#this chapter is mostly written and will be out this weekend | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soaps-mohawk · 2 months

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 10: Treat Me Gently

Summary: You and Price take your relationship to the next level. It might be the best decision you've ever made.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, p in v sex, fingering, oral, first time sex, unprotected(ish) sex, reader has an implant, creampie, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, the author is a bit rusty writing smut.

A/N: It's finally here. It's finally arrived, the moment we've all been waiting for! Uh, yeah, it's mostly badly written smut with just a little plot thrown in there. So...I hope you enjoy!

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Your attention is pulled from your book as the couch sinks on either side of you, two bodies joining you. You glance up from your book as an arm drapes itself across the back of the couch behind you. Your eyes flicker between Gaz and Johnny, mischievous grins on their faces.

“We heard you have a date this weekend.” Gaz says, leaning in closer.

Your face warms at his words. “Well, I don’t know if I’d call it a date...”

“What are you wearing?” Gaz asks.

“Do ye have anythin’ to wear?” Johnny asks.

Their questions give you pause. The most formal thing you have are jeans and, though you doubt Price would care if you showed up in sweatpants, you would like to have something nice to wear.

“Come on.” Gaz says, slapping your thigh before standing. “We’re going shopping.”

“What?” You glance between him and Johnny as they stand over you.

“Already got permission from Price.” Johnny says. “So come on.” He grabs your hands, lifting you to your feet easily. “Let’s get goin’, kitten.”

Your cheeks warm at the pet name, Johnny’s hand settling on your lower back to steer you from the rec room. You don’t have much of a choice but to follow, grabbing a couple things from your room before you leave the barracks with them to a car parked outside. It’s different from the car you and Price had taken to town last weekend. Of course, they probably all have their own vehicles, or at least a few at their disposal.

“I’m driving.” Gaz says, plucking the keys from Johnny’s hand.

“Aww, ye never let me drive!” Johnny pouts.

“Yeah, because with our luck you’ll traumatize her so badly, she’ll never want to leave again.” Gaz says, opening the driver’s side door.

You can’t help but giggle at the dejected look on Johnny’s face as you get into the back, Johnny muttering the entire way to the passenger side.

“I’m no’ that bad of a driver.” Johnny says, buckling his seatbelt.

“Yeah, but both you and Simon seem to be in agreement that the speed limit is a suggestion, not a law.” Gaz says as he turns on the car. “I’d like to make it there and back in one piece, thank you. Besides, Price would have both our heads if anything happened to our girl on our watch.”

Your cheeks warm as you meet Gaz's gaze through the rear view mirror. Your heart flutters at the look in his eyes, the dedication and protectiveness shining in them.

“I wouldnae let anything happen to ye.” Johnny says, reaching back to squeeze your knee for a moment.

You stare out the window of the car as Gaz drives towards town, half listening to the conversation in the front seat. You're beginning to recognize landmarks, buildings, areas between the base and town despite it only being your second trip. They'd be proud of you, you think. At least if something happened, you'd be able to give a landmark.

The farmlands fade into the city and soon Gaz is parking on the street in front of a shop. You take Gaz's hand as he helps you out of the car, lacing your fingers together. Soap holds the door to the shop open, letting you and Gaz walk through first.

It's a nice boutique filled with all sorts of formal wear. You wonder how they even knew about this place, or if they had done some research beforehand. Both make you feel honored that they would even go to those lengths just for you.

They are going to be your pack soon.

Packs do this sort of thing for each other. They take care of each other, spoil each other, make each other happy. It’s hard to be a good pack if one member is unhappy.

“Good afternoon.” One of the workers approaches you. “My name is Emily. Is there something I can help you find today?”

“Our omega has a date with our alpha this weekend.” Gaz says, smiling down at you. “She needs something to wear.”

The worker, Emily, smiles at you. “How exciting! Did you have anything in mind? Style, color, anything like that?”

“Probably nothing too fancy,” You say, eyeing the racks. “And, probably a dress.”

“Alright, we've got lots of options for that. Let's take a look and you can try some on.” Emily says.

Gaz keeps hold of your hand as you follow Emily through the racks, looking at some of the options. Johnny goes off on his own, perusing the racks himself.

“Is there a certain color you have in mind?” Emily asks you.

You hum in contemplation, looking at the many racks. You're not sure what color Price would like, or if he even has a favorite.

“His favorite color is blue, like a dark navy blue.” Johnny answers for you. “Though, I think he'd like you in any color.”

You can't help the way your cheeks warm a bit at Johnny's words. You realize you don't even know their favorite colors. There's still so much about them that's a mystery to you.

“What's your favorite color?” You ask, looking up at Gaz.

“I don't think I have just one.” He says, running his hand over a sequin covered dress on the rack in front of you “I like warm colors. Reds, oranges, purples.”

“Like a sunset.” You say, looking at a tag on one of the dresses, nearly choking at the price.

Gaz gently removes the tag from your hand, giving you a look as you meet his gaze. “Don't even worry about it, love.” He says quietly, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“My favorite color is green.” Johnny says, appearing next to you suddenly.

“Let me guess, Ghost’s is black.” You say.

Johnny's mouth twitches. “Now how'd you come to guess that?”

You shrug, unable to hide your grin. “Call it intuition.”

Emily takes you to the changing rooms, the boys taking seats outside to wait for you to try on the dresses you've chosen so far. You pick a sleeveless, blue, knee-length dress first with a ruched skirt. You already don't like it, but you know the guys will want to see it regardless.

You feel nervous, strangely exposed as you step out of the dressing room and make your way to where the guys are sitting. They both straighten up as you approach, Johnny’s eyes immediately on your legs. Gaz let's out a low whistle as his eyes scan your figure, ending on your legs as well.

“What?” You ask concerned as you stare down at your own legs thinking the worst, like how you might have missed a spot shaving or something.

“Nothin’ love,” Gaz says, unable to lift his gaze from your legs. “Just never seen you in anything but long pants before.”

Your cheeks warm at his words. It's true, the climate had yet to allow for anything but long pants. Even to sleep, you found yourself too cold without long sleep pants.

“Christ, you've got gorgeous legs, kitten.” Soap says, letting his eyes trail your form. “Keepin’ those hidden from us?”

Your face feels like it's on fire as they stare at you, and quickly turn to face the large mirror across from them in an attempt to steady the butterflies in your stomach.

“What do you think?” Emily asks, stepping up next to you.

“It's a little too...churchy for a date.” You say smoothing your hands over the skirt. “Definitely need something fancier than this.”

You try on a few of the others, but none of them are right. Too short, too long, too formal, not formal enough. Johnny brings you more to try, a couple sticking out, but you're not sold on any of them.

The last dress you have yet to try on catches your eye as you pull it off the hook. It's a deep blue color, almost black. It's long sleeved and covers your front entirely, but the back is open. It's short, the skirt hem long enough to cover your ass, but you wouldn't dare bend over. It hugs your figure, accentuating the curves and lines of your body.

Your cheeks are warm as you step out of the changing room, both Gaz and Johnny going slack-jawed as they stare at you. Even Emily looks in awe as you stand in front of them.

“I think you've found the one, love.” Gaz says, his eyes trailing your form. “Give us a spin.”

You do a slow turn, not missing the way their eyes widen in the mirror when they see the back, Johnny still frozen as you turn back to face them.

“How do you feel?” Emily asks, stepping up to you.

“Good.” You say, your face still warm. “Really good.”

“Yeah,” She says, looking you over. “I think you've hit the mark with this one. Let me grab shoes and we'll put the whole look together.”

You turn to face the mirror as she steps away, your eyes meeting Gaz's as he steps up to you.

“You look fantastic, love.” He says, leaning in close over your shoulder, his breath fanning your ear. Goosebumps form on your skin as his fingers slowly trail up the line of your spine. “Price is going to want to devour you instantly as soon as he sees you in this one.”

You shiver at his words, biting your lip as his fingers splay out across your upper back. “You think so?”

There's a mischievous glint in his eyes as he holds your gaze through the mirror. “He won't be able to keep his hands off you. Gonna drive him insane, making him sit through dinner looking like a delicious dessert.”

You fear you might start smoking from how warm you feel, glad for Emily's reappearance. You try on the shoes she brings, opting for the shorter heels for the sake of your own dignity.

Johnny distracts you as Gaz pays for the items, spending far too much on you but neither will let you complain. It's what they're supposed to do.

They are your pack after all.

“What about lingerie?” Johnny asks, turning to look at you as you sit in the car.

Your face burns at his question. You hadn't thought about that bit.

“Gotta dress up the whole fit.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Lay off her, perv.” Gaz says, smacking Johnny's chest. “He's right though, gotta make sure the whole outfit matches.”

You feel like you might implode in the backseat. You might not make it to Saturday at this rate.

You wake early on Saturday. You don't have to be up early. There's nothing going on until tonight, no need for you to rise earlier than the sun. Yet, you can't help the anticipation burning in your stomach, the nervous fluttering in your chest. Tonight you're going to sleep with Price for the first time. Tonight you'll allow him closer than you've ever allowed anyone.

You have an outfit, you have fancy underwear, even new shoes. You're not sure how you want to wear your hair. You're not sure on makeup either, though Price has seen you plenty without it and has yet to offer any complaints.

You grab your phone, laying in bed and scrolling hair tutorials until the sun comes up and you start hearing movement in the hallway. You don’t bother changing, pulling on shoes before stepping out. You are hungry, even after spending half the day in town and eating dinner out with Gaz and Johnny yesterday. You slip out the door, coming face to face with Ghost. You tilt your head back, staring up at him.

“Didn’t expect to see you.” He grumbles. “Figured you’d be busy getting ready.”

“I’ve got like ten hours until I have to be ready.” You say, blinking up at him. “It doesn’t take that long.”

He lets out a huff, rolling his eyes. “Come on.”

You follow him out of the barracks, but you find yourself not having to speed walk quite as fast to keep up with him today.

“Are you upset?” You ask, kicking up your pace a bit so you can walk side by side with him.

“About what?” He asks.

“Price and I.” You say.

“Why would I be?” He sounds genuinely baffled that you’re asking him.

You shrug. “You’re an alpha in the pack too, and I didn’t really ask anyone but Price.”

“Price is your alpha.” He says, as if it’s the most straightforward thing in the world. He’s not wrong, Price is the only one that really matters when it comes to you, since he’s the pack alpha, and he’ll be the one claiming you.

“Would you ever want to be?” You ask, looking up at him.

He meets your gaze as he opens the door to the mess, not answering as you slip into the hall. He stands closer to you than he normally does as you get in line for food, tailing you like a shadow as you find Johnny among the drowsy and hungover soldiers in the mess.

You take a seat across from him, Ghost taking his spot next to Johnny. You can feel the nerves beginning to take hold as you eat, thinking about your date tonight. It’s not like you really have to impress Price much, though you suppose you could make him dislike you rather easily. You’d rather avoid that situation, as there’s no getting out of mating and being claimed by him. You’re going to be part of his pack whether he likes you or not.

What if he finds you boring? You’re not even sure what you could talk about. It’s not like you do much, and he already knows most everything he can about you. The only thing you have to talk about are things you’d rather not discuss during your first date. You’d prefer not to discuss them at all.

“You’ll be fine.” Johnny says as you walk back to the barracks. “Just get ‘im talking, and ye won’t need tae worry about gettin’ a word in yourself.”

Johnny’s words do make you giggle. You’re sure Price has so much more to talk about than you do. You barely know anything about him in general.

It’s ironic that you’re more nervous about dinner than you are about the fact Price is going to take your virginity tonight.

You did ask for this. It’ll be good, getting to know him before your heat starts. The idea of going through your heat with a virtual stranger is terrifying to you, and Price had so willingly offered to do this so that doesn’t happen, so you feel more comfortable with being mated and claimed by someone you at least somewhat know. This is your chance to get to know your pack alpha, your alpha before you’re forced to. This is your chance to make your own decision, to have some control over a life that’s been dictated for you this far.

You spend the morning in a nervous panic, looking up tips online, tutorials, possible questions he might ask and thinking up answers that will make you sound interesting at least. Answers that won’t just be parroting things that he already knows. Gaz brings you lunch, letting you continue to prepare for your date, knowing the chances of you having a breakdown if you’re forced around people are high right now.

You give yourself ample time to get ready, showering and moisturizing, making sure you smell clean and look nice. You do your hair, taking your time to make yourself look decent. You opt for minimal make up, wanting to make yourself seem like you at least put a little effort into your looks.

You're strapping on your shoes when the knock comes at the door. Six o'clock sharp, just as you expected. You take a deep breath, adjusting your dress before you open the door.

John is standing on the other side, dressed in a button up shirt and slacks. You look him over, the fresh scent of cologne reaching your nose. His eyes rake your form, his scent slipping through the cologne as his gaze darkens a bit. Gaz was right. He does look like he wants to devour you.

“You clean up nicely.” You say, looking him over again. His shirt hugs his muscles nicely, his pants obviously tailored to fit him. You haven't seen him in anything but fatigues and civilian clothes so far.

“Was going to say the same to you.” He says, lips pulling up into a smile. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment. “Thank you.”

“Hungry?” He asks, offering you an arm.

“Always.” You say, taking his arm, letting him lead you towards the rec room.

The lights inside are dimmed, the table usually reserved for games set up with a tablecloth and candles, along with two plates covered with cloches, and a bottle of wine. You're not sure when he managed to procure the wine, or maybe he had it saved and decided this was as good a time as any.

“Wow.” You say, impressed by the effort he obviously put into everything.

“I bribed the boys out of here for a few hours.” He says, leading you to the table. “Wasn't easy.”

“I bet.” You say, sitting down in one of the chairs, letting him push it in for you.

He pours you both glasses of wine before taking the cloches off the plates. You blink in surprise at the meal on the plate. Spaghetti, a salad, and bread. It's so simple, yet it takes you right back to weeknight dinners at home.

“You made this?” You ask as he takes the seat across from you.

He nods. “I've amassed many skills over the years. I'm no five star chef, but I can throw things together in a pinch.”

“Well it looks good.” You say, picking up your fork.

It tastes good too. It's so simple, yet it's one of the best things you've eaten in the last month. You miss a lot of things about America, and the food is starting to be one of those.

You and John make small talk as you eat, the wine warming your body and easing your nerves.

“How long has it been,” You ask him as you clear your plate. “Since you were with an omega last?”

“Two years.” He says, taking a sip of wine.

Your eyes widen in surprise. You know they've been with omegas in the past, taking advantage of barrack bunnies and the swaths of willing omegas you know populate near military bases. You just hadn't thought it would be that far back in the past.

“Right around the time the task force was created.” He continues. “We were too busy bonding and working on the task force, by the time we had a moment long enough for anything like that, we didn't need them anymore.”

“That must have been torture.” You say, staring at him wide eyed.

“We're trained for that sort of thing.” He says with a smile. “How to fight off those urges, those needs. When you're in the field, something like that could get you killed. You don't pass selection into the SAS until you can show mastery over those skills.”

“Damn.” You say, taking a sip of your wine. “Still, it couldn't have been easy.”

“It can be hard, once you've been with an omega, to go without. But that's just part of the job.”

“Well, I suppose that's partly why I'm here.” You say, huffing out a laugh.

“Perhaps.” He says. “I'm certain we're not getting the full story.”

The double meaning isn't lost on you. There's a lot they don't know about you, things that are safer buried deep where they can't hurt anyone. Things you'd like to keep buried for the rest of time.

“It’s nothing...bad is it?” You ask, searching his gaze.

“I’d like to think not,” He says.

But...

You don’t need to hear him say it. You know it’s there, lingering at the end of that statement. You wonder how many times he’s been in these situations, forced to place blind trust in someone and hope they have the best intentions in mind. You’re all too familiar with those sorts of situations. Putting blind trust in strangers was your life purpose as soon as you presented as an omega.

“We’re not going to let anything happen to you.” He says, staring at you with such conviction you can’t help but believe him. “You’re part of our pack, which makes you part of this team, even if bureaucracy says otherwise. We take care of each other, and that includes you. You’re our omega, regardless of whatever the endgame is for this initiative.”

You feel almost breathless at his words, at his declaration of loyalty to you. You know how much loyalty means to someone like him, the kind of promise words like that uphold. They’d give their lives to defend you. You’d fight to defend them too, if it came down to it. Not that you could do much, but you’d try.

“You’re my omega.” John says, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. “I take care of what's mine.”

You nod, trying to fight the tears welling in your eyes. “I know. You've...you've been a better alpha than I could have ever hoped for. Despite everything you've been kind and caring and understanding. I know some things we learned at the institute weren’t right, but...I was expecting a lot worse.”

His thumb draws circles on the back of your hand, his fingers gently squeezing yours. “I'm glad I could prove that wrong. I know this situation is weird and less than ideal, but I fear I'll have to tell Kate she was right. She did pick a good omega.”

You smile, preening a bit under his praise. “That’s all I can try to be.”

“You can be so much more than that.” He says, lifting your hand to his lips. His beard tickles your skin as he presses a line of kisses across the back of your hand before turning it, kissing across your palm to your wrist. He presses his nose against the skin there, inhaling deeply. “You’re sure, about tonight?”

Your fingers brush his cheek as he holds your hand against his face. Your heart is thudding your throat at the proximity, those nervous flutters starting in your stomach again. He’s giving you an out, a chance to take back what you had asked for. You know he wouldn’t blame you. He was more than willing to wait for your heat to start, for when you had no choice, when it would mean less because you would be desperate and needy for him.

You don’t want that, though. You want him to want you before his instincts tell him he does. You want to know he’s not just fulfilling a duty, scratching an itch that’s been tickling him for two years now. You want him to want you as you are now. You want him to choose you.

“Yes.” You say, pressing your palm flat against his cheek. “Just...be gentle with me?”

“Of course.” He says, kissing your palm again. “You change your mind at any time, you tell me, yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He takes your hand in his again, standing from his seat.

Nerves mix with excitement as he pulls you to your feet with him, stepping up close to you. His hand lifts, tilting your chin up. Your stomach flutters as you meet his gaze, his eyes warm and soft as he stares at you. Affection shines in them as his thumb brushes your lip before he’s leaning down, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is short and sweet, like the ones you’ve shared with him before. Yet, at the same time it feels different. There’s warmth beginning to blossom under your skin, the kiss not just a simple sign of affection this time. It’s the overture, the appetizer, just a teasing taste of what’s to come.

You hold his hand as he leads you down the hallway, heels clacking on the tile floor. It makes your face warm, the thought that they all know what it means, they can hear it and they know what’s about to happen. They know where you’re going, what you’re about to do.

John opens his door, motioning for you to enter. You haven’t been in any of their rooms yet, you haven’t invaded their own sacred spaces. Your steps are slow and cautious as you breach that barrier, John’s scent washing over you as you step into his room.

It’s neat and tidy, just as you expected it would be. It’s not laid out all that differently from your own, though perhaps a bit more organized and clinical than yours. There’s a shelf next to his nightstand, stuffed with books and what you can assume are souvenirs from places he’s been. There’s stacks of papers on the desk, his clothes and shoes tucked away neatly in their places. His bed is slightly bigger than yours, and you wonder if that’s a perk of his status, or if he pulled some strings once he learned he was getting an omega.

The door clicking shut draws your attention back to John, the click of the handle a finality. You’re doing this. There’s no going back now.

Not that you want to.

John steps up to you, staring down at you. You stare up into his eyes as his hand comes to rest on your waist, his touch hot through the thin fabric of your dress. “You’re sure you want to do this?” He asks, voice rumbling in his chest.

You nod, your hands slowly sliding up his arms, feeling the muscle hidden beneath his dress shirt. “Yes.”

His lips meet yours, beard tickling your skin as he kisses you. You let him lead, leaning into him as he pulls you closer against his chest. He’s so warm, so firm under your hands as you grip his shoulders. His hand slides from your hip to your back, a gasp parting your lips as his calloused fingers touch the bare skin of your back. Goosebumps raise on your skin, a shiver running down your spine at his touch. He tilts his head, taking advantage of your parted lips to slip his tongue into your mouth.

He tastes like wine, a quiet sound leaving your throat as he pulls you tighter against him, pressing your body into his. You can feel all of him, the hard ridges, the strength in his body as he cages you in his arms. Your head is spinning, intoxicated purely by the smell and taste of him.

Something rumbles deep in his chest, your entire body shivering in response. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, your hips pressed flush against his. You can feel him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your stomach. You’ve been able to smell the musky tinge of arousal in his scent all evening, and you wonder how long he’s been hard. Has it been since he saw you? Or has he been thinking about this all day?

The thought thrills you, makes your omega preen in the back of your mind. You did this. Your alpha is all worked up because of you.

A whimper leaves your lips as his hand slips lower, smoothing over the curve of your ass. He mumbles a curse against your lips before they blaze a path down the line of your jaw to your neck. You tilt your head, bearing your throat for him. A low rumble of approval vibrates through his chest, his hand squeezing your ass. The sound has your omega practically belly up, the dampness between your thighs intensifying as your scent gets heavier in the air.

John groans against your throat, teeth nipping at your neck just over your scent gland. “Such a good girl for me.” He groans, his hand on your ass guiding your hips to grind against his. “Such a good omega.”

You whine at the praise, hands blindly sliding down his chest to pull at the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers are trembling slightly from excitement, fumbling as you attempt to get his shirt off. You need to feel him, his skin against yours, the warmth of him pressed against you.

“Easy pup.” His voice rumbles against your throat, teeth nipping at the delicate skin before he pulls back, hands taking over to strip him of his button up and undershirt.

You lick your lips as his skin is revealed to you, your hand automatically lifting to touch him. You hesitate for a half a second but he makes no move to stop you. Your eyes trail over his form, over the many, many scars that decorate his skin like some kind of macabre painting. Lines and jagged slices, the telltale star shaped marks of bullet wounds. Cuts and nicks from knives or bullets, you can’t tell the difference.

Your fingers settle on a rather large scar on his side, starting at the base of his ribs and curling around his side. It’s an old scar, but the skin is still rough and uneven. Whatever had caused it, it took a chunk out of him. You don’t want to think about it, about how every scar could have been a close call. How many times he’s been on the brink of death.

“I’ll tell you about them later.” He says, taking your hand in his and lifting it to his lips. He kisses your fingertips, his beard tickling your skin. “Tonight is about you.”

He pulls you close again, leaning down to press his lips to yours. His hands are warm against your back as he wraps himself around you again, trapping your hands against his bare chest. Your nails dig into his skin as his hands sink lower, grabbing handfuls of your ass. He groans, sinking his teeth into your bottom lip. He presses you backwards, and you trust him to guide you until your legs hit the side of his bed.

“Gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?” He growls, his voice rough around the edges as his alpha slips through.

“Yes, alpha!” You gasp against his lips, your head tilting back in submission.

“Always such a good omega for me.” He praises you, teeth nipping at your throat. “Good omegas kneel for their alphas.” He says, pushing you backwards so you plop down on his bed. “But a good alpha,” He slowly lowers himself before you, dropping to one knee, then the other as his hands wrap around your ankles. “Kneels for his omega.”

Your face warms as you stare down at him, unable to do anything but watch as his hands make quick work of your shoes, setting them neatly beside the bed. His skin is rough against yours as his hands drag up your legs, slowly parting them. He moves himself closer, kneeling between your parted thighs. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he reaches up, pushing on your stomach until you're laying flat on his bed. He can see up your skirt now, and you're silently glad for the lacy panties Johnny had insisted on.

“Do you trust me?” His lips brush your inner thigh as his hands pause just at the hem of your skirt where it's ridden up almost to your hips.

“Yes, alpha.” You say, lifting your head to stare down at him.

He meets your gaze as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his hands continuing to press upwards until your dress is hiked around your waist. Your heart is fluttering rapidly in your chest as you stare down at him, his gaze leaving your eyes to stare at the soaked lace barely covering your most private parts.

His hands leave your hips to curl around the lace, giving it a sharp tug. The fabric snaps easily, the shreds falling to the floor. Your lip part as you stare at him in shock.

“I'll buy you a new pair.” He says, his hands gripping your thighs to pull them further apart.

The cool air in the room hits your slicked folds, making you shudder. He's barely touched you and already you can feel how slick you are. His lips press against your inner thigh again, blazing a path upwards. His gaze meets yours again as his hands shift to grip your hips, adjusting your position on the bed before he leans in, dragging his tongue through your folds.

You gasp at the foreign sensation, your thighs pressing against his broad shoulders. His mouth is warm as it closes over your pussy, his tongue licking another slow stripe up your folds until he reaches the spot that has your inhale turning into a gasp.

He focuses his attention there, dragging slow lines across your clit with his tongue. You let your arms give out, laying flat on the bed again. Little whimpers leave your lips as he teases your clit, your thighs already trembling. It’s been so long since you’ve touched yourself. Not since before you left the institute four months ago.

You don’t last very long.

Your thighs squeeze around his shoulders as your orgasm is ripped from you suddenly. You let out a cry that’s probably too loud, but you don’t care who could have heard you as your back arches off the bed, pressing your hips closer to John’s face. His hands hold your thighs, keeping you still as his tongue continues to tease your clit, working you through your orgasm.

It’s not until you’re writhing in his grasp, letting out little whimpers that he relents, lifting his face from between your thighs. His beard is shiny with your juices, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. It’s obscene and yet, it has heat pulsing straight between your legs again. He lets out a chuckle, the scent of your arousal washing over him.

“Fuckin sweet as sugar, love.” He says as he pushes himself up from between your legs, his body folding over yours on the bed.

His face presses into your neck, inhaling deeply. Your pussy flutters at the thought of him claiming you now, sinking his teeth into your skin to mark you as his forever. He could. It would be so easy for him to do it. His tongue laves over the skin covering your scent gland, a shiver running through you. Your arms wrap around him, holding him against you as your scents mingle, musky with arousal.

“Alpha...” You whine, your hips pressing up against the bulge in his pants. He’s fully hard now, the fabric of his pants providing delicious friction against your folds.

He shushes you, pressing a kiss to your throat before he pushes himself up over you. “Soon, love.” He says, moving until he’s standing in front of you. “Think you’re a bit overdressed still.”

Your eyes dart down to his pants. “So are you.”

He smirks, his hands dropping to your waist, slowly pushing your dress up higher. You let him slip it over your head, lifting your arms to help him. You’re bare before him, warmth spreading through your veins as he stares down at you. Your hands lift, coming to rest on his thighs. You can feel the muscle through the fabric, the strength of him beneath your hands. How easily he could take control, pin you down and take what he wants with little regard for you or your pleasure. How easily he could hurt you, snap your bones like they’re toothpicks, bruise and batter your body without even straining a muscle.

Yet he stands here, patiently watching as your hands move closer and closer to the prominent bulge in his fitted pants. He doesn’t even twitch as your hand cups his hard length, your breath stuttering at the sheer size of him. He’s big like most alphas are, or so you’ve heard.

His eyes stare into you as you undo his belt, popping the button on his pants open. He finally moves as you pull down the zipper, helping you tug his pants and briefs down. His cock stands at attention, almost as stiff as he is. You stare at his veiny cock with wide eyes, the tip flushed almost red with how hard he is.

