#the implications *shakes you around by the shoulders*
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✨ His only exception - Pt. 24/? ✨
Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.
Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader
Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, angst, hurt, VERY soft Ben, Ben gets hurt
Word Count: 7322
A/N: This is part 24 of “His only exception”.
English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨
Butcher leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Hughie as he spoke. "There's still no word from Soldier Boy or (y/n)", he growled, his frustration evident in his tone. "It's been too quiet. By now, Soldier Boy should have made a move, tried to take out the team. It´s been over a week. There's something off about this".
Annie paced back and forth, her expression troubled. "Maybe they're planning something", she suggested, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Or maybe they're waiting for the right moment".
Butcher shook his head, his jaw clenched in frustration. "I don't buy it", he muttered, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "We need to find out what they're up to, and fast".
Annie sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Let's face it, Butcher", she said resignedly. "If Soldier Boy wants us dead, we're as good as dead. We don't stand a chance against him".
Butcher's jaw tightened, his frustration evident as he slammed his fist against the table. "We can't just sit around waiting to die", he growled, his voice edged with determination. "We need to find out what they're planning and stop them before it's too late".
Hughie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze darting between Butcher and Annie. "I just… I can't believe (y/n) would betray us like that", he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Annie raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "Did you forget that we all lied to her for weeks?", she pointed out. "She has every reason to be angry with us".
Butcher grunted in agreement. "Doesn't mean she'd side with Soldier Boy", he interjected, his voice gruff. "But we can't rule anything out. We need to be prepared for anything".
Annie let out a sarcastic laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "Do you still not get it, Butcher?", she groaned, frustration evident in her tone. "Soldier Boy and (y/n) are head over heels for each other, and they're just too stubborn to admit it. But trust me, they'd die for each other".
Butcher's expression darkened at Annie's words. "Doesn't mean we have to accept it", he grumbled. "We need to find a way to stop them before they do something stupid".
You glanced over at Ben, concern etched on your features as you sat in the passenger seat of the car. "Are you sure about this?", you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.
Ben met your gaze, his expression resolute as he nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure", he replied, his voice firm.
With a deep exhale, you settled back into your seat, trusting Ben's decision despite your lingering doubts. As the car pulled away from the hotel, you couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension about what lay ahead.
The news of Annie and A-Train taking over Vought in Homelander's absence sent shockwaves through the media, dominating headlines for days. Reports of Ashley's dismissal only added to the turmoil surrounding the company, leaving many speculating about the future of Vought and the Seven.
As you and Ben drove through the city, the chatter on the radio and the buzz of conversations around you were filled with speculation and uncertainty. Even after all those months. It was clear that the power dynamics within Vought were shifting, and the implications of Annie and A-Train's rise to prominence were yet to be fully realized.
So when Ben entered the bustling lobby of Vought Tower, clad in his imposing supe suit, a hush fell over the crowd. People stopped in their tracks, their eyes widening in disbelief and fear at the sight of him. The front desk staff immediately sprang into action, frantically dialing Starlight and A-Train, hoping to quell whatever disturbance Ben's presence might herald.
But Ben remained unfazed by the commotion around him, his gaze fixed on his destination as he strode purposefully through the crowd towards the elevators. The air crackled with tension as he passed, his mere presence casting a shadow over the bustling lobby.
As you waited in the car, a sense of anxiety gnawed at your insides. You watched the chaos unfolding through the windshield, your heart pounding in your chest as you wondered what Ben was up to inside the building.
Despite the order to stay put, you couldn't help but feel a surge of worry for Ben's safety. You fidgeted in your seat, torn between the urge to rush inside and the knowledge that Ben had instructed you to stay in the car for your own protection.
As Ben entered the top floor, Annie and A-Train stood with arms crossed, their expressions guarded. Butcher and the rest of the team stood nearby, tension thick in the air.
Ben's arrival caused a momentary pause in the commotion, all eyes turning to him. With a wry grin, he addressed Butcher.
"Did you miss me?", he quipped, his voice laced with amusement despite the underlying tension.
As Ben strode past them, his presence commanding attention, Butcher tensed, ready for a confrontation. However, Hughie's restraining hand on his arm halted his advance, a silent plea for patience.
Meanwhile, Ben found his place at the head of the table in the meeting room of the seven, legs crossed casually as he leaned back in his chair. With a commanding tone, he addressed the room, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.
"Sit down", he ordered, his gaze sweeping over each member of the assembled group, his authority leaving no room for argument.
With a flash of his glowing chest, Ben's voice took on a more aggressive tone, his patience wearing thin as he bellowed, "I said sit the fuck down!".
His words echoed through the room. Slowly, the members of the group complied, taking their seats with wary glances exchanged among them.
With that, Ben stood up again and paced back and forth behind their chairs. "Now fucking look at you all", he remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "A bunch of good little pussies, sitting here like obedient lapdogs".
As he approached Butcher, his footsteps echoed ominously in the silence of the room. With deliberate intent, he placed both hands firmly on Butcher's shoulders, exerting just enough pressure to convey his dominance.
"Now, listen up", he began, his voice low and commanding. "We've got some serious shit to discuss, and I won't tolerate any bullshit. You fucking hear me?".
Ben's grip tightened slightly on Butcher's shoulders as he continued his speech.
"Now, first things first", he declared, his tone firm and unwavering. "You're all still breathing thanks to your friend, (Y/N). She convinced me not to rip each and every one of you to shreds". It wasn´t a lie. The two of you talked about it over and over again.
There was a hint of begrudging respect in his words, an acknowledgment of your influence over him in that crucial moment.
Ben's steps echoed across the polished floor as he made his way back towards the head of the table, his arms folded across his chest in a display of dominance. His gaze swept over the assembled group, each member tensing under his piercing stare.
"But here's the thing", he continued, his voice low and dangerous. "One fucking wrong move, and not even her pretty little mouth will be able to stop me from ripping each and every one of your cocksucking heads off".
His words hung heavy in the air, a warning of the consequences they would face if they dared to cross him again. The room fell silent, the tension palpable as everyone processed the gravity of his threat.
Ben's smirk widened into a self-assured grin as he delivered his next words with unmistakable confidence.
"So how about welcoming the new fucking head of Vought?", he declared. "America's first supe. Myself. I'm fucking America now".
His proclamation sent shockwaves through the room, the implications of his statement sinking in as everyone processed the magnitude of what Ben had just declared.
As Butcher began to rise from his seat, Ben swiftly raised a finger, shaking his head in a warning gesture.
"Uh-uh", he grinned.
Then, his voice rose to a thunderous roar, echoing through the room as he bellowed, "You sit the fuck down!".
Ben´s eyes starting to glow which left everyone breathless and frozen in place, cowed by the sheer force of his power.
"You know, actually, you did something good with capturing me", he admitted, his eyes no longer glowing with anger. "Leaving me alone with just my thoughts and my body I couldn´t fucking move, bringing my head pretty much back to russia… I discovered some stuff about myself".
He paused for a moment, looking at his hands as he continued, "Seems like the Russians actually gave me some strong updates, you know, all that radioactive energy. I can channeling it".
As he spoke, his hands began to emit a faint glow, a tangible manifestation of the power coursing through him.
What Ben didn't mention, however, was the difficulties he still had in controlling his power and himself.
"So since none of you got a fucking complaint", he declared, his tone firm, "I'll wait until 8 tonight to make this shit official. We will discuss everything else then".
His words hung in the air. "And now, leave the fucking building!".
The team began to file out, not wanting to escalate the situation further.
As everyone left, Ben texted you to come up. Just as you stepped into the elevator, your heart skipped a beat when you were met with Jay standing there. His presence sent a jolt of surprise and uncertainty coursing through you, momentarily stealing your breath.
"Jay…", you uttered his name, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jay's expression was a mix of concern and frustration as he spoke, his words tumbling out in a rush as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. "I haven't heard from you in two weeks", he began, his voice tinged with worry. "What's going on?".
You swallowed hard, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you as you met Jay's gaze. "It's… complicated", you murmured, your voice barely audible above the hum of the elevator.
Jay's expression softened slightly as he stepped closer to you, his eyes searching yours for answers. "Where have you been?", he asked, his tone filled with genuine concern. "I've been worried sick".
As the elevator came to a stop at the top floor, you struggled to find the right words, but Ben's footsteps echoed already towards the elevator, his expression darkening as he caught sight of you speaking to some guy.
"Who the fuck is this little bitch?", Ben's voice cut through the tension, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto Jay. His jaw clenched at the sight of another man talking to you.
Feeling the weight of Ben's intense gaze, you struggled to find the right words. You turned to Ben, a pleading look in your eyes.
"Ben, can you give us a few minutes?", you asked, your voice trembling slightly. Despite the urgency of the situation, you needed a moment to compose yourself and figure out how to navigate the delicate balance between your past with Jay and your present with Ben.
Meanwhile, Jay took a step back, his expression wary as he sized up the situation. He could sense the tension radiating from Ben and wisely chose to give you space to handle it.
Ben's brows furrowed deeper, his expression hardening as he regarded you with suspicion. "What for?", he demanded, his voice low. He wasn't about to entertain any delays or distractions, especially not when another man was involved.
You groaned in frustration, realizing that revealing the truth about your relationship with Jay would only escalate the situation further. But still, you had to be honest. Knowing Ben, he wouldn't give up so easily. With a heavy sigh, you mumbled, "This is Jay… We… dated".
Jay raised an eyebrow at your choice of words, his expression shifting to one of confusion. "Dated? Past tense?", he questioned, his tone betraying his uncertainty. "Since… you never broke up with me".
As Ben's anger flared, his eyes narrowed dangerously at Jay. He didn't take well to the revelation of your relationship, feeling betrayed that you hadn't mentioned any other man before. That you fucking dated someone while he was gone.
He was about to advance towards Jay, his intent clear in his demeanor, but you sensed the impending danger. With a quick movement, you stepped between them, desperation evident in your pleading gaze as you looked up at Ben.
"Ben, please", you pleaded, your voice trembling with urgency. "Don't do this".
It took a few moments before Ben roughly pulled you out of the elevator by your upper arm, pressed the exit button, and watched as Jay stood in the elevator and the door closed.
Turning towards you, Ben's gaze bore into yours, a mixture of anger, hurt, and frustration evident in his eyes. His jaw clenched even more as he struggled to contain the swirling emotions within him.
"You didn't tell me someone", Ben growled. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me about him?".
You winced at his tight grip, feeling the bruises already forming beneath his fingers. But actually Ben held back for your sake. Usually your arm would be broken by now.
"I-I wanted to, but…", you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as you met his intense gaze. "I thought you were dead, Ben. I didn't think I would ever see you again".
"And you moved on that fucking quickly?", he snapped, his grip on your arm tightening momentarily before he released you. "You thought I was dead, so you just found someone else?".
You took a step back, feeling the weight of his words bearing down on you. "No, Ben, it wasn't like that", you protested, your voice tinged with regret as you rubbed your upper arm. "I thought I had lost you forever. I was lost and alone, and Jay was there for me".
His expression twisted with a mixture of disgust and disappointment. The sight of it made your heart clench in anguish.
Ben´s his hands clenching into fists as he watched you with intensity. Even though he didn't want to hear it, he knew he had to confront the question burning in his mind.
"Did he fuck you?", he demanded, his voice low and harsh, his eyes boring into yours with a mixture of fury and hurt.
As you didn’t answer right away, Ben pushed you back against the wall, his frustration boiling over into anger. His voice rose to a yell as he demanded an answer.
"I asked you a fucking question!", he roared, his tone laced with desperation and rage. "Did he fuck you?".
Your heart skipped a beat, torn between fear of Ben's state and your own rising anger. Without thinking, you reacted, lashing out and punching him in the face, the impact breaking your wrist in the process.
"F-fuck, he didn't!", you cried out, your voice trembling with pain and frustration. "Of course he fucking didn't!".
You cradled your injured wrist, wincing as the pain shot through you, a physical reminder of the chaos unfolding between you and Ben.
Ben staggered back, his hand flying to his cheek where you had struck him. Shock flashed across his face, mingling with the anger still burning in his eyes.
"You fucking punched me", he exclaimed, his voice incredulous as he stared at you in disbelief. "Are you out of your fucking mind?".
Despite the pain radiating from your broken wrist, you met his gaze defiantly, your jaw set with determination.
"I'm not going to let you treat me like this", you yelled, your voice quivering with a mixture of pain and anger. "I'm not just some bimbo you can push around whenever you feel like it. And if you ever lay a hand on me again, I swear, I'll fucking leave you!".
Your words hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of their implications. Despite the intensity of the moment, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at only the thought of walking away from the man you loved.
Ben pressed his lips together and tried to calm himself down. Losing you was the worst thing that could happen to him. He took a deep, very deep breath, before he placed a hand on your lower back and guided you towards the office kitchen.
You shot him a glare, your eyes flashing with defiance, but he merely rolled his eyes in response.
"Stop bitching around", Ben muttered under his breath, his voice laced with frustration. Despite your attempts to pull away, he maintained a firm grip on your lower back, refusing to let you slip from his grasp.
In the kitchen he fumbled out a bandage from the first aid kit.
"You brought this on yourself, you know", Ben mumbled, his tone tinged with sarcasm as he carefully wrapped the bandage around your throbbing wrist. "Trying to take a swing at me like that. That's the price you pay for trying to hurt the big bad supe".
Despite the pain in your wrist, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his remark.
After a moment, Ben cupped your cheek, a conflicted expression crossed his face. His gaze softened as he looked into your eyes, a silent apology lingering in the depths of his stare. Despite his pride, he knew deep down that he had overreacted, but his stubbornness prevented him from vocalizing his regret.
For a moment, the tension between you seemed to melt away as you gazed at each other, the weight of unspoken apologies hanging in the air.
As the tension eased between you, Ben leaned in, pressing his lips gently against yours. The kiss was tender, a silent reassurance of his feelings despite the what just had happened.
With a swift motion, Ben lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his hands firmly gripping your ass cheeks as he positioned himself between your legs without breaking the kiss. The intensity of his touch sent shivers down your spine.
Your healthy hand wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, your lips moving in sync with his in a desperate need for connection.
As the kiss deepened, Ben's hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and thighs with a possessive urgency.
With each caress, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, your desire for him growing with every passing moment. His lips moved hungrily against yours.
Unable to resist any longer, you arched your back, pressing your body closer to his as the heat between you intensified.
As Ben's lips moved against yours, a low, guttural groan escaped from deep within his chest. "You're mine", he murmured between kisses, his voice rough with desire. "No one else is supposed to touch you like this".
His hands roamed up your thighs, pushing up your skirt roughly as he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter. The urgency in his touch spoke volumes, conveying the depth of his need for you in that moment.
You moaned softly in response, the sensation of his hands on your skin sending shivers down your spine.
As Ben struggled with his supe suit, his hands trembling with need, you steadied yourself on his biceps, your fingers gripping the fabric of his suit.
With careful movements, you avoided putting too much pressure on your injured wrist, mindful of the pain it still caused you. Despite the discomfort, the urgency of the moment spurred you on.
As his belt finally gave way under his fingers, he let out a low growl of satisfaction, his gaze locking with yours as he stepped even closer, the heat of his body radiating against your skin.
With a smirk, Ben pulled out his throbbing dick, his gaze dark with desire as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them aside.
"You're always wet for me", he teased, his voice husky with arousal. "I don't even need to check".
His words sent a shiver down your spine, anticipation building as you felt the heat of his breath against your skin.
You couldn't help but voice your concern as Ben positioned himself between your legs, ready to thrust inside you.
"What if someone walks in?", you asked, a hint of worry in your voice.
Ben chuckled, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Let them walk in. I want everyone to see how badly you need me".
His words sent a shiver down your spine as you realized just how possessive and dominant he could be.
As Ben bottomed out with the first rough thrust, a gasp escaped your lips, your breath hitching in response to the sudden, overwhelming pleasure.
His lips curled into a smirk as he felt your body respond to him. "That's it, sweetheart", he murmured. "No one else can make you feel this good, can they? Only me".
As Ben began to move, his thrusts becoming urgent and desperate, you surrendered completely to the pleasure he offered.
Your head fell back, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you surrendered to the sensation of being filled by him once again. The wet sound of your pussy echoed in the room, mixing with the rhythm of his movements as he pushed himself deeper with each thrust.
Every minute without him had felt like an eternity, but now that he was here, buried inside you, you couldn't get enough of him.
Ben's gaze was fixed on you, his intense stare capturing every small movement and reaction as he thrust into you. He was completely focused on the sweet sounds you made with each movement of his hips, savoring every gasp, moan, and whimper that escaped your lips.
With a low growl of satisfaction, he leaned in closer. "You sound so fucking good, sweetheart. I could listen to you all day".
With his words, your body tensed around him, your inner muscles clenching tightly around his throbbing length. The sensation was enough to send Ben over the edge, his own release crashing over him in powerful waves.
With a guttural groan, he spilled himself deep inside you, his hot seed flooding your core as he continued to thrust into you.
Ben collapsed against you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as you both savored the intimacy of the moment.
He savored the intoxicating scent of your skin mingled with the faint trace of your perfume. He couldn't help but feel a surge of desire coursing through him. The heady mix of his powerful presence, the tight confines of his supe suit, and the vulnerability he allowed himself to feel in that moment sent another wave of heat straight to your core.
You couldn't suppress a gasp as you felt the familiar throbbing sensation between your legs, your body responding instinctively to his proximity. Ben groaned softly against your skin, his breath hot against your neck as he too felt the undeniable pull of desire.
Lost in the moment, you pressed yourself closer to him, craving the feel of his strong arms around you and the electric connection between your bodies.
Ben carefully pulled out of you, his movements deliberate as he made sure none of his seed spilled. With practiced ease, he helped you adjust your clothing, pulling your panties back up your body.
"There", he murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness. "All taken care of".
“Keep it inside”, Ben ordered.
You raised an eyebrow at him, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Again?".
Ben chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer. "Yes, again”, he whispered huskily. "It turns me on knowing you're filled with me".
You couldn't help but blush at his boldness, feeling a surge of arousal at his words.
You hesitated for a moment, the thought of Ben's cum still inside you was both thrilling and slightly nerve-wracking. But the intensity of his gaze and the desire evident in his voice left you unable to resist.
"Keep it inside until tonight", he mumbled, his voice commanding yet tinged with a hint of anticipation. "I want you to sit through the meeting with me, knowing that my cum is creaming your sweet little pussy".
You swallowed hard but nodded.
After a few minutes of making sure you can stand on your own feet again, Ben made his way downstairs, his presence commanded attention, and the heads of departments from Vought fell into line, their expressions a mixture of surprise and apprehension. Standing before them, Ben wasted no time asserting his authority, making it clear that he was the one in charge now.
"I'm calling the shots from now on", he declared firmly, his voice carrying authority as he addressed the assembled group. "Any orders come from me, and you follow them without fucking question. Understood?".
His words left no room for dissent, and the heads of departments nodded in acknowledgment, knowing better than to defy Soldier Boy.
With his position as the new leader firmly established, Ben wasted no time in outlining his expectations and directives for the future of Vought. He laid out plans for expansion, innovation, and increased profitability, his vision for the company clear and ambitious.
As the meeting progressed, Ben's confidence and decisiveness left a strong impression on those in attendance. Despite initial skepticism, many began to see the potential for growth and success under his leadership.
after what felt like an eternity, Ben entered his office , his eyes locked onto you sitting on the couch, a mixture of pride and possessiveness evident in his gaze. He made his way over to you.
"You look good there", he remarked. "That's where you belong, by my side".
You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his slightly misogynistic comment, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips nonetheless.
Ben reached out to gently pull you to your feet, being careful of your injured wrist.
"Everything went according to plan", he mumbled. "I made it clear who's in charge now".
You nodded, relieved to hear that everything went smoothly. "That's good to hear", you said, a sense of pride in your voice.
Ben pulled you close against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, he began to pepper kisses along your neck.
"You know", he murmured teasingly against your skin, "you're getting fucked by the strongest and mightiest being on the planet".
You couldn't help but chuckle at his teasing tone, a playful glint in your eyes as you tilted your head to give him better access to your neck.
"And here I thought I was just getting fucked by an arrogant, egotistical supe on coke", you teased back, a smirk playing on your lips.
Ben let out a low growl, his grip tightening around you as he nipped lightly at your skin. "Watch your mouth, sweetheart", he warned, his voice husky with desire. "Or I might have to remind you who's really in fucking charge here".
"Ooh, I'm scared", you mocked. "What are you gonna do? Spank me?".
Ben's lips curled into a wicked grin, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. "Maybe I will", he murmured, his voice low and seductive.
Your heart raced at the promise in his words, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you as you pressed closer to him, eager for whatever he had in store.
Ben's gloved fingers slipped under your skirt and into your panties. You gasped at the sudden sensation.
"You're really eager to check, aren't you?", you teased, a smirk playing on your lips as you met his heated gaze. "Can't get enough of your own handiwork?".
Ben chuckled as he traced his fingers along the delicate folds of your pussy. "I just want to make sure you're still full of me", he murmured. "And if not, I'll just have to fill you up again".
With a sly grin, Ben brought his hand back from beneath your skirt, his middle finger glistening with a mixture of his and your cum. Holding it up to your lips, he teased you with the intoxicating scent, his gaze smoldering with desire.
"Open up", he commanded softly, his voice thick with arousal as he watched you intently.
Your heart raced as you obediently parted your lips, welcoming his finger inside your mouth. The taste of your combined essence flooded your senses, igniting a fiery hunger within you as you sucked his finger greedily.
Ben's smirk deepened as he watched your eager response, his own desire mounting with each passing moment. With a satisfied hum, he slowly withdrew his finger from your mouth, his eyes dark with lust as he gazed down at you.
"Look what you do to me", Ben commanded. His hand guided yours towards the prominent bulge beneath his suit.
Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing against the fabric, the heat of his desire palpable against your hand. With a mixture of excitement and anticipation, you eagerly traced the contours of his bulge, reveling in the power you held over him.
Ben's grip tightened on your hand as he watched you. "You like that, don't you?", he murmured. "You like knowing how much you turn me on".
You could only nod in response, your own desire mounting with each passing second. With a hungry growl, Ben captured your lips in a searing kiss, his need for you burning hotter than before.
With the sound of footsteps approaching, Ben reluctantly pulled away from you, his lips lingering for a moment before he stepped back, adjusting his supe suit.
"I would love to continue this", he murmured, "but business is calling".
You nodded softly, your own pulse still racing with excitement. As Butcher and the rest of the team entered the room, Ben straightened, his demeanor shifting back to his authoritative self.
Butcher's sarcastic tone cut through the tension in the room as he asked, "So, you two bloody lovebirds ready?".
Annie's gaze shifted between you and Ben, her expression unreadable. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure as you followed Ben towards the office of the Seven.
As Ben pulled back the chair for you, he gestured for you to take a seat at the head of the table. Meanwhile, he positioned himself slightly behind you, standing in front of the window.
"Alright, listen up", Ben began, his voice commanding attention. "Here's the plan: you lot are the new Seven. Not because I like you, but because I need to keep you under fucking control".
His words were firm as he laid out his intentions for the future of the team.
Butcher's expression hardened as he crossed his arms, clearly not thrilled with Ben's plan. "And why the bloody hell should we listen to you?", he challenged, his tone defiant.
Ben's jaw tightened as he met Butcher's gaze head-on. "Because if you don't, you'll regret it", he replied firmly. "And I'm not asking for your fucking approval, Butcher. I'm telling you how it's going to be".
A-Train spoke up, his voice tinged with skepticism. "And what if we don't fall in line?", he asked, his tone challenging.
Ben's lips curled into a smirk, his gaze shifting to A-Train with an air of superiority. "Oh, you think I'll kill you if you don't?", he retorted. "No, A-Train. I won't kill you. But I'll make your life a living hell until you wish you were fucking dead".
Fortunately, no one made any major moves. Probably because no one wanted to escalate the situation. At least not at this moment
Ben dismissed the team and they filed out of the room, he turned to you with a determined look in his eyes.
He reached out, gently cupping your cheek in his gloved hand, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the intensity of the moment.
"I need to make some preparations for tonight", he said. "Will you be okay here on your own for a while?".
You nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. "Of course, Ben. I'll be fine. Just take care of what you need to do".
Ben's lips curved into a faint smile at your reassurance. "Good", he murmured, his gaze softening as he looked into your eyes. "After all this, I have a little surprise for you".
Your eyebrows lifted in curiosity at his words, a hint of excitement bubbling within you. "A surprise?", you echoed, unable to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
Ben leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before pulling away. "Yeah", he replied cryptically, his voice tinged with anticipation. "But you'll have to wait and see".
With that, he turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the promise of something special to come.
Two hours later, amidst a throng of flashing cameras and eager reporters, Ben stood tall and confident as he addressed the gathered media.
"I am pleased to announce that I have taken over Vought Industries", he declared, his voice projecting authority and assurance. "I am committed to working closely with the government to ensure the safety and well-being of our citizens, and to restore trust in our heroes".
The reporters clamored to ask questions, but Ben remained composed, his answers measured and deliberate as he outlined his vision for the future of Vought and its role in society.
As the press conference came to a close, Ben stepped away from the podium, a sense of accomplishment evident in his demeanor. He knew that this was just the beginning.
Despite the limited number of questions he answered, the media seemed satisfied with Ben's brief appearance and his vague yet promising statements. After all, as Soldier Boy, he wasn't an unknown figure, and his sudden rise to power at Vought was sure to generate headlines and speculation for days to come.
As you wandered through the top floor of Vought, your thoughts swirled with the events of the past year, from the tumultuous ups and downs to the unexpected twists and turns. Lost in contemplation, you were startled when Ben suddenly appeared before you.
"Hey", Ben murmured softly as he closed the distance between you, his warm smile melting away the tension that had built up within you. "There you are".
His voice held a hint of relief, as if seeing you had eased some invisible burden from his shoulders.
"Are you ready to head out?", Ben inquired, his gaze lingering on yours as he awaited your response.
You nodded softly.
As Ben placed his hand on your lower back and guided you towards the elevators, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and security in his presence.
As Ben drove out of the city after getting some takeaway, you couldn't help but feel curious about your destination.
"Where are we going?", you asked, your voice betraying your fatigue.
Ben grinned mischievously. "I told you it´s a surprise", he replied, his eyes twinkling with excitement.
You sighed, leaning back in your seat. "I hope it's worth the mystery".
"Trust me, it'll be worth it", Ben assured you, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.
As Ben parked the car in front of a cozy house surrounded by beautiful nature, you couldn't help but feel a sense of tranquility wash over you.
"Is this… where we're staying?", you asked, a hint of surprise in your voice.
Ben nodded, a pleased smile spreading across his face. "Yep, this is it", he replied, his eyes scanning the surroundings with contentment.
You glanced around, taking in the peaceful scenery. "It's beautiful", you remarked, feeling a sense of relaxation settle over you.
Ben grinned. "I'm glad you like it", he said, his voice soft with affection.
With a smile, you leaned over to give him a quick kiss before stepping out of the car, excited to explore your temporary retreat in the midst of nature.
With the takeaway food in hand, you followed Ben to the front door. He turned the key and pushed the door open, ushering you inside.
As you stepped into the cozy interior, you glanced around, taking in the warm and inviting atmosphere of the house. The soft glow of the lamps cast a comforting light over the living room, and you noticed a crackling fireplace in the corner, filling the space with a cozy ambiance.
“This place is amazing”, you remarked, a smile playing at your lips as you set the food down on the nearby table.
