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amaranthineghost · 3 months

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BUT I LOVE YOU SO (PLEASE LET ME GO) ( lando norris. )

he loved her, but knew he had to let her go even if it killed him inside. still he left a paper trail back to him.

warnings: heavy angst I suppose

authors note: wrote this with 2 am motivation. it was about time I finally gave you guys some writing after a couple of months of an absence (I sincerely apologize). I was thinking of making this one of the parts of the mini series because it sort of fits what I want to do with it, but i figured since i hadn't put anything out in a while, it'd be its own separate thing <3

part 2 found here

HE LOVED HER with every fiber of his being. every cell in his body lived for her, he told himself. the blood that ran through his veins underneath his tan skin, all the way to his heart that he had so carefully carved to be able to beat for her. she was the center of his life, he thought.

he really thought.

because now, as he sat and watched her through the fingers over his face to hide the incoming tears, he wished he knew what he should've done. because he only knew what to do.

to let her go.

surely, it wasn't easy, it was never going to be. but alas it was inevitable for the lovers to part though at the time, they wished for it to be only shortly. but they were never coming back. they didn't want to believe, but their hearts knew.

it was a long time coming, but nothing could've prepared them for the heartbreak they forced upon themselves. it was like running blindly into the brick wall they had built together.

they didn't ever fight though. that was the one thing they took pride for their relationship, but now they realize it would've been better for petty arguments. because now, they realize they just don't work.

he was social, she was a homebody. he loved the night life, jumping between different clubs across cities he'd drag her to. of course, at the time she didn't mind being pulled into a club every so often, but it wasn't her scene. the media never was.

he knew that. she knew that it was his.

her hands shook with every folded article of clothing, occasionally wiping her nose with the back of her hand as she tried to avoid his figure altogether.

it wasn't like she didn't want him, in fact she needed him. but the relationship was doomed from the start, she knew yet she didn't care because at the time, everything was tunnel-visioned and he was the light at it's end.

her best moments were the ones lived with him, yet also the worst ones too. but she didn't regret it, it shaped them for their future. one where they knew they couldn't be by each other's side.

they knew heartbreak was looming over them, though the possibility of severing their relationship at any given moment didn't dawn on them till blood was pouring out the wound and there was nothing they could do to stop the bleeding.

they wouldn't try to, they knew better than to patch a wound that would never heal. they let it bleed onto the cold floors of their apartment. the one she had to leave.

nothing had happened in the way they had wanted, but when would it ever if everything was always working against them? it was the world versus them and they lost.

they accepted that defeat.

she tried her best to keep her composure as she packed, for whatever thin thread they held onto would snap if she broke down. because they both knew he couldn't leave her if she did, wouldn't let her go.

because she knew he'd give up his career, his dream, in a heartbeat if it had meant he could still hold her at night. he said forever, and he would make it happen.

it sent her over the edge, reliving their relationship as her fingertips creased memories and packed them into a suitcase, each item of clothing holding significance from their relationship. all from the beginning, she'd kept everything, and that wouldn't change.

she broke. she recognized the textures beneath her fingertips before she could look, her favorite dress. her favorite dress that he bought for her for their anniversary. she knew it was over.

as soon as the choked sobs left her lips, the armchair he sat on creaked as he simply stood and walked to console her. his arms wrapped around her shoulders as the warmth of his chest spread across her back, which did nothing but break her heart more.

she pressed her lips against his skin, though not in an intimate manner, but to hide her struggled cries as the tears down her cheeks began to stain his skin with mascara. she gripped his forearm and bicep tightly, leaning her head further against him.

" 'm sorry," she mumbled against his skin, sniffling as she struggled to catch a breath between sobs. she clenched her eyes shut, seeing dizzying shapes underneath her eyelids. she hoped it would stop the tears.

"shh," he shushed as his lips kissed her hair, muffling his words, "i should be sorry."

still he spoke ever so softly to her as the day they'd met and she couldn't help but fold for his tone of voice every time. even when she knew she shouldn't.

" you have nothing to be sorry for, lan..."

"i should've know the media would be too much for you, love." he mumbled against her hair, "i have everything to be sorry for."

