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peachesofteal · 8 months

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Floorplan

Steve Rogers/female reader 2.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Explicit sex. Nomad era Steve. Reader and Steve have a baby together, mention of pregnancy. Possessive Steve Rogers. Praise kink. Breeding kink. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Orgasm delay/denial. Could be considered toxic. Steve has issues with boundaries. Angst. Steve Rogers is keeping a secret.

Steve Rogers is keeping a secret.

It’s heavy, heavier than most, this you know without a doubt, because you carry it as well, it’s existence a variable in your life that you never expected, never even imagined, if you’re being honest.

A variable that ties him to you, indefinitely. For eternity. For better or for worse, without the papers or proof, the only exception being the small infant that sleeps in the room down the hall, while her father has you pinned against the bed, fingers digging into your thighs, splaying your body wide for him to do as he wishes, because you’re so fucking weak.

“Steve.” You hiss, word drawn loud from your mouth when the tip of his tongue works in tandem with his fingers, playing your clit easily, hips eagerly rocking against his face.

“Pillow, honey. Don’t want to be too loud.” He murmurs a reminder into your cunt, crooking a finger up against that spot, the sweet spot that waits for him inside your body, working you into a mindless haze, building you up closer and closer to an orgasm until you’re panting, curve of your spine shining with a glimmer of sweat. “That’s it, that’s it. Almost there.” He hums, pulling away at the last second to peek up at your face, beard wet with you, absolutely soaked with your arousal. It glistens in the low light of your bedroom, and he smirks before going back to his meal, dotting gentle and slow kisses down the inside of your thigh that make you whisper desperate pleas.

“Steve, please, don’t-“ Don’t stop. Keep going. Please, please, please.

“Shhh. I know.” He coos. “Just need to get you ready for me sweetheart, that’s all.” And, if you weren’t so lost in the haze of your pleasure right now, you’d probably have something sharp to say in response. He always does this. Brings you to the edge over, and over, makes you wild for him, ache for him, just so he can pluck your strings perfectly, harmonize your need with his since your mind won’t budge, his possession of your body always tipping you over the cliff and into his arms, every time, without fail.

Even a sailor lost at sea needs an anchor.

And he is lost, has been, for some time. Since Bucky. Since Tony. Since he broke everyone out of the raft and went on the run, dipping in and out of towns and cities across the globe.

That’s how you met him. That’s how you brought him home one night, that turned into two, that turned into more, and more. Your greed, your desire overriding your good sense because he was leaving soon, and he wouldn’t be around, and it’s all just some fun- I can keep a secret, Steve, you don’t have to hide from me. You’re safe with me. We’re not even together, just enjoying each other’s company, yeah?

You never thought you would survive it, loving him. Loving a man who’s not a man at all, who’s lost in the wilderness, who’s relearning everything about himself and the world all at once. Cast out by his country, his own namesake. Living on the run. Living with his band of misfit toys.

So, you kept it to yourself, even though he didn’t. Even though you heard him whisper it to you in the middle of the night, when he thought you must be asleep. Even though it felt like obsession, possession, both ends burning the midnight oil. You kept it to yourself, kept the smile on your face, kept the swell of your emotions at bay.

If you don’t love him, it won’t be as bad, when he goes. When they move on.

Then, Steve Rogers did something he didn’t even know he could do. Something he didn’t intend, he claims, something he was told should be impossible.

He gave you a baby.

He gave you a baby, and everything changed.

You’re just about to spit out something insistent, something needy, as he calls it, when you’re being moved, flipped over to your belly with no warning, the warmth of his chest bleeding across your back. His beard tickles against your ear, mouth pressing sweet kisses to your temple, and you can smell yourself on him, the proof of your weakness for him all over his face.

“Here we go, good girl. I’ve got you.” The solid weight of his cock lays between you, the spill of his pre come smearing against the inside of your thighs and then inside of you, the heavy, thick head pushing in little by little, your mouth drooping wide on the pillow.

“Ahh-“ you groan. It bites, the stretch, the sting of it all, and he knows, he loves it, and you do too (even though now you never tell him, because it’s not like before, not like when you weren’t the mother of his child, not like when things were simpler, when you could have walked away, when you weren’t falling down the rabbit hole with a man who has lost his entire identity, his country, his life-)

“God, honey. What a sweet little pussy you have for me, huh?” His teeth find the skin of your neck, below your jaw, and they graze with a nip, light pressure to punctuate his ownership. For me. For me, for me, for me. “Just perfect. My perfect, good girl.” You try to bite back the moan that rises in your throat but it’s impossible, and he’s no fool, the curl of his smile imprints across your skin, cock sawing in and out of your body like you were made for it.

He says you were, of course. That you were made for him, and for no one else, and he doesn’t care what happens in the next year, or two, or ten. You’ll always be his. He’ll always come back. He’ll always be here.

“What will you do if… when you go home, to America?”

“I’ll bring you both. Put you up in a place. Or maybe I’ll buy you a house, honey. With a white picket fence and everything. Give you another baby. Give you two more babies.”

“Steve-“

“No, no. Don’t.”

“Steve.” You whine, still mouthing the pillow, fingers tight in the sheets. You clench down around him, unable to keep yourself from barreling towards your orgasm any longer, and he whispers encouragement in your ear, soft praise of how good you feel and how wet and are you going to come for me, honey? You going to give a me a good one? Let me feel you squeezing my cock with it?

Your first orgasm comes with ease. So does your second.

Your third comes with tears that he laps up across your cheek, as too many words get stuck in your throat. I love you. I hate you. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you to leave.

It builds, each time he slips inside the house at night, each time you come home from work or errands and he’s sitting on the couch reading a book, or sketching, just waiting for you and Emmaline. It builds and builds, when he’s got you bent over the kitchen table, cheek pressed to the wood, sinking his cock into your body with an unmatched fury, breathing claims of ownership against your skin. Mine, for me. My girls. My baby.

“Maybe I’ll give you another. Fill you up until you’re overflowing, get you pregnant.” It’s an overload, a killshot straight to your heart, your nervous system, and it engulfs you in fire, your body clenching around his cock involuntarily, like all it wants is to be bred by him, fucked deep with his come until you’re round with his baby, again. And he knows it, knows it too well. Sees the way your eyes shutter, can feel the way your body begs for it. You want to come, and he’ll torture you with it, dragging it out until you’re breaking apart. “Go ahead, tell me honey. Say it, do you want it?”

“Y-yes, please. Please, daddy.”

Everything you carry, all the tangles, the snarled mess that exists in your heart for him surges, and his hand sneaks between the mattress and your body to cup your belly, palm warm like a brand. Like it’s always been, now, and before-

He holds you from behind, hands flush overtop your navel, stroking the roundness of your stomach with longing affection.

“How’re my girls today?”

“Tired.” You shift, and he hums in response. You’re about to snap at him about being here in the first place, remind him he can’t just use his key whenever, let himself inside whenever, but his hands drift to the bottom of your belly and lift, robbing you of all the lectures and rebuttals as the pressure on your spine is instantly relieved.

“That better sweetheart?”

He’s deep, so deep that it burns, head of his cock punching against your cervix, hitting that spot repeatedly. You gasp, burying your face in the pillow, smothering the shriek of your moans. He’s close, you can tell, you can feel it, the way his muscles start to become rock, the strike of his hips against your ass moving you further up the bed until your neck is craning to the side to avoid the headboard.

“Here it comes honey, lie still, just- just let me- let me give it to you.” It’s a stammered slur being pushed out through a too tense jaw, restraint burning in his muscles, arms cradling you like a precious, rare gem to be coveted, something more important than duty and a shield.

Later, he’s still in your bed, even though he said he wouldn’t be.

He’s heavy, and hot, so hot that you don’t need a blanket when he holds you. You find it fascinating, even more curious that your own child runs hotter than normal too, more evidence of the clear truth that both you and Steve are working vigilantly to hide and disguise.

“You should sleep.” He’s insistent, and your lashes flutter closed with a big breath.

“You don’t have to stay.” He wants to. He’s stubborn about it. It’s the reason he gave for appearing on your doorstep earlier.

“Why didn’t you call? I would’ve come sooner.”

“It’s not like I know where you are these days.”

“Don’t. Don’t… start this.”

“She has colic, Steve. There’s not much you’re going to be able to do, we just have to ride it out.”

“I don’t care. I’m here.”

He was the one who had managed getting Emmaline to sleep earlier, rocking her in his arms until she settled, sweet little baby finally succumbing to lullaby of sweet dreams in her dad’s arms.

He’s so good at it, taking care of her, understanding what she needs and when, that you hardly sputtered a protest when he clicked her door shut and pulled you in for a kiss, pushing you into your own bedroom and laying you out on your back, a hand pinning your stomach to the sheets, another gripping your thigh wide for him, his strength forcing your body into a trap, where you were powerless. Stuck.

“I guess I gotta put both my girls to bed, right? Isn’t that what you needed? Just needed daddy here, honey?”

“Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’ll get her, when she gets up.” The fire of his skin makes everything in the room feel heavy, feel heady, and it’s so easy to slip into your imagination to pretend, dream about a world where your relationship wasn’t shattered, where Emmaline’s dad wasn’t just a shadow in the dark half the time he’s in the house, in her life, in yours.

“You can’t just keep coming here, acting like everything is normal.” You whisper to the ceiling, but he doesn’t respond, just hums into your skin, deaf to your sense, your logic.

You’re right. You know you are. Why can’t he just see that?

“Steve.” You pick at him. Pushing and pushing, careening closer to a breaking point, an inevitable end when he will sigh with the weight of exasperation, and then ease himself out of bed and disappear into the night.

“This is the normal, for now.” He says instead, a rebuttal that takes you by surprise, a change in his usual course. Fingers stretch over yours with a yank, pulling you closer into the bend of his body. “But it won’t always be like this. We’ll go home soon.” Home. It sounds nice, but feels like a threat, considering this has been your home for years now, and this was where you were raising Emmaline, and this is where you had settled into life, started a career, put down roots.

“Steve, I’m already home.” You remind him and he chuckles softly against your brow.

“Are you?”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america x reader #avengers fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #steve rogers smut #peaches writes #steve rogers x female reader #mcu #nomad!steve #nomad!steve rogers #chris evans fanfiction

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justabrunettewhowrites-stuff · 3 months

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'Whispers Of Love'

Luke Castellan x Fem!Reader

A/N:Random idea I got after seeing a photo on pinterest

You and Luke at the Lantern festival taking place at the camp.

The camp was alive with the flickering lights of countless lanterns, each carrying a whispered wish into the night sky.Amidst the enchanting atmosphere of the Lantern Festival at Camp Half-Blood,you found yourself hand in hand with Luke Castellan, the mischievous glint in his eyes reflecting the warm glow of the lanterns.

As the two of you strolled through the camp, the air was filled with laughter, the scent of ambrosia, and the faint melodies of satyrs playing their pipes. The soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet harmonized with the gentle murmur of the nearby creek. Luke's fingers interlaced with yours, a reassuring warmth that echoed the connection between you.

You both arrived at a secluded spot, away from the crowd, where a cluster of lanterns patiently awaited release. The night embraced you, and the lanterns whispered promises of love and dreams.

Luke, usually the charismatic and adventurous demigod, had a serene look in his eyes as he gazed at you. "This feels like magic, doesn't it?" he said, his voice a gentle caress against the night.

You nodded, the soft glow accentuating the contours of his face. "It's beautiful, just like you."

A playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Flattery will get you everywhere." He reached for a lantern, its paper surface cool against his fingertips. "Let's make a wish together."

As your fingers traced the lantern's edges, Luke's gaze never left yours. His wish was a secret, but the sincerity in his eyes spoke volumes. The lantern was now ready, a vessel for the dreams you both held in your hearts.

With a shared glance, you released the lantern into the night sky. It soared, carrying your hopes and dreams toward the stars. Luke turned to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. The lanterns around you danced, casting a warm glow on both of you.

In the gentle illumination, Luke's hand cupped your cheek, his touch tender and filled with unspoken emotions. "You make every moment magical," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The lanterns above swirled, creating a canopy of dreams. As if guided by a force beyond, Luke leaned in, and your lips met in a soft, lingering kiss. The world around you melted away, leaving only the warmth of each other's embrace and the glow of lanterns bearing witness to your love.

In that moment,surrounded by the whispers of love and the soft radiance of lanterns, you and Luke found a place where the magical and the mundane intertwined as the two of you watched the lanterns light up the sky,holding hands and embracing one another.

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maximilfisms · 5 months

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draw me like i'm one of your french girls | thérèse raquin x fem!reader

Summary: Thérèse, trapped in her unwanted marriage to Camille, seeks comfort in Y/N, the talented artist who painted her husband's portrait, in the form of an illicit rendezvous. Or a glimpse on one of those nights where Y/N would sneak into Madame Raquin's shop, fulfill Thérèse's needs, and disappear like ghosts in the air.

Word count: 2k+

Tags: 18+, smut, fingering, cheating, semi-public sex? idk, but they almost got caught, bottom!thérèse, top!reader, what's proofreading?, MDNI!

this is my first fic, and i honestly don't even know what i am doing rip

The moonlight shone its faint light to the labyrinthine streets of Paris, where gaslights cast flickering shadows upon the cobblestone alleys, and the whispers of clandestine affairs lingered like the fragrance of aged wine. Thérèse found solace in the hidden corners of a city draped in secrets. The narrow passages, cloaked in the heavy scent of impending rain, and the hushed murmur of distant voices all served as the backdrop for her forbidden love. It was within this maze of dimly lit alleyways, where the echoes of the footsteps of busy Parisians harmonized with the nocturnal symphony of the city, that she navigated the complexities of their entangled destinies.

The bedroom, perched on the second floor of her aunt, Madame Raquin's shop, became their clandestine haven—a sanctuary veiled in heavy drapes, the creaking sighs of weathered floorboards, and the gaslights flickered outside, transforming her marital bedroom into a cocoon where the artistry of their passion unfolded. The ambient glow painted an intimate tapestry upon the walls, revealing the shared vulnerability of two souls seeking refuge in the shadows.

The air itself seemed to hold the whispers of lovers from eras past, a blend of the city's musky perfume and the intoxicating aroma of forbidden desire. Thérèse, adorned in the trappings of societal expectations, stood before her woman with a yearning that mirrored the palpable tension of the quiet night. Y/N, the painter with fingers that could evoke emotion from pigments, gazed at Thérèse as if deciphering the poetry etched upon her soul. The dim light filtered through the bedroom's heavy drapes, casting Thérèse's silhouette in a dance of shadows that accentuated the soft curves of her vulnerability, and Y/N, a connoisseur of emotion, observed with an artist's discerning eye—a voyeur capturing the essence of clandestine passion in each subtle movement.

"Draw me like I'm one of your French girls," Thérèse whispered, her voice a soft plea that echoed in the dimly lit room, where their secret unfolded against the backdrop of Paris's clandestine allure.

Y/N, attuned to the nuances of their surroundings, nodded in silent agreement despite the subtle yet genuine smile that graced her lips. The room, a haven shrouded in the mysteries of the night, bore witness to the illicit dance of two souls—a dance painted with the strokes of desire, vulnerability, and the unspoken language of their love.

Y/N's hands moved with purpose, much like the strokes of a brush in a canvas that became an intimate exploration of Thérèse's essence. Her slender fingers brushed Thérèse's shoulders, sliding off the brunette's dress off of it, watching as the fabric fell onto her feet. Y/N's eyes glimmered with sheer affection for the woman, her point finger tracing Thérèse's prominent collarbones, down to her sternum, where the valley's of her breasts lay, waiting to be worshiped.

“You truly are a work of art, mon amour,” The artist whispered as she leaned in to place chaste kisses on her soft neck, and Y/N's hands palmed the supple flesh of Thérèse's breasts, touch as tender as the stroke of an artist's brush. Each caress of the canvas mirrored the unspoken language that flowed between them—the language of love that dared not speak its name in the harsh light of day.

Yet, the threat of discovery loomed above them like a guillotine, sharp and unforgiving. Camille, Thérèse's unsuspecting husband, engaged in games just outside, unaware of the symphony of passion that played out on the shop's second floor, on their marital bed.

"We must be cautious," Thérèse whispered, her eyes darting towards the creaking floorboards below. "Madame Raquin and Camille must not suspect."

Y/N, whose heart beat in rhythm with Thérèse's, nodded solemnly. "Our love is a secret garden, Thérèse, one that flourishes in the shadows but withers in the harsh light of judgment.” She spoke as her hands went to cradle Thérèse's cheeks. “I promise to be careful.”

The bedroom, once a marital sanctuary for Thérèse and Camille, transformed into the backdrop of an illicit affair. The fear of discovery heightened the intensity of their connection, turning stolen kisses into acts of rebellion against a world that sought to confine them.

Outside, the city's heartbeat continued, oblivious to the symphony of emotions that echoed within the four walls of the bedroom. Thérèse, her heart torn between duty and desire, reached out to Y/N, their fingers entwining in a silent vow that defied the constraints of their reality.

With the air thick of passion, tender affections, and fear, all that had happened went on like a blur. Both women couldn't remember who leaned in first to trap their lips into a fiery but loving embrace, and yet, the flickering candlelight cast an ethereal glow upon their entangled bodies, the shadows playing upon the tapestry of their clandestine love. Y/N dared to speak, to try and use the last of her reason, to attempt at stopping herself despite knowing that she had gone far too deep, but, Thérèse, overcome by the weight of societal expectations, pressed a trembling finger to Y/N's lips, silencing the unspoken fears that lingered between them.

No words were needed as the artist took the initiative and resumed their kiss, her lips brushing against Thérèse's as the bedroom became a cocoon, shielding them from the judgmental eyes of society. The intimacy between them, though a spark in the vast darkness, burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

Y/N carefully lay the woman beneath her to the plush bed, hands exploring Thérèse's skin like a caveman threading a path in the unfamiliar wilderness. The tips of her fingertips toyed with Thérèse's hardened nipples, eliciting held back whimpers from the woman laying beneath her.

“Y/N…” Thérèse whispered, but she only gave her woman a smile in response, taking the other nipple to her mouth, and sucking on it like a newborn starved. Thérèse closed her eyes shut, body overwhelmed by the sensations of Y/N's worship, only for those brown orbs to flutter open along with her mouth as two fingers eased their way to her core.

A sly smile tugged in the corners of Y/N's pink lips, gazing up at Thérèse whose pupils were blown wide, and mouth covered with one hand, containing the noises that ought to escape her with each thrust of the artist's long and slender fingers in her tight pussy.

