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poppy-metal · 1 day

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MARRIAGE COUNSELING W ART PLEASEEEEEEEE GOD THE DEVASTATION THAT TAKES PLACE ON THAT COUCH

i think about it alot. tashi staying with patrick, her injury never happening. your arts college girlfriend and now you're married and it feels fucking stagnant, your relationship. but neither of you wants to give up. neither of you wants to reveal to the other true feelings.

under the cut because this got long and i have a whole au in my hear around this concept

you're only in counseling because of tashi. because shes still in your lives, her and patrick. and she recommended it to art when they were having one of their 'friend' lunches. and now here you are, because of course art took her advice.

he hasn't said anything, though. despite pleading for this. saying he wanted to save your marriage, that he wanted to love you how you should be loved but he didn't know how.

so here you are, on opposite ends of the couch, with the counselor staring at the empty space between you like that in itself is very telling. you suppose it is, in a way. couples who want to stay together should be unified, shouldn't they? you imagine how it would feel, if art had sat next to you. put an arm around you. squeezed you to his side. would you even be able to relax into him? its been so long since you touched eachother that way.

"so im picking up on some distance here," your therapist says. shes a small woman. almost swallowed by her chair. her glasses are perched on her nose as she gazes imperiously at empty space separating you and art. "not just physical either, though thats rather obviously there. but emotional distance. do either of you wanna comment on that?"

you cut a glance at art, expecting him to speak up since this was his idea - well. tashi's. but he just looks down at his lap, quiet. spins his wedding band around his finger.

you feel an anger so intense it pricks your eyes with tears.

"well, i guess you could start with the fact that coming here wasn't even either of our idea. it was his friends."

and now. here art speaks. his head jerks up and she shoots you an annoyed look. "you don't have to say it like that. you always say it like that. her name is tashi and she is my friend. and it was her suggestion, yeah, but it was a good one."

you look at the therapist - janet. raise your eyebrows in arts direction like, get a load of this guy. your legs cross and you start picking at a stray string from the couch.

"first words of the session and its to talk about another woman."

arts inhale is sharp and you can feel his eyes on you but you dont look at him. you can't. you wont. you're right, anyway. he can try to deny it all he wants but you know - you know what you are to him. you know where all your problems stem. you dont need to be here to make any grand discoveries over a fact you've resigned yourself too.

"i see." janet says. "and art having a relationship with this other woman upsets you."

"everything upsets her." art cuts in, sounding tired. his elbow is braced on the arm of the couch and hes chewing on his thumb in one of his nervous gestures. he always did that, as long as you've known him. he was a nail biter, he'd chew his lips raw, he'd nibble on straws, the ends of his pens. he was either lost in thought or agitated. your guess was the latter. "nothing i do makes her happy."

"is this true? are you unhappy with art?"

your skin feels hot. you shift around in your seat. the attention is all on you, and it feels like you've done something wrong, even though you know its literally janets job to ask questions.

"more like i know I'm not what he wants and that makes me...... really fucking sad."

art knees almost knock against yours as he turns his body to face you, giving you his full attention the first time today. you cant meet his eyes still, so you look at the faded spot on his jeans. light blue, like his eyes. you wonder how hes looking at you. cant make yourself look up to see.

"what." he stops. seems to gather some thoughts. tries again, with a steadier tone. "what are you talking about."

you try not to roll your eyes. your arm flings out limply.

"just that this whole thing is a joke, art." and you let out an exasperated laugh, even though nothing is funny. nothing has been funny or light between you two in a long time. "we're only here because the girl you really wanted to marry, told you to get your fucking shit together. you didn't ask us to come here because you wanted to mend something, you're here to please tashi. because if playing a good husband is a role she wants for you - well, you want to play it right, dont you?"

its quiet after that. in the silence you cant help but think about those early days. when you'd been full of love and light and art seemed to be really happy with you. you'd go on dates to the movies, walk through the park together with your hands swinging between you. laugh together and steal kisses whenever you could. you felt high back then.

it didn't even matter that art had a crush on tashi, because hell, you had one too, at the time. but she'd started dating patrick, and they seemed to mesh well together. they were both so intense and passionate. back then, you'd been alot closer to tashi yourself. patrick too. you remember the way she'd rant about how much she fucking hated him, pacing around your room and calling him every name under the sun. and you'd sit there with eager curiosity, and ask her why she didn't end it then. if he makes you so angry, why stay?

and she'd get this faraway look in her eyes. kind of wistful. kind of sad. kind of happy.

"because he makes me feel fucking alive. hes like a - like a drug or something. i cant quit. its addictive, you know?"

that stuck with you. it still sticks with you. you remember being envious of that kind of passion. youe relationship with art had always been so easy. you dont think you'd ever fought by that point. you loved art. you felt safe with art. but were you addicted to him? if you broke up - would you feel withdrawal symptoms?

sometimes you layed awake at night and thought about starting a fight - breaking up for no reason. just to see if he'd fight for you back, if the missing of eachother would be so intense one of you would cave.

but somehow you knew that wouldn't be the case. thats just not how you and art operated. if you got angry, he wouldn't rise to meet you, he'd back down. if you ended things, he wouldn't chase you, he'd let you go.

patrick and tashi were fire and brimstone and you and art was ice and you were....... dirt. solid. walked upon. dependable and not at all exciting.

when art had proposed to you after college graduation it wasn't spur of the moment as it had been with patrick when he'd swept tashi up with a ring and a elopement to vegas. it was talked about and agreed upon and you knew it was coming.

you still said yes.

"you think," and arts voice has a barely concealed tremble to it that makes you look up, finally. you're shocked to see he looks wounded. so many of his expressions you can count on one hand - and this - this wasn't one of them. his eyes are dark, stormy. "you think i dont care about our marriage beyond what someone else has to say about it? you really think that?"

you hate the sliver of guilt you feel, because its not a crazy thing to feel.

"yeah, i really do."

because well, that's the truth of the matter isn't it? you and your husband stare at eachother. and it feels like you're looking at a stranger. not the man who's freckles you used to kiss. who's fears you knew. who's hands you know every callous of, every divot and fingerprint.

"it seems you two have very different views of how the other views this marriage." janet cuts in, sounding curious. she taps her pen against the open notepad on her lap. "art, would you like to chime in on why you wanted to come here? even at the suggestion of someone else?"

art stares at you for a long moment. his face is unreadable to you. his jaw works before his chest expands on an exhale and he looks away.

"i guess i - i just didn't realize how..... stagnant things had gotten until it was pointed out to me. harshly." he winces, and you wonder exactly what tashi had to say to him. you haven't talked to the other woman for some time. contact fizzling out after your marriage to art. he flicks a glance to you, then away again. "im not the best at being aware of shit going on around me." his hand comes up to rub nervously at his neck. "i guess you could say im good at brushing things under the rug. going through the motions. that sort of thing."

janet nods like this makes sense to her. well, great, you think. you know my husband more than i do.

"you're not a fan of confrontation, are you?"

art actually laughs. a genuine one. one that brings a dimple to his cheek and flashes his teeth. you stare at it, like its an exotic animal, and you wont see it again. quickly you catalog the expression in your memory, so you dont forget what he looks like when hes happy.

"yeah, no." he shakes his head. "but I think thats part of the problem. I've obviously let too much shit get put under the rug and now its so full other people are noticing."

you look down at your hands, lips pressed together. your face burns at the knowledge that tashi and by extension - patrick - know your marriage is in shambles. how embarrassing, to be caught lacking in such a momentous way. to come up short and have your husbands friends know about it. you wonder - does he talk about all the ways you make him miserable with them? does patrick shake his head, say, "she's sucking the life out of you, man." does tashi look at him with pity? like hes some poor abused cat that needs to be let in from the rain?

the rain of your marriage.

the rain of you.

you're the storm. you're the problem. you're not enough. art needs fire. you're not even dirt, you're glass. and you can feel yourself breaking.

"that clearly hit a nerve, my dear." janets voice is soft. soothing. she hands you a tissue and you realize you'd begun to cry. "do you want to explain what you're feeling about what art said?"

"i...."

you dab dab dab at your eyes. sniffle. look around the room, trying to collect your thoughts. they feel like flyaway dandelions. you dont know which of them to grasp.

a warm hand settles over yours in your lap and you startle. its arts hand. warm and calloused and tan, covering yours. the gold glint of his wedding ring winks at you, the engraved words etched into them, "my soft epilogue". a shortened version of your favorite qoute i think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love.

at the time, that's what art was to you. your life before him hadn't been easy. being with art had felt like coming home from a long day and falling into a soft bed. it had felt like being able to land after weeks of being made to fly.

you turned your palm up, so he could slide his fingers between yours. he squeezed your hand.

"i think, i. i think i just think - I'm a failure." your bottom lip wobbles. you look at your enterwoven fingers and it makes you so sad that you haven't done the simple gesture of holding your husbands hand in months. "the two most important people in your life are. are so passionate and loud. and i see. i see how happy they make you - and i cant - i cant b-be that for you. we aren't - im not - you dont need me. im not a limb for you how they are. you could extract yourself from me and be. be happier."

your breath shudders out of you.

"you don't need me." you echo.

you wait for him to pull his hand away. this is more than you thought you'd share. some of it you weren't even aware of till the words were spilling from your lips. but they ring true.

without patrick and tashi art would drown. without you..... he'd float just fine.

"and that's important to you." janet says. a statement not a question. "you want to feel needed by art, and you feel as though you aren't. that his needs are met better with his friends than with you."

you nod slowly.

"baby." the word sends a shock through you. not the word itself but how its said. art calls you baby all the time, in a monotonous kind of way. routine. now he says it softly. with feeling. he lets go of your hand in favor of cupping your cheek, still damp with tears, turning your face to his. he looks pained. "of course i need you. i know i haven't been good at showing it. i just - you shut down - after we got married. you've been like a fucking ghost. like you dont want me to touch you. like i could dissappear for all you care and you'd just carry on. i don't know. but i need you, okay? i. need. you."

both hands cup your face, he makes you stare right into him. the conviction in his voice takes your breath away. theres a fire burning there you've thought long put out.

"obviously we have shit to sort out, and we will. but you've got to. you've got to know that. tashi only pushed me to do this because she how - how desperate i was. that's all."

you inhale deeply. exhale. swallow hard. tears cling to your lashes. you reach a hand up to clutch at one of arts wrists. eyes fluttering automatically when you do. you feel grounded again. less like you might float away.

"okay."

"yeah?"

"yeah...." and you smile. it trembles across your lips. but its there. "we'll sort our shit."

art lets out a relieved breath. kisses your forehead, lingering there. the gesture so tender you get emotional again. you want to crawl into his lap, have him wrap you in his arms. you want to feel held by him, like you used to.

"our time is up." janet sets her pen down. smiles. "but i think that was a wonderful first session. i can see the love between you hasn't faded, and that's more i can say for alot of couples who come to see me. keep your chin up."

#ask #poppy fic #i guess?#see its complex right because reader definitely isn't crazy art DID feel some kind of way abt tashi #and still does #but hes in love w us. he is.#its just different. like.#its complicated but its like. art cant allow himself to feel passion because he thinks its too much #and you WANT passion like patrick and tashi have. you want it mixed in with the comfort and stability w art.#but arts self worth is low so hes like. why fight passionately for anything if im not enough im not enough ig #and thats sm he needs to overcome #because its making you feel unwanted #also theres definitely some feelings for patrick and tashi on your side as well #tashi definitely misses you and wishes you would talk to her #so many more thoughts on this #anyway #art donaldson x reader #reader and art just need to FUCK real rawdog real sloppy #art donaldson #challengers x reader #art x reader #failmarriage au

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k2ntoss · 1 day

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doing a part of the request my fave jason simp, 🦊 anon, made some time ago AND THAT I FEEL BAD FOR REPLYING UNTIL NOW

so writer's block who? i just needed a sex and the city episode to pull out this so here we fucking GO

it's been quite a while since sleeping on jason's place is a regular thing, not only sleeping but spending time there on his free time watching him cook or just sit together to read a book. it's by far the best feeling ever because even if he isn't fucking you into oblivion during the night being by his side feels just right.

despite everything being so perfect and nice there are some boundaries he isn't letting you cross yet and the reason? explained properly and understood by you, he was trying to make sure you'd be safe without anyone finding a way to get to you and hurt you wanting to hurt him with it. that meant not leaving personal stuff on his place, it was risky to let you spend so much time around but he couldn't resist it, jason loved being able to have his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he read on the couch, leaning in every now and then to kiss your cheek.

the room was still dark, it was early when you had started to wake up from your slumber to squirm under jason's arm that was holding you tight against his chest as he nuzzled his face against your back, the feeling of you wanting to escape his grip makes him drag you more into his embrace and a soft grunt leaves his throat when he finds himself unable to bury his face into your hair "where are you going, ma?" he asks, still more asleep than anything as jason still has his eyes closed.

"i need to get ready, love" the reply reaches him and even with that information jason refuses to let go of off you, his arms now wrapped around your hips as you try to get out of his bed, dragging with you the sheets for a whole second before you almost fall from the bed "jay, i really, really need to leave the bed..."

"but it's still dark, you can't leave yet... i want to sleep a little more and i want you here with me" the smile that reply steals goes missing for him, poor guy is still almost fully asleep but he clings onto you for dear life even knowing you probably have something to do during the day before he's able to hold you again "just one more hour. then you're free to go, angel"

"i need that hour to get ready, jaybird" you chuckle, shifting a little under his arm as you try to push it away from you and when you finally escape the death grip jason has on your body the lazy walk to the bathroom is filled with the guilt of leaving him all alone to get ready for something that wouldn't be as nice and warm as your lover's embrace. picking up your clothes and stuff to get ready you rethink and the final choice is clear as water, that much you don't even realize when you started to lift the comfy sheet to push jason a bit "you win... i'll stay here"

the fact that jason isn't fully awake makes his pretty smile even prettier because he scoots a little with his arms ready to hold you again and once you lay back on his bed he leans in to kiss your lips and almost as if sleepiness was contagious you found yourself kissing him back and ready to drift back into your dreams where just like in the waking, you'd stay into jason's arms. hiding your face against his neck, arms wrapped around his torso and one leg drapped over his hips it's nice and warm to feel his big hand caressing your thigh softly as his lips kiss tenderly your neck making you smile widely.

there's a sweet sense of intimacy on his touch and even if the tiredness washes over both of you, jason's hands are now holding your hips to press you against his body and between soft and tender kisses, his hands and yours start to pull off the little amount of clothes you used to sleep. his practiced hands run sweetly over your skin, undoing the clasp of your bra and taking it off while your hands pull up his shirt, fingers gently caressing his scars as he kissed a trail across your jaw.

"you're just so pretty..." jason's gruffy voice makes you shiver and under the sheets his body is pressed flush against you, his hands holding your waist as he rolls his hips against yours as if testing waters and there's nothing that would make you leave his side. not now, not ever.

"i love you so much, red..." you mutter against his chin, letting out a breathless moan when he's able to push into you, his movement is anything but hard. he takes his sweet time to settle between your inner walls, letting out a soft groan accompanied by a content smile when you wrap your arms around his neck to snuggle against him.

"love you too, ma" he whispers against your temple, he has his eyes closed as he enjoys the warmth you provide and he knows that even in the dark place his life is you're everything he will ever need. with a soft sigh he starts moving, slow strokes as he holds onto your hips while muttering sweet nothings into your ear.

the whole room is filled with the tenderness of the moment, silent gasps and soft moans as he held you as if you could break if he got too rough. your lips peppering his jaw and cheeks in soft kisses as he rolls his hips into you making your breath hitch everytime he hits that sweet spot and the chill of the morning feels like something so strange because your morning is sweet and warm while jason is by your side.

time seems to go by slower, lips swollen from the kissing to drown the soft grunts and to delay everything a little more until you feel jason's slow strokes faltering before he spills himself inside you, drawing a soft moan from your lips as your own release washed over you making your body clench around his in a delicious grip. the room is now filled with nothing besides the soft pants of your breathing, his hands caressing soothingly your waist as you nuzzled your face against his neck.

"can't you stay here today? i don't feel like letting go of my pretty princess" jason asks quietly, his voice is still a bit gruffy and he looks sleepy despite what you just did. it's impossible to leave him like this, shiny eyes and messy hair, looking happy finally because he had his little world into his arms.

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muchosbesitos · 2 days

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tengo tu foto

pairing: photographer! fem reader x miguel o’hara

contents: angst w no comfort, longing (is anyone rly surprised by this point), and some suggestiveness (nuffin tew crazy)

synopsis: you were booked for a wedding shoot, not expecting to see your ex boyfriend there.

author’s note: inspired by this :3 anyways i incorporated one of the themes from the movie hehe >w<

word count: 7k (i may have gone overboard on the yapping, sorry)

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"No. Ten un poquito de paciencia que ya mero acabo," Miguel tuts from a distance, the sound of wrapping paper scuffling together following. Despite the fact that you'd told him he didn't need to get anything for your birthday, that just spending time with him would be enough, he still insisted on doing so. Even after taking you out to a restaurant of your choosing, not even batting an eye when the waiter brought the check over. (have a little patience that i'm almost done)

"I know you said you didn't want anything but I stopped by that antique store in Queens and found the thing you've been wanting," he told you, stepping close to remove your hands from your eyes. You blinked a couple times to get used to the light in the room, looking down at the gift bag in his hands. Well, at least it wasn't anything too extravagant by the size of it. Or at least you hoped that it wasn't.

"Thank you, but you didn't have to do this. Your comp-"

"Before you say that my company would've been enough, you see me almost every day. Allow me to indulge in you a bit," he cut you off before you had the chance to finish speaking, giving you an innocent enough smile. "Just open it."

You took the gift bag from him, placing it down on your dinner table before starting to take out the sheets of wrapping paper. Even with that, you were trying to be meticulous enough not to rip it. At the bottom of the bag, you could see a white box peeking through. You took the box out with care, your eyes widening when you caught a glimpse of the words printed by the side. It was a vintage black Polaroid camera and a sleek leather photo album.

"Do you like it?" All you could do was nod, going over and wrapping your arms around him. You'd mentioned wanting this camera in passing a couple times, but you weren't expecting to actually get it. It should've been a nearly impossible task given that polaroids had ceased to have any usage with attachable phone printers, the quality of those unmatched. And yet you found yourself wanting this one after watching a movie, imagining all the different scenarios you wanted to use the camera for.

You basically opened the camera in record time, holding into in your hands for a couple seconds just to make sure you weren't dreaming. After the initial excitement passed, you examined the camera to see the different functions that it had and where you could put the film cartridge. You messed around with a couple of the buttons before the back of the camera eventually opened up, an illustration of how to set the cartridge etched inside.

As much as you didn't want to admit it, you'd been so focused on even just trying to acquire the camera that you didn't bother to research exactly just how it is that it worked. You reached over for the box, the manual falling down on the table. You'd barely managed to open it before Miguel grabbed it from your hands, putting it to the side. "We can figure this out by ourselves. It can't possibly be that difficult," he stated, sitting down at the table next to you.

He'd almost wished he hadn't said those words so soon.

The two of you sat there for a couple minutes, trying to figure out how exactly it was that the camera functions worked. You were grateful enough that you had boxes of cartridges to go through, considering that you'd almost went through one in testing this whole thing out. "Go see if that one worked," Miguel pointed over to the one processing on the table, his focus on the camera almost admirable. "This would go by a whole lot easier if you weren't so reluctant to use the manual."

"I refuse. I promise it'll work this time."

"It's almost like manuals were included in the box for situations like this," you muttered under your breath, noticing the subtle scoff he let out.

If the two of you were in any other situation, you might've found this a bit humorous. The two of you struggling with a simple enough camera while he dealt with complicated tech at a super fancy genetics facility and you dealt with cameras that had much more to them. "It did not work," you grumbled, only seeing your reflection peering back at you through the black photograph. If you squinted enough, at least you could see the silhouette of both of your figures. That counted as progress, right?

"Maybe it might be time to reconsider using the manual?" You suggested, your voice raising up a couple octaves as you tried to coax him into the idea.

"We don't need a manual. I'm a genius and you're an expert in cameras. We should be able to figure this out."

He twisted the lens of the camera onto the symbol with the home on it, deciding to test it out since it was the only one left. Miguel pointed at the fruit bowl that the two of you had been using as a practice model, clicking on the button. The whirr of the camera followed, the photograph coming out almost immediately. You slipped it out when it was halfway through, setting it down on the table to wait for it to process. "How's it going at the photography studio? Is your boss still being stingy?"

"It's gotten absurd. I had a client come in this last Monday and he immediately swept in to tell him that I don't have any experience," you couldn't help but feel annoyance when thinking back to the scenario, knowing pretty well that your portfolio was just as good as any of the other interns'. If not, even better.

"How are you supposed to get any experience if he's not giving it to you?"

You gave a small shrug in response, that being the same question that you asked yourself repeatedly. Every opportunity to advance at the studio had been ripped away from you, yet you couldn't bring yourself to quit. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was just that you'd gotten complacent staying in the same position for a couple years now. "Obviously you didn't ask for my opinion, but I think you should quit if he continues like this," Miguel offered quietly, his hand coming up to your shoulder.

"I'll think about it," you told him after a couple seconds of silence, contemplating his words. You knew he was right, deep down you did know. But what if other companies saw you as the mediocre photographer that this company did? The thought was just too much to handle. You looked over at the photograph once it was finished processing, noticing that the fruit bowl had been perfectly captured. "It worked!" You sounded a little too excited, handing over the photograph for him to examine his work.

"Now, let's take one together," is what you said about two minutes ago.

He ended up sitting down on a chair, one of your arms wrapped around him as the two of you looked into the camera. "How much longer? My cheeks are starting to hurt," you asked him through the smile you were trying so hard to maintain. "Hold on, I'm just trying to find the button," he muttered, the subtle scratch of his nail hitting the camera as he searched for the button. You'd barely heard the click from the button, immediately blinded by the flash shooting directly at the both of you.

Was this how your clients felt? Maybe you'd stop getting on their ass for capturing a majority of their photos with their eyes closed. Realistically you knew you wouldn't though. Seriously, how hard was it for them to keep their eyes open for four seconds? Miguel blinked slowly, putting the camera down on the table. "Pretty sure I just burned my retinas with that one," he muttered, taking the photo out and setting it on a placemat for it to develop. "Ditto."

"Hey, can I keep the photo? I'm thinking of putting it in my wallet," he asked once you were done adorning the blank space with stars and little hearts. You handed the photo over to him when he was done pulling out his wallet, noticing how gentle he was at handling the photo so it wouldn't bend. An array of photos were inside of his wallet, most of them Gabriella. One from when she was a baby to one where she was holding up a diploma for her kinder graduation.

"Te ves tan hermosa. I swear, that camera doesn't do you enough justice," he mused, looking down at the photograph that adorned the back of his wallet. Though he wouldn't be able to deny that the way you smiled in the picture was an image that would stay engrained in his brain for as long as he lived. "Thank you for getting it for me regardless. I know it wasn't much of an easy task," you responded, watching as he went over to fridge. (you look so beautiful)

"Gabriella and I baked you a cake. Well, more like she put the ingredients and mixed it and I just did the heavy work," he told you, bringing the plate with the cake over. You looked over, seeing the cake sprinkled with an ungodly amount of sprinkles and the writing on the frosting a bit crooked. Yet the fact that they'd both taken the time made you heart swell. "It's the prettiest cake I've ever seen. Tell her I said thank you," you gave him a smile, stepping up so he could lean over and light the candles up on the cake.

"Don't smush my head into the cake," you warned him, hovering slightly above the cake. His laughter echoed throughout the apartment, standing across from you with the camera pointed towards you. "Not sure how I would manage that but noted," he responded, putting the camera up to his eye and angling it. "You'd find a way," you muttered, blowing out the candles. You wafted the smoke fumes coming up, starting to take out the candles. "Que lo parta, que lo parta," Miguel chanted in the background when you went to cut the cake.

"Thank you. You've just left me with dessert for the rest of the week," you called out from the kitchen, setting the remaining cake in the fridge. You grabbed your plate from the table, going over to the couch where he'd sat down. "What movie did you end up picking out?" You asked, already expecting it to be some kind of sci-fi movie. Maybe thriller if you were lucky. "Some old romance movie, supposed to be good. La La Land," he answered, taking a bite from his cake. You wiped some of the frosting with your thumb, licking it off afterwards.

"No new movies out in theaters?"

"Well, it's not that. They're just hard to enjoy with all the AI writing and all the CGI. It just doesn't feel like I'm actually watching a movie with real actors, y'know?" If you had to guess, you'd probably say that he was right. Majority of the behind the scenes shots that you've seen for recent movies have just shown robots on set, only around two people actually present. It all just felt so.. emotionless. A repeat of the same movie over and over again just with different characters.

His thumb drew lazy circles on your thigh while Sebastian and Mia were seated at the movie theatre. "I wanted to run something by you, see what you thought about it," he started off, already looking at you when you turned to face him. You really hoped this wasn't the start of a break up speech. "Gabriella's really important to me, as I'm sure you're aware. And now that we're starting to get serious, I'd like for you to meet her," were not the words you were expecting from that sentence, but you weren't upset at them.

The thought of meeting his little girl was something that intrigued you and scared you shitless at the same time. What if she thought you were making some futile attempt to replace her mom? What if she ran you out of the house throwing eggs at you? You took a deep breath, trying to think of the positives. Miguel had done nothing but describe her as well-behaved, there would be no reason for her to act up. You'd just have to reassure her that you wanted to love her, not replace her mother in any form. "I'd love to meet her."

"This defeats the purpose of the movie, y'know?" He pointed out when you sat on his lap, your legs on either sides of his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your nails gently raking against the curls on the nape of his neck. "Is that a complaint that I'm hearing, Mr. O'Hara?" You whispered against his lips, his chest rumbling as he laughed. "Not at all," he sounded breathless as he spoke, his hands coming down to rest on your hips. He let out a small groan when you leaned in, the taste of frosting lingering on his lips.

You'd barely registered the sound of his phone buzzing in the background, only breaking away from the kiss when he did. He pulled it out of his pocket, letting out a small groan. "It's my ex wife. Just give me a second," he whispered, placing the phone up to his ear. You could make out a couple words from her frantic yelling, nothing that would give you a clue to what was going on though. "I'm not processing the information any better with you yelling in my ear," Miguel sounded much different with his ex wife, a tone he'd never used with you.

After receiving a couple more pieces of context based on what Miguel was telling Dana to do, you were able to decipher that Gabriella was currently running a fever along with a cold. "I'll come by to pick her up along with some medicine, okay?" He'd simply stated after Dana spent around two minutes talking to him. "Yes and groceries too," he added, albeit a bit reluctantly before hanging up the phone. He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a small resigned sigh. He'd even called off work tomorrow to spend a lazy morning with you.

"I have to go," he pressed a quick kiss to your lips, tapping on the side of your thigh. You got off him, standing up to walk him out the door. "Stay safe. Call me when you get home," you told him before he left, standing on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I will, I promise. I'll text you the details for next week, okay?" He called out, starting to head down the sidewalk. You waited until he wasn't visible anymore to go back inside, starting to clean up a couple smudges of frosting on the table.