"but i handled it." she peeled his arm from her skin, the streaks of black mascara almost making her lips twitch into a smile as it brought back memories. memories of crying-laughing and smearing mascara onto his arms. still, she held his wrist as she turned to face him, yet she didn't step back.

it'd be the last time they would be this close.

but part of him didn't want her to turn around. he loved when her makeup ran down her face as she cried tears of joy, with the bright sun shining down on her, acting as her personal spotlight, because she was the center of attention, with the wind blowing her hair.

he wished he could see her like that one more time before they left for good. because now he stood, resisting the urge to wipe the tears off her face. because now it wasn't happy, it was sullen. he wanted everything to be able to take care of her, to not let her leave. not yet.

he sighed, he had to give in. he always would, he couldn't help himself when he smudged the running mascara off her face, "fuck, that never works, does it?" he muttered in a soft panic as he realized he just made more of a mess.

she chuckled. she loved whenever he lightened the mood, intentionally or not, it was something she could always count on him to do, "every time, lando, every time." she replied through soft chuckles, sighing as she calmed.

he became serious once again as the smile slowly fell from his face and he wiped the black from his fingers, "but really, did you handle it?" he asked lowly, looking down at her with the same, soft look on his face she could always count on, "i know the media really affected you."

she sighed. there was no denying the exhaustion the media and paparazzi caused. they thought they were fine in the bubble of their apartment, but that bubble had long popped.

"you were born to shine, lando." she simply responded to not give him the truth he was expecting to hear, "that's just not me, we both know it."

"i know." he whispered, biting his lip and looking at her with a gloomy expression. he felt regret and guilt, " 'm sorry."

she shook her head, raising her hand to his jaw to trace the bone under his skin, “i know, but we're both at fault here. we should've known it wouldn't've worked out."

it hurt for them to hear, but it needed to be said, and he would've never said it. it was the truth.

she sniffled, backing away with the realization of how close they had become as she wiped away stray tears and turned back to the half-packed suitcase on the bed they once shared.

he watched her face as her eyes scanned the still heaps of clothing left for her to take, and boxes needing to be filled, "do you want some help?" he offered, his hand grabbing the back of her arm, caressing the skin as she jumped slightly at the contact.

she sighed and said through an awkward chuckle, "please," she reached again for clothes to resume her packing, " 'm afraid i'll change my mind if i stay too much longer."

her words hurt, like daggers slicing through his skin. another wound they couldn't heal.

"would it be that bad?"

his response hurt more. she hadn't meant it like that, but words were subjective. it was like he had taken the knife from beneath his flesh and twisted back into hers.

"no, lan, i didn't mean it like that-" she dropped the shirt she held to place a hand on his bicep, which he shrugged off.

" 'ts fine," he spoke without a tone in his voice, which was odd for him. His focus was on her clothes in his hands and somewhat neatly packed away into one of her many suitcases.

"but i just meant-"

"listen, 'ts fine, we aren't together anymore so we don't have to fix things, or try to."

she squirmed under the dagger as it twisted deeper into her flesh. the air was tense, too silent for her liking and his new attitude threw her off.

it made her realize that maybe there was something more to them that didn't work. because surely any two people who loved each other would make it work out.

it didn't make sense though. maybe it never would.

after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence between them where the only sound was folding of cloth and zipping up certain spots in her suitcase, he turned his back and left the room.

she watched him leave from the corner of her eye, but she didn't stop him. she wanted to though. she wanted so desperately to grab him by the arm and force him to talk to her, but she wouldn't. he was right. they weren't dating.

besides they couldn't even fix what they had before.

minutes later he reemerged with a hand stuffed in his hoodie pocket and another behind his back with something he hid from her. she couldn't get a peak before he slipped it into one of the boxes. she shrugged it off as something she had forgotten.

he returned to helping her fold, but this time with his back towards her. it pained her, she didn't want him to turn his back on her, yet in a couple of hours, she would walk through their apartment door, her back turned to him. it was unfair, she knew.

the tears this time were silent as they streamed down her face, but she didn't make a sound. she watched his actions for a solid five minutes, seeing his best attempts folding her clothes, for her. he was never the best at it, as she had poked fun at him for it in the past. it hurt to think she would never see the difference of neatness in her closet anymore.

her attention was piqued when she saw his movement halt, quickly resuming with a messily put-together hoodie, one she didn't recognize to be hers.

she didn't get to look before he flipped back the top and zipped it up to go with the others.

she didn't have time to wipe the fresh tears from her face when he turned around after pulling the suitcase from the bed. he paused, dropping the handle.

in a swift motion, he pulled her into his chest. she couldn't stop herself from breaking down in his arms, his hand wrapped around her head, the other around her back. they stayed silent, apart from her sobs into his shirt. he didn't care if she ended up staining it.

they swayed for a while, longer than they should've, but at least now she had calmed down. though tears still streaming down her face and a headache forming in her head, they pulled apart slightly.

her hair was messy, her nose, cheeks, eyes and lips were red, her eyes were puffy and tears stained her face, but she was still prettier than ever.