Thérèse's labored breathing, accompanied with the wet sloshing sounds created by her dripping entrance and Y/N's fingers, were the only sounds heard in the stillness of the night. That was before a sudden creaking of the weathered floorboards interrupted the women's intimate bubble, sending shivers down Thérèse's spine. Her eyes widened, but Y/N did not pull back even as her breath was caught in the suspense of the moment. Instead, her fingers only went faster, opting to guide the writhing woman below her to the pinnacle of her high, and the contracting of Thérèse's pussy against her fingers only served as an indication that she was on the right track.

Thérèse struggled to finish the sentence as she held back her moans in between, "Our world would crumble." Y/N hummed in approval as she leaned in to Thérèse's clit, using her tongue to stimulate the woman's bundle of nerves that only made it harder for the latter to control her sounds, more so as she came all over Y/N's face and fingers, legs trembling as the artist's fingers slowed down its thrusts, prolonging the release.

"Quiet, amour," Y/N whispered breathily, a twinge of worry in their voice amidst the obvious arousal. "If Madame Raquin or Camille were to hear—"

The bedroom, though once a haven for marital vows, now bore witness to a love that dared to defy the norms of its time. Thérèse and Y/N, in the quiet moments between heartbeats, exchanged vows that resonated with the soulful ache of a love that existed in the shadows. The night wore on, and with each passing moment, the threat of exposure intensified. Thérèse, torn between the intoxication of love and the fear of societal retribution, felt the weight of their clandestine affair like a stone pressing against her chest. The gaslights outside continued to flicker, casting a gentle glow upon the tangled sheets that bore witness to the stolen moments of Thérèse and Y/N's clandestine affair. The night, though silent, echoed with the lingering whispers of a love that dared to exist in the shadows of the city.

In the quiet aftermath of their shared passion, the room held the remnants of their intimate communion. Thérèse, her senses heightened by the mingling scents of jasmine and musk, traced her fingers along Y/N's bare chest—the contours of a lover and confidante. The air, once heavy with fear, now carried the sweet echo of their shared pleasure. Y/N, eyes filled with a tenderness that mirrored Thérèse's, brushed a strand of hair away from her flushed face.

"You don't know what you do to me, Thérèse," Y/N murmured, their voice a soothing melody that hung in the air. "I hear your voice in my dreams, feel the ghosts of your touch on my body, and crave you like I haven't satiated myself in years."

Thérèse, still lost in the aftermath of their intimacy, met Y/N's gaze with a mixture of gratitude and longing. The world outside, with its judgmental eyes and societal expectations, felt distant—a mere whisper in the night.

"Promise me, Y/N," Thérèse pleaded, her voice a fragile whisper. "Promise me that our love will endure, that it will be a persevering flame against the winds of adversity."

Y/N, caressing Thérèse's cheek with a touch that bordered on reverence, responded, "I don't have to promise anything, Thérèse. Like the stars above, I know our hearts will shine even in the darkest nights."

The bedroom, once charged with the tension of secrecy, now cradled the two lovers in a post-coital embrace. Their entangled limbs spoke of a passion that transcended societal norms, a love that flourished in the clandestine corners of their shared existence.

In the silence that followed, Y/N traced circles on Thérèse's skin, each touch a reassurance of their shared vulnerability. The room, steeped in the essence of their intimacy, held the echoes of their whispered promises and the delicate symphony of their love. The shadows, once a cloak for their secret desires, now danced upon the walls like witnesses to a tale written in the language of tender glances and lingering touches.

Thérèse, her senses attuned to the lingering traces of their passion, gazed into Y/N's eyes as if searching for the permanence of their connection. Y/N, the artist who knew how to breathe life into moments, held Thérèse with a gaze that mirrored the profound depth of their shared intimacy.

As the first light of dawn painted the sky in hues of soft pink, Thérèse and Y/N lay intertwined, bodies and souls entwined in a tapestry of shared vulnerability. The air, now tinged with the promise of a new day, carried the remnants of their intimacy—a scent that lingered like a secret between them.

"Promise me you'll come when I call again," Thérèse pleaded, her gaze locking with Y/N's in a silent pact. "When I need you the most, when I feel my cage even more… promise me you'll come running.”

Y/N, brushing a stray strand of hair from Thérèse's face, nodded with a smile etched on her face. "I'll be here before you know it."

As the sun rose, casting its golden rays upon the city of Paris, Thérèse and Y/N knew that the world awaited their departure from the intimate cocoon they had woven together. With a final, lingering kiss, Thérèse and Y/N parted ways, slipping into the daylight as if reentering a world that demanded conformity. The bedroom, now silent and empty, held the memories of their stolen moments—a gallery of passion that defied the limitations of societal norms.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff smut #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x female reader #thérèse raquin #therese raquin #wanda maximoff x female reader #smut #in secret #wlw

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vivalas-vega · 9 days

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new perspectives // part eleven // jake 'hangman seresin x reader

boy oh boy -- I've been working on this part since I posted the last one (and mind you... this version of it I wrote and completed within the last three hours - there's about 10,000 additional words with different versions of this) - I just could not figure out how to continue it and I don't know if I'm happy with it fully but here it is !! this one is more focused on Rooster and Jupiter and their friendship because I haven't gone as in depth with it as I would have liked in past chapters. as always - please let me know what you think !!

new perspectives // part eleven // jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten

add yourself to my taglist

word count: 4.1k

warnings: mentions of war (but nothing too detailed), mentions of gunshot wounds (again, nothing too detailed), slight suggestiveness at the end

The stars above Rooster, twinkling and shining, served as some kind of mockery as he sat on the beach and looked for constellations, though he wasn’t finding any because he wasn’t trying very hard. He wished he could be in his jet right now, wished he could feel the controls in his hands and see the earth below him because maybe then this wouldn’t be so scary, maybe he wouldn’t feel so helpless.

There was just enough alcohol coursing through his veins for the weight of his emotions to get on top of him, but not enough to forget what he’d heard entirely. He knew what his job was right now. Your last request of him, bestowed not too far from where he was sitting with that sweet smile of yours and eyes full of stars, had been replaying on a loop for the past few hours. Take care of them for me, take care of him. You knew they were equipped to handle this, their lives weren’t all that different from the one you were currently living but there was one key difference that was not lost on anybody… while they were too high above the chaos to truly see, you were down in the middle of it all. While they may have been equipped to handle a friend's deployment, they weren’t all that prepared to think of you as the boots on the ground.

Take care of them for me, take care of him. You knew eventually things would catch up, that the reality of your absence would set in and that when it did they’d need you… and the next best thing was Rooster. You were always thinking eight steps ahead, it’s what made you a good friend and a good doctor, but right about now Rooster found it infuriating. You saw those eight steps ahead, you saw this getting on top of everyone at one point or another, and you made it Rooster’s problem. You knew Jake wouldn’t be able to offer much through his own worry and you wouldn’t have expected him to, but you expected it of Rooster.

He found himself wishing you’d never connected, never bonded. He wished he hadn’t played Drops of Jupiter that very first night, hadn’t harmonized with you and pulled you out of your shell simply because he couldn’t help himself. He wished he hadn’t offered to tour houses on your behalf, hadn’t spent countless hours working alongside you to bring your vision to life. He wished you’d never looked his way because you saw him in a way that was terrifying, you understood him and you pushed him. You pushed him further in his rekindling with Maverick, and you pushed him right into Eliza’s arms because you knew what he needed and what he wanted.

He wished he’d never realized his infatuation with you wasn’t romantic, because maybe if he’d chalked it up to being an asshole with secret feelings for someone who belonged to the man who saved his life he wouldn’t be sitting here right now with worry eating a hole through his stomach. Maybe he would have distanced himself from you, kept things cordial and casual to protect his own heart, but he did realize. He did see that it wasn’t romantic and it never was, he was simply misreading his own emotions because he’d never had a friend like you before. He’d never admit it in the light of day because he found such terms ridiculous but you were his platonic soulmate, through and through. And right about now he wished he’d never figured that out.

He wished none of it had ever happened, because here he was sitting on the beach feeling so utterly helpless because you’d bestowed an impossible task on him and he couldn’t even be mad at you because he’d heard it. One minute he was telling you he loved you, on his way back into the bar to give you space with the man you really needed, the next you were under fire… and you seemed calm. In the face of it all, your tone hadn’t changed, your disposition hadn’t changed. You’d told Jake you loved him without an ounce of fear or apprehension in your tone and hung up, because this was a common occurrence for you now. In the face of it all, you were fine, and here he was sitting on the beach struggling to keep it together.

Except, he didn't wish any of those things at all because you were you, and he couldn't imagine not having you in his life. And so he was trying, because that’s what you’d asked of him. If you could do the impossible, if you could save lives with those two little hands of yours under gunfire or worse, he could keep it together. He could do what you asked of him. He’d remain calm and collected, his usual goofy self to keep the anxiety at bay the best he could, because that’s what you needed. You’d asked for them, but really you’d asked for yourself. You needed to know Rooster was looking out for them so you didn’t have to worry, because you had enough to worry about.

And that’s exactly what he did… he went back into the bar and got Jake a fresh drink, set him up in front of the dartboard with Coyote. He’d filled everyone in on what happened. She’ll be fine, this is her life now and she’s Jupiter. She’ll be fine and so will we because she doesn’t want us spinning out, she wants us here having fun with each other so that’s what we’re going to do.

And then he’d lingered, made sure everyone made it home safely and wandered out onto the beach to look at the stars and feel everything he knew you didn’t want him to. “There’s only so much you can ask of me, JJ,” he whispered to himself as he took in the mass of twinkling lights above him because he was choosing to believe you were under this sky too, and though you couldn’t hear him, maybe you could feel it. You could feel that he was keeping up his end of the promise, and that you needed to keep up yours.

“I know I haven’t talked to you in a while dad, but… well, if you’ve been paying attention I don’t need to fill you in,” he started, openly talking into the night air because this was what he did. When it all got to be too much, when things started to get on top of him he looked to the sky and talked to Goose. “I don’t know if you’ve got any connections up there, I hope you didn’t use them all up sending Hangman after me and Mav but… she needs to come home. Please don’t let what happened to mom happen to Jake,” he said, choking on his words before clearing his throat. “Please don’t let what happened to Maverick happen to me. She’s my best friend, and I… I can’t lose her. Jake can’t lose her. None of us can.”

He was pleading because he knew he was right, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to uphold his promise to you if you didn’t come home. He wouldn’t be able to take care of Jake, or Coyote, or Phoenix… he wouldn’t be able to take care of himself. You swooped in as this mysterious old friend of Hangman’s and won everyone over in the course of an evening, and you only grew more important with each passing day. They’d all been friends before you, but in the wake of you they became a family. You were the glue, you were the last to join the group but you became the nexus, and if they lost you he didn’t know what would happen. He didn’t want to find out.

So he let himself cry, let a few tears slip before saying goodbye to his old man and packing it down. He couldn’t let himself spiral any more than he already had, and he couldn’t have you coming home to realize he hadn’t kept his promise when you’d kept yours. He spent the next day and a half being Rooster, he was goofy and borderline annoying but he kept everyone together, he made sure everyone kept their spirits high and their worry to a minimum, and he made sure Jake got out of bed. He did what he could, and in the end it was everything because there the squad was with beers in their hands and smiles on their faces as they watched Jake kick Coyote’s ass, because even though he was falling apart and he didn’t know if you were even alive, he’d never give anyone the satisfaction of ousting him at his own pool table.

“Any word?” Bob asked quietly to Phoenix who shook her head and when he let out a relieved sigh the few people in hearing distance snapped their attention to him, varying degrees of disbelief and disgust on their faces. “If she were dead we’d know by now.” he supplied, and while his lack of tact was surprising, Bob was always mindful of what he said and how he said it, this served to ease people’s nerves. He was right. If you were dead, Jake would have been notified by now and none of them would be standing around the bar.

“We’ll know when we know,” Rooster said before walking down to the bar to get a fresh drink but something stopped him in his tracks, a brief flash in the distance beyond the windows that had him questioning his grip on reality because it was gone just as quick as he’d seen it… but he could have sworn he saw you. He tried to push past it, blame it on fried nerves and too much on his plate but he couldn’t. He had to be certain so he pushed past those doors and tentatively stepped out onto the beach, “way to go, Rooster. You’ve officially lost it,” he muttered to himself as he peeked around the side of the building but he hadn’t lost it. He saw what he saw, and he stood there gobsmacked as he got full sight of you, your body facing outwards towards the ocean with your hair messily strewn across your shoulders and donning a standard issue uniform… minus the top which left you in a tight tank with a concerning amount of gauze wrapped around your arm.

“JJ?” he asked, approaching slowly and you startled, jumping as you turned to face him and he could see it clear as day. You were scared, and while the appropriate assumption would have been everything you’d gone through, maybe the story linked to those bandages, he knew you well enough to know that wasn’t it. There was something else keeping you outside the bar instead of reuniting with your family.

“Roo,” you started, but you didn’t have anything else to say so it fell flat. There were tears in your eyes and you looked relieved but that fear was just under the surface and his steps were fast to close the distance, wrapping you up in his arms as carefully as he could and he was almost taken aback by the way you gripped onto him, latching on with seemingly no intention of letting go.

“How long have you been out here?” he whispered into your hair and he felt you shudder beneath him.

“A while,” you answered, and he realized that shudder was a humorless laugh. “I didn’t… I don’t know why, I just couldn’t-” you tried but your voice was thick and you didn’t need to say anything more. He understood. He knew coming home would be difficult for you, especially under these circumstances, and he didn’t need you to explain that you weren’t out here because you wanted to be, but because you felt like you couldn’t go inside.

“I know. You’re home and that’s what matters,” he pulled back to look at you but he didn’t go far, keeping his grip firm on you because he had a feeling it was what you needed. Much like the way you’d loop your hand through his when you were telling a story, so animated and excited you could barely get the words out fast enough, because you needed the physical tether. You needed to feel grounded so you didn’t get swept away by whatever it was you were saying or thinking.

“I uh…” you shook your head and cleared your throat. “I got evacuated, by the time this healed and I was cleared I’d be going home anyways,” you said, nodding to your shoulder. “I didn’t call and I-”

“Stop, you had bigger things going on,” Rooster said, cutting you off entirely. He had tears in his eyes looking down at you, your hands gripping his arms so tightly and your features so soft and vulnerable in stark contradiction to the khaki pants and clunky boots and suddenly he felt selfish. “Let me go get Jake,” he started, beginning to pull away from you but he stopped when your brows furrowed. “You don’t want me to?”

You shook your head, “no… no I do, I just… god, I keep doing everything wrong,” you sighed. “I signed up to go to war without so much as a heads up, I told you first, I… I couldn’t even call to tell him I was okay before just showing up and standing out here lost in my own thoughts for half an hour,” you let out another humorless chuckle. “I keep doing this wrong.”

“You’re doing the best you can. You know he doesn’t expect anything from you, right? He doesn’t have some grand idea about how this would go, he knows this isn’t going to be like your reunion at his tap out or at your match day,” he said and you smiled sadly.

“I forgot I told you those stories,” you said.

“That’s not what he’s expecting, he’s… you know, he handled it better than I thought he would but he hasn’t been okay and that’s just because all he wants to know is that you are. He wants to know that you’re mostly in one piece, and he wants to hug you the way I am right now- well, okay… maybe not the way I am because it has been several months since you left and I would imagine-” he started to joke and you let out a laugh… a real one, and you went to push his shoulder, disentangling yourself from him but it only served to make you wince.

You shook your head when his eyes widened, “it’s okay, just sore. You’re right… will you- will you go get him? And be cryptic,” you said, referencing the way Jake had called Rooster out minutes before your call disconnected. “I don’t know if I’m ready for everyone yet.”

“On it,” he replied, already moving to head inside.

“Wait, Rooster?” you called and he stopped, turning to face you. You gave him one of those blinding smiles, one that felt like a glimpse of the you before you left, the one that didn’t wear standard issue khakis and clunky boots, the one that wasn’t harder and shaper, and the one that hadn’t confessed to him you didn’t know if you were okay. You gave him that smile that was so you as you ran and jumped into him, squeezing him so tightly it sucked all the air from his lungs and he laughed as he caught you, twirling you around. “Thank you.”

“What for, JJ?”

“For being my person.”

“Thanks for coming home,” he replied and you gave him one more squeeze before dropping down to the ground and he gave you a nod before disappearing inside. You resumed your earlier pacing, already feeling lighter after seeing Rooster and for as selfish and awful as you felt for always getting this wrong with Jake, it took the edge off. It made seeing him feel less daunting, and while you’d spent the previous half hour working yourself into a tizzy about how he would react or what he would say you now felt silly. Rooster was right, all he wanted right now was you, just like you wanted him. He wouldn’t be mad at you for not calling, he wouldn’t be mad at you for having a reunion with Rooster first, he would simply be your Jake.

“What the hell is so urgent with your precious truck? I don’t even want to be here but you made me and now you’re ruining my streak,” you heard Jake complaining as the door to the bar opened and you couldn’t help but chuckle as you waited for them to round the corner.

“Okay, first of all, it’s not a truck, it’s a Bronco,” Rooster corrected, “and once again you might not want to be so hard on me when you see what it is,” he added and you couldn’t fight the smile on your face. You weren’t okay and you knew that, but you would be because you had them. You had your people and you were home, and that’s all that mattered.

“What does that- what the fuck?” You’d walked closer, not wanting the distance to be any further than it already was when he rounded the corner and he nearly walked right into you. “Jupiter?” he asked, blinking in surprise and simply staring at you because he couldn’t be certain what he was seeing was real.

“Hey you,” you replied, ignoring the single tear that streamed down your cheek and you let out a laugh as he crushed you in a hug, lifting you off the ground and forcing your legs around him to keep your balance.

Rooster stood and watched for a moment, soaking in this moment of unbridled joy between his two best friends before taking his leave. “So much for it not being like the tap out,” he said and you mouthed thank you to him over Jake’s shoulder as he went back inside.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, one hand firm on your waist and the other cupping your thigh as you pulled back slightly to look down at him, to commit that beautiful face of his gazing up at you with pure adoration to memory.

“It’s a long story and I… I’m not ready to talk about it yet,” you answered and he nodded, slowly lowering you to the ground to cup your face and press a kiss to your forehead.

“You don’t have to, not until you’re ready, I just…” he pulled back to look at you again and the emotion in his eyes cracked your heart wide open, and with it the flood of anxiety and uncertainty you’d pushed aside. “I was so worried something had happened.”

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” you started, that single tear giving way to an onslaught and his face crumpled at the sight. “I should have called, I should have-”

“Hey, no no no… that’s not what I meant,” he said, trying to reassure you as he smoothed his hands along your back. “I’m just so happy you’re home,” he said, trying to quell your tears but it was no use. He finally got a chance to really look at you, to soak you in and his heart broke when he noticed the bandages around your arm and you started to shake your head.