Ben´s grin widend, pleased by your reaction. “Fucking glad you think so”, he replied, closing the door behind you.
As Ben rubbed his neck nervously, he took a deep breath before speaking. "Cause… I actually bought this place", he confessed, his gaze flickering to yours.
Your eyes widened in astonishment, and for a moment, you were rendered speechless by his revelation.
Sensing your surprise, Ben hesitated, his nerves palpable as he continued. "I know it's sudden, but… I was thinking, maybe you'd like to… stay here with me?", he asked tentatively, his words hanging in the air as he awaited your response.
Ben was nervous. Fucking nervous. You've never seen him like this before.
You cleared your throat, feeling the weight of his question hanging in the air. Hesitantly, you met his gaze and quietly asked, "Are you asking me to move in with you?".
Ben's heart raced, his vulnerability making him feel somewhat exposed. He took a deep breath before meeting your eyes again. "I just want to know you're safe, that's all".
As Ben's words sank in, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of warmth in your chest, but at the same time, a twinge of disappointment lingered. Despite all you've been through together, he still hadn't asked you to be his girlfriend or shown any clear commitment.
Biting your lip, you tried to hide the subtle sadness that crept into your expression, unsure of how to respond.
"I appreciate that, Ben", you said softly, forcing a small smile despite the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. "And I feel safe with you too. But…", you trailed off, unable to find the right words to express your thoughts.
As Ben sensed your sadness, he stepped closer and placed both of his hands on your lower back, pulling you gently towards him.
"But what?", he asked softly, his gaze searching yours with concern.
Ben's heart raced with apprehension, his usual confidence faltering in the face of vulnerability. He feared your rejection, uncertain of how to navigate this unfamiliar territory.
As tears welled up in your eyes, Ben's heart clenched with regret. This wasn't how he envisioned this moment. He had hoped that buying the house for the two of you would bring you joy, not tears.
With gentle hands, Ben lifted your chin, his touch tender as he looked into your eyes, searching for answers.
"Baby, what's wrong?", he asked. "Talk to me".
With a hesitant breath, you finally voiced the question that had been weighing on your mind for months.
"Where do we stand, Ben?", you whispered softly, your voice barely audible as you searched his eyes for an answer.
Ben's heart raced faster, his mind scrambling for the right words to say. He wasn't prepared for this conversation, not ready to confront his own feelings and desires.
"I don't know", he finally admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he looked into your eyes. "I care about you, more than I can put into words. But I'm not sure where we stand".
Feeling your heart shatter, more tears gathered in your eyes. With trembling hands, you pulled back from Ben's touch. The uncertainty in his words cut deeper than you expected, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed.
"I understand", you whispered, your voice barely audible as you fought to keep your emotions in check. "I… I need some time to… to think".
Your words hung heavy in the air, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you as you grappled with the uncertainty of your relationship.
Ben sighed heavily, his hand reaching out to gently grasp your arm. "Please", he said softly, his voice tinged with desperation. "Let me explain".
But you couldn't bear the thought of more uncertainty, the hurt too raw and overwhelming. Pulling away from his touch, you shook your head, unable to find the words to express the depth of your pain.
"No. I… I need to be alone right now", you mumbled, turning towards the door to leave.
You told him you loved him and he just couldn't bring himself to tell you how he felt about you. After all, he was the first man you had confessed your feelings to. You just felt so stupid. Maybe he just didn't love you the way you loved him?
Ben sighed again, his heart heavy with regret as he watched your tears fall. "Let me at least drive you to the next hotel. I can't stand the thought of leaving you like this".
You hesitated, torn between your desire to be with Ben and your need for clarity in your relationship. Finally, you nodded reluctantly, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand.
"Okay", you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "Take me to the hotel".
With a heavy heart, Ben led you back to the car, his mind consumed with thoughts of how he could make things right with you.
He knew that if he forced you to stay with him at that moment, he would only hurt you more. If there's one thing he's learned by now, it's to let you go your own way every now and then and not force yours on you. Even if every fiber of his body resisted. Even though he hated not having you around.
As Ben parked the car in front of the hotel, he turned to you, his eyes reflecting the turmoil in his heart. Without saying a word, he reached out, taking your hand in his.
"You won't leave me, will you?", he asked, his voice filled with vulnerability. The fear of losing you weighed heavily on him, and he couldn't bear the thought of being without you forever.
Feeling the weight of your silence, Ben watched helplessly as you stepped out of the car without another word. He clenched his fists, his mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions, but he knew better than to push you further. With a heavy heart, he remained in the car, allowing you the space you needed.
———————————
A/N: ._. down we go. Please let me know what you think.🥰
-
Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee
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—THE WEIGHT OF BLOOD.
pairing: outlaw!farmer!141 x fem!reader
series masterlist taglist (closed.) next
contains: pov change, graphic violence, gore, reader’s husband insults her, mentions + use of knife in this chapter, reader is called a whore, implications of kidnapping, drugs.
summary: slippery floors.
wc: 4.7k
a/n: oh…
You always felt as if you were walking on eggshells with him.
It’s how you used to feel with him. When the sun was barely shining on your life and peppering your face with light, guilty, kisses.
Now that the sun is hidden by the horizon, no longer are the kisses light and guilt ridden, but they are harsh and forceful. No more are the rays hitting your skin with a warm embrace, but its replaced with a chill so unforgiving it’s like a whip against your skin.
No longer are the eggshells digging into your skin, because glass shards are piercing into your feet, digging into the flesh and staying there so that every time your once delicate, soft feet hit the floor, a wave of pain and realization washes over you.
Every step is a reminder; you’re never going to be free of him.
You let out a shaky breath and wince at your husband’s booming voice. Pointing fingers and yelling curses.
Johnny and Simon are doing little to nothing to stop him, in fact, they seem to be holding back.
Why?
Why are they holding back when your husband, James Fitzroy, is insulting their mothers? Their sisters, brothers? Them?
“We didnae do nothin’ to ye,” Johnny starts, standing in front of Simon when James gets too close for his liking. “So back the hell off.”
James scoffs with a sick smile on his face. “You didn’t do anything to me?” He spits. “Of course not, you just came into my house, and fucked my wife, is that it? Hm? Had your fill already?” He taunts, his hair flying wild.
You always loved his hair. His golden, rich dark hair, suggestive of the precious metal, mimics the beauty and luxury of his picture perfect world; compared to you however, your soul hides what’s really behind closed doors.
You shake your head to rid your mind of those thoughts. He’s not shining gold anymore, the secrets in this house are slowly coming to light. He resembles something that seems kind, but hurts you when you actually expect it, when you know it can hurt you. Like the sun.
“We didn’t do anythin’ to your wife.” Simon defends. He steps forward so he’s now side by side next to Johnny, the kitchen looking too small for them. “We just came here to deliver the meat she ordered, is all.”
“Oh really?” James says. He shoves an accusing finger in Simons shoulder.
He’s going to hurt them. He’s going to hurt them and you’re just standing there.
Like the pliant little housewife he made you to be.
What are you doing just standing there?
When you let the heavy coat drop from your arms onto the floor and you take a singular step in their direction, you can feel the glass digging deeper into your skin.
Every step is a reminder.
As you near your husband, you shudder. His wrath is like a toxic air that’s slowly killing you from the inside out. Taking and taking until there’s nothing left of you to take.
You reach your James, scared to meet the questioning gazes of Johnny and Simon, and reach a trembling hand to touch his shoulder. “James—”
He whips his body around to face you. You can see, feel, his anger as it burns everything it touches. Hungry for more. He grabs your outstretched hand and squeezes. Ignoring the whimpers of pain that fall from your lips and the tears that blur your vision and fall down to meet at your chin.
“You.” He says it with so much, loathe dripping from his voice, painting his lips, his chin, neck, black with anger.
“You fucking whore, playing around with these, little boys, getting their dicks wet while I slave away at work and provide for you?”
His face is too close. So close, you can smell the stink of alcohol on his breath, recoil as you feel the spit flying out of his mouth land on your face. You feel your tears falling fatter and faster as you see the hickeys and lipstick prints on his neck.
“You let go of ‘er—”
Your free hand feels like lead as you raise it to bring it down with such force it leaves a red mark on his face the moment your skin touches his, his face forced to the side, facing the wall.
You feel your soul getting doused in gasoline and set on fire.
You see James’s body turning rigid and stiff as his face turns a canvas of anger.
You blink away your tears.
He stiffens as if he endures the horrors you have to watch him do at night. He stiffens as if his body is constantly being clawed, dragged, down by hands that burn. He stiffens as if he has glass stuck in the soles of his feet, spilling his blood onto the floor and staining the wood, the walls, you. You, you, you.
He turns his head back to its original position to at you, but he’s stopped. Stopped by a scared hand deep his hair wrenching back so his body topples to the floor with a reverberating thud. You almost fall with him with his tight grip on your wrist, but you feel Johnny’s hand pluck yours out of his and cradle it, cradle you, to his chest.
But you can’t focus. You see your vision blurring and a ringing, your soul screaming, in your ears is blocking out the noise of Simon’s fists connecting with James’s face.
You watch with horror gleaming in your eyes as you see your husband’s face and body grow more and more unrecognizable by the second.
Why are you just standing there?
“Get—” Simon’s fist interrupts his slurred cries. “—th’ fuck off ‘f me you d’rty bast’rd . . .”
Your husband is getting beaten, and you’re standing in the arms of another? A stranger?
Simon’s eyes. They’re burnt a charcoal black and only seemed to be getting darker by each blow he landed on your husband’s face. It scares you to no end.
“You stain your wife’s skin with that mouth?” A sharp sound, a slap echos throughout the room. Right where your hand hit his face. Right where your hand can be seen on his face as a bright red gone darker by Simon’s force.
Your eyes catch a gleam in the light, a gleam of something sharp, of something used to kill.
A pocket knife.
James struggles to fully pull it out of his pocket but when he does, he grips it with a shaking hand and stabs blindly at Simon’s arm.
You suck in a breath and can only watch as silence consumes the room with Johnnys arms tightening around you.
He didn’t even flinch as the knife was forced into his skin, didn’t even react as he gripped the handle and yanked the knife out of his arm, his blood following the knife like a lost dog before splattering on the ground like abstract art.
Noises of pain and fear escape the opened mouth of your husband, noises that you’ve never heard him make. Only noises of power and rage.
Simon rises to his full height and takes a handful of James’s hair, dragging him up with him add dropping the knife on the floor
“Simon—” You beg, but it’s too late. With the grip Simon has on James’s hair, he pulls his arm back and swings it, swings James, towards the kitchen counter at full force.
His head ricochets off of the counter and he lands back on the floor, right in front of your shaking form.
He lays there sideways and still as the long gash running straight across his forehead leaks blood onto his clothes and floor at a rapid pace. You stare at it as the blood slowly runs towards you.
You’re staring at your husband’s bleeding body.
Simon grabs James’s pant leg, pants that you bought for him, and yanks his body towards him to resume what he hadn’t finished.
When the blows continue, you find yourself wincing at each one, unconsciously sinking deeper into Johnny’s warm body.
A man you just met that day is beating the life out of your husband.
You feel like cold water is raining down on your body.
“Stop—” Your cry escapes your lips broken. “stop, please! Simon please—you’re hurting him!”
You try to push Johnny off of you, try to yank your limbs out of his strong grip but that’s just it. His strong grip is like a snake that captured its prey, rolling its body around it and holding onto it until it dies, until it can’t feel anymore, until you can’t breathe anymore.
“Let me go—Johnny let me go!”
He shushes your cries and doesn’t even bat an eye when you turn to bang your fists on his chest and run your nails down his skin. He just cradles your head to his chest right where his heart is so you can hear his heartbeat and be soothed.
But how can you be soothed when—
“Simon.” You hear him say. “That’s enough.”
Like changing tides; Johnny’s voice sweeps into his mind and altered his landscape of emotions. Changing from the beast in a story to a soft bear.
A bear with blood dripping from its mouth.
Simon stops the torture that he inflicted upon your husband and keeps his back turned to you and Johnny as he stands. Blood, James’s blood, dripping from his clenched fists and escaping into the crevices in your tile floor.
He turns at the waist to you and Johnny. You, who’s still struggling to escape his arms, you whose tears are never ending on your damp cheeks, you who’s watching your husband struggle to breathe, blood exiting his mouth in bubbles, popping and splattering the red mess everywhere.
And Johnny, who watched with a satisfied smile growing on his face.
Bells were ringing in your ears, stars were dotting your vision, your hands were shaking, you can’t breathe. “James . .?” You whisper. Your voice coming out so broken that Johnny almost felt sorry.
He still has his arms around you, still feels your beating heart pound against the cage around it, against his chest, still feels the sting of the bruises and scratches you left on him, the latter leaving blood trailing down his arms, dripping and dripping until they bleed into your dress, bleed into you. He still feels, you.
“What . . . No . . . no, no!” Your wail runs deep and escapes raw from your soul. You wail and it breaks Johnny’s heart, breaks it into tiny pieces scattered all around this cruel world you all live in. This world filled with cruel people.
“You killed him! You killed him!” You struggle, and Johnny grunts out curses as you elbow his stomach, slipping in blood and failing to the floor, your dress pooling at your feet, shaking in the blood staining the floor and dying the front of your once blue dress red. You fall right in front of Simon. Right in front of your husband’s still warm body. Still bleeding. Still breathing.
You burn the part of you that feels disappointed in that fact.
“James,” You whisper, cradling his face, his broken face, his face that is broken and bleeding, in your hands. You know it will haunt you for life. “Please, please, wake up. . . wake up . . .”
Blood was everywhere.
Your cries are silent except for the horror filled gasps you let out in between breaths. Your hands shake and you feel as if the coldest of waters were dumped on you. Hoping there would want you up from this dream, this nightmare.
“Why . . ? Why did you do this . . ?”
Your face is drenched in your tears running down your face, some fleeing into your mouth, making you taste your own sweet nectar tears. A nectar that is sticky and leaves a bitter rather than sweet taste in your mouth, a nectar that clings to things that aren’t theirs and never lets go. A nectar like Simon and Johnny.
“He was hurtin’ ye lass,” Johnny says. “We couldnae let ‘im hurt ye like tha’” He walks towards you, the squelch sound coming from his boots walking on blood make you flinch and cover your mouth in terror with your shaking hands, spreading blood, your husband’s blood, all over your tear stained cheeks.
Johnny squats down next to you, his thighs brushing over yours as he watches you. Watches you process that your husband might as well be dead to you, and he’s not coming back no matter how hard you pray.
You feel Johnnys hand, his warm hand, his soft hand, his dry hand, guide your face to lock your eyes with his.
“Ye know we had to do tha’.” He says. His eyes aren’t bright anymore. Now they’re dark waves at night. Luring innocents into its waters and taking, drowning, keeping. “Right, love?”
Your eyes shift back to James’s body in your peripheral, still feeling the cold gaze of the two men on your face.
His eyes are swollen shut; but if they were open, you could imagine they’d be looking at you, piercing you with that gaze you used to love so much, The gaze you find yourself missing; back when things were good, not burnt and soaked in blood.
His skin is pale. It turns as white as the pure clouds that once blocked the heat of the sun. But now the clouds are dark, they’re dark and they obscure the warmth of the sun to let the cold chill of death sink its claws into the fertile earth.
His chest barely rises with the painful breaths he’s taking.
He’s still alive.
Your shaking eyes peel away from James and they lock with Johnnys’ again.
And you know, with a heavy and pained heart, that he can see the tiny part of you that agrees with him.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your eyes burned and your head is pounding. All you can hear is ringing. Ringing, screaming, crying, all the same to you in this moment.
You hear someone call your name, you feel a wet hand touch your shoulder, you feel something sharp sink into the fragile skin of your neck.
You feel the cold shadow of darkness embrace you.
Your body feels heavy.
Heavy with guilt, fear, and an overwhelming sadness.
Heavy with whatever drug was forced into you.
In your milky haze, your eyes open slightly and the sun burns your eyes even through the thick curtains blocking it.
You think they’re curtains. They could very well be something else; but they move with such a fluidity in them that you can’t think otherwise.
This room you’re in moves as if it’s a vehicle on a bumpy road, your ears pick up the sound of an animal trotting on the rough road.
Someone moves, blocking the shining sun with their body as they move to learn towards you.
“Sh, Bonnie lass.” A voice coos at you, brushing their—his—hand over your temple to gently move the hair that rested there. “Yer alrigh’, we’re gonnae get ye someplace safe.”
When you let out a hoarse moan in protest to his action, another hand, a bigger hand, pets your hair and plants a chaste kiss on your sweating forehead.
You let out a dry cry and try to move your head in another direction, any direction, but the poison burning your veins and warming your skin is making you a limp doll.
Your lips are cracked and your throat is raw. When you try to speak, the sentence gets lost on the way out of your mouth and only one word escapes.
“. . . home . . .”
The soft voice, the first voice, shushes you again, moving your body and placing it sideways in a laying position so your head rests on his lap and your legs dangle on something else. Someone else.
“It’s gonnae be okay hen, don’ worry that pretty head. We’ll get ye home safe with us.”
You last see the curtains move after going over a particular bump in the road, revealing dancing trees and a large sign; though you only see the last part of it before your body succumbs to sleep:
—POPULATION: TWO HUNDRED SEVENTEEN.
In the murky shadows of the dimly illuminated room, wisps of smoke curled and danced around the man seated amidst the gloom like a dragon.
With each inhale, the ember of the cigar flared, casting fleeting glimpses of their features into the obscurity.
The apple of his cheeks, his beard shining auburn, his eyes that reflected an angry sea.
“She sleepin’?” He asks into the shadows. His voice is rough and deep, his words escape him in a cloud of smoke as dark as his eyes.
“Yes. Brought ‘er in an hour or so ago. A ripe peach she is.” The shadow answers, stepping away from the window that covered an entire wall adjacent to the grand desk. The shadow walks the length of the room to stand in front of the desk, he picks up a random trinket from the desk and starts twirling it between his fingers repeatedly.
“And the husband? Tell me the bastards’ gone.”
The smell of smoke and ash covered the room. But nothing could cover the smell of blood coating the shadows fingers, staining the trinket, the knife, in his hand.
“He’ll never hurt her again.”
- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !
- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!
©miwsolovely
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the green emotion
someone requested jealous!azriel and i... made up a whole plot. i hope it's decent and fulfills the craving ! i'm a firm believer than he's so silly when he gets jealous <3 friends to lovers, about 4k
Azriel was not a jealous Male.
That was what he told himself. Jealousy was something that possessed the likes of Cassian or Rhys, driven to territorial acts that likened them to wild beasts. Fueled by their protectiveness, their senses dulled beyond reason.
Jealousy was a sharp whip with a taunting bite and Azriel was one of few who did not bend beneath it.
He had adopted a strength over millennia, an iron will, that prevented him from harboring such unsavory feelings. He was a stronger male than that, not so easily willed by strong ugly emotions such as jealousy.
That was what he told himself — as he tailed behind you, hanging back far enough you could not detect his presence, his shadows shrouding him.
It was reaching evening in Velaris, the last remnants of the sun's dappled light scattered across the cobblestones. You were clothed in a velvet cloak that reached down to your ankles. Its hood was drawn up, to cover your face.
If Azriel didn’t know you so well, not the weight of your steps and the lithe you carried yourself with, you may have slipped by unnoticed.
But Azriel was the Spymaster for a reason — and you were keeping secrets.
Truly, it itched and picked at him as he turned reason over and over again in his mind as he followed you. What possible reason could you have for skirting around in the dark? To slip from your friends and cloak yourself, wishing to remain unseen on the streets of your home?
It didn’t make sense to him. No thoughts of treason ever breached his mind. You wouldn’t dare, he knew that. You treasured your family as deeply as Azriel did himself, having bled and fought for your space beside them many years ago.
But as Azriel traced the path you walked, knowing you were fully in your right to go about your business however you pleased, it couldn’t be ignored. Logic kept pointing fingers in the same direction.
If he did not suspect you of withholding vital information from your court, then his quiet tailing must be fueled by something else. Something as trivial as an emotion such as…. jealousy.
Azriel bristled at the thought and his wings shook silently behind him, as if shaking off some imaginary snow.
He did not get jealous.
He was simply… ensuring the safety of his court. Which included your own safety. Even the thought made him grimace in the shadows, knowing the smack he would receive from Cassian if his brother ever heard the implication you couldn’t fend for yourself.
You most certainly could. Azriel and Cassian had both spent their fair share of hours battling against you in the fighting ring, training you up.
And it’s hardly likely that the image of you — donned in your fighting leathers, forehead beaded with sweat, chest heaving as you gripped your sword tight and grinned across the ring — was something Azriel would forget anytime soon.
Cauldron boil him if he ever had to admit aloud just how often he thought of that image.
Still, something within him kept his feet moving, footsteps as quiet as the night.
Faelight illuminated across the cobbles, the light of the rising moon, brighter in this court than any other, cast across the doorsteps of the townhouses. You had wound through the streets and ended up two streets stray from the Palace of Threads and Jewels. On a doorstep that Azriel had never seen before.
Your hood fell to your shoulders as you pushed it back gently, revealing the column of your throat and the curve of your shoulders. The faint moonlight glided across your skin, a luminous glow curling up against your collarbones. Azriel swallowed from his place in the shadows.
It was never a surprise to find you beautiful. To revere your enchanting otherworldly beauty — that Azriel was used to. And yet still, even after all these years, he had not managed to master the way it stole the breath from his lungs every time.
A familiar hunger yawned within him. He averted his eyes from you to the door.
He forced himself to take in the details, listening as his shadows whispered things his eyes could not attest. An artist's home. Damaged and rebuilt in the last battle of Velaris. The inhabitant was a Male, living alone.
Something blistered awfully inside Azriel.
Why would you visit a home such as this? Azriel could think of a few reasons that could warrant a visit so late in the evening, with your face concealed and your footsteps light. He felt his stomach turn over. Something foul burned in his gut.
The door before you opened and Azriel turned his face fast, slicing his gaze to the ground before he could see the Fae who greeted you.
Suddenly, this felt too close to an invasion of privacy. If you wished to keep your lovers a secret, as he himself did, this was a direct violation of your wishes.
That was... if this man was, indeed, your lover.
Something vulgar, something ugly reared up in his veins. Azriel clenched his fists at his sides, siphons gleaming, and willed it down.
Jealousy would not become him. Jealousy was not— did not control him.
And yet he could feel it, coursing through his blood, choking up his throat. Azriel tried to push it down, to fight against it with reason, with logic. You were promised to no Male, least of all to him. But...
But he could've sworn.
As quickly as the words appeared in his mind, Azriel stamped them down with an icy fury.
A silent curse followed them, directed at himself for his own foolishness. How many times would he walk this road before he eventually learned?
There had been no heated moments between you, no wandering eyes, no lingering hands; none that he had not imagined. None that his mind had no conjured up in its own twisted hope.
When you sought him out in the night, tormented by your own mind and how it kept you from sleep, you were seeking... a friend, Azriel realised bitterly.
There was nothing deeper to your decision to show up at his door but no one else's. Nothing was hidden in the way you chose a seat next to him at every dinner, nor the way you found a way to be beside him at the tables at Rita's.
Sitting close enough so that he could smell the alluring scent of your perfume. Could see the gleam of your bright eyes as you glanced at him after every joke, almost as if to see what might make him smile.
No. He steeled himself, shutting down every sweet moment of you he had been subconsciously collecting, holding to a greater magnitude than you clearly did.
You were not like Mor or Cassian. You did not warm the sheets of many Fae beds, slipping in and out of them without a care.
You were... alike to himself, Azriel had thought. Dedicated yourself to one.
He scowled at himself in the dark. This— this rendezvous in the dark did not dispel what he knew about you. It did not make it untrue.
It simply meant his feeble hope, that the one, the Fae you might dedicate yourself entirely was him... was just that—a hope.
It did not sway the reality of the world, the matter of truth that you crept out in the night to meet on shadowed doorsteps. Azriel felt his shadows smoking around him, spun into a frenzy at his unwelcome revelation. He snapped in his wings a little tighter.
Coming here tonight, following you, had been a mistake.
—
It seemed perfectly logical after that night for Azriel to take a step back, to rein himself in.
Not that there was not much to rein back — but the small actions reserved just for you, the unrestrained smiles, the inside jokes ribbed back at one another.
The things he had perceived as meaning more. He knew, that if he wanted to protect his heart from further ache, he should stop doing them.
But... maybe the only thing he did better than fighting, he thought grievously, was being utterly lovesick for someone who would never feel the same.
At the very least, he would hold his feelings to secrecy. It began with the smallest retractions, like weaning an addict off their favourite drug.
Azriel knew if he pulled away too quick, it would send him into a sort of withdrawal — and after all these years spent together, he wasn't sure he knew how to live with a deficit of you. Of your brazen smile and sparkling eyes.
Slow and sure. Over the next week, he willed himself to quit bothering you, to empty a space in your life so you could invite in others, those that meant more to you. So, there could be space for your new... lover.
Even the word sounded bitter in his mind.
Azriel opted for longer training in the morning. Let his sparring sessions with Cassian bleed longer and longer, not leaving the blazing hot rooftop even when Cass winds up limping inside.
He had received a halfhearted scowl from the warrior, undoubtedly for how unrelenting he had been in his fighting this week.
The time he usually sets aside for you, to read side by side in the library, to bake, to enjoy each other's company — Azriel swept it aside for you, to free up your schedule.
Noticed how you spend your free time down in Velaris. He doesn't dare tail you again.
The week crawls by slowly, stretching out thick, black tar.
Come Sunday, a day you normally reserved for spending with him, Azriel knows his extra insistence on training isn't enough of an excuse to keep you away. He trains late anyway.
True to his suspicions, it takes less than an hour for you to appear— having come to find him.
Azriel can sense you, even before his shadows murmur sweet things in his ears about the most beautiful Fae watching him through the window.
You're lingering at the door, unusually reserved. He can feel your hesitancy, even as he works his aching muscles through yet another set of exercises. His shadows stay in close, the edge of his body whispering in and out of darkness, his siphons gleaming.
You wait, watching quietly, until the sword he's wielding, a strong, broad Illyrian blade, is placed down to rest. Then, there's the soft pad of your feet as you step out into the training area. He hears you coming but he does not turn to face you.
“I've missed you this week.”
Even with his back turned, Azriel fights to keep his expression neutral, even as his eyes flutter at your admission. There's a tug on his shadows, their desire to wisp across to you proving a challenge to resist. He holds himself still, stern, and doesn't even a ruffle of his wings to indicate he's heard you.
"I—" Azriel begins. He still can't bear to turn to face you. "I'm sorry to hear that."
He can hear the noise of confusion that slips from your throat — evidently, it isn't the response you're expecting.
Azriel focuses on the sword before him, his bicep bulging as he lifts its weight and wanders to the stand of weapons. He pretends to be immersed in the decision of which to train with next, even though he's been out here for hours.
Even with his silent cold shoulder, he can still hear you behind him, your feet dragging softly across the ground in what is surely a hesitant nervous action. But still, you haven't left.
"Well, maybeee…" You continue on, voice still aiming for light and breezy, as if he hasn't been avoiding you. You're still trying.
Azriel's chest tightens up with a familiar ache, one that always lingers around you. Since seeing you that night, on another Male's doorstep, its sting has become particularly cruel. Jealousy has a cold bite.
"If you’re nearly done... I mean, if your somewhat obsessive workout regime is finally complete..."
