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books · 2 years

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Writer Spotlight: Tamsyn Muir

Tamsyn Muir probably doesn’t need a lot of introduction here on Tumblr, but for those who aren’t yet familiar with her work: Tamsyn Muir is the bestselling author of the Locked Tomb Series. Her fiction has won the Locus and Crawford awards. It has been nominated for the Hugo Award, the Nebula Award, the Shirley Jackson Award, the World Fantasy Award, the Dragon Award, and the Eugie Foster Memorial Award. A Kiwi, she has spent most of her life in Howick, New Zealand, with time living in Waiuku and central Wellington. She currently lives and works in Oxford, in the United Kingdom.

We asked Tamsyn some questions about Nona the Ninth, the next installment of the Locked Tomb series, which comes out on September 13. (Mild spoilers ahead. You have been warned!)

Can you tell us about Nona the Ninth? How would you contextualize it alongside the previous Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth?

The Locked Tomb has always followed a concrete set of rules about whose point of view we’re in—there’s a priority list and a hard if-and-else-if set of codes about who is telling the tale. The priority character is always Gideon Nav herself, but after Gideon the Ninth, in many ways, she gets knocked out of the ring.

Nona is the next rule on the priority list—the next storyteller. Except there are also a bunch of other storytellers popping up in the priority list as she lets her guard down. That’s kind of one curtain I wanted to pull back on The Locked Tomb as a whole. Who’s telling this story? What is the truth as someone else understands it? Which is why, where the last two books have been told very much from the perspectives of the Nine Houses, we’re finally in a setting where the Houses have pulled back, and the truth told is completely different.

You have a knack for approaching the next part of the story from a completely different vantage point, which is deliciously frustrating for the reader. Why do you think this works so well (when really, it sort of shouldn’t)?

Oh, but it does, and it’s been proved to work—just play an RPG! One thing I passionately loved in Final Fantasy IX, my very favourite Final Fantasy at the end of the day, is that one moment you’re with the thief-turned-thespian Zidane and a wonderfully dashing attempt to kidnap a princess in the middle of a theater performance—then you’re with…some very bizarre kid called Vivi…who has lost his ticket and is getting negged by a horrifying rat child. You’re given a completely different lens on a completely different situation in what’s basically a completely different genre. In the same game! There’s a risk of getting too comfortable in someone’s truth—you might want to settle down in a character whom you have learned to understand. But then you have to practice a very radical empathy in settling down in Nona, who just absolutely does not give a shit about swords or empire and, at her worst, can be quite an irritating, materialistic babe in the woods who is WAY too into dogs. Of course it’s alienating. If the experience of being in Gideon’s head was the same as being in Harrow’s as being in Nona’s, there wouldn’t be any point. If different vantage points didn’t work, A Song of Ice and Fire would never have gotten off the ground. Hell, neither would The Iliad. I just sit longer with my vantage point.

After writing foul-mouthed and horny Gideon and acerbic, memory-challenged, and also horny Harrow, how did you approach writing Nona’s character, and what did you enjoy most about the process?

Harrow would hate that you described her as horny. Gideon would be fine with being described as horny. Nona would love to sit you down and talk about all the things that make her horny, at the end of which you are 50% worried that she doesn’t honestly understand ‘horny,’ and 50% worried that she DOES understand ‘horny.’

Nona is my character who doesn’t give a fuck. Gideon and Harrow both give too many. It was fun to write a character who sincerely seeks out love as she understands it, who has a large collection of friends and interests, and has no ambition. And yet what I really enjoyed is that Nona is easily also the most terrifying POV character of the series.

We meet some old friends in a new place in Nona. What aspect of the familiar characters meeting the unfamiliar world was the most fun to write?

Honestly, the fact that they’re in such a different milieu was fun enough. One is a woman completely out of time, trying to find something to live for; two are dyed-in-the-wool Housers forced to re-examine values they’ve always taken for granted and what the next part of life after death is going to look like for them. All three are fish out of water. And then there’s actually the reader meeting the familiar after two long books about the unfamiliar, and all the ways I hope that’s entirely weird and recontextualizing. And then, for Nona, what’s familiar to us is entirely unfamiliar to her. Writing Nona was like one long experiment with jamais vu.

When Lyctorhood goes south or gets experimented with, we get someone’s mind in someone else’s body. What is it that drew you to writing this Cartesian mechanism into the universe of the Nine Houses?

Oh my God, please do not spring words like Cartesian on me, I have not had lunch yet.

My understanding is that Descartes thought mind and matter were two completely different things and then got stuck trying to explain why they don’t feel like two completely different things. So if someone kicks you in the goolies and your mind forms the thought ‘yowch, my goolies,’ how is that mind-matter gulf being bridged? Minds in The Locked Tomb lose to matter nine times out of ten. (This is linked, not coincidentally, to my experience of psychosis.) Gideon’s mind is constantly in danger of being sucked away into the storm drain of Harrow’s matter. Revenants are minds that have temporarily anchored themselves to foreign matter, but over time the matter exerts itself, and the mind starts to fall apart. So when you get a mind that’s big enough not only to resist the matter it’s attached to but actually to start burning that matter up…well, what kind of mind could possibly be so powerful?? (Significant looks at camera.)

You’ve previously headcanoned the often affectionately named “Jod” as Taika Waititi (which offers up the potential for some delightful space-god-gay-pirate crossover fic, thank you). Do you have any casting headcanons for the other characters?

I have recently admitted to loving Erana James as Harrow, except I don’t think Harrowhark is quite that good-looking.

By the way, I wish I had come up with Jod. Whoever did, well done you.

We know you’re not allowed to read fanfic for legal reasons, but who would you find intriguing as a ship proposition and why?

I find all ships intriguing. I’ve spent too long in these mines. No ship is too problematic or cracky for me. My only hope is to out-fandom fandom by presenting them with ships more problematic and crack-filled than they do (I will not; fandom always wins). In these tiresome days where ship wars have been taking on airs, as is my understanding, of virtue versus sin (I don’t even know what Bakudeku is and yet I feel sorry for anyone who ships it; I didn’t ship Reylo because it wasn’t messed-up enough and feel the same), I hope the Locked Tomb fandom is just accepting that all shipping is batshit and every ship is just as bad as the next. Gideon x Harrow is just as bad as Teacher x Crux is as bad as Hot Sauce x Cytherea the First is as bad as Camilla x Juno Zeta is as bad as Silas x Every Asht Brother (actually, I wrote the Asht brothers in an unrelated piece that’ll never see the light of day and imo they’ve suffered enough, but).

I was in the Kingdom Hearts fandom briefly. We shipped people with Goofy. Actually, let’s go with that. Naberius Tern x Goofy. On second thought, please don’t go with that. Goofy had a happy marriage and would know better.

This question has sparked some debate among the editorial team here because we absolutely can’t agree on one. Do you have a favorite character?

Yes. As of twenty seconds ago, it’s Naberius because I can’t enthuse enough over how he and Goofy’s relationship would break down because Babs spends so much money on silk pillowcases to avoid hair frizz. He only needs two, max, but has twenty. I hope Goofy goes on longer and longer adventures with Sora and Donald to try to ignore how his love life is breaking down over Naberius leaving the wedding they were just attending because he saw some other dude wearing the same shirt. Leave him, Goofy!!!

If Nona had a Tumblr, what would it be called, and what would she post?

It would just be a single text post with ‘hi,’ and she didn’t even write it. She dictated to Camilla, then ran out of ideas. Her profile just says ‘nona,’ and it’s a default layout. Nona just wouldn’t see the point of Tumblr, even if you told her there were pictures of dogs: why would you want to see a picture of a dog when you could be near a dog in real life? (I told you Nona was scary.)

Which house would you belong to, and do you see yourself more as an adept or cavalier?

I belong to No House. I’ve never been able to belong to a House. I’ve never been able to sort myself into anything really; I’ve tried, and nothing sticks. I can’t be an adept or a cavalier either, I’m just sitting in the corner glumly eating hot dogs. I guess I’m Hot Dog House.

The Locked Tomb fanart is strong here on Tumblr. Do you have a favorite piece you’ve seen recently?

Every piece I have seen recently is my most favorite piece! I was just in Spain for the Celsius convention, and the most intensely wonderful thing was that I came away with fan art that the fans have done. I don’t know what they’re feeding them there in Spain, but pretty much every fan was just nonchalantly like, ‘I drew this,’ and presented me with the goddamn Sistine Chapel. Someone had, while they were waiting in a queue, just filled a sketchbook with the most incredible work on the fly. Special shout-out to a marvelous flipbook I got where Harrow and Gideon are ducks.

The plan was for Alecto the Ninth to be the third and last book. Here we are with Nona the Ninth and Alecto still set to appear (we are not complaining). How has that process been?

AWFUL!!!!

It took me a long time to let go of the fact that it wasn’t going to be a trilogy; it was four books. I want the story to be done now! For one thing, because I’m really excited about the ending, and for another thing, the longer this goes on, the more of a terrible gremlin I become. The Locked Tomb is very special to me, but also I have five million other stories to write and only so long in a lifetime. I’ve been with this world since 2018, and I am wildly excited to get to all the other places. My editor and I will, I think, shed a sentimental tear on the final page, but also, you haven’t even met Teresa Santos yet, who has kept every gun she has ever loved.

What kind of writer are you? A plotter? A pantser? Do you have any morning rituals that set you up for a day of writing?

Plotter. I envy pantsers and gardeners. This is why Nona being unexpected got to me so much. I don’t actually have any rituals or exercises or anything—it’s important for me to have a specific writing space and a good breakfast. But every book is different. Like, what helped with Harrow was breaking every so often to die in Donkey Kong Country.

Do you have any writing or publishing or life advice for any budding queer sci-fi writers reading this?

I see so many writers—and this may also have something to do with being a queer writer—giving themselves SUCH a goddamned hard time. If I could give any advice to them, it would be to stop beating themselves up so much. I’m really dubious at how there’s this perceived glamorous youthquake to writing— like, that if you haven’t been published by 25 and don’t have BookTok at your feet, you’re a failure—it is so much more important to live your life. I’m so grateful I lived in an era where I could write fanfiction, for instance, and not have the sense that it ought to be my side hustle. You don’t have to have published the world’s most important and meaningful queer SFF story by the time you are 29. You don’t need to have done jack shit.

I do have one piece of practical life advice because if I have any regrets, it is that for a large portion of my early twenties, I used to consume like six cans of Mountain Dew a day. I don’t think this sparked queer joy. I think it stripped away all my tooth enamel. You will LOVE having tooth enamel in your old age, so stop.

The Locked Tomb is seriously good and gloriously queer, and its continued success will hopefully encourage more publishers to publish more queer sci-fi, all of the time. Do you have any queer sci-fi reading recs to tide us over while we await Alecto?

Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh is coming soon. It should really be called Problematic Gays I Have Loved (this is why they don’t let me title things).

Thank you so much to Tamsyn for taking the time to answer our questions! We’re so excited to see everyone’s reactions to Nona the Ninth when she arrives on September 13!! In the meantime, head over to the #the locked tomb tag for fan theories, fics, and art (remember to filter for spoilers)!

#writer spotlight #tamsyn muir #nona the ninth #harrow the ninth #gideon the ninth #you can't spell necromantic without romantic #the locked tomb #writers on tumblr #tlt #lgbtqia+ lit #lgbtqia+ reading recs

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lovelybrooke · 9 months

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Excuse me, I know you wrote for L Lawliet a lot but if you have time could you write for a platonic yandere L Lawliet and a child gender neutral reader? It can be a story or headcanons, anything you want.

Thanks!

Aren't you excited (Platonic Yandere L Lawliet x child reader).

Check out my other works here: Masterlist

---

The house was surprisingly quiet today.

You knew why, L was here today. Well not here, it was just him on a computer, but his presence still left an impact. All the other kids were gathered around the computer, asking him question after question.

You never really cared. Unlike some of the other children, you no longer hold out hope that you'll eventually become L successor. You don't wish to waste time striving for an unattainable goal, rather focusing on something much more obtainable, being adopted.

The sounds of children talking was distant but audible, but you choose to ignore it in favor of the book in your lab. This is probably your eighth time reading it, but you enjoy it more than the other books in the library. It's a fantasy novel about a girl traveling through time trying to save her family. It was basic, all the twists and turns very simple, but it had a charm a lot of the other books didn't.

"(Y/N), would you like to talk to L?" A softspoken adult comes up to you, eyeing you at your spot on the couch. You shake your head, sparing them a small glance before returning to your book. The man sighs, walking back over to the computer, whispering something into the microphone as the kids disperse in multiple directions. You can hear the computer shut close as the man walks out of the room with it tucked under its arm, his face adorning an unreadable expression.

---

During lunch you sat alone.

You've never been good at making friends, the Wammy's house not exactly being an ideal place to foster friendships. Either way, you've always been a solitary person, opting for the comfort of books rather than people.

But for some reason, today was different.

You sat down at your unofficial official table, tucked away in a corner just so you could push away your lunch and read the chosen book of the day.

But today, you were spooked by the sound of the chair across from you scrapping, the soft sound of someone sitting down filling you with dread. Slowly turning your head up, you come face to face with near, L's most likely successor. He gives you a wide eye stare, like he was trying see into your soul.

Admittedly, Near freaked you out. It wasn't unusual for the children at the Wammy's house to be bad at communicating, but with Near, it was different. It wasn't unusual to catch him staring at you, unabashedly, or for him to ask you strange questions that threw you for a loop. In short, you two weren't really the greatest of friends.

"Did you need something?" You whisper to him, giving him a very confused look. Near shuffled into his seat further, his strange way of sitting causing your brow to furrow. His legs were too his chest, his hands resting on his knees. While it looked uncomfortable, he seemed perfectly fine. Almost too fine.

"Why aren't you eating?" He asked, ignoring your question.

Some of the tenseness in your shoulders leave at the sound of his soft voice, but you were still clearly on edge. "I'm reading." You say, shaking your book a little for emphasis. Near nods, an uncaring air around him. He shuffles a bit more, listening to the children around him speaking, his eyes constantly darting from you to the others around you.

You try your hardest to ignore the kid across from you, but every time you felt his gaze flicker towards you, you wanted to fall over and die. Eventually, it becomes too much to bear and with a small huff, you confront the odd boy.

"What do you want." It sounded rude, but you were fed up with the staring and whispers. Despite you clear annoyance, Near doesn't respond instantly, simply tilting his head with a thumb in his mouth.

"Do you ever think about being adopted" He questions. You fumble for a second before countering back.

"Sometimes." That was an understatement, and he could tell. A small, nearly unnoticeable smile crosses his face, though it returns back to his stoic expression before you could comment on it.

"What do you mean, sometimes?" Now he was just playing with you, and irritation was written all across your face.

You shrug your shoulders, the book that was previously in your hands now closed on the table. "I want the same as everyone else here, a happy family." You raise a brow at him, "how about you?"

"Same probably." It was a quick answer, and the strange look on Near's face made you think he was hiding something from you. Though, the blank expression on your face made it hard to get anything out of him.

"He asked for you, y'know?" Your movement stopped. He was referring to L, you could tell by the look on his face, a faraway but somehow focused expression. You, in contrast, were shocked that L knew you. But he probably knew about everyone in the orphanage, right? You didn't want to dwell on it too long, your stomach already hurt from the lack of food, you didn't need to add on nerves on top of it.

"Okay, what about it?" You knew lunch was about to end soon but you wished it was over right now.

Near slowly shuffled off the chair, his eyes never leaving you as he moves. He whispers something too quiet to hear as the squeaking of chairs and sounds of children fill the room. You turn to grab you book, but before you could ask him any more questions, Near was gone.

---

Today, you got a new book.

It was the sequel to the one you were previously reading. You were shocked to see the book in the library. It rarely got new books, and science fiction was definitely at the bottom of the list.

Though, you weren't complaining. It was a nice change of pace to be able to read something new for one. Plus, it was in pristine condition, barely a mark on it. It was like no one had even touched it before you.

"(Y/N), are you listening?" You snap up, a very upset teacher eyeing you. You nod shyly, closing the book slowly while attempting to ignore the giggling of children. The teacher rolls her eyes, very much used to your behavior at this point. "Really, (Y/N), I don't know how you expect to get anywhere with your heads always up in the clouds."

You don't really process her words, used to them at this point. You weren't like the other children, you weren't naturally gifted, you didn't have the same skills as them. You rather spend your time in your own world, than in one that seemed so against you.

A knock on the door turned your attention away from the teacher, a man entering the room. He was the same one from the other day, the soft-spoken man who seemed very annoyed with your reluctance to talk to L. His eyes darted around the room, landing on yours for a second to long, causing you to look down at your lap in embarrassment. The teacher acknowledged his presence by speeding over to him, exchanging whispers to each other for a few moments.

The classroom was dead silent as the teacher pointed towards you and directed you to the man, motioning you out of the room. So much was communicated without words. You knew it was urgent by the jolts and jerks of her movement, and by how the man placed his hand on your back to get you to move faster though the long winding hallways.

It felt like hours of walking before you were sat down in an empty classroom. It looked like it had been empty for a while, noted by the dust lining the tables and the thick air surrounding you. "Please, sit near the front." He said, pointing to the closest table. You fumble for a few seconds, very confused and nervous, before sitting down, smoothing down your clothes in an attempt to self sooth.

A piece of paper and a pencil is placed down on your desk, "All you need to do is answer the questions." He said, his voice calm as ever, though there was a hit of edge behind every word. "Most of them are opinion based, so don't dwell on the questions to long." He paused, sitting down at the teacher's desk in the front of the classroom. "Please just...answer honestly." His words become quite as he continues, but they fill you this enough dread to take them to heart.

You lean forward, slowly moving your seat as to make as little noise as possible. You flip the paper, nothing on the back, and the front appeared to only have five questions.

Question number one, "what is your favorite food?" You tilt your head, confused, but ultimately relieved that it was simple to answer. You scribble down a few words before moving onto the next one.

Question number two, "where do you want to live when you grow up?" Slightly strange question, usually it's what you want to do when you grow up, but sure, you weren't really complaining. Again, you write a few things until you feel satisfied.

Question number three, "Do you have difficulty making friends?" You almost drop your pencil at the question, but you calm yourself quickly. You don't know how to answer the question really, but you think of Near, and your very few conversations. They were fine, but you were never really friends, at least you don't think so. You wonder if Near thought of you as a friend.

Question number four, "Would you like to be adopted?" What sort of question was that, of course you did. Wasn't that the point of everyone here. You dreamed of having a normal, simple family. Instead, you're stuck here, for what seems like forever. You don't say that though, just writing down something simple.

Question number five, "Describe your ideal father figure." You racked your brain for an example, but nothing really came. Instead, your mind went to the protagonist father in your favorite book. He was a reserved man but had a deep love for his daughter. He did everything in his power to keep her safe, eventually even sacrificing himself to have her live. You admired the selflessness of the man, his devotion to his child, and his desire to keep her safe. If you have a father, you'd want one like that. You write it down quickly.

After finishing all the questions, you stand up and rush over to the table, placing the paper down in front of the man. You stand still as he grabs the paper, placing it in a folder and then in his bag. "Good, good, thank you." He gives you an awkward smile, "You can return to class now."

You nod, shuffling toward the door, your fists tightly clenched as anxiousness filled your body. Before you can leave, you're turning around quickly, facing the man. "What was the test for?" You ask, voice wavering.

The man barely spares you a glance as he collects his things and stands up. "You don't have to worry about it for now." Again, there was that smile, and your stomach churned.

---

Today was quiet.

L wasn't here today, or you guess, he wasn't on the computer today. The common room was filled with children quietly talking, doing homework, playing games. You, like every other day, was sitting on your spot in the couch, reading your book.

Everyone in a while, you look over at the children playing games. It wasn't uncommon to see children playing games together, but the games looked new, some even still covered in plastic wrap. You assumed that they were donated, or that one of the caretakers bought them.

The new board games brought your mind to your new book, pristine and untouched. It was strange, all these new items popping up in the orphanage. Entranced by your thoughts, you rub the edge of your book. It couldn't have been a coincident, you were the only one that read that book, so much that the librarian let you keep it indefinitely.

Maybe she was being nice, saw that you enjoyed the book, and bought you the rest of the series. But even she was surprised by new book, like she wasn't aware of its existence.

"(Y/N)." You look up, it was someone different, and older man this time. "May I have a word with you?" You nod, closing your book and placing it on the couch.

You follow the man into a much more formal room than the classroom you were in yesterday. It was mostly bare, simply a desk with two chairs across it. You take a seat, the old man following suit, grasping his hands together as he places them in the middle of the desk.

The man smiles, noting your clear nerves, "don't worry, you're not in trouble." You nod, letting out an audible exhale. The man chuckles, his smile not leaving, which calms you a little. "I have some news about your potential adoption."

