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comfortless · 5 months

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Outside they say you’re alright (chapter 1 of ?)

🌱 PAIRING: König x fem!reader 🌾 CONTENT: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. fae au. blanket warning for death, violence, very light horror elements <— comes with the territory; all of this being said it’s still cozy and sweet here!!, not even remotely canon compliant, slow burn, eventual smut. chapter specific warnings: animal death (bird), implied ghoap, minor character death (but not really, hold tight!), non-consensual cuddling. 🍃 NOTES: this is my first time writing in a long stretch, but after finishing Meeting the Other Crowd i had to write this lest i wound up chewing thru my own fist. later chapters may have additional warnings added. not proofread. wc: 7.9k

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The season of turning leaves, of the harvest moon, of a waning veil; it feels as though the entire world calls for change. Packing to move feels less arduous when the very earth is moving along with you, shifting her shape to bring in the autumn, the winter. Autumn feels less intense in the city. Concrete and vehicles don’t naturally shed their skins, hibernate, bed down and cozy up by a warm hearth. There’s a significant lack of trees and wildlife, all uprooted and shed away to make room for more human comforts. It’s never felt like home to you.

It’s almost funny how in your desperation to be untethered from an unwelcoming, pristine and metallic skyline, you’ve managed to neatly pack away your entire life into a mere two bags. Everything that wasn’t utterly necessary or sentimental donated or tossed into the garbage behind your former apartment. You know it’s a silly thing to believe a new roof over your head in an unfamiliar town a few hours venture away will change your entire life, but just as the leaves turn you feel it’s your moment to follow suit.

Kate hadn’t made you pay anything in advance. No deposits, no frivolous faxing of paperwork, Kate had requested nothing but email correspondence, and perhaps that should have set off some instinctual alarm bell in your head. Yet, you had been in contact with this woman for weeks, and you hadn’t picked up on anything odd in the eloquent responses Kate had given. The woman answered all of your questions with ease, and even had the decency to ask if there was anything she could do to make the move more bearable.

You found Kate’s listing on craigslist of all places— a humble little ad showing off a barren room in a small cottage located in the middle of nowhere, some mountainside town down south that you had never heard the name of prior. It was impulse that led you to reach out, typing out a sloppily worded email in the midst of another sleepless night expressing your interest in the room and a few words about yourself. Kate didn’t waste any time with her response, declaring that she felt you would fit in well in the home and things progressed naturally. You had decided that you liked Kate already.

But nothing could have prepared you for actually meeting Kate Laswell.

As you park your little, beaten down sedan in the forested driveway, you takes a moment to calm your nerves. A six hour drive has left you feeling as though you’re in an entirely different world— around the midway point in your journey was the last time you had actually seen a town. There’s a sense of apprehension building, and yet it does little to fully snuff out the excitement.

The cottage laid out before you is off-white in color with a grayish-brown roof, blanketed by tendrils of hedera helix curling up each corner of the home and meeting in a cluster on the roof. The fence surrounding the property, wooden and worn seemed more decorative than any protection against anything getting in or out. ‘Quaint’ was the only word that seemed to come to mind as you step out of the vehicle and move to the trunk to collect your meager belongings.

And as the trunk of the vehicle slams shut, you’re met with the sight of a gentle-looking woman sprinting toward you from the cottage, a bright, welcoming smile on her face and an oversized yellow cardigan draped ‘round her shoulders. “So glad you made it,” Kate greets warmly. “Need help with your bags?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Didn’t bring much.” You reply, and for the first time in months, you feel your heart begin to settle in your chest. This was good. The stress of the city seemed to retract its claws from your shoulders the moment you take a good look at Kate and the cottage behind her. The woman is older, soft lines visible on her face. She was fragile looking like a twittering little bird, but there was something in her eyes that suggested she was much more than her stature. Maybe not a robin at all, but a red-tailed hawk instead. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and the clothing she wore looked comfortable, a loose fitting white blouse, jeans, and the cardigan you wonder if she may have even knitted herself.

“Well, come in then. We’ll get you settled and have tea, or whiskey if you would prefer it.” Kate says with a wink, taking you by the hand and pulling you up the gravel-laden trail towards the door. Sparrows are nesting in the trees above, clover, sourgrass and wildflowers springing up in a viridian and brown blanket beneath your feet, and the dirt feels far more forgiving against the soles of your boots than the pavement of the city ever did. This already feels like home. “Just tea would be fine.”

Kate shows you around the cottage with pride, and you find that it’s entirely deserved. The home is immaculately tidy, albeit a tad cluttered. The woman had all sorts of strange baubles and crafts lining walls and shelves, books of all nature (even an extensive romance section you had found yourself drawn to, Kate had laughed at the sight of your eyes lingering on the spines as you read the suggestive titles), her furniture was all clean and patterned. Your room nearly brings you to tears. It was still rather empty, just as the pictures in the listing had suggested, with only a bed, dresser and vanity furnishing it. However, in the windowsill sits a blue planter with your name delicately painted on the front of it.

“A lily,” Kate informs you, smiling soft as you gaze down at the little green bulb in the pot. You ghost your fingertips over the rim of it as you tilt your head to look back at Kate, both confusion and gratefulness painting your expression. Kate’s smile doesn’t waver as she steps to your side and gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze. Her kindness has already made you trusting, and it seems with every action she takes you feel more at peace, as though Kate were merely an estranged aunt rather than a complete stranger. “I thought a lily might suit you. It might still be early enough for her to bloom.” You whisper a thanks, returning her smile with one of your own. The thoughtfulness of such a simple gesture warms your heart in a way that you hadn’t felt in some time. You make a mental note to read up on plant care to ensure Kate’s gift doesn’t go neglected.

She waits to lead you into the kitchen and dining area until after you had put away your things and have properly seen your room. The rooms are just as well cared for as the rest of the cottage, every item in its proper place, the sink cleared and a knitted doily placed in the center of the range. The table is what catches your eye most of all though— a fat loaf of fresh baked bread placed carefully on a platter next to small serving dishes filled with honey and jam, a tea kettle and two floral painted mugs set neatly just beside the display. It looks more like a painting than any meal you’ve seen before, far too accustomed to quick snacks and dull fast food bags. In the city, working so much just to ensure that you still had your apartment to come back to, the time it would take to prepare something even as simple as this was never something you could expend.

“This looks… it’s lovely, Miss Laswell,” You breathe out shyly, taking a seat at the table, your fingers flexing slightly. This kind of welcoming felt so foreign, not that you minded it. Not at all.

“Please just call me Kate.” She says with a laugh, pouring out a generous mug of tea for you and sliding it across the table as she takes place on the opposite end. Her smile is infectious, warming your heart and causing the corners of your mouth to tug upward, too.

“Kate.” You say aloud, committing it to memory. You wanted to be respectful. This was her home, you were just a temporary guest after all. You accept the mug of tea with a thankful nod of acknowledgement before taking a small sip. Warm. Everything about Kate’s home and her demeanor is so warm. Even in the midst of autumn, there’s no chill here, only tenderness and warmth as though some invisible hearth roars in the corner of every room. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.”

Kate hesitates for a moment, and had you blinked you would have missed the way her thin shoulders seemed to tense and the lines at the corners of her mouth visibly tightened. She parts her lips to speak, eying you carefully before… she merely reaches across the table to slice you off a plump helping of the bread, scooting the bowls of jam and honey in your direction.

You wonder if somehow your words had offended her, and you wished you could retract them, snatch the fluttering of your voice from thin air, but as quickly as that thought comes, Kate sighs.

“Well, I haven’t been entirely upfront with you, dear,” Kate begins in a soft voice, tilting her head as she sips her own tea. Your eyes widen in surprise at her words, uncertain as to what weight they carry. Your thoughts immediately veer in the worst direction— perhaps she wasn’t offering the room as long as the listing stated, and you had no where else to go. Perhaps someone else lived here too, someone dangerous.

“What do you mean?”

“The neighbors come around sometimes.” She says, and it almost pulls a giggle from you. Neighbors? You hadn’t seen any other homes on the way up here, and having lived in an apartment complex you were used to all manner of folks, from the loud, the strange, the elderly and standoffish. You give her a little shrug in response, unsure of what to say to such a silly thing.

“You’ve just got to understand how to deal with them if you see them,” Kate continues, her mouth pressed to a thin line as she regards you. There’s that sharp look in her eye that suggests she really isn’t kidding around, that there may even be a threat if you didn’t hold what she says next with the highest regard. You feel a swell of unease, but give the woman your rapt attention, not even bothering with the bread on your plate despite the way your stomach grumbles, quiet but demanding. “Don’t eat their food, never give them your name. Don’t thank them either, even if you break your ankle on a hike and one stops to help. No thanking them.”

You laugh. This had to be some silly joke, harmless hazing for the new roomie. Your mirthful giggles die in your throat when you meet Kate’s gaze again and her expression is entirely grave— gone was the soft smile and the twinkle in her eyes, and you’re quickly reminded as to why you thought of a hawk when you first saw that look in her eye.

“Kate… I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

She toys with the handle of her mug for a moment, watching as if to ensure your amusement has entirely died out before she graces you with another word. “Dear, I know I sound like I have bats in the belfry, but I need you to listen to me.” A heavy sigh leaves her lips after her words and her brow pinches as if she’s trying to consider the best possible way to explain this farfetched idea of her neighbors to you in a way that’s easy enough to digest without giving too much away. “Perhaps meeting one of them would be the best way to show you.” She mumbles as she sets her mug aside and stands from her chair. You remain dumbstruck in your seat, watching as she pulls her yellow cardigan tighter around herself before fumbling around in the kitchen to retrieve a small woven basket. Kate places two thick slices of bread inside and the little dish of honey too as you watch on.

“Sure.” You say with a quizzical tilt of your head. You didn’t want to insult your new roommate further, and she seemed deadly serious about this strange concept. Maybe it was best to appease her, and meeting other folks that lived out here didn’t seem like too arduous a task. Kate flashes you that smile again as you agree and offers the basket out to you. Your fingers curl around the stiff handle as you stand and bring it closer to your person.

“There’s a little walking trail out back that leads straight up the hill to the cemetery. Ghost should be there.”

“Ghost?” A ghost in the cemetery. How fitting.

Kate breathes a laugh and shakes her head. You’re pleased to see the tension has left her, she seemed at ease and just as sweet as she had when she rushed to greet you earlier. “Not really a ghost,” she explains with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’ll see. He’s a bit… prickly at times, but he’s harmless enough. Just take him the bread and you’ll see.” Harmless, you want to tell her, is what most people should be expected to be without graceful description. ‘Are the others harmful, then?’, your mind supplies, as if trying to make you feel closer to a side character in some low budget horror film. Something was certainly off here, but you don’t find yourself questioning it further.

Kate leads you to the back door, unlatching a chain lock before unlocking the deadbolt and pushing the door open. The hinges whine as she directs you toward the trail with a pointed finger. And, with an encouraging pat on the shoulder, she pushes you out of the door. You can hear the tinkling of the chain and the thump of the deadbolt as she locks it behind her. You don’t know whether to side more with the anxiety building in your chest or the frustration burning at your stomach after finding yourself in this situation. So maybe Kate did have ‘bats in the belfry’ as she had called it. What woman would have invited a complete stranger to come live with her in the middle of no where, after all. But this was only your first day here, and you knew you had to make the most of it. Where else could you possibly go?

At least she was nice. The tea had been perfect, too. With a sigh, you decide to overlook her eccentricities for now as you start walking towards the trail. Your pace is brisk, orange and red fallen leaves crunching with each step as you meander up the thin, forested trail. The chill of an autumn breeze pushes through the trees with ease, shaking a flurry of dead leaves from dark branches to whirl around you, one landing gently on the shoulder of your coat. You pluck it off, twirling the stem between the fingers of your free hand as you walk.

The cemetery comes into view about half an hour later. The peaks of moss covered tombstones rise up over the hill, and you’re surprised to find that the old graveyard isn’t entirely overgrown. Some thorn bushes border the backside of the small clearing, trees towering so high to either side it almost roofs the area in entirely apart from a center circle where sunlight beams in. It’s quiet apart from the splintering of leaves beneath your soles and it dawns on you that you haven’t heard a sound not pulled from your own being since you started your short journey here.

You look around for this supposed ‘Ghost’ for a few moments, scanning both behind and above the tombstones. There’s nothing and no one to be seen, just a heavy silence and carpeting moss over stone that hasn’t been touched in what looked like centuries. You didn’t want to return too soon for fear of Kate not taking too kindly to it, you couldn’t run the risk of being cast out, even if the thought of her doing such a thing already felt uncharacteristic and outlandish.

So, you kneel in front of a larger headstone, fishing out a slice of bread from the basket and smoothing honey over it with the butter knife Kate had placed inside. The engraving was entirely illegible, worn away by the elements, and with so much moss encompassing it you doubt you could have read it anyway even if it hadn’t been so neglected. The bread, still warm and soft is nibbled at as you inspect some of the other graves, all in the same state of disrepair. A part of you wishes you had plucked some wildflowers on the walk, perhaps you could have given some restless spirit the satisfaction of not being forgotten.

A clipped ‘woof’ pries you from your thoughts, a deep and breathy sound that sends a chill down each bony knob of your spine as you whip around to face whatever had made the noise. You’re met with the view of a massive dog standing a mere three meters away. The animal’s fur was a coarse, wiry black, it’s eyes just as dark. It regards you with its ears flattened back against its skull, dark lips pulled back in a snarl, though it doesn’t growl. In fact, the creatures tail betrays this display of intimidation as it wags lazily behind it.

You break a corner of the bread off and extend your hand out to the dog, cooing softly to it and encouraging it to approach. The dog huffs, ears flicking forward. It watches you for several long moments before stiffly walking towards you, accepting the bread into its large mouth and swallowing it down without so much as a courtesy chew. Up close, you can’t discern what breed of dog this is at all. His ears were long and floppy, descending down past his maw, his hair looked stiff and rough almost like a wolfhound’s but it was much shaggier, longer.

“Good boy.” You chirp, reaching up to lightly ghost your fingers over the crown of the dog’s skull. The dog recoils with another huff, and for a moment you almost think you see his eyes narrow as if he were glaring at you— a silent ‘do not touch’. Your hand retreats and you mutter an apology out to the creature. The dog doesn’t move, standing still as a statue as it watches you fiddle with the handle of the basket and rise to your feet.

So, no Ghost, but you did meet a dog. That would have to do for now. You were exhausted from the drive, and more than anything you wanted to be in the warmth of a building, away from the volatile breeze and the eerie silence of the graveyard.

“Wait.” A voice rasps as you turn back to the trail. Everywhere and no where at once it comes and the feeling that arrives with it, so peaceful yet uncanny. Just like before, you don’t hear the dog approach, but you feel the cold of a wet nose press against your palm. His mouth opens, grazing your fingertips with his teeth as you whip your head around to look down at the creature, eyes wide and brows raised in shock. What?

You wrench your hand away from the dog, uncertainty sending a violent shiver down your spine. Surely the animal couldn’t’ve …

“F’me, wasn’t it?”

It’s not your mind playing tricks from the emptiness of the graveyard.

The dog spoke, rough and deep and accented.

The creature’s tail wags languidly behind him as he stares up at you expectantly, big paws placed firmly in a moss bed below with long, black claws curved into it.

“P-pardon?” You manage to breathe out, voice tight as your chest rises and falls rapidly with shallow, panicked breaths. This was impossible, you knew it. As a child you had spent countless hours trying to get your childhood pet to utter a single ‘I love you’ to no avail, and yet this dog before you seemed to find human speech as simple as inhaling or flicking his ears. The dog huffs, his dark eyes rolling, and you realize the animal does not simply speak, it finds you amusing too.

He noses at the basket, sniffling deeply at the food within before peering up at you in silent demand. You part your lips in a small ‘o’, lowering the basket to the mossy floor. The dog doesn’t spare you another glance as his tongue lolls out to lap at the dish of honey and draw the bread between rows of hungry teeth. He eats quickly and with all the grace of any normal canine, crumbs dotting the fur surrounding his mouth as he raises his head to regard you.

“You just… you spoke to me?” You question, your knees wobbling in surprise. Perhaps if he didn’t have the look of a cute dog, you would have been more fearful. “You talk?”

The dog tilts his head before sniffing at your boot for a moment only to raise his head back as he settles onto his haunches. The animals ears perk up, still flopping at the ends, almost covering his dark eyes.

“You smell like Kate.” He speaks, but his mouth doesn’t move. In fact, his entire body remains rigid and still, a graveyard statue blessed with the breath of life.

Something clicks as his words register. This isn’t just some extraordinary talking dog, this was the Ghost Kate had mentioned. Your eyes finally relax, there’s no more look of surprise, there’s no more unease. Having a talking dog for a neighbor seemed so much better than dealing with Mr. Thomson, stumbling back into the apartment complex after a long night drinking, singing his curses to the city, to the world itself.

Ghost was just fine.

Emboldened by this sudden realization, you reach out to the dog again. “Ghost,” you say with a hint of a smile. “You’re awful cute, aren’t you?” A giggle escapes you as you see he’s not moving away this time, but diligently sniffing at your hand. The dog pauses after a moment, flashing a hint of teeth at you. It’s not aggressive, you realize. Perhaps, he’s not the best with people.

“An’ you’re awful chummy, girl.” The dog snorts, turning his head away indignantly. So this one had a bit of an attitude, you let it roll off the shoulder. Surely he would warm up, talking or not, most stray dogs had a tendency to. You retract your hand and collect the empty basket and the dog gives you a slight nod in approval.

“I’ll walk ya back.”