You ended up watching the rest of the movie in the comfort of your couch, lying to yourself about the tears in your eyes. He'd mentioned the movie being somewhat of a romance but he'd forgotten to disclose the important detail- that it was a tragic romance. Just the fact that they had everything that they could've wanted except for each other just made it all the more painful to watch. In order to distract yourself, you pulled your phone out to see if Miguel had texted you. After all, it'd been about thirty minutes since he left.

Maybe he'd forgotten. You tried to assure yourself that maybe it was the last thing on mind given that Gabriella was sick, that he was capable of taking care of himself. There wasn't any way he'd willingly break the promise that he made to you, right? You even tried turning off your phone and toggling with the data button on it to see if was just that your phone hadn't received the message. But upon turning your phone on, you only saw the same three notifications on your screen from a couple hours back.

You'd call him tomorrow. Check up on Gabriella and him on the process. The thought of him ghosting you came to mind, though it didn't last for very long. He'd been very upfront when it came to telling you the things that displeased him in the relationship. He wouldn't just up and leave without an explanation. Plus, the two of you were doing great and he wouldn't have suggested meeting Gabriella if he wanted to break up. Things were good. You just had to keep repeating that until all the worries in your head disappeared.

Things were good.

So why is it that a week later every single one of your phone calls was getting straight to voicemail?

"Hey Miguel, I know that you're busy with work and whatnot but can you just call me back so I know you're not dead?" You were pacing in the middle of your living room, feeling yourself slowly start to unravel with every automated response that you received. "Okay, well I love you. Please just call me back whenever you have the time," you ended the call, staring at the blank screen before testing your luck again for what seemed to be the 70th time.

"This is Miguel O'Hara speaking. Please state your reason for calling and I'll try to get back to you," you practically spoke with the machine, having memorized it after the nth time of hearing it. It was pointless to leave another message, the deep part of your subconscious was aware of that. And yet, you couldn't help yourself. "Hey, Miguel. I'm sorry about all the calls. Can you just tell me if I did something wrong or something instead of ignoring me? Please," you sounded pathetic to your own ears.

You waited until the designated two days passed by until you called the police department in your precinct, inquiring about any missing reports for Miguel. "Look I don't know how many times you want me to check the damn system but for the fourth time, there's no missing persons report filed for a Miguel O'Hara," the officer sounded agitated on the line, though rightfully so. You'd asked him for the fourth time before he snapped. You hung up, trying other PD's and hospitals. Only to get no results.

Maybe it was a stupid way to cope with the fact that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore. But you couldn't help but call him just to be able to hear his voice on the ringtone, even if he did sound apathetic when speaking. That was until a couple weeks passed by, "Number is disconnected or no longer in service," was the response that you'd received instead of the voicemail that you'd gotten so used to. "No, come on," you muttered to yourself, trying to assure yourself it was a mistake. But upon calling again, you quickly realized that it was not.

Even as the years passed by, you found yourself unable to move on from him. It'd gotten to the point where your friends had to step in, staging an emergency intervention under the pretense of going out for drinks one night. As much as you understood their point and their reasons for believing that you were slightly delusional, you still refused to let him go. His clothes still lingered in the back of your closet, the fresh scent of his cologne still present when you pressed your face against it.

You had no idea what happened to him, and that was partially what kept you from moving on. There was no type of closure, no logical reason for him to leave you or any problems in between the two of you. So you stuck to your selfish, hopeless dream. The dream that one day you'd wake up for work and he'd be knocking on the other side of the door, cup of coffee in hand with a croissant bag in the other. Maybe it was the fact that he'd made you feel loved in a relationship. The person that understood you just by your tics and facial expressions.

"Maybe he just.. doesn't want to make this harder for you," your friend hesitated when you'd picked up a newspaper on your way out the subway. Miguel's face had been on the front of the cover, looking as stoic as ever. Even as he was getting an award for a groundbreaking experiment. As a photographer, you could tell that the lighting wasn't flattering on his skin, the color palette washing him out. But still, you tried to push that thought to the side as the reminder that he was still living out there peacefully without you lingered.

"He'll come back," you muttered, though the words didn't sound believable anymore. You could tell your friend wanted to say something else by the skeptical look on their face, but they simply just offered a hug. "Look, when you're ready to move on, I'll be here to help you," they whispered, rubbing your back. The two of you got a couple sideway glances from the others walking down the street, but you couldn't help but want this hug to last longer. You needed some kind of warmth in your life.

The one good thing that had come out of this situation though was that you finally decided to take his advice and quit your job. You'd spent weeks going from studio to studio, rejection getting thrown in your face a couple times. Each rejection started stinging less and less, simply becoming another name on your list. Though a majority of the studios that rejected you was due to a lack of space, giving you plenty of connections to reach out to though. After a while of submitting job applications, a couple of them managed to land.

Which is how you came to work at the studio you're working at now. While it was slightly painful to do, the copious amounts of ass kissing that you did to your superiors helped you move up the ranks rather quickly. Well that and the diversity in your portfolio, the main point that your employer made sure to highlight. The way that you were able to capture objects and people, capturing them in a way that made the subject interesting no matter what it was. It was nothing mediocre. You knew that now.

Along with the job, the studio offered a couple refresher courses that you took full advantage of. While your skill wasn't bad by any means, you were still determined to get better at it. The courses went over from a range of subjects such as color contrasts, the rule of thirds, and different editing programs that didn't mess with the quality of the photos.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, your gaze immediately going to the necklace adorning your neck. You've been trying to talk yourself into finally taking it off for the last couple months, trying to convince yourself that it was necessary to move on. Your alarm clock blared in the background as a reminder that you were about to late for work, but you stayed still. But taking the necklace off would mean that you'd accepted he wouldn't be coming back. Is that something you'd be willing to do?

You brought your hands to the nape of your neck, reaching for the clasp. Just take it off. It would be simple. Stuffing it in the back of your bathroom drawer, never having to look at it again. Never having to be reminded of the nice memories associated with it. You dropped your hand from the clasp, letting out a small groan. "I'll do it tomorrow," it was the same thing you told yourself in the mirror every day, knowing pretty damn well that you weren't going to actually do it.

Even the meaningless distractions and the amount of clothing that you'd bought for yourself after acquiring an actual paying position at the studio did nothing to fix the empty void. Everything just felt so gray, so static. You'd found yourself missing the most minute things of your routine with Miguel, from brushing your teeth together at the sink after he'd just spent the night to the subtle scratch of his stubble after a couple days of not shaving. You missed having someone to talk to about whatever crossed your mind with little fear of judgement. You missed him.

No number of heels or jewelry that you'd splurge on would heal that.

You checked your watch on your way up the elevator, practically hearing the ticking of it as you were reminded you were late. Probably shouldn't have stopped at that new café that just opened up on the corner of your house. Though the taste of the buttery croissant melting in your mouth almost made any complaints coming your way worth it. You stuffed the last piece in your mouth before approaching your office, wiping away any crumbs that lingered on your shirt.

"I have a meeting scheduled here for... Xina?" You read off the calendar on your tablet, looking up for some kind of confirmation. What you hadn't expected to see was Miguel standing there by her side, his hands stuffed in his pockets. A ticked off expression on his face to top off the cake that this morning was turning out to be.

"You're late," the same tone that he'd used with Dana all those years ago, one of agitation and frustration was now the one that he'd used with you. For the amount of times that you spent criticizing the woman over her decisions, you wouldn't have expected for you to get treated the same way.

You really wanted to be annoyed, demand for an explanation. You'd planned out this moment in your head for years, after all. But upon standing in front of him once more, you felt your mouth dry up. It didn't help that he looked more devastatingly handsome than the last time you saw him. His hair had grown a bit, slight curls forming at the nape of his neck. While he wasn't weak by any means when the two of you were together, his muscles were practically close to ripping the stitching in his black button down top.

The gold Virgencita necklace he had did nothing to help out your case. It was only accentuated by the dark fabric. On his wrist, you could notice a couple beaded bracelets. Each with their own sentence in them, ranging from 'best dad' to 'te quiero mucho.' Well that was if you weren't misreading them while they were upside down. Surely the work of his daughter. Though the thing that had caught your attention the most was the gold band around his ring finger, a sign of his commitment to the woman next to him.

You really needed to stop staring before they got any weird vibes from you. You could do that. You could separate your personal feelings from your work.

"It's just a few minutes, Miguel," the woman next to him spoke, the harshness in his glare losing all intensity when she reached over to hold his hand. He let out a small sigh, almost forcing himself to calm down before nodding slightly. You shook both of their hands, willing yourself not to clasp Miguel's fingers within your own. To feel the slight roughness of his calluses that you'd grown used to. That wasn't something you could do anymore.

"Before we started, would any of you all like something to drink? We have tea, water, and some coffee. Though I wouldn't recommend the coffee," you could play the role of a stranger too, a forced smile making its way onto your face. You felt it falter a couple times but you were quick to school your expression back to normal before anyone could notice.

"No, thank you," Xina responded, placing her hands on the table to scoot her chair in. You caught a glimpse of the diamond ring adorning her finger, if that was even a proper name for it. You had an idea Miguel was rich, but you'd never expect him to be THAT rich. The lights reflected off the diamond, a rainbow hue present on the table.

"I'm alright, thanks," Miguel didn't even bother to look at you while he spoke, his attention solely on the woman next to him. His hand reached out to where hers sat, holding it tenderly. His thumb rubbing small circles on the back of her hand. The same way that he used to do to you.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you happen to have any snacks?" The little girl by his side chimed in, the same little girl you'd seen on those photographs from long ago. Well, now she wasn't exactly too little. She did, however, resemble every bit of Miguel. Even more so now than in the photos you had the pleasure of seeing before.

"Mija, if you eat snacks now you won't be hungry for when we go out to eat later."

"I'll still be hungry, I promise!" Even you knew that it was false, but Miguel found himself being unable to deny the little girl anything. He pulled his wallet out, glimpses of those photos from years ago still visible. Tinted yellow from the time that'd passed by. You couldn't help but peer inside as discreetly as you could, hoping to catch a glimpse of the polaroid in the back. He hastily shut his wallet when he caught you staring at it, shoving it deep into the pocket of his jeans.

Something to confirm that you hadn't just imagined the time that you spent together with him all those years ago. The only photos you saw in his wallet though were those of Gabriella and one of him with his fiancée, surely celebrating their engagement by the pose in the picture. Xina sticking her hand out to the camera, a flashing smile on her face as she looked over at the camera. You couldn't help but feel a pang in your chest when you glanced over at Miguel in that photo, his eyes only locked on her.

A look of adoration that you'd only imagined in fairytales. The way that he looked at her like she was the only woman that mattered in the world. You were snapped out of your trance when you heard his wallet thud shut, looking over at Gabriella when she walked over to Miguel instead. He had a five dollar bill sticking out of his hand, keeping it in his grasp while he finished speaking, "Alright, go get yourself a light snack. And get the nice lady something if she wants."

Nice lady.

That's what you were reduced to now? Just as the lady that treated him with basic manners?

"I will, thank you!" Gabriella yelled out from the hall, practically dashing out the door the second he handed her the money. You pushed any lingering thoughts aside, excusing yourself from the table before going after Gabriella. You found her skipping in the hallway on the way to the vending machine, humming a song to herself on the way.

"I didn't actually have to get anything. I just wanted to talk to you," now that came as a surprise. As far as you knew, Gabriella only knew that Miguel was dating someone in the past.

"Me? Why me?"

She reached for the pocket on the front of her overall, taking out a polaroid. You didn't have to look at it to know what it was. And yet you did, a small smile present on your face at the sight of how happy you and Miguel looked once. The words at the bottom had faded away, leaving grey markings in their wake. "I found it in the trash. I thought I should keep it," she told you, your eyes widening slightly. He wouldn't do that, not after he said he'd value it. But what reason would Gabriella have to lie?

"My dad acted strange for a while. He stopped reading me bedtime stories and putting smiley faces on my food," the little girl sounded melancholy as she spoke, reaching up to put the bill in the machine. Now that sounded more like the Miguel that you were accustomed to, not the man that was currently in your office. "But he used to talk nicely about you. How I'd love to spend time with you and get to know you. I'm sorry that we didn't get to that."

"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry for. Sometimes things just happen, y'know?" Even if you yourself knew nothing of what exactly happened, you decided to test that out to reassure her. She gave a small nod in response, pressing a button on the machine before a bag of chips dropped down.

"Thought you weren't hungry."

"Well, I lied to him and it'd be pretty obvious if I showed up empty handed." Smart kid.

"I don't know if we should stick with this photographer. I caught her staring at my wallet a couple seconds too long," you heard Miguel through the thin walls complain to his wife, that same tone of annoyance lingering in his voice. He really couldn't tolerate you, huh.

"She was probably just looking at the photos you have in there, don't stress out about it too much. She's the best we'll find with this time crunch."

The conversation came to a halt when you and Gabriella stepped into the room, the crinkling of chips a stark comparison to the quietness. You went over to your bookcase, grabbing your planning binder before going back to your seat across from them. You flipped over to a clean page, playing with the end of your pen as you tried to distract yourself from the reality of the situation. The same ex who'd practically disappeared from the face of the earth was now facing you. Requiring your services.

"We were wondering if we could establish something like a photo booth where the guests could go to take photos rather than it just being a quinceañera situation," Miguel spoke up, looking directly at you. You were hoping to catch a glimpse of something, just the slightest bit of something that would tell you that you weren't just a stranger to him. Maybe not longing but some sort of recognition? But you received nothing. Not even a form of silent acknowledgment that you were still wearing the damn necklace.

"Alright, we can do that," you scribbled down the notes, just the request making you recall the countless complaints that you've had to deal with about a couple of your interns. That the guests couldn't even get a spoonful in without having some fear that a camera would instantly flash in their eyes. "And how would you like the arrangement to be for the both of you? Photos straight out of the chapel and throughout the ceremony or just the photo booth?"

"Well for the two of us, we'd like some photos of us outside of the chapel." Alright, all you had to do was arrange the photo booth before you made your way over to the church to take their photographs. That sounded manageable. You annotated the time that the ceremony and reception would start, writing down a couple possibilities for the time required. You were getting paid by the hour, after all.

"I'd prefer if you could make it something low light. My eyes get sensitive with bright lights," Miguel spoke up, waiting for you to write down the notes before leaning back in his chair. You'd never heard him complain about something like that when you used him as the muse for your photos, but a lot of things were different about him now. You didn't know him anymore. A fact that you had to resign to yourself to.

"How'd the two of you meet, if you don't mind me asking?" It was clear that they mind the question. Silence lingered in the room, both of their stares equally judging. Think. Think. Think. What would be a reasonable excuse for letting your nosiness get in the way of remaining professional?

"I was just wondering since we could set up the booth with something reminiscent of that moment. A couple coffee shaped figures if it was a coffee shop. Books if it was a library. Like a cute little easter egg," you almost had to commend yourself for coming up with that lie so fast. You looked over at Gabriella, seeing her give you a thumbs up on the middle of her trying to watch a YouTube video. Okay, maybe the situation had been salvaged.

"We used to be friends, though we hadn't contacted each other in a while. Before she came into my life as my fiancée, my life just felt very empty. She brought me purpose and a reason to come back home every night," you gripped the pen in your hands as he spoke, almost surprised that the glass didn't shatter. Empty? Empty? Were you just a piece of chopped liver? Maybe you'd gone crazy for real this time around and just imagined yourself dating him. Yeah.

Just coincidentally dated someone who looked exactly like him. You'd be lucky if you didn't go mad by the end of this meeting if your thoughts continued to stray in this direction. You could've sworn you heard a slight crack in the pen you were holding, forcibly loosening your grip on it even though it was the only thing anchoring you down. Just take a couple deep breaths. Go to your happy place. Wait no. That wouldn't work if your happy place was in a beach in the Bahamas with Miguel, right?

Nope. Definitely not.

"Well he comes home most of the time, but y'know how it is with geneticists," Xina remarked, her gaze going over to the pen in your hand before going back up to your face.

"You have no idea," you found yourself muttering, unable to stop the words from coming out. You didn't even have to look over at Gabriella this time to know that she was subtly giving you a thumbs down.

"I'm sorry?"

"Forget it, just a stupid comment." Though she seemed skeptical towards the comment, she decided to leave it be for now.

The rest of the meeting flowed very smoothly, a majority of the conversation staying on work related topics. The other portions had been Xina talking about just how lucky she was to get you as a photographer, how thankful she was for Miguel. "He's just been so supportive throughout this whole process, letting me take reigns of the planning," she'd told you, her face gleaming as she spoke of him. An expression similar to contentment washed over Miguel's face as he watched speak, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Alright, that'll be all. Thank you for coming to meet with me today," you told the both of them once the plans had been set into stone. You rose up from your seat, the three of them following suit.

"Thank you, it was very nice to meet you," Xina extended her hand out towards you, a polite smile on her face. You shook her hand, returning the pleasantries with as much cheerfulness as you could muster. Which wasn't that much, now that you think about it. But she hadn't noticed anything too strange about your expression so that was slightly reassuring. She and Gabriella left the room, leaving you and Miguel together.

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. O'Hara. My apologies for being late," to which he simply gave a curt nod before making his way to the exit. You went to fix your binder and pens, looking up only when you hadn't heard the click of the door.

Before he had the chance to step out, he stopped and stood by the doorstep to turn around and look at you. You were stuck in between wanting to bask in his presence for just a little bit longer and wanting him to leave. Why couldn't he just leave with the new family he was forming and leave you out of it? He looked like he was trying to see if he recognized you, his brows furrowed slightly in concentration. "I'm sorry if this comes off as a weird question, but have we met before? You seem familiar."

You almost wanted to laugh at the situation. How funny it was that the man you'd swore was the one you were probably gonna end up getting married to was the same one who didn't recognize you now? The same one that spent hours on his knees, devoting himself to worshipping and memorizing every feature of your body. That loved every aspect of yourself, even the aspects that you once thought were unlovable.

While seeing him now was the epitome of painful, knowing that he hadn't even bothered to consider you while he'd gone off to start a new life, this was what you needed to move on. The hope that you once had of him coming home, holding you close to his chest with countless apologies slowly dwindled down throughout this meet before extinguishing completely. You had slowly come to accept how stupid it was to wait for him.

It would've been easy to say yes, to tell him that you were his ex-girlfriend. But the image of the small smiles that he shot at Xina throughout the meeting still stuck in your head, making you consider that decision longer than you should've. You looked up from your notes, realizing that he was still waiting for your answer. After some hesitation, you eventually decided on, "No, I don't believe we've met before. You have me confused with someone else."

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angellesword · 1 day

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Love Is Not Black and White, It's Purple (Like Your Eyes) | JJK (oneshot)

Summary: You and Jungkook are not soulmates. The fact that you have been married for ten years but still see in black and white proves that.

It is never an issue for you two until…

"Jungkook, my eyes… they're purple."

Jungkook's heart stops.

You can see colors now. It only means one thing:

You have met your real soulmate, and it's not Jungkook.

Genre & Content Warning: soulmate au, housemate au, mention of murder, past child abuse, domestic violence, fluff, crack treated seriously, attempt at humor, marriage au, established relationship, kissing, blind!jimin, fashion designer!taehyung, alcohol, cursing, HAPPY ENDING. (tags are just for formalities, but tbh this fic isn't heavy at all)

Pairing: Detective!Jungkook x Fashion Designer! Female Reader

Word Count: 7.5k

****

Out of all the suicide methods in history, Jungkook thinks that if he were to try one, it would still not be as effective as listening to you talk.

"Jungkook, my eyes...they're purple."

Really. You don't need a plastic bag, a rope, or a pillow to suffocate Jungkook. With your harsh words, Jungkook could feel the air leaving his lungs.

He can't breathe. The terrible realization asphyxiates him: you--his best friend--his wife, can now see colors. For a moment, Jungkook doesn't know what to make out of the fact that he's now alone in this monochromatic world—a place where people see in black and white until they look into their soulmates' eyes.

Jungkook has looked and drowned in your calamitous eyes before, but he never saw hues.

"Jungkook...?"

Distantly, Jungkook hears you utter his name, but all he can grasp is you will abandon him. Jungkook is rarely wrong. He's a detective, after all. One word, and he can deduce the situation, making this whole ordeal more painful.

"That's..." Jungkook intends to hide his hurt, but he feels his voice getting choked up. He has no choice but to pause.

However, you are thrilled to hear what he has to say, so Jungkook forces himself to continue.

"...great. You, that's great. So great!" Perhaps repeating the same words can convince him that his statement is true. It's not. Jungkook's heart breaks when you beam at him.

Calm down. Jungkook tells himself. But he can't. Everything hurts. His heart, his soul, his words.

"So, tell me. Where's the divorce paper? Should I sign now?" Jungkook's words hurt like a knife. They cut your heart into pieces.

"What the fuck are you talking about." Your face falls. "Shitty Jungkook, are you kidding me right now!? I'm not leaving you for someone I just met!"

Now, something about your reaction takes Jungkook's breath away. Maybe it's the anger that quickly turns into panic as you take in Jungkook's words. Or perhaps it's the apparent trembling of your lips as you desperately speak of your promise of forever. Either way, your fear-inducing expression somehow reassures Jungkook.

You and him are not over. Not yet, at least.

"I'm just kidding~." Jungkook chuckles and clicks his tongue, "Of course, you're not leaving me. I'm the only one who can tolerate you, ya know?"

The joke doesn't lighten your expression at all.

"Jungkook, I'm not leaving you," you repeat. The assurance is softer this time, and despite the lack of color in your eyes, the detective can see determination in them.

Jungkook puffs out air. His heart aching a little less.

"I know, darling." Jungkook stops his jokes. He engulfs you in a warm embrace. "I'm sorry."

"Don't say that ever again." You wrap your arms around Jungkook's waist. "You're my best friend. I love you, alright?"

****

10 Years Ago; 2013

Unlike others, your relationship with Jungkook is reversed.

"Let's get married."

"The fuck?" You choke on your water the second Jungkook opens his mouth. "Are you high again, bastard!?"

You punch Jungkook mildly. The latter moves away, exaggeratedly cradling his jaw. "Ow! Why are you always so violent? Can't you hear me out first? I'm being serious here!"

"Serious?" You laugh incredulously. "You just asked me to get married!"

"Exactly!" Jungkook ignores the painful thug in his heart. "It's for our benefit. Didn't you say you want to live in PM Village?"

Apartments in PM Village are too damn expensive. You and Jungkook recently finished college; your individual income is not enough to cover the monthly amortization of a house, but it's different if your incomes are combined.

"You're crazy. We can't marry because of a fucking house, Jungkook!" You are still not convinced.

"Why not?" But Jungkook intends to change your mind. "We're both single, and divorce won't be difficult in the future. We can just tell the court we've found our real soulmates. Besides,"

The newbie detective drags his words, knowing that he'll be able to convince you in the end, anyway. "You're gonna be rich soon. You don't have any living family members anymore. Do you really wanna give away all your money to the government when you die?"

"Why? Is giving my money to you any better!?"

"I can at least maintain your wine cellar," Jungkook shrugs. "And just think about the tax benefits! Don’t you hate Hoseok-hyung for siphoning your money?”

You open your mouth to speak, but damn. Jungkook’s last statement has convinced you already. Nose flaring, you say, "Fine!"

It's like music to Jungkook's ears. "I need your full confirmation."

Jungkook really wants you to say it. You fold your arms across your chest, "Fine, Bastard! I agree with your absurd proposition. Let's get fucking married."

At the age of twenty-two, you and Jungkook tied the knot. Ten years later, most of Jungkook's predictions have come true: you two have settled in PM Village—a warm home with a wine cellar awaits you after a tiring day. You have also become so rich that you often have issues with Jung Hoseok, your country's tax agency commissioner. Thank fuck there are good lawyers out there to clear your tax cases.

You clearly have everything life can offer. If you want, you can divorce Jungkook now, but ten years later, you are still very much committed to your best friend.

*****

Present; 2023

You insist on telling Jungkook who your soulmate is. Admittedly, you can tell that Jungkook finds the whole storytelling unnecessary. You are married, but it's not as if you two are in love with each other or something. Nope. Jungkook only sees you as an annoying woman with whom he cohabitates.

"So, has Technology asked you on a date yet?" Jungkook asks without looking at you. He's busy filing his nails, acting as if shaping his nails into perfect ovals is more important than conversing with you.

"First of all, his name is Taehyung. Not Technology, you asshole. And no, he hasn't asked me out." You exhale. "I mean, not yet. It's not a big deal, honestly. We just met yesterday."

Translation: give my soulmate some time.

"Right." Jungkook mocks and yawns, finally glancing at you. "You know, if I meet my soulmate, I’ll immediately ask them out. I can’t waste time.”

"Oh, shut up." You roll your eyes. "We both know you just can't wait to sleep with them."

"He-He. You caught me~." Jungkook half-smiles before returning to the previous topic very smoothly, "So you're saying that if Techno—Taehyung asks you on a date, you'll say yes?"

"Will you mind if I do?" You sound nervous.

The sole purpose of this conversation is for you to test the waters with Jungkook. You both went on dates in the past after ensuring that the other was comfortable with the set-up. You are married, after all. It won't bode well with the both of you if cheating rumors erupt, especially in your respective workplaces.

Admittedly, it has been long since you two last went on dates. You were both busy with your jobs. Besides, isn't it exhausting getting to know strangers? Jungkook doesn't want to waste his breath on nosy people asking why he chose to be a detective, and you would rather ditch your date than deal with them bargaining for discounts once they find out you’re a prominent fashion designer.

Going out with strangers has become a nightmare instead of a fun way to meet your real soulmate. Because of this, you and Jungkook decided to just take each other out whenever you wanted. It's not exactly a romantic date. Sure, there's darling as a pet name, kisses under the moonlight, and wrestling who'll pay. But that's about it. You don't dare to do more.

Your partnership is of greater importance than sex and in-the-moment confessions. You don't want to regret it comes morning.

"Why would I mind?" Jungkook finally answers, feigning happiness. "I'll personally thank your soulmate for taking you out, honestly. I'm tired of you forcing me to take you out on dates. It's about time I meet new people, too."

"Right." You swallow your disappointment and the faint ache in your chest. "Who wants to go out with a shitty bastard like you, anyway? Go meet others! It's not like I care!"

Another fake smile blooms on Jungkook's face.

"Whatever you say."

*****

Kim Taehyung is the name of your soulmate, and the man Jungwon has been investigating for the past three days.

"Jungkook sunbaenim, here's all the information I can find about Kim Taehyung." Jungwon stifles a yawn as he approaches his mentor's table. He almost winces upon seeing Jungkook's monitor.

The older detective has many tabs on his computer, all related to Kim Taehyung.

"You're still investigating him?" Jungwon can't mask his surprise. "Jungkook sunbaenim, just what did Kim Taehyung do!?"

"He's a thief, Jungwon-ah." Jungkook accepts the files from his mentee without sparing him a glance

Jungwon dramatically gasps, his sleepiness fading away because of the scandalous information.

"Really? What did he steal?"

"A precious little thing." Jungkook is viewing Kim Taehyung's baby photos. No one knows how he found them. "Look, he's not that cute, right?"

Jungwon doesn't answer, lost in thought. What could Kim Taehyung have stolen? His Jungkook sunbaenim said a precious little thing. Could it be a diamond ring? Or...

"Tanzanite?" Jungwon shrieks. "Did he steal tanzanite, Jungkook sunbaenim!?"