You barely have time to feel any happiness before you're asking questions. "I-I'm sorry. Who are you?" You ask with a tilt of your head. The man doesn't react to your confusion, his expression never changing.

"I am Watari." He said and your eyes wide. You knew about Watari, but most children don't see him these days. He was always concerned with L, and unless you were likely to be his successor, you were not likely to see him.

Watari is perceptive and can tell your discomfort at his precedence. He reclines back in his chair, leaving some space in between you too. He sighs, calm and gentle, it was hard to tell he was an old man, other than his old looks. "I promise there's nothing to worry about." He pauses, watching your breathing calm, "L has...taken an interest in you, to say the least." He mumbles the last part. "He's been keeping an eye on you; he knows your favorite color, your favorite food, your favorite book." He lists things off, one by one, they bring you no comfort.

"You know, a part of me considers L my son. I care about him deeply." His words were serious, a contrast to his previous infliction. "I know he would do the same if given the chance."

You didn't know how to respond. You didn't know what to think. It was hard to think under these circumstances. You don't imagine you have a choice, judged by the way Watari is framing his words. He wasn't offering something; he was telling you what was going to happen.

"I'll help you pack your things, will leave in a few minutes." He guides you out the room, heading towards your bedroom. You shake of your confusion, stumbling slightly towards the common room.

In your seat was Near, his book in his hands, skimming though the pages. When you enter, he looks up, offering one of his strange smiles. "Aren't you excited?" You don't respond as he hands you the book.

Suddenly, all the love you once had for it gone.

---

A/n: Sorry for the lack of L, hope you still enjoyed it.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere death note x reader #death note x reader #yandere death note #death note fanfiction #yandere l lawliet #l lawliet x reader

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willowser · 5 months

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now i wake up by your side—

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 2.8k+

tags: u.a. college au, canon-compliant, reader has a telekinesis/telepathic quirk, references (and potential spoilers) for the current arc in the manga, angst, a lot of secret hidden feelies

tysm to @alrightberries for giving me the opportunity to bring this lil thought of yours to life 🥺 your patience and understanding during the time it took me to write this is so appreciated it, and tbh you're the reason i'm even still here right now LOL you're so sweet, and i hold your kindness so close to my heart. i wish i could convey how much it means to me. i hope i did this even a lil justice !! happy birthday dear !!!! 🥺🩷✨️

Sero dreams of watching the sunrise on top of the Roppongi Observatory.

It’s a beautiful sight, one you’ve never seen with your own eyes, but you soak in the warmth flushing across his cheeks and the anticipated break of morning through the clouds. When he takes in a hefty breath, you feel the spring chill sting inside his chest, crisp and clear, like it’s you breathing instead of him, and it’s almost comforting enough to lull you to sleep, too.

But a clay pot shattering against a nearby bench has your eyes springing open, ripped from the haven you’d been lost to.

You have to blink several times in order to fight through the exhaustion wearing you thin, but the evening returns to you in small, bleary doses. It’s the middle of the night—or at least it was when you’d first wandered out to the training field, and you can’t be sure how many hours have passed since then. Across the yard, you’ve successfully managed to carry four pots from the garden plot near the entrance all the way to your feet with your Quirk— but number five sits in pieces in the grass.

You’ll have to clean that up by morning or Eraser will make you run laps until you puke. Again.

Kirishima flits through your mind in a suit and tie: not as a Hero, but a spy of some kind, chasing down men with masks covering their faces and wielding a gun that looks odd in his hands, even in his own dream. Despite being back in the dorms, stories up and near the end of the hall, you can see it—hear him yelling out at the criminal to stop, feel the thud of the ground under his feet. His own determination blares through you like a freight train, as strong and damning as he is, and you fight to force yourself back inside your own shoes as you try to carry another pot.

Recovery Girl used to tell you that you did this to yourself: all your worry about losing sleep psyching yourself out of it completely, chasing it away before it even had the chance. When everyone is getting ready for bed, heading out of the common room and hitting the showers, you can feel that suspense building; what will come across tonight while everyone dreams? Fantasies? Or nightmares?

During the day it’s easier to drown out the foot-traffic of everyone’s thoughts—you do it without trying, now—but your brain needs rest, too. Letting go of control for even a second, just to get some shut eye is—

Something frightening is outlined in your peripheral vision, the dash of a pale shape you aren’t able to discern before it’s gone. The air turns metallic and stale and you can hear water sloshing, though you’re nowhere near the pools. All your blood rushes in your ears and your fingers curl, like you’re gripping your seat—gripping the edge of the couch in the common room, where you’d been sitting beside Mina when Kaminari put on that horror movie. The one with the—

“The hell are you doin’?”

Your eyes snap open for the hundredth time that night—show over, credits rolling—and it’s Bakugou. Standing only feet away from the new set of clay shards of your failure, tangible and real and staring at you with an intensity not even your dreams could mimic.

You blink, eyes stinging and heavy. You must look insane. “Oh, hey,” the voice that comes out of you is far-away, chartered off to distant lands, and he notices immediately, focus razor-sharp despite how late it is. “What did you say?”

Bakugou wrinkles his nose, like he’s offended at having to repeat himself. “I said, what the hell are you doin’? It’s nearly 2 in the morning and you’re out here throwin’ shit around in your fuckin’ pajamas.”

Almost on cue, the breeze brushes past your legs, chilly enough to have you shivering, and you peek down at them as if you don’t know what they look like. The sweater you’re wearing is from second year and the U.A. logo is half-worn off, but it’s the comfiest thing you own and if you’re going to be plagued all night by the forced intimacy of your classmates’ dreams—you at least want to be cozy.

When you look back up at him, Bakugou is pointedly looking away, taking interest in something other than your wimpy state of dress.

It dawns on you then that he’s out here, too, in sweats and a simple back sweatshirt, hair a messy, golden halo in the pale, buzzing field lights. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think his face was a little rosy, but—maybe you’re seeing things.

Still. Being out and away from everyone, alone with Bakugou, makes your stomach tighten horribly. Like you’ve done too many sit-ups.

You try to brush off your sudden bout of shyness, because you know he’ll clock that in no time, too. “Well, I could ask you the same thing.” At the raise of your eyebrows, he only tchs, and casts you a filthy look. “But I think maybe I’ll just mind my own business.”

The face he makes is so awful and hot-blooded that you laugh, truly and earnestly, enough that a headache pulses to life. You wince, and the stream of pain that shoots down the middle of your skull brings back that image of Kirishima’s action-thriller: blood and knives, the sound of skin on skin, a fist against cheekbones, the ugly snap of breaking—

“Oi.”

Bakugou is closer than before, when you’re grounded back inside yourself. At least no pots have been broken this time. Less to clean up.

“Sorry,” you shoot him an apologetic smile that you know he must hate. “It’s just so—” your hand feels like it’s made of lead, but you drag it up to massage slow circles into your temple, trying not to grit your teeth and worsen the pounding in your head. “So loud sometimes.”

He’s silent until the pain ebbs out, and when you can blink without flinching, you peek up to catch how intently he’s watching your face. In the night like this, his eyelashes seem darker, longer, a kind of haunting beauty you would dream about, if you could get some sleep.

Again, you think of Kaminari’s horror movie, legs pressed against Mina’s under the heavy comforter she’d brought down from her room. It’s warm, the kind of pink, fluffy thing you’d imagine a girl like her to have—but it didn’t stop you from shivering every time you chanced a glance at Bakugou and found him already staring back.

The heat in your cheeks spreads to the back of your neck, so immediate that you think you might start sweating. “Dreams and stuff,” you murmur, by way of an explanation, “nightmares, sometimes.”

Bakugou's frown deepens, the muscle in his jaw tightening once as he grits his teeth. “What, you can just…hear that shit all night?”

“Usually,” you shrug, “It just comes in, you know? And I—” you steal another glance at him, aware, then, of just how intrusive you might sound. The veil of privacy is thin between you and others, and they don't often like being reminded of that. “Not for you, though. I don't—I don't get anything from you.”

And it's true, frustratingly enough. Not that you are ever intentionally peeking into anyone's head, but things slip through, occasionally—sudden reactions, wild, loose trains of thought.

Bakugou's face twists, regardless, and you're reminded of all the times you've been forced to spar together, at Eraser's behest. One of the smartest in your class, quick on his feet and never without a plan; every time you've managed to get a hand on Bakugou, there's been nothing but a sea-shore calm.

It's hard to do and, at this point in your life, you've seen a thousand people try it—but he's the only one that's ever succeeded in keeping you at bay.

Nothing in his expression changes, but all your nerves spread to your voice until it shakes. “You're—I don't look in there, of course, but it's—you've always been…” Bakugou is terrible at taking compliments, you know that, almost as bad as you are at giving them. “Pretty, I guess.”

Awful, at giving them.

Embarrassment floods him, suddenly stained pink as he curls into himself. “Piss off,” he barks, and though he’s scowling at you in what must be disgust—you can’t help but to smile at how aggressively bashful he is.

You almost get the guts to make matters worse, just because you can. Admit how handsome you’ve come to find him, after the last few years, until his face is steaming in the sweet nighttime chill; the kind of intimacy you wouldn’t mind dreaming about again and again.

The absence of his thoughts are a comfort for your tired mind, has all the harsh edges of night fading into something a little easier to swallow, to breathe in. You know he does it on purpose as a strictly defensive move, but you almost want to thank him. For the quiet.

You don’t know if it’s from you or him, but when you reach a hand up to hover near his temple, the air buzzes between you, gently. Charged with that same thing that had you unable to look away from him in the common room only days ago. “In here, I mean,” you murmur, and the smile you pull on feels lame, but it’s as genuine as ever. “I don’t know, I don’t know how you do it. But it’s…nice.”

You’ve seen him die a thousand times.

Mostly in Midoriya’s dreams, sometimes in Eraser’s when he nods off during last period, but that horror—like many others, from that day—stains you all. When dinner is put away and showers are finished and the lights go out and the flood gates open, someone almost always relives the ugliness of it all; you’re more familiar with that moment than you are with any of your own.

Here and now, you close your eyes and see Jirou staring back at you, face beautiful and full of hope. You see Kirishima’s torn suit jacket and the blood on his cheek and the empty gun in his hand, the most dedicated secret agent. Aoyama is dreaming of his mother, something warm that makes you feel like you’re dazzling, too.

And yet—Bakugou is silent. Even right in front of you. Even after everything.

If anyone deserves the peace and quiet, you suppose it ought to be him.

“When’s the last time you got any sleep?”

You blink until his blurry figure is clear, and it’s like you can physically feel whatever energy you had left seeping from your body at the mere mention of sleep. “Maybe a morning or two ago,” you tell him truthfully, “I usually pass out after a few rounds of ‘throwin’ shit around’.”

Bakugou only stares at you as he digests the words, and once he’s gotten them down, he shakes his head before looking out over the mess you’ve made of the training field. With his head turned like this, you can take in the full weight of his scar—the one that’s wide and still baby-pink across his cheek.

You almost get the guts to tell him he’s handsome. Almost.

Frustration is evident on his face when he looks back at you, but his voice comes out softer than you expect, like he's struggling to get out any words at all. “Can’t keep doin’ this,” he chastises. “Can’t be a Hero if you’re half asleep all the time. Gotta figure this shit out.”

“I am,” you give a lazy wave to your pots, “What’s wrong with this solution?”

“It's ass.”

“Alright, you have any better ideas, pretty boy?”

He bristles, visibly enough to have you snickering, and—you’re not sure what you expect of him; to continue his griping or leave you to your own devices, building his walls up high as he always does. Ever the fighter, ever the protector; maybe it’s a good thing, you tell yourself, because you’re weak like this and one of you needs to be thinking straight.

Despite his flush, there’s a playfulness to his grouchy expression, his raspy tone—and it has you leaning too far into things you don’t know how to name.

You never know what to expect of him.

There’s the slightest brush of skin against the back of your hand, and when you drop your eyes to the slowly-dwindling space between you—the rough pads of his fingers are touching you, gently. Softly enough to be the breeze, if it weren’t so warm.

You’re afraid to look at him, suddenly, like it will break whatever spell the night is casting over both of you; instead you press your lips together to stop their wobbling and the smile fighting to give you away. You’re waiting for that sea-shore calm, that quiet comfort, whatever it is he’s trying to offer you, strangely enough, in this moment. When you turn your hand over to catch his, the air buzzes again and the blood rushes in your ears.

You focus and—all you can see is your own face staring back at you. In a flash, like he’s cycling through his cards in a hurry, trying to find the best one.

You, across the arena during the entrance exam. You, in the locker room before the Sport's Festival. You, sitting in the common room during Christmas. You, ruined with tears and your own blood and covered in grime, on the darkest day of your life.

You, now. On the field in the stale light, prettier than you think you must look, for being so exhausted, the lines of your smile deep as you grin up at him.

—And then there's nothing.

The absence of noise is louder than anything. A stark, white silence that cuts through; a different world trickling away. A single touch and a little focus is all it takes to take root inside someone’s head and that’s always felt like a weapon, but now it feels like coming inside from a snowstorm, relief shuddering down your spine. Everyone else's fears and nerves and heartaches dissolve until they’re only a bitter taste at the back of your throat. Something far, far behind you

There’s just Bakugou. A strong silence that feels impenetrable, invulnerable to the outside. The steady beat of his heart is comforting in a way you didn’t realize it would be, has that bloody, dead-eyed image of him shifting into something else: another moment in Midoriya’s memories, of his silhouette standing in the sun, tall and fierce and alive.

Returned. Here and now with you, after numerous, unforeseen turns of events. You wonder if the ease surrounding you is his own, something else he’s sharing—or if this is just how it feels to be with him after so long. Maybe in the past it was different—you know it was; during the entrance exam, during the Sport’s Festival—but now you feel more relaxed than you ever have. A reminder that, no matter how dark the nights get, the sun is only just beyond the horizon.

Returned, comforting and quiet.

(You won't know this until much later, but your hand will go slack in Katsuki's and his fingers will tighten around your own because he's not ready to let go yet. When your knees buckle, he'll already be there, awkwardly holding you up against his shoulder as his face flames and his eyes dart around the empty field, checking for any shitty snoops.

Ears is always up damn late, too, and there's a decent chance he'd get caught trying to haul you back to your room on the third fuckin’ floor, so there's really no better option than to gently lower you both to the grass. After a couple of minutes with no movement, the field lights will shut off and only the distant glow of the stars will remain.)

(You won't know this until much later, but Katsuki will arrange the both of you so that your head isn't slumped on the hard ground, but resting on the plush of his bicep, an arm around your shoulders so that the warmth can be shared between you both. His heart will pound hard enough in his chest to be worrisome, and every time you shuffle and scoot closer to him and nudge your nose into his sweater—Katsuki will fight to stay open and true, only honest with you in this wordless way.)

(You won't know this until the sun rises high behind your lids and your bones ache and he’s shown you things he could never say, but it's the best sleep you think you've ever gotten. With him, under the stars, surrounded by his calm and his constant.)

(You won't remember this but in your dream—your real dream, born from with solace Katsuki offers you—the morning will rise and settle in and he'll walk you back to your room despite the stares and in the elevator when you're alone, his lips will touch yours and you'll feel his heart in your chest and his nerves in your stomach and his fear and relief all in one.)

(And right away, when you wake up, you'll finally have a name for this thing that's been blooming between you both for as long as you can remember—and he will, too.)

#i was so nervous about getting the quirk right kahfkahf #and then i was so nervous about it being fluffy enough bc the first draft of this was too angsty ??#SO I REWROTE IT LOL #i hope this is okay !! 🥺#i love the idea of bakugou being able to express how he feels in emotion only #that the fear he doesn't know how to name or how to explain or understand is conveyed to you somehow #whenever he touches you #🥺#tysm for giving me the chance to write it !!!#literally no but seriously you're the only reason i haven't privated this blog again LMAOOO tysm 🥺#✿ willow writes #✿ one shot: bakugou

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ze0re · 6 months

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can you make a fic about choso fucking you in a scream mask for halloween it would mean so much i literally love your stories 😭🙏🏽

❝ 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 ! ❞ － 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊. 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓

⇨⚠︎︎ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 !¡⚠︎︎⇦ mask kink, knife play, rough sex, degradation?, top!choso, bottom!reader, black!reader

𝐀𝐍. SOOOO SOOOO SORRY THIS IS LATE, I’ve been working a lot and writing a lot so I just needed a tiny break but i am back now! I was meant for this to get done ON halloween but I didn’t have enough energy to do so but pretend this is on Halloween, BUT IM SO GLAD YOU LOVE MY STORIES 😙 enjoy my spooky ghost 👻.

𝐮𝐩𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬!! - once I hit 1,000 followers I will do a face reveal In one of stories 🙈, I will not be writing smut for awhile and gonna start writing more fluffy stories and maybe angst. LASTLY, the racer series will continue back up again but not till either December or January. THATS ALL!

WARNING IMPORTANT MESSAGE AT THE END OF STORY!!!.

— 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

When you told Choso about the idea he thought you went crazy. He knew your love for horror movies especially the Scream series, so does this surprise him? Kind of! But realistically no. It was obvious that you had a mask kink by the way you would giggle and kick your feet every-time Ghostface came onto screen ಠ_ಠ. So when you came to him about the Idea he was shocked at first but decided to desire your dirty little fantasies of him fucking you with the scream mask.

It’s been a good awhile since you came to Choso about the Idea, wondering when the day he would do It and well…he decided to do it halloween night. Honestly you’re a forgettable person so you forgot you even came to Choso about the Idea! Till he came out of nowhere behind you covering your mouth with a very sharp knife to your neck. Your eyes widened thinking It was someone robbing you till you felt those familiar muscles flex behind you, calming down a bit, you huffed but soon gasped feeling him pull your head back more against chest with the knife pressed up against your neck, not enough to hurt you of course but enough to make you intimidated. Your hands clenched around his bigger arms feeling his bulge press against your ass just aching to get released, you moaned softly into his hand feeling him buck against you, Choso had a small blush on his cheeks but luckily the mask covered it all giving him an advantage to do anything to you without your teasing.

“You like this?.” He whispered deep into your ear feeling you nod against his chest, but that wasn’t an answer. He groaned a bit pressing the knife against your throat a little harder with a tsk, “That’s not an answer baby..” Your eyes went wide feeling the tiny blades scratch against your neck whimpering from the hold he had on you, “Yes.” Your small little yes was muffled from his hand but he heard it, smirking underneath his mask. He kept a firm hold against you still having a tight hold on you. He hummed trailing the knife across your neck, “What should I do with you, huh?” He questioned tilting his head a little looking at you through the mask, “Should I make you beg for it? Scream for it?.” Your legs were getting weaker and weaker by the minute he kept whispering into your ear, you didn’t think he would take the role this seriously but you’re loving it..you couldn’t say a word except grumble into his hand, Choso smirked underneath the mask, “Hmmm..I have a better Idea.”

“I wanna hear you scream.”

And that’s what exactly what he did. The minute he dropped the knife, and dragging you to your guys shared room was the moment you realized you’re gonna lose walking privileges, when he threw you onto the bed he looked down at you like he was stalking..hunting. It scared you bit especially knowing his height. His height and muscles put everything together making him more intimidating than he already was, you moved up the bed as he moved closer stopping you Into your tracks as he gripped your ankles dragging you down the bed making you squeal. To make this more interesting, you fought against him kicking your legs to get out of his hold but the weight on your ankles increased practically pinning you to the bed. Choso took this as an advantage to crawl onto the bed getting on top of you, you looked so fucking cute underneath him.

By the way he was tilting his head you knew he had that cocky grin on his face. You moved your thighs together to get pleasure on your lower area, It’s been aching ever since you felt his bulge on your butt. You were soaking through your panties and you know Choso knew that too, he looked down to see you rubbing your legs together continuing to make eye contact with him with a bitten lip. Fuck. He clicked his tongue with a low hum trailing his hand to your pj pants putting his hand inside without a care in the world using his middle finger to feel how wet you are, you twitched feeling the single finger rub against your clit, moaning from the pleasure. Choso chuckled keeping his eyes on you as he continued to rub your clit nice and slow, you were already so wet. Choso staring at you with the scream mask on turned you on even more, your little mask kink was putting you to work.

Your back arched off the bed a little feeling him slide his middle inside you starting to thrust slowly. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling, bucking your hips up against his finger, you whined. “I want more..please give me more.” Choso tilted his head at your widening with a small smirk, he loved the feeling of making you whine for more, “More? You sure you want more?” He asked and without hesitation you nodded your head not thinking about the consequences. Once he saw the nod of approval he removed his finger from your pussy, instantly ripping off your pants to expose your lower area, without a doubt he went to unbuckle his belt letting his pants drop to the floor along with his boxers taking his cock into his hand stroking it slowly, lining it up with your hole, he cursed underneath his breath feeling how warm you were as he slid into you.