“Come on, come sit with me?” you asked and he nodded, catching one of your hands as you walked further out onto the beach and sank into the sand and he looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to find the words. You didn’t know if you were ready to talk about it yet but you needed to, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to let it go no matter how hard he tried to be supportive. “What you heard… we got ambushed, I’m still not entirely sure what happened but uh… it wiped most of the camp out,” you said, voice shaking and Jake tried to keep his feelings off his face as you spoke. “My call to Rooster saved my life, anyone that was near the command center-” you cut yourself off with a shake of your head and he squeezed your hand in reassurance. “I did what I could, I tried to get to as many people as I could but there wasn’t enough time, or enough hands and I got caught in the crossfire,” you said, gesturing to your arm. “It was a lucky shot, if you could even call it that. I’ll be okay, just not cleared to work yet which is why I’m home. It’ll be another few weeks before I am and at that point my deployment would have been over.”

“J, I’m so sorry…” he started, his hand gently cupping your arm just beneath the bandages. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” he said, pulling you into him and you moved into his lap to wrap your arms around him more easily, not paying any mind to the way you felt your stitches tugging.

“I’ll be okay. I can’t… I don’t think I can tell you any more, not right now.” You pulled away to look at him seriously, “it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just… things are different over there, I was different over there. I did things and I saw things I can’t begin to unpack right now but I want you to know that I plan to set something up at the hospital, a specialist to talk to so I can sort it out. I just… right now I really need everything to just go back to normal.”

“There’s no rush, sweetheart. You’ll tell me when you’re ready and if you never do, well… that’s alright too, as long as you talk to someone. All I cared about was you getting back home to me, even if Rooster had to get the first look at you,” he teased and you pouted.

“In my defense he wandered out and found me, that wasn’t intentional,” you protested.

“Yeah sure, whatever… the pornstache is your person and I just have to deal with that.”

“He might be my person but you’re the love of my life, you know that right? You are who got me through everything over there, and you are who I thought about day in and day out.”

“Oh yeah? And what exactly is it you thought about?” he asked, that famous smirk of his playing on his lips and you rolled your eyes.

“The audacity to call Rooster pornstache when you are trying to put the moves on your wife who just got back from war!” you laughed and he shifted you in his lap, pulling your leg to the side so you were straddling him and the contact on your core elicited a reaction that completely undercut the way you were trying to tease him.

“You did say you wanted everything to go back to normal,” he muttered, letting his lips trail along the column of your neck and he was right… you did want everything to go back to normal and this was something you’d thought about every moment you could while you were gone.

“This is utterly indecent,” you sighed, feeling him growing hard beneath you and you pushed him back because if he kept going you’d scandalize the beach. “And mind you we are both in our uniforms right now,” you added.

“Yeah, by the way? This is super hot,” he said, letting his eyes trail over you appreciatively. “You’ve got a real Lara Croft thing going on right now and I’m into it.”

“Lara Croft!” you laughed, “she never even wore pants.”

“Please let me objectify my super hot, super tough wife in peace, thank you,” he said, and as you stared down at him you realized you hadn’t kissed him yet and you couldn’t believe you’d overlooked it. You pressed your lips to his softly, all pent up love and emotion but quickly it turned hungry… all tongues and biting lips as you gripped his biceps.

“Take me home then, objectify me all you want, Lieutenant,” you said, pulling away to catch your breath and his eyes darkened as he was quick to stand pulling you up with him and you couldn’t help the squeals and laughter falling from your lips as he hurled you over his shoulder. You felt everything in your life right now was unsteady, you had no idea to come back to civility after what you’d been through but you had the tools to do it the best you could, and more importantly you had Jake who was everything you needed him to be and more.

There wasn’t any sort of guidebook you could follow, and you didn’t know if this was how your return should have gone. You thought maybe you should be more damaged, you shouldn’t be laughing as your husband ran across the beach with you in tow, or maybe that’s exactly what you should have been doing. You didn’t really know, and you didn’t really care because you were home, and whatever came next you’d handle as it came with Jake by your side.

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dinodontwait · 2 months

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Epistles of Love - Part One

Summary: In a charming and new suburb, y/n stumbles upon cryptic letters from Woozi, unveiling a tale of love and heartbreak. As the past unfolds through Woozi's words, will y/n risk her heart to uncover the secrets hidden within each carefully penned letter?

Genre: Romance, Mystery, Suspense, and Contemporary Fiction.

Trope: Slow-Burn, Strangers-to-lovers?

Main Characters: afab!y/n , Woozi, Amour( real names will be revealed later)

Supporting Characters: Svt members

Word Count: 8.7k

The sun dipped below the horizon, its final golden rays painting the sky with hues of pink and orange as y/n's car glided into the heart of the town. The last remnants of daylight cast a warm and welcoming glow over the cobblestone streets, creating an enchanting atmosphere that seemed to embrace her arrival. As y/n maneuvered through the quiet streets lined with charming boutiques and cozy cafes, her heart pulsed with anticipation. The town's architecture told tales of a bygone era, each building standing as a testament to the rich history woven into the fabric of the community. It was a place where time seemed to move a bit slower, allowing moments to linger and stories to unfold at their own unhurried pace.

She couldn't help but marvel at the unique charm that had drawn her here. The decision to embark on this journey, to leave behind the familiar and embrace the unknown, had been fueled by a cascade of positive changes in her life. It was a decision made not out of necessity but out of the desire for a fresh start, a chance to breathe new life into her days and redefine the narrative of her story.The beauty of the town unfolded around her like the pages of a storybook, promising a fresh beginning filled with endless possibilities. The streets whispered tales of community, of shared laughter echoing through the air during town festivals, and of the bonds formed over cups of coffee in the local cafes.

With every passing moment, y/n found herself captivated by the allure of this place, where the past and present danced together in harmony. It was a town that cradled dreams and whispered promises of a future yet to unfold, a canvas waiting for her to paint it with the colors of her own experiences.

As the car rolled to a gentle stop, y/n took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers that adorned the nearby gardens. The decision to start anew in this picturesque haven held the weight of hope and the excitement of the unknown.

As she parked in front of her new house nestled in the heart of the small town, y/n took a moment to immerse herself in the serene atmosphere that enveloped the charming neighborhood. The air, crisp and tinged with the fragrance of blooming flowers, carried promises of a welcoming community that seemed to echo through the gentle rustle of leaves in the nearby trees. The house, an abode with a charming facade and a small garden adorned with vibrant blooms, exuded a timeless appeal. Its welcoming aura resonated with the spirit of the close-knit town, where each residence seemed to share secrets with the other, and every garden whispered tales of seasons gone by.

As y/n stepped out of her car, the gravel beneath her shoes crunched softly, harmonizing with the rhythmic chirping of distant crickets. The exterior of her new home stood as a canvas awaiting her personal touch, and the small garden invited her to explore its hidden corners, where sunlight dappled through the leaves, creating patterns on the ground. The sense of serenity was palpable, a gentle undercurrent in the air that whispered tales of community bonds and shared stories. The anticipation of creating a life in this charming haven mingled with a touch of nervous excitement, like the fluttering of butterflies in the stomach. Each step toward the entrance carried her closer to the heart of her new beginnings, the unique blend of emotions creating a symphony of anticipation, nerves, and the promise of an inviting community.

As y/n entered the charming garden of her new house, the air was filled with the sweet aroma of blooming flowers, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees. She noticed a lean figure standing amidst the blossoms, a bit of long hair framing his angelic features. The sunlight played through the foliage, creating a soft halo around him. Captivated by the scene, y/n approached the young man. As he turned with a warm smile, extending a hand, she couldn't help but be surprised by his youthful charm. "Hello there," he greeted. "You must be the new resident. I'm Jeonghan."

Y/n, momentarily taken aback, shook his hand, feeling a warmth that seemed to transcend the physical touch. "I'm y/n. Nice to meet you," she replied, her gaze momentarily lingering on his captivating features. Jeonghan, with an amused glint in his eye, guided her attention to the garden. "I thought I'd give the flowers a bit of company today," he chuckled. "Welcome to your new home. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to reach out."

As they chatted amidst the vibrant blooms of the garden, Jeonghan shared stories about the town's history and the close-knit community that y/n was now a part of. The sunlight dappled through the leaves, creating patterns on the ground, and the gentle hum of bees added a melodic undertone to their conversation.

Y/n, engrossed in Jeonghan's animated storytelling, couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie building between them. The beauty of the town seemed to unfold not just in the physical surroundings but in the genuine connections that were being forged.

Amidst the exchange of anecdotes, however, y/n's thoughts momentarily drifted. She had expected a more seasoned figure as her landlord, someone with a stern demeanor and perhaps a few more years etched on their face. Instead, Jeonghan appeared more like a friendly neighbor, his youthful charm challenging the conventional image she had envisioned.

Caught in a moment of introspection, y/n realized her preconceived notions were swiftly changing. "I must admit, Jeonghan, I had a different mental image of my landlord," she confessed with a playful smile, her eyes betraying a hint of surprise.

Jeonghan, with a chuckle, responded, "Oh? And what did you have in mind?"

Y/n laughed lightly, "Maybe someone a bit more… seasoned? No offense, of course!"

Jeonghan, with a good-natured grin, waved off her concern. "None taken. I get it. People usually expect a grizzled old landlord with a set of keys that they have seen for a few decades. I'm here to break the stereotype, I guess!"

The two shared a friendly laugh, the atmosphere lightening with the ease of their banter. "Well, you've certainly succeeded," y/n admitted, her initial surprise giving way to genuine appreciation for the unexpected charm of her landlord.

Jeonghan, with a twinkle in his eye, replied, "Glad I could keep you on your toes. It's always good to defy expectations, don't you think?"

Noticing her brief pause, Jeonghan waved towards the next block, his residence. "By the way, I live just over there. If you ever need anything, feel free to knock. We're practically neighbors!"

Y/n, realizing her oversight, blushed and chuckled nervously. "Oh, I see. Thank you, Jeonghan. I appreciate the warm welcome."

Jeonghan, with a pleasant smile, said, "No problem at all. Enjoy settling in, and if there's anything you need, just give a shout. See you around the neighborhood!"

As Jeonghan strolled back to his own house, y/n couldn't help but smile at the unexpected charm of her new landlord. The encounter marked the beginning of a unique connection, not just as resident and landlord, but as neighbors sharing the beauty of the small town.

Absolutely, that makes sense. Let's adjust the details accordingly:

Upon unlocking the door to her new house, the worn key turning smoothly in the lock, a wave of contentment washed over y/n. The creak of the door as it swung open echoed a welcoming invitation, and she stepped into the foyer with a heart full of anticipation. The space, though unfamiliar, seemed to cradle the promise of countless possibilities, like a blank canvas waiting to be adorned with the strokes of her life.

The muted sunlight filtered through lace curtains, casting a warm glow that danced across the polished wooden floors. Y/n's footsteps echoed softly as she wandered from room to room, each one unveiling a unique charm. The living room, with its cozy fireplace and inviting couch, whispered of evenings spent in the comforting embrace of a good book or the laughter of newfound friends.

In the kitchen, the scent of fresh paint mingled with the promise of home-cooked meals yet to be prepared. Y/n ran a hand along the cool countertop, imagining the aroma of spices and the clinking of utensils in a lively dance of culinary creativity.

The bedroom, adorned with sunlight filtering through sheer curtains, beckoned with the promise of restful nights and the dreams that would unfold within its sanctuary. As y/n traced her fingers along the frame of the bed, she envisioned the comfort it would offer after long days exploring the town.

Yet, amidst the freshness of new beginnings, there lingered a subtle hint of the previous tenant—a gentle reminder of the life once lived within these walls. It was not a trace left in neglect, but rather a presence woven into the very fabric of the home. Stickers adorned the fridge, each one telling a story of groceries, meal plans, and the simple joys of daily life. The bookshelf bore the imprints of well-loved volumes, each one a literary companion that had once filled the room with tales and adventures.

As y/n explored each room, she discovered these subtle touches that whispered stories of the person who lived here before. The cozy notes on the kitchen chalkboard hinted at favorite recipes, and the worn-in couch in the living room seemed to carry the imprint of shared moments. The house, though now hers, bore the echoes of another's life in a way that felt more like a warm introduction than a lingering intrusion.

With each discovery, the sense of gratitude deepened, and y/n couldn't help but feel a connection to the stories embedded within the walls. It was a reminder that, in the dance of new beginnings, there was beauty in acknowledging the echoes of the past and embracing the shared history that made this house not just a dwelling but a place to call home. She sighed thinking about all the boxes now she has to move from her car to her new home!

As y/n wrestled with the weight of a particularly hefty box, her arms straining against the load, she felt an unexpected reprieve. The box seemed to defy gravity, becoming lighter in an instant. Intrigued, she looked down, only to discover a pair of stylish shoes stepping in to take the place of her struggling arms.

Confused yet pleasantly surprised, y/n followed the trail of these stylish shoes upward, and her eyes met the gaze of a tall figure. His presence exuded an air of easy confidence, and as he offered a warm, puppy-like smile, y/n couldn't help but feel an immediate sense of relief. "Need a hand?" he offered, his voice carrying the friendliness of a familiarity.

Y/n, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected assistance, couldn't help but smile in return. "Oh, yes, thank you! This box had grand aspirations of being much lighter, but reality hit hard."

The stranger chuckled, the sound resonant and friendly, as he effortlessly took the weight off her hands. As he straightened up, y/n found herself looking at someone not only tall in stature but possessing an undeniable charm. His eyes sparkled with genuine kindness, and the corners of his lips held a perpetual hint of warmth.

"Moving day can be a real workout," he remarked, his tone filled with joy. "I'm Mingyu, by the way. Your neighbor from across the street. Jeonghan did inform us about someone moving across us!"

Y/n accepted the offer of a handshake, noting the strength and assurance in his grip. "I'm y/n. Nice to meet you, Mingyu. And thank you for the rescue. I guess my belongings decided to give me a bit of a challenge today."

Mingyu laughed, a hearty sound that echoed the friendly atmosphere of the neighborhood. "No worries, y/n. We've all been there. Moving is a team effort, and consider me part of your moving crew today."

He proved to be more than just a momentary helper. Mingyu's assistance extended beyond the initial box, as he effortlessly carried the weight of y/n's belongings with a friendly demeanor that made the daunting task of moving seem surprisingly enjoyable. As they navigated through the various boxes and items, he seamlessly transitioned from being just a neighbor to a newfound friend.

In the midst of the heavy lifting, Mingyu shared more about the neighborhood, offering insights and stories that painted a vivid picture of the close-knit community. "We're a friendly bunch around here," he grinned, carefully placing a box marked 'fragile' down. "You'll probably bump into Seokmin and Minghao, my housemates. We share the house across the street. Can't miss it—bright blue door."

As they chatted, Mingyu's tales provided a glimpse into the dynamic life of the neighborhood. "We have this tradition of Sunday brunch potlucks in the backyard," he shared, his eyes lighting up with the enthusiasm of a fond memory. "Everyone brings a dish, and we just enjoy good food and company. You should definitely join us sometime."

The sun began its descent, casting a warm glow over the quiet streets. Y/n, grateful for Mingyu's unexpected kindness, couldn't help but marvel at the vibrant hues of orange and pink that painted the sky. The exhaustion from the move weighed heavily on her, and the prospect of preparing dinner in her new kitchen seemed like a mountain to climb.

Mingyu, sensing her weariness, chimed in with a friendly suggestion. "You know, instead of slaving away in the kitchen on your first night, how about you join us for dinner? We're having a small get-together in the backyard. It's a mix of friends and neighbors. Think of it as a welcome party for the newest member of the block."

Y/n hesitated, a mix of fatigue and a slight apprehension about socializing with strangers playing on her mind. Mingyu, however, reassured her with a warm smile. "It's really casual. No pressure at all. Just good food, good company, and a chance to meet some friendly faces."

Feeling a sense of camaraderie and warmth from Mingyu's invitation, y/n couldn't resist the genuine offer of community. "Alright, sounds great," she replied with a tired but appreciative smile. "Let me freshen up a bit, and I'll be there. Thanks, Mingyu."

Mingyu grinned, "Perfect! We'll be right across the street whenever you're ready. Take your time. And don't worry about bringing anything—just yourself. We've got it covered."

As y/n headed indoors to prepare for the evening, she couldn't shake off the feeling that she had not just moved into a new house but stumbled upon a welcoming community that promised more than just neighbors—it offered the possibility of genuine connections and the warmth of a shared life in this delightful town.

Y/n adjusted the strap of her bag nervously as she approached Mingyu's house. The anticipation of meeting new people and navigating the social dynamics of a tight-knit community left a flutter in her stomach. The inviting glow of streetlights bathed the house in a warm aura, making it stand out amidst the evening shadows.

To her surprise, the door swung open before she could even raise her hand to knock. Mingyu stood there, a beam of genuine warmth illuminating his face. His puppy-like smile widened as he greeted her, "Hey, y/n! Right on time. Come on in!"

The entrance to Mingyu's home ushered her into a world of lively sounds—laughter, chatter, and the rhythmic melodies of music. The atmosphere was contagious, filling her with a sense of excitement and belonging even before she stepped inside. The air carried the mingled scents of grilled food, hinting at the delightful feast that awaited in the backyard.

Mingyu, with an inviting gesture, guided her through the house. The interior revealed snippets of his life—a well-loved couch adorned with plush cushions, framed photographs capturing shared memories, and a hint of lingering conversations from another room. The vibrant energy of the gathering intensified as they approached the back, the sounds of laughter now mingling with the sizzle of a barbecue.

The backyard transformed into a warm haven. Strings of lights criss crossed above, casting a soft glow that illuminated the faces of mingling neighbors. Mingyu's friends, a diverse ensemble of personalities, added to the charm of the scene. The smell of grilled food wafted through the air, teasing the taste buds and inviting everyone to partake in the communal feast.

Mingyu, still wearing his welcoming grin, gestured towards the lively group. "This is where the magic happens. Welcome to the backyard gathering!"

The warm ambiance, the inviting glow of string lights, and the tantalizing aroma of barbecue all combined to create an atmosphere that embraced y/n into the fold of a close-knit community. As she took in the lively scene and the faces of her new neighbors, any remnants of nervousness were replaced with a growing sense of excitement and anticipation for the camaraderie that awaited in this charming backyard.

Mingyu, playing the role of the perfect host, introduced y/n to the eclectic group. "Everyone, this is y/n, our newest neighbor. Y/n, meet Seokmin and Myungho," he pointed to the two housemates, who greeted her with welcoming smiles.

