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inupibaldspot · 3 months

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Even 12 years laters,your soul was in a color of kindness.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : purely self indulgent which I wrote when I was drunk so— some stuffs are funky

Gojo first met you when you where four.

He was five years old at that time too and was being escorted by a maid to go to the clan head meeting; he assumes you were also part of a clan brought by elders.

Normally, the white haired boy never really cared for other people. Why should he? He is the chosen one. He has the limitless technique plus the six eyes of the Gojo clan. He was the closest thing to God at this age. But today it was different.

He watched you turn your head around and stare at him, he could vividly remember the way your eyes shone with amazement either for something as superficial like his white hair or the fact he was recognized as The ‘Gojo Satoru.’

But after that amazement, you smiled. You smiled at him so bright, with the evening glow of sunlights made you so—so ethereal. Your smile was childish and that’s why it was simply pure; the white haired kid’s eyes silhouetted with the sunlight shone with surprise for he found you beautiful in ways he couldn’t describe.

Gojo looks away— he beat himself for looking away as that made him look standoffish. When he looks back, you were staring at him confused for why he didn’t greet you back.

The maid beside you turns and says something, as you nod and then walk away. Was it weird for Gojo to wish you would simply turn to him and introduce yourself? For years to come, he prayed that he’d love to hear your name; for your soul was in a color of kindness.

That chance came in twelve years later when he was a second year of his Jujutsu Tech. Him and his friends, Geto and Shoko wanted to meet the new first years. There is Nanami Kento, had a huge stick up his ass but that it self made him to be forever victim to Gojo’s pranks. Next was Haibara Yū, a bright eyed kid but Gojo found him to be a bit too— energetic for his taste.

And then you. I didn’t really need to describe Nanami and Haibara first because the first and only person he saw ever since he entered the first year’s classroom was you. Simply you. You sitting on the chair smiling bashfully at them. At him.

Ever since, every day. Without fail would rush to your side. At first you were confused as that is not the Gojo you remembered l; the one you saw and described to you by others were not this.

Nevertheless it warmed you up like a cool evening sun.

Gojo released quite early was you were kind, the type that would help others despite of her time , the type who would help every elderly by the street, the type who would feed strays and yada-yada-flowers and rainbows.

But that led to another realization. Had you truly different been treated differently?

Gojo's body tensed up. Any comfortable vibe he had felt before vanishing in an instant. He had known very well that you were a kind-hearted human being. Welcoming and warm. That made you so interesting. Your soul was so calm and simple and nice.

And even though he had observed you so closely before he wasn't able to recall any moment anymore where your own feelings had been obvious. You didn't stutter around boys.

You didn't blush. You didn't hesitate in a way which could be trailed back to her personal feelings.

Were you treating him like everyone else after all?

“Gojo?”

Your voice brought him back to sense, you were blinking curious, leaned close—so close.”what’s wrong?”

“Bring out your hand.” He smiles, as you did without question. “Guess the word I’m writing on your hand.” He smiles when the warmth from your hand soothe his nervous heartbeat.

“Eh—I’m not good at kanji!”

“That’s just too bad—!”

From then when ever Gojo feels anxious of everything—everything in this world he would play this game, with your fingers and her palm because his focus on you was more gravitating rather than that as you were simply too calming.

Geto felt slightly hesitant when he saw the type of Gojo he would become when he was by your side, he was a tad abit careless as if all of his six eyes were simply focused on you, he would be a tad bit kinder to the point Nanami gets the ick.

Where as Shoko had a blast!

She would make way towards you, give kisses on your cheeks gushing on how cute you were, wrapping her arms around you as she then sends a condescending look towards Gojo who was literally drowning in jealousy.

Shoko and you got close early on and more so because you two were the only two girls in those years. To the point where even a shy person like you was influenced to sneaking into a party with Shoko.

“Please don’t mess with my hair curler, Gojo.” You say as you look into the mirror, fixing your earring and from the corner of your eyes you could see Gojo holding up a lick of his hair into the hot iron.

Gojo peers over and immediately regrets it, you were in a short dress and high heel, hair curled so—cutely and boy, your face.

He looks away.

No, too cute.

He thought as he lets down the curling iron. Shoko peers out as she lets out a puff of smoke before passing it to Geto, who takes the cigarette in his hands. “Don’t tell me you want to come Gojo.” Shoko says. “I want a girls night.”

Gojo remember almost comically crying into his pillows as Geto nags him on ‘how woman don’t like clingy guys.’ He decides to forget Shoko and join you guys anyways.

He remembers being strangled by Shoko while you him a nervous smile trying to diffuse the situation.

Your nervous smile which made the world freeze to him, Geto sighs at the love sick look his white haired friend was giving you, who seemed so obvious to.

But don’t you remember when I said you were kind. You were kind like to help the cornered kid, the type who would volunteer to be with the loner kid, the type that picked Geto Suguru’s side.

Gojo sighs when when remembers Shoko saying you said something along the lines of ‘I don’t want Geto to be lonely along the path he takes…’

How stupid!

Gojo Satoru where ever he went would go around town mentally keeping sense of any cursed energy which could relay you back to him.

He meets you again though.

12 years later, while him and now—principle Yaga were walking along the hallways they sense a breach in security. He rushes over to first, see his once best-friend Geto Suguru by his current first year Okkotsu Yuta and secondly, you. Your eyes we’re nervously flying around before it lands on him and once again he was yours; Geto scoffs at the sight of Gojo’s expression when he was looking at you. He was almost worried that if you said ‘let’s join Geto’ with a plea—se, he just might. You just had that effect on Gojo.

But too bad, Geto was here to request war upon the Jujutsu Tech. On the 24 December, Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.

Gojo rushes through curses as he makes his way towards you; and when he does, he feels as if he can’t breath. “Can you come back…?” He takes a step closer.

You smile nervously,shaking your head as you watch him take another step closer to you, you felt his hands reach out and cup your face. His face was so close to yours, you could feel the warmth radiate off him in the cold winter air. “Don’t kill me for doing this.” You we’re reminded that you guys were enemies and in a battlefield.

His face was closer now, his blue—beautiful blue eyes were slightly closed. You breath out. “I can’t kill you through your ‘Limitless’ Satoru…”

“Say it again.”

“Huh…?”

“My name. Satoru…”

You breath out. “Satoru…” The name you accidentally let out, felt so right.

“Fuck… say it a million time more, love.” Gojo laughs, slightly hoarse. “My limitless is never activated when I’m with you…”

before you realize his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft, as you hands were tentatively placed on his chest, as his hand trails along to your waist you parts your lips for him, sighs in his mouth, and that small sound of pleasure drives him crazy, floods his body with heat and desire so intense the strongest sorcerer can hardly stand.

Your are pulled away from him, when a darker and tall man goes by. “Miguel!” Gojo listened to you say.

“I need you to focus.” The man says smiling, before he takes a stance to fight Gojo. And to Miguel credit, he does fend off Gojo well, so— well that he was ‘recruited’ by him.

The day ends with Gojo losing two of his best friends in different ways. Geto would be gone, into the afterlife ended by his own hands.

But you?

Where were you? Would he meet you again 12 years later? Love?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo imagines #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo fluff

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gremlingottoosilly · 3 months

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Ok but what about pity fucking. konig being all lame and showing his stress just to get pity fucked by his darling :( she Lowkey doesn't want to but he looks so sad and stressed

Awwww( Konig is a manipulator who just knows how to get a pretty thing like you pity him. He will be his worse self - neurotic, borderline having panic attacks at the function, desperately trying to get into your pants because he fucking knows he needs it( it is pathetic, really, he wants to be your boyfriend and to get to know you, but the best thing he can think of is just convincing you into giving up to a charity case of his life. He loves loves loves you!! Just doesn't know how to show it properly. Honestly, he doesn't even need to pretend to be more pathetic. He will just stop masking into a stoic and cold individual or a normal fucking person - he will just be his weird, fidgety self, and you're already getting it on with him. You like charity cases, you want to help people - honestly, Konig looks like he never once got a proper pussy handed to him, and he might benefit from getting sucked once in a while. He is a walking charity case, he is made to be fucked out of pure pity and kindness of your heart - even though you're kinda intimidated by him. It's charity, and you like to make people feel good. Even if those people are just scary as fuck. Konig knows that he is taking it too far, that he is making you feel uncomfortable with his behavior. You're just a nurse at the base, you don't want anything to do with the colonel - he just looked a bit pathetic while saying this pitiful story about never getting it on with a woman before(he did, actually, but the sob story will certainly get him in your pants) and how much he likes and appreciates everything you're doing for him. Konig is enough of a loser to say that he just needs some sweet moans in his ears so he can forget about the sounds of his enemies screaming, dying from his hands...you're still terrified of him - he is the colonel, after all, you don't get the title for being all sunshine and rainbows - but you're already slightly opening his pants to suck his cock like a good girl. Yes, Konig has his pride wounded because he can only get a pretty girl to fuck him if she feels sorry for him - but then again, he is the one getting his dick sucked by said girl. All other recruits can go and fuck themselves.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader

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cheesiedomino · 3 months

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Second Chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

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blkgirl-writing · 3 months

Text

Valentine's day drabble HCs for the men of BG3 x Reader

These are a collection of small drabbles written in different styles for valentines day! Warning Gales is the longest, whoops.

Gale:

Gales cold warm hands grasped around your waist from behind, squeezing your skin gently as he rested his head on your shoulder.

"The earl grey lavender, please-" He kissed your neck softly, speaking in a quiet tone. It was a perfect day inside his tower, the rays of sun beaming through the stained glass, fluttering rainbows across the cozy kitchen. The kettle whistles quieting down as you took it off the stove.

"It's already in the mug, lovely" You gestured to his favorite mug, a heavy stoneware piece decorated with flowers of purple and pink encased in a golden heart, he said it reminded him of when he realized he had loved you. You never fully asked why, but it made enough sense to be sweet.

"How you know me so well." Gale Smiled. You finished pouring the water and handed him his extra-strong tea. He leaned against the counter, blowing on the drink a few times. "Maybe I should have told you earlier, but I do have a surprise for you."

"I thought we said no gifts!" You batted his shoulder playfully, "though I'll admit, I didn't follow that rule either."

"is that so?" Gale leaned in to kiss your lips through a smile. "We just can't seem to help ourselves."

"So what's this gift?" you asked. He set down his own mug, ducking into the pantry to retrieve a box, unwrapped and simple. He placed it on the counter and patiently waited, his excitement barely hidden in his smile.

You opened the small box to reveal a mug, a matching mug to his, but a dark blue with purple and red flowers, with a silver heart. It was gorgeous, less heavy than his and somehow it felt built to hold within your two hands.

"Oh Gale, it's perfect." You kissed his cheek, refusing to let go of the mug quite yet, the hug would have to wait.

"I had it specifically made by the same artist. Tara now has a similar water bowl as well. She felt left out" Gales hand slipped around your waist yet again. "as much as I love it when you steal my mug, I thought it was beyond time you had your own as well."

"Oh so you didn't want me using yours?" Your teasing turned into pecks, which led to kisses- "Your gift is waiting in the bedroom," You smirked, hand caressing his messy hair. "If that's ok, of course,"

"I was secretly hoping that was the case." His hand intertwined with yours, nearly sweeping you off your feet.

Wyll:

Wyll had been staring at you for some time before you'd woken up, the sun shining down on your resting face, the definition of peaceful. Wyll hadn't remembered pure peace, it had been years since he'd felt fully at rest, but with you, calmness was as easy as breathing. All he had to do was look at you, and he remembered serenity.

He had made sure he was the best man for you, the best man he could be. He loved you with all his heart and made sure you felt like a goddess above every waking moment of your lives together, however long that may be. He loved the small moments you shared, like when you'd tripped and nearly fallen, but straight into his arms. "Well I didn't think you'd be falling head over heels for me this fast," He'd said. And you'd laughed and smiled, and he swore he'd do everything to keep that smile on your perfect lips.

