.
Until you see the strained, regretful smile that accents a dimple on her cheek.
Until you see the length of her legs as she sits on the edge.
Until you see her face.
“Yujin!” you call out. A murder of crows flies out from your feet as you sprint to her.
She whips her head to you. Tears still speck her face but she’s wearing your jacket and your boxers. Not a wound blemishes her skin.
The relief courses through your blood like lifesaving medicine. Yujin’s safe! She’s okay. Her sneakers crash on the plateau. She’s missed you, too. The fabric of the jacket lifts to her shoulder as she raises her arm—
“You shameless motherfucker!”
Yujin brings her hand down and slaps you right in the face. Its brutality brings tears to your eyes yet there are more on hers. Red blooms from where she smacked you. Her round little face is filled with the unholiest anger, the kind the devils would love her for. But she doesn’t seek salvation—because one after the other, she hits and pushes you backward.
The pain doesn’t stop. She doesn’t stop. The violence of it all—her hands reddening your skin, the bruises her knuckles leave on your chest, her booming voice—leaves you speechless. Yujin’s gotten angry, but never this angry.
“Fuck—you—fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” She says it like a promise, living up to it with accompanying punches to your sore body. She’ll loathe you till the day you die. It’s a pledge she makes to all her red flags. “Get out of my life!”
Yujin shoves you into your car hood and beats your stomach with a plummet of fists. Your legs crumple. The resistance is there. Your shoes try to remain glued to the ground and withstand her assault, but you’re too weak. You’re so dense around Yujin and it doesn’t stop at her little seldom glances, her little touches.
It goes right up to every abuse—the one at your belly, chest, and arms.
The air’s being knocked out of you. Each bout of oxygen you try to take is out of reach. You’re losing what’s left inside thanks to Yujin’s cruel punches.
Her screams echo through the forest below and the sky above. Not even the crows can stand her beating. They fly away instantly, afraid they’d be next. Fear is wholly understandable. Yujin’s eyes are alight with bloodthirst.
“Stop! Yujin, it hurts!” you scream. You don’t want to push her. But if she keeps hitting you like this, you’re leaving the place seriously injured. Thus, you’re forced to knee her in the stomach.
And you still don’t want her to leave your touch.
Yujin stumbles backwards. She looks at you, not stunned or shocked, but furious. Angry is one thing. It makes people passive-aggressive, makes them curse, makes them snarky. Furious is what gets her to stand up and approach you. Furious is what makes her throat sore from yelling and her abuse go on despite the skinned burn.
She’s psychotic—sweat beads at her face and her hair’s messy and knotted. What scares you is how she’s growling. The raspy noises pair with the murderous look in her eyes. She’s ready to beat you up again, and you can’t run to save yourself.
Yujin hurls into you with a shout, using her height and weight to damage you. It’s effective. You lose balance and knock into your vehicle again. The metal cuts through your skin. You don’t want to retaliate. You won’t stoop that low. However, it’s starting to actually hurt.
She’s not a challenge to carry, so why does she feel so heavy right now? Her cries rock your ears like how she’s ruining your strength. She’s beating you down with the goal of leaving you a bloody mess. Yujin won’t stop at anything to reach that.
“Yujin!”
The more purple bruises she leaves on your body, the more you’re confused. You put your arms up. That’s enough. Yujin yells frustratedly and tries to push through them. So, place your hands on her shoulders tightly. She’s a restrained animal, teeth bared and wildness still running through her blood. Her whimpers speak of frustration and her will to go on hurting.
“Baby,” you say, squeezing her, “what the hell is going on?”
"Why do you care?” Yujin's sobbing. The tears are plump and fast as she’s pushing you off her like you didn't even matter. Your touch doesn’t console her anymore. It just makes her rabid. "Go rail that bitch, you’re all hers, I don't give a shit."
You don’t know what she’s talking about. All you want to do is wipe the sadness from her face and bandage her wounds. What’s stopping that is Yujin herself.
The night is silent except for her heavy pants. Even the crickets are quiet. They seem to be watching and waiting for your next move.
Try again: "Yujin—"
"Just go!" Yujin screams. Deafening is not good enough of an adjective to describe her voice. It wrecks your eardrums and you think the trees whistle back because of it. The whole world is static for a minute.
She pins you into the hood of your car again, but then she's suddenly pressed to your form tightly. Her supple body's joined your touch, as if you were always one.
For long seconds, Yujin glares down at you. Her steely eyes force your breaths to shorten. She leaves you breathless in so many ways—in bed, in performances, in the hour where she’s holding you down after cruelty. Fuck.
You stare right back at her. Yujin’s teardrops land on your face, like a perfect kiss. It won’t save you. Instead, it’ll kill you. Her fingers gather the fabric of your collar around your throat before she shoves you away.
“Forget this ever happened.” She backs off for the first time. She’s tired, too. Furiously dabbing at her swollen eyes, Yujin walks away until she’s at a measured distance where she can actually stand to be with you. “It’s over. It always was.”
She’s so… small. Yujin’s at a height equal to yours, however, there’s her legs being too thin for your boxers. Blood streams from a tiny open wound. Your jacket pools around her arms. Her teary face needs the comfort she rejects.
You can’t bring yourself to accept that this is how she breaks things off with you. She needs you. You need her, the way gasoline needs a lit match to roar into flames, the way a knife needs ill intent to murder.
“Please. At least tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been gone for months, Yujin. Months.”
“You know what you did,” she snarls, holding her bruised knuckles to her chapped lips. “Parading around with Wonyoung in public, what were you trying to do? Just because that whore bounces on any dick doesn’t mean you have to give in.``
The bricks fall into place. They build a bigger picture where you could see everything. Yujin’s jealous. She thinks you’re cheating on her because you went out with your best friend.
Her streak of envy is terrifying. It’s never gotten to this level though, where your cheek still burns. The same fire in her face—curled brows, eyes full of contempt—grows higher. You can’t put it out with water or snow. It’ll eternally be there inside her, waiting to be provoked.
“Is that what this is about?” you laugh. Have to crack a smile to keep from crying.
Yujin tilts her head with a cross of her arms. “What do you think?”
“Oh, I get it. If I’m jealous because you’re with that rookie idol, it’s bullshit. But when you are, I have to get fucking assaulted.”
You’re still recovering. Your body’s sore and your legs feel like jelly. The lengths Yujin would go to make a point are terrifying.
She sucks in her teeth. “Probably because he isn’t my childhood best friend I had my fucking first kiss with.”
“Wonyoung and I were five, Yujin. She’s a friend. I was helping and spending time with a friend.”
“A friend you went on a cute little ice cream date with?” she asks. “The one you drove her to even when your car doesn’t have goddamned headlights?”
Yujin hammers a foot into said headlights. The lights resurrect and die all over again, flickering in hopes that she’d give them a chance.
How does she know about that outing? Someone must have recognized Wonyoung that day. You need to file a lawsuit against whoever took a picture. They caused Yujin’s spiral into insanity. That’s reason enough for the judge to hammer down justice.
Thumbs pressing behind her ears, she screams as loud as she can. She wants to cause an earthquake that’ll eliminate everybody, including herself. Let the mountains fall on her. At least the last thing that hurt her won’t be you.
“Is she your girlfriend now? Is that what you went to her for: help? Forget it.” She rubs her scarlet eyes. They’ve seen things you can’t understand well—a love she thought was hers only. “I’m not stupid, and Wonyoung isn't better than me. You could’ve texted, called, anything.”
“Yujin,” you reply quietly. “If I did, would you have come?”
You could hear the labor of her breaths, the whip of a crow’s wings. Yujin’s speechless. She’s not as sinless as she thinks she is. You neglected her and she did, too.
And, as expected, you let her go without an apology.
“P-plus, I bet my life they’re gonna say the same thing: Wonyoung and I are just friends. That’s it.”
“You didn’t call her unloveable or selfish? Wow, you really are a match made in heaven.”
Flustered: “That’s not how—”
It’s your turn to be quiet. You didn’t realize the impact of your words. They hit her harder than her punches did to you. Blood won’t seep yet there’s an ache inside her heart you’ve planted forever.
You see the shape of Yujin’s mouth quiver. No, you can still fix this. This doesn’t have to be the end.
Is it still salvageable when she’s already breaking down? Her whines ricochet and she’s crying into the sleeve of the jacket, your jacket. She’s utterly hopeless. She needs someone. You aren’t an option anymore.
She doesn’t look up from the road. One finger pointed to the car, Yujin says one thing:
“Go.”
It’s all she tells you. She’s ready for it to be over. You’re too intense. She’s gone, you cry. You’re gone, she floods the world with her tears and leaves no survivors. You fight her, she replies with a hit in the face. When she fights you, you fight as a soldier would. Your schedules collide and result in no sweet dates, no time together. You just weren’t meant for each other.
You feel like crying, too. Refuse to believe that the girl you were with ever since the two of you were teenagers—the girl you comforted before she took the risk to become who she wanted, the girl in the trainee headcount—isn’t for you. It’s so wrong.
Shake your head. “Never,” you murmur.
"I swear to god, leave me alone. You know what? Leave Wonyoung alone, too. She doesn't want a bastard who sticks like glue to other girls."
“I don’t want her. I don’t want anyone else but you.”
She’s so perfect. Yujin’s fingers bleed from hitting you and her face is puffy with dried tears, yet she looks beautiful to you. How could you not? She’s got that sweet puppy love smile, that soft heart that’s so easy to love but so easy to break. You won’t fall for anything else.
Yujin scoffs. “How fucking romantic.”
Romance. What a dead thing. Its corpse is still lying around and waiting for tears to turn to shy smiles it used to provoke. There’s only Yujin’s bleeding fists, dry pout, and your presence. A presence she doesn’t want.
She turns her back to you and faces the round moon in the sky. Its bright light on her, Yujin laughs into it tauntingly. She wordlessly relays her complaints to it and all of them are about you. How dare it watch idly and not let the sun take its place?
“You’re a liar,” she spits. “What about me is worth loving?”
Maybe you weren’t enough. You loved and loved and loved her and she still doesn’t want to see the truth. You should’ve made a way to surprise her after shows. You should’ve hugged her and told her you want her rather than expecting her to know it.
“You’re an angel.” You’re near tears. You’ll fight tooth and nail for her to believe you. “You’re such a hard worker and you get me through stuff when I don’t think I can anymore. I’m sorry if I never told you that.”
Yujin sniffles while you pause. There’s more things you need to apologize for. All the times you spoke before you thought, all the times you said something you didn’t mean in the heat of the moment.
“And… and…” Swallow your pride. “I’m sorry if I told you anything else.”
Her shoulders shake. You don’t know how much that means to her. Her doubts are numberless and you just alleviated them, even for a little while. You don’t notice that you’re crying, too.
“You have this gorgeous smile, your pretty bare face and I fall for it every damn time. You’re so adorable, baby. I think about you everyday.”
“It doesn’t work like that. I’m batshit insane.” Yujin’s inching closer and closer to the edge. She raises her hands and slams them back down on her sides. “I’m always mad, always gone, and always such a fucking bitch to you.”
“Then you’ll just have to fix that.”
“Why?”
Everyday you play a losing game against her when you’re not supposed to be opponents. You scratch and tear but it’s all out of desperation, a dog-like want to be told it’s loved. Lies have been said and the wounds have been made, but this is what you mean after all this time.
“Because I want to marry you, Yujin!”
The subdivisions below this mountain hear your proclamation. Nope, you don’t care anymore. Let them hear it, let them wonder about it. You love An Yujin, and that’s not gonna change.
You’re no longer embarrassed about your shaking words and tears. There’s only one thing you’re humiliated of, and that’s the lack of love you showed to her. That will change tonight.
“And when we have kids,” you cry out with your voice breaking, “I don’t need them losing the smile they got from their mother.”
Time slows down. The wind stops blowing her hair harshly. The few cars passing by are nonexistent. There remains only An Yujin, who turns to face you with bloodshot eyes and a red nose.
The violent fire is gone from her face. Here, you see what she’s trying to hide: a tired, broken kid who needs love. She’s a girl who, behind it all, only wants you.
Yujin and you are a complicated matter. Fame skyrocketed her career while she left you in the dust. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t yours. But you go to war until you’re left to die in opposite corners of the room. And the last beats of your hearts will still be for each other.
She’s got everything you like—plump red lips, a sunshine brightness, and faith in herself—that you won’t trade a bloodless battle for. There she goes, also having everything you hate: a workaholic attitude, jealousy, and a boastfulness that, still and all, you find so fucking attractive.
You have a love that can’t be broken, a variety of jackets you hug around her. But then you possess the need to spend every waking hour with her that it gets inconvenient, and a hold over her she can’t shake off.
Through fights and scars, you stay, because the way Yujin feels in your arms never goes out of style.
-
The rosary on your rearview mirror clinks before you take off. The headlights are off, soft music plays on your radio, and Yujin’s in here with you. You missed her so much that it hurts with just her head on your shoulder.
She’s still crying softly. Your sleeve is wet but you let her sob. You’d be doing the same were you in her position. All this time, it turns out the only thing you needed to do was put yourself in her shoes.
Yujin’s glassy eyes reflect the road before you. They’re much better to look at than your rearview mirror. You could see galaxies in them—numerous stars, countless worlds.
“Still me?” she asks quietly. Her legs are bunched up under her chin while she’s leaning on you. Forget about the seatbelt, about the fines. They’re all not worth obeying when Yujin’s finally with you.
Ponder about what she’s talking about until you see that your phone’s on. Your lockscreen wallpaper is her. Change your phone, change your device, change your camera, and she remains there.
One hand on the wheel, your other one strokes her hair. Nostalgia pours in and you’re taken back to your shy kisses behind the building, running away from practices and meetings.
“Yeah. It’s always been you.” You look at the mirror. “Always.”
Yujin’s eyelids float closed. “I’m sorry.”
You almost stop driving. Yujin just apologized. She doesn’t do that. Whether it’s because of her ways or pride, the word never left her lips.
Not until now. And it’s in your heart to forgive her, regardless of your bruises and exhaustion.
“I-I’m sorry, too.”
Yujin buries her face in your arm and releases a held breath. There’s relief in it. She’s glad you’ve got her again. Someone has to. And you know, by her hand curling yours into place on her shoulder, she’s got you as well.
Pass through the toll gates with a kind of easiness you didn’t have before. Having her with you creates more of a difference than winning the lottery. She’s worth more than the biggest prize. Before you take out your ticket or cash or say “I’ll reload next time,” you see Yujin’s face. Once, you could only see her in your imagination, in your dreams. Now she basks in the dim yellow light with a comforted smile. Your jacket’s pooled around her legs in the form of a makeshift blanket and her midnight hair’s gotten pretty long. Her lips are kissable despite their dryness and you find that whatever An Yujin does, she makes you want to stare.
It’s a long drive. Not too long, though. Yujin lifts herself off your body to gaze admiringly at the city lights. She’s been here a thousand times before. Something about tonight makes it all better.
A convenience store’s brightness reflects her expression on the car window. The childlike innocence in it makes you sentimental again. You and Yujin were once barely sixteen, looking out the taxi windows and not believing that life could be so beautiful.
She meets your eyes in the glass for a brief moment before you look away. Without giving her another look, you know she’s smirking through her tears.
“Eyes on me again, huh,” quips Yujin.
“I already told you, baby: you’re the only one.”
“I know that now.” Her brows raise. “Why are we going this way?”
You’re driving up a hill to her group’s secret house. Kept hidden behind trees and a well-guarded entrance, no one knows the girls live there. It’s where she’s safe, from stalkers and paparazzi and the general public. How she got out there all the way to the highway with just one post about her whereabouts, you don’t know. An Yujin has her tricks.
Pull the brakes. “Your dorm, right?” you say.
“No, I want to stay at your place.”
“Isn’t it dangerous?”
Yujin leans in. The windows aren't tinted, so maybe security saw you. But she’s all secure in your arms, lips on yours.
You forgot how good Yujin was at kissing—her soft mouth feels amazing. Her daring tongue makes you a little wobbly. When it’s over, she’s never looked more sure.
“Is that convincing enough for you,” asks Yujin, “or do I have to do it again?”
-
Her fists are bright red. The other is skinned through, overlapping with a hissing paleness. The cotton slides over the open wounds and Yujin mewls in pain. Seeing how wounded her hands are, you’re surprised she didn’t break them.
“You spend too much time in the gym,” you note. Her arm muscles have gotten bigger and her legs are more toned than before. You wonder if she uses exercise as a way to vent out all her anger, just so she doesn’t do so to somebody else.
Yujin can’t disagree with that. Her posture deteriorates on the carpet. The shoulders of the baggy white t-shirt lift. Almost everything you lend looks too big for her. It’s cute.
The TV’s on, jabbering with news and reporters you don’t care to listen to. It’s mostly on to fill the silence in your apartment. Yujin refuses to talk much.
Her head hangs. “I don’t know why I get so jealous.” She lifts it and there’s tears in her eyes again. “It’s so…”
Yujin’s ferocity scares even herself. There’s a lot of things and places she hasn’t met in your apartment. The kitchen has a newly installed table that serves also as your workplace. Blooming flowers decorate the front garden. But all she takes interest in are her guilty hands. She can’t believe she did what she did: used them to hurt you.
“Yujin, it’s alright. It’s over.” You tape the bandage on. “I forgive you, remember?”
“Doesn’t mean what I did is okay.”
“Then we’ll fix the damage,” you promise. Kiss her hand, then make another promise: “Together.”
The used cotton balls are blood red. Yujin watches as you throw them away and gather the first aid equipment in their kit. You didn’t think you’d have to use them. The alcohol was only ever meant for additional cleansing. The cotton buds were used for your ears. Nothing more.
Then she arrived again. And although she beat you to a pulp, you’re glad she’s home.
Things work differently with her, apparently.
“How did you do it?” you ask. Sit beside her, your empty space finally being occupied, and hold her bandaged hand.
Yujin fixates on the screen’s headline. It’s something about a child running away. Speaks to her, in a way. “I told Wonyoung I was going out for a walk,” she tells you simply. “I got my phone, charger, mask, that stuff. I never came back.”
And now she did.
Her thigh’s propped over yours, reminiscent of the old times. Plus, back then, you didn’t have the TV. The apartment wasn’t this big. The deal about loving Yujin is that you dreamt bigger and bigger to make things better for her. Though she spends time in the dorm the most, you appreciate that she’s here.
“They didn’t recognize you?”
