#never have i ever cared about colors THIS MUCH i’m so serious i KNOW THIS WON’T DO WELL BUT IF YOU SEE THIS FEEL MY SUFFERING

[willthespy]

Yes, I use solangelo for all my little drawing experiments. What about it?

EDIT: this looks like the fucking propaganda posters that they throw at you in history class... i might have accidentally created solangelo propaganda, i fear

#never have i ever cared about colors THIS MUCH i’m so serious i KNOW THIS WON’T DO WELL BUT IF YOU SEE THIS FEEL MY SUFFERING #this went from blue and yellow to green to mint at some point but this is FINE. i’m FINE #i feel so bad for not being able to reply to some anon asks yet but i promise i’ll do so soon i’ve just been busy #holiday shopping and tests and MORE FIELD TRIPS and essays and… you get the picture #i did but some symbolism in this work even if i spent like what? a couple of hours on it after school?? #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #solangelo fanart #nico di angelo fanart #will solace fanart #pjo #pjoverse #percy jackson #pjo hoo toa tsats #pjo fandom #rrverse #riordanverse #my art #artists on tumblr #fanart #pjo art #tsats #pjo fanart #pjo hoo toa

[seungkw1]

mine — jww

♡ pairing: boyfriend!wonwoo x afab!reader ♡ theme: fluff, smut [18+ mdni], non-idol au ♡ wc: 2.6k ♡ warnings: swearing, size kink, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (stay safe y’all), creampie, dacryphilia, petnames (m. & f. receiving - babe, baby), reader is gender neutral but referred to as girlfriend once, gr8 aftercare ofc ♡ a/n: this is a part two to so fucking pretty but you don’t have to read that one first :)

‧₊˚✩彡 moodboard by @myhimbomingi ‧₊˚✩彡

You wouldn’t consider yourself a very romantic person, but your boyfriend’s Valentine’s Day surprise might just change your mind about that.

You’ve never given a single shit about Valentine’s Day. It’s not so much that you hate it or anything, but rather indifference - you simply couldn’t care less. Just another capitalistic holiday for companies to profit off of, right? Plus, red and pink is simply a godawful color combination. So yeah, you’ve never given a shit. 

That is - until you met Wonwoo. 

You’ve dated here and there over the years, but nothing ever too serious - all of your partners either turned out to be lousy or the relationships were just bland. So, all of them ended, and you were never too upset about it. 

But with Wonwoo, everything is different. You’ve only been dating for three months, but your relationship is the complete opposite of lousy or bland. Wonwoo is warm and loving - squeezing you in his arms and giving you kisses every chance he gets. He is caring and kind - listening to you talk no matter whether you needed to vent or just wanted to infodump about your interests. He is sweet and gentle - leaving you cute notes and surprising you with little gifts just because.

He is also incredibly fucking hot, and an absolute god in the bedroom.

You fucked him on the first date, which is very unlike you, but your chemistry was undeniable and it just happened naturally. That was the best sex you’ve ever had in your life - and every time since then has also been the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. You’d be an absolute fool not to stick around.

And so, Wonwoo became your boyfriend. You’ve always found that term to be a bit juvenile, so historically you’ve just referred to your significant other as your partner. But every time you think about Wonwoo you feel the urge to giggle and kick your feet in the air, so the term boyfriend simply feels right. You’re practically head over heels for the man. 

“Ooooo you’re so in love with him,” your best friend teased as you were gushing about your boyfriend for the nth time. 

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes as you replied. Maybe you’re a bit jaded from your mediocre past relationships, but the phrase in love is not one you throw around lightly. 

But deep down, you know it’s true. You’re in love with Wonwoo.

But you’re not ready to admit that to anybody. So you keep it to yourself. You’ll cross that bridge when you get there.

That day arrives much sooner than you anticipate.

—

February rolls around. It’s the dead of winter, arguably the most boring time of year. Your mind is preoccupied with the job interview you have coming up, and you’ve been a bit stressed about it. Wonwoo has been nothing but supportive and helpful - giving you advice, offering to help you practice, cleaning your apartment for you of his own free will - and you are more than grateful to have him around. 

One particularly cold Saturday morning, you wake up to a text from Wonwoo. 

Good morning beautiful! Text me when you’re awake 😊

You smile sleepily as you reply. 

Good morning babe 💖 I’m awake!

The chat bubble pops up as he begins to reply immediately. 

Great! Can you be ready by 11am? I have a surprise for you 😁

A surprise?

Y/N: Oooh, what kind of surprise? WW: It’s a secret 😉 Y/N: Hmm 🤔 Okay... What should I wear though?  WW: Wear whatever you want, you look cute in everything! Y/N: Hehe okayyyy WW: Perfect, I’ll pick you up at 11! See you soon 😊

You hop out of bed and start to get ready, practically dancing around your apartment. You open your closet and stare at your clothes, trying to decide what to wear - which proves to be hard when you don’t know where you’re going. You end up grabbing the cozy light blue sweater Wonwoo complimented you on when you wore it a couple weeks ago, and a cute pair of jeans to match. You’re putting on your heeled boots when you hear the knockknockknock of somebody at the door. You open the door to see your boyfriend, looking incredibly handsome in his dark coat and black-rimmed glasses. He extends to you a bouquet of a dozen red roses.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says with a soft smile. 

As you take the bouquet Wonwoo pulls you in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist. As your lips part you look at him, an inquisitive look on your face.

“But it’s not Valentine’s Day yet,” you tell him.

“I know,” he replies as he gives you a little kiss on your nose. “But I couldn’t wait.”

You feel a huge smile color your face. 

“So, where are we going?” 

—

The waitress sets a massive plate of the fanciest waffles you’ve ever seen in front of you. You start to salivate at the sight of the fresh berries and cream heaping on top.

A few weeks ago you had casually mentioned the bougie brunch place you’ve always wanted to try, but it was expensive and the wait was always way too long. Turns out Wonwoo immediately called and made a reservation for you two.

You go to dig into your waffles when you notice your boyfriend holding his phone up, taking photos of you.

“Hey! Stop that,” you say as you playfully try to grab his phone.

“What?” he asks innocently. “You just look so pretty.”

He looks at you adoringly. You pout, feigning annoyance, and he snaps another picture - making you laugh. There’s no way you can be mad at him, he’s simply too sweet.

After the decadent meal Wonwoo walks you back to his car, holding your hand, and insists upon opening the car door for you - even helping you take off your coat. It’s silly, but it still makes you feel warm and fuzzy.

Wonwoo starts driving, but in the opposite direction of your home.

“Where are we going now?” you inquire.

“Remember how you said you’ve never been ice skating?”

“Oh god,” you groan. “Can’t wait to make a complete fool of myself.”

“You won’t,” he insists. “You can hold onto me.”

“But you’ve never been ice skating either,” you point out. “How do you know you’re not gonna fall too?”

Wonwoo smiles. “Then we’ll fall together.”

You scoff playfully, but a grin also appears on your face.

Ice skating ends up being a disaster. Neither one of you can stop falling (it doesn’t help that you refuse to stop holding hands, so when one of you falls both of you go down), but you also can’t stop laughing - to the point where your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. You haven’t had fun like this in ages.

You look over at your boyfriend. He is extraordinarily cute right now, his cheeks rosy from the cold air. Wonwoo catches you looking at him and leans over to plant a kiss on your cheek - he then immediately runs into the wall. You let out a giggle - he looks back at you sheepishly.

“Maybe you should pay attention to where you’re going,” you tease as you nudge him with your elbow.

“Hard to do so when my beautiful girlfriend is right next to me, distracting me.” His tone mirrors your playfulness, but the way he’s looking at you - you can tell he means it.

You roll your eyes, but a huge smile lights up your face as you wrap your arm around his, squeezing him tightly. 

On the drive back Wonwoo suggests you go to his place, to which you happily agree. Before you enter, he tells you to close your eyes.

“No peeking!” he insists.

“I won’t!” you swear, placing your hands over your eyes. 

You walk through the front door and wait in the entryway, resisting peeking as promised. You hear Wonwoo fiddling with things for a minute, and then you hear the opening notes of your favorite album - the sound emanating from his record player.

“Okay, you can look now,” he tells you as he once again is standing right next to you. You remove your hands, opening your eyes to the sight of Wonwoo’s dim apartment - illuminated only by the dozen of freshly-lit candles placed around the living room. In his hands are the biggest box of chocolates you’ve ever seen, and a cute fuzzy teddy bear that’s holding a heart with Be mine embroidered on it.

“Oh my god, you really went all out,” you remark, smiling from ear to ear as your heart practically flutters in your chest.

“Only the best for you, babe.”

He sets down the chocolates and the bear, stopping to help you out of your coat before drawing you into his embrace, kissing you softly and slowly. He then takes your hands in his, pulling you toward the hallway.

“There’s one more surprise,” he tells you.

Before you can ask him what more he could possibly surprise you with, you see the trail of rose petals down the hallway, leading into his bedroom.

“You did NOT,” you exclaim as you laugh, truly bewildered at the sight of it.

You follow the trail as he pulls you into his room, where even more petals lay on the bed, perfectly forming the shape of a heart.

“It’s so beautiful I almost don’t want to ruin it,” you proclaim.

Wonwoo raises his eyebrow at you.

“Hey, I said almost.”

Without a word he smiles, pulling you in so he can grab the hem of your sweater, gently pulling it over your head to reveal the lacy bra you had chosen to wear today.

“So pretty,” he remarks as he runs his hands over your breasts, before reaching around your back to undo the clasp. “But even prettier without.”

He tosses the bra aside, taking your tits in his hands. You begin to undo his shirt buttons, revealing his incredibly toned body that still turns you on so much every time you see it. His shirt gone, you move to his belt. You unbuckle it and pull it off, throwing it to the floor as you take the bulge in his pants in your palm. He lets out a soft groan as you caress him, his erection quickly growing. You go to unfasten his pants, the taut fabric giving way as you undo the zipper, his cock now bulging through his underwear, begging to escape. 

Wonwoo suddenly grabs you by the hips, twirling you around and pushing you onto the bed. 

“Get comfy, babe.”

As you recline into the soft pillows, he removes his pants and then begins to take off yours, pulling them off of you in one go. He gently pushes your inner thighs open and situates himself right in between your legs, the only barrier between his face and your cunt being the thin lacy underwear that do nothing to hide how wet you are right now. He softly kisses your clit a few times, then licks a stripe over the sheer fabric. You run your hand through his hair as he starts kissing your clit again, this time more intensely. You begin to squirm slightly against his face - silently begging for more. Wonwoo gazes up at you, giving you a little smirk as his lips hover right above you - so close that you feel breath against your core.

“Stop teasing meeee,” you whine.

You feel his finger slide under the fabric, pulling it aside to reveal your soaked center. You feel the sharpness of the cool air hitting you, followed by the warmth of Wonwoo’s mouth against your cunt. You mewl softly as his tongue traces against your folds, lapping up your juices but only making you wetter in the process. You continue to stroke his hair as he goes down on you, enjoying the view. You love the way his nose brushes against your clit as he alternates between sucking on the bud and fucking you with his tongue. 

Eventually you feel his fingers delicately graze your entrance - he inserts only one finger at first, but it still feels so good. 

“More,” you beg. “Please.”

Wonwoo slides a second finger into your cunt. He knows how to curve them perfectly, hitting you in just the right spot to drive you insane. He fucks you as he continues licking your clit - you become a moaning mess as your orgasm draws closer and closer. Your hips begin to buck involuntarily, grinding your cunt against his face - overwhelmed with pleasure. Wonwoo wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you down against the bed as he devours you. 

“Fuck, baby - I’m cumming,” you cry out. Your legs shake as the incredible sensation takes over your entire body, the white-hot flashes of pleasure flowing through you as your pussy throbs against your boyfriend’s tongue. 

As you come down, Wonwoo gives you soft little kitten licks. You sink into the pillows, your whole body relaxed in bliss. He kisses your stomach before crawling up, his body weight laying against you cozily as he presses his nose against yours. He kisses you, his lips and chin covered in your juices. You begin to make out, his tongue moving against yours, his bulge pressing against your core. You reach down, slipping your hand through the band of his underwear, and pull his cock out. You’ve fucked your boyfriend countless times by now, but every time you’re still in awe of his size. You wrap your hand around his thickness and stroke him a few times, causing precum to leak out. You guide his tip to your entrance - you moan as it easily slips in, his size stretching you out so perfectly. He slides his entire length into you, letting out a groan as he bottoms out. 

“Your pussy’s so perfect for me, babe,” he says in a low voice. He begins to fuck you, slowly pushing his cock in and out, letting your walls adjust to his size. 

“So good baby, fuck,” he says, practically growling. “Your pussy’s all mine.”

You moan as he picks up speed, thrusting his huge cock into you further and further. His lips meet yours again - your mouths and tongues dancing against each other as he fucks you, more passionately than ever before. 

“All mine, you’re all mine.”

“Oh my god,” you cry, tears forming in your eyes from the intense pleasure. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“I’m close baby - wanna cum in you,” he groans. 

“Please,” you beg. 

Wonwoo’s rhythm picks up speed - tears are fully running down your face as you let out cries of pleasure. You feel his cock pulsate against your walls as he releases, groaning as he thrusts into you, filling you up with his cum. 

As he comes down from his high, his warm body melts into yours - he’s squishing you, but you’ve never been more comfortable. His cock still inside you, he plays with your hair as he kisses you slowly. 

You lay there together for a while. Eventually, Wonwoo slowly pulls out of you, giving you a kiss on the cheek before he gets up to grab a warm towel. After he cleans you up he plops back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in, squeezing you so tightly it makes you giggle. 

You draw your head back just enough so you can look your boyfriend in the eyes. He’s so hot, so cute, gazing at you so lovingly - you truly don’t think you’ve ever been happier than you are in this moment. 

“I love you,” you tell him - for the first time. 

You didn’t plan on saying it, it just came out naturally. Because it’s true - you love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone. 

Wonwoo smiles, caressing you softly as he holds you warmly against him. 

“I love you too.”

[end] 

#ren's fics ੈ♡₊˚•. #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fics #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #svt fics #svt smut #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen smut #seventeen fics #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader

[forever-rogue]

hi my lover,

i have a joel request🤭

something angsty and evil. like joel says the most awful thing to reader about her being delusional that he could ever love her or something. (cause they haven’t defined their relationship) and then reader writes a note and leaves in the middle of the night and ellie finds it and yells at joel. with a fluffy ending cause i like to cry then happy cry.

ok bye ily😏

AN | It hurts a little but there’s a fluffy ending! 🥰 

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 3.4k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Are you serious?” The expression on his face was enough to send chills down your spine. But these were all the wrong sorts of chills, “you’re not that dumb, are you?”

“I…” you’d never heard him speak like that before, especially not to you. Your lip trembled with effort as you tried not to cry, tears threatening to well up and roll down your cheeks, “I don’t….”

“What?” he mocked, arms crossing over his chest and a hard expression on his face, “can’t even put a sentence together?” 

You kept your sniffles down, but that didn’t keep from your voice trembling and sounding so small, “J-Joel, why are you doing this?”

“Let me make this clear,” he leaned in and gestured between the two of you, “we - you and I - are nothing. I don’t care about you, okay? I’m definitely not in love with you, little girl. So get that straight. You are nothing to me.”

You weren’t able to hold back your tears anymore, and felt them dip down your cheeks, warm and salty. You recoiled from him, almost as though he’d hit you. He might as well have. It would have hurt less than this. Brushing away your tears, starting to back away; this wasn’t your Joel, you didn’t know this Joel at all.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to squeak out before just turning on your heel and running away. You didn’t even know where you were heading to, you just knew that you had to get away from him. You couldn’t bear to look at him for a moment longer. 

Whatever had happened to Joel Miller was nothing you wanted a part of.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You spent the latter part of the day locked in your room and pacing around, nervous and worried that he might come back and find you for some reason. You know, kick while you’re already down. There had been so much malice in his words that they kept ringing in your head all day. You had no clue what had suddenly come over him to cause him to act this way. 

But perhaps, this had always been him and he was just now showing you his true colors. And yet…no. You knew deep down that this wasn’t him. But it still felt heartbreaking. You had no idea how you were supposed to face him again. You weren’t sure if you wanted to face him. 

Eventually, after a lot of contemplation and mulling over your options, you decided you knew what you were going to do. 

You hadn’t come to Jackson with much, and packing up your singular bag hadn’t taken a long time. It felt weird to see your entire life, what everything had amounted to, shoved into one bag. 

Despite your desire to just leave, you knew that you couldn’t entirely leave without saying anything. You scribbled down a quick note and left it on the kitchen table deciding that it would suffice. 

It was late, and Joel and Ellie were sleeping. At least they appeared to be; the house was dead silent and the lights in their bedrooms appeared to be off. You hesitated in front of Ellie’s door, thinking about seeing if she was up so you could give her a proper goodbye, but you couldn’t bring yourself to knock. The girl needed rest and you didn’t want to bother her with something that felt so trivial.

Instead you put your hand on her door before leaving in silence. You hoped that one day you would be able to see her again. 

After ensuring you had everything, you walked to the front door and stepped out into the quiet, still evening. On to the next, you figured, on to something that you knew would never match what you had with Joel and Ellie.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel could sense that something was off as soon as he woke up the next morning. Things felt different…heavy. He knew that he did not like it. 

When he walked into the kitchen, he found Ellie sitting at the table, the expression on her face a mixture of shock, sadness, and anger. Once she heard him, she looked up and glared daggers at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she stood up from the table, the legs of the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. Joel’s eyebrows raised as he shrugged at her. He had no clue what was going on - okay…maybe had some clue. But still, he wasn’t expecting her to come up to him and slam a note against his chest, “how can you be so stupid! You ruined everything!”

“What are you talking about?” He looked at her with surprised eyes and shook his head. He took the note and unfolded it gingerly.

“Read the note,” she shoved him lightly, “and figure it out. Idiot.”

She pushed past him and ran up the stairs, slamming her shut so harshly that some of the frames on the wall rattled. He flinched at the sound but finished unfolding the note and quickly reading it. 

By the time he reached the end, he wasn't sure if was mad at you or angry with himself. The latter more than anything else. He knew what he did, what he had said wasn't right, but he - in his own weird, flawed way - thought that pushing you away was the best thing to do. He just never thought it would affect you this much. 

He accepted that you were going to be mad at him, he deserved it at the very least, but to have you this heartbroken was devastating. You really did love him. You'd told him as much but he'd never allowed him to believe it.

And now you were gone. Gone like a thief in the night. 

"Fuck," he held the note to his chest before sighing shakily, trying to control the trembling in his body, "fuck."

But he already knew what he had to do. 

He ran up the stairs and threw open Ellie's door without even bothering to knock. She looked at him in confusion but only raised her eyes. 

"I'm going," he was breathless and mentally mapping out everything he needed to pack before he left. Things be damned, he figured, as long as he had some sort of weapon it would be okay. He could handle hunger or cold, pretty much anything, except the idea of you being gone.

"What?" But she was already jumping off the bed and looking for her backpack.

"For her," he answered despite not having too, "you're not coming, Ellie. I don't need you to get hurt too. I can handle it. But I fucked up."

"Joel," he wouldn't have minded her going, but he also wanted to keep her safe. But she was like him, stubborn and iron willed.

"Ten minutes," he answered in reply, "don't want to lose more time."

You'd left in the night while he had been sleeping. And it was only about nine in the morning now, piecing it together Joel realized you couldn't have had more than about an eight hour head start. They could cover ground easily and catch up. Especially if you hadn't taken a horse which, if you were trying to be discreet you wouldn't have. 

"Let's go," Ellie swung her backpack over her shoulder and opened the door, "no time to waste."

He grabbed his own backpack and nodded gruffly. He might have royally fucked up, but he was going to do everything in his power to fix it. 

Even if you hated him forever, he wanted to make sure you were safe. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You should have thought this through a little more. But in the middle of the night and with a broken heart, people didn't generally make smart decisions. It was you, you were people.

And you were currently freezing and trying to stop yourself from shivering. You'd only grabbed your light winter jacket and it had started snowing. Of course it did.

You also hadn't bothered to take a horse, or food, or anything really. All you'd taken with you were a few weapons, a few snack bars and the clothes on your back. Yeah. You hadn't really thought any of this out. Smart was not something you'd use to describe yourself at that moment.

And you were growing tired. You'd been walking for hours and your feet were sore and you really just wanted a rest. You were fairly sure that nothing would happen to you on the path you were taking, but the risk wasn't worth it. You just had to push through and go a few more hours before you'd be near civilization - or rather civilization adjacent - again. Then you could rest.

But your body had other ideas, and after another hour or so, you couldn’t handle it anymore. You were getting a stitch in your side, and your legs felt like jelly; you had to rest for a little while if you were going to keep going. 