You're winding on, taking jabs that would normally make him smile. You'd take a gentle rolling of his eyes at this point. Azriel turns to you, his face remaining passive.
"I was wondering if you wanted to come sit with me in the library," You say, voice suddenly softer now that he's facing you. "If you’re not too busy, that is.”
Azriel steels himself, eyes cutting to the ground as he forces himself to not wilt beneath your hopeful gaze. He knew it would be hard to pull himself away from you but this? This is nearing torture.
He clears his throat. “I am.”
He turns and begins to peel off the layers of Illyrian leathers from his torso, remaining diligent at keeping himself from caving to you. He can feel the ugly emotion rolling just beneath the surface, a gruesome green monster that threatens his usual composure.
Behind him, he hears your soft, saddened oh. His wings give a tiny shiver at it, even as he continues the methodical process of unwinding after training.
Piece by piece, his armor comes off, until even his shirt has been shed. His skin glistens under the shine of the afternoon sun, the muscles beneath rippling and sore from exertion.
There's a moment of silence and Azriel keeps his head bowed as he gathers himself, prepared to bathe the sweat and grime off himself. It wasn't a complete lie he had told.
Perhaps, he thinks wistfully, he could wash some of his unjust jealousy away with it. Being so unwound by his feelings is taking its toll on him, considering how unused to it he is. He waits, ears keenly listening for the sign of your departure.
After a minute of quietness, he can only assume you've slipped away silently. He sighs, half in relief and half in his sorrow.
"What are you busy doing?"
Your voice pipes up and Azriel glances behind him, surprised that you haven't left after all. His wings tuck in a little tighter.
"y/n." He murmurs your name and it comes out almost as a plea. Now, faced with you pulling apart his loose lie, Azriel finds he doesn't have it within him to lie to your face. "Please."
You don't say anything.
Azriel's shadows dance around him, agitated and frenzied, and he wills them to calm— though, that had always been an impossible request in your presence. He takes a sharp inhale and walks towards the door, leaving you behind on the rooftop.
He gets halfway down the hallway, heading for his room before your voice calls out again.
"Busy avoiding me?"
You've followed him from the training ring and now you stand at the end of the hallway, your arms crossed firmly across your chest. Your face is contorted into a hard expression, a furrow between your brows.
Azriel sighs and turns back to you. He hadn't been able to keep his secret from Mor — why, oh why did he think that he would have any more luck when it came to you?
You— enigmatic, wonderful you. Maybe, all Azriel hopes to do today is to delay the inevitable rejection for a different day. An easier day.
A day where he isn't feeling so easily undone by his the enormity of his envy. Envious of what he can't have but so desperately desires.
As he turns to face you, it's impossible to miss the way your eyes dart down to his bare chest. You stare for a moment too long and it looks like it takes an effort to drag your eyes up. You swallow heavily, the bob of your throat unmissable. Even from afar, Azriel swears there's a glow to your cheeks.
No. No, he wasn't doing that to himself anymore! He wouldn't— he couldn't be having those thoughts about you anymore. You had a lover for Mother's sake.
"I'm not—"
"Oh my Gods, don't even try to say you're not avoiding me." You interrupt him sharply. You begin to stamp your way down the hallway, eyes narrowed, your annoyance clear to see.
A door in the hallway opens. Distracted by something over his shoulder, Cassian takes a blundering loud step out into the hallway before he freezes.
He spots you first, eyes widening and wings bunching up at your obvious fury. His head turns, finding Azriel down the other end of the hallway.
"Oh... Mother, this is happening now, huh? I'm just gonna— uh, get food later." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, quickly turning and disappearing back into his room. His door closes with a quiet snip.
In the moment of distraction, you don't notice how Azriel has moved away stealthily— his shadows aiding his quiet getaway. He's not entirely sure what his plan is; he doubts he can avoid this argument by simply shutting himself in his room. Turns out, he's selfish enough to be willing to try.
Sure enough, it takes another moment before his wings twitch, his shadows reporting on your incoming footsteps moments before he hears them himself.
He busies himself with digging through his drawers and sends a silent request to the House, praying it might keep the door locked against you.
He can do this— he can swallow down his burning heart and keep your friendship he values so dearly, he swears he can. Just not today.
He hears the door open.
Glancing up, he narrows his eyes at the House and calls it a foul word in his mind. The Faelights of his room seem to twinkle mischievously in response.
"Az," You breathe softly.
His name sounds unbearably tender coming from your lips. His wings give a little rustle, curling closer around himself.
Despite his lack of reply, you aren't deterred. He can hear your footsteps, gentle and not at all like your prior furious stomps down the hallway, as they wind around his bed.
Chest stirring with an old ache, he keeps himself facing away. He slips a shirt on and prays you give him one more day to rein in his treacherous heart. One more day. He just can't do it today.
"Did I... Did I do something?"
Your voice is suddenly a lot smaller.
Azriel softens instantly at the sound of it, feeling his resolve begin to crumble. He crushes his eyes closed and thinks of what he had seen down in Velaris — forces himself to imagine you with another Male, in his arms, in his bed.
But even if his jealousy is so terribly unwarranted, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.
"No," The word grates out his throat roughly.
Because it's the truth. You hadn't done anything wrong and— and Azriel refused to hurt you just because he couldn't contain a few rampant feelings.
"Really?" The tinge of annoyance is back in your words and Azriel can't even blame you.
"Because then why it is that you have been avoiding me since— since the day I was-"
You cut your own words off and Azriel fills in the blank on his own. Since the day down in the city—where I saw you entering another Male's home, hidden in your cloak, like you were meeting a lover— and even though you're completely allowed to do that, I am like every other gods forsaken jealous Male in Prythian, getting upset over this, even if you are not truly mine.
He turns to you finally, his hands clenched at his side and he wills the next sentence out.
"What or who you choose to spend your free time with—" He inhales a long breath, forcing his face to remain neutral even as he feels his teeth grit together. "—is none of my concern."
Your face scrunches up, confused. Then the furrow between your eyebrows is back and Azriel feels a tad nervous. You aren't often angry, least of all with him.
"Cauldron boil me," You bury your face into your hands for a second. Then you drag them down languidly with a groan, peeking up at him over your hands.
"Did you follow me?"
Azriel feels a bit off-guard. His voice isn't as sure when he says, "It is my duty to survey my court."
You bristle a little at that and the nervousness within him grows a little bigger.
"'Who I choose to spend my time with?'" You repeat his words back to him with a tone of incredulity, your hands motioning wildly before you. Faintly, Azriel begins to sense the feeling of foolishness rising within him.
"For Mother's sake, Az, I was buying you a birthday gift, not sleeping with him!"
The moment the words burst from your lips, two things happen. Azriel stiffens, the true nature of your stealthy endeavor through Velaris making a fool of him indeed.
You were... cloaked and hidden because you had been planning a surprise. For him. For his birthday. Something he hadn't even considered was around the corner as it held no high merit with him. His eyes widen and his lips part an inch.
And you — you straighten up, eyes wide, looking as though you've been struck by lightning.
"You were jealous." You gasp.
Not a question, a statement.
"No," Azriel denies, without thinking. His heart rabbits in his chest. The irony of acting out the way he did, because jealousy had blinded him in the first place, is not lost on him.
Suddenly, all his envy is washed away, replaced quickly by a bumbling foolish embarrassment. He wishes he could winnow out of the House. He considers the window behind him for a moment, if only to spare himself from revealing his true feelings to you.
One glance back at your face, your expression edging towards crestfallen, and any thoughts of running away vanishes.
"Yes." He quickly amends, voice meek.
His wings give a little shudder, twisting in closer as he realises what he's admitted aloud. How there was no coming back from this.
No one had ever made him as loose-tongued as you do. Azriel is embarrassed to be caught stumbling over his words.
"I realise..." He croaks out, suddenly finding the slats of the floorboards immensely more interesting. His shadows have slowed from their nervous frenzy, making lazy motions instead, as if to soothe him. "That may not be ideal. My feelings, that is."
A beat of silence. Azriel studies a spot on the floor intently. His heart flounders wildly behind his ribs. His embarrassment seeps something closer to mortification.
Your shoes peek into the edge of his vision and Azriel's head shifts up slowly, his hazel eyes finding yours and burning into them.
His shadows whisper a thousand things to him — but all of them are dulled, quietened, as he simply stares at you. Feels something between the pair of you hang in the balance, just a breeze from unraveling.
Your eyes are bright. Acutely, he realises he can smell relief rolling off you in heavy waves. Amongst it, too, is a hint of... happiness. Happiness.
“Oh, you big Illyrian baby,” You coo, a teasing lilt to your tone.
His cheeks grow warm. Something white-hot tips down his spine as you step in closer, swaying into his space. He can smell the alluring scent of you and his heart thrums in his chest at your nearness, aching to be closer.
"Some spymaster you are, huh?" You say, voice barely above a whisper.
Azriel stays silent but his head tilts to the side just an inch in his puzzlement, his eyebrows knitting together. Hazel eyes peer at you with such an intensity that it sends goosebumps crawling across your skin— his eyes searching your face for answers to his thousand questions.
"Knowing everything except for this." You continue, words feather-soft.
You don’t say what this is but Azriel thinks he knows. Hopes he knows. His hands at his sides clench tighter, his fingers curled up into fists, and the motion catches your attention.
Moving so slowly, you reach out and gingerly take his wrist between your delicate fingers. Azriel lets you. A whine crawls up in the back of his throat and his swallows it back down.
He watches closely as you pull his hand up, forward, cradling it with your own two. His fingers twitch, so unfamiliar with such tender touches.
The shadows scouring around his shoulders burst into a frenzy, circling down his arms and twirling around your intertwined hands. It's as though they're... dancing, Azriel thinks.
"I... hoped." He admits quietly, his voice full of longing.
You shift his mottled hand, turning it gently so his palm is facing yours. Then you hold your own up against it, like you're comparing hand sizes.
Azriel can barely tear his eyes off where your hand presses into his to look up at you. Something molten hot begins to scorch through his veins. A realisation. A dream that may be finally answered. It feels like pure starlight.
Your hand is dwarfed against his own scarred one — and when Azriel curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours gently. You press back against his hand, like the smallest hug back.
You murmur back. "You don't need hope."
Your gaze skirts up from your joined hands, your lips twitching into a nervous smile.
Your eyebrows have drawn together in the middle, just a bit, as though what's happening is something you find devastatingly beautiful. As though you think that way about him. About the two of you, together.
Azriel finds himself thinking of all he would give in the world —all the mountains he'd move and dragons he'd slay— for you to keep looking at him that way.
"You already have me."
#i'm so on the fence on whether i like this one ! >.<#but i do think he would be sooooo foolish once he got jealous#esp if u were nearly a thing but not quite#and i do think he wouldn't have a kiss. just a handhold#when u two finally come together :")#azriel x you#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel shadowsinger x reader#azriel x reader#acotar fanfiction#azriel shadowsinger x you#acotar
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Gettin this out before tomorrows eps - still thinking about that wall slam
(continued on Patreon hehehehe)
ID: 1a. Close up on Stede in his new red shirt, holding a quill in his right hand. He looks up from his work with a furrowed brow as there is a loud crash and clattering of scattered objects offscreen. Stede asks, "Ed? What are you doing?" 1b. Reverse shot, full body of Ed, dressed down in his black undershirt, leather trousers, and boots, posed awkwardly against a standing wardrobe. He is leaning back against it, legs too far out and shaking with the effort from his core, one arm splayed against the surface and one arm above his head. On the floor next to him, an ornate golden candelabra has fallen over, holders snapped off and candles rolling away. Ed looks over at Stede, embarrassed, and replies, "Uhh...seducing you? That wasn't expensive, was it?" 1c. Close up on Stede again, smiling at Ed with hooded eyes, quill feather trailing thoughtfully over his cheek. "Oh?" he purrs. 1d. Repeat. Stede startles, realizing the implications, and moves to stand from his seat, flustered, repeating, "Oh!!"
2a. Shot from behind Ed, the wardrobe close up in the foreground and Stede's desk beyond, the cubby bed in the wall between them with curtains half closed. Stede rounds the desk and hurries toward Ed, one hand held out as if to stop him from taking off, shouting "I'm seduced! I'm seduced!" In the foreground, Ed heaves himself off of the wardrobe, leaning forward slightly with one hand braced on the door and the other on his lower back. He says, "Oh, good. Ow." 2b. Shot of them both in profile, knees-up, as Stede reaches Ed, arms held out hesitantly as if waiting for permission to grip his waist. Stede asks, red-cheeked and concerned, "So you...are we ready for this?" Ed grins at him, replying, "I said slow, not glacial, babe." He braces both hands on his back and leans his upper body backwards with a loud 'crack!' Stede mumbles, "Alright?" Ed assures him, "Never better." 2c. Repeat. Ed leans back again against the wardrobe, more confidently this time, back arched, right hand braced above him and left hand at his hip, curling a single finger in a 'come hither' motion. He grins up at Stede through his eyelashes and teases, "Hop aboard, Captain." Stede immediately straightens up, eyes going wide and face burning red.
3a. Zoom in, waist up. A blur of motion as Stede rushes forward, gripping Ed by the front of his shirt with both fists and pushing him backwards past the wardrobe to slam into the adjacent wall. Ed reacts with wide-eyed surprise, cheeks flushed, stomach exposed, one hand flying up toward Stede's shoulder. 3b. Repeat. Stede crowds Ed against the wall to mash a passionate kiss against his mouth, fists gripping his shirt tightly beneath their chins. Ed immediately melts into it, eyes closing, right arm looping around Stede's neck and left hand pressed to the side of his throat. 3c. Zoom out slightly as they break the kiss, Stede moving his head back only enough to make eye contact, their noses still overlapping. Stede, looking a bit bashful, asks, "Too much?" Ed smiles giddily at him, flushed and pleased, right arm winding tighter and left hand moving to cup Stede's cheek. Ed replies, "No, no, not at all, mate. I'm into it." 3d. Repeat. Satisfied with the consent given, Stede pushes forward again to kiss at Ed's neck, hands releasing their death grip on his shirt to start moving underneath it, cupping Ed's pecs. Ed lets his head fall back against the wall and throws both of his arms around Stede's neck to keep him close, one leg hiking up against his hip. Ed giggles, still wearing the same silly, satisfied grin, and quips, "Not so much of a gentleman in the sheets, eh?" /end ID
#ofmd#blackbonnet#gentlebeard#stedward#mlm#ofmd s2#ofmd season 2#ofmd s2 spoilers#our flag means death#my art#fanart#fan comic#image described
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Daylight
James Potter x fem!reader
Summary: When your boyfriend finds out he didn't make you come, his anger quickly turns into lust.
Genre: SMUT (NSFM)
Warnings: oral sex (m & f receiving/giving), teasing, cursing, mature themes, fingering, talk of sex and orgasms (obviously)!
"So, how's your boyfriend?" Dorcas Meadows asks you one evening at dinner. She leans in closer and she sings-songs the questions as if your boyfriend is some kind of burning hot scandal. You glance up from your plate, your eyebrows creasing, as you cover your mouth to swallow and then answer your friend,
"He's fine. Why do you ask?" you can't help the warmth that rises in your cheeks at the mention of James. Sure, you've only been dating for three months but it's been an absolutely amazing three months.
"No, no, I meant in the bedroom," Dorcas deadpans which causes you to almost choke on nothing as your other friends chuckle.
"How'd you know about that?" You ask, sending a glance at Lily Evans who looks sheepish as she shrugs her shoulders from beside Dorcas. She was the only one who was supposed to know you had slept with James a week earlier. You made her promise not to tell anyone because well, the experience had been slightly disappointing.
"Heard he didn't make you finish," Dorcas continues carelessly and your eyes round when you see James and his friends come up from behind her. Dorcas didn't see them and she finishes her sentence with a wide smirk, "Who would have guessed James Potter is shit at making girls come?"
Your heart pounds in your ears as James stands behind Dorcas, his mouth open and his cheeks suddenly burning crimson. His friends stand on either side of him, their faces drained of color, and you feel like you could just crawl into a hole and die. Your fake moans come back to haunt you;
"James, J-James," you groaned, wrapping your legs around him as you bruised your face in his neck. James's curls stuck to his forehead as he moaned into your skin and sucked on your collarbone. Thinking you had finished, he pulled out and kissed your lips before he smiled an exhausted smile.
"What?" Your boyfriend mutters, his voice shaky. His friends are silent, not daring to make a sound as yours look horrified for you. Dorcas's shoulders are tense and she looks at you, muttering a "sorry," behind her breath as she shoves her mashed potatoes in her mouth.
You've never seen James leave the Great Hall so quickly and you sprint after him. You manage to catch his arm and pull him into an empty classroom. You press your hands to his chest, letting him lean against a wall, but he just pulls your hands away.
"James Potter is shit at making girls come?" He repeats Dorcas's words, his tone piqued, and you can't tell if he's more upset or disheartened by the implications of the words. "When we," he pauses and turns his head away from you, "you didn't orgasm?"
Frantically, you claw at his collar, shaking your head as guilt overwhelms you. "No–I- I didn't, but James,"
"You faked your orgasm?!" James interrupts, hurt now evident in his eyes as his voice grows more squeaky.
"James, I- I didn't mind," you start to explain, "Really! You were just so close and I could tell you wouldn't last much longer and- I needed more time. I didn't want to make you wait for me," you bite your lip, looking up at him.
James's chest is rising and falling rapidly. His dark, hazel eyes flicker from yours to your lips and then to all your features in the middle. Gently, he lowers your hands from his collar. "Y/n, why didn't you tell me?" his voice comes out strained and broken.
Your heart shatters. "And why have you been going around telling all your friends I'm shit at making you come when you never even gave me the chance! I thought you had!"
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," your expression hardens and you scrunch your nose, "No one was supposed to know. I only told Lily because she's my best friend. I tell her absolutely everything! I guess she must have mentioned it to the others. I'm really sorry, James. Are you terribly angry with me?"
James frowns. He obviously wants to feel angry with you. He wants to be seething mad that you faked your pleasure and then went around telling your friends, but all he can think of is that night. How you looked; that beautifully flushed expression, mussed hair against his pillow, the way your lips had opened and closed to let slip your moans.
James clenches his fists. Had that all been a lie?
He looks at you now and his eyebrows scrunch. He walks closer to the wall, backing you into it as you stare at him. You can't help the way your heart is beating as his closeness. "Okay, tell me, what did I do that made you feel good then?" James asks seriously and you're surprised by the question.
You'd expected more yelling, or blaming—
—definitely less seducing.
"I-," you pause when James's eyes narrow and his hand moves to hold under your chin, wrapped easily around your neck. You inhale, eyes widening as he applies some pressure. He looks angry but there is also a deep, lustful, fire burning behind his eyes. His breath fans over your mouth as he whispers,
"What. made. you. feel. good?"
"I- I liked when you kissed me, kissed behind my ears, kissed my collarbone," you mutter, breathing becoming even harsher as you remember that night. How you'd been sprawled out on his bed, legs intertwined, and he'd kissed all your worries away. James wastes no time in attaching his lips to your neck, under your ear, and you let out a shaky breath.
"I- also- I liked when you used your fingers," you say as if prompted by the feeling of James's foot sliding over yours and pushing your legs apart. His hand dips down to your panties and he feels how wet they've become. He doesn't comment on it, just slips his hand under them and teases your clit.
"You should have told me," he reprimands in a whisper, his fingers sliding up and down your slit.
You clutch onto his arms and shake your head, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you mutter like a prayer.
"You should have told me because I wouldn't have stopped until my girl had come for real," James says with a nip at your skin. You let out a whine as his finger easily slides into you and he kisses you to muffle the sound.
"Fuck, my gorgeous girl. How could you?" he says as he pulls away and looks at you with slightly glossy eyes. "How could you not tell me?"
"I didn't want to embarrass you," you whimper as he runs his thumb on your clit.
"Embarrass me?" James's eyes darken and he uses the hand holding your chin to push your head against the wall a little harshly, he scoffs, "You did just that and so much worse, my lovely," he pauses, "It doesn't matter anymore because I'll show you that James Potter can make his girl come."
"I'm sorry," you say again. You chew your lip to suppress the needy sounds you're making. James shakes his head with a smirk and kisses the side of your mouth. He then moves his lips onto yours, teasing you with his tongue.
"You will be," he smirks and slides his hands down your sides until he's on his knees in front of you. You look at him, his hair is messy and his expression is flustered. James grins wolfishly. He squeezes your hips and pulls up your skirt to bunch around your waist as he kisses above your panties.
"Did I not spend enough time on foreplay with my girl? Is that what it was, lovely? Was the feel of my cock just not enough for you," he soothes your embarrassed whines with another sweet kiss on your exposed stomach, "don't be shy, it's okay. You should have told me," he insists again, his words still a little harsh.
"I'm sorry, Jamie," is all you can manage to mutter, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel James's hands grip onto your thighs. You're already soaked. How embarrassing. James smirks and pulls down your panties. He slides his index over your entrance and hums when he feels your wetness. With a wider smirk, he spreads your pussy lips and exposes your needy clit.
"You're so needy, love," James teases, "I just can't resist kissing you all over."
As he says this, he attaches his lips to your clit and you let out a broken moan. Your hands find his hair and you chew on your lip so your noises aren't muffled. James hadn't done anything like this the last time. It had been messy and needy the first time. He'd used his fingers to open you up but you'd both been so eager, you'd missed foreplay.
It seems likely the lack of foreplay was the issue because you feel like you're in heaven now.
"J-James," you moan, almost incoherent as he licks and sucks at your core like a starved man. You didn't think he'd be so good at this. Your thighs clench around his head and when he pushes them apart, you moan uncontrollably.
"Don't," James reprimands as he opens your legs and looks up at you. You can barely focus. James smirks and licks his lips. Standing up, he takes your chin in hand. "Do'ya wanna come on my tongue or my cock, darlin'. Please, tell me now because this time you are coming. I'll make damn sure of it."
You can barely form coherent thoughts let alone words as James tightens his grip on your chin. "Tongue or cock, Y/n," he says so seriously your stomach clenches with need.
"I- I don't know," you whimper.
James drops your chin and makes the decision for you. With a smirk, he lowers his head and places his lips around your clit again, sucking until you're once more a moaning mess. With one last whimper, your thighs tremble and you come apart.
James moans into your pussy, pulls away, and uses the palm of his hand to rub your clit as he finishes you off. You're completely spent when James stands and kisses you. You can taste your own release on his tongue and feel his hard cock pressed against your thigh.
"Jamie," you whine, eyes lidded. You want to please him too.
James just deepens your kiss and whispers into your mouth, "What do you want?"
You reach out and run your hand over the bulge in his trousers. James hisses and grips your wrist, shaking his head with a stern look. "Honey, this is about you. 'M okay," he promises, but his eyes squeeze shut as his cock hardens even more. He mutters a curse under his breath.
"I wanna," you mutter. It's your turn to drop to your knees.
James's protests are futile because you have his cock in your mouth very quickly. While you don't necessarily enjoy giving head, this time it feels entirely deserved and you suck him eagerly. James's hands find your hair as he curses, "Fuck me," and his hips involuntarily buck into your mouth.
"Shit, baby, I'm gonna come," he mumbles, biting his lip.
You take him deeper, encouraging him with a small smile as your hands find his thighs. You feel him want to pull away, not wanting to come inside your mouth, but you hold him still. With a grunt, James comes and you look up at him as you swallow obediently.
Without another word, James pulls you up and smoothes down your skirt as he spins you around and kisses you passionately. You help him tuck himself back into his trousers as he kisses you and you smile against his lips. "Thank you," you say.
"Don't thank me for making you come, darlin'," James argues, his cheeks still a little flushed from coming and the lingering embarrassment. You move to hold his cheeks in your hand and you kiss his nose.
"Thank you for making sure I'm taken care of," you whisper anyway and lean your forehead on his. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," you say.
James wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in closer, "Damn right you should be," James's eyes soften and he kisses your cheek, "I'm sorry if I made you feel like you couldn't tell me. Just know, from now on, when we play—I'll make sure you come. Hard."
You giggle at this and James just nuzzles his face in your neck, enjoying the beautiful sound of your laughter.
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Volcano
pairing : han x reader. enemies to lovers. slow burn.
summary : you've never gotten along with han, your mutual prejudices ruining any prospect of friendship between you both. but you slowly realize that you are more similar than what you originally thought- your darkness recognizing his, and his light yearning for yours.
"I'll take care of you. It's rotten work. Not to me, not if it's you."
cw : depiction of a panic attack, minor injury, both reader and han say mean shit to each other, cursing, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.
word count : 13.2k
a.n: highly recommend listening to "Let the light in" by Lana when Han starts playing it in the fic hehe feedback is highly appreciated as always <3
skz quotes series masterlist.
You remember being seven years old, sitting on the floor of your bedroom, while your mom brushed your hair. It was a late July night, a cold breeze swaying your white curtains, akin to the fluttering of a butterfly’s wing. Your eyes were slightly puffy, delicate red veins protruding the white of them. You had just finished watching a Disney movie- the Lion King; heavy sobs escaping your lips when Mufasa died.
There were still faint hiccups coursing through you, a slight shake in your hands as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. Your mom brought you to her chest, her chin resting on your small shoulder blade. "You’re sensitive, my sweet girl" she had uttered, rubbing your arms soothingly.
It was the first time someone described you as such. You didn’t know what ‘sensitive’ entailed exactly, but it contained the word ‘sense’, so you assumed it was something good, a quality to be proud of you. You could sense, maybe more than others, maybe too deeply. That’s why you cried when you didn’t get a good grade, or when your friends left you alone in the park.
But you didn't mind back then. What was your heart made for if not to feel?
You should’ve paid more attention to the way your mom spoke, to the bittersweetness lingering in her tone. As if she knew exactly what it entailed to be sensitive- to have your heart overflow with delicate feelings for the rest of your life, with no safe destination to guard them in.
☄༄
You’ve forgotten the last time you cried in.
The tears are lodged inside your throat- you can clearly feel them, an uncomfortable weight sitting on your vocal cords, rendering them impossible to use.
You used to cry, freely, so much that you lost count of how much it happened. But you realized that every tear that escaped your eyes, made you vulnerable, weaker, in the hands of the people around you. Every tear that washed over you, only rendered you more transparent for everyone to peer at how they wounded your soul.
So, you conditioned yourself to stop feeling as deeply, or at least to stop showing it. The sadness, the hurt, the anger were all stored within you; but your face remained placid, not betraying how you truly felt. You were like a pond, tranquil at the surface, raging from within.
But on days like this one, you miss the person you were. When the implications of being sensitive still haven’t weighed down on you. When you could get rid of your feelings in the essence of your tears. When you didn’t yet feel bad for feeling.
Chan's eyes are on you, as you type furiously on your laptop. Your vision is so blurry that you can no longer see your lit screen. But you’re afraid that if you pause then Chan would ask if you were okay, and you hated that question. Because you never truly knew the answer to it. Yes, you were okay. But you haven’t cried in six months and your friend didn’t greet you back this morning and you suddenly feel very small in a very large library.
"Hey," Chan taps your hand with his pen and you suck in a slight breath, before raising your head to meet his eyes. "Are you-" he starts but you’re quick to cut him off, knowing exactly where this was headed. "Did you answer question five? I’m stuck on what formula to use."
Chan raises a brow at you, and you blink repeatedly. His eyes travel to your feet tapping furiously against the floor, and he understands.
"I'm still at number four," he finally says and you nod in relief. You’ve been close friends for a year and Chan has come to know you- he’s dropping the subject.