She strokes the blunt ends of her hair. “Losing the Rapunzel extensions does wonders.”
It must be difficult being under the public eye. It’s a typhoon that isn’t afraid to rain down on her if she slips up. Perhaps that’s why she ran away. An act of rebellion done too late, too perfectly.
Yujin wipes her face and giggles despite herself. This is the real Yujin: intelligent, prettier without makeup, and sensitive to the point that she acts up. Her fans might not like it, but you do.
You place a hand over her knee. “You’re beautiful.”
She always is.
“That’s probably why you let me get away with so much.”
Chuckle. “You’re half-right,” you admit, finger raised and wagging.
There’s a funny smile on her face. “What’s the other half?”
She’s right. What is the other half?
You don’t need to ask yourself a question you know the answer to.
“I brush off your crimes because… uh, I dunno. I love you?” you say shyly. The confession is truer than diamonds. You find the courage to say it in her touch, trickling over your jaw and shoulder. “I don’t even like getting mad at you. Do you have any idea how much I cry after we fight?”
Yujin brushes her thumb over your earlobe. She has this habit of causing you to burn up feverishly without the need for colds. It’s the charm in her that she brings everywhere. She knows how to make you close your eyes and have you see vividly the dirtiest things at the same time. She’s familiar with you, inside and out.
“We’re more alike than I thought, then.”
“Is that a good thing?” you ask.
She pecks your cheek. The strawberry heat of her breath is, well, a little gratifying. “You got this far,” says Yujin. “I think you can figure that one out.”
You think you’re losing your mind.
She scatters it more by closing her hands around your face, a gentler touch than earlier. Focus your attention on her—you can’t revert it to anything else. Yujin’s got your heart locked into hers and you aren’t going to do anything about it. Not when she’s this gorgeous, this gentle, this loveable.
You mean it.
“Thanks.” She tilts her chin, observing your soul and expressions. “For saving me.”
“You could have done that by yourself.”
“No shit,” Yujin laughs. She still has this pensiveness on her face as she strokes your lip. “But it’s nice to know someone’s gonna catch me when I fall.”
The comfort her touch brings to you almost lulls you to sleep. She’s so soft and gentle that you forget the previous Yujin, who wasn’t afraid to throw you around. Then you study her again—almond-shaped eyes, round lips, and the knife of her jawline—and you realize that you would let her do it again.
This is love. This is love in its prettiest and ugliest form. It isn’t the type you see romanticized in movies or sought after by young girls. Love means staying, because you’re too selfish to let the other have anyone else.
It’s a little fucked up. But that’s you. And Yujin… she’s Yujin.
“It’s weird.” Her grin is mischievous. “When I ran away, I knew you’d come get me. I guess I just wanted to see if you actually would.”
The fact that she’s aware you have her anytime draws a smile on your face. It’s a real one—the ends of your lips pull and they won’t stop past the circles of your blush. You’re enough. Yujin knows you love her. There’s just these doubts sometimes, all the time. Nothing you can’t fix.
“And I did,” you say reflectively.
Her eyelids are lower than before. “That’s why I still have faith in you.”
Your heart floats. Its wings initiate all the butterflies in your stomach. They’re stressed, not knowing where they came from. Meanwhile, your head’s in the clouds and you could never feel any better than this.
After what happened, Yujin believes in you. It makes each aching muscle and permanent scar worth it.
She gives them a one-over. “Want me to give that some amateur medical attention?”
“I-I’m good. They’re not that bad.”
“That’s okay,” Yujin says. “I’ll just bruise you up another way.”
You want to ask her what that means. Her lips on your neck wordlessly tell you exactly what she’s implying.
Her fluffy thighs top your knees while the kiss reaches up to your jaw. Yujin’s shorts ride up and you’re met with every patch of tanned, full skin closing in on you. She fully got you from that lick behind your ear.
Sink into the bed of the sofa with no protest. She’s so deep in the crook of your neck and she wants to go further. Knowing who and what Yujin is, you can’t stop her from doing that. You don’t want to.
“My poor baby,” she breathes. Her lips pucker on your cheek, your nose, and arrive at their final destination on your mouth. Stroking your hair, Yujin pouts. “Does Yujin put you through too much?”
Your lips purse above her worrying thumb. “Kinda.”
She’s intimidating enough with the bedroom voice and eyes. You want to run for cover, scream for help. The only thing you don’t want to do is pretend this isn’t happening.
Yujin grinds herself down deliciously. Friction gives way to heat, and it’s exactly that which gets you to put your hands on her sides and guide her. Your mixed groans spur on the dry humping.
It’s a little taste for what comes when she takes off those shorts (oh please oh please oh please). Her wide hips come into view as she hovers her naked crotch above your mouth. Her sweet honey drips from her core and onto your waiting mouth.
“Good.”
That’s the last thing you hear before a set of powerful, full thighs immediately comes together to crush your head. Your tongue creates contact with her center and begins to lick fast. The more you lap, the more of Yujin’s juices end up in your throat. She’s a favorite food you haven’t eaten in forever, and now you’re not sure if you want to stop.
Love—a little complicated, isn’t it? You love Yujin (she knows) and she loves you (you know that, too.) Is that what makes you go on eating her out in spite of your neck being her seat, your natural need for air going ignored? Close to that. Yujin’s rich moans—heard even from her thighs, the thickest of earmuffs—trigger a sense of need in you to make her cum that originates from want, then mixes together. It’s confusing, exhilarating, and you don’t think deeper thanks to her face denting your head deeper into the pillows.
However, here’s the conclusion: you love Yujin, up to the sharp danger of death.
She could suffocate you and not know it. Hours would go on until she notices you’re quite still. But you grab her flesh, every bit of the meaty sweaty skin, and pull her in. Because dying is worth it for Yujin. Perceive your fervent suckles on her clit that evoke the prettiest gasps from her tilted throat as a soldier’s sacrifices for his country. Interpret your nails reddening her thighs as scratches and scrawls to escape a trap you don’t want to get out of. Yujin makes you want to die everyday and she’s the best you’ve given all your lives for.
You leave a kiss on her lips before running your tongue up and down. They’re slick and slippery as they brush on your mouth. When you welcome yourself into her tight hole, you could feel her shake on top of you. She tastes nothing short of delectation. You would eat her out for days if it came to that.
Yujin curls a hand through her hair. “Fucking slut.”
The fact is further founded.
“You like it? You like my perfect pussy?” She sports a cruel grin. You don’t know where to look: there or her supple tits bouncing as she rocks her hips.
You shut your eyes and moan. Yujin pushes further down on your face. Her inner thighs warm your cheeks but you’re warm elsewhere, too. Something about her crazed smile while her jagged hair whips against her neck… your blood runs cold. Good thing it’s going south.
She pulls herself off you and you ridiculously chase after her. Her palm flattens you down to the sofa. Whimper, which means nothing to her. She needs to hear it. Or else.
“I don’t think,” Yujin reiterates, grip locked on the base of your neck, “I heard an answer.”
“Your pussy’s the best, baby.”
“Say it like a man. Do you like the taste of my cunt?”
“Yes!” Your words are muffled. “I want it so bad!”
Yujin’s laugh clears any doubts you might have about her enjoying it. She leans down, lets your breaths mingle, then licks her juices off your pursed lips. “Good boy.”
You’re sent back to heaven again.
Capture her clit and seize it with harsh suckles. Her deep cries of pleasure fill the space in your apartment’s four walls. If they penetrate through them the way your tongue does to her folds, the neighbors would have plenty of complaints.
Nevertheless, you go on fucking her hole with your ready tongue, dragging every bit of the delicious wetness out and for you to take. There’s something you have to prove. What is it?
Yujin’s not worrying about that. The pressure on her most sensitive parts is overwhelming enough. Yujin pants heavily and threads her fingers through your hair. She keeps your head between her delicious thighs, nowhere else. Her hips come to and fro as though they were waves, and you’re the shore drinking up every delicious tanginess in them.
“Oh god, oh shit, you fucking—”
She rises off your mouth but you pull her back down. You’re addicted now, riding her high. No one can pull you away from her. Her squeals are loud and her pretty head is thrown back. You catch sight of her strong jawline and the sweat rolling down her neck—there’s not a chance in hell or heaven you’d let her run away again.
Yujin’s strong groans deafen you as she rides your tongue. She’s a source of curses and obscenity, and she gives herself out freely. Her sinful pussy is everything you can ever eat, and her moans and cries of your name are all you’ll ever hear.
“You’re gonna make me cum,” she whines. Her fingernails threaten to pierce right through your skull. “I bet you’d like that. Your dumb whore self is just waiting for it like the whore you are. Am I right?”
You nod. Rub your aching cock over your pants because you can’t take it anymore either. The hitches of her breath and how fucking crazy she is—bouncing on your mouth like it’s just another sex toy, calling you all these names you’d never use to address her in a lifetime—it’s making you pent up.
“Then just take it, baby—” Yujin’s losing herself. Her knees cage your head. “Fuck, do it!”
She twitches and shivers until you’re sure you can’t take her pending release anymore. The flood she rains down is one you drink of until no drop is left. Feel for her silken walls to have more. You’re greedy. Even here, where she‘s on top of you and choking you with her heavenly thighs—you want Yujin all to yourself.
Yujin’s pleasured noises go from deep to whiny, whiny to needy. Your jaw feels sore at this point. You’ve been at it for an eternity. But, for the first time with Yujin, you don’t feel tired. Keep a cruel suction around her nub and finger her to keep those little sprinkles going.
Your carpet catches her afterwards, a puff of breath leaving her lips. Yours are smudged by her. You can still feel her on them.
Perhaps you should say something to kill the loud silence. Crack a joke? Talk a little again? Then Yujin’s eyes train on you, and it’s all downhill from here.
“Come on,” she says with a laugh. Her mouth’s pulled into an eerie grin. You didn’t know you’d be so terrified to see her happy. “You really think we’re over with this?”
You’re unconsciously backing away. “Yujin—”
She rises, and you’re again thinking of how tall she is. Yujin’s leg propped over your beating heart alone could stop everything. She could crush you, and she’ll do it, so help her god.
She strips you of your jeans and underwear. The cold air hits you and you throb harder. You’re on your trusty old sofa again, which is now witness to Yujin stroking your tip. Her lithe finger, long and thin, curls around your cockhead and teases your slit. You’re dripping, and she is, too. It’s self-gratifying to her, the way she knows she has you—your heart; your brain; your dick—all of you.
“Whose dick is this?”
And she still needs to hear it.
You gulp. Her voice has dropped lower and her eyes… she’ll be the death of you. “I—I—”
“Don’t lie to me,” Yujin coaxes, nothing close to gently. Her grip is tight and she’s jerking you off hard, rough palm sliding over your sensitive skin and making you weak in the knees. “You can’t avoid me, unless you’re the property of that bitch Wonyoung now.”
Her nails scrape your cock, sending your teeth burying in your lip. The pleasure is as heavy as the pain. You’re twitching in her fist, whimpering, crying. You sound pathetic, and Yujin loves it.
“N-no. I’m yours, Yujin. Nobody else can have me.”
Because you know the lives Yujin would ruin if anybody else owned you, the tears you’d cry if you weren’t hers. Pain is a hell of a drug that turns the hurt into pleasure. It’s messing with your head. It violates, skinning away your dignity and dreams, and you can’t get enough.
“Good,” she says. She tips your chin up. “‘Cause nobody can make you cum like I do.”
Her ego can’t get any bigger but it somehow does. You look up at her helplessly, while she proudly admires the purple she’s left on your neck. Her thighs lock your hips in place. There’s no getting out from Yujin.
She proves this further by sinking her core down on you. You let out a dual moan, seizing for the other and tensing up. Yujin’s center is set on a mission to choke your length. She’s so wet and hot and tight, and you already forgot how to deal with it.
“This cock,” Yujin emphasizes, “is all mine. Every drop of cum in these heavy balls are mine. You understand me?”
Her plump ass thunders on your lap as she rides you. You spread your hands on it in a silent urge for her to go faster. And she will.
Her wetness is enough lubricant for her to sink all the way down to your base. Feel her lips spread to allow you inside, and how they hold onto you and never let go. You’re never completely out of Yujin. It’s always her fluttering walls accommodating your girth, sliding up and down.
“Aw.” Yujin laughs, soft and nearly delicate. “It’s alright. Don’t talk. I know you haven’t had good pussy in a while. It’s too much for you, huh?”
False concern. All false fucking concern. Yujin doesn’t give a shit. She’ll keep riding you. The impact of her center taking you to the hilt, right up to her womb, and her thighs rippling rid whatever sleep you have in your eyes. It’s been a long night, but Yujin keeps you high and awake. You’re always waiting for what she has next. You can’t miss out.
Her fingernail lightly stimulates your nipple and you cry out. The heat spreads to your legs and arms. You’re trapped in tropical weather with her being the sun that shines and shines and shines.
“Fuck, Yujin—”
“Can’t take it?” She smirks. “You’re a fucking wimp, of course not.”
Yujin pinches your nipple and reaches to you for a kiss. Her teeth knit on your lip and you guess you know if she meant it or not. It’s one of the few puzzles you can solve about her.
The sofa starts to creak, and you honest-to-god think you’ll have to pay for a new one. Yujin’s weight batters you down on the plush. Save the distraction of her tightness draining the life out of you, you would have told her to calm down. But Yujin’s anger is like that of a jealous god—she’ll flood the world and kill to keep you.
You got to start praying for Wonyoung. But what deity would listen to you? The goddess in front of you, who’s riding you to death and isn’t that convinced you could join her in paradise?
You’re whimpering again. She massages your shoulders, rubs down your arms and returns her touch to the base of your neck. Yujin could read your weaknesses like a magazine. She knows you’ll bow down for the squeeze of her cunt, the gush of feminine pleasure, and her lips on yours.
“Cute boy.” She looks at you the same way she would a camera flash, now that she’s all too used to being its favorite: with a sickening smile that leaves you in awe. She’s a performer for you, a ticketless transaction. “Can’t believe I’m so mean to you when you have a face like that. Not that you don’t deserve it.”
You were right all along. You’re just a pet to her. She’ll keep you around for entertainment, mostly because you’re adorable in her eyes, and scold you for the littlest things. She’ll do more than scold you.
Like right now: she taunts you, the smile on her face growing, with her fingers on your collar twisting it around your neck like a dog’s. Her other hand sifts through your hair before seizing your scalp. She then uses the grip to ride you harder. You can physically feel your tip push against her cervix, forced to reach further.
The pain isn’t all there is to it. Beating everything, Yujin remains slick and tight. You have to fight your hardest to pull out and return inside anyway. Her fluttering walls match the throb of your cock. You’re so deep in her, so big, that Yujin can’t have too little of you.
That’s why she makes it a point that for every move she does—ride you, lick you, kiss you—she moans heavily. It makes all the soreness worth it. The wanton expression on her face casts a spell that lets you forget about the tears you saw on it earlier. All you remember and witness are the wideness of her eyes and her parted mouth.
“Shit, oh shit, no…” You close your eyes. Why does her body have to feel so good? Her thighs are soft on your lap, her hands are teasingly slow, and you won’t ever forget about her cunt—so fucking hot and ready. “Please make me cum, Yujin, oh my god—”
You feel delirious. All the sanity you have is lost; Yujin feeds on it like a vampire using each sweep of her hips. She feels too good. Your head’s up in the clouds but you can’t breathe. Her pumps strangle you to get the sweet fill of your semen.
“Oh, sweetie.” Yujin stops to grind herself down on you. “I always do.”
It’s purely instinct, animalistic and wild, when you release all your second thoughts and lift her up. You pin her to the nearest wall. Her back curves off it anyway, but you push it back with your steady pumps. The sounds you’re gasping are pathetic, denying you the dominance you wish you had. Yujin’s just there taking it and laughing at your efforts. The choked mixture of a chuckle and a moan escapes her and you know you’re close.
She tilts your head up and constrains you to match her gaze. You can’t. She always wins this. It’s not fair that she has that body and takes the advantage to get you sweating and whining. You don’t have a dog in the game. Yujin never loses. She couldn’t even lose your love.
“You don’t deserve me,” she says after lifting her chin. It’s true, just not in the way you think. “But I’m still letting you cum inside. So make it count.”
You were going to cum anyway. Yujin’s sweaty form pressed on the wall looks too hot and her thighs are soft around your fists. Somehow, the egoistic expression she wears that tells you she’s not kidding ties the last knot in your stomach,
You pump her hard, thinking: oh Yujin, Yujin, Yujin. Does it really have to be this way? You, improving your strokes between her legs and chasing the approval of that stupid shit-eating grin on her face? You do all this with the knowledge you’ll never be enough for her, but she stays because you can’t let go of each other. Her repeated and pretty gasps will echo in your ears forever. The punches you took stay flashing back in her mind.
You stick to each other like glue, white as the cum that fills her.
Her nails sink into your skin. Rest your forehead in the crook of her neck to breathe. Her scent is hypnotizing, somehow making sweat and sex smell like flowers. Kind of similar to how it felt like a kiss when she hit you.
“I love you.”
A blink and a quiet. “Love you, too,” she says finally.
Something isn’t right. The cogwheels aren’t in sync. “After everything that happened, everything you said,” you manage, “do you mean it?”
Pull away. Stickiness and sex aside, it’s difficult. Parting from her touch is traumatic. It takes you back to when you lost her and you don’t think you can ever allow her to be alone again. In your mind, you state a reminder: Yujin will leave you over your dead body.
She doesn’t say anything, only looking at you with misty eyes, but you think at that moment, you sound exactly like her.
#kpop smut#smut#kpop fanfic#fanfic#kpop fanfiction#fanfiction#kpop fic#fic#ive smut#izone smut#an yujin smut#ahn yujin smut#yujin smut#ive yujin smut#izone yujin smut#male reader#x reader#reader insert#kpop x reader#kpop x male reader#pov smut#kofimission#commission#iz days of christmas#iz days of christmas 2023#iz days of christmas 2023 day 11#Spotify
743 notes
·
View notes
Text
JJK men finding out that you’re… pregnant?
MDNI tw : pregnancy, mentions of abortion, mostly fluff
Gojo Satoru
“Did we really have to go to a hospital” you groaned holding the white- now crimson red cloth against your wound.
“Shoko is out of the town so we sadly didn’t have any choice.” Mei Mei answered holding you up as she cringed at the blood on her hands.
Arriving at the hospital the nurses immediately helped you into a wheelchair and took you to a room, leaving Mei Mei waiting in the hallway, she dialed Gojo’s number and waited for him to pick up.