— — —

The walk back to Kate’s cottage felt longer than the hike up to the graveyard. Ghost didn’t seem very keen on talking to you, despite his offer to escort you home. He padded in front of you with hurried steps, only circling back to nip at your heels every now and then if he felt you were trailing too far behind him. You didn’t yet know that there were other eyes in the forest observing the two of you. Each time a branch snapped behind or to either side of you, or when footsteps or laughter could be heard some distance away, Ghost would dart behind you to mouth at the leather of your boot with a low growl to keep you from looking at anything apart from the roof of the cottage as you approached.

After the third bite, with the cottage in full view you finally stop in your tracks, reaching down to ruffle his ears. “Why do you keep doing that?” You ask, an air of annoyance to your tone as you note the indents of fangs in your boots— the only pair of shoes you had even brought with you, already covered in drool and bite marks by some magical dog you hardly knew.

Ghost snorts, dark eyes locked on your face as he circles back around you. “You’ve got lead in your head or your shoes girl, which is it?”

You puff your cheeks in a slight pout, half a mind to knock his fuzzy head with the basket in your hands. “Neither,” you mutter, carrying on towards the cottage. “Stop biting me.”

Ghost shakes his shaggy head, opting to press his mouth to your hand in a silent order to get you moving again. You oblige, leaving the dog behind as you make it to the back door of the small house. You knock once, and already hear the sounds of the locks unlatching just beyond the wooden door. The door swings open, and Kate stands there in silence. face paled.

Ghost lets out a low bark somewhere behind you as you wave him off. Kate smiles broadly at the dog before turning to look at you just as he scampers back up the trail, no doubt back to the graveyard he had appeared in.

“I apologize, dear,” she breathes out, ushering you back inside. She looks incredibly apologetic as she takes your shoulders and turns you around to face her. Her tone remains a cross between stern and reassuring, and you feel a swell of guilt, almost like you should be comforting her rather than the opposite.

You explain to her that Ghost didn’t frighten you, and she settles immediately, a sigh of relief leaving her lips. You return the basket to its proper place, stored on a shelf high up in the pantry as you tell Kate about your interaction with the strange, talking graveyard dog.

“Sounds like he likes you.” Kate responds followed with a soft laugh. You notice she’s cleared the table of breakfast, only neatly crocheted doilies in place of where the two of you had sat earlier that morning. “He wouldn’t speak to me the first day we met.”

You shake your head in protest, gesturing towards the marks from his teeth in your boot. “He bit me!” You whine, earning another laugh from Kate. You crouch down to untie your boots, pulling them off of your feet, the woman kneels next to you and pries the boots from your hands with gentle, aged hands. She runs her thumb over the indentations with a hum.

“I should be able to fix them.”

“Really?”

Kate nods, standing to her feet and offering you her free hand. You take it, straightening yourself out. The room smells of lemongrass and lavender, the flickering glow of a large candle placed neatly on a side table housing a few choice pieces of fine china.

You watch as Kate takes your boots to her room, no doubt where whatever supplies she deemed useful enough to fix them lay in wait. She returns roughly a half hour later with them graciously repaired, and you’re uncertain of how she’s managed such a feat to the extent she has— no more indentations, no scuffs on the leather. They look new, something you haven’t seen since the day you purchased them.

You thank her graciously with a little bow of your head and you and Kate fall into a comfortable conversation. She tells you that there are many others like Ghost, that some of them look human but aren’t, that some are no more than groaning shadows or looming abysses of fur and sharp claws. Kate diligently reiterates her rules from earlier, and though you weren’t quite sure you believed her entirely about the dangers of these ‘neighbors’, you nod along enthusiastically.

“So, if Ghost is just a dog, why doesn’t he live here? With you? Winter gets cold in places like this,” you breathe out, seated on the opposite end of the floral patterned loveseat next to Kate.

“Oh? He didn’t show you then.” Kate laughs. She’s brewed another kettle of tea and she dispenses the amber fluid between two mugs. “I suppose he didn’t want to frighten you off, but he’s no dog.”

Your eyes widen, and you’re uncertain as to why Kate’s words fill you with dread, a cold spike through the chest that sends a shiver down each ridge of your spine. Ghost hadn’t hurt you, of course. He didn’t even seem to be entertaining any idea other than eating and walking you home. Maybe a bit pushy, but otherwise a proper gentle…dog. Your head tilts, wordlessly asking Kate to fully explain what Ghost may have been hiding.

“He’s a big guy,” is all she says as she takes a long sip from her tea. You open your mouth to speak again, but all of a sudden the scent of tobacco fills your lungs, swirls around the entire room as though it was emanating from the walls itself. You stifle a cough with your palm pressed flat against your lips and Kate laughs. Yet, as you glance about the den, you see no one else. Paranoia? But Kate seemed to have smelled it too. “Not me, dear.” She says quietly.

“… what are they?” You question, voice wavering. The scent of tobacco seems to grow stronger then dissipate after a few moments only to return.

“The good folk,” comes Kate’s immediate reply as she stands, clapping her palms against her thighs with an exasperated sigh. She tilts her head to look down at you with a small smile. “This one’s nice enough, too. Don’t worry.” Despite the waves of scent that drift in and out of the room, nothing else seems to appear. With everything that’s happened today, a part of you expects to meet with a sentient cigarette at Kate’s words, but… nothing.

— — —

As the days pass, you and Kate fall into a sort of routine. The woman will tell you the most unbelievable things with a smile on her face, and you find almost too quickly that everything she says is true. This place feels holy in a sense. It’s no church, but things of myth seem to embedded themselves into the walls, singing like a choir in the dead of night. You swear you hear Kate talking to someone some nights, a man’s voice booming through the cottage. They share laughs and the scent of a cigar ebbs and flows, but every time you’ve tried to steal a peek at this visitor, he seems to vanish the moment you step out of your room. Maybe you would think him rude if you knew for certain he existed at all.

Your mind tends to play tricks after the stress of leaving behind everything you knew, uprooting your entire life to come here. On the second day, you lose your car keys. You had placed them on your nightstand and you knew it, but the following morning they were no where to be found. On the third night, you wake up on your side in bed, the sound of someone breathing deeply behind you sending a swell of dread from the base of your neck down to the heels of your feet. Sleep paralysis, you tell yourself, but you knew you had pulled the blanket a bit tighter around yourself when it happened, stealthily tried to move your foot to see if you could feel anyone. You could move, it had been real.

It’s on the fourth day that your heart sinks in your chest. You wake to morning light flooding through the curtains, the chirping of birds in the willow just outside of your window. As you sit yourself up and wipe at your eyes with the meat of your palms, you realize the potted lily Kate had gifted to you is gone. Plants don’t just get up and walk, using their leaves to tug up their pots as if it were trousers as they saunter away on thin, wiry root legs. You feel like your sanity is slipping when you check the window and realize it’s still locked. Even though the lily was just a plant, you feel a sense of grief at the fact you couldn’t find it anywhere— not beneath the bed, in any drawer, the closet or… anywhere in the cottage.

You finally give in and decide to ask Kate, to which she explains that this event isn’t uncommon. You expected her to be upset (with what you believed to be your own irresponsibility), but she remains kind as always, tells you it will turn back up when you least expect it and ushers you to the kitchen to prepare breakfast with you, coffee, omelettes and bowls filled with blackberries.

“You could try asking Ghost,” Kate offers, “He seems fond of you, perhaps he took it.”

You bite back the urge to ask her how a dog could have possibly broken into your room and stolen a potted plant. The very image of it seemed silly, a beast like him biting down on the clay pot to, what? Haul it off to rest it atop some long-forgotten soul’s grave? Instead, you toy with the eggs on your plate, still feeling a bit strange about the entire ordeal.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Don’t be afraid,” the woman speaks up again. The expression on her face, oddly sheepish, doesn’t suit her well. A silent ‘don’t leave’ buried beneath her words, written clear as day in the sullen look in her eyes.

The trek to the graveyard feels heavier this time around. The dog isn’t what has your skin crawling, it’s the ever-present feeling that something just beyond your field of view is lying in wait, eyes trained solely on your form. You swear you can feel a puff of breath on the back of your neck a time or two, almost causing you to trip over a cluster of fallen pine cones and other forest debris. It’s silent, as always, and as much as your eyes scan through fallen leaves and bent branches, you can’t make out the sight of anything scampering about, not so much as a squirrel or a proud cardinal. It’s strange how empty a place teeming with life can feel at times when something lurks coaxing the other creatures to silence lest they fall victim to sharp fangs. Even you, you find, have taken to subconsciously adjusting your strides as to not step on too many fallen leaves, avoiding twigs as though making a peep at all would be a death sentence.

Making your way to the hill littered in graves only makes it feel more certain, that steady drip of dread telling you that death was nipping at your heels. Though, a part of you considers that’s just Ghost’s presence. Black shulk, a keeper of fairy mounds, a harbinger of death.

You’re not met with the presence of a wiry-haired dog this time though, but a man clad in black, face concealed by the frontal bones of a human skull with all but the jaw mostly there. Tall and bulky, the thin fabric of a tunic barely concealing the rigid musculature beneath. There’s a moment of panic, so brief the swell and fall leaves you breathless, before you realize looking into those eyes that this was still the dog you had met before. Different, but still just as haunted and weary. There’s a misplaced sense of peace with Ghost; a wolf taking to shepherding a lamb rather than devouring it.

“Ghost?” You call to him, and he tilts his head ever so slightly, attention pulled from whatever duty he feels that he owes to this cemetery. Some instinctual guardianship, perhaps, rooted just as deeply in his fae blood as the pride and fear in your humanity.

“Yes?”

The dog, man, whatever he may be doesn’t seem to have a care that you see him as he is now, his focus returning to the same tombstone you had kneeled beside the day you met him, thick fingers roving over the mossy stone. He’s not clearing it away, you notice, merely looking it over and it dawns on you that perhaps, in some distant past that this was someone he once knew. Had he waited at their side during their end? Pressed his muzzle to their palm in a kiss of death? Your fingers twitch at your side as your feet move on auto-pilot, arriving at his side before you seat yourself next to him.

Ghost smells of sulfur, of pine and morning dew. Not death as you had expected. He smells of spring mornings and hazy summer afternoons, scorched earth and vibrant meadows all in one. Purgatory made flesh, a passerby between heaven and hell.

“Did you steal my lily?” The words seem entirely outlandish as they spill from your mouth, and you realize how stupid you sound the second he cocks his head to look you over beneath the skull concealing the majority of his face from you. He doesn’t have to give you an answer, really, because you know he didn’t take it, but he still gives you the courtesy of a slow shake of his head. “Well, it’s gone.” You say quietly, drawing your gaze away from him as you look to the tombstone before the both of you. You can see it now, the name. Johnny MacTavish.

“Don’t know anything about it,” Ghost utters, his dark eyes remaining trained on you, but his hand moves to the soil beneath his feet. There’s a certain reverence to his touch as he splays his hand across the earth. This ‘Johnny’ must have been important to him in some capacity. Not a kiss of death at all, you realize then. Whatever Ghost was, he had the propensity to love, to grieve.

“Oh.” You breathe soft, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. A heavy silence hangs in the air for a moment. You hadn’t meant to interrupt him during such a sensitive time, but there’s some flicker in his eyes when you look up at him that suggests a semblance of gratitude that you’re here. “… you knew him?” Your force the question from your tongue, and Ghost merely turns his head to look at the stone before him, eyes somber as they trace over the engraved name as though he were reading poetry.

“That I did.”

You both sit in silence for a time. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to leave him to haunt this place alone anymore, and a more rational part that tells you that he belongs here, tethered to this Johnny’s side for the rest of his days. Ghost seems less tense in your presence, almost soothed by the silence it seemed as his broad shoulders go slack and he pays his silent respects to this buried man by way of gentle touch and a barely contained softness in his eyes. The silence feels neither awkward nor unfamiliar, it’s as gentle as a breeze passing through. You picture what this man must have been like, to steal the heart of someone like Ghost, even in death. You don’t ask, despite the questions burning in your throat. In due time, perhaps.

An hour passes before you force up the will to leave him, and just like the last time, Ghost walks you home. There’s no more pushing, no ushering you to look forward or walk faster. The man would never voice it, but something about the way he looks at you now tells you there’s some newfound respect budding up in his chest like a wildflower.

The silence is only broken as you reach the door to Kate’s home.

“Somethin’s got its eye on you, lovie.” You whip your head around to question him, but find the man has already gone.

— — —

You return empty handed, noting that Kate’s car was no longer parked in the gravel driveway. A note on the refrigerator door reads ‘Out. Be back soon!’. It’s the first time that you’ve found yourself alone in the cottage, but you have the sense to tell you that you’re not entirely alone. Even the mottled white and blue wallpaper, some faux marble pattern, makes you feel as though you’re being watched, as though something you’re just not seeing is tucked away beneath those colors observing you with the eyes of a starved wolf.

And it’s quiet, it’s so quiet that it makes that unease grow. You’re repeating Ghost’s words in your head like a strange mantra.

Somethin’s got its eye on you, lovie.

Why didn’t he elaborate? Did he even know? Could he know?

The house settles, a floorboard creaks loudly and that’s enough to spur you to hide away in your room, at least until Kate returns.

Your room feels like small sanctuary as you shut the door behind you and let out a shaky breath. The calm is only interrupted when you notice the dead sparrow lying neatly atop your bedsheets, it’s wings spread out, feet tucked against its tiny body and it’s eyes closed. It looked peaceful, not brutally marred and yet the sight alone pulls a gasp from your throat as your eyes grow wide.

Something had been in your room. Someone had been in your room.

Was the dead bird a threat? A gift? You couldn’t be certain, but you glove your hands and bury it in the backyard, eyes carefully scanning the tree line every so often as a chill runs down each knob of your spine. You’ve heard mentions of the fair folk your entire life, in books and film, but those stories all felt so nonsensical and sweet compared to the here and now. Were they not supposed to simply be little people donning butterfly’s wings? Fluttering about thick oak trees and being birthed from flower bulbs? Kate’s ‘neighbors’ looked and felt the part of demons by comparison.

If not for Ghost’s existence, you would think this all was her doing, that perhaps she was more eccentric than you had realized. You’re scared, you’re alone here in the country, and it seemed as though these strange occurrences would just be your new day-to-day. As normal as a walk to the subway, as ordering your coffee from a local cafe. You pat the small grave with the spade once as you rise to your feet to head inside to wash your sheets.

— — —

You don’t remember falling asleep, memory only supplying you placing your sheets in the washer with a slight grimace on your face. But you wake, you wake to the dim light of the moon basking your room in a hazy, milky glow. You can feel the presence of a blanket covering your lower half, but you’ve hardly time to question how it got there at all.

A long, muscular arm curls around your middle, inviting in a cold, billowing wave of fear to wash over your bones. Ghost?, you wonder in silence, but the thought immediately dissipates as you feel the figure shift closer behind you, tucking you further against himself. Ghost was big, but this person was somehow larger. Impossibly so. You part your lips to scream, but not a sound comes out. You feel as though your voice itself has been snatched away from your throat. “Shh,” a voice hisses into your ear, the feeling of fabric moving over your face as the man behind you tilts his head to look you over.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I won’t hurt you,” the voice continues, somehow both gravely and light as he speaks. It’s unfamiliar, entirely unfamiliar. He sounds unhinged in a way your fretful mind can’t even begin to voice, and surely, he must be. Climbing into bed with a stranger, pulling someone you’ve never met so closely to you… why would anyone in their right mind do that?!

You manage to find your voice when the man lowers his head to the crown of yours, deeply inhaling as his grip around you tightens. “What the hell are you doing?” You try to sound assertive, truly, but it comes out as a small squeak, anxiously wavering with each syllable uttered.

“You smell like honeysuckle.”

Was Kate back yet? If you screamed would she come sprinting through to door to rid this beast of a man from your bed? Your thoughts are like a roaring storm in your head just before you feel the gentle brush of lips, hidden beneath some veil, against your cheek and the figure pulls away to settle against your pillow with a soft huff of breath.

“Your heart is racing like a little hase. Calm down.”

“Stop. Please.” Your voice cracks again. Through the dim light of the moon seeping through your window you make out the sight of a clawed hand resting over your tummy. Thick, black keratin gently splayed over the fabric of your shirt, grip firm but not tight enough to cause injury. Your breath catches, the stranger let’s out an airy laugh, tries to pull you closer once again. You’re so entwined that it’s for naught, you’re only grateful he was gentle. The thought of those claws splitting you open surfaces just before he shushes you again.

“I won’t hurt you,” he repeats as if sensing your unease. You can almost detect the dejection in his voice, as though he knows, knows that you’re catching glimpses of a monster, a sight he couldn’t change. It’s gone so quickly you think you’ve imagined it. His thumb moves languidly to trace a circle along your sternum, trying to soothe.

“What do you want?” Your voice was a low hiss, eyes darting from his hand to the wall in front of you. The courage to twist in his grip and face him wasn’t there, your imagination running wild with possibilities of the rest of him like stills from a horror film.

“To hold you.” Simple sentences do nothing to make his voice sound calm, the man is practically trembling as his hand moves to your hip to trace a pattern there, clawed fingertips dancing over a hint of exposed flesh. His other arm shifts to fit beneath your neck, you can see the taut muscle, the veins there as he moves it to curl over your chest, his breathing uneven and deep. The sound was familiar, the same sound you had heard when you felt the dip in your mattress a few nights prior. “Just to hold you.”