Luckily, there was a thicket of trees along your path that you could use for cover. You threw your bag down and flopped down with a heavy sigh. The ground was cold; it made you shiver. Your jeans weren’t enough to fight off the chill and you were shaking as you leaned against the tree to try and get some rest. Just an hour or two was all you would need before you could keep going. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

An hour turned out to be…longer. You weren’t even necessarily sure how long it was, because when you woke up, it was with a start and a scream. You felt a hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently. Your natural instinct was to fight off whoever it was and to defend yourself; Joel had taught you that much. 

“Stop,” you were blindly flailing around and trying to get yourself free but the voice sounded familiar, “stop. It’s me - it’s me!”

You stopped suddenly and looked up to see who was there; when you realized it was him, you panicked all over again. Shaking your head, you tried crawling away, wanting to get as much distance between yourselves as possible. You can’t believe that he had found you, but then again, you really shouldn’t have been surprised. You were just more surprised that he bothered to come and find you. Part of you had never expected to see him again. 

“No,” you looked at him with wide eyes and he hated the thought that he had done this to you. He was the reason that you had done this to yourself, “please, just leave me alone.”

“Baby-”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” alright, you’d quickly gone from worried and upset to mad. He really had the audacity to call you that? The man had some nerve, “just leave me alone.” 

“Listen,” he crouched down so he was eye level with you, “you shouldn’t be out here. You’re going to freeze.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, trying to hold back your shivers. You knew he was right, “just leave me alone.”

“Please, just-”

“No,” you hissed, “why are you even here? I thought you never wanted to see me again. You made that very clear.”

“Listen, I know I fucked up,” he pinched his brow and sighed heavily; he was only mad at himself, “but can you please just come with me right now? You need to get somewhere warm.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” almost as if your body wanted to betray you, a shiver ran down your spine and you trembled, “just go.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” he insisted, “you want to stay here? I’ll stay here too. But at least take my jacket-"

"Why are you here, Joel?" your eyes narrowed as you refused to take the jacket he was holding out to you, "why?"

"Can we do this later? Once we're back home," he really wasn't getting this. He was so smart most of the time but right now he was just…not quite comprehending.

"You don't get it," you shook your head incredulously, "there is no home. I'm not going back."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving," you clambered back to your feet, shaky and painfully, "I'm not going back with you. Why would I? There's no place for me there."

"Oh?" He learned your stubbornness and tenacity but right now he wished you'd just listen to him. Not that he deserved that much, but fuck. He just wanted you home, "and just where are you gonna go, huh?"

"Riviera," you waved him off as you started back towards the street, "and if that doesn't work out then I'll figure it out."

"That's another six hours away on horse," he sighed as he followed after you, "you'll never make it on foot."

"Why do you suddenly care?" you threw out your arms. You could see the horses and Ellie a short distance back. Your heart ached when you realized how much you'd miss her. And him, "I am nothing to you. You made that abundantly clear."

"I wasn't…fuck, I lied," he finally admitted it, his eyes finding yours, "I didn't mean it any of it."

"Then you shouldn't have said it," you threw back at him, "why did you say it?"

When he didn't say anything in response, you rolled your eyes and turned around, keeping your gaze on the horizon. He was wrong; you'd make it just to prove him wrong.

"Come back for Ellie," oh. He knew how to get to you, "please. She needs you. If nothing else, do it for her."

You stiffened, sore and tired and hungry and already missing her. Maybe you could go back just for a little while just for her…

"Fine," your voice was small as you turned around and pushed past him, "for her."

He closed his eyes and let out a long, relieved sigh. As long as he knew you were safe, that was all that mattered.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been a few weeks since you'd come back. For Ellie. And nothing more. You hadn't said more than a few words to Joel, despite living in the same house. And despite his best efforts. He kept trying to talk to you but you weren't having it. You weren't ready yet, and to be honest, you weren't quite sure if you would ever be.

But there came a time when Joel couldn't take it anymore. If you were going to be mad and angry he wanted you to get it all out and be mad. He just couldn't handle the silence; it was brutal.

He caught you when you were in the kitchen and stood in the doorway, blocking your way out. You hadn't heard him at first but you could sense his presence, "hey."

You remained silent and kept drying the dishes. He came closer and his heart broke at how you recoiled from him, "don't." 

"Can you just - we need to talk," he sighed gruffly, leaning against the counter. You tossed the towel down and shrugged your shoulders, "five minutes. Please." 

"Why?" You asked, but when you didn't immediately run away he relaxed slightly, "I don't see what there could possibly be to talk about."

 "Don't do that," he insisted softly, "you know there is plenty to talk about."

"I don't have anything to say to you," you moved to the opposite counter and mirrored his position, "I didn't think you'd have anything to say either. You made that very clear."

"I'm sorry," despite wanting to look away, you caught his eye. You almost wanted to see the lie written all over his face; but you couldn't find it, "I…I fucked up."

“Yeah,” you nodded in agreement, sighing softly, “you did. You really hurt me, Joel. It didn’t have to go that far, you didn’t have to be so…cruel. I just don’t get how you didn’t know how much I cared for you. You had to know, right? If you didn’t want me or didn’t want things to get as far as they did, you should have said so.”

“I knew,” he agreed, “I always knew.”

“Then why didn’t you stop it?” you already felt tears welling up in your eyes. You looked away and blinked rapidly to try and prevent them from spilling over, “why didn’t you just say something?”

“I didn’t want to-”

“Why not?!” you groaned, “it could have been so much easier. We wouldn’t be here right now!”

“I didn’t say anything because I felt the same!” as soon as the words fell out of his mouth, it became dead silent in the house. You could have a pin drop. “I felt the same way.”

“Felt?’ you asked quietly, “or feel?”

He paused for a moment and you could see the little bit of pink rising up in his cheeks, “feel.” 

“Okay,” you nodded softly, staring at your feet, “so you felt and feel the same as I did. And then you told me you didn’t love me, that I was anything to you…we were nothing. That’s a pretty big disconnect.”

“I know this is going to sound stupid and maybe you won’t believe it, but it’s the truth,” you motioned for him to continue on, “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“By pushing me away?”

“By pushing you away,” he agreed, “I thought by doing that, I was doing you a favor. That way you wouldn’t feel stuck - with me. That way you had the chance to do what you wanted.”

“Stuck with you?” you echoed, your heart deflating slightly. You definitely would not have had this on your bingo card, “you think I felt like I was stuck with you?”

“Didn’t you?” He seemed more like a shy boy than a grown man at that moment. 

“No,” you shook your head fervently, “of course not. I never once had that thought even cross my mind. I didn’t feel stuck - I wanted to be with you, Joel.”

“Oh,” he opened and closed his mouth a few times, “oh?”

“Oh,” you snorted lightly in amusement, “I’m in love with you, in case that wasn’t clear. I never felt stuck or that I had to be with you. I wanted to be here.”

“I thought giving you a way out was the best thing,” he sighed softly, “I thought it would be easier if you hated me. That way you wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

“I never once wanted an out,” you promised, “I never wanted someone else. Never. It was always you, Joel.”

“And I fucked it up,” he concluded. You swallowed thickly; part of you wished you could be mad at him forever, the other part of you knew that was never possible. He pushed off the counter and nodded to himself, “well, that’s my five minutes. Thank you for um…for listening to me. Letting me explain.”

You watched him turn around - but you didn’t let him walk away. 

You reached for his, fingers wrapping around his wrist as you stopped him, “wait.”

He had a shocked expression on his face as he turned to look at you. Part of him was sure that he’d imagined the moment, “what’s wrong?”

“Do you love me?” your voice cracked as you tried not to cry already.

This time he didn’t hesitate for a moment, “yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed again, “do you….you want me to leave?”

“No,” he promised, “I don’t.”

“Good because I don’t want to leave,” you couldn’t help the nervous laugh that bubbled up, “so I guess I’ll stay. Even though I’m still kind of mad at you.”

“I deserve that much,” he exhaled shakily, “that’s fair.”

“But I also love you so I want to stay.”

His face lit up and you remembered all the reasons you’d fallen in love with him in the first place, “I love you.”

“Promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Next time,” you whispered, “just talk to me, okay? We’ll figure things out, but we gotta do them together.”

“I promise,” and you knew he meant it, “I promise.”

“I promise too, Joel,” you squeezed his hand, “always.”

“Always.”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo

[clumsyromantic]

NOT ANOTHER RAINBOW LEGACY CHALLENGE

Welcome to this ten generation legacy challenge based on vibrant colors! Inspired by all the other color themed legacies out there, because who doesn’t like basing their sims whole personality on a color (I know I’m a sucker for it lol). I won’t put a long list of rules here, because at the end of the day I want this to be your gameplay and story that you create. I will suggest that you follow each generation, but if something isn’t to your liking, by all means, change it for yourself. With that being said, don’t claim this challenge as your own, even if you tweak it. Remember, though, legacy challenges are all about having fun!

If you play don't forget to tag me here or on instagram @clumsy.romantic or use the hashtag #notanotherlegacy. I would really love to see some gameplay/stories!

Generation One: Licorice.

You never stay in one place too long. As a criminal, you’re always on the run. You don’t commit to anything. The only thing you’ve ever truly loved and committed to is your career. When it comes to actual love, you dip as soon as it seems like things might get serious. You don’t like being that close to people, letting people in like that. You can’t trust anyone, or so you thought.

Traits: Evil, Non-Committal, Romantic. (Additional: Self-Assured, Mean)

Aspiration: Serial Romantic.

Career: Criminal.

Have more enemies than friends.

Have a child with an enemy.

Move to a different world each time you age up.

Only your child(ren) can be your partner in crime.

Get caught cheating at least once.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Mischief, Handiness and Programming skills.

[Packs used: None]

Generation Two: Pearl.

From the time you could hold things, you were coloring, drawing, painting, anything that could help you express yourself. You are the exact opposite of your parent. Maybe you’re like the other one? You wouldn’t know, though. You never met them, nor heard a single truth about them. That doesn’t matter, though, because as soon as you can, you move out of your parents home so that you can start your own life and family. Love isn’t easy, as you don’t truly know what it’s supposed to look like, but with how kind and caring you are, it almost comes easy to you.

Traits: Creative, Cheerful, Family-Oriented. (Additional: Loyal, Good)

Aspiration: Big Happy Family. 

Career: Painter.

Complete the Artist Prodigy as a child.

Move to a different world from your parent.

Marry someone with amazing compatibility (or someone with similar traits).

Have 5 children.

Have a bowling night with the family at least twice a week.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Painting, Parenting and Bowling skills.

[Packs used: High School Years, Growing Together, Parenthood, Bowling Night]

Generation Three: Latte.

You come from a big family, and you’ve always loved every bit of it. However, nothing can compare to the love you have for fitness. As a teenager, you become a simfluencer who models athletic wear and shows off your healthy lifestyle. As a Young Adult, you constantly have dogs. You tell yourself all you need is dogs, until you meet another fitness buff who you end up having a baby with.

Traits: Active, Dog Lover, Vegetarian. (Additional: Ambitious, Outgoing)

Aspiration: Friend of the Animals.

Career: Simfluencer.

Have a good relationship with your parents and siblings.

Go to the gym four times a week.

Change your hairstyle once a week.

Have at least 3 dogs as a YA.

Become a B-lister.

Have a baby with someone you meet at the gym (bonus points if they have the active skill).

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Fitness, Entrepreneur, Media Production, and Pet Training skills.

[Packs used: Cats & Dogs, High School Years, Get Famous]

Generation Four: Dandelion.

It was hard for you to relate to your parents, as they were much more outgoing and sociable than you were. Keeping up conversations and being around people always made you feel drained. You preferred being by yourself with a good book. It was usually a sci-fi book about robots. It’s no surprise that you’re the first in your family to go to university and you end up working in engineering. Your best friend, perhaps lover as well, is a robot you built. Seems like a good life to you.

Traits: Loner, Overachiever, Socially Awkward. (Additional: Bookworm, Geek)

Aspiration: Nerd Brain.

Career: Engineer.

Attend university.

Build a servo bot.

Be romantic partners with the servo.

Woohoo with the servo in the rocketship.

Only adopt or have science babies.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Logic, Handiness and Robotics skills.

[Packs used: High School Years, Discover University]

Generation Five: Emerald.

You want to make the world a better place for the next generations. Everything you do involves Mother Earth. You live off the land, garden and fish for your food. You raise chickens for your eggs and cows for your milk. You also fabricate and make things for yourself, others and your animals. Some of the things you create you sell on Plopsy for income. You have a baby with someone you’re engaged to be married to. But as soon as you can, you pack up and leave them, taking the baby with you.

Traits: Loves Outdoors, Maker, Freegan. (Additional: Green Fiend, Recycle Disciple)

Aspiration: Master Maker.

Career: Plopsy Seller.

Live in Evergreen Harbor (If you don’t already, move there as a YA).

Live in Port Promise, where you must make the eco footprint green.

Additional Challenge: have the Simple Living lot challenge in Evergreen.

Knitted and Fabricated items can be sold on Plopsy when you need simoleons.

Get engaged and try for a baby until one of you is pregnant.

Once you have reached green for the eco footprint; break off the engagement, take the baby and move to Sulani.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Knitting, Fishing, Gardening and Fabrication skills.

[Packs used: Eco Lifestyle, Nifty Knitting, Island Living]

Generation Six: Turquoise.

Growing up on a beautiful beach with your single parent doing everything for you made you into a spoiled brat. The only thing you actually want to do, besides sleep and chill, is fashion photography. You have a real eye for fashion. Although, you don’t really have a knack for picking up work. You’re more likely to be suntanning than actually doing your job. The few times you do accept a job, you fall in love with the model. Instead of falling happily in love together, you are constantly fighting, and to make matters worse, you have a kid together. Something neither of you wanted.

Traits: Self-Absorbed, Lazy, Hates Children. (Additional: Jealous, Squeamish)

Aspiration: Beach Life.

Career: Freelance Fashion Photographer.

Accept a job once a week.

Have a baby with one of the models that has the Mean, Hot-Headed or Evil trait.

Only have 1 child.

Have a bad relationship with your child.

Move to San Myshuno as an Adult.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Charisma and Photography skills.

[Packs used: Get Famous, Outdoor Retreat, Moschino, City Living]

Generation Seven: Ruby.

You constantly heard your parents fighting over something. They were never not fighting. You found your solace in music; listening to it, writing it, playing instruments, just everything about it. You get married young just so you can move out. But you’re in love with a musician on the side. You’re not really sure if you should keep seeing them, or stick by your spouse. You never really were good with decisions, especially ones that could really impact your future.

Traits: Music Lover, Hot-Headed, Childish. (Additional: Erratic, Dance Machine)

Aspiration: Musical Genius.

Career: Live off tips and fame.

Marry and move out as a YA.

Have a bad relationship with your parents.

Cheat on your spouse with someone who plays an instrument or sings.

Only earn money from tips when you play instruments or sing in public.

Have either a dance battle or karaoke night once a week.

Obtain fame, at least c-lister, from music.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Singing, Dancing and any instrument skills.

[Packs used: Get Famous, City Living, Get Together]

Generation Eight: Magenta.

You’ve always used humor and pranks as a way to cope with everything going on in your life. No one but your best friend really gets you. It’s hard for you two to get over being friends when you realize that you have feelings for each other. Except, after having a baby together, you realize you were better off as friends. You still civilly raise the child, just not under the same roof anymore.

Traits: Paranoid, Goofball, Gloomy. (Additional: Clumsy, Cat Lover)

Aspiration: Chief of Mischief.

Career: Social Media.

Have a childhood best friend.

Have a baby with said best friend.

You and your best friend fall out, but you still raise the child civilly.

Have at least 1 cat.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Comedy, Writing and Mischief skills.

[Packs used: Cats and Dogs, Strangerville, City Living]

Generation Nine: Tangerine.

You prefer the finer things in life. You live in the city, but as a young adult working in law, you often take vacations to Mt. Komorebi. Where, when you fall in love with a local and have children, you take your children there often. Not until you retire, do you and your spouse move there. In the meantime, you enjoy the time you spend there; skiing, snowboarding, rock climbing, sightseeing, etc. You dream of your vacations while at work.

Traits: Adventurous, Kleptomaniac, Bro. (Additional: Lactose Intolerant, Materialistic)

Aspiration: Mt. Komorebi Sightseer.

Career: Law.

Take 2 vacation days a week to go to Mt. Komorebi.

Marry and have children with someone who lives in Mt. Komorebi

Continue living in San Myshuno until you retire and move to Mt. Komorebi.

Steal one item a day.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Skiing, Snowboarding and Rock Climbing skills.

[Packs used: Snowy Escape, Cottage Living]

Generation Ten: Aubergine.

Your parents always showed you the luxurious sides of life. Treating you to everything and anything you could ever imagine. It lit the way for your future career as a critic. You enjoyed being able to put your 2 cents into whatever you could get your neatly, well kept fingers on. You also always looked and presented to be your best self. 

Traits: Neat, Foodie, Snob. (Additional: High Maintenance, Perfectionist)

Aspiration: Party Animal.

Career: Critic.

Host 3 parties a week.

Each party has a theme; decorate and cook accordingly.

Get married 3 times (not to the same person).

Have 1 child per marriage.

Don’t get close to your children until they are Young Adults.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Cooking, Writing and Gourmet Cooking skills.

[Packs used: Spa Day, City Living]

#the sims 4 #sims 4 #s4 #thesims4 #sims4 #sims legacy #sims lets play #notanotherlegacy

[solarmorrigan]

They aren’t high, but they might as well be.

It’s so late that it’s early, sitting in those odd hours of motionless night when exhaustion throws a ridiculous filter over everything and it’s an effort not to laugh loud enough to alert Robin’s parents to the fact that there’s an unauthorized boy in her room.

She and Steve have been lying side by side on her bed for the last hour, both knowing they should probably go to sleep if they’re going to wake up with enough time for Steve to sneak out and actually drive home safely, but they’re not quite ready yet. Instead, they’re content to be pressed together, shoulder to ankle, hands intertwined between them, content to feel the other secure and nearby.

Robin lifts their hands and uncurls her fingers, spreading them open like a star and prompting Steve to do the same, until their hands are pressed flat together with their fingers outstretched.

“Your hands are bigger than mine,” Robin says, looking at the way her palm fits into Steve’s with room to spare and the way his fingers extend past hers by almost a whole knuckle.

“Probably because I’m bigger than you,” Steve says, also lazily gazing at the way their hands fit together.

“Yeah, but they’re, like, way bigger than mine,” Robin insists. “You have really big hands.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “They’re not that big. You just have stubby fingers.”

“Rude. You just have giant hands.”

“I do not.”

“Like mittens.”

“No.”

“Banana hands.”

“You are literally the only girl who has ever said something bad about the size of my hands.”

Robin smacks her free hand against Steve’s chest. “Ew.”

Steve is laughing. “You started it.”

“Lies,” Robin says, taking Steve’s hand in both of hers so she can continue examining it. “Why are your nails so nice?”

Steve watches as Robin traces the tips of her fingers over the even cuticles and neatly trimmed ends of his nails. “Because I take care of them, and I don’t bite them, unlike some people.”

“I never bite your nails,” Robin says, smiling as Steve groans dramatically.

“That was terrible. You’re terrible.”

“Nope, you love me.”

“I can love you even if you’re terrible.” Steve turns his hand so he can catch one of Robin’s and look it over for himself. “You’ve been biting your nails a lot lately.”

Robin shrugs. “Stressed,” is all she offers; she doesn’t really have to say much more for him to get it.

Steve frowns, threading his fingers back through hers and squeezing. “You used to paint them, didn’t you? Like, to help you remember not to chew on them so much?”

“I did, yeah,” Robin says thoughtfully. “It’s been a while since I’ve even thought about doing that.”

“You should do it again. Give your nails a chance to heal,” Steve says.

Robin hums, as if she has to think it over. “Only if you let me paint yours, too.”

And maybe it’s the fact that it’s after two a.m., but all Steve does is shrug and say, “Yeah, sure.”

Robin sits up on the bed like Dracula popping up out of his coffin, turning to stare at him with her bedhead flying wild around her face. “Seriously?”

“You want me to say no?” Steve asks.

“Well I didn’t expect you to just say yes!” Robin says in a hushed yell. “I thought I’d have to argue you down.”

Steve grins. “Go get your nail polish before I change my mind, Buckley.”

He doesn’t have to tell her twice. Robin swings her legs off the bed and goes to her dresser, digging through her makeup case and returning with a handful of black-capped bottles.

“Pick your poison, Harrington.” Robin gestures to the array of colors.

Steve is slow to sit up, stretching and groaning before he turns to sit cross-legged in front of Robin. “You pick. I’ve never had my nails painted before, so we’ll have to go with your expertise.”

“Hmm.” Robin clasps her fingers together under her chin, tapping her lips with her index fingers as if this is the most serious decision she’ll ever have to make. Finally, her hand flashes out and grabs one of the bottles, holding it up and wiggling it for Steve to see. “How about a little navy blue, sailor?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he can’t tamp down his smile. “Why not?”