"Huh?" Jungkook turns to his mentee with a furrowed brow. He suddenly remembers what he said to Jungwon, and being a good actor whose words consist of 10% truth and 90% lies, Jungkook can save himself by saying, "Yeah. He stole tanzanite —authorities said it was very expensive. Come, Jungwon-ah. Let's catch this thief."

****

You aren't lying when you say you won't divorce Jungkook because you 'met' your soulmate. No, your partnership is beyond colors. However, it also doesn't mean you’ll relinquish your connection with your soulmate.

The deal is this: You and Jungkook will stay together until you know your soulmates better. After that, you two can decide what to do next. In short, a simple meeting doesn't guarantee you would want to spend your entire life with your soulmates. You both have heard many stories before that not even real soulmates find romantic love with each other—some remain platonic soulmates, while others go as far as killing each other.

You and Taehyung's case seems to fall to the normal expectation of society: meet as strangers, get to know each other until you become friends, then fall in love and get married.

Unlike Jungkook pulling you in a reverse direction, Taehyung intends to drive you on the right path.

"Jungkook sunbaenim, aren't we breaking the protocol?" Jungwon covers his face with a newspaper, whispering softly in case the suspect hears him. They are currently inside a small coffee shop near Aurora Fashion Lane. Based on Jungwon's investigation, Kim Taehyung works as a designer for the company in the same building as this coffee shop. In fact, Taehyung is slowly becoming a regular customer here.

"Shouldn't we call for backup?"

Jungkook ignores the younger detective. He squints his eyes hard, focusing on the table near the counter. Jungwon discreetly looks in the direction Jungkook has his eyes on. A woman with a similar haircut as yours is sitting there.

"Jungkook sunbaenim, isn't that your wife—"

"Ssshh, Jungwon-ah. Shut up for a moment. I can't hear them." Jungkook regrets not choosing a table near you and your date. Damn it. You probably won't realize he's here—not when your attention is focused on stupid Technology!

"Stay here. I'll be back." The older detective stands up abruptly. Right. If he pretends to look at the menu before ordering something, he can hear whatever you and Taehyung are talking about:

"Exactly. They should've added another layer of lace. It pairs well with jacquard." Jungkook hears you say.

What the heck are they talking about? The detective muses.

"Ah, unfortunately, the customer hates laces. Apparently, her father made her wear laces that itch." Taehyung responds.

"Poor Elise. I understand why she prefers satin dresses."

Are they talking about work? Jungkook thinks to himself again. He only snaps back to reality when the cashier smiles, asking if he's ready to order.

Jungkook orders drinks for him and Jungwon before moving closer to the soulmates' table. You and Taehyung have stopped talking, though. Confused, Jungkook tilts his head to check what's happening, but someone seizes his wrist.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jungkook hears a classic greeting, yet he still freezes. Only one person gets angry seeing him.

"Oh, hi, you~. I didn't see you there." The detective beams while prying his hand away from your iron-like grip. "What a coincidence!"

"Coincidence, my ass!" You grit your teeth, "Tell me the truth. Why are you here?"

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek, thinking of a way to translate, 'You were smiling through your phone yesterday while texting your stupid soulmate. I didn't want to invade your privacy, so I hacked his messages instead,' into something that won't ignite your anger.

In the end, Jungkook manages to simply say, "Why? Can't a detective have his coffee?"

"Jungkook." you utter sternly, "This coffee shop is an hour and a half from your workplace. You also don't drink coffee."

As if on cue, the barista says Jungkook's drinks are ready. The detective picks up his drink and sips it. "What was that? I can't hear you over my delicious caramel macchiato with whipped cream and seven pumps of caramel sauce, topped with small marshmallows, chocolate chips, and sprinkles!"

"For fuck's sake!" You let out a torrent of abuse, your face morphing into disgust. Seeing color intensifies your emotions. The colorful toppings in Jungkook's drink make you want to vomit. "Get your ass out of here, you tasteless bastard!"

Jungkook doesn't budge. He shoots you an innocent look, "Why are you shooing me away? Am I disturbing you and your date? Where is he, by the way?"

Taehyung went to the comfort room, but this was not the point. You hiss, "I'm not on a date. Taehyung and I are discussing work over coffee. How the heck did you even know we're here?"

Another question Jungkook doesn't have a ready answer. Fortunately for him, Taehyung is back. Your furious expression melts at once. Your fake personality makes Jungkook gag.

"Hey, should we head back?" Taehyung's voice is deep. This is the first thing Jungkook notices.

"Yeah, let's go." You smile at your soulmate.

Another thing Jungkook notices is how handsy Taehyung is. He touches the small of your back, leading you to the exit. Jungkook's expression darkens, and Jungwon, watching the whole exchange like a hawk, suddenly decides to act.

"Stop, you thief! Leave my mentor's wife alone!" Jungwon has the handcuffs ready. He's rushing in Taehyung's direction. Jungkook's eyes widen, only relying on his fast reflexes to stop his mentee.

He trips Jungwon, causing the younger detective to fall to the ground.

"Jungkook, you bastard--!!"

All hell breaks loose after that scream coming out of you.

****

'Disaster' is the only word to describe Jungkook's attempt to stalk his wife. He didn't plan for things to escalate to the level where he had to trip Jungwon to stop him from arresting an innocent citizen like Taehyung. You got so mad that the older detective had to apologize, making an excuse that they were detectives on a mission gone wrong. Jungkook remembers smiling apologetically at Taehyung, telling him to cut Jungwon some slack because he is a newbie detective.

You knew everything leaving Jungkook's mouth was bullshit, yet you played along with Jungkook's excuse. You clearly don’t want the issue to escalate further. Thankfully, Taehyung is an understanding man, telling Jungwon to be careful next time. You aren't as forgiving as your soulmate, though. You called Jungkook over the phone, yelling you'd kill him if he went home tonight.

Jungkook has no choice but to seek shelter at Namjoon’s house.

"Let me guess," Namjoon sighs upon seeing Jungkook at his doorstep. "You've angered your wife again, didn't you?"

"Namjoon-hyung! That's a mean guess. Can't I visit my friend?"

Namjoon remains expressionless. "You only go here whenever you and your wife fight. Your wife will think I betrayed her if I let you in."

Jungkook hmphed. "My wife already has beef with your soulmate and, by extension, with you too. So just let me in, will you?"

Namjoon releases a breath when Jungkook pushes the door open and rushes in. He is right, anyway. You have beef with his soulmate. Namjoon always receives texts from you complaining about Hoseok and how ruthless he is as a government employee.

"Would you like something to drink—" Namjoon cuts himself off upon seeing Jungkook helping himself with a bottle of soju.

The detective takes large gulps. He finishes half of the bottle in less than two minutes. Jungkook hiccups and clumsily wipes his mouth, "My wife found her soulmate. She can see colors now."

Namjoon stops in his tracks.

Jungkook laughs, mocking himself. "His eyes are purple, hyung."

"Jungkook..." Namjoon sounds apologetic.

"What's with your expression?" Jungkook’s lips twist. "You look sorry. Don't be. I'm—"

Happy for her? Jungkook shakes his head. It seems like that's not the case. Namjoon thinks so, too. He sits in front of the detective.

"You're what, Jungkook-ah?" The older man opens a beer bottle for himself, "What do you feel for your wife? What does she make you feel?"

Silence creeps into the room.

Jungkook's shoulders drop. Memories from the past play in his head as he closes his eyes.

Twenty-one years ago, 2002:

11-year-old Jungkook is freezing cold.

He is out in the snow, trying to take a sneak peek at children his age playing on the school grounds. Unlike him, the students are covered with expensive coats, mittens, and a hat. Jungkook's mother is a janitress at a private elementary school in Busan. Sadly, she can't afford to send her son to this school, so Jungkook can only watch the other kids in envy.

The children here have winter camps and activities to support their growth. Today, Jungkook watches as the students make mittens. Some children give the handmade gloves to their family, friends, or teachers.

Only one girl saves her mittens for a lone stranger.

"Here," Jungkook is taken aback when a girl his age suddenly approaches him. She’s shorter than Jungkook, but her determined eyes make people think she has much to offer.

"I said here!" Jungkook remains unmoving, so the girl pushes the mittens to his chest. "I can't see it yet, but my mum said the gloves are gray like my eyes! I made them myself."

The little girl looks proud; a huge grin is on her lips.

Jungkook blinks dumbly at her, "Why...." He takes in a deep breath, clutching the warm gloves to his chest. "Why are you giving me these gloves?"

The little girl looks confused; she even lets out a small huh. Jungkook thinks the girl didn't hear him, so he repeats his words.

You are that little girl. You shrug your shoulders. "Because I want to. You look cold. I don't want to see you cold."

"But," Jungkook's lips tremble. He is having a hard time accepting the gift. "I have nothing to trade you with."

"Who cares?" You sit beside him. "I don't want anything. I just want to be friends."

Present; 2023:

Until now, Jungkook has no idea why you wish to be friends with someone like him. Clearly, you were a world apart. It was winter then. Maybe it was a Winter miracle—if this is even a thing.

But Jungkook is sure of one thing:

"She makes me feel warm, Namjoon-hyung." The detective finally answers his friend's question earlier. "My wife makes me warm, loved, and hopeful."

****

You receive a text message from Namjoon asking you to pick up a hammered Jungkook.

"Hey, you're leaving already?" Taehyung sees you leaving the office.

You rub the back of your neck and smile softly at Taehyung, "Yes. I have to pick up my husband."

"Ah." Taehyung nods, "Jungkook, isn't it? The detective from earlier?"

"Mn. I'm really sorry about what happened."

"It's nothing," Taehyung assures. It will probably take him a long time to forget his encounter with those two strange detectives, but it's not so bad. They apologized and said it was an honest mistake. He motions toward the door, "You brought your car, right? Let’s go down together.”

“You’re going home too?”

“Not yet.” Taehyung opens the office door for his soulmate. “Just gonna get coffee.”

Taehyung’s obsession with caffeine doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Taehyung joined your team only this week but has probably gone to the coffee shop downstairs more than your team did.

You brush it off. It’s none of your business. What matters to you is what Jungkook drinks. After bidding Taehyung goodbye, you immediately rush to Namjoon’s house. He is absolutely right. Jungkook is wasted.

"Why did you let this asshole drink so much!?" You bare your teeth at Namjoon. "You know how he is, Namjoon! Did he even eat before chugging down soju? Soju! You made him drink soju!? Namjoon, you golden-eyed clumsy bastard! Your eye color looks like horse piss!"

You are getting creative with your insults now that you can see colors. Namjoon shakes his head. He likes you better when you still see in black and white; at least then, you don’t go around terrorizing people and their eye color.

"I'm sorry. He forced himself into my home." Namjoon throws Jungkook under the bus. He'd rather get a playfully upset Jungkook than a screaming girl like you.

You know better than to put all the blame on Namjoon, though. You know Jungkook drank himself stupid because he can't handle it when you are genuinely mad at him.

You swallow your fury, "You know what? Just…have a good night, Namjoon-oppa. I'm sorry for shouting and the trouble. I'll make it up to you some other time."

You drag Jungkook to your car.

The detective is no fun when drunk. He just passes out. You can't even get blackmail material out of this hell.

"Fucking finally." You cover your husband with a blanket after cleaning him up and changing his clothes into new ones.

"Bastard." You sneer but still end up softly kissing Jungkook's forehead.

Ah. The things you do for love.

****

Jungkook wakes up with a stomachache and a sweaty forehead. He dramatically whines, cradling his stomach like he has been shot there.

Thankfully, you show up at once. You are carrying a tray with a full meal.

"My stomach hurts." He complains, earning an eye roll from you.

"Of course it does. You fucking drank alcohol on an empty stomach. You also had that stupid drink at the coffee shop. Just what the hell are you thinking?"

You sit on the bed. You first brush your husband's fringe with your fingers, then cup his cheeks and casually wipe the side of his mouth.

"Here, eat something."

Jungkook doesn't need to tell you to feed him. You bring a spoonful of food to his mouth, gently urging him to eat.

The detective moans. Your food tastes like heaven, even better than those Michelin restaurants. "My wife is such a great cook. Thank you~~"

"Whatever. Just don't moan, bastard." You can feel your cheeks turning hot. You easily get flustered with compliments.

Jungkook suddenly wonders if Taehyung has said something to make you blush, too.

"Oi, Jungkook. Don't tell me you don't have an appetite anymore. You barely ate!"

It's not like the detective doesn't want to eat anymore. His mood only plummets when he thinks about your soulmate.

Jungkook utters your name softly and asks, "Are you happy?"

"What kind of question is that?" You scrunch your nose, but you still answer. "Of course I'm happy." I have you in my life.

"No. I mean, are you happy you can see colors now?"

"I'm happier." You are surprised at how quickly you answered. Maybe because it's never hard for you to tell the truth. But still...you don't want to sound insensitive. You know your husband has yet to see colors.

You try again, "I mean...seeing colors makes my job easier, and I’m not just saying this because I'm getting promoted soon." People in their world have a greater chance of success once they see colors.

"I guess I appreciate my job even more. It makes me feel alive, if you will. Things seem "livelier..."

You look into Jungkook's brown eyes. You can see them sparkling. For the first time in twenty-plus years you have known Jungkook, this is the only time you have seen how pink his lips are.

You can feel your heart thumping.

Looking at Jungkook with colors makes you feel "More." You whisper, "I feel things more with colors, Jungkook."

More love.

More joy.

And more clarity about what you really feel about your best friend.

"That's good, then." Jungkook rests his head on your shoulders. "I'm glad you're happy."

He really is. If he can go back to last night, Jungkook won't hesitate to tell Namjoon that, even though it hurts him, he's glad you met the one fated to you.

*****

Months pass, and things get even better for you. You got promoted twice and now handle one of your company's major customers. Your wallet gets fatter—so shouting at Namjoon to tell Hoseok to calm down doesn’t work anymore. Your free time is almost non-existent, though. It makes Jungkook sigh.

“Hey, Jungkook. You’re free to go.” Jungkook’s mood soars when his partner at work approaches him.

“Seokjin-hyung!” Jungkook’s jaw drops to the floor. “Did I hear you right? Are you seriously allowing me to get off work an hour earlier!?”

Seokjin is a hardworking detective who does not joke around since he knows his job affects the public's general welfare. Still, he also knows that you and Jungkook are celebrating your anniversary as a married couple for ten years.

“Just go, Jungkook-ah.” Seokjin pushes him. “Just leave before I change my mind. And for heaven’s sake, get your wife anything but flowers. No one wants to see you sneezing all day. Keep your snots away--!!”

Jungkook walks faster, not wanting to hear his work partner complain. So what if he sneezes all day? So what if he’s allergic to flowers? You love flowers, so he’ll get you bouquets.

Humming, Jungkook makes his way to the flower shop. The snowflakes fall lightly. It’s winter. Jungkook met you in the winter of 2002. You also got married in winter, the year 2013. Other people don’t like this season, especially Hoseok, who watched Namjoon suffer a fall accident because of slippery ground three years ago. Thank goodness Namjoon is okay now.

Jungkook buys flowers and your favorite wine. He’s almost home when a ghost from the past blocks his way.

“Oh, if it isn’t the beloved scoundrel of my bitch of a soulmate.”

Jungkook stiffens, eyes turning dark as he takes in the lone figure of his father.

“Jeon Sungmin.” Jungkook’s tone is scathing.

“The one and only.” Sungmin juts his chin. “Did you miss me, son?”

“Don’t call me that.” Jungkook clenches his fist. Unadulterated anger fills his heart. He’s trying hard not to punch this pathetic man. “In case you forgot, I still have a restraining order against you. I can even arrest you myself.”

Sungmin lets out a sardonic laugh. It’s loud—the kind of laughter that makes Jungkook’s skin itch. He can’t see colors but could’ve sworn he sees blood. Maybe he just wants to claim blood.

“Don’t act so tough on me, boy. In case you forgot, you just stood like a dumb bastard when I killed your bitch of a mom.”

“Stop.” Jungkook chokes, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He can’t breathe. Memories have come to haunt him.

“Scared, aren’t we?” Sungmin drags his limping feet to Jungkook. Twenty years in prison broke his body but not his soul. Even with only his tattered clothes and one functioning eye, Sungmin can still bring terror to his son.

“You should be. You’re nothing but a pathetic scourge.” Sungmin pulls Jungkook’s collar, slamming him into a cold wall. “Now be of use and give me money.”

Jungkook doesn’t move. His eyes droop, wanting to puke as he feels his father stealing his wallet. He hears screams inside his head, the pleas of his mother. Jungkook-ah, run. Please. You have to save yourself.

Jungkook remains rooted in his spot back then, just hollowly looking at the blood on the floor. He watched as Sungmin smashed the baseball bat into his mother’s head.

More screams. Sungmin didn’t stop the beating until the police officers came.

Twenty years later, Jungkook is still the same. He still can’t stand up for himself. He watches his father take his wine and wallet, leaving like nothing happened.

Jungkook doesn’t know how he manages to walk back home. He stays outside, ruined flowers in his lap. He cannot get in as his keys are inside his stolen wallet.

Jungkook could only wait for a purple-eyed girl whose eyes he thought were gray.

****

Like Jungkook, you get off work early as well. Your secretary runs after you, saying that you can’t leave yet. However, you dismissed the secretary and passed the work on to Yeonjun instead. You hate that you are not home yet. You are actually supposed to take the day off to plan your anniversary date with your husband better.

It’s your 10th anniversary, after all. You are thinking of cooking Jungkook’s favorite food and giving him a…body massage. Many things are running into your mind—you can’t wait to try them all with your husband. Too bad work is holding you back.

“Sunbaenim, what do you think about this color combination? Is the shade of blue too dark for this winter’s theme?” Yeji excitedly shows off her design.

You rub your neck roughly, stopping yourself from throwing profanities. Calm down. Yeji is a hardworking designer who only wants the best for the team.

“I’m thinking of using an aqua frost instead. One shoulder sleeve should do the trick if—”

Oh my God. ‘Someone, please kill me now.’ You scream internally.

“Yeji,” you press your lips into a thin line. “I actually can’t entertain you right now. Would you mind checking in with Taehyung instead?”

Yeji’s shoulders drop. “Ah, Taehyung-sunbaenim isn’t here at the moment.”

“What do you mean he’s not here?” You feel your head pulsating. “Where is he?”

Everyone is so busy. Taehyung can’t possibly skip work, right?

“He’s at the coffee shop downstairs.”

That son of a--!!

You stand up abruptly. Taehyung’s coffee break ended an hour ago! How can he still be at the coffee shop!? You are seething in anger. You know Taehyung is your soulmate, but you can’t just connect to him. The first few months are okay. However, you soon realize how incompatible you and Taehyung are. Your connection starts with colors, and it also ends there. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I’m going to call him.” You exit, ignoring Yeji’s call. Honestly, what you said is half lie and half-truth. You just really, really want to leave the office. It’s a pure happenstance to bump into Taehyung in the elevator.

“Hey.” He calls your name. Remnants of joy are still visible on Taehyung’s face. Two coffee holders are in his hands—he got the whole team some drinks. “I got coffee. Where’re you going?”

“Home.” You press the elevator button. “It’s my husband and I’s anniversary.”

“Ah.” Taehyung nods in understanding. He never once shows any sign of disappointment over his soulmate spending time with another person. “Didn’t you say Detective Jeon likes eating sweets? Jimin-hyung baked a chocolate cake today. Will you accept it as my anniversary gift for you two?”

You pause. It’s like your brain short-circuits upon noticing Taehyung’s expression when he utters Jimin’s name.

Jimin—the barista and baker at the coffee shop where Taehyung frequents.

“Taehyung,” your heart stutters. “D-Do you remember your first day in the office?”

“Of course.” Taehyung offers a small smile. “It’s hard to forget that day, don’t you think? We both saw colors for the first time.”

You blink at him, not saying anything.

Taehyung avoids eye contact, thinking he’s not smart enough to understand what you implied. He tries to remember every detail of that day.

“I think I came to the office ten minutes earlier. I got everyone coffee. Come to think of it, Jimin-hyung actually saved me that day. He knows everyone’s order—Hey, are you alright?”

“You…” You gasp. “You met with Jimin before seeing me at the office, right?”

“Yes?” Taehyung’s hands are getting clammy for grasping the coffee holders. It doesn’t help that you are acting weird, making him more anxious.

“Taehyung, I think there’s been a glitch.”

Yeji goes after you a few minutes later. Both of you and Jimin are taking too long. Luckily, she instantly spots you at the elevator door. You look agitated, while Taehyung seems dumbfounded.

“Sunbaenim!” Yeji tries to stop you two, but you and Taehyung have already gotten inside the lift.

“Yeji, there you are.” Taehyung passes the coffee holders to Yeji. “Drink this with the others. We’ll be taking another break. See you later.”

“Wait—!!”

The elevator door closes.

Yeji whines, “I still have to show you my designs….”

****

You rush home, excited to see your husband. However, your excitement quickly turns into horror when you spot Jungkook sitting on your porch.

“Jungkook!?” Your eyes dilate. Jungkook is staring into nothingness. You are familiar with this kind of expression, the kind where you are forced to swallow your insults because you know.

You know something terrible happened to your husband.

You quickly open the door and pull Jungkook to his feet. The detective is still unresponsive, letting you drag him into the bathroom. You did all the work; you immediately opened the heater and got warm clothes.

“Kook,” you call softly, cradling Jungkook’s hands to blow on them. “ Can you lift your arms for me? Let’s get you changed, alright?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer but does what he’s told. You are shaking as you help your husband change. You want to give the detective warm water and candies, but Jungkook still looks shaken. You can only gently drag him to bed. You lay down beside Jungkook, hugging him close to your chest.

You didn’t ask any questions, allowing Jungkook to breathe first.

“I--” Jungkook hiccups, sounding broken. He weakly grips the hem of your shirt.

“I’m here, Darling.” You kiss your husband’s forehead. You hug him even tighter, wishing to melt your body and bones and offer all your warmth and love to Jungkook.

Jungkook calls your name, his voice almost sounding like a wounded animal.

You caress your partner’s cheeks. They’re wet. It takes everything in you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart. No. You can’t fall apart now. Jungkook needs you.

“Mn. I’m here. You can tell me what you want.”

“N-No.” Jungkook whimpers, “I don’t want anything. I—I don’t deserve anything.”

“Jungkook.” You break the hug and force Jungkook to sit up on the bed. He’s warm enough. He’ll live.

The detective cast his gaze down, though—an indication he doesn’t want to hear whatever you have to say.

It pisses you off.

“Jungkook. Look at me.” You demand sternly. But Jungkook shakes his head.

“No, you’re mad at me.”

“Heck yeah, I’m mad. I’m so mad I can punch your face right now.” You have been patient with him, believing he’s vulnerable and in need of space. But your heart is only soft for a sad Jungkook, not for a Jungkook who blabs stupid things.

Jungkook balls his hands into fists, “You don’t understand. It’s so noisy in here.” He points at his head, “They won’t shut up. I’m—he….”

Jungkook gasps for air. You panic. You rub Jungkook’s back.

“Jungkook,” the saddest thing in this world is not seeing colors; it’s watching your beloved deal with the pain while you sit there pathetically, unable to take even a fraction of his hurt.

What good is a soulmate when all it can bring is color? Why can’t you take away Jungkook’s pain?

“He’s back, my father is out of jail.” Jungkook grips the bedsheet, “He’s come back for me. He hurt her before. He always takes away the people I love.”

Trauma is a part of Jungkook; napping silently and with one wrong shake, it’ll wake up and wreak havoc.

“You should run. Leave me. I don’t have a use to you, anyway—”

“Hush,” you can’t bear to listen anymore. You pull Jungkook to your chest, but the detective struggles.

“Please. You have to listen to me! Just leave! We’re not soulmates. I don’t understand why you’re still here!" Jungkook pushes your chest, but you catch his hands, burying Jungkook’s face into your neck.

“Oh, ma moitié.” The French endearment sounds easy coming out of your mouth. Jungkook melts at once. He sobs against your skin.

Ma moitié translates to my other half.

Jungkook wants to curse this unfair world. That’s right. How can you and him not be each other’s other half? It’s difficult to fight for you when fate is against you two. Sometimes Jungkook feels like no one has the right to tear you apart, mainly because you two paint each other's life—not with colors but with love. You and Jungkook are soulmates by heart. Many people call you twin black. The monochromatic world doesn't rob the two of you of happiness, love, and care. It takes one Jeon Jungkook to know that you like drinking cold water, not just 'cold water.' It has to be a certain degree of coldness:

If the water sits in the refrigerator for two hours, that's not cold enough. If it's water coming from a semi-solid ice cube, then that's too cold.

You are fussy, but you give your effort to Jungkook similarly. Whenever you pick Jungkook up from work, you never fail to put your expensive leather jacket on the passenger seat, so Jungkook wouldn't have to deal with a burning hot seat. You don’t mind being stuck in the traffic and driving for hours to pick him up at work every day.

“Why can’t you be mine?” Jungkook doesn’t have the energy to push you away. His hatred is directed toward fate, himself, and his deranged father. Why are they against you and him being together?

“But I’m already yours, Kook.” You lick Jungkook’s tears and kiss his eyes. “Everything about me belongs to you. This,”

You guide Jungkook’s hands to your eyes, lips, and neck, then lower Jungkook’s hands to your heart. You let the detective feel your beating heart.

“You hear that, Kook?” Your eyes well up with tears. “That’s my heart telling you something.”

Goosebumps prick at Jungkook’s skin.

You do not break eye contact. “I love you, Jungkook.”

You have said those words countless times before, but it doesn’t fail to take Jungkook’s breath away—especially now that the I love you is said so softly…so romantically.

“You’re my soulmate, Jungkook.”

Jungkook flinches, shaking his head rapidly.

“T-That can’t be. You…you see colors. I don’t. We’re—we’re….”

Why are you lying? Why are you giving Jungkook false hope? It’s cruel.

But you are insistent.

“Jungkook,” you kiss him. “Stop thinking for a while, yeah? Focus on me. Focus on my heart. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jungkook answers against your lips. He never responded before, simply allowing and relishing the taste of your sweet lips.

“I love you so much,” Jungkook repeats, groaning and biting your lips until it draws blood. Jungkook had never allowed himself to possess before, scared that he would end up ruining what he loved. But today is different. You are addicting. Claiming he loves you gives him so much power--

He pushes you to bed, pressing himself on top of you.

Jungkook kisses you. “I love you. I love you. I really, really love you.”

--so much happiness.

“I love you.”

--so much color.

Jungkook stops kissing you; his head spins.

--so much color.

Color.

The monochromatic world is slowly changing.

Color.

More colors.

Jungkook’s eyes grow wide.

He looks at you under him.

He gasps and calls your name. Your name sounds like a prayer coming out of Jungkook’s mouth.

“Your eyes…they’re purple.”

You chuckle under him. You wipe Jungkook’s tears.

“Took you long enough to realize, Kook.”

Jungkook laughs hysterically. He stares into your eyes again, ensuring he’s not dreaming or going crazing.

Your eyes are really purple—not gray.

At this very moment, Jungkook realizes something: out of all the suicide methods in history, Jungkook thinks that if he were to try one, it still wouldn’t work because seeing the purple in your eyes will bring him back to life.

Really. No amount of oxygen can compare to the image of you lying on your bed, purple eyes glistening as you whisper sweet nothings to your soulmate. With that, Jungkook feels he can finally breathe.