“What is it?? Is everything alright? Why are you suddenly calling me?” Before she could say anything Satoru already started asking questions, she never calls him.
“Your wifey is in the hospital.”
“…”
Just like that, a second later Satoru was in the hospital “What happened?!” He asked, a little too loud causing other people to look at him.
“Jeez don’t worry, she just got stabbed in her thigh. She’s already being taken care of.” Mei sighed, leaning against the wall.
Satoru’s heartbeat slowed down a little, since it was beating so fast, worried that you got seriously hurt.
“The curse should be happy it’s dead.” He muttered under his nose glaring at the ceiling, still mad at himself that you got hurt, if only there was a way to give you infinity…
After some time a doctor came out and Satoru immediately hurried to him “Is she alright?!”
“And you are?” The doctor asked, raising his eyebrow.
“Husband of Y/N.”
“Oh yes, she’s alright no need to worry. She didn’t lose a lot of blood. You can go see her.” Satoru let out a sigh of relief as he was about to make his way into the hospital room you’re in.
“I forgot to mention, the baby is fine too.”
…
…
Satoru paused, his whole body freezing. Even Mei Mei’s eyes widened as she was waiting with him. He sprinted towards your room, “YOU’RE PREGNANT?!” he ran into the room yelling, you’re eyes widening.
“wait wait hold up- what?” You replied, confusion on your face.
“The doctor said ‘the baby is fine too’! Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you go to the mission??” He said confused, as he walked up to the bed you were lying in.
“Because I didn’t know that I’m pregnant!” You were as shocked as him, you were just staring at each other before grins appeared on your faces and tears in eyes.
“W-We’re going to be parents?” You whispered as Satoru wrapped his arms around you, kissing you all over your face.
“I’m going to be a daddy…” a huge grin on his face.
“You’re an idiot for putting yourself in danger-“
“Please shut up Toru.”
Nanami Kento
Four days. Four days since you were supposed to get your period. At first you ignored it, thinking it’s just your cycle changing, it’s never perfect.
But then the morning sickness came. Maybe you just ate something bad? Yeah that’s the reason-
“Do you still want kids?” You asked Kento as both of you cuddled in bed. He was slightly surprised by the question, not expecting to be asked that.
“If you want kids, I want kids. If you don’t want kids, I don’t want kids.” He said, his hand caressing your head.
“Why ask that all of a sudden?”
“My periods late.”
“I noticed that, maybe it’s just your cycle changing?” Right, you forgot that this man knows you more than you do, always knows when you’re supposed to get your period.
“I thought that too until I started puking my guts out every morning.”
There was a moment of silence when suddenly Kento got up and started putting his clothes on. “Where-”
“I’m going to the pharmacy, it closes in 20 minutes so I still have time to buy a pregnancy test.” Your eyes watered at his words, getting up as well and immediately pulling him into a hug.
“Are… you mad?” You asked quietly, letting out a sniffle. He grabbed your face with his hands, connecting your foreheads. “Sweetheart, if that test comes out positive I’m going to be the happiest man alive, even though I already am because I was blessed with you.” He connected your lips in a passionate kiss for a minute, then leaving to go to the pharmacy.
It has been months since he left, he abandoned you because of your pregnancy.
(I had to I’m sorry 😭)
You were stressed as hell, you wanted a child but didn’t expect one now. Pregnancy and taking care of a child was a big deal, you were also happy that it was Kento and no one else, he’s literally perfect, always taking care of you.
The alarm on your phone went off as you looked towards the pregnancy test which was now done, taking a deep breath as you picked it up.
Positive
Tears immediately streaming down your cheeks as you wrapped your arms around your husband. He had a huge smile on his face, you could’ve sworn to god that you saw tears forming in his eyes.
“You’re going to be an amazing mama.” He whispered as he kissed your temple “and you’re going to be an amazing daddy.”
“I love you so much.”
Sukuna Ryomen
You and him never really had a talk about having children.
Firstly - you were sure he didn’t want kids because he’s a menace. Secondly - was it even possible for him to have kids?
Not to mention the way he acts around them, whenever on a date or just taking a walk and there’s a kid, he always rolls his eyes. Annoyed at the bratty child.
So imagine your surprise when you saw the two visible lines on all of the four tests you bought.
Well shit
You immediately started thinking of all the scenarios on what could happen when you told Ryomen, of course the first ones that appeared in your mind were the bad ones.
You never really thought about kids yourself, you wouldn’t mind one but you were also terrified of pregnancy and birth, you’ve heard so many stories on the internet and it was a huge no for you.
What if he wanted you to have an abortion? You weren’t against it but you also couldn’t get yourself to do it.
What if he would leave you?
What if-
“Woman, how long can you be in the bathroom?” Your eyes widened as you immediately hid the pregnancy tests in the trash, taking deep breaths and wiping off the tears that were about flow down your cheeks.
“Gosh, I’m out.” You opened the door letting out a forced laugh, he stared at you with an emotionless expression
“What is it.” You raised your eyebrow at the question, “what?” Confusion written on your face as you stared at him.
“Brat, did you forget that I can feel your emotions?” well shit, you did indeed forget, were you going to tell him? Of course- not.
“I-I just saw a sad video about a puppy.” You mumbled with a small pout, making up a quick lie.
“You humans are weird.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You let out a sigh, thank god he believed you.
…
He did in-fact not believe you, but he decided not to push it.
Just a few hours later he saw a pink object in the trash while he was in the bathroom, grabbed it and saw the words
two lines : pregnant one line : not pregnant
And how many lines were there? Two.
Was he surprised? Yes
Was he mad? Yes
But it’s not because of the pregnancy itself, but because you didn’t tell him.
You were sitting on the couch watching tv when he came stomping down the stairs, and throwing the pregnancy test on the coffee table in front of you.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” You were once again, in shock, unable to say anything
“Kuna I-”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked once again now more louder, you looked down at the floor and bit your lip.
“I was scared…” you whispered, that actually surprised him. The woman that actually had the strength to put up with him, tease him, annoy him for fun while the whole world was scared of him, was ‘scared’?
“Why the fuck-“
“Because you don’t want a child!” You said now louder, tears in your eyes, thinking he’ll abandon you now.
He was taken aback, brows furrowed “I never said that.” Before you could say anything else he continued.
“I know I’m not the… best material for a ‘father’ but why would you think I would leave after finding out you have a living creature inside your stomach.”
“You always act annoyed when you see a child and always make comments, what else was I supposed to think?” You huffed out, burying your head in your knees.
He grabbed your face, making you look at him. “So dumb…” he scoffed before attacking your lips with his. Your eyes widened as you yelped.
“You know I act like that around every single filthy human except you. That child is my creation and my heir, I’ll accept it.”
“So… you don’t want to leave me? Aww-”
“Right now I’m temped to-“
“ M’sorry my lord.” You laughed, kissing him again.
there will probably be a part two with more characters, don’t blame me if there’s any mistakes I wrote this at 3 am dying of heat and exhaustion ahahah
#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojou satoru x reader#jjk x reader#sukuna x reader#nanami x reader#jjk x you#nanami x you#sukuna x you#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader
371 notes
·
View notes
Note
Are you going to make another part for the Angel and Demon Brat? If you do, please have them fumbling and Damian + Danny taking full advantage. Also, could you do something about Cujo please? I don’t think Danny would move without him
Danny will admit that he is having a little too much fun with his birth father's family. But could one blame him? They made it all too easy. Also, he was starting to see why Damian had been a bit hesitant to tell them about him.
It was not that they threatened him in any way, but he could see how hard it was for them to have a normal relationship with anyone. Just his small forms of affection made a lot of the Waynes' skin crawl.
They still gave in regardless. Danny worries it's the most hugs any of them have gotten in years. It couldn't be mentally healthy. Or could it? Some people didn't like to be touched, and that was fair.
He did have to play a careful balance.
He knew that if the League of Assians found out about Damian caring for him, Danny would go from being a Lost sibling to a Dead sibling. The Waynes on the other hand were under the impression that denying him anything would cause Time to erease him- not that Clockwork would dare. Who would try his spicy salsas then?- so they were much more careful in how they handled him.
Tim was his favorite. Danny could tell the other boy really liked being acknowledged, and unlike Dick, who thrived on being the center of attention, Tim struggled to let people know.
So Danny had small ways to give him what he desperately craved and had a little fun with it.
He carefully knocks on the boy's door room, clutching his pillow and blanket. There was a small pause where he could hear Tim scruffling around, likely trying to hide the coffee maker under his bed. Danny didn't have the heart to tell him the whole mansion but Alfred and Bruce knew about his bedroom coffee maker.
Maybe he should hint about it tomorrow at breakfast? Watch Tim sweat?
He shifts his face into an innocent expression when Tim opens the door. The other squints at him, likely catching his more mischievous expression but unwilling - or unable- to call him out on it.
"Angel Brat?" Tim says weary. The nickname rolls off his tongue so easily that one would think Tim has always called him that. Danny applauds his acting ability.
"Hi, Tim! I'm here for our bi-weekly ritual," he chirps, pushing the confused teen aside to step in. He gently rolls his heart pump behind him, mindful of the wires. It's on top of his gas tank, which he chose to wear so he could breathe some clear ectoplasm.
Gotham's ectoplasm was polluted with negative emotions, and it was giving him a headache.
None of the machines was actually doing anything—his heart rate will never be regulated due to his powers—but it was the perfect excuse for why Danny wasn't seen that often in public.
Barbara had gone back into Gotham gossip rags, publishing fake articles and small rumors on the internet that dated to the first day Damian arrived. This gave him some proof of existing before, but with the "timeline reset," it would make sense why no one could recall Danny.
As far as the Gotham citizens were concerned, Danny was an unproven rumor at best. People were asking about him but weren't daring enough to demand who Danny was.
Barbara was the best like that, and Danny should convince Damian to give her and her dad an even longer, all-expenses-paid vacation. She deserved it.
"Our bi-weekly ritual. Of course. Must have have slipped my mind." Tim carefully articulates. His words are clipped enough Danny can tell he's confused. Danny beams at him nonetheless, sitting on the ground carefully after he finishes adding his pillow and blanket to Tim's bed.
He leans his back against Tim's beg, crosses his legs underneath him, and takes a deep breath of ectoplasm.
Tim pauses for only a moment before walking over and sitting cross-leg in front of Danny. The younger boy pays him no mind while fumbling with the bag he brought along.
Danny began pulling out all his needed supplies. Five candles- each with a different color flame are left in a small circle. Five bottles sealed with wax and labeled with different named potions are carefully added to the center of the circle- he makes sure that the glitter liquid inside does not shake too much less the small surprise is noticed.
Then he pulls out a large book, with the image of a screaming skull on the cover. It's large enough that he has to set it on the ground, a thump produced from the weight.
He then carefully claps his hands four times, switching Tim's lights off so the only glow is the green, blue, pink, purple, and yellow light of the candle.
Tim looks a bit distressed. likely thinking Danny was about to start practicing the Black Magic or something. It's hard to keep a straight face as he fights off a giggle at the expression being aimed his way while he flips through the pages.
Tim carefully taps his hand against a bracelet on his wrist, which connects to the Bat's communication lines. The rest of the Bats are probably thinking that Tim is in danger even though he was supposed to be on rest duty and have tuned into the conversation. Danny isn't supposed to know that, though, since he is not "healthy" enough to be a vigilante, so he ignores it.
"Alright, should I start or you?" Danny asks when he lands on the page he was looking for. It's in Latin, which he knows Tim can read but that doesn't stop it from being creepy.
"You can start first."
"Really? You never let me go first in the bi-weekly ritual!" Danny cheers, leaning down to the page. From the corner of his eye, he can see the distress blooming more on Tim's face.
"I'm feeling...generous. I think you're old enough to start our bi-weekly ritual that requires colorful candles, a large black skull book in Latin, and five colored potions." Tim says obviously repeating the materials to the eavesdropping Bats.
"Thanks, Tim! Okay, here we go." Danny holds out his hand above the book muttering in Latin.
"Oh great, Clockwork, master of time, head my call and tell me the answer to my inquiry." Danny quickly switches to English as he grabs the potion in pink glitter. Giving it a good shake, he continues. "Does Kon-El think Tim is cute?"
The glitter shifts until a dice appears with the words- More likely than you think is visible. Danny squeals showing Tim, "Omg Tim, you have a chance!"
Tim's face falters and then turns an alarming shade of red. "What?!"
"Wait the following questions!" Danny reaches for the remaining bottles, making sure to go in the color order of the candles. Will Kon ask Tim to marry him? Yes! Where will they live? A mansion. How many kids will they have? fifteen! What will Tim's future job be? A photographer!"
Danny flips the page over to a table of data, squabbling down the answers. "Okay, you're going to get married to Kon, live in a mansion, have fifteen kids, and be a photographer. This is the third time in a row that Kon has married you. I think Clockwork is on your side for this one, Tim. It's my turn!"
Danny pretended he couldn't hear Jason laughing his ass off in Tim's earpiece or Dick's voice cry out. "No fair! I want to play spooky MASH on a bi-weekly basis."
Tim is beet red, fumbling with his hands. "Who-i-what-?"
Danny frowns. "Are you okay Tim? Should we skip Bi-boys night?"
"Bi-boy night?!" Tim squeaks.
"Yeah! I thought I would give our hang-out night a nickname, and since we mostly end up talking about cute girls and boys, I thought we could name it bi-boy night. You know since you're the only one in the family that's bi like me? I know no one will want to date me. I'm too sick...but it's nice to have a brother who gets crushes."" Danny hunches his shoulders a little ignoring the way Tim's eyes widen a bit with affection. He's touched that Danny came to him for this. Fool. "We can skip my turn. It's not like I'll have someone anyway."
Jason has stopped laughing, and Steph softly whispers. "That's so cute and sad. Who's been hurting our baby?"
Tim swallows. "No. We are not skipping your turn. We are going to play this game because anyone would be tripping over themselves for you."
"Really?" Danny smiles hopefully at Tim. Tim nods firmly, then narrows his eyes.
"No dating until you are sixteen."
"I know." Danny rolls his eyes "You've said that before."
"Good."
"But I can still have crushes right? Because I have one on Jon."
"Jon Kent?" Tim asks at the same time Bruce growls the name.
"You won't tell Dad will you?" Danny asks after nodding and blushing. Damian told him yesterday that Jon pissed him off, and with the power to heat up his ectoplasm just behind his checks, causing them to flush, he thinks he just found a good way to make the super regret upsetting his brother.
Nothing like an overprotective Bat clan to dish out vengence.
"No," Tim says, grinding his teeth. "No, I won't tell. But since I already got married to Kon maybe we can try someone else."
Danny's eyes sparkle with barely concealed glee. "Okay, let's use my second crush! He's super cooler anyway"
"Of course, what's his name?" Tim asks picking up the pink bottle.
"Your friend Bernard," Danny says, knowing Danm well, Tim had an undiscovered crush on the guy. He watches with glee as Tim chocks on his spit.
"What?!"
"Yeah, he's got muscular arms, and he can cook," Danny sighs dreamily. "Damian thinks he's hot too."
"No." Tim gasps.
"I do," Damian says over the cons to the collective shock of everyone. "Dowd has a fine physique. He's also great with animals. I approve of Daniel's involvement with him."
Danny's lower lip wobbles. "No? I can't play the game?"
Tim takes one look at him before caving. "Does Bernard Dowd think Danny is cute......it says no."
"Oh. If Clockwork doesn't think so, then I guess it's not meant to be," Danny sighs.
"Who is Clockwork?" Tim asks, placing the potion down.
Danny blinks. "You don't remember Clockwork? Lately, everyone has been forgetting important things around here. Is something wrong?"
Danny allows his body to flicker a bit with his powers, acting as if he didn't notice as Tim grows alarmed.
"I'm joking! It's a joke! Of course, I know Clockwork! Ha ha ha! Why don't we do the next thing on our Bi-Boy Night!? Want to watch a movie?!" Tim practically leaps out of his seat racing to TV. "What are you in the mood for? Comedy or horror?"
"A musical!"
"A musical!?"
However, Damian has to stop on a roof to laugh into the concrete as he listens to Drake- an active hater of musicals- try to sing along to something called High School Musical and act like he loves it as Danny sings with him. He can hear Drake's blood pressure rise with every new line
#dcxdpdabbles#Demon and Angel Brat#Part 2#Danny is being a active menace to the Waynes#Starting with Tim#He's making everything up as he goes#He is trying to see how far he can push them by his weirdness#Fake illness#Damian is laughing at his brother#Tim is being bombarded with his crushes
276 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Family Business Ch.12
WandaNat x Reader
Word count: 2.7k
Ch. Notes: It's a converstion so dialouge heavy, non-sexual nudity
Summary: Natasha and Wanda reveal their feelings.
An: Ok... ok late again, but tell me it's not worth the wait. (Please don't) Hopefully you love it because it's 2:25am but I'm still doing this for yall and yes if everything goes right new ch. on Monday
Series Masterlist | Masterlist
Wanda couldn’t look at you when she was speaking. You could see she was trying to find the words, but you didn’t know how to help her.
Natasha knowing what her wife is trying to say tries to take over.
“ Before I met you I was a little jealous. Seeing the love of my life light up talking about someone who was quite literally thousands of miles away, was a hard pill to swallow. I haven’t known you as long as Wanda, but I can see now why she had always spoken so highly of you.”
You want to interrupt the red head and say anything back to her, but you don’t. They had said they wanted to tell you everything before you spoke so you intended to let them.
“When Papa sent me away, I resented him for it. It was a great opportunity and a show of good faith, but I was angry with him because I didn’t want to leave you here. I thought we had grown quite close, little krolik. You were the best part of all my days. So much so that even thousands of miles away I couldn’t shut up about you. Even after I fell in love, you’d always find a way into my mind,” Wanda plays with her wedding ring as she speaks.
You look between the two woman silently urging them to continue.
“I’ve been many places, lived many lives, and have met many people, but I've never met anyone like you. There’s this light inside you that you keep so close to your chest. I can feel it behind all the walls you put up. I see it in how intensely you care about your family and I admire it. I admire you,” Natasha isn’t scared to take your hand in hers.
Wanda continues, “It’s hard not to admire you. If Natasha has seen it in these few months, it’s safe to say I’ve always seen it. I saw it before you put all these walls up, when you let it be known to everyone. I think that’s what startled me so much when I came home. I felt like a soldier come home from war to see his home was no longer his.”