The backyard was alive with activity. Soonyoung and Seungkwan were engaged in a playful karaoke battle, their voices resonating through the night air. Myungho, a quiet observer, rolled his eyes at their antics, while Mingyu chuckled. "Don't mind them. Karaoke nights always bring out the competitive spirit."

In a corner, Jeonghan, the friendly landlord, shared a conversation with a few others, and y/n couldn't help but marvel at the diversity of personalities in the group. Mingyu, noticing her observation, whispered, "We're a bit of a motley crew, but it makes for great company."

As the night progressed, the lively energy of the gathering continued. Seungkwan and Soonyoung's bickering escalated into playful banter, while Mingyu showcased his culinary skills at the grill, the aroma of barbecue filling the air.

As the evening wore on, some bid their farewells. Jeonghan, with a friendly nod, excused himself, and a couple of others followed suit. Soonyoung, succumbing to the combination of karaoke and excitement, eventually found his way to a makeshift bed, prompting Mingyu to carry him inside with a good-natured laugh.

Y/n, feeling a mixture of warmth and exhaustion, approached Mingyu to express her gratitude. "Thanks for tonight, Mingyu. It was a wonderful welcome."

Mingyu, still wearing that ever-present golden retriever-like grin, replied, "Anytime, y/n. We're glad to have you here. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

With a final wave to the remaining friends, y/n took her leave, the night filled with laughter and camaraderie echoing in her ears. As she walked back to her own house, she couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging settling in—the kind that comes from the shared moments of a lively community and the promise of friendships yet to deepen.

The days drifted by as y/n gradually settled into the rhythm of her new life in the tranquil town. Engrossed in the process of unpacking and familiarizing herself with the surroundings, she engaged in the ordinary tasks that came with starting afresh. The sun painted the sky in hues of warmth as she navigated through the usual activities, gradually making this unfamiliar place feel a bit more like home.

In the midst of the ordinary, an unexpected spark of curiosity ignited. While sifting through her mailbox, typically filled with mundane bills and advertisements, y/n stumbled upon a peculiar treasure. Nestled among the routine, a special envelope emerged, radiating a charm that set it apart from the usual contents.

This vintage envelope held a distinct aura, as if it had been plucked from another era. Its edges bore the gentle wear of time, adding character to its appearance. Despite the signs of age, there was a certain timeless elegance to it, a stylish nod to the past with a modern twist. It was like a piece of history wrapped in an envelope, belonging to someone who cherished the charm of bygone days but navigated the currents of the present.

As y/n gingerly held the envelope, a subtle blend of nostalgia and modernity emanated from its surface. The paper, though years old, carried a texture that hinted at a recent touch, as if someone from this generation had deliberately chosen to embrace the grace of vintage aesthetics. It was a unique fusion of old-fashioned elegance and contemporary flair, a tangible connection between the past and the present.

As y/n studied the letter, her eyes caught on a name that sounded like a whisper from a different realm – "Amour." An unusual name, one that carried a hint of romance and mystery. Intriguingly, it was addressed to her, even though the connection to this unfamiliar name was nowhere in her recent memory. A momentary dismissal crossed her mind, attributing it to a letter meant for the previous occupant. Perhaps the sender wasn't aware of the change, still reaching out to an Amour who no longer resided at the given address.

The initial reaction was one of practicality, a simple assumption that sought to explain the seemingly misplaced letter. Maybe the sender was oblivious to the fact that the intended recipient had moved on from this place. Yet, as the day unfolded and the town transformed with the onset of evening, the peculiar envelope refused to fade into the background. It persisted in her thoughts, becoming a magnetic point of curiosity that drew her attention back, again and again.

Holding the old-fashioned envelope in her hands, y/n hesitated. The letter inside seemed personal, like a peek into someone's private thoughts. She pondered whether to read it or not, feeling a mix of curiosity and respect for the past occupant's privacy.

The vintage style of the envelope, with its intentional old-timey vibe, hinted at a story waiting to be told. The decision to open it felt like standing on the edge of someone else's feelings and memories. The inked words on the letter, still folded, held the potential to reveal a part of someone's life not meant for casual eyes.

The mystery and curiosity won over her reservations. With a quiet determination, y/n decided to unfold the letter, ready to explore the hidden stories and emotions that the pages might unfold. The choice to step into this unknown space felt like opening a door to someone else's past, and she took that step with a mix of trepidation and anticipation.

Date: 01/05/2019

Dear Amour,

In the silent embrace of this letter, the ink traces the echoes of a day that etched itself into the fabric of my existence.

The day unfolded like a poem, a delicate dance of moments that wove themselves into the very essence of my being. It was as if each passing second became a verse in the story of a land parched for the sweet touch of rain. The air, thick with anticipation, carried me toward a nearby cafe—an enclave of serenity that stood as a refuge from the monotony of the ordinary, a sanctuary where possibilities unfurled like petals in the gentle breeze.

Since the tapestry of my memories began, I've been the silent observer, finding solace in the quiet corners of my home. The contours of my existence were shaped by the solitude I sought, a realm where the whispers of my thoughts resonated in the stillness. Yet, on that fateful day, a gentle pull, like the invisible hands of fate, tugged at the strings of my solitude. It was an urging, a call to step into the unexplored territory of the cafe—a space that held the promise of encounters yet to unfold.

The very decision to step into that cafe marked a departure from the familiar script of my life. The door swung open, not merely to a physical space, but to the uncharted landscapes of possibility. With each step, I traversed the threshold of routine, embracing the unknown with a heart open to the serendipitous wonders that awaited within the walls of that sanctuary.

The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans greeted me, weaving a sensory tapestry that spoke of warmth and familiarity. It was then that I saw her—the girl who, unbeknownst to her, would redefine the contours of my existence. She stood there, a living canvas painted by the hands of fate, the light wind playing a delicate symphony with the strands of her hair.

Her presence seemed like a stroke of destiny, a chapter written in the celestial script of our intertwined stories. As our eyes met, time suspended itself, and the ordinary boundaries of reality blurred. It was a moment that transcended the mundane, as if the universe conspired to orchestrate a connection, an unspoken agreement unfolding in the silent language of glances and smiles.

Her eyes, pools of warmth and mystery, held secrets and stories yet to be told. They mirrored the reflection of a kindred spirit, resonating with a depth that transcended the superficial. It was in that gaze that I felt the tendrils of an invisible thread weaving itself between our souls, binding us in a silent understanding that surpassed the limitations of spoken words.

In the symphony of that moment, the cafe transformed into a sacred space, a stage where our destinies briefly intersected. The ordinary chatter of patrons faded into background noise, leaving only the echo of our shared gaze. And in that silent exchange, a connection was forged, setting in motion a series of events that would shape the course of our intertwined narratives.

The girl I saw was you, and you had me the moment you looked at me. Your gaze became the catalyst for a myriad of emotions, unraveling a story written in the language of fate and woven into the very fabric of our shared existence.

Each recollection of that encounter is like a cherished melody, a timeless tune that plays on a loop in the quiet chambers of my thoughts. The symphony of that moment, the laughter echoing in the cafe, the delicate clink of coffee cups, all compose a melodic ode to the serendipity that unfolded that day. It's a melody that resonates through the corridors of my mind, an everlasting refrain of a connection that defies the constraints of time.

In these moments of reflection, the word "Amour" echoes through my mind, a gentle whisper that transcends the ordinary definitions of fate. It's more than a term; it's a name, a label that carries the weight of our shared connection. The mere utterance of it conjures images of you—the girl who became the focal point of a destiny written in invisible ink.

So, let this letter be a testament to the serendipity that brought us together—the day the drought of my soul quenches its thirst with the rain of your presence. Every word etched on this paper is a silent acknowledgment of the profound impact you've had on the rhythm of my life.

In the quiet solitude of my room, as I pen down these words, I find myself grappling with the uncertainty that shrouds our future. This letter, crafted with the ink of genuine emotions, might never reach your hands. I am left to wonder if our paths will ever cross again, if the serendipity that united us will weave its magic once more.

Yet, even in the face of this uncertainty, I write with a glimmer of hope—a hope that transcends the boundaries of time and distance. This letter becomes a vessel, carrying not only my sentiments but also the silent yearning to see you again. And even if this letter remains unsent, floating in the sea of unsent letters, it stands as a testament to the sincerity of my emotions and the silent hope that someday, our stories will intersect again.

Yours in reminiscence,

Woozi

The words lingered in the air as y/n absorbed the emotions woven into each sentence. The letter had painted a picture of a connection that transcended time and space. The vintage charm of the envelope seemed to have carried not just a message from the past but a piece of a love story waiting to unfold. As she set the letter aside, the room felt different, as if the walls whispered secrets that begged to be heard. It felt like the quiet town held more stories than she had initially imagined, and within its embrace, she found herself entangled in the enigmatic tale of Woozi and Amour.

She hoped to find more, but the letter just ended, and she keeps thinking about it. The night enveloped the town in its quiet embrace, and y/n found herself entangled in the web of possibilities. The journey into the unknown had just begun, and the quiet town, with its cobblestone streets and whispered rumors, held the key to a myriad of untold narratives. With a heart brimming with curiosity, she hoped to uncover the layers of mystery that clung to the very fabric of her surroundings. But for now, the letter remained a silent witness to the unexplored depths of the town's history. Its words, though poignant and evocative, were a mere prologue to the stories that awaited her. As she drifted into contemplation, the vintage envelope and its contents became a beacon, guiding her into a world where love and suspense danced in tandem, inviting her to be a part of a narrative that defied the boundaries of time.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Y/n found herself sitting by the window once again, the vintage envelope in her hands. The town, now bathed in the soft hues of twilight, seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for her to unlock the secrets it harbored. With each passing day, the questions in Y/n's mind multiplied like the stars appearing in the evening sky.

The temptation to seek answers intensified. She wondered about the fates of Woozi and Amour—did their love story reach fruition, or did it succumb to the twists and turns of life? Did they break each other's hearts, or did circumstances force them apart? The allure of the unknown weighed heavily on her, and she couldn't help but feel a personal connection to the unfolding saga.

In the quiet moments before sleep claimed her, Y/n found herself staring at the ceiling, the words of Woozi's letter echoing in her mind. She yearned to know the details of their love story, the highs, the lows, and the inevitable mysteries that lay within. The journey into the unknown was becoming a solitary exploration, and Y/n felt a growing urgency to uncover the hidden chapters of Woozi and Amour's past.

As Y/n strolled back from her grocery shopping, the vibrant colors of fresh produce peeking out from her reusable bags added a cheerful contrast to the routine yet comforting task. Her mind, a tapestry of thoughts, weaved through the aisles of the grocery store. Was she humming a tune softly to herself, or perhaps lost in contemplation about the essentials of her new life in the town?

As she approached her car with bags in tow, the weight of her musings shifted to the practicalities of life. Did she remember to pick up the fresh loaf of bread? Did she check off everything on her mental shopping list, or were there still lingering doubts about forgetting a crucial item?

Unloading the groceries, Y/n's eyes inadvertently fell upon the mailbox, standing there like a stoic guardian of potential surprises. Her routine had subtly changed over the past week. Each return home was accompanied by a glance towards the mailbox, a silent hope that another chapter in Woozi's enigmatic tale would await her.

With the groceries safely inside, Y/n found herself standing before the mailbox, a mix of curiosity and a touch of skepticism. The routine checks had become a silent ritual, a dance with anticipation that often ended in a quiet sigh as the mailbox remained undisturbed. However, this time was different.

As she opened the mailbox, the cool metal meeting her fingertips, the surprise was palpable. There it was—the same vintage envelope that had captivated her attention a week ago. A rush of excitement coursed through her veins, and with careful anticipation, Y/n retrieved the letter. The possibilities it held unfolded in her mind, adding a layer of intrigue to the ordinary act of checking the mail. The journey into Woozi's world continued, and Y/n, with a subtle smile, embraced the enigmatic tale that seemed destined to intertwine with her own.

As Y/n stepped into her cozy home, bags of groceries in hand, she felt a familiar excitement bubbling within her. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the windows, casting a gentle glow over the scene. It was a moment to savor, a pause in the ordinary where anticipation hung thick in the air.

Taking a deep breath, she settled into a quiet corner, the ambiance humming with the promise of discovery. The groceries found their places, each item finding its spot in the choreography of daily life. A steaming cup of black coffee, a loyal companion, joined her on this journey of anticipation.

With care and curiosity, Y/n cradled the vintage envelope in her hands, the delicate paper whispering stories of days gone by. The room, bathed in the soft glow of the sun, became a sanctuary for this intimate ritual. As the envelope unfolded, a rustling melody filled the space, as if the very room held its breath, eager to be a part of the unfolding tale.

Date: 03/07/2019

Dear Amour,

Two months danced away in the rhythm of passing days, and here I am, sitting down to write to you once more. Time has woven its threads through the fabric of our lives, and I find myself eager to unravel the tapestry of events that have unfolded since my last letter.

As the days turned into nights, a symphony of experiences played out, each note carrying whispers of moments, stories, and emotions that begged to be shared. The pen meets the paper in an attempt to capture the essence of these fleeting days, to chronicle the chapters that have shaped the course of time.

Once more, fate's subtle hand led me to a gathering, a simple congregation of friends where laughter wove the air into a tapestry of shared joy. This was not my usual terrain, a realm unfamiliar, yet ventured into at the nudging of my ever-persuasive brother.

As my eyes scanned the room, a jolt of surprise coursed through me when I spotted you in animated conversation with Joshua. Even from a distance, I could see the genuine warmth in your smile, a smile that Joshua, with his charismatic charm, effortlessly coaxed out. The playful banter and the ease with which he made you laugh left me in a mix of emotions.

There was a twinge of happiness, undoubtedly, to witness you in high spirits. However, a veil of sadness draped over my heart, realizing that the source of your joy wasn't me. Doubt lingered in the shadows, questioning whether I, with my reserved nature, could ever be the one to bring that radiant smile to your face. From my secluded corner, I grappled with conflicting emotions—happiness for you and a silent yearning to be the reason behind your laughter.

As the night went on, Joshua, a friend from both old times and new, made an announcement that caught my attention. He shared the news about a new neighbor joining our community. To my pleasant surprise, when you stepped into the spotlight, there was a sense of familiarity and warmth that stirred within me.

You introduced yourself, and the way your words flowed was like a calm and steady stream. It was as if you effortlessly became a part of our gathering. Watching you in that moment, I couldn't help but appreciate how comfortably you fit into our circle. It was a simple yet meaningful introduction that left me genuinely intrigued and captivated.

In the quiet routine of everyday life, our days found a comforting rhythm, like a familiar tune playing in the background. We began to spend more time together, our lives merging like dancers gracefully navigating a stage. The simplicity of our meetings held a special magic, where ordinary conversations carried the weight of something extraordinary.

Our shared moments became the building blocks of something beautiful. Walking side by side under the evening sky, we exchanged words that held meaning beyond their surface. These moments, no matter how small, turned into precious memories, like notes in a song that told the story of our growing connection.

Every step we took together, every word we shared, contributed to the melody of our journey. It wasn't about grand gestures but the subtle, everyday expressions that deepened the bond between us. Each conversation, each shared sunset, each smile became a treasure, filling the spaces between us with a warmth that spoke of something more than friendship. Your playful declaration, calling me cute, made my cheeks blush with a warmth I hadn't known before. In the simplicity of our talks, I found a comforting solace. The ease with which we exchanged words felt like a familiar dance, and I cherished every shared moment.

As I carefully let the ink dry on this paper, I can't help but hold onto a hopeful feeling. It's a wish, almost like a quiet prayer, that the feelings I've been holding in my heart find a way to you. There's a subtle confession hidden in the unspoken words, a hope that these emotions, much like a gentle breeze, reach you and touch something deep within your being.

While I remain here, my heart silently longing for the next chapter in our story, there's a quiet determination. It's a promise that until our paths cross again, merging into one forever, I'll keep these feelings safe, patiently waiting for the moment destiny brings us together.

Always yours,

Woozi.

As Y/n reached the end of Woozi's second letter, a whirlwind of emotions cascaded through her. The poetic expressions and heartfelt confessions resonated deeply within her, leaving an indelible mark on her thoughts.

A gentle sigh escaped her lips as she set the letter down, her fingers lightly tracing the creases in the aged paper. The room, once filled with the anticipation of unfolding mysteries, now held a serene stillness. The narrative woven by Woozi had transported her to a realm where the ordinary transformed into the extraordinary.

In the quiet aftermath of reading, Y/n found herself caught between the echoes of Woozi's words and the present reality. The warmth of his sentiments lingered, leaving her in a contemplative state. She marveled at the beauty of the connection between Woozi and Amour, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time.

Yet, as she sat there, enveloped in the soft glow of the evening, a subtle melancholy settled within her. It was a poignant reflection on the yearning for a love as deep and sincere as the one expressed in the letters. Her thoughts meandered into the realm of self-reflection, pondering whether she would ever encounter a love so pure, a connection so profound.

As Y/n reflected on Woozi's letters, her mind involuntarily journeyed into the recesses of her past. A memory, vivid yet distant, emerged—a scene from her teenage years where she sat among friends, the shy observer in a group dominated by the vibrant presence of one particular friend.

In the hazy recollection, laughter echoed around them as they engaged in casual banter.

The most popular friend, with an air of playful teasing, turned her attention to Y/n. "You know," she remarked, her words carrying the lightness of jest, "Y/n here spends all day immersed in books, expecting a prince charming to waltz into her life. It's like she's living in a fairy tale!"

The comment, fueled by good-natured humor, elicited laughter from the group. Y/n, accustomed to being the quiet bookworm, smiled with a hint of self-consciousness. The notion of an enchanting love story felt like a distant dream, a realm where fiction held more sway than reality.

Now, in the present, as Y/n revisited that memory, a gentle smile played on her lips. The words of her friend, once a source of amusement, carried a new perspective. The laughter of the past resonated in her mind, but with it came a quiet certainty that her friend had been mistaken.

Woozi's letters, with their tender prose and sincere expressions, dismantled the notion that love in its purest form was confined to the realms of fiction. The love Woozi described felt real, a tangible force that surpassed the boundaries of imagination. Y/n found herself reassured that, perhaps, the fairy tales she had been teased about were not as far-fetched as they seemed. In Woozi's words, she discovered a genuine, innocent love that defied the skepticism of her past.