"Oh, and are you coming to the party tonight?" Chan asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s hosting it and there is hope twinkling in his eyes. You feel bad because you’re about to crush it.
"No, need to revise more for the upcoming test."
"Of course, you’ll still be buried in your books," a sarcastic voice quips up, and you stiffen inwardly. Han- one-third of 3racha, Chan’s self-made producing group, and the bane of your existence. You never liked who you were around Han, he brought out the worst in you. Made all your insecurities roar forward, plastered across your body in neon red.
He was friends with Chan, long before you came into the picture, back into their high school days when Han skipped a class and ended up in the same one as Chan’s. A genius, as everyone around you liked to call him. And they were right- excelling came easily to Han, in everything he ever did. Even tapping into each one of your tender nooks and crannies.
He knew how to expertly push your buttons, how to make his tone sound mocking, and taunting, but only to you. Because you were sensitive, and he knew it, finding it almost amusing to toy with you.
You decide to stay silent because nothing good ever comes out of talking back to him. So, you bite your tongue, turning back to look at your screen. But Han’s elbow grazes your arm, as he leans a bit further into your face. "Come on, live a little, y/n. You’re missing out on the college experience," he makes a big show of opening his arms wide, a single red pen spinning between his fingers. "Quit being stuck up for one night." And it spins, and it spins, and it spins and something ugly inside you crumbles.
"I’m sorry I wasn’t born with a golden spoon shoved down my throat and I actually have to work for my future."
Han’s eyes widen at the raw animosity in your voice, before narrowing down promptly. He’s leaning onto your face again, and his tone is low and cold when he speaks again. "What did you just say to me?"
"Is it so hard to grasp that not everyone is as privileged as you? We can’t all afford to get wasted every fucking night and call it a life."
You’re being mean. This is the rudest you’ve ever been to someone else. You know that your reaction is disproportionate to what he said. But it isn’t just about this instant. It’s an amalgam of every moment Han made you feel small in, because you don’t go out as much as him, because you don’t understand as quickly as him. Taunts thrown your way under the guise of teasing, but you know better.
Still, guilt eats at you as your eyes lock with Chan’s. You should’ve stayed silent, as you’ve been diligently doing for the past year.
"How do you stand being her friend Chan? Is it out of pity?" Han muses, a pout pulling at his lips. You stare ahead as Han tsks lightly, before tapping your cheek with his pen, bringing your face back to him. "I think it is. Because isn’t she so fucking boring?"
Being near Han always makes you hyper-aware of things you never noticed before. Like how a breath has to travel from the depths of your body so you’d be able to release it, and how excruciatingly long it takes for you to draw in a new one. Because Han’s words are never harmless, no, they settle on the confines of your lungs, crushing down any bit of oxygen willing to leave you.
You've had enough.
"When you’re eighty, on your deathbed, and all alone. I hope you know that there is no one around to blame but yourself."
"Don’t cross the line, yn," Chan finally speaks and you scoff, as you get up to grab your things.
"What fucking line, Chan? So, he can insult me all day but as soon as I do it there is a line? Why are you taking his side?"
Chan stays silent and you chuckle dryly. "Of course, you are. You’re only friends with me out of pity after all."
"That’s not true-"
"Well, you didn’t deny it, did you Chan?"
"Yn, I-"
"Save it."
Han’s eyes are glossy as you take one final glance at him. But your heart’s bleeding too much for you to care about his minor cut.
☄༄
For how much time can a conversation haunt someone? Seventeen days, for your case. And you're still counting.
You have nit-picked your fight with Han in the library so much that it's driving you insane. His voice is drilled into your head- the coldness of it as he reeled back from the shock of your words, and then, the pure venom dripping from his tone, as he attacked you where it hurt the most. Chan.
Han chose his words carefully, stitched up the sentence perfectly to hurt you, to stick to your flesh like burnt skin, one that you peeled over and over, each time it threatened to scar.
You haven't talked to Chan in seventeen days. He tried to stop you; on your way out of class, in the line of your campus cafeteria, on the doorsteps of your dorm. But you always fleet away. His eyes were also imprinted into your brain- the disappointment in them when you clapped back at Han.
What about him? You wanted to yell. Why are you only disappointed in me?
But the tears in your pillow have dried. Then fallen again. Then dried once more. And you found the answer to question five. And you miss Chan, terribly so.
That's why you're pacing around his dorm, at 10 pm, when it's also terribly cold outside. Your fingers have gone numb from the ministrations of the wind, but you don't move from your place. You know that the chances of seeing Han- the second person you’ve been avoiding like the plague- would be higher here. But you didn't care anymore.
Your thumb hovers over the call button and you bite your lip harshly. Would Chan pick up? Would he hang up? Was he really your friend out of pity?
"Yn?" a voice calls out, and you startle, turning around to see who it is. Changbin, carrying two bags of groceries in his hand. He's Chan’s friend as well, the final member of 3racha. You like Changbin. He's always being very kind to you. You've grown much closer to him than to Han in the past few months; not that the latter has ever wanted a friendship with you. From the day you met and his eyes narrowed promptly each time you talked. You should’ve known from the start.
"Why are you out here in the cold?" Changbin asks gently, stepping cautiously towards you.
"Chan," you say simply and he nods, understanding what you mean.
"He's not here now, but he'll come home soon. Let's go inside, okay?" he smiles tentatively at you and you hum in reply.
Changbin opens the door and you follow inside. You help him take out the groceries silently, stacking them in their fridge and shelves. Lots of protein powder, and chicken packets. You'd laugh about it if you weren't so sad.
"Chan misses you," Changbin speaks up suddenly, and your heartbeat quickens at his words.
"I miss him too."
"Then you'll be okay."
You try to remember Changbin’s reassuring smile when Chan finally opens the door to the dorm, an hour later. He finds you sitting on the stool in the kitchen. His eyes light up once they settle on you.
And you unravel at the sight.
You're crying, sobs rippling from you as he brings you to his chest. He's patting your head and whispering that it's okay. And you know his shirt is all crumpled from clutching it in your hands. But he doesn't mind. He only hugs you tighter.
"I'm sorry, yn. So, so, sorry. I should've stopped him before, I just... You two are my best friends and I didn't want to add fuel to the fire by talking and-"
"It's okay, it's okay, I'm the one who should apologize for ghosting you."
"I understand why you did it. I fucked up but I missed you so much. Can we please never do this again?”
“Yes please,” you giggle, but the sound withers as the door opens once again.
"What is she doing here?" a cold voice breaks you and Chan apart, as your eyes land on Han. His gaze sucks the breath out of you, and the warmth in your heart fizzles out. Your hold on Chan’s shirt tightens and he takes an unconscious step in front of your body. Han doesn't miss the protective gesture.
"Get out, yn."
"You don't get to kick my friends out of my house," Chan is angry. And you regret ever coming here.
"Last I checked it's my house too." Han doesn't even bother looking at you. He's holding Chan’s gaze as if they're silently communicating. "You know damn well what she said why-" he takes a deep breath, running a hand angrily through his hair. "Fuck this. If she's not leaving then I am."
And with that he storms out, slamming the door behind him. You flinch at the sound.
Chan’s eyebrows are knitted as he stares at where Han stood seconds ago as if trying to conjure him up once again. You never wanted to strain their friendship. You knew how much Han cared for Chan, even if he didn't bear the same sentiment for you.
"Chan, I’ll leave. Call Han and tell him I'm gone."
"You don't have to."
"I know," you reassure, placing your hand on his forearm. "We'll talk more later, okay? It's cold and he has nowhere to go. Just call him, please."
"Fine," Chan concedes. "Call me when you get home, alright?" his eyes finally soften and you squeeze his hand in reply, before heading out as well.
The walk from Chan’s dorm to yours is fairly short, but tonight, it seems like kilometers are separating you from the safety of your bed. There is a heavy weight crushing your bones, most of it being guilt at what just transpired between Chan and Han.
That's what comes with being sensitive- you bear the weight of your feelings and the one of those surrounding you.
Were you out of place with what you said to Han? Yes. Was it eating you inside to see the consequences of your words? Yes. But he was also to blame, you repeated in your head. He was also to blame. Please. You plead, you don't know to whom, maybe to the voice in your head to stop being so mean. 'But none of this would've happened if you weren't so sensitive. So easy to bruise' the voice mocks and you stumble on your feet.
It happens so suddenly it takes you off guard- the way the breath is knocked out of you. You pause, chest heaving as you bend down slightly. Your hand is on your heart as you try to breathe again, but it's shaking so much. Your legs give out under you, and you plop down on the floor, eyes tightly shut. You can't breathe. You can't breathe. You're going to pass out.
"Yn, what-" A hand rests on your shoulder but you shake it off. You don't want to be touched. Not by him.
"Let me help-" Han speaks again, and you scramble away from him, as best as you can anyway. You end up kneeling on the ground once again, your back to him. "Get-get away."
"I know you're mad but you aren't okay and I know how horrib-"
"You aren't helping!" you shout through tears, as your heart threatens to spill out of your throat. "You’ve hurt me e-enough already."
You don't remember how you got home that night, how you managed to open the door or cross the road leading to your dorm. But you remember Han leaving you on the cold ground, just like you wanted. You remember the ache in your bones as you laid on your bed; the burning desire to stop feeling for a night, to cut your chest open and tear off your bleeding heart.
☄༄
One month later
If there's one thing you've always complained to Chan about, it's the fact that his building had an elevator in it, unlike yours.
Today, you’ve come to regret this fact. Tremendously.
You’ve been avoiding going to Chan’s dorm for the past weeks since the last thing you wanted was to see Han. But, he insisted on you coming over, reassuring you that it would only be him and Changbin at home since Han supposedly had other plans.
Well, Chan was wrong. Because Han just walked into the elevator you are in, mere moments before its doors closed.
Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes lock on yours. He looks like he wants to say something but he decides against it, opting for sighing loudly instead, before pressing the button leading to the fourth floor, rather harshly.
Your need to flee has never been this strong.
You watch anxiously as the numbers slowly go up. 1… 2… 3… Then a loud voice startles you and the elevator starts to shake in place. The door is suddenly opened and you are met with a cement wall, blocking your exit.
"What the fuck?" Han groans as you press the emergency button repeatedly, hoping that the elevator will resume its course and this nightmare will be forgotten.
It doesn’t.
"You’re going to break the goddamn button," Han pushes your hand away and you stumble away from him.
"Can you shut up? I’m not in the mood for your bullshit."
"Does it look like I’m happy to be here?" Han scoffs, as a ringtone plays in the elevator, cutting you off before you could respond.
"Hey guys, this happens from time to time, so no need to worry. Is everyone alright?" Someone speaks and you assume it's the worker charged with the maintenance of the elevator.
"Yes," you both reply at the same time.
"Great. We’ve contacted the mechanics but they said there’s a lot of traffic, so it might take a bit longer for them to get here."
"How long?" Han asks the question that’s on your mind as well.
"Two hours, at most, for you to get out."
"Oh, for fuck’s sake," you groan, as hot tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. This is the last thing you needed today- to be stuck in a cramped-up space with the one person who sucks the oxygen out of any room you’re in.
"Thanks, man," Han sighs and you turn your back to him, facing the wall. You’ve had a horrible day, scratch that, a horrible week. Hanging out with Chan and Changbin was the one thing you were looking forward to, only for the worst possible scenario to happen- being stuck in the same place with Han. You feel an urgent need to sob but you can’t cry in front of him. Not when he’s all claws and your skin is tender.
"Wait, are you claustrophobic?" He suddenly asks, seemingly inches away from your body.
"As if you’d fucking care," you scoff, before heading to a corner of the elevator and settling down.
"I'm not a monster, you know," he mutters in an almost sad tone, one that forces you to look up at him. His hands are deep into his pockets, eyebrows knitted as he gazes down at you. "Do you really think I’m that much of an asshole?"
"Yes," you reply instantly, before staring forward again. The hurt that flashes in his eyes shouldn’t tug at your heartstrings, but it does, ever so faintly, like the last wave that grazes your feet as you get out of the ocean. "I’m not claustrophobic," you add after a while and Han finally sits on the opposite side from you.
It’s hot and stuffy in the elevator, and it’s quiet, too quiet for your liking. You’ve never really liked silence for too long, it made the small voice in your head only grow bolder, louder, impossible to ignore.
Thirty-five excruciatingly long minutes go by and the tension only grows more suffocating. It’s simmering, barely beneath the surface, waiting for the person who will finally make it explode.
It’s Han.
“Can I ask you something?”
“No.”
“Come on, we have nothing else to do.”
“Have you tried being silent?”
"Yn," he says sternly and you begrudgingly concede. "Fine. Ask me."
You imagine him smirking slightly, the way he does each time he manages to push you over the edge.
“Why do you hate me so much?”
“We’re not doing this right now,” you shake your head, tone adamant.
"When’s a better time for it? We’re literally never in the same place."
“And whose fault that is?” You smile too sarcastically and he frowns. “So, I’m the only one to blame?”
“Can’t you see how full of yourself you are? Fuck, Han, this is exactly what I hate about you.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“You’re so immature, you never sit back to think of how your words might impact someone.”
"What words yn? I was teasing you!" his voice grows louder and so does yours. "You were hurting me!" you yell, chest heaving. There is something utterly terrifying in this confession- to let someone know how easy it was for them to get to you.
"But I didn’t mean to," he drags a hand through his hair, exasperated. "It's not my fault you felt that way."
An ironic chuckle leaves your lips, as you point at him. "See, you're doing it again! You're blaming me for my reaction instead of evaluating how your actions might have caused it."
"Look, yn," he scrambles to you until there are only a few centimeters separating your bodies. "I really wanna fix this, okay? Can we stop screaming?"
"Why are you so hellbent on fixing it?" you question, as you lean further away from him. He notices and takes a step back, giving you space.
"Because although I don't care about you, I care about Chan. And this is hurting him. So, I want to be civil with you."
The mention of Chan feels like a cold bucket of water dousing the fire within you. You know he’s struggling to be in the middle of two people he loves. He doesn’t deserve that.
"Fine," you sigh softly. “You talk. I’ll listen.”
"I didn't... I didn't know that my words would hurt you. In truth, it looked like you weren't affected at all. That's why I kept pushing you because… God Yn you're so perfect it maddens me."
Your eyebrows knit together at his words- the last thing you expected to stumble out of his mouth. "What are you talking about?"
"You never get sad, never get angry. Your emotions are always in check. You're always smiling, always laughing. Have everything figured out from how you want to be now to where you want to be in the future. And you know yourself, you never step out of order. And this is selfish and stupid but it irked me. Because I am the opposite of you. I'm a mess and too human it terrifies me, so I wanted to see if you had a breaking point. But each time I taunted you, you remained placid. So, I kept pushing to see if you'd break one day because, selfishly enough, that would make me feel better about how broken I am."
"Han, you're so stupid. Aren't you a literal genius? You excel in everything you do and you have fun on top of it, every single night. Don't you realize how lucky you are?"
"Do you really believe I find joy in being wasted and not even remembering what happened that night? I do that because I'm in my mind most of the days and it isn't the best place to be in. So, I like to forget."
“Why do you think I always bury myself in my studies? Because it's safe and it makes me forget too. Did you really think I didn’t feel? I feel too much and that’s the problem.”
Han remains silent as you curse under your breath. "Do you even realize how selfish this is? To test a human's breaking point? All because what? I didn't shove my struggles down your nose? Would you go around and do this to everyone who looked fine to you?"
"I know, I know, I was just in a bad place, and this isn't an excuse but I... I felt as if you were just showing me everything that was wrong with me."
"That is how I felt around you," you chuckle bitterly and he hangs his head low. He’s much quieter when he speaks again. “I guess we’re more similar than I thought.”
"Doesn't excuse what you did. You targeted me and made me feel insane because no one was hearing the hostility in your tone like I did."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I really am. I never thought it'd get this bad and I deserve every name you called me."
"You do." You close your eyes, as Han’s words wash over you. There is so much more you want to say, so much you want to spit out in his face because of his selfish coping mechanism. But you also want peace, for Chan’s sake. So, you try to bury your resentment, just like you do with every other feeling. One day it’ll turn into indifference. You’ll make sure of it.
You bite your lip, before clearing your throat. Your tone is softer when you speak again. "I'm sorry for what I told you in the library. About you dying alone and whatnot. That wasn't nice of me."
"You really hit the nail with that one," Han chuckles quietly, and guilt floods your heart at the expression on his face. "And I'm sorry for calling you boring. You aren't. And for everything I said before that."
"Okay. It's okay." You reassure, a tiny smile drawn on your lips.
He nods before a sly grin grows on his face. "Should we hug it out?" he teases, cocking an eyebrow at you and you stare pointedly at him. "Don't push your luck."
"Yes, ma'am."
An hour later, the mechanics finally manage to get the elevator going, which in turn allows you both to get out. Han opens the door to the dorm, and you find Chan lying on the couch, scrolling down his phone.
"Han? I thought you would..." he starts before trailing off as he looks up. "Yn? Where were you, I’ve been calling you for the past two hours."
"I didn't have signal."
"Why where were-" Chan goes to question before stopping once again. He hurriedly stands up and walks toward you.
"You... Are standing next to one another."
"We are," Han replies, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.
"And you aren't... Fighting?" his statement comes out more like a question, which makes both you and Han chuckle.
"We aren't."
"We talked it out, in the elevator which we were both just stuck in," you add and Chan’s eyes grow wide, as a breathtaking smile breaks out on his face.
"Oh my god. Finally. We'll talk about the elevator bit later but it's been so hard trying not to be in the same place as the both of you."
"We know. We're sorry," you both pout in sync and Chan shakes his head, before opening his arms wide. You giggle, before walking to him and sinking into his embrace. Han follows you shortly after, and your eyes meet behind Chan’s back. He shoots you a tiny thumbs up.
Is this how a dandelion feels, you wonder, when someone blows on it in the hopes it'll grant their selfish wishes. Only to be tossed away afterward, lifeless.
You drown out the thought before smiling back at Han. It doesn’t reach your eyes.
☄༄
Befriending two-thirds of 3racha holds within it a lot of privileges. The first one is listening to unreleased music, the second is having exclusive insight into their upcoming performances.
Their gigs don't happen as often as they'd like, because they're still students who unfortunately have lots of assignments. But when a window of free time materializes, they unveil their latest productions at vibrant parties, dimly lit bars, or even the occasional club. Which attracts a lot of people, some even coming from neighboring towns to listen to them play.
Everyone can recognize raw talent, even if rap doesn't happen to be their favorite genre.
This is how you know that they'll be performing Heyday, their latest creation, at Seungmin’s party. You've met him in passing, and Chan insisted that you'd come. Not that you needed much convincing anyway, you fell in love with this song the minute you heard it.
There is an exhilarating energy in Seungmin’s mansion, a palpable anticipation preceding 3racha’s performance, as you all gaze at the makeshift stage. The place is packed, bodies pressed tightly to one another. You feel slightly uncomfortable but you swallow it down. You're here to support Chan first and foremost, you can leave if things become too much for you.
The introductory chords materialize abruptly, and 3racha takes the stage. Chan is clad in a white shirt with huge gaps on his sides, revealing glimpses of his chest each time he bends down. Changbin, on the opposite end of the spectrum, is wearing a tightly fitted black shirt, hugging each muscle of his to perfection. Han, the last one to walk in, sports a loose black shirt, with a low neckline. His nails are painted to match the color of his attire, you notice.
The song kicks off with Changbin's incendiary rap as deafening cheers ring all around you. You make sure to scream on top of your lungs too, as Changbin’s loud voice commands the attention of everyone in the room. You’ve always held a penchant for his rap style- how powerful he sounds, and how addicted you quickly become to hearing him on stage. You remember once telling him that any song that starts with his rapping is a successful hit. He playfully nudged your shoulder but his appreciative smile was hard to miss.
Chan’s part is next and you try to rap along, as best as you can anyway due to your fleeting memory. It sounds mostly like gibberish but you don’t mind, especially when your eyes meet Chan’s and he grins at you, before morphing into the mesmerizing stage persona that's peculiar to him. You clearly remember the first time you witnessed him on stage, and how enthralled you were by the sheer power he exuded. His destiny was intertwined with music, no one could deny that.
A bed squeaking sound comes next, followed by the knocking on the door and you giggle against your will. That was Han’s ingenious touch, as Chan had shared when you'd raised a quizzical brow at him while listening. “Is this based on a real-life experience?” You asked, a knowing smirk etched upon your features, and he pretended to zip his mouth, earlobes turning a vibrant shade of crimson.
Han finally starts rapping in his inimitable style, exuding an effortless, laid-back aura. Your gazes meet at the "let's go play" line, and he tilts his head quizzically at you as he utters his confused "huh?". You raise one eyebrow at him prompting a sly smirk from him, before redirecting his attention to the opposite side of the stage. Yet, your eyes remain on him throughout his entire part.
The boys step off the stage, and you watch from the corner of the room with a wide grin as a swarm of people surrounds them. Congratulations and praise fill the air, and you can tell that 3racha thrives on this moment- it's what they live for, what makes their souls rise up from the ashes.
Chan catches your eye, and you applaud enthusiastically, letting out a happy giggle. He blows you a kiss, and you playfully pretend to catch it, eliciting a small shake of his head. Changbin, who's standing near him, catches the exchange and winks at you from a distance, to which you respond with two thumbs up.
Even though you're a bit far from them, you're certain the boys can sense the pride radiating from you in waves. There's something truly magical about humans existing in their element, particularly people you care about.
Your gaze shifts to Han, and your smile falters slightly. He's also glowing, but signs of discomfort are starting to creep onto his face. You recognize them fairly well, as you've felt them too at times when emotions become overwhelming. So, after a brief internal debate, you decide to act and begin making your way toward him, pushing through the crowd despite the rising complaints behind you.
They fall on deaf ears.
You grab Han's forearm, pulling him with you through the sea of bodies toward the bathroom. He doesn't fight, following diligently behind you. You open the door and pull him inside, pausing as you realize you don't have a specific plan for bringing him here. This is also the first time you've been alone together since the elevator conversation.
"Thank you," Han whispers, and you nod, your eyes softening. "I'm okay, I love performing, I just needed a breather," he quickly adds, as if feeling guilty for being overwhelmed.
"That's completely understandable. You are running on a lot of adrenaline, and the room is so crowded," you say with a smile, turning to the mirror to touch up your makeup.
Han remains silent for a while as you powder your face, before reapplying your cherry lip gloss. You can hear him taking in deep breaths, and you avoid looking at him, worried he might feel embarrassed.
"What did you think of the performance?" he finally asks, and you raise your head slightly. You lock eyes with him through the mirror, as he leans against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. His black t-shirt falls a bit, revealing more of his bare skin, and your eyes trail down for a moment.
"It was really good. I think this song might be my favorite of all yours."
"Really?" Han grins, his words filled with an excitement that warms your heart despite yourself. He's just received heaps of compliments from hundreds of people, yet your words still seem to affect him deeply.
"Yes. I loved your rap, how it started in a laid-back manner, and then you cleared your throat and picked up the pace. It added a unique edge to the song."
"Thank you, really," his smile is genuine, and you giggle softly, shaking your head.
"What's funny?" he asks, walking up to you. You're still facing the mirror, and he's now only inches away from you.
"I didn't imagine you'd appreciate my compliment this much."
"It feels sincere," he shrugs and you nod, finally turning around and leaning against the sink.
"It is sincere."
"Good."
You hold his gaze, eyes only trailing down to go across his face. He looks far different from how he did on stage. Shier, more eager for praise.
"You have..." he steps up until the scent of his cologne tickles your nose. His hand raises ever so slowly to your face, and you hold your breath, as he picks up something from your cheek. His hands are warm.
"An eyelash fell. Make a wish."
A surprised chuckle escapes your lips. "You wish on fallen lashes?"
"You wish on everything when you need hope." his voice is low, a timber so foreign to your ears it sends shivers down your spine. So, you close your eyes, wishing for your heart to quit beating so fast.
"Done," you whisper and he blows the single lash away, his gaze still on you.
"Thank you for coming."
"Of course. I had to support Chan and Changbin." It slips from your mouth before you can stop it, and Han slightly recoils from your words.
"Right, them. Yeah. Of course," he finally backs away, and oxygen fills your lungs once again. "I'm good now. Should we go out?"
"After you," you nod tightly and he walks ahead first, his perfume trailing after him and pulling you into a dizzying dance.
☄༄
The party Seungmin hosted was your last time having fun for a while. Your preparation for midterm exams began soon after, and you found yourself swarmed with assignments left and right. Thankfully, you and Chan were going through it at the same time, which meant you met at the library each day, revising silently near one another.
Except this time, you were joined by Han.
Goosebumps ran across your skin as he pulled the chair next to you, not the good kind of shivers. You were reminded of the fight you had right here, three months ago. Which still left a bitter taste in your mouth.
You don't hate Han anymore. He's actually funny, and you enjoy listening to his ramblings when you go over to Chan's dorm. He's also really different in his home, much quieter, and softer. Much more like you.
But you're also human, and there is still a part of your brain sending off warning signals at his presence. Maybe because the hurt was never buried properly. You just brushed it off under the carpet after your elevator conversation. Most of it was spent shouting anyway.
"Hey," he greets and you just nod in reply. You can feel his gaze linger on you a bit after that, and a pang of guilt twists in your heart. "Hi," you finally reply, but you tune out his response. Why is it that you're sensitive to everyone's emotions but your own?
Twenty minutes go by, then forty, and you can no longer take the uncomfortable feeling clinging to your skin. So, you excuse yourself, hurriedly stepping out of the library.
Han follows you; you can tell it’s him because someone's chair scraped loudly against the floor as soon as you stood up, and that couldn't be Chan because he is always careful with the silence in the library. So, you put on your headphones and walk faster.
This is childish, surely it is, but you can't control your emotions. You've apologized and so did he, you talk from time to time and you even held his arm and took him to a quiet bathroom. So where is all this bitterness coming from?
"Dammit, yn, how are you so fast?" Han grabs your arm pausing you. He's panting slightly and you just blankly stare as he takes in a deep breath.
"Are you okay?" he finally asks and you nod, turning around to walk away. He stops you again.
"I made you uncomfortable, didn't I?" he asks quietly, and you sigh, rubbing your forehead wearily.
"You didn't do anything, I just... Being in that library reminded me of certain things."
"I know. Me too. Can we please talk?"
"We are talking," you raise your brows and he stares pointedly at you. "Come on you know what I mean."
"Fine," you giggle, "we can talk."
"I didn't apologize properly to you in the elevator. Truth is, I did it because Chan was mad at me and I couldn't stand it anymore."
The bitterness- you understand where it comes from now.
"But I am sorry. Truly sorry. I was selfish and I hurt you and this will sound like a joke, but I hate hurting people. I really do. I was just too wrapped up in my problems that I didn't realize how it would affect you and I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I also shouldn't have tried to kick you out that day, but dying alone is my biggest fear, and seeing you in my home made me want to lose my mind because I couldn't get what you said out of my head, but it was so cold outside and again I shouldn't have told you to go out and I am so sorry-"
"Han, breathe," you smile, cutting him off and Han sucks in a deep breath, chest slightly heaving from talking uninterrupted for a minute straight.
"I'm sorry I just wanted to apologize, properly this time. I'm doing it because I'm guilty, not because of Chan. Nothing excuses my behavior, I know. And I wish I could turn back in time and actually get to know you because you're really cool and very nice, but I can't. All I can do is apologize. So I'm sorry, Yn. I really am."