“Fuck..” He mumbled thrusting at a slow pace to let you get used to it, Choso was a big guy which meant..his cock was also big making you hiss slightly feeling him slide himself all the way In. After a few seconds he started to thrust at a steady pace soon picking the pace up, gripping your hips Into his hands feeling how tight you were getting. Moans and skin slapping were the only things being heard throughout the room, by the way Choso kept looking down at you with the mask was gonna make you cum instantly. Your nails digged deep into the covers feeling his thrusts get more harsher and deeper making tears prick in the corner of your eyes, Choso tooo notice if this smirking behind the mask as he continued to slam his hips against yours, “You like this? You like getting turned on by a mask?.” He panted with a weary chuckle seeing how much of a mess you were becoming underneath him, you could barely keep your eyes open as you stared at up at him. The look you were giving him made himself go hard, growling as he thrusts harder and deeper, your eyes snapped open as more tears pricked in the corner of your eyes feeling him pick up the pace, “W-Wait!- Choso-.” You couldn’t finish your sentence before a loud moan interrupted feeling your knot start to form, the pleasure was turning into pain but It was good pain.

Choso didn’t care about your whines or begs for him to stop, he continued to thrust deeper and harder also feeling his knot, “M’finna cum..fuck. Is this what you wanted? Huh?.” He said breathlessly throwing his head back letting a moan fall, “Finna fucking breed you baby..oh f-fuck.” He groaned deeply feeling his orgasm hit filling you deep with his cum soon after hitting your own orgasm, you moaned loudly letting your eyes flutter close twitching from still feeling him cum inside you. After a few seconds and slow thrusts he pulled out, taking off the mask to look at you with a soft look, “Did I go too rough?” He asked , with a small chuckle you shook your head tiredly reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer to your face, “It was just how I imagined.” You replied, Choso sighed in relief leaning more into your touch, “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Little freak.”

PLEASE READ!!

So I have recently discovered a very hateful message on my dashboard with one of my stories and I wanna say this is NOT okay. If anyone has a problem with me writing ONLY black readers please keep it to yourself, I’m not gonna show the screenshot because It’s really sickening and disgusting but please, I don’t want my tumblr space to be full of hate or rude comments. I want my community to feel more included In fanfics since there’s not that many which is WHY i’m only writing black readers, again my space is for anyone but PLEASE don’t say hurtful things.

#⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝒁𝒆𝒓𝒐 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔 !¡ ✫彡 #jujustu kaisen #{ 🖋️} writings #black reader #anime x black!reader #anime x reader #smut #jjk x black reader #jjk season 2 #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu choso #choso x black!reader #choso kamo #choso smut #choso x reader

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mactavishwritings · 3 months

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Hi hello. Charming day for a request, love. I read the millionaire!Ghost and his darling trophy wife and honestly, such a good read.

It was really interesting that they have a parallel of getting what they want so my request is simple:

Ghost finds out his wife wanted to be a writer and comes across one of her drafts that includes rather spicy scenes.

So when she comes home from a day of shopping and what not, she catches him reading the draft and he just chuckles before going

“We should recreate this, darling.”

(And it’s a subtle way of him showing his support to her writing 🥰)

Cheers love, happy writing <3

millionaire!simon x trophy wife!reader is my roman empire. I love doing stuff about this pairing.

You typed away at your computer, not having a specific plan for where you wanted to take your newest storyline. You let the ideas come to you and wrote down general ideas so that you could come back to them later.

You hummed to yourself quietly, happy to finally get everything out on the page. After a while, you decided that you needed a break. You stood from your desk, stretching until your sore and achy bones popped. You walked towards the kitchen, accepting a water bottle from one of the hired help Simon insisted on. You sighed as you looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the backyard. You took your time going back to your study, not wanting to go back to your story.

Groaning as you approached your study, you opened the door with a light shove and gasped quietly when you saw your husband standing behind your desk, eyes scanning the laptop screen. "Can I help you, sir?" You perked your eyebrow at Simon who just smiled, shaking his head.

"Quite the interesting story you got cookin' over here, baby." He tilted his eyes up at you and straightened up. "It's not a thing yet...just putting down what's in my head." You shrugged and Simon nodded, slowly walking towards you. He leaned back against your desk and pulled you towards his chest. Your eyes fluttered shut as he rubbed your back. "Oh yeah? Got a lot in your head?" He placed a soft, loving kiss on your forehead. Nodding to his words, You lifted your head to sip your water bottle.

Simon chuckled at you and slowly flipped you around so that you were now leaning on your desk, pushing his thighs against yours to pin you in place. "Wanna tell me what else is in your pretty little head?" Simon pushed your shirt up slightly as he placed kisses all over your neck. "Tell you what?" You pouted, embarrassed at the thought of telling him what fantasies your mind was conjuring up.

Simon shook his head as he slowly knelt down, kissing your thighs lightly. "Tell me what fantasies you make your characters enact...what you want to do." He rested his chin on your thigh as he spoke and your face flushed.

"Tell me my love."

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beingsuneone · 4 months

Text

Sunset & Vine

PART ONE | PART TWO

SYNOPSIS: one year was all you had, and the winners of the previous hunger games. You didn’t know them that well, but they were still youre only friends. Now you’re thrown back into the Games with some new confusing feelings.

FANDOM: The Hunger Games

PAIRING(S): Peeta Mallark x Victor!Reader

RATING: G

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy, Coriolanus Snow, Johanna Mason, Finnick Odair, Effie Trinket, President Coin, Gale Hawthorne

GENRE/AU: Dystopia, Angst, a very small amount of comfort,

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

WARNINGS: Katniss is slightly OOC, Canon divergent in some ways but not others, CATCHING FIRE AND MOCKINGJAY SPOILERS, Reader won the 74th hunger games and Peeta and Katniss won the 73rd.

A/N: Jjj, I’ve really got to stop writing stories with ending like this. Lemme know if you want part two. FYI!!! Changed a few words that completely changed the context and set up for the next part.

DEDICATIONS: Peeta my beloved

CREDITS: Taylor Swift for the name (Gorgeous - Taylor Swift)

It’s a woman, standing with her back to you— she has similar hair to yours and an almost protective stance to her. A haze of colour surrounds her… oranges, purples and yellows swirled into an indescribable but beautiful mess.

Peeta Mellark may be a fellow victor, and he may be one of your neighbours, but you know nothing about him. Except for this beautiful painting that he gifted you.

She wears a dress that flows in some sort of assumed breeze, and has a hand tentatively braced in her hair; there’s something so familiar about this scene that you can’t place— something familiar about the woman in particular.

You can’t place it.

You run your fingers along the small note that Peeta had left with the painting, hovering over the loopy cursive of his signature; it’s the same on the painting but it’s too beautiful to touch like that.

Last year, you won the seventy-fourth annual hunger games, and became a legend for getting district twelve two wins in a row— right alongside Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, Who won the seventy-third hunger games.

Thank god the months of parading you around were over and you could settle happily into your gigantic house by yourself.

Well, happily might be an over statement— you had no family, and certainly no friends… unless Haymitch counts but you don’t think he does.

So this painting feels extra special— a warmth in an otherwise cold and unfamiliar home.

“Where should I put it?” Muttering to yourself, you mentally scan the layout of your house; you’d want it to be in a place where you could see it often, but also somewhere where any house guest would be able to see it… yeah. House guests.

After shaking your head uselessly, you settle on hanging it in the entryway. For sure people would see it there.

You’d been putting off doing this for a couple of days, just because you hadn’t had a whole lot of energy to do anything but sit in a chair and half-read a novel.

So, after a few minutes of fiddling and messy calculations, the painting is hung in the entryway.

You take one last glance at the swirling coloured background once more, and then turn away, leaving the comfort and fantasy behind.

……

Victors are supposed to have immunity, they’re supposed to be done with the games for the rest of their miserable, trauma ridden lives.

But the seventy-fifth hunger games brings back all of the worst parts of last year— you know that out of the three other victors, you’re the female they want to get picked. You’re the easy decision, the loner that nobody cares about.

You know the Capitol loves Peeta and Katniss far too much, and you, not enough.

This, stacked on top of everything else the Capitol has put you through… it’s too much.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when there’s a knock at your door.

“Hello?” You say as you open it; Peeta Mellark is standing there with his lip turned down just slightly, his eyes center behind you for a moment before his face softens and lightens.

“Hey. You got the painting.” A smile melts onto his face, and you swear he looks… beyond words when he smiles.

After a long moment of silence, you clear your throat. “What brings you here…?” You stammer awkwardly, cringing at your choice of words.

He sort of— laughs? Chuckles? at you. “We’re talking strategy for the Quarter Quell and we figured we should include you.” His face falls again, and he looks like he’s holding something back.

Your back straightens. “The Quarter Quell isn’t for another few months—”

He nods slowly. “But we’re going to have to do the pre-tour… and they’re pulling names in just a couple weeks.”

The band around his ring finger gleams brightly in the sun, which sends some sort of jealous feeling rolling through you.

You shake your head because you don’t know Peeta Mellark, and, even if he is gorgeous, you don’t get crushes on people you don’t know.

Plus he’s in love and engaged to Katniss Everdeen, even if you did know him well enough to develop a crush.

He glances down, and then quickly yanks the ring off. “It’s, uh— just for the camera’s.” Then he gestures to the painting behind you. “That’s you, you know. I know you’ve never worn a dress like that, but I saw a screencap of you in The Games and inspiration just kind of… hit me.” he trails off at the end and fiddles with the ring in his hand.

“It’s… me?” You say slowly. “We barely know each other, why would you paint me?”

He takes a small breath. “You’re really beautiful, Y/n, I’ve always thought so.”

A breath hitches but you genuinely can’t discern if it’s him or you over the roaring of blood in your ears.

“So…” he starts again. “If you want to join us, we’re heading over to Haymitch’s now.”

“Okay.” You say, sounding more winded than you did before; you stare at him for a few more moments before you step out of the front door and shut it.

You walk silently beside him, trying not to take in his messy blonde hair or pretty blue eyes—and also, failing miserably—

Just as you reach Haymitch’s doorstep, you stop and tug on Peeta’s sleeve to get his attention. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Peeta.”

He looks down at you, the air around you charged with some kind of something that you can’t name, and just as he’s about to reach over to you, the door swings open.

“Why are you guys just standing out here?” Katniss says with her nose scrunched, she eyes you up and then eyes Peeta up in a similar fashion.

At least it wasn’t exclusively you.

Both your heads snap toward her, while Peeta smoothly comes up with a reason. “Y/n was feeling nervous, I was just trying to help calm her nerves.”

Haymitch raises an eyebrow from behind Katniss, and gives Peeta a look.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He says, as Katniss steps aside and lets the two of you in. There’s a tenderness to his voice that you hadn’t realized you missed so much.

“Hi.” The three of you shuffle into what you think was once a living room but it’s chillingly messy in Haymitch’s house.

“Couldn’t we have done this at someone else’s house?” Peeta says, eying the empty bottles on the floor.

“No.” Katniss shakes her head, shooting Haymitch a glare. “Because everytime we have to talk to him, we have to wake him up with a bucket of water.”

You snort. “I’m sorry— a bucket of water?”

Haymitch cuts in. “Why do you think my hair’s wet? I definitely didn’t take a shower.” There's a water stain that makes his shirt sag, and you wonder how you didn’t notice before. Haymitch clears his throat. “Moving on; if it’s Katniss and Peeta then we can still milk the whole star-crossed lover thing— if it’s me or Y/n… that won’t work.”

“Y/n shouldn’t go.” Peeta interjects; you’re taken aback by it.

You fidget with the hem of your shirt. “I really thought I was the best person to go.” You pause, looking up at the three of them. “It’s not like there’s anyone here that will care if I don’t come home.”

Haymitch gives Peeta a scrutinizing look. “Look, Lover-boy, we know you have a crush but that isn’t enough for Katniss to volunteer herself if Y/n gets picked.”

Peeta looks to you and then back to Haymitch. “Katniss and I are the Capitol’s favourite couple right now, if we went we’d probably be much better off in terms of sponsors and parachutes.”

“And you don’t want her to go.” Haymitch gestures in yours and Katniss’s direction.

Peeta sighs but doesn’t deny it. It makes sense that he wouldn’t want his fiancé to go back to the Games.

“Peeta is right,” Katniss starts, “but, Haymitch, if you get picked… Peeta should stay. Either way.”

Peeta shakes his head. “No. I’m not staying.”

You cut in. “There’s no good reason why I should stay.” You’re basically the only clear answer; if you get picked you’ll go, and, if Katniss is picked, you’ll go. “I won’t.”

Now all three of them are staring at you. “If I get picked, Katniss can’t volunteer and if she gets picked, you can’t stop me from volunteering.”

Katniss huffs. “You can’t stop me from volunteering either.”

Really, you could all argue this for hours.

…..

The four of you had never come to a conclusion, and now it’s the day of the Reaping.

Effie stands uncomfortably at the bowl; she doesn’t seem happy about having to pull your names, despite her chipper facade.

“The female tribute for District Twelve is…” she says, digging around in the two slips of paper in the bowl. She finally pulls one out and reluctantly reads it out. “Y/n L/n.” She almost sighs your name.

Katniss’s fingers twitch nervously, like she wants to say something but you shoot her the strongest glare you can muster.

She doesn’t volunteer, and you’re glad for it.

You walk up to the stage, head held high; you know this is the start of the end of your life, so you might as well act more confident than you truly are.

Effie looks at you sadly once you’re settled behind her, and then turns back to the audience. “And… the male tribute for District Twelve is,” she spends another five minutes routing through the two names. “Haymitch Abernathy.” This time her sigh is one of relief.

But the relief does not last long.

“I volunteer!” Peeta says, stepping forward; Haymitch grabs his arm and says something too quiet to hear, and Peeta says something back. His face is full of determination as everyone watches him walk up the stage and stand next to you.

Everyone in your little group wears a look of defeat. Even you.

Only one of you can go home, and you’re going to do your damn best to make sure it’s Peeta Mellark.

…..

“I’m not ready for this.” You say quietly, as you walk down the corridor to your bedrooms on the train. “It’s hardly been a year, Peeta.”

He nods solemnly, not looking at you as you arrive at your door. His is just across the hall.

Peeta gently takes your hand in his and squeezes. “I know. It’s too soon.” He looks angry. “We were never supposed to have to do this again.” He drops your hand before you can reciprocate in any sort of way.

You do feel a little less nauseous though.

“It‘s okay.” You whisper, twitching your fingers and slapping it onto the doorknob. “It’ll be okay.”

Peeta’s eyes rove over you in a scrutinizing manner as though he’s trying to figure some meaning behind your words, but there isn’t one to figure.

Just that it will be okay. Peeta will, if you really just be specific. Peeta will return home, happy and safe.

Ready to live his life with the woman he loves… Katniss.

And you will fade into false glory and distant memory.

…..

“Finnick, Right?” You fidget with your fingers in front of you; Finnick Odair was an attractive man who oozed with confidence and smooth words.

“Want a sugar cube?” He asks slyly, holding one out to you. “They're supposed to be for the horses but— we’re going to die anyway, it won’t matter after that.”

You nod carefully. “Of course, because that would obviously matter if we weren’t already set for death.” You still take the sugar cube from his hand and pop it in your mouth.

You almost gag from it. Pure sugar was… a lot. “Ugh. That’s disgusting.”

Finnick chuckles. “But liberating.”

You shake your head but a smile still spreads across your face. “Liberating indeed, Finnick Odair. My last act of rebellion is eating a sugar cube.”

“Devastating, really. To the Capitol, I mean.” He smiles easily at you, before someone catches his attention and he saunters off.

Claudius Templesmith stood not far from you, crooning about something with one of the older tributes.

The older man— Betee, you think— stood, looking indifferent but also invested in Claudius’s ramblings and unnecessary questions.

You were dreading the questions he’d ask you during your second round of interviews.

The last time was time enough for you.

“What’d he want?” Peeta asks, walking up behind you and pulling your attention away from the other party-goers.

“Oh, you know,” you say flippantly, “sugarcubes, secrets, and sarcasm.”

Peeta’s eyebrows furrow in confusion but the smile remains on his face. “Sounds like an interesting conversation.” He extends his arm to you. “Shall we?”

You sigh. “Not like we have much choice.”

….

“I’d give anything to know what’s going on inside your head.” Peeta says softly, fidgeting with the rope in his hands. You’d both decided that learning how to tie some knots would be beneficial.

You chuff, an awkward laugh. “What do you mean?”

His fingers work steadily, and somewhat clumsily, with the rope; there’s something alluring about how sure he can be with his hands.

It makes you think of the painting in your house— the one that you’ll never see again— how patient he must’ve been to complete such a beautiful piece, how still and sure of himself.

“What are you thinking right now, Y/n?” He looks up at you, with those beautiful blue eyes of his.

You shrug. “I was thinking about…” you trail off, because you absolutely cannot say that you were thinking about his hands. A half-truth will have to do. “Your painting. How I’ll never see it again.”

Hip lips pull into a frown. “You’ll see it again, I’m going to make sure of it.”

Sighing deeply, you stand. “You’re the one who has to go home, Peeta, not me.” He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “It has to be you.”

….

You don’t have the time to argue about it for the next couple of days, you hardly even see each other.

Now, Cinna is preparing you for the arena. You know that everything he gave was meant for Katniss, he had obviously expected it to be her, or that he wouldn’t style you.

He hadn’t been your stylist, but yours had opted out of this year’s games, claiming it was too painful to watch you go back in.

You hadn’t liked her much the first time around, wanted to change you too much in ways that you most definitely did not like.

Cinna, though, you liked him. Though this would be the last time you saw him.

You were dressed in whatever mandatory suit that they designed for this game, a skin tight suit that looked like you were about to go scuba diving.

“It’s time.” Cinna says, glancing back to the tube at the back of the room. You turn back to it.

“Thank you, Cinna.” You say, bowing your head for him. “It was nice getting to know you.”

He smiles half-heartedly. “It was a pleasure, Y/n.”

You exchange a final goodbye and step into the tube. The sixth second countdown begins as the tube starts to ascend.

It's all water, just water and water and water in a large circle around them. There was also thin sand bars that connected the tubes and the Cornucopia, but you knew you wouldn’t be braving that.

Peeta stands three tubes down, with a morphling, a Career and Johanna between you two.

Twenty seconds.

You stare at him desperately, hoping he’ll stick to the plan and swim towards you; you catch his eyes and he smiles reassuringly. It’s not a genuine smile but it still calms you all the same.

Ten seconds.

You ball your fists, clenching hard.

Nine.

Eight.

God, it’s going to be difficult to get out of the water.

Seven.

Six.

You’re not the strongest swimmer, maybe you should go to the Cornucopia.

Five.

Four.

And it’s a long way to swim, even for someone who does know how. Only experienced swimmers, like Finnick, would have an easy time of it.

Three.

Two.

Then, it occurs to you, maybe those sandbars go all the way to the shore; if you get to the Cornucopia, Grab, well, anything, and then flee via the sandbars, you just might be okay.

One.

The pads everyone stands on recede into the water and dumps everyone straight in.

It makes you realize that most of your competitors do not know how to swim.

Peeta is just barely floating thanks to the bright purple belt that had been strapped around all your waists.

You know how to swim at least a little bit , so you unbuckle yours and swim over to him; once it inflates fully, you give it to him and try to drag him towards the sandbars.

It dawns on you all over again that Peeta is a tall guy, and he’s not exactly small either.

He’s strong and his weight definitely shows that; he tries to keep himself afloat but ends up making it worse.

Eventually, you make it over there, and he pulls himself up onto the loose sand; it takes a bit of effort because it’s slippery and keeps moving under your weight.

It’s barely stable enough to be a viable option. Just barely.

You leave him there for a minute and swim to the cornucopia. There's fighting going on on its small platform, but you just snag a small waterproof bag that sits a few yards away; a knife comes flying in your direction, and knicks your face.

The salt of the water stings as it mingles with blood.

When you spin back towards Peeta, he’s struggling and Finnick is approaching him.

You race back as fast as you can.

Finnick already has some pretty gnarly weapons strapped to him.

You’re about to draw the knife on him when shakes his head. “Relax, Y/n, I’m saving his ass.” Then he lifts a hand out of the water and flashes some sort of bracelet at you.

It’s the alliance bracelets that Haymitch had mentioned.

Oh.

“I-”you start, but you never really had a sentence to begin with.

You just lag silently behind as Finnick helps Peeta to the shore. The closer you get to the shore, the wider the sandbars get, and the sturdier they are as well.