He remembered your first date, where he had tried so hard to reserve a seat at the best restaurant in baldurs Gate, but ended up in a dingy bar, getting more drunk with each cup, and instead of spending the night entangled in each other's bodies, you'd shared barely cohesive thoughts and stories from lives long past. He learned your favorite color, your old friendships, and the star that you felt most connected to, the smaller details that never seemed to have enough time for during your big adventure.

Or the time you'd styled his hair into braided buns, which he'd kept in until his hair was frizzy and far past wash day. But you'd worked so hard on it to be perfectly symmetrical that he never wanted to take out your work. He asked you to help him with his hair, after that, not just because you were good at it, which, hells, you'd made him feel confident in himself for the first time since he grew his horns, but because your light touch sent him into a nearly meditative state of bliss. The way your fingers carefully combed through his hair, spending time to detangle each knot with such care that he had barely noticed it at all. And eventually, you'd taught him how to do your hair, too. Eventually wearing matching styles (if he asked politely), and took turns in the "hair chair"

"Honey?" You whispered, groggy and barely awake, "have you been staring at me again?"

"Is it a crime?" Wyll asked, placing a light kiss on your forehead.

"Only if I was drooling"

"Oh, but you look too adorable when you drool." He chucked, holding you closer to his warm chest.

"Shut up..." You pouted, eyes fluttering open and closed, trying to force yourself awake. But sleep had you tight in it's arms, and so did Wyll.

Astarion:

Red was his favorite color, after all. The room was dripping with it, black, gold, and dark, burgundy. Candles dripping hot wax down into careful carafes, soon to be poured and decorating your skin. It was romantic, it was warm, and it was lustful. Astarions eyes never left you, dancing across your body in pure sin, he clearly knew exactly how your night would unfold, and the only hint he'd give you was the devilish smile on his lips.

"It's going to be a long night, hm?"

"Oh yes, darling" Astarion purred, his hand sliding into your hair and pulling downwards, revealing your neck to him. His fangs scraped against your bare skin, but not piercing it, no, that was for later, with much less clothing and a lot more sweat, when all you could see was his snow-white skin and the blood rushing through your veins.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray @black-sapphic @fapqueen

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

(Consider supporting me on Ko-fi)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

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mrchiipchrome · 4 months

Text

Glass Child

W.C. - 6 k

--------------------

The middle child. Often known as the “forgotten” sibling, the one who never gets enough love, never enough attention, the one who’s never enough.

Never the one to blow out their own candles on their birthdays, never the one to get driven to their evening practices even when it was rainy and muddy. Never the one to get told they’re loved, nor that they’re enough. Never the one to be the favourite.

Yet always the one to listen to their parents argue late into the night, always the one to be blamed, always the one pressured to do great academically. Always the one who has to prove and find their place in the family, yet never actually finding it.

One older brother and one younger sister, that was what you had, one sibling on either side of you for every family photo but never for anything more. Your brother was out of the house before you could turn 6 and your younger sister was what your parents liked to call a rainbow child.

She had nearly died at birth after all, not enough oxygen going to the brain leading to slight mental disabilities and getting all your parents love. You weren’t even sure they had ever told you that they were proud of you. No, all their attention was always on Lila.

No matter how much you vyed for their attention, no matter how many accomplishments you had, the trophies and diplomas you brought home, their attention was always on Lila.

Lila, the golden child. Lila who could do no wrong. Lila who even after screaming and punching you, would get a hug and kiss on the head.

You, who were left to raise yourself. You, who were never enough for them, never good enough to be loved and cherished like your sister or even your brother who had left you. You, who had the weight of the world on your shoulders with no one to help carry it.

Every footballing tournament you’d ever had would be about Lila, what did Lila want? Was Lila comfortable? Does Lila want to go home?

Well that was when they actually made the effort to come, something you could count on one singular hand how many times they’d done. No, to sit through a few minutes of football for their daughter to feel needed and wanted was far too difficult for them.

Anything not involving Lila was far too difficult for them. Anything not revolving around herself was far too complex for Lila to comprehend, the second your parents looked away from her she was kicking and screaming and they were forced to look at her, whilst you were left unloved and unseen.

So when your brother started to visit once a month, you couldn’t have been more excited. There would finally be someone to be there for you, someone that would look at you for once, appreciate your existence.

Well he started out like that. He’d come to your games and cheer you on, he’d take you out for ice cream after just the two of you. For the first time in your life you didn’t feel invisible.

But then as time started to pass, he came home less and less, until the visits were so few and far between that he practically disappeared from your life. Gone were the days of feeling wanted and needed, you were back to being a ghost in your own life.

Even coaches started to forget you, it was like you just blended into the background, like you were invisible.

Then slowly, your teammates started to ignore you too, barely even looking at the shell of a person you were during exercises. And slowly you started to accept it, the role of the ghost.

You put your head down, working even harder in school and on the pitch, only this time it was for yourself and not for anyone else.

Slowly it got harder for your coaches and teammates to ignore your ever growing presence, but it was made easier for them when you ignored them back. It might’ve not been the best coping mechanism, but it was one nonetheless.

When you got the offer to play at a big youth academy, you just ran home to tell your parents, purely by a combination of hope and excitement. It was in your excitement that you completely forgot who they were.

“MUM! DAD! I got into an academy in the city!” You shouted as soon as the door closed behind you, football bag with only the essentials in it dropping to the floor loudly.

“What is this ruckus Y/n. You know better than to interrupt Lila’s sleeping time. Pick your bag up and go to your room right this second young lady.” Despite her shouting louder than you had, you were still the one who got in trouble.

“But I just wanted to tell you-” The words come out defeated, your parents not once being happy for you taking a toll on your entire being.

“But nothing.” She says sternly, pointing to the stairs. Head pointing towards the floor, you don’t let her see the salty tears forming in the corners of your eyes. She wouldn’t care anyway, not when her precious Lila still existed.

The walls shook with the amount of force you used to slam the door closed, the shouts of your mother lighting up the corridors like fireworks. The tears finally escaped when you were in the comfort of your own room, throwing your bag down to the floor harshly.

The bag wasn’t your source of frustration but once again it didn’t have any feelings either, it couldn’t see or feel, neither could it gain consciousness. So, it was the best thing to take out all your frustrations on.

But no matter how much you kicked and punched, no matter how many bruised knuckles you got from the hard materials inside the bag, it still didn’t get better.

Your parents weren’t going to magically start to care for you just because of some bruises, not when you had come home with far worse and they still hadn’t cared. You didn’t exist to them, their lives only revolved around Lila, the sun to their earths.

Picking up a plastic figurine from the ratty old desk you had inherited from your brother, you launch it across the room and directly into the wall. With a pop, the head of the Captain America figurine separates from the body, rolling across the hardwood floor almost mockingly.

When the realization of what you’d done hit, you dropped down to your knees with a thud. Picking up the scratched and broken toy off the floor, you clutch the parts to your chest tightly like they would disappear if you loosened your hold ever so slightly.

How could you break the only thing your brother had ever given you? ‘Keep it safe for me, yeah?’ He told you when he left the house you grew up in the last time, he had said that he didn’t need it where he was going. You knew in the back of your mind that he wouldn’t care about the broken state of the toy, but the overwhelming and conflicting feelings waging a war inside you amplified your emotions tenfold.

You weren’t used to this, crying. No, it was much easier to compartmentalize your feelings, to experience your feelings rationally and not as emotionally as you just had.

But it seems like the feelings were far too strong this time, creating an earthquake of sorts in your mind that opened all the drawers of the imaginative dresser where you stored all your emotions. And so they hit you all at once, all the negative emotions and thoughts crashing into you like powerful waves.

Eventually there were no tears left to fall, empty sobs escaping your mouth every now and then, face buried in your knees with your back up against the wall. Breathing in deeply, you lean your head back against the colorless wall, wishing you could be anywhere but there at that moment.

Bringing your hands up to your face, they slowly fall back down to your sides, your muscles relaxing for the first time since you had come home. There was no point in just sitting there and sulking, the pitch not too far from your house calling your name.

Walking over to the bag, you open it up and pull out the old boots, they were falling apart at the seams but that didn’t matter. They would work another 6 or so months, as long as you stitched them back together.

The window creaked as you opened it up, throwing your now closed bag onto the bushes that lined your house. Climbing over the ledge, you sit down on the wooden lining, hands coming down to clutch the material tightly. Turning your body around, you lower yourself down until your arms are fully stretched out, pressing your feet to the wall and pushing your body away from the building.

Landing on your feet, you hurry to pick the bag up off the bush with calloused hands, the years of carrying the bag back and forth from training having taken its toll on your hands. Quick steps echo in the night air, nearing the uncared for pitch in record time.

Soon enough the thwack of your boot hitting the ball over and over is the only thing that can be heard, cleats ripping into the grass and pulling up the deep brown dirt underneath it. By the time you were done your knees ached and your feet were even worse, the boots not the most comfortable things in the world.

With some luck, you manage to find a ladder at the corner of your house, leaning it up against the brick wall of the house and climbing up it carefully. When you’re safely inside your room, you push the ladder away and close the window.

It becomes a routine of sorts, wake up, go to school, take the bus to the academy training grounds, train, go home, study and then go out to the pitch for another 2 or so hours of football. It was good, out there you could forget everything and just focus on getting better.

And that you did, quickly becoming one of the best youngsters not only in your academy but also in the country, much to your surprise. Life wasn’t slow and boring anymore, it was fast paced and fun for you.

Months passed by, a U-15 call up hitting your desk a single month before you turn 13, leaving you to celebrate your birthday alone in your hotel room. There was no way that you would tell a bunch of strangers of such a trivial thing, it wasn’t like they had even noticed you there, they already had their friend groups.

Thankfully, you seemed to have impressed the right people as you got called up time and time again after, showing everyone why you deserved to be there with strategic kicks of the ball and passes not even most professional players could make. It came naturally after so many hours of playing and subsequently watching people play.

Camp after camp you watched your teammates interact with each other, see them laugh and smile with their friends whilst you were on the outside looking in. It was no longer a problem, being alone, an expectation rather than a surprise.

Luckily enough for you, the senior call up happened only weeks after turning 16, leaving the older girls to take you under their wing. It was certainly…different, a completely new experience.

You had finally reached the top that you’d yearned for, getting recognised for being one of the best footballers in the entirety of England. The years of invisibility far gone, now praised enormously for the efforts you made during each and every game.

It got overwhelming quickly, all the attention from coaches and outlets alike only fuelling your need to perform, leading to countless hours spent out on the muddy pitch. Football, no matter how stressful, was your reprieve. Your savior of sorts.

You’d think after countless hours spent with your football that your passion for the sport would burn out, but in your case all it did was reinforce your spirit.

At 17 you got the option to either sign a professional contract with your youth club or go to America for college football on a full ride scholarship. Your decision to choose the latter of the two was less than popular with your parents.

“Mum, dad. Can you two give me your attention for once?” You question, sitting at the dinner table only meters away from where they’re washing the dishes.

“Why don’t you wait until the adults are done?” Your sorry excuse of a father shoots back, chuckling with your mother.

“I’m going away for college soon. In America.” The clanging of utensils hitting the metal surface of the sink interrupts the tense silence created by your statement.

“What did you just say?” Her tone was dangerously sweet and calm, almost trying to lure you into a false sense of security.

“You heard exactly what I said. There is no opinion to be had here, I was simply paying you two the courtesy to know.” Despite your tone being nonchalant, you were anything but. Leg bouncing up and down anxiously under the table, fingers fidgeting with each other.

“No. Y/n Y/l/n you are not leaving us to fend for ourselves, not like your brother. We need you here, Lila needs you.” Your mother basically pleads with you, reaching across the table to take hold of your hands.

Before she can even try to get near them, you pull them back towards your body harshly.

“Oh so now you need me? Now that I’m leaving you need me?” Your father has his arm slung around your mother’s shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down against her arm. “What about all the times I needed you two? All of the countless tournaments I participated in only for the coaches to ask me where you two were. You two have caused me so much pain and embarrassment.”

“That’s unfair, your sister needed us more.” Your father tells you harshly, eyes drilling holes into the sides of your head.