"I appreciate it," you smile, and Han exhales a little from relief. "I didn't know that was your biggest fear, but even if it wasn't, that was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said something so mean. So, I'm sorry for it too. But I'm not apologizing for being mad, you deserved that."
"I did, I did, I know." He's quick to agree. "I don't want us to be awkward around one another. I'm not telling you that you have to be my best friend but, we can be friends, right? But you also don't have to. It's enough if you forgive me and... You know what? Never mind forget I said anything, I'm just nervous and-"
"Okay."
"Okay?" he repeats.
"We can be friends. I accept your truthful apology."
"Actually?"
"Yes."
"Like we can start over?" he grins and you chuckle at the excitement in his face. "Yes."
"Can we hug it out?"
"Too soon," you pout and he nods, a faint blush dusting his cheek.
"Right. Should we go back to the library? I saw that you were stuck on a question. I can help you."
"You won't make any comments?"
"No. Pinky promise." he outstretches his pinky towards you and you muse over it for a bit, before wrapping your finger around his. You grin at Han- your first genuine smile since he's known you. His hold on your pinky falters.
"Okay. I'm in."
.☄༄
Five weeks later- 1:13 a.m.
You were still slightly cautious near Han as if you were both threading along an invisible line. You could talk, but not too much, afraid any old animosity would shine through. And you could stay together, but not too long, in case it gets awkward and you wouldn't know what to do. So, you never mixed, just like water and oil, each of you knowing their place, away from the other.
But you still didn't want to miss out on outings with your friends. So, when Chan invites you for a movie night with Han, and Changbin, you don't say no.
The night runs smoothly, the warm beer you had easing your nerves bit by bit. It was also easier to forget that you once hated Han when he brought tears to your eyes from laughing so hard.
2:56 a.m.
An unbearable heat suddenly envelopes you, your very blood boiling from within. You hesitantly look down, to find your entire body bathed in red, as if your skin had melted away, exposing you to the scorching heat embracing your tender flesh.
You are in the heart of a volcano, with lava bubbling dangerously below. Hanging by a frail thread, you dangle over the edge of death.
And then, you plummet.
You startle awake, your heart pounding in your chest, your hand clutching it tightly. Cold sweat clings to your skin, and it takes you a few moments to realize that you're safe, far from the inside of the volcano that had threatened to consume you.
You glance at your phone- 3:43 a.m. You read. It's only been a mere hour since you went to sleep. You don't think you could drift back into slumber.
Dragging a hand tiredly across your face, you walk into the pitch-black kitchen. You pour yourself a glass of water, hoping that the icy drink will cool you down. You are safe.
"What are you-" you startle, dropping the glass and spinning around, hand pressed to your heart.
"Han, fuck, you scared me," you sigh, tugging at your hair slightly and he's quick to your side, a string of hushed apologies tumbling from his lips.
"I'm sorry, here let me clean it up," he kneels and you follow suit, grabbing his hands and gently pushing them away. "No, I dropped it, let me clean," you reassure, but your hands are trembling as you pick up the shards of glass, any bit of logic clouded by your racing thoughts.
Your heartbeat's ringing loudly in your ears, you barely register the glass cutting your skin until an uncharacteristic warmth oozes from your hand. Blood.
"Shit," you curse lowly and Han illuminates the place with his phone flashlight. "Did you cut yourself?" he asks and you shake your head, walking over to the sink.
"It's nothing, don't worry."
"Yn, let me see," he's standing behind you, the ghost of his breath grazing your exposed neck.
"Han, really it's-" he cuts you off, grabbing your forearm and walking you over to the couch. He finally turns on the lights before crouching down in front of you.
"Show me?" he asks gently and you're too tired to fight him. You open your palm tentatively, taking a look at your cut for the first time as well. It's not too deep, it won't require stitches. But it's also not shallow, blood oozing from it at a steady rhythm.
Han simply frowns upon gazing at your wound, before walking over to his room. You don't move from your spot, gaze lost into the space before you. What would happen if you never woke up? Would you feel your flesh burning? Bones melting as the searing lava-
"Here," he gently holds your wrist, as his eyes meet yours. "This will hurt a bit. Hold my arm as tight as you want and tell me if it becomes too much, okay?"
"Okay," you simply nod.
He dabs up your cut with a cotton pad soaked in alcohol. You hiss softly, as the liquid burns your open skin. Han abruptly stops at the sound. "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry I didn't mean to I just-"
"It's okay," you smile reassuringly, "I can handle it."
Han nods, resuming his treatment. He's even softer this time, if that is even possible. He's careful when he rubs a soothing gel on your cut, before wrapping your palm in a gauze. He can't find a pair of scissors so he cuts it with his teeth, his lips brushing against the back of your hand. You account the warmth you're suddenly feeling to the aftermath of your nightmare.
"Why are you even up?" he finally asks as he settles next to you on the couch, eyes looking up to the ceiling.
"Nightmare."
"You’re okay?" he asks gently and he sounds truly concerned for your well-being. You aren't used to this. To Han acting like a friend to you. But it feels nice to be cared for, so you don't mind him blurring the lines tonight.
"I'm still a little bit scared," you admit sheepishly and Han's eyes soften under the dim moonlight.
"It passed. You're okay now."
"Am I?" you drag a hand tiredly across your face and Han frowns, inching closer to you.
"Is it a recurring dream?"
"Mm. It tires me out."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No, I just want to forget." 'Help me forget' you want to add, but you decide against it. "Why were you up, anyway?"
"I got inspiration for lyrics so I had to write it down."
"Can you share some with me?" you ask, tone a tad too hopeful. Han catches it and smiles warmly at you.
"Sure. This is probably going to be in the chorus..." he pulls out his phone, heading to his notes app. "This is what I have so far... I let my frustrated screams out hoping that they’d be washed away in the rain. I send it off with a smiling face, down to the last drops left on my fingertips." he pauses, scrolling down a bit more. "I also wrote this; I think it'll be nice in a verse... I’m sure it’ll get better... Just like the earth hardens after the rain and flowers bloom again."
"You're such a talented lyricist Han," you whisper in awe, and Han’s cheeks warm up at your words, reminiscent of a setting sun. "But I also wish it was as easy as this. To let out all the emotions you bottle inside and for them to wash away with the rain." You bite your lip, as Han’s words echo in your head. "I think... I think that's why I get this nightmare. I don't free my emotions anymore, and they show up in my dreams to torment me."
You don't know where these bouts of honesty are coming from. Maybe because you're too weary to keep up a happy facade. Or maybe because you know that the person who wrote these lyrics must understand exactly how you feel.
"Well... It's raining." Han whispers after a while and you look at him, confusion plastered across your features.
"And?"
"Should we test it out?"
"Test what?"
"Screaming under the rain," he says as if it's the most evident thing in the world.
"What? That's insane, Han we will get sick and..." You pause, as the words dissolve in your mouth like the seafoam meeting the shore. "You know what? Let's do it!"
"Really?" he asks incredulously, a huge grin on his face.
"Yes!"
"Okay, let's go!"
You both abruptly stand up, still only clad in your pajamas. You quickly slip your shoes on before running outside. The rain envelops you in a cold hug as soon as you step outside, rain droplets trickling down your clothes. You don't mind, you have lots of bottled-up feelings to free.
"This needs music," Han smiles as he takes out his phone, putting his playlist on shuffle. 'Let The Light In' starts playing, and you shoot him a thumbs-up.
"It fits the rainy mood," you grin and he nods, squinting his eyes to be able to look at you.
"I think if we scream here, we'll scare the neighbors."
"I know!" you chuckle, wiping away the rain droplets on your forehead. "Where should we go?"
"The empty parking lot!" Han shouts so you'll hear him over the growing rain and you nod. He takes off running and you chase after him. You're both completely drenched once you're a bit far away from the house. But you don't care. Not when there is pure adrenaline rushing through you.
You finally stop, loud giggles escaping your mouth at the thrill of what you're doing. "You should start!" you yell excitedly and Han nods, taking in deep steadying breaths.
"Okay, I'm ready!"
"On the count of three! One... Two... Three!" and Han shouts at the top of his lungs, his screams getting lost in the rain. An incredulous smile breaks out on his face as you giggle loudly, the sound of it ringing out in the downpour.
"You looked insane!"
"I feel insane!" He yells honestly and a fit of laughter takes over you both. You hold his arm to steady yourself.
"You should try it now!" Han urges and you nod, willing yourself to calm down.
"Okay, will you count down for me?"
"Yes," he assures and you clap excitedly. Han can't help but smile at the excitement on your face.
"One... Two... Three!" And you shout, continuous screams spilling from the depths of your soul. Han wasn't wrong- your pain, your fear, your anger are all dripping along the rain droplets, from your bruised heart to the tip of your fingers.
You've never felt this free before.
The two of you don't notice the passage of time, the rain acting as a cathartic release to all your pent-up emotions. It was as if your pain intertwined with each rain droplet, and you were letting go of everything that had held you down. Each scream acted as a break from the burdens of the past, and the worries of the future.
As you finally stopped, panting and soaked to the bone, you looked at each other with raw exhilaration in your eyes.
"So, how was it?" Han yells over the rain and you break out in a relieved smile. "I don't think I’ve ever been this happy my entire life," you beam at him and the sight makes the rain feel less colder to Han.
He watches, a small smile on his face as you twirl around, face looking up toward the sky, a deluge of rain grazing your cheeks like a lover's tender touch. The smile doesn't leave your face as you spin around, happy chuckles leaving your mouth from time to time.
You look... free. As if there was an invisible weight on your shoulders that the rain washed away. A heavy burden that you carried within you, like a secret secret. He likes the sound of that. Maybe that's what he'll name his song.
Han slightly shakes his head as he watches you skip around, clothes completely soaked. You are now standing a bit far away, right beside a street lamp.
Ooh, let the light in
Its light shines on you alone.
Time seems to slow down, as Han’s steps falter. You're smiling, not at him, but at the universe. A happiness so raw filling you that it needs to come out, even if no one's watching.
You're spinning around, delighted giggles spilling from you like the most mesmerizing chorus. Something is building up inside Han, begging for a release. It refuses to come out in a scream- violently. It's tender and soft. He thinks that if you held his hand right now, you'd be able to free it.
Look at us, you and I back at it again
Is it possible to feel something other than an emotion? Because right now, weirdly, all he feels is you.
Cause I love to love to love to love you
I hate to hate to hate to hate you
Your eyes land on Han and there is pure joy dancing in your pupils. He's glad you no longer despise him. He doesn't think he can stomach it anymore.
Cause I want to want to want to want you
You run to him, holding his hand before twirling him around.
I need to need to need to need you
Han can't believe he ever thought you weren't human enough. You are a mosaic of every feeling that makes one human. There are lyrics writing themselves in his head and they're all about you.
Ooh, let the light in
You clasp both his hands, before crossing them over. And then you're both spinning around until the world around you blurs. All he sees is you, and the light surrounding you alone.
Ooh, turn your light on
He thinks he might, if the light is you.
5:22 a.m
"There is a heater in my room, you should come," Han offers as you dry your hair with the blue towel he just handed you.
"It's okay I’ll stay here," you point to the couch but he shakes his head adamantly. "You'll die from hypothermia. Do you know how mad Chan will be if I let you pass away?" he whispers in fear, a hand clutching his heart.
"So dramatic," you giggle, before following him into his room. He goes on his bed first before tapping the spot beside him. You sigh before lying next to him, snuggling further into the hoodie he gave you to change.
"You're still shivering," he remarks, as your teeth clink together.
"It's okay."
"You shouldn't have gone out with just a t-shirt."
"I didn't exactly plan on this, you know," you smile sarcastically and Han chuckles before tapping your shoulder softly.
"Come closer."
You debate for a second before complying, the cold tuning out all the rational thoughts in your head.
Your arm brushes against his and you can't breathe once again. But it's a different type of deprivation. Han always seems to steal the oxygen from your lungs, but for once, you don't mind. Red embers are burning within you and their flames keep you alive. You press your chest to his back, as your forehead rests on his shoulder. Maybe he'll turn you to ashes. Will you rise from them?
"You're so cold," his hand reaches behind to rub your arms soothingly, an earnest attempt to warm you up.
"I’ll be fine, go to sleep. Don't worry about me."
"I can't control it."
In the dark room, Han can't see you curling your hand into a tight fist at his words.
"If you stay quiet then I’ll sleep," you say after a while and Han giggles softly.
"That's the goal. You need to rest."
"You should sleep too."
"I will."
"Okay. Good night, Han."
"Good night, Yn."
You think he's fallen asleep when you speak up again. "Hey, Han."
"Yes, Yn?" He replies instantly, voice slightly hoarse.
"Can you repeat that lyric to me, about the flowers blooming again?" You ask quietly, and you feel him nodding against your chest.
"I’m sure it’ll get better... Just like the earth hardens after the rain and flowers bloom again."
His warm voice vibrates within your body. "That's a nice lyric."
"I hope you'll dream of it instead."
☄༄
Against Han’s strong belief, he's the one who fell sick after your rain-soaked outing.
You knew of it from Chan, who texted you saying that Han caught a nasty cold, and then got food poisoning, which meant he couldn't be there for their highly anticipated meeting—after their electrifying Heyday performance, a record label expressed strong interest in signing them.
"Can you come over and stay with Han?" Chan implores as soon as he answers your call.
“That bad?” You ask, a pout pulling at your lips.
"I don't want to leave him alone. He's been really sick for the past week now, and… it's partly your fault"
"I can’t believe you’re guilt-tripping me into coming," you chuckle even though you know he is right. Han wouldn’t have gotten out in the rain if it wasn’t for you.
"I'm sorry it’s just I don't think he's been good, apart from the illness. And I’m worried, and I don’t know I thought maybe you could talk to him. He reminds me of you, in his sadness, so you might understand what's wrong more than me."
You think it over for a second before rising up from your bed.
"I'm coming"
As soon as you step inside their dorm, Chan pulls you for a side hug, placing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Thank you so much,” he whispers, clearly grateful that you agreed to come. It worries you even more for Han.
“No problem. You can go, I’ll be with him.”
“Thank you, Yn” Changbin smiles before hastily pulling Chan outside the door. You wave them both goodbye.
You cautiously crack open the door to Han’s room, to find it completely engulfed in darkness. The stream of light from the door falls upon Han, who squints his eyes, trying to see who disrupted his fragile peace.
"Hi," you speak softly, finding it a bit odd to raise your voice in such a still room. Han attempts to sit up, before doubling over, hand tightly clutched around his stomach.
You rush to his side, kneeling beside his bed. It's the only lit-up part of the room.
"Still hurts?" you ask, your hand moving in soothing circles on his back. He nods, eyes squeezed shut, and you feel your heart crack at the sight.
"Have you taken any medicine?"
"A few hours ago. I need to eat something before I can take more, but I can't get up to the kitchen."
"Why didn't you tell the boys?"
"Didn't want to be a burden."
"You aren't. I'll make you something to eat. Okay? Try to sleep meanwhile."
"You don't have to," Han shakes his head, his eyes finally meeting yours.
"I know," you smile softly, before exiting the room.
Minutes later, you're back in the room, a bowl of sliced fruit in your hands.
"Do you guys live off protein powder and frozen chicken?" you ask, earning a quiet laugh from Han as he lays his back against the headboard.
"We do. Please save me," he jokes and you laugh, shaking your head. "Good thing I grabbed some fruit before leaving."
"Thank you," he grins, eyes slightly squinting closed.
"Here," you grab a strawberry, bringing it to his lips. His eyebrows raise up in surprise, a sheen layer of sweat coating them. "What? Look at how tightly you're clutching the comforter," you point to his hands and Han sighs, before parting his lips slightly.
His mouth brushes against your fingertips, igniting a cascade of emotions in you. You'll think about what it means later.
You grab a green grape next, feeding it to him gently. A drop of water trickles down the corner of his mouth, and you wipe it away with the back of your finger.
"I can- I can do it," Han mumbles, voice wavering like an unpredictable storm. His trembling hands reach for the bowl, but they struggle to hold it right.
"Han, it's okay, I don't mind," you try to keep your voice gentle, sensing that there is an impending doom awaiting just below the surface.
"No, I- I need to do it. Just let me-" A tear falls into the fruit bowl. "Let me do it, please. I can- I can do it, I’m not useless, I…"
The floodgate opens.
A stream of tears escapes Han's eyes as he looks down at the bowl between his hands. He's crying, eyes tightly shut and the small whimpers escaping his lips feel like a dagger piercing your heart.
"You're sick. Let me take care of you."
"It's horrible horrible work." His voice cracks as his eyes finally lock on yours, and you can tell that his anguish isn't about his illness. These are the words of the shadows threatening to swallow him whole. You have to fight them off with the light.
"I will do it."
As Han lays on his bed, the sound of you washing the dishes resonating from the kitchen, your voice bounces off the dark walls in his head. You didn't try to convince him that it was easy work, you told him you'll do it, even if it's horrible. You'll do it because you want to, not because you can, not because it's accessible. The thought sends a warmth in his chest. It's faint, like a flickering candle trying its best to withstand the wind. But it's there. He holds on to it. He'll shield it with his cupped hands so it wouldn't fizzle out.
"Hannie, you’re okay?" you peer into the room. Hannie- the candle's flame grows higher.
"Mm," he hums, too weak to turn and look at you.
"You're shivering," you remark, and he tightens the blanket around his body. "It'll pass."
You stay silent, and he thinks you've left the room. But then he feels the left side of the bed dip, with you climbing tentatively on it.
"This worked last time when I was cold," you smile softly at him, before bringing his head to your chest and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He feels frail and fragile in your embrace. You hug him tighter to you.
"Warming up?" you ask and he nods against your chest. He's burning.
"Try to sleep," you urge quietly, your hand moving to pat his back. "It will pass."
"What if it doesn't?" Han asks faintly. Please don't let the candle die, he wants to plead.
"There is always light at the end of the tunnel."
"What if the tunnel is closed?"
"Then you go back to the start and find a new one," you respond.
"Can I find it later? I'm so tired tonight." His voice is drowsy, sleep already clinging to his achy bones.
"Just rest for now. You did well," you scratch his back lightly, as he nuzzles further into the crook of your neck.
There was never a candle to begin with- you were the light.
☄༄
Had someone told you five months ago that you'd be lying on Han's bed, watching "Howl's Moving Castle" at 2 a.m., you would've thought they were utterly delusional.
Yet, here you are now.
A lot of things had changed since your rainy outing with Han, as if the universe had shifted into alignment, two stars in the sky finally colliding and making way for something new. You saw him under a different light, understanding that no one picks up a dandelion unless they desperately need the solace it provides.
You've grown to care for him, in the course of the past two months. And funnily enough, you've started to like who you were next to him- just yourself, with no pressure of making conversation, or catering to his expectations of you.
He saw you at your worst anyway, and so did you, there was no use in filtering things anymore.
You've been there through the entire process of writing, composing, and producing Secret Secret- the song whose lyrics had captured your heart. You didn't expect him to ask you to be there with him, he just shot you a text, three days after you came over to his house. 'Wanna be there while I work on the song? I know you liked the lyrics.' It was an offer you couldn't pass up on.
You weren't, in your opinion, much help. Han was gifted in the music realm and song-making flowed naturally from him. But he noticed how interested you were in music, so he called you over each time he worked on the song, even asking for your input at times.
That's why, when the song was finally done and released on 3racha's Spotify account, you decided to celebrate by baking him a cake. You may have dropped an eggshell in the batter (you recovered it later on), and the icing's color turned out less vibrant than what you hoped for. But you managed to adorn it with a garden of little flowers, and with store-bought icing, you wrote the words "after the rain flowers will bloom again."
You showed up to the dorm and Changbin pointed you to Han's room, where he had apparently been holed up all day. You shot him a grateful smile, before pushing the door open with your foot.
"What are you doing here?" Han asked, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.
"Surprise!" you grinned, pushing the cake his way. "Congrats on making Secret Secret."
"Are you serious?" he chuckled, jumping out of his bed. He peered at the cake, eyes softening as he gazed down at the design.
"You drew a little garden..." he whispered in awe and you nodded, a faint blush creeping up your face.
"I'm glad you recognized what it was. I'm not the best baker," you admit a bit shyly but he shook his head. "It's perfect. I can't believe you did this to celebrate our baby!"
"Your baby," you corrected, although the use of 'our' warmed up your chest, weirdly enough.
"You were here with me every step of the way. She's ours."
"It's a she?" you giggled, and he smiled proudly.
"Mm. Do you accept being her mother?" he mused; hands clasped in front of his heart like he was praying you'd say yes.
"It would be my greatest honor," you nodded solemnly, and he let out a breathy chuckle, grabbing the cake from your hands and setting it on his bed.
"Should we hug it out?" he teased, arms stretched wide but you merely stared at him, unimpressed.
"Come on," he whined, "you can't reject me for the third time. And, in front of our child. On her birthday!" his tone grew louder and you couldn't help but giggle at his mock outrage.
"Try harder."
"Our child won't know what a loving parent relationship is and then she'll seek out unhealthy love from the ones around her and-" you cut him off by finally wrapping your arms around him.
You've always known that being near Han left you breathless, but this time, it felt as though he was breathing life into you. You close your eyes instinctively, as his hold tightens on you. He smells immensely nice, like pinewood and soap. You should've hugged him sooner.
"Thank you," he said quietly, forehead pressed against your shoulder blade.
"You did well," you whisper back.
"We did. She's our child, remember?" he reprimanded and you laughed faintly.
"Yeah, ours."
Hours later, the movie's credits finally roll down, and the finished cake sits idly by Han's desk.
"I should go," you rub your eyes tiredly, and Han stares at you as if you are out of your mind.
"At this hour? Do you want our kid to lose her mom?"
"Han," you drawl, hitting his head with the pillow next to you. "You can't hold me hostage."
"I can, as your husband."
"Since when are we married?"
"Since you agreed to be Secret's mother." Another playful hit to his face.
"Stop attacking my face, how will I get laid then?"
"So, you are cheating on me?" you ask, feigning outrage.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby you're the only one I want." You falter at the nickname before hitting him even harder, matching the tempo of your quickening heartbeat.
"You're crazy," he laughs, grabbing your wrists and pinning you onto the bed. He's hovering over you, eyes hooded with a tender intensity as he gazes down at you.
"Will you stay, please?"
"The couch is uncomfortable," you reply, avoiding his eyes. He lets go of one wrist before holding your chin gently, urging you to look at him.
"You can sleep here. We've done it before."
"You were freezing both times. That's why I did it."
"I'm very cold tonight," he pouts, eliciting a surprised chuckle from you.
"Are you now?"
"Very much so."
"Fine. Only because I don't want you to die from hypothermia."
"Thank you!" he grins excitedly, finally letting go of your wrist. You bring a hand to your flushed cheeks, as he tosses a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants in your direction.
"Get changed! There is a spare toothbrush in the cabinet."
You make sure to groan theatrically, before heading into the bathroom, where you splash your face repeatedly with water. You aren't used to this- being a blushy mess, because of Han, nonetheless. It was dizzying you, how things took the complete opposite turn between you and him.
At least, back then you weren't alone in your hate, you couldn't stand being alone in your affection.
So, you'd stop this, whatever feeling that's coursing through you. Tomorrow, you will firmly close the door on the blooming feelings within you. But tonight, you’d both lay on the same bed, arms brushing against one another. It's completely dark and quiet, but there is an entire symphony playing within you.
"Thank you for today," he whispers, turning around and tucking his arm under his head, this way he's facing you.
You mirror his actions, and your fingertips brush against one another. You can't see him but you can feel him. He's everywhere, wrapping around all your senses.
"Thank you for making this song. It's very comforting to me."
"Why is that?" he questions, inching closer to you, you can feel his minty breath fan all over your face.
"I’ve always felt like I carried too many emotions within me. Like a volcano, bubbling over until the day I explode. I never liked feeling this way, so I tried to hide it," you confess softly.
"Like a secret secret."
"Like a secret secret," you repeat, glad that he understands.
"You don't have to hide with me," he says after a few silent beats, and you swallow nervously.
"I know." you lick your lips as the music inside you grows louder. "Still cold?"
"A little."
"Come closer," you beckon, and he complies instantly, wrapping his arm behind your back and drawing your chest close to his. Your legs entangle with one another, as your face lays on the crook of his neck. It's intimate, far more than any time you've done it before. You don't want to sink in his hold in fear of never resurfacing again.
"Good?" he asks, voice tinged with a newfound raspiness.
"Mm," you hum, and he releases a relieved sigh.
You've once read that everything in this universe sings. Every atom's vibration creates a sound, contributing to a grand celestial chorus. It's an unscientific, but lovely thought, to wonder who our hearts sing for.
Right now, it's for Han.
☄༄
The music echoes through your being, an ever-present melody that refuses to fade into silence. Even with no audience to enjoy it.
Han always found his way back to your side, no matter how many times you've tried to distance yourself from him. And you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him, because you were friends, first and foremost. And friends don't abandon one another just because a mere glance at them sprouts a blush across your cheeks.
That's how you find yourself on your way to Han's dorm, for the third time that week. Watching movies together has become your little tradition, for the past few months, and sometimes even Chan joins in. Although he mostly enjoys shooting you a knowing smile, to which you flip him off.
Your phone rings and Han's name illuminates your screen. You smile against your will.
"Can't wait to see me this much?" you singsong and Han's chuckle rings through the phone. It's rich and deep, causing you to tighten your hold on the device.
"Yes. And can you please go to the store? I'm out of snacks."
"What do I get out of it?" you muse, changing directions to the nearest convenience store.
"Snacks."
"Asshole," you giggle on your way to cross the road.
"And my eternal gratitude of course."
"Right, because I can't-" Loud tires screech right beside you and you startle, letting out a loud yelp as you drop your phone.
A hand on top of your heart, you bend down to pick up your fallen device, as the driver gets out of the car that grazed your body, mere inches away from hitting you.
"Are you okay, miss? I'm sorry I didn't see you." The middle-aged man is quick to your side, and you glance at the small kid in his car, willing yourself to calm down for their sake.
"I'm fine. Just a bit startled. Drive more slowly, there is a kid with you."
"I know, I'm sorry," he drags a hand through his stressed features and you couldn't help but feel sympathy for him. "It's okay, don't worry about it. Just pay more attention to the road, okay?"
"Thank you so much. Thank you," he clasps his hand in gratitude before getting back to his car and you wave him off, your heart still wildly beating in your chest.
You head into the convenience store, picking up the snacks you know Han loves before paying for them. But as soon as you step back outside, you spot a disheveled Han crossing the road, sprinting toward the store. His pace quickens upon spotting you.
"What are you..." your question is cut short as his arms wrap around you, pulling you to his chest instantly. You can feel the frantic rhythm of his heart, and you're confused as he pulls away, hands cradling your cheeks and turning your face left and right.
"You're alright, nothing happened to you, right? You’re okay?" he inquires urgently and you let out a confused giggle, as you grab his arm to steady him.
"What are you talking about?"
"I heard the tires screech and you yelled and then you didn't pick up when I called and I thought-" his voice cracks. "I thought something happened to you."
"No, no. I'm okay. Nothing happened, I promise." you reassure, as he brings you to his chest once again, his hand smoothing the top of your hair.
"I was so scared," he kisses your temple, as his thumping heart resounds within your chest. "So terrified that something would happen to you. I thought I'd lose my mind."
"You don't mean that," you shake your head slowly, peeling yourself away from him.
"Can you really not see how much I care about you? How I crave being near you?" his voice raises a slight octave. The music in you picks up.