Y/n spent hours thinking about what to do. The mysterious letters and the love story behind them kept playing in her mind. Finally, she realized that her friendly landlord might have answers. The decision to talk to Jeonghan became clear in her mind, and she felt determined to uncover the secrets of her new home. With a purpose in her heart, Y/n decided to visit Jeonghan and share her discoveries, hoping he could help her understand the mysteries hidden within the walls.

In the gentle embrace of a quiet afternoon, Y/n stands before Jeonghan's door, her heartbeat echoing the rhythm of anticipation. The sun, casting its golden hues, weaves a comforting tapestry around her, and the rustling leaves add a soothing cadence to the air. With every knock, she sends forth a silent plea for answers, hoping Jeonghan holds the key to the secrets concealed within the vintage envelopes.

As the door swings open, Jeonghan's warm smile welcomes her, an unspoken assurance that she is not alone in her quest for understanding. "Hey, Y/n! What brings you here?" he greets, his eyes reflecting genuine curiosity.

Taking a tentative step inside, Y/n feels a sense of comfort in the familiar surroundings of Jeonghan's home. The invitation to sit encourages her to share her discoveries. "Hi, Jeonghan. I've been finding these vintage letters, and they're addressed to someone named Amour. I was wondering if you knew anything about the person who lived here before me or the history of the house."

Jeonghan ponders for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Amour, huh? That's an interesting name. Let me think… Oh, yes! Sunhee used to live here about five years ago. She was a kind soul."

Y/n leans in, her curiosity piqued. "Was? What happened to her? Did she move away?"

Jeonghan's gaze shifts, memories flickering in his eyes. "Well, I went to visit her one day, and to my surprise, she was gone. Just a letter, saying she left without letting anyone know. It was quite sudden."

As Y/n absorbs this piece of the puzzle, she steers the conversation gently toward the current enigma. "I also found mentions of someone named Woozi in these letters. Do you have any idea who Woozi might be?"

Jeonghan's brows furrow slightly, indicating a mix of uncertainty. "Woozi, huh? Not really sure. Could be a pen name or a nickname. Sunhee interacted with quite a few friends in town, so it's challenging to pinpoint who Woozi might be."

As the conversation with Jeonghan flows seamlessly, Y/n finds herself more immersed in the mysteries surrounding her new home. The cozy atmosphere of Jeonghan's living room becomes a setting for shared stories, and she learns that the neighbors have a weekly gathering. Today, it's Joshua's turn to host the event.

As Jeonghan mentions Joshua hosting the gathering, Y/n's curiosity piques. She can't help but wonder about the dynamics of the neighborhood's weekly gatherings. Jeonghan's question about meeting Joshua brings her back to the reality of the present moment.

Jeonghan, with a friendly smile, encourages, "You should definitely drop by. It's a nice way to get to know everyone in the town. Joshua is not just a great host; he's a fantastic guy. Always has a story to tell or a joke to share."

Y/n, intrigued by the idea, responds, "I'd love to attend. It sounds like a lovely tradition. And who knows, maybe I'll finally get to meet Joshua in person. The letter did mention him, after all."

Jeonghan nods in agreement, "Absolutely! These gatherings are a perfect way to connect with the community. You'll find everyone there—sharing stories, laughter, and maybe some town secrets if you're lucky."

As Y/n contemplates attending the event, she can't shake off the thought that perhaps this gathering might hold more clues about Woozi and Amour. The anticipation builds, adding a layer of excitement to her quest for unraveling the mysteries hidden within the vintage letters.

Y/n walks back home from Jeonghan's place, her mind buzzing with questions. Jeonghan shared a bit about Sunhee, but it only made Y/n more curious about the Woozi and Sunhee mystery.

She thinks about Joshua, the next neighbor hosting the gathering. Maybe Joshua could have more answers? Y/n wonders if attending the event might unlock some secrets about Woozi and Sunhee's relationship. The excitement builds as she imagines the possibilities.

Y/n, with the vintage letters safely tucked in her bag, enters the lively atmosphere of the party. Laughter and chatter weave through the air like a familiar melody. Spotting Mingyu and Seokmin engaged in animated conversation, she decides to navigate through the sea of new faces and join them.

As Y/n approaches, Mingyu flashes a welcoming smile. "Hey, Y/n! Glad you could make it. Meet Seokmin, the unofficial comedian of the neighborhood." Seokmin bows dramatically, earning a playful eye roll from Mingyu. This is the ongoing joke among the friends about the title they give each other while introducing and it helps y/n to understand them better too.

Seokmin, with a mischievous grin, quips, "Unofficial? I'm offended, Mingyu. I'm the undisputed king of neighborhood comedy." Mingyu chuckles, "You heard it here first – the king has spoken."

Amidst the banter, Seokmin turns to Y/n, "So, Y/n, any embarrassing stories Mingyu hasn't shared yet?" Mingyu raises an eyebrow in mock innocence, "Embarrassing stories? I'm an open book, Y/n. Don't believe a word this guy says."

The trio shares a laugh, and soon, Y/n finds herself immersed in the conversation. Mingyu, with his easy going nature, and Seokmin, with his playful humor, create an environment that feels like a gathering of old friends rather than neighbors.

As the atmosphere takes a flirtatious turn with Joshua's entrance!

Joshua, flashing a mischievous grin, approached Y/n with a confident swagger. "Well, hello there. I'm Joshua—your friendly neighborhood heartbreaker. And who might you be, turning this quiet gathering into a spectacle of charm? You must be new around here. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting someone as captivating as you before."

Y/n, slightly taken aback but amused, replied, "Well, you know how to make a girl feel welcome! I'm Y/n, the unsuspecting victim of said spectacle, apparently. Nice to meet you, Joshua."

Joshua, not missing a beat, continued his playful banter, "Nice? Oh, you have no idea how nice it is until you've spent more time with me. Brace yourself; tonight is just the beginning of the enchantment." As Joshua continues to weave his charming spell, Y/n decides to play along. "Joshua, I must say your compliments sound strangely familiar. Have you been practicing your lines?" she teases, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

Joshua, with a charming grin, responds, "Ah, you've caught me. I believe in making every interaction memorable." Y/n, feeling a sense of amusement, introduces herself, "Well, Joshua, consider this interaction etched in my memory."

The party unfolds with Joshua's flirtatious banter, and Y/n finds herself playfully engaging in the charming exchange. As Joshua continues his suave introductions, Mingyu, with a grin, interjects, "Well, well, looks like Y/n got introduced to our local flirty guy. Joshua, mind giving others a chance?"

Seokmin joins in with a teasing remark, "Yeah, Joshua, save some charm for the rest of us. We can't let you have all the fun." The group shares a round of laughter, breaking the ice and creating an easy camaraderie.

Y/n, amused by the banter, retorts, "Don't worry, guys. I can handle a bit of charm." Joshua, unfazed, adds, "That's the spirit! I like someone who can appreciate good company." As the atmosphere takes a flirtatious turn with Joshua's entrance, Y/n can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. His charming smile and the playful banter seem oddly familiar, as if she's encountered this scenario before. However, undeterred by the strange sense of repetition.

As Y/n's gaze sweeps across the lively gathering, her eyes land on a figure that stands out from the familiar faces. A guy with slightly tousled, long hair sits alone, his eyes fixed on the merriment surrounding him. Intrigued by the air of mystery surrounding this lone observer, Y/n feels an unspoken connection as their eyes meet.

The atmosphere seems to shift momentarily, and in that fleeting exchange of glances, a spark ignites, subtle yet palpable. It's as if time pauses for a breath, allowing a silent understanding to pass between them. Y/n senses a familiarity that transcends the boundaries of this gathering, leaving her with an inexplicable feeling of connection.

In that moment, amidst the playful banter and flirtatious exchanges, the gaze shared with the guy across the room becomes a focal point. Y/n's curiosity deepens, and she can't shake off the intuition that this encounter carries a significance beyond the surface. As the festivities continue, the mysterious guy remains a puzzle waiting to be unraveled, and Y/n can't help but wonder about the threads that tie their fates together.

In the midst of the lively banter and playful exchanges, Y/n's instincts guide her gaze through the crowd. The room buzzes with energy, but amidst the laughter and animated conversations, her attention is drawn to a lone figure with slightly long hair—pale skin and dark hair that sets him apart.

Seated in quiet contemplation, the mysterious guy seems to be in his own world, disconnected from the surrounding merriment. Soonyoung, the ever-enthusiastic conversationalist, attempts to pull him into the lively atmosphere, but his gaze drifts, exploring the room until it lands on Y/n.

In that moment, as their eyes lock across the crowded room, a surge of recognition rushes through Y/n. It's like catching a fleeting glimpse of something familiar, something that stirs a deep sense of connection. Soonyoung's attempts to engage him become background noise as his focus proves distracting. His attention briefly shifts from Y/n to Soonyoung, and he nods politely, appearing to listen to the conversation. The fleeting eye contact is broken, and the room's festive ambiance takes center stage once again.

Caught in the act, Mingyu playfully nudges Y/n and teases, 'Checking someone out, are we?' A mischievous grin on his face.

Y/n, feeling a bit flustered, tries to brush off the comment. 'No, just curious. I've never seen him before.'

Mingyu, always the gossip-monger, leans in and spills the tea. 'Oh, that's Jihoon. Jeonghan's brother. He's been away for years and just returned to town.'

As the conversation continues, Y/n finds herself inadvertently drawn back to Jihoon. As she softly whispers, 'Jihoon.' Even though she intended it to be just for herself, Jihoon's eyes found hers again. In that silent exchange, an unspoken understanding passes between them, as if the mere utterance of his name has woven a thread of anticipation!

#svt series #seventeen x reader #svt angst #svt fic recs #seventeen x y/n #svt fluff #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fic #seventeen fanfic #woozi x reader #lee jihoon x reader #lee jihoon

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talonabraxas · 2 months

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Full Moon in Virgo

The full moon in Virgo is the last full moon of winter, and of this astrological season. It will rise on February 24 at 7:30 a.m. EST. The astrological new year — and spring — starts when Aries Season begins at 11:06 p.m. EST, on March 19.

The Virgo full moon on the 24th opposes Mercury and Saturn, both currently in Pisces, and harmonizes with Jupiter in Taurus. Since the lumation aspects Mercury, the Planet of Communication, there might be some detrimental misunderstandings in relationships. Saturn’s presence makes it hard for us to express ourselves because it adds an element of emotional limitation, meaning that we won’t want to share our warm and fuzzy feelings but rather keep them to ourselves. Jupiter will exasperate such sentiments, making it more difficult for us to open up to others. Doing so might cause internal pressure because it’s important to release our frustrations instead of repressing and internalizing them.

Asteroids are small celestial bodies that add flavor to larger planets. The full moon gains more flare due to the presence of the asteroids Ceres in Capricorn and Pallas in Sagittarius. Although Ceres is supposed to be a nurturing planet, it is austere in Capricorn. This implies that we need to be in control of our emotional nature and work towards elevating our lives by applying our knowledge to avoid making mistakes we have made before. Learning from the past is key. Pallas represents wisdom, allowing us to use our skills and intellect to tackle different situations. This is an opportunity to heal ourselves, but we may become defensive and want to use this energy to expand our knowledge and understanding.

Expressing our hidden emotions can be challenging, but it can also be beneficial. The fixed star Sadachbia’s connection with the sun in Pisces can help us understand and deal with our feelings, leading to a sense of relief and reduced stress. Although the Virgo moon’s analytical nature may make it challenging to express ourselves, talking and sharing our thoughts can be helpful in the long run. The fixed star is an extremely positive influence that can help us uncover hidden sentiments and secrets, allowing us to gain a better understanding of ourselves and the complexities of our emotions.

Venus and Jupiter connect the day of the full moon. While the alignment of Venus and Jupiter may make it challenging to stay motivated, it’s important to remain optimistic and realistic. Relationship issues may arise, particularly in regards to finances, so it’s crucial to be mindful of these potential roadblocks. Utilizing the earthy energy of the Virgo full moon can help us stay grounded and focused, allowing for more productive thoughts and actions.

During the Virgo full moon, we’ll be reflecting on our thoughts and emotions to gain a deeper understanding of ourselves. This is a time for introspection rather than sharing with others. We’ll be considering what we want from our relationships and how we can improve our lives. This lunation encourages us to use our intuition and knowledge to serve ourselves, and self-love is highly important during this time. --Refinery29, Lisa Stardust

Full Moon in Virgo - Talon Abraxas

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buggyandthebartoclub · 5 months

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Your Secret Recipe for Sanji A La Mode PT. 1 A gender neutral reader x Sanji fic Rated E: contains sexual content, oral, Sanji in lingerie, mentions of bondage/bdsm (no actual bondage/bdsm in this fic, will be in part 2), coming untouched, implied that reader is a bit of pervert for Sanji NO food involved sexually the title was just funny to me ok Word count: 2208 Summary: Sanji is WEAK for you, and you wanna see him in something sexy in your bed, good thing you have JUST the recipe for such a delicacy!

A/N: HUGE thank you to the heart pirate homie hoppers for helping me workship this fic ive been struggling with for like 2-3 weeks lol! Thank you @mandiemegatron & @guilty-sugar (I literally wouldnt have gotten this far w/o Mandie TT_TT tysm ilysm)

For a man who exuded strength and pride, your amusement was palpable when you marveled at how effortlessly Sanji succumbed to the delectable flavors of your charm

Whether it unfolded through the savory banter that rolled off your tongue like a well-prepared dish, the subtle graze of your hands during the exchange of your favorite drink, or the delight of your eyes meeting across the deck with a hint of spice in a cheeky wink, every interaction with you seemed to season his demeanor.

Like ingredients harmonizing in a perfect dish, each aspect of your presence had a transformative effect, turning the strong and proud man into a concoction of flavors, a delicious blend responding to the culinary symphony of your allure.

And you yearned to have him in your hands, cradled delicately like the soft dough kneaded under Sanji’s beautiful hands, glazed over with his tears from the sweetness of a heartfelt confession. You wanted to tie him up delicately and hold him together when he inevitably crumbles apart for you.

Thankfully the recipe for this delightful surprise only required a few careful steps, thoughtful timing around your next couple destinations, acquiring suitable bindings for an artful presentation, and of course, selecting the perfect gift for your delicious chef that compliments his profile like a fine wine with a meal.

When the opportune moment arrives, all it takes is a moment to ensure you stay behind with Sanji while the rest of the crew is off exploring the new island allowing you to saunter into the kitchen with the confidence of a skilled chef, Sanji’s gift hidden behind your back as you express a sudden craving for something sweet.

Your eyes sparkle with delight when Sanji jumps at the chance to cook something delectable just for you, his praises already sweetening the air before you even find a seat, discreetly hiding his gift like a secret ingredient.

Alone with him, the kitchen became a culinary stage, and he was already overwhelmed, the heat of flustered emotions rising as you watched him cook with undivided attention, something he often begged for from you but instantly felt overwhelmed by when given it.

By the time he was finished his heart was racing as he presented your favorite treat in an elegant display, a blush growing on his cheeks as he spoke with a smile,

“Something sweet, for my sweet, I hope you enjoy”

Laughing softly, you’d place a hand delicately on his wrist, leaving him simmering in anticipation as you spoke sweetly,

“I’d enjoy anything from you, Sanji”

He’s a bubbling pot of emotions when you withdraw your hand to taste the delicacy he prepared, made only sweeter by his reaction. You grinned and laughed a little as Sanji wobbled away in a daze, letting your eyes trail after him as he fluttered weakly about the kitchen, unable to calm himself down under your weight of your gaze eyeing him up and down like he was what you wanted to eat as he continued to clean up the kitchen.

He’s already light headed before making his way back to you just as you finish up your treat to clear away your plate when he asks,

“How was it, my dove?”

“Oh, dessert was delicious, I was hoping I could have you for the main course though” you'd say with a wink and slide the gift you wrapped so carefully onto the counter, lifting the lid for him to see the contents as he wibbles and wobbles, nose bleeding and flush running up his face as he stutters out a weak

“O-Of course m-mon amour” and promptly faints at your feet

Amused, you’d help prop him up, whether it’s in the kitchen or his room, and tend to the aftermath. Placing his gift gently in his arms, and taking your leave for him to wake up in his own time.

Your anticipation simmered in the air, much like a slow cooked dish, as you savored the prospect of the impending moment. After all, the most exquisite dishes demand patience, and you have been exceptionally patient.

Weeks of careful preparation had transpired to gather the necessary ingredients for this night, treating it like Sanji would a complex recipe, each component thoughtfully chosen and measured.

Returning to your room, you prepared for the real delicacy of the night, dressing in your most seductive outfit and draping yourself loosely with a robe. The ropes, painstakingly dyed blue for this occasion, a gag you tied the week prior, and lovely little blindfold, all laid out like ingredients for a culinary masterpiece before settling in the comfort of your bed to wait out your growing excitement.

The wait would be brief before Sanji was at your door in a panic. His frantic knocks echoed across your room as he poured out one rushed apology after another

“Y/N, I am deeply apologetic for the embarrassing display you had to clean up, I was so overcome with my emotions for you at the sight of such a gift! Please give me a chance to make it up to you, I-I’ll do anything please! It won’t happen again mon amour!”

Smirking as you close your book and set it aside, going to the door, opening to Sanji's pitiful gaze as he falls on his knees, gift in hand as he wraps his arms around your waist and rubs his face into you while you card a hand through his hair and spoke in a deceptively sweet tone

“Oh it’s alright Sanji kun, I was just worried you didn’t like my gift, I spent so long picking it out just for you” trailing off and letting him jerk his head up to look at you and squeeze you tighter, his nose already bleeding a little bit again from just being against your skin

“I’d love anything from you Y/N, I was simply overwhelmed from imagining you wearing something like this for me!”

You grin as you look down at him, “Although I’d be happy to wear something like this for you sometime, I got this for you, Sanji kun” savoring the way his face turns a brilliant red. He pulls back and looks down at the box in his hands, his eyes darting back and forth between you and the box

“This, mon cheri? A-are you sure you want me to wear this?”

Your eyes gleam when you nod, excitement flushing your skin as he takes a deep breath before giving a desperate “Anything you want mon amour!”

You can barely contain your excitement as you guide Sanji up onto his feet and let him into your room, letting your robe fall off your shoulders as you sit back down on your bed, letting the view of your outfit send tremors down Sanji’s entire body, his pants already lightly tented as you eye him up and down, watching him intently as comes to a stop in front of you.

His breathing is ragged and his pupils are dilated and he’s clearly already dying to reach out and touch you, you can tell by the way his hands tremble and he bites his lip, eager to please and hesitant to disappoint he eyes you up and down, licking his lips and shuffling on his feet, looking down at the gift in his hands then back at you, his face still a smoldering red as he clears his throat.