“Christ.” You breathe, staring at him in awe.

You did that.

“Easy, love.” He says, leaning down to wrap an arm around your waist. “I said tonight was about you.”

He moves you so you’re laid out on the bed, your head hitting his pillow. The scent of him floods your nose as he joins you on the bed, the frame creaking as he kneels between your legs. Nerves twist in your stomach as you continue to stare at his cock bobbing between his thighs as he runs his hands along your legs. It’s going to hurt, you know that. It suddenly seems daunting, this request. At least during your heat you’d be so out of it with need you wouldn’t really feel anything. And you’d have plenty of slick to help.

“None of that.” He says, squeezing your thighs gently. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

You nod, swallowing thickly.

“We’ve got more work to do before we reach that point. I’m not just going to stuff my cock into you like some needy pup.” He stares at you. “You tell me and I’ll stop, alright?”

You nod again. “Yes, alpha.”

Your breath hitches as his hands reach the junction of your thighs, one moving to your stomach, the other dragging through your folds, gathering your wetness on his fingers. They’re so much thicker than your own, your pussy clenching as he presses against the entrance.

“Relax for me, love.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on your stomach with his thumb.

His finger presses into you and your lips part at the intrusion. You clamp tight around his finger, making him groan.

“Easy.” He says, his thumb moving to circle your clit.

A breathy whine leaves your lips as his finger presses deeper into you, reaching further than you ever could. Your hand reaches up to thread through his hair, letting the short cropped strands slide through your fingers. It’s softer than you imagined, though you expect he too had spent the afternoon preparing for tonight as well. The mental image of him lathering himself in moisturizer would have made you laugh if his finger hadn’t brushed against a spot inside you that has your hips lifting off the bed.

He leans down, lips blazing a path up your stomach, between your breasts to your throat. He swallows your moans as he works you open with his fingers, the lewd sound of his fingers thrusting into your wet pussy only adding to the pleasure coursing through you. You can feel it building within you, heat burning through your veins. Price groans against your lips as your nails scratch his scalp, his cock leaking against your thigh. You want him, need him inside of you. You need to feel him, you need to be close to him.

“Alpha, please.” You whimper, tugging at his hair.

He stares down at you, eyes blown with lust. “Please, what?”

“Need you.” You whimper, grinding against his hand. “Please, sir.”

Price closes his eyes, letting out a groan. His cock twitches against your thigh, his fingers slipping from you. He breathes out a curse, shifting to open his nightstand. He pulls out a bottle of lube, sitting back on his knees to squirt some into his hand. You’re plenty slick, but you watch as he rubs the lube on his cock, tossing the bottle back into the open drawer.

He kneels between your thighs again, staring down at you as one of his hands comes to rest on your hip. You feel intoxicated, your head spinning from the intensity of his scent around you and the knowledge of what’s about to happen.

Price folds his body over yours again, the head of his cock brushing your folds. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you, parting your thighs further for him as his tip catches on your opening. Your hands grip his shoulders as he presses into you, the stretch stinging a bit as he works you open. This is it. There’s no going back now.

You don’t want to.

You whimper quietly as he pushes into you, nails biting into his skin. It’s too much, yet you can’t get enough of it as he sinks further in. You let out a shaky breath as he pulls away from your lips staring down at your face.

“Alright?” He asks, stilling where he is.

You nod. “Just need a moment. You’re really big.”

His lips twitch up into a smile, a pleased growl rumbling through his chest. “Don’t start talking like that, love.” He says, leaning down to press kisses to your face.

“Or what?” You ask, your nails digging harder into his skin.

“I might not be able to control myself.” He growls, his alpha slipping out around the edges of his voice.

Your pussy clenches at his words, walls clamping down around him. He lets out another growl, hiking your leg up over his hip. It forces him deeper into you, your breath catching at the feeling of him spreading you open.

“Fuck,” You breathe, rocking your hips to take him even deeper into you.

John’s arms frame your head as he presses his body against yours. Your arms slip around his back, legs locking around his waist as he begins to move slowly, working himself deeper and deeper into you until he’s pressed flush against you. He stills for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as you both breathe. You’re trembling just slightly, overwhelmed with being so close to him, to your alpha. The pain and discomfort is gone, replaced by burning heat as desire pulses through your veins.

“Please, alpha.” You whimper.

He shushes you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’ve got you, omega.”

Your skin is slick with sweat already as he begins to rock his hips into you. Your hands press into his back, feeling the muscles shift and flex as he moves. It feels good, the friction of your bodies, the way he stretches you open with every thrust. Your head is spinning with pleasure at the thought of being so close to another person, being so connected with someone else.

Not just someone else, with your alpha.

The wet squelch of your pussy as he thrusts into you is loud, the mattress creaking as he picks up speed. You’re trembling, your thighs squeezing around his hips as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. You’re not sure how he’s lasted this long, especially without any sort of release for himself yet tonight.

Perhaps it was the training he spoke about earlier.

You’re not sure how he manages it. You couldn’t have that kind of control. Not after this. Not after knowing how good it can feel, how good he can make you feel.

“Fucking feel so good.” He grunts, his breath fanning her ear. His own skin is slicked with sweat, muscles twitching under her hands. “So fucking tight and warm.”

“John!” You gasp, digging your fingers into his shoulder blades as he picks up the pace even more, his hips snapping against yours.

“Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum like a good omega? Need you to cum for me.” He grunts, staring down at you.

You let out a whine, arching against him as you seek your second high of the night. His cock brushes that spot inside of you, stars nearly erupting behind your eyes.

“Right there.” You gasp, thighs shaking around his hips. “Fuck, right there!”

You’re being loud but you don’t care, nails dragging down his back as he focuses his thrusts right at that spot inside you. You cum with a cry, pussy squeezing around him. He lets out a loud groan, his hips stilling as he twitches inside you. His muscles go lax, his body falling on top of yours. He manages to keep himself from squishing you beneath him, his face pressing against your neck.

The smell of sex, arousal, sweat, and your own combined scents are heavy in the air. You’re shaking, still wrapped tightly around John as he lays on top of you. He’s breathing heavily, warm breaths fanning against your neck. You don’t want to move, your mind buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm still.

“Alright?” He murmurs, lips pressing a gentle kiss against your throat.

You nod, slowly unwinding yourself from around him. “Yeah. ‘M good.”

“Fucking Christ, a man could get addicted to that.” He says, lifting his face from your neck. “Sweet little omega.”

Your face warms more than it already feels, and you lean into his touch as his fingers brush your cheek.

“Let me go get something to clean this mess up with.” He says, pushing himself up so he’s kneeling.

You can’t help but giggle as his joints pop and he lets out a groan at the effort. “Need a break, old man.”

His eyes flash playfully, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Going with the old man insults again, huh?”

You give him a look. “You’re the one grunting while getting up.”

You let out a surprised yelp as he brings his hand down on your thigh, the skin tingling as he gets up. “I’ll show you old man.” He murmurs as he heads for his en suite.

You bite your lip as you begin to feel his release slipping out of you, the feeling causing desire to stir in your stomach once more.

John tsks as he comes back, wiping the mess between your thighs. “Needy little thing.” He practically purrs, stepping away to toss the rag into the bathroom sink before he returns, climbing back onto the bed.

You press as close to him as you can, nuzzling into his neck. Your limbs are still twitching a bit, your mind buzzing from the aftermath of what had just transpired. John wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest. You press a gentle kiss to his neck, earning a rumble in response. Your own rumble starts up as you purr contently, tossing a leg over his hip to allow you to get as close to him as possible.

He huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Comfortable?”

You purr louder in response, sleep beginning to fog the corners of your mind.

“Good girl.” He says, pressing another kiss to your head. “Sleep. Alpha’s got you.”

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph

#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod fic #poly 141 x reader #poly 141 #tf 141 x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #x reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha beta omega dynamics

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satcrvz · 3 months

Text

CHAPTER SEVEN: did he make you giggle?

navi

this is kinda filler sorry guys . . . very short written part after the 6th photo

"yuuji and nobara stop oh my god" you laugh.

you were laying on your bed before your three friends barge in and start making fun of how nervous you were around yuta. the acting was mostly yuuji and nobara, but megumi added the occasional comment, not wanting to miss out on this opportunity.

"oh my god you're soooo cute i want to kiss you so bad!" yuuji does a very bad impression that sounds nothing like you.

you throw your hands up in defeat, "i never said that?" megumi chimes in, "we know you, you definitely thought it". to any normal person, that being anyone who wasn't yuuji, nobara, or megumi, it wouldn't seem like you're all that nervous. but because you'd been friends with them so long, it seemed like they had a tendency to know exactly what your thoughts were.

"i just know you wanted your little pottery moment", nobara's referring to those scenes in movies where the guy puts his hands over the girls to guide them. was she wrong? probably not. "whatever! so what if i did? let me dream"

the teasing goes from the stream, to what they think you were like at ihop. megumi plays a waiter, nobara does yuta, and yuuji unfortunately took the honors of mimicking you again.

after a certain point of watching them fool around you banished them from your room. you grab your pillow and scream into it giggling at the events of today.

. . .

I'm so sorry guys 😭 once the weekend hits, I literally take a break from EVERYTHING. i did mean to update yesterday, but i was consumed by sleep.

this is kind of a filler chapter, which is on me because of the way i ended the last one. next one, i will deliver trust

tags: @k4romis @soy-garbage @sakyira @dreamxiing @swissy23 @shnzies @captaincyberqueen @fantasycantasy @chuyasthighs0 @mixzimi @milza12 @nahoye @spookyrule @4phskingdom @sad-darksoul @morgyyyyyy @smashingdollz @lunavixia @gaychaosgremlin @jayathelostdragon @h3xi2g0n3 @lysaray

#✧; satcrvz #jjk smau #jjk x reader #yuta x reader #✧; show me how !

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sapphic-coded · 10 months

Text

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Some gore. Language that Cap wouldn't approve of. Reader is a messed up assassin. Minors DNI

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Note: Welp. Here's my first fanfic on tumblr. I only have one chapter written, but I'm hoping my muse will stick with me so I can turn this into a series. This is lightly edited. I apologize in advance for any mistakes you come across (and you most likely will). Minors, please do not interact. Please do not copy/steal my work. Enjoy!

Chapter One: I Thought You Died Alone A Long, Long Time Ago

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1992

The silence that filled the car wielded a tension you were all too familiar with. Your father’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel he gripped. A deep frown pulled at his lips while his cold, steel gray eyes stared straight ahead behind a pair of thick, dark framed glasses. His usual tamed black hair was a mess with strands of hair shooting out in random directions.

Sitting next to your father, up in the front passenger’s seat, was your older brother. He was a tall, skinny boy who had just embarked into his teens. His blonde hair was parted down the middle of his head and reached the tips of his ears. His navy blue eyes stared out the passenger’s window. His lips were pressed tight. There was so much he wanted to say. If you guys were anywhere else, perhaps he wouldn’t hold back.

Sitting next to you in the backseat of your father’s station wagon was your older sister. She was a year younger than your brother with her long brown hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. Her head was bowed, and her brown eyes were glued to the pages of her book. She was skinny like your brother, but her body was already beginning to shift into adulthood. She had started growing breasts last summer.

You were the youngest. You had recently celebrated your tenth birthday. You were skinny like your siblings, but still very much a child. Your green camo jacket felt heavy. You were all dressed alike: green camo jackets, dark green shirts, green hunting fatigues, and heavy brown boots. It was the outfit you always wore during your hunting trips with your father.

Your brother reached toward the car’s radio. Your father’s hand released its vice-like grip on the steering wheel and slapped down on your brother’s hand. You heard the loud smack, and your brother quickly snatched his hand back.

“I’ve had enough of your nonsense.” Your father’s voice rode a current of anger that popped the tense bubble of silence.

“I just wanted to listen to music,” your brother shot back. “Sitting here in silence is boring.”

Just like that another argument between your father and brother started up. You looked over at your sister. She was very much focused on her book. Your attention drifted over to your window. You did your best to tune out the argument happening up front while you watched the scenery of trees roll by. Eventually your gaze dropped to your lap. You stared at the dried blood caked around your fingernails.

“...pointless and–”

“You are cowardly and weak!”

You can’t believe the weekend is almost over. You had spent the whole weekend out hunting with your family. Your father had parked his station wagon in a lot and marched you all out into the woods. You all had spent the whole weekend laying in the cold mud. It was your brother’s hunt. You were all following his lead. Which meant mostly laying in the mud and following tracks every so often. This weekend was supposed to end with your brother’s first kill. Instead, it ended differently.

The engine of your father’s car stopped as you reached your house. The argument between your brother and father had ended, but you cannot recall when. You undid your seatbelt and opened the car door. The moment you stepped out onto your driveway, your attention landed on a moving truck parked across the street. A man and a woman were busy unloading boxes out of the truck and carrying them into the house.

You noticed something else. A girl around your age with blue hair came out of the house and walked down the driveway towards the moving truck. Her pace slowed as she noticed you. You lifted your hand in a small, friendly wave. A smile had started to curl at your lips when your father’s voice called out to you. You turned away from your new neighbors and found your father standing in the garage with his hunting rifle hanging from his shoulder. You made your way up into the garage where you felt your father’s hand fall gently onto your shoulder.

Amsterdam – 2010

You hate these jobs. Long relentless days spent circling your target. Never able to strike just yet. You had to put on a show first. Pretend to be their friend, or a business partner, or their lover. You had to act as if your target was important in some flimsy life you threw together. Your kills were always messy at the end of these jobs. You can’t help it. You just want the stupid job to be over.

And it almost is. You have spent the past four days pretending to be your target’s bodyguard. Four days spent following your target around. You dealt with their problems and waited for the day all your targets would be together in the same room. Because the job wasn't just to kill the target you were pretending to protect. Your target and their friends had messed up. They had pissed off the wrong people. You were there to clean up the mess.

Your target had set the long awaited meeting to take place in a fancy hotel in the middle of the day. The guest list for this meeting would be short. It included your target and you, his business partners, and their private security. The meeting wasn’t scheduled to take long. It was supposed to be a simple transaction. An easy exchange of goods and money. The details of that particular transaction did not interest you. Your interest lingers on your plan to take out all your targets.

The dark brown shoulder holster that you wore over your white, button-up, collared shirt held one of your favorite guns. There was nothing overly special about it. It was a standard, black 9mm Beretta handgun. It was reliable in nearly all your jobs. It was your favorite because it had been your first gun. A present from your father. It marked the end of your training and the beginning of the rest of your life. If your job was to take out just the one target you had been following around, then the choice would have been easy. But the job required the elimination of all your targets. Since the other targets were bringing their own private security, once you made your move you would need to finish the job quickly.

But the job didn’t specify that the kills had to be quiet.

You pull on your gray suit coat. Your shoulder holster disappears from view as you stand before the mirror and button the coat. Matching gray trousers cover your legs and the black flats you wear bring a smile to your face. This job was almost over and soon you would be busy getting yourself as far away from here as possible. Hence why you chose the flats over heels. You run your hands down the length of your suit coat to smooth out any wrinkles. Your hair is pulled back into a professional, tight bun. Your right hand dips into one of the suit pockets. The pad of your finger brushes against the small, round marble nestled within.

When your target is ready, you follow him out of the hotel room he rented and down into the hotel lobby. You follow him across the spacious lobby and into a large boardroom. As the door clicks shut behind you, your eyes survey the room. A long mahogany table commands most of the space within the room. Situated around the table were identical black office chairs. Far more than necessary for this meeting. Sitting in four of the chairs were your four other targets. Standing behind each of your targets were their own bodyguards. Sunlight poured into the room from the floor to ceiling glass windows that ran along one side of the room.

You follow your target over to one of the chairs. He takes a seat and you stand behind him. Your gaze briefly returns to the other bodyguards. All tall, imposing looking men. They stand as still as statues, and you wonder how they do it. Do they enjoy following around power addicted fools? You spent four days with your target, and you can’t wait to kill him.

“Where’s Tyler?” your target asks as he settles into his seat.

“Running late,” your other target answers.

You tune out the insults your targets direct towards the currently absent Tyler. Instead, you wonder what this peaceful boardroom will look like in the next ten minutes. Or however long it takes for Tyler to show up. There will definitely be blood. Broken glass was also a given. You doubt the chairs will make it. The hotel will definitely need to buy a new table. But you wonder if you’ll get a chance to see their faces. Just one. It’s the part that fascinates you the most. Your target’s last moment etched across their face. It reveals so much.

The door to the boardroom opens and the conversation shared between your targets dies into an awkward silence. You turn in time with everyone else as Tyler steps into the room alone. The first thing you notice is that he is sweating. A lot. In his shaking hand he holds the handle of a briefcase. His free hand raises up and he runs his fingers through a disheveled mop of dark hair.

“Sorry about the wait,” Tyler says.

“Jesus, Tyler,” your original target replies. “You look like shit. Let’s just get this over with so we can all go home.”

Tyler nods and hurries over to the table. He sets the briefcase down and opens it. One of your other targets reaches into their coat pocket and pulls out a brown wrapped parcel. The size and shape of the parcel is clearly money. With everyone’s attention on Tyler and his suitcase, you causally unbutton your gray suit jacket.

“Just so everything is clear,” your original target addresses the others. “You give us that.” He gestures to the suitcase. “You take the money, and we don’t hear from you ever again. You don’t mention us and we don’t know you. You don’t come looking for this because it doesn’t exist.”

Tyler nods.

“We still haven’t discussed how we are dividing our profits,” another target says.

“We’ll discuss it later,” your original target replies.

As the conversation shifts into another argument, you decide that this is as good a time as any to wrap things up. All your targets are in place with a few bonus players. It is time to put these boring four days behind you. As your hand moves towards your pocket, you spot one of the other bodyguards quickly lowering his head. His hand lifts up to press against his ear. You still your movements as you watch the other bodyguard.

“We just lost our comms,” the bodyguard’s voice cuts through the argument.

Your hand abandons its journey towards your pocket as your original target turns around in their seat to look at you. The question written plain across their face is one you can’t answer. Maybe if you had any comms to worry about then you could make a solid guess as to why they are suddenly down. But you don’t. And while you have no interest in who the new mysterious player is, you do get the sense that maybe you really should wrap this up. Quickly.

You mimic the other bodyguards as you reach for your gun. Your fingers manage to brush against the holster’s leather before a faint beeping sound pulls your attention over towards the door. Something small and metallic rolls out from underneath the door. It rolls across the floor towards you and your gathered targets. You can barely make out what it is from where you are standing, but the quickening frequency of the faint beeping causes you to turn away from it.

The white light that explodes from the weird object swallows up the entire boardroom. You close your eyes as the explosion drowns out the shouts from the other bodyguards. Your ears are ringing when you open your eyes. The shouts from your targets are muffled as they all scramble from their seats. The wall of glass windows shatters as men in black tactical gear attached to wires swing into the boardroom. The bodyguards who had managed to pull out their guns immediately exchange gunfire with the uninvited tactical team while your targets scramble to avoid getting hit.

Well, you hadn’t planned to end this job on a neat and tidy note. Things were about to get really messy.

You pull your gun from its holster and aim it at the first tactical newcomer that pointed their gun at you. Your finger squeezes the trigger, and you watch with satisfaction as their head snaps back from the bullet barreling through their forehead. Their body goes limp and drops. You spy one bodyguard already dead with their chest riddled with bullet holes.

A second tactically geared newcomer turns their attention to you and is quick to fire. You quickly duck underneath the fancy boardroom table. Bullets from your enemy’s gun rips through the wood above you. You take aim at the guy’s leg and fire. The guy’s cry comes through crystal clear as he drops to his knee. You can’t fight back the smile that curls your lips as you maneuver your way out from underneath the table and fire off another round where you’re almost certain his mouth is.

Another bodyguard has joined the other dead one on the floor while the others corral your targets behind them as they continue to exchange gunfire with the uninvited guests. Except, Tyler darts out from behind the weakening wall of bodyguards and rushes towards the bullet ridden table. He snatches up the briefcase and hurries towards the door. The other targets hurl curses his way as you lift your gun and aim at the back of his head. You are about to pull the trigger when the door Tyler reaches flies open into him. Tyler stumbles backwards, trips over his clumsy feet, and falls backwards. The briefcase slips from his grasp and slides across the floor and stops at your feet.

Your attention, however, is not on the briefcase. It’s not even on Tyler who is groaning and still alive. Your eyes are glued to the person who steps through the doorway and into the room. You recognise her face immediately despite her red hair. It’s long and tied back away from her face in an intricate braid. The black catsuit she wears bears the symbol of SHIELD on her shoulders. The identity of the tactical newcomers pales in comparison to the way her olive green eyes widen slightly in recognition. Old memories, so long buried that you are shocked you can even remember them, creep in. The gun in your hand never wavers as you find your old friend at the business end of it.

“Y/N.”

If there were any doubts, her voice banished them. It’s her.

“Put down the gun.”

It’s as if a floodgate has opened. The memories are countless despite the fact that it had only been three years. So old and forgotten that they feel new. They smother the job that has taken up residence within your mind. You’re here to kill your targets, but all you can think about is the last time you saw her. How abrupt her departure had been. You remember your father’s rants about her family.

Slowly, you lower your gun. She takes a step forward. Tyler’s groans stop, and he lifts his head up. He reaches for the briefcase at your feet. You point your lowered gun down towards Tyler’s head and pull the trigger. Your friend’s advance stops as blood and pieces of Tyler’s brain paint the floor and the briefcase red. One target down.

The smoke pours from your gun as you gauge her reaction. The recognition you saw earlier is gone. Her face is a mask, and the frustration you feel is so familiar.

The last of the bodyguards drop and your remaining targets are completely exposed. The remaining tactical guests close in on your targets except for one who breaks off and starts towards you. You ignore the orders the man shouts at you. Instead, you kick the blood and brain matter stained briefcase underneath the ruined table. You start to raise your gun, but the tactical guest already has his finger on the trigger. He fires and you are quick to dodge out of the way. The bullets dig holes into the wall behind you. You kick one of the office chairs at the man. It collides into him and he stumbles back. You raise your gun again but the moment you squeeze the trigger, your legs are swept out from underneath you. The bullet you fired finds a home in the ceiling as your back collides with the ground.

Before you can move, a weight settles on you. Hands pin down yours. Strong legs straddle you as your friend’s face fills your vision.

“Stop, Y/N.” There’s more force behind her words this time. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

You almost laugh. Almost. Maybe if your job was done then you could have spared a moment or two to revel in your friend’s joke. But you were dangerously close to losing control of this job. You pull your legs up and manage to throw your friend off of you. You roll onto your knees and go to stand when the man you had kicked the chair at slams the butt of his gun into your jaw. Your head snaps to the side and blood fills your mouth.

The childhood memories that have been distracting you vanish as you spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. The man turns his gun back around to point the barrel at you. Your hold on your own gun remains firm as you look over your shoulder towards your friend. She’s on her knees as well, but that is all you are able to make out as you quickly drop back down towards the floor. A small, short bluish bolt flies barely an inch over your head and lands on the guy who hit you. Blue strings of electricity wrap around his chest as he drops with a shout.

You scramble to your feet and head for the door. Your hand digs into your suit pocket and your fingers close around the small marble. You can hear your friend catching up to you as you pull the marble from your pocket. Your thumb presses down on the miniscule button barely noticeable to the eye. As you quickly near the door, you drop the marble. It rolls towards your remaining targets. The moment you make it out of the boardroom and into the lobby, you feel her hand close around yours. You yank your hand hard from her grip and turn quickly while raising your gun.

You find yourself staring down the barrel of her gun. A smile creeps onto your face as you hold your gun steady. Unfortunately, your friend doesn’t find this amusing.

“Put down the gun.”

“You first, Nat,” you reply.

Her gun stays pointed at you when it finally happens. The boardroom explodes into a hot, blazing ball of destruction. The force of the explosion sends both of you flying further into the spacious lobby. You both hit a fancy looking pillar before dropping with a hard thud to the ground. Despite your body’s screams of protest, you are the first to climb back onto your feet. You look down as your friend starts to move. Still alive. Your gun feels heavy in your hand as that single thought runs laps through your mind. For the first time in a long time, you feel excited.

“Sorry, Nat,” you say as you slide your gun back into its holster. “Gotta run.”

You leave her there and make your escape. Slipping away from the scene that has now drawn a crowd is as easy as breathing. You hardly think about it. And with nobody chasing you, it’s almost painfully easy. But the further away you get, you know that’s not entirely true. She isn’t chasing after you now, but she will. You hope so. You miss your only friend.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfic #my fanfic #fic: i swear that i don't have a gun

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mrsjellymunson · 2 months

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Knock At The Cabin | Prologue

Written for @bettyfrommars, @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing’s Stranger Prompts, Prompt 1. He shows up at your house covered in mud in the rain, but the problem is, he died two months ago.

Series Summary: After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But is it really him?

Chapter Summary: On a stormy night, an unexpected visitor arrives.

WC: 1.14k

Series C/W: 🔞 18+, MDNI, NSFW. I mean it, if you’re under 18, git! Post-S4, Upside Down exists, dark/supernatural themes. Eventual Eddie Munson x fem!reader smut. Swearing. Not much to caution about in this part, unless you don’t like rain, or bad decor.

A/N: This series contains a lot of things I haven’t written for before, so I’d love to know what you think! Please comment and reblog, it means the world to writers, and reblogs mean work gets seen. This series has a taglist so if you’d like to be on either it, or my general list, lemme know in a comment, ask or message 🙏💗

You’re holed up in an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Hawkins. It’s not exactly remote, but the nearest building is little more than a speck on the horizon so you feel pretty isolated. Owens organised it, explaining it would be a good idea for the older members of the party to lay low for a little while. Nancy had put forward an excellent argument for remaining with her family, but you, Robin and Steve had reluctantly packed up some of your belongings and relocated here. For how long, you don’t know.

It’s no palace. The wood-built building is certainly past its best, the yellowing 50s kitchen barely functional and the faded decor not to anyone's taste. But it’s (mostly) warm, (usually) dry, and most importantly, it feels safe. Which is something you all need after the events of the past few months.

You’re all acutely aware of the obvious gap in your merry band. Owens had insisted that the three of you didn’t attend the funeral, but he’d involved you as much as he could, ferrying messages between you and the kids and Wayne, discussing what he would’ve wanted to wear (you all agreed on his spare Hellfire shirt and leather jacket, knowing he’d never want to be separated from either, plus a brand new, government-funded pair of black 501s), and sneaking mementoes to you with Wayne’s approval.

Mike and Will have taken charge of his D&D paraphernalia, Dustin got his wallet chain (and wears it with literally everything, even his Weird Al shirts and colourful shorts), and Lucas opted for a small pocket knife. You, Steve and Robin each have one of his rings. Steve and Robin keep theirs in their rooms, but you wear the silver skull every day. It’s too big for your fingers, and is even a little loose on your thumb, but that’s where you keep it, spinning it to ease your anxiety, and smoothing the pads of your fingers over its bumpy surface to remind you of the friend you’ve lost. Rueing the fact that you always wanted him to be more than that, but never had the chance to find out whether he felt the same.