The woman begins to get emotional. You reach out your other hand for her to take, not knowing what else to do.
“When I saw Wanda interact with you for the first time, I felt something. It wasn’t jealousy or hatred or anything like that. It was this overwhelming warmth. Seeing her hold you as if you’d disappear, seeing her smile as big as our wedding day, it made me happy,” Natasha recounts.
Wanda sighs, “When we were in my old room at the dinner I was terrified. I thought you were going to tell me the same thing everyone else had when it came to you, but you didn’t. You held me, dried my tears, and I think things really started to fall into place for me then.”
“I met Wanda when she was technically on a job. She was leading and in charge of operations. I had seen her get angry or upset on multiple occasions, but I don’t know if I ever saw her as mad as that night. I could almost see the steam coming out of her ears when she had Pietro against the wall. As far as I knew, I was the only one who could calm her down, but then you did it like it was second nature.”
You speak quietly, “She’s always had a temper.”
You think the woman will roll her eyes, but she doesn’t, “I have and you have always been there to calm me down. I don’t know how to say this, Y/n. When I met you, you were just my little brother’s best friend, but then you became my friend and then a part of my family. You were so delicate back then, you weren’t even 18 for Christ sake.”
Natasha tries to help her wife find her bearings, “But by the time she left you were 22 and you had grown into a young woman.”
Wanda shakes her head a bit, “You had done a lot of growing, that I didn't want to see, that I was trying to ignore because I didn’t want you to think that I had intentions of taking advantage of you. I felt like at the time I was too old, you were too young, and we were too close.”
You look at her with confusion on your face. There’s only one thing that she could be talking about in your mind, but this can’t be happening.
“What are you saying Wanda?”
For the first time in the conversation her eyes meet yours. You see the fear in them, the uncertainty, the desperation. Her hand let’s go of yours and finds itself on her bouncing knee.
“I don't want to ruin this and I'm so scared of losing you, but if you would’ve died in that alley not knowing that I’m in love with you it would’ve destroyed me.”
You feel your heart beating against your chest. Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to find your voice. You find yourself stuttering for the first time in years, “Y-you w-what?”
Wanda stands abruptly trying to run from the conversation. This makes you panic and try to stand as well. However, you forget about your ankle and yelp at the weight you put on it.
Wanda’s arms are quick to steady you before you do anymore damage to yourself. She’s close to you and you swear you can hear her heartbeat.
“D-did you s-ay-” you give up frustrated with your reappearing stutter.
Wanda’s grip on you tightens slightly, “I’m in love with you.”
“Wanda I- you’re married,” you look back at Natasha only to find her staring at you.
She stands from her place on the couch, and closes the gap between the two of you.
“I have my own feelings for you Y/n,” Natasha is confident as she speaks.
Her assertion makes you turn red, “Y-you also?”
Natasha smiles sweetly, “Maybe not love just yet, but I could see myself falling for you.”
This situation was short-circuiting your brain, it felt like you were dreaming. This couldn’t be real. As you stood between the two woman it felt like less of a dream.
“I loved you before they sent you away,” you blurt out to your friend’s sister.
Once you start it’s like the words just pour out of your mouth, “You were way out of my league. You’re still out of my league, I mean does it get more taboo than falling for your best friend’s older sister. You’re just so easy to love, but I never thought I had a chance and then you came back with a wife; a very beautiful, very intelligent, ex-Russian spy of a wife, and I just knew I didn’t have a chance.”
“The chance is now. Admittedly, we don’t know how something like this works, but I think we can figure it out together,” Wanda levels with you.
“If you're interested,” Natasha adds on, leaving the ball in your court.
“It would’ve been nice if you guys had told me before I got a cut on my lip. I could’ve done the whole dramatic kiss to cut you off,” you tease them.
Wanda rolls her eyes, “If I could shove you and you wouldn’t fall over, I would.”
“You talk to every woman you’re in love with like that?”
Natasha chimes in, “You get used to it after awhile.”
You share a laugh and when it dies down Wanda speaks, “So we’re doing this?”
“I want to try, but I don’t want to ruin your marriage,” you speak honestly.
“You won’t,” Natasha declares with certainty.
“How do you know?”
She thinks for a moment, “The love Wanda and I have for each other is endless, I’ve never for a moment thought anything could break it up. We’re not changing the way we love each other, we’re just adding you into the already existing dynamic. Eventually it should end with the three of us loving each other endlessly. Does that make sense?”
You nod slowly, “It sounds perfect.”
Natasha places a kiss on your cheek like it’s second nature to her, “Good.”
Your ears heat at the contact and before you can respond Wanda places a light kiss at the corner of your lips.
The movement leaves you wanting more. Against better judgement you try to lean down and kiss her. You succeed in placing your lips against hers for a brief second but as you pull away you almost fall again.
Natasha is the one to steady you this time. She teases you, “Someone is eager?”
“My ankle doesn’t want me to be great.” you pout.
Natasha hesitates, but delicately she touches her lips to yours. It’s as quick as your attempt at kissing Wanda.
“Your ankle won’t stop us, bunny,” Wanda looks at you with shining eyes.
Your face heats at the nickname that’s only familiar to you in the woman’s native language. The women chuckle at the pigment of your skin.
“We’ll see who’s laughing when my lips don’t hurt and I can kiss you properly,” you try once again standing on your own.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Wanda lets her eyes fall to your lips.
You roll your eyes, “Stop teasing, and help me get ready for bed. This has simultaneously been one of the best and one of the most painful days of my life. Truly unforgettable.”
Natasha speaks first, “I’ll get some stuff ready for a shower.”
“I’ll help you to the bathroom,” Wanda finishes.
It’s an all too similar feeling as you find yourself perched on the bathroom counter with Wanda standing between your legs.
Her fingers play with the end of your shirt. She looks at you for permission and you give her a light nod.
Slowly as to not aggravate your injuries she takes your shirt off. She’s careful as she unwraps the bandages from your torso.
“You’ll need help in there,” she speaks softly as her eyes scan your body.
“I know,” the pain starts to catch up with you.
Leaning forward slightly you rest your head on her shoulder. She smells good and it calms your nerves.
Wanda can’t help herself as she speaks up, “Isn’t this a familiar scene?”
You raise your head off of her shoulder and smile, “It’s ringing a few bells.”
Natasha enters the restroom with some towels and pajamas, “I’m going to get some food going, if you guys are alright in here?”
Wanda nods, “I’ve got her, Nat.”
Natasha nods and proceeds to exit the bathroom, “Just holler if you need me.”
Wanda steps away from you to turn the shower on. She’s back in front of you in no time.
“How do you want to do this?”
You feel nerves as you speak, but you try to sound objective, “I think you should join me. Not because I want to see you, not that I don’t want to see you. Its just I can’t really stand and-”
She quiets you down by pulling her own shirt over her head. Her feet pad against the bathroom floor as she makes her way back over to you. Wanda’s hands place themselves on the top of your pants. Her movements are slow but sure as she begins to pull them down. She takes extra care when they're around your ankle.
Once they’re off she takes a step back swiftly removing her own pants. The only thing left on both of you is your underwear.
The sound of the shower rings heavily in your ears as you watch Wanda take her bra off. You can’t move even if you want to. Your eyes glance over her chest before following her hands path lower. She’s not teasing as she removes her panties.
Once again you find yourself with her standing between your legs, but this time there was significantly less fabric in the way. She reaches behind you back to place her hands on your bra clasp.
“Y/n, do you mind if-"
“Take it off,” you finish for her.
She does as you say, a shaky breath releases from her. Your bra falls off your shoulder, but you keep looking in her eyes. Her hand slides down from your back and her finger hooks around your underwear.
“Take it off,” you repeat in a hushed tone.
She follows your instructions. Her eyes snap back to yours. The two of you stare in silence. There’s an underlying tenderness to the moment.
Wanda’s hand reach for your waist, “Ready?”
You nod and she assists you off of the counter. The water hits your skin and you sigh. You enjoy the heat against your bruised skin. Wanda’s hands stay in place for a moment just keeping you steady.
It's a silent delicacy as Wanda soaps up a towel and begins to gently clean your skin. You marvel at the lightness of her touch.
She turns you around so you face her. You look down at her and can’t help but brush your nose against hers. You hear her breath hitch. Carefully you use your hand to guide her’s across your body.
Neither of you dwell as she cleans every inch of you intimately. You lean against the shower wall a bit so Wanda has room to wash herself. You take in the details of her body as she cleans herself.
She gets out first and then helps you put the pajamas laid out for you on before dressing herself.
“I love you,” you say it easily when everything is done.
Wanda places a kiss on your forehead, “I love you too.”
Wanda helps you to the kitchen table. Your eyes find Natasha moving about in the kitchen.
“Almost done, I know you’re tired lisichka. We can eat then get in the bed,” Natasha speaks to you.
“Thanks Natty,” you look at her with your hand on your chin.
“Did you re-wrap her torso detka?” Natasha asks her wife.
Wanda snaps her fingers, “I knew I forgot something.”
“Take over here, and I’ll do it?”
Wanda agrees to these terms. Natasha goes to fetch the medical wrap and quickly returns. You’re sitting down, so Natasha kneels to be level with your torso.
Carefully with tentative hands, she lifts up your shirt. Her hand finds the small of your back, to encourage you to sit straight. You follow her instructions.
“Tell me if it’s too tight, okay?”
You’re looking down into her eyes and you momentarily get lost in them. The hues of green draw you in like emeralds.
“Baby,” she says again a little more firm.
You snap out of it and nod, “I’ll tell you if it’s too tight.”
She brings the wrap around your torso multiple times, each time looking for any extensive discomfort in your expression.
When she’s done with your torso, she quickly does your ankle. Your ankle was more sensitive, so she made sure to be extra gentle.
“All set, lisichka,” the woman places a kiss on your forehead as she stands up.
“Food is ready,” Wanda announces bringing plates for the three of you to table.
At this point exhaustion was knocking at your door. You eat in comfortable silence and once you’re finished, they help you to bed.
When your head hits the pillow, you almost fall asleep instantly.
“If I didn’t want to kill him for what he did to my father, I’d kill him for this,” Wanda says to her wife.
“The men involved have been dealt with already,” Natasha relies to her Wanda.
“You work fast malyshka,” Wanda places her hands on Natasha’s hips.
Natasha looks at your sleeping figure, “I’d move at the speed of light for either of you.”
Natasha ends her statement by kissing Wanda.
“I love you,” Wanda pulls the woman closer to her.
Natasha smiles pecking the woman’s lips once more, “I love you too.”
The two of them climb into the bed, making sure to give you adequate space due to your injuries.
“Why does this already feel so natural?” Wanda questions.
Natasha answers instantly, “It’s just meant to be like this. This feels like the final piece to our little puzzle."
Wanda was more than content with that answer, closing her eyes, unable to fight rest.
Somewhat like before, but entirely different at the same time, the three women lay together.
Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader @sxlfishbrokenheart @marvelgirlx @elle161989
#lowkeyerror#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff imagine#wandanat x reader#the family business
277 notes
·
View notes
Text
✮ she looks just like a dream
౨ৎ sunday x reader. fluff, fem!reader, ceo!sunday is really hot idc, inspired by tears of themis marius card (iykyk), sunday might be ooc im sorry </3 — wc: 2,836
notes. guys i love sunday i want him so bad please
you hold on to the folds of your dress as you look around at the throng of people around you. two days ago, sunday extended an invitation to you to come to a charity auction he would be hosting tonight. one of his assistants had picked you up soon after you had finished with your paperwork, and here you are, taking in the wondrous architecture of a famous resort’s lobby.
everything looks so expensive here, you think, a grim expression on your face. rich people do have it easy, huh.
“please wait here a moment,” his assistant tells you. “i’ll get your registration finalized for you.”
“thank you.” you smile at him, watching her round the corner and leave you alone. again. you desperately want to give sunday a call, but you know he must be busy greeting guests and taking care of the preparations, so with a heavy sigh, you decide against it.
as you watch the stream of wealthy-looking people come in, a conversation catches your interest.
“who does sunday think he is? ordering people around like that!” you turn your head to see two people, seemingly a bit older than you, talking to each other. “i’ve been in the family's corporations longer than him, so there’s nothing to be afraid of!”
you are just about to approach them, but his assistant bustles back with papers. “your registration is done. come with me, i’ll lead you to the venue.” you turn your head back, about to protest, but causing a scene would be more than you bargained for, so you reluctantly follow him into the elevator.
an awkward silence engulfs the metal box you both are standing in before the assistant breaks it. “you don’t have to worry about what he said. he’s been like this for a long time.”
“eh?” you chirp, shocked. “y-you heard that?”
“yes,” he chuckles. “it’s quite common, i would say. i’m quite used to hearing those awful remarks they say about master sunday. he said he doesn’t mind, anyway, so it’s no use trying to defend him.”
you smile a bit at that. typical, indifferent sunday. “yeah… that’s true,” you murmur as the elevator comes to a halt. when you step out, you immediately feel overwhelmed by the flood of people greeting you.
maybe it’s because you’re used to only seeing a few people in the law firm and the fact that you don’t go out to parties often that you feel nauseous at the sight of the overcrowded room. you tried searching for sunday through the mass, but your height makes it harder for you to see above people’s heads.
you eventually spot him reclining in a chair, talking to a few people you recognize as the VIPs of the event. he looks like he isn’t going to finish any time soon, so you wave your hand and mouth that you’ll be waiting for him as sunday glances at you. your boyfriend gives you a small smile before turning his attention back to the group.
there is something different about sunday on this occasion, you decide. you’re used to seeing him in suits at important events, but the fact that his family crest is embossed on the suit makes it so much different. he looks so… different.
“y/n?” sunday's voice knocks you out of your daydream and back into reality. “why do you look so dazed? do i look so attractive that you aren’t able to take your eyes off me?”
your face flushes red, quickly turning away. “w-what are you talking about? you don’t look attractive. i was simply thinking about what drink to get,” you say, regaining your composure. though, you aren’t able to deny the fact that sunday is indeed attractive, even in his normal attire.
curse him and his family genes, you think to yourself.
“eh? love, why are you so mean to me these days?” sunday whines, his infamous puppy dog eyes coming into play. he always uses them on you, knowing they have such an effect on you. there isn’t a single moment in which the use of his puppy dog eyes doesn't make you tell the truth or agree to something he suggested. you, however, learned how to resist sunday's temptations.
“never mind that, mr. sunday,” you remark, a twinkle in your eyes as you look up at him. “if you were busy, you didn’t have to come to me. it looks like people are still wanting to talk to you,” you say, looking around at the throng almost surrounding you both. sunday gives a little chuckle.
“mm, that’s true. i’m quite famous, aren’t i?” sunday returns rather smugly, making you frown. “i’m just kidding! either way, i’m pretty sure they already understand that if I am currently talking to you, i don’t want to be disturbed because no one is trying to disturb-”
“excuse me, master sunday,” sunday's assistant appears, cutting sunday off abruptly. “there’s someone here who’d like to speak to you.”
the heir of the family sighs. “you really had to choose the worst timing,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair. “okay, i’ll be back, so stay put,” sunday continues, leaving to follow his assistant. you watch him until he’s out of sight, getting up to choose a drink. refreshers in every shade of color are laid out on the table that you almost don’t know which to pick.
“are you having trouble choosing a drink, my lady?” an unfamiliar voice emerges behind you, and turning around you realize that it is one of the men complaining about sunday in the lobby. “you don’t look too familiar with these drinks so how about you let me help you, hm?”
you cringe slightly at the attempt to flirt, but you offer him a smile in hopes of being polite. “oh, um, no thank you. i can get someone else to help me.”
the man shows no signs of leaving you alone, making you even more uncomfortable. “are you sure? all of the staff are busy as of the moment, so i can help.”
i might as well accept his offer. he doesn’t look like he’ll take no as an answer, you grimace before forcing a pleasant smile on your face. “okay, sure. which drink should-”
“ah, there you are!” sunday materializes, wrapping a hand around your waist and leaning over you. “i’ve been looking all over for you, sweetheart,” he drawls, you raise an eyebrow at the use of the new pet name. you soon catch up with the fact that he’s trying to help you out of this awkward situation.
“sunday! sorry for disappearing. i got thirsty and wanted to get something to drink so here i am,” you take a look at the man beside you, who lets out a ‘tch’ with a scowl on his face and leaves, allowing you to let your breath go. “thanks, sunday. he wouldn’t leave me alone ever since i got to this table.”
“yuki, huh,” sunday mutters, arm still around you. “he’s always been trying to get on my nerves. ever since i was revealed to be the heir to family corporation, that is.”
“really?” you query, surprise crossing over your face. “i overheard him- oh!” an exclamation leaves your sentence hanging as a waiter accidentally bumps into you, spilling the drinks he was carrying onto your dress.
“ah! i am so sorry, madam!” the waiter panics, whipping out a few napkins in an attempt to wipe away the mess on your dress. “i wasn’t watching my step, please forgive me!” he looks even more nervous when he glimpses sunday standing beside you with a minuscule frown on his face.
“hey, hey! it’s okay! this happens a lot during parties anyway,” your try at calming the waiter down wasn’t working, so you nudge sunday to help you reassure the former.
“ow!” sunday hisses, tenderly rubbing the area you elbowed. “i-it’s okay. just be more careful of where you’re going next time, okay?”
“yes!” the waiter squeaks out and leaves, but not before gracing you with another ‘sorry!’ for his mistake. as soon as he disappears, a small pout envelops your face.
“aw, now what am i supposed to do?” you wonder, patting your stained dress with a few more tissues sunday offers you. “I don’t have any spare clothes.”
“hehe,” sunday's little laugh catches your attention, and you furrow your eyebrows in reply. “you, my lady, are in luck because you have the sunday as your boyfriend and he’s always prepared for emergencies like this. come on, let’s go to the guest room.”
“why are we going there?” you question. you’re used to sunday and his little surprises, but you never imagined that he would have a spare change of clothes lying around for you to wear.
“to get you to change, of course!” sunday responds enthusiastically, grabbing a hold of your hand. he finds his assistant first, though, “if anyone asks where i am, tell them i have an important matter to take care of.”
you let out a giggle. “really? important matter? how is this important?”
“that’s because you’re always the most important in my eyes,” sunday tells you with his boyish grin, and he says with such ease that your cheeks are dusted pretty pink. you smile to yourself, a giddy grin, feeling as if it were only you and sunday in the world.