And this, despite how horrific and strange, is oddly comforting. Your mind has been plagued with anxieties caused by the unseen for days on end, and you can’t even recall the last time you’ve been held like this, if ever. So tender, so warm. The man behind you quietly hums the tune of a song that isn’t familiar, but feels as though it were just behind you. His fingers continue to delicately trace small shapes against you, warm paths of connecting points, some angular, some smooth. Despite yourself, you find you’re lulled into a deep sleep filled with dreams of fall forests, of unknowns with sharp teeth and fierce eyes. A song, dancing naked in groves, a man with eyes like an ice covered stream.

When you wake, you find your bed empty apart from your own person, and a fully bloomed lily in your windowsill.

#König x reader #konig x reader #König x you #konig x you #konig fanfiction #konig #König #call of duty #if i look at this any longer i will never post it raaah #erlkönig!König is everything to me

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draguuula · 1 year

Text

PLAYING WITH YOUR FOOD.

synopsis: mc is a little - just a tad bit - down bad for mychael over their impromptu dinner date. all silly fluff and crack here, maybe spoilers? for a lot of game dialogue used, and a bit of swearing. whoopsie 🤭

"mychael...? is that... yours?"

"i-i..."

the man burrows his head in his hands as he shamefully lowers his gaze while you stare at his tail, the slender limb firmly wrapped around the mug. you can feel the atmosphere in the room change, too, if the tension wasn't already thick enough to cut through with a knife.

"i'm sorry, mc, i think...

"i think it's time i was honest."

as he lifted his head and carded his hair back, you saw his eyes, yellow gleaming despite a shadow downcast over them. you froze as they stared directly at you before swiftly averting your gaze.

you were in awe. you had to fight the urge to have your giddy smile spread over your face with excitement, yet you didn't think you could stop your eyes from sparkling.

as if sensing your heartrate pick up, mychael stuttered out his next words. through your own burning gaze, you could see his throat bob up and down when he gulped.

"i-i know it's a lot to take in, but... this is the real me...

"please... please don't be scared."

he carefully picked and said his words with such utter desperation you felt your heart clench and you grit your teeth, having to stop yourself from bombarding this little forest guy with reassurance.

god, he was so cute.

he tensed even more so than he already was as he saw your jaw clench, trembling slightly while he prepared for the worst reaction from you. it was almost unfair how he waited with baited breath as you nearly passed out from trying not to bounce off the walls with excitement.

i mean, could he blame you? maybe. you were excited just first seeing his rather unusual appearance too when you awoke, but the sheer shock of being in an unfamiliar place and not finding your cat made you a bit... prickly, earlier.

you winced at the memory, and mychael grimaced at the idea of you being disgusted by him. of course, you noticed this only after sensing his gaze on you, awkwardly clenching the kitchen utensils in hand.

"mychael... i..."

you placed them down, a hand over your eyes while you lower lip trembled.

"i...

"i'm not scared.

"honestly, i think you're really fucking pretty."

...

the silence was loud.

"oh. excuse me. that was rude. are you comfortable with swearing? i sure hope so..."

he was going to sputter, but no words came out. instead, his eyes blew wide open and his pupils dilated significantly. like a cat's... you noted.

he clearly stared at you dumbfounded as his face slowly grew blue, silently waiting for an explanation behind your thought process. he couldn't believe what he was hearing. you merely chuckled at his awe. and the cute way his ears lowered and pulled back, by extension.

"o-okay, maybe i came off a little too strongly," you cleared your throat awkwardly, nervously tugging at your collar with a laugh, "aha, maybe i'm a little scared, but-"

"ah! s-sorry." he apologized.

of course he apologized... you thought, just when you were about to say you were scared by how damn alluring and attractive he was because... damn, had you never seen a guy so otherworldly.

you went to sigh at your messed up rizz, but paused midway of doing so as he grabbed a plate, hiding behind it. you blinked at his "hidden" figure with a blank face, opening your mouth to say something but deciding against it as that same mouth already made him panic just now.

"would it help if i just... hide it? i-i could fix my hair like before... if that's what you prefer."

you sat there with tears stinging your eyes mentally. or maybe a singular tear really did slip out as you watched him hunch over to make himself seem less intimidating... he was just too damn adorable.

you finally let out a sigh, a crooked yet bashful smile appearing on your face.

"hey... mychael?"

he flinched in place as your fingertip made contact with his flushed green skin, and you delighted in seeing faint hints of blue decorating his adorable, elongated ears up close. he muffled a response to you from behind his glass shield. you shook your head at his antics.

"...can... you put that down?"

he went silent with the shyest look on his face as he slowly peeked over the plate, all four eyes looking at the floor instead of you.

"...c-can you look at me...?"

he finally glanced at you. you felt that stupid, silly grin of yours take over your face against your will, warmly smiling at him as you got a proper look over his features.

"hi, there."

with just those words alone, his face was almost fully taken over by a shade of blue, much to your amusement. it only served to make you giggle at his shy cuteness while he blushed harder.

"d-don't look at me like that..."

"look at you like what? i'm not doing anything..." you tease, feeling your own face heat up and paint your cheeks a darker hue.

"mc, p-please..." he groaned, on the borderline of hiding his face in his hands again before you apologized, not wanting him to pull himself away from your stare anymore... even if it flustered you, too.

you plucked the mug from his tail as he stared at you, bewildered once more. you stared into the mixture while moving the mug in a circular rotation to watch it swirl, about to compliment his natural affinity for his handiwork in the kitchen before he fidgeted.

"a-are you really... okay with this? with me?"

you noted how his voice seemed small as he questioned you, the blue pigment having seemingly never left his skin. the corners of your lips twitched upwards lazily while you had your own blush dusting your cheeks, now being the one to glance away.

"i said it before, and i'll say it again... you're really pretty, mychael. i think... i think you're really attractive, if i'm gonna be honest..."

he watched as you squeezed your own eyes shut and took notice of your flushed skin, his lips pressed together nervously. he twiddled his fingers together, fidgeting again. "...y-you think i'm attractive?"

your hum in response didn't help his own blush out as his head spun watching you genuinely - genuinely, of all things, get embarrassed and now be the one to bury your head in your hands.

"oh."

he could probably cook something with the heat rushing to his face. yet, he found a silly smile make its way to his lips while his eyes gleamed with happiness.

"oh...!"

what a hell of a first date.

#ate ur heart #mushroom oasis #mo headcanons #mychael x mc #mychael x reader #headcanons #imagines #drabble #itch.io #fluff #yandere visual novel #visual novel #just 2 cute dorks blushing in a forest together #nothing else to see here

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kyufessions · 7 months

Text

pint

synopsis: just a regular movie night with the dreamies featuring boyfriend! renjun

pairings: idol, boyfriend! renjun x g.n. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 0.7k

a/n: had this little idea before bed lmao, enjoy <3 also this is just something silly and not to be taken seriously at all, thought it was funny tbh

general taglist: @jwnghyuns • @eaudenana • @soobin-chois

nct taglist: @jungsusvillain

one thing renjun loved about you was how well you got along with his members so effortlessly. since day one, you had matched all of their energies really well. so when they started inviting you over more frequently the longer you dated renjun, you felt like you practically lived there. but you didn’t mind it, especially on movie nights where jaemin got to pick the movie since you both had similar taste in them. tonight he had chosen the intern, a film you had yet to watch but one he had recommended to you time and time again. when you told him you had forgotten for the hundredth time, he immediately put it on and ignored everyone’s groans. but to everyone’s surprise, it was quite intriguing. their focused stares made that quite obvious.

while everyone took up space on the couch, you and renjun made a makeshift space of your own on the floor with pillows and blankets. in between your legs laid his body, his head resting on your stomach as your fingers played in his hair. when you first started dating, the members (especially haechan) would tease you both for any type of affection that was shown around the dorms whether it was a kiss or a hug. but now they just jokingly roll their eyes on occasion with a small “get a room” or ignore it since they’re so used to it. but there is one thing they still tease him about when it comes to your relationship, kind of.

tapping the top of your boyfriends head, he quickly looks up at you with his round and curious eyes. “yeah, baby?” he asks in a whisper, turning his body a little bit more to face you in case it was something serious.

you crack a small smile at his gesture, leaning down and placing a peck to his lips. “would you mind grabbing me the rest of my ice cream from the freezer? we can share it because i don’t think i can finish it all tonight.” he nods without hesitation and springs up from his spot on the floor, dunking under the screen as he slowly makes his way to the kitchen.

jeno calls out for renjun as he sees him walking away, pausing the movie. when his head turns, he crosses his arms against his chest. “can you grab me a can of orange soda?”

“me too!” haechan chimes in, smiling childishly.

as each member starts listing off what they want from the kitchen, renjun interrupts them midway. “do you guys not have two legs and two arms?” his eyes scan each of the members, a shit eating grin on his face as he walks away to grab the ice cream in the freezer and two spoons.

the members look between each other, baffled at his response. they of course knew he was joking, but decided to pout about it anyway. being the bigger person, you got up from the floor and went to the kitchen to grab the sodas. renjun noticed you walking in, taking a double take and chuckling at you.

“couldn’t say no to them?” he asks, watching you shake your head in disagreement.

“no, it’s not that.” you respond, double checking you have everyone’s soda accounted for. “i’m just nicer than you.”

renjun gasps, putting the hand that held the ice cream pint to his heart. “i’m hurt.”

you stuck your tongue out at him and walk back out to the living room with him following suit, the boys cheering as they see the sodas. you place them all on the living room table and grab two- one for you and one for renjun. he watches as you plop back down onto the blankets on the floor, getting back into the same position as before and opening your arms for him to cuddle into. he just smiles at the sight of you, the members groaning at the PDA.

“just make out already!” jaemin groans, further protests rising after jaemin’s comment.

“maybe don’t do that, actually.” chenle says, grabbing the remote and pressing play on the television. “no one wants to see that.”

renjun scoffs and ignores all of them, dunking under the TV and crawling right back into your arms to cuddle into your warmth. for the rest of the movie you both just watch the film in peace, feeding each other ice cream with the occasional kiss.

#kyufessions nct #nct #nct fluff #nct renjun #renjun #renjun fluff #renjun x reader #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 4 months

Note

Can you do "I love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do." and "Let me stay like this in you for a little bit" for Ithaqua?

IM SO NORMAL ABOUT HIM

Rated Explicit | Warning: religious stuff (like one line) and lost of virginity (both itha and reader)

Send a line

It is no secret, for you especially, how Ithaqua is selfish; not the selfish of taking things from you but taking you from others. The moment you spoke his name binding you to the Night Watch of the Icy Forests, he has not once allowed you a moment away from him. The storm has swallowed the village, however, with some begging from you the village was allowed to see spring. Of course, he gives it to you, never will he deny you, but he asks for something in return. Silly you had said you would give him anything and he holds you to it.

"I love that no one else has seen you like this,” You glance away as his bony hands traverse the expanse of your body, he is so cold while you are warm. The furs on his bed shift as he explores the human that holds the last few pieces of his heart. You gasp when he buries his face between your open legs, he has an idea of what to do but he is equally lost on what to do just as you are. So he goes on instinct, and his instinct is to taste you. His eyes crescent in delight as your back arches as his mouth, the only thing warm, feasts upon you. Writhing, begging, you cum quickly as you have no idea how to hold it back. You got scared midway, panicking as you told him to stop; you feared your heart was going to explode!

You lay there with a hand over your chest as you tried to figure out if you are alive or dead, everything is a haze, a high with sensitivity.

The creature between your legs giggling with joy and pride. He sits up to burn the memory of you in this state into his mind. Sweet and beautiful like an apple ripe for the picking.

“That no one else has felt you before.”

His fingers are thin but long, cold but soon they warm up while inside your heated velveteen walls, you fight to keep your legs open as he prepares you. His is slower this time, too slow, he moves as if looking for something. Then you cry out his name the second his fingers graze upon something you never thought was inside of you. He has heard from hunters, in their camps puffing out smoke from their cigars, how they have mated. It sounded disgusting at first, before you. Seems it was not all hot air. The second orgasm he draws out from you has you crying from how intense it is.

“Been inside you.”

The union is completed when two bodies become one, this you know from the priest who explained the importance of love and marriage to you. Blessed by God to take part in the dance of love, not desire. Lust is a sin but when God has blessed it everything is fine! Though… You do not understand the logic the priest told you, it sounded strange. Not like you can think about it as Ithaqua draws you out the musing with his cock teasing your hole.

“They don't get to have you, but I do."

You thought it would hurt, it is odd having something inside of you there but not painful as you were told. You do feel needy, clinging to the Night Watch as if he would leave you at any moment. “Ithaqua?” You say while shivering causing him to pull the blanket over the both of you.

“Yes, my spring?” Where is the cold darkness of winter, you are the dawn of the spring.

You never heard him sound so… You are not sure what the word is only that it makes your body feel weird, “Does it feel good for you?” Curious.

He nods, a kiss on your lips, “Too good.” His breathing is heavy, “Let me stay like this in you for a little bit.”

“Okay.” His weight on you is not much but you do feel it, “I like this.” Admitting, “We… We can do this again.”

#idv #reader insert #fanfiction #idv ithaqua #idv reader insert #idv x reader #identity v ithaqua #night watch idv #night watch x reader #ithaqua x reader #ithaqua x you #identity v x you #identity v x reader #identity v #anon ask

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onyourhyuck · 2 years

Text

Cupid’s Chokehold. | Mark Lee (M)

prologue- “You hate it don’t you..?” + “I think i fell in love with you again.”

tw- Romantic fluff. Established relationship. Mark is a dorky bf and y/n is giving chaotic gf on crack vibes. I dunno enjoy this cute scenario hehe. Slight spicy suggestiveness at the end. SUGGESTIVENESS. BIG SPICY ENDING.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You couldn’t contain the most giddiest grin shaping on your beautiful round face. Your skin evaporating into reddish colours as your fingers fiddle open with the package that has been delivered to your doorstep just few minutes ago.

you’re probably wondering what you’re bought recently that is getting you so excited, to the point you dropped out of your favourite twitch streamer’s video and Usain bolted to the door like there was a sense of danger about to happen.

Well those questions will be answered the moment your lips left out a cackle of innocent laughs in the bathroom you were hiding away from. You reach the mirror as you simply put on the shorts.

Yes you’ve ordered shorts. But not just any shorts, these shorts are custom-made with your favourite human in your entire world. Your sunshine, your reason to smile and feel the emotion happiness. In this cruel world this person needs to be protected above all matters. It was your boyfriend’s face printed on the middle of the shorts.

You smirk watching yourself in the mirror. Imagination was not enough to imagine how your boyfriend will react to this, but you know this will be a good one.

Okay perhaps if he doesn’t know the money that went into this then MAYBE it might be a good one. But you couldn’t contain yourself! I mean it’s shorts with his face on it. If this doesn’t scream to people that you’re taken and he’s taken to other people then you don’t know what can.

You unlock the bathroom door swinging out, marching to your shared bedroom where your boyfriend was sitting in his desk with earphones, singing aloud lyrics that he’s been working on for quite some time. Mark has always been a musically talented boy, from the moment he was born he was thriving with talent. Creative talent. He’s so good at writing, wording words. You sometimes wondered how did you pull such an endearing golden retriever?

Mark couldn’t hear you enter the bedroom but he felt your hands wrap around the headphone sets to pull it down to his neck. He turns around watching your face with slight surprise, but when he saw you back away, twirling around with a face trying to hold in your laughter. Mark’s eyes widen at the shorts.

“Babe what is this Oh MY —..”

He felt gobsmacked. Lips quiver open as his jaw loosens and he lets out a gasp of disbelief. He stands up, his stomach begins to twist in historic laughs emitting the silliness in it. You laugh with him but he fell on his knees when he stands up approaching you, holding his face.

“I- y/n that’s my face?” He asks as you give him a nod, a proud one in fact. You turn around wiggling about the room.

“Yuppp you like it?” You grin.

He stays silent watching you in slight shock. You stop your sudden movements, pausing midway as you whisper again. “You like it right?” But he didn’t answer. Mark stands up from the floor, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh no.”

“You hate it don’t you?” You return back as your boyfriend slowly holds your hands, he tries his best to keep his eyes to stare at your face but everytime he gets reminded of his large face on your scaling crotch on the shorts he just falls down looking somewhere he shouldn’t be. Something about this was like a Cupid’s chokehold.

Because you look stunning in these ridiculous silly shorts even if it is quite hilarious, you somehow made it possible to look ethereal and unreal; how? He asks himself that in his whipped brain.

You were Cupid’s workpiece. It’s masterpiece. You were a running work of art that couldn’t live in an art gallery, because you would overtake everyone’s attention. Mark was a little slow at responding but he gathers his feelings, calming down, but inside you truly flustered him. Especially seeing your girlfriend walk in some shorts with her boyfriend’s face on it, that somehow makes him laugh.

But love you ten thousandfolds more. You were his Cupid’s Chokehold.

“You’re kidding right?” He brings up softly, hands latching on both your jawline lifting you to look at him without a complaint, you stare back with a sad pout, resembling a puppy. God how you make him go crazy over everything you do.

Whether it would be the most simplest thing. He keeps falling deeper and deeper.

“I think i fell in love with you again, Y/n.” Mark softly whispers kissing your forehead sweetly, planting his love seed on your skin like it were a canvas, he disorients your mind like a drug.

You let out a soft sigh of relief and a smile as you wrap your hands around the boy’s waist, pulling him in a relaxing lazy embrace. You giggle,

“Good! Because i got you a little something. Stay here wait for me.” You trail backing away out of the door and leaving for a short minute.

Mark blinks staying still like you’ve ordered. The anticipation was soon broken as you ran back inside the room with the same pairing of shorts but, with your face on it in the centre of the pants.

He grins ear to ear. Of course you had to get matchings, it wouldn’t be you if you didn’t do your girlfriend duty; to match every single clothing item with him.