****

Meanwhile, on Aurora Fashion Lane, Taehyung runs toward the coffee shop. The conversation he had with you at the elevator rings inside his mind.

There has been a glitch.

That’s right. Taehyung remembers that day like the back of his hand.

It’s 6:23am. He went to a coffee shop looking so composed, but he’s actually very nervous. However, the presence of the barista calms him down.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” Jimin, the barista, asks. A soft smile adores his pretty face.

Taehyung feels his heart skipping a beat. He licks his lips, “You can tell?”

“You smell different.”

“Really.” Taehyung feels blood rushing to his face.

Jimin laughs. “Don’t be conscious. I said you smell different, not bad. I can tell because I’m blind. My other senses are heightened because of it.”

“Ah.” Taehyung is fascinated. Jimin prepares coffee like a pro. He won’t know Jimin can’t see if he didn’t say it.

“This one is for your head designer; she likes her coffee with some liquor. I sneak some little candies onto her tray so she can bring them home to Detective Jeon, her husband.” Jimin pushes a coffee cup to Taehyung.

“This one is for Yeji. She prefers iced coffee even when it’s freezing cold. This one is for Ji-Eun. She likes tea and not coffee. Yeonjun never changes his order. It’s always two shots of espresso. Jake drinks anything, as long as it’s not too bitter. And this,”

Jimin smiles, “Is for you. A bulgogi sandwich and iced latte. The sandwich is not spicy, so you don’t need to worry. Have a good day.”

Taehyung feels like floating in the air when he goes to work. He first sees you at the door, looking so pensive early in the morning.

You are thinking about your husband. His birthday is coming soon. You want to give him something precious.

A wristwatch? Nah. That’s too simple.

A perfume? Nope. You prefer it when he smells like you.

What about a picnic date near the sea? You can arrange for a firework display and…

Confess.

You flinch at your own thought.

Confess.

You want to confess to Jungkook because---

--you love him.

“Good morning.” Taehyung greets.

You are startled. You snap your head up to meet Taehyung’s face.

All of a sudden, a splash of colors welcomes you.

You see colors, and so does Taehyung.

“So yeah, I think there’s been a glitch.” Taehyung tries to explain to an expressionless Jimin. He swallows when the barista doesn’t answer.

Taehyung releases a deep sigh. Right. He probably sounds crazy right now. It’s not cool to suddenly barge at someone’s work and announce that you think the barista is your soulmate.

Taehyung scolds himself. He’s about to apologize and tell Jimin to ignore what he said when—

“I know,” Jimin responds.

Taehyung blinks up at him dumbly.

Jimin’s lips twist, “Didn’t I tell you I’m blind?”

What’s his blindness got to do with anything? Taehyung still likes him.

“Taehyung, I’m blind.” He repeats. “I’ve been blind since I was born. When I dream, I don’t dream visually, but.”

There’s a sudden pause. Jimin looks lost in thought.

He continues after a while, “The night before I met you, I dreamt of you. I saw a man who told me I was his soulmate. You two have the same voice, and here…” Jimin brings out his sketch pad and finally shows it to Taehyung.

“I draw the face of the man in my dream. Does it look like you?”

Taehyung gasps dramatically because, my gosh. Jimin has perfectly drawn his face!

“This is really me…I’m your soulmate, Jimin.” Taehyung stutters a breath. His heart beats fast.

Jimin chuckles softly, and then he touches Taehyung’s eyes. “Yes, you told me in my dream, too. I’m just waiting for you to realize it in real life.”

The thing about soulmates is it’s complex. Researchers even claim there are different universes, all of which have the concept of soulmates. Some hear the thoughts of their soulmates in their heads. Some are immortals and will only die if they do the act with their soulmates. And then comes their world, a monochromatic place where you’ll see colors once you look at your soulmate’s eyes.

But it’s not that simple. Sometimes, you have to free yourself from your own judgment first. Sometimes, you must be honest first; sometimes, you just have to wait.

****

Accept this fic while I take my time writing my ongoing JJK series here.

This is originally a soukoku fic I've written before. If you prefer that version, click here. I've converted it into a JJK x reader because it was requested by an anon here. If there are obvious mistakes in pronouns and such, please tell me because as said, this is originally a fic for a different fandom and it used to be a mxm pairing. I may have missed some thing while editing it.

I've written the same concept of soulmate ft. JJK years ago. It's a series which you can read here.

I appreciate comments the most! If you have suggestions about addtional tw, please don't hesitate to message me. Thank you ~~

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #ficswithluv #jungkook x you #bts fic #jungkook x oc #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x yn #jungkook roommate au #jungkook established relationship #soft boy jungkook #detective

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itneverendshere · 2 days

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THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - two

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader x sorta canon!rafe; doesn't exactly follow the real plot line but...it does?; am i turning this into a series? maybe.

word count: 6k...

Neither of you ever mentioned that night again, as if it had never happened. It couldn't have happened; it must have been a figment of your overactive imagination.

There was no way in hell you would have let Rafe Cameron have you on top of a dining table, living up to the derogatory "dirty pogue" nickname. You were better than that. You knew better.

Despite that...You found it impossible to look at him for the next forty-eight hours. In fact, facing yourself in the mirror became a challenge, so much so that you refused his help in tending to your wound. Self-sufficiency had long been your norm. Growing up with Luke meant mastering the art of tending to your bruises from a young age.

Initially, there was an undeniable tension between you and Rafe.

Every time your paths crossed, it dragged you back to that regretful moment—the feeling of his hands, the memory of his presence inside you—but there were bigger things at stake, and so, you pushed the nagging feelings aside, focusing on one thing only: getting out.

You and Rafe didn’t mix, oil and water, two stubborn bastards with heavy emotional baggage. Sometimes it was tricky to work together, but other days, it flowed so easily it gave you whiplash. In the time that followed, you both worked tirelessly to plan your getaway, meticulously plotting every detail to ensure success and not another round of bullets. Your job was to sit around and act innocent, while Rafe had to ensure you had a way out and enough money to pay someone off. Avoiding Ward was easy enough since he spent most of his time in Guadalupe.

Rafe scoffed; his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed the small, weather-beaten boat skeptically. "I'm not getting into that piece of shit. No fucking way," he declared, voice dripping with disdain.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the knot of frustration building in your chest. He was so fucking insufferable.

"Oh, so you've got a better suggestion?" you shot back in defiance.

He shot you a glare, but you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes caught the shimmer of the clear night sky, "I do," he retorted, gesturing towards a sleek motorboat moored nearby. "That one looks like it might get us somewhere without sinking halfway."

You followed his gaze, your entire face scrunching up as you took in the sight of the motorboat. It was certainly more modern and well-maintained than the rusty old dinghy you had been eyeing, but something about it made you uneasy.

"Hell no?” you hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. "It seems a bit...too much. We don't want to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves."

Rafe rolled his eyes, "C'mon,” he scoffed, his voice tinged with impatience. "This isn't the time to be playing it safe. We need to get out of here, and that boat is our best chance."

You bit your lip, torn between your instincts and Rafe's seemingly reckless impulsiveness. On one hand, you didn't want to take any unnecessary risks, but on the other hand, you knew that time was running out and you needed to act fast. Ward was coming back to the island soon enough and if he dragged Rafe away with him…you were a lost cause. There was no third chance.

“What about the guards?” your voice dropped to a whisper as you glanced around nervously. The last thing you needed was someone overhearing your plans.

Rafe’s stare flickered with a hint of irritation, “I’ve got it covered,” Your skepticism must have shown on your face because he stepped closer, lowering his voice, “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I’m not about to let us get caught. I’ve been dealing with Ward’s security my whole life. I know how to slip past them.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, “Fine. But if this goes south, it’s on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, isn’t it always?” he replied, dismissively waving a hand, “Just try not to get shot this time.”

"You think you're so fucking funny, don't you?"

"Keep your voice down."

The tension between you two was palpable, but there was no time to dwell on it. You both turned your attention back to the task at hand. The sleek motorboat gleamed in the fading light, its potential for escape glinting like a promise of freedom. As night fell, you both moved with practiced stealth, with a reluctant nod, you followed him towards the sleek motorboat. The docks were eerily quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the waves against the hulls of the boats. Your heart pounded in your chest as you kept a lookout for any sign of the guards. Rafe moved with the confidence that you envied, quickly untying the boat and preparing it for departure. You glanced around nervously, half-expecting to hear the shout of a guard at any moment. Every shadow seemed like a threat, every noise a potential alarm.

“Hurry up,” you hissed, glancing over your shoulder.

“Calm the fuck down,” Rafe muttered, though he did quicken his pace. “We’re almost ready.”

Your anxiety spiked. This was it. No turning back. Rafe started the engine, the low rumble sounding like a roar in the silent night. You winced, half-expecting the noise to draw attention. The sound was louder than you expected. But luck seemed to be on your side.

“C’mon,” He whispered, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of trouble, “Get in.”

You climbed aboard, your hands shaking as you settled into the seat.

“Go!” you urged, glancing back at the docks nervously. Rafe didn’t need to be told twice. The boat lurched forward, cutting through the water with surprising speed. As the island receded into the distance, you felt a surge of hope. For the first time in months, freedom was within reach.

As Rafe guided the boat out of the harbor, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“See? I told you it’d be fine,” Rafe said, a hint of smugness in his voice.

“Just keep your eyes on the water,” you retorted, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being right.

He adjusted the throttle, the boat picking up speed. "Relax, Maybank. Enjoy the ride," he said, his tone dripping with mock concern.

You shot him a withering look, gripping the edge of your seat. "Just focus on getting us out of here in one piece.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "You think I don't know what I'm doing?"

"Frankly, I don’t care what you think you know. Just keep us moving," you snapped back, your voice tense.

Rafe's hands tightened on the wheel, but he said nothing. The silence between you was a common thing, the hum of the engine the only sound cutting through the night. Minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last. The coastline was a distant memory now, the open water vast and foreboding. You kept scanning the horizon, every wave a potential threat.

"You're acting like we're about to get ambushed by pirates," Rafe finally said, his tone lighter but edged with irritation.

"Better safe than sorry," you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

Rafe let out a sharp laugh. "Always so paranoid. That's what gets you in trouble."

You whipped your head around to glare at him. “No, your family got me in trouble. In case you’ve forgotten.”

His face hardened, the easy bravado slipping for just a moment, “Huh, right. ‘Cause your friends are such fucking saints.”

“At least they’re not murder—”

You cut yourself off before you said it, but the damage was done anyways. Rafe's jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching as he ground his teeth, lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. He didn't respond verbally, but the anger radiating from him was answer enough to you.

He turned his attention back to the horizon, his grip on the wheel tightening until his knuckles were white. The boat's engine roared louder as he increased the speed, the vessel slicing through the water with renewed urgency. The waves splashed higher, and the night air became colder, but Rafe didn't seem to notice. His focus was absolute. Yeah, he was pissed.

What could you possibly say? Apologize? There was no way in hell you were apologizing to him. Not after everything his father had put you through. If anyone owed an apology, it was him. And you knew you'd see the world end before Rafe Cameron ever uttered those words. It was infuriating. There he was taking a step forward, leaving his loyalty to Ward behind and he still refused to show remorse if not between four walls with you. Never out in the open, never too loud.

The sound of the engine became a steady thrum, drowning out any other noise, as if creating a barrier between you and the rest of the world. You sat in silence, each lost in your thoughts, the weight of the past pressing down on you like a lead blanket. It was done. And although you wished things had been differently, they weren’t.

Despite the chill in the air, sweat prickled at the back of your neck, tension coiling in your muscles. The night stretched on, like a never-ending path.

After what felt like an eternity, a sliver of light appeared on the horizon, signaling the approach of dawn. You breathed a sigh of relief, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. The worst was over, for now at least.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, “We’re almost there. Keep an eye out for any patrol boats," he instructed, his voice curt and businesslike. He was all focus still, facade slipping away to reveal that calculating side that had always unnerved you.

You nodded, scanning the waters diligently. The further you went, the more the reality of your situation sank in. You were out there, in the middle of nowhere, relying on a Cameron to get you to safety. The irony was almost laughable.

“Where are we heading?" you asked, breaking the silence. Your voice was softer, the edge of anger dulled by exhaustion.

Rafe glanced at you, his expression unreadable. "We'll head south, find somewhere to lay low for a while. I've got contacts who owe me favors."

“Uh? We’re not going back to The Outer Banks?”

He shook his head, attention fixed on the horizon. “No. Not unless you want to get killed.”

The Outer Banks, once your home, now felt like a trap waiting to snap shut. You should’ve figured Ward would send someone after you the minute he figured you were gone. A loose end. Shills ran down your body as you remembered your close encounter with death.

"Your contacts won’t sell us out?"

He smirked, though there was no humor in it. "They know better than to cross me. Criminal, remember?”

You sighed, ready to jump into the water if it meant a little space from the unbearable atmosphere. Despite everything, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling of guilt that twisted in your gut.

“You know what I meant, Rafe.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Listen,” you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. He glanced at you, his expression guarded, but you pressed on, determined to break through the wall of resentment that had formed between you, “I don’t care, okay? Not right now. What matters is that you’re here, not with him.”

Rafe's face softened slightly; the hard edges of his demeanor were momentarily blunted by your words. He looked away, his jaw working as if he were chewing over something in his mind. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more subdued than before.

“If you say so.”

As you drew nearer to the shore, details of the island began to come into focus. Lush greenery blanketed the landscape, punctuated by towering palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. It was oddly like the place you’d been stuck in for months, but this time, there was no sense of dread in you. The boat slowed as Rafe expertly maneuvered it into a small cove, sheltered from prying threats by rocky outcrops and overhanging foliage. With a soft thud, the vessel came to a stop, the engine sputtering into silence.

Once he was done, he stepped onto the water, knees deep as the sandy shore still lay a little ahead. You blinked in confusion as he turned to you, his arms open wide in a gesture that left you momentarily perplexed. The water laps gently against the sides of the boat, its surface reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your brow furrowing in bemusement as you eyed his outstretched arms.

“Helping you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his simple gesture of assistance. It took a moment for his words to register, and when they did, a faint blush tinged your cheeks at your slowness. In all fairness, you weren’t used to this side of Rafe. You’d only seen it a few times and it was…something else entirely.

“Right.”

As Rafe's hand brushed against your waist while helping you out of the boat, your skin prickled in goosebumps, despite your efforts to remain composed. You quickly brushed off the sensation, chalking it up to nerves from the situation. With a grateful nod, you stepped onto the sandy shore, feeling the warm grains shift beneath your feet. The island stretched out before you, its landscape dotted with lush vegetation and towering trees. It was larger than you had anticipated, much bigger than Ward’s private hell.

"We should find a place to sleep,” you said, turning to Rafe as you scanned the horizon for any signs of civilization.

He nodded in agreement, his gaze following yours as he surveyed the landscape. "Let's head towards the center of the island. There should be some motels.”

With a shared nod, you set off along the sandy shore, the waves crashing against the beach providing a rhythmic backdrop to your footsteps. The warm, humid air carried the scent of salt and seaweed, adding to the coastal ambiance. As you walked, an uneasy feeling crept over you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling, maybe it was just the paranoia that had become like second nature to you over the past year.

After a while, you noticed a winding path leading into the dense foliage of the island's interior. Without a word, you and Rafe followed it, venturing deeper into the heart of the island. The sounds of civilization faded, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, you emerged into a clearing. Before you stood a beat up motel, its faded paint and weather-beaten facade blending seamlessly into the surrounding landscape.

"This should do," you said, nodding towards the building, "I guess."

“Yeah. Good for a night or two, my contact won’t be here till then.”

As you entered the motel lobby, the air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener. Rafe followed closely behind you, his expression unreadable as he glanced around the dimly lit room. You approached the front desk, where a bored-looking clerk sat slouched behind the counter, flipping through a magazine with half-hearted interest.

"Hi there," Rafe said, flashing a charming smile as he leaned casually against the counter. "My wife and I are looking for a room for the night."

His what? Your eyes widened in surprise, but you quickly masked your reaction, playing along with his impromptu act. It was obvious it wasn't the first time Rafe had pulled a stunt like this, and you had to admit, he had a knack for getting what he wanted. To pretend and lie his way out.

The clerk glanced up from his magazine, peeking over the two of you with mild curiosity. "Sure thing," he said, his tone disinterested. "How many nights?"

"One for now," Rafe replied smoothly, reaching into his pocket to produce a wad of cash that you hadn't even realized he had. It was a substantial amount, more than enough to cover the cost of survival for at least two weeks.

The clerk took the cash without comment, handing Rafe a key with a grunt of acknowledgment. "Room 203," he said, gesturing towards a staircase in the corner of the lobby. "Upstairs, second door on the left."

"Thanks," Rafe said, pocketing the key with a nod of gratitude. He turned to you; his expression unreadable. "Let’s go, baby.”

Baby?

He must've been out of his goddamn mind. His hand found yours, rough fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt oddly intimate. You glanced at him, confused, but he simply squeezed your hand reassuringly, focused on the hallway ahead.

When you reached the door to room, he released your hand with a reluctant sigh. That always happened with him, there was always something new you couldn’t pinpoint, but eventually got used to. The charming, panty-dropping posture was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual brooding demeanor as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a modest but comfortable-looking room.

“After you.”

You swallowed your surprise at his manners and stepped into the room, grateful for the relative privacy it offered. Rafe followed close behind, closing the door behind him with a soft click. It was sparsely furnished, with a queen-sized bed dominating the space and a small television mounted on the wall opposite. A worn armchair sat in the corner, and a narrow window offered a glimpse of the night sky outside.

"It’s a fucking dump,” Rafe said, his tone light but with an underlying note of exhaustion. "But it'll do for now."

You sank onto the edge of the bed with a weary sigh “Better than my room back home.”

“Really?”

"Don't act so surprised," you said with a wry smile, a hint of defiance creeping into your tone. "We're not exactly living in luxury over there."

You could see the realization dawn on Rafe's face as if he’d forgotten your background, “Didn’t think it was that bad for you.”

"Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving," you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite the underlying edge of irritation. "But let's save up the pity for later. I'm more interested in asking you why the fuck you got just one room with one bed."

“I can sleep on the floor, relaaax.”

You shoot him a skeptical look, eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Seriously?" you ask, a hint of incredulity coloring your voice. "You'd actually sleep on the floor?"

He shrugged, "Why not? It's not like I haven't slept in worse places."

You didn’t want to delve into that. Instead, you only studied him for a moment, searching for any hint of insincerity in his expression. To your surprise, you found none. Moments like these reminded you that he was human, and you hated it.

“Okay.”

With a weary sigh, you rose from the bed and began to remove your shoes, the events of the day finally catching up with you. Exhaustion settled into your bones, dragging you down like an unbearable weight.

Rafe watched you for a moment before turning away to rummage through spare sheets and pillows, preparing a makeshift bed. There was no time to change clothes; you had left the little you had behind. As you slipped beneath the covers and closed your eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the calm before the storm. It felt too easy.

You heard the rustle of sheets as he settled onto the floor, making himself as comfortable as possible, “Don’t fucking snore, Cameron.”

Rafe chuckled softly, the rare sound carrying through the darkness of the room. "Wouldn't dream of it, Maybank.”

Hours later, you woke suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest, the remnants of a nightmare still clinging to the edges of your consciousness. For a moment, you lay there in the darkness, disoriented and trying to make sense of your surroundings. Then, you heard it—a low, murmured voice coming from the other side of the room. Turning towards the source of the sound, you saw Rafe lying on the makeshift bed on the floor, his face twisted in a grimace of pain.

He was tossing and turning restlessly, his brow furrowed as he muttered incomprehensible words under his breath. Concern gnawed at your gut as you watched him, the sight of him trapped in a nightmare and it weirdly stirred something protective within you. Despite everything, despite the walls he put up, you didn’t like to see him in pain. It felt so familiar, and for a second you were back home, in your room, rocking yourself back and forth after waking up in hysterical screams.

Moving quietly, you slipped out of bed and crossed the room to kneel beside him. Gently, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

"Rafe," you whispered softly, trying to rouse him from his restless slumber. "Hey, wake up."

In the next second, you were gasping for breath as Rafe's hands closed around your throat in a vice-like grip. Shock and fear surged through you, your body instinctively fighting against his hold as you struggled to break free.

"R-Rafe!" you gasped, your voice coming out in a strangled whisper as you clawed at his hands, desperate for release. But he was lost in the grip of his nightmare, his grip unyielding as he continued to squeeze, his eyes wide and unseeing.

Panic took over you as the world blurred around the edges, darkness creeping into your vision while your lungs burned for air. Frantically, you tried to call out to him, to wake him from whatever hellish nightmare held him in its grasp, but your voice was little more than a choked rasp, "Rafe!"

Then, as suddenly as it began, the pressure around your throat vanished, leaving you gasping and wheezing for breath as you collapsed against the bed. Blinking away the tears that pricked at your eyes, you looked up to see him kneeling beside you, his hands shaking as he stared at you with wide, horrified eyes.

"Fuck, fuck," he whispered, his voice trembling with fear and disbelief. "Shit, shit. I didn't mean to—I didn't know—"

His words were choked off by a strangled sob as he buried his face in his hands, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs. It was a startling sight, seeing the usually composed and confident Rafe Cameron reduced to this, his vulnerability laid bare for you to see. For a moment, you were frozen, unsure of what to do or say in the face of such raw emotion. But then, instinct kicked in, and you reached out to him, wrapping your arms around him.

He practically dragged you into his lap, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He only shook his head, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face where your neck and shoulder met, his entire body wracked with tremors. All you could do was hold him close, offering whatever comfort you could. Eventually, his sobs began to subside, his breathing evening out as he clung to you like a lifeline.

You held him close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, “Better?”

Rafe nodded against your shoulder; his breathing still ragged but gradually steadying. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the soft sound of your heartbeat. "Yeah, I think so."

You remained silent, holding him close as he slowly calmed down. The weight of his body against yours was oddly comforting, grounding you in the present moment and pushing back the memories of his violent outburst just moments before.

After a while, Rafe pulled away slightly, his eyes red-rimmed but clear as he looked up at you "I didn't mean to hurt—”

You reached out and brushed a stray lock of his blonde hair from his sweaty forehead, your touch gentle and reassuring. "I know," you whispered softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was just a nightmare. I have them too.”

You don't know why you offer him that solace.

"You do?"

You nodded, though you knew he couldn't see it in the dim light.

"Yeah," you admitted, your voice soft but steady. "They’re pretty bad too.”

There was a brief pause, filled only with the sound of your quiet breathing and the distant hum of the night outside. Then, Rafe spoke again, his voice tinged with curiosity, "What do you dream about?"

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But something in Rafe's earnest expression urged you to be honest, to let down your guard just this once, “Luke. You?”

Rafe's immediate reaction was defensive, hands pulling away from your body, “Doesn't matter."

You felt stupid for asking him such a personal thing. He wasn't like you.

“Do you want to sleep in bed with me? It might be better than the floor."

"I'm fine on the floor. Don't worry about me."

But you weren't about to let him off the hook that easily. With a sigh, you reached out and gently grasped his arm, turning him to face you again, "Rafe," you said, voice borderline pleading, “Just sleep on the bed. Okay?"

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the bed, but with a reluctant sigh, he nodded, his defenses crumbling.

"Okay, okay," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fine."

With that, he rose from the floor and cautiously joined you on the bed, his usual bravado replaced by a rare hesitancy. You shifted slightly to make room for him, and as he settled beside you, a wave of warmth and comfort washed over you, “Don’t snore.”

“Not more than you do.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of fitful sleep and restless dreams, but somehow, with Rafe by your side, it felt more bearable. When morning finally came, you awoke to find he was already gone, his side of the bed cold, no traces of his presence, and a messy scribbled note left behind on the bedside table.

"Picking up food and clothes, brb. Don't open the door."

You felt relieved that he hadn't disappeared without a word and was instead putting in the effort to rely on you. Deep down, you knew he had left as soon as he woke up, probably sprinting out of the room to avoid waking you and having any awkward confrontations about last night. It was going to be a long day, especially if he was determined to hide his emotions and weaknesses. You knew the old, bad Rafe Cameron would make a reappearance.

Pushing aside your conflicting emotions, you rose from the bed and stretched. The events of the previous night began to fade into the background as you focused on the task at hand: a shower. You stank. It had been two days since you had washed, and the thought of having gone to sleep in such a state made you want to hurl. You’d have to ask for another set of fresh sheets if you stayed another night.

As you stepped into the bathroom, the warm water cascading over your skin felt like a soothing balm, washing away the remnants of fear and tension from the previous night. The steam filled the small space, enveloping you like a comforting embrace as you took your time, allowing the water to ease the knots of stress from your muscles. You focused on the simple act of washing away the dirt and grime, letting the familiar routine ground you.

Yet, even as you lathered soap onto your skin, your mind couldn't help but drift back to Rafe, to the way he had clung to you in the darkness, his vulnerability laid bare. It served as another reminder that despite his tough exterior, he was just as human as any of you, with fears and insecurities that ran deep. And it terrified you, because up until last month Rafe Cameron was not capable of emotions to you, only violence.

You stepped out of the shower, the steam still lingering in the air and with a towel wrapped snugly around your body, you stepped back into the main room of the motel, feeling refreshed.

“Huh, good morning to you too.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, “Fuck!”

Rafe stood leaning against the doorway, something similar to a playful smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he watched your startled reaction. His arms were laden with bags of groceries and a few articles of clothing.

"Didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to make sure you were alive in there."

You stared at him incredulously, “Turn around!”

He scoffed, walking into the room as he closed the door with his foot, “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He said it so casually, it irked you. As if you two hadn’t been purposely ignoring that night ever happened. You shot him a withering glare, snatching a towel from the nearby chair and aiming at his face, full force.

"That's not the point, Cameron," you grumbled, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “And you didn’t see shit. I was dressed.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, catching the towel with ease before tossing it back to you "What's the matter, Maybank? You shy all of a sudden?"

“Will you shut up?”

Rafe held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening as he leaned against the nearest wall. There was no point in getting into a pointless argument with him, especially not when you had more important things to worry about. Instead, you focused on drying yourself off and getting dressed in the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

As you emerged again, fully dressed and composed, Rafe had already begun unpacking the bags of groceries, laying out an assortment of food on the small table in the corner of the room. The sight of the makeshift spread made your stomach growl in anticipation, reminding you just how long it had been since your last meal.

“Hungry?” Rafe asked, glancing up from where he was arranging the food.

You nodded eagerly, making your way over to the table and helping yourself to a plate of fruit and plain toast. As you ate, Rafe filled you in on his plans for the day. It was strange, hearing Rafe talk so casually, without insults, without fear, or threats. For so long, you had seen him as nothing more than a spoiled, entitled rich kid, content to coast through life on his family’s wealth and influence. But ever since that night, you couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of respect for him. He wasn’t Ward.

When he finished speaking, you glanced up from your plate, “Sounds like a plan,” you said, your voice steady and confident. “Is your contact here, yet?”

“Nah, only tomorrow.”

“Great. So, we’re on our own for now?”

“Yeah, you and me, Pretty Maybank.”

"Hey," you began, your tone light as you tried to sound casual, "I've been curious—why do you call me 'Pretty Maybank'? Is there a story behind it?"