The kids visit periodically, even staying over sometimes, nobody expecting anyone to be watching the comings and goings of a bunch of nerdy teens. Nancy drops them off, sometimes staying, sometimes not. On this occasion she’d dropped and run, explaining that she was going to visit Max in the hospital tomorrow, spending some quality girly time with her. Lucas, who usually spent every spare moment by her bedside, was going to spend the weekend here, after Max, still seriously ill but now well enough to communicate, insisted that he needed to spend at least a bit of time with his old friends.

Tonight, you’d had a movie marathon, Keith developing an uncharacteristically generous side since everything kicked off and periodically dropping off and collecting piles of VHS tapes. Not quite generous enough to bring you any brand new releases, but even things you’ve seen before are better than the ‘sweet FA’ you’d have available given the nonexistent TV reception around here.

Popcorn litters the floor and the saggy furniture, as do gangly boys and a long-haired girl. Jane has commandeered the sole armchair, sitting in it cross-legged, and you, Steve and Robin are squashed onto the sofa with an equally squashed Dustin, the latter insisting that there was definitely room for one more.

Mike and Will are on the floor between the sofa and the old, battered coffee table. Mike’s hunched over a bowl of chips that he’s shovelling in, and Will is leaning against your legs, you stroking his hair in a way you know he finds comforting. Lucas is lounging on the floor at the side of the table, his long body stretched out and his head supported on threadbare throw pillows.

The gentle patter of drizzly rain against the windows and roof, and the crackle of the open fire, one of your only sources of heating, gives the evening a cosy feel, though you hope the rain doesn’t get any heavier as you don’t entirely trust the roof over the rear extension to cope with much more meteorological abuse.

You’ve just finished Raiders Of the Lost Ark and Steve has got up to swap it out for The Stuff, when there’s a strong gust of wind and the rainfall picks up significantly. Great, you think, the weather gods definitely weren’t listening to your silent pleas.

None of you notice Jane stiffening in her seat and shifting uncomfortably.

Under the lashing of the wind and rain there’s a sudden noise at the front door. Not urgent, not loud, just two soft thuds. If the kids had been roughhousing or the film had been on you may even have missed them.

You all look at each other, instantly and equally on edge, and all hoping that somebody, anybody, will provide a simple explanation for this.

Steve’s the first to speak. Jaw slack and brow furrowed, he asks the room, “Uhh, did anyone order takeout?”

There’s a cacophony of ‘no’s’ and shaken heads, before another soft thud is heard, just one this time.

Steve steels himself, not for the first time realising that it’s his responsibility to investigate the possibly terrifying, and potentially life-threatening, situation. He stands from his position by the video player and moves towards the door, fingertips skimming the top of the bat that’s always to the side of it, before closing his hand softly around the handle.

He pulls back the sliding bolts before twisting the lock and pulling the door open just a crack, leaving the chain on. The noise of the weather increases in volume, but other than that there’s no indication of what’s on the other side.

Steve has his back to you so you don’t see his eyes go wide, but you do hear a soft, “Wh- What the fuck?”

Robin being Robin, and perpetually thinking about her stomach, she says,

“What is it, doofus? Pleeease tell me it’s Jonathon and Argyle dropping by from Cali with some delicious Surfer Boy pizza??”

“Uh, no, it’s, uh- You know what? Maybe you should just come and see for yourself. Wait, scratch that, just the adults.”

Knowing this will unwittingly pique the interest of the kids more than if he’d just allowed everyone to come look, you and Robin glance at each other before quickly rising and moving to the door.

Steve closes it and takes off the chain, opening it wide as the three of you arrive, the kids following close behind and trying to look between you.

There, hunched, shivering, soaking wet and covered in mud, is your friend. The one who’d died saving the town. The one they’d buried only a few days ago, after he’d been lying on a slab in a lab somewhere for weeks.

Eddie.

Thanks so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this. Lemme know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts.

Extra tags: @jamdoughnutmagician @joejoequinnquinn

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hyuuukais · 9 months

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✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ SUNSHINE AND STRAWBERRIES

pairing ☆ lee felix x fem reader

synopsis ☆ Y/N is a new streamer. after months of planning, and her best friend & now fellow streamer han jisung convincing her, she makes a twitch and youtube account. thanks to jisung giving her a shoutout to his own huge following, she gains some unexpected overnight fame. but what was more unexpected was waking up to see her long-time favourite comfort streamer _sunshine.bbokari_ following her.

warnings ☆ swearing, mention of anxiety, food mention, joke abt being delulu

[TAGLIST -> CLOSED]

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

☆ mostly written chapter, 4 screenshots ☆

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE ☆ DATE NIGHT

"Close your eyes, we're getting close."

You did as Felix said, closing your eyes quickly in excitement. He hadn't told you much up to this point, and you eagerly awaited the reveal to the date. You could feel him parking the car, hearing lots of voices outside the vehicle.

So many questions and scenarios swirled in your head, but it wasn't overwhelming or anxiety inducing in the slightest. Not when it's with Lix. You only felt safe with him.

Felix emerged, quickly going over to your side to open your door. He grabs your hands, careful to help you out, and leads you closer to the noise. It was a mixture of people talking loudly, various beeping noises, and other things you couldn't quite place.

"Okay," He inhaled deeply, standing at your side, still holding one of your hands tightly. "Open them."

To say you were speechless was an understatement.

"The fair?!" You turned to him, barely containing a squeal, holding your clapsed hands up excitedly. "Lix, oh my god! I wanted to go so bad, but Kai said he was working the whole weekend so he couldn't come with. Plus in between streaming..."

You stopped talking when he put his free hand on your shoulder. He was smiling so wide, relishing in your happiness, eyes turning into crescents.

"No work talk tonight! Only fun! Not that our job isn't fun," The two of you laugh. "We are going to win so many prizes and eat so much delicious fair food and go on all the rides. See that stuffed bear?"

Over by a game booth near the middle was the bear he pointed at. It was a huge pastel pink bear with a strawberry embroidered into each of it's paws. The bear screamed Y/N.

"I'm going to win that for you." You looked back at him, his eyes softly looking at the bear, a small smile on his face. Colourful lights lit up his face, and you couldn't help but stare.

"C'mon," You tugged at his arm, breaking your eyes away forcefully. "Let's go!"

After what seemed like hours, you both collapsed on a bench outside the fair. Your feet were sore and your head hurt a bit from all the flashing lights, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was the way your cheeks hurt because you couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop laughing, the way you felt lightheaded simply by being near the boy next to you. What mattered was the way his eyes watched you when you jumped up and down happily after winning a game, or his blissful expression after taking a bite of the overpriced fair food.

What mattered was that the two of you were together. Fake relationship or not, he made you happy. He washed all the bad thoughts away, even if only for one night.

Hugging the giant bear, you stared at Felix's profile, moonlight accentuating his features. Freckles like stardust, eyelashes fluttered closed in satisfaction. If anyone was the embodiment of pure heart, it was Lee Felix.

Something took over you and you lean over to him, lightly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He startles a bit, looking over to you shyly, a rosh blush dusting his cheeks.

"Sorry." You giggle. "You just looked so peaceful."

"Dont be sorry, I just wasn't expecting it." He fiddles with his rings, smiling at the bench between you.

"Thank you for tonight," You can't help the sudden emotion in your voice. "It was amazing."

"Oh, the night isn't over quite yet."

"Let me gooooo!" You laugh, hands gripping onto Felix's arms around your waist, the only thing holding you from running inside the house.

All the others were kicked out for the night, leaving just you and Felix in the spacious home. You hadn't been over in a while, but it still felt familiar. Through the window into the living room, you could just barely spot string lights.

"Did you get the package I sent?" He asked, unlocking the door.

"Yes," You turn a bit to show him your backpack. "I packed a few things for tonight, just in case, including the pajamas. Very cute, by the way!"

He smiled softly as you entered, making a beeline to the bathroom to change. You only stopped briefly to put down your bear.

In the brief moments you were gone, Felix scrambled to get changed himself. He wore pajamas matching your own, and when you saw, you couldn't help but break into the biggest grin.

"Awwww, Lixie!" You ran up to him from behind, attacking him with a hug.

When you detached, you noticed what it was he was hiding. Instead of the sofa, there was an elaborately made fort of pillows and blankets, some furniture moved around to help support it. Around it and inside were the string lights you spotted, plush blankets lining the ground. You also noticed Felix had moved your strawberry bear inside, sitting against a mountain of pillows and facing an open laptop.

Your mouth hung open. He'd done all of this... for you?

"Do..." He blushed, looking at your reaction carefully. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" You blurted, then exhaled a laugh. "Lix, I love it. This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me on a date- especially a first date."

He watched as you jumped inside, curling up under the blankets and laying on the bears chest. Felix didn't join immediately, too enthralled by you. That is, until he noticed the grabby hands you were making at him, silently asking him to join.

He laid down next to you, closing the opening of the fort and awakening his laptop to start the movie he had planned. He had a marathon lined up of various romcoms he heard you talking about, mixed with ones you mentioned wanting to see.

Being curled up between a giant plush bear and your own personal human heater with your comfort movies in the background made you very drowsy. As if he could sense your eyes fluttering closed, Felix gently laid your head onto his chest, wrapping an arm around you.

"Goodnight, love." He whispered softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you drifted to sleep.

☆~☆~☆

notes ☆ ngl going through this after finishing had me giggling a bit

taglist ☆ @marcillfll @toplinelix @neri-ner @tfshouldidohere @imasimplol @samvagejkflxhrt @yennifersgeralt @aestheticsluut @cherryuqii @tenebrisirae @roseidol @veryjeongintxtkid @amara-mars @nobuttpics @bmnyy @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @ellelabelle @gini143 @mrsseals16 @veedoesntknaur @channiesstars @daydreamer5006 @luvvvash @amesification @skzswife @blamemef0rit @soulphoenix1618 @lovingmny @stvrfir3 @boo-ven9eance @adestayskz @rag-iii @enchantedgrunge @mytherapisttoldmenotto @strawberry-dreamland @oh-my-fancan @lucktales @cookielino @fantasyaddict123 @sleeplessmin @alexxxxxthebitxh @flirtyskzbutterfly @vixensss @hannahs-docx @hash2013 @jellsxox @theblindhag @httphans @hannahhbahng @minkyungseokie

pink means i can't tag u

#✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ SUNSHINE AND STRAWBERRIES #skz #stray kids #skz smau #lee felix x reader #social media au #stray kids smau #lee felix #lee felix x fem reader #lee felix x yn #lee yongbok #non idol felix #non idol au #stray kids streamer au #felix streamer au #streamer au

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amberlynnmurdock · 5 months

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Blind Faith (Ch. 15)

Chapter Fifteen: Sunday

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You and Matt wake up on Sunday and talk about what's happened and where to go next.

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, unprotected sex.

A/N: Thank you all for being here since I started this fic in July. This has been my favorite Matt Murdock fic I've written because of the time and planning I put into it. If you've left a like, or reblog, or a comment on here, THANK YOU. It means the world to me to write fanfic and share it with people who want to read <3 Here is the final chapter of Blind Faith. I hope you like it!

Ao3 Link

Hell’s Kitchen

You stayed with Matt the whole weekend, and the whole weekend seemed to go by just as fast as it had come. One moment, you’re on your way to a date. The next, you’re blacked out and waking up in your savior’s apartment which actually turned out to be your boss’. Yeah, you could say you’ve had a long weekend.

Your body felt fully recovered from the drug’s side effects, but it was your mind that still needed healing. Despite being saved from that terrible nightmare, you now were taking what you experienced with you everywhere. If it wasn’t you who poured a drink, you wouldn’t have it.

Sunday.

Bright and dry. Unlike the previous day’s weather of wet, stormy, and dark.

And of course, the breaking news on Saturday morning.

You didn’t want to spend more time than you needed to on him, but when you saw the breaking news flash across WHIH’s channel, your heart dropped. Zack was found by police and arrested for illegal drug possession. It occurred to you that you hadn’t seen him since the start of that dreadful night, so to see the footage of him knocked unconscious and bloody, tied to his dining room table, you froze. As soon as the image came on, Matt shut the TV off.

Now, Sunday, you lay in Matt’s bed, with Matt beside you. Sunlight shone through his windows and onto the bed, lighting up the bottom half. You stretched under his silk blankets.

Your legs felt sore from all the sex you had with Matt, which was going to be quite unforgettable once you’ve left. You looked around his living room through the half-opened sliding door and put it to memory: the brown, ratty leather couch. A mismatched dark blue chair. A light gray patterned rug. The brick walls. This bedroom that you’ve committed to memory of how soft his silk sheets felt on your skin just as you’ve committed to memory of the way he kissed your entire body.

You felt your heart flutter at the memory of Matt pulling you roughly against his body the night before. His hands tangled in your hair and pulled gently for his lips to find their way to your neck. Matthew, whispering in your ear that he’s wanted this for so long—he’s wanted you for so long.

And there he was, doing it all over again.

“Come here,” he murmurs half asleep, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close.

He didn’t leave your side once this weekend, and you didn’t want him to. Mostly because you weren’t sure if you’d ever have another weekend like this. A weekend with him. Being with him in general.

It was a question the two of you were avoiding after that first night: where do we go from here?

You’ve certainly spent most of the time thinking of this. And you were afraid too much had happened for you and Matt to take things any further. But you haven’t said this to him…because you thought you wouldn’t be able to get the words out.

You’re damn near close to tears even thinking of it. And you know Matt can sense them in the air. He doesn’t ask you why you’re crying. He just pulls you even closer to his chest and kisses your head. He brushes his fingers through your hair. And you want him, just one more time. Once more, before Sunday is over.

Matt slowly drags his fingers down your back, slipping under the blanket. He traces over your ass and presses one finger on your wet pussy, a way to ask permission.

You nod your head against his chest, gripping his shoulders.

Matt gently pushes a finger inside your velvety wetness, feeling your pussy tighten around his finger. He pushes deeper inside you, wiggling his finger to find your sweet spot. He knows he found it when you squirm in the bed and shudder against him.

“One more time,” you whisper.

You’ve wrapped your legs around Matt’s waist and straddled him in one swift movement. The silk blanket slips off your body, exposing yourself in front of Matt again.

Matt gasps as he feels your wetness coat his lower abdomen, not quite where he needs you most. His cock is swollen hard under the sheets, and he can hear his own heart beating hard in his chest. You lower your face and kiss him deeply, letting his tongue enter your mouth and lick your teeth. He places a hand on your neck and you place yours on top of his, encouraging him to squeeze lightly, and he does. You move the same hand over your right breast, and he feels how hard your nipple is against his palm. He moves his hand in a kneading motion.

Matt can feel and smell your wetness in the air, it makes him feel an intense need in his chest. You slowly inch your way down and rub your soft pussy over the length of his hard cock. Matt rocks against you and grabs a fistful of your hair, gently tugging.

You reach for his cock and line it with your pussy. Bracing yourself for the pain, you slowly inch down the length of him, feeling his size stretch your tight pussy until you were completely wrapped around him. You feel full and feel a familiar tightness in the pit of your stomach.

“Oh, God,” you whine as you feel Matt’s cock fully inside you. You begin to rock back and forth on his cock, the more you do, the more you need to feel him all around, like an itch needing a desperate scratch. Matt bucks his hips up into you, bucks his cock hard into your pussy, feeling you clench his hardness.

“You feel like heaven,” Matt breathes out, letting you bounce on his cock fast and then slow. You slowly lift your pussy off before coming back down hard and feeling the tip of his cock touch that spot deep inside you. And you keep doing it again, and again, and again, bouncing as much as you need to feel him.

“Mm,” you moan feeling your pussy clench tightly around Matt’s cock. You tilt your body backward and Matt reaches his hands to cover your breasts. He kneads them and bucks his hips into you, pushing his cock deeper.

“That’s it,” Matt says in a guttural voice.

He knows you’re about to come by the way you’re moaning and breathing so fast, so fast he almost doesn’t hear you asking him to come inside you again.

“Matthew,” you say breathlessly as you keep bouncing on his cock.

Matt places his hands on your waist and rocks you back and forth on his cock for you, as you’re losing pace from going too fast. You come all over his cock and moan so lightly, it causes Matt to finish at the same time, filling you with his hot come, and feeling it gush inside your pussy. He holds you still as he feels his cock pump come one, two, three, four times so deep, you shiver and fall against his chest.

“God,” Matt moans against your ear, feeling your pussy squeeze his cock for one last drop inside you. It feels so good to come in you, to feel that tightness in the pit of your stomach, to feel Matt’s warmth fill you. It leaks out a lot, you spread your legs and feel Matt slide out of you and the familiar empty feeling of his size leaving you. You practically collapse on the bed again and watch as Matt finds a towel to clean you with.

You’re shivering in the bed from your orgasm, and Matt takes no time in holding you against him again, as you come down from your high.

“Was this all a good idea?” You find yourself asking breathlessly against his pillow. Matt’s next to you, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“What?”

“What we just did.”

“You mean, what we’ve been doing all weekend?” He smirks. You want to wipe it off, but you feel a shiver down your spine as you imagine him covered with a black mask. It was still strange that it was him.

“Yes,” you say. You’ve come to peace with Matt being your savior, but you weren’t sure it was something you could live with. Perhaps, now was the time to ask Matt: where do we go from here?

“Doesn’t seem like it was necessarily a bad idea,” Matt says lowly, referring to your wetness. You move to lay on your back, staring at the ceiling.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have found out what we would miss,” you simply say.

Matt’s gaze moves to you, his brows furrowed. He reaches over to caress your chin, to guide you to look at him.

“What do you mean?” He asks. But deep down, Matt knows exactly what you mean.

“Tomorrow is Monday, Matthew,” you state plainly. “Tell me, do Karen and Foggy know you’re Daredevil?”

“Yes,” he answers.

“Do they know I didn’t know?”

After a small pause, he nods. “Yes.”

“How in the world do you expect me to walk into work tomorrow after a weekend like this? After they find out about us?”

“They won't think of you differently,” he shakes his head. “They’ll think of me differently.”

“Matt,” you bite your lip, looking at his hazel-brown eyes. There was a time you were dying to know what his eyes looked like behind those dark red glasses. There was a time you were dying to know who he was behind that mask. “Think about what’s happened—what I’ve been through. We’ve been having this affair since the beginning of summer. We didn’t talk for a month, except at work, before I knew you were you. Friday, I was drugged and you saved me.”

Matt clenches his jaw at the memory of Friday night. It makes him want to bring you closer to him again. But he doesn’t.

“Then, I find out the man I’ve been seeing in secret was right under my nose all along,” you explain. “This is a lot for me. I can’t just pack it up and move on,” you reach over and gently run your fingers along his jawline, because this may be the last time you’ll ever be this close to Matt Murdock.

“So what does that mean for us?” Matt asks, although he knows the answer inside.

“It means, after today, that’s it. I’m going to resign from Nelson & Murdock tomorrow. I’ll write Foggy and Karen a letter and say—“

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll tell them.”

“They should hear from me,” you gently argue.

“They will. But I will tell them everything.”

“Okay,” you sighed, “that saves me the awkward part of telling them I’ve been hooking up with you.”

Matt smiles a little, but it quickly fades as your words echo in his ears. After today, that’s it.

“Is it really over?” Matt asks. “After I finally reveal myself and we have this weekend, that’s it?”

“Think about what it took for you to finally reveal yourself, Matt,” you whisper. “Look at how we ended up here.”

As much as it pained him, it was true. What right did he have, after everything he’s put you through?

“Okay,” he nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s not that I want this to be the end,” you said in frustration, wishing he would understand what you were trying to say. “You’re all I’ve wanted this entire time.” You covered your face with your hands, feeling tears brimming your eyes. Why did it have to hurt so much, to make a tough decision like this?

“I just—I don’t have the same faith I once did before,” you cry softly. “And I want you so bad. I want more weekends like this, I want to be with you, but—“

“Too much has happened,” Matt finishes your sentence, trying to remain composed. “I understand. You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s okay.”

“Then why am I still crying? Why does it feel like this?” You wipe your tears away and look around his room again—your safe haven for the weekend. You didn’t want to go.

“Because what I did to you wasn’t fair,” Matt says softly. “I ruined what could’ve been for us. I have to live with that. Not you,” Matt reaches over and places his hand on your cheek, urging you to look at him. He wipes a tear away with his thumb, caressing your cheek. “Not you.”

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

After your conversation, the two of you lay in his bed for a few more hours until you decided the longer you stayed, the harder the goodbye would be. You took a shower in his apartment and changed into the clothes his nurse friend left for you. When you finally gathered your things, Matt was waiting quietly on his couch.

“Ready?” He asks.

“You don’t have to take me home, Matt,” you said, sucking in your tears. “I think it’s best I get a cab.”

“I want to make sure you’ll be safe.”

“I will,” you promised. “Please, Matt. Don’t make this harder for me.”

Matt nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Let me walk you to the door, then.”

You wanted to smile at his attempts, but it only hurt your heart even more. With every step to his door, you slowed down your pace. Just as you reached for the knob, Matt did too, and your hands touched for a brief moment before Matt is taking your hand and gently pushing you against his wall.

You close your eyes and let him do what he wants, because you want this, too. He leans down and gently presses his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses touching. Matt’s strong hands are on either side of your waist, and you’re taken back to all those times he’s held you on your roof, under a black mask. His lips ghost over yours, and it takes you to gently nudge him for him to fully press his lips onto yours.

Matt holds you still as he kisses you deeply, more deeply than he ever has before. He takes this moment to remember your scent, your heartbeat, your breathing because he’s not sure when he’ll be able to be around you again. This is all he has to remember you. This moment that having blind faith has led him to—both of you. He kisses you again and holds your face in his hands. He pulls back to kiss your jaw, to kiss behind your ear, to kiss your neck. Matt will never forgive himself for this.

“I love you,” you whisper. “I have to go.”

“I lied to you, that one night,” Matt says with pain in his voice. “I do love. I love you. And I don’t want you to leave. But if it means anything, it’s the most intense feeling I’ll ever have to hold on to be left by you.”

And with one last kiss, you’re out the door, out of his apartment, out of his life for a long, long time.

When he hears you get inside a cab, Matt charges up his phone that’s been out of battery the entire weekend and calls Foggy to tell him everything that’s happened.

TAGS: @starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynnn @mattmurdocksstarlight @marvelcinematiquniverse @hailey-murdock @yeonalie (please let me know if I missed you!)

P.S. There will be an epilogue!

#matt murdock #daredevil #charlie cox #marvel #matt murdock x reader #blind faith #matthew murdock #daredevil born again #daredevil: born again #charlie cox x reader #the defenders #foggy nelson #karen page #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fan fic #matt murdock x you

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canirove · 3 months

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My neighbour Rúben | Chapter 4

Author's note: On this chapter there are some things that give away that this story was written a long time ago, like the fact that it says that he is City's captain... Or that he dresses well 😅 P.S. I'm joking, please no one get mad at me 😭

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Masterlist

"Did you sleep well, darling? You look tired" grandma asked me the morning after the game.

"It probably was all the excitement from yesterday. She was still buzzing like young people say" grandad laughed.

"I think it was a mix of not being on my own bed and getting out of my comfort zone. I'm not used to it."

Which was a lie. Mostly. I did miss my own bed, the one at my grandparents' house had the worst pillow ever. But if I looked dead and tired, it was because I had stayed up until 2 am reading about Rúben, watching his videos and looking at his photos.

Some would call it stalking. I call it doing research.

I read about his career, watched proper interviews and other videos where he was being silly, finding myself smiling like the idiot I am. I even watched some in Portuguese, the fact that I speak Spanish being very helpful to understand what he was saying. Or at least half of it.

I spent an hour just on his Instagram account, looking at everything he had posted, and especially the posts where he was topless. Like... He couldn't be real. He couldn't have a body like that, it had to be Photoshop. And it wasn't just the abs and the biceps. It also was his back. His legs. Everything. And judging by the photos where he was wearing clothes and the couple of times I had met him, he also knew how to dress and make the most out of that perfect body of his, which was unfair for the rest of the human population, both male and female.

I also spent a lot of time reading fanfic about him. There are so many talented people out there! And horny, which made me feel less alone. Because my dreams... Well. They were similar to the ones I had been having since meeting him for the first time, but now I knew what was under his clothes, and they weren't happening just on the lift or Lucy's house. Now that I knew that he was a freaking professional football player, there were so many new scenarios to explore... And I explored a few last night, like the changing room at the Emirates.

"Darling, are you sure you are alright? Should I take you to the doctor?" grandad said, bringing me back to reality.

"To the doctor? Why?"

"You look... I don't know. Off. And look at your cheeks."

"My cheeks?" I said, touching them. They were feeling very warm.

"Let me take your temperature" grandma said. "I don't want you traveling alone back to Manchester with a fever."

Oh, if only she knew.

I wasn't traveling back to Manchester with a fever. I was actually traveling back to Manchester to meet the cause of my fever. And just the thought of it was making my stomach do funny things, not sure if good or bad ones.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Oh, c'mon!" I said when the shopping bag slipped from my hand as I reached to call for the lift, all its contents slipping on the floor.

"Let me help you with that" a male voice said behind me. No. Not just a male voice. The male voice. Rúben.

"You don't need to, I can manage."

"And I want to help" he said, already picking some things from the floor. "Doesn't Lucy have someone to do the shopping for her?"

"Yes, but that's the weekly shopping. This is different."

"I can tell. I don't see Lucy letting Julia eat so much chocolate and sweets" he chuckled.

"Tonight we are having a movie night, that's why I bought all this. I'm not planning on feeding her just sugar for the whole weekend, I'm not crazy."

"Good to know" Rúben smiled. "What movie are you watching?" he asked while calling for the lift, the shopping bag on his hand.

"Not sure yet. Something from Disney I guess."

"What's your favourite Disney movie?"

"What?"

"Mine is "Aladdin". Love the songs" he said, walking into the lift once the doors had opened.

"I'm not sure about mine" I said, following him. "As a child I loved watching the "Swan Princess", but that isn't Disney."

"I think I've never heard of it before. Is it cartoons?"

"Yep. It is about a princess who is under a spell that turns her into a swan during the day, and at night she goes back into her human self but only if she is on a certain lake and when the moon is shining."

"Do they sing?"

"Oh, yes, they do. They have great songs."

"I'll have to check it out."

"What?" I laughed.

"Don't tell anyone, but I love watching kids' movies."

"Worried your teammates may bully you?" I chuckled as the lift's doors opened at our floor.

"Nah, they already know. By the way, the Emirates was the last place where I expected to see you" Rúben said, walking towards my door.

"Same."

"Lucy hadn't told you?"

"We've never talked about you." Which is true. But mainly because I knew my face would give away that I am very attracted to Rúben. Like, a lot.

"Now that you know... What do you think about it?"

"I don't know" I said, opening the apartment’s door. "It's just a job. A special one, but a job."

"Your opinion about me hasn't changed then?" he asked, following me inside and into the kitchen.