“Oh of course you couldn’t leave me hanging huh?” Mark smirks as he walks towards you grabbing a hold of the shorts, you smirk rolling your eyes jokingly.

“Duh. That would make me a bad girlfriend wouldn’t it?” You shrug your shoulders proudly as Mark would strip the lower clothing, changing into the matching shorts. He laughs at himself in the mirror reflection.

“Y’know this is kinda hot.” Mark leans to you, sneaking his right hand on your waist as he catches you by surprise with the pull to his body suddenly. He looks down to your eyes then to those rosey lips he so craves right now. The boy kisses the girl, and you couldn’t help but to listen to your beating heart thumping so hard in your body.

You pull away from the kiss, teasing mark by running away from his love. He gives you an expression of distraught and a mix of whine, as he tightens the hold on your body, groping your ass a little behind in the shorts. You flash him a sly smile,

Tutting your index finger at his lips when he was leaning to your lips to kiss you once again.

“The shorts stay on durning sex, Mark. Can you work with that?” You whisper and Mark pushes your finger from his lips where he pushes you on the bed. He crawls on top of you, chuckling deeply with his husky voice that drives you on the edge.

He caressed your hips through the shorts fabric, humming in agreement.

“I wasn’t planning on taking them off anyways, baby, they’re the best part.”

Oh god, you’re definitely the cupid that has him in a chokehold.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu. Reblog this fic and follow me for more updates!

#nct fanfiction #nct smut #nct x reader #nct u scenarios #nct hard hours #nct dream #mark lee fluff #mark hard hours #mark fanfic #nct mark smut #mark scenarios #mark lee #nct 127 smut #nct dream fluff #nct fic #nct recs

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bisexual-horror-fan · 5 months

Text

Do-Over-December 1st. "Pretty Little Present." Freddy Kruger X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

So back in 2020, I did this lovely little event called Kinky December, basically I wrote over 40k of fics for the month of December following along with a writing event another user in the slasher fandom posted. It was a super fun thing honestly and I was thinking, it's been three fucking years since that event. Why not, revist these fics I wrote and revamp and beef em up?! I know I've been very absent and thought this would be a fantastic way to try and get back into the groove. My intention is to update and improve upon these fics, length, more detail, change shit up a bit and have fun. My gift to you this holiday season is this, the constant commitment to better my craft and show how far I've come. Now let's get into it!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.4K. (Old Length 1.7K) Warnings: Lingerie. Teasing. Dirty Talk. Knifeplay. Bloodplay. Glove Porn. Manhandling. Choking. Thigh Riding. Pet Names. Implied Established Hookups. Possessiveness. Domineering Attitude. Light Degradation. Freddy Just Being A Bastard As Always.

---

You hadn’t discussed it previously, but to be perfectly fair, you never discussed much of anything while you were together. Freddy always had other plans in mind for your pretty little mouth other than talking, many a night he preferred to treat his ears to the sound of your muffled and wet gagging with his hand on the back of your head as opposed to petty conversation.

When the idea first hit you initially brushed it off, no way, too ridiculous and yet the thought refused to leave, the musing wore you down until you find yourself in the mall full of shoppers eager to get their holiday splurging over with. You were in the mall picking up gifts for other people and when you walked by that particular store the idea hit once more, and you considered it. The idea didn’t leave you all afternoon and midway through you decided that yes, you would. You left it for last because you still felt almost silly for really choosing to commit to this.

You’d shopped in here before but never for something like this, your previous purchases were for more every day use, out of necessity and this was much more frivolous. Fingers linger as you search through racks and open drawers, trying to find just the right combination to, no pun intended, set him on fire. When you did find it, you were fucking giddy about it.

Dear God, it was positively perfect. He would love it, Hell, you loved it too, you knew down to your bones that you would feel confident and sexy in it and as you were checking out you wondered why you never thought of doing this sooner.

You knew he was going to see you tonight. He never talked to you directly and told you when, but he had a little pattern, you had figured out with decent accuracy the nights he would pay you a visit. It had been a few days, there was no doubt in your mind that he would be anything but hungry and would seek you out.

It did look good. You looked good. You were looking at yourself in the mirror, and you wanted to laugh at the effect he’d had on you, turning and admiring your own ass with a thought of, “Like a dream come true.” His cheesy puns and terrible jokes have rubbed off on you more than you liked to admit out loud.

Silky and sheer stockings creeping up your legs, thigh high of course, the tops of them lacy, intricate patterns you traced absentmindedly with your fingertips as your eyes continued to rove over yourself. The garter belt holding said stockings up was cinched at your waist, the panties were so barely there you seriously wondered if they even qualified as such. The bustier corset style top was to die for, what it did to your tits alone made the price seem worth it. And of course it all matched perfectly, red and lacy fit the season and his tastes perfectly, I mean you’d be a fool not to get the whole set, really. It left very little to the imagination, and you were certain he’d enjoy it.

Was the robe entirely unnecessary? Yes. Did it hang off of your frame beautifully and elevate the whole look? Naturally. Besides, it was a gift, and you normally never brought yourself this kinda thing, it was the holidays, and you’d been very fucking generous to all the people you care about, why not be a bit generous to yourself too? You deserved to feel this good about yourself.

You climbed into bed that night wrapped in soft and smooth clingy fabrics that accentuated your assets, a pretty little present, all for him.

Falling asleep was a challenge, simply due to the excitement you felt to see his reaction to your present for him. When you did fall asleep it took awhile for you to notice, which wasn’t unusual, becoming aware of the shift was hard, it was almost always muddy, until you heard him, that made you come to your senses real quick.

“There you are, kitten, took you a minute to get here, tonig-oh.”

You couldn’t hide your smile, you wanted to turn to face him, but there was no need, he was already on you.

His presence could be felt over your shoulder, your back nearly on his chest, you could feel the heat that radiated off of him. You felt his non-gloved hand on your shoulder, it started there and dragged up slowly, the back of his knuckles coming over the side of your throat and up over your cheek. His fingers hook, and he pulls some of your hair aside, exposing more of your throat to him, he leaned in closer and whispered in your ear, “What’s all this, hmm?”

What happened to all of that confidence of yours? It always seemed to dry up relatively quickly around him. Suppressing a shiver, you instead ground yourself but lacing your fingers together in front of yourself, responding simply with, “A gift.”

You felt his lips brush the shell of your ear as his head pitched forward slightly, he let out this terrible low laugh that made your skin prickle in a way that made you want to squirm. Next you felt the tips of the blades on his glove brush your hip, even through the sheer material of your robe the steel felt terribly cold, then again the robe was there for how it looked, not for any warmth it could provide.

“For me?”

His question was met with a simple nod in response from you.

That glove of his moved higher, the clink of metal on metal had started to condition you, hearing it would make you want to press your thighs together and would begin the slow drip of arousal. He pulled some of the material as he went, the soft fabric felt so good sliding against your skin, that small twinge of fear when his glove was on you was present was also welcome, it isn’t a hindrance, instead it adds to the feeling and experience.

“You shouldn’t have.” He hums.

Fucking Christ, that voice of his affected you on the best of days, but when it was right in your ear? It made the current problem of your ever increasingly wet underwear infinitely worse for you. It was far too early for you to be having this much trouble, but he was just on you aggressively, you had no time to adjust like you usually did, he left you no personal space. The second he saw you tonight, his hands were on you. Yet you made yourself press onward, made yourself speak, and tried to hide how turned on you were already becoming.

“I wanted to.”

That pulled another laugh from him, and to be fair it was funny. The very idea of you spending hard-earned money on a gift for him, money that you could have spent on friends or family, or on yourself in a better way, you spent instead on fancy lingerie to wear for your murderous dream demon fuck buddy.

The fact that you meant it? That you had wanted to get him something? Hilarious.

The fact that you were actually hoping to impress him, please him? That was downright hysterical.

He sounded pleased as punch as he responded, thoroughly amused and still groping at your body. “My, my what a remarkable little slut you are. And here I didn’t get you anything.”

Him speaking pulled you from your thoughts, non-gloved hand on your throat from behind, glove on your waist, and he manhandled you, turning you around, looking you up and down. It was far too quiet right now, you wanted to squirm from how intensely he was looking at you, wanting to shift your weight from one foot to the other.

You broke the silence first, desperate to fill the space, to distract yourself from how he looked at you, “I didn’t tell you I was doing this, it’s fine, you didn’t get me something.”

Eyes flicked up, and his gaze met yours, a lecherous grin breaking out on his face, leaning closer as he teases, “All the more reason. I didn’t have to ask, and you did all this.”

He clearly appreciated your effort, that was made all the more obvious as his hands pushed open your robe. More exposed flesh on display he took the opportunity and one of the blades of his glove dragged over that strip of exposed skin between the lace edge of the bottom of your bustier and the top of your garter belt. You weren’t sure whether to lean in or pull away, the touch was featherlight, and it didn’t break the skin, but fuck, you wanted him to.

You wanted him to do what he did best, overwhelm you in every single way possible, pleasure and pain, doesn’t matter, you wanted it all.

You let him touch you. In whatever way he wished to, and you enjoyed it as always. Fingertips dragging over any exposed skin, pulling on straps and feeling the lace roughly, dipping in occasionally, teasing you with the threat of more.

What was his goal, agony or ecstasy? Always hard to tell with him, it could be either, or more usually, both, and you wouldn’t have minded whatever he provided. Your eyes had fallen closed, and you were simply enjoying feeling, and then you felt the drag of that blade over your thigh, and it drew a shuddering breath from you, the first cut of the night always was special, this one hurt, burned in a particularly delicious way.

It took a moment for you to realize, you felt the warmth and wetness soaking into your stocking, your eyes flying back open, gaze falling down and there it was. A hole in the red sheer material, matching the one in your skin. He cut you again as you watched, harsh inhale through your teeth, blood blooming, darker red staining the more candy apple colour of your lingerie and fuck you loved that sight almost as much as he did, something that changed in you definitely because of him.

He didn’t stop there. “You look like you want to say something.”

A singular blade dragged up and hooked into one of the straps of your garter belt, a pause, he looked up into your eyes, and you looked back. He moved again without breaking eye contact, he cut and severed the thin red strap that helped hold your stocking up in two. From that small motion you let out a quiet sound of protest and looked down, hand finding the split strap and feeling it, examining it with a small frown, he didn’t stop. Dragging the blades back up, thin lines cut again, splitting apart the delicate sheer material and lace as he went.

You did want to say something. You spent good money on this, and he was ruining it, you hadn’t even had it for a full day, and it was decently expensive, yet here was he was shredding it without a single fucking care, but you knew better than to talk back to him most nights.

The next motion was quick, a sharp upward jerk of his hand and he made another cut, bigger, much bigger, nearly splitting the top in two, nicking you in the process. When one of those blades hooked into one of the straps on your shoulder you finally spoke up, unable to be silent any longer, what you said next might have been meaner than necessary. “What the fuck do you think you are doing, Freddy!?”

And then you were pushed into the nearby wall, back hitting the concrete so hard the wind is knocked out of you, his non-gloved hand on your throat, holding you in place firmly. His leg slots in between yours, and he leans in, closer than he has been all night.

"This is my present, isn't it?"

You struggled and when you did it put more pressure on your still clothed pussy, you were so wet you were sure you’d leave a stain on his pants, yet he pressed harder. He always made it so hard to think, and you choked out pathetically, "Ah, wha-what?"

He made you grind on him, his hand tightened on your throat, and he made sure you repeated the motion, dragging your almost exposed slit over him once more, and it made you moan. Fuck, you hadn't realized how excited you had gotten, just being around him had gotten to you terribly, you should have known better to be honest. Those blades had an awful habit of making you drip as soon as they touched you. He spoke again, so harshly as if you were an idiot, "You…”

The look he gave you was pointed, your brows furrow, your clit throbs and your hole leaks. He repeats himself before continuing his thought, slowly, “You are MY gift, aren't you?”

Fuck, that got to you too, the extra hard grind he forced you to do on the last word made it worse still. When he talked about owning you, flexing that more possessive side of himself, it made you weak. You nodded once, swallowing, he was holding you so tightly, breathing was a challenge, and you grit out the only reasonable, logical and true answer, "Ye-yes I am."

That damn smirk, he loosened his grip slightly, his thumb stroked over your skin, and he said oh so mockingly, "Then why are you-” He points to you with his sharp gloved pointer finger, close enough you are almost worried he’d run you through between your ribs,“-giving me-” he pointed back to himself before saying, “-shit about how I'm choosing to unwrap MY present?”

And he sliced through that strap on your shoulder, nicking you in the process again, deeper than before, you groaned.

His glove came up, and he licked the spilled blood from the blade, staring you down. You knew you couldn't fight him. This was his gift and he could do with it as he pleased, do with you as he pleased.

You conceded.

"I'm sorry. You're right Freddy." That got a laugh out of him as he hooked another blade in the remaining strap on your other shoulder and made you grind on his thigh once more, drawing another broken moan from you.

"Naturally." He was always right, wasn't he?

#Do-Over-December #DOD #BHF writing #Freddy Kruger x reader #slasher x reader #NEW AND IMPROVED #GET HYPED

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bts-hyperfixation · 1 year

Text

Kinktober Day 19

Yoongi - Make-Up Sex

Again I've realised we are skipping, We are coming back to Jin, I was finalising some details with my beta who is the inspiration for I dream of Jinnie. Anyway, make up sex and Yoongi One babygirl is uttered, Y/N squirts, and there is an angsty argument, but then I think it's mostly straight forward no kinks vanilla.

"Baby?" Yoongi calls through the bathroom door.

You sit up against the door, keeping him from coming in to get you and cursing the fact no one had gotten round to fixing the lock... just another thing Yoongi must've been too busy to do. You wipe your nose on the back of your sweater and try to stabilise the quiver in your voice.

"Not now Yoongi."

"Come on baby, it's getting late, I know you hate when we go to bed angry. Just come out so I can apologise properly and we can sort this out." He says.

He jiggles the door handle, willing it to budge but getting nowhere. You take a deep breath. He’s right, it's terrible going to bed with someone when you can't stand to look at them. When the handle stops moving you shuffle forwards on the floor and reach for the toilet paper to replace your sleeve.

"Just... just give me a little longer." You concede.

He mumbles an affirmation and you can hear his footsteps as he wanders away. Slowly you drag yourself to your feet, using the sink's edge to stabilise yourself. The mirror doesn't show a friendly reflection. Your eyes are bloodshot, and your cheeks are crusty with the tears you hadn't wiped away quickly enough. You reach for a face cloth and do your best to wipe away the remnants of your fight.

It'll be hours until the puffy cheeks disappear, but at least you don't feel so gross anymore, you finish your skincare routine while you are there. Leaving Yoongi waiting won't hurt, that's sort of what the fight had been about after all. At least that was how it started.

He was never around when you wanted him to be, never home when you needed him. It was just little things that piled one on top of the other that tipped you over the edge tonight. First, he'd forgotten to put the dishwasher on before he left, an innocent mistake, if it hadn't been the 10th day in a row he’d forgotten. Then, you'd found his socks under the bed, normally not an issue, but you'd just talked about it two nights okay, and he'd promised to be neater. Next, you'd found the empty carton of juice that he swore he'd replace on his way home from the studio.

The final straw came from his phone call just as you were getting ready for date night. Midway through putting the finishing touches on your outfit the phone rang, you had been expecting Yoongi any moment, he should've left the studio 30 minutes ago, yet here he was asking for just one more hour. An hour you begrudgingly allowed him. He guaranteed he'd be home then. So you'd called the restaurant and turned on the TV for an hour.

Then another hour….

Then yet another hour….

Then he was waking you up, clearly having just walked through the door, looking dishevelled in his hoodie and sweats.

You'd wiped sleepily at your eyes, coming away with mascara across your palms. He gazed down at you, eyes filled with pity. It felt like he pitied you for falling asleep waiting for him, for believing his obvious lies, for thinking he wouldn't break yet another promise to you. Then you started yelling, and he yelled back, back and forth for over an hour. Screams of empty promises unfulfilled. Shouts of support not given. Quiet glares while you spelled it all out, over and over again.

Now it all seemed silly. Yoongi had never broken real promises. He treated you like a princess at any other time, he was just really close to his next solo album and it was taking a lot more out of him then either of you had expected or prepared for. It was just so different to his usual self that you were struggling to cope with picking up the extra slack in the relationship. The date night squabble turned into a greatest hits of every disagreement the two of you had swept under the rug for the last three months….

You steady yourself with one more long breath before exiting the bathroom. Your hand lingers on the door handle, having to will yourself to face your own husband… so many things were said that neither of you could take back. The minute your head pokes around the corner of the door, Yoongi reappears in the hall, evidently never having gone very far.

He holds his arms out to you, welcoming you into his warm embrace, already willing to move on from the ugly night. You hurry to fold yourself into the hug, burying your face into his hoodie. Your face scrunches to avoid more tears leaking out as he strokes your hair and shushes you.

"Come on, let's go to bed and talk this out." He places a kiss on your forehead and releases you.

He then takes your hand and pulls you along to your bedroom at the other end of the hallway. You sit on the end of the bed as he goes around gathering the things you need to get ready. He places them next to you on the duvet and sits on the other side.

"Do you want to get ready for bed first? Or would you like to talk first?" He asks.

"I think we should talk first." You sniffle, hating how watery your voice still sounds.

Yoongi nods and waits patiently for you to begin with your side of events. It takes you a moment to think about where you really want to start. What the real cause of this argument might've been.

"I'm feeling a little abandoned right now Yoongi...."

He opens his mouth as if to counter but you lay a hand in his lap and he stops before the thought fully manifests.

"It's not your fault, and I know that you're so close to the release date, and I really do think this is some of the best stuff you've ever written. But it just feels like you've let so many things fall to the wayside and I'm one of them."