“Okay, gimme your hand.” Robin holds her hand out for Steve’s, palm up and fingers making grabby curls.

Steve puts out his left hand and lets Robin place it on her knee, fingers outstretched while he waits for Robin to shake the bottle of polish thoroughly and unscrew the cap.

“Try to hold still,” Robin instructs him, biting the tip of her tongue between her teeth in concentration as she applies the brush to his thumbnail.

Obligingly, Steve holds as still as possible, content to watch as Robin works her way from his thumb and onto his index finger, coating his nails in shining wet navy blue.

He pulls his hand away for a moment when Robin has to dip the brush back in the bottle for more polish, looks over her handiwork, and lets out a low whistle.

“Wow,” he says, putting his hand back down on Robin’s knee when she gestures for it. “You really suck at this.”

Robin lets out a surprised bark of laughter, narrowly avoiding streaking nail polish down the length of Steve’s finger. “Fuck off, I do not!”

“You kinda do, Rob,” Steve says, his voice full of warmth even as he denounces her skill with a brush.

“How would you even know?” Robin jibes. “You said you’ve never had your nails painted before.”

“I know the nail polish isn’t supposed to go over the edges of the nail,” Steve shoots back.

They both pause to look at the way the polish has been laid thick over the skin on either side of Steve’s nails and has even dribbled a little bit onto the tip of one of his fingers.

“Shut up. It’s a process,” Robin finally says, taking the brush to his ring finger.

“A process, huh?”

“Yes! You paint the nails, and then you use nail polish remover and, like, a Q-tip to clean up the edges.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re just fussy, that’s all,” Robin pronounces, grinning at Steve’s little noise of offense.

“I am not fussy,” he insists.

“You kinda are, Steve,” Robin replies. “Anyway, I’d like to see you do a better job.”

“Deal,” Steve says, maybe a little too quickly for Robin’s liking. “I’ll do your nails next.”

“Well that, I have to see,” Robin says, putting the brush back into the bottle and motioning for him to switch hands.

True to her word, Robin quietly retrieves the nail polish remover and some Q-tips from the bathroom and neatens up her paintjob once she’s finished, and Steve appraises her work like a jeweler looking over and handful of gems.

“Not bad, Buckley,” he says, shrugging his lips.

Robin rolls her eyes. “What are you now, a fashion critic? Hurry up and paint my nails so I can make fun of you.”

Steve’s answering grin is unsettlingly sharp, but Robin still lets him pick the color. He settles on red—“To accent the blue, obviously”—and shakes the bottle before pulling the brush and starting on Robin’s left hand where it rests on his knee.

His strokes are smooth and even, not once straying over the edges of her nails, not even over the bitten, ragged ends, and he moves from one finger to the next with a kind of practiced ease.

“What the fuck!” Robin barely remembers to keep her voice down in her outrage. “Why are you good at this?”

Steve ducks his head, clearly holding in a laugh. “I used to paint Carol’s nails for her all the time.”

“Carol Perkins?” Robin asks, brows furrowed.

“Did I spend a lot of time with any other Carols?” Steve shoots her a look from beneath his lashes before turning back to his work.

“Why?”

Steve shrugs. “She tried to get Tommy to do it one day and he refused, so she asked me to do it instead, and… I dunno, I figured, why not? I did suck at it at first,” he admits. “But I think she just liked having someone’s focus on her for the time it took to do her nails. And I guess I just – like, it felt good, I guess. Taking care of someone else, even just in that little way. And I liked how the nail polish looked when I finally got it right.

“Any time we hung out at her house, she’d ask me to paint her nails for her, or she’d steal my mom’s nail polish if we were at mine. It was, like… our thing, I guess?”

For a moment, Robin sits in the knowledge that Steve and Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins had actually been friends.

From the outside, the three of them had looked like a toxic hurricane of derision and unfairly nice bone structure; they were rarely seen without looks of condescending amusement or lounging around being too cool for everyone else. It had been easy to think of their arrangement as some kind of superficial bond of mutual bitchiness, but at the same time, everyone distantly knew that Steve and Tommy and Carol had been a package deal since at least middle school.

Tommy and Carol had been the only two people Steve routinely hung out with, now that Robin thinks about it. People from basketball and swim and other hangers-on came and went, but those two had been fixtures. They’d probably been his best friends.

And midway through Junior year, Steve had left them.

He’d realized they weren’t who he thought they were, or maybe he’d realized they weren’t who he wanted to be, but the fact is that he’d left behind the two people he’d known the longest and had stepped uncertainly forward without knowing if he’d have anyone at all after that.

For a while he’d had Nancy. Then had come Henderson and all the other rugrats – but as much as Steve loves them, that isn’t quite the same as friends your own age, is it?

But now, he has Robin.

And she’s going to make sure that’s worth something.

“I can’t believe I’ve had some kind of professional manicurist under my nose this whole time,” Robin laments, grinning at Steve when he glances up at her with a huff.

“I’m pretty sure you have to get paid to be a professional. Are you gonna pay me for my services?” he asks.

“I will pay you in love and affection,” Robin declares. “Money can’t buy you these things, Steve.”

“That’s convenient,” Steve shoots back.

“Isn’t it? And I’m going to paint your nails yellow next time,” Robin says.

Steve glances to the side, where Robin’s collection of nail polish sits. “You don’t have any yellow.”

“I’ll buy some.” Robin shrugs. “I think it would look good on you.”

“And you just assume I’m going to let you paint my nails again.” Steve raises an eyebrow at her as he dips the brush back in the bottle to rewet it for the last couple of nails.

“Yep,” Robin says easily.

Steve looks back down, like he really needs to focus that hard on getting the nail of her ring finger just right, but she can tell he’s biting down on a smile.

“Okay,” he finally says, quietly.

“Okay,” she echoes back, giving him a sleepy smile when he glances up.

It’s late, and it’s going to be even later by the time they can go to sleep without ruining their nails, and in fact they’re probably not going to get any sleep at all, but somehow, Robin doesn’t mind.

Even being sleep deprived together with Steve is better than anything she can think of doing apart.

[Prompt: Comparing hand sizes]

#disclaimer: I don't know how big either of these people's hands are just roll with it #stobin #platonic stobin #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #solar wrote #robin paints nails like I paint nails and she is valid <3

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | y’all accidentally adopt a kid (part 2)

♡ fandoms; House of Wax, Hannibal (TV)/Silence of the Lambs, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Hannibal Lecter

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; parenthood, kidnapping, mentions of violence. basically don’t tell these guys you want a kid ig

♡notes; another sparse selection but i don’t think Billy Lenz is allowed within 100 yards of a school so it is what it is

also I hate how much I’m starting to love Bo oh my god

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Vincent Sinclair

> he’s a nurturing man- to his brothers and you

> hell he babies Jonesy too

> even so, he’s shocked when you mention offhandedly that he’d make a good father

> he denies it vehemently

> even as the golden child he grew up in hell

> no way he’d know how to do any of it right

> but you just gently laugh and shake your head, insisting but not pressing it

> it makes him think

> and think and think

> he didn’t know much about kids, but you’d be a great parent

> and you wouldn’t lie to him- maybe he’d be at least an okay father

> families don’t come through often

> and when they do, Lester leaves them be

> if they ever get to Ambrose on their own, the town stays off- none of the Sinclairs want anything to do with harming children

> but mistakes happen, and Bo is freaking out

> a little girl with dark hair and bright blue eyes was sleeping in the back of a car while he took care of her parents, and he didn’t realize until far to late

> she’s maybe 3, and awfully scared and quiet- but when they bring her in the house she walks right up to you and Vincent

> she hugs your leg and finally smiles when Vincent kneels down to show her that Jonesy is a nice dog

> Bo is in shock when you volunteer to adopt her, but Vincent is in quick agreement

> she’s nonverbal, but you look through her family’s things to find out her name - Lilly Henson, or something to that affect .

> Lilly Sinclair has a much better ring to it anyways, doesn’t it?

Bo Sinclair

> he’s the type that if you mention that you want a kid to this man, he asks what color

> he is endlessly devoted to you

> and while he never wanted a kid before, he’s always so insistent you make him a better man

> so some snot nosed brats would complete the picture perfectly

> he’s not super serious about it, not really

> you have plenty of time to plan for a family

> and he’s the type to want biological children if possible- he’s so used to white picket fence suburbia-type ideals

> when a car pulls up to the gas station, he stops when he sees the infant car seat in the back

> he’s about to tell the parents to move along- but then he sees the second matching one

> something - probably his overinflated self worth - tells him he’d be a much better father to twins that these chucklefucks

> and you want a kid anyways! would two be much better

> they’re not identical- he’s not not disappointed by the fact, but they’re still adorable

> a boy and a girl a bit over a year, with big brown eyes and infectious giggles

> he’s beyond proud when he strides in with them

> “daddy’s home!”

> he thinks you might actually kill him this time

> but then Charlotte - the girl based on what’s embroidered on her blankie, reaches for you and you melt

> you’re still scolding him as you happily take Theodore too

> but he knows you’re beyond thrilled

Hannibal Lecter

> he’s always wanted a successor

> quite frankly it never had to be his child - or a child at all

> he thought about taking younger serial killers in the making under his wing more than once

> to teach them the art of culinary cannibalism and the finer points of flaying people

> but it’s far too dangerous - especially with you around

> you’re the one thing that trumps his egomania

> so he lets it be for the time being

> but one day, he takes on a special case at work

> a young boy who recently lost his parents very violently

> he’s in kindergarten, and expresses most everything through his rather advanced drawings

> you don’t interact with his patients- even though he works from home you’re pretty skilled at dodging them

> but on the way out that afternoon the little boy- Peter, his name is, runs out before his social worker and smack dab into you

> she apologizes on his half profusely but you’re so sweet with the boy

> you pick up his dropped drawings and comfort him- he’s quite upset he may have hurt or angered you

> he gives you a huge hug and Hannibal can see the fond, parental look on your face

> after that it’s quite simple to draw up the paperwork

> he’s already in foster care, and it only takes a few false documents to make the courts think that Hannibal’s custody is the best place for little Peter

> you learned long ago that it’s best not to question how or why Hannibal does something when he gets like that

> and either way you’re content with your new little family

#slashers #slashers x reader #slashers x you #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #house of wax #hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal #silence of the lambs #cw kidnapping #cw mentions of death #jonsey sinclair

[celiciaa]

GILBERT VON OBSIDIAN EVENT STORY....

CHAPTER ONE.

I just love you.

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

special thanks to @otomehoneyybearr for proofreading! ♡

minors and ageless blogs dni.

One day, I was caught in a runaway carriage in town and lost my memory.

Gilbert: This is trouble. I never expected the little rabbit would forget about all our time together. 

Gilbert: The coachman who caused this accident will be executed at once…

Gilbert: The main issue is this distance between us.

(….This is a nightmare.) 

(I'm having a bad dream right now.)

I was working at the small bookstore in Rhodolite, the land of roses and art.

But for some reason, I woke up in the castle of Obsidian, an enemy nation of military and ore.

The unrealistic nightmare of being confronted by a handsome looking man with black hair and one eye from the royal family makes me feel dizzy.

(Why am I in Obsidian? And why is a member of the royal family approaching me?)

I rolled off the bed and ran to the wall but,

The man who introduced himself as Gilbert steadily closed the distance between us.

At first glance, he looked like he was smiling, but his blood-colored eye was not, which was simply terrifying.

(He’s the infamous Obsidianite royal family who must have killed many people so far—-)

(If I'm not careful, he could kill me too.)

Gilbert: Hmm, to be so frightened by the little rabbit who loved me so much...

Gilbert: I'm so shocked that I feel like I want to prepare a cage right away.

Walter: You idiot! Don't say that even if it is a joke!

Then, the man who claimed to be the royal physician, Mr. Walter, yelled so loudly that it made me flinch involuntarily.

Walter: You always think of imprisonment and execution whenever someone is in trouble.

Gilbert: I’m serious, you know? Once I confine the little rabbit, she can't escape.

(…)

Walter: Don't threaten the injured person. Look at how pale her face is.

Gilbert: Aah, sorry? I'm the kind and sweet villain to you, so if you don't like it, I'll stop.

Gilbert: But, you know what will happen if you keep acting like that...right?

(I might actually end up being trapped.)

It didn't seem like this was the right time to be afraid and try to escape from reality.

I fought the urge in my body to escape from Gilbert standing in front of me, and held my ground. 

(First, I’ll assess the situation. If I can’t recall anything, I won’t know the right way to act.)

Emma: Why…am I in Obsidian?

Gilbert: Of course, because I brought you here.

Emma: But why a commoner like me….?

Gilbert: Because I’m the big villain who loves the little rabbit very much.

Emma: …Am I the little rabbit?

Gilbert: Yes, that's right. I love you.

(…I don't understand.)

But surely, I see my reflection captured in those seemingly indifferent red eye.

I felt his genuine feeling of love, and had no choice but to accept Gilbert’s words.

Emma: Can you tell me how I got here?

Gilbert: Sure, I'll spend the whole night telling you.

Gilbert: In bed. 

(!?) 

━━

(I never thought he would actually bring me to bed…)

After Mr. Walter finished treating me, I was led into a spacious room covered in black interior

I was intrigued by the shelves lined with many books that rivaled any bookstore,

Gilbert stopped in front of the bed and urged me to sit down.

(Perhaps this is Gilbert's room?)

(…I can imagine the consequences for not complying would be horrific.)

I tried to sit as far away from him as possible, but Gilbert mercilessly settled down close enough for our shoulders to touch.

I quickly gave up. 

Gilbert: Now, let's start off with the fact that you were chosen as Belle.

━━

Gilbert: ——And so, you are now loved by me, the world's greatest villain, and we lived happily ever after.

(No, no, no….!) 

(Wait, is what you just said true!?)

I was chosen as Belle to select the next king of Rhodolite,

Apparently, I caught Gilbert’s attention when he visited to participate in a social event,

And now he’s telling me that I’m his fiancée or something….

(This…has to be a lie.)

Gilbert: Let me tell you, I don't lie.

Emma: ….

Gilbert: Huh, you froze. Is it that hard to accept?

Emma: ….I don't think I'll ever be able to accept it.

(It's as if I've been told a grand story, and…it doesn't seem like it's my own.) // (It's as if I've been told a grand story, and…it doesn't feel like it's about me.)

Gilbert: I see. Then it can’t be helped if your mind rejects it.

Gilbert: But it’s possible that your body might remember.

Emma: What?

The corners of Gilbert’s mouth raised into a smile as he pushed my shoulders and laid me down on the sheets. 

I could easily imagine what would happen next, and my blood ran cold.

Emma: Please stop!

Gilbert: Why? Didn't I just tell you that I'm your fiancé?

Gilbert: We used to do things like this quite often.

I feel his cold lips touch my ears and he bites down forcefully. 

I winced in pain, and he lapped my skin with his tongue.

(This man...seriously…)

(But I don't know...it just feels weird.)

Even though I was being assaulted by a man who I barely know, I don’t feel any disgust at all.

It seems to be true that my body remembers.

Still, my heart couldn't keep up, so I pushed back against his chest, Gilbert bit my skin once more then pulled away.

Gilbert: Did you believe that? // Did you fall for that? 

Emma: Was this a joke? 

Gilbert: You’re injured.

Gilbert: If it weren't for that, I would have forced you to remember.

Emma: ….

Gilbert: Didn't I tell you? That I’m the kind and sweet villain to you.

Gilbert: I'll just have to remind you slowly. // I’ll make sure you remember slowly. 

Gilbert: Even if you lost your memories, you can never escape from me…okay?

Gilbert combs my hair with his fingers and kisses me.

It was a gentle touch that conveyed love and affection.

(He's supposed to be scary, but...he really seems to love me.)

Why he fell in love with me was never mentioned in the conversation.

(I wonder if one day I'll be able to remember.)

(…I want to remember.)

━━

The next day, the confusion and agitation caused by the memory loss still lingered—-

Gilbert invited me to visit a quiet place full of plants.

Gilbert: ….

Emma: …..

(…There’s nothing to do.)

It felt like a laboratory, with equipment here I've never seen before and tags attached to plants. // The equipment I had never seen before and the tags attached to the plants looked like a laboratory.

(It doesn't seem like it...or maybe it really is.)

Gilbert is silently writing difficult formulas on a document.

It was somehow refreshing to me.

(I wonder if there's anything to do….)

As I looked around, carefully examining each item one by one, something caught my eye.

Emma: A rose…?

 ▸       [  next ]

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #ikemen series #cybird #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert

[dejinerate]

His Muse

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader (Fem)

Brief summary: Hyunjin has a *special* art project in mind with you, and he needs your help desperately.

Story contains: explicit sexual themes, brat, dom, self recording

Rating: SMUT, MA

18+/MINORS DNI

It’s a lazy afternoon, a warm and slow Autumn day. Your eyelids start to close as you rest on the couch, waiting to succumb to the nap that’s about to overtake you. Today was such a cozy day. No tasks needing done, no plans for once, and no chores needing completed. It would’ve been a perfect day…  Except Hyunjin wasn’t here. Early in the morning, he said he had to run a few errands, but… he was far too excited when he said that. You decided to let him have his fun though, seeing that excitement means whatever it is, is important. Noticing he was in a rush, you didn't ask any questions. He kissed your cheek and practically ran out the door.

 “I’ll be back soon, I promise!! Wait for me!” 

It was getting close to evening. You don’t usually worry about him, he texts you if something is wrong. You sigh, shifting your position on the couch and ready to take a short nap, as that would make time pass by quicker. 

Your phone pings. 

“I’m headed home, I’m so sorry I took so long! I have so much to show you! Get dressed. I have a surprise.”

A surprise? Well, surprises are always welcome.  You text him back:

“What’s the theme for the evening? You always know what’s best to pick.” 

The response is almost instant and your phone pings, but this time, it's an audio message. You listen to him speak as you can hear his fast footsteps,

“Wear that one dress I love so much, baby. I have an idea. Can you wear a robe over it, though? I'll explain why when I get there. I just.. won't be able to focus.. and I need to focus, I need your help with something. Please do as I say and be good for me.. I know you wanna tease me, brat. And trust me, it always fucking works... You drive me crazy. This is important to me though. Behave for me, just this once? ” 

You huff at his response but bite your lip, knowing he’s right. He knows you so well though, he knows how much you enjoy teasing him while you wear that dress. You think about disobeying, but.. , he really does seem excited about something, and you want him to have his fun, too. He never really pleads like this. Mentioning that it was important to him means serious business.

“I’ll behave, Hyun.” you text back.

Another audio message pops up.

“Good girl. I’ll be home in 20 minutes.”

Well, so much for napping. That woke you right up as if you just chugged an entire vat of coffee. Excited, you rush to the bedroom, immediately knowing the dress he spoke of. He always had such good taste in fashion. He frequently would give suggestions for what to wear and would help you choose outfits, and he often liked to match you in colors and styles when you went out together. You trust his judgment when he tells you to put something on. He knows your body and what looks good clinging on your curves. You find the garment, a cream colored silk dress with tiny straps, that bows at the cleavage, and clings at the hips. The way the fabric shifts in the light looks like flowing liquid. It’s such a luxurious piece. It’s a show stopping high end designer brand dress that Hyunjin bought you for your first anniversary. He spoils you so much, but he especially spoiled you that day. The dress wasn’t cheap by any means. After an entire day of making meaningful memories, you went shopping together, and he was the one that spotted the dress and picked it out. As soon as he saw it on you, he told you to get changed, knowing you didn’t need to try on anything else. He’s been obsessed with it ever since. He makes sure it’s well taken care of, as it always gets professionally dry cleaned after it’s been worn. 

 It’s such a flattering shape. It really highlights the plumpness of your chest, the curve of your ass, and the dips of your hips. It’s… extremely short. It rests right below the bottom of your cheeks. When you wear this in public, Hyunjin likes to drape whatever coat he’s wearing on your shoulders, claiming you as his. He finds a lot of satisfaction seeing you in that provocative dress with his jacket, which is far too big on you. His protective instincts kick in, knowing how gorgeous you are. Don’t get me wrong, he absolutely loves showing you off in public, knowing how good the two of you look together. But this dress is his weakness. This is a dress he only lets you wear when he reserves an entire restaurant for a private dining experience. He wants to be the only one to see you this way, and he’s extremely possessive when you wear it. It’s surprising he hasn’t done any damage to it yet. Just thinking about what the night could possibly entail leaves you so pleasantly anxious. You feel your stomach fluttering, knowing he’ll be driven mad over the sight of you soon. 

As you slip the dress on, a thought comes to you. Though you have to wear a robe when he gets home, he never said anything about…. Underwear. You giggle to yourself, and take off both the bra and panties you usually wear for this. He can suffer tonight. You’ll make sure of that. Satisfied with your choice, you grab your house robe and put it on, then get to work on your hair and make up. You curl your long hair with just a few waves, and you keep it nice and soft and elegant with the make up look, nothing too dark. While you’re putting on the finishing touches of mascara, you hear the door open.