Rafe's gaze flicked up from where he was picking at his food, a hint of surprise in his expression. He seemed taken aback by your question as if he hadn't expected you to bring it up.

He shrugged, "I don't know," he admitted his voice casual but tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "Just seemed fitting, I guess."

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, "Fitting? How so?"

Rafe hesitated, elbows dropping to the table as he searched for the right words. "I don't know," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "You just...are pretty, Maybank, everyone knows that.”

You felt like there was more to the story.

“Oh.”

He leaned back, now sat in the old chair, “Might start calling you snoring Maybank though.”

Your lips twitched, fighting back a smile, “You’re not funny. At all.”

“Sure.”

You tilted your head, studying him intently. He looked like a completely different person from last night, “Do you feel any better?”

“About what?” He feigned innocence, avoiding your gaze, as his fingers started tapping nervously on the table. You knew what that meant.

You leaned forward, expression softening as you reached out to touch his hand gently. “Uh—Y'know, last night, your nightmare.”

“Don’t,” Rafe's abrupt change in demeanor catches you off guard, his walls shooting up in an instant, his tone laced with defensiveness and irritation. You straightened up, your expression hardening as you withdrew your hand, a wall of your own rising to match his.

"It’s not important," he snapped, his words cutting through the air like a knife. "Just drop it, okay?"

You recoiled slightly at his harsh tone, the sting of his words making you want to slap him across the room. It was clear that he wasn’t in the mood to talk about whatever demons haunted him in the night, and you knew better than to push him when he was like this. But you were feeling inspired.

“Why do you always do that?” You blurted out, frustration bubbling over. You needed some sense of security around him, and every single time you were close to getting it, he backed out.

He stood up straight, rolled his shoulders back, and narrowed his eyes at you “Not doing anything.”

"You always shut me out," You continued, words coming out in a rush as you struggled to articulate your feelings. "Every time. You say a few words, and then bamb, gone. We’re not friends, that’s fine. But I need to know you’re someone I can rely on, okay? You can’t be doing this. One moment you’re all trusting and the other…I don’t even know what the fuck you are. You can say no nicely, you don’t need to act like a dick.”

Rafe's jaw clenched, his expression turning steely as he locked onto your gaze, "I don’t want to be your fucking friend, Maybank," he retorted, his tone laced with irritation. "I'm protecting myself. And if you can't handle that, then maybe you're the one who needs to reevaluate things."

The words stung like a slap to the face. Resentment flared within you; the color drained from your face.

"Protecting yourself?" you shot back, your voice rising with each word. "From what, exactly? Me?"

He didn’t move, didn’t so much as toss a glance your way as he responded, “Keep your voice down.”

You shook your head, standing up from your seat. He'd said the same exact thing before you got on the boat and you were tired of being pushed aside like a toy.

“No, I fucking won’t. You’re the one who punched me on that ship, your guards were the ones who shot me, your father is the one who wants me dead,” your lips quirked in a small, humorless smile, “And you want to talk about protecting yourself?”

Rafe felt himself flinch, noting how his brows seemed to furrow ever-so-slightly. There was a feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t make out yet, but it was heavy and made you antsy.

"You think I don't know that?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think I don't carry that guilt with me every single day?"

His words caught you off guard, the raw emotion in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face. "You have no idea what it's like. To carry that weight, to know that everything you touch turns to shit.” His voice was probing, his eyes scanning your face with a scrutiny that made you want to run out the door. “And you—Shit, you’re just searching for some confirmation that I am as horrible as everyone’s made me out to be. Newsflash, I am."

You let out a groan, the sound scraping against your throat. "I’m trying to help you! Are you stupid? Oh my god.”

"I don't need your help!" he snapped, standing taller than you, "I don't need anyone's help. I've been doing just fine on my own."

You stepped closer to him, pushing against his chest with your finger, "Fine? Is that what you call it? Living on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, never knowing who you can trust? That's not fine, Rafe. That's not living."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly, “I don’t know how to live. I know how to serve, that’s it.” His grip on your wrist tightened as if he was trying to anchor himself, "I just...I can't."

Can't trust you, you think that's what he wants to say.

“Right,” You swallow, finding the carpet of the room suddenly all too interesting, “Good enough to fuck, not to trust.”

His grip loosened slightly, his hand falling away from your wrist as if burned, “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. Dirty pogue, remember?”

His breathing mirrored your own, both erratic, leaning in closer, breath hot against your skin as his nose brushed against yours, “You think I’d risk my life for you if I believed that?”

“I don’t know. Would you?”

“You have no idea," he breathed, “Do you?”

"I don't understand you."

"Neither do I."

Without another word, he closed the distance between you in a single fluid motion, his movements graceful yet filled with an underlying urgency. His hands found their way to your face, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. His touch wavered between tenderness and roughness, with soft, gentle kisses blending seamlessly with fervent, desperate ones, as if he was unable to choose between cherishing the moment and giving in to his desires completely. You melted into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. It felt different from the first time you kissed. Less violent, less primal, more…intimate. It was as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn't put into words, everything he had been keeping bottled up inside, and you welcomed it.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“You can’t kiss me to avoid questions, Rafe.”

"I know," he murmured, "It's just easier than talking."

You sighed, your hand coming up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his stubbled jawline, "It's wrong."

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching slightly at your words. For a moment, you thought he might pull away again, and retreat into his shell. But then, to your surprise, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

"I know," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with emotion. "But for now, can we just...be?"

You nodded, "Yeah," you whispered, "For now, we can just...be."

Neither of you knew what you were doing nor the consequences to come.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe x pogue!reader #rafe x Maybank!reader #rafe cameron x maybank!reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe angst #rafe fic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff

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vsimp · 23 hours

Text

he catches you writing smut (18+)

pairing: Kamisato Ayato x F!Reader

genre: smut

wc: 2.6k

kink warning: a line or two about panty sniffing lol

There was a pretty popular erotic novel currently published by the Yae Publishing House. Hundreds of copies so far have been sold in Inazuma. It was released by an anonymous author, a story telling the tale between a CEO and his secretary. Although the people weren’t too familiar with the concept of a corporation, people really did enjoy the little power dynamic between a dominant CEO and his submissive secretary. Smut had recently grown popular in Teyvat, and this erotic novel was the current driving force of it all.

Little did they know that you were the author, the current lady of the Kamisato Clan, and the Yashiro Commissioner's wife. You had based the male lead off of your own husband. Surely if you revealed your identity, the whole of Inazuma would be in uproar and you would soil the Kamisato Clan’s name. That was why it was your own dirty little secret, the fact that you were writing erotic fiction based on you and your husband, a little secret that only you and Yae Miko know.

What you didn’t expect was for the novel to reach the insides of the Estate. Housekeepers were gushing about it during their breaks, retainers were talking about how their partners wanted to try these different positions from the novel… You couldn’t help but be mortified, yet flattered, that so many people enjoyed your dirty novel.

It wasn’t until the news had reached your husband’s ears did you really, really get in trouble.

Kamisato Ayato called his wife to his study after a long day of duties for the both of them. Usually, he would invite her to tea if they had the time to talk about what they had for plans during the week.

You took a sip of your tea, relishing in the nice silence after a bustling day and the warmth that the tea brought.

“There’s this novel that has been the talk of the town lately,” Ayato said and you did everything you could not to choke on your tea.

“Ah, I heard the staff speaking about it this week. My, I wonder what had caught their attention like so…” You replied as casually as you could.

“Mm.” He replied briefly and took something out of his jacket. You tried not to tense up as you recognized the familiar pink book cover, of course graced with the illustration of the main couple that suspiciously had the same hair color as you and Ayato. “Ah, yes, let me read the title out loud. ‘The Nightly Trysts of Hayato and his Lover.’ Hm, a strange title indeed. This ‘Hayato’ character has a similar name and appearance to mine.”

You wanted to cringe at the entire name. Guuji Yae was the one who suggested such an embarrassing title. She said it would attract a more mature audience who enjoyed that sort of fantasy. Ayato maintained his relaxed smile despite reading all of that, and you didn’t like it one bit. It meant he was currently hiding something he knew, and you were too scared to delve into what exactly that was.

“Ah…” You had to keep your calm, even though you wanted to scream into your own pillow right now. If you showed any sort of discomfort or anxiety, your husband would recognize it right away. After all, nothing came past your husband with that sharp mind of his. “Perhaps it’s just a coincidence?”

“Hm, maybe so. Shall I read the summary?”

No. Please, archons, no.

He continued anyway, despite your inner thoughts pleading him not to. He read off the summary on the back of the book with his same laxed voice, detailing a CEO who was currently smitten by his secretary, who starts to avoid him at all costs once she sees him half naked on a business trip. The CEO, frustrated, chased after the secretary and had an erotic time with her in his office.

“It sounds interesting,” you forced a smile on your face.

“Doesn’t it? I started to skim through it whenever I had time off during the day.”

“Oh?” You wanted to cry at this point, a wide smile plastered on your face. He’s noticed. He’s definitely noticed. “Do you like it so far…?”

“It’s surely an interesting read. This male lead named Hayato… The way the author describes him, with light blue hair and light blue eyes and a small mole on his left lower lip…” Ayato’s smile remained the same, although the corner of his eyes crinkle a bit, indicating a more mischievous look. “He sure does sound like me.”

“Haha…” You let out a forced laugh. “Maybe someone is a fan of your appearance.”

“It appears so.” He flipped through the pages casually. “Such a detailed little novel. This author sure does have a penchant for writing erotic scenes.”

“They must be passionate about their work.” You felt like your smile could break your face at this point.

“Mm… The female lead sounds quite familiar as well. Her name is similar to yours.”

“I-is it?”

“Indeed. The same eye and hair color too.”

“Wow. What a huge coincidence!”

He chuckles softly. “My dear, there’s no need to play dumb anymore.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Your voice wavered a bit, but you were committed to it.

“You’re going to keep playing this game? Very well then.” He stood up and took your hand.

“A-Ayato?”

With one fellow swoop, he helped you to stand up. Before you knew it, he led you over to your bedroom, locking the door behind him and guided you to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Let me read out an excerpt I found interesting,” Ayato stated as he looked at the book, although he made small glances at you too while reading. “He pins her down to the bed and kisses her passionately. His blue and white sheets were softer than anything she’s ever felt, but that thought was soon taken away by the force of his lips upon her.” His usually relaxed smile soon morphed into a smirk. “My, I didn’t realize you were such a big fan of our blue and white sheets.”

Without a doubt, the bedsheets in the room you shared had always been blue and white for the last few years. Suddenly, he pinned you down against the sheet, his hand pushing your shoulder gently so you rested back against the bed, just as he had read from the book. And then he simply leaned down to kiss you, his soft lips meshing with yours as you felt yourself melt in his embrace. Your lips came together gently, although there was a playful bounce to his kisses that you did not expect, and soon, his tongue ended up pushing against yours.

He chuckled after he parted away from you, leaving you panting and breathless from the makeout session. “Cat got your tongue, my dear? Or will you finally admit the truth?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Your cheeks grew hotter as he tried to corner you into admitting that you were the author.

“Mm… Sure, you don’t.” His lips made their way to kiss your neck, his tongue hot as he bit and sucked on the skin there. “Did you really feel that lonely that you had to write erotica off of our experiences? Have I not shown you enough attention lately?”

“D-Don’t say that…!” Your voice grew weaker as he teased you, your resolve slowly crumbling the more he kissed you. “You know that’s not the case…!”

“Hehe,” he let out another small chuckle. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered. Tell me, y/n, do you just like our experiences so much that you put it into a novel?”

You gasped as his hands went under your robe, undoing your clothes and caressing your breast through your undergarments. His fingers tease your nipples through your bra, pinching the sensitive bud and flicking it around. You let out small whimpers from the teasing.

“Shall I reenact one of the scenes I was particularly fond of?”

“Please no…” you begged.

“Why not?”

“I-it’s embarrassing.”

“I think it’s endearing that my lovely wife has such vivid fantasies.” He smiled down at you and then started to strip you naked of your clothes. “I could drown in the beauty of your body, my love.” He repeated a line from the novel as he kissed down your neck to your chest.

You let out soft pants as he unraveled your body, his eyes raking every inch as if he hadn’t memorized it all already. He gave your breasts another squeeze, pinching the bare nipple before he slowly dragged it down your rib cage to your lower abdomen before resting right in front of your aching core. It just sat there, his palm digging into your mound as your hips buckled, wanting more and more stimulation.

“Patience, love…” Ayato gave you a calculating smirk as he picked up the book once again and flipped to a bookmarked page. He read off another excerpt. “He buried his face into her pussy, panties on, sniffing and tasting her neediness that drenched through the soft fabric.” Ayato took a finger and ran it gently along your slit, and you did everything you could not to beg him for more despite your legs trembling slightly from anticipation. “My, I didn’t realize my wife had such fantasies about her panties like this. Such a pervert, wanting me to sniff her precious flower like a deranged animal .”

“Mm… n-no, t-that’s not true…” you tried to deny, but your flushed body and face were saying otherwise.

“Such a lewd expression,” he chuckled and crawled down, taking a sniff of your core straight through your underwear. “You smell delightful,” his voice deepened, almost guttural, as his tongue dipped to languidly lick at your clit.

You let out a soft cry, which was like music to his ears. Ayato wanted to laugh in amusement, his own mind twisting into pure sadistic pleasure. Who would’ve known that his own wife would be such a naughty little thing? He savored her taste, enjoying the way she writhed beneath him. With one fluid motion, he pulled her underwear off and sucked at her wet core, kissing and slurping all of her love juices.

Your mind was all fuzzy as pleasure filled your lower region. Your legs wrapped around his head, hips buckling as he ate you out, dipping his tongue into your pussy as deep as he could before taking it out to swirl around your clit. It reminded you of the scene you wrote in the book, and you wonder how committed he was going to be to the scene.

Nevertheless, it seemed like he was going to tease you nonstop until you finally admit that you were the author.

He then pushed a finger into you, stretching out your walls and he admired the way your walls tensed around his digit, how your moans grew louder and louder. One, and then two, he started to pump his fingers, curling them to hit the spot you liked the most whilst his tongue continued flicking against your clit. Your hands made its way to his soft blue hair, and it wasn’t long before you came all over his fingers and lips.

You panted as he took himself out of you, your eyes watching as he licked your juices off his fingers before he positioned his waist in between your legs.

“Are you ready, princess?” His hands undid his pants, taking out his cock as he rubbed the length against your sensitive slit. You just came, after all, so he was getting well lubricated with your juices.

You whined a bit as you needily stuck your arms out, and Ayato chuckled as he bent down to meet your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer. He kissed you deeply and a bit more rough this time as you felt his cock grinding against your wet, warm pussy. He wanted you so bad, but he also wanted to stay committed to his teasing.

“Mm… Ayato, put it in already…” You scolded him as he continued to grind against you, occasionally slapping the tip of his rock hard cock gently against your clit.

“I don’t think so…” He said after pulling away from your tongue, smirking down at you. He hissed a bit as he continued to rub his length up and down, his other hand making its way to squeeze your breast. “Not until you admit it.”

“Are you seriously still on that?!” You moaned in frustration, wiggling your hips in hopes that he’d just put it inside and fuck you relentlessly to dull the growing ache in your lower abdomen.

“Well, we are following the scene in the novel to the tea. I just want to confirm that you are truly one of the main characters.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were so horny for anything that you didn’t care at this point.

“Fine! Fine, yes, I admit it. I wrote the book. Now hurry up!”

Your husband leaned forward, placing a hand beside your head to hold himself up as his other hand started to push his cock in just a bit.

“Hehe, so demanding.” You gasped as he pushed his entire length in you. “And yet, you’re such a good girl.”

His hips slammed into yours, his lips kissing and sucking the skin of your neck. You could only grip him tightly as he fucked you deeply and thoroughly with the only goal to draw out your sweet moans that he loved hearing so much. He grunted as he felt you squeeze around him, taking you over and over until you were crying out his name.

His lips slammed back onto yours, exploring your mouth as his cock pushed in and out. He wanted to leave you as a sputtering mess, until you can’t think of anything else but him and his long, aching hard member.

“You’re such a dirty girl, writing those lewd scenes about us.” He muttered in your ear, hissing as he felt you tightening every time he uttered some dirty words. “Is that your fantasy? Me fucking you hard in my office with my employees outside?” He chuckled as you were too caught up in pleasure to respond. “Hm? Or do you just like the idea of me fucking you wildly out in the open?”

He pushed your legs as far up as he could and he continued to slam down into you.

“Shit…” He cursed, so unlike his normally composed self. You were the only person in this world who could unravel him completely. You, and you alone. “You feel so good, princess…”

The sound of his skin slapping yours filled the room, coupled with your moans and his quiet grunts. He slid in and out of you with ease at this point, stretching you whole. He watched your breasts bounce to his movements and he didn't hesitate to squeeze and play with them as he wished.

He fucked you in different positions, bending you over the bed, on your side with your foot high up in the air and leg over his shoulder. He couldn’t get enough of you, making you cum over and over again before sputtering his own seed deep into your walls, enjoying how you clench and convulse from his cock alone.

“Mm…” He hummed as he kissed your shoulder tenderly, his cock still deep inside you as he finished cumming, drawing out small thrusts as he got the final load out. He could drown in the sound of your moans, and suddenly, he understood the appeal of your erotic novel.

Ayato took himself out of you before collapsing next to you, holding you closely in his arms. He kissed your forehead as you both panted from the heavy exertion before he looked at you with that mischievous smile.

“So was that enough for you to write a sequel?”

#alhaitham is coming nextttt #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato smut #kamisato ayato x reader smut #ayato x reader smut #genshin impact smut #it's been a while since i've written anything lol but i was suddenly inspired after reading a smutty webtoon soz if this is cringe

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munsonsmixtapes · 2 days

Note

🏀❤️‍🩹🏕

sunshine!Steve x grumpy!fem!reader

cw: mention of blood

When you had signed up to be a camp counselor for the summer, you hadn’t expected Steve Harrington to be there. If you had known, you definitely wouldn’t have gone to that particular camp. There was something about him that rubbed you the wrong way. It was almost as if he seemed too happy and you didn’t like that. With him, there was always something to look forward to and maybe you just didn’t like him because you were jealous.

Despite your dislike for him, he was always nice to you when you were both in school. He’d greet you with in the cafeteria with that megawatt smile and you’d grimace, but that would never deter him. In fact, he’d just smile wider, as if the look on your face made him happy.

But it didn’t. Seeing you always so angry upset Steve. He wanted to get to the bottom of it. To know what was making you tick and how he could fix that. He had been that way for a years after everything that had happened in the Upside Down and after he had found healthy ways to cope with it, he tried his best to help others around him.

He sat next to you every day for every meal and you’d just brush him off. You didn’t need friends. You just wanted to be alone, which was ironic since you had decided to spend your summer around a bunch of kids. But Steve wasn’t going to give up. He was going to sit there every day until you finally talked to him.

The day you did finally speak, you turned to him long enough to utter the words “fuck off” before turning back to your tray. After that, Steve decided to leave you alone for a while.

He watched you from afar, smiling to himself as he saw you interact with the campers. His heart warmed seeing you help one of them out with an injury. One of the girls had fallen on her way inside the lodge for dinner and scraped her knee and you had been quick to react, taking a first aid kit from the backpack you had carried and wiped the debris out of her cut along with the blood that had run down her leg.

You were talking to her the whole time, trying to distract her from the pain and it worked like a charm. You asked her what her favorite color was and she seemed very passionate about pink, blush pink to be specific. She talked about it the entire five minutes you cleaned her up and you nodded along, agreeing that it was a great color.

Once your work was done, you helped her up from the ground and she decided that she wanted to sit next to you for dinner which you had no problem agreeing to. She seemed to be a loner just like you and you were happy to have someone who you got along with.

You sat at the table and waited for Clementine who was in line getting her food. Steve stood in front of her and helped her pile her plate high with the options that were available that night. You watched him lean down to talk to her, that stupid fucking smile making its way onto his face. You got this weird feeling in your chest as you watched him help her, the smile on both their faces as he did so.

Once they had their food, Clementine grabbed Steve by the hand and pulled him right over to the table where you were sitting. You tried your hardest to keep your smile on your face as he approached you.

The tension was high and Steve wasn't sure how to approach the situation. He wanted to sit with Clem since she had been so eager, but now that you were in the equation, he wasn't so sure. He was still trying to be respectful.

"Y/n, look who's going to sit with us!" She exclaimed as she got to your table with Steve's wrist in her hand. You bit back a laugh at how awkward the man looked. For someone who used to have the word "king" tacked onto his name, he definitely didn't seem very confident. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there and you felt the same.

"Hey, Clem, he started to say, knowing that you didn't want him to sit with you, but you cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

"Take a seat, Stevie," you said as you pulled out the chair to the left of yours. Not only were you calling him by the nickname that he loved, but you also were letting him sit with you? What alternate dimension had he entered? Definitely not the Upside Down. This dimension was much nicer since it had you in it.

Steve hesitantly set his plate on the table and sat down next you, your chairs dangerously close to one another, but you weren't going to admit that you liked it. You could feel his eye's on you, but you ignored him. You weren't going to let him win.

You got up from your seat to throw your plate away, but there was something slippery on the floor, causing you to slip. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the fall, but it never came. Someone had caught you. You were so grateful that you had been saved that you had to know who had caught you.

You opened your eyes to be met by the warm honey ones you had become familiar with over the summer. Steve helped you to your feet and you looked at him, his eyes boring into yours as he searched them for any sign of discomfort. You liked that he wanted to protect you and you knew you had to nip that right in the bud. You couldn’t be with him as much as you wanted to. You just couldn’t.

You pushed Steve’s hands off of you and stepped away, feeling yourself bubbling with anger as you watched his face contort into even more concern. He stepped forward and you stepped back, putting you hands out we he’d keep his distance.

“Stay away from me, Harrington,” you told him before fleeing the lodge. You could still feel the way his arms held you and felt even more angry that you kind of liked it.

What was Steve’s deal. Why was he playing at? He was still so nice to you despite your dislike for him and you didn’t like that you were slowly warming up to him. That he was starting to that’s your frozen heart bit by bit.

You went to your cabin and got ready for bed even though it was still light outside, trying not to think about him and his pretty smile or his beautiful brown eyes that made you melt when they looked into yours. You weren’t falling for him. You just weren’t. You never would have worked out anyway. You were just too different. The complete opposite of each other.

You got into your bunk and your mind drifted to Steve, the moment where he caught you replaying over and over in your head. You were starting to feel bad for the way you treated him. He was just trying to help and you blew up at him. You didn’t think you deserved his niceness.

You tossed and turned the entire night, wondering how Steve was doing and if you still had time to apologize for being so rude to him. Somehow, you just knew that he’d forgive you.

You couldn’t sleep, your guilt of being rude to Steve practically the entire summer eating you alive. You checked the clock and saw that there was only an hour before everyone would be up so you got out of your bunk and sneaked out the door to the lodge for some early breakfast.

You slowly crept inside and noticed a box of cereal out on the counter, feeling your stomach growl as you thought about having a bowl of the stuff. You went to grab the box only to find someone else in the kitchen with you. Steve. Maybe now was your chance to finally apologize.

“Hey,” he smiled and you still weren’t used to the fact that he was a morning person. How someone could be that chipper at 7:00 AM, you didn’t know.

“Hi, Steve,” you grumbled and Steve reached for the cereal and poured you a bowl before holding it out to you. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he smiled before passing you the milk and a spoon. “Do you want some orange juice?”

“Sure,” you nodded and he grabbed the orange juice from the fridge and set it on the counter before reaching for two glasses from the cabinet that was behind him. He turned his head towards you and watched you stretch, your t-shirt riding up as you did so. He was so distracted that the glass in the hand fell to the floor and shattered into many pieces.

Your head jerked in his direction and you rounded the counter, no wanted to get hurt in the glass. The cabinet managed to close on its own, whacking Steve in the forehead. He clutched it in pain and you pulled him backwards to get him to a safe zone.

You swept up the glass and got rid of it before checking on Steve to make sure that he was okay. You noticed a little blood on his forehead. You pulled him over to the sink and grabbed the first aid kit that was under it. You grabbed an alcohol wipe and wiped away the blood causing Steve to wince at the stinging sensation it brought.

“Sorry.”

“That’s alright. You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But I want to.”

“You do?”

“I’m sorry, Steve. For everything. I was a bitch and-”

“You weren’t a bitch. You had created boundaries and I crossed them.”

“I told you to fuck off when you were just being nice. You can say that I was a bitch, alright? And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for pushing you away when all you were trying to do was be my friend.”

“It’s okay,” he put his hands over yours, his honey eyes looking into yours and you could see how serious he was. He was forgiving you and it was time for you to forgive yourself. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course you can.”

“I really like you.” Out of all of the things he could have said, that definitely wasn’t what you were expecting. His tone made it seem like he wasn’t meaning liking you as a friend.

“I really like you too,” you replied and his eyes widened at your confession. His mouth was agape and you supposed that it was shocking that his feelings were reciprocated considering your supposed hatred for him. “I feel like I have for a long time but I was afraid to let you in. Getting close to people is scary, but I’m not scared anymore.”

“Are you saying that you want to start something with me?”

“I’d really like that,” you nodded and Steve smiled, warming your heart.

“I’d really like that too,” he smiled back and you put a bandaid on his injury before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #sunshine!Steve #grumpy!reader

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dronebiscuitbat · 7 hours

Text

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 20)

Getting ready for a party was stressful in it's own right. As it turned out.

After dropping off Tera at the nursery and saying a quick hello to Mrs. Rayn, both drones near sprinted back to their respective apartments, Uzi hadn't brought anything extra accept her pajamas, and needed to find something formal to wear.

The way Thad had described it, he was throwing a do-over Prom. After the official one was accompanied with murder and chaos, so it was encouraged, but not required, to wear formal clothes.

And Uzi thanked her oversentimetal post-prom self for looking for other dresses after the fact. She didn't mind the one she wore at prom, it was actually one of the things her dad had gotten right about her style, but she'd wanted something… more.

So, she dug out her chosen dress and it's accessories and tried it on for the first time in almost four months.

It was a dark purple dress that was a little shorter than the one she'd worn at prom, with a leather lined collar with a black skull sitting right at the center of her chest. It was perfect, especially with the gold that ran through it in subtle vine-like patterns.

She totally hadn't picked it out because the little bit of gold had reminded her of her the golden boy. No, not at all.

She ditched her beanie this time, deciding to actually do something with her hair for once even if that something was just comb through it.

As a final touch, she snapped on a bracelet she'd found that she'd liked, it was spiked, but honestly it fit the asthetic pretty well, and just edgy enough that even though it was jewelry, she didn't mind wearing it.

Looking back into the mirror, she looked… good, and for the first time in ever. She felt that she looked good too, maybe because it was actually something she had picked out this time, or maybe she just felt better about herself now than compared to Prom.

N did not put so much thought into his.

It wasn't that he didn't want to it was just that he only had the one suit. And he hadn't really bothered to go out looking for more clothes. So that's what he wore, and he was thankful that Uzi had patched it up for him after he'd gotten bisected.

He still looked dapper though, so his lack of effort didn't bother him so much.

And then they were both off again, racing to meet each other at the first (or third, as they were inside) door, excitement and nervousness mixing together in an exhilarating combination that seemed to vibrate off N and tighten uncomfortably inside Uzi.