“S-so mon bijou, how would you like me to..?” trailing off uncertainly, fidgeting under your gaze

“Why don’t you try it on for me right now?” you give a cheeky grin, “If you’re shy I can close my eyes for you, my dear”

Sanji’s knees buckled a little and he let out a stuttering breath as he nods shakily “A-ah yes, of course,” stumbling a little when he steps forward to place the gift box beside you on the bed and straightening back out to undress.

You manage to keep your breathing even when he slides off his shoes and even when his jacket comes off, licking your lips as he loosens his tie and begins to expose his sculpted chest one undone button at a time. Tilting your head back to take in the view when he starts to tug off his belt, you bite your lips as he pushes down his pants to reveal miles of deliciously thick thighs.

Your mouth is watering by the time he’s freeing his erection and reaching over to grab the silky blue outfit you spent so long picking out. Grabbing the brilliant blue material of the stockings first, slipping them on with trembling fingers when he reaches for the thong next when reach over and stop him with an airy laugh,

“Actually have to put the garter on first love, here, let me help you”

You pull the garter out of the box and traded him pieces of fabric as he stepped into the piece, his flush growing further down his body and erection straining as you kneel down to clasp the straps to the stockings, you stand back up, handing the thong back to him as you lean in close to press a kiss to his cheek and whisper in his ear

“There you go handsome, you’re doing great”

Sanji’s breath is ragged as you step back, watching him slip on the underwear, barely able to contain his throbbing member like you can barely contain yourself as he pulls out the delicate bra top, slipping those sculpted arms through the straps. You can’t help yourself from putting your hands on them and turning him around to get a delicious view of his perfect ass as you hook the bra for him, turning him back around and stepping back to sit down and lean back on the bed to admire how perfectly the blue lingerie complimented his skin, contrasting brilliantly with the blush spread down his body, complimented further by the dribble of blood dripping down his face as he watches you with ragged breath, he tries to follow after you, going in for a kiss but you put a hand on his chest, leaving him leaning over you as you smirk, inches from his lips as you speak

“Ah- Ah, before you get to have anything from me, didn’t you say you’d make it up to me for having to clean up your mess earlier? Maybe you can start by tasting the treat I have for you, and you can use your tongue to clean up the mess you’ve made of me until I feel like you’ve made it up to me.”

Sanji groans and runs his hands down your sides as he shakes his head up and down like a bobble head “Anything for you mon cherie”

And he’s sliding down between your legs, his hands shaking as he grabs at your thighs, kissing and nipping up them till he reaches your underwear, moaning when he inhales your scent, unable to control himself as he licks you through your underwear, the sounds you make send him over the edge he was already straining at and he's coming untouched just from the faint taste of you.

He pants and groans through it, pulling your underwear down through the shudders and your hands are in his hair when starts eating you like a man starved. He’s all soft lips and warm tongue, you’re unable to stay quiet when you feel trembling fingers join his tongue, you’re pulling on his hair and you thrust your hips to ride his face, chasing your pleasure as Sanji drowns in it, completely overwhelmed by everything about you as he swirls his tongue and sucks gently on you.

You’re throwing your head back, eyes closed when you tell him in between gasps

“Yes, Sanji, just like that, good boy”

And he groans into your core, eyes rolling back as his hips stutter and he finds release untouched once again as he brings you to yours.

You let him rest his head on your thigh as you both catch your breath and your running a hand comforting through his hair, it takes you a minute before you’re sitting up, slipping a hand under Sanji’s chin tipping his head back to look at you as you lean forward to reward him with a deep, tender kiss, laughing at his dazed face when you pull back and say

“Did you enjoy your treat Sanji dear?”

He nods weakly in your hand and you make an obvious glance down at his mess and back to his eyes, smiling sweetly when you coo at him

“I’m so glad, but that wasn’t supposed to be about you getting off was it?” He gulps and shakes his head softly in your hand, “So how about you let me tie you up and we can focus on you for a bit, see how many times we need to make you come before you can focus on just me?”

His pupils are blown out and blood drips from his nose as he nods weakly in your hand again, whimpering when you put your lips to his and tell him to use his words, kissing him when he says “yes, please, anything you’ll give me mon amour.”

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lilacura · 5 months

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Apocalypse

pairing: Kim Minji x Reader

>wc: 1.6k

summary: Childhood friends Minji and Y/N grow distant after high school, a silent grief replacing the laughter that once defined their bond. Unspoken words and the weight of separation leave them prisoners of a fading friendship and an unexpressed love, drowning in the sorrow of what once was.

based off of the song 'apocalypse' by cigarettes after sex

your lips my lips

apocalypse

From the moment Kim Minji and Y/N met on the playground, a friendship blossomed that was destined to withstand the test of time. Childhood for them was a kaleidoscope of laughter, scraped knees, and shared ice cream cones on sweltering summer afternoons.

Their afternoons were often spent in the treehouse at the end of Y/N's backyard, a sanctuary built with mismatched planks and scavenged nails. Seated on worn-out cushions, the two friends concocted fantastical stories, their imaginations intertwining like the branches outside their secret haven.

"Do you think fairies live in this tree?" Minji once wondered, her eyes wide with wonder.

Y/N grinned, a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. "Absolutely! And I bet they're the ones who make our wishes come true."

In the quiet moments that followed the sun's descent, casting a warm, golden glow over their neighborhood, Minji and Y/N would find solace in each other's homes. The murmur of late-night conversations beneath the blanket forts, illuminated by dim flashlights, held an unspoken depth that echoed the profound connection they shared.

Lazy Sunday mornings saw them pedaling through the streets, laughter reverberating off the walls like an echo of their unspoken bond. The local park, their shared kingdom, witnessed battles fought with imaginary swords and capes, victories celebrated over melting popsicles, concealing a subtle undercurrent of emotions left unexplored.

Minji's infectious energy danced with Y/N's calm demeanor, creating a harmonious balance between them. They were two halves of a perfect whole, their intertwined lives revealing a friendship rooted in a profound mutual understanding. As the years unfolded, the beauty of their connection remained intact, its uncharted depths harboring the unspoken truth that both harbored a love too delicate to voice, too scared to disrupt the fragile balance they'd created.

go and sneak us through the rivers

flood is rising up on your knees

oh please

Drawn by the moonlit allure, Minji and Y/N found themselves at a secluded river. The night embraced them as they waded into the cool, flowing waters, a symphony of crickets and rustling leaves providing the backdrop to their clandestine escapade.

In the soft glow of moonlight, they played like carefree spirits. Giggles and laughter echoed along the riverbanks as they began splashing each other with water, the joy of the moment lighting up their faces. Each ripple created by their laughter seemed to carry away the weight of unspoken words, replaced by the simple delight of being together.

As the moon painted a silver path on the water's surface, they engaged in a playful dance, their laughter harmonizing with the gentle murmur of the river. Water droplets sparkled in the moonlight as Minji and Y/N, caught in the magic of the night, shared secret glances that spoke volumes without uttering a word.

Giggles became an unspoken language, and the river witnessed the beauty of their uninhibited joy. The night, with its whispers and reflections, carried away any fears or uncertainties, leaving behind the essence of a shared laughter that would resonate in the depths of their friendship for years to come.

come out and haunt me

i know you want me

come out and haunt me

Minji and Y/N found themselves immersed in a game of hide and seek. The vibrant greenery of the backyard served as their playground, and the air buzzed with the excited anticipation of a childhood game.

Minji, the seeker, closed her eyes and counted, her small fingers covering her face. As she finished counting, she eagerly ventured into the backyard, searching for her hidden friend. Amidst the giggles and rustling leaves, Y/N crouched behind a sturdy oak tree, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of the game.

As Minji roamed the garden, she eventually stood before the tree where Y/N was hiding. A mischievous glint shone in Minji's eyes as she pretended not to see her best friend, gazing around with feigned confusion.

"Hmm, where could Y/N be hiding?" Minji mused aloud, her tone exaggerated for effect.

From behind the tree, Y/N stifled a giggle, trying to stay hidden. "Maybe she's behind the shed?" Minji suggested, making deliberate, theatrical glances in all directions, except towards Y/N.

The charade continued, each feigned search making Y/N's concealed position all the more amusing. "Not behind the flower bed either," Minji declared, peering into the bushes while Y/N bit her lip to contain her laughter.

Just as Minji turned away, Y/N couldn't resist a playful whisper, "Am I that good at hiding, or are you just playing along?"

Minji, maintaining the act, glanced around dramatically before lowering her voice conspiratorially. "You're a master hider, Y/N. I might never find you."

Y/N burst into laughter, unable to contain it any longer. Minji joined in, and the backyard echoed with the joyous sounds of their shared amusement. The oak tree, a silent witness, stood tall as the keeper of this delightful childhood secret—a moment where playful deception only deepened the bonds of friendship.

sharing all your secrets with each other

since you were kids

Beneath the oak tree's comforting branches, Minji and Y/N found solace in the whispered echoes of shared secrets that spanned the years.

"In this big universe, I always dreamed of being an astronaut," Y/N confided, her voice carrying a wistful tone that danced with the rustling leaves overhead.

Minji, gazing into the distance, responded, "And I wanted to be the person to make everyone laugh, you know? But lately, it feels like the weight of expectations is suffocating."

Their shared dreams and fears became the currency of their confidences, an unspoken pact forged through time.

Years later, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Y/N confessed, "Love is a beautiful mess, isn't it? I thought it would be like the movies, but it's more like navigating a storm without a compass."

Minji, with a subtle nod, replied, "It's hard, Y/N. Relationships are messy, but we'll navigate those storms together."

The oak tree, a silent guardian of their shared intimacies, bore witness to more profound revelations.

In a moment of vulnerability, Minji confessed, "I'm terrified of failing, of not living up to everyone's expectations. What if I'm not enough?"

Y/N, her voice gentle, responded, "You're more than enough, Minji. You always have been."

The oak tree, a testament to the passage of time and the fragility of dreams, stood witness to the ebb and flow of their lives. The rustling leaves overhead seemed to carry with them the bittersweet symphony of a friendship that weathered storms, embraced joys, and mourned the innocence lost to the ticking clock.

sleeping soundly with the locket that she gave you

clutched in your fist

High school arrived like a cold, unwelcome wind, disrupting the warmth of Minji and Y/N's inseparable bond. The day of Minji's departure unfolded with a heavy heart, tears flowing freely, marking the beginning of a soul-crushing farewell.

Amidst the quiet rustle of leaves beneath the oak tree, Minji and Y/N clung to each other, their tear-streaked faces a poignant reflection of the impending void. The laughter that once painted the air with joy now dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs, the weight of separation settling like a relentless ache.

"I'll miss you so much, Minji," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken sadness.

Minji, choking back tears, pressed a small locket into Y/N's hands. "Take this. So you'll always have a piece of me with you."

As Minji's departure became a distant memory, the shared sanctuary beneath the oak tree transformed into a haunting relic of their unbridled friendship. Nights became a silent procession of tears, Y/N clutching the special locket Minji had given her. The cold metal offered a fragile connection to the warmth of their shared past.

In the dim light before sleep, Y/N wept, the memories of Minji flooding her thoughts. "Why did you have to go?" she whispered to the empty room, her cries muffled by the suffocating loneliness.

The oak tree, once a witness to their laughter, now stood as a stoic sentinel of the pain that lingered. The locket, a tangible piece of Minji's presence, became the only solace in the lonely hours. Y/N would hold it close, tracing its contours with trembling fingers, each delicate detail a painful reminder of the friend who slipped away with the inexorable march of time.

you’ve been locked in here forever

and you just can’t say goodbye

Years passed like a heavy fog, enveloping the once-vibrant friendship of Minji and Y/N in an eerie silence. Laughter, once the heartbeat of their connection, faded into a haunting echo, replaced by a vast emptiness.

The warmth that once defined their camaraderie now lay dormant beneath layers of unsaid words, the distance between them stretching like an unbridgeable abyss. The bond that had weathered childhood storms now seemed fragile, hanging by the thinnest thread of memories.

In the lonely expanse of their separate worlds, Minji and Y/N wrestled with the relentless ache of unspoken sentiments. Each passing day etched lines of longing on their hearts, like scars that refused to heal. The desire to reach out, to rekindle the friendship that time had worn thin, lingered like an unfulfilled promise.

Yet, the weight of silence prevailed. Both Minji and Y/N stood on the precipice of reaching out, fingers hovering over the keyboard or poised to make a call, only to withdraw. The love that once flowed freely between them had become a silent river, carrying the weight of what was lost.

Night after night, they lay awake, tormented by the echoes of what they could no longer say. The words, heavy with unspoken affection, hung in the air, forming an unbreakable barrier. They yearned to let go, to sever the invisible tether that bound them to a past slipping away like grains of sand through clenched fists.

Yet, the fear of disrupting the fragile equilibrium held them captive. And so, in the silence that echoed louder than any conversation they never had, Minji and Y/N found themselves prisoners of a love they couldn't let go, and a friendship that refused to be forgotten.

a/n: i hope ur ready to cry

#new jeans #kim minji #kim minji x reader #minji x reader #newjeans x reader #girl group #gg x reader #minji #newjeans minji

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cookienha · 4 months

Text

☆ wildflowers

¦ unrequited love!hanbin x gn!reader, angst

¦ warnings: -

¦ a/n: not rlly sure what to feel abt this but i hope you can understand 😭

In the wild meadow where flowers painted the air with colors, Y/N and I uncovered the secrets of wildflowers. Each bloom, like a quiet poet, held tales too complex for words.

Our shared love for these blossoms became a language unspoken in the tapestry of our friendship.

It started with shared laughter and unspoken connection beneath the oak tree. Y/N's presence was like a delicate bloom in the garden, each smile unfolding like a petal, harmonizing a floral serenade within my heart.

On a sunny day, surrounded by nature's canvas, I revealed the meanings. "See these flowers, Y/N? They're like our feelings, telling stories without words." I pointed to the vast canvas infront of us.

The daisy, delicate and innocent, once mirrored the purity of our friendship. The bluebell whispered gratitude, a feeling nestled between us. But as we ventured deeper, the wildflowers began to mirror the tangled emotions we avoided.

Forget-me-nots, with their tiny blue petals, pleaded not to be forgotten. Unspoken, they echoed my own plea in the garden of our unspoken emotions.

To express my feelings, I chose the subtle language of flowers, hoping the blossoms would reveal the emotions I couldn't voice. Each floral gesture was a dance of love, a choreography performed in hopes that Y/N would decipher the silent poetry.

Beneath the towering sunflowers, I confessed my feelings. "Sunflowers mean adoration, Y/N. That's what I feel for you," I admitted, hoping my eyes spoke the words hidden beneath.

Yet, thorns lurked. Y/N, lost in the beauty of the blooms, became unaware of the pain I cradled within.

The metaphors and symbols embedded in each flower went unnoticed, the subtle confessions lost in the vibrant dance of wildflowers.

One day, as the wildflowers began to fade, a reflection of our dwindling connection, I handed Y/N a bouquet — Red roses, vibrant with unspoken ache, intertwined with baby's breath, a metaphor for the fragility of our bond.

In silence, I hoped the flowers would speak my heart.

Y/N, entranced by their beauty, missed the plea woven into each petal. As autumn whispered goodbye to our meadow, I saw the roses wilt, and my love, once vivid, withered along.

Our friendship which was once tapestry of vibrant emotions, became a melancholic memory.

Y/N, the enchanting dancer in the wildflowers, remained oblivious to the silent sonnet I wrote with wilting blooms. The meadows whispered of what was lost amidst the fading wildflowers.

#zb1 imagines #zerobaseone #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 #zb1 angst #zb1 scenarios #sung hanbin #zb1 hanbin #zerobaseone hanbin #hanbin x reader #sung hanbin x reader #zerobasone

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kryptid-writes · 10 months

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Chapter 9 - Cat's Out

The secret is out and the tension reaches a boiling point.

(2.6k)

The beautiful symphony of music plays, unlike anything I've heard before. It’s soft but powerful, the notes harmonizing and blending together in the most exquisite way, filling me with a sense of peace.

I find myself dressed in a beautiful flowing white gown, adorned with tiny diamonds that sparkle under the bright light shining from the crystal chandelier that hangs above us in the empty ballroom.

The elegant ballroom is filled with exquisite architecture that’s reminiscent of a fairytale. The marbled walls are lined with twisting golden engravings creating elegant designs. The white and gray columns tower over us, unique shapes and symbols carved into the stone. But perhaps the most stunning part of it all is the dynamic renaissance painting across the ceiling. Pastel depictions of angels and the peaceful grace of Heaven clashing against the dark armies of demons and black hounds of Hell. Among all the chaos is the battle of Micheal and Lucifer, the story I study like gospel.

Lucifer wears a matching three piece suit in a pristine white color that brings out the deep red of his eyes. His hair neatly brushed back and the usual blood that splatters his body is scrubbed completely clean.

I must admit, for a man that’s never seemed to care about his appearance before, he sure cleans up nice.

With my hand intertwined in his, we sway together, the click of shoes against the old polished wood echoing around. His extravagant wings flow to the melody and hold me close as we spin in coordinated circles. Our bodies press together, that wonderful electric feeling humming between us, pulling us ever closer. I press my face against his chest, breathing in his enticing smell.

He rests his head on the top of mine and hums along to the music, occasionally singing a quiet word of Enochian. His hand rests on the small of my back and moves up to caress the feathers of my petite wings.

I suck in a breath of air as he reaches the cusp of my injured wing, wisps of pain surging through me.

With a touch of his fingers, a white light shines through and the wound is instantly healed, the pain fading rapidly and leaving a cool sensation behind.

“What happened my beloved?” He asks, placing a tender kiss on the top of my hair.

Lucifer always seems to know more about me then he lets on, but I play along with his little game regardless.

“Did Dean do something to you?” He tilts my head to meet his gaze. “I swear to dad, I will make him wish he was never born!” His eyes burn with passion.

“No!” I blurt out. I rest my hand on his chest, trying to calm his sudden temper.

“Are you sure? Because I was really looking forward to finally smiting that petulant bug.” His lips twist into a mischievous smile at the thought.

“Dean didn’t do anything,” My eyes fall to the chestnut wooden floor, avoiding his eye contact. “I did this to myself,” my voice tapers off to a hushed whisper.

“Why?” He asks, his voice dripping with hurt, despite knowing the answer already.

“Because I don’t want to be an angel, Lucifer! I want to be me!” Hot tears brim my eyes, threatening to spill at any second.

“Oh, Darling.” He cups my face in his hands, wrapping his large white wings around us, shielding me from the light that has suddenly become all too bright. “This is your true form. This is who you were always meant to be.” He tenderly kisses my forehead.