“Baby, c’mere!” 

Your heart leaps at the happiness in his voice, and you run to the living room to greet him.

He has lots of bags in his hands, but also has a camera strapped around his neck. You don’t remember him leaving home earlier with a camera… 

You give him a quick kiss to greet him, and he puts the bags down on the dining table. 

“So, I got an email this morning that the brand new camera I’ve been waiting for was finally in stock! It was at that one store down the street that we went to that one time, they have so many cool lenses… I picked up a new wide angle lens. I was so excited that I couldn’t wait to try it out. I've been running around the city all day, taking photos… I can’t wait to show you and see what you think. I took quite a few that you’d like. Oh! After I got done taking photos, I went to the art store on the way home and bought more canvases! I think i’m going to try acrylic or watercolor paint this time, but I couldn't decide, so I kinda went overboard and bought everything…” 

You giggle at him, he’s truly nerding out right now, and you love that he can show you his excitement over his hobbies. You both are artists, so it’s a shared love that you two bond over. You mainly do photography, while his normal medium is painting and sketching. He recently got into photography, so to see him so inspired to create art just melts you. Hyunjin glows when his face shows he loves doing something. 

“I’m happy for you, Hyunnie. I bet you took some amazing photos today.” 

After he’s taken the camera off his neck and set it down, he walks towards you and wraps you in his warm embrace. He smells like.. the smell of outside. He smells like the scent of leaves and crisp Autumn air. You embrace him in return, and he puts a hand on your cheek and starts giving you happy little kisses as he mumbles against your lips.

“I-” kiss  “have-” kiss  “an-”  kiss “-idea.” 

You laugh at his assault of kisses, returning his enthusiasm. 

“Tell me, I’ve been dying to hear.” 

He pulls away from your lips as he holds you around your waist. He’s gazing intently at your face, looking at your eyes. He looks a little nervous now. 

“I want to photograph you tonight. It’s been a long time since we’ve gotten to be creative together. I want to paint the pictures I take of you.” 

You smile back at him, “That sounds like a ton of fun actually, where do you wanna go? The leaves are so pretty this time of year, the reds and oranges just now started to show, we could go to the park…”

“No,” he interrupts you, “we’re not leaving the house tonight.” 

Oh.

He continues, “I want to photograph you… in the shower. With that dress on. The new lens I bought is perfect for water shots.” 

Oh. 

The look in his eyes is pleading. That definitely took you by surprise. He must really want this. He doesn’t really ever ask you for anything, he’s usually carefree about choices between you two and if you say yes or no to ideas. But… he must be craving this. You never know how an artist will envision a scene. It seems like he’s been envisioning this, a lot, and the desire is blatantly apparent in his eyes as they search for your answer. He notices you hesitating.  

“I’ll buy that dress again for you, I promise. Ask me for anything. It’s yours. Please do this for me, baby. I need to paint how beautiful you are.” 

Well fuck, when he puts it that way, how can you say no? He asked so nicely, too. 

“Let’s do it, Hyunnie. You’ll have to direct me though, okay? I want you to get the right shot.” 

His face lights up and he swiftly picks you up, you shriek at the surprise and your legs automatically lock around his waist so you’re held securely. His large hands support your legs while he carries you to the bathroom, as he’s profusely thanking you for being open minded to the idea of being so vulnerable in front of the camera for him.

He sets you down on your feet in the bathroom and says, “Now turn the shower on for me, my gorgeous girl. Go ahead and take the robe off. I’m gonna go grab the camera, and grab the music speaker as well. We should play some music, maybe it’ll help us both relax.” He scurries off, and you giggle at his chaotic retreat. You do as he says though, shrugging off the robe as you turn the shower on. It can’t get too steamy in the bathroom, or else it’ll fog the lens, so you leave the water on lukewarm. The main bathroom of the home is huge, it’s actually quite gorgeous. The walls are white and the flooring is white tile as well. The lights in the room create a warm glowing ambience, and there’s large windows right before the view of the shower.. The shower itself has clear glass shower doors, and is big and spacious. There’s a huge tub in here as well, with enough room for two. Golden hour lighting is currently filtering into the room, the sunset beginning to peak outside. 

Hyunjin comes back in the bathroom, concentrated on setting up the equipment. He looks up at you, finally seeing you in the dress. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes slowly drifting up and down on your body, head to toe. His eyes rest on your breasts. They widen in realization. He knows you aren’t wearing a bra underneath… You tease him.

“I’m not wearing panties, either.” 

He makes eye contact with you. His gaze is full of heat, and you see him blush. He looks away, a little embarrassed that he's already getting worked up so easily, and has to push down the growth currently happening in his pants. “Fuck, You little brat... You had to go and tease me already, huh?." He looks at you again, biting his lip. "This is gonna be…. difficult for me.” He swallows, you can tell he's struggling while he's trying to gain self control.

You smirk at him. 

“Good.” 

He groans. 

You turn around and walk towards the shower, waiting patiently for his instructions. You look at him, tilting you head with feigned innocence and ask,

“Are we ready to get started, Hyunjinnie?”

 He loves that specific nickname. You know this. You wanted him to suffer tonight, afterall.

He lets out a frustrated breath, and mutters, "Ugh, fuck..." he sits on his chair and closes his eyes, bringing his hand up to his face to hide it from view, seemingly at war with himself.

He commands, quietly, "Don’t step in yet. Come here for a second, baby.” 

You smirk and obey for once, and he beckons you to sit on his lap. He envelops your frame, his large hands gliding along the silk dress, relishing the feel of the fabric under his fingers. He reaches for your face, one hand on the back of your neck and the other cupping your cheek as he pulls you in for a hot, lingering kiss. You whimper at the intensity of his desire, you can tell how bad he’s already burning for you. His head dips down to your neck, and he languidly kisses it with an open mouth, his tongue brushing against your skin. He kisses his way close to your ear and whispers, “Thank you for doing this, sweetheart. You’re gonna do so good for me, I can already tell… you're too beautiful, you know that? My gorgeous, perfect baby...”  His voice is low and deep, and the heat between your legs aches. You can tell how aroused he is, you feel him hard and hot through his pants as you sit on his lap. You groan in response, ready to just forget the entire photoshoot, but he gently kisses your neck for one last time before pulling away. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” 

Head hazy, you nod and shakily stand back up. 

“I’m gonna miss that dress” he whispers.

You laugh, knowing how conflicted he must be that this will most likely ruin such an expensive, delicate piece of clothing. He must've been saying his final goodbyes to it while you were on his lap.

You nervously step into the shower, and he starts up some music. He turns on some slow, seductive tunes. You understand the mood he’s trying to go for. He wants sensual. 

“Tell me what to do, Jinnie.” You say quietly.

His voice is gentle. “Alright pretty girl, go ahead and step under the stream with just the dress.. Hold off on dipping your hair and face, let’s keep that dry just for the time being.” 

You obey and follow his direction, and the water hits the silk dress. The fabric immediately clings to your body, the light cream color of the dress turning completely transparent as it gets wet. Goosebumps show up on your skin at the change in temperature, and you feel your nipples harden under the wet silk. You pose for him and look directly at the camera, and you can see him peek up from the camera to look at you, in awe of the beautiful image in front of him. You look like a marble statue of a goddess, the way the fabric clings onto you, the water accentuating every detail of you. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so gorgeous. All for me. So fucking gorgeous.... I’ll never get enough of you.” 

He shifts around the glass doors, getting the shots he wants as he directs you to tilt your head, raise your arms, close your eyes… 

You get fully immersed in the mood, the creativity affecting you, no longer feeling nervous or shy. You slip the straps of the dress off your shoulders and look up at him through the camera, keeping your face as sultry as possible. The shutter clicks away as he goads you on with encouragement. Feeling satisfied with those shots, you ask him, 

“Should I dip my head now?” 

“Yes, love. God, please do.” 

You slowly place your head under the stream of the showerhead, as the water drips down your face and hair. It finally hits you mentally, how erotic this is, how incredibly sensual and hot this is, and you feel so completely powerful in this moment. Your eyes lock on Hyunjin through the glass door, and he can tell immediately that your energy has changed. Your gaze is burning with fire. You smirk at him, and your hands glide slowly down your body to touch yourself on top of the soaked dress. 

Hyunjin forgets he has a camera for a moment, entranced by your movements. He can’t look away. He stumbles a bit which makes him remember he’s supposed to be taking photos, and reorients himself, knowing he has to capture the moment correctly. He praises you.

“That’s it baby, that’s my perfect girl. Get into it. You know how fucking hot you are, don’t you? Be a pretty little slut for daddy. You do such a good job for me, my little brat.”

Ah. The magic words. 

You moan and close your eyes as one hand touches your breast, while the other hand drifts down to your aching heat. You arch against the glass shower wall, giving him a full view. Your hair is chaotic, strands of it plastered on your face and your shoulders, and you feel suffocated. 

You need to be naked. There’s too much on you. You need to take it off. Right now. 

Knowing he’s had enough shots of the dress, you grab the hem of the dress, and start to peel the fabric off of you, grimacing at just how stuck it is on your body. You finally pull it over your head and drop the dress on the shower floor. Finally free of the fabric, you tilt your head back under the shower, letting the water cascade again over your long hair and fully exposed body. You prop yourself up against the wall and pose beautifully, but there's no sound of the camera clicking.

You look at Hyunjin, and the poor man looks so dazed. He looks like he forgot he was there... his mind looks lost in another world, as if you’re not real right in front of him. His own personal strip performance. He’s so entranced in watching you, eyes wide open, absentmindedly touching himself over his jeans, camera slack in the other hand. 

“Focus, Hyunnie.” 

That snaps him out of it and he growls, picking up the camera begrudgingly, and you can tell he won’t hold out much longer without touching you. You go back to posing for him, completely wet and naked, pressing against the glass, making it fog up. 

“That’s it, baby, my God.” You hear the shutter of the camera work fast. 

You press your nipples against the door and lick the glass, knowing he’s about to go insane getting that shot on camera. You hear the shutter go nuts, as Hyunjin struggles to keep concentrated. 

“We’re done,” he commands. “Out. Now. I need you, baby.”

You need him just as badly. You turn off the water, completely satisfied, knowing you did your job well. 

When you step out of the shower, he has a towel ready for you. He wraps your body in it, and as soon as it’s covering you he captures your mouth in a hard, searing kiss that makes your head spin. He’s ravenous. Goosebumps erupt on your body, making you shiver. 

He pulls away, ready to take you right then and there, but notices you’re shivering…

“Let me go get another towel for your hair, little baby, you’re soaking wet.” Without second thought, he leaves the bathroom to grab a fresh towel from the laundry room. Hot and heavy Hyunjin always turns you on, but considerate and loving Hyunnie makes the insatiable fire even worse. You shut off the music, and spot his camera sitting on the chair where he just was.

An idea…. hits you. 

With the towel still wrapped around your body, you grab the camera, and walk into the bedroom.

You place the camera down on the nightstand. You begin drying your body off when Hyunjin walks into the room, towel in his hand. 

“Let me.” 

The look on his face is full of love, and he walks over and begins to dry you off, putting slow kisses on your neck and shoulders as he does it, taking his time.

“You did so good for me in there, baby. Those shots were amazing. That was absolutely perfect. Let Daddy take care of you now, pretty girl.” 

He picks you up gently, his strong arms holding you effortlessly, and lays you down on your back, head cradled by the pillow. He crawls on the bed, hovering over your body. His gaze on you is soft and needy.

The feeling of anticipation runs through you as he opens the towel, exposing your naked body to him. The cold air hits your semi-damp skin, and he sees you shiver. He sits up quickly to take off his shirt, then lowers himself back down to you, engulfing you in his warm skin. He lays there for a moment, letting you steal his heat. He peppers your collarbone with gentle kisses, and begins to slowly make his way down. Stopping at your breasts, he gives both nipples a kiss, and continues to drag his mouth down the front of you. He’s immersed in you, completely, eyes closed in bliss, kissing down your stomach. He drifts his large hands down your naked thighs while he kisses down your navel, until his hands reach your knees.

He pushes your legs up, fully exposing your aching heat to his lustful eyes. You’re completely soaking wet for him.. 

"Aww, brat... Look at you." He bites his lip as he admires your cunt, speaking in his teasing, deep voice. "This little pussy wants me so badly... You need Daddy, don't you? Look how pretty this pussy is, dripping wet and ready for me... you're a mess, little baby. We can't have that now, can we?"

He lowers his face to your cunt, making you squirm with his hot breath.

While he’s not looking at you, you realize…. Now’s your chance. 

You try your best to not shift much, as you grasp for the camera right beside you on the night stand. You quietly turn it on, and begin to set up the settings. His mouth is kissing on the innermost part of your thighs, then glides to the outside of your lips, completely unaware of what you’re plotting. You hold the camera up to your face, and once you see the view in front of you through the lens it sets your body completely on fire. He looks so good, eating you.

You feel his mouth capture your clit. The moan you let out is straight up gutteral, and you click the shutter button of the camera. 

Hyunjin snaps his gaze to you, without moving his head from your pussy.. His eyes widen when he realizes you have the camera out.  

“Keep going, Hyunnie. It’s my turn. Make me yours.” You breathe at him. 

“Fuck, pretty girl. Are you sure?” He hesitates, though you can tell how badly he wants to continue.

“I need to watch you fuck me with that mouth, Daddy.”

His eyes roll back as he groans into your cunt, his tongue swiping the entire length of you from your entrance to your clit.

He looks up at you while his mouth is lingering against your pussy and gently spreads your legs as far as they can go, giving him maximum exposure for his mouth. "My naughty little brat..." he whispers, dipping his head back down to worship you.

He begins to devour you with a loving passion, his tongue swirling as he sucks the sensitive bud of your clit, his lips gliding against you, making you dizzy. He knows exactly how you like it, and there's nothing else in this world that he loves more than making you feel good. He's so experienced to your pleasure... He would spend days doing this if he could. You begin taking photos of him this way, trying not to let your head fall back and give in to the overwhelming sensations of greedy need and lust. You moan his name, and his gaze sets back on you. He looks into the camera with blazing hot eye contact, as he languidly makes love to you with his mouth. It’s deliberately slow. He wants you to capture him devouring you. You shakily take the photos of him lapping at your cunt, barely able to concentrate on the framework, and you see his eyes smirk at you. He's watching you fumble with the camera, he knows you're struggling to focus on your task. He chuckles against you, and suddenly, you feel his tongue plunge inside your desperate little cunt. Your body flushes all over, and you arch your back, begging for him to take more of you. 

“More, daddy, please. I need you. I need more. Please.”

He sits up a little and takes one hand off of your leg, and drags it down your heat to wet his fingers. 

“Whatever you want, brat.” 

He plunges two fingers into you, making you cry out in relief, while his tongue is still sucking on your clit. You forget the camera, finally letting yourself cave into the desire, and throw your head as your hand searches to grip his hair. You grind yourself into his face. He figures out the tempo of your hips and begins moving his fingers to the speed of your needy little thrusts. His mouth never wavers, as he moans greedily onto your clit, enjoying the fact that he’s driving you crazy. 

He can feel you tighten as you get closer to your release, and he breaks away from your clit for just a moment to whisper against your pussy. “Come for Daddy, baby.” He dives back in, licking circles on your clit, keeping the same rhythm as his fingers as they curl inside of you, diving in and out of you, hitting you deep. You feel your orgasm come on fast. 

“Fuck, Hyun, I can’t hold on!” 

Your breath heaves as you close your eyes, and white hot heat sends ripples through your body, pleasure shaking you at the core. You cry out, locking your legs around his head, riding the high, his name tumbling from your lips over and over. 

He smirks up at you, "You always taste so sweet, baby. Good girl. You love when I make you come like that, don't you?"

He kisses your thighs before he raises up, and you open your eyes to take sight of him. His cheeks are red, his mouth is drenched, his hair is disheveled, his chest is flushed with red. 

His eyes are hungry. 

He makes quick work of the rest of his clothing, shrugging off his jeans and underwear, and crawls back on the bed to you. This time, he grabs your thighs, and pulls your entire body to the edge of the bed, with full force. He looks up at you, and leans down to kiss you. The taste of you is heavy on his lips, and he opens your mouth, hungry for your tongue on his. You groan into each other's mouths. Kissing is always so easy, so effortless. So entirely consuming. He pulls away from your mouth, but keeps his face close to yours as he positions himself at your entrance. His head drops to your neck, as he teases his tip against you, bucking his hips and shivering just at feeling how wet you are. He must’ve been suffering, badly. Poor Hyunnie. He's so desperate for you. Right before he buries himself into you, you put a hand on his chest and stop him. 

He looks at you, eyes questioning what’s wrong. 

You smile at him mischeviously, holding his face and kissing his cheeks, then bring your mouth against his ear and whisper,

“Grab the camera, Daddy.” 

He pulls his face up abruptly and looks at you with a burning look you’ve never seen. Without a word, he lifts up and grabs the camera where it was laying, and turns it on. 

He looks at the view of you underneath him through the camera lens, your body waiting for him as your legs are spread open, as his cock rests against your entrance. He growls at the view, your hair a damp mess, make up strewn on your face, cheeks flush with red, eyes full of fire for him. Nipples taught, body writhing. You decide to hold up your legs for him, grabbing your thighs underneath the knees, opening your cunt farther open for the camera, and for his viewing pleasure. 

“Holy fuck, baby, I’m gonna lose my MIND.” The camera clicks. He grabs the base of his cock and lines it up with your center. He’s taking photos as he slowly moves, capturing every moment. You both moan at how fucking naughty and erotic this is. He pushes himself inside of you, his eyes rolling back, as he releases a loud, deep groan. He looks back at the view of being inside of you. He says your name, completely incoherent, as he tries to take a picture of him buried in you, the sheer eroticism of it making his hips buck without his control. Praises fall off his lips. 

“Your daddy’s perfect little slut, aren’t you? Look at the camera, baby. Such a mess underneath me. You’re mine, brat. I own this pussy, do you understand? I own you, pretty girl. Forever.” 

“I’m all yours, Hyunjinnie, you own me.” You moan breathlessly at him, needy and whining at how deep he is inside of you, and he takes a photo as your mouth opens as he starts to thrust at a faster speed. 

He puts the camera down, and grabs your hips as he fully immerses himself in eye contact with you again. He’s biting his lip as he watches you bounce underneath him, your tits moving with every thrust, as he's letting go of the primal vocals he’s been holding back all evening. He’s succumbing to the desire completely as he loses full control, while you feel your cunt tighten again, your orgasm coming dangerously fast. His gaze darkens as he feels you tighten around him, and you know he’s close as well. He lowers his entire body onto yours, sloppily kissing your neck as his thrusts are relentless, making you a whining mess of nerves. 

His breathing quickens, “Ah fuck, I’m cumming baby, cum for daddy, I need you, pretty girl.” He breathes out, his release hitting him fast, and you feel your muscles tighten and explode as you cry out and come with him.

He collapses, trying to hold some of his weight off of you, and kisses your lips sweetly, his hair and body completely drenched in sweat, placing his forehead against yours. Exhaustion hitting him, he shifts his body and nestles himself beside you, grabbing you up, placing gentle kisses on your shoulder while whispering against your skin... He breaks the comfortable silence, his mind a messy drabble of words.

"That was... I can't... baby, do you know how I love you? The ways that I love you... " his voice is hoarse, emotion evident that the experience you just had was a lot for him to register. "I've never felt more alive than when I'm doing... exciting new things with you. I want to keep doing all the spontaneous moments, all the time." His lips are a bit garbled as he's speaking against your skin, too tired to move his position. "Being with you is my favorite thing, being in our own little world here... Life doesn't get better than this." he trails off, as he dances his fingers up your neck and into your hair, sweetly moving some strands to tuck behind your ear.

You look at him and smile softly, the intimacy of love in his eyes making your heart do flips. "You're my sweet Hyunjinnie... " you say. "I've never loved anyone like you, everything that you are is a gift to me. I love you so much it hurts, Hyun. I want to do new things with you, always. You are my entire heart."

You lay there, spent and exhausted. Realizing what you’ve just done together, you giggle to yourself, and grab the camera. You turn it on to look at the photos that were taken this evening. You angle your body to where Hyunjin can see the screen as well, and you start going through the photo gallery. 

“Oh my god, baby. These are so incredible. I can’t believe we just did that..” 

He snuggles against your neck. 

“We look fucking good together. And we look good, fucking.” and you hum in response, agreeing with him. You feel him harden again as he spoons you, each photo turning him on all over again.

He perks up inquisitively, laughing, realizing this entire project was so he could paint a portrait. 

“How am I supposed to paint all of these? I can’t choose a favorite. That’s impossible. I guess I’m gonna have to buy some more canvases….” 

#hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fic #stray kids fic #hyunjin smut #hyunjin romance #skz smut #Hwang Hyunjin x Reader #Hwang Hyunjin/Reader #Stray Kids x reader #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin fanfic

[mikanotes]

(no need for) liquid courage

arisu x gn!reader — 2.3k words

genre: fluff

warnings: alcohol usage, swearing, arisu and the never ending struggles of social interactions, love at first sight (not really but what the hell!) honestly badly written, barely proofread

synopsis: Arisu will never, ever like parties. He knows that. He has known that since forever. But then he sees you, and he has to consider changing his entire view on that.

author’s note: welcome back arisu i missed writing for u… also everyone thank my best friend for telling me not to write the ending i originally planned or i’m being very serious when i say the tags would’ve included major character death LMFAO

It only takes a total of thirty seconds at a party hosted by friends of Karube’s for Arisu to decide: this is definitely not his thing. Not at all. The colored, flashing lights. The uncomfortably loud music blasting through speakers and hitting each wall of the place until it reaches Arisu’s ears with the promise of an impending headache. The deadly amount of people— There’s just no way I could stay here and hope to actually survive the night, he thinks.

Someone jogs up to him and slaps him on the back and Arisu sighs. “No.” he says, before Karube can get a single word out. The latter groans and shakes the glass of alcohol in his hand. Alcohol. For a moment, that seems like a good idea. Karube chugs it down before shaking his head.

“Yes.” he counters, and shushes Arisu’s complaints immediately, holding up a finger, “Only time I’m acting like an asshole friend, alright? Only time. And even then, I’m trying to help you out.”

Arisu furrows his eyebrows and looks at him weirdly. Karube is not wrong, because he never pushes him out of his comfort zone much and Arisu appreciates it. However, he really can’t see this whole thing as an act of help in any way.

“Help?” he repeats, almost sounding baffled, “How? By just fucking, s-suffocating me in a crowd? What?”

“You know what? Yes.”

“Karube!”

Karube shrugs and lets go of him to gesture towards the ever-so-threatening crowd of drunken, dancing college students. “Arisu!” he mimics his tone lightheartedly, before walking away from him and disappearing between all the people.

Great. He thinks then that he’s glad he isn’t in college because he could not live a life surrounded by people who enjoy partying so damn much— And clearly, college students do.

He won’t try. He’s not gonna leave, not immediately, because he feels like he’s getting judged enough as is by the few people glancing his way, and he doesn’t want to worsen it by leaving a minute after walking in. Not that he cares, because he doesn’t know a single person here besides Karube, (and Chota, except he has no idea where he even went) so he doesn’t have to worry about seeing any of them ever again. 

But he does care enough to lean against a wall and grab his phone from his pocket instead of leaving, because that’s just Arisu Ryohei. Besides, the prospect of hearing anything irritating come out of the mouths of either his father or brother if he was to come back home right now was much too unpleasant, and he couldn’t just hang outside without his two friends (who are here, in this stupid party.) So playing on a game until the two idiots decide they’ve gotten drunk enough to leave, it is.

Except his phone is knocked out of his hand not even a few seconds after he opens a game. 

Fuck.

“Fuck.” an unfamiliar voice sighs, the sound of footsteps moving to a stop syncing with the one of his phone clattering against the floor. “Sorry.”

He glances up at the cause of his deepening despair and back down to grab his phone, only to find the one who knocked it out of his hand reaching for the fallen device as well.

It ends up with quiet apologies on both ends and awkward fumbling with the phone before everyone is back up straight and Arisu can check if his screen isn’t shattered enough to make him consider jumping out the nearest window.

Except the flashing party lights brighten your face before they do his phone, and he forgets how to function for a good three seconds.

So it takes one minute and thirty-three seconds into a party for Arisu to feel like he might be experiencing love at first sight. “Oh.” he says, stupidly, then clears his throat. Thinks about what to say. Cannot think of what to say. 

Your face doesn’t let any emotions pass through, which is a bit comforting in a way because if he’s embarrassing himself, which he knows he is, you’re not looking at him like it’s the case.

Then you laugh a little. “I’m sorry. Can’t see shit in here.” you say lightly, glancing around for a bit, then back at him, “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m okay.” he says, pressing on a tight smile. Then he takes a deep breath and looks down out of habit, only to be met with a crack on his screen. “Nevermind that, actually.”

You lean a bit closer and sigh again. “Shit. I’m so sorry.” you say, leaning away. You cross your arms and Arisu looks up at your face. You look annoyed for a bit, but it seems like you’re thinking. “I’ll pay…” you trail off. You stay silent for a beat more before suddenly listing things off with your fingers, muttering about things Arisu cannot catch at all with the sound of the music. Curse the music. He wants to listen to you.

Snap out of it, idiot.

You clap your hands together lightly and nod to yourself before looking up at him with a small smile, “I’ll pay for the repairs. My fault.” you say, before laughing sheepishly. You clear your throat and nod your chin towards his phone, “It’s like, uh, working, right? Only the screen’s broken?”

Arisu blinks and shakes his head to focus and presses the button at the side of his phone. It lights up, and he checks the touchscreen before nodding. “Yeah, barely broken.” he says, looking back up at you. The light of his phone before it dims makes your features clearer for a moment again and Arisu swears something is wrong with him. Why is his heart beating so fast? Anxiety?

Anxiety. That has to be it.

“But you really don’t have to—”

“Please,” you shake your head, “I’d feel like I owe you, otherwise. Let me.”

An idea pops into his mind. “Uh, alright.” he says, then prepares himself mentally so the words come out right, “Then can I get your number? In case you, like, run away before paying and I need to find you.”

You chuckle and he breathes out in relief.

“Yeah. I’ll give you my number.” you say, “But you might want to type it in yourself. Clearly it won’t end up any better in my hands.” you gesture towards the phone. Arisu laughs at that and shakes his head, but goes to his contacts app himself nevertheless.

So he gets your phone number, and you’re getting whisked away by two of your friends before he can ask for your name. Part of him feels disappointed you’re gone but he’s also relieved he gets time to breathe and process the whole interaction.

So he… Stays. He tells himself it’s for the same reasons as earlier, but the way his gaze moves towards your direction every other minute tells a different story. Suddenly, a party seems great. He wants to get to that bar and order a good drink that’s definitely alcoholic so he gets enough courage to go back up to you. Anything. Any-fucking-thing.

“Hey, Karube!” he hears someone exclaim, though it’s muffled by just about every other sound at the party. He sees Karube turn towards someone and follows his gaze to you, who’s hand is gesturing for him to come over. You know Karube?! That could be good. Or the absolute opposite. Karube has had ‘flings’ with a few people. The sudden image of his best friend with his apparent new crush makes him uneasy enough to genuinely consider trying to brainwash himself into thinking he never met you.

Either you’re acquaintances, either you two had something at some point. Arisu doesn’t even pretend his game is of any interest to him anymore, focusing only on what you could be saying once his friend walks up to you. You’re gesturing towards the two friends you’d been hanging out with and saying a few words, before Karube takes out a pack of cigarettes and hands you two. His mannerisms seem to be saying ‘that’s all they get’ and you laugh as you hand the two cigarettes to your friends. Karube walks away, seemingly towards Arisu’s direction. Yes! Arisu thinks, perfect.

“Man.” Karube seemingly deflates the instant he walks in his vicinity, a disappointed look that seems to be much more exaggerated than it should be due to the alcohol, “You’re still here?”

“Would I be anywhere else?” Arisu scoffs.

The other man waves his hand back dismissively and sighs, “Alright. Get off your phone for a second.”

“I’m literally not on my phone.”

Karube ignores that and pulls him to his side by his sleeve, “So now, look around. Is there anyone that catches your eye?” he asks, slurring his words just a bit. “There has to be. I know the type of people you’re into. And, well, I’m saying this as your friend so don’t take it badly, but I know you have the typical shut-in look. But trust me, lots of people are into that! Surprisingly enough. Anyways, so don’t…”

Arisu would be lying if he said he was listening to his friend at all. The only thing he can focus on is you, talking and laughing with your friends near the dancefloor. The flashing colored lights only seem to compliment you. Long gone is the idea of them being the worst thing ever and a direct attack to his eyes. No, now everything feels pretty. Everything feels slow, perfectly-paced. The music is background noise and the partygoers are all in the shadows.

Fuck, what the hell?

“— So that’s why I’m trying to help you out.” Karube seems to finish what was a very-long monologue, then pauses for a beat. He shoves Arisu’s shoulder and the latter looks at him with wide eyes. “You weren’t listening at all.”

“No.” Arisu says blankly, only to break out into a laugh and back away when his friend pretends to try and strangle him. His eyes turn back towards your direction without even noticing.

“Huh. Oh! That’s why.” Karube barks out a laugh, grinning, “You got a crush on them?”

Arisu’s gaze moves wildly between the dancefloor and his friend as his lips part and open to speak, only to stretch into a nervous smile when he tries to laugh. “No? What? Who?” he nearly stammers.

Karube turns and yells a name which Arisu figures is yours and he fears he might hear it at least a thousand more times in his thoughts alone. Then he notes that the honorifics he used when calling you felt much too formal, so maybe you’re not as close as Arisu’s nightmarish thoughts imagined. You seemingly notice him and he beckons you over with his hand. He loses sight of you for half a second when you disappear into the crowd, and the rest of the time because he turns his gaze literally anywhere else.

“Yeah?” you ask, a bit breathless, “Oh, phone guy!”

Karube elbows Arisu (less than discreetly) and nods with a tight smile. “Meet Arisu Ryohei.”

“Oh, that’s Arisu?” you say, and the latter looks at you, chuckling nervously. He bites his tongue out of habit and decides he doesn’t need to participate in this conversation yet (Bless the heavens.) “Damn, I just saw Chota earlier, too. Who would’ve thought I’d meet all your friends tonight?”

“It’s more surprising you never ran into each other before. All of you seem to think the bar’s your free lounging space.” Karube scoffs, crossing his arms. “Anyways, you two met?” he looks at Arisu, who forces himself not to gulp.

“Yeah. Briefly.” he says, running a hand up and down the back of his neck, “My phone dropped ‘cuz of them.”

“Sorry.”

Arisu chuckles and shakes his head lightly. “It’s fine.”

“It’s fine, huh?” Karube echoes, squinting at him. He looks at him and tilts his head, prompting the other to laugh and look away, “I see how it is. Anyways, you said you saw Chota, right? I’ll look for him before he drinks too much.” he turns to you again.

“Sure. He’s talking with that girl from my history class. You know the one?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He slaps Arisu on the shoulder before he leaves.

And then there were two, huh? Arisu sighs and looks around the same way you do. He really wants to curse out Karube for fucking him over for the second time tonight (bringing him to the party, then leaving him alone with you) but he’ll save that for later. For now, his mind is too busy trying to find a way to make sure this silence doesn’t last long enough to become awkward, so it’s really difficult to think about anything else. You beat him to it.

“Didn’t— Huh. Wasn’t Karube calling me over to ask me something? Or was he just looking for Chota?” you ask, brows knitted in confusion. Arisu hums for a while.

“Uh… Honestly?” he laughs lightly, “No idea.”

You scoff and look at him. Properly. “Arisu Ryohei, huh?”

He finds himself biting back a smile, finally properly hearing you say his name. He nods slowly, then says your name for the first time, tasting the sound of it on his tongue. It’s nice. It’s better than the discomfort he would’ve faced had he decided to actually drink alcohol. Your name would’ve felt uncertain, mixed with the taste of beer. Slurred. And he might not have remembered it as well. Now it just feels… Clear.

“Well, nice to properly meet you.”

“Tell me that when we’re out of this club and the sun is up.” you say, “I mean let’s go out on… Like, let’s, I don’t know, hang out. Karube’s bar. If you're fine with it. When we’re all recovered from the party and stuff. Yeah?”

Something in the way your words come out sounds much more nervous than all the times he heard you talk before, and part of him feels relieved he wasn’t alone in this. Then he actually processes what you said and it’s his turn to struggle to get a coherent response out. Sound cool. Sound cool.

“Yeah!” What the hell, Ryohei?

You laugh, head tilting down for a bit. When you look back up at him, you’re smiling. “It’s a date.”

#arisu ryohei x reader #arisu x reader #ryohei arisu x reader #alice in borderland x reader #aib x reader #x reader

[togrowoldinv]

Fourth Favorite Color

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

After a mission, the feelings you and Natasha have for each other come to light when you share a hotel room

Note: *Gasp* there’s only one bed… So this is very soft and I enjoyed writing it. I hope that you enjoy reading it!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You knew when you started falling for her that it might have been a bad idea. It never felt wrong, but it wasn’t meant to feel so right either. But it did. You were falling in love with Natasha Romanoff and you liked it.

When you first met Natasha, you had just joined the team. You never expected yourself to become anything more than overlooked member of the team, having no superpowers of your own. But that very first day Natasha took the time to talk to you about your role on the team.

You had a hard time paying attention to her. Or maybe it was a hard time not hanging onto her every word. She was captivating in just a black sweatshirt and her hair up in a braid.

You couldn’t stop yourself from imagining what it feel like to run your hand through her red hair.

You thought your attraction to her was one sided. Just a young person being lost in a captivating older woman. A story you’ve heard before.

But when Steve handed out the assignments for the latest mission and Nat volunteered to bunk with you, your stomach dropped at the idea. Did she know there was only one bed? Did she know what she does to you by simply looking at you?

Completely flustered is how you find yourself quietly sinking into the mattress now while Natasha is in the shower. The first part of the mission went well, but you’d have to stay the night to make sure there were no more issues.

“Hey, I’ll set my alarm for the morning,” your thoughts are interrupted by Natasha’s voice.

You look over at her to see her standing there with wet hair and you think she’s the most beautiful she’s ever been.

“Sounds good,” you manage to respond. Nat offers you a small smile and she lays next to you on the bed. She’s closer to you then she has to be, but you don’t mind.

The streetlight outside the hotel room illuminates the room a bit too much and you both lay there awake.

“Y/n, have you ever been in love?” Natasha suddenly breaks the silence. She doesn’t turn and look at you, and when you glance at her she is fiddling with her hands over her stomach.

“Maybe. I’m not really sure,” you tell her. It’s not a complete lie; although, you’re pretty sure you’re in love with Natasha. “Have you?” You add hesitantly.

Natasha sighs and finally turns to look at you. Her eyes find yours and feel shy under her gaze.

“I think so,” Nat responds. She takes a deep breath and continues. “But I don’t think they loved me back.”

“How could they not love you?” You ask, your voice soft.

Natasha lets out a soft laugh, but it’s not of glee or hilarity. It’s a sad laugh. The kind that keeps you from crying in a tough situation.

“I’m serious, Natasha.”

“I know you are,” she says. “It’s just- no one cares enough. No one wants to know anything important. They just want to sleep with me and when I don’t want that, they leave. People always leave.”

“What’s something important you’d like for someone to know about you?” You ask her. She looks thrown by your question and she thinks about it for a moment.

“I don’t know. Anything. Maybe even as simple as my favorite color.”

“Your favorite color? It’s red, isn’t it?” You ask her. Her smile tells you that you’re correct. “What’s your second favorite?“

“My second favorite?” Nat questions. When you nod, she laughs. “I guess it’s black.”

“Interesting,” you say, holding back a laugh. You don’t know why you think it’s funny, but you do.

“What’s your favorite color?” She asks. “I’m sorry I don’t know it.” Nat sounds truly apologetic.

“That’s okay,” you assure her. “It’s green,” you begin and then add, “like your eyes.”

You swear you see a light pink grace Natasha’s cheeks before she looks up to the ceiling.

“Second favorite?” She asks.

“Red, like your hair,” you respond. Before you met Natasha, you would have said it was purple or blue or orange, but the moment you met her that red of her hair became one of your favorite colors.

“You like the red? Sometimes I think of changing it,” Natasha says.

“I love the red,” you say. You can’t stop yourself from reaching out and pushing a stray piece of her hair off of her shoulder. She shivers at your touch.

Natasha turns to lay on her side and you do the same. Hesitantly, she rests her hand loosely on your hip. When you inch closer to her, she tightens her grip on your hip.

“I love everything about you,” Natasha says. You can’t believe what she’s saying. You search her eyes for any reason she could be lying, but you find none.

“I love everything about you too, Natasha,” you tell her. You smile so widely at her, but frown when you see her glance away from you.

“I wouldn’t be good for you,” Nat says.

“Natasha, everything about you is good. I promise you that,” you say.

She shakes her head. You reach for her cheek and softly turn her face to look at you again.

“Listen to me, I’ve tried to think of every reason to not love you. And I come up empty every time. The fact is that I love you. I love you and your crazy choice for a second favorite color. I love you Natasha Romanoff,” you say.

“I’m scared,” Natasha says. You’ve never seen her this vulnerable before.

“I’m scared too. But hey, I’m not going to leave you. People don’t always leave. Sometimes they stay. And I will stay. Lovers, friends, whatever you want to be. I love you and I always will.”

Natasha leans in closer and your lips are almost against hers. Her body is pressed against yours gently.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks.

“Please,” you reply.

In the next moment, her lips are against yours. The kiss doesn’t last long, but it’s passionate nonetheless.

“Can we take it slow?” Natasha asks once she’s pulled away.

“I’d like that,” you reply.

You kiss her forehead and she melts against you. She shifts to wrap her arms around you tighter and buries her face in your neck.

“So, what’s your fourth favorite color?” You ask her and she laughs so hard. You relish in the sound of her happiness.

“We skipped third favorite,” Nat says.

“That’s because no one has a third favorite color,” you reply simply.

“But they have a fourth?”

“That’s correct, baby,” you say with a smile and Natasha shakes her head affectionately.

“Thanks for caring about me enough to want to know my fourth favorite color,” Nat says. She leans up and drops a kiss to your cheek.

“Of course. Goodnight Natasha.”

“Goodnight y/n.”

Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @idkwhygregg @romanoffscottage @be-missed @likefirenrain @hehehehannahthings @mythosphere-x @readings-stuff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @milfloverslut @yelenabelovaisthebettersister @mrswidowjohansson @alotofpockets @wandassitcom @ggrangerdanger @marvelwomen-simp @maia-lightwoood @mortallytremendoussandwich @xxromanoffxx @peanutbutterprincess @karmasgxrl @picnicmic @wandaslittlewhore @exhaustedfangirl @when-wolves-howl @natashalovers @marie45019 @inluvwithfictionalwomen @sammi1642 @itsyourgirlmalise @jujuu23 @the-night-owl-blr @strangegardentaco @avatarsnips @romanoffswoman @natashasilverfox @imthenatynat @natasha-danvers @sayah13 @harleysincairo @rach2602 @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @lovelyy-moonlight @thenazwife @huitzilinthebudgie3

#natasha romanoff x reader #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff

[r3starttt]

Right time

Spider man! Dina

Before she can reply anything back you’re already sneaking out of your house for probably the third time this week. Black converse hitting the dirt, a baggy hoodie that was actually Dina’s and didn’t really cover you from the slight cold breeze, and some money that you’ve been saving from lunch all crumpled in the back of your jeans, just in case.

She’d insisted on going to your place but you didn’t want your parents to notice so you’d agreed on seeing each other at a small park near your house.

Everything’s quiet, there’s just the constant sounds of the city in movement. The sky slowly fading into a complete dark blue color tone and the moon getting shiner along with the small stars that looked like tiny dots in the sky.

The squeak of the swings and your feet scraping the ground stop when you see her in the distance. She waves once she noticed you too.

“I have the feeling that you’re always on your way here before you even ask” she chuckles, walking towards the swing next to you “What if I am?” you laugh back, shifting your eyes towards her and immediately looking at her with pure confusion.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Dina was biting her bottom lip, her smile was slightly curved almost as a smirk, she had something to bother you about “I can’t stop thinking about the spider man thing, you’re ridiculous” you immediate burst into laughter, hitting her shoulder gently “Dina just forget it I was clearly joking”

“Oh really? Because your confession seemed pretty serious” you just roll your eyes “I really wonder how long have you been thinking about him, because you never just tell me_” “Dina, stop it. I’m not gonna give you details if that what you want”

“Oh so there’s details? I though it was just a random thought that occurred to you today” she raised her eyebrows. You knew she wasn’t gonna stop any soon, if she ever forget about it.

You groaned back, covering your face with your hands for some seconds “why do you care so much?” “You really wanna know?” she laughs at the small slap that you gave yourself as you let go of your face, hitting your legs in pure annoyment

“You’re not gonna believe me anyway” you don’t say anything back, but your eyes are basically speaking for you so there’s no need really “remember how you said that I was probably on my way before?” you nod, confused on what she tried to say

She extends her arm, aiming to a small can of coke next to a trash can; suddenly shooting her webs and brings the Can to her hand. Your eyes open wide in pure amused, mouth partly open and heart racing so much your heartbeat could almost be heard.

“I’m spider man” the way she says it so casually makes you laugh nervously as your eyes are still locked on her wrists, trying to make any of this make sense.

“How the fuck am I not suppose to believe in that when I just saw webs coming from your arm”

“From my hand-well, my wrist”

“And you’re fucking casual about it?”

She just shrugged.

And now realization was hitting you. So many thoughts on your mind at once.