"Why would I change my mind?"

"You know what they say about football players. Just a bunch of idiots that kick a ball, who earn way too much money, who just party and cheat on their wives... Those things."

"I don't know enough about you to judge."

"Then we must do something about that" he said, leaving the shopping bag on the table. "Do you think Julia would mind if I joined you on your movie night?"

"I'm sorry, you want what?"

"It'll be a way to get to know each other a bit better. And I don't have plans tonight, so watching a Disney movie in good company sounds great."

I don't know what happened after that, what I said or did. Probably that yes, that he could come, because I remembered his smile and a "see you tonight." But my brain was stuck on his previous two last sentences.

For some reason, he wanted to get to know me better. Me. And I apparently was good company? He could have said it just about Julia, he clearly adored her. But he wasn't talking about her. We weren't talking about her. So... It was about me, right? I was good company. Did that mean that he was flirting with me? Rúben Dias, Manchester City captain and international player with Portugal, was flirting with me? The piano teacher turned into nanny?

It had been years since a guy had tried to flirt with me, I was very rusty. So maybe he was just being nice and I understood everything wrong. Or maybe not.

Whatever it was, I would be finding out in just a few hours...

#ruben dias #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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meshlasolus · 10 months

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Temple of the Forbidden Eye (3)

Indiana Jones x OC

Series Summary: The relationship between student and teacher is strictly professional, or at least it should be. He’s never met his match in archeological intelligence, and if he ever does, it might drive him to do something stupid.

A/n: since indy came out this weekend, here’s a veeeery long chapter to suffice your indy needs

Warnings: oh boy… bullying, good ol’ fashioned misogyny, mentions of past abuse, mentions of blood and bruises (not explicitly), like.. one swear word.

(Co-written by the lovely @theatrelove3000 you guys should go give her a follow)

The late night work became a regular occurrence, along with her occupying the guest room for those nights. She was always gone when Dr. Jones woke up. It concerned him at first, but he figured she just didn't want to be a burden, not that she ever was. The more time he spent around her, the more it became obvious to him that she tried her best to take up as little space as she possibly could.

Since her presence in his home became a regular event, he started keeping food stocked. He made it very clear that he did it for her benefit and she was welcome to anything he has. This led to her making dinner for the both of them often while they worked. He would bring whatever they had been working on with him and set it up on the breakfast counter connected to the rest of his kitchen. She would read between steps or they'd talk about whatever the work was. He came to enjoy these times, even if it was only subconsciously.

Of course, spending as much time with him as she was, it was bound to come back around to bite her. The rumors started relatively quickly. She was able to handle rumors; they'd unfortunately been a major part of her life growing up, and mostly just drew attention from those stupid enough to believe them. That didn't mean she enjoyed the staring, though. She much preferred when she was more or less invisible to her peers and professors. She knew they looked before, that was fine. They were surprised to see a woman in their fancy, expensive classes, let alone one who wears trousers. She didn't mind those looks. Those looks at least were respectful enough to look away when she caught them. Those looks were only because they were shocked to have seen something of her nature…

Now, it's different. Now, they don't look away when she sees them looking. Instead, they throw daggers with their eyes and whisper to each other as she passes. She has had things like this happen before but never for her own decisions. It is different when one makes the choice to continue doing the thing everyone is gossiping about. It made everything more… obvious to her.

Scarlet was many things; traits that she knew she had and traits that people who she entrusted told her she had. Paranoid was not on the list of said traits. She had never had a reason to be paranoid. Perhaps she did now. Jealousy can make a person do terrible things, especially when the person believes they are more entitled to whatever the object of their envy has. Boys don’t like when they are shown up by girls who are supposedly smarter than they are. Little rich boys hate it more than anything else in the world.

The twenty-some year old college goers who sat in front of and across her in Professor Jones’ class, only looking behind or to the side of them when he called on her for every question he asked the students. She was smart, but they all had reason to believe he was favoring her over one thing. Her good looks and time available after school. Everyone had heard about their little arrangement, with her as his ‘apprentice’ though she had never done any work in the field. It all seemed too suspicious for a young girl to be residing at her Professor’s home every other day. Her test scores didn’t lie, but the boys in the class did not exactly have access to those. They only saw what was right in front of their eyes, and it looked to them like a scandal. Teacher’s pet, the favorite of them all. She had what they couldn’t have. They couldn’t possibly look at their own merit and decide that it was the real reason for their lacking, so they insisted it must be the fact that she was getting special attention.

There were two boys in particular, that were especially miffed about her enhanced situation. They had discussed it with one another and took it upon themselves to be the voice of reason, deciding it would be best if she were brought down a few pegs. Just enough to be sure that she wouldn’t feel as high and mighty anymore.

They waited by the glass case of school awards in the hallway closest to Professor Jones’ classroom, pretending to be in full conversation whilst their colleagues walked by. Some of them entered the class, completely unaware of what the foolish boys planned to do.

Down the hall came Scarlet Ledger, accompanied by none other than Henry Jones. No other heads were turned as they walked, however, for it was a rather busy time of day, and the students were more focussed on getting to their next class, rather than who they saw in the way of their destination. Last night, they had gone over a series of notes from an old friend of his, who was unable to finish an expedition on an artifact he’d spent years preparing to find. Having received the journals and maps from the retired associate was like being handed the answers to a test. It was all there, and all he had to do now was go out and find it. She had been helping him to figure out the little details, and now the discussion was if she would be joining him or not on this wild endeavor. He, of course, claimed it was too dangerous for a first timer to be brought along on such an elaborate journey.

“You should start with something more local, like I did,” he turned to her, trying to convey that he did not think her unable, but only inexperienced in the field thus far to take on something so big.

“It’s not like I’m going alone,” she replied with a small laugh. He made it sound like she would be single handedly making the trek to the treasure. It was a silly notion to think that he was so worried, when he himself was running point on the entire thing. “Not to overestimate you Professor Jones, but I believe you have the ability to defend me if the need should arise. Not that I think it will, I’ll only be assisting you when needed, hence the title of ‘Apprentice.’”

His chuckle was combated by the shake of his head. He knew that eventually he would be giving in to her, because she had this trait of arguing, and just plainly talking her way into something she hadn’t been a part of before. It was often infuriating, but he never walked away from a challenge, even one he knew there was no chance of winning.

“We’ll talk more after school,” he said, temporarily ending the conversation and walking ahead of her to his classroom. She stopped in her tracks, smiling like a ten year old school girl that was about to be on summer vacation.

He curved his steps, stepping into the doorway and out of her vision. She usually lingered in the hallway for a few moments, as to avoid the stares when she walked in precisely after he did. It sounded ridiculous that she would even make such efforts, but she made the decision consciously, and it often worked.

She kicked her heels over the ground and clutched her books tightly to her chest, wandering about for a few seconds more. She took steps towards the door, but collided with two young men, and had to back away quickly.

“I’m so sorry,” she looked to the floor, where one of the boy’s papers had been dropped. She knelt quickly and grabbed them before the breezy open hallway could send them fluttering about. She stood back up to face them with a smile, handing the shorter boy his papers back. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’m afraid I’m a bit clumsier than usual.”

They didn’t say anything, just stood there and stared at her. Strange boys, she thought. She attempted to simply nod and pass around them, but the taller one blocked her way, making himself like a brick wall between her and her favorite class.

“Pardon me,” she said sweetly, trying once more to walk around him but failing to do so when the other boy decided to also stand in her way. She was peeved, but wouldn't show it on her face. “Gentlemen, I am very sorry for bumping into you, but I really need to get to my class.”

“Hear that, Jim? She really needs to get to her class,” the taller boy said tauntingly. She furrowed her brow, misunderstanding why they could possibly have the need to bother her at this precise moment. She recognized them, they sat in front and across from her. Shouldn’t they also be running along to be seated in time?

“I think Professor Jones can do without his pet for a few minutes,” the other one spoke with a humorless chuckle. It was clear to her now that they had meant to hold her up, and probably to start a scuffle. These boys were obviously clued into the rumors and false gossip that spread through the halls, but actually having the balls to instigate a fight over it was a rarity.

“Please, if you could just let me pass,” she tried once more to barrel through the small gap between them, but they shoved her back, and she tumbled to the side a little from the force. She readjusted her grip on her books, trying to compose her posture once more. This all seemed so juvenile, like they would be the school bullies on an elementary school playground.

“No, I don’t think I will,” one laughed, taking a step closer to her with crossed arms, the other followed. It was beginning to make her feel uneasy, and her usually confident stature was caving in upon being forced into a corner.

As uneasy as the boys made her, she still tried her best to talk her way out. “Honestly, gentlemen. What are we, children? We all have a class to attend. I doubt you want to be late and risk missing important material.”

“I’ll take my chances,” the taller one said as he took a step closer.

Henry was nothing if not observant, and furthermore, he was intricately observant. When the pair of boys walked into his class three minutes late, along with the fact that his best student was still missing from the crowd, he was able to deduce that something happened in the short time he was separated from her, and it involved the two of them. He didn’t know how, but he was quite sure. It was also notable that the two young men were the ones that sat closest to her in the room. She didn’t have a deskmate, for obvious reasons, so the fact that they were in the near vicinity also made him think that they were involved somehow. She was never late, and she was never one to ditch a class of any kind, much less her favorite.

“Looking for someone?” one of the students asked, clearly referencing the teacher’s pet. It was funny, or at least the rest of the class thought so, breaking into small fits of quiet giggles that filled the classroom. Henry was far from amused, and did not even hesitate to ask about his prized student.

“Has anyone seen Miss Ledger?”

The question reverberated against the walls of the room, and made everyone quiet down. There was a hand that had been raised in the very back, it was the boy who had come in late, and sat directly across from Scarlett on most days. After being pointed at, the boy wore a proud look on his face, the expression was enough to send adrenaline coursing through Henry’s veins.

“I saw her in the hallway only a minute ago. She seemed to be going mad, something about needing to get home so she could find more trousers,” he said, his comedic tone indicating it may have been partially a joke. The classroom again erupted into muffled laughter, but the look on their professor’s face made them straighten up very quickly.

He wasn’t exactly worried over her, per se, but now very paranoid as to what really occurred in that hallway when he had left her there. She wouldn’t just miss a class for the reason of finding a new pair of trousers. She was his most dedicated student, and would walk through hell or high water to be in her seat by the time attendance was taken. It all just seemed too suspicious for his liking, and as annoyed as he was, he heaved a sigh, continuing his class.

“Everyone, pay attention,” he began, droning on all the notes he had prepared with Scarlet the evening before.

She did not leave his mind the entirety of his lesson, which made sense, given half the time he read from the papers, it was her perfect handwriting that was scrawled over the small lines. He was thankful for the release of the bell ringing through everyone’s ears when the hour was over. He only had two classes in the day, and once they were done, he was free to either sit in the Professor’s lounge, or go home. He’d much prefer to go home, considering the circumstances he’d been met with on this particular day. Avoiding the multitudes of female students as he left his office, he nearly ran to his car in the lot, trying his best not to seem like he was in a hurry. The rumors had been heard by his ears, too, and he didn’t want to give anyone fuel for the fire.

He got home fairly quickly, which was all well and good, but the thing was that he didn’t have the slightest clue of what to do with himself once he’d entered his front door. It seemed ridiculous for him to be acting this way, as he wasn’t even sure of what had happened, but he assumed it was nothing good. He tried to calm himself by sitting on the couch in his office, reading over some of the things they’d started marking out for the expedition. He had maybe distracted himself for an hour before his doorbell rang out.

He jumped from his seat, scattering the papers and taking large steps towards the door. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see when he opened the door, but the lovely image of Scarlet Ledger wearing a skirt was not on the list. She had made it more than clear in the time they spent together that she had a distaste for skirts because of some not very fond memories in her youth, and yet here she stood in a fitted tweed skirt that started high on her waist and fell just under her knees. Her sweater was the same cream one that she had been in earlier, but the skirt was not even close to her favorite chocolate brown trousers.

Pants are more comfortable, she always said, and they leave no room for impish schoolboys to mess around and flip them over your head when your back is turned.

His furrowed brows were uncontrollable, and it made her feel even worse about the situation than she already had. His eyes that scanned her up and down about three times more were not because of his dislike, but because of his shock. Truly, this was the last thing he ever thought he’d see her wear.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, a cheerful smile as if nothing had happened that day. “May I come in?”

He shook his head to get rid of the nasty feeling, giving her a tight lip smile that was unconvincing next to the one he always gave her when she first arrived.

“I already started marking out the route on the map,” he said while stepping aside to let her in. Feeling the hem of her skirt brushing against his leg felt so strange, and he wasn’t sure if she was ever going to fess up to the reason why she was wearing it in the first place, but he wouldn’t bother her about it, yet.

“You were supposed to wait for me,” she sighed out, slightly disappointed that he hadn’t paid attention to her words from last night. It had been one of the things she was most excited about. The location had been found, but it was the journey to said location that would hold all the fun that was finding such an artifact.

“I didn’t think you were coming.”

At this she stopped, turning around and nervously looking him over. It didn’t seem like he knew anything, but she had to be sure.

“I always come after school,” she murmured, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well sure, but when you didn’t show up to class, I had my doubts that you’d show up here,” he was nonchalant, but something inside him was irritated. That way she was so perfectly calm, much less while wearing a skirt. She didn’t seem to have any problem in the facts of her absence, and acted as though it never happened at all. “Speaking of which, I’d like to know why you missed my class?”

She stood awkwardly with her hands folded behind her back. She seemed very stiff, and he figured it must be the effects of her wearing the skirt. She seemed far less confident, boreline uncomfortable, which never happened in his presence. He’d made it clear what he thinks of her, and she’d never felt the need to mask her personality, nor her spunky attitude.

“Oh? Yes, I’m sorry to have worried you,” she paused, straightening up slightly before looking him in the eye as she lied to his face. “I was lingering in the hallway, and felt a bit nauseous, so I decided to stand outside for a minute. Unfortunately, there was a bump in the doorstep that I hadn’t seen before… I fell down and scuffed up my trousers, so I went home to change before walking here.”

The look of utter ‘this is horseshit’ on his face when she finished speaking was so evident, she had to look away in order to prevent herself from faltering. Truth be told, the thing he found most amusing was just how rehearsed the story had sounded. It was so well gone over in her head, and he could hear it in the evened spaces of her words.

“Is that the story you’re sticking with?” he tilted his head with an unconvinced expression.

She stopped for a second to think about her response, because clearly he wasn’t buying into any of this. She knew he wouldn’t, but the truth was far more embarrassing and she’d rather not have to retell the events of which she fell into this afternoon.

“It’s the one I have decided on, yes," she turns back to walk towards his office, choosing not to elaborate further. She decided that her response was good enough, and continued as if she wasn’t being incredibly vague and unconvincing.

He would get to the bottom of it, but if she was this defensive over what had happened, he would need to let her become comfortable again. She looked so out of place in a home she had resided in more than her own.

As they got started, he neglected to mention anything about the incident. He joined in the act of pretending all was well, but it didn’t settle her like he thought it might. As the night went on, she perhaps got even more tense than she was when she had arrived.

He watched her as she sat, decidedly uncomfortable in her attire. Her posture was not nearly as good as it normally was. Even when she is half asleep, she sits straight as an arrow, as if a string had been pulled through the entirety of her spine and was holding her up. Her shoulders were always back. It was so natural for her, that normally he would have thought a slumped and curved position was not possible.

Looking at her now, the best way he could describe her stature would be curled. She was curled in on herself. As though she was hiding, or protecting herself from something. It almost appeared that she was trying to shrink in on her already small form.

“Are you ready to talk about it now, or should I wait a little longer and make you a cup of tea?” Professor Jones tries his best to make his voice light and teasing, but the smile he has that often makes her grin back doesn’t even cause a twitch of her lips. Strange. She barely even glanced at him.

“Talk about what?” She just opens the file in front of her and starts to flip through it. She was clearly going to try and sweep it under the rug. He decided to let it go for now, hoping the work will distract them both enough to get back to normal. That is, until she shifts slightly and her skirt rides up her leg. Even through her stockings, he can see the bruise blossoming. Her knee was also partially skinned, the dried red that would become slightly scared was evident.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” he closed his book and tossed it aside, uncaring where it landed for the moment. “I was going to let it go, but now I can’t. What actually happened? And don't give me the ‘I tripped’ story again. You don’t get bruises on your lower thigh from tripping on a doorstep.”

Her face froze, and she shifted her skirt down to cover her knees again. It was too late to make up another story on the spot, not one convincing enough anyway. The best one she had come up with was the one he’d seen through the entire time. She sighed out and dropped her eyes to her hands. Her pride kept her from admitting what happened, because in her mind, nothing was more embarrassing than being treated the way she was for such unjustifiable reasons. She trusted her Professor, and he made her feel safe, but this was different. It concerned him.

Neither one of them had spoken about the circulating rumors, just let them hang in the air and ignored the stares from people as they walked by. Confronting the gossip meant that things might change, and she didn’t want them to. She was perfectly fine with the after school arrangement, the late nights that were ever so productive.

“There were two boys in the hallway that blocked me from getting to class,” she began, still looking down, and missing as his fist clenched against his palm. He knew those boys were up to no good, he’d been able to tell just by the way they walked in. “They shoved me into a corner and tried to get me to admit to… something. I denied it and they got upset, so they grabbed me by my pockets and tossed me to the ground. My trousers had gotten completely torn, and my leg was scuffed up, too.”

She rushed out the last of the words, and had to slowly even her breath so she wouldn’t cry. She’d cried her entire walk home, and decided after she changed that she wouldn’t cry over it again. It wasn’t like her to be so offended, but the things they said hurt more than the bruises and scrapes. She’d try and avoid telling him if she could, but of course, his curiosities were ever present.

“What did they try to get you to admit? You haven’t killed anyone, have you?” He said, his humor entering the scene even in this moment which was serious. She huffed a small laugh, feeling a bit better as she prepared herself for this next step. She needed to choose her words carefully, because what she said now would determine how things would go for the next several months.

“Professor, I think you may have been hearing rumors at school lately, ones concerning you and I,” she said slowly, watching for his reaction and eventually receiving a nod from him. Of course he’d heard the rumors, everyone had. She was surprised that the entire University faculty and staff hadn’t heard by now. “My classmates are convinced that because of such things that I am receiving special treatment.”

“You are receiving special treatment,” he reasoned, but she shook her head, and he gestured for her to continue.

“Not for doing the things they think I am,” she let out, the first tear escaping her eye, marking out a path on her cheek and dropping down to bleed a small stain onto her shirt. After that, more started following, and she couldn’t hold the choked sounds out of her voice any longer, either. “I have been called a lot of things in my life, most I can take, but for boys who claim to be gentlemen to corner me in a hallway and accuse me of prostituting myself for grades before throwing me down and calling me a whore is probably one of the worst feelings I’ve ever felt in my life.”

She instinctively did what she’d always done as a child. She sought comfort from outer warmth, from being touched. She wrapped her arms around herself and brought her knees to her chest, laying her chin atop her arms and closing her eyes tightly. She hated that she was breaking down here, in one of the only places she could seek comfort in, but thinking back to her horrible experience, and thinking that there could be plenty more ahead waiting for her was suffocating. She couldn’t help how pathetic she looked or sounded, though she’d like to bet she’ll regret it later.

She heard shifting in the room, and felt a dip in the couch beside her. She looked up to meet his eyes, and he placed a hand on her shoulder, using the other to take his glasses off and set them on the table. She had seen him without them before, as he usually discarded them when he grew tired, but she’d never been so close up to really see what he looked like without them. He looked younger, boyishly handsome.

“I’m sorry,” he was so soft spoken, and his eyes held so much compassion. He was a man in this field. He’d never had to deal with anything of this sort in his life, so he could never understand how devastating it must be to commit yourself to your studies and be treated like there was some ulterior motive, simply because of gender. He would never know how it feels to be called such things or be bullied over stupid jealousies. “I’ll make sure they get what they’re owed, alright?”

Immediately she turned to him with wide teary eyes, shaking her head rapidly. “No, please. If you involve yourself, It will only look worse.”

“I can’t just let it go. This is far more serious than you seem to be grasping-"

"Professor, I understand perfectly fine!"

"No, Scarlet, you clearly don't. What they did was wrong, no matter what reason they had," he pushes past the fact that he just called her by her first name. In every closeness they had by now achieved, that had been a line which wasn’t crossed until this moment.

His assertive tone made her straighten up her spine, and she forced onto her face a look of indifference. She knew he was only trying to help, but she would not let this get out of hand. She already earned a bad reputation on account of nothing but good natured studying and commitment to her field, and she would at some point have to draw the line as to where she stood in all of this.

“Professor Jones, I must insist that you do not say anything to the young men in your class. As much as I appreciate your willingness to help my case, I think it would be a bad idea to let you defend me, now.”

He seemed peeved, but not completely annoyed. Curious as he was to her reasoning, he felt it ridiculous to neglect his attempts. Why would she push away someone who was trying to help her?

“And why is that?”

She had to take a deep inhale in order to look him in the eye when she spoke her next words.

“Because they expect you to,” she was trying to convey the unspoken words to him as appropriately as possible, but of course, Henry was never as lady-like.

“Because they think we’re sleeping together.”

Well, bingo. He’d hit it right on the nose, and she had to duck her head to hide her flushed cheeks from his stone gaze. “Yes, that would be why.”

He sat back in his seat, looking at other objects in the room, and hoping they would help him to think about a solution. He couldn’t help but feel like this was a rather out of his hands situation. The students of his class had made up their minds about her, but maybe he could change that. Perhaps, he could expose the boys for their actions without calling on them directly.

“But we aren’t sleeping together.”

“No. We are not.” She tries hard to keep her voice level, though he can hear the slight catch in it. She’s still trying to hold back tears.

Henry sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look,” he starts, “it’s one thing to be accused of something you aren’t doing when it’s only rumors. They crossed a line when they approached you physically, and there has to be a way to address it.”

Again, she looked scared, or at least rather uncomfortable with his suggestion. He hadn’t been finished though, and held up his hand to allow room to continue.

“I have a friend in the office who owes me a favor. He might be able to address them without anyone else knowing about it, or that you ever told me anything.”

This, she decided, was a solution worth trying for. Her subtle nod made him quirk a small smile from the corner of his mouth. He nodded once too, and squeezed her shoulder as he leaned further back into the couch. She had begun relaxing immediately after that, and he felt he’d done something right in all this.

She was only to be his student, but he could not deny he wanted to protect her from such things as these. He’s not always the kindest hearted person in the world, but he felt that perhaps he may have done the same for another girl in his class, as it was simply the right thing to do. He wasn’t so sure, though, that he would be so gentle and tender around her like he was now with Scarlett. He tread so delicately, because God help him, he cared so much about how she reacted to things. His attachment to what was only supposed to be his student had far surpassed what should be considered normal.

Never before had he ever had a ‘teacher’s pet’ or a ‘professor’s lackey’, but it was plain as day to anyone, now. Scarlett Ledger was his favorite student.

“Thank you,” she started smiling at him, now knowing that her reputation would not be further damaged, and her assaulters would receive punishment. There was also another reason. “For helping me.”

“It’s no problem. What they did is not acceptable from anyone in my class, their actions will have consequences.”

They settled it there, and continued on with the work being done. Papers littered the floor an hour later as they worked, and though the hour was late, there was still so much to be done before the expedition took place. The question of her going still hung in the balance, and she had hoped that with all the work and time she had devoted, and perhaps a bit of Henry’s guilt from this situation being caused, he would allow her to join him.

He had been sat on the floor by now, handing papers and notes he’d written down to her where she sat on the couch, but as he went over some journal entries of the dear friend of his that handed this adventure over to him, he neglected to realize that the soft shuffle of papers behind him, along with the quiet sound of a pencil moving had ceased. When he finished with the journal entry, he had marked the lines he had wanted her to see and was about to hand it over… but when he turned around, Scarlett had fallen into a restful sleep. Her head laid on the arm of the couch, and her arms wrapped around herself to keep warm without a blanket.

He knew that in the groove he fell into that he wouldn’t be able to sleep for several more hours, but he didn’t want to just leave her on the couch in his office as he ruffled about his work when there was a perfectly comfortable and warm bed in his spare room. Normally, he would wake her, have her walk to the room herself and ready for the night… but she had gone through a hard day, and this was the first time since this morning that he had truly seen her relaxed. It would be just cruel to make her leave her state of slumber when he was very capable of just transporting her himself.

He sighed and stood up, careful when he lifted her from the couch, and trying his best not to crash into anything or trip over the items on the floor when he moved between rooms. Thankfully, he made it safely into the spare room with little to no obstacles, and set her on the bed as gently as he could. He rid her of the shoes she wore before tucking her in beneath the sheets and duvet that used to remain untouched until her nighttime stays. She turned her head on the pillow, her brow furrowing a small bit when she faced him. He hoped she hadn’t woken up, otherwise he just spent meticulous time in carrying her all for nothing. She took in a deep breath before releasing it, and her face returned to normal. Her expression was bliss, and he found himself staring for longer than he would care to admit.

Standing here, a thought entered and left his mind in a fleeting manner. It simply came, and went… but caused him to think more. The thought in question? She’s so beautiful. It would bury him, that thought. He begged his mind to never think it again, but on that tangent, a whole new slew of thoughts along those lines began to pile in his head like dug up dirt.

He needed to leave the room, that would help.

“You’re gonna get me in some real trouble, kid.”

He walked out and back to his office, continuing to study his work, but finding that he retained no information on the account of his racing thoughts yet again. He sat back and raked a hand through his hair and down over his face before leaning forward to try and perhaps balance out all these intrusive thoughts with things he found annoying. He started with just a few things he often found to be peeving or invasive: She nags at him about the temperature he keeps his home, finding it too difficult to focus if she’s cold. She is constantly telling him how bad his handwriting is, hoping he will make an effort to write more legibly for her own sake. She reorganizes his work often, and it bothers him that he can’t find anything afterwards without her help. She raided his kitchen the first day she arrived, and mocked his eating habits while doing so… but in all fairness, she did make dinner and stop the work to allow time to eat. She had also been the one to help him arrange lessons when he was falling behind from other work. She was there to talk with him when he’d been stressed about the day from the events that occured. She was-

It was right then that he realized how truly and downright domestic their relationship had become. It washed over him in the most uncomfortable way, and clung to him like wet clothes on your back. He tossed the paper in his other hand to the floor and tried his best to make sense of any of it… but whenever he thought he was getting close to an answer it returned to bite him in the ass through a new slew of questions.

This type of thinking was dangerous. They had crossed so many lines that should never have been crossed without even realizing. He hadn’t wanted to believe there would ever be any weight to the rumors at the University, but sitting here alone in this room, having just tucked Scarlett into bed one room over, he suddenly felt completely and totally wrecked.

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misscammiedawn · 4 days

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Ange Ushiromiya's Recontextualized Memory and Unprocessed Trauma in Umineko No Naku Kori Ni

CW: Full spoilers for Umineko, a mystery visual novel game which is best enjoyed without knowing spoilers in advance. The game and thus this essay will feature discussion of child abuse and suicide.