Until they're eventually higher than the water, and wide enough for both Peeta and yourself to walk side by side.

You collapse onto the sand when you finally reach the shore and stay there for only a second.

That’s all you have before the three of you are up and running into the forest in front of you.

….

When Peeta’s heart stops, you're sure that yours does too— you’re sure that, as you stand there in a state while Finnick tries to resuscitate Peeta, you’re also unresponsive and silent. Dead.

True enough, in a way.

The longer you stare at Peeta’s face, still twisted in pain from the shock, the more you feel like dropping to the ground and sobbing.

You tried to imagine the way he painted with camouflage training stuff, drawing intricate designs onto both his and one of the morhpling’s arms.

It had washed off by the next morning but you had spent the whole night longing to touch it, run your fingers along his arm, trace the shapes and swirls.

Beyond the paintings, you recalled his magnetic smile and the way he always made you feel safe and calm, the steady air that he radiated.

You weren’t ready for him to die, he was the one who was supposed to win this, after all. You had resolved that Peeta Mellark was going to be the winner of the 75th Hunger Games and you were going to do whatever you needed to to make that happen. You were even prepared to turn into somebody you weren’t, just to make sure Peeta went home. Or at least, you thought you could if you had to come to it.

But now, you’re ready to give up. Finnick or Johanna could win— and they should. Literally anyone else but you. Everyone who had a life now that Peeta is gone.

You’re just about to collapse to the ground when Peeta starts to cough erratically, and he manages to sit straight up.

“Peeta!” You cry as you fall to the ground next to him, and wrap your arms around his neck. He seems disoriented for a moment before he hugs you back, right. “I really thought you were gone.”

He gently strokes your back, as you fuss over him, double checking that he’s okay and checking his burn.

…..

You hear a loud sickening crack from somewhere else in the arena that makes everyone but Johanna and Finnick jump. You feel Peeta’s hand wrap around you protectively and pull you closer to him in the single instant that you’re all reacting to the noise.

It takes a few delayed seconds before each one of you realizes that it’s just the lightning in 12, before you realize just how having Peeta’s hands on you makes you feel.

His fingers slip from your waist, brushing softly as they fall away and leaving you feeling just slightly feral.

You pull yourself away, and dig your nails into your thigh to ground yourself. Getting used to this clock thing was going to be agonizing.

You’re waiting patiently as the lot of you— You, Peeta, Finnick, Johanna and Beetee— come up with a plan to take down the force field and take out the Careers at the same time.

You can barely focus on the conversation because you itch to have Peeta’s hands on you again, to feel his fingers against your skin again.

In fact there’s so many things you’d like to say and do with Peeta that you know you will never have the chance to; not to mention that he is in love with someone else and would never be interested in any of those things with you anyways.

You’re pretty sure you’d been staring at Peeta but you only notice because Finnick shoots a look at you— you can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking but it must be something about that.

You try to zone back into the plan.

….

Trying to trap the careers failed miserably, and the person most experienced with a bow was you, but only thanks to Katniss’s training.

Everything was a blur as the force field came down; chaos, fire everywhere— you couldn’t see or hear Peeta.

You worried about him and you laid pathetically on the ground, half out of your mind. You wondered if he was having trouble with his prosthetic leg, or having run from Enobaria or one of the other careers. You wondered if he’d make it out okay, even though it was obvious you wouldn’t.

You wondered and worried for what felt like forever until an airship appeared above you.

Great. You thought, the Capitol has come to torture you and everyone you’ve ever loved until the couldnt anymore and all of you was nothing more than a shell of a person. Until the only option was avox or death.

You can’t move, or fight it as the giant claw, scoops you up.

All that effort and you still managed to condem each and everyone of you to torture.

…..

“Relax, Y/n!” Haymitch snaps, as Finnick restrains you.

Katniss sits on the other side of the table, looking just as devastated as you.

“What do you mean, you didn’t get Peeta? You can’t just leave him there, they’ll hurt him worse than any of us could ever imagine!” You say, still struggling to get away from Finnick.

Katniss actually argues in your favour. “I did say I would only do this thing if you got both her and Peeta.”

Plutarch, the game maker shakes his head redundantly. “Peeta and Johanna were just to far away for us to locate before the Capitols airships came; I’m sorry, we’ll get them back eventually.”

Finnick finally lets you go once you’ve calmed down. He has a solemn look on his face. “I’m sure they’ve got Annie too. We need to save them as soon as possible.”

….

As soon as possible turns into several weeks, several heartbreakingly, agonizingly long weeks.

You can’t help but think about Peeta every moment of every day . You imagine all the terrible things Snow is doing to him, you wish it was you in his place.

Peeta was the one person who never deserved any of this, over anyone else. You and Katniss had been willing to do whatever you needed to to survive, you’d done things maybe you weren’t particularly proud of. But Peeta? He had never let the Games change him.

He had always been the same.

Safe, steady, comfortable, strong.

You don’t even have any hope that they’re showing him any mercy.

They aren’t.

You know now, you know by the way that last interview they aired went— how he was struck just as the cameras shut off, how your heart broke when you looked into his eyes, when you saw just how much they’d hurt him already.

You were just about ready to burst into Coin’s office and tell her that you were getting Peeta now, regardless of the consequences to Thirteen.

Gale and Katniss were fighting a lot lately, tension was heavy between them; and not in a good way. You didn’t know Gale well, but the comments he made about Peeta made your skin crawl and your hands itch to throw a few punches.

Actually they were arguing now, about Peeta, and you were listening.

Gale’s head snaps to you randomly and he barks at you; “and you! Why the hell are you so invested in Bread Boy?”

You startle for a moment, but then narrow your eyes. “What do you mean why am I invested? He’s my— friend.” You say, sounding unsure even to yourself.

Katniss huffs. “I mean, come on, Gale, you know that our relationship has been fake from the start and we—” she gestures between the two of them. “—we’re friends, Gale, we always have been.”

He scoffs, and says something else in a bitter tone but all you can hear is Katniss’s words replaying over and over in your brain.

Our relationship has been fake from the start.

“Shut up for a second!” You snap at Gale, and turn back to Katniss. “Your relationship was fake the whole time? Yours and Peeta’?” You almost feel like an asshole for asking, just in case it is real; but so many things Peeta has done and said make so much more sense recontextualized like this.

Like when he said their rings were ‘just for ten cameras.’ Or when he told you he always thought you were beautiful. Or even the way he tried so hard to convince not to go back into the games.

Both of their faces fall flat, Katniss’s in disbelief. “You didn’t know?” She says.

You shake your head slowly. “No, I-” you stop yourself because you're at a loss for words.

“Y/n, we didn’t try to hide it from you, how did you not know? Even Haymitch said right in front of you that Peeta had a crush on you!”

You deadpan once again. You had blatantly misread everybody’s words in that conversation. “I just assumed that was about you!” You stare at each other for a second longer before you stand up abruptly. “I have to go.”

There was a lot of thinking you had to do and then a lot of planning— and a bit of yelling too.

…..

You were deemed too invested in the mission to actually go on it, and Finnick was too distressed over Annie to be allowed.

So you had been sitting together in silence; the silence was comfortable but the insane amounts of stress running through your veins was enough to make the tension in the air as sharp as a knife. Not between each other but to any other person.

Especially since Gale was allowed to go on the mission, and you felt that was entirely unfair— Gale doesn’t even like Peeta.

It had turned into a whole day of waiting, and only twenty minutes ago, they had returned with Johanna, Peeta and Annie.

The anxiety had grown tenfold when you were both informed you weren’t allowed to see them yet.

Now, you’re standing outside the door where Annie was resting, watching her through the one way window.

Finnick’s eyes are filled with so many you can only pick out one or two; you wonder if your eyes will look similar when you enter Peeta’s room.

You wish him luck and watch as he enters the room; Annie looks like she screams his name and then jumps him. He holds her up, looking like it’s the happiest moment of his life.

Watching them makes you much more excited to see Peeta, although you're not sure it will be quite that exuberant of a reunion.

You walk a couple doors down, glancing in the windows as you do; but you stop when you see Katniss and Johanna in one of the rooms before Peeta’s.

Why in the world is Katniss in the Hospital? What happened?

You push open the door gently, and Katniss doesn’t stir— you take note of the morphling drip in her arm, that must be keeping her knocked out.

You see Johanna is also asleep, her head is shaved and she has the worst tortured expression on, even though she looks to be sleeping soundfully— physically, anyways.

If she’s looking that bad, you can’t help but wonder about Peeta. You’re always wondering about him.

You don’t want to disturb either of their healing so you quickly leave the room, shutting the door as quietly and calmly as you can.

Finally, as you walk out, you spot the guards in front of Peeta’s door; you think it’s a little strange, considering neither Johanna nor Annie had security at the door but you walk towards the door anyways.

The guards hold out a hand as you approach.

“Restricted access, you can’t go in there.” The guard says, almost heartlessly.

Just as he finishes speaking, the door opens and Haymitch steps out and away. You would look through the window but the blinds are down.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, you can’t see him.” Haymitch takes your arm and leads you back down the hallway. “The Capitol… they tortured him so bad he—” Haymitch stops, and looks away for a second before looking back. “He tried to strangle Katniss, and kept yelling about how Katniss was a liar. He’s not himself right now.”

So much for your heartfelt reunion.

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

#peeta mellark #the hunger games peeta #thg peeta #peeta x reader #peeta #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x you #thg x reader #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #spoilers #mockingjay spoilers #catching fire spoilers #thg spoilers #the hunger games spoilers

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machetegirl109 · 10 months

Text

Synopsis: After spending the whole Bible study daydreaming of Abby, she finally makes your fantasies come true. *inspiration: vacation bible school by ayesha erotica*

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, F/F, modern!AU, suggestive and offensive language, religion, abby&reader are 18, smut, angst, switch!abby&reader, dom!abby, sub!reader, thigh riding, fingering(r&a!receiving), oral(a!receiving), no aftercare, mean!abby x reader

important info about my stories here

©machetegirl109 (credits to VBS by ayesha erotica that inspired me to write this) DO NOT copy/steal my work OR post it on any platforms

Word Count: 2.6k+

Oneshot: Vacation Bible School

❝︎and like every other shitty love story

you came and went❞︎

Church camp happens every year during the summer. It lasts for a week; during this time, you live together in cabins, explore the outdoors, and dine in community, all while learning about religion.

You’ve been taking part in attending ever since you were a little kid. The campgrounds are filled with kids, teens, and young adults. The VBS director would be supervising the assisting staff that consisted of other members of the Christian church, where they were divided into group leaders, an audio/video coordinator, music director, Bible story tellers, game leaders, craft supervisors, and kitchen staff.

This year would be the last summer camp trip for you and the other 18 year-olds before you all start college.

Every year you’d be eager for the summertime, wanting nothing more than to arrive at the huge campsite with lots of green space, bushes and trees, picnic tables and a bonfire. Paths that led to the big main cabin where indoor activities and supper were held, another that led to multiple smaller cabins scattered around a secluded area with some portable wooden toilets by the end of the trail and finally a path that led to the forest where a beautiful river was at as well as a hiking trail.

Although you did enjoy being surrounded by the calming nature and your fellow church peers, what made you anxiously wait for the one week vacation every year was her. Abby Anderson. You two met years ago when you were kids, having to spend the days around each other as you two learned about Jesus and his rules. You and the blonde girl quickly became friends; however you never spoke to each other outside the camping grounds. In day-to-day life, you would only admire her from a distance. Whether it was on the Sunday evening services, or at the school; you paid attention to Abby’s movement as she kneeled to pray, or when she talked to those around her.

Something about her made your hands shake with nervousness, your heart skipped beats just by the thought of her so, so pretty eyes and her strong arms—

“What do you say, miss Y/N?” The pastor interrupts your thoughts and you move your eyes from Abby who’s sitting in front of you to his direction.

“I’m sorry, pastor. What was the question again?”

“What is the message in Ephesians 5:3?” He asks again and your peers, who are seated in a chair circle as the pastor stands in the middle, turn their heads towards you as they all wait for an answer.

“Uh, I… I don’t know…I’m sorry.” You shamefully look at your hands down on lap.

“That is okay, Y/N. We are all here to learn, isn't that right kids?” They all move their heads up and down, agreeing with the pastor. “Can anyone tell me what is the message in Ephesians 5:3?”

“I can.” One of the students complied.

“Yes, Abigail. Go ahead.” As soon as he calls out her name, your head shots up and you’re looking at the girl in front of you again. She clears her throat and before she begins to speak, her eyes meet yours.

“But fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not be onced named among you, as becometh saints;” Abby concludes, her blue eyes never leaving yours. Soon, the priest thanks her for the answer, proceeding with his class and the blonde gives you a small smile. She manspreads on her chair and you feel the blood pump faster into your veins as your body grows hot.

Abby is wearing a white tank top that exposes her strong muscles, black skinny jeans with a heavy-looking belt as well as a pair of black chuck taylor’s. You can’t help but wonder how she would look on top of you, with her blonde hair forming a curtain around your head and her big hands roaming through your body.

After spending the rest of the Bible study distracted staring at the pretty blonde across from you, the class comes to an end. “Alright,kids, that will be all for today. Go ahead and enjoy your last day here and make sure to be ready to attend the bonfire tonight!” The priest leaves the open room located inside the main cabin and soon the students follow behind. Each leaving at their own pace as they conversate with their friends. You look around you and notice Abby is still seated in her chair, like you. She smirks before standing up, making her way to you.

“You seemed a bit distracted. Anything interesting in your mind?” Abby reaches her hand out for you to hold as you leave your chair.

“Oh, nothing, it’s stupid. “ You smile shyly and hold onto her, who soon drops your hand after helping you up. She hums in response as she licks her lips and points her head towards the door, hinting you to follow her as she begins to walk.

“Well, now I need to know what stupid thing you were possibly thinking about while you stared at me the whole study.” You hide your face in your palms, cringing at how you shamelessly looked at her during the class.

“Sorry…” You muffle through your hands before dropping them to your sides again. “I didn’t mean to stare.” Abby lets out a small laugh at your reaction, loving the way you get so shy around her. You two keep walking until you reach the path that led to the area where many small cabins were scattered around.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” She quickly scans the area around, checking to see if anyone can see or hear the two of you. “I think I already know what you were thinking about, though.” Her eyes drop to your plump lips and your throat goes dry.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You play dumb and Abby chuckles.

“Hm. I think we were both thinking about the same stupid things.” She raises her hand to your cheek, lightly massaging the pad of her thumb onto your soft skin and then pushing it down to your bottom lip. You feel as if your heart dropped to your core as heat and pulse grows inside your panties. Her hand teasingly grips your neck before she drops it and takes one of your hands into hers, guiding two walk towards the portable wood toilets by the end of the trail.

She looks around once again, checking for people and opens the door as she rushly gets in, pulling you with her and shutting the door closed. Your back presses into the wood as one of her hands pushes you against the wall by the neck. Abby’s blue eyes turned a shade darker, desired in them as she placed her knee between your legs, earning a small moan from you.

“You’ve been watching me the whole week,” She says as her free hand creeps under the hem of your shirt, fingers lightly tingling the skin of your stomach. “But I’ve been watching you too.” She palms your left breast harshly, flicking her calloused finger on your nipple and you feel yourself getting wetter by the second. “You know the expression you make when you stare at me?”

You stay silent and her grip around your neck tightens.

“When I ask something, you answer.” Abby says softly and removes her hand from your chest, sliding it down to the side of your hips, carving her short nails into your skin as she moves you to grind against her hard thigh; making you bite your lips as you feel your clothed cunt rub deliciously against the material of her jeans. “Answer me, Y/N.”

“I-I don’t know, Abby…”

“You stare at me with this really pathetic expression on your face,” The lights inside the small compartment die down suddenly before turning back on – And as you look at Abby again, a shit-eating grin appear on her pretty lips.

“The expression of someone who just really wants me to fuck them stupid.” You snake your arms around her neck and she lets go of yours, now hugging your waist as she guides your movements. “Do you want me to fuck you stupid?” Abby whispers in your ear with a rough voice.

“Yes-Yes, Abby. Ple-please.” You ask as you hide your face onto her neck, her pinewood scent filling your nostrils and you moan into her skin. Your hot breath hits against her neck and Abby feels your arousal mark a spot on her pants. A soft blush runs over her soft freckled face and her boxers start to feel heavy by her own wetness.

“Please what, angel?”

“Ple-please fuck me, Abby.” You remove your head from its previous position and forcefully grabs the back of her hair, pulling her face towards yours as your lips smack together. Abby bites and pulls onto your bottom lip and soon her tongue sneaks into your mouth, making the kiss become more heated and sloppy. She hugs your waist tighter. “I want you,” You say in between the kisses. “Jus-just fuck me already, ple-please.”

Abby lets out a moan by hearing your pleas and holds your hips still as she lower her lips to your neck. She nibbles and licks at your skin and you let out heavy breaths and pleasure filled moans. She moves one of her hands to your exposed thigh due your skirt riding up, and she slowly slides it closer and closer to your heat as she caresses your hot skin. Soon enough she cups your pussy through your dripping wet panties, the feeling of her warm hand sends a wave of electricity through your body and you moan her name out.

“I've been wanting to do this all week,” Abby confesses. She slowly drags your panties to the side and runs two fingers up your slick, collecting the liquid of your excitement. “Fuck… You’re so fucking wet for me. So ready for me, baby.” She gives you a quick and soft peck on the lips and suddenly thrusts her ring and middle finger inside your weeping cunt.

“Ah ah ah Abby!” You moan as you feel her fingers filling you. Abby begins to move her fingers in-and-out of you, starting off slow and soon she picks up the pace, pumping them fast and with precision inside you. You rock your hips, following her fingers' pace, causing your clit to deliciously and harshly rub against the palm of her hand. “Fuck Abby,,, you're–ahh fucking me so good…”

Abby lets out a quiet laugh and leans in for another messy kiss, saliva dripping off of both your chins as you make out. She soon fingers into you deeper than before, the tip of her fingers meeting that spongy spot inside you. She presses onto it and you rub your clit harder into her palm. You break the kiss, lips swollen for the biting and sucking.

“I'm gon-gonna cum,”

“I'm here, angel. Cum for me, baby.” Soon something inside you snaps and you feel your body shake as a pleasure washes over you.

“Such a good fucking girl, making a mess all over my hand.” Abby helps you ride out your high, her hand and leg drenched from you as she carefully removes her fingers from your sensitive cunt, letting out a hiccup once you feel empty again. You attempt to catch your breath, chest rising up and down rapidly as you both look at eachother. You hold her hand towards your mouth, cleaning her sticky fingers from your orgasm and she opens a small smile.

“You're so hot,” Abby says giving you one more kiss before removing her leg from in between yours.”So fuckin’ dirty for me.” You kiss her back, pulling at her bottom lip and asking for tongue passage which she happily obliged to. Pushing Abby against the wall, your hands fall to her hips, undoing her white studded belt and letting it fall to the ground. “You're gonna make me feel good, Angel?” She smirks upon seeing a naughty look on your face and you nod.

“Yeah, Abby, I'll make you feel so good…” You kiss her lips and neck one last time before you move towards her breasts and stomach. When you reach her crotch, you shamelessly rub your face against it, causing her to gasp and moan as she forces you onto the floor by your shoulders.

Abby helps you unbutton her pants and you bring them down along with her boxers as you kneel in front of her, the smell of her pussy makes your mouth water. She frees one of her ankles from the clothes, propping her leg over your shoulder and you snake your arm around her tight to keep her secure. She looks down at you, looking like a pretty and desperate little slut just for her. One of her hands goes to the back of your neck, pulling you closer to her glistening lips. You lay your tongue out and you slowly lick her slick bottom to top, reaching her throbbing bud and giving it a harsh suck.

“Uhmm, fuck,” She moans upon the contact, pushing her hips closer to you mouth. “Yeah, just like that, baby.” You finally bury your tongue into her cunt, exploring her as she lets out a string of breathless moans. Abby begins to grind against your face, your soft muscle lapping on her mouthwatering pussy and your nose softly and deliciously brushing against her clit. “Look at me,” She pats your head and you bring your eyes up to her but never stopping fucking your tongue into her. “Lookin’ so beautiful on your knees for me, ahh– s-so so fucking perfect,”

Abby soon feels the tension that sits on the bottom of her stomach is about to explode. Her moves become more messy and rapid as she chases your face. The leg that is up your shoulder starts to shake, the trembling of her body making her to hold onto your free shoulder for support. You notice Abby will soon break and change the focus of your thrust to her needy button, lick and circling your tongue on it and adding two fingers into her.