“I thought it was the right time to tell you since you practically told me how he made you-“

your hands covered her mouth, completely ashamed “stop” her hands move on top of yours, gently taking them away from her face and pulling them closer, placing them on top of her knees.

“At least I know you won’t hate me” a small chuckle escapes from her mouth. She looked so normal about this whole situations but in fact she’d been overthinking about this since she first came, wondering what your reaction would be; so the look on your face, all the mix of emotions you were feeling, it made her feel good, less stressed.

“I would never it’s just” you sighed “I just told you how I think he’s hot” both of you laughed awkwardly “Well it’s not like you’ve never tell me that I’m hot so…” “Ugh just shut up”

You try to move your hands away from her, and she lets you; shooting her webs at the swing to pull it closer to her and cupping your face with her hands, pressing her lips on yours in a small sweet kiss. Just enough for what you both needed.

#dina tlou2 #dina tlou #dina the last of us #dina nolastname #dina woodward tlou #dina woodward #dina woodward x reader #dina x reader #dina smut #dina x masc!reader #dina x you #dina x y/n #dina x fem reader #lesbian #ren needs help 𓄹𓈒 ֙⋆˖

[aemoonie]

𝗍𝗑𝗍 - 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 "𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀" 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 ✰

gn!reader, mlist. g: fluff wc: 804 cw: teeth-rottingly sweet fluff. made myself cry with this one (i am so terribly single) /lh, yeonjun's is a bit spicy perhaps :0

✰ yeonjun : his intensity. he’d hate to see you feeling anything else but absolute happiness, so his main goal as your boyfriend is to keep you in a positive mood at all times. but he couldn’t deny that it really did something to him when he’d be a bit bolder, a bit more daring with you. if, for example, he was to back you up against a wall, he’d love to see your beaming cheeks, colored in a deep shade of pink. he knew that all he had to do was invade your personal space as much as possible to make you falter. with his hot breath against your skin and his dark eyes piercing into your own, he had you wrapped around his finger. however, if you’d ever feel bold enough to pull something similar on him, he’d immediately recognize why it had such an effect on you. he was the one who had to endure the shaded cheeks, leaving you satisfied in knowing you both had the same power over the other.

✰ soobin : his random rants and tangents. sometimes he had moments where he was funny without even realizing it. he never saw himself as a funny guy or a jokester of any sort, but when he went on a tangent about how unnecessary oranges were when clementines literally existed, he had you clutching your stomach from laughter. any of his tangents would have this effect on you, resulting in him stopping mid-rant, a small smile replacing his furrowed brows slowly, seeing how much fun you were having. he’d stop mid-sentence after ranting at the speed of light, with you struggling to even decipher what he had been saying. “i’m serious” he’d say, trying to get you to calm down. but even after reassuring him that you took him seriously, he felt there was no avail. and he couldn’t deny that the sound of your laughter would pull him out of his thoughts and wipe away any annoyance he had held before. so unintentionally, you made him feel way better, without even noticing. and he loved you even more for that.

✰ beomgyu : his sudden seriousness. beomgyu was the classic teasing boyfriend who’d almost never leave you alone. when he was in a good mood, he’d tease anyone around him non-stop, and since you were around him a LOT, you were his most frequent victim. but he surprised you soon enough when he suddenly turned on the couch you two were sitting on, taking your hand and playing with it. he’d have a melancholic look on his face, seeming far away with his thoughts. “y/n?” he’d say quietly, a sound you’d almost didn’t register as his voice because it sounded so alien. “do you believe in soulmates?” taken slightly aback, you thought for a moment, before you replied with a small “yes” and he’d send you a small smile, moving his hand so it’d push your hair behind your ears. “good.” he’d say, “because i think you’re mine.”

✰ taehyun : when he’d get protective. he wasn’t the type of boyfriend who’d monitor your every move. he would generally be easygoing, but he still saw you two as individuals, living separate lives. but sometimes he’d feel a sudden rush of love toward you, and a need to protect you from the evils of the world. so when you’d go out late or want to visit him when it was dark out, he’d tell you to wait for him to pick you up. he’d watch you getting ready, waiting for the moment when you’d be done and reaching for your keys. “be careful,” he’d say, “i’ll pick you up whenever. just call me.” and he’d even give you a small kiss on the forehead, before saying both of your goodbyes. in the corridor, you’d almost need a moment to gather yourself, feeling surprised at the sudden care taehyun showed you just moments ago.

✰ huening kai : the shy but overly loving type. he’s one for quiet displays of love, but it’s never quiet enough that it goes unnoticed. movie nights are his favorite thing in the world. he never gets time to relax, so he’d love nothing more than to argue over which disney movie is the best while you two do some skincare or something similar, pamper yourselves, and eventually let yourselves fall onto the couch, steamy fresh take-out already awaiting you on the coffee table. he wouldn’t be able to wipe the grin from his face all evening, it doesn’t matter if you’d pay attention to him or not, he’d still feel like the luckiest guy in the world. with contentment warming his heart, what more could kai really ask for? his thing would definitely be feeling incredibly at home whenever he’d be with you, and this peaceful, warmly blooming feeling would easily spread over to you as well.

i do not allow my works to be reposted, translated or copied anywhere! | © a͏e͏m͏o͏o͏n͏i͏e͏ all rights reserved.

#a&mlibrary #txt headcanons #txt reactions #txt fluff #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt drabbles #tomorrow x together headcanons #tomorrow x together reactions #tomorrow x together scenarios #tomorrow x together fluff #tomorrow x together #txt #choi yeonjun #yeonjun #yeonjun fluff #choi soobin #soobin #soobin fluff #choi beomgyu #beomgyu #beomgyu fluff #kang taehyun #taehyun #taehyun fluff #huening kai #huening kai fluff

[blue-jisungs]

better man

warnings. cursing, bad mental health (?)

beomgyu had a tough time in his life. he had thought it was the darkest times of his life. his friends hadn’t been aware of anything since he refused to tell them. he had been struggling alone and somehow, he made it.

because that was before you. when you came into his life, it started getting colorful again. it was a slow but steady process and once beomgyu healed he never, ever wanted to feel like that again.

the thing was that he was an emotional wreck, felt like a shitty person. his heart was wild, uncontrollable and was bound to lead him on wrong paths.

but you saved him. you really did.

and even though beomgyu swore he won’t be in the same place again; in the darkest corners of his mind… he did.

it was after you broke up.

three years of dating you made beomgyu a completely new person. he was alive again, himself again.

the thing with human nature and relationships though, is that they are hard to control. he was having a harder time because of the tours, pressure and stress… and happened to snap. at you. the person he swore he’d never hurt.

you sat down at the couch, hesitantly reaching for his hand. beomgyu placed it away, head turning.

“we need to talk” you huffed, hurt by his action. and it’s just a beginning of this unpleasant journey…

“why?” he frowned, letting out a deep sigh.

“”why?” are you serious?” you asked calmly, trying to control the trembling tone of your voice “gyu, there’s something clearly bugging you and…”

“and what about it? just let me be, god…” beomgyu growled, finally looking at you

“listen. i care about you... remember when we met? because i do. you looked like death and behaved like an asshole, honestly. but what hurt me the most is that you didn’t want help… and that’s why it kept getting worse. so please… please, just talk to me. i don’t want you to feel so… sad again” you mumbled. you missed your goofy gyu. of course you knew that being a kpop idol is hard. you couldn’t imagine what he was going through with all that practice and stress but as his girlfriend you wanted to be there for him.

“so what? i don’t need your help. besides, you wouldn’t understand” he rolled his eyes, a sinking feeling in his heart that he should stop. he shouldn’t say those words, he shouldn’t… “you’d never get it”

“beomgyu don’t go too far. i’m not an idol nor i’ll ever be. i’m here to be a shoulder to cry on, not to get laughed at” you hissed.

“when will you understand i don’t need your help, god! i’m not feeling well right now but that doesn’t mean i need someone! i’m not a fucking baby, stop acting like i’m so fragile!” he bursted out, standing up from the couch.

“being in a relationship means caring about each other! i was there for you then, i’ll be now… unless you act like an selfish asshole! you think i’m not–“ you started, your chest getting heavier and heavier seconds before passed by.

“well maybe we shouldn’t have a relationship then” he blurted out, the room going quiet.

“what?” you whispered. you just didn’t understand that. he clearly wasn’t in the best mental place right now and instead of…

“i… i don’t know. i need to be alone right now” beomgyu said. oh.

you looked up at him, eyes watering.

“i see. well, good luck. i really wanted to help, beomgyu. but if you cared to listen you’d understand i wanted to help the both of us. i guess it’s not important since we’re not a thing anymore” you spat out, leaving the room in a hurry.

he stood there, speechless. his heart was beating like crazy, the reality just hitting him.

but it was too late.

everyday beomgyu woke up hoping it was just a bad dream, nightmare even. but when you didn’t answer his calls, texts and stopped showing up he realised how much he fucked up.

he was so frightened that he’ll go into the rabbit hole again. you said he was selfish but he felt the other way around. because if he was selfish then why you left him? when he was the one who clearly… was… not himself anymore.

it was even tougher than before. beomgyu was lifeless for the past half of year, even had to go on a hiatus. he thought he had it all – friends, fame, fans. the highest of highs. but without you in his life he realised how wrong he was; you came and topped them all.

and he knew he had to find you again. because you, y/n y/l, are the love of his life.

he was miserable, sure, but he had to pull himself together.

he was everywhere. in your favourite places, restaurants, bars. he was at every party. he just wouldn’t miss a chance, even if that meant a scandal.

and oh god, did his heart drop once he finally saw you. after a year. a quarter to three, some boring party at one friend’s of yours.

you were talking with someone (he didn’t really care), a playful smile on his lips. beomgyu felt like all the air in his lungs was gone, his mind blank. what… what should he even say? “hi it’s me… the guy you dated… well you were right but i was just dumb and scared and so not aware of how much i love you and…”

“gyu– beomgyu?”

he snapped back to reality, his eyes meeting yours.

“hi” he breathed out, his waterline mere moments from turning watery. thank god those red led lights hid that… and his red eyes, paleness and just the mess of the state he was in.

“what are your doing here–“ you started, hiding your hands in the pocket of your jeans to prevent him from seeing how shaky they are.

“can we talk? please… i… please.” beomgyu pleaded. you looked over at your friend who just shrugged.

“sure. let’s go outside” you mumbled, passing him by.

with a racing heart you left the club, the midnight air bringing a chilly breeze. or maybe it was the chills caused by anxiety of what this current situation is.

“its… good to see you again” beomgyu said quietly, looking at your face; almost devouring it. god, he missed you so much…

“what do you wanted to talk about?” you asked, turning your gaze away.

the truth was you didn’t feel good either. you realised that such an impulsive break up was an horrible idea but… a week passed by when beomgyu first called. a week too late and you made up your mind. because you, as selfish as it would sound, wouldn’t be able to see him in depressed state again. especially when he didn’t want help – he wasn’t only hurt by himself but he was also hurting others. and as much as you loved him, you would go down too.

“i’m so fucking sorry” he blurted out, taking a deep sigh “i know… it’s been some time. but i realised what i did wrong. i know i hurt you. and others. but… god, y/n… can i just be honest with you?”

there was a bitter comment about to leave your mouth but you halted. nodding hesitantly, you turned your gaze back onto him. and those damned brown, puppy eyes of his.

“with your love i’m a better man” he said, voice cracking “all my wrongs, they led me right to you”

your heart felt like it started melting; the cold ice disappeared and instead there was a strange… warmth

“wrapped in your arms, i swear i'd die for your love” he whispered, looking up and blinking a couple of times “you're the only one who could lock this wild heart up in chains… you're the only love that can make this bad man better”

“you’re not a bad man, beomgyu” you whispered, stepping closer.

“i am, y/n, i am. i’ve hurt you and my friends. it’s fucked up i say this just now but please… please, i beg . y/n don’t leave me again. i’m so sorry” he chocked up. upon meeting your teary eyes he broke down himself, melting.

you hugged him tightly, caressing his hair,

“i won’t. i promise, i won’t. i’m sorry too, beomie”

and just like that, an open wound in his heart that has been bleeding for what seemed like an eternity, started to heal. again.

txt masterlist | event masterlist

taglist.  @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @elviransworld  ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @mirxzii ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang

#txt fluff #txt x reader #txt boyfriend #txt x y/n #txt x you #txt imagines #txt fic #txt au #txt headcanons #txt angst #txt drabbles #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x y/n #txt beomgyu #beomgyu txt #beomgyu #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x you #beomgyu angst #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu drabbles

[buckyarchives]

JUST LOVE ME?!

oh my god I haven’t posted something in forever, but I’ve recently gotten into Star Wars and hopefully will slowly start coming out with new stuff after reading every modern obi wan fic ever. I’m not too knowledgeable on the sw universe so sorry abt that, this also ended up a lot longer than I expected.

Obi-Wan Kenobi x fem!reader

You haven’t seen obi-wan in over a decade, since your marriage and the empire, your secret love affair seemed more than dead. maybe not?

1.7k words

The force wasn’t needed to know who sat a few bar stools away from you.

it’s just that gut feeling in your stomach when something bad will happen, everyone knows the one. It was just like this, but different, good. Having not felt these feelings in years, you recognized it immediately, welcoming it like an old friend. This must be what the force feels like.

You feel the ghost of intuition brushing against your shoulder, whipping your head straight to him. Even hunched over, face covered with a large cloak and only strands of sandy hair sticking out. You knew, you always know. There was always something about this man that held you captive, you would be able to recognize him blind, and with no other awareness, you’d still crawl back to him with zero hesitation. The stool underneath you creaked as you barreled toward him like a tank.

“Obi?” The name hasn’t left your lips since you were a young girl. You saw his shoulders tense, freezing. You spoke again, maybe just because you missed the feeling of his name rolling off your tongue. “Obi-wan, is that you?”

He turns and you want to gasp. Not because he looks a little scruffy and dirty from hiding from the empire, not because you are disappointed or disgusted. Honestly, the far, far opposite. You’ll never be able to forget the sheet blueness of his eyes, the vibrancy dulled in your memory but it all came rushing back like a broken floodgate. All the memories with them too and suddenly you feel you might faint. He’s older, much older. The wrinkles by his eyes are more prominent and he’s tanned, bringing out his freckles and… maker, he’s gorgeous.

Obi-Wans shoulders relax a little at the sight of you, but he’s still tense and full of so, so many emotions. His mouth gaped slightly and his eyes ran wilding over your frame, similar clothing to his as you’ve been hiding for a while. It’s strange, he thinks, seeing you in something other than brightly colored dresses and intricate hairstyles. Maybe he’s finally started to hallucinate. Softly, your name leaves his lips, “what happened, what are you doing here?”

A nasty, rundown bar on some far outer planet that a princess shouldn’t be seen in. Of course, his image of you would be frozen from that time 10 or so years ago, you want to scoff and mock him for his overprotecting nature. Is that appropriate? To fall back into that banter even after not seeing someone for over a decade after a horribly traumatic event? Who cares, you’ve never been good at reading the room, and Obi-Wan knows this.

“What? Think I can’t defend myself?” Smirking, your arms cross and you see the flash of surprise in his irises at your response, 

“No, just-“ he grimaces, and the words die in his throat, grabbing your forearm and pulling you close. It shocks you and you smell the sandalwood and citrus in him, he still smells the same and it makes you want to smile from ear to ear. “Never mind, but please, don’t use that name around close ears.”

Oh, you forget he’s probably at the top of The Most Wanted Jedi List that keeps floating around, you only bring a small diplomatic figure left you farther down on the list. Though you’re frequent outspoken nature probably left you higher than most princesses. 

Taking your seat next to Obi-wan, he’s just looking at you and desperately holding that serious look in his eyes that makes his eyebrows furrow slightly. He ever so slightly looks like he might cry, it almost breaks you if he didn’t show a small and almost relieved smile. Obi-wan can’t hold his emotions back anymore, not in front of you, especially after so long. 

“Maker, I thought you were dead.” Obi-wan sighs, surprising you with a sudden embrace. His arms wrap around you and it takes you no longer than a millisecond to grasp onto him. He feels the same against you, his hands look more tough and aged but still soft. Obi-wan pulls away, still looking deeply into you, shaking his head in embarrassment still wearing a smile. When’s the last time he’s actually smiled? “Sorry, princess. I just haven’t seen a friend in so long.”

You click your tongue, “Not a princess anymore, not even a queen nowadays.” 

Just as you see Obi-wan's face drop in surprise and confusion, the barkeep grumbles a quick, “Can I get you anything?”

Obi-wan tenses immediately and goes back to his usual (usual for the past 10 years, not your usual) stance. You glance at him once more and ask for a drink, Obi-wan stays quiet and reserved away, and the barkeep barely notices him. The blue-ish liquor practically appears in front of you and with it, the barkeeps disappear and Obi-wan starts in a hushed tone.

“Did the galactic empire come after your planet as well?” Worry laced his tone, still painfully aware this conversation could definitely get the two of you in deep trouble. Leaned in close to you with a hot, quiet whisper.

You sigh, bringing the drink to your lips before preparing your explanation. “Yes and no,” you sway your head from side to side, and you watch as Obi-Wan confusion grows more relevant. 

“My husband,” Obi-Wans face flashes with disgust at the mention of the man that halfway tore you away from him, you didn’t like him either, especially now. “He found out about my intentions to rebel against the empire, before I could even propose my plans to my board, he reported me and I fled.” 

You hear Obi-wan curse the man out under his breath, you smile at his hushed threats. You never liked the man, even before he had ratted you out and before you were forced to marry him for the crown. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you, sincerely.” Obi-Wan’s eyes pierce through you, you could melt. “How long? Have you been adjusting?”

“Last 6 years, my sneaky pilots' lesson as a princess paid off. I fixed up a small ship and I’ve been roaming around the outer planets looking… for anything.” With a beat of silence, your eyes meet and you can practically feel Obi-wan’s force presence course through you. It’s overwhelming and warms your chest, anxiety still fills your throat as you attempt to speak. Smiling, “Fortunately, I found you.”

“Fortunately,” Obi-wan repeats, still in a hushed tone. As if it’s been his permanent state of being all these years, it wouldn’t be surprising. “I’m not so sure.”

Your frown, “Why’s that?”

A pained sigh leaves him and with it all the years of sorrow and loneliness fall onto your shoulders, you feel his burdens. “I’m not the same man I was before, I’ve failed everyone and without the Jedi order, I’m unsure where I’m supposed to go now.” 

You reach out to him, you understand. Everyone’s lives changed for the worst after that day, you wished desperately to be there for Obi-wan and Padme before she passed but you had otherly planet duties (read: forced fleeing by the hands of your husband.) it’s been your deepest regret that you didn’t find a way out sooner and go to him. Obi-wan has always been the light that keeps you up and you being his rock, you should’ve been there. 

Should’ve you been there, then maybe this depressed and sorrow-filled man who wears his burdens heavy on his shoulder may seem not lovely. And no a broken shell of a man you missed.

“You haven’t failed me, Kenobi.” You whisper, leaning in a bit closer.  “When have you ever failed me?”

“When your poor excuse of a husband whisked you away against your will! And I could do nothing except stand there!” Obi-wan’s voice raised up, his grasp grips tightly at the counter edge.

Despite how faded your memory was of those years of your life, you wake at night remembering that day. Obi-wan’s face as he saw the ring and realized you were soon to be married. The cheeky glances in the halls came to an end and you would not stay on Coruscant anymore. Obi-wan might have been in love, but he wasn’t stupid then. He knew even when he was falling for you through walks in the garden and late-night talks over tea, he knew you weren’t his and you never could be. Even before arranged marriages, the Jedi order had been his only way of life, despite how much he desperately wanted to, he would not quit that life after all he’s worked for.

Gently, your gloved hand falls on top of his, wishing for more of the warmth and contact. “He’s not my husband anymore, I’m a free woman.”

Obi-wan wants to scoff at the thought of you being free, what a joke. But that wasn’t his fault, nothing he could do alone would have stopped the empire that day. Expect maybe be a better mentor.

A sudden tense feeling falls upon the two of you, silence as you realize something. All those restrictions, rules, and impossibilities. They were all gone, and now you were not sure what to do despite how obvious the answer was. Obi-wan’s breath catches in his breath, you practically choke on it.

“Obi,” you whisper just so he would barely hear, “do you think,” he turns to you and his eyes are so fucking blue, you almost back out. Hand still grasping onto his, maybe a little harder now as you brace yourself. “Do you think even in this situation, we could try again?”

On instinct, from installing into his brain for so many years to just stay at arm's length, “No, I cannot. The Jedi-“

“The Jedi order is dead.” You cut him off, “You know it, I know it.” You take a deep breath, “Just love me.”

To think you’d be confessing this in a grimy bar whilst running from Darth Vader was insane to you, never would you have thought. Obi-wan says your name again, a meer whisper and you are suddenly in your 20s again dancing around the idea of kissing him in the secluded places of the palace. You don’t need to do this silly dance anymore, you are a free woman.