“So? I couldn’t get one second of your time once a year?” You ask incredulously, their eyes widening in exasperation. “Me leaving for college isn’t even going to change anything, all you two do is care about Lila.” The last part comes out mumbled, so that the two adults in front of you couldn’t hear.

“I do not care for what you have to say, you are not going anywhere.”

“And why not?” The card up your sleeve hasn’t been played yet, you wanted to revel in their expressions.

“Because we’re the adults here and we decide.” He responds lowly, as if trying to intimidate you.

“Oh but you’re forgetting something. As of an hour ago I am officially 18 years old and I get to decide whether I go or not.” You have to keep from laughing when their faces drop almost comically, eyes wide and jaws on the floor.

And so without much protest, they let you leave your childhood house only days later, getting on a plane out to North Carolina. It didn’t matter that the official season hadn’t started yet, you just wanted to get away.

Weeks passed by before any familiar faces appeared, the Brits you’d met during your stint in the youth groups of the national team. They were part of the main friend group, hugging and laughing with each other every second they got.

In reality, you had found them rather annoying at that age, shrill voices interrupting the otherwise peaceful environment. That’s why you could often be found in your hotel room, studying or messing around with a plushie football.

This time around you had been informed that you were to share a dorm with one of them, something you weren’t that opposed to. They were all nice after all, just a bit loud.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard but we do in fact have another Brit here in the team, someone the two of you have probably encountered before.” The loud voice of one of your American teammates floats through the hallway leading to your room, the notes just about getting through the music streaming into your ears.

“Oh shit.” Rushing to close all the open books on the table in front of you, the light knock on your door is heard through the bustling. “Come in” You let out nervously.

“Alessia, Lotte meet our resident Brit, Y/n Y/l/n!” The jazz hands coming from the older American doesn’t hide the absolute mess of your room. Your suitcase was laying messily on the ground, your body the only thing in the way of the war stricken look of your table.

Sticking your hand out towards the women, there’s a slight crash behind you, face scrunching up in a way that suggests that you were uncomfortable.

“I’m so sorry for the mess, I completely forgot about everything I was supposed to be doing today.” They both shake your hand, the brunette taking a firm hold of your hand whilst the blonde grasps your hand lightly with her much softer one.

The blonde looks around the room, a bed on either side of the room, one looking occupied and the other one bare.

“So Y/n, Alessia here is going to be sharing this dorm with you, plenty of time to get to know each other before the season starts.” All the American accents were hard to get used to, often quite startling.

You both nod your heads, not finding much to say regarding the arrangement. Alessia gets a pat on the back from the older student, letting her suitcase drop to the ground carefully.

“Come on then Lotte, let’s get you situated!” As soon as they appeared, they disappeared out of the messy room, Lotte following after the American like a duckling would its mother.

As the door closes behind them the room gets covered in a thick blanket of silence, Alessia still standing where she stood coming into the room and you with your back now turned to her, picking up the papers.

“Please excuse the state of our room, I completely forgot that you were coming.” The words fall out of your mouth clumsily, your social skills still not up to par.

“Oh I understand, don’t worry.” Her voice is honey-like, smooth and sweet, almost like a Disney princess. When you turn back around the first thing you notice is her incredible beauty, something you didn’t exactly see before in your nervosity.

“You’re in the senior squad right?” She asks, looking back at you with her baby blue doe eyes. Her intense gaze leaves you to clear your throat loudly, eyes blinking vigorously.

“Yeah I am.” The pitch of your voice peaks up at the end, leaving your statement to sound more like a question than anything. Her melodic giggles fill the room, your heart thumping painfully against your ribs at the sound.

“Are you asking me?” Her hands come up to tuck the hair that’s fallen in her face back behind her ears, her eyes scanning over your pajama clad body.

“Yeah I am.” You say more confidently this time, trying to right your earlier wrong. “Wait, wait, no” Her laugh mixes with yours this time, Alessia’s adorable expression lighting up the room. When the laughter halts, she stands up more straight with her hand out towards you, ready for you to take with your own.

“Come on, take my hand.” The forward urges you playfully, her head tilting a fraction to the right. Her hand feels warm in your own when you grasp it, a soft smile sent your way by the older girl making your insides all warm. “Hi, I’m Alessia Russo but my friends call me Less.” Alessia decides that the crease that appears between your eyebrows is adorable, her eyes flitting over your face.

“We’ve already been introduced?” This time the questioning tone is meant, genuine confusion plaguing your mind.

“I know, but just humor me for a second, okay?” The warmth flooding from your hand up throughout your body seemingly gives life to the butterflies fluttering their wings in your stomach. An unfamiliar but not unwelcome feeling.

“Hello, I’m Y/n Y/l/n but my teammates call me Ghost or some variant of it.” You reply cheekily, hand coming down to rest at your side.

“Why is that?” She speaks up, a confused tone lingering in her voice.

“Because I’m a ghost from the 1700s that’s haunting this college.” Raising your hands up above your head, you let out an ‘ooo’ sound imitating a ghoul.

Her giggles start back up again, the midday sun peeking in through the blinds, leaving pale stripes on the dark floor. The comfortable silence between you two stays for a while, neither one of you really moving from where you’re seemingly glued to the floor.

Eventually she turns back to her bag, starting to unpack her luggage tentatively, not really knowing where to put her things.

After some thinking she seems to get a bit more comfortable, throwing her stuff here and there still making sure to keep to her side. The headphones resting over your ears play no music, allowing you to hear her humming under her breath, singing softly to the tune.

In the months that passed after your official introduction quite a lot happened. For starters, the college season started after a lot of struggle on your and Alessia’s part, Lotte fitting in with the other girls almost immediately. The blonde had a sense of protectiveness over you, the clear lack of social skills on your part making her pay extra attention to you to make sure that you weren’t alone.

Though there was that awkward moment when the striker asked you where your parents were after the first game, because surely it was too important to miss. The worried glance she shoots you when you make up a half-assed lie about them not getting enough time off to fly out and watch you.

Needless to say, you spend the rest of that day in the library so that she can show her parents around the campus. And like the very mature 18 year old you are, as soon as you hear the sweet accented voice of your teammate in the quiet library you shoot up from your place on the old bean bag, weaving through the rows of books in order to escape your roommate and her happy family.

It wasn’t your fault per se that you were slightly jealous of her having parents that cared for her, and it sure as hell wasn’t her fault that yours were the way they were. It was better to just stay out, so that you wouldn’t get attached to a family that wasn’t your own.

Later that night, when her parents had left for their hotel, she questioned you intently on where you were the entire afternoon. Another lie followed, you telling her that you just had things to do, things that you couldn’t tell her about.

She eventually let it go, but not before giving you a suspicious glance through the corner of her eye. You clearly weren’t good at lying, something she could see rather easily.

“So, Y/n, do you wanna have breakfast with me and my parents tomorrow? They’ve been dying to finally meet you.” She asks, sitting down on your bed, her legs dangling off the end. Her hand comes up to lay on your leg, goosebumps rising on your skin whereupon her hand rests.

A blush rises on your face, both at the question and her hand. You hadn’t even realized that she’d told her parents about you, but now it was obvious, parents in the movies always asked their kids all about college.

“Oh uhm, you know, I don’t want to intrude on your time with your parents.” Lifting your hand up, you make the motion of waving her off, not expecting her free hand to take yours.

“You wouldn’t be, they asked to meet you since you were so ‘busy’ today.” Her eyes stare into your soul, still soft and caring. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Alessia’s baby blues look down at the pattern on your blanket, her hand on your leg tracing the patterns into your skin.

“NO, no, believe me Alessia, I would love to go…” Your voice trails off softly, looking for the correct words so as to not reveal exactly why you were hesitant.

“But…” She continues your sentence.

“But I’m not good with people, and I don't want to give them the wrong impression of me. Family’s important for you, from what I’ve heard, and I just want yours to like me.” Somehow her eyes soften even more, the blonde girl moving up the bed to settle beside you, her arm snaking over your shoulders. Your head lands on her collarbone, one hand still holding onto hers tightly.

“Don’t you worry, if I like you, which I do, then they will like you as well.” She smiles down at you, faces inches from the other’s.

A knock on the door interrupts the moment, the loud noise making the two of you jump apart. The door opens with a creak and Lotte pops her head into the room, a large smile on her face at your and Alessia’s seeming closeness.

“Not interrupting anything, am I?” She asks teasingly, Alessia immediately shooting her the meanest glare she could muster up, though that was like being glared at by a marshmallow. Your face on the other hand was redder than a tomato, the insinuating words making you nervous.

“No not at all, I was just about to leave for my evening run, I’ll see you both later!” You basically sprinted out of the room as soon as you had shoes on your feet, taking to jogging your normal round more than once.

By the time you were back in the dorm room, your feet were aching unpleasantly and your blonde counterpart was asleep. It was a begrudgingly difficult task to tiptoe around the room without waking the blue eyed girl, but in the end you managed not to wake her.

Though she’s not nearly as careful the next morning, stomping around like a maniac and making a bunch of noise for you to wake up to.

“Less, what are you doing? Let me sleep.” The last word of your sentence was drawn out thoroughly, groaning as you stretch out your body.

“Nope, no time! We’re meeting my parents in 20 minutes at the cafe.” She comes up and boops your nose before letting you spring up from the bed, rushing around the room at 100 km/h, gathering up all your nice looking clothes and letting Alessia choose the optimal pairing.

All the way to the off campus cafe you were stressed, but the way Alessia’s hand fit so snuggly in your own was a little comforting. She knew about your anxious nature around new people, even if those people were the least judgmental ever.

“It’s going to go great Y/n, my parents already love you, trust me, there’s basically no way that you can make them hate you.” Her words soothing you more than she’ll ever know, your shoulders feeling like they’d had a massive weight lifted off them.

With newfound confidence, you get through the breakfast like a champ, even enjoying the entire thing. Alessia’s parents were everything yours weren’t, they were kind and generous, loving and sweet and all around great people. You wondered what it would be like to grow up with parents like them instead of yours.

And it seems like you made a good first impression on them too, because as you and Alessia said your goodbyes they gave you the warmest hugs you’d ever gotten paired with a big kiss on the cheek.

Alessia couldn’t understand why you burst into tears as soon as the two of you were in the comfort of your own dorm. It came so suddenly, the tears that seemed never ending and the sobs that echoed around the small room.

As soon as Alessia heard the first sob escaping your throat she turned around, being met with the sight of your hands covering your face, trying to subside the tears streaming down your face.

“Hey, hey, what happened love? Why are you crying?” Her voice grows worried quickly as her hands take hold of your forearms. She tries to remove your hands from the premise of your face, thinking that you’d hurt yourself.

“It’s nothing, it’s just…your parents are such wonderful people and I guess I just wish that mine were the same.” You regret the sobbed words as soon as they exit your mouth, of course you would be so stupid as to tell her about your parents. Now you’d have to tell her the truth about them, there was simply no avoiding it.

“Oh, if you don’t mind me asking, what do you mean?” Her voice is softened, like when talking to a baby, and her arms hold you tight against her chest. Alessia’s hands move from your forearms and down around your back, rubbing her hand up and down softly.

You’d known each other for months yet the topic of your parents hadn’t come up once. It was funny really, the way that they’d destroyed your childhood.

Inbetween a couple sniffles you begin the whole story, speaking slowly so as to not burst out in tears at every broken memory, every missed game, every single thing they’d not done for you.

“Uhm, I don’t really know where to start, but I know it all started with the birth of Lila, my sister. She was a…difficult pregnancy for my mom and uh when she was born there were complications. She didn’t get enough oxygen to her brain and uh that led to her being disabled, not enough for it to impact her life but enough for my parents to uhm…get attached to her. She’s their ‘rainbow baby’ and it seems like everything she’s ever done overshadows any of my or my brother’s achievements. It’s like as soon as they brought her home from the hospital both me and my brother were invisible. But he was lucky, he got to go off to uni within a year of her birth, me? I had to wait 14 years to get out.” You let out a humourless laugh at the end, not even looking the blonde in the eye after she tried to get you to.