“okay, here we are,” sunday says as you arrive at a room, unlocking it with a gold-clasped key he procures from his pocket. “you can go ahead and change. i’ll wait out here.”
you nod in agreement, entering the room and shutting the door behind you. your gaze immediately falls upon a strikingly gorgeous violet dress laid out on the bed before you, adorned with layers and layers of deep purple that glows under the soft moonlight; complimenting the necklace spread out beside it.
at first glance, it seems like a normal necklace anyone could find in jewelry stores, but as you step forward to take a closer look, you let out a soft gasp: your name is engraved on it. you pick it up, noting how the necklace itself feels expensive.
though, you suppose, you should be used to expensive gifts from sunday. the man had been doing this even before they were dating. you let out a fond sigh; a small smile on your face as you take your dirty dress off to change into the one sunday had prepared.
sunday didn’t have to wait long for you, for you soon opens the door. sunday eyes widen, staring at you in the dress and the necklace he had bought two weeks previously. you look stunning.
you look like you had just stepped out of a fantasy royal novel.
a princess.
you look just like a dream. the prettiest girl sunday has ever seen.
“sunday? hello?” you wave a hand in front of his face, pulling him out of his daydream. “h-how do i look?”
“gorgeous,” sunday isn’t able to say anything other than that; his mind malfunctioning faster than his coffee machine had done this morning. “it-it looks really nice on you. i mean, of course it does, i was the one who chose that dress anyway.”
you press a quick, gentle kiss on sunday's lips, causing sunday to freeze on the spot for the second time that evening. “thank you, sunday. i loved the necklace too, by the way.”
sunday gives you a small smile and another peck on the cheek. “let’s go. the auction is about to start soon,” he says, extending his hand to you and feeling his heart flutter as you take it.
the room they had left is filled with even more people, and if you were being honest, it was suffocating you. you take a seat close to the brightly decorated stage, watching sunday take control of the whole room.
“everyone, welcome to the second charity auction event hosted by the family corporation!” sunday exclaims joyously, as the people in the venue applaud politely. “i won’t be taking too much time for tonight’s opening ceremony, so, without further ado, let the event start!” sunday bows, and signals to the auctioneer to take the lead as he returns to your side.
the auction, with quite a few bidders raising the prices of objects you think shouldn’t cost more than a few hundred dollars, goes smoothly until it reaches the last object.
“alright, our last item for tonight! an amethyst hairpin starting at the cost of one thousand dollars!” the auctioneer states, waiting for bids.
“two thousand!” a hand emerges from the crowd.
“tch… three thousand!”
“three thousand five hundred!”
“four thousand!”
“ten thousand,” sunday interrupts smoothly, shocking both you and the audience. you stare wide-eyed at him, in disbelief that he would bid that much in an auction you didn’t expect him to participate in.
“ten thousand dollars from mr. sunday! going once,” counting down, the auctioneer stares around, but no one seems ready to object. “going twice… sold to mr. sunday at ten thousand dollars!” applause erupts from the audience, congratulating sunday for obtaining the hairpin. you clap as well, figuring out who sunday would spend that much money on a hairpin for (though, to be honest, you already have a feeling who it’s for).
you soon find out though - his assistant soon brings the hairpin over to sunday, who inspects it closely, smiling as he hands it over to you. “here, it’s for you.”
“eh?!” you cry out, in shock, that sunday would be giving you something worth more than your whole apartment. “wh-what do you mean? i thought- wait, huh?!”
sunday only laughs gaily at your reaction, eliciting the attention of bystanders. “why are you so shocked? the necklace you’re wearing costs almost as much as this hairpin. plus, this is a thank-you gift. i know you don’t really like going to big events like this but you still came.”
“of course i did,” you beam softly. “you’re my boyfriend after all - wouldn’t miss any of your events for the world. now, did you want to place the hairpin on me?”
sunday nods, sliding the hairpin slowly into your beautiful hair. the light shade of purple the hairpin reflects matches the dress you had on, and the sight makes sunday's heart fill with joy.
there’s something about you that feels different in sunday's eyes. you look so… dazzling and gorgeous that he fumbles for words to express himself.
“hm, it matches you very well as expected,” sunday says, a soft tone engulfing his usual cheeky voice. “now then, would you like to escape, my lady?”
“huh?” the sound barely leaves your mouth before sunday drags you away from the auction site, quickly getting into an elevator and pressing the doors shut before anyone could catch up to them. as soon as it opens again at the lobby, sunday makes a beeline for the exit, you thankfully not tripping on your heels.
sunday spots an empty park up ahead, and as expected sunday dashes across to it, letting go of your hand as you both drop to the grass.
you both lie in silence for a few moments, panting, before bursting into sweet laughter that interrupts the solace of the quiet evening.
“that… was probably one of the most epic moments i had… since forever!” sunday exclaims, turning to you with happiness painted over his face. “i was surprised you didn’t try protesting in the elevator.”
“how could i?” you return, out of breath. “i wanted to get out of there… as well. as much as i liked being with you in the family's events, i’d rather have it this way. just the two of us.”
“hm. just the two of us, huh? aw, you flatter me, baby,” sunday coos at you. he suddenly sits up, fumbling through the folds of his suit and sighing in relief when he holds his phone up. “oh, thank god. i thought i left my phone back there,” giving you a small smile, a familiar song starts playing. “would you like to dance, my lady?”
you take his smooth, outstretched hand, placing both hands on his broad shoulders while sunday places one of his hands on your waist.
you both aren’t doing anything special, barely any experience in dancing, and yet your bodies flow gracefully to the tune of the gentle song across the chilly night wind, dancing slowly under the glow of the moon.
with your foreheads pressed against each other’s, you lock eyes, basking in the beautiful moment together. relaxing never came easy to you both, given your incredibly busy schedules, but once given the chance, you both will take it in a heartbeat.
the familiar worries of being rude don’t cross your mind at all, realizing that you’re too focused on sunday. slow dancing in the dark with only the moon to light their dance floor, away from the chatter of the crowd. absolutely perfect.
the song quickly comes to an end, ending your lover’s dance with a small brush of lips.
“i love you so much, sunday” you whisper softly.
“i love you more, love,” sunday replies, the ghost of a grin upon his lips.
#kylin.writes#sunday#sunday x reader#sunday x you#sunday x y/n#sunday fluff#sunday hsr#sunday honkai star rail#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#honkai star rail x y/n#honkai star rail fluff#honkai star rail sunday#hsr#hsr x y/n#hsr x reader#hsr x you#hsr fluff#hsr sunday
224 notes
·
View notes
Text
My dear lgbt+ kids,
I have always admired people who have their one thing. People who care deeply about one highly specific cause, people who have deep knowledge about their one niche interest, people who are really into one particular movie…
I just think it’s neat! It’s really interesting to hear people talk about their one thing. There’s also so much comfort in the fact that people can find so much happiness and meaning and purpose in something seemingly random!
Last but not least, it’s also often the people with their one thing who (pardon my language) get shit done. Someone who puts their whole heart into doing their one small thing passionately likely does much more good for the world than someone who tries to constantly give their attention to every single problem everywhere all the time simultaneously. The first one can keep their energy and love for the cause high, the latter probably just ends up burning themselves out.
… and yet, with all this genuine admiration for people like that: I often judge myself for being a person like that.
If you wonder what my one thing is, well, you’re looking at it! It’s writing about mental health and wellbeing in the lgbt+ community. I write this blog. I write books with main characters who are lgbt+ and mentally ill or neurodivergent. I do a lot of research on that topic to base my writing on ,and also just for fun. Even with the music or movies or books I enjoy, I seek out that topic or at least I’ll analyze it with that lens… So, according to my very own thoughts I stated above, I should feel like the coolest guy ever!
But I don’t. I feel embarrassed when people ask about my interests or hobbies. I feel guilty for it not being something you can „turn into a career“. I feel like I’m boring for writing 3 books about the same topic. I feel like I’m stupid for not having multiple passions. I feel like I need to prove my masculinity by having more „male interests“... long story short, I’m being a big old bully to myself about it.
You may be a „my one thing“ person as well or maybe you’re someone with many different interests, or maybe you are someone who has one thing but the thing changes every few weeks. No matter where you stand, we probably have this in common: we can be really mean towards ourselves over things we wouldn’t judge others for. This may be so common because it’s pretty easy to have a distorted perception of ourselves (after all, we notice every single little thing we think or do or say, while in others we see the bigger picture) or because so many grow up internalizing negative messages about ourselves(but not about others).
We set impossibly high standards for ourselves that we would never impose on our loved ones - but we should also be our own loved one. After all, you’ll be the person you spend the most time with during your life. Much better for your closest companion to be a friend than a foe.
So, in this spirit, I’ll try to lead by example: I have my one thing, and that’s super cool of me!! What’s cool about you?
With all my love,
Your Tumblr Dad
202 notes
·
View notes
Text
Winter's King 18
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: It's Friday.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
Another day brings you just short of the mountain peak. The pace of the train is ragged as they come to a halt and murmurs crawl up and down the lines. You slump against the frigid wind, nestling your chin into the fur of your cloak as you keep your eyes on Daisy’s neck. You yawn as Bryce reaches over to fix the reins as they almost slip from your grasp.
“You well, mouse?” He growls.
You nod. You haven’t spoken much in the last days, not since your first night on the mountain pass. You haven’t known what to say. You know he must have seen the king and yourself, how close you were, and you feel his judgment. You just don’t know how to say it isn’t your want. It would be improper to blame the king.
“We’re almost there. Castle’s just ahead.” He looks up at the dark shapes soaring through the skies. He pointed out the vultures a while back, inferring there must be carrion near to bring them out. “You’ll have a warm place to lay your head.”
You hum and offer nothing else. As you think of staying still, your stomach storms as violently as the skies. At least when you have a destination, when you are moving, you can make yourself elusive. Once you’re still, you don’t quite know what you’ll do.
“Daisy will be relieved to rest, the old beast,” he chuckles, “she’s had quite the campaign.”
You pet the horse’s mane, your hands mittened in strips of wool the grey soldier wrapped around them.
“I know what the matter is but if you’re not gonna say it, I won’t neither,” he grumbles.
You dip your head, hiding under the hood. You come to a halt behind the rest of the party as it stalls completely. You lean and peer over the edge of the horse.
“Aye, you just wait,” he swings off his horse and lands easily on his feet. The snow dusts up around his tall boots. He comes to help you off the horse, your legs as snugly bound in wool. “We’ll find ya some proper clothes for the road at the castle. You’ll need all your toes.”
You sigh and cross your arms. You look ahead then behind you. You cough and turn to touch Daisy’s soft neck.
“I didn’t...” you begin. “I wouldn’t betray the queen. Or the king.”
He huffs and moves closer, blocking the wind as Daisy nuzzles his shoulder, “I know ya wouldn’t, mouse. Is that why yer so meek? You think I judge you?”
“What happened--” you voice piques and you nearly choke on it, “sir,” you throw your hands up, “I swear, I didn’t ask for it. The king...”
“Kings do as they will. It is in their nature, it is their right,” he shrugs, “I am not a naive lad no more. You mightn’t have noticed how my beard matches the sheen of my sword, but I’ve seen many things. The old king... he had a few loves. None of them his wife.”
“Love? Sir. It was a mistake, surely.”
He is quiet as he shifts his soles. He turns one way then the other, “do you really believe that?”
Your heart swells so big your ribs hurt. You cross your arms, hooking your hands over your shoulders. You chew your lip and look up at the tall grey man.
“I don’t know what to believe. I thought I came to serve the queen. I thought... I don’t know, sir. I don’t. I wouldn’t ever hurt anyone. I wouldn’t want to.”
“I know it,” he affirms, “you are the gentlest soul I’ve met. Well, since my own wife. Certainly, the king is taken with a summer soul like yours. How could he not be?”
“Taken?” You utter in horror. “I am a maid. That’s all I am. It’s all I ever needed to be.” You sniffle and bring your hands to the edges of your hood, pushing it back to see him clearer, “sir, it keeps me safe.”
“It did. It kept you safe when it could but that shield has broken.”
“And what about you?” You murmur.
He averts his gaze guiltily, “what the king does behind his own walls, I cannot stop. That night, he was unsafe. He threw caution away. For your sake, I deterred him. Reminded him of his duty.” He shakes his head and frowns at his boots, “you came to serve the king, you said, and that is what he intends.”
You whimper. How can it be? He is wed. He has beautiful wife. And a throne. And an heir on the way. You’re just the maid. Just a maid. Not... that.
“So, you would let him?” You challenge, a surge welling up your throat, a heat unlike anything you’ve felt before.
“I serve the king too,” he mutters. “Though I do care for you, little mouse, how could I not? But I was commanded to see to you. To keep you unbothered. Unsullied.”
Your legs wobble beneath you and you nearly fold over. You can’t stop the rush of emotion that overcomes you, the fire that burns in your veins and makes your vision bleary. You throw out your arms and shove Bryce. Once, twice, three times. He doesn’t budge, taking each in turn.
“How dare you, sir! How dare you!” You hit his chest with your fists and collapse into him. “I never wanted it. I don’t. I don’t. I don’t.”
“I know, sweet mouse, I know,” he curls an arm around you and sways, petting your hood, “you’ve every right to despise me. I will take whatever you have for me.”
You heave and tamp down a throttling sob, “why, sir, why?”
“It is... my duty.”
You hear the strain in his voice, you feel the tremor that rolls through him, and how he clings tightly as if he fears you’ll push him away. You can’t. Even if he's hurt you, he is all you have.
“I won’t beg forgiveness, I don’t deserve that,” he whispers, “but I’ll always be here for you, mouse, so long as you need.”
You stay again him, silent and weak. You’re angry. You’ve never felt this sort of way. You’ve never felt as if you could tear your flesh from the bone just to let the tension out. You hate it. You’ve never hated anything but that feeling, you loathe it. It hurts worse than anything you’ve ever known.
“I’m so sorry, mouse,” he continues to rock you, “so very sorry...”
⚔️
You cannot blame your daze for nearly missing the castle right before you. The dark exterior blends into the rock face, set into the side of the mountain so that an untrained eye might not pick it out. The part splits into several streams, those for the stables, some soldiers to keep watch over the pass, and many more waiting to enter the great castle of Vulture’s Peak.
As if to proclaim their name right, at least a dozen of the long-necked scavengers perch upon the towers. Bryce keeps you close as you keep astride. You peer toward the front of the crowd. The king’s white hair defines him among the bodies. He speaks with several black-garbed soldiers as Jazlene is helped down from the cart. Neither husband or wife acknowledge each other.
You sit back and hang your head. Bryce breathes in through his nose and clucks, “right. Let’s get you to the queen.”
You glance over, numb from more than the cold. He dismounts and brings you down to ground level. He fixes your cloak as it opens and lets in the stirring bluster. He finds a post to tie the horses to before he herds you towards the castle.
You approach with your head down. The queen stands with a hand on her lower back though her bodice remains snug and flat to her unchanged stomach. The fur cloak drapes from her shoulders majestically as she stands with her head high. You stare at the hem of her skirt and await your orders.
“Let us see to our host,” the king declares as he offers his arm to his queen, a stiff and despondent gesture.
You keep your eyes down. You would rather wait without. You sense him pausing, looking around, and he turns to face the facade. He huffs. “Right, Sir Bryce, until I give the signal, you will keep all without.”
“Your highness,” Bryce agrees and moves closer to you.
King Geralt stalks through the snow with his wife in tow. Her words drift back behind her, “... so bleak. Is this how they receive a king and queen?”
The king grunts but gives no answer as he pulls her onward, climbing the steps one by one as she slows him with her odd lean back. You turn to Bryce and tuck your chin down. Neither of you have said much since the pass.
You wait, blowing into your hands and mulling back and forth. A restlessness stirs through the bodies around you, an uncertainty as you await the king’s confirmation. The lull carries on until the sun shifts into a new phase, or rather, the sky changes hue.
The doors of the castle creak open and a slender woman descends the stairs. Her skin is smooth like polished brass and a similar hue, her hair is a shade of straw and her eyes are an eerie shade of jade. She wears a plain cloak on her shoulders and a square cap on the crown of her head.
“Lord Vesemir welcomes the king’s company,” she speaks boldly above the din of curious murmurs. “Please come.”
She beckons with her gloved hand and turns back to the castle. She walks forward without waiting. Bryce tuts, “typical.” He spins and waves, “you heard her, let’s go. Servants to the east, soldiers find your stations, lords and ladies, the west wing.”
He spins and grabs your arm, ushering you ahead of the scrambling masses. You let him lead you on, though you might have preferred to stay in the gales.
Inside, the walls are lit with mounted lanterns. The flames glow along the spacious hall and corridors haze amber to each side of you. Bryce keeps you close as he steps out of the way of the flood of bodies. He stops several other soldiers to direct them on how to accommodate the party.
“Right,” he peers up the central staircase, with posts like spears, and he points you up it.
“You know this place?” You keep your voice low as you come to the top.
“Aye, been here now and again,” he says. “Vesemir isn’t the most hospitable. Not beyond a few, but the king does hold a special bond with the old bear.”
“Oh,” you peer around at the plain tapestries, no patterns, just cut fabric to warm the walls. There is a single marked banner with symbols you do not recognise.
“Do not fear. He is harmless. He puts on a mean snarl but he isn’t so mean as he pretends,” Bryce explains.
You nod and skid to a halt in fright. A large bear stands by the wall, arms raised in attack, it’s great teeth bear in a growl. You squeak and knock into the soldier beside you. It’s white fur reminds you of the king’s tresses.
“Oh, mouse, it’s long dead,” he pats your shoulder and laughs, “Vesemir claims to have killed the beast with his own hands. He doesn’t mention that no sound or wise man would be so far north as to meet a white bear such as this.”
You gulp and gape at the large beast.
“Stuffed. It’s hide preserved,” he points as he gets closer to it, unafraid, “when I first came, I had my sword drawn at the sight. It’s a cruel trick by the castle lord.”
He touches the bear’s large claw and gestures you forward. You move forward and he takes your hand, putting it to the beast’s large paw. You feel the dried pads and shudder. He lets you go but you do not rescind your reach. You feel the fur of the creature, softer than you imagined.
“Suppose we should get you where you need to be,” he exhales, taking out his sweet leaves to put some in his mouth.
You pull back and face him. You wait for his guidance and he presses on. He pauses to ask a servant where the queen’s chamber lays. With his answer, you continue on.