“Please, obi-wan.”

The shackles of codes and order release, his shoulder fell relaxed, and maybe he would kiss you - if it weren’t for the scenery. No, no, Kenobi would do this right. 

“I have a place here, come back with me?” He offers a small smile, a real smile.

You just nod and Obi-wan places his hand firmly in yours and you leave together. Just like you should have done all those years ago.

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan star wars #obi wan kenobi fanfiction #star wars #star wars x reader #ewan mcgregor

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

The Hope in the Fault Lines | Part 3

Part 3 is finished folks! Warnings: some suggestive material, smut in the next part!!! (so minors probably shouldn't interact with any of this), car accident described, death of a sibling, PTSD, nightmares, pretty severe cold symptoms, 97 liners ft Wonwoo make an appearance Word Count: 7.6k

Read part one and part two here!! (and part 4 here)

“Hi, Mingyu,” you say weakly into the phone.

“Hi,” he says. “You sound awful.”

You look around your bedroom, littered with used tissues, cough drop wrappers, and every blanket in your house that doesn’t belong to Sara. “I am awful,” you groan. “I didn’t know one person could be responsible for so much mucus.”

He laughs his charming, high-pitched giggle. “What’s the move, boss?” he asks you. 

“Well, I’m not going to work,” you tell him. “And maybe you shouldn’t either. I’m worried you’ll get sick if you come over.”

He scoffs. “I’m offended. I never get sick.”

“Well, still,” you say stubbornly. Already exhausted from the conversation, you lean against the headboard, coughing pathetically.

“I don’t think you should try to take care of Sara when you’re like this. You should be resting,” he says, his voice taking on that specific color it gets when he’s concerned. “And someone needs to take care of you, too.”

“Don’t come, Mingyu,” you protest, wondering at the blush now rising in your cheek.

“I’m coming,” he says with finality.

“Why did you even ask me what I wanted to do if you were just gonna do the exact opposite thing?” you ask him grumpily.

“Because I know you don’t think you need to rest, but the rest of us do,” he tells you, and you can almost hear him rolling his eyes.

“The rest of us?” you ask him, stifling another cough.

“Yeah, like, every single friend you have.”

You lose the battle with your lungs and cough violently for a moment, which is good, because it hides how touched you are that Mingyu has lumped himself with your friends. Then, “fine. But stay out of my room. I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I’m not going to get sick. Have you eaten yet?”

Your silence earns a sigh from Mingyu. “I’ll make something when I get there. Hang tight, boss.”

It seems like hours before the doorbell rings and you have to drag yourself out of bed to answer it. The spring day is gloomy, and as you open the door a flood of cool morning air sweeps over you, making you shiver uncomfortably. But there he is, and he’s taking in the sight of you with an eagerness that belies the mundaneness of your meeting. Something seems to have changed between now and the hospital visit, but although words are your life’s work, you can’t put a name to what it is.

“Hi,” he says, and his voice is a little more shy than you’ve ever been used to hearing. The reasons for this newfound bashfulness completely unknown to you, you curse yourself for the way your heart nearly beats itself out of your chest. 

“Hey,” you croak, throwing up a peace sign. You know you look bad. Your hair is a greasy, kinky mess, you’re wearing your worst grandma nightgown, and you didn’t even have the energy for contacts today, so your face is covered with thick spectacles.

He laughs. “That’s a really cute outfit, boss.”

“Shut up,” you say, and cough out a laugh yourself.

“I’m serious! You look like my granny. I’m pretty sure she has that nightgown.” He leans in a little to inspect. “And possibly the glasses too.”

You frown at him, but without any real venom — although a little startled by his closeness. “Cruel of you to tease me while I’m on my deathbed.”

“Speaking of which,” he says, coming into the house after removing his shoes. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“Well, as much as I’m already regretting letting you come over, I couldn’t just leave you outside, could I?” you huff.

“I guess not,” he replies. “Where’s Sara?”

Your eyes get wide. “Oh my goodness. I haven’t even seen her today.” Guilt washes over you, followed by a pang of grief. What would Jeri say about you forgetting about her child?

Mingyu’s jaw drops, and he quickly runs to Sara’s room. He comes down seconds later with a sleepy-looking Sara in his arms. “She was awake, just laying there,” he says. “I think she knows you’re not feeling well.”

“Or she knows I suck at this,” you say quietly. “Either way, I’m glad she’s okay.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “You don’t suck at this. You’re sick. Now go to bed before I kick your butt.”

You purse your lips, but obey, trudging tiredly up the stairs while he watches you carefully. “Who works for who?” you mutter under your breath.

“What was that?” he calls up to you, his tone trying for stern but landing at amused.

“Nothing,” you say in a scratchy sing-song voice that makes him chuckle. You pad your way up to your bedroom, shutting the door and tucking yourself in bed. Downstairs, you can hear the muffled sounds of Mingyu making food, presumably for you. You listen with interest -- you can’t make out the words, but you can tell Mingyu is speaking as he cooks. The sudden realization that Mingyu probably talks to Sara all day while you’re gone fills you with fondness; it strikes you as something Jisung would have done. 

Settling into your mountain of pillows, you try to relax your mind. It’s hard, though -- hard because for some reason your mind keeps wandering down the stairs and latching onto the obscenely beautiful man who is making you breakfast right now. No man, not even the ones you dated or slept with, has ever made you breakfast, and Kim Mingyu is managing to do it twice in one week. Are men only good to you if you’re paying them? you wonder to yourself.

Just then, the doorbell rings yet again. Curiously, you wrap yourself in a blanket and head back down the stairs to see who it is, and are shocked to find Mingyu at the door with Cory.

Cory is taking in the sight of Mingyu (in a Christmas apron he probably found in your pantry, still holding a spatula that has a few flecks of what looks like waffle or pancake batter). He looks between the two of you as you come down the hall. “Hey,” you say. “Mingyu, I see you’ve met my editor-in-chief, Cory.”

Mingyu’s eyes light with recognition. “Oh! I’ve heard so much about you!” he says, his eager puppy-like energy making Cory blink in confusion. 

“Cory,” you explain, “this is Mingyu. He’s my...nanny.” You hesitate before stating Mingyu’s official job title, because “nanny” doesn’t seem serious enough for everything Mingyu does for you and Sara. 

“Oh,” Cory says, seeming to recover at least partially. You bite your lip, holding back a giggle, as Cory sizes Mingyu up yet again. “I’m sorry, uh, I thought…when you said nanny, I thought you meant…”

“A woman?” you say, raising an eyebrow. You cough, leaning against the wall for support, and Mingyu reaches out an arm to steady you.

“Well, I probably should go finish the pancakes,” he tells you after you finish coughing. “Nice to meet you, Cory!”

Cory’s eyes follow Mingyu down the hallway into the kitchen. “Your nanny?” he says in disbelief.

“Yeah,” you say, somewhat uncomfortable. “He came recommended by a friend who used to work with him.”

“Where? A bodybuilding competition?”

You really have to pinch your lips together tightly to avoid laughing. “So…why are you here?” you ask him after the urge subsides. 

“Oh,” Cory says, shaking himself. “I brought you some cough drops.” He hands you a bag of cherry-flavored cough drops lamely, his usual coolness tempered by the ego hit of meeting Mingyu, and looks at the floor. 

You take them from him. “Thanks, Cory. Don’t be late -- they need you there.”

“We need you there,” he corrects you. “Get better soon.”

And with that, he’s out the door.

You put the bag of cough drops on the kitchen counter and slump onto the couch in the living room. When you make eye contact with Mingyu as he turns around to put a pancake on a plate, you giggle. 

“What?” he asks, a little defensive and a little amused. 

“I think you just intimidated the shit out of my editor-in-chief,” you tell him.

His eyes get wide. “I didn’t mean to!” he protests. 

“I know you didn’t,” you say. Your laughs turn into coughs, which makes Mingyu look even more worried. He moves the now-empty pan off the hot stove and brings you a glass of water, which you accept gratefully. 

“Well, it’s cool your employees bring you stuff when you’re sick,” he reasons, taking a seat on the couch beside you as you drink the water. “You must be a good boss.”

You scoff. “My employees don’t bring me stuff when I’m sick,” you say. “Cory brings me stuff when I’m sick.” You can’t keep the annoyed tone out of your voice, and Mingyu notices.

“You...don’t like him?”

You sigh. “I like him just fine,” you say. But as Mingyu continues to stare at you, confused, you laugh again. “I’m sorry!” you say as his look grows exasperated. “You’re just funny. Um, well. I’ve known Cory since uni, and --”

“He likes you,” Mingyu realizes. His face has fallen from his bemused expression to a stony one.

You nod, grimacing in tandem with him. “He told me the night that Sara went into the hospital.”

Mingyu looks at his hands. “Got it,” he says. “And you don’t feel the same way about him?”

“I don’t think so,” you say, playing awkwardly with the hem of your shirt. “He’s a great guy, but I don’t think he’s quite my type.”

“Well, he doesn’t even know you don’t like cherry-flavored cough drops,” Mingyu says, like it’s the world’s biggest red flag.

“How do you know that?” you ask him, bewildered at this revelation.

He shrugs. “Simple observation. In the pantry where you keep the cough medicine, there’s also cough drops. You have a bag of every single flavor but cherry.”

“Huh,” you say. “I guess you weren’t a spy for nothing.”

He allows a small grin at that. “Or maybe I’m just paying attention,” he says quietly.

It feels stuffy and hot in the living room. “Well,” you say in an offhand tone, “I didn’t realize that not knowing my cough drop preferences was a deal-breaker. But I guess I haven’t really dated in two years. Like, since school.”

“Really?” he asks incredulously. 

“I dated around,” you clarify. “But even while I was dating, I wasn’t really thinking about dating. I was starting a business, I was trying to take care of Jeri, I was focusing on school…and then I got so busy with how well the magazine was doing. It never took priority.” You look around the room — at the baby toys in their basket and Sara’s blankets all over the couch — and sigh. “And now that I’m effectively a single mother, I think that ship has sailed.”

He scowls at this last admission. “There’s somebody for everyone,” Mingyu insists. “And you have a lot going for you, boss. So don’t give up on yourself.” He stands up and grabs Sara’s baby food off the counter, sitting down in the seat next to her high chair and spooning mashed up peas and carrots and sweet potatoes into her mouth. You don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but you find yourself fixated on his hands. They’re big and manly, with a dark purple scar over one of the knuckles the only hint at his past life. But it’s more than that. There’s something about the way they dwarf the tiny plastic baby spoon so it looks like a toy and how gentle and careful they are with Sara’s messy eating, brushing the mush from the corners of her mouth. You find yourself wondering how such a hand might feel through the fabric of the shirt at your waist, or moving up the curve of your spine, or wound in the hair at the back of your head while you sigh out his name …

What the hell? you think to yourself, surprised at this abrupt nosedive into insanity. Suddenly bashful, you swallow hard. “What about you?” you ask him, before you can stop yourself. And as he looks at you, a little shocked, you immediately backtrack. “You really don’t have to answer that,” you say, blushing fiery red and combusting into another fit of violent coughs. 

“That’s okay,” he says, watching you with the same worried eyes from the table. “I don’t mind. When I was a fed, I didn’t have the time to date. After I got out I had one serious girlfriend, we nearly got engaged, but then I think we both realized it wasn’t what we wanted.”

“No heartbreaks?” you ask slyly.

He grins. “Well, I wouldn’t say that,” he says. “Maybe just not romantic ones.”

You bite your lip. If there was ever a perfect lead-in for you to ask the question that’s been at the back of your mind since the hospital, it was that. You start, gently. “You never have to answer any of my questions if you don’t want to,” you tell him. “And I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t refuse to answer, so please let me know if I cross any major boundaries. But I noticed something. About you.”

He looks at you expectantly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you continue. “The doctor in the hospital seemed to know you.”

He smiles softly. “Any theories?” he asks you.

“Mainly that you or someone very close to you had a sick kid,” you say in a single breath, trying not to make him upset. 

He’s nodding thoughtfully. “You’re pretty observant,” he says. “Do you want to open that door?” His tone is still even, but you sense something behind it -- a soberness that is rare for his cheerful personality.

“Only if you feel okay about opening it,” you tell him. Honestly, it wouldn’t change anything if he decided to share or not to share, but you get the feeling that he has carried a heavy burden, unseen, for a good long while. And maybe you hope that you’ll be able to ease whatever you can of that burden. “It’s totally up to you.”

“Okay. Give me a second.”

He puts a lid on the half-finished container of baby food Sara is now stubbornly dodging spoonfuls of. Grabbing a washcloth, he gently wipes off her face as she writhes away from him, then brushes it over her hands and torso as well. Finally, he lifts Sara out of her high chair and into his arms, coming once again to sit by you on the couch while Sara rests against his chest.

He takes a deep breath. “My last official mission,” he begins, “was a security detail for an important diplomat’s wife and son as we evacuated them from the country due to some threats against him and his family. I got really close to the kid. He was six, and he was smart as a whip. Loved cars and toys and dinosaurs, but he also had seen a lot in his short life. Anyway, it took us a long time to get them here, and during that time, the poor guy started getting sick.”

You are unconsciously gripping your blanket around yourself as he tells the story, his soft low voice prodding at your heart in uncomfortable ways, but you are unable to tear your eyes away from his face. He keeps speaking, all while Sara, still exhausted from her own illness, falls asleep in his arms, probably soothed into it by the cadence of Mingyu’s voice. “He had been born prematurely, and his lungs weren’t quite right. But then he got the flu or something, and because of his lungs, it was a lot more serious for him. We fought to get him here in time to get help, and the doctors did an amazing job, but in the end, the bureaucracy of it all made it so he passed away. Doctor Song was his doctor, and she was fabulous, which is why I knew her.”

“Is that why you left the service?” you ask him, and your voice comes out a hoarse whisper.

He nods. “I had seen a lot, but watching that kid die was the worst thing I’d ever seen. Because it was totally preventable if we’d been able to make it here in time.” His voice is so calm, but you can gauge a small amount of bitterness there, softened by the years since. He stands up. “I’m gonna put Sara in her crib. Stay there,” he says.

He’s back in a flash, sitting down a bit closer to you this time. “Anyway. That experience was kind of the nail in the coffin for two things: one was that I knew I didn’t want to be an agent anymore, and the other one was that I wanted to work with kids.”

“That’s quite a career change,” you point out. “Why kids?”

He can’t help but break into a wide smile. “I love kids. Things are so simple to them. And after my last job, I really needed that.”

“Is it hard to leave them when the job is over?” you ask him, thinking of Sara.

He shrugs. “Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s not so bad. The older kids are usually a bit easier because you can explain to them why you’re leaving. They know it’s not really your choice or that they did something wrong. With the little ones, it can be brutal.”

You shift uncomfortably, this vein of the conversation making you inexplicably anxious. “Well, I was absolutely serious about you having a job until Sara moves out. So…please don’t leave us.” You try to feel embarrassed by how pathetic this sounds, but all you can do is meet Mingyu’s eyes and try to convey how desperately you both need him. “And if you’re ever thinking about quitting, just let me know,” you continue, trying to lighten the mood. “I can be very persuasive if I need to be.”

He cackles. “You sound like a mafia boss. Are you threatening me with violence or trying to bribe me?”

“Whichever is more effective,” you joke. “But seriously, this was a very unhappy home just a couple weeks ago. You’ve made a massive difference. So if there’s anything I can ever do to improve your work or your life at all, please tell me. It’s the least I can do.”

Mingyu puts a hand on your knee, poking out from between the folds of your blanket. “Thanks,” he says. “But you should know I really don’t foresee myself throwing in the towel here anytime soon.”

You smile. “Good,” you say, instinctively putting a hand over his and squeezing.

And then you burst into coughs — your most violent attack of the day. It is almost instantly made worse by Mingyu, who springs up to bring you your water, collides painfully with the coffee table, and ends up spilling your water, a potted plant, and a book on neoclassical art all over the floor. The ensuing laughter bubbling up in your chest turns into a gale of coughs, and Mingyu sheepishly grabs your cup from off the floor and limps to the sink to wash it off. He brings it back to you full again. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says, sitting down and rubbing at the spot on his shin that hit the table. “I’m a bit clumsy.”

You swallow your water and breathe carefully before responding. “It’s okay,” you say, trying to resist the urge to laugh, knowing it’ll just make you cough again. “Is that why you put all the pancakes on one of Sara’s baby plates?”

He nods furtively, biting his bottom lip. “I actually never use your nice dishes because I know I’ll break at least one, and they’re so pretty.”

The image of Mingyu eating off a plastic Dumbo plate with Sara while you’re at work flashes before your eyes. “How thoughtful,” you say with a grin. “But I don’t care if you break my plates.”

Truly, you thought to yourself as he, smiling widely, brings you the aforementioned pancakes, Mingyu could break whatever he liked of yours as long as he stuck around. 

***

“I’m not leaving,” Mingyu says stubbornly.

“You need to sleep,” you insist in a whisper outside of Sara’s bedroom door. 

“Not as much as you do,” he argues in a hushed tone. “You really should not be getting up with her in the middle of the night when you feel this bad.”

“I’m fine,” you lie, but your raspy voice gives you away — as has the entire day Mingyu has spent with you. 

Shortly after you had finished your pancakes, Sara had woken up. Mingyu had shouted you down from going to get her, instead accompanying you as you went upstairs and then marching you to your room for a nap. “You pay me to look after Sara,” he’d reminded you. “It’s my whole job. So you just rest.”

And you had rested, waking from your nap around 1 in the afternoon by a soft knock at your bedroom door. Mingyu had brought you some ramen on a tray, Sara strapped to his chest in a baby backpack, and his earlier accident ensured his steps were careful and measured. He had laid the try across your lap and bowed. “The queen’s lunch is served,” he’d said, winking at you as he left you to wonder why on earth such a simple thing as a wink could send a chill down your spine.

And then you’d brought the tray back down to the kitchen, and he’d scolded you — “who said you could get out of bed?” — but had relented when you told him you had been so bored upstairs by yourself and you’d wanted to watch a movie on the big-screen TV in the living room. Mingyu had set Sara down onto the fluffy white rug in front of the TV to entertain her for a moment, and you’d watched fondly as he blew raspberries into her chubby belly, drawing out her widest smiles. 

“Ooh, watch this,” he’d said. “She loves it!” He grabbed her thick legs and pulled them up and down in a mimic of a track runner, and Sara actually giggled. 

“Yeah, you’re shaking all the gas out of her,” you’d told him, and he’d laughed.

“She does usually fart a lot after,” he allowed. 

After awhile of searching for the right movie, you’d finally decided to watch Pirates of the Caribbean. Mingyu sat cross-legged on the rug, helping Sara play with her toys, but getting sucked into the movie at periodic intervals. Anytime something scary happened, he would cover Sara’s eyes and look at you in mock-judgment. After the third spooky moment, he exclaimed, “there is a child present!”

You had given him a dry look. “She seems really traumatized,” you had deadpanned, pointing to where Sara was whacking a plastic banana on the floor, babbling contentedly, completely ignoring the screen.

And so the day wore on, buffered by small moments of what you could only call growing comfort with each other. It was partially this that had you so adamant to kick him out — having Mingyu so close and so there was making your feelings all jumbled and weird. And having him stay overnight — waking up in the same house as he did — would most definitely not help anything.

So you try your best. “I’ll pay you to go home,” you beg. 

“And leave you by yourself?” He scoffs. “My mama didn’t raise me that way.”

“I manage just fine most nights,” you protest indignantly.

“Most nights you don’t have the plague,” he counters. “I’ve been around all day. I know how bad it is. You won’t even know I’m here. I’ll even sleep in the nursery again.”

“Mingyu, you’ll get sick —“ you start to say, and then pause. “What did you say?”

“You won’t even know I’m here?” he repeats.

“No, after that. You slept in the nursery?”

He shrugs. “Well, yeah, the guest bedroom doesn’t have a baby monitor, and plus I was worried about her, and that rug in there is basically a mattress anyway,” he says. “But seriously, she’s teething. You’ll probably be up all night, and that won’t be good for your illness.”

The look in his eyes as he says it — almost begging you to let him stay — would be too much under a normal circumstance, but learning that this man slept on the floor to keep Sara company while she was so sick pushes you over the edge. “Fine,” you whisper. “But at least take the couch.”

He grins. “Good to see the lady can compromise.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t push your luck,” you tell him. 

After bidding him goodnight, you close your bedroom door behind you and hold your hand over your heart, which is thumping wildly. This feeling is completely foreign to you — the closest approximation you can come up with is the embarrassing crush you used to have on Steve Irwin, which Jeri never stopped teasing you for. But even that was just enough to keep you interested in his work. It hadn’t reduced you to a full blushing mess as you slid down your bedroom door, a funny feeling in your stomach. You finally understand why people talk about “butterflies” as your insides flutter, trying not to imagine Mingyu stretched out on your couch, his eyelids closed, his pretty lashes brushing the top of his cheekbones  —

“Stop it.” You actually have to say it out loud because it’s ridiculous how nothing has even happened, but you’re blushing. It’s a good thing you’re so ill and exhausted, because otherwise you know you’d be tossing and turning all night. As it is, you pass out only minutes after your too-hot shower.