I shake my head, utterly conflicted by the rush of emotions. I meet his gaze with wide eyes. The tears break free, racing down my cheeks.

“You are my fathers finest creation.” He wipes my tears away with his thumbs. “I didn’t think it possible that you could be any more beautiful, yet here you are my love,” he coos, running his eyes over every inch of me, admiring me as if I were the forbidden apple in the garden of eden. He pulls me into his warm embrace, the magnetic feeling courses through me, I feel as if I'm floating on a cloud.

“Oh, Luce,” I sigh into his chest.

“We’ll be reunited very soon and you’ll see why it must be this way,” he promises, running his fingers through my delicate feathers.

I close my eyes at the feeling and find myself fading from the realm of dreams.

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The soft murmurs of voices down the hall pulls me out of my peaceful dream that my mind scrambles to hold on to, desperate to return.

After a minute of resistance, I stretch my arms far above my head and yawn, feeling refreshed after a good night of sleep. Yesterday's events must have really taken a lot out of me. Looking to my left, I notice the messy nest of sheets and pillows where Dean Winchester once slept, holding me in his arms. The memory leaves a soft smile on my face.

I throw the silk sheets off of me and stand from the bed, leaving my comfortable paradise. I grab a flannel off the floor and attempt to put it on, but it gets stuck above my wings, leaving me still completely exposed. I huff and tear at the threads in the back, carelessly ripping open two uneven holes. I constrict my wings into uncomfortable angles and force them through the mangled shirt. This angel business is bound to affect my life in many unforeseen ways.

I step out of my room and tiptoe down the hallway that leads to the library. As I grow nearer, the three familiar voices become more clear. I stop and press my body against the cold tile wall, hiding just out of sight and listen intently to their conversation.

“I’m telling you man, something is seriously wrong,” Dean warns in a hushed volume.

I can hear him nervously pacing back and forth, his hurried footsteps giving him away.

“You should’ve seen what she was doing to herself! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“So, what? You think it’s some sort of depression or dysmorphia?” Sam asks in confusion.

“Could be. It’s quite a drastic change,” Dean pauses for a second, “I mean you remember what it felt like losing your angel mojo and becoming human, right?”

“Yes, it was certainly distressing,” Castiel replies in his usual monotone voice.

“I’m… fine,” I say weakly, interrupting their conversation and stepping into the light. I clutch my hands together, nervously picking at the cuticles of my nails. I try to fold my wings behind my back in a pitiful attempt to hide them, but at this point they’re too large to disguise. I can’t help but feel self conscious as their undivided attention is directed towards me.

“Y/N,” Deans gasps, eyes wide and mouth agape, resembling a deer caught in headlights.

“Um, good morning,” Sam says, his face painted in surprise. His eyes scan over my form, unable to look away from my wilted wings, particularly the mutilated one wrapped in bandages.

“Look, I had to tell them,” Dean admits in shame, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m just worried about you, is all,” his voice drops to a softer, concerned tone.

“It’s okay Dean,” I assure him, swallowing the betrayal I felt deep down. “But really, I'm fine,” I emphasize the last two words, being sure to get my point across. My eyes flick over to the other men, they look back at me with doubt.

“You should let Sammy take a look at the wound, he’s always been better at this kinda thing than me.” Dean walks to my side, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder and guiding me to sit at the table.

I sink into the chair but sulk away from his touch. As much as I've grown to care for Dean, I can’t help but feel a twinge of resentment. It saddens me that someone I thought I could trust would rat me out so quickly. But I suppose all I was doing is delaying the inevitable, they would have found out one way or another.

Dean pulls his hand back, receiving the message loud and clear.

“Right,” Sam says and stands from his seat. His eyes still locked on my wings, undoubtedly having a difficult time peeling his eyes away. Without another word, he dashes out of the library.

The room goes uncomfortably silent, the awkward tension hanging in the air.

Dean leans back against the table, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, clearly feeling a sense of guilt.

I shift uncomfortably in my chair, my arms crossed and mind racing.

Castiel on the other hand, stands attentively on the other side of the table, his stare in my direction unrelenting.

Sam quickly returns with a bottle of whiskey and a small white towel. He pulls a chair out, the obnoxious scrape of wood breaking the silence. He sits across from me and clears his throat.

I frill out my injured wing, stretching it so that Sam may remove the bandage and inspect the wound.

He furrows his brows and carefully unwraps the damaged area. His eyes narrow and the bloody bandage falls to the ground. “It’s… healed?” His face scrunches up in confusion. His soft brown eyes shifting from my wings, back to Dean and Castiel.

“No, it was right there, I stitched it up myself!” Dean huffs, stepping forward. He hovers over me to get a closer look at the wing, running a finger over the area that was previously mutilated. His expression is a mix of surprise and confusion.

I close my eyes at his touch, doing my best to suppress the blissful feeling that burns in my body. “Hm,” I respond, looking at the perfectly restored wing. I shift it back and forth, the pain completely gone.

Dean throws his hands up, bewildered at my response.

“Hm? That’s all you have to say?” He shouts at me and runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

I shoot a spiteful glare at him, annoyed by his temper.

“It’s possible that her newly found angel grace may have healed the injury overnight,” Castiel chimes in. He steps closer and leans over the table intently, placing his calloused hands on the worn wood.

“It’s not my grace,” I say quietly, my gaze falling to the floor.

“What the Hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean barks, clearly fed up with the lack of answers.

“Lucifer… he healed me last night in my dream,” I admit, mentally preparing myself for the backlash I have deliberately been avoiding.

“He’s still communicating with you through your dreams?” Sam questions, his tone soft, much more understanding than his brothers. There’s no question that he’s the more compassionate of the two.

“Great! Well that’s just fantastic!” He roars, his voice a mix of sarcasm and anger. He bounds out of the chair and hastily throws a book that was sitting upon the table, in anger. It hits the wall with a crack and falls to the floor, ripped pages fluttering to the ground, landing in a messy pile. “Were you planning on telling us this anytime soon?” His face flushes red in rage and clenches his fists into tight balls.

I shrug, not paying mind to his childish outburst.

“So, what? You’re buddy buddy with the devil now?!” He yells, taking several steps towards me with no regard for my personal space.

“I NEVER SAID THAT!” I bolt up from my chair. It tips backwards and hits the floor with a loud bang. I look up at him, his face just inches from mine. Our eyes lock in an intense staring contest, waiting for the other to break.

“Alright!” Sam intervenes, stepping between us. “Take a walk!” He snaps at Dean, giving him a light push to the chest.

Dean furrows his brows at Sam and gives me one final resentful glare before turning on his heels and storming out of the room, grumbling angrily to himself on the way out.

I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding in. I close my eyes, getting my emotions under control, something Dean seems incapable of.

Sam takes a seat and runs his hand down his face, stopping to pinch the bridge of his nose, the stress evidently getting to him.

Castiel straightens up and stands still like a statue, looking unphased as usual. The scruffy angel resigns to silence.

“Look,” Sam says, gesturing for me to take the seat next to him. “We’re just a little frustrated you’ve been hiding this stuff from us,” his voice is calm and collected.

It takes the edge off of my anger and I relax into the back of the chair, the wood digging into my back. “I’m sorry Sam,” I sigh. “I’m just ashamed that he has this hold on me that I just can’t seem to shake. I didn’t want to concern you.”

He nods his head in understanding. “He’s the devil, a master manipulator, and he’s a natural at getting inside people's heads. Trust me, I know,” he chuckles like it’s some sort of inside joke. Sam silently shakes his head, looking as if he’s recalling some distant memories.

“But these things,” I resentfully gesture to my wings. “I’m a full blown freak!”

“You’re not a freak,” Sam states in a stern voice. “I know why you feel that way, but it’s far from the truth Y/N.” He places his large hand on mine that rests upon the table in a friendly gesture.

“Look at me Sam! These things are an abomination,” I retort, hanging my head in shame.

“Your wings are nothing to be ashamed of,” Castiel interjects, breaking his stoic silence.

I lift my head and look in his direction, suddenly reminded of his presence. He had been so quiet and still that I completely forgot he was here at all.

“They’re a sign of beauty and grace,” he assures, his pensive blue eyes meeting mine. “You are beautiful,” he says in full seriousness, his face softening just a little.

I’m seriously taken aback by his words. A compliment is the last thing I'd expect from Castiel, even Sam looks shocked. “Thank you Castiel.” I’m unable to conceal the blush that creeps upon my face.

“Hey Cas,” Sam asks, changing the direction of the conversation. “How come we’re able to see her wings but not yours?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but it likely has something to do with the fact that Y/N is partially human. Perhaps she is unable to conceal them the same way a natural angel can.”

“Wow, my luck just keeps getting better,” I reply sarcastically.

Castiel tilts his head in confusion. It seems that to some angels, sarcasm is a foreign concept.

“That’s probably why they look like this,” I say bitterly. “Short and stubby. Even my feathers are a rugged mess.”

Castiel frowns at this and Sam gives my hand a light squeeze.

“I mean compared to Lucifer's big majestic wings, these puny things are nothing,” I sigh.

Castiel’s head shoots up, his brows furrowed and face an unreadable expression. “You can see Lucifer’s wings?” He asks, seemingly caught off guard by this.

“Um… yeah?”

He straightens his posture, suddenly looking stiff and worried. His brows furrow and eyes flit back and forth, lost in thought.

“Cas?” Sam questions suspiciously.

“I believe I have a lead.” The sound of ruffling feathers echoes off the walls as he promptly disappears.

His reaction leaves me with more questions than answers, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach.

Sam and I look at eachother, exchanging worried glances.

Whether he admits it or not, Castiel is hiding something.

Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #lucifer x reader #supernatural fanfic #slow burn #supernatural fanfiction #choices #dean x reader #love triangle #lucifer #lucifer supernatural #lucfier x reader supernatural #spn fanfic #supernatural #supernatural reader insert

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violet-smokes · 7 months

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SECRETS; V. HARMON

VIOLET HARMON X F!READER

WARNINGS: not proofread! but that’s it!

WC: 2650

A/N: Requested! i am so unbelievably sorry for how long this took, but it’s finally October which means it’s murder house time!!

SUMMARY: Consoling Violet after she yells at Tate, feelings start to reveal themselves.. but someone isn’t a fan of you two.

“Go away!”

The sound of a loud scream echoed through the large house, immediately catching your attention. Your feet decided before you as you ran upstairs, instantly recognizing whose voice it was.

“Violet?!” Your voice showed your concern as you sprinted up the stairs, quickly heading towards the girl’s door. The sound of her yell repeated in your head over and over again, playing like a record. It was bone chilling, something you hope to never hear again.

Soft crying was heard inside her room as you turned the corner, seeing Violet stand in the middle of the area. Her arms cradled one another, trying to comfort herself the best she could. Her nails dug into the fabric of her sweater, seeming to break in to the soft material and pierce her skin. Her back was turned to you as she cried, her head down as her soft brown hair fell in front of her face.

“Vi?” You tried to lower your voice as you stepped foot past her door, not wanting to scare her. She didn’t answer as tears kept falling, hugging herself tighter. You noticed that there wasn’t anyone else in the room, that she must’ve been talking to herself. There was no way, you thought.

Once you got close enough, your eyes searched her face. Her eyes were shut tight as her tears dried slightly, her nose was red and the area around her lips seemed swollen. You didn’t know that much about her; you both hung out a couple times, something you could count on your fingers, but you cared enough about her to worry. You still couldn’t understand why you seemed so attached to her. You tried convincing yourself that it might of just been because she was your only friend in a place like this. But as days passed and you started to try and understand, you realized your feelings grew deeper than you had originally thought. But you always listened to her talking about Tate. You weren’t sure who the mystery man was, or anything about him; not even his last name. She would smile and ramble about how sweet he was and that, one time, he painted a rose black for her on Halloween. That pit inside your stomach became apparent that day.

You had feelings for Violet Harmon.

You tried to push those intruding thoughts away as you moved to stand next to her. “Violet?” Before you could finish saying her name, the girl let out a sob and fell into your arms. It took you off balance, but you quickly wrapped your arms around her in response. She was warm, maybe because of the sweater. She felt nice in your arms, something you hoped to feel more of.

Tears stained your shirt as you felt them hit the fabric, Violet’s tight grip on the back grabbing your attention. She clung to you like a lifeline, like she was afraid to lose you. It made you squeeze her tighter against you, trying to ease her worries as you rested your head on top of hers.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Quiet praises left your lips, whispering sweet nothings to the sorrowful girl in your arms. Hiccups and stuttering breaths were recurring as she cried. Her grip never loosens up as she grasps you, not thinking twice about letting you go. As more whispers leave your lips, she starts to calm down and her cries start to stop. The soft delayed breaths were still there, but her tears have dried and her hiccups have ceased.

“I’m sorry.” Violet’s voice was quiet and groggy, but her words were loud in your ears. She was so vulnerable in this situation, it was surprising. The contrast between her usual confident, collected personality and her now powerless, submissive emotions were so drastically different. The sight of her so upset had its own affect on you, but you didn’t let it hurt you as you took the role of her chaperone in this situation.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Vi.” You had no clue what the situation was or what had just happened before you walked in, but you knew she needed the reassurance. No matter what she could have done, you would never look down on her. Violet was everything to you, she meant everything. She was all you ever needed.

As more praise leaves your tongue, she started to calm down. She was still tight in your hold since she didn’t let you go. Her breathing started to even out as minutes passed, trying to sync up with yours. One of your hands began to move up, but became hesitant as it reached where it was going. Before you could put too much thought into it, your fingers threaded through her hair gently. She seemed to relax, her once tense body from the crying starting to loosen in your arms.

“Thank you.” The gratitude made you blink, not expecting her words. You nodded slowly, silently replying to her. Your body swayed slightly as you held her, her fingers letting to of the harsh grip it had on your shirt.

More time passed by as you held her, the sky that was once shining in, starting to darken. Instead of the sun, the moon started to show itself inside, reflecting on different surfaces. Once Violet recovers enough, she starts to explain what was going on. You both had ended up sitting down on her bed as she went through everything that had happened in the past few months. It was more than shocking to hear, trying to come to terms with the fact the girl you had a crush on was telling you that she used to have a ghost boyfriend, almost killed several times, figured out her boyfriend was a school shooter and her mother was giving birth to the anti-christ. Oh, and she was dead.

You wanted to call her insane, that this whole ordeal was just crazy. But you knew you couldn’t. You’ve heard every story about the Murder House that went around school or the neighborhood; it was hard to ignore. You never wanted to believe it, given the amount of ghost stories that ventured years and years back could’ve, should’ve been myths. They weren’t. And you truly hated to say that you believed her. Maybe it was just because you were whipped for her, but you’d be lying to yourself if you tried to deny the fact you hadn’t have seen stuff in this house.

When you had originally moved in to the neighborhood, you used to take walks by. It was a while before the Harmon’s had moved in and every day when you were on the way to school, there was always some one standing in the window. He was tall and pale, usually wearing a green and black patterned sweater with bright blonde hair. When you had heard that no one lived there, you thought that people were just playing jokes on you.

As years went by, you used to hear crackling inside the abandoned place. It was almost like someone was smacking small, handheld fire crackers against the ground. It was only heard when you walked on the side of that houses’ sidewalk. You always convinced yourself that you were crazy. No one was ever let inside that house.

When you ended up explaining this to Violet, her body seemed to loosen up. You believed her. You believed her. She was ecstatic that she had someone to talk to that wouldn’t run away screaming. She tried to push away the violent thought of more with you, but it was prodding inside her head. Every time that she used to hang out with you, before she had died, she always found herself wanting more. More than just hang outs. But then she was reminded she was with Tate. She couldn’t be unfaithful, that wasn’t like her. And there was no way she had a crush on her best friend, let alone a girl. She instantly pushed that thought away, but it never seemed to leave.

“I never meant to put all this shit on you, Y/N.” Violet sighed, looking down to her lap. She couldn’t believe she broke and revealed everything that had happened to her and her family over the past couple months to her friend. She flinched when she felt a warm hand envelope hers.

“It’s okay, Violet, I swear. As much as I really wish you were lying, I believe you.” You laugh softly, trying to lighten up the mood. The air was still tense, but it seemed to calm lightly after time. A small curve on Violet’s lips caught your attention quickly, your own smile responding immediately. “I, uh,” You tried to stop before you could start, but it screamed inside your head. The thought wanted out so bad and you knew that eventually it was going to leave. “I really like you, Violet.” It left your lips before your brain could stop you. Was it too soon? What was she going to say? Is she gonna throw you out? Will she ever talk to you again?-

“I really like you, too.” It made you stop breathing and your mouth open slightly. Her words were soft and hushed, but they rang in your ears like a bell that was just hit. “I never wanted to believe it and I thought that it was wrong, but,” She shrugged and looked back and forth between your eyes, not knowing what to say. “But then I was too nervous to leave Tate-“

“Violet.” Your voice stopped her. The last thing you wanted to remind her of was Tate. He ruined her, broke her down until she fell into pieces. If it weren’t for him, she still would’ve been alive. “Don’t worry about him, okay? I’m here now. I’ll always be here.” You hoped your words soothed her as her shoulders seemed to relax. A quick glance at your lips was all you needed from her before you leaned forward and hesitantly pressed your lips against hers. She froze at first, not sure how she should respond. But before you could pull away, she took your upper lip in hers and kissed you deeper. The kiss was soft and sweet, and you sent silent praises to her through the action. She felt comfort through your lips, not being able to get enough of it.

Once you pulled away, she took a deep inhale and her eyes focused on your mouth. “I’ve never kissed a girl before.” Violet’s voice was the same as before, but it grew just slightly louder. It was shy, another thing you weren’t expecting.

You let out a quiet laugh in response, squeezing her hand lightly. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.” You teased her with a soft smirk on your face and you noticed the light pink hue on her cheeks. “I’m kidding, Vi! You’re a really good kisser.” You interlocked your fingers with hers, wanting to be closer to her.

She smiled at your words, looking into your eyes with so many emotions, you couldn’t read them all. “I could say the same about you.” An extra curve in her lips made you notice the way she copied your smirk. You laughed softly and leaned forward again, pressing your lips against hers.

The day started off different; the way you had to hold her in your arms and console her. But the end was the best thing you could’ve asked for; the way she kissed you was something you have hoped and wished for.

It was perfect.

You and Violet have been dating for a couple months now. It was difficult since she couldn’t leave Murder House, but you both made it work.

You’d come over with some snacks, or cards, or even your laptop to listen to some music or watch a show or two as you sat in her bed together. It was sweet and comforting and you loved holding her in your arms or vice versa.