“They never came to a game, no matter how big of a deal it was, they always let my sister blow out my candles on my birthday cake and they gave her more gifts on MY birthday than they did me. You want to know what they did when I told them that I had been recruited by an academy? They told me to shut up because my sister needed rest. On my senior team debut they left early because my sister wanted to get ice cream, it was the one moment for me to show them that I didn’t need them to be great, do you understand how embarrassing it was to look around for your parents after scoring twice on your national team debut only to see that they’re not there? The embarrassment of being asked why you’re not celebrating with your family? Of being worth so little to the people who made you that they couldn’t even be assed to sit for ninety minutes for their daughter? All I’ve ever wanted was for them to notice me, love me, care about me, but all that wishful thinking went away that day. I no longer cared for them or anything other than my teammates and footy. So yeah, that’s the entire story.” You didn’t even notice that you’d been talking for the past 30 minutes nor that tears spilled out of both you and Alessia’s eyes. When you finally looked up and in her eyes, they were filled with salty tears just like your own, tears that fell quietly and slid down her face peacefully.

Bringing your hand up, you quickly wipe her face softly, her baby blues enhanced by the layer of tears over them, slight redness to the whites of her eyes.

Alessia’s eyes bore into your own, her eyes expressing hundreds of feelings, everything from sorrow and empathy to love and kindness. It’s not until she looks down at your chapped lips that you finally understand what it is you’ve been feeling since you first met her again after so many years.

It wasn’t nervousity or stress, it was love. Pure, genuine, unconditional love. You were utterly in love with the striker. And by the way she was inching her face closer to yours, she was pretty in love with you too.

Your lips meet hers in a soft and innocent embrace, all your emotions spilling into the kiss. Her lips were soft and they tasted of strawberries, her favourite chapstick the same taste.

Your lips moved against each other’s softly for just a moment shorter than you wanted. Her eyes were closed as you opened yours just a sliver, observing the way one of Alessia’s hands comes up to touch at her kiss swollen lips softly.

When her eyes finally do open, they’re met with still tear stained cheeks and a big happy smile. The baby blues meet yours and they instantly see the love and adoration in them, it’s so obvious that she nearly starts crying again.

“Okay love, before we talk about what just happened i want to say that your parents missed out on the best person I’ve ever met. You are so wonderful and beautiful and you have so many wonderful people who love you to death, me being one of them. During the last few months that you have been apart of my life you’ve showed me that it’s possible to love someone more than anything. You have endless passion for football and for your friends, you’ve inspired me to become a better person simply by being you and that’s one of the most amazing things that I’ve ever witnessed. You’ve done a better job at raising yourself than most parents do with their kids and I want you to know that I’m so proud of you. I can’t comprehend how they could be so blind that they missed what a wonderful person you are. I’ve loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you, your hair a mess from pulling at it and books scattered all around the room. I love you so much that it feels like I’m going to burst whenever I’m around you.” You can see the sincerity in her eyes as she looks at you, smiling ever so slightly.

“I love you too Alessia. I’m so in love with you that I’m going mad.” The way she picks herself up from the floor has you convinced that she’s going to leave you there where you sit on the floor, all alone. Only that’s not what she does, instead she holds out her hand for you to take.

“Come on love, go get cleaned up so I can take you on a date.” Her hand playfully taps your behind as you walk away towards the sink to wash the tears off your face, and you turn around to glare at her playfully.

5 long years later and you’re lifting the Euros trophy alongside your co-captain and subsequent maid of honour Leah and your longtime girlfriend soon turned fiancée.

All you could think after she said yes was how incredibly lucky you were to have someone like her in your life.

#woso #alessia russo #unc soccer #woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #lionesses #arsenal wfc

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leeknowsnot · 8 months

Text

kinktober — the god of love (minho)

genre: smut (minors dni), fluff

content: minho x reader, god of love minho au, reader is a hopeless romantic because i am too, greek god themes, he is eros the god of love, modernized greek gods, body worship, vanilla, just pure love, mature themes, mention of p-rn

oh my god, this is my first smut on this page. i hope i did okay though, it's been a long while since i wrote smut. anyway, i'll try starting on the others soon! read at your own risk

kinktober masterlist

Piles of paperwork laid before him. His eyes scrutinized every paper, dreading the sight of the amount of work he'd have to do. What was he doing here anyway? Right. He was called in for some extra work because the amount of stuff that the employees under him had to do was overwhelming.

Piles and piles of paperwork. "Over what?" his colleague would ask him and he would roll his eyes.

"Some dumbass woman who can't stop falling in love and getting heartbroken over every goddamn man," he would complain.

For Minho, being the God of Love wasn't all arrows and rainbows. Oh look, a girl crushing on a guy. Let's shoot an arrow to his chest so he could fall in love with her too! No. He wasn't highschool cupid. It wasn't as easy as that, unlike what most people would actually think. If he was going to be honest, there wasn't much field work to begin with. The only field work he'd do is to sit on his chair, observing people as they fall in love with each other, only to deal with multiple paperwork as soon as couples start falling out and breaking up with each other. He hated how people treated love as if it was something so dispensable. Like a one-time thing. Well, mostly because it gave him so much work to deal with.

And you, on the other hand, was one of those types that he hated the most: a hopeless romantic. He never really believed in hoping for love despite being the God of Love himself. Stop falling in love multiple times in a year. He always wanted to drill that into your brain each time he'd come down from HQ to observe you and your stupid attempts at pursuing whoever you were onto at the moment. He would lie if he said he never cringed everytime you'd blush at the smallest things. He was annoyed at how you always fell so hard over the bare minimum.

He types away angrily at his keyboard, cursing under his breath. "12th time this fucking year. I swear, if that shithead falls in love with the wrong guy again, I'm gonna shoot myself."

His fingers stop typing, eyes staring into the screen as his eyebrows rest on a permanent scowl on his face. He stared at your image through the documents, analyzing every feature on your face. He wouldn't deny the fact that you were attractive in a way, which made him wonder for a moment why you'd always fail at your attempts on finding love.

Minho sighs, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before he stands up from his seat. "Better pay her a short visit. I need some amusement after all that headache she's been giving me," he mutters to himself.

...

Minho sat there, eyebrows raised. You weren't the type to wear revealing dresses and yet here you were, a scissor away from being practically naked. Okay, maybe he was exaggerating since you only opted to expose your shoulders but you never really showed much skin before. Each time Minho would drop by secretly to observe you during your dates to see if they'd finally succeed, you were either wearing cute floral dresses, or anything that was wholesome. But then again, he had to remind himself where he had to go just to check on you.

A nightclub.

In all honesty, some shoulderless blouse was just the tip of the iceberg compared to how the others dressed. Some were practically naked but Minho didn't pay much attention to them. His eyes were focused on eyeing you at the other side of the room, through grinding bodies.

Though, his gaze on your faltered as soon as a woman sat beside him, brushing her arm on his that was rested on top of the counter. "Hey there, pretty boy," the woman winked at him.

Minho wanted to puke then and there and his expression said it all. He eyed the woman from head to toe, immediately disgusted at her mere presence. He brought his eyes back to you but as soon as he did so, he saw you swaying by the dancefloor with some guy.

Now, Minho wasn't the type to be fazed by such a sight, but the way the man roamed his hands around your torso and attempted to grind his hips towards yours slightly annoyed Minho. Especially with how your face would contort and twitch in discomfort. You were trying your best to hide it and make light of the situation but Minho knew better than to not notice.

He stood up from his seat, tossing all reasoning aside and decided to pull you out of whatever shit you had gotten yourself into just so you could get yourself a lover. "To hell with that," he thought. You were looking for love at the wrong place. The worst place, in fact.

As soon as he arrived at your spot, he grabbed your wrist, earning a surprised yelp from you. He didn't look at you but at the man who was already 5 seconds away from zipping off his pants. Minho was glaring. "Keep your hands and your dick to yourself, yeah?" he tells off the man, earning himself a drunk response but all noise had been shut out and the fucks he could give was thrown out the window the moment he turned to you. "What were you trying to get yourself into, you idiot?"

Minho forgot that he was the only one who knew you like the back of his hand at this point. He was basically a stranger to you. But as he looked into your eyes, you lost yourself in them. His voice came out as muffled due to the trance you were in from the alcohol you just had earlier. And Minho noticed this so he snapped into your face but to no avail.

He dragged you out of the club and you could swear the door that was supposed to lead outside the streets led to somewhere else when Minho opened it but you decided that it was your mind and the alcohol playing its tricks on you. Minho brought you to his office through the club's door—an ability that always proved to be handy. He made you sit on his couch, giving you a glass of water.

"Drink that. It'll help with the hangover," he says. He never had hangover before since human liquor never really had much of an effect for him and the other Gods but he saw how bad humans had it each time they'd have hangovers. "How many glasses did you have anyway," he mumbles under his breath, not particularly expecting you to hear or respond.

His hand bring itself up to your face as he holds a towel, wiping off your sweat. "You suck at taking care of yourself. You always put those idiots first before yourself, that's why you're always getting rejected," he mumbles again, an annoyed expression now on his face. However, his expression turns into confusion as soon as he sees you squint your eyes at him.

"You... look familiar," you say, a hiccup following your sentence as you try your best to dig your memories through your drunken stupor.

Minho shakes his head. "Don't be ridiculous. No one looks like me," he says but you suck air between your teeth.

"No, I swear I've seen you somewhere," you dazingly tapped on your temple before your eyes widen in realization and you point at him. "Oh, I remember now! I see you a lot of times whenever I..." you trail off your sentence. You gasp. "You're always around whenever I meet guys for dates! Are you perhaps, my stalker?"

This earned you a light slap on the forehead from Minho.

"You didn't have to hit my head!" you pouted at him.

"Stop pouting, you look ugly," he says as he removes your shoes. "I wasn't stalking you."

You squint your eyes again at him. Both at his answer and as to why he was removing your shoes. "Then what were you doing? And what are you doing?"

Minho glances up at you with a look of disbelief. "Removing your shoes, if that's not obvious enough," he turns back to removing your other shoe. "I thought you were dumb only with love. You're dumb with telling actions too."

You frown, "Why are you even removing my shoes?! Put them back on??"

"For the record, you are not Cinderella. And you'd rather I let you get blisters? Why did you even wear heels? You never wore heels," he whispers the last part. You blink.

"You are my stalker," you gasp, earning another glare from Minho.

As he finished removing your shoes, he plops himself back down beside you. "I was observing you," he says, answering your question.

"Yeah, you were stalking me," you butt in.

"Stalking is different from observing. Get your facts right," he argues back.

'This man,' you thought to yourself as you look at him in disbelief. Though despite his sarcastic remarks, you could feel as if you knew him for a long time already. Or maybe because you'd see him a lot everywhere. You always thought it was coincidence.

"Why were you observing me?" you ask him.

Minho sighs, rubbing his face with a hand as he looks at you, probably being annoyed at how much you were asking him. "Entertainment. Your idiocy amuses me," he sarcastically replies.

You were speechless.

First, this man ruins your date. Your chances of getting laid tonight. You didn't mind if it was drunk sex, as long as it was sex, that was how hopeless you were. Second, he denies being your stalker. Third, he was mocking your poor taste in men and bad luck in love. And lastly, he was telling you that you were basically a no go because you were an idiot.

"I can't believe this," you scoff under your breath. "You ruined my chances for... this."

Minho raises an eyebrow at you. "Chances at what."

You roll your eyes at him. "Getting laid."

Minho stares at you for a while before sighing. You were such a piece of work. On second thought, he'd rather deal with paperwork than your attitude. He shakes his head in hopelessness, eyes still at you.

"You were going to settle with drunk sex?" he asked with a tone of as-a-matter-of-fact. When you nodded, he chuckled in disbelief.

"Well, what do you want me to do then?" you snapped your head at him. "I always fail at romance. I try to establish wholesome relationships but they... They just fail. And this..." you pause. "It may not be the best option, but it's my only chance of actually getting a guy."