N came to the door first, no doubt aided by his long AF legs and how fast he'd been walking, he glanced around excitedly, but even being able to peer over the several heads of drones that were also making there way outside didn't help him spot her out.

And that was because she wasn't there yet. She was currently one with a sea of people, getting caught in it due to her size and how quickly the wave was moving through the hall. She was actually getting beaten around a bit, trying to make her way through without using her tail to frighten people away from her, despite the temptation.

Finally, N saw a group of people come around the corner and spit Uzi out of them rather violently, she also didn't look entirely happy about it either, shooting back a glance at the group before looking around and making eye contact with him.

If he hadn't already fallen, he might have in that moment.

She looked gorgeous, the deep purples in her dress combined with the sparkling golden lines cutting through it, the black little skull over where her core would be. Her hair was free of her beanie and a little spiked bracelet rested on her wrist that seemed to bring the whole thing together.

He felt his face heat up before she even reached him. If he thought her Prom dress looked good on her, this was leagues better.

“Oh w-wow. You look really pretty in that…” He said almost the moment she was in earshot, making her pause and a blush to take over her face as well.

“Uh thanks… you wore the suit from Prom?”

She asked back, clearly trying to talk through her fluster instead of stewing in it. She also may or may not have felt a little proud of herself for garnering that sort of reaction out of him.

“Yeah, it's the only thing I had…” He faltered a little, picking on the sleeve of his suit out of nervousness.

“Hey it's not bad! You look just as good!” She hurriedly tried to comfort him but only ended up making them both fluster more, N couldn't help but smile though, and he closed the gap between them, standing at her side.

“Dapper Buddies?” He asked goofily, referencing himself, and holding her shoulder, making her roll her eyes and also reference herself, by elbowing him lightly, although it wasn't even hard enough to knock the wind out of him, much less hurt.

“Come on.” She laughed as they followed another group outside, only for them both to gasp in awe as the scene unfolded before them

If one thing was clear, Thad definitely knew how to throw a party.

There was a huge temporary stage put up, with giant salvaged speakers on either side currently blaring EDM as loud as they could, string lights were hung on the buildings above them, and several tables of bot-safe food framed what was clearly the dance floor, which had been cleared of snow and a thick black tarp laid down to keep the snow melted.

“Holy crap.” Uzi said first, looking over at N who was still taking it all in for a moment before looking back at her, he let out a giddy laugh before taking her wrist and near sprinting into the main party, making her yelp before she was dragged along.

Thankfully N parted the crowd pretty well and when they stopped they were by one of the tables near the stage, they both had to turn down the volume on their audio receptors in order to prevent from damaging them.

Despite not being able to hear each other, they both laughed at how obnoxiously loud the music was, and N looked behind them to the table, where there was a bowl of batteries, small screws and washers, and copper wiring.

Eyeing a battery suspiciously, he popped one in his mouth, where it sparked and popped as his fangs peirced it, the feeling almost made him jump, but it wasn't unpleasant, and the resulting discharge made him feel slightly more energized, even if it quickly faded.

He caught Uzi in one of his visor eyes, laughing at his reaction before thrusting her hand in the bowl and taking an entire handful. She smirked at him before throwing back the whole handful into her mouth and biting down, hard.

The sparking and popping was audible this time, and it nearly filled her mouth with it's intensity, the shock was so great it made some of Uzi's hair stand on end as her eyelights glew a little brighter for a moment as her system absorbed the energy.

To N it was as adorable as it was funny, he laughed as she struggled with chewing the popping snack and tried to pat down her static filled hair, all the while trying not to laugh with batteries in her mouth.

The song died down, leaving only the constant wind that was usually howling itself horse to fill the silence, even if right now it was the equivalent to a light (freezing cold) breeze.

“Hey everybody!” Thad's voice came booming from the speakers as both drones turned their volume back up, he was standing on the stage, looking completely in his element as he gestured the crowd of teens and young adults.

“Thank you for coming out tonight! Hopefully this makes up for Prom yeah?”

Most of the crowd yelled back a “yeah!” And somebody screamed, because somebody always screamed.

“Alright! I got a couple bands to play tonight, and after that, I'll be your DJ till morning!” He said the last part a little louder, pumping his fist up in the air and hyping the crowd up more.

“Let's get this freaking started!” He yelled out, and the crowd vibrated in anticipation as the first band came out to set up, Uzi and N looked at each other in the moment of relative silence.

“Wow, He's actually kinda good at hyping people up isn't he?” N asked, and Uzi smiled back, laughing lightly.

“Are you kidding? This is Thad at his best.”

“Hey M'n’Ms! Zi!” Speaking of, the jock in question came sprinting off steps of the stage towards them, waving with a huge smile on his face.

“You guys made it!” He exclaimed, stopping short of running into the both of them in his excitement. Uzi was right, Thad looked like he was consumed by excitement, the chill persona eclipsed by the side of him that was a party animal.

“Told you we were, even if I had to drag Uzi here.” N replied, earning him a light hit in the chest, Thad only laughed.

“I was a little worried about that after the last time we spoke, glad he was able to wear you down Uzi.” He turned to her with a smile before his face got a little serious.

“Oh! Hey if you guys have any trouble tonight you come get me yeah? There's a lot more people here then I was expecting… so I don't know who you'll run into.” Thad bring any sort of serious about anything was… off-putting, but they both nodded before a voice cut through the crowd.

“Thad! Over here!” He looked up and waved happily at someone in the crowd, and he gave them both a wave goodbye as he sprinted bravely into the mass of moving bodies.

Soon after, the sound of instrumentation started to waft from onstage, Uzi and N moved farther away from the speakers, but still avoided the dense sea of people in the center, moving somewhere towards the back near a keg that said “Oil”

“Oh! What is this?” Being farther away from the blaring speaker allowed them to actually hear each other, but as N reached for a cup to fill, Uzi grabbed his hand and moved it away.

“That's fermented N, it'll get you drunk.” She explained, pointing out the several drones who were already slurring their speech and inventing weird dances on the dance floor.

“That's a thing?”

She nodded before glancing around for anything to drink that wasn't fermented, but found nothing but more kegs that likely all had the same thing in them.

“Looks like thats the only thing that's here… N!” She looked back at N to see him sipping lightly out of a cup filled with the stuff, he looked over at her with a grin.

“Hey I'm just tasting it! Plus it'll be through my system in like an hour anyway… my filters are too strong for it to last very long.” He shrugged as he took another sip.

“It's… really sweet…” He hummed as he seemed to drink from it more deeply, curiosity got the better of her and she got her own cup, filling it up from the keg before taking a swig of it.

N was right, it was sweet, almost too sweet, like someone had dumped five pounds of sugar in it before mixing it. But she still found herself liking it, weather it was because she'd actually liked the taste or it was the solver making it taste better she wasn't entirely sure.

“See?” He chuckled as they both stayed there awhile, not exactly getting drunk but absolutely drinking enough for them both to start feeling it in their processors, Uzi began to laugh lightly at a little bit of everything and N felt his nerves begin to melt away from him, looking at Uzi freely with half-lidded eyes as she giggled at essentially nothing.

A slow song began to play from the band onstage, and the crowded dance floor cleared out a bit leaving only couples that had paired up on it, he looked back at Uzi, face lit up by the string lights she was following with her eyes, and, without thinking;

“Would you wanna dance?” He asked rather abruptly, a fact that normally would have made him cringe and backtrack but right now he stood his ground.

Uzi felt her face flush, wondering if he was serious or not, but the genuine way he was smiling and holding out his hand to her told her that he was, she took his hand and found herself being walked to the dance floor.

“I uh… don't know how to dance.” Uzi admitted as they were now face to face, N was no longer holding her, but they were still rather close, N just smiled anyway.

“That's okay! Let me teach you! Just follow my lead.” He first grabbed her shoulder before blushing a little and looking to the side “Uh… can I?”

Uzi blinked before realizing he was asking for her permission to touch her, because of course he was, he was still N, even if he was being propelled forward slightly by the oil.

She nodded, as words began to fail her. And he gave her another gentle smile before leading one of her hands to his chest, and the other on his shoulder. Before both his hands rested on her hips.

The position brought the nerves back, and N gulped, he'd done this relatively smoothly up until this point, where the oil wasn't really helping his nerves due to the proximity, but he fought through it, he did say he'd teach her after all.

“Just relax.” He said, although if he was being honest it was more for himself then for her, and he started putting her through the steps he could do in his sleep at this point.

A step forward, two steps back, another step forward, all while turning slowly, and he tried to ignore her clumsy footing, he'd done the same thing while Tessa had taught him, and she was rapidly memorizing the steps anyway, each one getting more confident as they swayed together.

The blush nor the smile left either of their faces the entire time, and neither could take long looks at the other without quickly looking away.

When the song ended and they parted, it took a moment for them both to calm their fluttering cores, but N felt Uzi take his hand and lead him off the dance floor again, either not commenting on or not noticing the spark that passed between their hands.

N noticed, and it made him smile to himself, feeling more and more confident that she felt the same way.

“That was actually kinda fun…” She admitted after getting away from the speakers and releasing his hand, her voice had lost any angst or bite to it, even though she was in public. And he couldn't help but feel proud that he was the one who'd done that.

“Yeah! You were getting the hang of it pretty quickly!” He replied, keeping a bright smile on his face that wasn't at all faked, he was so so happy right now, literally nothing could bring him down.

Until something brought him down.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and he whirled around, looking down at a drone with black hair done up in a fancy bun and orange eyelights that was piercing into him rather harshly. She also wore a black dress that completely exposed the glass covering of her core, and a choker studded with orange gems.

“H-hi?” He stammered out, trying to be polite but honestly a little irritated that his conversation with Uzi had been interrupted.

“Hey there handsome.” She hummed in a seductive tone, leaning into him as far as she could without directly touching him, he took a step back, obviously uncomfortable with the proximity. He could hear Uzi make a noise, and he didn't have to hear it well to understand she was upset for him.

“I'm Chloe… N right?” His need to be polite nodded while the rest of his body tried to move to create further distance between them, but she just continued to close whatever space he made.

“You wanna dance? I can keep up with you without tripping over my feet.” She laughed, and it was too high pitched and immediately grated his ears. He frowned, knowing immediately who she was referring to.

“Uh… no-no thank you. I k-kinda came here with someone.” He took another step back and even attempted to turn back towards Uzi, just to make sure she was still okay when a cross between a moan and a pain-fueled growl escaped his mouth, and he turned back to find Chloe with the vial of his tail clasped in her hand, running a finger down it, almost to the tip of the needle before pulling her hand away.

“I always did wonder how it feels to get stung~” N was about to yank his tail away before she gave it another stroke, causing electricity to shoot into his legs and nearly paralyze him. He whined, this really wasn't pleasant…

“Hey! That's not a toy! Leave him alone!” Uzi shouted, rushing forward and trying to snatch the vial out of Chloe's hands, but she moved it put of her reach, also giving his tail a yank in the process, and he winced at the feeling.

Any amount of force he put into trying to pull away was now met with her squeezing it roughly, essentially trapping him with his own tail, he gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, this felt too similar to how J would “tease” him, fiding everywhere he was sensitive and just continuing to touch until it hurt.

“Awww what? He likes it~” She drug the tip of her finger all the way down to the tip of the needle, causing a small drip of acid to get pushed out and onto the floor, N's breath hitched as every single sensor up his back went off unpleasantly. He growled in warning, and one of his hands turned to claws, no, No! He wasn't ever going to be treated like some plaything again!

“Are you serious?! He's so obviously not into it! You can't just-” She was interrupted by her own tail rushing forward to try to bite Chloe, startling her just enough to let go enough for him to yank his tail away, trembling.

Her tail hissed after it missed, creating so much venomous saliva it was eating through the tarp rather quickly, one of her eyes turned to an “x” as she took stance in between them.

“You fucking freak! You have a tail?!” Chloe screamed, jumping back and causing commotion around them, several people turned to stare.

“Yeah I do! Leave him the hell alone! You're the creep who wanted to get stung!” She bit back aggressively, and her tail bit into the air, still desperately lashing out to try and sink it's teeth into Chloe.

“I-uh” Her orange eyelights looked over at the drones who were looking at them, an mandarin colored fluster taking over her face.

“Whatever! At least I'm not his baby-momma.”

Uzi felt a coil snap as she found herself suddenly lunging forward, tiny claws unsheathing from her fingertips as she tried to swipe and leave a permanent mark on her visor, only stopped by N himself, who had caught her mid-launch.

“Woah!” He said as she felt herself struggle against him, still trying to claw the insufferable bitches visor out of her head when someone else seemed to appear beside them.

“What's going on here?” Thad had entered the scene, as by now the situation had garnered quite the crowd, his eyes drifted from Chloe to Uzi, who had finally stopped struggling against N, to N, which gave him an apologetic look, although even behind that look Thad caught the rage, given away his heavy breaths and erratically waving tail.

“She freaking touched- you don't touch people like that!” Uzi yelled, as N put her down, her tail in her hand as she couldn't control it wildly snapping around at the people around them, content to bite anyone if it couldn't reach it's intended target.

Thad suddenly looked incredibly worried, he looked between N and Uzi to figure out which one of them had been touched, before deciding that it didn't matter, and he was ending this.

“You. Out. Now.” He pointed to Chloe who looked shocked, she pointed to herself and almost laughed.

“M-me? You can't honestly believe the freakshow over me?” Thad looked back at his two freinds, Uzi had finally calmed her tail down and was holding N's arm, clearly trying to comfort him, N himself was visibly shaken up, but his tall had begun to wag regardless.

“You heard me. Go home.” Thad turned back to her, putting himself between her and his two friends, she scoffed, although clearly embarrassed, and sauntered off back inside, but not without a final “Whatever, this parties lame anyway.”

He watched her, and made sure she'd actually left before turning to the crowd that had gathered. “Alright, this is over, go back to whatever you were doing.” and thankfully they listened, getting all the attention off the two.

“You guys okay?” He asked, touching the shoulders of both Uzi, and (although he didn't quite reach) N, looking between the two worriedly.

“Yeah I’m- were fine. Thank you Thad.” N replied, holding his tail extremely close to him, almost like it would suddenly come unattached from his body if he didn't.

“No problem, I wanna make sure my two friends are comfortable, and not harassed by… whoever that was.” He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment before starting again. “I can understand if you wanna leave after that, that was… not cool.”

Uzi and N looked at each other, N looking unsure until Uzi took his hand.

“We can go home if you want, we can just spend the rest of the night watching terrible horror movies?” She suggested, squeezing his hand, he sighed softly, trying to shake off the lingering anxiety that remained in him.

“N-no, we shouldn't let that ruin our night. I wanna stay.” He smiled, releasing his tail so that it could coil up behind him, pointing away from others obviously.

“Great! Glad that didn't scare you off!” Thad laughed before yet another situation was brought to his attention.

“Is that a magnet? Oh for Robo-Christs sake!” He ran off abruptly, shouting at another group wildly, trying to get them to put the magnets away before an adult saw them, they were barely getting away with the oil as it was.

“You sure you're okay? I don't mind heading inside.” Uzi double checked, still not quite letting him go, he smiled back, taking a deep breath to dissolve the jitters the situation had caused him.

“Yeah, Can't let some jerk spoil our fun. We were having a good time before that right?” Uzi nodded, but not before pulling him into a quick hug that he eagerly accepted.

“You wanna dance again? The music is a little more upbeat now. I can teach you some more?” He asked, pushing whatever had just happened into the back of his mind for now. He wanted to be here, having a good time. Not to dwell on someone that didn't deserve time in his headspace.

“If you're up for it?” And so he took her hand again, running off onto the dance floor to completely rid the situation from his mind by immediately overwriting the memory with the images of Uzi twirling around him as they did some sort of waltz, always touching in some way but always moving.

She wasn't very good, but that didn't entirely matter, as it made it more fun, he'd correct her trips by catching her into a dip, or guide her along if he felt she was getting lost.

By the time that song was over, he'd successfully gotten over it, and was laughing along with her as she tripped again.

“I'm… not very good at this am I?”

“That's okay. That's my job right?” He replied as the last song actually performed by a band came on, it was lively, with guitar and trumpet and drums that made you want to tap your feet.

“One more, and this time I promise you'll be good at it.” He held his hand out again and she took it without much hesitation, and they were off again, and while he started about the same as the music kicked up he quickly changed gears, his wings unfolding from behind him as he slowly took her in the air.

She was taken aback for a moment, not expecting it, before realizing what he was getting at, she wasn't great at dancing, but she was great at flying. So after adjusting her dress so that it wouldn't rip, and pushing down the anxiety that came from showing them in public, she let them unfurl from her back, following him into the air.

They started flying low, startling several people and making several others cheer for them as they flew through the air, slowly picking up speed as they spun around each other like a pair of dancing dragons. Then as the band spotted them, they began to play faster, either to encourage then to fly faster or to incorporate them into their performance, either could be true, but it did work, they flew faster, N coming in front of her to grip her hand before taking her up into the air.

They rose up into the air, the sound of the music fading behind them as they spun around each other, gravity catching up to them as they slowly began to fall back down, if N hadn't caught her into a dip that was reminiscent of a tango, and bringing her back up to his chest, one of his hands intertwining their fingers and the other holding the small of her back. Her wings folded back into her, leaving them to hover there under the power of N's thrusters, still spinning gently. One of Uzi's hands was on his shoulder, and she laughed airly before leaning into his chest gently, enjoying the feeling of his touch, perhaps it was the oil, or the mood. But she didn't feel the need at the moment to hide any of her affection.

N felt his core start to ache, his grip on her hand tightened as his other trailed up her side and eventually ended up at her chin, gently using his thumb to turn her face towards him. The action was barely an conscious one, he just… wanted to look at her.

Her eyelights were so bright, they almost glimered, a look of mild surprise passed across her visor, accompanied by a small smile. Her deep purple dress billowed around her, the gold seeming to sparkle even more this high up, and her hair, for once, flowed freely around her shoulders instead of being trapped inside her beanie.

“I… have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He asked slowly, his breath threatening to get caught in his throat, his thumb moving up to caress the seam under her visor, the tension in him so tight he could barely contain it.

“N…?” Uzi had been paralyzed the moment she felt his hand start to travel up her side, she could barely believe this was happening, this whole night had been…. something. And despite the part of her that wanted to beat off the cheesiness with a stick. This whole thing was really nice…

“Because you are. Not even just because you're in a dress but… just all the time.” She felt herself glancing down, blushing and trying to conceal her fluster before his hand came back to lift her head to look at him. It was so forward that Uzi couldn't do much but gasp a little and blink rapidly.

The air was thick around them, even through the fermented oil currently clogging his processors he was still nervous, but at this point it was a little late to back out. He'd already spoke his mind, it was time to commit.

“I… I think.” He felt himself heat up underneath her gaze. He had to keep going, the oil doing it's work to keep him from loosing his nerve, but it wasn't lasting very long in his systems, it was starting to wear off. He needed to do this now.

“I think I'm in love with you, Zi.” He finally forced out, voice so low it was barely audible, Uzi felt sparks light up in her core, and although she was silent, the hand she had rested on his shoulder went to the side of his face.

“You're so perfect. A-and smart, and you always know what to do… and you're so soft with me, and-and Tera too. And I just, really want you with me. Just doing… anything.”

Because I love doing anything, as long as it's with you.

Uzi didn't know what to say. Nothing in her arsenal of life experience could prepare her for this, a confession of love that was so sincere she almost felt like she was about to cry. All words within her processors died, even the fiesty ones.

“I… almost thought you felt the same way, but if you don’t I-”

No! He was taking her silence as a rejection! She frantically thought of words to say, anything, literally anything! But nothing was coming to her, her panic worsened until a desperate thought entered her mind.

If she couldn't use words, she could always use action.

The hand that had intertwined in his suddenly and roughly gripped his suit tie, surprising him and knocking him out of whatever sad rejection acceptance speil he was about to go on. Uzi was shaking like a wet kitten, but the look on her face was determined.

In an incredibly quick and not-at-all graceful movement, she slammed their visors together, making them clack together awkwardly and sending N reeling back in slight pain, looking incredibly surprised and confused.

“Uh…” He responded dumbly, and Uzi felt like making herself plumet to the ground so she didn't have to feel the searing hot embarrassment coursing through her, her entire visor was overtaken with blush, and she reached out to try and apologize while also covering her face with her hand.

“I- sorry! I was, gah- why is this hard?!” Words came back but none of them were anything but embarrassed cries and half-apologies, she buried her face in both her hands, hiding herself from him.

“Uzi?” he was so patient, his voice didn't hold any signs that he was upset, and she felt one of his hands pull one of hers away from her face, they were still hovering, thank robo-god, so no one could see her horrible attempt at kissing him.

“You- I'm not rejecting you! I just didn't know what to say!” She finally admitted, shouting because of how uncomfortably small she felt, but with how her visor was still consumed with purple, N could tell she wasn't exactly angry.

“I was uh… trying to kiss you.” She then admitted again, although this one in more of a whisper then a yell, it was N's turn to blush as he looked to the side before looking back into her eyelights.

“O-oh…” She wasn't looking at him, instead nibbling on her knuckles and looking like she'd rather perish then be alive right now, and he smiled, taking her hands and putting them back on his chest.

“Do you wanna try again?” He asked, face lighting up further and causing Uzi to look back at him, surprised, a cheep coming out of her mouth before she slowly nodded, leaning back into him, and feeling one of his hands drift back to the small of her back.

This time they both leaned in, Uzi's hands holding tightly on the collar of his suit and N's other hand coming up to cup her face.

A spark passed between their visors, jolting them both before causing them both to smile softy at the other as they finally closed the gap, soft silicone meeting soft silicone.

It only took a moment for them both to melt. Anime and movies had gotten it wrong, this wasn't a start of a fire or like getting caught in a thunderstorm. It was warm and it was comfortable, like they'd been doing it all their lives instead of right now for the first time. It was pleasant and chaste, and when they parted the warmth between them remained.

N blinked, his core feeling incredibly light like he'd just put down something he'd been carrying for a long time.

Uzi felt dazed like someone had just woken her up from a decade long nap and she wasn't sure where or when or who she was.

N laughed lightly first, mostly at himself but a little at her starstruck expression. Uzi was next, joining him in an expression of how… stupid this whole thing had been.

“When…?” She asked, trying to think back as cuddled closer to him, not feeling the typical complaints from her brain that usually would accompany such an affectionate action.

“We were flying together, and a love song came on… you looked really pretty with the eclipse.”

“That was over a month ago!” She exclaimed, being a little impressed on how well he'd hidden it. She'd still figured it out, but still.

“You?”

She hesitated, did she really want him knowing how long she'd had feelings for him, Prom had been almost four months ago at this point.

But looking at him… she couldn't lie.

“P-prom.” She stammered out, and he froze, looking up at the stars with bewilderment.

“That was so long ago! Why didn't you say anything?” He asked, a wider smile on his face, it made Uzi fluster again, and she did the stupid girly thing of trying to put her hair behind her nonexistent ear.

“I- I'm me! I'm not exactly ecstatic to voice how I feel. Unless it's angst.” She shouted, leading them both to laugh again, although N leaned it once more, resting their visors together while looking deeply at her.

“You've liked me longer then I've liked you…” He pointed out, making her want to cringe. It wasn't her fault! He was just so… nice!

“Sorry I made you wait so long, I'm not the smartest drone.” He said.

“That's okay… That's my job, right?”

They both leaned in again, enjoying every moment of their time in the sky, being able to pay very little mind to the still raging party below them…

#murder drones #biscuitbites #nuzi #uzi doorman #serial designation n #n and uzi #tera doorman #I present to you #what I've been working on for like four days #they finally did it #woop!

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spn-s16 · 23 hours

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(spoilers for cyno's second story quest ahead!)

okay this is kind of a red-string insane connect the dots theory, but bear with me here. i was going through collei's voicelines today, and in her "about kaveh" line, she says, "The General Mahamatra once brought him to our place for a meal. From the moment the fruit arrived on the table, he ranted non-stop about his difficult and stubborn roommate for the entire meal. We didn't get a single word in the whole time. We just nodded along and tried to stifle our laughter. It took a lot of effort."

i've heard that line before, but i was thinking about it through a kavetham lense, so it only now occurred to me- why did cyno bring kaveh to tighnari's for a meal?

i've marked both tighnari's house and haikaveh's in red, plus the yellow line to demonstrate the route between their houses. i've done that walk manually at walking speed for fic purposes, and it's about fifteen and a half hours in-game- 6 am to 9:30 pm.

so, with this information, this raises the question: why on earth would cyno bring kaveh to tighnari's house, when it's a goodly distance away, when presumably he has a house of his own?

admittedly, he's not home much since he's off doing general mahamatra-ey stuff, but it's established in his second story quest that he doesn't live with cyrus anymore, so he lives somewhere when he's not busy, and it'd be logical to assume that he has an akademiya-regulated house yknow, nearby the akademiya, but if that was the case he'd just bring kaveh there?

and if he didn't have a house at all to bring guests to, they'd probably go to kaveh's place, or if they really needed to avoid alhaitham, they could go to lambad's or another local resturant?

which brings me to my conclusion- cyno does have a house- he just lives with tighnari.

#genshin impact #cynari #cyno #tighnari #tbh there's a good chance this is completely innacurate and it's established in some event or voiceline that he does in fact have a house-#- but like. cmon.#also this combined with the whole gay debacle that was cyno's second story quest (cyrus inviting tighnari and collei to dinner as well-#- despite the fact that they hadn't been so much as mentioned the whole time‚ the implication that they shared a tent‚ tighnari going after #-cyno in the desert despite the fact that he's horrible with the heat‚ the whole “cup” thing with faruzan where cyno referred to himself-#-tighnari and collei as a family)?? it paints a picture. a GAY picture.#cyno story quest spoilers #genshin impact spoilers #genshin spoilers #trying to tag this with as many spoilers warnings as i can aljkfslkjfds 😭#sher talks

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worldwithinworld · 2 days

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Since we all have the time of Haymitch's games on our minds, I thought now would be a good time to bring up again my longstanding theory that Katniss's mother was disowned by her parents but not primarily (or even at all) because she married someone from the Seam. I think it's because she and Katniss's father were involved in rebellious activities.

Here are my clues:

She was Maysilee's friend. She got her canary after she died, inheriting the symbol of a warning in the form of a songbird.

Haymitch's victory frightened Show. If the Capitol's control was strong at the time, Haymitch's forcefield trick would have been just good tv. The fact that Snow came down so hard on Snow suggests there were threats of rebellion before Haymitch even went into the arena.

When Gale is whipped, Haymitch says they used to take people who got whipped to Katniss's mother. Specifically, he says, "She's the one we took them to," which seems to imply it was just her, not her whole family.

After treating Gale, she briefly speaks to Haymitch about "before." They understand each other so easily with just a few words despite us seeing hardly any interaction between them before. It feels like they have more of a shared history than what Katniss knows.

Speaking of what Katniss knows, she considers this interaction and wonders what they are talking about but decides she's too upset to ask right then. She never thinks about asking again, but the whole thing suggests that there is a lot more to the story of D12 in Haymitch and her parents' youth.

Katniss remembers her mom getting angry at her dad for teaching her "The Hanging Tree." Little Katniss had cried because her mom yelling was so out of the norm. Katniss assumes that her mom didn't like her little girl learning such a dark song, but we know better. Her dad sang a rebels' song, and her mom got scared of him teaching it to her daughter.