He nods slowly, digesting what you're saying. He reaches out to caress your cheek and you lean into his hand.

"I never want you to feel like I'm not here for you. And I know I can't do a lot about it right now. But after this release I am going to be the most attentive man you've ever met. You're going to be sick of me... but I also need you to know that you've hurt me too." He sighs deeply.

"This is going to sound unbelievably selfish of me, it just feels like you don't always understand that this is something I need to do, and it will never mean I care about you any less. I just don't always have the brain space to do everything you need around the house."

This time it's your turn to nod and think about how to move forward. You understand his point of view, but it doesn't make the processing any easier. Of course now it's just a few household tasks... but what about the hopefully not-too-distant future. Once he completes his military service you'd talked about starting a family, but what if he doesn't have the brain space for that?

You catch yourself from spiralling, that's another conversation, a hypothetical fight for another day when it isn't three in the morning.

You force yourself to focus on what his words mean for the two of you right now. The words that carry another promise of time made up for that you aren't sure whether you can trust.

"It feels different this time Yoongi. Sometimes it feels like you aren't going to come back to me, that you're drifting too far away."

"You will always mean the world to me, no matter how far I drift, you will always be my lighthouse guiding me home. Nothing could keep me away from you for too long." He strokes your hair, unmatting the mess left behind by your unscheduled nap.

You close the gap between you and lean onto his shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"I love you so much," You mumble into his neck.

He shivers as your lips ghost against his skin, it's been so long... too long since you've had a chance to be intimate together.

"I love you too Y/N."

He tilts his head to the side, and you lift yours just slightly to meet him in the middle. The kiss is slow, meaningful, a promise in itself of the future. He pushes you down onto the mattress, laying next to you. His hand untangle from your hair and trails round to your throat, holding you in place. He applies the slightest pressure, just enough so you can't quite tell if your head is spinning because of the kiss or the lack of air supply.

You reach out for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie to pull him closer. He nearly falls as you force him to adjust the arm that was supporting him over you. One leg falls in between yours to provide the extra support. Instinctively you grind down against his knee, moaning at the friction. The short skirt and skimpy panties you'd chosen did very little to dampen the feeling of him against you.

"Yoongi." You breathe as his lips start to drift along your jawline.

"Y/N," He mimics "Tell me what you need baby."

"Need you, need you now. You've made me wait so long, please don't make me wait any longer." You practically whine.

"Anything for you."

He pulls back long enough to pull his hoodie over his head, shirt gone in the same swift movement. You follow his lead, discarding your wasted date clothes off to the side, ready for him to come back to you.

You slide back on the bed until your head hits the pillow. Yoongi follows close behind, crawling after you.

"How ready for me are you?" He asks

"Let's just say my toys have not been anywhere near enough to get me off lately. I haven't been able to cum without you all week, and I am so desperate. Please put me out of my misery." You pout, prompting him to kiss it away.

He barely pulls away from you to line himself up. He supports himself on one arm while using the other to tease you. He rubs his cock pointedly across your clit a few times, soaking the head in your already dripping pussy, making sure to make a mess before starting to push in.

It's a tight fit with limited prep, but you had thought ahead to have played with yourself a little before the night out, of course, you had thought you'd be having sex after a good night out... but still, you'd take any intimacy at this point. He groans as he bottoms out, breaking the kiss as his face scrunched in concentration.

"You feel so good, baby girl. Don't know if I'm going to be able to hold it long enough to make you cum." He teases, wiggling to test his limits.

"You aren't going to disappoint me again are you?" You put on your best 'concerned' look, realising quickly that it may have been too soon for such a low blow.

Instead of answering, he pulls back quickly, not giving either of you time to adjust before settling into a punishing pace. Each thrust leaves you reeling. You have to hold on to the sheets just to stop from being jolted into the bed frame. All the while he smiles that adorable gummy smile down at you.

"I'd never let you down on purpose." He groans, slowing down just enough to kiss you quickly before picking up the pace again.

Your knuckles have gone white from holding on too tightly, You can practically feel the knots forming in the back of your hair. The sound of his skin slapping against yours is ungodly. But you can't bring yourself to care, too dick dumb to even finish trains of thought.

Each thrust hits just the right spot, you can barely breathe each time he buries himself inside of you. The orgasm builds hard and fast, you don't have time to warn him before you are cumming everywhere. Squirting all over his thighs as he keeps driving through, chasing his own orgasm as you become over-sensitive. You whine as he begins to slow down.

Each motion becomes sloppier as he reaches his high, cumming hard all over you as he pulls out just in time to cover you.

"Seemed only right after you got me all wet." He shrugs laying to your side.

"Not like I could help it." You groan.

"I wouldn't know, you've never done that before."

"I told you... I was really pent up..."

"All I know is I'm going to need you to do that again, maybe in my mouth next time." He gets a pensive look on his face as if he is already planning the next time as if you aren't both still panting harder than a sprinter at the Olympics.

Masterlist

#yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #suga fic #suga smut #suga angst #bts fic #bts smut #bts angst #kinktober 22 #kinktober

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hwajin · 1 year

Text

#! — [ busker ] lee felix

— gn!reader // sfw — very random little drabble hope you like <3

“Wait, let’s give him just a couple bucks.”

Felix and you had been enjoying each other’s company on a small bench downtown, warm coffee in hands a contrast to the windy colds outside, a chocolate chips muffin shared and long eaten. It felt like ages had passed since you last met up to simply meet up, with no plans in mind and no time limitation due to jobs and work; just the two of you, together for as long as you wanted. You missed the feeling every time anew.

Midway through the day a busker settled right across from you, standing by a building with an old accordion in hand; and the songs he played made you and Felix smile. It’s been old songs, mostly, movie classics and such, and though you had decided earlier that it was time to slowly leave you stayed a bit longer, listening to the old man and his instrument, smiling to each other and falling into shock with every known song he played.

Five or six pieces later you got up, ready to go home; it was cold, it was getting dark – and Felix got out the bit of cash he brought, running over to the man, throwing the bit of money and earning a grateful smile. You followed shortly after, cornering the busker and making your way down a small, narrow alley. Dim lights accompanied the setting sun, the paved street glistening yellowish in wetness from the rain that had fallen earlier. The sound of the accordion still in your proximity, still playing behind you.

Peaceful, if you needed a word to describe this day.

“Babe, wait.”

Felix caught up behind you, taking you by your wrist, looking around him as though to check for other people, to check if you two were by yourselves. You were confused, curious of his antics.

“Dance with me.”

Only a whisper from him, hushed while his hands already wrapped around where your waist sat, though the thickness of your jacket didn’t allow you to feel his skin on yours. His other hand in yours, intertwining fingers in a way utterly sweet, his rings cold against you, making you shiver up. You chuckled at his soft silliness, yet not even thinking of declining his offer.

The busker set the rhythm of a slow waltz, though neither you nor Felix could care enough to dance correctly. You were swirling, rocking back and forth, laughing when your feet got tangled up in each other, when you tripped over his, when he stepped on yours. It was clumsy, everything but good – but you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

More serious suddenly, a pull at your hips and you were close to Felix’s body, the warmth of his body just enough to reach you and save you from the nightly cold. Your eyes locked, your gazes connected in a deep emotion, feelings that had been building up throughout the day. You weren’t ones to spill hearts often, though today called for it. Having felt careless and simply happy together.

“I love you.”

A peck on the lips, short and prone to draw red on your skins.

“I love you, too.”

Another peck, a pull at bodies to stand yet closer.

Lovely, if you needed a work to describe Felix tonight.

@leihey @happycandynoelle @hyvndee @cotccotc @asters-abditory @etherealeeknow @linoskitty @unexceptional-h @rseanne @diue @es-kay-zee @urcracksisx @jeyelleohe @yunkiwii @etheralsung @nyrasneedy @seochhj @spidercomics @chans-starlight @angelwonie @lix-ables @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @sstarryreads @svintsandghosts @bokjaz @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry

#lee felix fluff #lee felix imagines #lee felix scenarios #lee felix x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz x reader

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

Text

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

one - the lonely diaries

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader

summary: The battle with Thanos has left the Avengers scattered across the world. Y/N is lonely and in her grieve, she seeks out an old friend.

a/n: Please be aware that this is still a piece of fiction and I did not adapt all attributes of Westview or the characters into the story. The timeline is shifted as well but other than that, it should be fine. Also… the beginning is kinda lengthy but I promise it’s worth it so don’t give up midway please!

!Divider is mine. Please give credit when using!

word count: 4.9k

chapter warnings: mentions of characters' deaths, angst, reader being kinda lonely, a teeeeny bit of language, and a whole lot of uncertainty

✶ 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ☾

I would be super excited about some feedback or just general thoughts about it. It would mean and help me as a writer a lot and I always love interacting with you 💙

Life felt dull ever since Thanos had been defeated. Like a never-ending kids' carousel that had no exciting highs and lows. Just steady, boring sameness. Every day.

Y/N had grown quite accustomed to this sameness once she had settled into the normal everyday escapades of her new non-Avenger life. Of course, sometimes she wished for some aliens to descend down to earth and stir up a little trouble. And sometimes she thought about doing what Peter did, which was basically strolling around the neighborhood in hopes of the tiniest robbery to feel that sense of purpose again, but then she remembered that it wouldn’t be the same. It would never be because so many people had been lost on the journey that lead her to this lonely apartment in the midst of Brooklyn.

It was intriguing, though. Falling into a normal routine - as weird as it was for the former superhero. And she even thought of the silly idea, the future could hold a lot more than what she had now. She would lose herself in scenarios that seemed too good to be true, sometimes too crazy even. And as she stood by the kitchen sink, washing up some dishes and looking out the window into the ever-steady business of New York City, her mind began to wander again. This time, to a much calmer place. The Suburbs, and life as the cliche housewife, she would never be.

Maybe her kids would be coming home from school around this time, and she would be busy planting hydrangeas in the front yard of a pristine suburban family home until her husband would get back from work in a dark grey company car. Then she would be serving a home-cooked dinner that she claimed to have love as the secret ingredient and watch as her kids were bothered with the same questions about school she had always wished for when she was a child herself.

It was weird to think about the life Y/N could have had if fate had not pushed her into the Red Room when she was ten years old. But she wasn’t complaining. She never would. The life she had lived so far had led her to meet the most amazing people she had ever known. And even though some of these people were gone now, she still reveled in the experiences and wisdom they had brought to her.

Like Natasha, who had taught her how to enjoy a little joke along the way of a strict and surveilled life. Or Tony, who made sure to always push her to excellence by her own choice - something she had not known before she became a part of the Avengers. Which was also something she had both of them to thank for.

Y/N had been lost in the sudden feeling of freedom when Natasha destroyed the Red Room, a home they had both grown to despise while still living in it. And because of that ‘being nobody,’ a person not true to herself - because she simply didn’t know who herself truly was - she had found her way to Nat. Or Nat had found a way to her. It didn’t matter which way. Important was this: The day Natasha recruited her, Y/N’s life had changed for the better.

She got to know what friends were. People she was not obliged to spend time with because there was no other place to be. And maybe it was the connection of the Widows that still had her drawn closest to the redhead, but that was by choice nevertheless. Natasha understood her deepest darkest fears, mainly because she shared some of them with her. And she was a cool, independent version of the person Y/N strived to be. She wanted that back then and now she was proud to have fulfilled her dream.

Then Vision died and Y/N got a taste of the grief a person felt once they started to care. Vision had been a friend just like everyone else in the group of superheroes. And it broke her heart to see Wanda fall apart. She was a friend, too. Maybe even the closets right after Nat.

When the Blip happened, Y/N was the one staying with Nat at the compound, growing closer if that was even possible. Natasha was like a sister to her. And they helped each other get over the losses Thanos was to blame for.

Then Natasha died and it was the worst thing that had ever happened to Y/N. She had thought seeing Vision die was bad. Well, this was a thousand quadruple times worse. Because Natasha had been Y/N’s only friend for a long time. The person that led her to everything great in life and when she died, everything felt bland. Like the world had been stripped of its colors and shapes and sounds and smells. Life was like a boring sad piece of unsalted bread that had been laying out for a day too long. She didn’t want to touch it, to experience it.

And then Tony died and Y/N felt bad because she was not able to grieve him properly. All her feelings were drained. There were no tears left for Tony even though he deserved them all. By that time she had turned into that plain sad piece of bread for everyone around her, even though she tried not to be.

It had been a rough time. And when the group slowly started to disassemble after Steve went to return the stones and decided to come back as an old man, Y/N was determined to work herself out of the steady misery she had gotten lost in ever since. So she moved out of the ruins and it helped to not be surrounded by constant reminders of the people she’d lost. But she still missed them so much that it hurt and prevented her from everyday life practices. Then she tried meditation, and well, that was a total flop because her apartment was squeezed between noise and business, which made it basically impossible to calm down. So she decided to try the opposite to calm. Y/N would start dancing and jamming out to music, or she would sing on the top of her lounges - so loud, that a neighbor had come up to complain. She would go out for runs in hopes of draining the energy that was otherwise used to mope. But these things didn’t distract her for long, and - even though it made her forget for the time being - the nights that followed felt even worse. Because she was not only grieving again, she was also exhausted.

Of course, some things stayed with her still. Y/N knew that it was impossible to remove such branding core memories from her mind but it took some time to realize that was okay. She didn’t need to forget about the losses she had endured just as much as she needed to hold onto the good moments that had made these losses so unbearable.

One thing in particular that had not changed, was the ever-so-slight crush Y/N had developed on Bucky as he joined the Avengers. It was only a short timespan before he too disintegrated from the group after Thanos. Y/N had been there the day Steve returned as Grandpa Rogers and when they parted ways that night, it was the last time she had seen him. She knew he was still in the city. And she had tried to contact him after Steve died. To be there, as a friend. Because she knew he didn’t have a lot of those in New York. Bucky had called her back and they had talked for four hours that night. Just recalling memories and the few fun moments they shared. And it was as though they were back at the compound with everyone else, reminiscing the events of the day as they slowly welcomed the night.

Y/N missed those moments especially. The smug look on Natasha’s face whenever Bucky talked to Y/N, or the excited glimmer in Wanda’s eyes whenever Bucky refilled Y/N’s cup. She had always been shipping them both, she had told her one night. And Y/N had wanted to punch Wanda for saying that in front of Bucky. He had just ignored it as he had turned away to talk to Steve or Sam but Y/N’s eyes had lingered on his frame for the remainder of the night, hoping and wishing for some form of reaction that told her that there was a slight possibility her feelings were reciprocated and it wasn’t just a farfetched dream to finally have him closer.

Maybe she would try to reach out to Bucky again. Not because she felt like he needed a friend, but because she did from time to time. And if her life had taught her anything until now, it was that it was fine to be a little selfish sometimes. It had only been a couple of months since everything went down, and even though Y/N felt like she had handled her emotions fairly well since then, there were times when they got the better of her. Like just a minute ago, when she had thought about a perfect wannabe life in the suburbs, and now? She was watching her tears mix with the dishwater in the sink.

She decided to call him again that night. And when he picked up and told her that it was nice to hear her voice, her heart felt like exploding. The phone call wasn’t that long, but it did end up making her feel better. Bucky had suggested they’d meet the next day to catch up and Y/N had happily agreed.

So Y/N made her way to the meet-up spot they had decided on a day prior. And when she spotted Bucky patiently waiting on the sidewalk, she had to take a second to catch her breath.

There he stood, adorned in a black leather jacket and his hands buried in his pants pockets. Bucky had his head turned to the right, watching as a bike rode past him on the street. He had a new haircut, it was a lot shorter, but it looked good. He looked good. Though there was still a slight hunch in his posture and an everlasting tension he never seemed to shake.

Y/N approached him, her hand clutching her purse strap and a tight-lipped smile on her face. Bucky was already looking at her when she came to a stop in front of him, mustering her as though he had to check her for any injuries. He looked gorgeous. The new haircut made his face brighter as it was not hiding behind the dark curtain of hair anymore. His eyes were somehow more piercing than she had remembered. Y/N wanted to reach out and stroke over his soft locks until they stood out in every direction. She couldn’t do that though.

There was a short moment of silence between the pair until Bucky finally broke a smile and Y/N wasn’t sure what to do to greet him. Could she hug him? Smile back? Everything was so uncertain.

“How’ve you been?” He asked then, taking the contemplation away from her by opening up the conversation. His voice was different too. A lot calmer and freer in a way. She liked it.

“Oh, you know...” She trailed off and looked up at him. There was hurt burning in her eyes. She didn’t want to hide it from him but still didn’t say it out loud.

Bucky just nodded in response. Then he looked at the ground again.

“You wanna walk?” Y/N suggested and the weight on her shoulders lightened once she saw Bucky relieve the tension in his by her idea.

When they would talk on the phone, everything seemed so carefree and normal. Like two friends who frequently did so. Which was what they were. But having him here, right next to her, brought a long-forgotten nervousness back to her stomach. Why was it so different? They were friends, right? Y/N was sure of that actually. But she couldn’t deny that something was bothering her about this situation. She wanted to enjoy this time with him, but something almost felt as though she was scared to do so. After all, this meeting served a purpose. An occasion to get their minds off of the horrible past they shared. At least Y/N thought that was the reason. She wanted to see Bucky, too. She had missed him - missed the heart flutter she experienced in his presence. And maybe it was stupid to think that it would be exactly the same as several months ago, but a part of her still wanted, maybe even needed to know.