Minho was amused at how emotional you were getting. He could see the tears forming in your eyes as you explain. Sure, Minho was getting frustrated over this ordeal, but you were too and he just realized that. If he was getting annoyed over paperwork, then it meant people were hurting too. You were hurting too.

For some reason, Minho disliked that idea. For the longest time, he'd see the brightest smiles on your face each time you fell in love or experienced something akin to love. He thought it was only for work that he'd come down to observe you each time you go on dates. But in truth, he liked seeing you smile. He didn't know how or when it started. He just... liked to see your face brighten up.

Maybe he wasn't annoyed at you because you always fell in love and get broken and give him more paperwork. Maybe he was annoyed at the fact that people kept on hurting you. He was annoyed at the fact that guys always took advantage of your love. He was annoyed at the fact that you always gave it your all to guys who didn't deserve any of your love. He was annoyed at himself for seeing it otherwise.

Minho chuckles, more at himself than at you. "That's such a sad excuse to find love, it's pathetic."

You turned your head towards him, about to retort but you shut yourself up as soon as he brought his face close to yours. Your eyes widened. "What—"

"You're pathetic," he mumbles. "I can't believe you're going to settle with just that." Then, he closes the gap between you two. His lips touched yours momentarily, brushing like a feather before diving deep. For a second, it was as if your world stopped. You may have had failed attempts at love but that doesn't mean you never had kisses. Though, most of them were empty. In fact, you've had too many kisses to the point that you had to think to yourself if you'll only get kisses for the rest of your life.

But this. This was... You couldn't put the right words. No, that was the perfect word for it. Right. It felt so... right.

The kiss felt too short as soon as he pulled away, eyes staring into yours. You could swear you could see the whole universe in them. You barely talked to this man for more than an hour and yet you feel like you've known him forever.

Minho's eyes trail from your eyes to your lips. He has always seen you. How you look. How you dressed. How you spoke. But he has never seen you this close. And now that he has, it was as if he was looking at Zeus' finest piece of art. Your beauty held more charm than Aphrodite herself. Hell, you'd start more wars than Helen of Troy ever did with that pretty little face of yours.

He parts his lips, his warm breath adding fuel to the warmth that had now spread on your blushing face. "In all of my decades, observing your kind and mine," he pauses. "I have never met anyone as beautiful as you."

"I wonder which God sculpted you," he mutters under his breath, eyes bearing themselves into yours. "Those eyes. They're like Narcissus. I could get lost just by staring at them."

He placed another kiss on your lips, this time much softer than the last.

"Those men are fools," he says. "They could never see true beauty. Beauty that has so willingly presented itself before them."

It was as if he had fallen right then and there. The irony of being the God of Love was that he barely fell in love himself. But when he does, he falls deep. Turns into such poet. Just as how he was letting himself become vulnerable before you.

He takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together, intertwining them like perfect pieces of a puzzle. You were entranced. You didn't know how or why. But the way his hand would graze on your skin felt like electricity. The good kind where the hair on your back would stand each time you'd feel warm air breeze through while you are cold. Like goosebumps.

You wondered if there was something in that water that he had given you earlier. Aphrodisiac? No. There was nothing in there. And yet you felt so entranced. So pulled in. So dazed. You had never felt this feeling before from your past lovers. Then again, were those even love? Or just infatuation? Was it the true definition of love, or was this the true definition of love? Maybe it was just the effect of having the God of Love himself being so close to you. But you were none the wiser of his identity as a God. And yet he pulled you in like gravity.

His lips placed a chaste kiss on your lips once more, gradually travelling towards your cheek, your jawline, and your neck. They were slow yet passionate. His hands ran up your arms, holding your shoulder as he carefully lays you on the couch so you'd feel comfortable.

Minho looks at you once more. "Will you let me show you what love is?" he asks with a quiet tone. You stare at him for a short while, with him still placing soft kisses on your neck as he waits for your response. Eventually, you nod.

He hums quietly in satisfaction. "Just follow my lead," he says.

You don't know what happened after that. You only remember his occasional glances. His chaste kisses on your skin. His hands caressing everywhere they could land on, memorizing your every curve. You only remember laying there, naked.

His gaze on you never faltered. His eyes memorized every feature, taking in every imperfection that you had. As a God, he was but used to seeing only the perfect complexions. But with your body, the imperfections were what made you more beautiful in his eyes.

Minho leans down towards you, brushing the back of his fingers on your cheek softly. He held you as if you were porcelain. No rough movements. No raspy caresses. "Stop looking for love," he muses. "Because love himself is presenting itself to you." He takes your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckles. "Love itself is yours to take."

You part your lips with a soft gasp. No one, not even one man has ever told you such words. No one, not even one man has ever seen you this naked. No one, not even one man has ever held you as much as this man did. And he was worshipping you with both his words, his kisses, and his touches.

His hand pulled you closer for another kiss before caressing down your body, eventually resting itself on your thigh. His thumb brushes on your skin before travelling towards your inner thigh. His finger lingers too close to your core. Not touching, but you could feel it. Minho smiles at your reaction, chuckling as he finally runs a digit through your folds.

You lightly gasp, biting your lower lip to immediately stop yourself from letting out a sound. He looks up at you, amused by your sensitivity. You couldn't blame him. After all, you were a virgin. Both by touch and by intercourse. He could immediately tell as he continued running his finger through your heat, dragging through every slick as a string of your love juice connects your nub and the tip of his finger with every slow stroke. He traces small circles around your clit, earning a shivery hum from you as you cover your mouth with the back of your hand.

You hated how slow he was teasing you. Minho, however, was loving every second of it. How red your cheeks were right now. How half-lidded your eyes were. How wet you already were with just a few kisses and a few strokes.

He leans towards your chest, taking out his tongue to gently brush on one of your nipples, making you twitch. "You're quite easy to please," he mutters as he flicks his tongue and sucks lightly on your nipple. "But then again... You are a virgin."

This made your eyes widen. You tilted your head to the side, covering your face with embarrassment. You hear Minho chuckle before he takes your wrists, removing your hands from your face. "Shhh, it's okay." he whispers in your ear. He places a quiet kiss on your ear lobe. He faces you again. "At least you didn't get to experience how horrible and selfish those men are when it comes to making love."

His smile falters. "No. They don't call it making love, do they?" his eyes trail down to your stomach, bringing himself down so he could place kisses and kitten licks on your skin. "I believe most of them like calling it casual sex."

"Bastards," he curses under his breath before lowering himself again, this time being face-to-face with your heat. You embarrassingly closed your legs, momentarily making him react as your thighs envelope his head. He looks up at you with an amused smirk. "Guess you're into that, huh?" he mumbles with a husky tone before finally leaning in.

You could swear you momentarily saw stars as soon as his warm, wet tongue ran through your folds. His breath would always exhale each time he would swirl his tongue around your clit, slurping occasionally from his makeshift chalice.

You were sweeter than ambrosia and nectar, and he couldn't have enough. You were a walking cardinal sin, ready to prey on a God, to tempt him to indulge in such temptation. And that God was him. Except that you weren't tempting him, but it was him who willingly walked into your trap without any provocation.

The God of Love, enchanted by a human being. By you.

As his sucks and licks increased their pace, so did your stiffled moans. "Don't keep your moans to yourself," he says. "I'd love some good music." He stuck his tongue inside of you, exploring every crevice of your walls as much as he could while his teeth would occasionally scrape lightly through your clit. When you finally moan out loud unintentionally, he smiles. "That's it. Let me hear your pretty voice."

Every second that he spent worshipping you with his tongue brought you closer to something. You were already way past from what you used to consider as climax from your self-ministrations but this was something else. Something higher. Something more pleasurable.

You subconsciously grabbed his head, pulling his head closer. Minho's eyes widen a bit, surprised at your action but complies anyway. He smirks, tongue lapping you up faster as his mouth starts making the most sinful sounds as he sucks you in his mouth. He holds both your legs, determined to make you see a taste of heaven just as much as how he was tasting his own version of heaven through you.

As he gives you a long, dragging suck with the swirling of his tongue on your clit, it finally brings you to the edge. Your eyes shut tight, mouth hung open, and back arched as you cry out in pleasure. Your legs shake as they attempt to wiggle out from his grasps but his hold was strong, keeping you in place as he continues to suck on you, giving you overstimulation as you ride your first high.

He eventually lets you recover as you pant, now hovering above you as he licks away the remaining juices off his lips as if it was syrup. His eyes observe you, loving how helpless you looked as you tried to catch your breath from just a single climax, and just with a simple oral too. Minho brushes off a stray hair off your face, tucking it behind your ear as he places a kiss on your forehead.

"Well?" he asks. "It's good, isn't it?" You were too out of it to even answer. No one could blame you, the first orgasm—whether it was oral or not—was always the most mind-blowing. Too mind-blowing it turned you speechless in a matter of minutes. "That guy you were dancing with wouldn't even give a single fuck whether you'd cum or not," he says. "He'd only want to put his sad excuse of a dick inside that pretty little mouth and call it a day."

Minho places a soft kiss on your lips. "Human men won't care for you as much as Love himself would," he pauses. "Because they do not know love. They only know Lust."

He gently opens your legs, zipping down his own pants in the process. "Let me make love to you," Minho says, caressing your thighs as he raises them. He places kisses on your legs. When you finally recover from your trance, you glance at him. He was now as naked as you were but you could swear you were laying your eyes upon a God. And you really were.

He was perfect regardless wherever you would lay your eyes upon. Especially his arms. God, his arms were like nothing you have ever seen and yet they held you with such care. He could flail you around like a ragdoll, just like what most men would do in those porn videos you'd watch each time you felt a little lonely. But no, he held you as if you were a priceless vase. He'd trace your body as if it was some rare artwork to revel on at a museum. He'd draw you in his head like you were one of his French girls. Except that he didn't have any of those. You were the only girl that made a significance within his eyes.

You finally gave in, tossing all reason aside. If this was going to be your final chance at love, you prayed. Then you might as well let it happen.

Your tongues danced within a kiss, intertwining with each other both emotionally and physically. He clung unto you and you clung unto him, bodies pressing into each other as your sweat would momentarily stick each time Minho would close the proximity between you two. His thrusts started as slow yet passionate strokes, your velvety walls hugging around him as you moan in between gaps of your sloppy kisses. His hand caresses your waist, resting by your hips as he grips them only to pull you back towards him so you'd meet his thrusts.

He wasn't ruthless. He wasn't in a rush. He wasn't destroying you. And just like he said, he wasn't just giving you sex. He was making love with you. His slow thrust eventually increase its pace, the tip of his cock now kissing your cervix at each thrust. The sinful sound of skins slapping fill the walls of his office, mixed in by both your moans. He would always place wet, open-mouthed kisses on your neck and latch his lips on your nipple, never having enough of you as he drives deeper and deeper into you.

If he could, he would bury himself into you. Get lost in pleasure with you. Stay inside you. If it meant showing you what love really was, he would do it. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure through your body and his as your moans encouraged him to go even deeper. He couldn't get enough of the way you looked at him. How your lips would mouth incoherent words as he continues to savor the feeling of being inside you.

Soon enough, the room was filled with nothing but heavy breathing and ragged gasps. You wrap your arms around Minho's neck, pulling him closer as you yourself get closer to your own climax once more. He could feel you slowly tightening around him, a smirk finding its way on his lips.

"Cumming again?" he whispers, quiet groans lacing his question in between as he starts to thrust into you at a faster pace. You nod absentmindedly, eyes shut tight as you arch your back once more. He raises your legs, gaining more access to thrust deeper. "Deeper," he mumbles. "A little more."

With each thrust, his cock reached deeper depths that you didn't know were reachable. It sent you on edge. With his one final thrust, he finally hits that button needed for you to snap, making you moan out loud. The way you suddenly clenched around him as he was buried deep inside you made him reach his own climax as well, painting your walls with his own release. "Cumming cumming cumming!" you mutter, hands gripping on his arms as his groans muffle themselves in your neck.