"How long do I have to pretend to be cold to have you nearby? For god's sake, I'm never cold around you, yn. When I see you, I ignite." He takes in a deep breath, pressing his forehead onto your shoulder. "And I... I couldn't have lived with myself if something happened to you. I... You drive me crazy, Yn. When we became friends it felt like I was stepping inside a home for the first time, and yet I already knew each turn in it."
He grabs your arms, shaking you slightly as his chest heaves up and down. "My darkness recognizes yours and my light is you and you- you think I wouldn't care if anything happened to you?"
He shakes his head as tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. Has his music always been this loud, were you just not listening properly?
"I'm scared because we didn't start well and I understand if a part of your heart still resents me, I do. But I don't think I can pretend anymore. Not with you," his voice softens as his gaze locks on yours.
"Were you pretending too?" He asks, hope dripping from his tone. "Do you feel it too?"
A split second goes by. A candle flickering somewhere. A dandelion plucked from the ground. The shadow of a cloud passing over the sun- and you pick.
"I feel it too. So much that my heart feels like it’s singing for you, Han."
"I'll sing for it in return," he whispers, before crashing his lips onto yours. His hand slides up the back of your neck, drawing you closer. You drop the bags of groceries as you cradle his cheeks, feeling them warm up beneath your touch. You can't believe you've ever disliked your heart for feeling too much, not when the lovely emotions flowing in your heart threaten to burst it at the seams, submerging you in a warmth you've never known before- Han.
Two months later
You have 3 new messages from: hannie
"kept this song a secret from you baby but i wrote it for you so you can't be mad"
"i don't know if you remember but you’ve once told me that you are a volcano. as if that’s something that’s supposed to put me off. well, some people dedicate their lives to studying volcanos. and i would dedicate mine to learning you."
"Volcano.mp3."
Light.
#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#skz x y/n#skz x you#skz x reader#han x you#han x reader#han jisung x reader#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#skz angst#stray kids angst#han fluff#han angst#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#stray kids imagine#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#han fanfic#skz fanfic#skz reactions#skz au
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You creep carefully into Rafe’s bedroom, pushing the already-open door gently with your palm. Your eyes dart around, worried he’s going to be just around the corner, but you’re greeted with nothing—just the empty space that belongs to Rafe.
How exactly did you get yourself into this? It had started a few hours ago—at least that’s what you thought. You didn’t have any clue what Sarah and her new friends were up to, you were just over for a pre-planned girls night that was dismissed the second you walked into Tannyhill. Instead, Sarah asks for a favor, one that you deny almost immediately.
“You’ll be in and out, it won’t take more than a minute-”
“I am not sneaking into Rafe’s room for you, Sarah. What if he-he catches me? Finds me in there? What am I gonna say?”
“He’s not gonna be home later, I promise. It’ll be a second, and he’s always liked you most out of all my friends so he won’t even care-”
Your face flushes at the very sentence. Her brother, Rafe, the one that you’ve only interacted with on chance occasions, the one who makes your heartbeat speed up anytime he’s in the vicinity, that very Rafe, has always liked you?
You’re too caught up in that thought and its implications to even question Sarah anymore. Her new friends—Pogue friends, ones that you don’t know and aren’t sure how long they’ve known her—linger by the door. They seem eager to make sure that you agree.
You’re being moved around the board like a chess piece but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It’s shallow, you know, as one thought circulates through your mind, body, and bloodstream—Rafe has always liked you.
A hazy, dreamy mist settles over you. You agree to Sarah, feeling increasingly stupid as you settle into the living room and keep your eyes on the television. She left with her friends, and when Rafe comes down, you’re supposed to tell him you’re waiting for his sister. Once he leaves, you need to sneak into his bedroom to find a map they seem to desperately need. One of the boys suggests it’ll be in his sock drawer.
“It’s not a porn magazine, JJ, why would it be there-”
“Oh, um, I don’t know, just that it’s the number one male hiding spot-”
“What studies are you basing this off of?”
"A little thing called the study of life, Pope-”
You had interrupted them yourself, reassuring that you’ll look in his dresser and his desk.
But now, walking into Rafe’s bedroom, you're losing all your nerve. You’ve thought about this before—you’d be lying to yourself to deny it. Any girl who has a best friend with a cute older brother has too. In the summers you sleep at Tannyhill more often than your own house, but you still could have never imagined this would be the reason you’re in Rafe’s room for the first time.
The house is silent, just like Sarah had told you. Mr. and Mrs. Cameron out at the country club, Wheezie at the beach, Sarah supposedly with you but actually with those Pogues. She says Rafe is gone too, driving around somewhere with his friends, and you believe her without a second thought.
But you do have a second thought, and it's the fact that this is so beyond wrong.
Looking through Rafe’s belongings with your eyes, your hands start to tremble at the idea of touching something of his without his permission. You want to swallow your nerves to do this for your friend, but you hesitate, hands hovering over the drawer to his dresser.
For a second, you want to puke, worried that you’ll open this drawer to find porn magazines like John B had said, or worse—photos of one of his girls that you really don’t want to see.
Your shaking hands pull open the top-most drawer, but everything calms down once it’s open. Besides for white socks and plaid boxers, there’s nothing in there. Your shoulders relax, your knees feeling weak.
Then you wonder for a second—why were you so worried about finding evidence of some other girl in his bedroom? Your mind spins briefly, worried at how attached you really are to Sarah’s brother, someone who’s never spoken to you more than a handful of times. A million thoughts run through your brain, all of them about Rafe and none of them noticing the way his bedroom door has just opened wide.
“Looking for something?” The timber of Rafe’s voice hits your ears and you freeze, probably looking like something out of a cartoon, shoulders tense, eyes wide. You’re still facing his dresser, and you really, really don’t want to turn, but you do, and then you wish you hadn’t.
Rafe’s dripping wet—damp hair sticking to his forehead, a towel around his waist and droplets of water glittering on his abs. He’s looking at you like he never has before. Your eyes are focused on everything else—the bare skin of his chest, his huge arms, the blue color of his towel.
“My eyes are up here, kid.”
Like a deer caught in headlights, you turn your gaze up to lock eyes. You’re terrified—he has to be angry, no, furious. You’re practically a stranger to him, a stranger invading his privacy. But when you finally take in his expression, it’s not angry. He looks amused, a smirk playing at his lips while he takes you in, standing before him like a child about to be reprimanded for touching something that doesn’t belong to them.
“I-I…” you trail off, swallowing hard, still staring at Rafe.
“You, you?” he mocks. You think you’re going to start crying but no tears well up—yet. “What’re you looking for?” he asks it seriously, his tone shifting.
You’ve never spoken to Rafe enough to notice, but he’s incredibly domineering. You shrink just from his gaze, while he closes the door and walks closer to you.
“Um, I-” You stop yourself short.
“Looking for trouble, huh?” He says it like it’s a joke, but you know he’s not kidding. Your head shakes, trying to convince him you’re not, but it’s not much use.
He’s not very far from you now, maybe another foot and you could smell the scent of his soap, another few inches and you could feel the heat radiating off of his bare body.
You realize how you must look right now, wearing a tiny dress because of the heat outside but now feeling goosebumps prick along your arms. Your bare feet rest on his carpet while your hands feel clammy from how scared you are.
“I, uh, I needed socks.” You look down at your feet and he does too, looking back up at the same time.
“Socks? From me?”
“Couldn’t find Sarah’s. She needs to do laundry.”
“So you came in here to get mine?”
“I-I’ll bring them back. Washed. Promise.” Your gaze is now dying to avoid his, looking all around his room and then turning back to the drawer to take out a pair.
You feel a wet hand on your arm, turning you back around at full force, his balled up socks falling from your hand as you stare Rafe in the eyes. He must be able to tell from the way your body shakes in his grip, how your eyelids are fluttering fast, how scared you are.
“Don’t lie to me, kid. I won’t like it.” You suck in a sharp breath. A few moments pass.
“I’m not lying, Rafe. Promise.”
You actually don’t know it happens—ending up with his towel on the floor and your sundress right next to it, tangled up in the sheets, your body folded in half with Rafe pounding into you. He grips your cheeks and fucks you like you’re his, like he owns your pussy and every other part of you. It goes on for so long you lose track, forgetting everything else but how to say Rafe’s name, remembering nothing but how he sounded groaning into your ear. He kisses you, hard and wet, and that’s when you cum for the third—fourth? fifth? you’ve lost track—time. He cums too—inside you, and normally you think you’d maybe have an issue with that, but since you were the one begging for it, you don’t think you’re allowed to say anything in the way of a complaint.
Rafe rolls off of you a little bit later, after you’ve had a chance to catch your breath. You think he’s gonna tell you to get out so you try to get up yourself, trying to balance on trembling legs, when he puts his hand on your waist and steadies you back onto the bed.
“What’d you need? You should sit.” You look up at him, surprised. He doesn’t like it. “Water?” You nod, and he pulls on some sweatpants and forgoes a shirt, walking out and closing the door softly behind him.
You get comfortable under Rafe’s sheets, pulling them up to cover yourself and body sinking into his bed. You reach out to find your phone, which has somehow ended up on the nightstand even though you don’t recall putting it there. There’s a few new messages.
Sarah: Did you go in yet?
Sarah: I think he left, go now!!
Then one from thirty minutes after that.
Sarah: Did you find it?? Call me!!
You reply quickly, setting the phone down when you hear Rafe’s hand on the doorknob.
Sorry, didn’t find anything. Had to go, I’ll see you tomorrow.
#this format is so fun! do you guys prefer tiny text or normal tho?#i hope everyone likes this one! i wrote it quick#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader
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Never Have I Ever
Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader
Summary: a game of Never Have I Ever leads to revelations your brother wishes he could forget (and half the grid running for their lives)
“Alright Y/N, it’s your turn!” Lando says, turning to you with an impish grin. “Give us a good one!”
You bite your lip, looking around the circle of F1 drivers sitting cross-legged on the floor of Charles’ palatial hotel suite. It’s a rare night off for everyone during the season, and Charles had suggested a casual get-together for some bonding time. That, of course, led to drinking games, and now here you all are, a few rounds into Never Have I Ever.
“Hmm...” you say slowly, tapping your chin as you think. Your brother, sitting to your left, playfully shoves your shoulder.
“Come on, hermanita! Don’t go easy on us,” he says with a laugh. You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling.
“Okay, okay! Never have I ever … raced in Formula 1,” you declare. A chorus of groans goes up around the circle as everyone except you drinks.
“That was just mean, Y/N!” Lance protests, though his eyes are twinkling with amusement. You grin and give a nonchalant shrug.
“All’s fair in Never Have I Ever!”
The game continues, the questions getting more and more outrageous and personal. Though you’re the only non-driver here, you feel completely comfortable around these guys. You’ve known most of them for years now through your brother, and they welcomed you into the F1 family immediately. It’s fun to sit back and observe their antics and camaraderie.
“Alright, I’ve got one,” Daniel says, leaning forward with an devilish smirk. “Never have I ever … slept with someone on the grid.”
You feel your eyes widen slightly at the implication, but force yourself not to react. Still, you can’t help but notice Fernando slyly taking a sip of his drink out of the corner of your eye. The rest of the drivers turn to look at him in surprise.
“What?” Fernando says with an innocent look. “Have you seen Mark Webber?”
The others burst into laughter at this excuse, the tension effectively diffused. As all eyes stay focused on Fernando, you slowly lift your own glass to your lips and take a subtle sip.
Just as you’re lowering it though, you feel Carlos stiffen next to you. Uh oh. You chance a glance at your brother and immediately regret it at the sight of the shock and anger flashing in his eyes. Before you can say anything, Carlos is on his feet.
“Alright, which one of you was stupid enough to touch my sister?” He demands heatedly.
Instantly, almost comically, Charles, Max, Lando, Pierre, Alex, Oscar, and Logan scramble to their feet and take off running in different directions.
Carlos’ eyes nearly bug out of his head before he takes off after them, yelling Spanish profanities. You sit there stunned for a second before dissolving into laughter. Only Fernando and Daniel remain seated beside you, chuckling and shaking their heads.
“Carlos! Hermano, calm down!” You call after your brother fruitlessly. Still giggling, you turn to Fernando. “I should probably go deal with him before he actually hurts someone, huh?”
“Probably wise,” Fernando says with an amused smile. “Good luck, chica.”
You give him a grateful smile before jumping to your feet and hurrying after Carlos. You find him in the next room, gripping a cowering Lando by the front of his shirt.
“Please don’t kill me!” Lando squeaks out. “It was one time!”
“Carlos, stop!” You cry, rushing over and grabbing your brother’s arm. “Let him go!”
Carlos drops Lando immediately, who scurries away like a frightened mouse. Your brother whirls on you, face still red with anger.
“Y/N, what the hell? You never told me you’ve been with these pendejos!”
You hold up your hands in a calming gesture. “I know, I’m sorry! It just sort of … happened. With everything going on in the paddock, it’s hard to avoid getting close to people. A girl has needs!”
Carlos drags a hand down his face, looking positively murderous. You place a gentle hand on his arm.
“Carlos, listen to me. I’m a grown woman, I can make my own choices. I know you want to protect me, but I’m okay, I promise.”
Your brother’s expression softens slightly as he looks down at you. He pulls you into a tight hug.
“Lo siento, hermanita. I just worry about you, that’s all. The grid is like a family, but still ...”
You hug him back reassuringly. “I know. But you don’t need to go all Spanish Inquisition on them, okay? I can handle myself.”
Carlos sighs but finally relents with a small smile. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to restrain myself from beating them all senseless.”
You laugh. “Much appreciated. Now come on, let’s get back out there and pretend this never happened, yeah?”
Carlos winces slightly but agrees, allowing you to lead him back out to the others. Most have returned to the circle now, shooting your brother wary glances. You give them a reassuring smile as you sit back down, Carlos settling tensely beside you.
“Right!” You say brightly. “Whose turn was it?”
There’s a beat of uncertain silence before Logan clears his throat.
“Uh, I believe it was mine,” he says. “Never have I ever … had a podium finish.”
There’s a communal exhale of relief as the game gets back underway. You catch Carlos’ eye and give him a pointed look, reminding him of his promise. He sighs but gives you a subtle nod and an apologetic smile.
The questions continue on, ranging from silly to risqué, though nothing quite as explosive as before. You’re relieved to see your brother laughing and back to his normal self.
As the night winds down, you’re struck by a feeling of gratitude and affection for this group. Despite the drama and tensions of the season, at the end of the day, you’re all a family.
These guys welcomed you with open arms, and you know Carlos is just looking out for you. You lean against your brother with a contented sigh, smiling around at the drivers joking and chatting happily. No matter what happens on and off the track, you know you’ll always have each other.
***
“Alright everyone, glasses up! We’re doing this again!”
You grin around at the drivers gathered once more, this time to celebrate the one year anniversary of your first Never Have I Ever night together.
“Who’s starting us off this time?” Lando asks, bouncing excitedly in his seat.
“Ooh me, me!” Alex volunteers, raising his hand eagerly. Everyone chuckles.
“Alright Albon, give us a good one,” Lewis encourages.
Alex strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, never have I ever … raced in F1 before 2019.”
A majority of the group drinks at that one. “Trying to knock out us old farts, eh?” Fernando jokes, elbowing Alex.
The questions continue on, each one prompting laughs and cheers among the group. You’re filled with the same warm contentment as last year, smiling around at your dear friends.
About halfway through, you clear your throat. “I’ve got one! Never have I ever … been an uncle.”
Most of the drivers take a drink between smiles and coos about nieces and nephews. You notice Carlos doesn’t drink and turn to him with a playful grin.
“Uh, hermano, I think you forgot to drink for that one,” you say pointedly.
Carlos looks at you in confusion. “What? None of my sisters have kids.”
You simply keep staring at him meaningfully until realization dawns on his face. His eyes go wide, flicking down to your still-full glass of untouched alcohol.
“Y/N … are you ...” he breathes in disbelief.
You nod again. “I’m pregnant.”
For a moment Carlos just stares at you in shock. Then his face starts turning red, hands clenching into fists at his sides.
“You’re pregnant?” He repeats through gritted teeth. The other drivers fall silent, exchanging uneasy glances.
“Who did this to you? Who’s the cabrón who touched my sister again?” Carlos demands, voice rising.
You shrink back slightly, smile fading. Maybe you should have told him privately.
“I … Carlos, please, just calm down,” you say weakly.
But your brother is beyond calming down now. He whips his head around the circle, glaring daggers at each driver.
“Who was it? Who permanently defiled my innocent baby sister?”
You open your mouth uncertainly, not quite sure how to answer. Before you can though, Charles abruptly jumps to his feet.
“WellwouldyalookatthetimeIgottagonowbye!” He blurts out hurriedly before turning and sprinting from the room.
“LECLERC!” Carlos bellows, tearing off after him. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you at the sight. Some things never change.
The other drivers are cracking up too. “Think we should go make sure Carlos doesn’t actually kill him?” Lando asks with a grin.
You wave a hand dismissively. “Nah, let them work it out. Charles will tire him out eventually.”
Still chuckling, you lean back against the couch next to Fernando, who has an arm draped casually around your shoulders.
“Those two, I swear. Will Carlos ever stop seeing me as his baby sister?” You muse with a smile.
Fernando grins and shakes his head. “Doubtful, chica. But that’s how brothers are. He’s just watching out for you.”
From the other room, you hear a crash followed by yelling in multiple languages. You and Fernando share an amused look.
“At least he didn’t try to fight the whole grid again,” you point out. Fernando barks out a laugh at the memory.
“Give him time. The night is still young,” he says with a playful wink.
You laugh again, cuddling into Fernando’s side. Even with your brother’s antics, you truly feel so lucky to have this group in your life. Friends turned family.
As you hear Carlos’ angry shouts getting closer, followed by Charles’ panicked apologizing, you think to yourself that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#carlos sainz#charles leclerc imagine#carlos sainz imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
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heyy i love how well written your works are, and i was wondering if there could be another tara carpenter x gp reader?? an enemies to lovers kinda thing, smut/fluff but it is totally up to you!! thankss❤️
All Mine
Tara Carpenter x gp!reader
Words: 2.8k
A/n: thank you!! also kind of a combination of this request and a prompt in this request
Warnings: reader has a penis, hate fuck? i think?, bottom!T, top!R, explicit sex, implication of breeding kink, teasing (lots of it), unprotected sex (your pullout game is weak), implication of alcohol consumption, no ghostface au
MINORS DNI!!
Tara hates three things in her life. You, hairless cats, and soggy bread. In that order too
She could handle hating hairless cats and soggy bread, but you? You were in Tara’s friend group. Tara hated you and to make matters worse, she was the only one that did
You were nerdy like Wes and Ethan, quick-witted and funny like Mindy and Amber, athletic like Chad, charismatic like Quinn, protective like Sam, and (allegedly) nice like Anika. You had nearly every one of her friends best traits, but Tara knew why she didn’t like you. You were really fucking annoying
Along with all of your positive traits, you were loud and obnoxiously social. Not that Tara was antisocial or anything, but god you were on a whole other level. It was mildly infuriating how you could go to a party you knew nobody at and somehow come out with more friends than you started with
All those people and you decided Tara was the one you’d annoy. A nudge to her shoulder made Tara look up from where she was putting her head down
“You look like shit” The brunette doesn’t respond and puts her head back down on the table
“Sam tase someone without your permission again?” Tara could practically hear the smirk in your voice
“Please for the love of god shut the fuck up. Your voice is the last thing I need to hear today”
“Woah, someone’s mad” You stick out your tongue in response at the glare Tara sends your way
“Suck my dick, (Y/n).”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Carpenter”
Tara abruptly leaves the lecture room. You think you really fucked up this time, but let out a breath of relief when you see that Tara didn’t grab her things. She was probably going to the bathroom to escape you. Which, who would ever want to escape you?
Apparently not Tara because she’s back in her seat just a few minutes before the lecture starts
“Aspirin?” You grab the bottle from a pocket in your bag, shaking it next to her
“You have Aspirin laying around?”
“Anika told me you were at a party, I figured it’s the least I could do”
“You’re trying to drug me, aren’t you?”
“If I was trying to drug you, I would’ve offered it to you at the end of class”
“Why weren’t you at the party?” Tara asks, taking the bottle from you hands and shaking out two tablets before downing them with some water
“Missed me?”
“Nope, just surprised you weren’t blackout drunk”
“Good to know you think highly of me. I was studying, thank you”
“You? Study?” Tara scoffs
“Don’t act like the idea is so out of this world”
“Right, because last time I remember you passing up a party was because your betta fish died and you forced all of us to have a funeral for him at the park”
“Trout’s death is not one to be made fun of!”
Before Tara can respond, the professor starts talking and the lesson begins. Unfortunately her head is still kind of throbbing with only mildly wanting to throw up. She had to accept she wasn’t going to get anything done until that Aspirin kicked in. Especially when she can feel you staring at her
The class goes as smoothly as it can and you notice Tara hasn’t made an effort to even try to take notes. The lesson eventually ends and when everyone gets up, the brunette begrudgingly does too
You bump your shoulders together and Tara glares at you with enough power you actually manage to feel fear for a split second until you realize it’s Tara. The girl was like two apples tall. Two and a half on a good day
The brunette doesn’t realize you were handing her a paper so you physically have to place it in her hand. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion
“What is this?”
“Notes, you need them”
“I’m not buying you Raising Canes if that’s what you want”
“Since I’m such a good friend, I’ll give it to you free of charge. Just make sure to bring it back with minimal damage”
“You’re not gonna make me Paypal you fifty bucks?” Tara doesn’t have any classes for the next few hours so you two made a point to walk to your next class. She didn’t know how it started, but you were okay to talk to when you weren’t being annoying
“In my defense, Trout recently died”
“We buried him in the fucking park, I don’t think that costs money”
“It was condolence money. I made everyone pay and I think it was pretty genius”
“I really do wonder how you still have friends”
//-//
Someone knocks on the door of you and Anika’s apartment. When you realize your roommate is probably listening to music that was too loud to be healthy, you get up from your very comfortable bed
You don’t remember ordering food and you’re pretty sure Anika didn’t invite Mindy over, so the person behind the door was probably just the nice old lady across the hall that made cookies for everyone
For better or for worse, you’re met with a Tara Carpenter that’s caught off guard when you open the door. Tara usually sees you in well put together outfits so you can only imagine her surprise when she sees you wearing boxers that outlined your cock and a hoodie that barely covered it up
“Eyes are up here- What brings you to the Mojo Dojo Casa House?”
“Can’t you just let me in?” Tara’s cheeks burn in embarrassment. Thank god you just glossed over… it
“It’s protocol you identify yourself and state why you’re here” You lean on the doorframe, actively blocking the entrance to your apartment. Tara knew this was a losing battle and hated how you looked hot while winning
“Anika and I have a project we need to work on”
“You didn’t identify yourself” you’re wearing that same dumbass smirk you have after telling a horrible joke
“Tara. Tara fucking Carpenter.”
“Unfortunately I don’t think we know any Tara Fucking Carpenters. Guess you can’t come in” you shrug
“God give me patience.” Tara rubs at her temples like you’re giving her a headache
“Isn’t it god give me strength?”
“If god gave me strength, you would be dead.”
“Point taken, but you still need a password”
“You didn’t say anything about a password!”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know if you’re the real Tara or not. Say a fact about me only the real Tara would know”
The brunette pretends to think for a moment, even putting her hand on her chin and looking off into the distance for effect. When she notices you’re starting to get suspicious of her antics Tara pushes you though the door, successfully getting in without a password or confirmation
You stumble back almost like a cartoon character and you can hear Tara let out a small laugh. You can see the dimples on her cheeks whe she tries to cover it up with her hand
“Nika, your friend’s here!” You lead Tara to Anika’s room, making sure to knock loudly while Tara’s busy either checking you out or trying to blow you up with her mind. It’s unclear, but you have to lean towards the latter
“Isn’t Tara your friend too?” Your roommate opens the door, headphones around her neck
“No.”
“Yes.” Both of you say in unison. The look you give each other is almost comical with how Tara’s glaring while you’re smiling. Anika stares blankly between you two and it eventually starts to make more sense
“Stop eye fucking each other, we have work to do” Anika pulls Tara into her room. You shrug, heading off to probably yell at ten year olds on Fortnite or something
“We were not eye fucking” the shorter girl huffs, sitting on Anika’s bed
“I literally opened my door and thought you two were about to make out”
“I didn’t expect to get interrogated when I came here!” Tara flops onto her back, covering her eyes and trying (and failing) to stop the red that dusted her cheeks
“Whatever, I’ll get you to crack later”
“Kill yourself.”
//-//
Tara doesn’t understand what she’s feeling when she sees some random girl grind against you
It’s like that one scene in Euphoria when Maddy and Nate stare each other down at the school dance, except you were looking far more more bored. That is, until you see Tara glaring at both of you
Like a switch turned on, you’re suddenly more interested in the girl. You encourage her grinding with a hand kneading her hip, using your other hand to take a sip of your drink. And just like Maddy, she’s tempted to find Chad to do the same to you. She doesn’t.
Tara fucking hated you. But she also needed you now.
Making you jealous would take too long. In theory she had the time, but her hunger to taste you was making her do things she would’ve never thought of before. One of those things being grabbing your hand and leading you away from any girl that tried to even look at you.
The girl who was grinding on you calls her a bitch among other things, but Tara knows it’s worth it when she sees you smile at her like she’s your entire world. Because she was your entire world
She leads you into an empty guest bedroom of the house, locking the door before getting close enough to you she can smell the alcohol in your breath
“What’s all this about, Tar?” You grin. Tara doesn’t know if she wants to kiss or slap that smirk right off of your annoying face
“You know what this is fucking about.”
“Do I? I think you should spell it out for me.”
“You know, I’ve had it with your attitude.” Tara jabs a finger at your chest, the back of your knees hitting the end of the bed. In one motion you sit down and bring Tara down with you. You make her sit on your cock
“Anyone ever tell you you’re fucking hot when you’re mad?” You smile, finding the blush on Tara’s cheeks absolutely adorable
“Only you.”
“Good. How about we keep it that way, baby?”
“You’re so annoying.” The brunette cups your face with both of her hands, your lips fitting together like they were always meant to
“I know I am” You say in between kisses, your hands finding their way up Tara’s shirt, kneading the spot right under her boob. She forces your hand to stimulate her nipple, eliciting a moan from her mouth
“You’re so pretty, Tar. I can’t believe only I get to see you get all hot and bothered” You smile breathlessly
“Fuck. S-Stop talking like that or you’ll make me like you” Biting a hickey on Tara’s neck, you take of her shirt and her bra in a flurry of heat
“I bet you’ll like me even more when you’re bouncing on my cock” You force Tara to grind on the bulge in your pants, earning you a small whimper that makes you smile
“C’mon, all you have to do is admit you like me and I’ll fuck you better than anyone has” It should be considered torture how much you were teasing Tara. You were biting hickeys on her neck, playing with her nipples, all while a few layers of fabric were the only barriers between your dick and her pussy. Fuck you knew how to overstimulate a girl
Laying Tara on on the bed, you could really tease the brunette better in this position. You can feel the Tara’s wetness through her soaked panties, and you’re sure she can feel the pre-cum leak out of your cock. Your hands are on her hips as if you were thrusting, yet you deny her and your pleasure for the sake of being an ass
“Don’t you want me to ruin you for anyone else? I promise I’ll stretch you out so good no other guys’ cock can fill you up like me.”