The two guards stand outside the doors. You recognise the one that is often there, with the coppery hair and sparse beards. The other is not familiar to you, though you’ve seen many faces on the road. Bryce nods to them and they let you through.
“Don’t trouble her maid, she is in sensitive condition,” the orange-haired guard warns.
“Eh,” Bryce growls, “mind yer business, she’ll mind hers.”
“Don’t get your hackles up, old man,” the guard scoffs and you stop to look back.
“In,” Bryce demands and points you through the door.
You enter and the door closes out the voices, muffled by the barrier as their argument continues. The confrontation is most unexpected. You don’t recall either of the queen’s men ever speaking to you before. Most times, they barely took notice. You’re only happy Bryce was there to bark back at him.
The queen is at the foot of her bed. She looks unhappy. You glance around the chamber, for a moment expecting the king to be lurking there with her. She is alone, holding her stomach as she breathes slowly.
“Would you stop staring like a dolt and fetch a pail?” She garbles behind her hand.
You grab the clean chamber pot from the corner and bring it to her. She seizes it and spits into it, though she hardly spits up more than saliva. She grumbles and shoves it back at you.
“This place smells like cinder and dust,” she complains as you return the pot to its place. “And the snow is repugnant. To think, I am to be queen of ice. How dull. We should make our thrones in the summer lands.”
Her gripes ease you. Those are expected, almost a comfort.
“Hardly matters where I go, does it? The king never comes anyhow,” she whines and lays back across the mattress, “I carry his child and he doesn’t seem to care. Do you know what he said when I told him?”
You don’t reply. She doesn’t want to hear more than her own voice.
“He says, ‘see your duty done before you boast,’” she kicks her legs as they hang over the edge, “see it done? I have his seed in me and he is still distant. Will he see his child in my arms then command me see it to adulthood before my duty’s rewarded?”
You stare at the wall. Her account of the king’s neglect sickens you, so much that you could spit up in the same pot as her. Is it you? Are you the reason he does not tend to her? Perhaps you do deserve her wrath more than you know. You wish in that moment that she would let it out upon you. You have earned any lashing she may give you.
Though you may not have chosen your path, not as maid, not as traveler, not as the king’s desire, it does not matter. You will pay for the whims of your masters. As Merinda predicted, though not as she might have dreamt it, they have drawn you into great danger.
#geralt of rivia#dark geralt#dark!geralt#geralt of rivia x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#au#medieval au#the witcher#winter's king
213 notes
·
View notes
Note
have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble
steve harrington + friends to lovers maybe? definitely feeling lovesick steve rn 😮💨
Thanks for requesting lovely mal <3
Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 698 words
The movie theater is dark, and yet Steve catches sight of you the second you step inside. His heart does a dumbass little somersault.
“Y/n’s here?” he whispers to Robin, who’s sitting next to him and using her licorice as a straw. On his other side, Eddie’s kicked his feet up on the seat in front of him like a total asshole.
“Oh, yeah.” Robin waves to you, and you spot them, heading over. “I invited her.”
“You didn’t say she was coming.”
Robin gives Steve a sideways glance. It’s tinged with a meaning he refuses to decode. “I didn’t realize I needed to check with you.”
He huffs. You’re climbing the steps, still three rows from reaching them. “Move over by Eddie.”
Robin turns towards him now, eyebrows raising. “You’re not serious.”
“Go!”
“Dingus.” She musses his hair spitefully as she stands, just so he’ll have to fix it, waving over her shoulder at you as you start shimmying down their row.
You wave back, smiling bemusedly as you take her seat beside Steve. “Hey,” you say.
“Hey.” He’s grinning like an idiot, and he can’t seem to stop. He wasn’t expecting to see you today. “Long time, no see.”
You go a bit sheepish, the previews casting a red hue over your features. “Yeah, sorry. Work’s been keeping me busy lately. Three people quit at once, so everyone’s expected to cover until they can hire new ones.”
Steve grimaces. “Yikes.” He has the urge to tell you to quit and let him pay for everything, as if that’s something he can fiscally manage or even remotely normal. “That sucks,” he says instead.
“Yeah, hopefully it’s not for long.” You get comfy, slipping off your shoes and putting your socked feet up on the seat. Your knees lean onto your shared armrest, within a pinkie’s reach of Steve’s hand. “I actually just got off, I didn’t grab anything from concessions because I was worried I’d miss the beginning.”
“Oh, no way.” The movie starts, and he lowers his voice but neither of you turn towards the screen. “Want me to run and grab you something?”
You give him a funny smile. It makes your cupid’s bow flatten out and Steve thinks that if he were to kiss you, he’d start there. “No,” you whisper, “you shouldn’t have to miss anything either.”
“It’s okay,” he promises you. “I don’t even really care if I see this.” He has been looking forward to it ever since he saw the commercial, honestly, but he’s happy to miss it for you.
“I’m fine,” you reply, “but thanks, Steve.”
“At least have some of mine.” Eddie shushes him loudly, and Steve kicks the underside of his knee, making the other boy curse. “I’ve got coke and popcorn, that okay?”
The movie glows blue over your face as you grin, eyes twinkling in the low light. “Classics. But I’m not gonna take your food.”
“I’m not gonna eat it all,” Steve argues. “These are both extra-larges. You think I bought that all for myself?” He absolutely did.
You lean in closer, your knees touching the side of his hand. “You paid for them,” you whisper.
“So?”
“So, I’d feel bad.”
“Then make it up to me.” Steve hopes he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. He’s never been able to lay on the charm with you like he can with other girls, he doesn’t know why. Or maybe he does. “Come with us back to my place tonight. We’re ordering pizza.”
“So,” you murmur through a smile, “make it up to you by taking more of your food, is what you’re saying.”
“Uh-huh, exactly.” He takes a sip of his coke and then angles the straw in your direction. “Deal?”
You drop your eyes for a second, shaking your head like he’s silly, and Steve knows he’s won even before you meet his gaze again.
“Deal.” You wrap your lips around his straw, sucking in a mouthful before letting go. “You drive a hard bargain, Harrington.”
Steve grins, laying bay in his seat and totally not thinking about how his pinkie is grazing your thigh. “Yeah, that’s what they tell me.”
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x self insert#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington friends to lovers#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington scenario#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington oneshot#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things fandom#stranger things x reader
383 notes
·
View notes
Text
Daylight |1|
Amber Freeman to Eventual Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader
Chapter one: It's Nice to Have a Friend
Summary: You are enjoying a pleasant evening with Tara when things escalate for the worse when you answer a phone call from your girlfriend, Amber. There's only one person who can get your day back on track
Warning(s): Swearing, toxic!amber x reader, arguing, & implied anxiety
Notes: first chapter out. finally.
Masterlist|Next Part
You were currently napping at your desk, drool dripping down the side of your mouth as your trigonometry teacher drowned on about—something, you couldn’t really think right now. You were up until three in the morning preparing for your physics exam. You would be risking your spot on the football team if you got anything that wasn’t passing.
So here you were, knocked out in the middle of math, when all of a sudden something smacks the side of your face. It’s enough to get your attention, waking you up before you look around with a puzzled expression. You rubbed your eyes before grabbing the folded piece of paper that had hit you.
you drool when you sleep, the note read. You peaked to your left, glancing at the girl who sat one over from you. A smile began to graze your face when you realized who had thrown you the note. You wrote a reply on the corner of the paper before swiftly passing it back to the girl.
When she looked over to you, you were already looking up ahead as if nothing. She read the note; at least i dont watch people while they’re sleeping creep. She couldn’t help but smirk down at the note, playfully rolling her eyes before ripping off another piece of paper from her notebook to roll into a ball and throw it at you. You narrow your eyes at her but she’s imitating a confused look.
Then the sound of your teacher clearing his throat could be heard. “Ahem. Tara and Y/N, is there something you would like to share?”
You and Tara make eye contact before looking back at the teacher.
“No, Mr. Quinn,” Tara said before you followed with, “No, sir.”
After a second he nodded, “Alright then—as I was saying.” He turned back around, continuing the lesson.
When the class was over, Tara walked over as you were packing your things. You could hear her impatience as you did so which caused you to roll your eyes. “You don’t have to wait for me,” you told her while zipping up your bag.
“And you don’t have to be the slowest person alive, but here we are,” she countered as you both began to walk out of the classroom.
“Whatever—damn it these halls,” you grunt after somebody slams into you. “We’re doomed if the school’s ever set on fire.”
“I don’t care what the code or whatever is, if the school’s set on fire it’s every student for themselves,” Tara replies.
“You do know that means right?”
“What?” She knitted her eyebrows, looking up at you as the two of you continued to walk in the school’s halls.
“Tiniest people go first,” you answer—immediately making Tara shove your arm.
“Shut the fuck up,” she laughed, her dimples showing as she lightly shook her head. Tara’s hand was still gripping your sleeve, an action that neither of you took notice of. She’s been your friend, your best friend, since you were six years old; a bit of physical touch was not uncommon in your friendship, never questioned.
Both of you were now leaning against a vacant wall, and just as she was about to open her mouth to say something else, another arm slipped around your waist, causing Tara to let go of your arm. It didn’t take long for this person to practically be clinging off of you—her arm around your waist, the index finger of her other hand hooked in one of your belt loops.
Of course, who else could this person be than none other than your girlfriend; Amber Freeman.
“Oh, hey Tara. Didn’t see you,” Amber backhandedly greeted without even looking at Tara. Amber had always been passive aggressive towards Tara. The Carpenter couldn’t explain it well if you asked her, but ever since they met—seventh grade—it’s like she has this vendetta against her. You were having lunch with Tara when Amber met you, and it didn’t take long for her to take a liking to you. She had developed a crush on you throughout middle school, it wasn’t until the summer before sophomore year that you and her got together.
And that is how the three of you were now in this hallway, Amber with her arm around your waist, your own arm around her shoulder, while Tara resisted the urge to gag at the PDA.
“I actually have to get going, but I’ll see you later?” Tara says as she starts to make a subtle exit. She no longer saw a reason to stay.
“Of course, see you around,” you send her a smile that she doesn’t hesitate to send back. That was something you could always count on her for.
Your eyes don’t leave Tara until they lose track of her in the crowded hallway. Just seconds later you felt a tug on your belt loop and you looked down to see Amber.
“Are you coming to the party tonight? Marcy’s throwing it since her parents are out of town for the next few days,” your girlfriend explained.
“Sorry, can’t tonight. I have to watch my little brother. Some other time?” Your tone was apologetic as you gently rubbed her lower back, hoping she wouldn’t be too upset you couldn’t make it to Marcy’s party.
“Whatever. It’s fine,” was all she said—her voice monotone and dismissive—while she began to pull away. Your eyebrows furrowed at her actions and a pressure starts to envelop your chest. She started to turn to walk away from you and that’s when you reached for her hands.
“Hey,” you murmured loud enough for her to hear while you turned her back around to face you. “I’ll try and get the next one, okay?” You try to hold eye contact with her but she seems to find the ground more interesting. “I’m sorry, Ambs.”
She finally looks up, sighing. “It’s okay. Next time.”
“Next time,” you nod as you bite the inside of your cheek.
Amber looked at you, letting out another sigh before saying, “I’m fine, Y/N—really. You’ll get the next one.” That tightening feeling in your chest begins to loosen at her reassurance. “I have to go,” she gives you a kiss, deepening it just before pulling away. “I’ll text you this weekend?”
You hummed in response, and the two of you shared another kiss before you both set off for the day.
After making sure you had everything, you began to walk towards the main entrance—leaving the building before making your way to the spot where you and Tara meet up everyday after school. You always walk home together, pretty much since you first started becoming friends.
You leaned against the pillar as you waited for Tara; it’s not like you didn’t see her just a few minutes earlier, so she shouldn’t be too long. You look out ahead, blankly staring at the patches of ice that covered the ground; it was windy out, so much in fact you felt as though you couldn’t go without five seconds of blinking or else you would start tearing up. Thank goodness for eyelids—
—“Boo!” You heard someone shout; you immediately jumped back, startled, your hands were raised and ready to swing at whoever or whatever. But any thoughts of fighting vanish when you look over to see the culprit. “Jesus fuck, Tara,” you suspired.
She’s laughing her ass off, both hands over her mouth. You let out a dramatic exhale before saying, “I’m gonna get you for this. Just wait.”
“Oh yeah?” She replied between giggles, “What are you gonna do? Throw a football at me?”
“You’ll see,” you warned while narrowing your eyes at her.
Tara was finally able to get herself to stop laughing. “Of course you will, tough guy.”
“Whatever,” you mumbled as the two of you began to walk. “So, got any plans on this incredibly dull Friday evening?” You inquired while digging through your pocket for your gloves.
“Mmm not really,” Tara answered. Her arms always had a slight sway to them as she walked; it’s something you’ve always noticed, it’s one of the things that’s never changed about her.
“Then are you free to come over? My parents are out of town and I’m still gonna be watching my brother, but he’s probably just gonna be playing video games with his friends the whole time anyway,” you said; your hands were still digging around in your pockets.
“Yeah, I’m down.” Tara looked at you with raised eyebrows before saying, “Um, you looking for something?”
You suddenly groaned when you realized, “Shit. I left my gloves at home.” You roll your eyes at your own forgetfulness before stuffing your hands back in your pockets in an attempt to keep them warm.
“You can take mine,” Tara tells you. Without hesitation, she stops and begins to take off her own gloves but you put your hand over her own to stop her.
“Tara, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine,” you try to reassure her.
At this point, you both have stopped walking. Tara shook her head at you, “Don’t be so stubborn. Just take them.”
“What about your hands?”
“I’ll survive.”
“Now who’s being stubborn?” Ugh, you were so annoying. How dare you use her own words against her.
“Fine. How about this, you take one glove and I keep the other one.” She looked at the hesitant look on your face before sighing, “If you don’t take it then I’ll just refuse to wear my gloves at all and then we’ll both freeze our hands off.”
“Fine,” you finally gave in, taking the other glove from Tara and putting it on. You slipped on only half of the glove before you realized something. “Wait. You don’t have pockets.”
“Okay?” Tara looked at you confused.
“Where are you gonna put your ungloved hand?”
“Oh my God, I’ll be okay. I have—”
“—Warm blood? Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” you chuckled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tara asked in a defensive tone.
“You said the same thing when we went to see No Way Home but all I could hear was your teeth clattering.”
“That is not true!”
“People complained!”
After a few moments of silence of seeing who would break first, you finally spoke up. “Okay. How about this, you use one of my pockets. Deal?”
“It’s not that deep,” Tara protested.
“...Deal?”
Tara rolled her eyes, shutting them as she sighed before looking at you again. “Deal.”
She got closer to you before you wrapped your arm around her, giving her right hand access to your right pocket. A smile grazed your face, “See now was that so hard, shortstack?” You teased as you lightly noogied her with your free hand.
“You are such an ass and a half for that,” you heard her bitterly say.
“Yet you stay,” you said as you were both turning the corner to where your house was.
“I should’ve left you on that street corner where you were standing.”
“But you didn’t,” you remark while getting your key out of your pocket.
“Just shut up and open the door. It’s freezing and my feet still hurt from gym,” Tara complained, never dropping her hand from your pocket.
“Oh? I thought you were—what was it? ‘Warm blooded’ you said?” You smirked, beginning to turn the front door’s lock with your key. Tara started shoving you as soon as you unlocked the door.
“Hush,” she scolded you while taking off her shoes.
“No need to shove.” You kick off your shoes before placing them to the side. You and Tara make your way to the kitchen, placing your stuff down on the way in.
“Your parents already left?” Tara asked as you rummaged through your refrigerator.
“Yeah, they had to go to some funeral. Nobody I was close with though—I think it was a distant uncle,” you filled her in as you gave her one of the gatorades you pulled out of the fridge. “They should be back by tomorrow night,” you continued.
“And I’m assuming that’s your brother upstairs?”
Your little brother and his friends were currently yelling at each other over voice chat, you weren’t really sure what about but you knew it was video game related.
“Of course,” you said after taking a sip of your own gatorade, “Wanna head to my room or the basement?”
“Either’s fine, I’m honestly just beat. Anywhere I can lay down I’m totally open to,” Tara said while stretching out her arms.
“My room it is.”
—
“So,” Tara started; you were both on your bed, her legs on your lap as you both watched a show on your laptop, “what did the ice queen want when I left earlier?” The use of the nickname Tara had for Amber caused you to glance at her.
“Tara,” you said, giving her a look that matched your scolding tone. She mumbled something under her breath before you continued. “She just wanted to know if I could make it to a party tonight. I just said I couldn’t, and that was that.”
“Ah,” she replied in a monotone voice.
“What?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Nothing, that was just a normal ‘ah.’”
“If you say so…” You both turn back to screen, Tara reaches over you to grab one of the snacks before you feel a buzz in your pocket; you looked down to see you got a message from Mindy.
“Who is it?” asked Tara, followed by her shoving a few gummy bears in her mouth.
“Your sister,” you replied without hesitation as you typed.
She shoved you with her foot, glaring at you for your comment.
“Nah, just Mindy asking if I’ll be at the party—oh, and apparently Wes too.” Tara immediately grabbed the nearest pillow and shoved her face against it, her loud groaning muffled. You laughed at her actions before continuing, “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think. Maybe he really is just curi—nevermind, I can’t even lie.”
She let out an even louder groan. After a few more seconds, she finally picked up her head as she sighed.
“We dated for like five minutes. That’s it.”
“You can’t blame the boy for being so obsessed with you. I mean, look at that face,” you teased as you pinched her cheeks. She rolled her eyes, harshly letting her head fall against your bed’s headboard.
“Ow,” she winced.
“14 year-old you just had to be polite,” you said while also moving your head to rest against your bed’s headboard. You tilted your head to face her, now looking at each other as you slipped your phone back into your pocket.
“That isn’t …exactly what happened,” her eyes trailed down to her lap.
“It’s exactly what happened. You would’ve felt too guilty to say no because his pet hamster had just died.”
“Ugh.”
“How come you’re never that nice to me?” You feigned a pout while reaching for your phone that was now vibrating in your back pocket. “Uh. I gotta take this. Gimme a sec.”
Tara didn’t have to ask who it was. She already knew from the shift in your demeanor and attitude.
“Hey…” Tara heard you trail off as you left the room. You closed the door, going off to the side and leaning against the wall.
“Hey.” Amber’s greeting was curt and monotone. Nothing good could come from whatever she was about to say next.