“D-don't stop, fuckfuckfuc–” Her hips stutter as you scissor your fingers into her, never stopping giving attention to her clit. You feel her pussy gushing around you and she soon releases her juices, making a mess on your hand and face. Abby breaks eye contact as she presses the back of her head onto the wooden wall. She closes her eyes and furrows her brows while coming down from her orgasm. You distance your mouth from her now sensitive clit and gently remove your fingers from her. She drops her leg off of your shoulder and you, still on your knees, move to help her fix her pants and belt.

“No, it’s okay,” Abby moves away from your touch, making you slowly stand back on your feet. “I can do it.” She pushes her black jeans back up and grabs her belt off the floor, quickly wrapping them around the waistband of her jeans. You quietly observe her, hopeful thoughts run around your head, thoughts about you and Abby becoming closer after today – The last day of camp. “So, uhh,” She nervously runs her hand through her blonde strands as her face displays a shameful and regretful expression.

“We should get going, th-the last bonfire will start soon…” You feel as if the ground disappeared, your heart squeezes inside your chest and tears form in your eyes. “Uhm… I'll see you around, yeah?” She quickly exits, leaving you alone in the compartment. You look down at your knees, red and swollen from all the kneeling, and then you look around the small porta wooden potty, your hand palms your face as you take in what just happened. Regret fills you for what you and Abby just did – In a damn porta potty, at church camp nonetheless – and at how easy you gave yourself to her, only to be tossed away just as easily.

ೃ⁀➷ thank you for reading! feel free to comment your thoughts, reblog, leave a heart and follow me˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

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#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby x y/n #abby anderson smut #abby tlou smut #vacation bible school abby anderson #©machetegirl109

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matchamilkislover · 4 months

Text

White Horse, 2. (a.a.)

pairing: knight!abby x princess!reader

cw: fantasy!au, fem!reader, a tiny bit of blood mentioned, eventual displays of fighting and violence bc it’s fantasy, kind of slow burn?, tension, reader has an attitude, tall af!abby bc size difference, royalty!au, mentions of arranged marriages, some mentions of au politics, abby in armor is a warning in itself

synopsis: you are the youngest princess of the royal family that rules over your kingdom, Aphrynia. now a young adult, you’ve come of age in a tense time, and your personal protection is of utmost importance — which is why the resignation of your previous personal knight means a rushed reassignment ceremony with little to no preface. That being said, why does the name of your new knight sound so familiar?

word count: 3.67k

a/n: this is a kinda slow and really dialogue-heavy chapter but i’m still giggling and kicking my feet, i am so excited for the rest of the story omllll (it’s my own story i have to write it myself but i’m also delulu)

you can read part 1 here!

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Clapping resounded in the large room, but you paid the sound no attention. Yours and Abby’s gazes were still locked on each other, like you were caught in a dance to see who would break away first. Finally, she gently kissed the top of your hand and released it, standing to tower over you with her tall, built form. The simple kiss on your hand made your heart speed up unexplainably, and you swallowed and quickly pulled it down to your side, burying your hands in the skirts of your gown. Abby’s gaze, however, was still locked on you, and you looked down and then around the room to avoid her gaze. What in the world was going on?

Realizing that everyone else in the room had moved on from the ceremony and started milling about, you too decided that it was time to go, clearing your throat before stepping out of place to find Nina. Abby opened her mouth and looked like she was about to reach out and say something to you, but was interrupted by members of the court starting to swarm and try to steal her attention. Thank god, you thought to yourself, dashing away before court members could swarm you, too.

A hand suddenly fell on your shoulder as your eyes searched the room for your lady’s maid, and you cursed in your head, turning to see which Lord or Lady (or worse, daughter or son) had gotten their claws into you. You would’ve breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that it was one of your own siblings if it wasn’t George.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you’d just seen a ghost, little sister,” he teased, that shit-eating grin of his spreading across his face. You just rolled your eyes and turned to face him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, George,” you lied, brushing his hand off your shoulder and crossing your arms. He laughed.

“Oh sure. She’s the one you always attended lessons with, right? Yeah, she was fun,” he replied casually.

“If by fun you mean insufferable, then sure,” you retorted. “Please, you only liked her because she supported your shenanigans.”

He lifted his hands humorously. “Hey, you got me there. It’s nice to feel appreciated once in a while.” You sighed and started visually searching the room again, hangover still leaving you in a mood not quite fit for George’s lovely personality.

“I’m sure it is. But you’re a big boy, so if you could entertain yourself so I can get away from this lovely conversation, that would be great,” you finally huffed and quickly strode away, back on the hunt for Nina. Finding her meant finding breakfast and a nice rant session. And, you thought as your head throbbed again, a lot of water.

“There you are!” A familiar voice squealed as you moved about the cavernous room. You instantly smiled.

“Oh, Nora, thank goodness,” you squealed back as your eyes landed on your friend approaching just from your left. The two of you met with joining hands, squeezing comfortably.

“Are you alright? You looked entirely shocked to see Knight Anderson up there,” Nora inquired, her brows furrowing in concern. You sighed for what felt like the millionth time on this already exhausting day.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t really expect to see her, that’s all,” you replied, trying your best to brush off the way your heart pounded in your chest. You really wished it would stop that. Nora suppressed a knowing smile.

“She’s certainly changed a lot, hasn’t she,” Nora noted with waggling eyebrows.

“Nora,” you gasped, fighting the urge to smile with her. “You know good and well my opinion of her, so you can stop that now!” Though it felt genuine to you, your retort was unconvincing, and Nora simply rolled her eyes.

“Are you seriously still hung up on that? It’s been what, 8 years?”

“9,” you interrupted. “It’s been 9.” Nora rolled her eyes again.

“Close enough. If you want to hold a grudge, that’s fine by me, but I am going to enjoy this while I can,” she teased, sauntering away as you gasped again and feigned reaching out to hit her playfully as she walked away.

Finally, you spotted Nina waiting patiently for you near the edge of the room and let out a breath of relief. You approached her quickly, and her face lit up as you neared, feeling much less awkward when she was with you rather than being alone as a lady’s maid without her princess. You easily hooked your elbow with hers as you took a spot next to her, desperate to seem too occupied to socialize with anyone else.

“Can we please get out of here?” You begged through the clenched teeth of your plastered smile, nodding gracefully to people who passed you like nothing was wrong. Nina almost giggled.

“Yes of course, princess,” she replied, the two of you stepping forward and turning to the door.

“Why does everyone keep giggling at me?” You questioned, again through clenched teeth.

“Excuse me for my bluntness, but your reaction to Knight Anderson was quite entertaining,” she replied, still suppressing giggles.

“My reaction? What reaction?! I was under the impression my face was quite neutral, thank you!” You replied in a way that was almost offended.

“You just seemed quite surprised to see her, is all,” Nina explained gently. “I highly doubt someone who doesn’t know you well would have noticed, princess,” she reassured as the pair of you finally approached the large doors that would lead you out of this blasted throne room.

“It’s not my fault no one told me she of all people would be my new knight! You would be caught off-guard too if you were me!” You retorted, trying to keep your voice to a whisper despite your urge to raise it.

“All I’m saying, princess, is that-” Nina’s reply was cut off by a voice ringing out over the chatter of the crowd to you.

–

In terms of the aftermath of the ceremony for Abby, it was certainly a wave of attention — attention she didn’t want even one bit, especially when the only person she really wanted to talk to was you. Judging by your reaction, you certainly hadn’t been expecting to see her. Hell, she hadn’t been expecting to see you either until maybe 10 days ago. But it seemed like no one had bothered to inform you that she would be your new knight.

“Knight Anderson?” a voice asked, bringing Abby out of her thoughts and back to the many people surrounding her in the throne room.

“Hmm?” She replied, clearly having zoned out and not heard whatever the woman had said. She was quite a sight to take in, with gaudy clothing and a tight, pointed face. The woman smiled, but it looked more like a sneer.

“Oh, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Lady Ulfrid, I’m new here as well. I was just wondering, Queen Arabella spoke quite highly of your accomplishments, and it must be so for you to be a personal knight for her youngest daughter. What might these so-called accomplishments be, I might ask?” Lady Ulfried sneer-smiled again, and this time, Abby couldn’t help but feel like Abby saw the expressions just as they were. She was questioning her.

Raising an eyebrow, Abby let a smirk dance on the corners of her mouth and adjusted her stance. “Well, I was top of my class in training, but that’s not the answer you’re looking for, is it? So what would you like to hear about? The battles I led in our recent land conflicts with Chryiont? Or the ones I led 2 years ago in Dungard? Or was it my successful takedown of the great Pirate Duke? You’ll need to be more specific, my lady,” Abby replied with a knowing smile, satisfied by the woman’s widening eyes.

“Oh, well, I- I just meant, um-, well,” Lady Ulfrid floundered, and it satisfied something a little sadistic within Abby. She was tired of being questioned because of her age, much less her gender, and it felt nice to make people who questioned her then question themselves instead.

“Don’t worry,” she replied, cutting off the woman and leaning down to her height. “I think I know exactly what you mean.” She smirked, and stood back to full height as Lady Ulfrid’s face reddened and she sped away from the knight, muttering something incoherent under her breath.

Turning to scan the rest of the room with her hands clasped behind her back, Abby suddenly realized that talking to Lady Ulfrid had made her lose sight of you. Last she saw, you were talking with one of your court friends — Nora, was it? — and now you had completely disappeared. Something about this felt oddly familiar. Right as she thought she caught a flash of your dress — god, that dress made you look something unearthly — another person tapped on her arm, and she nearly groaned before turning and seeing who it was.

“Long time no see, huh Anderson?” George asked with a sheepish grin, pulling her in for a one-handed hug. Abby grinned back and returned the hug gladly.

“Too long,” she replied easily. “But you know, I don’t think I can condone your shenanigans now,” she continued teasingly. George laughed with a wide, open mouth, patting Abby on the arm.

“Yeah, well, I’ll just have to figure out a way around you,” he replied jokingly.

Abby chuckled and shook her head. Suddenly remembering that she had been looking for you, she snapped to attention, scanning the room quickly. Finally, she spotted you nearing the exit with your lady’s maid, and she patted George on the arm as a farewell before starting after you.

“Princess!” She called, nearly jogging across the room and swiping between different huddles of people. “Princess!”

—

Your smile dropped when you heard Abby calling after you. Shit. While you stood there trying to accept that Abby Anderson would be constantly on your heel from now on, Abby caught up, slowing to stop and face you. You looked at her, expecting her to say something, but she just stared back.

And you both kept staring.

Looking at her felt like seeing a dear old friend and someone entirely foreign to you all at the same time. Like two winds hitting you from opposite directions, pushing the breath out of your lungs and filling them back up all in one motion. She was so different but so familiar, it made you want to both run away and never leave her presence all at once. You didn’t even realize you were staring, studying her like art in a museum, until Nina loudly cleared her throat beside you.

Whoops.

You came to a start and also cleared your throat awkwardly, nodding to Abby as a delayed greeting as you shared an uncomfortable look with Nina. “Well, uh…I, we…it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” You remarked awkwardly. This was already going terribly.

“It has,” Abby confirmed with a nod. You pursed your lips.

“Well, uh, I suppose we should get going, shouldn’t we, princess?” Nina asked timidly, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, yes, of course,” you replied quickly, nodding and turning with Nina to return on course to your chambers.

You grimaced uncomfortably in Nina’s direction, and she returned the look apologetically. Abby looked like she had wanted to say something else, but instead bit her tongue and followed the two of you silently. The walk through the corridors was painfully quiet, you unconsciously straining to listen to the sound of Abby’s footsteps behind your own, hyper aware of her proximity to you. For someone who called her despicable the last time you had seen each other, you were certainly strangely invested in even the smallest movements of Abby Anderson.

Once you and Nina were safely inside your chambers, with Abby standing in place just outside your door, you flopped into a chair, rubbing your forehead. “This day has got to be some twisted sort of dream,” you moaned, slipping off your shoes one at a time. Nina simply suppressed a giggle and shushed you.

“These walls are not as thick as you wish them to be,” she reminded you in a hushed voice, perching in a chair adjacent to yours while she awaited your breakfast request. You pouted and sighed.

“I truly don’t understand why nobody told me she would be my new knight! I mean, she disappeared the day after we had our millionth argument 9 years ago, and now, out of the blue, she’s going to be right behind me 24/7? Guarding me? Protecting me like someone’s out for my blood? It’s just…fucking insane!” You whisper-yell, frustration bubbling over now that it was just you and Nina. Well, and Abby, waiting just outside the door.

Nina sighed, knowing that she should try to make you feel better, even though she couldn’t help but agree with how you felt. “The queen does what she does for a reason, I’m sure. With you being young and the whispers I hear from the other servants, I’m not surprised she wants a trusted eye on you,” she replies in a quiet voice. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, nodding.

“I know, I know. It’s just frustrating that not a single soul ever bothers to tell me anything. I mean, I would have really liked a warning that the girl I basically grew up with was not only returning to the palace as a knight, but my personal knight, and, to make matters worse, she looks like—” you gesture wildly to the door, “—that! How am I supposed to deal with that!?” you exclaim, your whisper lifting a little. Nina starts giggling uncontrollably, and after a minute you join her, if only because of the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

“I think,” Nina says, taking a deep breath once her giggles finally subside, “that some breakfast and a lot of water might help make you feel better, hmm? Maybe a tonic from Dr. Anderson?” Nina offers kindly.

“Yes, please, you’re a saint, Nina,” you reply, rubbing your forehead again as the throbbing pushes forward. “But, no tonic, actually, please—I can’t handle being embarrassed by asking Abby’s father for a hangover cure the first day she returns, I think I might keel over from sheer embarrassment,” you finish with a groan. Nina chuckles and nods, standing from her perch.

“Whatever you say, princess,” she says with a pat on your shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.” With that, she pushes the door open and exits the room, mumbling an awkward greeting to Abby that makes you cringe from sheer discomfort.

Sighing, you look around at the chaos that is your room after this morning’s rushed preparation activities, and decide that the least you can do even with this raging hangover is make your bed. You stand determinedly and approach the bed, pulling back layer after layer neatly to then arrange each one on top of the last. It��s a bit awkward with the shuffling of your dramatic skirt around the edge of the opulent bed frame, but you manage to make it work.

You’re tucking in the last corner of your many blankets when an unfamiliar knock on the door catches you off guard, and you get stuck pulling your hand out from beneath the mattress. You pull harder and harder, gritting your teeth and kicking yourself mentally for the ridiculousness of it all. Stupid fucking mattress, you groan mentally as you pull, why is this thing so goddamn heavy!? With one exceptionally strong pull, your hand rips free from its feather-filled prison, only for the momentum to send you falling backwards into a heavy sofa behind you, the collision making a crashing sound that mixes oh so wonderfully with the surprised shriek that leaves your mouth. You catch yourself just barely on an arm of the sofa, but have no time to process what just happened when Abby comes barging into the room, eyes wide as she searches for you.

Just perfect.

You both stare at each other like deer in headlights when your eyes meet, unsure of what to do. It’s Abby who breaks the silence first.

“Are you alright, princess?” She asks in a concerned tone, walking over to you gingerly. Her large form seems almost unnatural in your space, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the proportions.

“Um, yes, I’m fine, I just…fell,” you explain awkwardly, cheeks going pink. You stand straight and pull your hand off the sofa arm, hissing quietly when the friction stings on your pointer finger. Looking down to inspect it, you notice a long splinter shoved inside of the skin and grimace.

“You just fell?” Abby asks quizzically, raising an eyebrow as she eyes the splinter.

“Well, I, um— I got my hand stuck, and when I pulled it out, I guess I pulled too hard and just…fell…” Your voice trails off as you look from her to the bed and back to your hand, touching the splinter gingerly and hissing again.

Abby nods, humming in understanding. “I see…do you need help, um, with that?” She asked, gesturing to the splinter.

“Oh no, I’ve—I’ve got it,” you reply casually, trying to hide the clenching of your jaw when you gently pull on the slice of wood. Abby opens her mouth to ask if she can help again, but you're already setting your jaw and pulling the splinter firmly, gasping at the more intense stinging when it slips out of your skin. A large bead of blood immediately forms on the spot, hinting to a stream, and your face pales at the sight as you bite your lip and look away, eyes searching for a handkerchief.

Your breath quickens in panic as you search, just the thought of the blood now seeping out of your finger making your breath quicken and your heartbeat skyrocket. A warm hand on yours and the feeling of a handkerchief being dabbed on your finger pulls you out of your growing panic, and you look to see Abby ever so gently holding your hand in one of your own while the other dabs the blood from your finger with a handkerchief.

“I remember one time when we were 9, you fell and scraped your knee on the stone while we were running in the garden, and you were very nearly screaming,” Abby said suddenly as she looked at your finger. “I guess I was right to assume that fear hadn’t changed much,” she continued, chuckling. A breathy chuckle left your mouth in return, gaze still focused on her hands touching your own.

“I never did have the stomach for it, did I?” You responded quietly, a gentle smile dancing on your lips. “I guess some things never change.”

“Yes,” Abby agreed, “some things never really change, do they?” She spoke in nearly a whisper, eyes finally glancing up to meet yours. Your breath caught in your throat, heartbeat slowing as you gazed into the stormy blue of her eyes.

“I guess not,” you whispered.

The sudden rapt knocking of Nina’s small fist and her pushing the door into your room ripped both of you out of the trance you had been in, you grabbing the handkerchief and holding it to your finger while Abby’s hands dropped yours and she stood at attention. Her mouth opened like she was about to announce her arrival before she spotted the two of you standing unusually close, and her movement stopped, brows immediately furrowing in confusion.

“I— We—“ you started.

“She fell!” Abby nearly shouted, her expression unsure. “She fell and I heard the commotion, so I came in, and she, um, got a splinter,” she finished, gesturing toward your hand. You raised your handkerchief covered finger as proof, and Nina nodded slowly. You weren’t quite sure why you felt like you had been caught doing something wrong, but it certainly did, and you certainly weren’t sure how to feel about it.

Abby cleared her throat, and nodded to the still open door. “Well, um, I should…yeah,” she stuttered, nodding a goodbye to both of you before returning to her post outside of the door that she closed behind herself.

As soon as the latch clicked, Nina’s eyes were on you like a hawk, and you were retreating back to where you had been sitting with your face in your hands. “Did I seriously just see that?” She asked incredulously, bringing a tray of food over with her and setting it on a small table. You nodded, face still in your hands, but you were quickly coaxed out by the smell of the food.

“I was just trying to make my stupid bed, and my stupid hand got stuck under the stupid mattress, and I fell pulling it out and got a splinter on my finger, and then it started bleeding when I pulled it out, and…yeah. That’s about it,” you poured the words out quickly, immediately feasting and downing large gulps of water when you finished. Nina simply nodded knowingly and watched, nibbling on a piece of toast as you ate.

“Y’know, that didn’t seem very despicable to me,” she remarked after a few minutes of comfortable silence, a mischievous grin growing on her face.

“Ughhhhh,” you groaned, turning an annoyed glance at her. “Are you going to keep being like this? It was just an awkward situation,” you complained, shoving another piece of fruit in your mouth. Nina laughed and nodded.

“I’m sorry, princess, but it’s been just too easy,” she retorted, still laughing. You rolled your eyes, but inside, your heart still skipped a beat every once in a while, thinking about her calloused, warm hands encapsulating yours, and her deep eyes gazing into yours like nothing else existed in the world.

You seriously needed to distract yourself if you were going to survive this.

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taglist: @paqerings @katniiss @dummysimp011 @chocbaleine

#white horse #knight!abby x princess!reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby is so calling you princess coded #knight x princess #wlw #abby x reader fic #abby anderson fic #abby x reader #matchamilkislover

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mieczyslawsravenclaw · 13 days

Text

Behavioral Tactics - Spencer Reid & Stiles Stilinski

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

•Pairing - Spencer Reid x Reader x Stiles Stilinski

•Rating - 18+, Minors DNI - Smut - NSFW!!!

•Summary/Prompt - Someoneʼs fantasies about having Spencer Reid & Stiles Stilinski at the same time (Why choose, right?) are about to come true, after a little bit of wine and a lot of flirting.