You both laid there, gasping for air in each other's arms, savoring each other's warmth before Minho finally raises his head from your neck and looks at you. His face held the most loving and softest expression. He was smiling at your dazed state.

He places a kiss on your forehead. On your nose. And on your lips before looking into your half-lidded eyes. "I'll be back soon," he says. He said something else after that but you were too exhausted to even remember as your eyes finally closed, sending you into a state of rest.

...

You awoke with a jolt as you shot up from your bed, eyes open wide as you pant. You glanced around, immediately recognizing your surroundings as your bedroom. You frown to yourself, glancing down beneath the blanket.

What the hell happened? you asked yourself. You weren't exactly sure. You remembered being in a bar to meet up with that tinder date you have been crushing on since last week but after that, you passed out—probably from alcohol and now here you were, confused.

You wondered how you got home in the first place.

And that dream, you sighed to yourself, feeling your core wet from whatever dream you had. You shook your head, a palm running through your face as you groan in frustration.

"I can't believe I was so desperate to the point I'd dream of making love with someone," you roll your eyes at yourself as you throw yourself back on the bed again. This time, hugging your pillow and your curiosity piqued at your dream. "Whoever that guy was in my dream was really attractive though," you mutter to yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Minho observed you through the window of your room from far a way, chuckling. He observes your pretty features first before finally turning around.

He'll remain in your dreams for now. After all, that was how Greek Gods would visit their human love affairs—through dreams. Though this time, he'd visit your dreams frequently.

Maybe because he wants less paperwork from you. Maybe because he wants you to pine for him more than the men you'd meet.

Eitherway, he can't wait until he visits you the next time you close your eyes again.

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!!

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solecize · 2 months

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: jungkook thinks he's helping you get over your fear of riding a horse and in reality, you're trying to get over your fear of asking out your childhood best friend. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 2.6k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒/𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. light use of foul language, friends to lovers, jungkook is a horse loving country boy, pure fluff 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. this could be read as a standalone drabble, but is an interlude in between "the dancefloor" and "the phone call" of the farmhouse series. find the full series here!

when jungkook found out that you were scared shitless of riding a horse, he made it his mission to help you get rid of your fear.

you could only hide it for so long, dodging your friends’ invitations to join them on the trails. your sleepy town on the countryside was known for its stunning visuals, marked by crisp emerald woods, open fields and a river that wrapped around the borders. nothing felt more freeing than enjoying nature in the sweltering summer with wind in your hair.

it wasn’t always like this, of course. you used to love riding as a little girl, having learned at a young age. however, as years went on, it fell to the back of your mind and the idea was now not only foreign, but frightening.

“you’re a full-blown equestrian,” you blinked at the shelf in front of you, full of a myriad of trophies, photos and framed ribbons in every colour of the rainbow.

in his efforts to convince you to let him help you tackle your fears, jungkook asked you to come over. you were a bit hesitant for multiple reasons, especially when he began leading you to his bedroom, but you were surprised at what he wanted you to see. you were always distracted when you were with jungkook, sometimes by his charming smile and lip piercings, other times it was his chiseled arms decorated with tattoos. however, not today, as you peered into his room and your jaw dropped.

jungkook stood with his arms crossed around his chest, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “well? if there’s anyone to help you with this, it’s me.”

from eventing to cross-country, it was evident that jungkook was more than a well-seasoned equestrian. you glanced over at one framed picture, depicting jungkook in a cowboy hat and denim, hoisting a large, golden cup in his arms. beside him was his horse, leo, and his other arm held a helmet. you were in disbelief.

“honestly, that’s really freaking impressive. no joke.”

it was definitely not something you expected from jungkook, at least visually. if you didn't know him personally, you would be scared of him. big man with tattoos and piercings, strong gaze. at the end of the day, though, his energy was nothing short of boy-next-door with a heart of gold. it was endearing, seeing pictures of him lovingly hold his favourite horse.

“then, you can trust me. i’ll be a great teacher.” jungkook grinned.

you sighed. “i don’t know -”

“you used to love riding! you’re just nervous, we can fix that fast,” jungkook insisted and you weren’t sure if it was the array of awards in front of you or his countryside charm, but you grew more and more convinced.

or, maybe it was because you were standing in jungkook’s bedroom and the idea of it made your stomach flutter with butterflies. it was worrisome to be spending even more time with jungkook amidst your seemingly unresolved feelings. it only added to the anxieties surrounding getting on a horse for the first time in years.

you weren’t sure if you could even call what you had for jungkook to be romantic feelings. he was your closest friend, but over the past few weeks, the two of you found yourself constantly in situations that made your heart pound and you couldn’t begin to understand why. however, he gave you the kind of mixed signals that made you question everything you were thinking. for now, the only thing you could do was push forward and prioritize your friendship. it was hard, moving back into town and finding out that your childhood best friend got hot.

“let me be a good friend and help you out,” he said, turning around and gesturing for you to follow him. you had to swallow the “f” work like poison.

it was perhaps these conflicting thoughts that led you to follow jungkook to the back of his house, sending waves of relief through your body to be away from such an intimate space like his room. you were too scared to even look around when you were there, only barely making it past the door frame and peeked your head in to see his shelves.

it didn’t clock in, though, that jungkook was leading you to his stables.

jungkook looked up at the sky, “it’s a beautiful day,” he half-sang, nudging you.

the golden rays of the summer sun were blinding and hugged your entire body, while the light breeze in the atmosphere painted a picture perfect scene to head to the trails. you didn’t realize you were pouting until jungkook noticed and laughed at you.

“i can’t believe i’m doing this,” you muttered, as you took in the sights.

the jeon family built their stables generations ago and while you were unaware of jungkook’s equestrian success, you knew that they were always known for owning a number of beautiful horses, partly because jungkook’s father used to be heavily interested in breeding horses. the two of you trudged over, as you entered the tack room. the storage area held space for miscellaneous equipment, like saddles, bridles and other grooming equipment.

jungkook suddenly turned around and gave you a once over, which you raised your eyebrows at. did he just check you out? he noticed your expression and his ears tinted the slightest shade of pink.

“oh, uh, sorry. i just wanted to make sure you were wearing appropriate clothing to ride,” he awkwardly scratched his neck and you nodded - a little too vigorously - in understanding.

“i should be fine,” you replied, forcing a chuckle. you were wearing leggings and a t-shirt, as well as a pair of boots. you’d just finished work for the day and you always opted for comfortable clothing.

he then passed you a helmet and a body vest for you to slip on. “see! that’s the spirit,” jungkook encouraged, snickering when you sent him a death glare in response.

with the necessary equipment in his arms, jungkook waited for you to adjust your riding gear before leading you to the stalls.

“you know leo, this here is orion and that’s astra. . .” he introduced, gesturing to each horse. “and this is virgo. you’ll be riding her today.”

“wait - all of your horses are named after constellations.”

you stared at jungkook, who stared blankly at you right back. astronomy was your life-long hobby, which you introduced jungkook to as kids. at around age nine or ten, you couldn’t go more than a little while without mentioning your love for it in a conversation. now, when you left town years ago, the jeon family had a sizeable number of horses that was likely impossible for just jungkook to maintain on his own. none of these horses were ones you met before. these names were recent and after you were gone.

it was as if a lightbulb went off above jungkook’s head, as his expression turned sheepish, “oh, yeah. i ended up having to sell our old horses when i didn’t have the money or time to care for them. these beauties came along within the past few years and the constellation theme just kinda came about.”

“i wonder from where,” you commented dryly.

jungkook rolled his eyes. “don’t get a big head. i just thought it sounded cool,” he brushed it off, but he was now pink in the cheeks.

you didn’t tease him further - mostly because he began setting up the bridle and you realized you actually had to ride the horse. she was a beautiful morgan horse of a deep chestnut colour and looked similar to your childhood horse, marshmallow. it was unfortunate that you never got to say goodbye to marshmallow, as he passed away in between your last summer in town and your recent move back.

finally, you, jungkook and virgo were outside. the fields behind his house were vast and you could see pops of yellow throughout, indicating specks of sunflowers. you turned to jungkook, a pout on your face.

“wipe that frown off, it makes you look ugly,” jungkook said.

“wow, you think i’m pretty then?” you retorted, making sure that your pout became more exaggerated.

“shut up. are you ready?” he rolled his eyes. “don’t forget, it’s all about communication and trust between you and the horse. safety is key, so always approach calmly and confidently. you remember the basic aids and how to mount?”

you looked at him, then at virgo, and back to jungkook again. you didn’t verbalize it, but you were essentially frozen in your tracks. you were pretending that you weren’t by goofing around, but you were scared shitless. even though you were trying to hide it, it was obvious that jungkook saw right through you.

“what?” you asked innocently.

jungkook groaned. “come on. you’ve done this before, you have nothing to be scared of.” he stopped his teasing and his features transformed with seriousness. he was genuinely trying to be encouraging at this point.

you sighed. it wasn’t clear where this random fear came from, but imagining yourself on a horse made you feel like you were going to throw up. squeezing your eyes shut tight, you tried calming yourself down, while keeping the same image in mind.

he was right, though. you weren’t a total beginner, you were just freaked out at the entire idea of getting on a horse. you took a deep breath and slowly approached virgo. you reached out for her reins.you then placed your left foot into the stirrup, while grasping onto the front of the saddle for support. then, in one swift motion, you swung your right leg over the horse’s back and gently settled yourself. you heard jungkook let out a low whistle.

you shot a look at him. “what, am i doing something wrong already?” it was already getting hard for you to breathe at a consistent pace, even though your movements were efficient and one of the hardest parts was already over.

“nah, not at all. you sure you’re actually scared?” jungkook asked. “you got on her like a pro with no directions! no mounting block, too!”

“you never offered one,” you hissed. “and no, i’m not scared. i’m only shaking for no reason. just something i like to do.” this was through gritted teeth, as you looked out in the distant horizon to distract yourself. virgo was calm and didn’t scare you off in any way, but you knew that if you looked down, you were going to start freaking out.

jungkook approached closer and you nearly flinched when he put a gentle hand on your own hand, where your knuckles were turning into the colour of paper from gripping the reins so tightly. you loosened the tenseness in your shoulders ever so slightly when he rubbed your hand in an attempt to calm you down.

“you got this.”

you gulped, finally meeting his eyes. they softened at the contact and you felt your heart begin to race again - but this time, it wasn’t because of the horse.

he inspected your form and nodded in satisfaction. “looks good. you might want to sit up a bit straighter.”

“like this?” you moved ever so slightly, but froze when virgo shifted underneath you.

jungkook chuckled. “relax. just like this.”

nothing could have prepared you for the way he reached over, gently placing his hand on your torso and helping you with your posture. your heart began pounding and you looked away again.

“better,” he murmured, hands still on your waist. then, realizing that he’d been in the same position for a little too long, retracted his arms like fire. if you weren’t losing your mind, you would have laughed at him.

eventually, like jungkook insisted, you got the hang of things in no time. knowing how to ride wasn’t something you could just forget, but ridding yourself of your anxieties was a different beast to tackle. you had to admit, it was so much easier with jungkook’s help. he cracked jokes and the way his tattoos decorated his muscular arms in broad daylight were incredibly distracting, but he was patient and kind to you.

by sundown, you were confident enough to see the trails with jungkook. the two of you went and at the end of the evening, you made it to the top of a hill with him. the sight was nothing less than breathtaking. there was just something so captivating about the way the clouds faded against streaks of lilac and the wide fields felt infinite. jungkook stood just a few feet away from you, with his horse, leo, at his side and was also looking out at the skyline.

you gazed outwards in admiration. "getting over my fears was so worth the view."

"i would never, ever trade this view for anything. i love it here," jungkook sighed. "in town, you get to see the stars and the fields and everything with no bright lights or loud cars."

and, it was true. there was a beauty that could only be found at the top of a hill in a small town surrounded by nothing but dirt and water. regardless, even if it was just dirt and water that bordered your tiny town, it was dirt and water that could have been handcrafted by mother nature herself. there was a certain serenity found in watching the sunset in the countryside with a man that made your stomach turn with butterflies every time you looked in his eyes. you smiled to yourself and to virgo, as if there was a secret shared between you both about jungkook.