They both walked in silence for 10 minutes. Weaving their way through crowded New York City streets and Y/N took that as an excuse to not talk. It was too loud and they could barely walk next to each other because of that. But when they reached the walkway next to the water, everything calmed down around them. They picked up small talk, a subtle and slow approach to deeper conversations that seemed to be only reserved for late-night phone calls between the pair. But it was nice and Y/N reveled in seeing Bucky taking charge of his life again. He seemed to have come a long way from the reserved shell of a man he used to be at the beginning of their story. And even though Y/N had noticed changes ever since he was back with Steve, the years that had passed seemed to have only done him good.

After a while, Bucky stopped and leaned against the railing and Y/N did the same. The metal was cool under her hands.

“Have you been talking to any of the others lately?” Y/N asked lowly, as her heartbeat skipped. She really missed the way they would all hang out as a group. But once the big fight was over, everyone kind of went their separate ways and Y/N wouldn’t deny, that not hearing from them definitely hurt like hell. Of course, she was also concerned about Bucky’s well-being. She knew he had a tough time adjusting in the beginning so she just assumed that new situations were hard on him in general.

“I'm hanging out with Sam,” he said shrugging his shoulders. “I made a new friend called Zemo.” Was that a smile crinkling in the corner of his eyes? Y/N was glad he was happy. She wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted to get into detail about his relationships and she didn’t want to push. Though there was another question on the tip of her tongue.

“What about you? Have you visited Wanda yet?”

“Visited her? I haven’t talked to her in weeks.” Y/N’s chest tightened at the thought of her best friend. “I don’t even know where she is.”

There was no particular reason why the girls had not been in contact, but it did bother Y/N. She had tried to call Wanda on several occasions in the beginning, but over time, she gave that up as well. Maybe Wanda needed some time to herself. Y/N could understand that now better than ever before. She was sure, however, that having a friend to talk to about their losses would benefit them both tremendously.

Bucky looked at her intently. “She’s in Westview.” A soft nod accompanied his statement. He had said it so easily as if that information were not impacting at all. As if it was a simple fact that everyone knew. Well, Y/N didn’t know and it made her heart jump once again.

“Westview,” she repeated in a whisper. Why did that ring a bell? Y/N was sure she’d never been to Westview before or heard of it for that matter. Or did she? “How do you know?” Her eyes swerved to Bucky with curiosity. She was wearing her thinking face now, and she knew that it must have looked a little off-putting because the brunette answered quickly.

“Uh- Zemo told me about a S.W.O.R.D. file. He gets his sources... I don’t know from where and I feel like I don’t wanna know either. But they are always trustworthy.”

“Why is she in a S.W.O.R.D. file?”

“Apparently she created a town with perfect neighbors or something.” Again, he said it so casually. Meanwhile, a tornado broke loose in Y/N’s mind.

“But how is that even possible?” Her look intensified with confusion, studying Bucky’s face as he looked at her with calmness through and through.

“She’s a witch, Y/N. How do you think it’s possible?” It wasn’t condescending, no. It was simply a statement, but Y/N did feel kind of offended. As if he was accusing her of not knowing her friends.

Y/N was silent. Of course, she knew that Wanda was powerful, but this seemed a little too crazy for her. She had always known her as this reserved woman, especially in crowds. She liked to analyze, stay back and watch - much like Bucky did. When they became friends, Y/N got to know her cheeky side. She experienced her teasing and enjoyed their late-night pillow talks. But most importantly, Y/N got to know Wanda as a very caring person. She liked to help and she liked to rule in fairness. Rational and somewhat normal - well, as normal as someone with mind-reading abilities could be. So yeah, Y/N didn’t know how she thought it was possible.

Bucky didn’t say anything, either. He let Y/N collect herself and she was glad he did so. ‘A town with perfect neighbors,’ he had said. Y/N chuckled. She couldn’t imagine Wanda in the suburbs at all. It seemed as ridiculous as Y/N herself residing as a housewife and pursuing a perfectly normal life after everything they went through. Her laugh got caught in her throat though, as she thought about how unfair that assumption was. Wanda, just like Y/N, had the right to dream of that life just as much as everyone else. And she knew that Wanda wanted it, too. They had talked about it over late-night teacups in bed with Natasha, as they spilled their hopes and dreams of could-bes on the fuzzy blankets beneath them.

Y/N’s chest warmed at the memory. And then her mind reminded her of how intriguing it was the day she imagined that life as well. The hydrangeas, the kids, the husband, the grey company car.

She picked up her smile again and was glad to see it mirrored on Bucky’s lips.

“I kinda wanna see it now.” It was a silly thought. A desperate attempt to fulfill that unattainable wish of hers to forget about everything bad that had happened. An invite to escape with her to a world that seemed free of bad and evil. And Bucky probably knew that, too. His eyes watched over the sea as he leaned on the railing that separated them from the water.

“Yeah, it’s intriguing,” he answered absently, and Y/N wondered if he was revisiting similar dreams. A chuckle escaped his lips shortly after. “Could you imagine?” His eyes found their way back to her. “Me in the suburbs behind a white picket fence and all that?” There was amusement in his tone, but his eyes told Y/N that he was looking for an honest answer. Almost in search of consolation of some sort, they switched between hers.

“I think it’s definitely an interesting thing to consider.” That wasn’t a lie. By all means, she couldn’t imagine Bucky in a suburban environment just as much as she couldn’t for herself and Wanda, but it sure was a thought that made her heart skip a beat. Seeing him happy, all smiley and domestic with a family, maybe a cat.

“I can see you there,” he interrupted her silent monologue, and only when Y/N’s eyebrows raised in question did he explain. “With a family, I mean. You always care so much. You’d be perfect for that kind of life.”

Bucky paused to wait for a reaction in her heart, but Y/N wasn’t able to reply. Bucky had thought about the suburbs and he had thought about Y/N in the suburbs. He could have thought about them together and that possibility alone made her stomach erupt with butterflies.

“You remind me of Natasha in that sense,” he continued a little quieter this time and Y/N’s heart tightened. Natasha always talked about children. She might have had a hard shell at first, but once you had cracked through her tough exterior, Natasha revealed a woman, who had dreams just like any other. But Natasha never got to experience a life beyond the superhero world, and because of that, Y/N didn’t think she would either.

“It would be nice, but it’s never gonna happen,” she stated grievingly. Her gaze wandered over the water, focusing on the sun reflecting off the surface.

“Why not?"

“I- I don know. I don’t see it in my future.”

“Y/N,” Bucky spoke insistently as he gently grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her frame toward him. “One thing this life has taught me - and take this from the 106-year-old I am - is that you almost never see things coming.” He smiled but there was a deep hurt in his eyes when he fought to keep them steady.

Y/N just held his gaze for three heartbeats and then she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and nuzzling her face in his shoulder. Buck instantly responded, guiding his arms over her shoulders and pulling her tighter.

That night, Y/N lay in her bed, her eyes wide open as she stared at the ceiling, revisiting the events of the day. There was no way she could go to sleep. Her head was spinning, her thoughts twirling around like a carousel: Westview. Wanda. Westview and Wanda. Wanda in Westview.

She had her fingers intertwined and resting on her stomach. Her pointer finger nervously tapped on the back of her hand. Wanda was in Westview, living her dream - her literal dream. And here Y/N was, after a day that was supposed to bring closure, anxiously twitching in her bed. Bucky had known about Westview. He had thought about Westview. Christ, he had thought about Y/N in Westview. Her heart picked up its pace again, her stomach indiscreetly bubbling with excitement. Bucky had thought about it all.

It was weird. Y/N never imagined she would be in this position. At a point in her life where she didn't know what her next move would be. When she was a child, everything had been calculated for her. There were only rules to follow, and if she didn’t, there was punishment. So there really wasn’t an option for choice. Then she had joined the Avengers, and even though that life was definitely more deliberating than the one in the Red Room, she never worried about the future. She was a hero - an Avenger. And while she fought alongside the greatest saviors of her time, she never felt the need to consider what she would do if it were to end. She had found her forever home with a family that she learned to love. The hero life was her destiny, she fell into place when she joined it.

And then, sudden as lightning and with the force of thunder, that life had ended. And it had taken purpose, stability, and safety with it. Y/N had been stripped bare of all responsibility and it was scary. The world was open for her, the future laid out as a blank page she was able to draw on with all the pens she desired. And yet, she felt lost and without inspiration.

When Bucky had mentioned Westview, a spark of hope had flared up in the dark. Westview: It seemed like the ultimate solution. A new place - new people. A change of scenery that had somehow helped Wanda distract from her grief... and her past.

Then her thoughts went back to Bucky. He had agreed that it was intriguing to see. And that feeling hadn’t changed on Y/N’s part. He had painted a picture in her head she had thought about before. The housewife, the kids...

‘Me behind a white picket fence and all that,’ he had said. And now, after thinking about the conversation over and over again, Y/N couldn’t help but wish herself in those little words. ‘All that’ - a wife, a family. And slowly, but surely that blurry husband in the gray company car merged into the shape of a handsome brunette Super Soldier.

She slid off the bed and reached for the phone on the nightstand almost mechanically. And before Y/N knew it, her finger had tapped on Bucky’s name in the contacts. She held the phone to her ear, her heart beating like a sledgehammer. Maybe she was nervous, or maybe it was excitement. She couldn’t tell. It just felt weird, like a constant tingle in her stomach that wouldn’t subside.

Beeeeep

She had called him before and it wasn’t weird. She had called him before and she wasn’t scared. So why now? Maybe it was the decision she had lingering in her mind and the intention of pitching it to Bucky. And maybe it was the fear to hear him laugh about it or that she didn’t know what she would do if he did.

Beeeeep

For god's sake, what took him so long? Maybe this was a bad idea. A really really stupid idea. She shouldn’t be calling people at 4 in the morning. But this seemed different for some reason. Because Bucky was different. He wasn’t ‘people’.

Beeeeep

Ok. This was definitely a sign. He was probably sleeping and couldn’t care less. Meanwhile, Y/N was sitting on the bedroom floor with her nerves running a marathon. She should hang up, she really should. When she was about to pull the phone from her ear to hover her thumb above the red button she hesitated. One more, she thought, and then she pressed the device to her ear again.

Beee- “Hello?” Oh shit, oh damn. She really wanted him to pick up but now that he had, she didn’t know what to say. Y/N’s heartbeat seemed to pick up an even faster pace and it felt like it was jumping right out of her chest. There was silence on her end of the line, mixing with the static that tingled between the two.

“Y/N?” His voice sounded groggy, heavy with sleep. She had woken him up. Another beat of since filled the air before her voice appeared, soft and careful. Y/N already felt bad for waking him, she didn’t want to aggravate him on top of that.

“Bucky?” Ruffling of sheets pushed through to her and then the soft thump of feet hitting the floor.

“Yeah?” It was muffled as if Bucky had his hand covering his mouth, but she could clearly hear the concern in his tone.

This was her last chance to back out of this incredibly impulsive idea. But somehow, her heart clung to the thought anchored in her mind, and it didn’t feel as though it would let go anytime soon. If this was a mistake, she would gladly let it happen. There was not much to lose, despite Bucky if he decided that she had turned batshit crazy. So maybe she shouldn’t take the risk. It was frustrating to wrangle her mind over the same thing again and again. She had played it safe so many times and it always didn’t turn out the way she wanted it to. Maybe this time she had to take a step in the opposite direction - a cautious, yet unexpected leap into the what-ifs of the universe.

Y/N took a deep breath to collect herself. She had made a decision and she was determined to say it out loud. So with her eyes closed and an exhale, she said her next words with a steady voice. “I want to go to Westview.” Please don’t laugh. Please don’t, because if you do I can’t handle it.

Bucky didn’t answer, and the lack of background noises coming from his end made her anxiety skyrocket again. Did he hang up? Did he fall unconscious from her stupidity? It was nerve-racking. Y/N looked at the clock on her bedside table and watched the seconds tick by. Each one felt like an eternity with the accompanied silence filling her ears, but she wouldn’t dare take her phone away. He was there. She knew it - she felt it. If he would just say something, anything. Her foot began to nervously bounce up and down as her eyes fell from the clock to her hand that was anxiously clutching the hem of her shirt. Please say something. At this point, he could even laugh. Y/N didn’t care, she just needed a response, something that told her whether her decision was valid or not.

A sharp exhale eluded from the speaker and Y/N felt like she could finally breathe again. Another second of silence before Bucky spoke up, steady and confident.

“Then I’m coming with you.”

𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓

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starrylevi · 10 months

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Hiiii! I love your Drabbles smm It’s got me thinking about how nobody has ever made reader angry at Levi before they kinda make her always so patient and never angry if Yk what I mean? but could you make one where the reader hurts Levi’s feelings (instead of the other way around like always) by accident cuz of her hot-headed self kinda yells at him and she feels guilty later and apologizes? Or do you think Levi wouldn’t accept behavior like that even tho it hurt him what she said? Like he would put the reader in her spot and yell back? Do you think Levi would be with a hot-headed s/o who gives him attitude without realizing it, maybe he would break it off cuz he can’t accept shit like that from anyone? Idk it’s up to you how this Drabble goes! I love your work!!<3

Hiiiii, and thank youuuu! ♥️

I struggled with this sooooo much because I kept going back and forth on how he would react. I’m so sorry I genuinely don’t have a clear cut answer 😭 I feel like it depends??? Like I feel s1-s3 levi might put up more of a fight and s4 and post-war levi would be more solution focused?? But it might also depend on how long the reader’s been with Levi. I’m so sorry I tried my best and this is what I came up with 😅

“That’s not right.” Levi points out your inefficient cleaning technique.

You sigh, rolling your eyes, you were already annoyed. “What do you mean?”

“You need to scrub a little harder.”

You do what he says, putting more force in your movements in order to get the grime off. It doesn’t work.

“You just need to-“

“You know what, Levi,” You drop the sponge, causing it to bounce off one of the tiles on the bathroom floor before it finds it way to a corner. “Why don’t you scrub it yourself if I’m doing such a terrible job?” You frustratedly pull at the yellow cleaning gloves on your arms. “I’m not a clean freak like you, I don’t need everything to be perfect.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t need to be a clean freak if you knew how to clean properly.” He quickly retorts.

“What is your issue?” You snap as you stand up, putting the yellow gloves under your armpit.

Levi raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one who seems to have an issue. What’s with the attitude?” His tone is calm but stern.

“I don’t have an attitude, I’m just annoyed.”

“Oh, so that makes it okay for you to call me a clean freak.” He says sarcastically before he pauses. “You know what, why don’t you come to me when you’re ready to talk like a grown adult.” He puts emphasis on the last two words as he leaves you alone with your thoughts in the bathroom.

You feel silly for reacting that way, especially when all he was trying to do was help you. You sigh to yourself before making your way to the kitchen. If there’s anything Levi’s doing right now, he’s making a cup of tea. You enter the space, seeing him midway in the process of making a cup.

“Levi?” You say meekly, eyes staring at his undercut.

He turns around, you can see slight irritation in his features as his eyes meet yours. “Yes, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry. That was an asshole thing for me to say to you.” You admit to him.

The tension in his face lessens a bit. “It was.” He crosses his arms and sighs. “You can’t always get like that.”

“Like what?” You ask, confused.

“The moment you get upset, you attack me. You don’t even try to talk to me about it.”

You blink slowly, taking in his words. “I…”

“Listen, I’m not good at this talking about my feelings stuff either but I don’t lash out at you every chance I get.” He continues, his tone a bit bothered. “If I upset you, say that. But don’t be an ass about it. I know I can be cold but I’m not made out of stone.”

In that moment you see the clean freak comment bothered him more than you realized. You nod. “You’re right. I should have just let you know what I was feeling. It just felt like you felt like I wasn’t trying hard enough.”

He nods in response. “I get that. And I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” He sighs, arms dropping at his sides before making his way over to you. He gently holds you by both shoulders, his cloudy eyes looking into yours. “I love you, alright? I need you to work with me.”

“I know.” You nod. “I will.”

He seems to be satisfied with the answer, giving you a quick kiss on your forehead. “Now after I finish this cup of tea, we’re going to keep tackling that bathroom together.”

“Yes sir.”

#like I feel like this really sucks?? ugh I’m so sorry #levi #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi drabble #levi x y/n

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atxxzist · 1 year

Text

broken | c.s (06)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: 8.6k

warning: suggestive, idk what else but do lmk if i missed sum!

"so, want to play a few frames?" jongho asks.

though you considered the idea, you still weren't one-hundred percent sure about this 'double date', having told yuna you still needed some time, but she managed to drag you to the local bowling alley, squeezing you into the tightest dress she owns.

it feels like you're being suffocated because not is it only incredibly tight, but also a size too small.

"we could, but, i've never played before."

"oh, thank goodness," he says in relief, "me neither. but you know, protocols and whatnot."

a nervous smile emerges from him and you giggle in response, attention quickly batting to yuna and minhyuk by one of the lanes all flirty smiles and heart eyes, trying to act like they're interested in the game but you know it's the last thing on their mind.

when you first saw minhyuk, his sharp eyes and prominent features were the first thing you noticed.

he's handsome, in an overly intimidating way that probably has fathers pointing fingers and telling their daughters this is the kind of guy they need to stray far from.

which is why you expected his friend to be equally as alarming, only for the softest looking boy you've ever seen to pop out from behind him in parted black hair and puppy-like visual.

he's also an entire grade younger than you.

"you have a boyfriend, or?" his sudden question catching you offguard, unable to help the laughter that slips off.

"i don't," you reply casually. it might be because he's younger that allows for you to relax a little and not feel so tense around someone new and unfamiliar.

"ah, okay. just trying to minimize the risks of possibly getting a black eye, if i, by any chance, happen to hit on you."

another laughter pours at the silly comment.

"if i had a boyfriend, i wouldn't be here."