For those unfamiliar with my blog I have a tag called Media, Myself and I where I talk about positive/accurate representation of dissociative disorders in media.

Today I want to talk about Umineko No Naku Kori Ni the third and fourth titles in 07th Expansion's "When They Cry" franchise. The game is a multi-layered fiction that starts off as an Agatha Christie inspired closed circle murder mystery taking place during the weekend of October 4th 1986. The murder mystery displayed has no more than 18 humans stranded on an island in the middle of a storm and the audience is invited to try to work out the mystery of what happened.

As the story progresses the audience are presented with a number of different possibilities, each an in-universe attempt to rationalize the tragedy that took place and killed all but two members of the Ushiromiya family.

It is eventually revealed that to the eyes of the world, no more than 18 humans were on the island that weekend and only one returned to their life afterwards. Some in the world have been quite focused on working out what happened during that weekend.

It's a complicated narrative that has multiple layers and each layer communicates not only with the audience reading the game but an audience of people in-universe trying to solve the mystery as well. When we first experienced the game we had joked that it was sold to us as Anime Homestuck but it ended up being Anime House of Leaves.

The easiest way to describe the narrative structure is that the first 7 episodes of the game, each containing about 20 hours of narrative, have within them a fictionalized version of events written in-universe by people who may or may not have been present at the event with episode 8 is mostly its own thing. To explain in further detail would distract. The point is Umineko is a complicated narrative and there is too much to cover a play-by-play.

The narrative is intentionally convoluted and contradictory with part of the fun of playing the game being to work out what events are true and what the rules are for discerning "magic" from "truth".

Even with a concept as seemingly opaque as Truth, there is the often quoted "Without love it cannot be seen" motif, that our emotional connection to events will always color how we interpret events.

The story is remarkably long. How Long To Beat puts each half of the game up at about 60 hours. So that's 120 hours of pure reading with very little gameplay.

There are multiple plural characters ("Oh, I am one yet many", indeed) and we shall discuss them in due course, but for clarity I wish to focus my discussion today upon the relationship between a survivor and their histories. The novel has much to say on the topic.

The above image discussing the nature of truth is from Episode 4, the chapter where the protagonist is Ange Ushiromiya. Younger sister of the protagonist of the first Episodes, Battler Ushiromiya.

Ange, 6 years old at the time, was sick on the weekend of October 4th 1986 and was not present on the island for the massacre. One weekend she had a full and lively family and then in the span of a single week everyone she had a connection to was killed in unknowable circumstances, she was whisked away to live with her aunt, the sole survivor of the tragedy, and would live the life of a cursed child, forever haunted by the tragedy that stole away her life.

Ange's story takes place in "The World of 1998" where she seeks The Truth. She states multiple times how she is incapable of going on with her life until she knows The Truth.

The events of 1986 are presented via "forgeries", published stories which tell the story of the 1986 tragedy utilizing facts that are known about the family. Ange pours through them, attempting to uncover the truth. She suspects her aunt may be responsible. Why wouldn't she harbor suspicions? Aunt Eva was the only one of the no more than 18 humans to leave the island and became the sole inheritor of the Ushiromiya family fortune.

Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is formed when an individual endures long-lasting and repeated bouts of ongoing trauma, typically in childhood. Survivors often find themselves caught in an inescapable cycle of grieving that lasts months and years beyond the loss and remains fresh and raw in spite of the time and changes that have occurred since the event. The individual is tethered to the past by an inability to move on from their loss. In psychology this is referred to as Complicated Grief and though it is most commonly discussed with death, it can present itself for grieving lost time, stolen youth and lives unlived.

Ange is riddled with Complicated Grief. Her story takes place 12 years after the events on the island of Rokkenjima and yet she constantly tells those around her that she is unable to live without knowing the truth. Ange's unprocessed grief is unearthed when her aunt, the only survivor of the massacre, passes away while maliciously refusing to give Ange any insight into the truth that she alone knew, twisting the knife as she turned over the family fortune to a child that was not her own beloved George.

Ange's sole reason for existing is to make peace with the tragedy of her past and Eva's final act was to tell her she would never have it and would instead live a cursed life of a victim in the public's eye. Eternally scrutinized and criticized.

Ange, now knowing that the only chance she had to be given the truth and still feeling that she needs it in order to live her life, runs away and starts a journey to either make peace with her tortured past or end her own life.

Ange's suicidal tendencies are played up dramatically and much of the final episode is the conflict between Ange's inability to live with her grief being played out in hyperbolic fiction. The stakes of the story amounting to "will she be able to live after learning The Truth."

But what is Truth? Would learning who is responsible for her family's death truly give her peace or would it only serve to trap her further in her endless cycle of grief?

Trauma therapy tends not to focus on Talk Therapy for the most part as such therapy indulges a survivor to dwell on their unprocessed traumas and will only serve to retraumatize the client. In many cases it is detrimental to perform Motivational Interviewing (reflective statements designed to display to a client that the clinician is listening and interpreting their words without offering direct guidance or intervention) or Rogerian "person centered" (a similar tactic designed to keep a client talking without engaging in a back-and-forth, every reply should be a prompt that inspires the client to continue sharing without boundaries and reach their own conclusions) techniques.

The reason why is that these forms of therapy have a belief that "the client holds all of the answers" and the clinician's job is to let the client get out of their own way and walk towards the answer. It is a solutions based therapy where the client is trusted to clear cognitive distortions and navigate around mental blocks between themselves and what they need.

Ange's stated goals are far from healthy.

In survivors their Core Beliefs are informed by their trauma. Those who were raised in a house of neglect may have an unresolved core belief that they are unworthy of love, those who feel shame and guilt for what happened/how they were treated may have a belief that "I should have..." - A helpful list of common negative core beliefs and positive beliefs that can be instilled, click here.

Trauma therapy contains an element of identifying these beliefs and where they originated and working to overcome them. There are many different therapies in the world that attempt to do this but they all include some element of processing trauma, accepting trauma and committing to the future.

In Ange's case she does not need to know what happened in order to live. She has to accept what happened and live.

To make this clear, should Ange learn what is presented to be The Truth it will break her and she will be unable to accept it and in doing so ends up unable to live.

All of this is a prologue to talk about acceptance and our emotional connection to memory.

Prior to Eva's death, Ange was raised in a boarding school where she was ruthlessly bullied by the other students. Both Ange and her aunt are in the public eye for the scandal associated with the Rokkenjima massacre and Eva actively despises Ange and refuses to give her the care, nurture and privilege that the other students of the rich academy enjoy.

She lives a lonely and cursed life. Her one solace is getting to find time alone to sit and read her cousin Maria's "Grimoire", her journal. When she reads the journal she can clearly picture her cousin in her mind and interact with her. A form of "magic" that Maria taught Ange back when the two of them were friends, prior to the massacre in which Maria lost her life. In the past Maria had created a magical society called Mariage Sorciere and Ange was one of the members before being excommunicated.

We'll discuss it further in a while however while introducing Maria I wish to note that she was most likely forming a dissociative disorder prior to the massacre. The series writer Ryukishi07 was a social worker prior to his career in visual novels. He does a remarkably good job of displaying how abusive and neglectful family dynamics can impact a young mind. Maria, despite being 9 years old, has speech patterns linked to an infant's maturity, she often switches into a "witch" persona and she will hold up her stuffed animals and voice out their speech, treating them like separate individuals. She is bullied at school and her mother hits her when she does this but she is incapable of acting any other way. It's who she is.

A small portion of the second chapter even having some of the cousins stop to discuss the possibility that her overactive imagination and play-acting may contain elements of dissociative identity disorder. It's never fully confirmed and she dies at age 9, but Ryukishi07 displays a convincing depiction of extreme childhood neglect that would lead to a severe dissociative disorder had she have grown up.

We learn throughout the story that her journal contains sketches of many magical entities impressed upon the servants of the island and toys that Maria has. These entities becoming the magical cast of the "Gameboard".

Though not the focus of this particular essay, each episode of the game is depicted as a chess match between a game master (representing the author of a murder mystery) and an opponent (representing the reader trying to solve the mystery) and these matches take place in a world of purgatory. This world is populated by a magical cast of characters each of whom is paired with a member of the mundane cast on the island.

The game often repeats that it takes "two to create a universe". There needs to be one to imagine it and one to perceive it and mark it as real. This is displayed on the gameboard but it is also displayed with the way that for every imagined character who exists as part of the magical cast, there is the one who imagines and then there is one who their imagination is displayed onto.

Maria is a child of extreme neglect, as we will discuss soon, she had no one to displace her imagination upon (spare for her mother who she imagined as being possessed by an evil witch when she became violently abusive) and so she imbued life into her toys. Bringing Sakutarou, her stuffed lion doll, and her band of toy rabbits to life. This earned her the title "Witch of origins".

The magic in the game's universe operates on a rule that "it takes two to create a universe" logic. The concepts of Magic and Love being intertwined. "Without love it cannot be seen" has many meanings but in terms of creation it means that anyone can apply "the anti-magic toxin" of mistrust/disbelief by simply rejecting another person's reality.

So much of the magic and love in this world is built on trust and being able to believe in that which is shared. The concept is explored from many angles throughout the game, Episode 6 focusing on love in the form of trust between a writer and a reader and the contract between them requiring a murder mystery to be solvable and for a reader to earnestly engage with the fiction and accept it as it is written.

Within Mariage Sorciere, this love is to accept that the characters and imaginings of its members. To be a member is to accept all as it is presented. Sakutarou is a magical lion boy who speaks. To doubt this is to be excommunicated from the order, which is why Ange was kicked out of the witches alliance. To say Sakutarou wasn't real was tantamount to trying to kill him.

Maria's love is without doubt. In Episode 7 we learn that she is not capable of viewing people as anything more than how they present to the world. Her imagination paints how she perceives the world. When her mother's behavior drastically shifts when she enters a violent and abusive rage she firmly believes that her mother has been possessed by a cruel witch.

When a familiar adult approaches her speaking as the Golden Witch Beatrice, she does not see the adult. She only sees Beato. This is vital to her testimony throughout the game regarding the murder mysteries.

One last thing I wish to go over during this analysis of Ange and Maria and their relationship to their traumatic childhoods. That is the title of witch.

By now I hope it's been made clear that magic is imagination and love is trust. Whether it be testimony being believed, the contract between author and reader or the inner reality of one being seen and regarded and acknowledged by another.

As someone with DID, I like this concept a lot. It would be so easy to simply dismiss our condition and the presentations. But with love it can be seen.

The game shows a number of different types of witch. From the witch of origins who can make new imaginings that do not require another person to validate them to the Golden witch who has enough money to make reality via sheer financial coercion or the witch of truth who can make reality by asserting it to be so or witch of resurrection who can keep those who died alive in their memory.

Each witch is using their magical ability to "create" by taking their imagination and moving it out into the world. The Witch of Truth is a detective whose deductions are believed to be fact even if the accused disagrees. The Golden Witch can take any scheme or desire and pay people to make it a reality.

And Ange, the Witch of Resurrections, can bring back the dead by remembering them and keeping their voices in her heart. They live on in her writing. In her words. In her memory. So when she reads Maria's journal she can bring the Maria of 1986 into the world of 1998. When she reads of Maria's magical companions they can accompany her.

With this context, we return to Ange in her teen years.

Lonely and consumed by grief she is only able to find solace in imagining Maria with her, imagining Maria having forgiven her for saying Sakutarou wasn't real.

As she accepts the role of apprentice witch she is allowed to perceive Maria and her menagerie of imaginary friends.

Though there's a certain amount of strain and physical discomfort in maintaining the thought process of so many at once. Maria is able to do it remarkably easy but Ange has to struggle.

It's okay, Ange, dissociation headaches are an absolute bitch. They get better after a certain amount of stabilizing and communication work.

All the while she reads about Maria's home life.

To break the essay structure and be real for a moment. This segment hit me hard. I choked up crying and needed to take a break from the game for a while. The depiction of child neglect and abuse was too real and I feel it serves the fiction to depict it as such but it is a hard read. Please be kind to yourself as you read on.

Rosa Ushiromiya is the youngest of the Ushiromiya children, furthest from the inheritance and least respected of Kinzo's progeny. She likely suffered a large amount of abuse and neglect in her own childhood both physical from the eldest sibling, Kraus, emotional/psychological from her sister Eva and a combination of both from her other brother Rudolf.

Children raised in abusive households are more likely to develop personality disorders born from attachment trauma. A typical display of this is dichotomous thinking, praising and devaluing the same subject in waves based on stimulus. Within Borderline Personality Disorder, for instance, this is where the concept of Splitting and Black and White Thinking come from.

For Rosa, this manifests with her mood swings that have her violently scream and hit her daughter before lavishing her with apologies, affection and attention.

Every character in Umineko is burdened with a painful past. Each character feels the need to displace that pain outwards and project it onto other people. For instance Rosa displaces her pain onto Maria. Both of Ange's aunts displace theirs onto her. Kyrie displaces hers onto Battler.

Generational trauma is a heavy theme of this game.

Rosa makes her way as the head of a small fashion design label though she does not see a lot of success in her role. Early in adulthood she had a relationship that ended with her pregnant with Maria. Maria's father, upon learning of the pregnancy, left.

Rosa is young, lonely and feels that having a child makes it difficult for her to find love; in the time and culture of 1980s Japan being a single mother was seen as shameful. She finds that the best way she is able to date is to act like she does not have a daughter and take extended vacations across the country on weekends with her dates.

Leaving her daughter home alone.

Rosa has a number of hang-ups about the optics of leaving Maria in someone else's care, she is shown on multiple occasions in the story to fly into a rage when her ability to be a parent is put into question and she has massive cognitive dissonance in that she cannot bare to be seen as a bad mother and so she acts like a horrible mother to avoid looking bad.

I have seen a lot of debate on the logic here and first off, anyone who approaches this story with a view of "it does not make sense that a character acted this way" lacks the Love required to enjoy this story in full. The author enters a firm agreement with the audience to work within the confines of the fiction and not to disrespect the fiction by rejecting that which is offered. He will deceive us but never lie. In that we have to believe in the story.

But it's also a sign of those who have grown up with a proud optics obsessed parent and those who did not. Sad to say, I have experienced a few of the things which happen in this chapter and I have no doubt that Ryukishi07 saw some of it in his social worker career.

When Rosa leaves Maria alone at home, for days at a time, she orders her to never make anyone aware of her situation. More important than anything else never speak to the police about what goes on in this house.

That. I have lived that one.

What Ange reads and what Maria shows us in this episode is a weekend where Maria is home alone, her mother having forgotten a promise that was made to her and Maria is locked out of her house. She spends an entire evening searching for the lost key and eventually needs to seek a friendly store worker who recognizes her to get help.

This leads to police intervention, a social worker showing up at Rosa's house and...

I glossed over a lot. This is a dense book and this story takes up much of Episode 4. Suffice to say, Maria's friend Sakutarou was murdered in retaliation for Maria summoning attention of Rosa's bad parenting. Rosa abandoned her daughter for a full weekend after breaking a promise and when she was locked out and defenseless she asked for help and was violently punished for doing so.

Another function of the witch of origins is the ability to break the cycle of generational abuse. She does not take her pain and push it into someone else, she creates an imagined evil mother to hate and fear while continuing to love her 'real' mother. This way she never has to doubt the love she has for the mother who she has happy memories of and who custom crafted a lovely plush lion just for her.

Which leads to the discussion of trauma, memory and processing.

Ange, upon reading this story is crestfallen. She views Maria as a pitiable child, only to be confronted by MARIA who defends Rosa. Arguing that she legitimately forgot her promise, rather than deciding that her daughter was not worth the time or effort.

She claims constantly that Rosa is a good mother and that she is happy.

Maria, a being who can only view the world with love, despite being abused and hurt; chose to be happy and so through her magic it was so. She was happy.

There's a misconception I have seen and I will admit I held for myself upon reading Episode 4 that Maria was preaching to deceive ones own self in order to be happy. That it was enabling and accepting of her own abuse.

But this is actually one of the deepest things Umineko has to say about generational trauma...

Chapter 8 revisits the idea with a version of the gameboard where the Ange of 1986 is allowed to be on the island, something which was impossible because in truth she was not. Not even the witch of miracles could change that which is certain.

In this game, set by Ange's older brother BATTLER, the 6 year old Ange is treated to a fun halloween party with her aunt Eva run by her loving family. Throughout the entire story Grandfather Kinzo was made out to be the source of all evil and in this episode he is displayed as a kind and loving grandfather.

The entire reason I wanted to write this post and include it in my Media, Myself and I series (in lieu of discussing the overt plurality in the game, even) was due to a conversation Ange has with Battler about this deception.

Source: LP Archives - The full conversation can be found on this page for anyone who wants the full breakdown.

The entire story of Umineko is a struggle for those who experienced horrors to be able to come to terms with their memories and process them. This is true for Ange, it is true for Maria and it is true for the other members of the cast also.

Memory is malleable and uncertain and can and does become distorted due to understandings and contexts gained at a later stage, particularly when bias is in play.

For a graphic of how this works please look at this:

Source

The more a memory is reactivated the more it is eroded of its initial context and additional contexts bleed in. For Ange's circumstance she remembers her parents through the lens of knowing that her father was embroiled in legal troubles from his womanizing behavior. It is unlikely a 6 year old Ange remembers Rudolf in this light but her view of her father is painted through this lens and thus when she retrieves these memories the present context forces itself into the past.

This is just how the human mind works.

EMDR and other trauma treatments are focused on hijacking this system. When a traumatic memory plays out the amygdala processes the emotions and sense of danger which activates the nervous system. This process does not even require a conscious recollection; should a trauma memory be associated with a certain scent the nervous system will activate upon smelling it even if the survivor does not recall the event attached to the stimulus, the amygdala most certainly does.

I have spent too much of my life considering which of our memories had lavender scenting…

For EMDR the process involves retrieving the traumatic memory without allowing the client to reexperience it while ensuring they do so within the context of the present while highlighting safety and security. This allows the memory to be filtered through without the activating the nervous system. In some therapies this can be a process of re-parenting in which the emotional absence is provided either by the self or via a proxy. The idea is to allow the memory to break association with the trauma and be decontextualize until the memory no longer has negative associations.

Where I had assumed Maria's choice to be happy and think the best of her abuser was an act of enabling and self-deception, I now see was an attempt to stop dwelling on the negatives of the situation and allowing the past trauma to become a defining point within the present.

Maria cannot choose what happened to her. She can choose how she intends to live with what happened with her. She cannot know for certain what Rosa's motivation was in her actions. In fact as we go through the game the audience comes to be given some sympathetic information which though can never redeem Rosa's terrible parenting, can allow one inclined to feel sympathy for her. Like everyone else in the game, she's a victim too. Quite literally in 1986.

There's no way of knowing if she maliciously lied to her child and went off on vacation abandoning her or if she legitimately forgot her promise. No one is arguing that what Rosa did was forgivable. But it helps Maria continue living a happy existence knowing that she was loved and that the good memories she has of her mother are true, even if the bad ones are also true.

Maria, filled with love as she is, elected to see The Good Mommy and The Bad Mommy. Is this right or wrong? It's unimportant. What matters is if Maria can be happy.

Sakutarou was a stuffed lion said to be handcrafted by Rosa. Given as a gift and beloved above all things for Maria. When Rosa destroyed the Sakutarou doll the lion cub boy died and could not be resurrected by Beatrice because it was a unique item created by Rosa.

In Chapter 4's conclusion, Ange does the impossible and resurrects Sakutarou. She does this because Sakutarou was never a custom made doll crafed with love. He was a mass produced toy sold in travel gift stores that Rosa happened to pick up on her way home. She lied. Ange never tells Maria this. The miracle of Sakutarou's rebirth is enough. Knowing that the beloved handmade toy was not hand-crafted would not make Maria's life any better. Sometimes believing in magic is the best thing for someone living in a world painted by despair.

Funny that Ange understood that much for Maria and yet still sought after the One Truth up until the very end.

The finale of the game comes down to presenting this option to the player and by proxy Ange herself.

In a world where you cannot change the past and you cannot fully accept what happened, is it better to continue digging up the past and re-experiencing the trauma in hopes that there lays a truth that will make it all finally make sense or to try to make peace with the past and find moments of peace to hold onto. Holding to hate and pain only serves to bring the pain of the past into the present.

Ange, the witch of resurrection, has the ability to keep her family with her long after their death. Should she be haunted by the family that she was deprived or be happy for the limited memories she had and not be tethered to a world of the past she could never have possibly been part of.

Healing in Umineko is accepting love and making peace with loss. It is learning to live unburdened by tragedy and do the best with what was done to us.

If we cannot let go then we'll continue living in the world of the past turning over the events over and over trying to make sense of it and even if we are somehow granted the magical context, the one and only shining truth... it will only serve to make things worse. You can keep the past alive without letting the past control your future.

And Umineko does a remarkably good job of showing that.

Gosh... that took far longer than I'd hoped. Umineko is a difficult piece of fiction to type about because so much of it is subjective and hard to present to a broad audience without providing ample context.

I'd hoped to talk about Yasu's DID but I suppose that shall have to await another update. My original draft for this discussion was to discuss the different forms of dissociative amnesia with Ange's story serving as an example of how recontextualizing memory works. I may yet go back and do a full amnesia based ramble in the coming months. I just needed to get at least one aspect of Umineko drafted as it's been living rent free in my brain since December.

If you enjoyed this breakdown and found it interesting, please check out some of my other Media, Myself and I essays.

Derealization in Night in the Woods and Metal gear Solid 2 - Describing the sensation of derealization where the brain stops connecting associations between the self and the things one perceives in their surroundings. One example displaying how this impacts a person living with DPDR and the other showing an example of a game attempting to make a player share the experience with the player character.

DID and the healing process in Mr. Robot - A run down of the experiences of discovery, exploration, rejection and healing within DID as displayed in each season of Mr. Robot, along with a disappointed rundown of why the final episode fumbled the ball.

Bruce Banner and the roles of his alters - A breakdown of the formation of The Incredible Hulk's DID and what roles his many alters play.

Romantic relationships with systems - A look at the marriage between Bruce Banner and Betty Talbot-Ross Banner in Hulk comics and a frank discussion between Betty and one of Bruce's alters about how relationships function in a system.

Personality Play in Penlight - A review of one of the routes for a hypnokink visual novel called Penlight in which the protagonist hypnotizes a woman to have an alter personality, along with some descriptions of how dangerous play like that works in real life and what the consequences could be.

#dawn posting #umineko #ange ushiromiya #maria ushiromiya #ahaha.wav #media myself and i #media essays

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steamberrystudio · 8 months

Text

27/08/2023

So now that Gilded Shadows is wrapping up, I am promoting When Stars Collide from "Spare time project" to "Part time project"

What is the difference? Well, when I work on something in my spare time, that means it is late at night or the weekend. Literally when I am not doing anything else and just feel like tinkering with it.

As a part time project, this means that I will be spending an hour or two each day during the work week to do things for this project. It will start making more steady progress even if I'm not focusing on it full time.

This is basically taking it from me spending 0 - 4 hours on it a week to 8-10 hours on it a week.

My goal is to have the draft complete before the end of the year (by 'draft', I mean 'rough draft'). But more on that below.

Summary

Finished all scenes for the new chapter three

Finished Yren chapter 6 scenes

Started catching Kav's route up to the others

Edited Asher's CG to account for the new conference room BG

Small adjustments to Wil's first CG

Ramble

This week my big focus for WSC has been on writing. As I mentioned, I really want to get the rough draft completed by the end of the year. Currently the draft is nearly 70% complete (for those following updates in multiple places, when you see different percentages....it's because I've written more since then. Rofl).

Now, the draft was nearly 70% in the past as well but I added another route since then, so I lost some progress due to the increase in target word count. I'm also calculating things more precisely now as I created a newer and fancier writing spreadsheet to track my progress and keep myself on track.

I went back and wrote in the new chapter 3, reorganising all the existing chapters and scenes to accommodate it.

I finished Yren chapter 6 (which catches him up to Noel and Raif).

And now I'm working on catching Kav, the new character, up to Yren, Noel, and Raif. (Remember, Daaz and Asher's routes are already fully drafted).

I have written about 15000 words since my last update here. I don't expect to write that much every week and my goal is actually a fair bit more modest than that. Gilded Shadows is not 100% complete yet. I still have multiple KS related things to finish and, of course, I will be making corrections and focusing on its beta testing once testers have had a bit more time with it.

WSC is still a part time project. This was just a particularly good week for it.

I have also worked on a few other things for WSC - mostly UI related and some art related things.

I received a new BG since my last update, and realised that...I have to revamp all the existing CGs. Or at least update them to change the background elements. I've only edited one so far but I don't think it'll be too much effort to fix the others.

And I continue to streamline and adjust the UI to make it look nicer and be more efficient.

So...

Kav. The new character. Kav'isari Tiaine, a Ka'mérian crew member who works in the space labs most of the time and specialises in identifying alien technology (what species it belongs to and what it does).

To explain where Kav came from, he actually popped into my head months ago. And every so often, I would contemplate whether or not I wanted to add him. I would say I first had the idea in January or February of this year. I would repeatedly think about it and dismiss it.

I then mentioned it to a friend sort of off-handedly back at the very beginning of June. A month and a half later, I mentioned him on a voice call on my server knowing full well that if I really talked about him and had a conversation about him, I would probably end up doing enough character brainstorming that he would become "real." And I talked about him anyway.

And that's exactly how he became an actual character. I think I had his sprite sketched out by the end of that day.

But he had existed as a concept long before that. The main reason I was willing to add him instead of ruthlessly telling myself no is just that I felt there was a gap in the cast for a gadfly style character who has a little mystery to him. And I just knew I could manage another route based on the length of Asher and Daaz's routes.

So...yeah. That is how Kav came into being. His introduction into the story has caused a few minor changes to standing lore or things in the prologue (just mentions of him, etc). But the changes to the currently public content of the game are pretty minor.

Kav won't actually appear in the game until Chapter 3. He gets mentioned a few times up to that point. There are some logistical considerations to his route but I have talked about those more on Patreon.

Speaking of Patreon, now that WSC is moved into "part time" status, I will be starting to slowly release some Patreon-exclusive lore posts for this game there. Like most games monetised through Patreon content, the lore posts will not be critical to having a full and complete game experience. Rather, it is going to be comprised of additional and extra lore content.

Some of the lore content released on Patreon will be in the game (such as character back stories) but Patrons will get to see it early and will get it presented in a different format.

Much of the content can be considered "extras" rather than necessary.

I will also be updating on the development progress weekly there (available to all patrons) rather than bi-weekly, and my updates there (going forward) will tend to be more detailed than the ones here.

Once episode releases start, Patrons will be able to access them before they the public releases. But backing on Patreon is not necessary to be able to play the game and get a full and complete game experience. It's just how this particular game will be monetised as I'm looking for more sustainable release styles so I can continue to make games.

That is all for this update. I will see you in a couple of weeks to talk about WSC again!