“What’s up babe?” You hoped that your voice didn’t show how nervous you were.
“Don’t ‘babe’ me. What is this I’m hearing about you and Anika?” Shit. You know you should’ve told her sooner, you still would’ve gotten heat for it but at least it would’ve came from you and not a gossiping cheerleader just trying to stir up trouble.
“It’s nothing bad—I just need some help in physics and she agreed to tutor me,” you tried to explain as straight-forward as you could.
“How do you conveniently fail to mention this? We saw each other not long ago, yeah? So how come I have to hear about this from Daphne?”
“There’s nothing else going on other than studying. She just—”
“She just what?!”
“She just offered! She overheard me talking to Chad about needing to get my grade up!”
“Yeah right, Y/N! Everyone knows she has a thing for you, don’t be so naive,” she scolded as if you were a troublesome child. “I bet this is why you didn’t want to come to the party tonight.”
“Are you kidding? I told you, I have to watch my brother tonight. And Anika does not have a thing for me. Why can’t people just be nice to me without you freaking out?” Now you were pacing back and forth.
“Maybe I wouldn’t have to freak out if you would just tell me these things beforehand!” She shouted.
A familiar tightness in your chest grew with each word she threw at you, and your tongue felt as though it was glued to the roof of your mouth. What could you possibly say when you knew it wouldn’t suffice? You knew nothing you said would matter. You knew she wouldn’t have any of it.
“And you fail to notice half the school wants you—but once again, you’re just being naive! But I’m just your lame girlfriend, right? I don’t matter?”
You manage a scoff at her words. “Who—when did I say that?”
“Yeah go ahead, act like I’m insane. That I’m just making it all up in my head,” Amber went on as you rubbed the bridge of your nose.
“That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m sorry, I just—”
“So you’re saying I’m not making this all up in my head? That I should worry about this?” This remark only made you even more exasperated from how insane it all sounded. This is insane, right? You’re not losing it? There really is no winning with this woman.
“What? No! Of course not. Please just tell me what the right thing to say is.”
Then there was a pause that lasted a little over five seconds, but it felt longer. After the pause, you could hear Amber sigh over the phone. “I just need space right now.”
“I feel like… I feel like you always need space,” you confessed, aggravation at the tip of your voice.
“Have you ever considered this is why? Maybe I wouldn’t need so much space if you would actually learn to listen to me for once,” she sourly shot back. Although she was no longer shouting, you could feel her burning frustration through the phone. You were all too familiar with her pattern of emotions when it came to disagreements with her.
“I am listening but—”
“Clearly you’re not if there’s a ‘but’ to that.” Amber let out a dry laugh. “This is exactly why I need space; why we need space. When you wanna start acting like my girlfriend—you know where to reach me.”
She didn’t give you a chance to plead your case any further, hanging up the phone just as she spoke her last words.
You let your head hit the nearby wall as you slumped down to sit on the floor, groaning out. You tucked in your knees close to your chest before dropping your head to rest on them.
God, how could you be so stupid? You should know better by now—right? It’s not like you haven't had the same argument with Amber over and over again. It was routine at this point. Literally all your fights go about the same.
You picked at your jeans, silently murmuring to yourself as you replayed the argument in your head.
“Fine. Take your space. I don’t care.” Your chin rested on your free arm that laid on your knees as your other free hand continued to pick at your pants. “Are people not allowed to be nice to me? I don’t say anything when she studies with other people. What’s so different about me? I’ve never given her a reason to think otherwise…”
Just then, the door opened. You looked over to your right, completely forgetting you were just outside your bedroom door. You looked up to see Tara staring down at you as she leaned against the door frame.
“Hey,” she greeted, walking over to sit in the vacant spot next to you on the floor.
“Hi.”
"Talking to yourself?" She quipped, jokingly, as a way to lighten the mood.
"You know me," you said. But Tara saw through to your thrown attitude.
“You okay?” She asked once she sat down.
“I’m… alright.” You responded, now looking at her. “Just the usual, you know.” There was a pause and a look that Tara was giving; you broke, sighing as you stared back down to your own fingers before speaking again. “She, uh, found out about Anika tutoring me. I guess she’s not Anika’s biggest fan or something.”
Tara knew she should comfort you. No matter how much she wanted to tell you that Amber was terrible, no good, and a bitch, she knew that would do no good. Reassurance was the way to go in these situations with Amber, no matter how much she hated the taste of her own words. “She’ll come around. She always does.”
“Thanks…”
A moment of silence passes before Tara gets up from her spot, your eyes tracking her movement. She reaches her hand out for you to grab before saying, “Come on, let’s play Mortal Combat or something. I’m bored and feel like showing off.”
You laughed as you took her hand and stood up. When you stood up, your fingers interlocked with hers, almost like puzzle pieces. She rubbed her thumb over your hand for extra measure. A sense of warmth flew through you and the tension in your shoulders start to release.
"Thank you, Tara."
-----------
A/N: drama, commence
Taglist: @alyciaddict @tropicals-things @orignalpat @lilbitdepressed27 @nahnahnahwhat @fanboy7794
#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter x y/n#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter x fem!reader#tara carpenter x female reader#tara x reader#tara carpenter#amber freeman x y/n#amber freeman x you#amber freeman x reader#amber freeman#scream fanfic#daylight au
227 notes
·
View notes
Text
*Disclaimer: This reading is for fun and entertainment purposes only. It is in no way meant to act as or replace professional reading. Please take what resonates, leave what doesn't. All the pictures were taken from Pinterest.
Heyy, I am very sorry for the delay, can't seem to time manage for some reason these days. This reading's topic is "When are you going to meet your next partner". Hope you enjoy!
This is an 18+ reading! If you're a minor, please skip this post.
Pile 1
Pile 1, I see summer for you. Or definitely when the sun will be out and it will be warm enough to wear dresses. Most likely, it is going to be somewhere near nature. If you live in a city with the sea or any large body of water, then you might literally meet them at the beach. I see your future partner having bronze skin, lighter coloured hair and green/hazel-ish eyes. Their smile will be what you’re going to fall for, Pile 1. You’ll literally see them as the sun. Your relationship will be filled with inside jokes and lots of laughter. You guys might become each other’s besties first before getting into a relationship since one or both of you will have some anxiety or fears when it comes to dating, but with that partner it will all go away. Aww, I hear “You’re my safe place”. You could call them at 3AM with any problem and they will be happy and eager to help. I’m getting a scene where the girl is sick and the guy wraps a blanket around her and lovingly hugs her saying how cute she is even when she’s sick. Very healthy vibes here. Even if you’re not going to last, this relationship will help you grow confident and you will be forever grateful for that partner. This is such a soft, loving energy. I’m so happy for you, Pile 1!
Pile 2
Wow, Pile 2. The very first thing I got for your pile is “LOTS of sex”. I feel like your future partner will have a very high libido and will just generally find you super attractive. Physically, you will be their absolute ideal type. And it’s like they will always want to have a hand around you somehow because they just love your body a lot. Regarding timing, I keep getting fall, I see yellow leaves on the trees. I think you’ll meet them at some sort of party or gathering. Even if you go to a bar with a friend, that also counts. Basically a place where people have fun. If generally you struggle with self-esteem or finding yourself sexually attractive, this partner will definitely massively help with that. You will feel like the hottest girl in the room alwaysss. I’m not gonna lie, Pile 2, I don’t really see any serious intentions from this partner, but they also won’t deny it. Like you will know that it’s mostly physical and perhaps some fun dates here and there, but that’s about it. Although I feel like you will accept it and be ok with it because you will also find them very good looking. Hope you enjoyed your reading, Pile 2!
Pile 3
Now, this is my depressed pile. I am getting a lot of loneliness and sadness. I’m so sorry, Pile 3. Whatever you’re going through right now, please just remember that there’s always a rainbow after the storm. The Universe is insinuating that you have to deal with your depression/anxiety first, because otherwise you won’t be able to find healthy relationships. I know it sounds cliche, but you should fall in love with yourself first. I understand that it can be very tricky, but you can write down all of your achievements in life (earning 50 cents by selling lemonade as a kid counts!), all your little and big wins. We all have them! Watch some creators like Wizard Liz to boost up your confidence (I do it all the time!). Start eating healthy foods, take care of your body. Do for yourself whatever you would do for your partner. It will help you, I promise. Soon enough, you’ll start to realize how powerful and great you are, and that’s when your future bf/gf will find you. And guess what? They’ll love the hell out of you, because they’ll see how much you had to go through and how gracefully you overcame your battles and how kind and loving you are in spite of all that. You’re truly beautiful souls, my Pile 3. I promise, love will find you at the right time when you will feel ready. And you will feel ready when you will start loving and appreciating yourself, your body, and your heart just as much as your partner’s. I believe in you, Pile 3!!!
Pile 4
I’m getting some mixed vibes here, Pile 4. You’re meeting your next partner very soon, within a few weeks literally. Your future partner is gorgeous, Pile 4. They might literally take your breath away when you first see them. Hollywood actor type of look. However, I just want to warn you that this partner might have some deep traumas that they refuse to acknowledge that might lead them to be closed down and be easily irritable. It’s like they will actually be a softie inside, but because of their past (feels like a dysfunctional family environment) they might pull up this idgaf persona that will push people away. It's weird because I see that you will know and sense that very well and will try to break through that facade, but your future partner just won’t let you, even though they realize you have the best of intentions. Honestly, this is kind of toxic. The relationship will feel one-sided and it will seem like you’re the one initiating everything. You might stay with them for a few months but then you will face the truth that if they don’t want to heal, nobody else can do it for them. It kind of reminds me of the “After” series, but less dramatic. They will definitely like you and deep inside they will feel super guilty to be treating you like this. That also could be the reason why they don’t want to get too close to you. They care about you and they understand that you deserve better. They’re not a bad person, they are just not ready to face the traumas yet. Honestly, Pile 4, I do not recommend you to get into a relationship with this person, maybe just stay friends until they heal.
Sorry that some of the piles were negative, but these are the messages I got and I just want to be honest with you guys. Sending love to all of you!!
#pac reading#tarotblr#love reading#pick a card#pick a pile#pick a picture#pick a photo#tarot reading#future partner#future boyfriend#future girlfriend#18+ only#18+ readings
223 notes
·
View notes
Text
PAC: What Do You Need to Let Go Of?
Hello beautiful people! Today is Saturday aka Saturn Day. In honor of Saturn Day, the day associated with banishment, protection and responsibility. Today is the day we let go of what no longer serves us; the day where we can no longer ignore what sits heavy on our spirits. So without further ado, please choose your Saturn.
**If you really loved this topic then you should book a reading with me, please read my guidelines and then message me privately! Also, if you had received a reading from me, don’t be afraid to leave a little feedback! Please and thank you in advance. 🫶🫶🫶
Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-6)
PILE ONE: “No More Mr. Nice Guy” is what I heard. I feel like you tend to have a lot of love & compassion for people. This doesn’t necessarily translate over to the other person/people though. You need to stop being so nice, Pile One. I think you have a lot of growing up to do. There is good and bad in everyone but what really matters is how this person makes you feel. Stop caring about the feelings of other people if you aren’t going to take yourself into consideration. This is why you always get taken advantage of. It’s okay to be a moody bitch sometimes. Having a sunny disposition 24/7 just isn’t realistic. Don’t act naive when you know the truth about certain situations. Move intentionally and with wisdom. If you don’t think they won’t do that, think again.
Cards Used: The Star, King of Cups, 7 of Cups, The Fool, The Moon, The Tower, Judgment.
PILE TWO: The movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind may resonate with you. I feel like you need to let go of your ex, seriously. You don’t have to forget about them but you do need to move past this person. They have caused much turmoil in your life, especially when it comes to your mental health. They could have indirectly negatively affected your finances as well. But there is someone else who is on the horizon. They want you to see the bigger picture. They want to show you better. If you have been writing notes about what you would like to see in your future partner, expect for these qualities to show up in someone that will soon approach you. They have a beautiful, colorful aura and they will let you shine. Your ex fucked you up bad but you can recover from this. Don’t be afraid to see what love has in store for you, my love.
Cards Used: King of Cups, The Magician, 2 of Cups (RX), The Star, The High Priestess, 5 of Wands, Judgment, Strength, The Fool.
PILE THREE: You’re a Virgo/Sagittarius, aren’t you? You don’t have to know and control everything, honey. Let go of the need to be involved in everything. You have been neglecting your soul’s needs. You have a lot of potential to grow but you don’t know how to accept help nor do you allow yourself to just be. You’re so uptight and burnt out right now. It would benefit you to just walk away from stress-inducing situations. If you know you can’t take that extra shift at work, why even bother? Who are you trying to please? You are making it hard for yourself to maneuver through this world peacefully because you do not know how to enjoy what’s in front of you. If only you could see the beauty of your labor. Slow down. Why are you going so hard for? You’re so used to making things happen that you get frustrated when things don’t work out your way. A word of advice: Please just allow time to do its thing. Don’t work against it.
Cards Used: The Sun (RX), Ace of Cups, Strength, 2 of Discs (RX), King of Wands, 7 of Wands (RX), 3 of Discs, 10 of Swords, The Magician, The Hierophant.
PILE FOUR: Christmastime must be your favorite time of the year, huh? I feel like you could also have a strong connection to Mariah Carey as well. Her book is on my mind heavy as I’m reading for you. I feel like you are so used to dysfunctional relationships. You have the tendency to move fast with people. I’m going to hold your hand when I say this, they ain’t going nowhere! Let go of your lovebombing tendencies and show up as your real self. I don’t think you see this as that but it is. You don’t seem to be big on communication. I don’t think you had the best role models for any kind of relationship so you just do what you know. But this does not translate well with other people, which results in chaos. Unpack why you interact with others the way that you do. You too, have a lot of growing up to do, my friend.
Cards Used: Knight of Wands, King of Swords, Queen of Cups (RX), Four of Wands (RX), Ace of Wands (RX), The High Priestess, 8 of Wands, 3 of Cups.
PILE FIVE: “Shut up and dance.” No seriously, shut up and dance. I feel like you are someone that refuses to be seen dancing in public or just in general. There is no need to feel like that. Let go of your shyness, babe. I feel like you actually have good dance moves, you just don’t want to be seen for some reason. Dancing will help you get more comfortable in the spotlight. You have gotten too comfortable in your little bubble. The next time someone asks you to dance, accept the offer (especially if it’s zydeco, salsa or kompa 🙈). You’re never too cute to dance, pookie.
Cards Used: The Hermit, Knight of Discs, The Chariot, 6 of Wands, The Empress, King of Discs (RX).
PILE SIX: Why are you wasting your time arguing with everyone? You need to master the art of preserving your energy. Let go of the need to prove yourself/defend yourself to other people. You exist just like everyone else on this planet but somehow you always end up in a verbal altercation. Is it worth it? I’m sure there’s plenty of alternative options you could choose. Just walking away could do you some good. You are the type of person to catch someone in a lie. Instead of cursing them out, you could just laugh in their face or block them. You could channel this energy into something else. It is normal to experience anger. But just know that you could always get in trouble if you never control it properly. Get a handle on your emotions. Be more logical & cutthroat. I think you definitely could benefit from taking the high road. Your soul is tired. Give it up, babe.
Cards Used: Knight of Swords, Queen of Swords, The Lovers, 8 of Cups, Ace of Swords, The Hermit, Justice, The Moon, The Star.
#law of assumption#manifesting#neville goddard#hoodoo#tarot#tarotreading#astro notes#pick a card#pick a pile#divination#occult#metaphysical#channeled reading#channeled message#intuitive readings#tarot pac#pick a reading#tarot pick a card#pac reading#tarot tumblr#tarot community#free tarot#daily tarot#tarot reading#tarotblr#tarotcommunity#tarot deck#tarot pull#spirituality#pick an image
156 notes
·
View notes
Text
Friends...for now
Summary: Unable to sleep, you slip out of camp for a breath of fresh air and find Astarion struggling to tend to his wounds.
No matter how many times you toss and turn, sleep continues to elude you. Staring up at the ceiling of your tent, you groan in annoyance at the throbbing sting of the wound in your arm and sit up, checking the bandages. The blood hasn’t soaked through the cloth, so the sting is probably from the medicine Halsin applied earlier to accelerate the healing but it doesn’t make the feeling less annoying. It does make you less worried about your wound, however, so you decide to take the chance and slip out of camp into the quiet still night, breathing in the fresh air.
You relish in the peace and quiet, something that had been hard to come by as of late with how rowdy your companions could be but you would never trade them for the world, you enjoyed their company far too much. Among them all, Astarion in particular had caught your eye, his facade of confidence and sensuality a far too familiar mask, hiding the quiet strength that you respected greatly. The vampire spawn was an enigma, ruby red eyes letting on far more than the honeyed words that dripped from his lips. The way his words always managed to make your heart flutter, the silent gestures of gratitude whenever you helped him that made you giddy, it made you feel like a teenager hopelessly in love.
Maybe you were in love with him.
You shake your head, dismissing the thought. What Astarion needed right now was a friend, not a lover. He needed to know that people could care without wanting anything in return, that there could be intimacy in non-sexual acts, and that he could be his own person.
Once your hear is cleared, you head to your favourite spot to get away from the hustle and bustle of the camp, only to find a certain someone already sitting there.
“Oh, hello there darling. Come to see me? I’m touched, really.”
“You’re in my spot,” you snort, making your way over. “How’s your back wound?”
“What back wound?” He smiles.
“The one that’s dripping blood all over my favourite spot?”
“Ah, that one. You have to be more specific next time dear. It’ll heal in time, don’t you worry your sweet self.”
“Let me help you with it.” You take the medical supplies hiding behind the rock the both of you are leaning on and start preparing the materials you need. Astarion stares, first at the medical supplies then up at you when he realises its the exact same supplies he haphazardly stashed away upon hearing your approach.
“I don’t need your help,” he hisses. “I can take care of myself.”
“It’s poisoned, you’ll need more than this to get rid of the poison.” You take a couple of herbs out. “Halsin said to ground these into a paste and then apply the paste to the wound before bandaging it.”
Astarion scowls, glaring at the leaves sitting in your open palm. Of course the druid would go around poking his nose into other’s businesses. He tentatively reaches for the leaves, then pulls back when he realises he has no idea how to ground them into paste. You then pull out a mortar and pestel and start grinding the herbs while he watches quietly, observing your every move. Once the herbs have been sufficiently ground, you slide the mortar over to him.