•Warnings/Content - piv unprotected (DONT DO THIS KIDS - AND WITH 2 DIFF DUDES JUST LET IT BE FANTASY AND BE HORNY IN YOUR BRAIN HOLES OKAY) ; A-Z all bases covered bc Iʼm one horny bish ; Reader- focused 3-some if that wasnʼt evident ; Spencer and Stiles are HOT SO JUST BE WARNED OKAY ; Mentions of alcohol, some lil bits of bondage and such thingies, SO MUCH PRAISE, petnames and such IʼM SORRY IʼM CHEESY OKAY

•Word Count - 3.5k

•Authorʼs Note(s) - Yaʼll this is just PURE self indulgence at this point, so if anyoneʼs also into it, cool cool cool - I pretty much imagine reader to be Stiles' age and they're in their mid-to-late 20's with Spence around 16 years their senior but you can imagine it however you want! // ALSO TYSM FOR ALL THE NOTES ON MY FIRST FEW WRITING BLURBS OMF YAʼLL MAKE MY DAY I SWEARRRRR

•Additional Tags - Switch!Reader but mostly Sub!Reader, Switch!Spencer, Dom!Stiles, Slightly Tipsy Wine Night Turns Into PURE FILTH, Consent AS ALWAYS Is Important, Brat!Reader fr fr, Boys Whimpering I JUST 🤌🏻

Spencer wasnʼt usually one to drink, but this was a special occasion, he says - the three of us werenʼt able to see one another often, and so a second half-empty wine glass was currently in his hand, in danger of being spilled as Stiles finishes his story and makes the older man laugh so hard his face goes red.

“You told him you would what?ˮ He crows, eyebrows raised.

“I said it once, Iʼm not saying it again.ˮ Stiles shakes his head, reaching for the wine bottle Iʼve currently got clutched to my side. “Hey, refill me, why donʼt you?ˮ

I shake my head; Iʼm feeling fuzzy and light, and enjoying the game of keep-away far too much at the moment to let it go. The idea of them having to wrestle it away from me gives me a funny feeling in my stomach, but I ignore it.

Or so Iʼd thought. Because the moment the idea crosses my mind, their eyes catch it. Micro-expressions. I knew the term well from many late-night conversations with my two close friends, as they were both FBI agents, one specifically focused on analyzing behavior. How had I expected to hide this from them? It was only a matter of time until-

“Sheʼs doing it again.ˮ

“Huh? Iʼm doing…what? Iʼm not doing anything.ˮ

“Dilated pupils,ˮ Spencer notes, as if heʼs diagnosing something clinical. “Reddened skin. Iʼd stand to wager…elevated heart rate, as well?ˮ

Getting up from their shared couch, Stiles reaches for the wine, but instead, his hand brushes my neck with a careful look in his eye. Iʼm fixated, unable to move or speak, or really even breathe, to think of it.

“Youʼre right on the money, Reid.ˮ He nods, his fingers at my pulse point. My skin is burning at the sudden intimacy.

“Whatʼre you guys going on about?ˮ

“Still playing innocent?ˮ Stiles chuckles, backing up. I let out a heavy breath, half- caught in my throat over a newly forming lump.

“I have no idea what…ˮ

“Weʼre talking about?ˮ Spencer finishes, licking his lips and leaning forward. “Oh, but I think you do. Donʼt you agree, Stiles?ˮ

Stiles nods, not even looking at him. Theyʼre both hyper-focused on me, and the attention feels both fantastic and utterly unbearable at the same time.

“Every time weʼve gotten together, the three of us,ˮ Stiles continues, reaching out a hand and beckoning me forward. They shuffle apart, making a space between the two where Iʼd fit…if I wanted. “Itʼs undeniable. The looks you give.ˮ

My heart is in my throat, eyeing the space that Spencerʼs now patting. I set the bottle aside, the game utterly forgotten.

“I-ˮ

“Did we misread?ˮ He raises an eyebrow, setting down his glass. “Iʼd thought for sure you were thinking of us all…together.ˮ

The sip of wine Iʼd been taking that turned more into a chug comes back up into my glass. I cough, pushing it away. Stiles takes it, making sure Iʼm alright before continuing Spencerʼs thought.

“Sweetheart, if weʼre making you uncomfortable-ˮ

“No, not at all.ˮ I blurt, looking back and forth between them. Spencer, with his hair slicked back and slightly disheveled, who Iʼve thought of time and time again but never had the courage to do anything about besides call out his name in my late nights alone with myself; Stiles, my best friend, my confidante…one of the most attractive men Iʼve ever known. The whirlwind of explicit mind pictures involving him goes back a long, long time. Yes, Iʼve thought about it. Dreamt of it. But for it to actually happen, to no longer just be a fantasy, was never something Iʼd anticipated.

“I told you,ˮ Spencer smirks, not at all cocky - just knowing he was right.

I flush. “You guys talk about me alot, huh?ˮ

"About us, sometimes.ˮ Stiles nods, still eyeing me and beckoning me to sit. “Look, really, if you arenʼt into the idea, Iʼll back off. Weʼll back off,ˮ He amends, a short glance to his side. “But honestly, itʼs been a long time coming, hasnʼt it? You and us.ˮ

His words are divine, luring me in. Iʼm taking his hand before my mind can catch up, and sitting in the space between them. The heat from their bodies is only a further spur into this dangerous new game weʼre playing, now.

“I think…youʼre okay with it, arenʼt you?ˮ Spencer murmurs, gentle but teasing. He brushes my hair from my neck, leaning closer.

“Youʼre drunk,ˮ I let out a nervous laugh, shivering at his touch. Stiles is mirroring him on my left, although heʼs a bit more brazen, closer to me, his lips at my ear.

“Not even close,ˮ He chuckles, breath tickling my skin. “A glass or two isnʼt nearly enough to get me drunk. How about you, Spence?ˮ

“Nope.ˮ

“Well, I-ˮ My eyes flutter shut when Stilesʼ kiss hits my neck, brain going fuzzy. Oh, my god, what?

“Are you?ˮ Spencer goads, his hand resting on my thigh. “Iʼve certainly seen you drunk off of at least twice what youʼve had tonight, and from that point of reference, Iʼm going to say youʼre more in the buzzed-to-tipsy range.ˮ

“Just say no, I mean it,ˮ Stiles pulls back, his voice a husky whisper. “Consentʼs more important, Iʼll just take care of business myself, if I gotta.ˮ

“Iʼm fairly sober,ˮ I admit, looking at him. Gods, I want to kiss him. I want to kiss them both. “And Iʼm okay with it if you are. If…you both are?ˮ

“Okay with it?ˮ Spencer laughs. I catch the edge of his grin out of the corner of my eye, unsure who to focus on.

“I want it.ˮ I swallow, ready and willing to admit to every brazen thought Iʼd ever had. The temptation is much too strong, the lull of their voices and hands and lips and eyes and… Oh, good heavens, here we fucking go.

“Thatʼs evident in your behavior,ˮ Spence teases, hand slowly inching up my leg. “Do you want to lead, or be lead?ˮ

Not one to wait on me to respond, Stiles is back at my neck, and Iʼm finding it hard to speak. Rather than attempt words at this point, I tug at Spencerʼs collar, eyes on his lips.

His gaze, heavy-lidded and lust blown, drinks in my desperation for but a moment, then heʼs kissing me - and what a feeling it is, to have their attention centered on me. All at once, distracting and overwhelming, yet I canʼt get enough. Spencer kisses like he needs air and Iʼm oxygen, devouring me to the point Iʼm almost being pushed into Stilesʼ lap.

“Hey, there,ˮ Sti chuckles, gripping me tighter the moment Spencer backs off. “My turn?ˮ

I nod, more nervous about this than even Spencer had made me. Something about Stiles has always just…gotten to me, that way. And now is certainly no exception, with him pulling me into his lap and pulling my face down to his own.

Kissing Stiles is much different than kissing Spencer; Where Spence is hungry, Stiles is almost animalistic, despite being entirely and simply human - he makes up for it in the passion he brings, deep and hot and breathy kisses that make my head spin.

“We should- uh, my room?ˮ I mumble against him, reaching for a hand from either one of them. They both take me up on it, and let me lead them up the stairs. I can feel their bemusement coming off of them in waves, sprinkled into the desire that has them so warm Iʼm already sweating in my minimal clothes.

Once the doorʼs shut behind us, and Iʼm sat on my bed, their gazes have mefeeling so indescribably small.

“So eager, sweet girl.ˮ Stiles cooes.

“Look at you, weʼve barely touched you and youʼre already squirming.ˮ Spencer smirks, slowly undoing his belt without breaking eye contact. “Think you can be patient for us?ˮ

My eyes flick between them, one locking the door while the other, taller one is approaching me; I instinctively reach for him, but Spence tuts, pushing me back.

“Guess not,ˮ He chuckles, motioning for me to move back towards the headboard. I have a sinking feeling I know exactly where heʼs going with this, and I whine in protest as Iʼm proved right - wrists pinned above my head, secured with the very belt that had just been around his hips.

“Youʼre gonna be trouble, arenʼt you?ˮ

“Of course she is,ˮ Stiles laughs, coming to sit on the bed with us. They both gaze at me, helpless as I am, with the utmost mix of adoration and desire. I had expected to feel enjoyment from this, but safety? Oh, itʼs the cherry on top of a very delicious cake.

“No, Iʼll be good - I swear."

“Of course you will, sweetheart.ˮ Spencer tips my chin up to him as he climbs on top of me. It kills me that I canʼt reach up and touch him, and with that little smirk spreading across his face, he knows. Between him leaning down to kiss me again, and the gentle but firm hands of Stiles snaking up my thighs, Iʼm breathless and pleading.

“Please, please, just-ˮ

Spencerʼs lips cut me off, and I let myself get lost in the haze of him for a moment, just a moment. My attention snaps back into focus when I feel my shorts being tugged down my thighs.

“You two…ʼtryna kill me.ˮ I moan, and I can feel Spencer smile against me.

“Actually, the likelihood of dying due to any type of sexual arousal or intercourse is fairly minimal, so youʼre likely in the clear.ˮ He quips.

“If I could roll my eyes-ˮ

“Oh, weʼll give you something to roll your eyes back for.ˮ Stilesʼ voice comes from right above my heat, and I shudder, bucking up to try to grasp any sort of friction.

“Calm down, pretty girl.ˮ Spencer chides, his hand gripping my jaw and bringing me deeper into the kiss. I sigh, giving in, and simply allow his kisses on my lips, my neck, and Stilesʼ slow and agonizing undressing of my lower half.

He lets out a low noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, once my panties are discarded. “Youʼre a fuckinʼ mess, princess. Is that all for us?ˮ

Itʼs all I can do to let out an approving whine, a not so subtle begging for something, anything to break this coil built up in my belly. My arms are starting to hurt from the amount of tugging Iʼve been doing to try to get free, but I can barely even feel it. I just need them, both of them, so badly.

“Cʼmere, get a look at her.ˮ Stiles pulls Spencer back, and he pouts a moment before focusing on me - well, the lower half of me.

“Fuck.ˮ Spencer groans, rubbing his chin with a slack-open mouth. “You werenʼt kidding. Pretty girl, youʼre wet.ˮ

“Are you gonna do anything about it?ˮ My tone is desperate, but entirely bratty. The looks I get from the pair of them tells me Iʼm gonna pay for that.

“We could just leave you there and take care of ourselves.ˮ Spencer snaps back, but I can see in his eyes thatʼs the last thing he wants. I donʼt have to be a profiler to know how badly he wants to be inside me right now.

“Or we could do it together,ˮ Stiles adds, watching my reaction. “Oh, you would like that a little too much, though, wouldnʼt you? Does that get you off, sweet girl?ˮ

I nod. “Okay, Iʼll behave, just please, touch me or something?ˮ

“Sheʼs so pretty when sheʼs desperate for us, isnʼt she?ˮ Stiles smirks, leaning over me tauntingly. One hand traces lightly over my thigh, ever so gently. Spencer sits right on the other side of me, his grasp a bit more firm, a lot closer to where Iwant them to be.

“Aw, I think she deserves at least a little something.ˮ Spencer cooes, bringing his free hand to his mouth. I watch in awe as he sticks his fingers in and brings them out with a pop, so sure of himself as he brings them to my folds. Gentle but swift, he inserts one, then two fingers, once he hears the noise of relief I let out.

“S-Spence-ˮ

“There you go, beautiful. Just needed someone to touch you, huh?ˮ

The long, practiced fingers of Spencer Reid send my mind into a tailspin; Unable to think of anything other than the sheer pleasure and joy of knowing this is actually happening, I canʼt bring myself to feel any sort of self-consciousness - I only know the sweet nothings they whisper, and once Iʼve hit my limit and cried out for Spencer, how they trade off and now itʼs Stilesʼ turn to learn my body.

Somehow, though his touch is different, itʼs equally as pleasant, from the tugs he makes against my sweet spot to the thumb rubbing circles against my throbbing clit. Only when Iʼve came for him, as well, does Spencer gently push him aside, positioning himself between my folds with a hungry groan.

Stiles climbs up to kiss me, and Spencerʼs kiss…is somewhere else entirely. Iʼm mewling against the lips that suck on mine, bucking up despite myself into Spencerʼs face. He takes it well, only gripping my thighs harder and pressing his tongue deeper into my core. I can feel myself leaking onto his chin, and like a man starved, he eats with a deepseated hunger and noises that make my stomach twist. Mumbles and groans of ‘you taste so goodʼ push me over the edge once, twice, I lose count.

When itʼs time for the expected switching, Iʼm aching to feel something more, and it seems Spencer can sense this; while he climbs up to kiss me, he also sets to releasing my binds.

“Wanna know a little secret of mine?ˮ He whispers, voice low in my ear. “Iʼd like to see you take a little bit of your control back…just a bit.ˮ

The release I give into Stilesʼ mouth as I kiss Spencer, now that Iʼm free to do whatever I please with my hands, is monumental. Iʼm tearing at Spenceʼs clothes, and he responds with pulling my shirt over my head, his mouth latching onto my breasts. I cry out, more than ready for everything this will give me. It doesnʼt take long for the three of us to get undressed, heat of the moment as it is.

“Please-please-ˮ

“Thereʼs no need to whine, love.ˮ Spencer murmurs, tracing down a pattern from my lips to my chest. “What do you need? Use your words.ˮ

“Someone needs to be inside me, and now.ˮ

This earns a chuckle from the both of them.

“Are we flipping a coin?ˮ Stiles quips, sidling up behind me as Spence rolls off to my front.

“Statistically speaking, it is the most-mmm-ˮ His voice lilts as I reach for him, eyes fluttering when I stroke. “Now thatʼs not…fair.ˮ

Stiles reaches over across my hip, circling my clit. “Behave, princess.ˮ

I rut back against him, earning a low moan.

“Someone. Either. Both?ˮ

“Now that sounds difficult to…position-ˮ Spence grunts.

Stiles takes the opportunity of my distraction to shift me a bit, pressing his tip to my folds. One rut forward and heʼs swiftly entered, making my hand and voice stutter against Spence. “Good girl,ˮ Stiles cooes, brushing my hair off of my neck and kissing at it as he works to find a pace inside me. “Good girl.ˮ

I whine - really, thereʼs no other word for it - and do my best to continue pleasuring Spencer, but the overstimulation of it all makes my brain go numb. Heʼs helpful, though, fucking up into my hand and echoing Stilesʼ praises with gentle and passionate kisses to my lips, my chest, my jaw. When Sti rolls me over, pulling out and climbing onto me before getting back to it, Spencer backs up and eyes us with utterly delicious lust, his hand pumping slow and hard against himself.

The noises filling my room are lewd, downright nasty, but the feelings are just so good, I canʼt bring myself to feel anything but disgusting pleasure from it all. Have we been here for hours now? Days? It feels like itʼs been forever and yet no time at all. The scratches Iʼve left down Stilesʼ back wonʼt be going anywhere for likely just as long. When the beautiful man wants to use my mouth, Iʼm ready and willing, and take his load without blinking. I doubt Iʼll ever get over the sight of him letting go and howling my name, either.

“There you go…did sʼgood for me.ˮ He praises, wiping the stray trail from my lips as he backs up, a sweet kiss to my cheek as well. “Spence?ˮ

“Only if sheʼs up for it,ˮ Spencer approaches slowly, eyeing me carefully. “How about it, pretty girl?ˮ

I nod fervently, and he likely would have laughed if he wasnʼt so overtaken. I reach out to pull him onto me, but he lifts me up and mumbles something about it ‘being my turn to be on topʼ. Hesitantly, I adjust myself until Iʼm hovering over him. Something about those eyes on me has my heart thudding so hard Iʼd almost think heʼd hear it; The noise that rips from me when I sit down onto him is almost criminal.

“Youʼre in control,ˮ He tells me, hands on my hips as but a guide to rock me back and forth. “Do what you will with me.ˮ

I set to making a pace with him, and to my enjoyment, Spencer is a whimperer when I do it just right. “You feel… fuck, you feel so good on me, baby. Better than I ever imagined, my mind canʼt even do you justice, and thatʼs… saying something, oh my god-ˮ

“Sweet talker,ˮ I coo, grinding against him just to get more of those wonderful whimpers. “Youʼre gonna make me… Spence-ˮ

“Please, cum all over me, youʼve earned it, havenʼt you? Been so fucking good for me.ˮ

“I-I need-ˮ The words wonʼt escape, so I simply show him, bringing his hands to my breasts and motioning, pull.

Heʼs a diligent submissive for the moment, doing as I ask. And the waves crash over me and out of me and onto him with such intensity I almost lose vision. More, I want more, and Iʼm begging for it so much that he canʼt say no, rubbing a pattern on my pounding clit until Iʼm seeing stars.

“Doing okay, baby?ˮ

“I could take you two…all night.ˮ I moan. The energy to do so may put me in a coma, but…

“I wanna cum in you,ˮ He grips my chin, forcing me to look straight into his eyes. “Can I? Is that okay?ˮ

"Yes, so very okay.ˮ

As Spencer chases his high, heʼs sloppier and thrusting up into me with the loudest noises of the night from him, and again I lose count of the edges he sends me over; A sweet melody, him calling out to me as he topples over his edge and comes down, both of us running down the space where we meet. I collapse onto his chest, and he strokes my hair, soft and sweet praises and kisses a stark contrast to the dirty things weʼd all done together tonight.

A strange noise rips from the edge of the bed, and we turn to look and see Stiles, completely passed out and snoring.

“Is he…?ˮ

“He is.ˮ

We laugh, careful not to wake the poor boy as Spencer gets to work cleaning me up. Once heʼs done so, I tug Stiles up into bed with us, relishing in them holding me on either side.

“Mmmm…sleepy.ˮ He groans, snuggling into me. “That was fuckinʼ something.ˮ

“Very much something.ˮ Spencer agrees, smirking on the other side of me.

“Something we should do again sometime?ˮ

“Yes!ˮ Stiles whines. “Just…lemme sleep more first, and Iʼm ready…tʼgo…ˮ

Spencer and I laugh again, and itʼs clearly a unanimous decision - this will happen again. And thank the gods, because I certainly havenʼt gotten enough of them just yet.

#stiles stilinski smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #stiles stilinski x reader

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skz317cb97 · 1 year

Text

Color Theory

Jeongin x Female reader

Word count: 7.2k

Synopsis: Your world is varying shades of grey until you meet your soulmate, Jeongin, who brightens up your life in more ways than one.

A/N: 18+ ONLY! This, I swear to God, went from I have no idea for this story to 7.2k words and I have NO idea how. I hope you enjoy though! If you do please reblog, like, comment, shoot me an ask. I love hearing from you all it makes my day! As always warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: 18+ONLY MDNI! Cursing/strong language, character death, unprotected piv sex (please use condoms), cum shot, cum eating (a teensy bit). I think that's everything but if I missed something let me know and I'll add it asap!

Your mom was teaching you your primary colors. You had learned your shapes and you were working on numbers and letters and now she was working on your colors, an important part of your mother’s world being an artist. Your mom didn’t get why you were having such a hard time getting them right when you had picked everything else up so easily. It was your dad that actually mentioned the possibility of you being color blind as he was passing through the living room where you and your mom were playing during a break from his writing.

She realized your dad might be right so she set up an optometrist appointment for you and had your eyes examined. When the doctor looked, he determined that you had monochromacy or in other words you were completely color blind. It was quite rare really, most people that were color blind had trouble seeing certain colors, but you saw none which was so rare it happened to one in thirty-thousand people worldwide. Being a girl made it even less likely as well since color blindness occurred more in men than women but you were the one in thirty thousand apparently. Your mom’s heart broke a little knowing you’d never get to know and love colors the way she did but she made sure that art was still a part of your life.

You were thankful for that because art ended up being your outlet, your escape, your fantasy world to get lost inside. Any form you could create in you would, drawing, pottery, pastels, but you especially loved painting. You used an array of colors but only ever saw varying shades of gray so you used a lot of texture in your art as well. You became quite well known among the avid art collectors in your city for your unique style and the lack of your ability to see colors. Your paintings were variations of colors chosen by someone with no idea what color was, with the textures it was art that came off the canvas. Your name finally got passed around enough that one of the more selective galleries asked you to do an exhibition. You were working on some canvases for that when your mom walked into your studio. She set down a tupperware bowl and made her way over to you. She wiped at paint on your face shaking her head.

“You wear as much as the canvas does sometimes.” You nodded knowingly.