#when stars collide #updates #amare game #indie otome

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eretzyisrael · 1 month

Text

by Dave Rich

On the other hand, some of those central London synagogues have got into the habit of changing their service times on days when there are anti-Israel demonstrations so their congregants can vacate the area before the protestors turn up; and there are usually police stationed outside, just in case. And a lot of other Jewish Londoners, the ones who live in the suburbs and might otherwise go into central London on a Saturday to shop, visit an exhibition or a museum or do whatever other people do in central London at the weekend, will be staying at home. So maybe not a no-go zone, but also not a normal, sustainable state of affairs.

It shouldn’t be hard to understand why this is the case. Imagine you are a Jewish person who lives in Golders Green. On the morning of Monday 9th October you woke up to find that somebody had painted “FREE PALESTINE” in massive letters across the two railway bridges that you walk under on your way to the tube station to get to work. I find it hard to believe it’s a coincidence that this happened in the best-known Jewish neighbourhood in the whole country: it looked very much like an attempt to intimidate the Jewish community.

Or perhaps you are one of the hundreds of British Jews who has had “Free Palestine” shouted at you in the street by a random stranger, in an act of racist hostility because they spotted a Jew. It’s unsurprising you might not want to put yourself in that same position again, but this time with tens of thousands shouting that same slogan.

I’ve written before about the unknowability of how many of these marchers are simply expressing genuine human rights concerns; how many are motivated by utter hatred of Israel; and how many are using it as a cloak for their antisemitism. We do know that all three types are present on most of these demonstrations, and we like to tell ourselves that the ones fuelled by hatred of Israel and Jews rather than compassion for Palestinians are in the minority, but really, who knows? Especially now that the hundreds of thousands of part-time protestors have drifted away and the demonstrations have reduced down to a hardcore of 20,000 or so true believers.

When people think of a “hate march” they tend to picture mobs of skinheads rampaging through neighbourhoods, beating up anyone they take a dislike to. Or perhaps violent jihadists seeking out their next terror victim. That is not what is happening in central London each weekend. These marches are mostly well-behaved with hardly any violence at all. If you are Jewish and happen to be standing by the side of the road as one of these marches passes by, you will probably be fine.

But a lot hinges on that word: “probably”. Nobody wants to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, and since 7 October there have been a lot more wrong places and wrong times for Jews than previously. Just ask Duche Sorotzkin, who was attacked in Trafalgar Square after one march.

#london #no go zones #jews #british jews #protest #antisemitism

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 3 months

Note

Hello To All!

Hope you all are enjoying your weekend! I read on my phone and I’m not able to find stories. If there’s a way, please tell me how.

Please suggest adult stories for me with a great/happy ending. I prefer chapter stories of adult Klaine. Any suggestions are welcome. Need something to read tonight. Thank you for all you do!

Hello, when I search from my phone, I go onto our libary blog and into the "magnifying glass/search" at the top. I type in a particular word like "adult" or "enemies to lovers" and then a whole lot of previously recommended fics appear. Alternatively download A03 app, and you can search and filter on it.

Also on AO3 check out our 2023 Klainebingo which has 191 tagged stories written 2016-23 that fandom have recommended - not all adult klaine, but definitely worth looking at.

What I've done is made a list of recommendations here of some of Klaine fics I've enjoyed, where they are adults, or mostly post college age. Some newer, some older. ~ Jen

Seven by @scatterthestars

How far would you go for someone you love? For Kurt, that means doing the unimaginable. But if it means saving his dad, he's willing to take that risk. A risk that has him leaving his home to go states away to spend a week with the last person he ever expected to meet. Over the course of the next seven days, things don't go as planned, or thought.

Can seven days change everything?

~~~~~

Feel my heart's intention by @kurtsascot

Blaine started to hate Kurt on his first day. And it was a shame, really, because they could have been cute together.

~~~~~

Falling for You By @caramelcoffeeaddict Coffeeaddict80

A fic written based off a mash-up of these two prompts from the @gleepotluckbigbang prompt page -- Prompt1: During rehearsal I tripped and fell into the orchestra pit and landed on you Prompt2: I have to share a dressing room with the most obnoxious, self-centered jerk; and when you sent flowers to our dressing room, they took them assuming they were for them but they were really for me Featuring: Broadway!Kurt, PianoPlayer!Blaine, Obnoxious!Broadway!Sebastian

~~~~~

Rock, paper, scissors by @gleefulpoppet

Kurt and his seven-year-old daughter are moving from the hustle and bustle of New York to the Rocky Mountains for a fresh start. On a connecting flight from Atlanta, they meet a warmhearted man who captures their attention with his enthusiasm. Will they ever see him again? And even if they do, how will he fit into their new life?

~~~~~

Nashville! by @hkvoyage

Kurt lands the lead role in a new musical, but it flops during the previews. However, his performance captivates Nashville’s newest country music sensation. They share an instant connection and it grows deeper as they get to know each other. Will Kurt be able to save the musical and keep the man of his dreams? An AU meeting featuring country singer!Blaine and Broadway!Kurt.

~~~~~

Made to keep your body warm by @quizasvivamos

Blaine is a meteorologist who works as a weatherman for a local New York news station where he's especially well-known for predicting storms. But, when a huge nor'easter blows in and the news crew is trapped at the station for three days by snow, can he predict what happens when he meets a young new intern?

~~~~~

If music be by @blurglesmurfklaine

Kurt’s just trying to survive his last semester of college, which means making it through student teaching in one piece.

~~~~~

In my place by @heartsmadeofbooks

Blaine has always been shy and introverted, so after his father dies, he looks for comfort into his childhood dream - owning a bookstore. But then Kurt Hummel walks into his life, turning his dream into a complicated affair.

~~~~~

These inconvenient fireworks by @redheadgleek

After an unexpected Tony award, Kurt Hummel is Broadway's hottest up and coming star, which comes with expectations and some admirers that won't take a hint. When his best friend Elliott Gilbert suggests that they pretend to date to get the leeches to back off, Kurt takes him up on the idea. It's all working out great - until Kurt starts to fall hard for the dark-haired music director of his latest musical.

~~~~~

Scenes from December by @spaceorphan18

An exploration of Kurt's life throughout various Decembers. The story of family and how the definition of family changes over time.

~~~~~

Home away from home by @lilyvandersteen

Cooper buys a hotel sight unseen and asks Blaine to run it for him over the summer. Only, the hotel is a health and safety hazard and Inspectors Hummel and Abrams are hell-bent on closing it down. Can Blaine spruce the hotel up in time and save Cooper's investment?

~~~~~

Living Haphazard by anna_timberlake @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion

Have you ever thought of getting cheated by a house broker and getting to know that you had to stay with another stranger who was also cheated? What if you are getting stuck up with the stranger in the apartment due to unavoidable circumstances? What if you hate him as well as have a crush on him? What if you had to fight your inner self and the stranger? What if he agreed on helping you which can only happen in dreams? This is a real living haphazard, isn't it?

~~~~ Someone like you by @iconicklaine

Kurt and Blaine keep up their very own version of "When Harry Met Sally" for years, a friendship fraught with sexual tension and longing, until the agendas of Adele (yes, THE Adele), a bored NY socialite and a super-sweet hetero couple bring our boys together. The only problem is... they're both in committed relationships.