“i told you to believe in me,” he remarked, eying the way you patted virgo. “you’re no city girl. you’re meant to be out here with m - uh, us.”

you couldn’t turn your head faster after your ears perked up at the last word. was he going to say “me” and stopped himself? jungkook cleared his throat and looked away once more.

“yeah. . .maybe i am,” you replied, biting your lip.

“you should’ve seen yourself!” jungkook suddenly exclaimed, nearly bouncing off his feet. “you were great and virgo loves you. hell, you’re better with her than any of the boys are - she almost trampled jimin one time.”

you scoffed. “and you thought it would be a good idea to let me practice with her? you know, if you wanted to kill me today, just say that.”

“but you survived,” jungkook smiled, stepping ever so slightly towards you. without hesitation, he brushed a hair away from your eyes.

you hoped he didn’t notice your breath completely stopping. bravery was forever a challenge to catch and bottle up like a firefly, seemingly impossible to have at times. it took bravery to face your fears today. somehow, the next words that came out of your mouth took even more.

after a beat, you found your voice. “jungkook. . .” you trailed off and he looked at you, curiously. “do you. . .wanttogetdinnerthisweekend?”

the words were jumbled and rapid, spilling out of your mouth. you thought you tripped over them, given jungkook’s raised eyebrows. you opened your mouth to repeat yourself, but he then broke out into a smile.

“yes. yes, of course.”

bravery came in many forms, whether it was falling for your best friend or taking a dive out of a plane. it lived in every sunset that dared to be more beautiful than the last and the leaps of faith sleeping within someone that would never see the light of day without the right person to push them forward.

#jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts au #bts scenarios #bts series #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook au

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heretherebedork · 7 months

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I am thinking a lot about how Ai Di is wearing a collar and a chain and a rainbow sweater while he declares his love for Chenyi and acts on his love in a moment that he knows is wrong but also believes is the end to everything they've ever had because his true final act of love is to leave. His final act of love is to leave Chenyi behind after doing something unforgivable.

(The embrace, the colors around them and on their skin, etched into them, becoming part of them. That Ai Di is still wearing red pants in this scene and then wearing red pants when he gets out of prison and it's the same thing, it's chaos and brilliance and love and knowing that he cannot have what he wants or wishes and then he cries onto Chenyi and it's only when he cries that Chenyi comes to life because he is crying for both of them and for what he's doing and for the future he can never have and for their brotherhood that he feels he's betrayed for his love.)

Still in rainbows. Still in his collar and his chain. And now he's giving up his life for the sake of letting Chenyi be free, of giving him freedom and of knowing that what he did when he was drunk was wrong.

It's a repayment that means it's all over, this is the end for Ai Di because he cannot forgive himself and he cannot get over his love and he can never, ever ask Chenyi to forgive him for what he did and so he is going to renounce every single bit of it, he's doing to let go of every single thing that shaped him and become whoever he is meant to be without that.

Ai Di loves Chenyi and believes that Chenyi could never love him back except as brothers and so he cannot do anything except try to give up. Try to move on. And he expects Chenyi to do the same thing. He expects Chenyi to say good riddance to him.

But isntead Chenyi shows up to take him back and doesn't take no for an answered, doesn't stop, just grabs him and picks him up again and again and takes him away with him because for Chenyi he's had four years to wonder and four years to change and four years of wanting to understand.

So much black and Ai Di is a brilliant pop of color in the middle. He is always the pop of color in the darkness and even in the sunlight he stands out so much, so bright and brilliant and present.

(Chenyi wants to know so much and cannot let go and he loves Ai Di but now he has to convince him to come back to him because they've each had four years to consider the future and make choices and they made very different choices.)

Chenyi made Ai Di bright and spicy food, all the colors and all the heat because he needs to know but also because he loves. Chenyi has missed his bright colors and everything Ai Di brings to his life.

(Ai Di assumes every question Chenyi asks is about sex but I think, frankly, Chenyi is asking more about why he left than why they fucked. Because he has spent four years worrying and missing and loving and he doesn't want to keep doing that. He wants to know why Ai Di did that and then left him.

Because Ai Di was never supposed to leave him.)

The shock on his face when Ai Di mentioned the idea of revenge, like it never even crossed his mind? Because it probably never did.

Ai Di went to prison but he want to go take care of Zongyi and look out for his friend. But Chenyi stayed on the outside and he realized that he wasn't in love with the man he thought he was, that he loved the one person who had left him, the one person who left him after he said he never would.

(Tiny note, the red on his shirt is over his stomach and the first thing he does is try to win Ai Di's heart through his stomach and @respectthepetty I am thinking far, far too deeply.)

Bright lights and lots of color all around them but, in this shot, they're both in black and the light barely touches them. The light is pure white and brilliant and it's blinding. They're trapped in that light, too seen and yet unable to see.

Chenyi is trying so hard not to let go, to keep Ai Di, to give him every excuse in the book to stay and I think that if Ai Di just stopped trying to leave Chenyi would accept anything he said because he doesn't know how to let go.

And the most heartbroken face when Chenyi pulls away from him again, when he leaves again, when he refuses to explain anything or to stay with him and just keeps trying to get away from him because he truly believes that Chenyi shouldn't forgive him for what he did and that there's no way Chenyi loves him or ever loved him that way he loves him.

But Ai Di in blue? Already got his hair back to blonde but he's still in blue and Chenyi is in black and white but the lights around them are red again, lighting them both the same way.

They need to communicate but neither of them knows how because they've spent a lifetime communicating without having to talk and now they need to actually talk.

They were brothers. They relied on each other. They knew each other so well they could fight without even looking. All their communication was natural and now they need to fight that and actually speak to each other, to understand each other, to make themselves be vulnerable because that is the only way they can get past this.

They can do it. The red light promises that they can. But right now they're on very, very different pages.

#kiseki: dear to me #kdtm #chen yi x ai di #ai di #ai di x chen yi #bl drama #bl series #asianlgbtqdramas #asian lgbtq dramas #taiwanese bl #taiwan bl #taiwanese drama #taiwan drama #taiwanese series #kiseki dear to me #taiwanese bl series #taiwanese bl drama #i love them so much

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lonely-cowboy · 4 months

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chasing rainbows

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: you recently learned that connor has only ever seen the world in one color. gutted at the thought of such a colorless world, you decide to help him see the beauty of the world. only he doesn't care about the world. he only cares about you.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: nothing major, but lowkey a mess bc this is my first longer-ish fic, reader is really embracing her y/n moment, connor is so ooc it's kinda insane but i love him so whatever, they're both really confused about their feelings until they're suddenly not

author's note: i'm replaying dbh as one does bc i was sad and missed connor AND I'M LITERALLY FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE THIS PLAYTHROUGH?? my first playthrough was so nice and sweet and silly so now i'm trying to get other endings BUT I'M NOT STRONG ENOUGH FOR ALL THE EMOTIONAL DAMAGE?? anyway, my solution (as always) was to write happy connor and some grumpy hank yay! yes i did spend the first 1k words talking about literal colors, ignore that

masterlist ⟡ requests

Work was never the place to do work. That was something you learned from Hank after working under him for years.

Sitting at your desk that was situated across from Hank and Connor, you decided to ignore your terminal and the case report it displayed. You’d get to it eventually. Eventually. Besides, you were confident that you would be able to finish it relatively quickly.

Instead, you were tiredly flipping through a book of color swatches. Your gaze flitted across endless pages, darting from color to color as you searched for something eye-catching. In your recent efforts to make your apartment feel more homely, you decided it was time to add an accent wall, you just needed the right color. Obviously, the precinct was the best place to be color searching.

By the time you reached the end of the swatch booklet, you had only found two colors that interested you. At least then it would be easier to make a decision. You eyed the olive and plum swatches like you would a homicide suspect, trying your best to picture them in your apartment. You pursed your lips in thought, staring at the colors for so long that you could’ve sworn you were going cross-eyed.

“Detective?” Connor called, your eyes snapping to meet his. “Are you alright?”

“Actually, no, I’m not,” you answered with an exaggerated sigh, trying to sound as hopeless as possible. “I’m having quite the dilemma.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked.

The sincerity in his voice made your heart melt. He always showed such care for you. Sometimes you wondered if it was just another part of his social programming, but somehow, you knew it wasn’t. Connor genuinely did care about you, even when it was just your inability to pick a paint color. You almost felt bad for teasing him. Almost.

“I just can’t for the life of me decide on a paint color,” you said, glancing up at him with that shit-eating grin he was unfortunate to know so well.

Connor’s pleasant smile collapsed into a disappointed frown once he realized he had succumbed to your teasing.

“Saw that coming from a mile away,” Hank grumbled.

“You can help too, Lieutenant!” you said in an excessively cheerful tone, just to annoy Hank. “It’s not like you’re doing anything important.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you, kid” Hank sighed, turning his chair to face you fully. Work was never the place to do work.

With both Connor and Hank focused on you, you slid the two color swatches across your desk. Hank leaned forward with mild interest, nodding his head to himself as he considered both choices. Connor mimicked Hank, leaning forward and furrowing his brows at the sight of the swatches.

After a long moment of deliberation, Hank finally said, “Green.”

You nodded in approval as Connor looked at Hank with what could only be described as pure confusion. He then turned back to the colors before looking at you with an unsettled expression.

“I don’t understand,” Connor murmured. “These colors are the same.”

You and Hank stared at Connor in bewilderment. Maybe you could understand it if the colors were different shades of the same color and androids just had a poor sense of color differentiation. But these swatches weren’t even remotely close in color. There was nothing similar about them at all.

You and Hank exchanged a look of confusion. Maybe this was Connor’s attempt at a joke. No, he had made jokes before, and they were genuinely funny. Especially the ones that poked fun at Hank.

“Connor,” you started. “What do you mean?”

“They’re the same,” Connor repeated with a shrug, looking between you and Hank like he didn’t understand what he was missing. And he obviously didn’t understand.

“One is olive, one is plum,” you said.

“Green and purple,” Hank offered rather unhelpfully.

Connor only shrugged again, still unable to differentiate the two.

“Does anything look different than normal?” you questioned.

“No,” Connor replied simply.

Was it possible for androids to be colorblind? The idea baffled you. The only way Connor could be colorblind was if he was programmed to be that way. Why would he be programmed to not see color?

“Can you… I don’t know… describe what things look like to you?” you asked unsurely. Was that too abstract of a thought for an android? It was already too abstract for you. “Does everything look the same color?”

Connor considered your question, eyes narrowed as he glanced around the precinct. Hank looked at you like you were crazy for wanting to get to the root of this. Maybe you were.

“I… I suppose it all appears relatively similar,” Connor said with equal uncertainty.

You frowned at that. The world must have seemed so… well, sad to Connor. You hated the thought of his world being limited to a single color. He deserved to see the world for what it really was. He deserved so much… If you could at least give him this one thing, you would be satisfied.

“Do you want to change that?” you proposed.

“I admit, I would be curious,” Connor replied.

Immediately, you jumped up from your desk chair and started putting your coat on. Connor took that as a sign to do the same, rising from his chair to stand beside you.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Hank interjected. “Where do you two think you’re going?”

“To help Connor, obviously,” you replied with a bratty eye roll.

“That has nothing to do with work, kid, sit down,” Hank retorted, preferring that the two of you stayed with him so that he didn’t have to suffer alone.

“This has everything to do with work,” you countered like the typical asshole Hank knew you as. “Don’t you realize all the ways this probably inhibits Connor’s work? I mean, picture a typical crime scene. There are probably so many details he’s missing because he can’t fucking see color!”

“Actually,” Connor remarked. “I speculate that my limited color sensory was included in an effort to keep me focused on my investigations and avoid any distractions–”

“Connor,” you intervened, turning to give him a stern look.

“Yes, Detective?”

“Shut up.”

Immediately, Connor sealed his lips shut and pressed them into a thin line. You adored it when he listened to you.