“I know sometimes I get lost in it and the next thing I know I have spackle caked in my hair.” If anyone understood it was your mom. She looked at what you were working on.

“You’re using a lot of pinks and reds in this one.” You looked at it.

“Have I? I stopped looking at the names on the tubes.” Your mother nodded, examining the amazing work you’d done only knowing black and white and the grays in between.

“I think this one will be my favorite when it’s finished.” You smiled. She was so proud of you. Then she pointed at the food she brought, knowing if she didn’t, you wouldn’t stop and eat. She distracted you just long enough to get you to break away and feed yourself. About halfway through your food your mom got up, squeezed you and kissed the top of your head.

“I’m going to get home sweetie. I have to make sure your dad eats too.” She shook her head at the likenesses you shared with your father.

“Don’t stay up all night.” You nodded knowing damn well you probably would. You had paintings to get done.

“Okay mom I won’t.” Your mother looked at you knowing it was complete bullshit but smiled and headed out.

“I love you sweetie.” You waved as you headed back towards your canvas.

“I love you too mom.” You put your headphones on and got lost in your canvas again. When your dad walked up behind you he scared the absolute shit out of you. You looked at the time and were surprised at how late it was, you pulled your headphones off.

“Dad wha-” The look on his face told you something was horribly wrong.

“It’s mom...” He said and you started to shake your head no as tears came to your eyes.

“No.” He walked towards you trying to grab your hand and you backed away.

“It started to rain, and the car slid...” You kept shaking your head back and forth.

“She’s okay she’s just hurt. Right?” Tears streaked your dad’s face.

“Right?!” Your dad shook his head no.

“She... she didn’t make it sweetie.” You collapsed to your knees and your dad grabbed your shoulders making sure you didn’t hurt yourself falling. You looked up at the half eaten food on the table that she had brought you. If you weren’t so worried about the stupid exhibit, if you had just taken enough care to eat, if she didn’t think she had to bring you dinner, she’d still be alive. When you left your studio that day, you locked it and refused to step foot in it again.

Your dad made all the arrangements and somehow you made it through your mother’s wake and funeral. You moved in with your dad after your mom died and took care of him. Made sure he ate, lifted his head from his computer from time to time so his eyes didn’t burn out of his head. You had wanted to get rid of your studio. Just sell it and let whoever bought it toss the paintings, but your dad wouldn’t let you. He told you to hold onto it, just because you didn’t feel like you could now, didn’t mean you never would. He hoped one day you’d go back to your painting. Two years went by and as fast as your name had been passed around it disappeared from people's lips just as quickly. You were glad.

You were starting dinner and writing down a grocery list when the house phone rang. Your dad was elbow deep in his novel, he wouldn’t stop for a house fire, so you answered it.

“Hello?” You heard a man clear his throat on the other end of the line.

“Oh hi! Uh, My name is Yang Jeongin...”

“We don’t want to buy any but thanks.” You hung up and started to head back over to the food on the stove. You just stirred the sauce when the phone rang again. You sighed and walked over to answer it again. More irritated this time, you were going to burn your dinner.

“Hello?!” He cleared his throat again.

“Hi sorry, I’m not selling anything I’m trying to find an artist by the name of y/n?” You froze, speechless.

“Hello?” Click. You hung up again and walked over to the dinner. The phone rang again and you let it but it kept going and going. You stormed over.

“What do you want!” He was surprised at your outburst.

“I... I... uh are you Ms. Y/n?" His voice had gotten small and you started to feel bad for blowing up on him for no real reason. You sighed taking a deep breath.

“Yea. I’m y/n.” He suddenly got very excited on the phone.

“Oh! Okay um I'm so sorry to bother you but I am a HUGE fan of your art work and I was wondering if you’d be willing to do a commissioned piece for me?” You pinched the bridge of your nose trying to fight off the headache that was creeping up behind your eyes. You sighed.

“I don’t paint anymore.” He hummed.

“Oh...”

“Yea so goodb-”

“Why not?” You were starting to get angry again. You had listened to him and answered him, what more did he want?

“That’s really none of your business. Goodbye.” You hung up and finished dinner. You and your dad sat at the table together as you ate.

“Oh who called earlier.” You shook your head taking another bite.

“No one.” Your dad hummed looking at you.

“What?” He shrugged.

“No one called three times in a row.” You sighed frustrated by your dad’s persistence sometimes.

“Okay! It was some guy asking me to paint him something. I’m not going to.” Your dad nodded.

“Some guy? Did he say who he was?” You nodded and continued to try and focus on your meal and not the conversation you didn’t want to be having.

“Yang... Yang Jeon or something like that. It doesn’t matter, I don’t paint anymore.” Your dad dropped his fork.

“Yang Jeongin?” You shook your head.

“Yea that was it.” Your dad sat there speechless.

“What dad?” He finally snapped out of it.

“You’ve never heard of Yang Jeongin?” You shrugged.

“No?” To be fair when you painted you didn’t keep up with anything on tv or the news. Even now that you didn’t paint you still never really turned on the tv.

“His family is the Yang in the LeeYang corperation. You know that name.” Well yea everyone knew that name, even if you lived under a rock. There wasn’t a single household that didn’t have something made by the LeeYang corp.

“Jeongin is the grandson of the head of the company and his dad is on their board of directors. He was just named the city's most eligible bachelor; his family is old old money.” You shrugged, picking up your plate and walking it to the sink.

“Okay so what. I still don’t paint.” Your dad picked up his plate and took it over to the sink too.

“You could.” You started to fill the sink with water and soap. Your dad stopped you and made you look at him.

“It won’t start to heal until you do sweetie.” You stuck your hands down in the water and shook your head as you tried to will away the tears welling in your eyes.

“No dad.” He sighed, kissed the side of your head and went back to his computer to get back to writing while you cleaned up dinner dishes. That night you laid in bed restless, hoping the clicking of your dad’s computer keys would put you to sleep like they had so many times as a child but you couldn’t. At around two you hollered.

“Bed dad! Brains need sleep to write novels!” You heard him sigh heavily and get up. You weren’t sure when you had turned into the parent. He stopped at your door.

“Goodnight sweetie.” You nodded.

“Goodnight dad.” Thankfully, eventually, you did manage to fall asleep and get a few hours of rest. The next day while you were doing the grocery shopping your cell phone started going off. You grabbed it thinking it was probably your dad wanting some sugary snack. He needed to start eating better and if he asked you for cupcakes you were going to get him apples and bananas. It turned out it wasn’t your dad. It was an unknown number but local so you answered it.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/n? It’s Jeongin. PLEASE don’t hang up!” You sighed and pushed your cart down the aisle. Holding your phone with your shoulder as you continued to grab things.

“It’s really not a good time Mr. Yang.”

“I’m sorry I really don’t mean to be a pest. Please call me Jeongin.” You stopped and held onto the phone.

“What can I do for you Mr. Yang?” He let out a nervous laugh.

“Uh well I was hoping that maybe you might reconsider doing the commission? Money is no object...” You hummed.

“I’m aware of who you are and what you have Mr. Yang. I don’t really care. I’m also certain that I’ve told you three times now that I no longer paint.” You hung up on him again and went back to grocery shopping. Jeongin was frustrated. He was usually one to accept a no when that was the answer but he loved your work and he didn’t know why but he needed to get you to paint one for him.

He’d bought so many of your canvas’ from other collectors,for a good deal of money since you disappeared and were no longer painting. No one knew why just that you left the scene two years before, overnight. It had been difficult to dig up contact info on you and after going through all that Jeongin was hopeful that if he asked and said the right number that you’d paint for him. Apparently you didn’t give a shit about numbers which Jeongin found endearing as much as he did frustrating.

A couple days later you were reading a book in the living room when the house phone started to ring. You closed your book, got up and answered it.

“Hello?” Nothing silence.

“Hellooo?” You heard a breath.

“Fuck off perve-”

“Wait wait! It's... I’m not... It’s Jeongin.” You rolled your eyes and sighed irritated that this man was calling you again.

“What do you want Mr. Ya-”

“To apologize...” You stopped surprised to hear his answer.

“For what?” He was surprised to not hear a dial tone.

“For being pushy and not taking no for an answer the first time. If I offended you, I’m deeply sorry.” You felt a little bad. He hadn’t offended you he was just picking at a scab he had no idea about.

“It’s fine Jeongin...” He let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, thank you for taking my call. Have a good day Ms. y/n, goodbye...” You stopped him just before he hung up.

“WAIT!” He hummed acknowledging he was still there. You were already kicking yourself. You couldn’t believe you were about to say what you were going to say. Why were you going to say what you were about to?

“I’ll do the painting.”

“What?!” Jeongin couldn’t believe his ears.

“I’ll do the painting. Email me your specifications and-” He interrupted you.

“ANYTHING! Literally just do anything you want and tell me a price!”

“Okay okay Jeongin fine.” He wanted to ask a question but he didn’t want to push his luck either. He took a chance.

“Uh would I maybe be able to come by your studio sometime? Once you’ve started?” You hadn’t been to your studio in two years. Your dad stopped by to pick up mail every so often but you had no idea what kind of condition it was in.

“Maybe, let me get it started. Typically I don’t have spectators, especially not the customer.” He understood that and was thankful you were even considering it.

“Yes okay that’s fantastic! Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Okay Jeongin, I’ll be in touch soon.” You both said goodbye and when you turned to go back to your book your dad was standing there.

“Did I just hear you say you were going to do the painting?” You opened your mouth to complain about his eavesdropping but he quickly cut you off.

“You know what! Forget I said anything! I didn’t hear a thing!” He ran towards the kitchen for a drink and back to his computer before you could start in and you shook your head going back to your book. It was pointless trying to read anymore. All you could think of was a canvas and how you’d move the paint across it. You slammed your book closed, grabbed your car keys and headed towards the studio.

When you got there you stood at the door for a long time. The last time you’d been in there was the day your mom died. When you finally willed yourself to go in it was like stepping into a time capsule. All your paintings were exactly where you’d left them and the one you had been working on was still propped against your easel. You walked up to it and looked at it like your mother had, then picked it up and moved it against one of the walls. You grabbed a fresh canvas, put it on the easel and stared at it, looking for the picture inside it. You stared and stared but you couldn’t see it anymore. Something your mom had planted in you was what made you see it before but she was dead and so was the plant. A whole week you kept going back staring at the blank canvas finding nothing in it.

Week two you were standing in front of the blank canvas, your headphones on trying to find some kind of inspiration. You about jumped out of your skin when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You turned and there was a man in a button up shirt and suit jacket. He had fox like eyes that were narrow but some how still seemed kind. You both stood there stunned for a moment. You pulled your headphones down.

“Uh... can I help you?” You wanted to be mad that he’d intruded but he was so beautiful you couldn’t bring yourself to be. You were just curious who this man was standing in front of you staring at you. He shook his head as if he were getting the thoughts in order.

“OH! Uh, yea! I’m Jeongin, we spoke on the phone?” Oh. No wonder he was one of the most eligible bachelors in the city. He was a work of art himself. You still had no idea how he found your studio or what he was doing there.

“Oh Mr. Yang yes, um...” He smiled his eyes scrunching up.

“Please Jeongin is fine.” You nodded.

“Yes of course, Jeongin. How did you find me?”

“I hope it’s okay. I called you a few times and then your house, your father finally answered, he told me I could find you here.” Of course he did you thought to yourself.

“I don’t mean to be impatient I’m just excited to see any progress that you’ve made, no matter how little!” You turned and looked at the blank canvas behind you as he started looking around the room at your artwork.

“Which one is mine?” You pointed at the blank canvas and he looked surprised.

“Oh... I see. Um... well... what’s wrong?” He didn’t mean for the question to come out like it had but as soon as he asked it your face scrunched up angry.

“What do you mean what’s wrong?! It doesn’t just create itself! Why don’t you try to make art out of colors you can’t even see and see how quickly you get it done!” He put up his hands trying to calm you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to offend you I just meant like... is it why you stopped painting?” You tossed down your headphones angry.

“I’m pretty sure I said that was none of your business!” Jeongin was doing a terrible job at digging himself out of the hole he’d created.

“You’re right I’m sorry it is, I didn’t mean to pry I just, if I can help...” You walked over to the door and opened it.

“Right now you can help by leaving.” He bowed and walked towards the open door. He looked at you as he passed by.

“I’m sorry I intruded. I won’t bother you again, I’ll wait for your call.” He rushed out and down the stairs towards the exit of the building. You slammed your door shut and walked back over to the canvas picking up your headphones and staring at it angrily. You glanced over at the painting you’d worked on the night of your mom’s accident and then did a double take. You saw the shades of red your mom had mentioned when she had looked at it. How? You rubbed your eyes expecting everything to go back to normal but when you opened them you saw shades of blue in other paintings lying around along with the red.

They were all so bright it almost hurt to look at them and then slowly you saw yellow start to seep into your vision. First a pale yellow then a yellow as bright and vibrant as the reds and blues you could see now too. It wasn’t just the paint though everywhere throughout your studio reds, blues, and yellows popped. You rummaged through your paint tubes grabbing the colors and started smattering them across the canvas adding spackle and sand, cotton and ripped paper. When you stepped back you were covered in the vibrant colors and you had Jeongin’s painting started.

That night when you went home your dad was as happy as he could possibly be to see you walk in covered in paint. You didn’t mention the colors. What if you went to bed and woke up and they were gone? You decided if it didn’t go away you by the time you were done with the painting, you’d tell your dad. The next morning when you woke up you looked at your coveralls from the day before and there, smeared all over the front of it, was red, blue and yellow. You were ecstatic! You pulled on another pair of old bibs and ran to head to the studio. Your dad hollered on your way out the door.

“Hey! Breakfast! Most important meal!” You waved as you grabbed your keys.

“I’ll grab some on the way! See you for dinner dad!” He waved and smiled, grabbing his toast and coffee, heading back to his own work as the door slammed closed behind you. When you got to the studio you started staring at the canvas blankly again. When your cell phone rang it gave you an excuse to look at something else other than your half-finished painting. It was Jeongin. So much for not calling you. You felt kind of guilty for going off on him so badly the day before so you answered.

“Hello?” He always cleared his throat before speaking to you, like he was struggling to form his words.

“Hi y/n, it’s Jeongin... well yes... you know that. Uh... would you like to meet me for coffee tomorrow?” You were confused, did he have more questions? He probably wanted to fire you or...

“Like... a date?” You asked and he started to stammer. This man was the most eligible bachelor?

“Well... um... yes? If you want to! No pressure! I’ll still buy the painting either way!” You were a little flabbergasted.

“Uhhh... I... yea... I guess so.” He let out a huge breath.

“REALLY?!” You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his shock.

“Yes Jeongin. I will meet you tomorrow for a coffee date.” He laughed and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Great okay! Uh... eleven? The shop around the corner from your studio?”

“See you then.” You hung up and started staring at your canvas again frustrated. You made little to no progress the rest of the day and you went home discouraged after having such a burst of inspiration the day before. The next day you went to the studio early, trying and failing to make a little more progress. Before you left to head to the coffee shop you took a couple pictures of what you had done on your phone so you could show Jeongin. When you walked into the café Jeongin was already there waiting at a table. You walked over and he stood up smiling pulling a chair out for you. You bowed smiling.

“Thank you.” He nodded, his cheeks a little pink. The two of you ordered coffee and broke the tension with a little small talk. The conversation naturally evolved into likes and dislikes and you asked a lot of questions about Jeongin trying to keep the topic of conversation off of you. Before you knew it an hour had gone by.

“Oh, wow has it been that long?” Jeongin asked.

“Yea, I should probably head back to the studio and try to get some more done.” Jeongin’s eyes lit up.

“More?!” You had completely forgot to mention the painting.

“Oh yea, well... after you left the other day I made some progress and got it started, here I’ve got some pic-”

“Can I walk you to the studio and see?!” Jeongin’s eyes were scrunched up and his dimples were showing. You’d had a nice time; you didn’t see why not.

“Okay, but only for a minute, I need to work more.” Jeongin stood up excited. He grabbed your coffee ticket and his and started for the register.

“Oh you don’t-” He shook his head.

“Oh no... there’s no way in hell you’re paying for your coffee.” You chewed at your lip and smiled, looking down nodding. He was usually kind of shy around you, soft spoken, so to hear him say something so assertive... well it’s shouldn’t have done the things to your body that it had. Jeongin paid and the two of you walked towards your studio. When you got there Jeongin walked up to the partially finished canvas and looked at it. Something about the way he looked at it from different angles and so closely reminded you of how your mom used to look at your paintings and your heart squeezed inside your chest.

“It’s amazing the way you use colors like this while not being able to tell them apart. This is beautiful already. I don’t know why you would ever stop painting.” Your heart squeezed tighter in your chest and you looked over at the painting from the night of the crash. Jeongin kept looking at the textures and colors, the words that came out of his mouth next shocked not only you but him too.

“Was it your mom’s accident that made you stop, don’t you think she’d want you to continue?” He’d seen articles about the accident when he looked you up. Your jaw dropped as tears instantly welled in your eyes. Jeongin stopped looking at the painting and looked at you as he realized immediately he’d overstepped.

“What?” You heard him loud and clear you were just in disbelief.

“I...” You had snapped here and there at him but this was an all-out explosion.

“DON’T talk about my mother and DON’T assume to know me because you like my work Mr. Yang!” He shook his head.

“It’s not that! I...” You cut him off.

“Is the painting worth more to you knowing that my mom’s death was what made me quit!? That I couldn’t look at a paintbrush or canvas because all I saw was memories of my mother!? Do you need to know that to feel more connected to it!? My mother died because I was stubborn and she brought me food so I’d eat while I worked on my stupid paintings for a stupid exhibit that didn’t even matter! She crashed driving home after leaving here! I killed my mom! My selfish need to create at all costs killed my mom!” Jeongin shook his head as his eyes teared up.

“y/n... no...” You looked at him your cheeks and neck damp with your tears. You started pushing at him screaming.

“Get out! Get out! Just leave me the fuck alone! Leave me! ALONE!” You sank to the ground in front of your canvas just like you had the night your mother died. Tears were streaming down Jeongin’s face now too. He wanted to hold you. Tell you that you were wrong. That your mom dying was just an accident and it wasn’t your fault.

“Get out...” You sobbed, your words a whisper. Jeongin didn’t say anything else he turned and walked towards the door. Just before he shut it he spoke, his voice low.

“I’m sorry.” The door clicked closed and you laid on the floor crying until you fell asleep. You woke up to your cell phone ringing. You grabbed it and squinted looking at it. It was your dad. It was dark now, he was probably worried. You quickly answered.

“Uh... hello?” Your dad could tell he’d woken you up.

“Oh thank god! I was worried when you weren’t home for dinner.” You started apologizing for worrying your dad like that.

“I’m so sorry dad, I fell asleep and I guess I slept longer than I...” You turned on the studio lights and when you looked around you saw greens, and purples, orange. You stopped talking.

“y/n?” Your dad’s voice pulled you back to the conversation.

“Uh slept longer than I meant to. I’m sorry dad I’ll sleep here tonight and be home first thing in the morning.”

“Okay honey, text me when you leave and please be careful?” You hummed absent mindedly.

“Hmm I will dad. Love you.” You hung up and immediately started going through your painting tubes again, you grabbed greens, purples, blues, reds, you mixed new colors and threw paint on the canvas like it would put itself where it needed to go. A lot was still black and white but now there were so many colors! When you finished the painting, you stood back taking it in. It was the most beautiful piece of art you’d ever made. It was vibrant, colors and textures rising off the canvas but it also had a feeling underneath, a sadness, the loss was still there even though you’d gained so much color. You started to cry again, at the pain, at the beauty. When you finally pulled yourself together you pulled out your phone and texted Jeongin.

You: The painting is done. I’ll have it ready for pick up in two days.

Jeongin: I... what?

You: You still want it right?

Jeongin: YES! I DO!

You: Okay it’ll be ready Friday by five

Jeongin: I’ll see you Friday five o'clock sharp

You saw the chat bubbles appear and disappear over and over like he was writing and deleting something multiple times.

Jeongin: y/n?

You: Yes Jeongin, what...

He tried to write sorry a thousand different ways but no matter what he typed out it wasn’t right. Sorry over text for what he’d done wasn’t right.

Jeongin: Thank you

You: You’re welcome

Two days had come and gone and you could still see all the same colors. Inspiration was coming to you a bit more freely now that you’d completed Jeongin’s piece also. You still hadn’t told your dad that you were seeing colors, you still didn’t know what it meant or why it was happening so how were you supposed to explain it to him? You were working on something new when Jeongin knocked at your studio door. Right at five, just like he’d said. You opened the door and he stood there a moment just looking at you. He shook his head and snapped out of it.