he couldn't help but tuck the hair in front of her face behind her ear, his hand resting on her jaw.

for the last time, they kissed.

to him, it was like he was taking his last breath of air, or gulp of water for the rest of his life. he was taking what he could.

the taste of her salty tears, the wetness from her cheeks now on his, the hands in her messy hair pushing her desperately closer because he didn't want to let her go.

they sighed when they parted, his teeth grazing her bottom lip at a desperate attempt for more. more time.

they both stepped back, staying silent once again. they didn't have anything to say because their actions said it all. he stepped back to the suitcase he dropped and started moving them out to her car, which had considerably more trunk space than any of his.

it felt like when she was first moving out for college, with stacks of boxes and plenty of suitcases to make it seem like she was fleeing the country.

it all ended the second she walked out the door, but she didn't have to turn her back on him as he walked her to her car, opening the door.

one last hug between them. the last contact.

but they still followed each other's lives.

she would watch his races from the comfort of her new living room couch because she still worried about him the same amount from when they were dating. she noticed his suffering performance, though she sighed every time he crossed the finish line unscathed.

part of him knew she was watching for him.

he still followed her private accounts, liking the posts of the lifestyle that he could never live. it just wasn't his to experience, just like his was never hers to live either. most nights spent drunk in the dj booth, or out to dinner with other drivers, the social life had never been her scene.

he knew.

he knew all along that it was never going to end as they wished in the moment. they stared at their future without fully knowing what was waiting, yet they didn't step down.

months had passed. their lives were supposed to have gotten better, but they could both see they were both suffering.

boxes still unpacked from when she first left, she had never gotten around to fully moving in. still suitcases and cardboard boxes laid around the kitchen of her new apartment.

she felt like she should open them, like she needed to. if not now, would she ever?

boxes full of old memories from her childhood, or stuffed animals she had always convinced lando to buy for her. until there was one box left untouched. she hadn't remembered packing this one.

carefully, she sliced the tape and pulled back the cardboard. she was speechless.

his race helmet. his race helmet he dedicated to her.

dedicated for the anniversary of the day they met. for the race of the country where their eyes first found each other.

it had details about her. her favorite colors, places, things. it had her name, big enough to see from a while away.

he loved this helmet. and he gave it to her.

all she could do now was hug the last remainder of him and cry. she wasn't sure if letting him go was the right or wrong decision, but it felt wrong to question it now.

when she pulled away from the helmet and sniffling her nose, she noticed a piece of paper lodged into the visor. carefully, she pulled it out, unfolding it to see the familiar and horrible handwriting of lando norris.

she was lucky she learned to read it over the years or she would've been screwed.

blue suitcase. for when you're ready.

out of all of the suitcases she had taken, only one was blue. the one he had packed.

she hastily picked herself off the floor, carefully setting the helmet down on the kitchen counter before dropping back down on her knees and desperately unzipped it.

she tossed through every pocket and article of clothing packed into the suitcase, inspecting every single item. until she found it.

of course, he had given her one of his hoodies, but it was not just any of his hoodies. once again, a favorite of his he wore regularly. he gave it to her. it smelled like him still. curse him for spraying cologne on it.

she felt the fabric beneath her fingertips before slipping it on. a smile crept onto her lips as she went and sat back down on her couch, the TV had been playing FP3 in the background before quali in a couple hours time.

she pulled her blanket back over her, slipping her hands into the pockets. her brows furrowed when she felt yet another piece of paper, pulling it out to reveal even more horrendous handwriting from her beloved racer.

will let me know you're watching?

any day now love.

when the nights get lonely, i'll be waiting.

whenever you're ready.

i miss you, i'm sorry

ynusername

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ynusername I don't know if i'm ready for this...

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fieldofdaisiies · 4 months

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Whispers of the Forgotten | pt. 3

pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2,8k words | masterlist

"She is waking up."

Someone is talking, but you don’t know who it is, have never heard that voice before.

"Is she?" But that voice, you have heard before. And it makes your heart race, panic surging through you and gripping your insides with its invisible claws of fire and ice.

"Yes, Cassian," the female voice states. "She is waking. Thank the Mother."

You shudder — both from feeling cold and the mention of his name.

"Don‘t worry. Nothing will happen to you, you are safe." The female close to you must have felt your slight tremor, trying to soothe you. Under different circumstances you would have been grateful for this act — now, you can’t really accept it. You don’t know what to do with it. Can you trust her? The stranger? She is so close and it scares you, your eyes not yet opening. But you need to see, to know where you are, and what is going on.

You ponder over her words, the mention of the word safe…

Nowhere is safe, you think. Not while Cassian and Azriel exist. With them in your life you are nowhere safe. And why the hell did you allow yourself to fall asleep?