"oh, true. in that case, i hope you're ready to hear all the bad pick-up lines i've been waiting to use."

you roll your eyes, trying the very best to reframe from breaking out into an amused smile at the boy's attempt. the stark contrast to the one you're used to, because it's so innocent and it doesn't make you feel a little sick afterward.

his silly antics continues to entertain you, a giggle finally leaving along with a big smile plastered on your lips, you wouldn't even think of the possibility of someone watching a little too closely.

but san having arrived long enough to catch the exchange and occupying a booth far in the back, leans into the ear of the girl he came with, spewing a combination of words that brings out a smirk in her before really excusing himself.

"ok, you tell me which one sounds lamer--" jongho is rambling on when a figure comes into his peripheral vision, pausing midway to glare out of curiosity, one eyebrow raising at the person standing before him.

"san? you asshole, is that you?"

your breathing cuts short, head turning around so fast at the name that makes your heartbeat multiply. because it couldn't possibly be your san, right?

but lo and behold, there he is in all flesh and bones--it's those lips you kissed a couple days ago, and he's perfect just as you remember, going on to take a seat beside jongho while nudging him playfully to make space.

"i knew it was this fucker as soon as i stepped foot into the place," san says, a smile too warm on his lips.

jongho snickers and scoots over a little.

"what gave it away? my incredibly handsome look?"

san returns a snicker but with more edge. "the violence i suddenly felt at seeing your annoying face."

"real funny, choi number one. considering you came all the way over here, i'd say you even missed me a little."

"wrong. i came here for y/n."

the way your smile drops from their small banter when san immediately looks your direction is not even funny.

you want to comment on what a small world it is, that your blind date happens to know san, but the only thing that comes out is you in a stuttering mess and muttering out such a rhetorical question.

"y-you guys know each other?" stupid. of course they do.

san looks like he's going to say something but the younger boy beats him to it.

"he attended the same high school."

"right," san adds, "and jongho here, had a thing for playing hero and making my life all more difficult."

jongho chuckles it off and leans back, crossing his arms.

"i was on the school committee. i mean, i still am," he states almost too proudly, "and i was the one who busted this asshole for vaping on school ground."

san quirks his lips to the side with a shrug.

"student life was stressful," is all he says.

"yeah yeah. and somehow i became choi number two just because he's older."

"also because you're a little bitch that got me put on community service my last year of high school. an enemy situation throughout."

jongho stands back up to straighten his posture.

"i object. more like a little enemies turned friends, no? i think we got along fine during the last few weeks of school."

"that's only because i was tolerating your ass and school was ending."

a scoff accompanies jongho as he turns to you.

"somewhere in that cold heart of his, i know he has a soft spot for me." he smiles and you can't help but giggle, missing the way san quickly scans the amount of skin you're showing, along with the kind of dress he thinks you should wear more often.

"so, from what i'm hearing, we're all acquaintances here?" jongho continues.

san has to pry his eyes away while yours shoot to him when he hums out a low note in response.

"well, maybe you and y/n are. but i'm sure i mean more to her than that."

he delivers you a look, something so playful but with a hidden mystery to them that is all more attractive because of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

you don't know what all of it means but he just might be trying to get the upper hand against the younger boy who's even more clueless than you are.

"definitely not her boyfriend, at least. she told me she doesn't have one."

a light pink blush crawls onto your cheeks, growing shy from something that is as a matter of factly, true; having only made it known not even that long ago to said boy.

san chuckles at the sight, the smirk that was there before turning into an amused smile that's just a little addicted to the flush on your face.

"oh, did she now?" he mumbles; an edge to his voice the same time his lips quirk to the side so handsomely.

but jongho doesn't miss a single thing. not the look in san's eyes--a familiar one he's seen far too many times, and definitely not the lovesick symptom on your cheeks.

"you sly mother fucker," he hisses, shaking his head.

"you see, y/n. this is the kind of guy you stay away from."

san laughs, dimissing the boy's remark and playing it off as something lighthearted though it was said with just the smallest kind of cautious undertone like a warning.

"while guys like minhyuk, they might look like they got some shady shit going on, but let me tell you, that guy donates to the animal shelters a few times a year."

you swipe another glance at your roommate and her date from the comment, a smile so wide on minhyuk's face when yuna scores a strike.

"pfft," san blows with a faint eye roll, you turning back to stare at the two in front. "and what kind of guy would you be?" sarcasm in his delivery.

jongho sneers, a confident smile on his expression.

"exactly the kind y/n over here would love to get to know."

san laughs loud and amused, the sound so harmonious to your ear, you wouldn't mind hearing it every single day if given the chance.

your stomach still flutters a little at jongho's words, the silliness that was present before seemingly fading out replaced by a more stern tone that overtakes him.

"i'm sure y/n doesn't date little kids," san snarks, a smirk on him from beating down the younger boy.

"only a couple more months and i'll be of legal age, i'm sure she doesn't mind the wait."

the snicker that escapes you can't be helped, flattered by his attempts but still unable to take him seriously just because he's younger and might just be doing it to piss san off.

"and when is that, if you don't mind me asking," you bring up, genuinely wanting to know and not just because you'll wait for him.

"october the 12th!"

"ah," you softly mumble. "i'll be sure to write it down."

jongho looks to be in awe, haven't really thought that you would take it so literally.

"really?"

you nod, a thin smile drawing on your lips.

"in that case, i should ask for yours, too. when is your birthday, y/n?"

san watches the exchange the entire time with intrigued ears and eyes, at first annoyed by the younger boy who always know how to ruffle a few feathers, but what takes his breath away is how relaxed you are when conversing with jongho.

a side of you he's only seen when you're with your friends; something more lively and carefree, a complete contrast to how tense you always are around him.

but when jongho asks that question, it's the sinking realization that he doesn't know it, too. not just your birthday, but also anything else about you besides your body.

he doesn't remember a single time he's asked you any questions if it wasn't for his own personal benefits.

so why, why the fuck is he suddenly having this crisis and mulling over not knowing enough about you just because you're nosy and want to know more about him. especially when it's something so small and stupid like birthdays.

even when you tell jongho with such a shy smile on your face, uttering the month and day, he knows it will fly over his head later. he's never been good at remembering these kind of things anyways.

"i am going to be sure to remember it!" jongho states with determination, san being unfazed and knowing for sure the boy will because if there's one thing to know about him, it's that he has an annoyingly good memory.

"but say, y/n, you're having a birthday party, would you rather it be at the park or at your grandparents' house?"

"now, why the fuck would you do it at your grandparents' house?" san finally speaks up, his comment earning a low chuckle from you.

jongho groans in agreement. "that's what i told my mom!"

"i guess i'm with the both of you," you say softly, "though i probably don't have the best judgment. i-i don't really celebrate birthdays."

jongho's eyes stills as they keep open, the atmosphere dropping silent until he subtly starts talking again, "oh? how come?"

you never even knew birthdays were deemed such a special occasion; it being celebrated with friends and families all around, happy for that one day that you grow a year older.

the only birthdays you knew of wasn't anything special at all.

it wasn't until mingi invited you to a party of his that freshman year of high school that you learned birthdays aren't supposed to be spent in the small space of your tiny room alone, or trying to guess which parent you'll end up being shipped to next year.

"just something my family never did much, i guess," you simplify, and jongho nods along with an understanding hum.

"they're really not all that," san chips in, both yours and jongho's heads snapping his direction. "waste of money and time."

jongho takes offense, his expression twisting in response.

"okay there, edgelord. someone obviously never got invited to birthday parties as a kid."

"like hell i'd go," san snarks.

jongho rolls his eyes and moves his focus back to you.

"anyways. i will be taking the college entrance exam later this year, and if i don't get into yonsei, you just might see me around after i become of age," he announces somewhat jokingly but with the smallest chance that he means it.

san's husky and unbelievable laughter bursts from beside him, wanting to roll his eyes all the way to the back of his head, knowing the younger boy is playing it up.

"isn't it past your curfew," he remarks, totally out of topic but just eager to take a jab at the innapropriateness of it all considering jongho's age.

jongho furrows his eyebrows and actually checks his phone, an annoyed look on him once he registers the blow.

"you liar. it's only nine."

san scoffs, a little satisfied smirk at the corner of his lips.

"my curfew is at ten, i will tell you!"

the boys continues to make small, harmless insults to one up one another while you watch on the side, officially becoming a third wheel but the sight is too endearing for a subtle smile to not crack.

eventually, you have to use the restroom; sparing one last glance at yuna before excusing yourself to ask one of the workers.

this one is a little bigger; a few stalls at least and has two sinks. but while washing your hands, all you're able to think about is san back there and how it was the most you've gotten to know about him without having to ask.

maybe it's the magic of jongho and his more childish, laidback persona that allowed for not just you, but san as well, to show a more playful side of him. nothing like the man you've become accustomed to who's a little more calculating in his nature.

having watched as he fooled with the younger boy, wrestling and tickling him with a certain competitiveness that brings out a cute giggle that makes him look so approachable, exactly the kind of guy you think your aunt and uncle would approve of.

from a mere glance, no one would be able to tell this is the guy currently breaking your heart; the one having planted so many doubts in your head, he doesn't even bother to call or text anymore after having made clear what this is between you and him.

because unless you seek him out first, you won't hear from him. and it's been three days since the last time you were at his place, breathing underneath him and feeling so much pleasure, only to regret it later, swearing on your life this is the worst feeling ever and you're not sure if you can do it again.

you just didn't think, especially during a time where you're supposed to be forgetting about him--your face full of makeup products you usually wouldn't wear and a dress too tight hugging your body, that he'd show up so handsome and charming; all kinds of reminder why you returned the two times before and why it won't be the last.

about ready to go back, you're only a few inches out the door when a pair of hand latches onto your shoulders, pushing you back in against the counter, your eyes looking up into the one person capable of cornering you like this.

"hey," san utters, a coy smile on his lips as his hands releases from your shoulders and settles on the counter, trapping you inbetween.

you tense up a little, shifting in your spot and managing to reply through your trembling voice.

"h-hey."

he quirks an eyebrow before a smaller laughter bubbles out, one hand going to move the strands covering your eyes the way he always does.

"what's the matter? i haven't seen you in three days." his chest relaxes a little and his shoulders drop, inching even closer to you.

it's like once he really got that out of the way, everything starts leaking to the surface as well. everything about who this man really is and how he's nothing alike to the sweet, considerate boy you bumped into back at the party who helped you.

it's an awful discovery.

but what's worse is whenever you look at him, beyond his exterior and closed-off nature, you think there's a person underneath that you would love to know.

someone who has a story of his own; a story you would love to listen to if given the chance.

but that's always been your downfall. because when you love, you love hard. and maybe you didn't completely love junseo, but when someone is yours and you're theirs, you give them your entire heart.

and someone like san, someone so unattainable with his coy eyes and dimply smiles that always turn you a few shade redder, you think it would be nice if he was yours and you were his... because you would undoubtly love him wholeheartedly.

"i was busy," you tell him, swallowing down the pit that is both nervous but excited at whatever's about to come.

"that's fine," he dismisses it along with a low buzz under his breath, eyes quick to drool over the amount of exposed skin he's been dying to touch all night.

he's never seen you in this kind of outfit before. you were usually covered in three layers of clothing that was always annoying to take off.

"how did you know it was me?" you ask, playing dumb to the sight of his bottom lip in between his teeth.

he has to rip his attention away to meet your stoic eyes at the question, murmuring, "huh?"

"you told jongho you came over because of me, or was that--" a lie, too?

"--no, no, beautiful." he shakes his head, both hands caressing over your cheeks. "of course i was telling the truth. i knew from the hair and from the mole on your right shoulder."

san might not know a lot of things about you. not even the basics of your favorite movie or your dream, and he's not even sure if he remembers your birthday although you just told them not even that long ago, but he knows your body and all the ins and outs of it.

how your lips taste like, how pretty your boobs are, and how exactly to get you to cum. he knows all the faces you make during sex, and what to say and how to say it just so he can see that color on your cheeks that he likes a little too much.

and he definitely could spot that soft, silky texture of hair that had a big likelihood of it being yours.

he was only maybe seventy-percent confident at first, but the closer he got to the table, catching that mole on your shoulder he's gotten used to seeing, he knew it was you for sure.

"oh..." you say defeatedly, unable to wrap your head around the fact that san can actually recall something about you.

"what's wrong? you're not actually thinking about waiting for jongho and disappointed that i showed?"

your lips forms a pout, shaking your head.

"no. it's not that."

he chuckles, always having enjoyed backing you into a corner as if that's ever been hard to do.

"good. because he already left. his mommy called."

"oh..."

"yeah," he repeats, a tone so satisfied about the fact he's the only person for you at the moment. no chances of anyone else stealing your attention away; not even a pestering high schooler who lives to annoy him but also has the possibility of developing the smallest crush on you.

one of his hands suddenly snakes to your hip, settling on it with a light squeeze that makes you jolt up; the closer he leans in, the more your back presses against the edge of the counter.

"you look so fucking hot like this," he hisses, eyes once again unashamedly checking you out.

"it's yuna's dress."

"well, you should wear yuna's dresses more often."

his hand at your hip fumbles with the material, bottom lip caught in between his teeth again when it comes over just how perfect it fits over your figure.

silence eats up the air until he looks up and catches your gaze in his, staring at him like you're just waiting to be wrecked the same way he's always done it. a smirk crawls onto him and with one lift of your chin, you're both kissing and making out like it'll be the last time.

your arms are thrown around his neck immediately, and he's come to love the fact that you're starting to strip away that shy, hesitated act the more these sessions happen.

his hands that were on your hips are now all over your body as he nearly backs your head into the mirror, barely able to plant a kiss on your jawline when the sound of distant footsteps outside pries him away, staring into your horrified eyes at the thought of being caught in this position.

he shushes you, index finger to his lips and drags you away to the nearest stall, his back against the door and you breathing hard on his chest.

a pair of female voices echoes through the room, a conversation you don't really catch because your waist is wrapped around by one of san's arms while his other one travels down the bare of your skin, landing on your ass and squeezing it with a sadistic smirk on his lips.

you would've yelped if not for the current situation, in turn settling for a soft push to his chest that brings out that smile you so much despise because you hate how adorable it is and how dangerous it is on a man like san.

all you hear is the sink running and a few pops like something opening, maybe to reapply their makeups but is it drowned out by san's lips on yours and you at first unsure about making out in a restroom stall, but soon enough, you're gripping at his shirt and forgetting about all consequences.

you don't even realize the two are gone until san pulls away and the quietness of it all confirms it's only you and him again.

"let's take it back to the dorm?"

and you would've impulsively said yes, if not for your conscious serving as a reminder of the existence of your roommate who you came with.

"i want to, but, i came with yuna..."

"i'm sure she'll understand."

you used jongho as an excuse; your partner having gone home and all leaving there nothing to do. yuna didn't seem to mind, head occupied and infatuated with her date.

as soon as you're both off the elevator, his lips is on yours and your hands are running through his black hair, grateful for the late hours that has less students running around the building.

because it would truly be shameful if someone is to catch you two in this state, so high drunk off of lust, the key in your hold struggling to fit from your shaken hand.

but once you get it to open, you're both in immediately and the door behind is slammed shut, your back already touching the sheet of your bed and he's hovering on top once again diving down to kiss you.

his hand is fast to make an appearance under the skirt of your dress, kneading the soft skin of your thighs and traveling to the top of your underwear. you made sure to wear one alike to safety shorts.

while he works your undergarment, you pull at his shirt that rides up his toned abs, but you only make it about halfway before a sound in the pocket of his pants go off.

he ignores it the first time, but then comes the second.

a groan loosely escapes the tip of his tongue, having to break the kiss to stand on his knees, one hand rummaging his pockets.

you sit up with elbows planting the mattress and watch as his once annoyed expression dissipates at whatever is on the screen, his eyes even swelling a bit.

clearing his throat and shoving it back where he got it from, you can sense the change of demeanor, his body language giving away that he now wants to be out of here.

climbing off your bed as you stare with a disappointed sadness in your eyes, he finally speaks the dreaded words.

"hey, beautiful, i uhm... i gotta go." he awkwardly fidgets in his spot when telling you that, looking so out of place.

"oh..." you voice lowly, sitting up and scooting until your legs are hanging off the side of the bed, not bothering to hide the disappointment.

he attempts to put on a smile; try to make all of this hurt a little less, walking forward and placing a kiss on your forehead.

"i'll call you."

and when he leaves, you don't feel any better or any worse. the feeling is always the same; a deep hollow pain in your chest that makes you feel like an empty shell of a person.

why do you keep subjecting yourself to this kind of treatment? a part of you aware to the great possibility that the only reason he asked to come to your place was for this exact reason.

saying he has to go or that something came up is easier to lie about than straight kicking you out. and someone like san always know how to play his cards so he can lessen the blow.

so perhaps it's his adorable smile; the way your heart always flutter at the sight of him, and whenever he talks, you want to listen to him forever.

that stupid ounce of hope you so foolishly hang onto, wishing one day he'll come around because you're even more stupid to have faith in him.

facts about choi san.

1. birthday: july 10th 2. favorite color: purple 3. major cat lover 4. deathly afraid of bugs 5. was on community service senior year of high school

when san called earlier, asking if you can come to his place some time in the late morning, you know it's a bad idea.

you have already set a time and place to meet with yeosang at noon because the second exam is approaching fast, and shortly after, you have to leave for work, your schedule having been moved up the one weekday you don't have any class because your supervisor wants you to experience an actual classroom setting instead of the after school kids you've been watching.

the job proved to be a lot more than just being a teacher's aide, granted you told them you couldn't really work mornings because of being a college student and all.

but you haven't seen him since that night, and his promise of calling having came true filling you with that temporary feeling of joy and excitement, convincing yourself it doesn't hurt to see him for a bit as you rush over to his place.

but when you arrive at the scene, the new sight of his door left slightly opened along with what sounds like feet shuffling around tells you you're not going to get to see san today.