“Uh hi! I might be a little early.” You opened the door more letting him in.

“No you’re fine, right on time. You walked over to the completed canvas leaned against the wall and Jeongin followed. When he looked at it his eyes welled up with tears instantly.

“It’s beautiful.” You bowed.

“Thank you.” You whispered. Jeongin turned facing you.

“y/n... I...” He was sorry. He wanted to say he was sorry but his words refused to come out once your eyes bore into his, big and glassy. He took a step towards you closing the space between you, his hand cupped your cheek and before you knew what was happening his soft lips were pressed against yours. Your eyes closed tightly as you kissed him back. He pulled away and you stood there, your fingers pressed to your lips, your eyes closed. When you finally opened them everything was in full color. Red and purple and every color in between. A tear slipped down your cheek and you suddenly realized it was Jeongin. The colors were appearing because of him. He swiped your tear away.

“Please... don’t cry...” You shook your head wiping your face.

“No Jeongin you don’t understand... I don’t know how or what is going on but... I can see colors!” His face scrunched in confusion.

“I thought you’re color blind.” You shook your head smiling ear to ear.

“I am! I was! I don’t know! Every time I’ve been near you more colors have slowly appeared and just now when you kissed me... I can see it all! I can see color!” You threw your arms around his neck and kissed him again. Jeongin wrapped his arms around you, tilted his head and deepened the kiss, taking your breath away.

“Will you go to dinner with me tonight?” Jeongin asked with his forehead resting against yours and you nodded.

“Yes, yes...” You kissed him again and then looked down at your paint splattered overalls.

“Uh... let me run home to get cleaned up and changed?” Jeongin shook his head smiling so big his eyes almost disappeared entirely.

“Text me your address when you’re almost ready and I’ll pick you up.” You were grinning like a fool, you kissed him again three pecks and started backing up towards the door.

“Lock up for me please!” He nodded and you dashed out the door to go get ready as quickly as possible. When you ran into the house you almost ran your dad over.

“Woah woah there speed racer where’s the fire?” You were an idiot. Only just then did you think to tell your dad, everything happened so fast.

“Dad!” He smiled happy to see you so excited about something.

“I can see colors!” He stood up straight and looked at you crazy.

“What?” He asked like he knew you were pulling his leg.

“Dad I swear to god, every time I've seen Jeongin, after I would start seeing certain colors, then he kissed me today and it’s not black and white anymore dad I can actually see colors!” You thought your dad’s reaction would be excitement, hugging you, maybe crying. His face scrunched up.

“He kissed you?” What a dad thing to do, miss the whole point and zero in on that part.

“Yes dad he kissed me.” You rolled your eyes. If at all possible your dad started dadding even more.

“Well I haven’t even met this boy and he’s kissing you?” You shook your head laughing.

“Dad! I told you I can see colors and you’re worried about a boy kissing me?” He shrugged, pouting a little.

“I’m happy but I just would like to know this young man’s intentions.” You hugged your dad.

“Well you’ll get to meet him tonight, he’s picking me up for dinner in a bit.” You started running up the stairs towards your room.

“I have to get ready!” Your door slammed shut behind you and your dad finally let the smile creep onto his face that he’d been holding back. It sounded to him like you’d found your soulmate. It was instant like that for him and your mom too. One touch and they knew. Your dad still missed her every single day, he always would.

Surprisingly you were able to get dressed quickly and you cleaned up nice. A nice black little dress, your hair pulled up and actually paint and spackle free, a little bit of eyeliner and mascara. You noticed a pretty red lipstick that popped out at you and chose that for a final touch. When you walked down your dad was sitting in the living room with Jeongin who looked as nervous as the first time he’d talked to you.

“Dad?” He smiled innocently.

“Yes pumpkin?” You pinched his arm.

“Stop scaring him.” Your dad feigned pain and laughed. He leaned down and kissed your cheek.

“Have fun sweetie.” You smiled and motioned to Jeongin for you to leave. He stood up quickly and walked over by you, his hand resting at the small of your back instinctively.

“It was very nice meeting you sir. I promise I’ll keep her safe.” Your dad could feel it when he’d met Jeongin too, whatever pull there was between you was strong. Your dad knew Jeongin meant it from the bottom of his heart when he said he’d keep you safe.

“I know you will.” Your dad smiled and headed up to his study to put his nose to his screen, he had a novel to finish. Jeongin was an absolute gentleman the whole night, opening your car door, helping you in and out, helping with your chair. You had gotten cold on the small walk you took and Jeongin put his jacket over your shoulders. You burrowed in and it smelled like his cologne and something that was just him, you couldn’t place it but it made you feel warm all over and your body erupted in goosebumps. Jeongin had been holding your hand and noticed.

“You’re cold, let’s get back to the car.” You nodded and he led you back up the walkway towards his car. He opened the door again and helped you in before closing it behind you. He ran around and got in shutting his door then looking and smiling at you. You wrapped your arms around Jeongin’s shoulders and kissed him deeply. Your lips parted, tongue teasing. He held your face as you made out in the car for a while. When you pulled away you gripped at the collar of his shirt, panting and biting your lips.

“This is where I’d invite you to spend the night but I live with my dad.” You huffed out a breathless laugh and Jeongin’s heart raced faster, spend the night?!

“Uh... I live alone, you could come back to mine...” You smiled and kissed him again.

“I’d love to.” You sat down in your seat and buckled your belt. Jeongin’s smile was so big his dimples looked like they never ended. He started the car and headed towards his apartment. If you could call the penthouse of a building his grandpa owns an apartment. When you were with Jeongin you never thought about the fact that he was a Yang and came from money. He was just Jeongin to you, shy, sweet. The apartment reminded you quickly.

“Holy shit! You live here alone?!” He walked towards you and pulled you close.

“Not forever hopefully.” He said cocking an eyebrow at you and you laughed. You started to laugh but then Jeongin’s lips were on your skin moving down your neck and your laughs turned into breathy pants. He claimed your lips again and you started to unbutton his shirt before running your hands up his firm chest and pushing it off his shoulders to the ground. You started to kiss across his shoulder, gently grazing your teeth against his skin and he shuddered. You pulled away and turned, your back facing Jeongin now.

“Will you unzip me?” He walked up behind you, his face buried in your neck as his hands worked your zipper down. Your dress fell off you and when you turned around you were completely naked and Jeongin’s brain checked out.

“Fuck you’re a work of art!” You wrapped your arms around his strong shoulders and kissed him.

“Take me to bed Jeongin, please.” His lips couldn’t be bothered to leave yours as he led you to his bedroom. You worked at his belt pulling it open and off before tossing it and starting on his button and fly. When his pants were loose, they fell and he stepped out of them as he continued leading you towards his big soft bed. When the back of your legs touched the bed you crawled back on to it. Jeongin confidently dropped his boxers and rightfully so. He was not... lacking. He crawled on top of you hooking his arm under your knee and pulling it up, spreading your legs open for him. Before he pushed into you he looked into your eyes. He looked like he was watching the film of your future in them.

“I think you’re my soulmate.” When he said it is when it clicked. Of course. You nodded, your eyes tearing up. When he sank into you, you moaned closing your eyes, a tear slipping down. Jeongin let go of your leg and wrapped it around his waist as he pulled out and pushed into you deep again. He leaned over kissing the skin your tear had rolled down. You opened your eyes and were in awe at the sight of him above you. His dark hair, narrow eyes, his strong chiseled frame held up over you so he didn’t crush you under him. You pulled him closer wrapping your arms and legs around him, wanting him to crush you.

“Faster please...” You whispered and Jeongin’s body moved faster on top of yours. You could feel the pressure building already. You gripped his hair and kissed him as your bodies moved together his cock constantly moving against that place inside you that made your toes numb.

“God yes! Right there!” He fucked you harder and you could feel your climax making the hundred-yard dash towards the finish line.

“I... I... I’m g-gonna cum! FUCK! Don't stop!” Jeongin’s lips overtook your moans as he rolled his hips into you. You didn’t know how he kept doing it but every time you were with Jeongin he showed you new colors. The colors exploding behind your eyes as you came were moving and alive. Jeongin didn’t slow down. No, he sat up as your hands still gripped and clung to his shoulders and fucked you faster with the intention of reaching his own climax and prolonging yours.

“Yesyesyesyes oh it feels so good Jeongin! Mmmm...” a few beads of sweat dripped down the hard lines of his torso as he felt his orgasm approaching.

“Oh go-fuck! I’m gonna cum jagiya!” You moaned and nodded unable to form words anymore. Jeongin pulled out and came on your tummy and pussy. He stroked his cock as he coated you in his cum. He trembled as he worked every drop out onto you. He sat back on his legs, his head towards the ceiling, his eyes closed as he caught his breath and came down. You laid there a million bumble bees buzzing inside you. You ran two fingers through his cum and sucked on them. He looked down at you sweaty and laughing from the euphoria. Once Jeongin was able to function again he ran and got a washcloth to clean you up with. When you were all clean he crawled back into bed and pulled you close, your head resting on his chest, listening to his slow steady heartbeat.

Later, after some digging, you found out you were in fact soulmates. Jeongin never knew why he was so driven to collect your art but it had felt like each piece he got was a piece of you, he felt closer to you with each one. Then he finally searched for you to ask you to paint something and well the rest played out. Jeongin took all the artwork he purchased and opened a gallery for you. You continued painting and even finished painting what you’d been working on the night of your mom’s accident. It was put up in the gallery as a memorial to her. Your dad finished his novel, you found the love of your life and your love for painting again. Your life was no longer a theory of color, it was a spectrum, a prism. It was all the colors your mother had dreamed for you and more.

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

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#stray kids smut #skz smut #yang jeongin smut #jeongin smut #skz317cb97 #cal 🖤#skz317cb97 soulmate au series

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yccoffeesimp · 2 months

Text

𝑊𝒉𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑂𝑘𝑖𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑒| ??? 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

TW: G0r3 & C@nn¡B@lism at the very end.

You stayed up the entire weekend writing the short story. You didn't want to think too hard about what to write, so you went with the easiest option. Fantasy/ adventure. It was already time for the next club meeting when you finished.

You wanted to show the others but to whom? Choose-

-Blade

-Dan Heng

→ Jing Yuan

-Gepard

->'Best to show Jing Yuan first, after all, he is the president and the one who gave us the assignment.'

You thought. You then slowly began to walk to him with the two flat papers in hand. "Lovely to see you again, Y/n."The ivory white-haired man said, smiling at you.

→ "Nice to see you as well Jing Yuan."

"Oh before I forget, I'd just like to say. If you have any suggestions for anything regarding the club such as activities or problems, don't be afraid to inform me." He said, crossing his arms, his cat-like smile still present on his features.

→ "I'll keep that in mind but I'm going to go with the flow as I get settled in."

"We all need time to earn our footing." He slightly laughed.→

"Say you wanna read the short story I wrote?"

You ask, handing him the papers as he nods. It didn't take long for him to finish reading the two papers of the short story. When he gave the papers back, he had a light smile.

"Excellent work, Y/n, I underestimated your writing capabilities. Say Dan Heng enjoys this type of writing style, the fantasy and the way with words is extremely moving and it paints a picture in your head as if you were in it yourself." He closed his eyes as he spoke, nodding ever so slightly.

→ "You lost me."

"My apologies, I didn't mean to wander. But regardless, it's very well written, and I enjoyed reading it. It captivates the reader and that's what is most important in any form of literature."

→ "Yeah I guess so."

"Since I've read yours, would you like to read mine as well?" He offered.

→ "Sure."

"Sorry if it isn't any good, I'm not as creative as most are." He smiled awkwardly, unfolding his arms across his chest as they landed at his sides again. Reaching for the paper that he had written on, which laid on the desk beside him, before handing it to you.

You took the soft, thin paper examining the words written on it.The story was about a group that called themselves Space Rangers and one of their amazing adventures. The story was rather vivid and from what you could tell no spelling or grammar mistakes. This is to be expected from Jing Yuan after all he is the valedictorian student.

You set the paper down as you looked at Jing Yuan."Is it bad?"He then asked.

→ "Are you kidding me? This is amazing!"

You exclaimed, this caused him to smile."I'm glad you think so, I feel as if I could use more practice on wording it better and try not to go into details a lot. Just proves I have a lot more to learn."

→ "We all could. Well, I'm going to go see what the others wrote. See ya around Jing Yuan."

"If you want to chat more, I'll be here." He smiled before you walked away.

Who's next?

→Dan Heng

-Blade

-Gepard

→ "Maybe I should go see Dan Heng next. He probably has some constructive criticism for my writing. I mean he's writing his own novel so.."

You thought, before walking up to him. He was sitting near the back of the classroom, hunched over that notebook that was said to contain that novel of his. Dan Heng didn't notice you until he looked to see you approaching him.

→ "Hey Dan Heng."

"Greetings {name}, is something the matter?" He asks, setting his pencil down for a brief moment.

→ "I was wondering if you wanted to read the short story we were assigned to read."

You said, you felt your voice slowly become high pitched as to not knowing how to talk to the guy. All you knew was that he was Dan Feng's, the future owner of Vidyadhara Industries, twin brother. He paused for a moment, thinking about your words."I'd be happy to." That was all he said.

You handed your paper to him, his attention immediately went to the paper in his hands. It only took a minute before the paper was handed back to you.

→ "So how was it?"

"It was well written, I must say. The movement with the words... It's unique, it makes you feel as if you're truly there." His words carried honesty and truth, you somehow couldn't help but be flattered.

→ "Thanks."

You plainly said. "I take it that you want to read what I've written for the assignment?" He spoke. You nod as he takes a slip of folded paper out of the notebook he was previously writing in. He passed it onto you, your hands unfolding it. You lightly scanned the paper, his handwriting was neat.. Words were in clear and constructed sentences. It was a small script of the romance genre.

→ "Wow, it's really good. You wrote this by yourself?"

Dan Heng nodded. "Just a small script, a friend of mine says I need to try to write new different genres.Some authors get boresome if they write the same genre over and over.. Or at least that's what they said."

→ "I kinda agree, sometimes the plot just repeats itself a lot."

"Speaking of such.. Any suggestions?"

→ "Huh-For what?"

"For my writing attempt at romance."

→ "Oh- Well I'm not an expert. It's good by my standards. I frankly enjoyed it."

You handed the paper back to him, it was folded neatly as it was before. Dan Heng took the folded material before staring at it for a short while. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." He spoke, putting the piece of paper back into the notebook. He then opened to a page and began writing, ignoring your existence once more.

Choose-

→ Blade

-Gepard

Might as well see what Blade wrote. Maybe you could learn more about him. All you knew was that he was one of the troublemakers of the school. Easily had fights and many were sent to the nurse's office on several occasions because of him. You remember having him in your biology class once, he didn't show up except for when it was final exam season.He sat at the back next to one of the windows. His arms crossed along his chest, with his hair covering a majority of his face.

As you walked up to him, you got a closer look. He seemed to be holding a small piece of paper. You didn't realize you were staring at him before he spoke. "Is there a problem.?" He asked, his voice was laced with irritation and annoyance at your actions.

→ "Uh- Not really.. I wanted to ask if you wanted to uh- read the short story thing we were to write..."

He scoffed. "You do realize there are others here who can read the damn story, right.?"

→ "Yeah well I want you to read it."

"Hard pass. Now if you'd excuse me, I'd like to be alone."

→ "Well can I still read yours in the meantime?"

Blade didn't reply but he did look at you for a short while. He groaned, handing you the small piece of paper."If it only means you'll leave me be, take it."

♡- You received Blade's short story!

→ "Don't you want it back?"

"No." His answer was blunt and he looked not in a good mood to continue chatting... Best to leave him be and move to the next person.

But first do you want to read the short story now or later?

Choose-

-Now

→ Later

→ ' I'll read it when I get home from the meeting. I still have to read Gepard's.'

Gepard was near the podium of the classroom, he seemed to be writing something down before his eyes caught you walking towards him."Oh- Hey {name}, is there something you need?" He asked, trying to cover up the paper he was writing on.

→ "Yeah, just wondering if you wanted to read my assignment and to check up on ya."

"Oh- Well, I'm doing fine at the moment. Also, I'd be glad to read it. I heard from Jing Yuan that it was really good." The blonde smiled. You hand him the piece of paper. He gently took it in his hands before reading it. Now that you looked closer at him. He almost looked tired yet he always slept in. The eye bags he had were barely noticeable but they were still there. Your train of thought was interrupted by Gepard handing the piece of paper back. "Like I said, it's amazing."

→"H-huh?"

Did Gepard say something when you were spacing out? "{Name}? Are you alright?"

→ "I'm fine, Gepard... Just thinking and thank you for thinking it was amazing."

You smiled. A small smile followed from Gepard when you did.

→ "Can I read yours now?"

Gepard froze, looking away from you for a moment. "The thing is...-"

→ "You forgot to write one."

Gepard nodded. That was probably why when you left Jing Yuan, Gepard went up to him. Probably to inform him that he forgot to write a short story. "I haven't had time to, you know how much of a handful five-year-olds are..."

→ "Lynx really is giving you and Serval a rough time then if you didn't have enough time to write a story."

He nodded.

→ "Ah, I see. Anyways, what were you writing earlier?"

Your gaze falls on to the piece of paper on the podium. Gepard followed your gaze to the paper. "The short story.."

→ "Speed writing?"

"I have it already written but I haven't proofread it yet."

→ "I can do it for you."

Gepard smiled at you. "I don't want to bother you with it {name}, I can proofread it-"

→ "I insist. It's the least I can do for you."

Gepard thought for a moment before sighing. He gave you the now slightly wrinkled paper for you to read.Some sentences didn't make sense but then again it wasn't proofread. The short story was a historical fiction of the history of Gepard's hometown. The scenery of Belobog was different from the scenery of the Honkai Star City. Snow-covered meadows, a chilling breeze... It was a winter wonderland from what Gepard described it to be as back then before the Eternal Freeze. You took a pencil and helped Gepard rewrite some sentences.

As you helped him though, you couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes watching you as you did so. You looked up from the paper the paper briefly and saw no one was looking and the feeling vanished. But when you looked back at the paper, the feeling returned. You pushed the feeling away as you tried to focus on the story.

"Thank you,{name}, for the help," Gepard said once the proofreading was done.

→ "No need to thank me, just doing my duty as your friend."

"Still... It means a lot." He shortly smiled. He opened his mouth to say something else before a loud crash sounded. Your attention snapped to a broken teapot on the floor at the back of the classroom. Boiling water poured from the now shattered object. Dan Heng and Blade stood in front of it, a shocked expression on Dan Heng's face and a rather annoyed expression on Blade's. "Crap.." Dan Heng mumbled as he went to grab the broom from the closet at the back.

Blade simply stared at the mess before completely walking over it. "Well, that's the first.." Gepard mumbled.

→ "First of what?"

Gepard looked at you before looking back at Blade and Dan Heng. "Normally when they even interact with each other, there's always an argument that follows before Jing Yuan breaks it up. But strangely they haven't been arguing.."

→ "They argue a lot?"

The blonde nodded. "We don't know why but they really hate each other. We never really questioned it either." He shrugged as Dan Heng came back to clean the broken ceramic.

→ "Imma go help Dan Heng real quick."

You grabbed some stray papers from your bag before walking to Dan Heng to pick up the spilled water. The floor was dried and the teapot was thrown away. "Thank you for helping, {name}."

→ "It's no problem. Just helping a fellow club member."

Dan Heng gave a short nod, but you could've sworn he smiled too.

-×-

Jing Yuan clapped his hands together. "I'm happy to say this concludes our second meeting with our new member." He started, his cat-like smile on his features. "After sharing our short stories, how does everyone feel?" He turned to look at Gepard first.

"It was nice," Gepard answered.

Then he looked at Dan Heng.

"It was quite helpful." He replied.

Then at Blade.

"It was... eventful." He scoffed.

And then lastly at you.

→"It was interesting."

Jing Yuan nodded, his arms crossing in front of his chest. "I'm glad to hear we all have at least positive outlooks on today's activity. Perhaps we can do the same tomorrow but as for now, the club meeting is over." And with that, you began to walk home. The sun was already setting with the moon peeking its head out ready to take its shift in the sky.

-♡Blade's Short Story: ......The blood sprayed over the walls. Agonizing screams echoed throughout the halls, a blade dragging across the skin of the captive. A maniacal laugh follows, their eyes looking longing at the beating heart in their hand. Blood oozing from the organ as its former owner's limbs became limp. "Finally mine... all, all mine..."

A voice said. They tilled the organ upside down over their mouth. The blood poured from the heart's atriums into their mouths."Not enough, not enough.." They gasped before throwing the dead heart away. Now ripping at the throat and torso of the dead body. "I can't- Need more.." They gasped one more time before all humanity in them was lost...

~Fin~

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