There were times that were weird though. Last week when you were over, you made your way downstairs to grab a drink while Violet was getting a show ready, the glass you picked out was thrown against the floor. You had originally put it on the kitchen island and turned to grab the liter of your choice of drink and jumped when you heard the loud crack of the glass hitting against the floor.

Violet called out for you and Vivian had walked in to make sure you were okay since she knew the relationship between you and her daughter, which you had responded that you were fine and that it must’ve just slipped from your hand.

You knew the amount of ghosts in this house from Violet and she always made sure to tell you where to stay away from and tried to protect you from most. She had told you about Tate, but she wasn’t too worried since she hadn’t seen him since that night where they had screamed at each other. You were on good terms with most of them: Moira, the Harmon’s, Patrick and Chad and Tate’s brother upstairs. Since you never bothered them, it wasn’t hard for them to ignore you.

Another time was when you were over a couple days ago and you and Violet were hanging out in her room, playing with some cards. You both were having a good time, laughing and resting against each other as you accused her of cheating.

“You totally hid a card under the rug!” You laughed, pointing an accusing finger at her. She gawked at you, shaking her head in response.

“No, I didn’t! You’re just upset that I’m winning!” Violet smiles wide as she exclaims. You’ve never seen her so happy before, it made the butterflies in your stomach fly around and your body grow warm in excitement.

“That is not true-!” As you’re ready to teasingly deny her words, there was a loud bang from the other side of the room. Both of your heads snap towards the noise, startled by the sudden sound. “What was that?” You should’ve known better to ask since the vast house was filled with numerous spirits, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever truly get used to it.

You heard her sigh from beside you and watched her jaw tense. “Tate.” The one syllable made you instantly understand her reaction. The butterflies in your stomach burned in response as your eyes searched around for the older boy.

“Is he here?” You asked. You weren’t able to see any of the ghosts unless they let you. Since Violet was apart of that majority, she could see the others easily. She shook her head and looked back down at the cards in her hands. “It’s okay, Vi. I won’t let him hurt you.” You knew she wasn’t worried about that. She was worried about you. But you didn’t need to voice that and neither did she; she knew that you could handle yourself, but she always told you that she’d try to keep you safe from the others, from Tate.

Violet gave you a soft smile and looked from you to her handful of cards, before putting one down. “I won!” She smiled and gave you a smug look. As you tried to look under the rug for a spare card that she must’ve hid, someone stood outside of the door.

Tate watched you both have fun together, envying the way you kissed her and held her. He hated it; he hated someone else being able to do the things he did with her. But he also knew that it he did anything, there was no chance of Violet ever talking to him again.

While Tate was sulking, you and your girlfriend were having the time of your lives. Well, life.

#taissa farmiga #violet harmon x reader #violet harmon #taissa farmiga x reader #ahs murder house #violet harmon style #violet harmon exacts #american horror murder house #ahs #zoe benson x reader #zoe benson

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neontokyoo · 11 months

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Dancing in the Shadows

I'm so down bad for this man, it makes my anatomy and physiology class almost impossible. . .🤭

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

Genre: ???

Warnings: Mild violence, suggestive content?

Warnings: Mild violence, suggestive content???

You gazed out of the window of the Port Mafia headquarters, your mind lost in a sea of thoughts. The city lights glittered in the distance, casting an eerie glow on the night. As a member of the infamous Port Mafia, you were no stranger to the dark and dangerous world that surrounded you. But amidst the chaos, there was one person who managed to capture your attention and stir emotions within you: Nakahara Chuuya.

His orange hair, enigmatic aura, and unparalleled strength had always fascinated you. You admired him from a distance, observing his unwavering loyalty to the Mafia, his fierce determination, and his unwavering presence in the criminal underworld. But your admiration had evolved into something deeper—a yearning for a connection that surpassed the boundaries of their shared organization.

It was on a moonlit night that fate granted you an opportunity. The Port Mafia received information about a rival gang's secret meeting, and Chuuya, being one of their most formidable operatives, was assigned to infiltrate it. Sensing a chance to be closer to him, you volunteered to accompany him on this dangerous mission.

The meeting took place in a hidden warehouse, shrouded in darkness. As you stood side by side with Chuuya, anticipation coursed through your veins. The moon cast a silvery glow, revealing the secrets and shadows that danced around you.

You stole glances at him, his gaze focused and determined, his hat casting a shadow over his striking features. The air crackled with tension, the weight of the mission pressing against your chest. In that moment, you knew that you would follow him anywhere, even into the depths of darkness.

The door creaked open, revealing the rival gang members gathered inside. Chuuya stepped forward, his voice resonating with authority as he prepared to confront them.

The confrontation escalated swiftly, the atmosphere charged with anticipation and danger. You fought alongside Chuuya, your skills harmonizing with his, creating a symphony of destruction and chaos. His ability and your own complimented each other perfectly, leading you to victory against the rival gang, leaving them defeated and scattered.

As the dust settled, you found yourselves alone amidst the wreckage, the moon shining down as a witness to your triumph. Chuuya turned to face you, his expression softening as he took in your battle-worn appearance.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, genuine concern lacing his words.

You shook your head, unable to find your voice, but your eyes spoke volumes. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins, and in the aftermath of the battle, you found solace in the presence of Chuuya, the man who had captivated your heart.

Without a word, Chuuya closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to gently touch your cheek. His touch was electrifying, sending shivers down your spine. He leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a tender and passionate kiss—a silent confession of desires that had remained hidden for far too long.

In that stolen moment, time seemed to freeze, the world around you fading away. The kiss deepened, intensifying the connection that had silently grown between you both. Chuuya's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, as if he wanted to etch this moment into eternity.

When the kiss finally ended, you opened your eyes to meet Chuuya's gaze, his grey eyes filled with a mixture of affection and longing. The unspoken bond between you had finally been acknowledged, and you knew that this was just the beginning—a journey where redemption and love would intertwine in the darkest corners of the underworld.

As you both made your way back to the Port Mafia headquarters, hand in hand, you couldn't help but feel that the moon above had transformed into a beacon of hope, promising a future where love and loyalty would guide you through the shadows.

#nakahara chuuya #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara #bungo stray dogs chuuya #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya x y/n #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuyabsd #chuuya x fem!reader #bungo stray dogs manga #bungo stray dogs spoilers #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd anime #bsd headcanons #bsd x reader #Spotify

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blackhillverse · 11 months

Text

the last thing maria remembered was looking into nick’s eyes, his hands covered in her blood never letting go of maria’s numb limbs.

she let go.

the darkness gradually released its grip, giving way to a sense of serenity and comfort she had longed for since the day she was resurrected from the blip and realized a profound void had been left in her heart, torn apart by the events that had unfolded.

as her senses gradually returned, she could hear the melodic chirping of birds in the distance, their songs harmonizing with the gentle rustling of leaves. the warm rays of the sun caressed her face, casting a gentle glow upon her skin, while a salty breeze swept through the air, carrying with it a touch of the ocean's essence. as maria’s eyelids fluttered open, the world around her came into focus. colors seemed more vibrant, and the scenery unfolded before her like a painting brought to life. she found herself lying in a tranquil meadow, the grass beneath her fingertips cool and soft.

with each breath she took, the air felt invigorating, filling her lungs with a renewed sense of vitality. as she sat up, her muscles responded with a pleasant ache, reminding her of the physicality of existence. taking in the panoramic view, maria noticed a majestic mountain range in the distance, its peaks kissed by wisps of clouds. the sound of a nearby stream reached her ears, its gentle babbling adding a soothing rhythm to the symphony of nature that surrounded her.

"hey sleepyhead," came a voice from behind maria, causing her heart to skip a beat. she turned slowly, her eyes widening with astonishment as she laid eyes upon the figure standing before her. natasha's red hair gently streamed in the wind, just as radiant and vibrant as she remembered.

their gazes locked, and in that silent exchange, a myriad of unspoken words passed between them. it was as if time stood still, allowing them to savor the moment and relish in the presence of one another. no grand declarations were necessary; their connection spoke volumes in its simplicity.

"you've done so well, masha," a tender smile played upon natasha's lips as she spoke. her voice was just like she remembered—warm, velvety, and filled with a depth of emotion that resonated deep within maria's soul.

without needing to say another word, maria and natasha stepped towards one another, their embrace a testament to their enduring connection. it was a reunion that mended the fragments of their souls, rekindling a flame that had flickered but never extinguished.

as the meadow whispered its gentle secrets, the world around them faded into insignificance.

in the quiet intimacy of their reunion, maria knew that they were exactly where they were meant to be. and as their hearts beat in synchrony, they both found solace in the knowledge that their journey, though filled with pain and sacrifice, had led them to this moment of profound serenity and unspoken love.

maria hill was finally home.

#secret invastion spoilers #im a mess #and so i had to write this little nonsense #dont talk to me #dont touch me #i just want to rest #maria hill #natasha romanoff #blackhill #reunion #oneshot #fanfic #secret invasion #marvel #mcu

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puffcap-factory · 2 months

Text

Melodies, Past, Redemption

(Yasuo x reader)

Yasuo x reader; angst, a bit of fluff, slight implication of Yone x reader in the story.

It’s somewhat more like a one-sided-love coming from Yasuo, although interpretations are left to readers.

Both characters are trying to heal from the past.

Notes:

The reader was a healer, working on the dojo during Yasuo and Yone’s training period. They were close to you, and Yasuo had grown some secret feelings towards you. But after the war and the death of the dojo’s elder, scarred with the tragedy following after, you had wandered across the land to assist villages in need, and hadn’t met Yasuo after the incident.

This story uses the same set as my previous Yone fic, since it suits well into the timeline. The order will go as follows: Part 1 Yone x reader -> current fic -> Part 2 Yone x reader

I’ll get into more fluff next time. For the sake of my heart.

I hope you enjoy! :D

•~•~•~•

You gazed down at your feet, waves gently ebbing and flowing at your fingertips. The symphony of birds' cawing harmonized with the hues of the orange sky, the sun preparing to retire for the day. Seated upon a rock just large enough to accommodate you, you released a heartfelt sigh, reaching for your treasured lyre - a gift from your mother during your childhood. She told you she had acquired it from a wandering merchant in Shurima, and you had cherished it dearly ever since.

You didn’t know why you were feeling sentimental on this particular day. Facing towards the open sea, the wind tenderly caressed your hair, its strands swaying in a melancholic dance, almost as if it were a reminder of a tragic incident from the past. Despite your best efforts to avoid spiraling into sadness, you found yourself reaching for your lyre, your fingers instinctively moving to play a certain melody – the one you had diligently practiced during your days of training in the dojo. The familiar tune that reminded you of the weight of memories and emotions. The one that… Yasuo himself had thought you with his flute.

You indulged yourself into the melody, closing your eyes as your fingers danced across the strings. The notes were so familiar to you that they seemed to flow effortlessly from your lyre. The gentle sound of the waves crashing against the shore intertwined with your music, adorning the melody with a natural, haunting beauty. Despite the rhythmic cadence of the waves, the melody held its own, each note clear and poignant, refusing to be completely swallowed by the ocean's song.

The melody flowed beautifully for several minutes until you heard the gentle splashing of footsteps on the shore – which sound seemed to stop not too far from you. Immediately, you halted your playing, opening your eyes and becoming instinctively alert. With a quick motion, you turned your head to the side to face the figure standing there, their body facing towards the sea.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” He kept his gaze fixed to the ocean ahead.

Yasuo – you had not seen this man for so long. Your heart started to beat faster as the sudden adrenaline rushed in, as things you wanted to say, ask, blame, everything flooding in you all at once. Last time you had seen him, it was before he left the dojo to aid the war, disobeying his orders. Then came the tragic news of Elder Souma's death, branding him a wanted criminal on the run. And it culminated in the unthinkable - he had killed his friends... no, our friends, who chased after him, and ultimately, his own brother, Yone.

"Yasuo..." your voice was low, barely above a whisper. You stood up from your seat, facing him squarely as you held the hilt of your sword firmly, though it remained sheathed.

Yasuo noticed your stance, his face twisting with guilt that seemed to consume him from within.

"Don’t… I'm not here to hurt you, please... I would never..." His words came out in a jumble, as if struggling to piece themselves together.

Instinctively, you lowered your hand to your side in response, feeling the weight of his grief and guilt behind his words. You had known this man for so long - an impulsive, determined soul, yet undeniably kind. Despite the strict training schedules of the dojo and your busy role as a healer, Yasuo's carefree nature had a way of easing your responsibilities. During the early times, you were often tasked with catching him for skipping his training, but those moments ended up filled with shared laughter and camaraderie. It was during one of these times that you discovered his fondness for music, hearing him play the flute with skill and passion.

And, Yasuo had always been somewhat protective of you, ensuring blame never unfairly fell on your shoulders, especially when faced with Yone's questioning. Memories flooded back of the times he had accompanied you, stood up for you – his friendly teasing and banter creating a deeper bond between you two. Yone had possessed a certain warmth that had drawn you in, but Yasuo provided you with a sense of security in his own way.

“…I never believed what they said about you. I never believed you killed Elder Souma,” you said carefully, your tone colder than you intended.

Yasuo glanced at you, a little taken aback – to be honest – before turning his head to face the waves, his face showing a mixture of emotions. “Thank you, that is one person less to convince, I believe…” he said with his husky voice.

"But," you continued, your voice trembling slightly. "If you hadn't left..."

If you hadn’t left your post, maybe… Yone might still be alive.

You bit your lip, cutting off your words before they could delve deeper. You know very well you’d get nothing by pressing the matters further into the already guilty man, yet, small part of you still clung to the past – to that certain incident, the weight of it catching up to you. Glancing down at your feet, you watched the waves passing and receding, lost in their rhythm.

“…That thought also haunts me even until this moment,” he sighed. “…I know you would never forgive me for that, but, please know that… I-I’m… truly sorry.”

Yasuo was fully aware of your closeness to Yone, and to be very honest, he would feel a tinge of jealousy from time to time towards his own brother back in the days. But he would never confront you about it, nor Yone, as he silently respected his brother and the bond you shared with him. Your moments with Yasuo held their own special place inside him, filled with cherished memories. He truly appreciated the time you spent together, just as you had accompanied him through his own trials, and that was more than enough for him.

You fell into a heavy silence, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you after voicing your blame, whether deserved or not. Yone, until the end, was consumed with his own self-blaming, and you couldn't find the words to help him at that time. You also felt that you have your share of guilt of the outcome of the incidents. Although Yasuo did leave his duty, you knew there were more factors at play that ultimately contributed to Yone's death.

You mourned deeply for Yone, but you also realized that dwelling on past mistakes would not lead you anywhere. The same applied to Yasuo, you thought. Although he had not shared the details with you, rumors had flown everywhere regarding the incident. Now, after meeting him in this demeanor, you could tell very well that he was truly consumed by his own guilt. His casual, cheeky side was nowhere to be seen.

As you observed Yasuo facing the sea, his silhouette outlined by the setting sun, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy. You balled your fists as you gathered your will to speak.

"…I didn’t mean to push you further down. I’m sorry," you told him as you moved closer to him, regretting what you had said earlier. He looked at you with a sad expression still visible on his face. "There is this past we had shared, but I think it’s time we… move on from that, together, Yasuo." How easy it was said than done, you thought to yourself, but you just had to bring this up to him, trying to nudge him back up. He took a deep breath, his eyes still fixed on the sea.

“I do have my fair share of guilt, you… are not alone, Yasuo,” you continued, your voice soft but firm. You paused, glancing at him, his gaze never leaving the horizon. “…I’m grateful I still have you on my side, I really am… and I hope you still do, too.”

You knew his burden was far heavier than yours, but you just wanted to offer some comfort – in hopes you both find a way to move forward from the shadows of the past. You glanced back into the horizon silently for a moment, before you heard a low chuckle coming from his side.

“…You don’t know how much that means to me,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with sincerity. “You sure don’t change. Thank you.”

He turned towards you, and although his eyes still held a hint of sadness, his lips curved into a small smile – the weight on his shoulders seeming to lift ever so slightly. You smiled back at him – as if to shove the negative thoughts of the past down – feeling a sense of warmth in the air as the ocean wind blew gently around you. You let the silence stretch between you just for a bit, to let every moment sink into you.

“…Hey, how about we travel together for now?” You finally asked. “We seem to be a good pair for traveling.”

“Many people still chase after me, and I don’t want you to get involved. I won’t risk you getting hurt. I would never…” Yasuo's voice held a note of concern as he seemed to object to your idea of traveling together. You could sense his protective instinct, the weight of his past actions still heavy on his mind. Despite his protest, you remained determined.

“Nonsense, I thought you were strong enough to protect me?” A small, teasing smile appeared on your face, lightening up the mood. “I’ll heal you in exchange of your protection.”

He let out a small chuckle at your playful response. “I never said I was… – anyways, you have to know the road I take is dangerous, and I’m being very serious.”

“Yes, I understand it very well, mighty Yasuo,” you smiled at him, putting your hands on your hips. “Besides, I got to learn how to use a dagger for self-defense for a bit. I suppose you can help me train as well, yes?”

Yasuo sighed defeatedly, although he knew you wouldn’t back down so easily, he couldn’t help but smile at your determination. He truly wanted to protect you from harm, but he also knew the enemy chasing him sometimes were more dangerous that it had seemed – and he was not going to risk you for it, not again.

“Okay, okay…” he answered, holding the nape of his neck in resignation. “But promise me, when things get more dangerous, I’ll have to drop you off somewhere safe, okay? No objections.”

“Hey, come on…” you slightly pouted, giving him a playful nudge. Yasuo chuckled at your reaction, a sense of lightness filling the air between you.

The tension of the past seemed to fade away as slowly as the sun sank lower and lower. You could feel the bittersweetness of the past as your closeness to Yasuo was reigniting, even though the war had left scars on both of you. Forgiveness – a powerful notion, one that seemed to hang in the air between you. Despite the pain, there was a glimmer of hope for a new path, a chance to let go of the burdens that had weighed you down for so long.

Yasuo truly cared deeply for you. The memories of your past closeness still lingered in him, leaving him somewhat hopeful that you could find happiness together once more. Yet, he also knew very well that the wounds of the past ran deep, and it would take time to heal.

As the evening descended, casting a warm glow over the sea, you and Yasuo stood side by side, gazing out at the horizon. There was a sense of peace settling between you, a silent understanding of the journey ahead.

You placed your reassuring hand on his shoulders as you came up with good idea to spend the remaining evening.

“Say, you wanna play the flute alongside my lyre?”

#yasuo x reader #yone x reader #angst #league of legends #yasuo league of legends #lol x reader #yasuo x reader x yone #league of legends fanfic #league of legends x reader

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