Note: This story is AU after "Sexy" and assumes Kurt and Blaine graduate from Dalton in the same year. In this future fic, set in 2025, Blaine is based off of Season 2 Blaine. Originally posted on LJ and S&C.

~~~~~

The Journeying By @flowerfan2

Freshly graduated from music school, Blaine is thrilled when he is chosen to stay in the cast when the production of Into the Woods he was lucky enough to be part of in Boston moves to Broadway. He knows it’s going to be hard returning to New York City – the scene of his epic breakup with his fiancé and the emotional meltdown which cost him his place at NYADA. But he’s determined that this time, everything will be different. Little does Blaine know that out of thousands of potential castmates, his director has chosen none other than Kurt Hummel to play the part of Jack. Blaine has worked hard to recover from their breakup three years ago, and struggles to find a new way to relate to Kurt and simultaneously protect himself, especially when tragedy strikes.

This story looks at what would have happened if Kurt and Blaine had reacted differently to the break up in 6x01 than they did in canon; if events hadn’t brought them back together as soon, and if forgiveness hadn’t come so easily.

#klaine fanfiction #fic finder #adult klaine #older klaine

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shina913 · 1 year

Text

Stalemate, Part 1 | MYG

Stalemate (Mini-series)

Definition: (1) Chess. a position of the pieces in which a player cannot move any piece except the king and cannot move the king without putting it in check. (2) any position or situation in which no action can be taken or progress made; deadlock

Pairing: Woodworker!Yoongi x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: breakup!AU; toxic relationships; angst; fluff; smut; heavy drama

Summary: "The truth is, I'm not afraid to take that gamble anymore...in the off-chance that I get lucky again and feel the way I felt when I was with you. I'd happily make that bet over and over."

Word count: 8.9K+ words

Warnings (more written in individual chapters): problematic exes; relationship insecurities; alcohol consumption; cussing; miscommunication; past infidelity (reader had an affair with a married man but not detailed); vulnerable confessions; protected sex; oral sex (F-receiving); breast/nipple play; dirty talk; jealousy; multiple orgasms; verbal confrontation; a terrible joke about wood 😑

A/N: Phew! What a way to break my month-long writing drought/limbo...jumping from one unfinished WIP to another. As I mentioned on the series masterlist, this is a nonlinear story so you'll see multiple time jumps. I tried to map out the timeline using "Now" and "Then" headings so I hope that helps!

I was also going to straight-shot this but Part 2 is still missing a couple of scenes so I hope to post that in the next day or two. Until then, here's some smangsty-angst!

Now…

Yoongi pushes the button of his key fob to lock his car then walks across the street toward an alleyway. Over a decade ago, this area, at this time of night was always questionable at best. But the neighborhood was changing and old warehouses like these were being converted into some tech start-up office, a pop-up restaurant, or sometimes, the occasional modern art gallery.

“Yoongi!”

His friend, Namjoon’s voice boomed through the loud chatter and house music. He rushes to greet him by the entrance with a hug.

“Hey, glad you could come out tonight!”

Yoongi scans the surroundings and nods in approval. He gasps, “Wow–this looks great, Joon!”

“Thanks, man. Do you like how we styled all of the light fixtures?”

Both men look up at the ceiling and marvel at the decor. “I think I might run out of adjectives tonight,” Yoongi laughs. “I love what you did with them. They look awesome!”

“Great to be friends with the supplier, huh?” Namjoon grinned, elbowing Yoongi playfully.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi answers wryly. “Only for you, Namjoonah.”

“Listen, I’d love to hang out and chat but there’s a lot of people here tonight. Lots of people to rub shoulders with, you know?”

“Aish, go ahead, man–it’s your night. I’ll be fine,” Yoongi smiles.

“Alright well, there’s an open bar set up in the patio and we’ve got people walking around with finger-foods. Just help yourself and have fun, yeah?”

After Namjoon walks away, Yoongi starts to walk deeper into the building and sees doors leading to an outdoor area to where a makeshift bar is set up. While he waits for the bartender to bring him his drink, he turns around to admire his friend’s place once more.

It had been a while since Yoongi had gone out on a weekend–by choice. He mostly preferred to stay in and be a recluse or occupy his time by working.

“Sir, your drink?”

Yoongi turns back toward the bar to take his beer. “Thanks,” he nods at the bartender, then drops a dollar in the tip jar.

As he starts to turn and walk away, he pauses while his vision lands on one corner, next to one of the multiple mobile sculptures installed in the space.

He watched from a distance as you carefully gazed at the exhibit, trying to find some deeper meaning or metaphor that it was trying to convey. Once you were ready to move onto another section of the gallery, your breath catches–and your eyes lock.

Then...

“Dude, where the hell are you? I’ve been waiting for over an hour,” Yoongi grumbled while he stood in a quiet corner to make a call. He’d been at the bar waiting for his friend, Namjoon to show up. It’s been a stressful week for him at work and he wanted to unwind and have a few drinks.

“Sorry, Yoongi. I sort of…ran into someone and now we’re talking about heading to her place–”

“Her?” Yoongi repeated, “Wha–you already hooked up with some chick?”

“I mean, I don’t know how it will turn out yet, Yoongi,” he chuckled on the other line. “We’re just talking. But if you want, I can still meet you? It’s just going to take me a little while,” Namjoon sputtered.

Yoongi groaned, knowing full well that once Namjoon had been roped in, it would be like trying to pull him out of quicksand. “You know what bro–just…don’t worry about it,” he concedes.

“A-are you sure? I could still–”

“It’s cool, Namjoonie. We’ll link up next time. Have a good night.” He signs off as sincerely as possible before hanging up.

Yoongi huffed, downed the rest of his beer then trudged back over to the bar. He motions to the bartender, who moved closer so he could place another drink order.

“Can I get a scotch, three fingers, no ice?”

******

It’s nearly 10:30 at night and you and your friend, Hyejin were still feeling the club’s vibe. It was a long weekend and you were intent on making a casual hookup or two.

“Anyway…we decided that things weren’t working out,” Hyejin shrugs. “We’re good though.”

You eyed her suspiciously. “Oh sure,” you say sarcastically, “Is that why you’re still fucking him?”

She giggled, clearly not planning on denying it. “I mean, he’s a nice guy and we started out as fuck-buddies…” she trailed off.

You rolled your eyes. “You need to start setting better boundaries, girl,” you say before taking a sip of your drink.

She shrugged, “I’m just living life. You should try it sometime!”

After you snort at her comment, she nudges your arm, bobbing her head toward the bar’s direction. “He looks yummy,” she remarks. You turn your head and made a quick assessment of the lonely patron she was gesturing at.

To your surprise, he turns his head in your direction. You met his gaze for a brief moment before he hastily turned away.

��He’s hot but a little too broody-looking,” you say dismissively even though you felt a flutter in the pit of your belly.

“So? You know what they say about those quiet, broody types…” Hyejin leans into your ear and whispers, “They’re freaks in the sheets!”

Your eyebrows knitted comically at her. “Who the hell said that?”

She clicked her teeth. “Me, duh!” She threw her head back in laughter, the music drowning out her drunken cackles. “Go get him–or I will,” she threatens.

Just then, he glances in your direction once more. But he’s unnerved by you and Hyejin staring straight at him so he turns away and looks down at his phone screen instead.

“I think he looked at me,” Hyejin said.

“Shut up, he looked at me!”

“You said he was too broody–”

“That didn’t mean that I was disinterested,” you cocked a warning eyebrow at her..

She laughed. “Well, what are you waiting for?” She dared.

You started to back away from her and grinned. “Slow your roll, babe…I’m going!”

You turned away from her and walked up to your target, his shoulders hunched over while he scrolled through his phone and alternately took a sip of his drink.

You ordered yourself a cocktail even though you technically already had one that you conveniently left behind where you previously stood.

You parked yourself on the seat next to him, pretending to scroll through your own phone while you gather up the courage. You see him from your peripheral view sneaking more glances at you.

When the bartender brings you your drink, the hottie to your left speaks out.

“Put her drink on my tab.”

The bartender’s eyebrow quirked. He looked at you then back at him. He gave him a small smile, nodded in acknowledgment, and walked away. You took it as your cue to finally start a conversation.

“Thanks, that’s nice of you,” you said, swiveling your seat in his direction, crossing your leg over the other.

“You’re welcome.”

The bartender serves your drink. As you pick it up, you raised your glass toward him. “Geonbae.”

“Geonbae,” he says as he raised his glass to tap it against yours.

After you both take a sip, you ask him straight away, “Are you here with anybody?” You were not wasting any more precious time.

“Well, I was waiting for a friend but he ditched me so I’m on my own tonight.”

“Oh no,” you feigned regret. “I hope you don’t mind if I keep you company for a bit? It’s the least I can do to thank you for this drink.”

Your boldness made him smile. “I’m Yoongi.”

“Nice to meet you, Yoongi. I’m YN.” He reached out for a handshake but you gave him a hug instead. It takes him by surprise but it’s a welcome one.

******

“So, you build furniture?”

“Yep. I design them and I build them,” he explains while you scroll through his company’s social media page.

“By yourself?”

He laughed. “Sometimes, if I can’t find reliable help,” he remarks, his laugh growing louder. “I mean, I do the designs by myself but I usually have a team who helps me with the production and assembly. I have my own workshop.”

“Wow,” you marveled and continued to scroll through his feed. “Your work is really good–and unique!”

“Thank you. I work with a lot of local suppliers–small businesses as well, like mine. It’s a great community,” he explains. “And by the way, your work looks great, too,” he says while he scrolls through your own social media feed.

“Oh, gosh–most of my moodboards are from random Pinterest concepts,” you respond.

“Ehh…I think you’re being too modest.” He zeroes in on a recent contract–one that you were really proud of. It was for a local restaurant chain that used to have a bland color palette and aesthetic until they hired you to liven it up for their first location expansion. Three locations later, they’ve been one of your most lucrative clients.

“You have a great eye,” he says before handing your phone back to you. You smile at his compliment while you return his phone.

“If you think my work is good, we should get together sometime.”

His eyebrow quirks at your remark, but he holds back his response thinking you might have misspoken. You smile at him and after taking a sip of your drink you say, “You know, I’m always looking into connecting with new vendors to partner with.”

He chuckled. “You think we can be partners?”

“Why not? I see a lot of potential for us. I work in design and you are a potential supplier...what’s the worst that can happen?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Our visions might not line up,” he responds with a hint of doubt.

You shrug. “Ever heard of compromising?”

He chuckled softly. “My work tends to come off too old-fashioned to some. It takes a different kind of audience.”

“So? Sometimes all it takes is a dash of old-fashioned,” you smile, raising your glass containing the same drink.

“Really?”

You lift a shoulder. “You need a little bitterness to balance the sweetness out.” You giggle at the cheesiness of that line.

“Point taken,” he says with a gummy smile, holding back his laughter.

******

The last thing you remember was Yoongi asking if you wanted to go to his place or yours–before everything went dark.

Your eyes flicker up to the ceiling.

As you adjust to the brightness of the room, you instinctively reach over by the nightstand to retrieve your phone to check for the time. It was a quarter past 8AM…and you were home…alone, as it seems when your head whips around to see the other side empty.

What happened?

You slowly pad your way into your living room. Maybe he was just trying to be polite and crashed on the couch.

Except, he wasn’t.

Did he just drop you off and leave? You clutch at your throbbing forehead. I’m getting too old for this shit, you thought to yourself. Still, you were worried about what happened to Yoongi.

You pull his number from your phone–at least, you think that you have his number.

“Aha,” you gasped when you find his name in your contacts list.

You realized it might still be too early but you thought you could just give him a call and leave him a voicemail just to make sure that he got home safely.

You open up your blinds to let get some more daylight in the room. By some twisted way, you found that it helped with your hangover.

While the other line trills, something catches your eye when you look out the window.

“Oh shit–” you say under your breath.

******

You approach his car and unsure whether to knock or let him be. He looked exhausted but you couldn’t just leave him out here.

You tapped your knuckles against the window and he immediately flinched. He looks around, seemingly surprised at his surroundings until his eyes land on you.

You gesture to open his door. When he does, you ask him, “Good morning. Would you like to come in for some coffee?”

******

He declines at first but you managed to convince him to come in. After a few sips of coffee, he insisted on cooking you breakfast.

You hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet and didn’t have much in your fridge except for some eggs and cheese. You had a couple of slices of bread in the pantry so he makes the most out of it. He is appreciative of the effort and continues to tell you that you didn’t need to go out of your way.

“So, do you always make breakfast for girls you pick up from the club?” You joke.

“Not really,” he laughs. “I also don’t fall asleep in my car after I’ve dropped them off.”

“You know you were welcome to sleep on the bed or the couch,” you say casually. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Nah, you were passed out and I didn’t want you to think that I was taking advantage of the situation or anything like that,” he reasons.

You smiled at how respectful and thoughtful he was. “I appreciate that. And…thank you for bringing me home.”

“You’re welcome.”

******

Days later...

“Bro, are you sure you can meet the deadline?”

Yoongi glanced at Namjoon, then scratched the back of his neck to think before he gave him an answer. He was feeling stressed with this client because they were fussy about the design. It took at least a dozen iterations of the collection before they finally approved it.

The deadline was fast approaching and Yoongi had fallen behind with the work. He’d have to pay his guys overtime and maybe even work on some of the pieces himself in the evenings to cover more ground.

“Tell them not to worry. Besides, when have I ever missed a delivery date for them?” Yoongi walks away and back into the workshop to check on how the other projects were progressing.

Namjoon nodded at Yoongi’s logic. No matter how stressful it got for him, Yoongi always managed to deliver the goods, and clients were satisfied each and every time. ”Alright, I’ll let them know.” He types a text to the client and sends Yoongi’s response.

After sending it off, he turns his attention back to Yoongi. “Hey, so–how’d you make out last weekend? Are we cool?”

The question seems to take Yoongi by surprise. “Huh? Why wouldn’t we be?”

Namjoon laughed. “Bro, this is me apologizing for abandoning you for a girl.”

“Oh.” Yoongi suddenly recalls the events leading up to how the night ended. “Uhm–nah, we’re cool. Besides, I did just fine,” he adds casually.

His friend’s mouth spread into a Cheshire cat grin. “Oof–you hooked up, didn’t you?”

Yoongi’s face scrunched in confusion. “Naaww…”

His laughter boomed from his chest. “Bro, I know you’re lying! Lemme see! Is she on social media?”

Yoongi clicked his teeth and groaned. “It wasn’t even like that.”

“So you did meet someone!”

He sighed, exasperated with his friend’s teasing. “Fine, I did. But nothing happened! We just hung out and I took her home.”

Unconvinced, Namjoon’s voice rose a few octaves. ”Whaaatt? Wait–so this the first girl you’ve hooked up with since–”

Yoongi waved his hand in mid-air to stop Namjoon from finishing his thought. “For the last time–she and I did not hook up,” he clarifies firmly. “We just had a nice conversation over a few drinks. Then I drove her back to her place…where I made her breakfast.”

Namjoon doubles over in laughter. “And you’re telling me that nothing happened?”

“Swear to god! After giving me her address, she fell asleep on the way there and I just carried her in. I slept in my car.”

“Wow…” Namjoon breathes out. “Look at you being all chivalrous!”

Yoong snorted at the comment.

“So–are you gonna see her again or what?”

Before he could answer, Namjoon’s phone buzzed with a text from their client. He reads the message to Yoongi. “She asked if you can squeeze in a prototype for barstools?”

“Aish,” Yoongi says under his breath. “I mean…that technically wasn’t even…” he stops short. Instead of arguing, he drags out a sigh and relents. “You know what, fine. Tell her I’ll include it and bill her later.”

Namjoon types up Yoongi’s response, to which the client replies almost instantaneously. “Is he absolutely sure?” He read the text out loud, a wry look on his face.

Yoongi looked up at his friend and let out a grunt of annoyance. “Just fucking tell her ‘yes’.”

Namjoon nods and sends the response again. “I don’t know why I need to be your middleman here–”

“Well, you brokered this deal. And from the jump, they preferred to communicate this way, so…” he trailed off. After ensuring some quality control on his employee’s work, Yoongi walks back into his living space and flops himself onto the sofa. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Namjoon walks toward his friend and sits on the adjacent seat. “Is that really all there is to it?” His voice had a hint of concern and worry for his friend.

Yoongi turned his head and opened one eye to look at him.

“It’s been over a year. She’s moved on–”

“Clearly,” Yoongi deadpanned before closing his eye again.

Namjoon shifted uncomfortably and scratched the back of his neck. “Well…aren’t you back in the dating scene? Can’t we all be grownups here?”

He let out a deep sigh, then opened his eyes again to dig his phone out of his back pocket. He didn’t think Namjoon’s question required an answer so he just scrolls through his screen.

Talking about his past relationship was a sore subject…even for Yoongi, whom his other friends thought to be typically aloof about these kinds of things. But sometimes, whatever one showed on the outside actually ran much deeper on the inside.

Shrugging, Namjoon takes Yoongi’s reticence as his cue to leave.

When the door shuts, Yoongi pauses his scrolling through his social media feed as his vision lands on a particular post. Damn algorithms got him again. He clicks on the account’s page and follows it.

Next, he types up a message and then hits ‘send.’

******

After work, you head over to a pub close to your office. You offered to meet Yoongi halfway from wherever he was coming from but said that he was happy to head over closer to where you were at.

He was already at the bar when you walked in, looking more relaxed than when you first saw him over the weekend. You weren’t much for guys with long hair but something about his hair being pulled back in a half-up/half-down bun became a contributing factor that held your attention.

You greet him with a hug, which he reciprocates. He asks what you want to drink. You glance at his whisky and decide to order an old-fashioned.

“You know, when you texted me this afternoon, I was a little surprised.”

“And why’s that?” He asks you.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if you thought our night ended kind of weird.” You sat on the stool next to him, your legs crossed in his direction while you turned your glass on the bar’s surface with your fingers.

He laughed. “I’ll admit, I don't remember having a night like that…ever, I think?” Your eyes drift to his fingers that dance over the rim of his glass of whisky.

“Is that because you always score?”

He caught his lower lip with his teeth and inhaled. “I’ll tell you right now, if my best friend were here, he’d already fallen off his chair laughing.”

His comment made your eyebrows lift in surprise. You both took sips of your drinks. After you swallow, you ask, “On that note, how many serious relationships have you had?”

He nearly chokes on his drink, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, we’re at that level of comfort now?”

You lifted a shoulder. “Seemed like the conversation was headed there anyway. Might as well get there sooner!”

He laughs, then pauses to consider his answer. “I’ve had one.”

“One? That’s it?” You were incredulous. You found him attractive–and not in a novel way. He spoke calmly and even sagely at times. A good conversation these days was rare and often overlooked or easily forgotten. But he was someone you enjoyed talking to...and someone you hadn’t been able to get out of your mind in the last few days.

“Yeah. Just the one,” he replies.

“Wow…”

“Yep. We were going to get married and everything. But,” he let out a sharp breath, “She changed her mind.” He sighed, picked up his glass, and swirled the liquid in it. “She broke it off the day before…told me she couldn’t go through with it.”

You watched him throw his head back and polish off the rest of his drink. Your heart hurts for him and you didn’t have a smartass joke to say to lighten the mood.

“Anyway!” He sighed deeply, desperate for a subject change. “That was a long time ago. It’s all done and over with. She’s off doing her own thing, I’m doing mine. What about you? How many serious relationships have you been in?”

“Nine.”

His eyes widened. “Nine? Those were all serious?” He asks carefully.

“Yes,” you say confidently. “Why is that hard for you to believe?”

He scoffed. “I mean…you don’t look that old and you’ve been in nine serious relationships?”

“What does my age have to do with it?” You laughed.

“Well…usually, relationships span years–”

“That’s what you think,” you countered. “You think that in order for a relationship to be considered serious is the amount of time you’ve been with that person. I mean, couldn’t it just be the depth of connection with that person?”

That stopped him in his tracks. He let that thought sink in, then nodded gently. Meanwhile, you’re watching his facial expressions–the wheels turning in his head.

“I can still feel you silently judging me,” you chuckle.

“I’m not,” he says simply. “I’m certainly in no place to judge. You’re an adult, free to make your own choices. Besides, we’ve only just met.”

You smiled. “Fair point.”

“Although…I’m curious, if you don’t mind me asking.”

You shook your head and prompted him to continue.

“Out of all of those relationships, which one was your worst heartbreak?”

“Damn!” You laughed. “And here you are questioning whether we’ve known each other long enough to discuss these things?”

You both laugh at the thought. When you calm down, he says, “Touché. I was just curious, that’s all. You don’t have to answer.”

“It’s fine, I’ll answer.” You downed the rest of your drink and turned your attention back to him. “The one that really did a number on me was my last relationship. We were together for about six months…” You paused to clear your throat, “until I found out that he was married.”

“Married? So you were someone’s mistress?”

“Unknowingly!” You contest. “Besides, I ended it as soon as I found out. I didn’t want to get tangled up in all that.” You winced at the memory. Not your finest moment but since then, you tried to be more vigilant about red flags.

“Well, like I said–it’s all in the past, right? The point is, we both got our hearts broken. End of story.”

You nodded in agreement before he switches gears. “Don’t you ever get scared?”

“Scared of what?”

“Repeating the whole process. You know, as someone who’s been in all of these relationships…don’t you ever get tired of starting from scratch every time? The whole getting to know each other, falling in love…then being faced with the possibility of things not working out.”

“I wonder about people who are afraid to put themselves out there again after getting hurt by love. I really don’t get that,” you say in jest.

He shrugs. “Who likes getting hurt? That’s not something rational people consciously wish for themselves.”

You sighed wistfully at the thought. “You know, I never understood why some people think of it that way. You know, trying to rationalize falling in love. Isn’t that counterintuitive? Love in itself is all about being spontaneous, irrational…reckless, even. The feeling of being completely wrapped up in the emotion and the moment–all because of one person. That includes all the fear, uncertainties…even the possibility of getting hurt. The experience of love isn’t complete without all that.”

He chuckled with his gummy grin. “Sounds like a huge gamble to me.”

“But if you never take that gamble, how will you ever experience the joy of winning big? How would you ever know what your heart is capable of taking if you’re always afraid of losing?”

He eyed you for a few seconds, letting your words sink in. “So you’re telling me that you’re willing to go through what could possibly be twice the amount of hurt–just to fall in love again?”

“Absolutely!” You declared with confidence.

You took another sip of your drink, then looked him straight in the eye. “I mean…you’re not thinking of hurting me, are you?” You ask him cheekily.

His eyebrow quirked in response. “Y-you’re asking me?” He chuckled nervously.

“Calm down! It’s just a rhetorical question,” you giggled.

You both laugh it off. Afterward, he pursed his lips and eyed you again. “But just so we’re clear…I don’t plan on it.”

His answer made your heart skip. You didn’t have any smart-ass quips to lob back at him.

After what seems to be an eternity of staring at each other in tense silence, he asks, “Do you wanna get out of here?”

******

He showed you around his modest place, where he had a full and, judging by the fresh sawdust on the tables, actively functional workshop. It was attached to a one-bedroom living space with a kitchen, a cozy living room, and a full bathroom. But by your assessment, it looked more like the living space was attached to the workshop.

“You sleep where you work?” You ask while looking at the work surface next to you.

He notices you looking at it so he leans over to swipe the sawdust off the table. “I didn’t see the point of going back and forth between places.”

“Yeah but it must be hard to live where you work and work where you live?”

He chuckles. “On the contrary, it’s more convenient for me. When I’m tired, I just lay on the couch. If I have trouble sleeping, I just come over here and tinker with stuff.”

You eyed him silently as he stood over the table, his hands spread wide while he supported his weight on them.

“I don’t know if I can do that. I need clear boundaries.”

“Don’t you bring work home from time to time?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes, if I’m on a tight schedule. But I try not to do it if I can help it. I prefer the idea of drawing that line where, once I walk out that door, that’s it. I’ll come back to it in the morning. Once I’m off work, I’m off work.”

He hummed. “That’s fair.”

You carefully move a small container of wood stain to the side then hop up on the table. After giving his studio another once-over, you turn your attention to him.

“What are you currently working on?”

He seems hesitant at first but decides to share a little bit. “I’m…trying to create a prototype for this light fixture,” he says vaguely.

“Really? Can I see?”

He chuckles, then paused to check if you were actually serious about looking at his designs. When your expression remained unchanged, he decides to reach past you to pull his sketchbook toward him. He flips through a few pages until he lands on a specific one.

The page has a rough sketch of a multi-tiered looking chandelier with what looked like wooden fringes, instead of what would typically be glass or crystal.

“So, I’m trying to focus on more natural materials like rattan, bamboo…I don’t know, maybe my friend, Namjoon, has been hanging around my studio too much,” he says in jest.

Your fingers brush the pencil lines on the page. His ideas were beautiful. They were modern yet had an old-world feel to them. His pieces didn’t look like something that was mass-produced. Each one had its own personality but all of them were crafted with artisanal care.

“You think you could work with these?” He asks quietly, his face an inch away from you.

“Oh, definitely,” you smiled. “My mind’s already buzzing with ideas.”

He looks down from your eyes to your mouth…then back up to your eyes again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper then take in his scent. “You smell nice. What is that?”

“Uhm, I don’t know…pine?” He answers before you close the gap between you to kiss him. You taste faint traces of whisky and citrus flavors in his mouth. His lips were soft and melded into yours, making you sigh into him. His kiss was as calm and gentle as his usual demeanor.

He presses his body closer to yours, making you tilt backward on the work table, spilling the can of wood stain on you. You gasp, startled at the feel of it on the side of your leg, and hastily hop off the surface.

“Fuck…I’m so sorry,” he says.

“I-it’s okay,” you stammer, grabbing onto your dress to assess the damage.

“No, it’s not. I ruined your dress.”

“Yoongi, it’s okay,” you say nonchalantly. “I can take it to the cleaners…” You inspect the stain while he goes to grab a paper towel. Who were you kidding? This was varnish. The dress itself was cheap but it was beyond salvageable.

You looked up to see him hovering over you. “Or we could just take it off?”

With his breath fanning your face, you fist at his shirt and pull him into you again. This time, his lips didn’t feel tentative–they were more ardent…hungrier. He lifts you off the worktable and you both stagger out of the workshop and toward his living space. The closest comfortable surface was couch so he lowers you both there.

You reach back to lower the zipper of your dress while he pulls his shirt off. When he tosses it to the side, helps you undress the rest of the way through.

His fingers laced around the back of your neck urging you closer to him. He moved from your mouth down to your neck, gently sucking the skin on your collarbone.

You felt a gush of moisture soak through you…you let go of every ounce of control that you hung onto because were desperate for him now.

With one swift move, he unclasps your bra and moves his mouth to your chest while he lowered you further until your head hit the armrest.

Your breath hitches as he wraps his plush lips around an aching nipple. You swore right then that you’d orgasm from the feeling alone…but he was just getting started.

You reach between both of you and undo the button and zipper on his jeans, pushing them down.

He hooks his fingers onto your panties and you arch your back so he can slide them off. You were completely bare for him now, hypnotized by his desire for you at this moment.

You kept your eyes at him, unable to look away as pulls your legs apart and gave your inner thighs gentle kisses. He locked eyes with you and kept contact while you watched him sink his mouth onto your cleft.

You sucked in a harsh breath while he tongued you. You felt every lick and every suction of his mouth onto your moist, swollen lips.

Your walls clenched achingly at nothing while he continued to eat you out. Your breath began to stutter as you shamelessly bucked your hips against his mouth, desperate for a release.

You felt him dip two fingers into you…pulling them in and out lazily while his tongue fluttered over your clit.

Your body bowed when he alternated licking and sucking at your clit. It wasn’t long before your orgasm built up to a fever pitch. Your throat tightened, desperately trying to suck in air while your body tensed.

“Aaahh…gonna cum–fuck…”

You cried out hoarsely further as he got his last two licks in before you came down from your high. You were about to pass out from the pleasure when you saw him fish out a foil packet from his wallet.

You sat yourself up, meeting him halfway as he lined himself up between your thighs. You kissed him senselessly, your tongue fighting his for control.

Your mouth stilled as you felt him slowly enter you. You sucked in another breath while you felt that delicious stretch.

He urged you to lay back down while he pushed the rest of his length into you.

“Fuh…,” was all you managed to breathe out while your eyes rolled to the back of your head as shivers coursed through your body.

You looked back at him, a pained look on his face from how tight you were for him. You gave him a small nod of assurance to let him know that you were okay.

He started to move his hips slowly until he found a consistent rhythm.

He lowered himself further against your body and wrapped your leg around his waist. He thrusted in and out of you at a steady pace while your core tightened further around him along with another orgasm building up.

“Fuck, YN…feel so good,” he choked out in between breaths. He sealed his mouth onto yours, moaning in pleasure.

Your nails raked his back–from his shoulders and down to his hips that relentlessly railed into you.

“Fuck, don’t stop…don’t stop…” you gasped as you felt yourself edge closer to another orgasm.

Your muscles clenched around his cock while he repeatedly hit you deep into your core. You buck your hips into him, meeting him at every thrust while you both moan into each other’s mouths.

The next thing you knew, he had tipped you over the edge again.

His palms cup your ass, raising your hips to him. A few more thrusts and he was arching his back, pressing his forehead to yours as his own climax coursed through him.

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of coffee, that he brought to you, bedside.

******

After that night, you spent many more going back and forth between his place and yours.

You went about both your days but talked all the time. You always made time to see each other–he’d work around your schedule and you’d work around his. Things were going so well and stress-free.

You didn’t feel the need to change the way you were around him and neither did he. Everything just came naturally to both of you.

Some days, you were unaware of how much time you spent together. Some weekends, you would just laze around and never leave the room. It was bliss.

“Jagiii!” You yell out from his bedroom, hoping he’d hear from the loud, grinding noise of his industrial sander.

He turns the machine off, flips his visor up, and pulls his earplugs out. “Yeah?” he bellowed from his workshop.

“Could I just have five minutes for a phone call?”

He gestures to his workshop assistant, telling him that he can take a break. “Alright, we’ll take five!” he says.

“You’re the best! Love you!”

“You owe me,” he teases.

“Just put in on my tab, jagiya,” you tease back.

******

Weeks later, you finally signed a lease for your new condo. Yoongi was on hand to help you move and get settled. You’d gone back and forth your old place to pick up smaller things that you didn’t load up in the big truck. The most important things were your larger furniture anyway.

Yoongi was tinkering with the internet connection in the second bedroom while you stood quietly in the midst of the expansive space, surrounded by boxes. It was getting dark out but you hadn’t installed your blinds yet so the moonlight illuminated the room. You stared out the window and into the glittering city lights.

“Why are you standing out here in the dark?” Yoongi flicks the light switch on.

“No, no–turn it back off.” He does so tentatively. “Is everything okay?” He approaches you carefully from behind, wrapping his arms around you. You lean your head back against him and sighed. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you. Just…trying to take it all in as everything calms down again.”

“Are you tired?” He nuzzled his nose into your hair.

“Mm-hmm,” you nod.

“Yeah, I can smell the dried sweat from your forehead,” he says before you poke him in his side, making him laugh out loud.

“I’m kidding,” he smiles, grabbing onto your waist and turning you around to face him. “Are you happy?”

“I am.” You plant a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you for helping me today.”

“Of course. Even if you didn’t ask me to, I still would have done it.”

“I know but this is a huge deal for me. After all these years of hard work, I’m finally upgrading my home.”

“That’s great. I’m very proud of you for doing that. And you know,” he glances past your shoulder and jerks his chin at your windows. “I can totally make you some custom blinds, too. None of that plastic, vinyl shit. I can use bamboo so it’s cooling but also great for insulation. Very sustainable, too.”

You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. “Mmm…keep talking eco-friendly to me, Mr. Min…”

“Well…” he brushes his lips against yours, “If you like that, wait ‘til you hear about the reclaimed wood we’re using for this new commission.”

You threw your head back and moaned. “Ooh…yes…keep going.”

Chuckling, he dipped his head and leaves a trail of kisses down your exposed throat. “Why don’t we take this back in the bedroom and I can show you what else we can do with some wood.”

You start cackling at his comment and before you know it, he picks you up off your feet and you stumble into your room and stayed there until the sun came up.

Now…

In a panic, Yoongi heads to one corner of the gallery to search for his friend. “Namjoonah!”

Namjoon’s head whips around to see Yoongi headed for him. He excuses himself from the current conversation he was having. “Hey, Yoongi–”

Immediately, Yoongi pulls Namjoon right by the bathrooms to scold him. “Bro, that’s not cool. I wish you told me that YN was going to be here.”

“If I had told you, would you have come out tonight?”

Yoongi scoffed, “Of course, I still would have,” his voice went up a higher register, making Namjoon snicker. “I just…I wish you would have given me a warning so I could have been, I don’t know, better prepared!”

“Prepared for what? You guys have been broken up for years. Besides, you’ve always known that she and Hyejin are friends. You should have at least expected her to be here so I don’t know why you’re all bothered. Unless of course you not over her yet?”

Yoongi remains adamant. “Dude, of course, I’m over her! I just got caught off-guard, that’s all.”

“Are you sure you’re not still thinking about her?”

“Fuck no! Are you kidding? You know I can’t stand her! She’s too loud, a terrible cook…not to mention that she has way too much drama in her life.”

Namjoon snorted. “And you didn’t?”

Yoongi shakes his head dismissively. “Whatever, dude–I’m just not all about that. My new motto in life is to stay drama-free, you know?”

He gives Yoongi a skeptical smile. Just then, the bathroom door opens behind them.

The color from Yoongi’s face drains as he gets the shock of his life when he sees you emerge.

You stood there smirking while Namjoon and Yoongi exchanged looks.

“Uh, sorry, guys–I think I need to use the bathroom.” Namjoon says, stifling a laugh while he cuts in between you two and shuts the door.

Yoongi remained standing in awkward silence, trying to will the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“I thought you liked it when I was loud for you?” With that, you walk past him and disappear into the crowd.

Then…

“I can’t hear you, baby…come on…let me hear how good I make you feel.”

“Ahhh…f-fuck…” You cried out loudly, body stiffening, with your fingers grasping Yoongi’s hair at the roots while his tongue teases the last pulses of your orgasm.

“There you go…good girl.”

You and Yoongi were planning to have a quiet night in but Hyejin invites you out at the last minute, saying that you haven’t had a proper girls’ night in a while. Thinking about it now, it’s been over a month since you met up with her. Most of your nights were preoccupied with Yoongi these days.

When Yoongi couldn’t convince you to stay in, he asked if you needed a ride there and you decline, saying that Hyejin offered to pick you up.

When you stepped out of the room and he sees you in your outfit, a dark cloud overcomes him. He grabs you by the waist, lifts you onto the kitchen counter, and moving your panties aside, dives right in.

He helps you off the counter and you smooth your dress. You glance downwards and see the bulge in his pants.

“Hey, let me take care of that.” You reach out to cup him but he catches your hand and lifts it up to his lips to kiss it.

You’re suddenly torn between walking out the door and wanting to stay to suck him off…deep. The latter option sounded more appealing as you felt your mouth water at the thought of him fucking your mouth.

He pulls you in close and presses his hard-on against you. You let out a small whine of protest. His tongue grazed his lower lip before sinking his teeth into it.

He tutted. “Come home to me later and I’ll give you what you want.” His voice made it sound like a warning…a warning that you were tempted to ignore just to find out what he would do to you for ignoring it. The idea excited you so much that you felt heat pooling between your legs again.

“Are you sure? I still have a few minutes before I’m supposed to meet Hyejin,” you smile sweetly, your lips brushing against his jawline.

“I’m sure. Now go before I change my mind,” he says in jest.

“Okay,” you acquiesce.

Right before you walk away, he takes your mouth and kisses you hard. You couldn’t help but lick traces of your arousal from his lips.

When he pulls away, you are breathless and weak in the knees–more so after that orgasm that he gave you minutes ago.

******

You hadn’t noticed that Hyejin stopped mid-sentence to eye you as you giggled at your phone screen while you exchanged spicy texts with Yoongi. You finally look up and meet her gaze.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’,” she says in a mocking tone. “I’ve been blabbing up a storm here and you’re all heart-eyes, drooling over your phone there.” She tilts her chin up to get a look at your text screen and you immediately pull it close to your chest.

She scoffed then laughed. “Oh my gooood…you are so whipped for him!”

You roll your eyes at her. “I am not!”

She laughed even louder at your response. “Oh come on, YN! How long have we been friends? I can tell whether you’re just feeling a buzz between your legs or if you’re really into someone. And right now, I know that you are so down bad for him,” she declares.

You feel your cheeks ignite. It wasn’t because of the alcohol but because you knew she was right.

You sighed in defeat. “Okay, fine! So we’re a little obsessed with each other, big deal.”

You started to gush over your relationship. “I just love how much he cares. He checks in, asking whether I’ve eaten yet. He cooks for me…then, he tells me when he misses me. It’s nice. It feels nice to feel needed, you know?”

Hyejin nods. “Well, that’s all because you guys are still in that honeymoon phase!”

You scoff, dipping your fingers into your glass and flicking droplets of cold water at her. “Bitch! You’re so negative!”

She throws her head back in laughter. “I’m kidding, babe! You know me. Seriously, I’m happy for you. Now…” she cleared her throat. “Does he have a single hot friend that you know of?”

******

The following weekend, you convince Yoongi to come with you on a walking tour of a museum exhibiting gothic renaissance art. You were looking for some inspiration for your next project. You saw an ad online and decided it couldn't hurt to go exploring for a bit. It was also a nice excuse to pull him away from his workshop.