I think both of Katniss's parents were involved in rebellion to some degree when they were young. The Capitol came down hard on Haymitch and his whole district to snuff it out. It scared Katniss's maternal grandparents who maybe told her to cut ties with her Seam boy or else, or maybe they just cut her off for her own deeds irrespective of her romantic interest.

#hunger games #sunrise on the reaping #catching fire #mockingjay #Mrs. everdeen #katniss #haymitch #mr. everdeen #maysilee donner #opinion and analysis

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bijouxcarys · 3 days

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Just Your Tribal Chief (Roman Reigns x fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Description: In the chaotic world of WWE, where titles and egos clash, the Women's World Champion faces a new kind of challenge: her own boyfriend, Roman Reigns...

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut, angst, slight daddy kink, dirty talk, rough sex, oral sex (m recieving), semi-public sex, voyeurism, lil bit of choking, Tribal Chief-mode...

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags: @trippinsorrows (literally don't know who else to tag so if you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics, let me know!)

Her face was hard as stone as she followed her boyfriend, struggling to keep pace with his towering strides. Despite her own formidable strength—she wasn’t the undisputed WWE Women’s World Champion for nothing—his height advantage was undeniable.

She had earned her title through relentless dedication, ever since she started training at fifteen. She had bulldozed through her opponents, male and female, during her NXT days and earned her place on both RAW and Smackdown. Being assigned as a Free Agent in the 2023 draft by Hunter had been the culmination of years of sacrifice.

That’s when the chaos began.

Interviews, talk show appearances, high-stakes matches—nothing could deter her from her goal. Her ultimate triumph came at Wrestlemania 39 when she vanquished the one and only Charlotte Flair. It took her long enough to comprehend that she had in fact defeated the daughter of the man she’d sat and watched hours of as a kid. But it happened.

Life was perfect; she was the champion, her boyfriend retained every time. Pure bliss, right?

No.

Just… no.

“What the fuck is wrong with you today?” Y/N spat, slamming the door behind her as they entered his locker room. His. Of course, his.

“Me?” Joe laughed, running a hand over his face as he paced the length of the room. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Yeah, you. You’ve been bitching all day, Joe!” She crossed her arms, her eyes ablaze.

“Oh, I’m Joe now,” he jabbed a finger into his chest, halting his stride. “Out there, I’m Roman Reigns, undisputed champion—but in here, I’m fuckin’ Joe.”

Y/N was baffled. Joe hated being referred to by his ring name when they were alone; he despised being treated like a superstar off the clock. So what was this?

“Last time I checked, your name was Joe,” she huffed.

“And the last time I checked, my girlfriend didn’t let men leer at her like she’s a whole ass meal on a plate.”

She laughed bitterly, amused by his newfound insecurity. She had never seen this side of him before. They had joked about it, but it had always been about his magnetic presence and how women practically swooned around him.

“Aw, are you jealous?” she taunted, leaning forward. “Is that what this is about? Does my success fracture your delicate little ego?”

She wasn’t about to let anyone, especially a man, undermine her. Not even when it was hers.

“You get off on this, huh?” Joe’s brows narrowed as he stepped closer. “You get off on antagonising me all the damn time!”

“Antagonising you? I was doing a fucking interview, you insecure prick! What am I supposed to say—oh, sorry, I can’t talk today, my Tribal Chief is a little fragile, let me come back once his dick is intact again!”

“Oh, my dick be stayin’ intact, babygirl, you know that better than anyone.”

“Don’t fucking detract, Joseph.”

“I’ll stop detracting once you admit that… guy out there was gunnin’ for your number. My boy’s eyes couldn’t even stay focused!”

As they argued, they closed the distance between them, Y/N’s neck craning to meet Joe’s intense gaze. She couldn’t deny the thrill of seeing him riled up, though she knew this wasn’t genuine anger. She recognised angry Joe, and this wasn’t him.

This was angry Roman.

Narrowing her eyes, Y/N chuckled, her nose inches from his. Joe’s lips curled into a sneer before he straightened, taking a deep breath.

“Joe–”

“I’m not gon’ tell you again, Y/N…” he began, his voice measured, before he lowered his head, his eyes locking with hers, darker and more menacing. “When we in these four walls. This arena. Hell, when we at work…” He loomed over her, metaphorically trapping her, though she was free to leave if she chose to.

“I’m Roman Reigns. Ain’t no Joe here. Do you see Joe in this room right now, baby?”

She bit back a grin, revelling in the tension. Damn, she was fucked up, but she loved it.

Before she could respond, his large hand encircled her neck, holding her in place.

“I asked you a question,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding.

Her irritation melted into a dull ache low in her abdomen, her thighs clenching involuntarily. She exhaled shakily, struggling to maintain her composure.

“No…”

The whisper conveyed everything he needed to know.

“Good,” he murmured, his fingers tightening on her neck. “Now, are you gon’ make it up to me, or are we gon’ keep fighting?”

Y/N swallowed hard, the air between them electric. “Make it up to you?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes, testing him.

He didn’t reply with words. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his lips crashing down on hers with a fervour that sent shivers along every inch of exposed skin on her body. The kiss was demanding, urgent, reflecting the tension that had been simmering all day.

His hands travelled down to her waist, gripping her possessively as she responded with equal passion, her fingers tangling in his hair, just below where it was all neatly held together in a characteristic man bun. They stumbled backward until her back hit the wall, pinning her in place with his weight. Breaking the kiss, he gazed down at her with dark, smouldering eyes.

“You know exactly what to do, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that weakened her knees. “Show me just how sorry you are.”

Her breath hitched, heart racing as she nodded, her fingers already working to unbutton his pants. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but it only heightened the intensity of the moment.

She sank to her knees, a willing captive to his dominance. Joe chuckled, pleased with her compliance.

“Even when we arguin’, you still so desperate for this dick,” he taunted as she tugged down his pants and briefs. She didn’t have to look up to know he was smirking—that signature smirk that always had her pulse quicken.

“Well, sometimes it’s the only way to get you to shut up,” Y/N retorted, unabashedly cheeky as she stroked him with a deliberate slowness, savouring his reaction.

“Babygirl, that mouth of yours better get to work before I do somethin’ ‘bout it.”

Instead of following through immediately, she paused, her hands resting on her thighs. Eyes wide and provocative as she looked up at him innocently.

“What are you doing?” Joe asked, narrowing his gaze. Her innocent facade only fuelled his frustration.

She simply shrugged, maintaining her coy demeanour.

A slow, understanding smirk spread across his face. “Oh, you wanna play that today, huh?” His voice was low, almost a growl, filled with a predatory hunger.

Y/N licked her lips slowly, teasingly, her eyes glued onto his. “Maybe I do,” she murmured with a slight husk.

Joe’s smirk turned into a wicked grin. “A’ight then, babygirl, let’s see how long you can keep this up.”

Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back slightly, not enough to hurt her, but enough to assert his dominance. Y/N’s heart raced, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. She loved when he took control, loved the raw, primal intensity that radiated from him in moments like this.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough and authoritative.

She complied, her wide eyes locking with his. The room seemed to shrink around them, the outside world fading away as their focus narrowed to just the two of them. They didn’t even care that someone could walk in at any moment.

“You know what I want, don’t you?” Even though his tone was softer, it still carried a growl in its undercurrent.

“Yes…”

“Then stop playin’ games and show me.”

With that, he released her hair, his hand moving to the back of her neck, guiding her forward. She didn’t need any more encouragement. She wrapped her fingers around the base of his length, her other hand resting on his thigh for balance, and took the bulbous head between her lips. Slowly. Just enough to savour the taste of him.

Joe let out a low groan, his eyes closing for a moment as he felt the warmth of her tongue circling the sensitive skin. “That’s it, babygirl,” he murmured, his hand tightening slightly. “Just like that…”

She worked him with a deliberate slowness, swirling and teasing around him—torturing him with every movement. She traced the tip of her tongue along the bulging vein that stood out prominent along the underside of his cock, applying pressure at the correct places. Just that alone caused a light throb against her, his breathing to grow heavier, more ragged with each passing second.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he growled with a strained cadence. “You gon’ make me lose my damn mind.”

Her response was a soft hum, the vibration shooting right through him. She loved having this effect on him, loved knowing she could drive him to the edge with just her mouth. Increasing the pace slightly, she took him deeper, her fingertips digging into his thigh for further leverage.

Joe’s hand slid from her neck to her jaw, guiding her movements, dark eyes surveying her every move. “That’s it, baby, take it all…” he encouraged lowly. “Show me how much you want this dick.”

It was inevitable that his gravelly words made her moan around him. Made her core tighten around nothing. Throat relaxing, she forced more of him into her mouth, pushing herself to her limits. Eyes watering from the effort.

“Fuck,” Joe hissed, his hips bucking involuntarily. “You’re so fuckin’ good at this.”

She pulled back slightly, gasping for breath as she ran her hand along his length, coating the entirety with residue spit. Before he could even process it, he was back in her mouth, and her warm palm was skillfully lowering to pay attention to his full balls. A steady massage. The combination was almost too much for him to handle.

“Shit, Y/N,” he groaned. “You keep that up, and I ain’t gon’ last much longer.”

Y/N pulled back, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his throbbing cock. She looked up at him with a hint of arrogant pride. “Maybe that’s the point,” she teased breathlessly.

“Oh, you think you’re clever, huh?”

She nodded, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Maybe.”

He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up to her feet and pressing her back against the wall. “We’ll see how clever you are when I’m done with you,” he growled, his lips smashing against hers in a bruising kiss.

She whimpered into his mouth, hands flying to his broad shoulders as she clung to him. His punishing assault had her arching into him, her body pressing against him in a desperate attempt for any friction. She even went as far as to roughly tug at his bun, clumsily pulling the hair tie from his head and letting it snap around her wrist for the time being. The way his hair framed his face when down and free had her yearning. Every. Single. Damn. Time.

Rough, calloused hands played with her, yet failed to relieve any of the growing arousal below her waist. He squeezed at every curve he could grasp, a non-verbal worship of the woman in his arms, despite his harsh demeanour.

“You want this, babygirl?” he murmured against her lips, dragging her across the room with him. “You want me to fuck you? Here? With everyone walkin’ around outside?”

“Yes,” she gasped as she felt the back of her legs hit the couch. “Please, Joe.”

He chuckled darkly, pulling back to look at her. “Sorry, who?”

“Roman,” she corrected herself quickly, voice shaky. “Please, Roman…”

“Good girl.” Even though, in essence, he praised her, one could not miss the slight condescension woven between the words. A condescension that intensified as he guided her back until she let her weight fall onto the plush, cushiony surface behind her. With one hand propping himself up, his other traced light circles along her bare leg, slowly creeping further up until it disappeared under the skirt that started it all. The short, form-fitting skirt she chose to wear that day for her interviews. The one that showed off the shapely contours of her body—toned legs and all.

He hadn’t even gotten beneath the thin material of her underwear and he could already feel the dampness collecting on the fabric. “Damn, so wet for me already.”

She whimpered, bucking her hips against his hand, desperate for more. “Please,” she begged weakly.

Narrowing his eyes down at her, he gauged her reaction, every contortion in her face, as his fingers gingerly slid beneath her panties, barely grazing her weeping folds. That alone caused Y/N to let out a breathy moan, her head falling back against the couch as the small grant of relief encompassed her.

“You like that, huh?” he taunted, allowing the tip of his middle finger to apply the slightest pressure, scarcely touching her sensitive nub. “You like it when Daddy touches you like this?”

“Yeah…” She furrowed her brows at the sensation of Joe’s fingers dragging downwards, teasing around her entrance. He lowered his head down to hers, pressing a light kiss to her forehead before he pushed forward, allowing a single finger to slide into her with ease.

It seemed almost immediate that she clenched around him, the bare minimum sending her into utter bliss.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he groaned with a smirk, lips moving to brush against her ear. “I can’t wait to dick you down, babygirl. Feel all this,” he added his ring finger without warning, steadily stretching her in preparation, “around me.”

Y/N was trembling with need, her body threatening to take her pleasure by grinding into him, but she refrained, knowing the outcome was always a prize in the face of anticipation.

“Please, Roman,” she sighed, moving her head to look up into his eyes. “Please.”

He continued to taunt her, pulling his fingers from her pussy, only to lift them up to his mouth to suck them clean. “It’s a damn shame you ain’t gettin’ no head right now when you taste so good, baby.”

She wanted so badly to cuss him out, to stop this whole thing and make him suffer further. But she knew better. This was all part of the game, and they both loved every second of it.

“Ass up, babygirl,” he smoothly demanded, leaving no room for argument as he nodded his head to the side.

Like clockwork, she obeyed, flipping herself onto her hands and knees, finding a place on the couch arm to prop herself up. Back arched, she presented herself to him. For him to use at his disposal. One look ahead and she was caught by the sight of their own reflection in a full-length mirror. Their eyes met, and a smug little smirk appeared on his face as he braced himself on the couch behind her with one knee propped up.

“Ready, baby?” he asked, tracing the pre-cum soaked head of his cock along her folds, shimmying the tight fit of her skirt up and over her ass so he had the perfect vantage point.

“Always ready—please,” she whimpered, teeth clamping down onto her lower lip. “Please, Roman, fuck me.”

It was almost brutal, the swift motion that allowed him to sink into her tight hole. She tightened around him within seconds, the burning stretch taking over her entire being for a moment. His thickness stung her, impaled her. Claimed her.

His face strained with his stubborn attempts at refraining himself from going to town on her pussy, his hand momentarily leaving her ass to tug his shirt off. Now she had the glorious sight of not only her needy body bent over for him, but also the perfectly sculpted structure of this Godlike human’s body.

Whilst he started out slow, giving her the benefit of letting her adjust, it wasn’t long before he’d fallen into a brutal pace, hands grabbing at her hips as skin collided and sweat beaded up all over both of them.

“Mm, that pussy singin’ for me, baby, y’hear that?” he chuckled airily, leaning back to watch as her core hungrily swallowed his thick dick, the glisten of his shaft when he withdrew, just to slam it back in. The noises were lewd, and entirely theirs.

Y/N could barely think, her body consumed by sheer ecstasy, all provided for by him. Each thrust sent shockwaves through her, building a steadfast pressure as she hung onto the couch for dear life. Her body jolted forward each time his hips collided with hers, a groan reverberating in her chest when he swung particularly hard.

“Can’t even speak, I’m fuckin’ you so good…”

As much as she hated to hand him a perfectly stroked ego on a fucking platter, she couldn’t argue with that very simple fact.

“H-harder,” she managed to squeak out.

Always happy to destroy her, he lifted his leg to plant his Jordans-clad foot on the couch, allowing him to build up momentum as he obliged, his thrusts becoming animalistic. She reached back to grab at one of his hands, pulling it lower and guiding it towards her clit.

“Needy lil’ girl,” he chastised, but happily circled her swollen clit with a rhythm that matched the ferocity of his thrusts. Glancing up at the mirror, the sight sent him into overdrive; her mouth dropped open, her face flushed and makeup smudging around her eyes. “Look at you, babygirl… how fuckin’ beautiful you are takin’ this dick.”

She let out a moan, starting to viciously bounce back against his dick, a fiery look in her eyes as she, too, watched their reflection putting on a picture perfect show curated for an audience of two.

“That’s it, mama… Goddamn, you takin’ me so well.” Joe’s body careened over hers, shadowing her entire form with his. His lips were ghosting beside her ear as he roughly purred, “Remind me to make you sit on my face when we get home.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, body rippling as his large arm circled her neck, holding her against him as he went to town on her cunt. Her head fell back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as she felt her climax barreling closer.

“Nuh-uh, baby, open those eyes,” he mumbled into her ear. “Need to see those pretty eyes when I nut in this pussy.”

With a strained whine, she obeyed, forcing herself to open her eyes and look ahead of her.

“Good girl… fuck, Y/N.”

“Oh my God…” she groaned.

“Ain’t no God here, babygirl,” he started, tightening his arm around her neck. “Just your Tribal Chief.”

That did it for her, she arched painfully, pussy fluttering around his shaft. “Roman… I’m gonna cum—fuck, yess, keep going…”

“Yeah? You gon’ give me that nut, huh?” He nodded at her, his hair falling around them as he pressed his lips into her neck, dragging his long tongue over her salty skin, teeth baring down on her as he felt her clench so tightly around him. “Gon’ cum on Daddy’s dick like a good lil’ slut?”

“Yes, yes, fuck, please–”

“Ain’t nobody make you feel this good ‘cept me, baby. You got that?” he said through clenched teeth, pummelling his hips into hers. When she only responded with a shaky whimper, he yanked her against him. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes! Nobody can fuck me like you, Daddy, only you!”

“Damn right… go on, aulelei, cum for me.”

She didn’t need to be asked twice. Without further effort, she let out an elongated whine, high-pitched and unbothered by the very public location. Convulsing, writhing, ears buzzing, she released harshly on his cock, squeezing him so intensely, she could see the effects of it on his face in the mirror.

“Goddamn, that pussy cummin’ so hard,” he breathed with a low chuckle. “You want this nut, baby? You want it?”

Garnering the last of her energy, she nodded fervently.

“Tell me. Tell me you want it.”

“I-I want it…”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to cum inside me.”

“You want who to cum inside you?”

“You!”

“And who am I?”

The sensitivity was too much, and her hips jerked, the aftershocks stunning her pussy as Joe chased his high like a cheetah with its prey.

“I said,” he ripped his hand away from her clit, landing a sharp sting of a slap to the side of her ass in the position they were in. “Who. Am. I?” He emphasised each word with a jolting thrust.

“Roman Reigns! Fuck, you’re Roman Reigns…”

“That’s right… You gon’ get this Tribal Chief nut, and you gon’ take it.”

“Yes, please, please give me it all…”

“A’ight, baby.” His movements became erratic as he soon found his release, practically roaring as he hit his zenith, spilling into her in hot ropes.

All Y/N could do was stay in his grasp, her weight completely limp in his arms as she allowed him to empty his frustrations deep inside her. She already knew she’d be feeling it seeping out later into the day, but that’s what she loved so much about it; the hidden reminder that she was his, and nobody could come close.

For a moment, they stayed like that, their bodies entwined, breathing heavily against each other. Eventually, with a huff, Joe pulled out, shoving himself back in his pants and turning her over to face him. His tepid fingers stroked over her hair as he gazed down at her, eyes softening.

“You okay, babygirl?”

“Mhm,” Y/N nodded, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. “More than okay,” she hummed, leaning into his touch.

Unlike last time, the kiss he planted on her lips was a stark contrast to his roughness. “Good,” he whispered against her.

“Are you actually upset with me? Y’know… about the interview stuff?” she asked quietly.

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. “Not in the slightest… I’m proud of you,” he let her know earnestly, lightly grazing his lips over her nose. “And I love you.”

Y/N grinned, almost giddily. “I love you too.”

“Dammit, Uce, again?!”

Both Joe and Y/N snapped their attention to the locker room door, where a flabbergasted Jey stood with a take out bag from Waffle House in his hand.

“Oh, yeah,” Joe smirked. “I asked the twins to get us some food,” he casually told her.

Her eyes widened, mouth dropping open a bit. “You’re such a dick.”

#roman reigns #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x reader #wwe #wwe fanfiction

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cannellee · 3 days

Note

Who were the other options you had in mind for parhetic alphas, considering you said there were so many choices for the number 3 place before you gave it to Hakkai? Who is in the top 10 pathetic whipped Alphas?

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ☆

୨୧ alpha! tokyorev x omega! reader (pairing : shinichiro, takemichi, hakkai, yamagishi, angry, naoto, kisaki, shion, kazutora, hanma)

— top 10 pathetic alphas of tokyorev (part. 1)

I struggled a bit to finish this, I honestly don't think there are 10 real pathetic men, shinichiro and takemichi easily take the first places. but after them, it's hard to choose. it's obviously not extremely representative but here's my thoughts on this!

MY MASTERLIST : ☆

𐙚. N°1 : ALPHA! SHINICHIRO

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 2 : ALPHA! TAKEMICHI

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N°3 : ALPHA! HAKKAI

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 4 : ALPHA! YAMAGISHI

yamagishi is an awkward nerd who never felt the touch of an omega, he's sweating buckets the first time you initiate skinship. it feels too unreal to him, you have him malfunctioning and you simply enjoy his panicked look.

he's such a beta-passing alpha and that's what he's most insecure about, despite being told he needs to toughen up, he can't help but crave your validation. people often mock him for how your roles seem to have been exchanged, but what else is he supposed to do when his goddess of an omega talks ever so sweetly to him like that ?

you often laugh at him whenever he acts all serious and tough, you love it when he tries to impress you that way, thinking the way he glances at you to judge your reactions is subtle (it's not), but you play along and give him the attention he needs.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 5 : ALPHA! ANGRY

of course angry is on the list. he's so sensitive and attentive, always carefully analysing your reactions and what you say to him, making sure he never upsets his lovely omega.

you're such an important person to angry that he can't help but let his whole world spin around you like you're his sun. he cooks, he cleans and gives plenty of gifts. whatever you want is yours in the minute. he'll cry if you get mad at him or even show him the slightest form of disapproval. if you refuse to talk to him, he throws the little pride he had to beg and plead for you to look at him again.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 6 : ALPHA! NAOTO

naoto isn't that pathetic, but shy and nervous enough to stir up funny reactions from him whenever he's around you. what's best, is how composed he is with everyone else but you. he acts all serious and shit, but all of that crumble when you're looking at him with your big doe eyes, sweetly smiling at him.

how could such a tall and honorable alpha fold so fast for a tiny omega such as yourself ? that's what everyone is wondering. but naoto doesn't care about stupid gender roles and simply embraces the fact that you make him double check himself when you're about to meet up.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 7 : ALPHA! KISAKI

bro started a whole war and killed people 'for' his omega, you can't tell me this isn't pathetic behaviour. see it however you like, but when kisaki sets his eyes on something or someone, he is obssessed. never lever you out of his sight, desperately scenting you, having people spy on you... in my eyes, kisaki is giving stalker vibes and only loosers chooses that option : they're too scared to confront their crush and end up caring for them from a distance.

kisaki is a red flag who wants to keep control of his omega but at the same, can't keep the conversation going because of his sweaty hands and sloppy speech. however, while some alphas are okay with appearing weaker, kisaki hates that and absolutely despises the way you make him feel. he has little outbursts here and there if you jokingly bring it up.

he just can't wait to make you his, turn you into a submissive omega who won't dare mock him anymore whenever he gets nervous. but for now, he'll settle for the photos he took of you and your faint scent of honey and candy lingering on his jacket after you grabbed his arms.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 8 : ALPHA! SHION

shion isn't exactly pathetic, he's just a dumb alpha who absolutely can't resist your manipulation and mind games. I don't remember where exactly I saw this, but it's somehow popular in the fandom (I think?) that shion is a bit of a himbo, and I agree.

he's got the muscles, but honestly, you outbrain him easily. yes, he's aggressive and yes, he does bark and bite. but not towards his omega! he follows exactly what you say without even fully grasping the whole situation, point someone with your finger and you can be sure shion is jumping on him, convinced he offended you. his protectiveness is just genuine and has that comical simplicity.

he might overcomplicate your relationships with others and see a rival in any of them. you have to be careful with your words just in case he misunderstands them and causes a huge ruckus.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 9 : ALPHA! KAZUTORA

similarly, kazutora isn't exactly pathetic but has his own special ways of showing he's interested which would make him worthy of the 9th place.

alpha kazutora who's absolutely wrecked and deranged by his background and relationship with mikey, can do no good. still, he has learned ways to control himself as to not scare you off. which is why he'd rather stay away from you and instead, look at you from a distance. he's very subtle actually so you won't ever catch him staring.

but what makes him slightly pathetic is how delusional he is about your relationship while still being insecure. he'll get aggressive at times when he senses a tiny bit of disinterest from you and get mad. he's toxic and hopeless, but can't make up his mind to leave you alone. his contradictory spirit is very hard to grasp, but what's clear is his dependance on you, his innocent omega. he's constantly checking and making sure you love him, asking questions he expects only one answer to. he's jealous and paranoid, often clinging to you and asking for your forgiveness if his possessiveness pushed him to go too far.

overall, it's his emotional instability which makes kazutora pathetic.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 10 : ALPHA! HANMA

hanma isn't pathetic at all, but I had to find someone for the last one sooo.

he isn't pathetic but he just has little to no regard to his dignity as an alpha and as a person. he likes the thrill of trying new things and getting out of his comfort zone, which is exactly what his sweet omega urges him to.

you like that side of hanma, you can do whatever and he'll let you, simply because he enjoys the unexpected, being surprised and not being stuck in a routine.

you can be temperamental, vulgar and mean all you want, he'll just laugh because that's unusual for an omega. his ego won't get hurt because he's confident in himself, he can fight, is part of a gang and has a lot of connections, pleasing his omega by doing a few shameful tricks is far from being degrading in his eyes.

but that only works if you also let him play with you however he wants. so with hanma, it's more like, how far are you ready to take it. you're not necessarily on top and you'll find out soon enough that he's the one with the less limits, which can be scary something.

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poppy-metal · 2 days

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hear me out... what if we combine some of the thoughts? stepbro! patrick who finds out that you've been posting videos of yourself online. every night going to some porn site to jerk himself out. using the videos to imagine different things to do to you until he finds an account that really scratches that itch inside of him. she looks like you. this solo pornstar he's found and he finds himself stalking each video you post. leaving a multitude of comments and feeling a rush of adrenaline when you respond to them. but then he starts to notice something - your walls look familiar. the posters you have on them, the paint color, and in fact so does what you're wearing. he realizes that the girl in the videos doesn't just look like you. she is you. immediately he's full of different thoughts and ideas. after he finally comes down from the realization (and also drains his balls to the copious amount of content he has for you) he makes a plan.

he comes into your room one night, stifling through your stuff as you protest it. when he finds the camera hidden in your closet he turns around with that classic patrick smirk. "you planning on becoming a star?" he asks softly. you look at him confused but also concerned knowing nothing good happens when patrick gets that look. "a pornstar, i mean," he says with a grin. you can't even protest before he's shaking his head. coming closer and closer to you. "i know about your account. found it weeks ago. don't worry, i'm not gonna tell. didn't realize it was you at first but then i recognized the room. you know, that's the bad thing about not showing your pretty face. anyone could see it and fuck themselves to the videos. know i did."

he gets almost a sick satisfaction while telling you. watching the color drain out of your face. the way your breathing picks up. the look on your face as your mind can't decide if you're disgusted or turned on by his confession. he tells you that he wants to help you. so much so that he wants to star in your videos too. you'll get really popular then if your audience can watch you get your brains fucked out by some guy. he expects you to need a minute but you say yes almost immediately. your mouth dry from the anticipation and it's that night that you both film your first video. camera pointed down at you with your face barely out of camera while patrick fucks you from the back. hands gripping your hips rough enough to make bruises while he splits open your pussy and you babble out. its easy to pick out the titles when patrick runs his mouth the whole video - "mmm, yes, such a fucking slut wanna show the whole world how you take your stepbrothers cock? can't even keep it a secret."

it only takes a month of uploading videos together for a company to reach out with an offer to provide better cameras and a paycheck.