You can’t allow yourself to let that happen again. You can't allow yourself such reckless mistakes. You always need to be focused, one step ahead of your enemies.

Ignoring the voices, you struggle to rise, but your throbbing head spins you off balance.

"Where am I?" you breathe, not recognising your own voice. It sounds weaker than usual, hoarse and ragged. "What do you want from me?"

Blinking against harsh light, only shadows greet your blurred vision. You can only make out silhouettes, no faces, no bodies. Some people stand close to you, some a little further away and one lone figure at the door. You don’t have to see them to know who they are.

You would always recognise him. Azriel. You start to tremble, your knees feeling wobbly despite sitting down. Blinking rapidly, slowly the haze starts to fade, and everything becomes clearer.

"We regret what occurred. Regret the measures we had to take."

The voice, oddly familiar, leaves you unsettled and cold sweat builds up on the back of your neck.

"You…" Your breath catches as a large, towering figure appears. Imposing, graceful, powerful.

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his trousers, his violet eyes trained on you. His features are sharp, but his expression is oddly soft.

"Are you…?" Your voice breaks before you can finish your question.

"Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." The male's voice is loud and strong. "Lady Y/N, I am sorry for what my father—"

"Gods!"

Rhysand. He looks different. Older. More mature. Like his father. You had only seen him a few times back then, never really talked to him, but you knew what he looked like. Everyone did.

You lift your hand. "Don‘t. Don’t apologise. I don’t want to hear that. It was centuries ago and...I don't want to hear it." You can't hear it. Not some silly apologies for things no apologising would ever be enough for.

You don’t want to talk about it — about what happened to you, about what has been done to you. You don’t want the memories to turn up again. You can't let them reach the surface ever again. And most definitely, not now.

Not with Azriel present.

There is unresolved business with everyone in this room, but in this moment it can’t be dealt with. You are not strong enough, your powers still haven’t returned, and there are too many people protecting each other in this moment.

Rhysand dips his chin, slowly assessing you. "You may wonder why we freed you?" he changes the topic.

The High Lord surrounds the couch and claims a seat on the couch table in front of you, but you remain silent.

"We need your help." Again, you offer no response.

"It concerns Koschei, the—"

"Death God." Your lips part, meeting his violet gaze. "Why me?"

And so they explain. Everything and in great detail and you listen. To everything that is said until your head feels heavy and starts to spin. It is too much, too many people, too many noises, too much information.

Azriel stays at the door, and you fight the urge to look at him, not trusting yourself to not lunge at him again and try to claw his eyes out. Your hands are still shackled and telling by the scent of it, the High Lord of Night definitely put a protective shield around you — not to protect you, but rather the others from you.

You listen carefully to every word that is said, but sometimes your thoughts stray. To Azriel. To the Prison. To what has been done to you and to the betrayal. And to what you know of Koschei. It is so much, your brain nearly breaks your through skull.

"The bone carver, his—"

"Brother." Another female appears in your vision, she looks beautiful and young and there is a child on her arm. "He is dead. Gave his life for the sake of Prythian."

You speak a silent prayer to the Mother for another old friend you lost. Whispers of Stryga‘s death reached you some time ago and it sent a pang of hurt to your heart. Slowly, everyone is fading from this world, also Lanthys whose charm and lethality you truly came to love in the Prison and mist desperately when he no longer was.

"Meet my wife, my mate and High Lady of the Night Court." Rhysand’s reaches his arm out, curling it around the young female. "Feyre Archeron and our son, Nyx." Rhysand also introduces all the other people in the room, but your mind catches on the High Lady part and for one moment you can ignore Azriel and what the mention of his name and title does to you.

You furrow your brows when he is done. "A High Lady?"

There had not once been a High Lady when you— Your thoughts are cut off rapidly…that was centuries ago. Obviously things would change — have changed.

You give your head a little shake, chest heaving with a deep inhale. You've missed so much, it hurts. It is a sharp pain, almost like a dagger cutting into your chest, shredding it apart. You have missed centuries in this world. Only because of him. Because of the male who promised you the world. The male who you gave everything to you. Your soul. Your heart. Your body. You loved him and he broke you. Azriel… Your head whips into his direction, grinding your teeth so hard your jaw starts to ache. He is already looking at you, nothing but pain his eyes, his shadows nervously swirling around him. You don't even want to kill him anymore. In all honesty, you never really wanted to. But you want him to hurt. As much as you hurt.

Inhaling deeply, you clear your mind, ignore your vendetta for a moment, and blow out a long breath.