“Fuck you. I hate you, you’re s-such a fucking asshole, you know that?” Tara reaches for anything she can hold onto, your arms being the nearest thing
“I can think ways you could ‘hate’ me even more” You smile when Tara reaches to take off her panties but you find her hands first. You intertwine your hands together and the action is so soft Tara almost forgets about the situation she’s in. Almost
“Whenever I masturbate I think of you, did you know that? God, sometimes I have these hookups and all I can think about is you cumming around my cock”
Tara thinks it’s embarrassing how she’s about to cum just by your sickeningly sweet voice and the constant friction between you two. Tara also thinks she’d rather die than miss an opportunity of a lifetime.
Sure you were a cocky pain in the ass, but you were her cocky pain in the ass.
“Fuck- I admit it! I think you’re the hottest fucking person in the world. I like you.” Tara looks straight into your eyes, and the smile reserved only for her makes another appearance
“That wasn’t so hard, was it Tar?”
“I still hate you.” You unbuckle your belt and unbutton and unzip your jeans with watchful eyes. You pull down your boxers just enough so that your cock springs out, making Tara’s mouth water. Fuck you were big
Pulling Tara’s panties to the side, she’s dripping wet when you swipe your finger across her slit
“Fuck- (Y-Y/n)” Tara sings when you lick up her juices with your tongue. She buries her hands in your hair, bringing you closer to her dripping cunt. You moan at her taste and the vibrations are almost enough to get Tara to cum. Almost
You rise to your knees, lining up your dripping cock with the shorter girls dripping pussy. You decide to be evil and rub your dick against her slit before easing your tip into her hole. It was infuriating how slow you were going and Tara remembers why she hated you in the first place
Tara’s whining and whimpering under you and you can’t remember a time where you’ve been happier than in this moment
Tara on the other hand, has never hated you more in her life than in this moment
The younger Carpenter decides to be bold when she grabs your shirt and forces you forward. You’re caught off guard and over half of your cock finds itself nestled tightly in her pussy as you catch yourself with your arms
“Y-You’re sneaky, aren’t ‘cha” With your face so close to hers, Tara realizes you’re as much of a victim to your teasing as she is. She can tell it’s taking everything inside of you not to fuck her raw until your dick is limp and Tara’s legs are sore
“You can go fast. I can handle it, baby” Tara cups your face with her hand, stroking your cheek with such softness like you aren’t literally lodged into her cunt like a dog in heat
With that confirmation, you give Tara a peck on the lips and buck your hips in such a way you hit that spongey spot inside of her
The sound of skin slapping is louder than the blasting music downstairs, but your grunting and Tara’s moaning combined are louder than both. Thank god the owner of the house was your friend because you don’t know if you could come out of that room if this is what Tara sounded like
“Fuck- I’m close” You say a little too breathlessly for your liking
“Don’t p-pull out.” The shorter girl uses your shirt as leverage to keep you inside of her. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion
“T-Too messy, don’t feel like cleaning up.” Tara answers between moans like she can read your mind
The familiar heat you’re so used to finally snaps. Wrapping her legs around yours, you cum with almost a guttural whine. Your orgasm is enough for Tara to have hers and you fuck her through it, making sure none of your cum drips out of her hole
You pull out and a few dribbles of your semen flow out of her cunt. You plug her pussy with your fingers and Tara is far too sensitive to handle it
“D-Don’t tell me you’re tired already?” Tara jokes, but all air in her lungs leave when you let out a laugh of your own
“I’ve got all night, love.”
Tara has to remember to make you buy her a morning after pill.
#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega#tara carpenter x reader#scream#tara carpenter#scream 6#tara carpenter scream#mindy meeks martin#chad meeks martin#anika kayoko#samantha carpenter#quinn bailey#ethan bailey#wes hicks#amber freeman
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cw — reader and gojo have a daughter, established marriage, gojo is sad but reader comforts him
satoru gojo is not a man of many fears. heights, spiders, needles, death—fearing these is alien to a man who’s looked death itself in the eye and refused to let it touch him. however the words that his five-almost-six year-old daughter just uttered send shivers down his spine.
he’s frozen, eyes wide, face pale. he thinks his lungs stop working and his heart stops beating.
big, blue eyes round as a bug’s stare up at him, oblivious to the implications of it all.
the sentence echoes in his head like a taunt. he thinks he’ll hear it in his nightmares tonight.
then, her little hand as she tugs on his pant leg yanks him back to reality.
“daddy, i said my tooth fell out!”
satoru gulps, gaze falling to the crumb of bone in her hand, then to the tiny gap that’s now in the front of her mouth.
he didn’t think it would happen so soon.
you’re home from work not long later and the girl rushes to greet you at the door, screeching with delight to announce the loss of her tooth to you.
you’re gasping dramatically, gathering her up in your arms as she gives you a gummy smile so wide her eyes scrunch shut. staring at her is like looking in a mirror, a perpetually perfect reflection of you and your love combined into one small being.
“it didn’t hurt, did it?” you ask her.
“nope! i didn’t even cry,” she tells you, beaming with pride.
“oh, how brave you are,” you tell her, kissing her soft cheeks, grinning as her giggles bubble throughout the entire foyer.
she wriggles out of your grasp and then she’s off again, bounding back upstairs to her room to the pile of plushies upon her bed so she can continue to brew up tales and backstories for each of them. now that both her mother and father have heard her big news, she’s satisfied enough for it to no longer need to be on her mind.
you’re not surprised to find satoru in the kitchen, rummaging through the snack cupboard. you are surprised at the fact that he doesn’t turn to greet you like he always does. with a pout, you stride over to his towering frame and snake your arms around his slender waist, pressing yourself flush to him.
“hi, lover,” you hum.
in your embrace, satoru becomes lighter. the tension in his hard muscles lifts, his shoulders dropping, his back shedding the weight of the world.
“hi, pretty,” he replies, uncharacteristically quiet, yet somehow his voice still drips with affection for you.
“what’s the matter?” you ask him. you’re well aware of your husband’s melodramatic nature, and it’s because of that that you don’t find yourself worrying over his state of despair. still, you’re rather filled with a curiosity—what minuscule nonsensical issue has him down today? did they discontinue his favourite kitkat flavour?
hands migrating up his torso and finding his chest, you squeeze your fingers into the fat of his pectorals. in the blink of an eye, satoru is facing you and his cold hands have grabbed hold of your wrists. he grins down at you softly, amused by your antics as always, but you blink again and his face drops, growing almost grave.
“talk to me,” you urge, prying. his soft grasp leaves your wrists, moving to envelop your hands which drown in his. he brings them to his lips, kissing at your fingertips, making your heart beat in your ears and your face grow hot. it’s strange to think he once shrivelled away from your affection, convinced he was not worthy of it.
“how was work?” he asks.
“fine. good. same as always,” you tell him. “but you’re avoiding my question. and your feelings.”
he shakes his head, a child through and through. “tell me about your day.”
“satoru,” you say, stern, and it feels like you’re scolding your daughter for not listening to you. “i hate it when you’re… off like this.”
his eyes pierce through yours then, filled with unspoken apology. then, he exhales, long and hard, a sigh that’s heavy with weariness. for you, he’s learned to surrender.
“our daughter losing her tooth today made me realise that she’s getting older and i can’t stop it,” he admits.
you sigh along with him, half relieved that your conscience had been right in believing that it wasn’t anything serious. well, in the sense that no one had died. the rest of you knows he’s not being irrational. since becoming a father, and even before that, when having children was just a distant fantasy for him, an anxiety had lived inside of him. an anxiety of fucking up, of being inherently unsuited to fatherhood, of the idea that she may suffer the consequences of him being her father.
and now, a new anxiety sprouts.
“true, but we get to watch her grow, satoru. don’t you think that’s amazing?”
he stays silent, mouth forming an absentminded pout.
“i just keep thinking about when she was a baby… how tiny she was, how she would waddle around, and drool on my chest. soon she won’t be my little girl anymore, you know?”
“satoru,” you say firmly. your hands curl around the back of his neck, scratching at the snowy hairs of his undercut. “she’ll always be your little girl. i know that because she’s your whole world, and you’re hers. she may never be that little baby again, but she’ll never be as little as she is now either, so love and cherish her now instead of moping about the inevitable passage of time.”
satoru smiles a dopey smile at you, the same one his daughter has.
“i’m so glad i married you,” he says. his hands are warm now as they settle on your lower back, dipping down, down, down.
you roll your eyes at him, opening your mouth to reply with something witty, but he beats you to it.
“i’m being serious now, baby. you always know what to say when i’m being stupid.”
“when you’re being overdramatic, you mean,” you say, grinning playfully.
“hey, it just shows that i care, doesn’t it?”
you pull him down to your face by his neck and kiss him, moulding your lips against his, tender and warm and home. it’s not just his thoughts that melt away when he kisses you, it’s his entire head, until all that’s left is a man with nothing but his wife on his mind, heart beating for no reason other than to keep him alive so that he can keep thinking about you.
briefly, you pull away, in spite of how he chases your lips with his, because he could kiss you until the end of time and you could do the very same, but there’s something weighing on your mind suddenly.
“if you want a second baby i can make that happen, by the way,” you tell him, your hips pressing against his.
“oh, now you want another one? but every time i ask for one i get an earful? heh,” he says, quirking a brow, but unfortunately for him he’s hard in his pants in an instant.
“yeah, but now i feel bad for you.”
“babe, i don’t want a kid out of pity!”
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo imagine#gojo fanfic#gojo satoru imagine#gojo satoru fanfic#jjk imagine#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#꒰ lovers. ꒱ — gojo
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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter one | coriolanus snow
「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus is his own warning, elitism
「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader
「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus finds out the plint prize won't be his, at least for now but the district twelve girl belongs to him
「ᴀ/ɴ:」 here's the first chapter ;)) hope you like it?! Remember to give feedback guys! And beta read by @nowitsmissing
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previous : prologue
Coriolanus Snow wakes up to his grandmother singing the Panem national anthem. He quickly takes a shower, trying to ignore the squeaks of rats in his bathroom. He rubs himself clean, turning his skin red from the raw scrubbing. He stops as his fingers brush on the scar tissue he has on his wrist.
He takes a deep breath, not letting his mind wander off to you. It's the reaping day. It's the plinth prize. A prize he was going to win. You were of no importance today, or ever for that matter.
But still, he can't help but imagine that the date was etched on his skin. The numbers were written with ink darker than the night, now all that remained was an ugly scar that gave him a nastier remainder.
He shakes himself out of it. His hands grab a towel to dry himself. He fixes his curls, trying to make them as stylish as possible. He has a reputation to keep up after all. Thankfully, today wasn't one of the days in which his eye bags were obvious, the hollow of his cheeks too obvious due to lack of food.
He looked surprisingly healthy like any privileged Capitol citizen would look like.
He gets out of the bathroom to go to his grandma’ams. He gives her a note on her singing of the national anthem before asking her where Tigris is. Just on cue, Tigris bursts in.
Her voice was excited, her face all smiles. She hands him a shirt, his dad's old dress shirt renewed with tesserae buttons. He wore it, letting his cousin rant about the process of it all. Even though he had no interest in listening, it was a thank you in his way.
He pins the rose given to him on his shirt. Teasing his family members about new dresses and chocolates. He was going to win the Plinth Prize, nobody could take this away from him. It was his right.
In the academy, he chats with his inner circle. Making snide comments about Sejanus and his Ma. That's when you come in, a drink in your hand. Your eyebrows are raised as you look at Arachne with barely hidden disgust.
Fuck, you looked stunning in your dress. He has to dig his nails into his palm to remind himself not to stare. Why are you torturing him by being so pretty? You're just a district girl, you had no business having such beauty.
“Tell us who won,” Arachne said with her haughty voice, “Your boy toy surely would have spoiled it by now.” You laugh in response.
A small giggle escapes your lips. You don't take offense by having Sejanus being called your boy toy. Coriolanus wants to furrow his eyebrows from your reaction. Were you and Sejanus dating? No way in hell. Even if you're district, you're better than Sejanus in every way. He wants to scowl at the implications.
(You're his, his, his)
“I wouldn't dare ruin his big day, Arachne,” Sejanus's voice rings out instead, him standing behind you. His arm around your shoulder. “People may not like my father but they do love his money. Surely you can relate?” Sejanus grins.
“Funny,” Arachne replied with a sneer.
You rolled your eyes, “Don't be mean, Sej.” You sip your drink and Coriolanus’ eyes can't help but follow the movement of your tongue poking out to lick your lips clean of the drink. His eyes also glare at Sejanus's hand on your shoulder, a part of him wishing he could break his arm.
You turn to Coriolanus. “Nice shirt,” you comment with a smile, and Snow can tell it's more genuine than anything you flashed at the rest of your classmates. He feels himself flush at the compliment. Not even stopping you even though he should because why should your dirty hands touch him? But he doesn't stop you when your fingers reach out to delicately touch the red rose pinned to his shirt.
“Such a beautiful flower,” you mutter in fascination, “and fresh too.” You tear away a rose petal, crushing the poor thing between your fingers, the tip of your fingers turning red.
He watched, no thoughts in his mind but he knew he should be offended. It has been ten years of your behavior he had endured, yet not once could he open his mouth to insult you.
How weak had you turned him since day one. If anyone knew, he would be ruined.
“Did you have to do that?” Clementia frowns, “Flowers are significant to the Snows.'' You only smirk in reply to Clementia. “I see,” you comment, before taking Sejanus's hand in yours.
You begin to walk away but Snow sees you turn around for a split second. Your eyes meet his and your lips form a word. Sorry. He mouths back, ‘ It's fine. ’
You smile at him and turn back, walking towards the chair where the top 24 seniors are supposed to sit, waiting for the announcement. You had let go of Sejanus’ hand by then, letting relief fall over Coriolanus.
Coryo's fingers rub the scar tissue over the fabric of his shirt. It was going to be fine. Over the years, both of you have grown up a lot. Despite having district blood, you consider yourself Capitol more than Sejanus did. You had adjusted first, and even if your peers didn't accept you, their families were certainly charmed by you during the galas.
You were smarter than Sejanus. You were better than Sejanus. Certainly, you couldn't be compared to the Capitol citizens, but you were worthy in Coriolanus' eyes. That doesn't mean he accepts you as his soulmate. That's something that won't ever change, however, the pride he felt towards you is something he couldn't control.
Coriolanus sits between you and Sejanus. He liked the fact that he was in between like a border neither of you should cross. Sejanus whispered to him, his voice grating but Coriolanus heard what he said.
“I know you had high hopes for this,” he whispered, “But there won't be no Plinth Prize. Not today.”
Coriolanus freezes as he hears what Sejanus means. What does he mean by no Plinth Prize? Never in history is that possible. Sejanus must have been mistaken. That's it because otherwise, everything in Coriolanus Snows’ life would go to hell.
However, Sejanus wasn't a liar nor did he make a mistake. Dean Highbottom soon revealed that the 10th annual Hunger Games and the mentor who won will win the prestigious prize Coriolanus needs. Livia Cardew, the girl he loathed, got someone from district one. Sejanus, the lucky bastard, had gotten someone in district two.
You had gotten the boy from district twelve. Someone named Jessup. The boy was healthy, fit, someone who could win under your guidance. Anger blooms in Coriolanus' chest, he tries hard to control the urge to not throw a chair at Dean Highbottom.
Even God wouldn't be so petty as the dean is. For reasons unknown why. The district twelve girl was his. Lucy Gray Braid.
Her makeup is jarring, she was wearing a dress that reminded him of clowns if they used more colors than red and white. The only thing good about her was how she captured attention despite the fact she had already insulted Snow by creating a facade in the reaping.
You can't take my sass
You can't take my talkin'
You can kiss my ass!
He looked at you when he heard the last part. A part of him craved your reaction, surely out of everyone, you wouldn't mock his tribute. You were district yourself after all. You wouldn't mock your people.
What Coriolanus Snow forgot was that you were his soulmate. And in no way the fates would allow his lover to be a saint, an angel as he had hoped for. You were anything but.
You had cruel amusement gleaming in your eyes. A smile of triumph on your lips as if you're sure that you will win the Hunger Games and not him. You turn to him, your eyes hiding the cruelty. You lean forward and Coriolanus counts to ten in his head so his eyes don't fall on your lipstick-stained lips.
“May the best man win,” you whispered, a smirk on your face, filled with the mockery all too familiar like the rest of his peers.
He was going to fucking show you.
“And hereby I declare the beginning of the 10th annual Hunger Games. May the odds be in your favor,” Dr. Gaul's voice calls out to the students.
Odds will be in his favor, whether it be willing by the Lord or his brute force.
Next Chapter
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#tbosas x you#tbosas smut#tbosas fanfiction#tbosas x reader#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games#president coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus smut#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow x reader#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow x female!reader#coriolanus snow x reader smut#snow x reader#character x reader#x you#x reader#x female reader#fem reader#the hunger games x reader#dystopian fiction#thg x reader#thg series#thg fanfiction#thg
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ready to comply part 2? 👉👈
As you wish!
I may have left this one on a cliff hanger as well. 🫣
I’M SORRY! I was just having so much fun I had to leave it open in case there was interest for a part three. ❤️
Ready to Comply - Part Two
Requested by @littleone2001
Soldat!Bucky Barnes x PlusSized!Reader
Word Count: 1.7k
ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+
C/W: Language, discussion/implications of violence and murder, gun play (sorry, not sorry), unprotected sex, rough sex, a lil boob slap (once, because I had to), spanking, fingering (f receiving), anal fingering (f receiving), brief discussion of kidnapping/making reader his sex slave
✏️ A/N at the end.
“All I can smell is how wet you are.”
Oh fuck.
You muster up a small, broken sound from your chest when the realization finally hits you that your desire is overwhelming Bucky’s senses to the point that he’s struggling just to think.
“I-“
His fingers hook beneath the saturated fabric of your panties, his fingers grazing against your folds and igniting a heat in your body that sets your nerves on fire.
He tears them away, reducing them to a tattered rag in his fist which he brings to his nose and inhales deeply before he discards them to the floor with a growl.
He forces your thick thighs apart, spreading you open with his trembling fingers to observe your tight, wet hole as it clenches desperately around nothing.
“Fuck!”
His breath catches in his chest and he stumbles back, withdrawing the gun from his shoulder holster and brandishing it at you.
Your eyes widen as you snap your legs shut, raising your hands defensively and shrinking back in horror.
Bucky steps forward and presses the barrel of the gun against your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.
“I’m sorry.” He chokes out.
“You’re going to kill me.” You whisper, fear taking hold as your eyes screw shut and a tear slips down your cheek.
He shakes his head slowly, tracing the cool metal of his weapon along your jawline. “No, I ain’t gonna kill you. Not yet.”
Your eyes open, your expression twisting into one of confusion. “Then why.. why are you sorry?”
He sets his jaw, lifting his left hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Because I’m gonna hurt you.” He rasps.
Your brows knit in concern. “What do y-“
Bucky cuts you short, replying only by dipping his gun between your legs, pressing it firmly against your bare, weeping cunt.
Your entire body seizes in terror but as he drags the cool, hard weapon along your slick folds, the fear gives way to something else entirely.
“You don’t wanna hurt me..” You say slowly, carefully, biting back a moan as the barrel of the gun grazes across your clit.
“But I do.” He taunts, pulling the gun away and gripping your jaw with bruising force. He presses it to your mouth, your slick coating the metal and wetting your bottom lip. “Open.” He growls, leaving you little choice with how hard he’s holding your chin. He forces the gun into your mouth, your eyes wide in apprehension. “Suck.” He demands, pressing it down on your tongue. You swirl your tongue around it, tasting yourself on the bitter metal. He groans, withdrawing it harshly from your mouth with a string of spittle and tucking it back into its holster.
“I’m gonna fuck you. And it’s gonna hurt.” He mutters, his calloused fingers moving to unbuckle his belt.
“Bucky y-“ He pinches your cheeks together painfully in his metal hand, effectively silencing you.
“Quit fuckin’ calling me that!” He snaps, using his grip on your jaw to yank you forward to him.
“Soldat.” He corrects in a menacing tone, nodding your head for you to ensure you understood.
“That is my name. I suggest you remember it, because you’re about to be screaming it.”
He releases your face harshly, reaching to pull his hard, thick cock from his jeans and spitting into his palm. He curls his hand around his impressive length and pumps himself lazily from base to tip, rubbing his thumb roughly over the slit and smearing beads of precum along his shaft to mingle with his saliva.
Your eyes follow every stroke of his hand as he closes in on you, your brain working to comprehend just how in the hell your body was going to accommodate his size.
He’s right. This is going to hurt.
He clutches the neckline of your dress with his free hand, ripping and tearing the fabric until you’re bared to him and he kneads at your breast roughly pinching the pebbled flesh of your nipple harshly between his fingers, drawing a small cry from you.
“Buc-“ You stammer.
He slaps your tit hard and you wince from the sting as it radiates across the tender flesh of your ample breast.
“Soldat.” He growls through clenched teeth, hiking your legs to rest your heels on his shoulders and tilting your pelvis upwards as he lines himself up with your aching entrance.
You suck in a sharp breath as the crown of his cock breeches your tight, wet hole and you writhe underneath him against the sting as he splits you open, stretching your cunt and filling you in a way you’ve never experienced.
A shameless moan erupts from your throat when he begins to snap his hips, fucking into you with a merciless rhythm. What was once pain is quickly building into pleasure and your back arches up off the desk.
“So fucking tight.” He grunts, his heavy sack swinging with every deep thrust into your dripping cunt. His jaw clenches and he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs, spreading you wider as he tucks his chin to watch himself disappear into your wet heat with a predatory gaze.
Pleasure builds in your abdomen and you rock your hips to meet his hungry thrusts, biting down on your bottom lip as his thick cock massages your inner walls. The corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s biting back a smirk when he registers you eagerly moving in sync with him. He snakes a hand down between you, tracing his fingers along the girth of his cock where he’s filling you and gathers your slick along his fingertips, raising his hand and spreading his fingers to admire the sheen of your wetness with a thoughtful expression.
Without warning he withdraws, leaving you desperate and empty when he lets your right leg drop and curls his hand around your left ankle, flipping you hard onto your stomach. He grabs your hips and yanks you backwards towards him so you’re bent over your desk with the lip of it biting into your pelvis. He delivers a harsh smack to your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hand, then dipping his head down to suck a bruise into the skin before biting down hard into your plump cheek. You yelp and raise yourself up on your palms, but Bucky splays a large, calloused hand across your back, forcing you back down and kicking your legs wider with the toe of his boot.
He plunges two fingers in your thoroughly fucked hole, coating them in your arousal before withdrawing them and sinking his cock back into your swollen cunt. Strangled noises of pleasure catch in your throat and you push your hips back greedily to meet him, your walls throbbing around him as ruts into you, his balls slapping against your clit and sending shockwaves through you with every brutal thrust.
He spreads your ass cheeks roughly, teasing his wet index finger along your backside, circling your puckered hole and causing you to squirm. He presses into you, working his finger in sync with his hips, massaging it into you until you manage to take him to the knuckle and he lets out a satisfied groan that you nearly drown out in your own wanton moan.
“Fuck.” He rasps out, pain blooming as he moves to add a second finger. You cry out at the intrusion, your hands clenching into fists above your head and your nails biting into your palms as he rocks his fingers into you, scissoring you open.
You thought you’d been full when it was only his cock but fuck, were you wrong.
It was too much.
It was too good.
The tension wound tight in your abdomen finally snaps and you completely shatter.
A choked sob rips from your throat and your pussy spasms, your walls fluttering around his cock and your asshole contracting around his fingers as you scream, your orgasm tearing through you with enough force to make your head spin and your ears ring.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
He slips his fingers from your tight hole, grabbing hold of your hips with both hands and slamming into you with unrelenting force, fucking you through each wave of euphoria as they crashed over you in succession.
“I’m gonna tell them I killed you.” He grunts, his cock kissing your cervix. “So no one will ever come looking for you.”
You mumble incoherently, tears of ecstasy staining your cheeks as you lay limp in the wake of your earth shattering release while he continues to pound into you at a steady pace.
“I think I’ll keep you tied to my bed.” He whispers in a menacing tone, his thrusts growing frantic as he chases his impending orgasm. “I’m gonna fuck every hole in your body, every day, until you can’t fucking take it anymore.”
Bucky snaps his hips forward in one last powerful thrust and then stills, shouting a string of curses as his cock pulses and he pulls your plump ass flush to his pelvis, emptying himself deep inside of you.
He tilts his head back, his chest rising and falling erratically and then pulls out, staggering back as you rise up and turn to face him with flushed cheeks and hair slicked against your sweaty forehead.
“Get dressed.” He orders, tugging his jeans up and fastening his belt. “You’re coming with me.”
You nod and move on weak knees, feeling his cum slowly leaking from your cunt as you gather your blazer. He watches you carefully as you pull it on, buttoning it in an attempt to cover your naked body.
Bucky holds out his hand impatiently and you take it, cautiously moving closer to him, your thighs sticky as they rub together with every step you take.
You place a palm flat against his chest and he looks down at you with his brows furrowed in confusion at your gentle gesture before you rise up on your tiptoes, pressing your mouth against his. He stiffens momentarily but quickly reciprocates, his tongue teasing at your bottom lip in a silent demand to deepen the kiss. You comply, moving your tongue slowly against his in a sensual dance and tracing your hands along his broad chest as you lean further into him.
When you break the kiss abruptly and step back out of his embrace, he blinks in bewilderment before his face contorts into rage as he registers that he’s staring into the barrel of his own gun.
Taglist (Taglist is open):
@littleone2001 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe
A/N: My husband gave me so much shit for this while I was writing it: tHiS iSnT cAnOn, BuCkY wOuLdNt Do ThAt, iT dOeSnT mAkE sEnSe
Look, I know. It’s a fanfic, it’s AU, it’s not canon.
Anyway, now I’m really anxious about posting this, worried that it won’t meet your expectations. So I hope you enjoy so I can tell my husband to suck it. 😈
💋Sj
#bucky barnes#james barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#james buchanan barnes#sergeant james barnes#sergeant james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader requests#bucky barnes x plus size reader#Soldat Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes smut#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier smut#marvel smut#avengers smut#winter soldier x you#winter soldier fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfic#winter soldier fic#smut requests#smutty fic#all smut#smutty fanfiction#fan fiction request#james bucky buchanan barnes
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YANDERE 141, KÖNIG
CHARACTERS: 141 + könig.
WARNINGS: kidnapping, murdering (not reader or any characters), panty stealing, sexual implication on Gaz's one, love bombing, guilt tripping. tell me if i missed any.
A/N: i did this a while ago, but i wanna rewrite it since my writing has changed since! also, i know it's random to add könig but he's my favourite, my husband, and i love to talk about him as a yandere!
proofread.
Captain John Price
Your captain always had the hots for you. From stealing your panties from your clothing hamper, to perving on you in the communal showers. When he finally gave in to the nagging voice in his head and took you, it left you shocked.
He'd always put pressure on you. He'd always overwork you and give you extra reports, and when you asked the others if they had any reports due, they had noticeably less than you had. You had a lot of weight on your shoulders, always rushing reports and having them handed back, your captain expecting more.
So, you put in more effort. Quickly enough, you were exhausted from overworking yourself and the hard work during missions that you pleaded with John to give you a break. Even laswell could sense you were burned out. But John didn't believe you were tired enough. And if you really were, you should just leave the military – I mean, after all, it doesn't seem like your thing.