-☕

despite what you post youre a good girl, really. you were kind and sweet and got good grades all throughout school. you tried to make nice with your stepbrother even though he got under your skin all the fucking time, like that time he threw a party when your parents were out but wouldn't let you dance with robby dickenson. like, what the fuck? "he just wants you to suck his cock because his girlfriend wont".

"maybe im fine with that."

"im not."

and that was that. he always got his way. thats when it started, you're pretty sure. a sorta fuck you to patrick, and also a way to rebel in a way. your first video had been you deepthroating a didldo you'd bought. you didnt know what it would become, just that you loved every second of it. the camera filming you, the lewd act of filling your mouth for a bunch of people to fuck themselbes too. it felt wanton and dirty. it was empowering.

so your fear of patrick finding out wasn't that he'd found out, per say. you were more afraid of him taking this from you. you weren't shocked by his admission, but you were by how much it turned you on. you'd sunken alot further into the pits of depravity than you'd thought. good girls didnt fuck their stepbrothers. good girls didnt get dry in the mouth at the sight of his thick cock bobbing free. good girls didnt pull up their shirts because he'd asked them to, straddling your chest with the camera angled at your chest. "pull your tits out, show big brother those hot little nipples."

and you do, you show him, you show everyone who will be watching and you do it eagerly. you should snap at him not to call himself your big brother, but in reality the acknowledgement of what he was, of how bad you were being just made you all the more wet.

"you're not a good girl at all, are you," he asks, zooming in on the peaks of your nipples. reaches down to roughly palm one of the bouncy little tits in his hand. "always so tight lipped and quiet. you know my friend, art? he just thinks you're shy. wonder what he'd think if he knew you were shoving things up your pussy for old pervs onine to rub off to."

hes one of those pervs. but you dont say that. instead you push your chest out, bite your lip and look up at him with wide pleading eyes."no im good, big brother, i promise."

he spits out a quiet fuck under his breath. you cant stop eyeing the thick length of him between his thighs, dripping and hard and you want your mouth around him you dont care how wrong it is, you want him filling your throat and yanking your hair and calling you all sorts of names.

he makes you prove it. the camera doesnt spend long at all in his hand, eventually tossed shakily on your bed and you have to reach for it yourself, pull it close to your face as you're oushed and pulled and groped like a ragdoll, on your stomach as patrick palms at your ass.

"wanted to fuck you for so long."

"then do it."

there's alot of talk in the comments of the video when its posted, talk about the stepsibling talk being a nice little touch, some want to know if the man has an account of his own, videos of himself. they like the way he fucks you. hard and demeaning, slapping his hips off your ass with the force of his pounding cock in your cunt. they like the way he talks to you, "tight little fucking cunt,gonna fill it everyday. when i come home sweaty from practice you're gonna be a good little sister and spread your legs for me, let me at that pussy. gonna sneak in here every night, fuck you full of cum even if you're sleeping."

instant hit.

#ask #☕️ anon #tw: stepcest #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut

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jensengirl83 · 1 day

Text

You'll Accompany Me- Chp 17

Jensen x reader

Word Count-2530

Warnings- A tiny bit of angst, FLUFF, so much fluff

The next few weeks after Y/N had forgiven Jensen, and she chose to take him back had been a whirlwind. She was now approaching being seven months pregnant, and they had been working to get things prepared for their new arrival. Her still being on light bedrest made it a little annoying to get the nursery ready because Jensen was constantly nagging her to sit down and rest, but they had managed to get the room almost finished despite it. Also, Jared and Gen helping with the task made it a little easier. She was sitting in the rocking chair Jensen had bought for her, admiring their work, when he walked in.

“Here, babe. Drink this,” he smiled, reaching out to her with a bottle of water.

“Thanks, Jay,” she replied with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?” he was by her side instantly, still hovering over her anytime she made the slightest noise that he thought was discomfort or a problem.

“I’m fine, Jay,” she laughed, shaking her head.

“Then what was that sigh about?”

“Just thinking,” she murmured, looking around the room.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he chuckled, sitting on the floor by her feet, picking up one in his hands, and started to gently massage it.

“Just…,” she began, looking down at him, wondering if she should voice her thoughts, “I’m a little worried.”

“About what, honey? You can talk to me about anything, you know?”

“I know. I’m just…I’m worried. We’ve only got three months to go, and I’m starting to wonder. Will I be a good mom, or will I royally fuck this up,” she whispered, saying her worries out loud, making her begin to get emotional.

“Baby,” he cooed, reaching up to take her hand, “Is that what you’re worried about?”

When she didn’t reply, he squeezed her hand softly, making her turn to look at him, and he could see the tears beginning to well in her eyes as she nodded her head. He couldn’t help but smile, not at her insecurities, but at the fact that she was worrying over nothing. He knew she would be a wonderful mother to their child, no doubt in his mind. He reached out with his hand that wasn’t holding hers to place it softly on her swollen belly, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he began to speak.

“Y/N, I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I know that fathers have their own fears and insecurities when it comes to having a baby, but I’ll never act like I understand what the mother goes through. But I will tell you this. You are going to be the best mother to our little one. I have zero doubt about that, and I know he or she is going to love you so damn much, just like I do. So, please believe me when I tell you that being a good mom is something you absolutely have nothing to worry about, okay?” he said softly, pulling her hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

“You really think so?” she questioned, the tears in her eyes slipping down her cheeks.

“I don’t think so. I know so, honey. So stop worrying that pretty little head of yours about that, okay? Other things, sure, but stop worrying about that.”

“Okay, Jay,” she smiled, his words encouraging her and warming her heart.

“Good. Now, let’s get you downstairs and get you something to eat,” he chuckled, standing to his feet and pulling her to hers.

“Sounds good to me. I’m starving,” she laughed as her stomach growled as she finished her sentence.

“Sounds like it,” he snickered, pulling her to him, wrapping his arms around her.

“I love you,” she stated with a happy sigh, looking up into his eyes.

“I love you, too, Y/N. So fucking much,” he replied, cupping her cheek in his hand, leaning in to kiss her slowly.

They stood in the nursery kissing each other for what seemed like forever before her stomach rumbled again, making them both laugh. He pecked her lips one more time before he entwined his hand in hers, leading her out of the room and downstairs to cook for the love of his life. A bright smile plastered on his face the whole time, thinking about what he had and glad that he was able to repair what he had once broken.

Y/N and Gen sat in lounge chairs in Jensen’s backyard, talking and watching Jared and Jensen by the grill. It had been a beautiful morning, and they had decided to invite their friends over for a barbecue. Y/N wanted to spend as much time with Jensen and his kids and their friends as she could before their baby arrived, and they would be busy being new parents. She was excited for the baby to come and start her little family, but she wasn’t naive and knew their time would all be dedicated to caring for a newborn for a while after. So, they sat there, enjoying the nice day outside with their friends, waiting for the kids to arrive.

“How are you feeling?” Gen asked her, sipping on a glass of wine.

“Pregnant,” she laughed, earning an eye roll from her friend, “Seriously, I’m feeling okay. I’m getting tired and winded easier nowadays, but I guess that’s to be expected.”

“Oh, it is. You are creating a whole new life, you know,” she chuckled, Y/N joining in.

“Trust me, I know. I feel it every day. But, I know it will be so worth it,” she smiled, laying her hand on her belly, rubbing in slow circles.

“It really is. I’m so excited for you to experience motherhood. It’s the hardest but most rewarding job ever.”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a frenzy of screaming children running into the backyard. She couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her as the three kids went their separate ways. Of course, JJ went straight for Jensen, being the daddy’s girl she was. Arrow ran for the small playground Jay had bought them, and Zep ran for the pool. Jensen had to intercept and grab him before he dove in fully clothed.

Y/N turned to look back at the gate leading to the yard and saw Danneel standing there. She wasn’t sure why, but Danneel acted differently around her once she found out she was pregnant, which bothered Y/N. Even though she was now with Dee’s ex-husband, they had been good friends, and it hurt her feelings that she was acting odd around her now. The only reason that Y/N could think of that would make her act that way was she wasn’t happy about the baby. So, Y/N smiled politely at her and then turned her attention back to the kids.

Jensen had also noticed the difference, and quite frankly, it made him a little angry. Not really angry at Dee, but the fact that something was keeping the women from being friends as they used to be. Yes, he had been married to Dee and now was with Y/N, but he and Dee had parted ways very amicably, and he didn’t understand what was causing her to act differently towards him and Y/N. Danneel had even moved on, so he was confused. When he looked at Y/N and saw that she looked uncomfortable, he decided he would get down to the root of the problem, walking toward Dee to ask her what was going on.

“Hey, Dee,” he greeted her, offering her a beer.

“Hey, Jay,” she smiled, accepting the drink and putting the bottle to her lips.

“Look, I have to ask. What’s going on with you and Y/N? I can tell something’s bothering you, and I know it must hurt her feelings that you’re acting weird toward her now.”

“Really, Jay? You have to ask?”

“Yeah, I do because I can’t figure out why you don’t want to be around her much anymore.”

“Jay, I know you guys are together again and doing well, but don’t you think she’s a little resentful that you came to me when you left? I’m not trying to bring up hurtful memories, but I don’t want to try to hang out with her when she has to resent me,” she said exasperatedly, throwing her hands up.

“Oh,” he deadpanned, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. That wasn’t what he thought the problem was.

Y/N had been watching the interaction and could tell the conversation was serious. She sat there for a moment, considering her next move. Yes, she was feeling hurt and didn’t want the confrontation with Danneel, but she also had to be around her if she was going to be with Jensen. So, she stood and walked over to the two, determined to try and fix whatever the issue was.

“Dee, look, I know you must feel a certain way because I can sense the difference in how you treat me now, but we need to figure this out. If not for our sakes, for the kids. We have to have a relationship as you are their mother, and I’m with their dad. So, please, whatever the issue is, can we talk it out?”

“Y/N, I don’t have a problem with you, I swear. I just told Jensen that I stayed distant because I thought you resented me for him coming to stay with me after he left. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if you did. I’m sorry. I should’ve talked to one of you about it instead of everyone getting mixed signals.”

“Is that all?” Y/N asked, relieved that Dee had no problem with their baby.

“Yes! I didn’t want to upset you if you didn’t want to talk to me. But I do miss our friendship. I couldn’t ask for a better person to be with the father of my kids. They love you, Y/N, and that makes me happy. So, can we put this behind us?”

“Of course, we can. And I love those kids so much. I’m so very thankful to get to be in their lives,” Y/N whispered, her emotions getting the best of her.

Jensen watched as the two women hugged each other, beginning to laugh and talk as they walked away together. He thought his heart might burst at the love he felt for Y/N at that moment. He was also sad that his actions had come between the relationship between them. He hadn’t realized that going to stay with Dee when he did could’ve impacted how the women interacted with each other after the fact and that it would’ve affected his kids, too. He knew he would never do anything again that would hurt her, Dee, or his kids. In fact, he would try even harder to be the man they all deserved.

Jensen had just finished cleaning up after everyone had left from the barbecue they’d had that day. Y/N had gone upstairs to take a nap. Playing hostess and playing with the kids, even though not at the capacity she wanted to, had worn her out. As he finished up the last of the cleaning and had put the last dishes in the dishwasher, he decided to go check in on her.

He walked up the stairs and down the small hallway to the master bedroom. He opened the door slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible, peaking his head in the room. A bright smile erupted on his face as he took in the scene before him. She was sleeping soundly, his pillow snuggled in her arms, face buried in it.

Damn, how he loved that woman. He knew she was the one he would spend the rest of his life with. He couldn’t and didn’t want to imagine his life without her. Besides his kids, she was his everything, one of the people he wanted to be better, do better for, and he knew what he had to do. No more waiting to complete his forever.

Y/N woke up to light kisses on her face, her eyes fluttering open to meet bright green eyes. She smiled despite still being groggy from sleep. How could she not? She loved that man, and just seeing his face brought a smile to her face.

“Hey, darlin’. Did you rest well?” he asked, placing one last kiss on her forehead.

“I did. Thank you for letting me nap while you cleaned. I’m sorry I was so tired,” she mumbled, still half asleep.

“No need to thank me, beautiful.”

She started to sit up but felt a weird sensation on her finger. She looked down at her left hand, and a piece of thread was tied to her finger. Confused, she looked up at Jensen and cocked an eyebrow. Before she could say anything, he spoke.

“Y/N, let me get this out before you say anything, please,” he almost begged. She was nervous but nodded to signal for him to continue.

“The first time I got married, we'd been together for a few years. Marriage...It just seemed like the next step. I wanted a wife and family, and I loved her and am forever grateful for our three beautiful children. But, for two people to really love each other, to really commit to each other, it has to be something you want and need, not just something that seems like the right thing to do. It has to be a decision. And I think two people have to live that decision every day. Even when things are hard, and you feel like giving up, you have to hang on to that decision, that choice to love each other, to be together through anything, even if only by a thread.”

As he mentioned the thread, he slowly opened his hand, and a ring slid down the string to rest on her finger. She looked up at him in shock, tears forming in her eyes. He smiled sweetly, cupping her face in his other hand as he began to speak again.

“I let that thread break once. This time, I won't let it break for anything. Y/N, baby, will you marry me?”

He held his breath as she stared up at him, her eyes brimming with tears, as his started to gather on his lashes. He wanted to marry her more than anything, and he was silently praying as she gave him her answer.

“Yes, Jay! Oh my God, yes!” she squealed as the tears broke free and ran down her cheeks.

His tears joined hers as he kissed her as if she was holding his next breath on her lips. He pulled back to look at the woman that had agreed to be his wife, a look of awe on his face as he looked in her eyes, nothing but love shining back at him. He had never been so grateful that singing a Bob Seger song at a con ended up giving him something he would cherish forever. Her.

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kyeomkuppie · 10 hours

Text

Friends.

Pairing: Lee Chan x gn!reader

Genre: angst

Synopsis: You get stood up by your boyfriend for the nth time, which leads Chan to get frustrated and finally confess (in the rain).

Chan wasn't exactly in his right kind when he ran out of the practice room, without an umbrella when it was raining just because you called, only saying one thing

"Chan, come pick me up."

It was the nth time your boyfriend promised you a date, only to "forget" and leave you hanging. He wasn't exactly the best boyfriend either, and that's what chan has been trying to tell you for the past year and a half.

He never treated you like how you deserved (in Chan's opinion) and always seemed to prioritize anything but you. And today was one of those days where you were left crying on the street because, yet again, you were left alone.

Rain was seeping through your clothes and the fact that you were wearing white wasn't exactly pleasant either. You had your arms to your chest and your head down. You were also in a daze, you wanted to get to the nearest store to buy an umbrella, but you also wanted to fall down and cry.

A few weeks back you found out that your boyfriend started dating you for a dare. But it didn't make sense be the asked you on a date and maybe he wanted to fix things. Explain maybe? Yeah, what a fool.

And now back to the present on the day of said date, you tried calling your boyfriend multiple times but you were only directed to voicemail. He finally picked up 15 minutes after, only to yell at you and tell you to stop being too clingy and to top it all off, he broke up with you, on the phone, with no explanation.

Yeah, not the best choice of a boyfriend.

Your knees were clanking together as you were waiting for Chan, your best friend who has basically been the light of your life. When you felt like the whole world turned their backs on you, he didn't. He always stood by your side, even if he could barely bear the title of "friends".

"[name]!" Your head shit up as you heard a familiar voice, he was running to you, all wet and soaked but with only you on his mind. He didn't mind the possible cold he'd catch the next morning, or how sore his body would be from all the running. All that mattered was you.

He had an angered expression you'd never seen on him before. It was scary, and yet, when he was right in front of you it felt like everything was starting to make sense again.

"Didn't I tell you to stop hanging around that bastard! He has done nothing but make you cry." He was breathing heavily and you didn't have the heart to talk back to him, because he was right.

"And why are you standing there so pathetically, when you should go and punch him in the nose this instant." He quickly took off his jacket to cover you, despite how mad he was, he was never truly too mas to care for you.

"You'll get cold..." you mumbled as he was giving you his jacket.

"God...what will I ever do with you," he threw his head back in frustration "why are you concerned about me right now, it's you who's suffering, it's you who has been wronged. Worry about yourself, please." He pleaded you.

It was the first time he sounded so desperate, why?

"Chan, I understand you're worried but you shouldn't care so much, it's all because—"

"It's all because of your poor choice-making!" He yelled "I've told you dozens of times to break up with him and find someone who'd treat you better, but you never listen!"

"Exactly," you said quietly "it's my fault, why would you care?"

"God, you're too frustrating..." He grabbed you by you shoulders and looked you in the eyes. "I can treat you better, [name]. I will, I promise I will, but please, for your well-being, break up with him!" He was now full-on yelling. This seemed to have woken up something within you. All the pent up frustration was now making it's way on the surface.

"What are you talking about Chan, treat me better? Chan we're friends and I get that you're worried but I don't understand." You yelled back.

"I don't care about what's right anymore, I care about you [name]! You shouldn't do this to yourself. Not when there are tons of people who're better than whatever piece of trash you picked up to date." He exhaled sharply "I love you so fucking much, and it's driving me insane to see you like this."

You wanted to tell him about your break up that happened minutes ago before before you found yourself grabbing his face and smashing your lips onto his.

You were both cold, shivering, but the sensation of both your lips together spread warmth all through your body.

His hand snuck to your waist as he pulled you closer to try to deepen the kiss. It was desperate and emotional, like he was waiting for this moment for years (he has).

You decided to break the kis to whisper "I'm sorry...I got carried away." But he only pulled you back, but this time more aggressive.

You were now both breathing heavily looking into each other's eyes.

"You know...he broke up with me 10 minutes ago. Before you gave me that lecture." You said, embarrassed.

"Now, I take it that you're all mine." He said shyly.

"All yours."

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sunshineandspencer · 12 hours

Text

Change in behaviour (Iridescent, Part 6)

Let me stress, this is not Maeve from the show, but my own Maeve just named the same to send Spencer into hell whenever he thinks about it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!OC.

Summary: Once Penelope took notice of Spencer’s changed behaviours towards Maeve, she dragged him off for answers that she was going to get.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: swearing, spencer is oblivious to his feelings™

Parts: Pt1, Pt2, Pt3, Pt4, Pt5, Pt7

Over the next couple of weeks, through the last couple days working, the month at the college, and then back to work, something had changed with Spencer Reid. A blind man would be able to see just how different he’s being around her

Ava - which is his new name for her now, that she adores - would’ve joked about how she only nearly had to die for him to get the stick out his ass, but the last time she said that, he told her off. It wasn't fun.

She doesn’t want to say that his behaviour is coming off as protective, because he’s sort of all over the place.

The first time she noticed it was when he inserted himself into conversations with LEOs, the ones that were either being a touch too friendly or blatantly flirting with her. Breaking through their persistence and getting them to fuck off. But would then turn around and call her stupid for not just walking away and needing someone else to take care of her.

Only to lead her back to the conference rooms with a hand on her lower back.

For the month they spent at the college, while her bruises were still healing and several people kept giving them concerned looks, he was the one to get their coffees. Memorising her order and actually paying, plus keeping soft conversation with her the whole time. However, he still calls her ‘assistant’ in the lectures and treats her as such.

She firmly believes he can’t make his mind up about her, which makes everything so much more confusing.

Spencer, on the other hand, is losing his damn mind.

To him, Ava seems completely unaware when men were genuinely unaware of men trying to flirt with her. She can acknowledge blatant flirting, from guys looking for a hookup, but people actually interested in her were overlooked despite their flirting. Causing him to step in far too often to tell people to back off when they started getting frustrated at her lack of acknowledgement.

What little grasp she has on her own wellbeing drives him crazy. Sure, profiling would tell him that it’s from a lack of male attention in her teen years that wasn’t teasing or fake, irrationality tells him that she’s doing it on purpose just to piss him off.

In getting their coffees, he noticed just how much caffeine she’s been drinking, hell, it’s more than him, and swapped her order without her realising. It made her less twitchy, she didn’t crash halfway through the day, and it let him use that as an excuse for why he’s suddenly able to get on with her.

Absolutely no other reason.

Their coffee dates - which he still refuses to call them - extending to every morning and not just when they’re at the college means nothing.

The fact that he still goes to her apartment each morning for a lift, despite his coffee machine and car both being back in working order, means nothing.

Most importantly, the way that his heart jumped when she wore a sundress or called him ‘Spence’ for the first time had to mean nothing.

He couldn’t allow his mind to trick his body into reacting like that. Logic tells him that the only reason he’s displaying signs of falling for Ava is because of her name. It’s the reason that he hated her, for reminding him of his dead girlfriend. Surely it could be the reason he’s getting pseudo symptoms of a crush.

He’s looking for the Maeve he knew in the one that he’s got. That’s all it is. Crossed wires. There isn’t a reality he could face where it’s anything more than that.

Which is were Penelope Garcia comes in.

Of all the people in the BAU, he’s been closest with her the longest - not able to think of a time where they weren’t the bestest of friends. If he believed in soulmates, and platonic soulmates, it would be her. And she sees straight through him.

Dragging him to the IT cave for an interrogation but made sure he’s comfortable first. Placing him in a chair and shoving a plush elephant into his hands, sitting down to glare at him.

“Right. What’s going on?”

“Nothing--”

“If you try to tell me you’ve not got the hots for our Osmond, I’ll put you on a coffee strike.”

His jaw clenched and she knew that she’d gotten it right - courtesy of spending the majority of her working life around profilers. Squealing softly and wheeling closer to pat his knees excitedly.

“My Spencie has a cru~ush!”

Scowling at her, he gently brushed her hands off his knees and slumped in the chair. Tugging the elephant plush tight against his stomach and looking off absently into the monitors behind her. Honestly wishing he wasn’t having this conversation.

“It’s not like that Penelope.”

Making a face at him, she wheeled back into his lines of sight and frowned at him.

“What is it like then? Because you’ve been fawning over our Maeve for weeks now.”

“That’s just it!” He sits up, gesturing wildly with one hand while the other holds the plush close, getting frustrated. “It’s her name!”

“Her.. are you seriously telling me that you only like her because she’s also called Maeve”

Groaning, he dragged a hand down his face, really not wanting to be having this conversation. Not when he’s made this neat little box of all his excuses- reason, for why he doesn’t like her. Having Penelope poking around isn’t going to do any good for his little box.

“No. I don’t like her because of her name. It’s just a mistake, a bunch of fucked up chemical impulses. The only reason my brain thinks it likes her is because she’s also called Maeve. It’s associating that love I had for her with Ava, that’s all.”

It’s quiet, but he can’t bring himself to look at her. For a split, idiotic, second, he assumed his reasoning got through to her.

Forgetting this is Garcia he;s talking to.

“Oh sweetie. What goes on in your clever head that made you think that?”

He finally looks at her, and she can see him pleading. Nonverbally asking her not to poke holes in his only defence against falling for Ava. So she sighs softly, knowing he needs to get to the conclusion she has, but it has to be his realisation.

“Alright. Let’s do a hypothetical, pretend there was never a Maeve Donovan. Tell me what you like about Maeve Donnelly.”

“I can’t just--”

“Hush! Tell me what you like.”

Penelope had whipped her hand out to press her finger to his lips, and when she pulled it away she clearly expected an answer. Cutting through his frustration at having to hypothetically pretend he’d never known that Maeve.

Besides, he knew he'd never be allowed to leave if he didn’t play along.

“Well.. she treats her car like her baby, even if she does drive like a lunatic. It’s cute, I guess, how she fusses over every turn I make and whenever I adjust something in her car. The only thing she wouldn’t let me touch was the radio, but she listens to classical music on the way back from work so I don’t mind. Then, even when she does play her own music on the way to college or work, it’s actually pretty good. There’s this one band she really likes - loves, really - called Set It Off, and she saw them in London last year, but she keeps the tickets attached to her fridge. Uhm.. she lets me ramble, you know. Never tells me to shut up, or tries to come up with some useless excuse to get away from me. And I tested her once, talked about the explosion of Vesuvius for an hour and a half, and at the end of it she actually had more questions for me, good questions. God, and she asks the best questions in my lectures, even when she knows the answers, letting me repeat or cover my favourite part of the lecture - because she knows it’s my favourite part. My tie, my favourite tie, I spilled coffee on it a couple weeks back and couldn’t get the stain off, somehow she managed to find and buy me the exact same tie a week later. I still don’t know how she managed that. Back when I was still being a dick, she still let me use her car to drive to the college, and she bought me coffees and let me sulk in quiet - hell, she completed the essays I set because she enjoyed it. Sometimes I have to check her report before they’re sent off, and she leaves little smiley faces for Emily as a ‘break in the nastiness’. She memorised my coffee order before I even met her, she didn’t go for a handshake, and she cleaned my desk for me when I first arrived. I called her angel once - twice - and now whenever she hears the word angel, she looks at me. And the only reason I know that is because.. I’m usually already looking at her.”

Finally taking a breath, he hadn’t expected it to be so hard, his lungs hitting against his ribs and almost threatening to tear through. Now that he’s said all that out loud, which isn’t even half of the reasons, he’s come to a sickening conclusion about his own feelings.

Hell, the only reason he’d stopped talking is because he’d run out of breath, it worried him, how much more he could say about her.

Penelope, blinking slowly, had clearly not expected the entire spiel he just came out with. Sure, she had guessed that he had a lot to feel about Ava, but not that much. Eventually shaking herself out of it to wheel closer again, laying her hand on his forearm to drag him out of his own head.

“And do any of those reasons have to do with the other Maeve?”

“No..”

The word felt heavy in his mouth, like his body was protesting this influx of awareness.

Honestly, he hadn’t felt like this since Maeve. Fuck.. he’s not even sure he felt this about Maeve. In his head, he’s always considered her as his first love, but to be honest.. He’s not sure anymore.

Maybe it was just the guilt, of finally having something resembling a relationship with someone who liked him, only to lose them and their last words being their professed love. But over the years, when he thought about Maeve, it wasn’t grieving a loved ripped away from him, it was just losing someone he had started to care about.

He hadn’t loved her, but he didn’t know that. Not until he realised that whenever he thought of a Maeve, he thought about Ava. And whenever he thought about how much he loved Maeve, he thought about Ava.

So maybe his first love is Maeve.. just not the one he expected it to be.

Penelope, after a few words of support, knowing he needed to deal with this alone, let him go while still holding onto the plush. The little supportive elephant was tugged close to his stomach as he blindly walked back to the bullpen.

Ava was there, of course she was, and she’d already packed her bag up. Biting softly at her bottom lip as she packed away his bag, which she did whenever he took too long.

Then she was looking up, and his throat was lodged firmly in his throat as she smiled at him, not sure how he managed to walk over to her. Even though he heard the words that she was saying, not a lot of it got through the haze he was currently in.

“Hey Spence, you took too long and I sorted out your bag again. That.. is such a cute plushie, did you get it from Penelope? She never lets me have one.”

She pouted softly, looking down at the plush held tight between his fingers, before focusing back on his bag. Doing it up as he looked between her and the little pink elephant he was crushing against his stomach.

How the hell did he convince himself that he hated this woman?

Sniffing, he thrust the elephant into her hands and picked up his bag, hooking it over his shoulder and starting to walk out. Pulling out her car keys from his pocket.

“You can have it. Let’s go, I want to grab coffee on the way home.”

Forcing himself not to focus on her happy little laugh, or the way she had called him Spence again, as if it didn’t cause his heart to finally dislodge from his throat and plummet into his stomach.

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