"What do you need me for? I can’t fight Koschei. I don’t have my powers back, the amulet—"

"In our possession." He hadn’t got ridden of it. Your head whips to Azriel and then to the short, black-haired female standing next to him. She was the one speaking and now her lips are pursed, eyes narrowed into slits through which she assess you. She takes a few steps forward, gaze not once straying from you.

"My amulet." You almost want to lunge at her, grasping the family heirloom in your hands, never letting go of it again. "I want it back…"

The amulet of Oorid had once been your most treasured possession, the only thing you could keep of your mother, and it will bring your powers back. It is right there. So close and yet so far away. Never will they give it to you just like this. Your hands lift a little and you are reminded of something else — something else that restricts you from being in full control of powers.

"And apart from that I still have those. I want them removed." With a frown on your face you lift your hands, making the handcuffs and chains clatter. "Even with the amulet back, I can’t do much if I have to keep wearing those." You avoid Azriel’s gaze, but you give Rhysand a reproachful look.

They want your help, then they must do something for it.

The High Lord once again shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. "If we have your trust, you will have your freedom back."

This sounds good...and fishy. You can’t trust them. And it won’t be freedom like you are used to. Freedom meant riding with them. Hunting and haunting with them. Travelling from one court to another in the dead of night. Freedom—

"Forever?"

His eyes crinkle, and you feel a talon scratch against your mental shields. Did he truly think you would let him roam around in your mind? You had no idea he was a deamati but your wits made you react within mere seconds when you felt his power. Obviously you won't let him in.

"What do you mean…forever?" Cassian is the one asking and you bristle at him.

"That I am allowed to be free after he is defeated. That you won’t put me in the Prison or in shackles ever again. That I am allowed to lead a life on my own."

"If you can defeat him."

A female who resembles the High Lady jabs him in the ribs so quickly the general has no time to react, and you almost want to laugh. Serves him right.

"Yes." The short-haired female says.

"I once was a Prison inmate as well. If you earn our trust, you shall roam freely."

"And how do I earn your trust?" you spit and each word is punctuated. You rise to your feet, suddenly towering a little over the black-haired female. Your gazes lock, power clashing with power. You flash your teeth, fangs showing.

She has the audacity to smile. "I like her fire," she says to no one in particular. "When you prove yourself useful in destroying the Death Lord and don't spoil our loyalty towards you, then you shall have our trust."

You nearly grimace at the word loyalty because no one in this place, safe for the people you don't know, has ever been loyal to you.

"But I can't defeat him if I don't have my powers back."

"A bargain it is then."

The black-haired female reaches out her hand and you raise a brow. You have made many bargains in the past, mostly over not that important things. Never over your freedom.

"You regain your powers, and have your amulet back and you shall have freedom and for that you will help us with Koschei, starting with one special task now and then aiding us in ultimately defeating him."

The thin, loose nightgown suddenly feels so tight, too tight, making it hard to breathe. This decision is grand and should not be made on a whim, but you haven't got time.

You hold her gaze…She used to be a Prison inmate too. Why would she lie about it? You think you can trust her…or at least partly. There is no one you can fully trust in this world.

But this bargain will remove the shackles and give you your powers back. And your freedom.

And so you accept. There is no other option anyway. You bow your hand and reach out both shackled hands, sliding one cold palm against hers. Lightning zips between your bodies and only mere moments after, a tattoo adorns the marred skin of your upper arm. Your gaze lingers on it for a long moment until—

"So shall be it," Rhysand bows his head and fetches you back to the moment. "Follow me into my office."

"First, I want these removed. We made a bargain!" You bare your teeth, holding his gaze while lifting your arms.

His answer unsettles you.

"Az, remove them." The High Lord tilts his chin at his shadowsinger. You almost want to tell Rhysand that you are actually quite fine with keeping them only to avoid having Azriel touch you, but it is too late. And you won't ever be weak again. You hate him, and he should have any effect on you. He has touched you before, he can also touch you now.

With the raise of one brow, you turn to Azriel and wave your handcuffed hands into his direction. "Now?"

He says nothing as he pushes off the wall, and slowly makes his way over to you, nothing but grace in his walk. Once again you clench your jaw, worried you'll grind down your teeth to nothing.

And it doesn't get better. Not when his scarred hands carefully reach for your arms, broad fingers accidentally brushing your skin. It tingles, little sparks flying from his fingertips to your skin.

Your breath catches.

Using his shadowsinger powers or whatever, he opens the shackles, catching them before they fall to the ground. "Y/N—"

You step away from him, not giving him a chance to say anything. "Let's go to the office."

"Y/N, please," he tries again and seemingly he doesn't care that his family hears it.