“Uhh…” Yoongi croaks tentatively. “I don’t know exactly what it is we’re looking at,” he laughs while cocking his head from one side to the other, trying to decipher the exhibit in front of you.

“Neither do I, jagi,” you giggled, glancing at the museum brochure. “I don’t know, I’m just trying to get some inspiration for this restaurant revamp. They currently have this old western theme…which is strange because they serve pizza and pasta.”

Yoongi laughs. “That concept doesn’t even make sense!”

“I know! But the owner’s daughter is a bit more modern and she’s totally up for a theme change.” You’ve talked to Yoongi about this new contract for weeks now and it’s finally happening. He was excited to bounce ideas off you to the point where you pulled him in as a supplier for the rebrand.

Even though the daughter was pushing for a more modern twist, her father, the restaurant’s current owner, wants to keep some traces of that classic feel to it.

“So, no saloon doors?” Yoongi says sarcastically.

You threw your head back in laughter. “Definitely not! The daughter would fire me. I was thinking we can bring in your natural concepts with that wooden fringe chandelier sketch that you were working on.”

His hand linked with yours, bringing it up to his lips to kiss it, making you grin like a lovestruck teenage girl. “Sounds good to me.”

You walk out of the museum and stood on the sidewalk, intending to walk a block over to a theater, not to see a show but to look at the architecture. The theater had a classic art deco design that would come in handy for your moodboard. You convinced Yoongi to make it part of your chill date before heading back to your place for dinner.

As you approach the end of the block, you are nearly run over by a man pushing a stroller that rounded the corner.

“Hey, watch it,” Yoongi exclaims protectively.

“Oh, I’m sor–YN?”

You suck in a breath. “Soonyoung, h-hi.”

“Hey! Wow…it’s been a while. Uh…h-how’ve you been?” He asks.

“Uhm…g-good,” you stammer. “You?” Then your eyes flick nervously over to the stroller that had a sleeping baby in it. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” he smiled. “Uh–so–”

“Yeobo!”

You whip your head around to see a woman come out of the restaurant that you were standing in front of. She walked towards Soonyoung and the stroller.

“Hi,” she greets you and Yoongi, then turns to Soonyoung waiting for him to introduce her.

“This is my wife, Naeyeon. Yeobo, this is YN. She’s an old friend.” She smiles at you then her eyes shift to Yoongi.

Somehow, your brain lurches forward. “This is Yoongi,” you say to both of them while you stood across from them. “My boyfriend.”

“So great to meet you both!” She says with a warm smile.

“Anyway, we should go before we miss our reservation, Nae. It’s good to see you again, YN,” Soonyoung says in a hurry before he and his family walk around you and into the restaurant.

******

Since that awkward run-in with Soonyoung, Yoongi has been uncharacteristically short with you for the rest of the day.

When you get back to your place, he sets the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Afterward, he picks up the to-go bags that contained your dinner.

You watched him quietly lay out the containers on your dining table, along with the disposable utensils, setting place settings for you and him.

He sits down and pulls his chopsticks apart. “We should eat before the food gets cold,” he says without looking up at you.

You wordlessly take the seat adjacent to him. He immediately puts a dumpling on your plate before he serves himself.

He pauses as if remembering something. He rose from his chair and moved toward the kitchen.

“Do you want a beer?”

“Just water is fine,” you answer blandly while staring at the lone dumpling on your plate.

He returns to the table, setting a glass of water next to you, and immediately takes a long swig of his drink after he sits back down.

He grabs so more food and puts it on his plate, pausing to offer you some but you decline. All this time, he still hasn’t made eye contact with you.

Unable to withstand it anymore, you push your plate aside to finally ask, “Something the matter?”

He doesn’t answer and instead continues to chew his food quietly.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “You’ve been acting weird all afternoon.”

He swallowed his food only to say, “Not now, YN.” He takes another bite.

You pursed your lips and gently press him again. “Look, if we have a problem here, we need to talk about it. We’re both adults here–”

“YN, I said, not now,” he says more sternly. Catching himself, he leans against the back of the chair, throwing his head back and rubbing his eyes. He regrets snapping at you. With a heavy sigh, he finally meets your gaze. “I’m sorry I…” he hesitates but finally gives into that nagging feeling in him. “Was that him?”

You give a small nod. “Yeah.”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “You should have introduced me as your boyfriend sooner!”

You scrunch your face in surprise. “Why does the timing even matter? The point was that I introduced you, right?”

His voice grew louder. “If you introduced me sooner, he'd take it as a sign not to make stupid small-talk or-or...even think about trying to start shit with you again!”

“Geez, Yoongi. Why would you even think like that? Clearly, the man was right there with his wife and kid. It was a short, very random run-in that will probably never happen again.” You maintained a calm tone.

“That’s what you think.”

“Excuse me?” You started to grow irate at how unreasonable he was starting to sound. “Yoongi–I’m with you, not him. I love you, not him. I don’t understand why we’re making a huge deal out of this!”

He stood there silently, his hands on his waist, nostrils flaring with every breath he took. The seconds tick by and before you try to reason with him, he huffs and walks into the bedroom, the door slamming.

*****

After you store the takeout containers in the fridge, you enter the bedroom to find him lying on the bed with his back toward you. He doesn’t turn to face you or say anything so instead, you shower and get changed. When you get under the covers, you turn on your side so you faced the opposite direction.

A few minutes of silence and staring at your nightstand, you hear him let out a deep sigh before speaking. “I’m sorry for acting the way I did earlier.”

His apology pinches your chest but you keep your back toward him. “You know, just because I hooked up with a married man before doesn’t mean that I’m itching to do it again. So I froze when I saw Soonyoung, but that’s only because I hadn’t seen him since I broke it off and to add to that, his wife was right there. What did you expect me to do?”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got jealous and–I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking.”

It was then that you rolled over to face him.

“Look…I made a stupid mistake a while ago but as soon as I was aware of it, I walked away and I grew from that. I thought that my being completely honest with you from the very beginning was a way to build trust between us…and that I had nothing to hide. But…” Your voice started to waver, “If you’re only going to use that against me, then I don’t think–”

“No, no–” He engulfs you in his arms immediately. As the warmth emanating from his body coursed through you, you couldn’t help but cry into his chest.

“Aw, baby…I’m sorry. I love you. I won’t question that again. And I do appreciate your honesty.”

You lifted your head and tilted your chin up to him. “I love you, too, Yoongi.”

There was nothing you could do to change the past but as he rocked you to sleep, you wondered if you were right to be open and honest with him from the beginning …or was it a careless mistake? Should you have put your best foot forward first and pretended to be perfect instead?

At your age, you learned that being up-front with your relationship expectations prevented less hurt if things went south. If either party decides that any of those expectations was a dealbreaker, you moved on, and no harm was done.

You only hoped that Yoongi felt the same.

Tags: @internetjunkdrawer @itdoesntmatterwhy @yoongukie-ff @deepseavibez @miksancheese @shesoldbutcute @yu-justme @joonschocochip

Part 2 ◥ | Main Fic Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you loved it and/or curious to learn more, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn't like it so much, I would still like to hear about it 💜

#bts fanfiction #yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts angst #bts min yoongi #bts yoongi #myg angst #myg smut #stalemate x myg

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yessa-vie · 7 months

Text

❝PIRATE KINGDOM❞ . CHOI SAN . SMAU!

→ SUMMARY. It all starts when you and your friends are kicked out of your shared apartment, causing you to ask your childhood best friend (and idol) for help, which leads you to live with him and the other members of his kpop group. From there on, you completely enter the world of kpop, creating the best friendships you could ask for, and, as if working with kdramas wasn't enough, your life ends up becoming the best example of one with each passing moment. and your best friends are the main spectators and commentators of all the drama that has surrounded your life since it all began.

→ PAIRING. idol!Choi San x actress!afab!reader (main) || Juyeon x reader || some platonic pairing as well.

→ TYPE. social media au.

→ GENRE. stranger to friends to lovers, fluff, a little angs (on ocasion just bc), slow burn (!). if any part is to be written, it will be complementary and not a necessity to read it, but I don't really plan on having them atp.

→ WARNINGS. the story starts officially on febuary 2020, I'm not gonna focus a lot on the hair colors and their agendas or else I'll go insane to match everything but I'll do my best, idol! au, she/her pronouns, normalization of drinking/getting drunk, toxic envyroment (lightly), body dismorphia, idols are human beings. [more to be added if needed]

→ FEATURING. stray kids, astro, itzy, the boyz, oneus, txt, enhypen, aespa, and other. NOT ALL FROM EVERY GROUP WILL APPEAR, NOR WITH SUCH A PRESENCE LIKE ATEEZ AND STRAY KIDS.

→ STATUS. on going.

↪ started: 07.10.2023 (dd/mm/yyyy)

↪ ended: [ON HIATUS]

→ UPDATES. when I can and most likely on the weekends or whenever there's a hollyday and I get my hands on the laptop so I can update.

→ TAGLIST. open (here's the form).

→ IMPORTANT. the ATEEZ guys appear first in chapter 07, with some interaction with the members, but Wooyoung is the first one to interact directly with the reader, then progressively, the others start to interect and to become friends.

if you want to support me and my writing, you can buy me coffee here! I already thank you for you time and attention.

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

twitter profiles: y/n babies || skz || teez || extras

teaser 01 || teaser 02 || teaser 03 || teaser 04 || teaser 05

PART I: princess.

01. me and jisung need help

02. Chan, can we keep her?

03. but I do love Moonbin more than you

04. crushing my dreams again

05. my baby?

06. keep the real ones close

06.1. happy birthday princeling 📝

07. 8M1T

08. I dare you

09. she did what now?

10. happened during rehearsals

11. Eric YES!

PART II: kingdom.

12. denial stage

12.1. catching fire 📝 12.2. 8Makes1AmazingTeam 📝

13. it's not how it looks

14. what you share online (??)

15. ?? (??.??.2024)

16. ?? (??.??.2024)

17. ?? (??.??.2024)

18. ?? (??.??.2024)

bonus (just extras that i did for fun):

↪ mostly will be smau, not sure if I'll put a written part here yet, but I do have some ideas. if they are written parts they will have the emoji that says they are written, other wise, they'll be smau.

⤳ pre debut han (??.??.????)

⤳ jung 'big mouth' wooyoung (??.??.????)

⤳ house warming 'party' 📝(??.??.????)

⤳ i'll prove it 📝(??.??.????)

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pearbunny · 9 months

Text

the bucket list ✘ [six]

series masterlist | prev | next [ ❀ spotify playlist ]

summary: Fly to Korea. Check. Buy a bouquet of flowers for a stranger. Check. Have said stranger come along with you to accomplish your bucket list? Well that wasn’t on the list, but falling in love was.

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader

genre: 18+ [MDNI] strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include: slight angst, comfort, smut.

general warnings: tourist!mc, slow burn, adult themes including but not limited to: suggestive content, nudity, cursing, mentions of death, eventual smut.

word count: ~5.8k

chapter content: smut containing: drunk consensual sex, brief breastplay/fondling, protected sex, praise kink, forced eye contact, clit play, awkward day after, hangovers, headaches, mentions of vomit, mentions of food, road trip, shared bed trope, slow dancing.

author's note: Sorry for the delay! This past weekend was my birthday so I was a little wrapped up. That's not to say that this chapter was difficult for me to write; i've never written smut and my current issue is that I feel like it's a little too... clipped. It's okay, we aim to improve! Other than that, I really like how this one turned out. If you would like to skip the smut, please skip to the first page break under the cut. :) Songs mentioned in this chapter: Miley Cyrus - Violet Chemistry | Journey - Lights | Beabadoobee - Dance with Me

You’re not sure if the alcohol is to blame for the butterflies in your stomach anymore. It probably isn’t the reason for the lump in your throat either.

You look up at Jisung through your lashes, unsure of what will happen next. You start to shift around nervously in place, trapped between him and the kitchen island. He had tossed off his jacket when he came through the front door and you hadn’t paid too much attention to the fact that his band tee had its sleeves cut off; however, trapped between his arms on either side of you, you couldn’t help but to notice the musculature of his biceps.

”I do.” Jisung shifts his weight on one foot, causing him to lean closer to you. “I do want to kiss you.”

“I—“ You swallow that lump in your throat, your chest lifting as you breathe the heavy tension in the air.

The smirk playing on his lips turns into a small smile. “I’m not going to kiss you if you don—“

You place your lips on his in the middle of his sentence. It’s quick, it’s chaste, but you can't form words with your mouth. You look up at him, scared that maybe you did something wrong. Maybe he didn’t actually want to kiss you, but dammit you wanted to kiss him.

There’s a moment of shock written on his face, as if kissing him was the last thing he expected from you. That shock is replaced with that same playful — sexy— smirk as he brings his right hand to cradle your jaw. He brings you closer to him and you can feel him exhale a shaky breath before he captures your lips in a much more firm and fruitful kiss.

You’re unaware of when you held your breath waiting for him to kiss you, but the kiss surely had you longing for air, taking shallow breaths every chance that you could moments between kisses. You bring your arms around his neck, fingers gently combing through his hair.

He brings his hands at your waist, fingering the fabric of your trouser’s waistband. In his kiss, he runs his tongue across your bottom lip and right when you open your mouth just slightly, his teeth tug back at your bottom lip.

Maybe it’s the alcohol and your lowered inhibitions. Maybe it’s the fact that it had been so long, but a sound escapes you, a mix of a lustful sigh and a whimper. You open your eyes mortified, but he’s looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.

“Tell me to stop.”

You shake your head, pursing your lips together in a tight lipped smile, poorly containing your eagerness. “I don’t want to.”

With those words, he captures your lips again. This time, you’re both on the way to his room, littering the path there with articles of clothing until you were in your bra and underwear and him in just his boxer briefs. When the both of you have managed to get into his room, he breaks the kiss, squatting down briefly to wrap his arms around your legs, just under your ass to lift you up easily into the air. He carries you to his bed, sitting himself down with you in his lap.

Jisung’s lips leave hot open mouthed kisses down from your neck, across your right collarbone, to the tops of your tits until his lips meet the fabric of your bra. With one hand on your waist, the other hand reaches behind you to undo the bra and it falls to the floor. Immediately, his mouth latches onto your left nipple, tongue playing with the already hardened bud while his hand massages the other.

You moan this time, arching your back into him. You roll your hips involuntarily searching for some kind of friction between your legs.

He slides both of his arms down to your hips, stilling you for a moment as he catches his breath. You can feel how hard he is already underneath you and it’s almost uncomfortable how wet you’ve become. He takes in a breath, shaky, and runs his tongue on his bottom lip. After a moment, he reaches over to grab a condom from his bedside table. You take the package from him and get off his lap, momentarily kneeling on the floor. Your hand gently strokes his visibly hard cock over his boxers before freeing him to unwrap the condom and roll it over his length. The whole while, he’s watching you with half lidded eyes, simply admiring the sight.

You stand again, then position yourself on top of him, using one hand to align him with your entrance. Jisung takes your jaw in his hand and brings your face up to look him in the eyes. You gnaw at your lower lip at the way he maintains eye contact with you. His hand replaces yours on the hilt of his cock and you brace yourself with your hands on his shoulders.

Slowly, you sink yourself halfway down on his length. You gasp at the stretch you feel and he groans deeply at how tight you feel around him. He winces when your walls tense around him. His thumb caresses your cheek gently. “You gotta relax or this is going to end soon for me.”

There’s a nervous lopsided smile on his lips and it almost makes you laugh. “Sorry, yeah…” Your voice is barely a whisper, but you nod your head at him and remain with him half sheathed within you, giving yourself a bit of time to adjust to his girth. Once you’ve relaxed around him, you sit yourself lower on him, moaning the rest of the way down.

“Fuck,” Jisung runs his thumb on your bottom lip before leaning in for a kiss. “Just like that.”

You nearly whimper at the praise. You start to bounce up and down on him. He brings a hand to your waist, guiding you up and down on his cock. He’s letting you set the pace, if not for you comfortability, for his concentration on making sure he doesn’t cum too early with how warm and tight your pussy feels around him.

Your mouth hangs open the moment you start gyrating your hips, the very tip of his dick able to find a certain spot inside of you that brings you close to seeing stars. Jisung’s hand travels from your jaw to your neck, holding you in a position where he can see your face as you bounce on him. At this point, he starts to assist you, thrusting up into you so that you’re meeting in the middle. And with every thrust, you can feel him reach just slightly deeper and deeper each time.

You collapse into him, putting all your weight on his chest. He falls back and for a moment, he’s concerned. “Are you okay?”

You nod and shut your eyes tightly, placing your hands on his chest. “I’m so close, Jisung.”

When the words leave your mouth, his thrusts up into you harder and his hands,which are now on your hips, bounces you up and down onto his cock. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, moaning, and grunting fill the room as you cum on his cock. You fall onto him, your strength dwindling.

“I got you, don’t worry,” He brushes your hair out of your face, slightly stuck to your face from all the sweat you worked up. He then lifts you up gently, never once taking you off of his cock. The slight movement makes you feel so good and when he thrusts up into you, you moan right in his ear, clinging on to him in the air. He lays you back on the bed, leaning over you now. “You sound so pretty,” He hitches one of your legs onto his waist and starts to slowly thrust in and out of you, groaning as your walls start spasming around him.

“Jisung,” your voice is a high pitched whine between your heavy breaths, eyes shut from the pure overstimulation. “Please!” You beg for another release, the heat that is pooled at the bottom of your stomach still present.

He stops his movements and you almost want to cry. “Y/N. Look at me when you beg.”

Your eyes open to find him looking up at you with a smirk on his lips. When you don’t say anything, he pulls out almost completely then thrusts his hips back into you. You wince at the pleasure it brings you, of being filled completely after feeling so empty without him inside if you. You look him straight in the eyes and he can’t help but admire how you look right now: eyebrows knit so tightly together, the bounce of your tits when he thrusts into you, sweat glistening all over your skin, hair pooled around you messily.

“P-Please, Jisung. “

“Good girl.”He leans forward to bring both your legs over onto his shoulders and leans forward, thrusting hard into you again and again.

The feeling is overstimulating: the slight pain and pleasure of being so stretched out, his cock hitting your special spot over and over again, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You reach one hand between your legs, your middle finger playing with your clit, frantically rubbing circles until you cum again.

This time, Jisung cums with you with a final thrust, and it feels warm.

When he pulls out of you, you’re so spent and exhausted, you don’t remember falling asleep.

Your eyes flutter open and it takes you a moment to realize that you’re not in the guest room that you had been staying in for the past couple of days.The first thing you notice is how much your body aches. Not only were your legs and back aching, but your head was aching too. It felt like there was this constant pressure on your brain. The second thing that you notice is that you’re naked beneath the sheets.

You sit up in a panic. Looking to your left you see Jisung’s sleeping form. Heat rises to your cheeks as you clutch the sheets to your chest. The door to the living room is open and you can see the path of clothing leading from the kitchen. You look back at Jisung and observe as his chest rises and falls with his steady breathing. The fact that he’s shirtless and his toned pecs completely on display for you was something you put into the back of your mind.

You slip out of the bed and tip toe quickly across his room to the door, grabbing your panties on the way out. You shake your head in an attempt to shake the embarrassment off. You take one large silent stride into the kitchen and regret the idea immediately, the pain in between your legs screaming at you. So instead, you shuffle your way to your room, as you collect the rest of your clothes on the way.

“No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way,” At this point, you’re whisper shouting, extremely conscious of the possibility that Jisung could wake at any moment. You grab your towel and make your way into the bathroom for a shower.

Under the hot water, your muscles relax, but your mind is still going a hundred miles per second. Everything the night before comes rushing back and you have to brace yourself on the shower wall to keep from slipping from how weak your knees feel just thinking about it. Sure there were hazy spots in your memory, but from what you could remember, it was a good night and it’s not like you could deny that you wanted to have sex him. He looked so good in that shirt, but even better with it off.The way his hot skin felt beneath your fingers, his arms around you tight, his mouth on your skin…

You turn the shower knob for the cold water.

After wrapping your hair up in a towel and getting dressed in a simple black tank top, black hoodie, and gray sweats back in your room. You stand at the door, hand on the knob, hesitating to open it. Is Jisung awake? Did he get in the shower while you were getting ready to leave for Busan?

You contemplate for a moment on whether or not to stay in your room until Jisung knocks on the door to let you know that he’s ready to head out, but then you remember that your phone and the hangover drink are on the counter. You open the door just a crack, your eyes scanning the common area for any sign of Jisung. His door to his room is closed and his clothes are picked up, which means that he already used the restroom.

You open the door the rest of the way and quickly bring the rest of your supplies over to your suitcase before you pick your phone up from the kitchen counter. You check the battery: 5%.The time on your phone read: 12:00pm. You were already late and normally, you’d be stressing out, but the ache in your head isn’t allowing you to focus on anything other than that pain at the moment.

You open the hangover drink and start to chug it down when Jisung opens his room door. He opted for a far more comfortable outfit, a large loose fitting hooded sweatshirt, with some sort of graphic on its front and gray nike brand drawstring sweats. He had his hair tucked into his black ribbed beanie, just the back longer bits at the nape of his neck peeking out.

“Oh, hey good morning.” His voice is low and rough and it reminds you of last night. You almost choke on your drink. Every single thing was reminding you of the night before. Instead, you clear your throat after finishing the drink.

“Hi…” Your voice trails off and it’s just as hoarse as his. Wishful thinking hopes that it's because you hadn’t used it all morning, but reality tells you it’s actually the opposite: overuse. You hand him his drink, your hand trembling slightly.

He takes the drink from your hand, “So um abo–”

“We should get going, we’re already two hours behind.” You’re quick to interrupt him. While you really enjoyed last night, you don’t really know what it means for your friendship and you don’t want to think about it at the moment.

You go towards the front door and exchange your house slippers for outdoor shoes. Despite you not knowing the way to the garage, you grab your suitcase and head out the door. Jisung follows behind you, slinging his duffel bag around his torso with a large sigh. He wanted to talk about it, that much was evident, but the fact that you were so avoidant made him think that you’re regretting the whole thing.

Jisung takes out his car fob and presses a button to unlock the car. You look around to find the lights flashing on a white Kia Sportage; a four door Crossover SUV. You follow Jisung towards the trunk of the car and place your luggage inside, ignoring Jisung’s help. He frowns slightly, but stuffs his own belongings in the trunk and closes the trunk afterwards.

When Jisung slides into the driver seat, you’re already strapped in. “Do you mind if I plug my phone in? I didn’t charge it after last…” Your voice trails off, deciding against finishing that sentence. You clear your throat instead, “I can put the directions on if you want.”

“Sure,” His response to you is short. He’s not dumb, he gets the vibe that you don’t want to talk about what transpired between you two. You aren’t being very subtle about it what with you avoiding his eyes more than usual. He presses the button and brake pedal to turn the ignition on and reaches over your headrest to see behind the car, pulling out of his parking spot.

You connect your phone to the chord in the center console and place the phone in your lap, using the car’s touch screen to input the address of the hotel. The navigation pulls up a couple of routes, all similar in time. “It’s going to take us four and a half hours to get there.”

Jisung’s eyes are focused on the road in front of him, casually cradling his head in his left hand, arm resting on the car door. “Well. It’s going to be a long ride. Might wanna get comfy.” You pout, sinking into your seat with your arms across your chest.

It had been an uneventful ride so far. Your spotify had auto-played whatever playlist you were last listening to. The music is a soft hum through the car speakers, turned down low by Jisung so it doesn’t hurt your head. Even though he’s a little annoyed at you avoiding him when he’s literally sitting right next to you, he’s not cruel enough to make your hangover worse.

You sit with your arms still crossed over your torso, cradling your stomach that is seemingly fighting a war inside of you. When Jisung pulled into the highway about an hour ago, it didn’t start off too bad, but for the past fifteen minutes, the congested lanes became stop-and-go and with every gentle pull and push forward, your stomach has been doing somersaults. It isn’t the fun butterfly in your stomach feeling either, it’s the mouth salivating to prime for the possible up-chuck of whatever was in your stomach– which right now is just water and the hangover drink– kind of somersaults.

You press your forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window and lean forward to aim the a/c vents towards you, trying to cool yourself down. You’re dehydrated, hungover, nauseous, and stuck in traffic on a long drive with the guy you just met last week and had mind-blowing drunk sex with last night. You groan and roll your eyes at the whole situation.

Jisung takes a glance at you and puts his blinker on for the right lane. “You okay?”

You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing to try and calm your stomach and keep headache at bay. “That hangover drink did nothing for me.”

“Mmm, okay, we’re going to take a small detour.” He looks back and forth between the right lane and behind the car as he merges over.

The traffic is so bad it takes another five minutes to even exit the highway. Jisung pulls into a parking lot and turns the car off. He reaches for the car door handle and stops, looking over at your form, slouched in your seat. “You want to stay in the car?” You only groan in response. “I’ll be right back.

You have no clue how much time passed when you hear the car door open up again. You dozed off a little while Jisung left to try and rest, but opening your eyes, you don’t feel that much better. You bring yourself to sit up and look over to the driver’s seat to find Jisung with a brown paper bag in his lap.

“You still feeling like shit?” He opens the bag and places his iced americano down into this cup holder in the center console. “Here,” Hereaches out to you, placing a warm cup of coffee into your hands. “Vanilla creamer for your sweet tooth.”

You smile a little at that. You bring the cup to your lips and just smelling the blonde roast of coffee helps to alleviate some of the pressure you feel in your head. You inhale deeply then exhale, your shoulders relaxing. “I’ve never loved the smell of coffee so much.”

Jisung chuckles at you and reaches his hand into the bag, taking out a brown take-out box and placing it in your lap. “That’s because caffeine restricts your veins which means the pressure of the blood in your head kind of goes away.”

“Oh, well.. Thanks.” You still feel a little awkward. You take a sip of it then place it in the free cupholder to check what was in the box that he had placed in your lap. You open it to find a pair of chocolate croissants. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Jisung shakes his head and places the bag in the backseat. “Well, you look horrible and it’s kind of counter intuitive, but having something in your stomach helps with the nausea. But one of them is for me.” He turns the car back on and heads back towards the freeway as you nibble silently on your pastry.

When the stop-and-go traffic clears away and it’s just a bunch of cars on the road all moving at a constant speed, your stomach stops flipping and your headache is bearable enough that if you just don’t think about it, you can ignore it.

Jisung taps his index finger on the steering wheel as he drives, keeping beat with the song playing over the speakers. This is the first song that’s played that he seems to have interest in, the first song he can even pay attention to since he’s no longer worrying about how sick you looked. Now that your headache is mostly gone, you reach over to turn the music up.

Miley Cyrus’ voice is distinct as she sings what you assume to be the chorus. You don’t immediately recognize it, so you assume it’s one of her newer ones. Your head starts bobbing to the music, in time with the beat and Jisung’s drumming on the steering wheel that has grown from a single finger tapping to both hands slapping the wheel. You stare out the window, watching the sun start to slowly make its descent in the sky.

You tune back into the song when the beat switches up. It’s got a more minimal instrumental than the previous part of the song, just what you think is a drum bass, snare, and high hat with possibly a bass guitar. The sudden change catches your interest.

Fingers start to dance along the figures and the shapes. Mixing all the colors like we’re making a Monet. There’s something between us that’s too major to ignore. May not be eternal but nocturnal nothing more.

Jisung’s drumming patterns keep up with the song, but you’ve started listening to the lyrics and you can’t help but to snap your eyes away from the window to him. He’s nodding his head, biting on the corner of his lip. You can’t tell if he’s thinking about the lyrics as much as you are.

Then, his head turns towards you even just a centimeter and you’re quick to reach over to press the skip button before the bridge repeats the same lines again.

Jisung laughs at you. It’s not a chuckle, it’s a whole hearted, full chested laugh. “Come on, Y/N, really?”

You clear your throat and pick your phone up, still connected to the car. You start closing down unnecessary apps that are still open in the background of your phone in an attempt to act as casual as possible. “What? What do you mean?”

Jisung looks from the road to you, then back to the road and sighs heavily, a slanted smile still on his lips. “Forget it. Nevermind.”

You look back out the window before you drift off again.

“Y/N,” Jisung’s voice startles you awake. “We’re here.”

You look around to find that the sun was just above the horizon, casting pink and orange hues into the sky and ocean. You didn’t realize it when Jisung booked it, but the hotel was a relatively close distance away from the beach. You stretch your arms above your head, letting out a loud groan as your muscles untense from the awkward position you had fallen asleep in. You open your door and step out of the car, breathing in the salty ocean air. It felt fresh and the slight night breeze felt cool against your skin.

Before you can grab your things from the trunk, Jisung already has all the bags and suitcases on him. “Let’s go check in.”

You nod and follow him into the hotel lobby. It’s a pretty nice hotel with an extravagant looking lobby. Looking around, it’s decently busy, filled with not only foreign tourists, but Koreans looking for a small vacation. You fall in line with Jisung and rub the sleep from your eyes. You take a step forward when you’re next up and accidentally bump into Jisung’s shoulder. By reflex, he quickly turns and puts an arm around you, making sure that you’re okay and that you don’t stumble over. He looks to you with his brows raised and a small smile before he turns his attention to the person at the front desk. “Checking in. It should be under Han Jisung.”

The receptionist types loudly on their keyboard and hands him two room keys in a small hotel key shaped envelope. “Single full queen room. Room 547 on the fifth floor.”

You brows knit together. “S-Single?”

Jisung shakes his head. “No, that’s not right, I booked a double.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, looking through his emails for the confirmation. He shows it to the receptionist. “See? A double.”

The woman looks at the email then back at her screen. “Hmm. Yeah. Let me see what happened on our end here.”

Jisung and you turn toward each other with dejected looks on your faces. You’re still feeling awkward and Jisung is feeling tired from driving for nearly five hours. He rolls his neck to relieve some of the tension and takes his beanie off, raking his hands through his hair only to put it back on immediately after.

“So, I’m not exactly 100% sure what happened, however, I believe in the time that you purchased and booked the room, our systems flagged the room as double booked and it went to the other guest. You were supposed to get another email to offer the single room, but it looks like our automated email did not send and instead booked you automatically for the same price as the double.”

Jisung leans against the tall counter of the front desk and rubs his temples. “So, there’s no other room available?”

The receptionist shakes her head. “No sir. Not for the same price. Everything else would be a suite.”

“How much is the suite?”

The receptionist checks her screen. “The difference would be about 135,000 KSW”

Jisung looks to you to find you shaking your head. “Well, what do you wanna do then?”

You sigh and pull your hoodie over your head. “It’s fine.”

“We’ll just stick with our room, then.” Jisung takes the keys from the receptionist and pulls your suitcase behind him towards the elevators with you beside him.

In the elevator, Jisung presses the button for the fifth floor. “I can sleep in the car.”

You shake your head, “Let’s just see what the place looks like.”

You walk into the room and look around. It’s actually pretty small, which you figure is so that they can accommodate as many guests as they can. You step inside after slipping your shoes off at the door and walk around the small space, enough for two people. In the center of the room is the queen sized bed facing a wall of full floor-to-ceiling windows. In the corner closest to you on that same wall is a small circular desk with two chairs. The opposite corner has a couch that is so tiny, it would be an absolute pain to sleep in even for you. Right across the door that leads into the hallway on the opposite side was a closet that was left open so that you could see into the bathroom on the farthest end.

Jisung takes his own shoes off and wheels your luggage across the room and places it by the small couch in the corner. He does a really quick scan over the room and purses his lips. “So… about the car?”

You make your way towards him and sit on the couch. “You can’t sleep in the car.”

He sits next to and shrugs his shoulders. “Well I can’t sleep on this couch.”

There’s a silence that passes between you and it’s thick and it’s awkward just like the rest of the day has been between you two.

Jisung stands back up and places his duffel bag on the floor. He’s had enough of how awkward you’re being and in all honesty, you’re making the situation way more awkward than it needs to be. “Come on. Let’s go.” He extends his hand out to you.

You raise a brow at him, “Where are we going?”

“Trust me.”

You hesitate but eventually stand up, ignoring his helping hand.

Jisung awkwardly places his hand in the pocket of his hooded sweater and leads the way out the door.

Jisung takes you out on a small drive. On your way to wherever he’s taking you, you both point out a couple of places: the mall, the convenience store that you could go to if you find that you forgot something back at the apartment, a McDonald’s where you can quickly grab a bite to eat, a cute cafe that you want to try.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Your eyes watch the coast, the moonlight reflecting on the waves of the beach.

“Not really.” Jisung leans forward in his seat, searching for the right place. “I know what I’m looking for, I’m just… not sure if I can find one” You’re about to ask what he means by that, but he speaks up again, excited, “Oh, right up ahead!”

You look towards where he was pulling up to. It’s a relatively empty parking lot with tall lights barely illuminating the area. He parks his car, not paying attention to the designated lines for parking spots and walks out of the car and opens your door for you. He offers you his hand again, but this time he positions himself so that you have no choice but to take it. Eventually, you do, and he helps you out of your passenger seat.

“What are we doing?” You look at him confused as he leads you away from the car.

“Stay right there.”

You stay in place, looking around the empty lot. It looks like it used to be a building, but was torn down and is now being used as a vacant lot for additional parking. It’s relatively dark, but you’re right under the tall lamppost, casting tall shadows around you.

Jisung goes back to his car and leans over the passenger side to reach the dial of the media console, turning the music up loud enough for you to hear. He looks through his phone that’s connected to the car, searching for a slow song. The soft melody of an electric guitar plays.

Jisung reaches his hand out to you again and you shake your head, smiling incredulously. “What is this, Han Jisung?”

“Slow Dance in A Parking Lot.” He gives you a lopsided smile. While you were caught up in your own thoughts, over thinking what having sex with Jisung meant for you and the remainder of your trip and stay in Korea, Jisung was doing his best to keep things normal, even remembering a silly item on the Bucket List.

You close your eyes, smiling to yourself. You take his hand and he pulls you close to him. He places your hand on his shoulder and you do the same with your other hand. His hands rest at your waist and he starts to lead you in swaying to the music.

“Is this Journey?”

Jisung laughs a little, “Yeah. Lights by Journey.”

You close your eyes and place your head on his chest, completely following his lead. You weren’t much of a dancer, but stepping side to side was easy enough for you, and thankfully he wasn’t over complicating the steps. You sigh contentedly, and breathe deeply, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

He places his chin on your head absentmindedly. “So, Y/N, now that you kind of have to talk to me…” His chest vibrates when he talks.

“Yea?” You weren’t sure if you were prepared for this conversation.

“Are we cool?” You actually don’t expect the question from him. “Like, it happened. We can’t just ignore it.”

You stay quiet and choose to listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat instead. When he says nothing, you know he’s expecting you to answer. “Yeah but, what does that mean for us?”

“Whatever you want it to mean.”

You pull your head off his chest and stand up straight to look at him. “Whatever I want it to mean?” You give him a genuine smile. He was so incredibly patient with you and it kind of made you feel bad. You weren’t sure what you wanted it to mean. You search his eyes to find something, anything that could help you, but you don’t find it. Instead, you find comfort, which is better than any solution you could have found. You don’t answer him, instead you change the subject as the song changes over the car’s speakers into something slow, with an acoustic guitar. The singer’s voice is high pitched, feminine and soft.

If you wanna dance with me, then dance with me

“Jisung?” You speak over the lyrics, your voice loud enough for only him to hear.

“Yea?”

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch. Just… no funny business.”

He places his lips against your hair. “No funny business.”

You nod your head and wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into him more as you both continue to dance in the parking lot, basking in each others company.

“Y/N?” Jisung asks you a question this time, mirroring the way you had just asked him.

“Hmm?”

“You don’t have to decide right now.”

‘Cause if we dance, we don’t have to speak

You close your eyes and focus on the moment. You can hear the faint sounds of the waves hitting the shore. The gentle breeze doesn’t seem chilly, even as all you’re wearing is a hoodie, tank top, and sweats. The soft thump of Jisung’s heartbeat in your ear is a constant reminder of how close you two are. There’s a tickle in your stomach, a small roll in the pit of your gut, it’s faint, but it’s there.

And I know it's hard to tell, but I think I really like you

ending author's notes: It's fun reading theories that you come up with, but no hints this chapter. I really really liked the end scene and I hope you guys enjoyed it too. Small reminder that reblogs and comments are highly encouraged!

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