“There, all done. Next time you want to use this spot, just let me know in advance alright? Then I’ll know not to disturb you.” You grin, pushing yourself to your feet. “See you back in camp.”
With that you turn to leave, but his next words stop you in your tracks.
“Wait, Y/N.”
You turn around.
“Could…could you help me treat the wound. I can’t exactly see where it is,” he admits nervously. He’s still uncertain about letting you touch his back like that, but you’ve never meant him any harm, he could let you see him all exposed, right?
“Sure.” You seat yourself next to him and he turns around, the moonlight casting a glow on his scars. This is the first time you’ve been able to properly see them, the markings permanently etched into his pale skin and your own back throbs at the thought of the pain he must have gone through.
“I’m going to wash the wound first then apply the paste, alright?”
He nods wordlessly, biting down on his lip when the pain flares up once more the moment water contacts the wound. You murmur an apology before gently applying the paste on the wound that is quickly turning an ugly green. You feel him flinch as your finger makes contact with his back, a small trembling in his shoulders and pause, unsure if you should continue. You could just leave the wound like this, the paste would work its magic, removing the poison while his vampiric healing took care of what remained. A bandage was more a precaution to ensure the wound didn’t get infected, but if he was going to remain here for the rest of the night he wouldn’t risk an infection.
“Do you want me to continue? I could just leave the wound as it is right now and it’ll heal.” You voice is gentle, soft, not like the rough and grating tone Cazador speaks in.
“Continue. Please.” He whispers the last part but you hear him all the same. A small smile flicks across your face at the trust he’s putting in you and you continue, bandaging the wound neatly. He remains as still as possible while you work, with the occasional flinch when you accidentally pull the cloth a little too tightly but a quick apology soothes everything over and soon you’re done.
“There. All done.” You pack the remaining supplies as he pulls his shirt back on, turning around to face you.
“Thank you.” He inclines his head. You smile in response, “welcome!”
He sits there in silence for a while, unsure of what else to say. He wants to express more than gratitude, to tell you that you’re the first person he’s ever let touch his back, his scars, that he’s been afraid of letting anyone near him, fearing that they will hurt him, that you’re so many of his firsts, and yet words elude him, lost to the night’s breeze.
It’s only when you check on your own wound that he finds something to say.
“Would you like me to kiss it better?”
You laugh, the melody carrying through the crisp night air. “Why thank you for the offer, Astarion, I am rather tempted to accept it but alas, the doubt that kissing it wouldn’t help in the slightest has overtaken the temptation.”
“You wouldn’t know unless you tried, love. What is there to lose?” he smirks, back in familiar territory.
“My dignity perhaps?” You chuckle.
“There’s no one else around, only you and me. No one will know but us, it’ll be our little secret.” He leans in closer and winces at the twinge of pain from his back.
“Don’t strain it,” you frown, concerned. It’s when you look at him with that look in his eyes that his undead heart skips a beat and all he can think about is how much you care for him without wanting anything in return. You lavish both time and energy onto him, far more than the others and yet you’ve never asked a favour of him. He keeps trying to pry your ulterior motive from you but nothing ever gets revealed, meaning you have none, which only makes him even more confused.
“Y/N.”
“Yes?”
“Why do you concern yourself with me so much? What is it you want from me?”
“Hm? What I want from you? Nothing, honest! You’re my friend, it’s only natural I should care for your wellbeing.” Friend, nothing more.
Friend, a foreign word to him. He’s never considered anyone anything more than a tool, a way to protect himself and everyone has done the same to him, using him for their own gains, their own purposes. Yet here you are, shattering everything he’s been used to and showing him something he never once considered. Maybe having a friend wasn’t so bad, it meant he could do things he never could’ve done alone, it meant feeling a little less alone in the whisper of the night. Most of all, it meant he could spend more time with you, listen to your voice, have you all to himself.
“Hmph,” is all he says out loud and the two of you continue to sit in silence, watching as the moon bathes your surroundings in its silvery light.
Friends for now, perhaps something more in the future.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#astarion bg3#baldurs gate astarion#astarion romance#astarion x durge#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion x you#astarion ancunin#tavstarion#durgestarion
139 notes
·
View notes
Text
I know I’m a chronic overthinker but I’ve been in the same fandom for three years or so now and I was reflecting that writing seemed so much easier when I first started out. Just looking at my output since 2021 shows a clear trend: I’ve been writing much less and it’s been taking me way longer.
I figured that I’d gotten a little burned out and that three years is a long time to focus solely on the same two guys making out and that there’s a limit to the number of situations I can put them in before I start to get bored. But I don’t think that’s quite my problem because even now, a million years later, I have ideas for dozens of fics and AUs that would be interesting to explore or funny to write.
No, it’s that I’ve let the larger fandom overwhelm me and it’s left me constantly second-guessing my writing. And I don’t mean that I’ve gotten nasty comments or asks, because I haven’t! All the other fans have been consistently wonderful and fun people with really valuable insights. And it’s not that I’ve been obsessing over stats or comments or worrying about going against popular headcanons. I mean, I’m just as excited as anyone else to see an AO3 email in my inbox but I’m also perfectly happy posting niche fics for an audience of me and my three weirdest friends.
It’s more that after so long engaging with other fans and other fics and the general meta, I’ve ended up writing too self-consciously. I’ve read so many interpretations of canon events, analyses of characterization and comparisons between fiction and real-world politics over the years, and I’ve enjoyed them because I genuinely care about these stories and these characters! I like seeing what everyone else thinks and then considering their points of view, no matter how bewildering they might seem at first.
But now it feels like I’m writing almost defensively, like I have to justify every choice I’m making based on this enormous and contradictory body of information. Three years ago I’d have written a scene in a few thousand words and moved on to the next plot point with my momentum intact. Now I’m constantly wringing my hands over things like physical details (I guess he’s not exactly a redhead) or broader social implications (is this trope misogynistic?) or finicky logistics (these locations are too far apart for this scene to make sense) or controversial character nuance (does writing this guy as a kind, doting husband make me an abuse apologist???) and the result is that I’m paralyzed with indecision and a ridiculous need to support everything I write with a lot of context that isn’t especially fun to write or, I suspect, especially fun to read.
I’m aware that this problem is entirely in my own head and that no one has asked me for any of this. And it’s not that all those questions aren’t interesting and important things to contemplate. But I miss the days of sitting down at my laptop and going “wouldn’t it be funny if these dorks played a video game together?” and then writing exactly that.
I don’t know. Were my fics better three years ago? I kind of doubt it. I’ve looked back at some of them and if nothing else I now have a better grasp of what tense I’m supposed to be using. But I definitely had more fun writing those older stories, which maybe feels more important.
#personal#rambling#and it's not that i want the fandom to change or anything#i think i need to reboot my brain back to obikin factory settings#where i saw two handsome co-dependent space wizards and imagined them having weirdly intense sex#idk i always assume that other people are rational#and that there's some validity to their interpretation of canon or characterization#but if you try to write a fic with all these ideas in your head at once you will literally explode#anyway i might delete this later#i am just staying true to form and ruminating pointlessly instead of writing something i might enjoy
76 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ok, so I’m not new to Tumblr but this is only my second time posting so I apologize if I do something wrong, but I need to rant.
I was doing my work in my world history class the other day. My teacher likes to play music, and she had it on some country station. Now, I like country music, that’s not the problem.
However, one song in particular came on, and I’d never heard it before. It’s probably actually a really popular song and I’ve just been living under a rock my whole life, but anyway, the more I listened to it and its lyrics, the more I began to hate it.
The song is “Friends Don’t” by Maddie and Tae. It showcases a lovely chorus that goes:
Friends don't call you in the middle of the night
Couldn't even tell you why
They just felt like saying hi
Friends don't stand around, playing with their keys
Finding reasons not to leave
Trying to hide their chemistry
Drive a little too slow (slow), take the long way home (home)
Get a little too close (close)
We do, but friends don't
And ok, I get the point of the song. I know it’s just supposed to be a sweet cheesy love song. But it just makes me think of how high romantic relationships are held above platonic ones in our society, and songs like this do nothing but inflate that disparity.
For someone who’s Aroace like me, friendships are all I have. And maybe it’s selfish, but I’m really damn tired of everybody telling me I’ll find someone eventually. I’m tired of people seeing all my friendships as second-rate. As less than. They can’t see that maybe my “someone” is found in all my friends that I get to spend life with. In a society that only really cares about romance and sex, people who aren’t constantly seeking those things are left forgotten. And it hurts. A lot.
I’m scared for what the future holds. I worry about how long it will take for all my friends to eventually leave me. How long will it be until my only source of companionship leaves me for something “better”.
I don’t want to be the second choice. I want somebody I can talk to about everything and do silly stuff with and everything. But society doesn’t care. They still see platonic relationships as less than.
They see me as less than.
Sorry for the rant, I just really needed to get this out.
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
Didn’t know if I was going to wade into this territory but you know what , why not ?
I have thoughts about why Buck & Tommy are so appealing to some of us (me) , more than Buck’s other relationships.
I’m going to break it down .
Abby
Abby is introduced first on the show , so the audience has a connection with her. I like Abby & having familiarity with Connie Britton made me like her more.
I enjoyed Abby’s relationship with Buck at first.
I liked both characters separately so on my first watch as a casual viewer of a new show I was like ok this is cute but that’s all it was.
I didn’t really feel chemistry there.
But they never compelled me. I was indifferent to her leaving and wasn’t sad to see their relationship end. (Only felt bad for Buck)
On my rewatch , the relationship felt weird to me. I’m not sure if I was biased knowing how it ended or not but I enjoyed it less the second time around.
Ali
The flirting was cute but we didn’t see enough of them actually together.
Her character existed to be saved by Buck and date him . When it’s obvious that that is a character’s role and they don’t have any individual arc, it doesn’t create a relationship I care about.
I appreciated her honesty in why she broke up with him instead of ghosting or leading him on.
But it was a half hearted portrayal that I don’t think anyone expected to be endgame .
Taylor
Taylor and Buck actually had some chemistry. I loved their flirting and their banter.
I don’t hate Taylor the way a lot of people do.
I thought she was an interesting character and liked how they played off each other.
Taylor was fleshed out and a real fully developed character and I enjoyed her arc.
But as Buck’s love interest I think the seed was planted early on that her ambition would always come first.
And honestly, after he kissed Lucy I’m not sure I blame her?
There was some chemistry but it still wasn’t ever enough for me to root for them .
I wish they stayed friends because I did love their dynamic.
Lucy
There’s not much to say here except that I actually think Buck and Lucy had great chemistry and if their relationship started differently and the show had decided to go that direction when she was introduced I definitely could’ve seen myself rooting for them .
Natalia
Honestly her character just felt so flat to me and it was very very obvious she was filler.
There was no chemistry and I never considered her a legitimate option.
Which brings us to Tommy.
To be honest, before my rewatch I didn’t even remember who Tommy was. So watching 7x03 I thought he was brand new.
He was compelling right away, on his own . The deadpan humor, the fake mouth static , flying into a hurricane for his friends.
In 7x04 right away I was like wait… are they flirting ??? The chemistry was so there.
We find out about Tommy’s interests , see little tidbits of his personality throughout 7x04 culminating in the conversation at Buck’s apartment and the kiss.
The way 7x05 and the date was handled was so interesting to me. The situation was so well thought out and the way we see Buck act here is something I don’t think we’ve seen since Abby. Buck acknowledging his feelings in a very real and nuanced way.
Ever scene Tommy was in from 7x03-05 made me want to get to know him as a character, separately from his relationship with Buck .
In order to actually care about a relationship you have to care about both characters separately first !
The chemistry during their kiss and the coffee scene is so so strong.
Viewing it all again under this lens, knowing who Tommy was and is, honestly made me like him more . Seeing a character grow and change to be able to build better relationships is so entertaining!
The hugs in 7x06 and that kiss just attest to the insane chemistry Lou and Oliver have .
#listen it’s just an opinion#don’t have a melt down kids it’s all made up#might delete later#evan buckley#bucktommy#tommy kinard
72 notes
·
View notes
Text
— 𝒷𝒶𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓊𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 ౨ৎ
haitani rindou x reader. 1.3k w.c. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ college au-ish :3 ﾉ just some rindou lovin' ﾉ repost!
it’s been a while since you've been out with your friends. can you really call them that, though? they are classmates at the very least, ones that feel compelled to invite you to their gatherings. it’s thoughtful, you’ll give them that, but part of you wishes they didn’t. maybe the outing is just boring or maybe they have all grown dull, but either way, it’s easy to zone out in their presence. their chatter seems distant. you don’t even really know what they’re talking about—something regarding everyone’s plans for this saturday.
“what about you?” the girl beside you nudges your ribs to gain your attention—and it works. the jab is surprisingly painful given how small she is. “can you make it?”
“sorry, i already have plans with someone else.”
“aww,” she whines at your answer, “who are you hanging out with? maybe they can tag along.”
“rindou.”
all the idle chatter at the table stops upon the mere utterance of his name. suddenly, all eyes are on you. he’s popular, but not for the right reasons. not many people are fond of him. and you never minded that, but the people who dislike him don’t just dislike him; they’re afraid of him. so although you have no problem associating yourself with him, you’ve learned quickly that bringing him up around others often leads to unsavory reactions. you slipped up at this moment.
“you mean… haitani rindou?”
“mhm.” you’re aware of the common consensus when it comes to rindou and what people think of him, but you want to test the waters and see how your peers perceive him. “why? what’s wrong with him?”
the replies flood in like a tsunami.
“he only hangs out with his brother and you know how much trouble ran is.”
“yeah, they’re total scumbags. i’m pretty sure they’ve almost gotten arrested—and on multiple occasions at that.”
“you’re perfectly capable of surrounding yourself with better company. why on earth would you want to be seen with him?”
“that’s really none of your concern.” the last comment strikes a nerve and causes you to raise your voice. shocked eyes accompanied by gaping mouths stare at you in surprise. you don’t know why you expected their responses to be any different. everyone jumps to the same conclusion and they aren’t an exception. their feelings about him are crystal clear. if they think so poorly of him, they have no place in your life. “and i’d rather not talk to you guys if you’re going to continue to speak about him like that. i’m leaving now.”
and with that, you stand up, collect your things, and start on your way home.
• • •
rindou is in the kitchen when you walk through the door. a head of blonde hair sits at the small table, slurping up ramen noodles. the steam wafting from the bowl leaves the lenses of his gold-framed glasses foggy. your keys clatter when they meet the ceramic of the dish that holds little things like chapstick and mini box cutters. the noise grabs rindou’s attention, his gaze abandoning his food in favor of looking at your figure that approaches to take a seat next to him. he didn’t think he would see you back so soon; it felt like you had just left. but he doesn’t say a word, instead, offering you the noodles hanging from his chopsticks. you lean forward to accept the mouthful of spicy ramen. every other bite of what remains in the bowl is reserved for you.
you stay attached to his hip for the rest of the day; helping him wash the dishes even though it’s your least favorite chore, sitting in his lap and snuggling into his neck as he boots up his computer to play who knows what game with his friends—you even go as far as getting comfortable on the lid of the toilet while he takes his shower for the night. it isn’t unusual for you to take care of his hair once he emerges from the steamy room, combing out the tangled strands of blonde and blue before pulling out the hair dryer. after the locks are fluffy and dry, his hair sits in a neat bun on the top of his head. the only pieces that escape are the ones not quite long enough to be tied up with the rest.
you wonder if your actions came off as overbearing; not that you would care if they did. the conversation from earlier reminded you of how poorly people regarded your boyfriend. someone has to love him when everyone else thinks so little of him, and you’re more than happy to be that person.
and you’re content at the moment, practically lying on top of him, your fingers tracing each curve of the black ink tattooed into his skin. you can feel the thumping of his heart, hear the rhythmic beat of it in your ear.
“what’s wrong?” rindou speaks up out of the blue. so then he had noticed the shift in your behavior.
“what do you mean?” you feign ignorance. you know rindou was fully aware of his reputation, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to shield him from the harshness of others.
“you’re even clingier than usual.”
“i’m not clingy,” you mumble against his chest.
“mm, yeah, you are.” he pinches your cheek that isn’t pressed against him. it doesn’t hurt but you look up at him regardless. lilac eyes peer down at you. the blank expression on his face may not show it, but his gaze is enough to tell you that he’s concerned. “are you gonna tell me what happened or not?”
rindou isn’t the type to push you, to make you tell him something you aren’t ready to tell. if you told him you didn’t want to talk about it, you were sure he’d let it go. but since it’s weighing so heavily on your mind, maybe it is best to share. “i brought your name up in front of some classmates and they said some pretty rude stuff about you.”
he snorts as if what you were worried about was silly. and to him, it is. it doesn’t bother him—the wandering eyes, the hushed whispers, the anxious avoidance. everything that you seem to be hyperaware of is the norm for rindou. and he can understand why it upsets you, he wouldn’t want people speaking ill of you, but he’s accustomed to his bad reputation. “i thought i told you not to let stuff like that get to you. you know i don’t give a shit about what people think.”
“well, i do.” maybe you shouldn’t, not to the extent you do, anyway. but after getting to know rindou, the real rindou, you can’t help but feel offended when people reduce him to nothing more than a no-good criminal. sure, he isn’t a saint, but he’s far from evil. what gave them the right to form opinions when they only got a glimpse of one side of him? “they shouldn’t get to judge you if they don’t even know you.”
he lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh, the breath heaving from his chest causing your head to raise. though, not long after, his lips find their way to your hairline, pressing a light kiss to the skin. his hand runs up and down your arm, “it doesn’t matter how often i tell you, huh?”
“nope.” you shamelessly reply. you’ll never stand for people demeaning the man you’ve come to love.
“how stubborn,” he clicks his tongue. it’s clear that this was a matter he won’t be able to change your mind on. of course, he doesn’t care what people think about him, but seeing you so protective of him and his image is oddly endearing. “so what, are you my defender or something?”
“mhm,” you hum, letting your eyes drift shut, “now and always.”
thanks for reading! pls consider reblogging or commenting if u enjoyed :3
#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: tokyo revengers#rindou x reader#haitani rindou x reader#tokrev x reader#tokyo revengers x reader#rindou fluff#tokrev fluff#tokyo revengers fluff#rindou drabble#tokrev drabbles#tokyo revengers drabbles
77 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
denimfans
Denim
mathcoreindex
Mathcore Index
casperscats
Felis Catus
youresodarlingletmepetyou-blog
adorable everything forever