You turned your attention back to Hank, flashing that brilliant smile that told him you weren’t going to listen to a single fucking thing he said. He sighed grumpily at the sight of it, turning back to his desk with a shake of his head.

In the absence of any other objections, you grabbed Connor’s hand and led him out of the precinct. You wondered if he could see the vibrant blush that coated your cheeks at the intimate contact. You hoped not.

He did.

───── ⋆��☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Are you sure about this?” you questioned hesitantly.

In the middle of your living room, you stood in front of Connor with his new occipital unit in hand. You held it gingerly as if the slightest touch would break it. Although it was a lot easier to purchase biocomponents than you had expected. If it were to break, you would only have to walk three or so blocks to buy a new one.

You looked at Connor worriedly while he stood patiently. You were far, far from any kind of engineer. You had absolutely zero experience when it came to replacing android biocomponents. No matter how many times Connor reassured you, you still stressed at the thought of making a mistake. He promised it was easy, but how could changing biocomponents be anywhere close to easy?

“You can do it, I promise,” Connor murmured encouragingly.

His hand came up to encircle your wrist, tugging your hand forward gently. Your cheeks heated at the contact, making you aware of just how close the two of you were. You glanced away bashfully as you were overwhelmed by butterflies. When you returned your attention to Connor, you watched in awe as the skin around his right eye peeled away, revealing the natural white plastic. Connor’s eyes flicked across your face nervously, worried that you might be disturbed. But to you, it was like seeing a new and vulnerable side to Connor, one that you very much enjoyed.

As you reached for his current occipital unit, you froze with your brows furrowed. Your apartment was far from an interesting sight. There wasn’t much to look at, your apartment still lacking a homely feeling. Damnit, you really needed that accent wall.

“Come on,” you said without explanation.

You moved to leave your apartment after gently placing the two new occipital units into your bag. Slugging it over your shoulder, you waited at the door for Connor to follow. Connor stared after you, the white plastic disappearing.

“Come on,” you repeated, gesturing for him to follow.

Connor followed without a second thought. God, it really was so endearing when he listened.

You led Connor out of your apartment building and across the street to the nearby park. You wandered aimlessly for what felt like hours, trying to find the most scenic view for Connor to enjoy as his first sight.

At last, you settled on a bench situated in front of a little pond. Tall, stooping trees crowded the pond with just enough space between their branches to see the bright sky above. You were glad to be enjoying this moment in the fall when the leaves were the perfect shades of orange.

You stood with your hands on your hips, eyeing the view with a skeptical glint. Connor would be able to see a good range of colors from here. This place would do just fine.

Pulling Connor along, you sat him down on the bench by lightly pressing on his shoulders. Once he was seated with his hands neatly placed along his thighs, you reached for the first occipital unit from your bag.

“Okay,” you said with a determined huff. “Much better view, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see it very well,” Connor replied cheekily.

You couldn’t help but smile at that, rolling your eyes at Connor’s teasing. This only meant he had been spending a concerning amount of time around you and Hank. When you looked back at him, you exhaled slowly, “Ready?”

Connor nodded once, revealing the white plastic of his right eye once again. Before pulling it out, you reached forward and pressed a soft hand overtop Connor’s eyes, silently reminding him to keep his eyes closed until you said otherwise. When you pulled your hand away, you were pleased to find that his eyes remained closed.

Your fingertips then pressed against the plastic of Connor’s occipital unit. It popped out easily, allowing you to pull it out slowly and with ease, just as Connor had promised. It was jarring to see him without an eye. Or rather without a whole chunk of his face. You worried you might still mess up, leaving him without half of his face.

But when you pressed the new occipital unit forward, you found that it was just as easy as pulling the old one out. It took a moment to adjust, but the new part quickly shifted to match Connor’s appearance, his freckled skin melting over it and the doe-like shape of his eyes returning. That made you sigh with relief. You just hoped they were still the same beautiful brown you found yourself constantly lost in.

You then did the same with his other eye, quietly applauding yourself for not making a single mistake.

With his occipital units in place, you rounded the bench to stand behind Connor whose eyes remained closed obediently. Standing behind him, you placed your hands over his eyes once again, a giddy smile adorning your lips.

“You ready?” you asked, unable to contain your excitement.

“I think so,” Connor said hesitantly.

“Yeah, you’re ready,” you decided.

Slowly, you pulled your hands away, studying Connor with a sweet smile. You expected him to enjoy the view in silence, looking at every single thing he possibly could. But you were surprised to find that he barely even regarded the view. Instead, he immediately turned to look at you from over his shoulder.

With a tentative hand, he reached out for your hand that rested on the bench’s back. He pulled you gently around the bench so that you stood in front of him. His hand still held your limp hand as he stood to face you. He looked down at you with a small but warm smile, eyes exploring every inch of your face.

The unexpected attention had your heart racing, a nervous heat spreading throughout your body. You clenched your jaw tightly, a jumble of confusing and unwanted emotions consuming your entirety. Not wanting to say anything stupid to ruin… whatever this moment was, you clamped your mouth shut. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander, exploring Connor’s features the same way he did yours.

Connor’s warm touch left your hand, making you frown ever so slightly. But you were immediately comforted as he placed both hands on your cheeks. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles along your cheekbones like they had a mind of their own, relaxing your clenched jaw. His eyes locked with yours, never once blinking in fear that he would miss something if he did.

You practically forgot how to speak. You forgot how to do everything. It was a hassle to recall how you were even supposed to breathe. The only thing you could do was stare at Connor with a dreamy glimmer in your eyes.

“Your eyes are really pretty,” Connor mumbled.

You swallowed timidly before speaking, “Thank you.”

“You’re…” Connor began before his LED circled red.

Your gaze flickered to his LED, watching intently as it continued to flash red. That was a poor move on your part. Having broken the intense eye contact, Connor glanced away from you, looking straight ahead and dropping his hands from your cheeks like he suddenly awoke from a trance. Focused on the horizon, Connor’s LED spiraled yellow several times before returning to its typical blue.

His sudden change in attitude only added to your confusion of emotions. You took a pained step back, eyes falling to the ground.

“I didn’t expect the leaves to be this color,” Connor commented casually.

You cleared your throat and turned your back to Connor to focus on the leaves. You didn’t want him to see your embarrassed flush, though you were sure he already did.

“They’re not always this color,” you muttered. “Only in the fall. In the warmer months, they’re green.”

You caught a glimpse of Connor tilting his head, his nose scrunched with intrigue. He tried to visualize what that would look like, but having only seen one color since his creation, he didn’t seem to understand.

“Green like… like the grass,” you clarified, pointing to an open patch of grass.

“I’d like to see that. Perhaps you can bring me back here in the spring,” Connor hummed. When you didn’t say anything, he continued. “Are there other colors to see?”

“So many more,” you answered, flashing Connor a small (and slightly awkward) smile.

Connor trailed along beside you as you strolled through the park. Still too embarrassed to look at him, you also took the opportunity to admire the beauty of the park’s striking colors. You were ignorant to the way Connor watched you contently out of the corner of his eye. Of all the wonderfully colorful sights, you were by far his favorite. You were the only thing he could look at.

“Which one is your favorite?” Connor asked as you slowed your walk, having walked the entirety of the park. “Color, I mean.”

You stopped to consider his question, looking around at the abundance of colors. They were all so beautiful in their own ways that it was difficult to choose. But then your eyes landed on Connor, and it seemed so clear.

“Blue,” you replied definitively.

You felt foolish for your choice, but you couldn’t help that there was some truth to it. Blue had always been a pleasant color, but after knowing Connor, it took on a different meaning. When Connor’s LED was blue, it indicated he was happy. Or at least satisfied. You liked to see him when he was happy. It eased your mind knowing he was content. Because of him, it was now a color you associated with joy.

Though you didn’t say anything, you looked away flustered, wondering if Connor could somehow read your mind. You wouldn’t be at all surprised if he could.

“Do you have a favorite?” you inquired quickly.

Connor pursed his lips, mimicking you as he looked around the park. His head then snapped down to look at you, eyes immediately finding yours. He cocked his head curiously the way he always did. The way that made you so weak you could barely stand.

“What color are your eyes?” Connor wondered.

Your eyes widened, eyebrows arched as if you had misheard him. But you knew you hadn’t.

The way he spoke so nonchalantly drove you insane. How could he be so casual about something like this? Did he know what he was doing to you? Was he doing it on purpose? What did any of this mean? Was there any chance at all that he could care for you the same way you did him?

“Uh…,” you mumbled, stuttering out your eye color.

Connor nodded thoughtfully at your answer, his charming eyes still latched onto yours.

“Then that’s what I would say,” said Connor. “Your eyes are my favorite.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, clueless as to how on earth you were supposed to respond to that.

The corners of Connor’s lips quirked into an affectionate smile. He arched his brows at you like he expected something more than just oh.

Your mind was racing for anything to say. Were you just supposed to ignore Connor’s loving words that felt far too much like a subtle confession? Were you supposed to confront it head-on? Neither of those options sounded good.

“Thanks,” you whispered. “I like them too.”

As you cursed yourself endlessly for saying the stupidest fucking thing to come to mind, Connor’s grin widened. A quiet laugh escaped his lips, one that you didn’t hear through the blaring alarms screaming “why are you such an idiot?” in your head.

“That was stupid,” you groaned, deciding it was better to admit it than ignore it. “But… thank you. You… you have pretty eyes too.”

“Thank you, Detective,” Connor said cheerfully.

You moved to continue walking with Connor close at your side. Maybe you were crazy (there was always a good chance of that), but you could’ve sworn he was standing considerably closer than before. Your arm swung at your side, his arm brushing against yours in the slightest. It didn’t matter how insignificant that touch was, it meant something to you. Maybe it meant something to Connor too.

You had been walking in complete silence until Connor spoke, his words making you trip and fumble and scream and cry and scream and die a little.

“You’re pretty to look at. All of you, not just your eyes,” he said, shooting you an adorably attractive wink for emphasis.

You stopped dead in your tracks, Connor trailing ahead until he noticed you were no longer beside him. You stared at him with a far too serious expression, one that made him doubt his words. How could he be so casual about something so serious? Did he actually feel this way, or was it all a heartless prank?

“Your words are really fucking with me, Connor, you know that?” you said.

“I know,” Connor nodded with a cocky edge. God, he really was spending way too much time with you and Hank to be this snarky.. “Your heart has been racing the entire time we’ve been together.”

“So you’re purposefully torturing me?”

“I wouldn’t consider this torture. But, yes. I suppose I’ve been… holding this over you.”

“Well, stop that!”

Connor flashed you a cheeky grin as he approached you again. His hands moved to cup your reddened cheeks, warming them with his soft touch.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t do this to you,” Connor said fondly. “Not when you’ve shown me how beautiful the world is… How beautiful you are.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, trying to hide the smile that crept along your lips.

“You’ve told me before that I’m terrible at shutting up, I don’t see why I should start now.”

You and Connor wore matching smirks as you tried to best the other, subconsciously moving closer to each other.

“Oh, so you don’t want to shut up and kiss me?” you parried.

“When did those words ever leave my mouth?”

“When did you get so cocky?”

“When I realized I could have you.”

You had nothing to say after that. No witty remark or snide comment. All you could offer was a gentle smile.

Connor leaned forward, his nose brushing against yours. He was so close that you could feel his breath– so real for an android– against your lips.

“Pretty smile too,” he murmured, his lips grazing yours.

“It’d look even prettier if you actually kissed me,” you whispered.

Connor knew he couldn’t win this battle of wits. He honorably accepted his loss, knowing it was the only way to kiss you. You beamed into his kiss, proud of yourself for being so stubborn. That was quickly lost on you when you felt the softness of Connor’s lips. You indulged in his touch, leaning forward against his chest to feel as much of him as possible.

Connor pulled away sooner than you would have liked, resting his forehead against yours. A breath of a laugh escaped his lips when he saw that desperate glint in your eyes. He pulled back to look you in the eye after pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. His thumb brushed under your eye, lost in the color he loved so dearly.

“You’ll always be my favorite sight.”

#detroit become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #connor rk800

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