Do they know?

Rhys and Cass didn't know about your relationship back then. Do they know now.

Slowly, you tip your chin up and meet his gaze. It is all in the look you give him, the hurt, the pain, the anger, the hate. You let him see it all and it is answer enough. You don't need to say anything.

He steps away and bows his head.

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

You almost shriek when your sharpened nails brush the onyx box, it’s power strong, electric, radiant, stretching out like a dark force that makes your lungs coil. It feels like death itself.

Your breath catches in your throat, the power the little box holds so similar to your own. Death.

You analyse the box, assessing it. How can such a little box, hold so much power? You don't even allow yourself to imagine what could be in it.

"I think I need some books," you breathe after a moment. "And time. As much as I can have."

"We thought so," Feyre says and in the corner of your eye you see how she curls her hand around Rhysand's elbow, their little babe now peacefully asleep in another room. "Hence why we thought it will be a good idea for you to start looking for all the necessary books in our big library. You can work with all of them, whatever you need shall be yours."

You dip your chin at her, once again focusing on the box. It could be opened with old runes…maybe. Or some spells. Witches spells? You are not really acquainted with them, but maybe you need to have a look into those as well.

"And speaking of the Library…" You turn to Feyre and Rhysand, an expectant look on your face, waiting for the High Lord to continue.

"After a conversation with the priestesses living in the Library, you are allowed to have a room there. The Library is beneath the House and can only be accessed through the House of Wind.“

How kind, you think. You are allowed to. You almost bristle at the way the High Lord phrased it, but you veil your face in indifference and merely shrug.

Freedom…right. Being locked into a Library. Underneath this house. That is what freedom looks like. Not.

"Am I allowed to roam freely there."

The High Lord bows his head. "You are to stay away from the priestesses living there, but you are allowed to roam freely. The females who live in this place have experienced terrible things, we won't allow anything to happen to them again. As long as you don't cause any trouble, you have all the freedom you want to have in there, but if you do something, consequences will follow."

You almost want to laugh. Consequences…They need your help. And why the hell should you cause any of the priestesses living there trouble? You are deadly, but you are not heartless. Not cruel in that sense of the word.

You want to say something, to retort something, but the High Lord beats you to it.

"I think it is a good idea for us to call it a day. You shall rest, you have been through a lot, and getting you out of the Prison and to Velaris most definitely wasn't easy for you."

Velaris…Velara. The High Lord's daughter. Rhysand's sister. Where is she? Why isn't she present. You haven't known her that well, but…you will ask about her another time. Another day.

"I assume you want to bath and then sleep?"

You do, you really do. Today has been too much and you only want to fall into a bed, now that there is the possibility of actually having a bed again. And warm water to wash.

Instead of answering, you only hold Rhysand's gaze and then slowly dip your chin.

"Alright. Then end it here for today. Nesta will escort you to the Library."

You are so very tired. So exhausted. It is all draining. All too much after the century-long imprisonment. And you want to get away from them. From him. You no longer want to be in a room with Azriel. You can't stand to be near him. You can't stand his closeness.

So you find yourself following after Nesta into the Library without saying another word to anyone. And most definitely without deigning Azriel another look.

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

tag list wotf: @goldenmagnolias @chessebookgirl @blackgirlmagicforever @mollygetssherlockcoffee @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @janebirkln @cleverzonkwombatsludge @namelesss @sidthedollface2 @brujitafantomatico @ruler-of-hades @favsrachz @katherinejess @jesus-is-me @ashbatz @onyx-obsession @mischiefmanagers @thesnugglingduck @wandas-dream @emryb @esposadomd @marvelouslovely-barnes @landofpetrichor @sheblogs @zoe2 @leeknows-wife @secretlyhers @itsswritten @lupinswolfsbanes @auggiesolovey @going-through-shit @esposadomd @ithan-holstroms-girl @v3lv3tf0x @hibye02 @karinaligh @darling006 @just-a-social-casualty @shedreamswithstars @dr4g0ngirl @quinzzelx @shadowsingers-redhood @sirenpearldust @rhysandorian @starcrossedsan @spideytingley @historygeekqueen @starryhiraeth @fasoaurore

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #acosf

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myouicieloz · 8 months

Text

Late night halloween interruptions

Yoo Jimin x Producer!reader

Synopsis: being one of Aespa’s main producers and songwriters meant having to work restlessly to deliver the best track of the year— even if it meant sacrificing a Halloween night out. however, focusing on work turns out to be rather difficult when a certain blonde idol keeps distracting you from your goals.