"no, because you're literally always fucking like this!"

you flinch at the sudden high volume of a voice you recognize as it fills san's apartment.

"you bring your shit into my house and i'm always the one who has to clean it up."

and though you've only met him a few times, you know it belongs to wooyoung.

"well, how was i supposed to know that she's friends with yunho and mingi and that you would end up liking them so much?"

the sink in your chest is heavy and the beating of your heart is loud; it's an awful revelation that the topic of conversation is... you.

"you don't. no matter who she's friends with or related to, you don't look at someone and think they're the next pretty little thing you're going to ruin."

you listen in closely, a silence that gauges the air making your breath catch inside your throat at the suspense.

you know it's wrong, but turning back doesn't seem to be much of an option especially when it's about you. it's only a given you'd be nosy.

following the silence is a heaved sigh before there's another round of feet walking in place.

"i don't know what you want me to do? if she didn't want it as well, i wouldn't be doing it."

it's san's voice, shortly followed by a sarcastic, dry laughter from wooyoung.

"that's what you always say, choi. that it's their fault; they knew what they were getting into, when you know damn well what you're fucking doing."

he pauses to catch his breath, not done just yet.

"so either get your shit sorted or stop messing with the girl because the last thing i want is a room full of death stares and resentment because my friend is a grade a asshole. i did this shit for you in high school but i'm starting to get real tired of it."

you don't get the chance to process the whirls of emotion attacking all at once, the direction of the footsteps sounding like they're headed for the door and you just assume the worst--that it's wooyoung leaving, scuttling away before you can be seen.

when you return to the dorm, the first thing you do is text san with an excuse that something came up. you wouldn't tell him you overheard a conversation that makes you sick to the stomach, so many conflicted thoughts running loose.

surely wooyoung would have suspected something (it's not like you guys were that good at hiding it), but you're also not close to him like that, which leads you to believe the outburst had more to do with yunho and mingi than you.

"well, how was i supposed to know that she's friends with yunho and mingi and that you would end up liking them so much?"

and you're not sure what's worse; having one of your friends tattletale to wooyoung to get san off your back, or that one (if not both) of them knew this whole time.

all those excuses and attempts at being discreet probably looked pathetic to whoever knew it was just so you can fall into the arms of a boy who doesn't care for you in the slightest; who lies to your face and messes with your head.

"i don't know what you want me to do? if she didn't want it as well, i wouldn't be doing it."

you're still not in a good headspace by the time you have to meet yeosang, which is literally just an hour after you were supposed to be seeing san.

he's in the far back of the cafe, eyes and nose stuck to a textbook and looking like he's absolutely going to ace this upcoming test.

you on the other hand, is absolutely pissed off your mind the more you keep lingering on it, coupled with the fact that there wasn't even enough time to actually get over it beforehand.

but why couldn't they just talk it out with you first? why did it have to jump straight into telling wooyoung about your business?

and also why the fuck are you not more upset at san? you should be. you need to be. it's evident he planned it all from the start and never really had any good intentions with you.

it's funny how you found all of this out while at his doorstep; maybe the only good thing to have came from it is you didn't end up in his bed (today at least).

but you suppose san being a walking red flag you should stay away from is the equivalent of beating a dead horse at this rate.

the tension is written all over your face when you take a seat across from yeosang, him looking up to quirk an eyebrow.

"hey?"

"hey."

"you sure you don't want to come over here?"

you briefly recall how anal he was about it last time when you sat across, so without further protests, you stand up to go plop down next to him, an irritated sigh departing without much thoughts but it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"well... okay," he mutters under his breath, wondering who or what managed to tick you off knowing it's not him this time. he's only said a few words so far.

quick to dismiss it because of the limited time, he pulls the neglected laptop into his view, navigating to the school site.

"he made a study guide, we can go over that."

and he really is trying; this being the second time, even gave you somewhat of a proper greeting without any snarks or additional comments, but what bothers him more than your already less than stellar arrival, is your lack of participation.

eyes and ears not even following along and head entirely elsewhere.

mind you, he had to push his schedule back just to come here.

"something wrong? if there's anything bothering you or you have somewhere to be, you can tell me."

"it's nothing."

"sure looks like something because i doubt you heard a single thing."

you knit your brows together, arms crossing over one another as you glare at him.

"blade server: type of server that exists in the form of a single circuit board," you repeat the last term he was going over, even slightly imitating the way he said it.

he chuckles wryly.

"well, you heard one of them at least," he says; some kind of satisfaction that graces the corner of his lips with a faint smirk.

you roll your eyes, moving your attention to one of the paintings hanging on the wall, trying to reframe from bursting because you're still not over what you just heard not even that long ago.

"isn't it tiring?"

your head snaps back to him, confusion overtaking your expression.

"what is?"

"this shy, reserved act of yours whenever you're with others. with your friends, with that guy, san. do they know you're this overbearing in actuality?"

"excuse me?" your voice high in disbelief.

he cocks his head a little.

"or perhaps, that's what it is. you only act like that around guys like san, but someone like me, you're not trying to impress so you don't give jackshit about how you come off."

red on your face, red in your veins, and red under your breath.

"and you don't have an act of your own?" you fire back, somehow managing to find the girl in you who has a voice and definitely some guts, but she who goes missing when it comes to telling san to fuck off.

"pretending to be this nice guy around yunho and mingi, like you're doing a favor by helping their friend when all you do is insult me behind their back."

you stand up furiously, grabbing at your things and sparing him one last glance (that you hope will intimidate him).

"you won't ever have to worry about wasting your time on someone like me ever again."

you don't need mingi or yunho (or both) shielding you like you're an infant still in a cradle, and you definitely do not need kang yeosang blowing up on you when you're just starting to realize how much you hate this fucking computer class and all this technical junk; when everything's already going to shit.

but your whole life has been a load of shit one after another so you suppose it's not entirely out of place.

which is why you ultimately decided that if it's going to turn to shit, it should all just be on the table at this point.

when you show at mingi's door just a few minutes right after you get off work, you know wooyoung is not there. he usually never is. he's always either at his own parties or at one of the five other properties under his parents name.

between the two options, you're more willing to bet it's the one person who actually shares a living space with wooyoung, squeezing yourself in and slamming the door behind before mingi could even get out a simple 'hey'.

he's stunned by the sudden cornering, as expected.

"woah there, missy," mingi coos, that lighthearted tone in his voice you recognize whenever he jokes around--completely disregarding the more serious look on your face.

"did you... by any chance, said something to wooyoung?"

you try to keep vague, for all you know, you just might be overstepping the boundaries and giving your friends too little credits.

wooyoung could've done it even without the push from one of them, but it's best to confirm before digging your own grave.

mingi pulls his brows into confusion.

"like?"

you clear your throat, swallowing down a knot, loathing how much harder he's making this, or if he's just really good at burying his own dirts. it's not exactly out of character for him.

"like--"

the abrupt knock at the door from behind cuts you short, your breath fuming before turning around to open it; the thinning patience not allowing you to consider even for a second who it might be, a small jump in your body when you see it's the other suspect. how convenient.

yunho doesn't say anything and neither does you or mingi. he awkwardly clears the block in his throat and walks himself in through the small space until he's standing tall in front of you.

after you close the door, it's the longest silence you've ever endured in the presence of the two, all your eyes bouncing from one to another before yunho finally speaks.

"did i miss an invitation?"

mingi chuckles, seemingly already relaxed.

"you're not the only one. miss y/n just busted into my room to interrogate me."

you shoot lasers at him and mutters something inaudible under your breath. it could be yunho, but he's usually the wiser of the two and mingi hasn't exactly done anything that makes him less likely--

"it was me," yunho deadpan, both you and mingi shooting his direction so fast.

mingi having no idea what's going on, switches his gaze between the expressionless boy next to him and the enraged look on you.

"why?" you say, so short and simple but the tone is everything but that.

"because i can't bear to watch you keep doing this to yourself. my intuition was right, and--"

"and you couldn't just talk to me?"

"wait, is this about san?" mingi ask, his voice such a contrast to the bubbling tension.

"and if i talked to you, would you have even listened?"

"well, i wouldn't know because you didn't even talk to me. you just went straight into airing my business to his friend."

"it's definitely about san," mingi mutters to himself, his presence completely ignored.

"i just thought that maybe san might listen to wooyoung since they're friends. and that if he stays away, you'll reframe from seeking him out."

it's quiet after that but the air is thick as you two stare into each other with something unpleasant brewing in your chest.

"h-how did you know?"

a low exhale departs yunho before he answers, "it was only a suspicion at first, but then i saw san walking back with you to the dorm that night. and well... you're kind of awful at being discreet."

an eyebrow raise at the confession, your face eventually twisting into distaste.

"you were spying on me?!"

"i wasn't spying on you. it was a coincidence, ask mingi. me and him were coming back from the library because of the campus job i was telling you about."

so... mingi saw it, too.

"yunho... i appreciate your concerns, but, i can make my own choices."

a dry, almost mocking laughter leaves him as he takes a seat at the edge of mingi's bed and stares you down.

yunho isn't an intimidating person; the boy always so nice and easy to talk to, any fights or arguments you guys ever had up till this point has never been this bad. but his gaze right now does make you feel a little small.

"and what is that going to be?" he throws his hands up. "returning to the same person who you know is emotionally unavailable? who won't ever love you the way you really want him to?"

"you talk as if you know him personally..."

you know you shouldn't have said it; defending someone who doesn't deserve it, and well aware there's not a single bone in yunho's body that is capable of harms, but you're so tired of the coddling.

so tired of being looked at as someone breakable.

"no. but i know people like him; guys like him. i know that they will never just magically come around, and most of all, i know that this isn't what you want. you're sticking to him in hope that he'll change his mind, no matter how much you want to deny it."

you've always hated how observant he is...

"then... why do you guys hang with wooyoung, and why is he friends with san? wooyoung is a good person, right? so shouldn't san be, too?"

you're deflecting; it's awful, but it does catches yunho offguard, and even mingi. yunho who was so sure before now mouth clasped tight, because yunho's an honest man, and as an honest man, he doesn't know either.

the couple of times he's met wooyoung, he's aways been pleasant to be around; welcoming of his presence with opened arms and always with a smile on his face to make sure yunho was never left out.

the question asked--more for wooyoung himself than yunho.

"i'm not sure if i can answer that, but, can you promise me at least? that you'll stay away? if not for me, do it for yourself."

you're quiet, shifting to look down at the floor and tracing the pattern when a groan falls from yunho.

"fine." he stands up, his towering height and cold eyes making you feel all sorts.

"call me whenever you actually consider our friendship these last four years instead of whatever you're having with a guy that you just met this semester."

"yunho..." mingi mumbles, disapproval in his tone.

yunho doesn't say anything else, only rushing for the door as he brushes past you before it is slammed shut.

"he didn't mean it." mingi glares at you.

"i know he didn't."

you limp to his bed, taking the seat where yunho was sitting before, still able to feel the warmth he had left behind.

mingi sighs, shaking his head and eventually sitting down with you.

"and i know you don't want to hear this again, but he's right."

as a friend, mingi cares for you. of course he does. but as the boy who found you under that oak tree when you were fourteen years old; as someone who knew you before yunho, before anyone else, he also understands the curiosity you hold for the world; for what else is out there.

you have been deprived of these things almost your entire life, he thinks it's ony natural. so he never tries to be too hard on you when he sees your eyes wander and your nose perked.

he's just always sitting back and watching; observing. yunho and him the perfect contrast to one another because though he may be loud and obnoxious, he tries to stir away from possibly upsetting you. whereas yunho can be a bit overprotective despite his quietness on a surface level.

"i know..." you say, "i just... wish he'd have a little bit more faith in me. i-i can handle it." even you're failing to convince yourself.

mingi breathes out a pitiful look in his eyes, taking your hands into his and locks gaze with you. he's about to get sentimental and you know it. his silly and laidback personality a perfect combination to his more vulnerable side he lets loose once in a while.

"remember the last time you fought with yunho?"

you wouldn't really call it a fight, it was barely an argument, maybe more of a disagreement but aside from this one, that was definitely the most heated you two ever got.

you nod, mumbling in a low volume, "yeah."

"and how angry you were at him?"

"yeah, because he was acting without thinking and i was worried about him."

it was a fight between yunho and minji, at first over something so small but eventually escalating into something bigger.

"i was afraid he was gonna do something he'd regret later."

yunho had spent most of his high school years crushing on minji, always so shy and unconfident, until he finally mustered up the courage to ask the girl out to which she said yes (obviously). and he was gonna throw it all away for something that he probably wouldn't even think about a week from then.

"exactly. because you were looking out for him, and he's just looking out for you, too."

your hands stiffen in mingi's grasp, a sullen look on your face. you also know that.

"look," he says, scooting closer. "i poke my nose in everything, and it's only because i live to annoy you, but in all honestly, i wouldn't ever intrude on your personal affairs. but some days, i still think about how he treated you back at the party."

he goes on, "i was happy at first, him being wooyoung's friend and all. he was also okay when we went out to dinner, but someone who genuinely likes you would not sideline you the way he did."

your mind briefly flashes back to the party, thinking about how hopeful and stupid you looked with that jacket on like a little lost puppy.

thinking about the smirk so fittingly as it rested on his lips when he flirted with your unknowing roommate, using her as leverage to achieve whatever end result he was getting at.

thinking about how you foolishly believed his lie at the time, but overtime seeing for yourself nothing is accidental or coincidental especially in the face of a man like san.

everything is done intentionally and with the purpose to gain; getting you a job and definitely messing with you at the party. he might've even lied on that date with jongho, too.

"and i never asked for anything from you before, but i'm just asking this one time, if you can... please listen to yunho and keep a distance from san."

mingi squeezes your hand, his stance desperate as he awaits your answer.

it takes longer this time around for you to say something, but when you finally do, mingi could've swear he heard it wrong when a quiet "fine" falls from your lips.

"r-really?" his eyes grow in incredulity.

you nod. "if you and yunho are this worried, then i'll stop seeing him."

his chest exhales in relief, the once uneasy expression on him dropping, wondering what prompted the sudden change of mind or if he's really just that good at giving overall sappy speeches.

"oh dear, you got me so scared."

you giggle at his comment, the first time today you're allowed to smile.

he releases the hold on you, backing up a little but gaze having never left, a slight tense in his body language that you know he's going to act on.

"okay, but, can i ask something? and bitch you better not lie to me. we tell each other everything, remember?"

you swallow the knot in your throat, afraid of what he's going to ask and with a feeling it's going to knock your breath away.

"right," you hesitantly answer.

and well... you hate to be correct.

"have you slept with him?"

you almost choked on your own saliva.

"mingi..." you hiss.

"you heard me, bitch. did you guys do the devil's tango?"

you roll your eyes, kicking at his leg lightly and exasperating out loud.

"oh my god, why the hell are you calling it that?"

"oh, whatever. you know what i mean. did. you. guys. fucked?" he crosses his arms.

he can be so sweet and understanding, and then at the same time, go and ask questions like this.

he squints his eyes.

"you know, silence is incriminating. hesitation is damaging, and something tells me you slept with him. not once. not twice."

a small surge of panic rushes in, grabbing at the pillow nearby and smacking him in the face with it.

he winces in exaggerated pain and you toss the pillow back, shooting daggers at him.

"i swear, if you rip that, you're paying for a new one."

"worth it to shut that big ass mouth of yours."

it's a couple seconds before he breaks out into laughter and you follow along with a simple giggle.

"okay but please... can you promise me you won't tell yunho?"

he shrugs, lips quirked to the side.

"what makes you think he doesn't suspect it as well? but sure, i guess. you should really talk to him, though. after this."

mingi plays it cool, a smile on his face and burying that feeling aside that he's just the littlest bit of sad your first time went to someone who doesn't love you.

granted, he's never really cared too much for such thing, always having joked around his parents will end up with no grandkids because he doesn't plan on adopting, either.

but he's always thought that if you were to have it, he'd want your first time to be special. with someone you love, and who loves you the same; your heart always so big and with so much to give.

not someone like san who lures you in with his handsome look and butterflies-alarming words, knowing he never planned to give anything in return except to add to the list of your miseries.

he can't help but feel it is his fault--for leaving you at the party and for ever introducing wooyoung.

but at least now, you will stay away and spare yourself an inevitable heartbreak... he hopes.

you approach the door of yunho's room with cautious steps, hesitation in your appearance because of the one person he shares the space with.

you knock lightly, proceeding to wait and it doesn't take long before it creaks open and yunho is standing before you.

he doesn't look surprised by it, if anything, he looks like he was expecting you to show up at one point. it's just so in character.

you take this chance to sneak a glance past his shoulders, seeing it's in the clear.

"may i come in?" you ask sweetly.

he nods, a hum under his breath and steps aside to let you in.

"i'm sorry," you say, turning to him as his back is to the door. "sorry for acting like a bitch earlier, i know you were just looking out for me. and... i talked to mingi, and i already promised him i-i'll stay away from san."

rather than a sudden change of mind, it was more the realization that you don't need whispered sweet lies or kisses from a boy who doesn't even like you; who always have made you feel so shitty about yourself.

your friends matter, and you're going to listen to them.

that the next time choi san calls or texts, no matter what emojis he uses or what words he will say to get you to come to his place, you're going to ignore him.

next // series m.list

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#the amount of times i write about someone's eyes #or them smiling #ateez angst #san x reader #choi san angst #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez series #san angst #fic: broken

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