He made you feel like you weren't good enough to be a part of his team. He always berated you for doing something wrong, an accident that could've been made easily and by anyone. The others took notice of this but didn't say anything in fear of their captain lashing out on them instead.
No one was surprised when you left. Laswell talked about transferring you to another team, since she saw great potential with you. But with John in your ear telling you to leave this industry, you decided that this clearly wasn't your thing.
Once you were gone, you were at ease, but feel as if something was going to go wrong sooner or later. Would your new job fire you? What would the others think of you leaving them like this?
You noticed a few pairs of panties missing, and as if someone were following you around. It left you fearful and almost isolated as you refused to leave your flat, awoken by the sound of glass shattering and a dark shadow of a burly figure looming over your body. Before you could react, a cloth was brought to your mouth, forcing you to become limp in a matter of minutes due to the oddly medical scent filling your nostrils.
Waking up locked and chained to the wall in a basement wasn't what you expected when you first left the military. You imagined marrying someone and living a peaceful life, but soon enough, you were frantically shaking the chains in an attempt to flee. To no use though, as soon, the sounds of boots stomping against the floor above you could be heard and the noise of keys rattling.
John is a cruel yandere. He enjoys seeing you ruined and raw, bruised from his punishments. He sure as hell isn't afraid to put you in your place, especially when you misbehave and curse him out. “What good s'that gonna do for ya'?” he mumbled, smoking the cigar between his teeth, pushing boot down against your cheek.
He loved to humiliate and embarrass you, to make you feel worthless beneath him. He tuts and scoffs, leaning down so the stench of tobacco and smoke could enter your nostrils. Cigar burns along your thighs when you seriously missed behaved, he had to make sure he left a mark on you, that he wore you down and ruined you beyond comprehension, so he could talk to you as if you were worth nothing and have no consequence.
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley
A very, very calm and nonchalant yandere. He enjoys having you like a pet beneath him, on your knees and forced to obey him.
He'd fallen head over heels with you when you joined the 141. God, how could he not? With the way you look at him after sparring, exhausted and panting, drained of all your strength as he slams you down against the ground for the tenth time.
Simon loves to tease you, he gets satisfaction off the sounds of your giggles and laughs. But, at times he leaves you confused with tears in your eyes from his snarky, hurtful comments. Talking with other men was a huge no for Simon, as he felt like he was at competition for his darling.
He'd planned to take you away while on deployment. He found your address and decided he'd pay you a nice visit when you were walking out drunk from a bar, kidnapping you and throwing you into his van and driving away with the love of his life.
With Simon's obsession, came delusion. He didn't fully understand how you couldn't comprehend why he'd done this. Of course, he wanted to protect you! Shouldn't you be more grateful that you don't have to do any work, that he provides and takes care of you?
Whenever you sobbed and hid against the wall, he'd roll his eyes and order you to sit between his thighs, so he could pet you like an obedient dog. You always gave him those watery eyes that made the guilt waver in his chest, but it was ignored as he scoffed and slapped you across the cheek lightly; a warning.
When you weeped into the pillow, he laid beside you, his arms wrapped around your figure, holding your precious body against his own. He shushed you, your hands tied with handcuffs behind your back and your ankles tied with rope. There was no way he was allowing you to be without him, he couldn't live!
You want him to stay healthy, mentally and physically? Then you stay beside him like an eager puppy, his one and only.
John ‘Soap’ Mactavish
A delusional, lovesick yandere. He can't be without you... he simply can't and wouldn't stand it any longer.
He met you at a bar, with the 141 and he grew a liking to you when you always listened and laughed along with his stupid jokes. It gave him confidence and made him believe that you were interested in him, despite excusing it as ‘just being nice’.
There was no ‘just being nice’, he was sold on the idea of you loving him, and once he got your number, he was over you. Creepy, overprotective messages made you feel uneasy and almost weirded out when he scolded you for wearing an outfit he didn't approve of to a party. How did he know you were at a party?
When asked, he said he was friends with someone there and that he saw you with your friends. It put your mind at ease and you almost felt relaxed for a minute, before your phone lit up with a notification from him.
“Ye' shouldnae be awake so late, love.” he typed out. You weren't on your phone, therefore, how would he know you were awake? Your status didn't say online, and there was no reason for him to assume that you were awake at midnight for no reason.
Until you saw him.
Standing in the hallway of your flat, your eyes wide open as you drop your glass of red wine all over your white carpet. You back up, panting and grabbing your phone in an attempt to call the police, before he gave you a threatening gaze that had you paused in time.
He approached you, sitting beside you on the couch and bringing you into his arms. He leaned you back against his lap so that your head was laying on his lap. Johnny traced his fingertips up and down your cheeks, humming to himself and chuckling at your fearful expression.
He put the muzzle of a gun beside your ear, whispering something to you before hitting you in the head with the gun, knocking you out. Of course, he hadn't shot you. He would never. But he had you bound and gagged on the floor of his basement back in Scotland, naked and bare and fully revealed to him. “Couldnae help mysel'...” he chuckled.
Johnny is a delusional yandere. He sees nothing wrong in what he's doing. Delusional and obsessive, completely attached to you and believes you could do no wrong. Whenever you cry to him that you hate him, a frown replaces his once smile as he forces you down against the couch, forcing you to apologise otherwise he would throw you in the basement without a second thought.
He also loves to pretend that you two are a happy couple. He only locks you away if you're naughty, otherwise he has an arm around your waist and he's bringing a glass full of wine to your lips, having you fall asleep against his shoulder. And he's also extremely creepy; giggling, you'll wake up to him taking photos of you whilst you sleep, watching as you cower and shy away in fear.
Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick
He's a delusional guilt tripper. He'd met you through other friends and became utterly and completely fascinated with your life. He'd love to fantasize about you all day long, thinking of your future together.
Kyle, like Johnny, believed you two were compatible and that had him drooling for you. Always desperate to please and impress you. He'd always gaze over at you and ask you first a question, speaking to you the entire night long until you both knew a lot about eachother.
You two hooked up which fed into the delusions of your love. He wouldn't let you leave the next morning, he'd begged and pleaded with you until tears to stay that extra bit longer. He needed you.
He wrapped his arms around you and rubbed his bare chest against your back. You were, of course, were weirded out by his sudden behaviour, but the strong sense of sorrow and guilt bloomed in your chest. Eventually, you fell asleep beside him, assuming he was also knocked out asleep.
He wasn't.
In fact, you woke up chained to the bed. Your wrists and ankles were chained and spread out, your eyes widening as he caressed your body. His touch wasn't sexual, not like the night prior, but it was tender and full of love like you two were married.
His eyes also grew big when he saw you were awake. He sighed, cupping your jaw to lean in and kiss you, all confused when you attempted to wriggle away. Kyle took offense to this and decided that if you weren't going to listen, he would make you.
Kyle dragged you about by the neck, rope around your neck and acting as a leash. He sobbed, screaming at you for acting so clueless. You lead him on, and now he was blaming you for everything wrong in his life.
How could you!? How could you lead this sweetheart on and make him truly believe he was finally loved? What sick, twisted prick does something as horrible as that?
Your eyes glistened as he yelled, gripping your jaw and crumbling to his knees. God, he was amazing, a mastermind at making you feel bad. He could for tears out of nowhere, smiling widely when you comply.
“Yes, yes... that's it, finally behaving for me?” Kyle smiled cruelly, he could see tears streaming down your cheeks from his scoldings, trapped with him and his forced love.
König
Oh, this poor man believes you want him just like he wants you. He's utterly shocked and heartbroken when you turn him down, that he's too creepy and always stalking you! He's oblivious to the fact that he does this... please, understand this poor man!
Instead of moving on, he takes matters into his own hands. There was no way you didn't love him, I mean, he believed up and down that you were made for him. Fuck, he even planned your future together.
His jaw dropped and his lips parted, anger filled his eyes as he stormed off.
Watching you from afar and admiring the way you walked. The way you talked to other men, what did they have that he didn't!? You couldn't do this, König wasn't allowing it. His jealousy grew bigger every day, and when he realised you had a boyfriend, it boiled over the edge.
Crimson stained the soles of his boots as he walked off. The sound of the snow crunching beneath his heavy weight, leaving your boyfriend's body bloodied and lifeless. No more competition, soon enough you'd cling to your ex-best friend, sobbing about your boyfriend's death.
He knew you like the back of his palm, of course you'd come crawling back with tears in your eyes. He hates to know that he caused those many tears, thinking about his sins and brushing them off so he could comfort his darling.
The police were clueless, just like you. You cried and stayed over every single night, cuddling into König and leaving his shirt wet from your tears. “Mäusi, I just can't believe all these tears are for him.” the tone of his snarky, jealous attitude was back and it immediately caught your attention.
You were shocked that he'd say something like that. Of course, they were for him! He was dead, murdered even, for goodness sake... You had cursed him out, sitting up and looking down at the man laying beside you, wiping your cheek.
He gritted his teeth and sat up, gripping you by the neck and pushing you back down against the mattress. He never wanted to have these outbursts, he wanted you to feel happy and joyful when you were with him. Guilt immediately hit him like a bombshell, but there wasn't any going back and he knocked you out with a single hit.
Life in König's basement was hell on Earth. Soon, you were crying for him not to abandon you in the basement. You'd forgive him, it was alright. A happy smile appeared on his face, it made you ill. He made you feel queasy when he hugged you so tightly you thought he'd kill you with a hug.
Spoon feeding you meals and love bombing you until you feel inclined to love him back, Stockholm Syndrome. After all, he did all this for you. Surely the giant deserves something in return.
#orla speaks#call of duty modern warfare#modern warefare ii#141 x reader#cod 141#task force 141#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish#gaz mw2#kyle gaz garrick#captain john price#john price#könig call of duty#könig#konig x reader#cod konig#x reader#call of duty#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#yandere headcanons#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere#yandere x darling#cod fanfic#cod x you#cod mwii
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headpats from little shrimpy!
Genre/Tropes: Mutual pining.
Summary: Floyd doesn't know if YOU know that merpeople show they're interested in each other with physical contact, but one head pat from you and he's lost all forms of self restraint. Oops!
Author's Comments: Okay as someone who is HEAVILY FIXATED on moray eels and knows too many things about them and how they interact with other morays (+ shrimp in mcs case) this is such a TREAT. I LOVE THIS. Granted it's not scientific at all but still. Cute.
~~~~~
It would have been such an unimportant action to anyone else.
Having a cute little Shrimpy pat you on the head as they passed by with the monthly earnings of the Mostro Lounge wouldn’t have mattered to anyone else.
But it mattered to Floyd Leech.
It mattered a lot.
It mattered so much, in fact, that he froze in his chair and stared at your retreating back. Was it just his imagination, or were you walking faster? Jolting out of his seat, he made a run for you and prayed he’d catch you before you disappeared into Azul’s office.
Unfortunately, you made it. Boo. No fun.
Floyd pouted, jiggling the locked doorknob. Azul had a habit of locking it when he was in a meeting, and that’s exactly what he told Floyd after he told him to go away.
How unfair! His Shrimpy was in there!
Officially in a sour mood, Floyd went back to the booth he was sitting in and pouted. He’d just wait for you to come out and grill you with questions! Yeah, he could do that!
...
Floyd Leech could not do that.
He ended up pacing around the Mostro Lounge for a few hours, passing through the kitchen to talk to Jade before he got bored again.
“Did you see Shrimpy pass through here?” Floyd asked, poking his head into the kitchen for the seventh time, “I’ve been waiting for them but they haven’t come out of the VIP Room!”
“The Prefect? They left about ten minutes ago.” Jade hummed, focusing on his simmering cream of mushroom soup.
Floyd wrinkled his nose at the pot before darting away from the kitchen, intent on finding you before you escaped from him once again. You must have slipped out while he wasn’t looking! You couldn’t just pat his head and not say anything!
It wasn’t like you knew the implications, but physical touch was a way for merfolk to show that they were romantically interested in each other. Floyd felt his mood souring even more when he realized that you might have just done that to do it. It might have not even meant anything to you.
“Boo. Shrimpy better have meant it.” he huffed.
It was like the entire school could tell that Floyd was in a bad mood, because nobody dared to stop him as he ran through the halls. Riddle looked as though he wanted to say something, but decided against it as he ducked into a nearby classroom. Floyd didn’t have time to antagonize him right now, though—finding Shrimpy and asking them about their head pat was more important!
Before he knew it, Floyd was bursting through the Ramshackle gate and sprinting up to your front door. You weren’t anywhere to be seen on the front lawn, so Floyd hoped you were inside. If he had to look for you any longer he’d be grumpy for the next week.
“Shrimpyyyy!” he called out, cupping his mouth so the sound would travel farther, “Lemme in! I wanna talk to you!”
He heard loud thumping inside as you rushed down the stairs, the sound of the lock on the door jiggling making him bounce on the tips of his toes.
“Shrimpy!” he beamed, throwing his arms around you the second the door was open.
“Hi, Floyd.” you wrapped your arms around him awkwardly as he leaned over you, crushing you against his chest.
“Hey, hey! Didja mean it? You better have meant it!” he pulled away only to shake you by the shoulders, “If you didn’t mean it I’m gonna be so upset!”
“Oh...Oh, that.” you mumbled, squirming in his hold, “I...You mean the head pat, right?”
“Yes!” he whined, shaking you harder, “Do you like me like that?!”
“Like what?” you blinked, tilting your head to the side in confusion.
“Like you wanna date me!” Floyd huffed, finally letting you go.
He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, eyes glued to your face in hopes of an answer. You felt your face heat up at the scrutiny, turning away so you didn’t have to look directly at him.
“Well...yeah.” you mumbled, “I asked Jade what I could do to, um...make you realize that I like you. And he told me that merpeople...really value physical contact? So I thought if I just gave you a head pat that might be good enough...? And I guess it was.”
“Awww, that’s so cute. You went to Jade for help?” Floyd laughed, the high pitched giggles easing your nerves just a bit, “Well lucky you, Shrimpy! I accept. Now come here.”
Floyd pulled you back into his chest and patted your head gently, and you allowed yourself to sink into his embrace.
“Cute Shrimpy.” he giggled into your hair, squeezing you tightly, “I’m gonna squeeze you every day now!”
#auburn's fics <3#floyd leech x reader#floyd x reader#floyd leech is a silly guy#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#floyd fluff
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‘silly little love affair’ [part iii of V maybe?]
[warning: angst: adam being a jerk: mentions of depression: implications of self-harm : feelings of loneliness]
previous part > next part
[a/n: y/n is dealing with a lot yes a big reason, is being apart from Lucifer. But even before then she always dealt with the feeling of loneliness and depression, she felt as if she wasn’t perfect like her brother that she was basically an afterthought (which she was). Adam is no way perfect but he got everything served to him a partners (that were all stolen by Lucifer lol) while she didn’t get anything.
which is why I should make a chapter where it’s y/n back in the garden of Eden, she asks the angels to make her a partner cause she’s feeling lonely. and they don’t even bat an eye just telling her no. Which is why she holds such disdain towards Adam and Sera.
“You really do love him?” asked Emily, and [Y/n] lifted her head. A faint smile appeared across her tear stained face, as she held the rubber duck in her hand, “More than anything.” said [Y/n], looking at the younger seraphim with bags under her eyes.
A portal appeared beside Emily, “Go,” said Emily, a smile on her face. [Y/n] looked at her in shock confused, but she gestured towards the portal to hell. She saw it the familiar Morningstar Manor, tears trickled down her cheeks as her heart skipped a beat.
“Don’t worry about Sera or Adam, I’m doing my job bringing joy to others,” she said, looking at her a warm smile on her face.
Even before she started a relationship with Lucifer, she always hated being alone. She struggled making friends even in Heaven, only being able to with Emily. She didn’t like to talk much or converse with other people, she felt awkward around others. Which is why she bonded so quickly with Lucifer, she fell in love with him as they became friends.
He made her laugh, and smile. She felt safe and comfortable around him. When they shared their first kiss, she felt butterflies in her stomach and fireworks. She’s never felt this way about anyone before, and it was scary at first but she grew to love the feeling.
“Emily?!” a voice shouted, appearing in the room. Sealing the portal shut, the hope faded from [Y/n]’s eyes once again.
“Going behind my back, you know better.” said Sera, and Emily looked at her and pointed towards [Y/n]. Sera looked over at her and had to admit, she felt a slight pang of guilt. Seeing how miserable and how worse for wear she looked, her eyes drifting towards the her long sleeve shirt. Catching a glimpse of yellow ichor, causing her to raise her eyebrow in concern.
[Y/n] tugged, on her sleeve to cover and brought her arm close to her chest. She looked up at Sera, and then looked away sadly her shoulders sulking, “I’m not going behind your back! I’m doing my job bringing joy to others.” Emily protested, to the older Seraphim.
She had to admit she hated the fact she was going behind Sera’s back. But she was only doing her job bringing joy to others.
“But it’s unfair she deserves to be happy!”
“It’s my job to bring joy to others.”
“She deserves it!”
Sera grew tense, “Emily! That is enough!” shouted Sera, looking at her. [Y/n] gripped the covers of her bed, her knuckles turning white. Her lower lip quivered as tears trickled down her cheek, “J-Just forget it.” said [Y/n], as she looked down her nose turning red.
Emily and Sera, looked over at her. Emily walked over towards her and placed her hand on her shoulder, “I-I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.” she said, shaking her head.
Emily shook her head, “I won’t.” She said, and glared looking at Sera. “Cause I’m doing my job.” She said, and Sera shook her head her arms folded across her chest.
[Y/n] shook her head slowly, “stop moping about y/n, you’ll be fine.” Sera said.
“Says, the one who’s crush didn’t reciprocate your feelings.” spat [Y/n], mumbling under her breath. Sera’s eyes widened her brows furrowed, “You’ve got some nerve!” Sera said, looking at her angrily.
“I might! But you have some nerve keeping me away from the one I love!” shouted [Y/n], and the older Seraphim stared at her angrily.
“I’ve never been happier, felt more alive.” She said, as she ran her fingers through her hair, “you’ll never understand what it’s like being in love, how it feels to be apart from your other half!” She shouted, clenching her fist her eyes almost glowing red.
Sera stared at her a looked filled with disdain, “You’re right I’ll never know, and you’ll never see him again.” grumbled Sera, glaring at her and Emily looked at her in shock and disbelief, at her cruelty. “Sera!” Emily shouted in disbelief, and Sera held up a hand.
“That’s my final say,” she finished.
“Letting you fall will just be doing you a service.” Sera said, and the angel just shook her head and stared back at her covers. “I hope karma bites your ass,” She spat, glaring at the older Seraphim.
Before she could open her mouth to speak, a portal appeared beneath [Y/n]. A portal straight to hell, she fell through immediately before Sera ad time to react. Emily smiled, and gave her a little wave goodbye. She didn’t have time to thank her before, the portal closed.
……….
[Y/n] flapped her wings only able to fly for a couple of seconds, only for them to go limp. She screamed, as she tried to use her wings to no avail.
Her wings flapped for a couple of seconds to only go limp. Once again sending her plummeting toward the ground. A sense of panic set in as she realized she was once again plummeting towards the ground below. She frantically tried to regain control, but to no avail. Her heart racing, tears trickling down her cheeks as she got closer and closer to the ground.
She closed her eyes bracing herself for impact, unsure if she would survive the fall. She whispered to herself, as feathers come off her angelic wings and her halo faded away. Her eyes turning red and her sclera turning, yellow. Her forearm turning a dark reddish black, and her nails sharpening to resemble that of claws.
As much as she tried to use her wings, it was no use. They were just to weak only able to support her for a couple of seconds, before giving out. Sending her plummeting back down towards the ground. She closed her eyes once again, this time she thought for the final time.....
Until a pair of arms had caught her from her free fall
“Y-Y/n?” her heart stopped, her eyes shot open and she came face to face with the love of her life. Tears brimmed her eyes, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I’m home.” She whispered, he was taken a back for a moment. He wanted to ask her so many questions. But decided it was best to wait.
Chapter III.5 Sneak Peek
Sera looked down at [Y/n] who stood before her sheepishly, “What is it, Y/n?” asked Sera, looking down at the human who fiddled with her fingers nervously.
“I-I, was wonder c-can I maybe have a partner as well?” She asked, nervously biting her lip. Sera looked at her raising her eyebrow, “You come to ask me now of all times?”
Her eyes widened, “I-I didnt mean?!” She stammered, looking at her. Sera looked down at her, “Lucifer Morningstar, has just corrupted the world with his concept of free will. Bringing evil into the world we created.” said Sera, and furrowed her brows at the human.
“You’ve come to ask me for a partner?” She growled. [Y/n] looked down and her body seemed to shrink, as tears brimmed her eyes feeling embarrassed.
“I-I was just feeling lonely.” Y/n said, sadly. “I don’t have time for this Y/n,” sera said, turning away. The human sighed, and sulked away tears trickling down her cheeks as she exited the room.
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Text
❝ all that is ephemeral ❞
Scaramouche x gn! Reader
♤ Summary: Relaxing fluffy evening after your husband comes home from work.
♤ Warnings: Implication of death, immortal x mortal, arranged marriage (but happy !), fluffy Scaramouche :')
♤ A/N: You are the world just as much as you are a small grain of sand. Accept where you are mortal, embrace where you are immortal. Scaramouche will love you anywhere <3
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"Darling, what is on your mind?"
Your tender voice cuts through the silence in the room where you sit alongside your husband. His eyelids slowly lift, tired as he seems, he is ethereal when the light from the window of the sunset outside lays itself bare across half his face in his dimly lit home. But as his lover, you do not see his serenity, all you see is the stress in the furrow of his brow.
He does not respond to your question, only brings his lips to meet your cheek, and then asks a question of his own.
"How do you not find boredom while sitting silently?" He whispers, resting his head on your shoulder. "So many I know can't stand still for a second."
Your answer comes more naturally than you expect.
"Your latent presence alone is contentment. Everything that needs to be said between the two of us floats through the room without a voice to accompany it."
Scaramouche stares up at you in admiration, his eyes half-lidded and his lips slightly parted.
"Don't you find life far too short to not speak your mind?" He asks.
You smile sadly.
"I actually find it excruciatingly long."
He smiles back.
"Time has passed so much swifter since I met you." He speaks. His smile falters slightly. "I feel as though life with you will pass in the blink of an eye."
"Is that what was on your mind?" You ask, digging your heels in quickly. It is so uncommon for Scaramouche to talk about his own thoughts and reflections with you.
"Sure... Amongst so many other little things." He whispers.
"Some big Tsaritsa-issued assignment tomorrow?" You question awkwardly.
You don't like the nature of his work. He knows this, so he rarely talks about it. You'd rather he talk about it than attempt to pretend it isn't happening around you.
Scaramouche sighs.
"I don't want to discuss work with you." He mutters. "Everything but you feels akin to work nowadays. I'd like to keep it all separated in my head."
You shake your head in disagreement.
"I'd love to take some worries off your shoulders." You say. "That's it."
He blinks up at you for a few quiet moments before sighing.
"I don't want to discuss anything." He clarifies. "Everything that needs to be said... Floats. Like you said."
You nod, quickly accepting the challenge.
The rest of the evening passes quietly, simply. After a while, you go on to prepare dinner with him. When you first got married, you'd usually shoo him away from the kitchen. Assuring him that you were more than happy to make him dinner, eventually, he admitted he just feels awkward watching you work alone, and you allowed for his extra set of hands.
Your entire engagement was not the most ideal. Your marriage had been arranged. Apparently, it was obvious to the cryo archon that Scaramouche did not have roots in Snezhnaya or attachment to his position. Marriage was her idea for him meant to keep him in place. You were just picked out from all the other noble families in Snezhnaya.
While it was something both of you resented at first, you now wonder that maybe as the goddess of love, The Tsaritsa knew what she was doing. The two of you did fall in love. You were certain you knew what to expect from a marriage with a harbinger, The Balladeer no less. You emotionally prepared yourself to live a life as a servant or a maid, rather than a spouse.
But when you moved in with him, you came to the realization so quickly that he wasn't loud, arrogant, or demanding. He was just quiet. Peaceful, even. Irritable, but respectful when met with confrontation. At first, it seemed as though he was just too tired from work to make his time at home a warzone as well, but affection was born of the inconvenience. He made a habit out of finding where you were in the house and preferred being nearby.
Aside from the servants who assist you in housekeeping, his mansion is empty. Silent rather than quiet. Barren. Anyone would become lonely.
Scaramouche was truly easy to understand. Your observations in his day-to-day life made the pieces fall into place. He wanted to love. He wanted to be loved. He was never sure where to look for it.
You are unsure how anyone could describe him as cruel as he quietly apologizes for merely grazing your side when you begin to set the dining table.
The two of you eat quietly, he practically scarfs his own food down, which humors you. He is always famished by the end of the day.
"Would you like mine as well?" You offer your portion of food to him without a second thought, he glares at you as if you just insulted him.
"Eat your food [Name]." He says in irritation. "Your day was no shorter than mine."
You hum in agreement.
When you finish eating your food, you're surprised to see Scaramouche waiting, staring at you eagerly when you look up to him. You smile.
"Yes...?"
You prompt him, though you know why he's looking at you like that. But, Scaramouche just isn't the kind of person to shamelessly admit that he so desperately looks forward to the conclusion of each day, when the two of you are curled up in each other's arms holding one another tightly in the warm comfort of a giant luxurious bed.
"Nothing." He lies.
And yet, when you go to wash the dishes from dinner, his arms are greedily wrapped around you, hugging you from behind with his face buried in your shoulder. You choose to not mock him about it, he is rather warm.
After you finish the dishes, he follows you into the bedroom where the two of you resign to your usual sides of the room to change into more sleep-appropriate clothing.
You turn towards the bed once you're changed, and realize Scaramouche has already buried himself under the covers, his face deep in the plush of the pillows, obviously exhausted.
You smile, and climb in beside him. He blindly holds out an arm to pat the area you've taken next to him, when his hand finds your cheek his thumb affectionately rubs across it.
"I... Missed you all day." He professes, his voice muffled from the silk covering his mouth.
You can't help but blush at his honey-coated tone. You don't respond but shuffle closer to him, causing him to turn on his side to face you.
He brushes your hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear.
"Will you... Always be here?" He asks quietly. "You won't... Leave or anything?"
"What a notion..." You say in a low voice. "Where did that come from?"
"I want you to say... That you won't leave." Scaramouche said, a slight blush dusting his cheeks to signify his embarrassment.
"I won't leave you, Kuzu." You say certainly, without hesitation. "Ever. Trust me."
His eyes trailed off as he got lost in thought.
"I want to take you... And all that is ephemeral... And keep it for myself. But I can't... All I can do is be in this moment where you are here." He speaks.
Your eyes widen.
"I am telling you I will not leave-"
"You are mortal, [Name]." He whispers shakily. "You can't keep your promise, no matter how badly either of us want you to."
You are confused, but Scaramouche pulls you to his chest before you can speak again.
"Love you... I love you." He kisses the top of your head sleepily. "Get some rest, my love."
"...Goodnight, Kuzu..."
#genshin impact#genshin impact fanfics#fanfiction#fanfic#genshin x reader#hcs genshin men#genshin impact x reader#genshin men#scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x you#genshin scaramouche#genshin kabukimono#kabukimono#kabukimono x reader#kabukimono x you#kunikuzushi#kunikuzushi x reader#kunikuzushi x you#genshin kunikuzushi#genshin wanderer#wanderer x reader#wanderer#wanderer x you#fluff#genshin fluff#scaramouche fluff#wanderer fluff#scaramouche angst#angst
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