Warnings: smut, nsfw

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: you better wish I have a great fckn test thursday and friday. plus I didn’t proofread it and I WILL NOT. I still stuck at writing smut and I’m angry. also happy early halloween <3 blonderina lives forever in my mind and now in yours, too. ps: this was originally dom!reader but I changed my mind so it’s just a mess.

You were busy with the computer in front of you when you heard the click of the door, despite your heavy headphones. The soft, almost unnoticeable sound made you turn your chair to face the stranger who disturbed your work and dared to annoy you long after your work hours, late at night at the firm.

It wasn’t a total stranger, though. Staring back at you was Yoo Jimin, looking as angelic as always with her plump, rosy lips and porcelain skin. She had a sneaky smile on her face, tracing your desk with her featherlight fingers as she looked for any signs of dust.

“What do you want, Karina?” Your words came out harsh, unlike you intended to, but you still didn’t apologize. You could feel the tiredness wearing down your bones, the disturbance reminding you of the reason you were up so late in one of the company’s many music studios in the first place: so you wouldn’t be bothered at all.

Yet, she found you. You didn’t expect any less, with Karina hunting you down ever since she first laid her eyes on you, the day you were announced as one of the songwriters and record producers for the group’s latest comeback. Being only four years older, your lack of age made it easy to bond with all the girls: it gave them confidence to join in the making of their songs, too, getting deeply involved in the whole process of their comeback. The four band members trusted you and loved having you around, confiding their feelings and running to you whenever they felt bad or insecure. They all looked up to you— you knew it as much, and because of that, you were always pushing yourself to be the best, hardworking version of yourself you could.

Which was why you were always making sure to listen to their wishes and give them feedbacks on their ideas, so they’d grow as idols and song producers. You might not be as old in age as most of the producers in the industry, but you’ve already had your handful of successful collabs with well-known artists who did nothing but essentially praise you: you were skilled, and knew what you were doing, so it was only natural you exchanged some of your experiences with the girls.

Nonetheless, said closeness allowed the blonde girl to often stare at you like you were the only possible prey for a wolf who’s never eaten in its entire existence. Provocative dances, gifting your coffee orders each morning, stupid questions that kept you busy with her for hours, when you should be working… She certainly made your life difficult, toying with you while you tried as hard as you could not to indulge the idol. It was forbidden for employees to hook up with the company’s celebrities, after all, and you couldn’t risk losing your job.

“Good night to you, too, Y/n.” She greeted you, eyes darting around the place attentively. To make sure you were alone, most certainly. Jimin’s eyes lit up when her assumptions turned out right, happy to see you weren’t hiding some low-class hookup in the room. No, she’d have none of that. “I was just looking for you. You’re missing from the party.”

SM’s traditional Halloween party, currently happening many levels down the recording and mixing room, was one of the many fancy ballrooms hosted by the company at any given chance with intents to show off its supremacy and, of course, hegemony in the musical field. Your friends and coworkers tried getting you to attend multiple times, but you had shrugged them off. You liked hanging out with them, naturally, but not enough to put on a stupid costume and make small talk with preposterous, shallow people for hours straight. So you denied all the invites, knowing your presence wouldn’t be missed at all: they knew how to party by themselves, beyond everything.

As Karina reminded you of the current event, you took some time to take a proper look at her. Wearing a corset that enunciated her curves and the traditional red cape, along with heavy, black makeup contrasting perfectly with her long, blonde hair, Karina was impeccably dressed as Red Riding Hood. She’d even brought the damn basket with her, currently left hanging in the corner of the room.

She’d grown accustomed to the idol life, you noticed as the blonde stared at you with delight and confidence, certainly not innocent nor shy anymore as when she met you, nearly two years ago.

The old Karina would never wear such a thing. It made her stand out too much, and she loathed it, to have all of the attention and the stares focused solely on her. You still remember that same girl at last year’s Halloween party: dressed as a witch, wearing one of Minjeong’s old costumes, observing the older subaenims and idols with curious, scared doe eyes. Innocent, even.

And the young woman who looked at you like she was ready to devour you whole was anything but.

Karina didn’t mind your lack of manners, though. Leaning on your mixing table as if she owned it, she tried again, “Aren’t you coming to the party? Really? Come on, it’s Halloween! Don’t be so boring and live life for once, for God’s sake.”

You scoffed, coughing hard enough that you had to take a sip of your water to cool yourself, “The party’s for idols and shareholders.”

“And employees too, silly head.” She answered just as quickly, with a broad smile, dismissing all the dryness in your tone. This time, the look in her eyes reminded you of the Karina she truly was: tender, cautious, almost delicate. “I have a spare outfit, in case you want to keep the theme. You’d be the wolf, then.”