Your mind is not kind to you in your illness and exhaustion and confusion, though. In dreams you drift around the halls of the hospital, heart monitors beeping suspiciously slowly, producing an uneasy soundtrack for you to glide between rooms to. Your eyes can’t focus on anything properly, so you simply pass through room after room with blurry patients strapped to beds, bandaged or moaning or pale and silent, going faster and faster until you turn a corner and everything changes abruptly. 

Now you’re on an abandoned highway in the dark, and just ahead you can see the wreckage of a small teal vehicle.

You recognize the car, which is blistering in flames, its mangled exterior seeming to bubble grotesquely in the flickering firelight. You scan the interior, paralyzed with fear at what you’ll find there, but it is empty.

A voice is calling your name, a voice you know -- Jeri’s voice. You try to find your own voice to answer her, but when you open your mouth, all you can do is scream. And still, she calls your name, over and over and over again until you suddenly feel yourself being shaken awake by two large hands on your shoulders.

The first thing you register is the stinging in your throat as you wake up, signaling you had probably screamed in real life, not just in the dream. The next is the panicked brown eyes staring into yours, the perfect face they belong to a mask of worry and fear. ��Are you with me?” Mingyu says. “Are you awake?”

The last thing you notice is how heavily you’re breathing. You sit up, coughing, while Mingyu watches you in paralyzed concern. “I’m so sorry,” you say raggedly when you can finally speak. “I’m so sorry for waking you up.”

Everything still feels surreal — like you’ve detached from the world you’re used to, like you’re watching things happen from outside your body. What brings you back down to earth is when Mingyu pulls you into his chest and nearly crushes you in his grasp.

He’s warm. Warm like a fire in the winter of your terror, warm like the sunlight after a chilly swim, warm like coming home after a long time of being away. You breathe him in, and everything is suddenly the clean scent of his shampoo and a hint of sweat and just the faintest dash of cologne. And somehow the spinning of the room stops, your heart slows down, the terror eases. You lean into him and close your eyes, letting yourself hold his massive body to you, feeling his broad fingers brush gently down your back and up again, hoping that neither of you will let go. 

“I thought something bad was happening to you,” he whispers into your temple. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“It was a dream,” you say softly. “It was a really bad dream.”

He pulls back to look at you, and a large part of you misses the warmth and the weight of him. This same part of you is rapidly soothed when he pushes some of your hair from your face to see your expression better, searching your face with those same anxious eyes. “Are you okay now?”

You are -- you really are -- but somehow you have the presence of mind not to say that. Instead you nod. “I’m awake,” you say with a soft nod. 

Mingyu sighs in relief. “Give me two seconds.”

He leaves the room, and you deflate into your pillows, exhausted and aching for the feeling of Mingyu’s arms around you again in a way you are not equipped to fight off. When he returns, you see he’s brought Sara with him, blinking sleepily. He slowly hands her to you and then sits facing you on your mattress.

You settle into the weight of Sara on your chest, which soothes you almost as much as Mingyu’s arms had. “What did you dream about?” Mingyu asks you, trying not to sound as worried as you know he must be. It makes you smile a little.

“I dreamed about the hospital and the accident,” you say simply.

“Your sister’s accident?” he asks. “Did you see it? When it happened, I mean?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. “No, it was something my brain entirely made up,” you say. “But it felt real.”

He pauses. You sense some trepidation in him, some debate over whether or not to say what he’s mulling over in his brain. Finally he decides. “What happened to them? I only know it was a vehicle accident.”

You give him a humorless smile. “Do you want to open that door?” you ask him, echoing his words from earlier.

“Only if you do,” he says, putting a hand on your knee.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. It is the first time you will ever tell another human being the story. “It was raining,” you say. “My sister and her husband had gone to one of his sales team’s events -- it was a swanky party in the canyon. They were stopped at a stop sign when they got rear-ended so hard they slammed into the opposite railing. Jisung died right there, but my sister was thrown from the car. She lived long enough for someone to find them, long enough to crawl back to the road and get picked up by an ambulance, but not long enough to make it into surgery. She died on the same floor Sara was in two days ago, but the west wing instead of the east.”

Mingyu’s brow is furrowed, his eyes overly bright. “And the other driver?” he says roughly. “What happened to them?”

“They still haven’t found him,” you say. “They used paint chips from the back of my sister’s car to identify the vehicle, which wasn’t registered to anyone living. The police are apparently still looking for him.”

Mingyu looks like he’s about to hug you again, but stops himself because of Sara. He settles for smoothing a hand over Sara’s head and looking at you with red-rimmed eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “That’s...unfair. And awful. And so sad.”

You nod in agreement. “It is.” You sigh, and with your breath you release a bit of tension you didn’t know you were holding in your jaw. “I just hope she knew how much I love her.” You think back to the last conversation you’d had — full of love and laughter and the promise to see each other soon. Your eyes begin to water, and you sniff.

Mingyu slides across your bed to sit beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. He holds you and Sara in his arms while you silently cry -- not the shaking sobs of despair from the hospital or the agonized scream from your nightmares, but a release of all the pent-up feelings you hadn’t had time to allow yourself to feel. You spill over with sadness and anger and pain, but most of all with longing for your sister. You want to hear her voice again, make her laugh again, make her angry again as long as you could just have her there. 

And all of this feeling pouring out of you leaves you feeling drained when it’s over. You are empty, but not the same kind of emptiness you felt in the months before you’d met Mingyu. It was more like the emptiness of a backpack after you take everything out, an emptiness that was no longer hopeless to fill. 

After what is probably more than an hour, you whisper, “Mingyu?”

His sleepy “hm?” from above you floods your heart with warmth.

“I’m afraid I should be paying you double. I think you’re taking care of both of us,” you say, still in a whisper. 

“No need,” he says softly, his arms tightening around you for a fraction of a second. “You heard my whole tragic backstory this morning. It was only fair.”

You smile against his chest, and Sara stirs, beginning to fuss. Mingyu sits up but doesn’t let go, looking down at Sara. “She’ll be up crying in a second,” he says. “Let me take her.”

He scoops her into his arms, rubbing tiredly at his eyes with one hand. “Get some rest,” he says, maneuvering himself off of the bed, stopping only briefly to brush one final tear off your face. 

“Sleep well,” he says softly as he closes your bedroom door behind him. 

You relax into the pillows, reaching over to grab the one Mingyu had been leaning against. It still smelled like him. The scent is enough for your overwhelmed brain — you fall asleep in seconds.

***

As he shuts the door behind you to allow you to go back to sleep, hoping that this time your mind stays free of traumatic dreams, Mingyu pauses.

He is in trouble.

He’d known it from that very first day. Because how could someone be so drop-dead gorgeous in their rattiest sweatpants, with their hair a mess, looking like they might burst into tears at any moment? 

And now, three weeks in, it was worse than ever — the light was coming back into your eyes, and that change was stirring feelings in him he’d never felt before. And as he’d heard more of your story, he became more and more enthralled. He was proud of how hard you worked, and he adored your sense of humor, and he admired your authenticity and honesty, but what had drawn him irresistibly to you was the way that you loved: passionately, almost recklessly, with everything in you. From what Mingyu could tell, that love had leached into every single thing you did — it was the reason your business was so successful, the reason Sara felt so safe with you, and the reason your grief was so heavy. Since realizing this, Mingyu hadn’t even stood half a chance.

As he bounced up and down with Sara in his arms, trying to soothe her fussing, he thought back to the moment when he knew he was a goner: when you’d knighted him in the kitchen and called him Sir Mingyu. The way he’d wanted to take your face in his hands and kiss you until you forgot about everything but him was almost criminal. And tonight...seeing your sleepy eyes, and how you’d melted into his embrace...he’d had to grab Sara as a buffer between the two of you, or he might just have risked it all, illness be damned. 

“Ah, Sara,” he whispered, remembering how you’d smiled dazedly at him as he left the room. “What should I do?”

He had tried to keep it professional with you. Tried to leave almost instantly when you arrived home without being rude. Tried to go out on weekends, so he didn’t have to think about you. But the truth was, he always did anyway. And coupled with the fact that Sara, too, had stolen his heart, and he knew he couldn’t love her more even if he were her own father — there was simply nothing for it. He’d just have to come to terms with the fact that he’d never felt more at home than when he was with the two of you.

It’s four in the morning, and Mingyu sighs as he pulls out his cell phone. “Why am I not surprised you’re awake?” he teases when Jungkook answers his call. 

“You know me,” Jungkook says, and Mingyu can hear the filthy smile on his friend’s face. “I never sleep.”

Mingyu shakes his head exasperatedly. “Got plans today?” he asks. “I’m working right now, but I think I need to go out later.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” For all his teasing, Jungkook is a good friend, and he can tell something’s up just by Mingyu’s tone of voice.

“I have someone I need you to help me forget.”

***

You wake up the next morning around 11, feeling better than you’ve felt in days, maybe weeks. You’re still coughing, but your energy is higher and you’re lighter than you’re used to when you first wake up. 

You head downstairs, where Mingyu is nodding off at the table, Sara sucking happily at her pacifier. You sit in the seat next to Mingyu. “Long night?”

“You have no idea,” he groans. 

“I’m feeling a lot better,” you say. “You should go home and rest.” You have to resist an urge to lay a hand on his arm. 

He blinks blearily at you. “You want me to go?”

You chuckle at his tone -- he sounds devastated. “You need to rest. In fact, I’m going to insist that I drive you home. I don’t trust you to drive safely right now.”

Mingyu smiles sleepily, the sight making it impossible for you not to smile yourself. “‘Kay,” he says.

“Alright, big guy, up you get,” you say, unstrapping Sara and putting her into her baby carrier. “Where do you live?”

He gives you an address, which you plug into your phone. Mingyu forbids you from carrying Sara’s car seat and strapping it in the car, doing it himself at a slower pace than normal due to his tiredness. You watch, amused, as he fumbles with the slots the carrier slides into, his eyes half open. Your heart nearly bursts as he finally gets her buckled and places a clumsy kiss on her cheek. 

He sleeps for most of the drive, slumped against the door of the car. When you arrive in his driveway, you have to shake his shoulder gently to get him to wake up. So you let him out of the car and walk him to the door, feeling somewhat worried he’ll pass out on the way there as he stumbles up the walkway. 

To your surprise, he knocks at the door. “This is your house,” you remind him, giving him a worried look.

He chuckles. “Forgot my keys. I have a housemate.”

Sure enough, in seconds the door swings open to reveal a slim, bespectacled man whose eyes widen at the sight of Mingyu’s tired face. “What happened to him?” he asks you. 

“He was up all night,” you say apologetically. “I tried to get him to leave at the usual time, but he just wouldn’t.”

He scoffs. “Sounds like him. Alright, get in here, you big baby.” The man pulls Mingyu inside by the sleeve of his hoodie, and Mingyu collapses onto the couch just visible from the door. 

You watch him, torn between concern, fondness, and amusement, until you notice the other man eyeing you. “I’m Wonwoo,” he says with a small smile. “You must be Miss Boss.”

“Is that what he calls me?” you ask, embarrassed.

“No, that’s what I’ve been calling you,” he says. “He talks about you a lot.”

You blush. “I’m sorry,” you say, although you’re not really sure why.

“It’s fine,” he says. “This job seems better for him than the last few, so I feel like I actually owe you one.”

“Oh,” is all you can say. “Well, Wonwoo, uh...just make sure he rests, okay? Tell him I can come get him whenever and he can drive his car home.”

“Will do,” Wonwoo says cheerfully. “Have a nice day!”

***

[23:23, the following evening]

“Why did I even come here?” Mingyu groans over the sound of the music.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “You are absolute shit at forgetting people, you know that?”

Mingyu shakes his head. “Not usually,” he says. “I don’t really know what’s going on.”

“You need to be more drunk,” Eunwoo suggests. 

“And maybe flirt with someone else,” Wonwoo recommends.

Mingyu wrinkles his nose in disgust at the thought. “What are you scared of?” Jungkook asks with a laugh. “You said that you had absolutely no chance.”

“Yet,” Mingyu says. “I have no chance yet.”

“And your plan is to…what?” Eunwoo asks, leaning closer and examining Mingyu’s face. “Wait around until your chance comes?”

Mingyu hesitates. Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t think you’re a waiter, Kim Mingyu, but you’re allowed to prove me wrong if you want.”

At this, Mingyu rolls his eyes. “You’ve been eyeing the girl in the black dress over there for the past hour,” he remarks casually. “You can talk to me about waiting once you make a move.”

Jungkook watches the woman in the black dress with a tattooed hand on his chin. “Alright, I will.” He shrugs his thin black jacket off, revealing his full tattoo sleeve, and makes his way rhythmically to the dance floor, leaning in to speak to the girl.

“I know that was just a move to get him to go away,” Eunwoo says. “But well done, regardless.” He pats Mingyu on the shoulder. “So tell me, do you want to wait for her?”

Mingyu bristles. “The only thing I know for sure is that I have feelings for her. Beyond that I have no idea what to do about it.”

“Are the feelings you have for her … loving feelings or horny feelings?” Wonwoo asks carefully.

“Both,” Mingyu says through gritted teeth, fighting off the memory of your body in his arms. “How did you know you were in love?” he asks Eunwoo, glancing down at the ring on his finger. “How did you choose Nabi?”

Eunwoo looks thoughtfully into the distance. “She made it easy for me to just…be myself.”

Mingyu immediately remembers how simple it was to open up to you, his heart pounding at the thought. “I keep looking for a disqualifier,” he moans. “Something that would make her…I don’t know. Less…everything I ever wanted.”

Eunwoo grins ruefully. “I can think of one. She’s your boss,” he finishes, stirring his drink with his straw.

“And she told that one guy who liked her that she wasn’t ready to date,” Wonwoo pipes up. “She needs time to figure out what she’s doing before diving into a relationship.”

“So the only thing stopping me is circumstance?” Mingyu asks, frustrated.

Wonwoo and Eunwoo look at each other. “It sure seems that way,” Eunwoo agrees. “And…I don’t know, respect for her.”

“If she wasn’t your boss, and she wasn’t grieving,” Wonwoo points out, “what would you do?”

Mingyu’s cheeks warm with the thought of everything he’d do if you weren’t his boss. If you were ready for him. But he can’t say those things out loud, so he opts for the most generalized version of his answer. “I’d never give up on her,” he says with conviction.

Wonwoo’s eyes behind his spectacles are wise beyond his years. “Circumstances change all the time,” he says simply. “I know you don’t enjoy waiting for things, but maybe the best thing to do is stop fighting the feelings and just let them flow. You’ll either get your shot or you won’t, but if she’s as great as you think, she deserves to be waited for.” Wonwoo sips his water while Eunwoo and Mingyu stare, open-mouthed, at his sudden profundity.

“Damn,” Eunwoo says after awhile. “You should talk more.”

Wonwoo grins. “I would if anyone would listen to me,” he teases.

Mingyu is still letting Wonwoo’s words bounce around in his brain. “What should I do then?” he asks. “Like, right now. When there’s nothing I really can do.”

Wonwoo thinks for a minute. “Well, there’s a difference between what I think you should do and what I would do if it were me. What do you want to hear?”

“Both,” Mingyu and Eunwoo say together. Mingyu shoots Eunwoo an amused look, and he shrugs. “Hey, the last thing he said kind of blew me away.”

“Well,” Wonwoo says, “if it were me, I’d try to hide my feelings until I felt like it was a good time to talk about it.”

“And what do you think I should do?”

He ponders. “Well, you’re garbage at hiding your feelings. When you try, they just end up exploding out of you like diarrhea.”

Eunwoo snorts. “You were doing so well,” he laments.

Unbothered, Wonwoo continues. “So I’d say just be yourself. Don’t cross any lines or confess or anything, but don’t try to hide, either. And wait for her to say something.”

“And if she never does?” Mingyu asks, breathless.

“Die of unrequited love, I guess,” Wonwoo says with a wry grin. “Or move on.”

read part 4 here

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[familyvideostevie]

october fourteenth

day fourteen: remus lupin it’s picture day with your friends | marauders being silly, fluff | 1k

The whole thing is Sirius’s idea. A bit surprising, given that he strikes you as the most nonchalant, the most uncaring of your boyfriend’s friends, but Remus assures you that Sirius has as soft, gooey center behind all the leather and frowning.

Which is how you end up in their apartment living room in matching sweaters in the middle of October. It’s like picture day at school but with alcohol and a self-timed camera on a tripod.

“The holidays aren’t for months,” Lily whines, tugging on the collar of her mustard colored sweater. You’d think it would clash with her hair but she looks as lovely as ever.

“And we’ll be prepared,” says James. “Especially for the Halloween party.” He smoothes down one of her eyebrows.

She leans into him. “For the first time ever,” she mutters.

“I don’t know about this matching,” Remus says. “Why do we look like a catalogue, again?” His hand is absently tracing patterns on your back as you lean into him, waiting to be directed.

“Because I said so,” Sirius grumbles. “Now get on the bloody couch.”

He’s moved their couch to be centered in front of the best light in the flat and set up his camera in front of it on a rickety tripod. Everyone is in various shades of fall tones and dark bottoms. Remus is in a fetching red sweater you picked out for him and you brush imaginary lint from his shoulder just to touch him.

Ever the perceptive one, he smiles at you. “Thank you for doing this,” he says softly. Lily and Sirius jostle for the center cushion behind him.

“Are you kidding?” you say. “This is fun. I’m honored to be on the card this year.”

You mean it. Apparently, as Remus tells it, they did this at school, too, though it was much less serious. They’d get dressed up in stupid themes and take a ‘family photo’ to get printed and sent it out come the holidays and give them away at house parties. This is your first fall as a couple and it was, in Remus’s opinion, a no brainer to have you in it. You were a bit worried that the boys would object but everyone was thrilled.

“We’re lucky to have someone as pretty as you on record as being friends with us,” he says. He fixes the collar of the blouse you’ve got on under your burgundy sweater. “And I’m luckiest of all, since you’re coming home with me.”

Your face feels hot. Remus is quite the tease sometimes. It never gets old.

“Stop being gross and get on the couch,” Sirius says again.

You roll your eyes and grab Remus’s hand. Sirius has won and put himself in the middle with Lily on one side and James perched on the arm next to her. He’s playing with a strand of her hair.

“Where do you want us?” you ask. Sirius waves his hand as if he suddenly doesn’t care. Infuriating man.

“You sit,” you tell Remus, pushing him into the couch.

“You sure?” You nod. He settles next to Sirius and you copy James’s pose on the arm of the couch. Remus puts his arm across your legs, hand resting on your knee, and grins up at you.

Sirius clears his throat. “Okay, five seconds on the timer. Don’t fuck it up. I’ve only got a few frames left.”

He doesn’t take much seriously but this does seem to be his passion project so you do your best to smile nicely. At the last second, Remus squeezes your knee and you look down at him. He’s still smiling up at you softly, his hair perfectly arranged, his eyes bright. You smile back and the flash goes off.

You won’t see it until Sirius gets the film developed but you’re sure it’s a nice one.

“Can we do something fun now, please?” James begs.

“Fine.” Sirius gets up to reset the camera. “You have ten seconds.” You have no clue how the camera works. Does he have a button that’s connected? Is the chord under the rug related to this? Whatever. You can’t think about it for long because James and Lily hop off the couch and start causing chaos.

“Get on my back, Evans,” James says.

“Fuck’s sake,” she mutters, but she hops up, arms around his neck as he walks them behind the couch.

“Alright you two,” Sirius grumbles. “What’ll it be? Five seconds.”

“You’re just bitter because Marlene couldn’t come,” Lily says.

“Not my fault she and Dorcus are snogging in the countryside this weekend,” he huffs.

“I’ve got an idea,” Remus says in your ear. He’s got his cheeky voice on.

“Oh boy.”

Sirius throws his legs over the back of the couch and hands his head off the edge. Remus tugs you down from the arm so you’re in his lap, legs in the air and kisses you. He swallows your sound of surprise and you manage to close your eyes and grab his shoulder as the flash goes off.

“Now I just look like a single prick,” Sirius says.

“Because you are,” James reminds him.

Lily hops off of his back and flicks her hair over her shoulder. “He’s got a point.”

“See if you get prints of this,” Sirius mutters.

You and Remus only have eyes for each other. Your nose is pressed to his cheek. “Thank you,” you whisper in his ear. For this, for being yours, for all of it.

It’s a bit silly to thank each other for this, but you know that it means a lot to both of you. Lily and James have been together for ages and the boys have been friends even longer. You being invited and you showing up means that you’re here to stay, that you’re both in it for the long haul. This thing between you is going somewhere and not stopping.

He just kisses your temple. Remus always knows what you’re trying to say.

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