You turned your computer off, narrowing your eyes at her. Her intentions weren’t subtle: it was just as clear as clear water for anyone to see, but you couldn’t help it. You just had to have her begging.

For months, you’ve imagined what those pretty lips would look like all messed up with your juices, bruised from your bites and kisses. The thought of it being forbidden only fuels you with the need to ruin her even more. It makes you itch with how much you want to carve your name onto her skin, leaving her as nothing but a whimpering mess until no one— not even herself, could please her anymore. Only you would be capable of bringing her over the edge, from then. Your most feverish wish was to ruin her for anyone else.

You wouldn’t do it, though. It was forbidden, as said before, and you could lose your job for that. So, naturally, you wouldn’t.

She was fucking testing you, though.

“What do you want, Karina?” You repeated yourself, tone incisive, and yet she didn’t let go.

She was having fun with her girls before searching for you. It was her first year attending the party as an official idol, just as she’d always dreamed of. Nothing would piss her off, and she would get what she wanted.

And currently, what she wanted was to have the pretty producer everyone was whispering about around the hallways all to herself.

“It’s Jimin to you, Y/n.” She mumbled, brushing her legs over your arms. Her touch was gentle and patient, making you close your hands into fists to avoid pulling her by the ankles and taking her right in the mixing table. “And I just wanted to check if you wanted to have fun.”

“And it is unnie for you, dearest.” You reminded her, making the girl roll her eyes. She always made sure to forget to use honorifics when alone with you. “I am your producer, darling.” You added, pushing your chair a bit further and managing to keep some distance between the two of you. “So drop whatever plans you have and find someone else to toy with. I’m not falling for it, baby.”

No matter how desperately you wanted to bend her over the table and fuck her senseless.

Your words made her irritated, with Karina’s angelic face furrowing into an angry pout, as it often did when people didn’t immediately indulge her wishes.

A Spoiled princess, indeed.

“Come on, drop that superior shit.” She rolled her eyes, laying on her elbows without a care about the number of electronics placed over the mixing table. The angle favored her costume, and her perfect breasts, just as intended. You gulped, trying hard not to stare, knowing you’d be doomed if you did.

It was nearly impossible, though. To not drop to your knees and immediately indulge to all her wishes. Karina had always had this sweet, dangerous nature: with light kisses and faked innocency, she toyed with people as she wanted, making them give her it all, which they’d always gladly do. How could they not? When she was so polite and attentive, making sure to pay attention to whatever shit they were saying as if it were the most interesting matter in the world.

You know her better than that, though. Better than to participate in her game, no matter how fucking hot she looked.

You’ve always been told it was hard to know what went through your mind, since your face was always blank and serious, almost disinterested. Taking advantage of that, you smiled back at the defiant girl in front of you, placing your arms in each of her sides, but careful not to touch her.

The anticipation drove her crazy, you knew that much as you felt her shiver under you.

Karina hated how, at the moment, she was the one who felt like the prey. Although it thrilled her to feel like she was not fully in control of the situation, it also irritated her for a bit. However, she knew she’d get what she wanted in the end, of course, so she didn’t mind playing with her food for a bit.

“What do you want, darling?” You repeated yourself, using the same indulgent tone you do when talking to her and the girls about their new songs.

Patient, sweet, and attentive, just like you were during work hours and outside of them.

“I wanted to know if you were going to have some fun, finally. But I see the years have made you as boring as the others. Come on, unnie! Don’t I look pretty?” She managed to recompose herself, returning your smile with a venomous one.

“I won’t pamper you. If that’s what you want, go to your little followers. They’d be more than happy to tell you lies.” Your face was so close to hers, yet your words stated the opposite of how you felt.

Truthfully, your cunt ached, and your heart was beating so fast you were afraid Karina might hear.

That little prey-game aroused you just as much as it did to her. It was a euphoric feeling, one that blew out your pupils and made the blood run through your veins, giving you that good kind of rush. Only Karina could make you feel such emotions without even touching you.

She was fucking gorgeous, and you wanted every single inch of her for yourself.

“So I’m not beautiful tonight?” She batted her lashes, arms resting on her sides like a crystal princess. “I’ve tried my best to look pretty. I’ve always wanted to be Red for Halloween, after all.”

“Do you like to be a prey, Jimin?” You opened a teasing smile, no longer sustaining your uninterested persona. Your fingers teased her collarbone, making the girl drop her head back to appreciate the touch.

You were doomed. Likewise, you knew that the moment she entered the room.

“To be desired.” She corrected, hands comfortably on your arms like she’s been doing this forever. “Chased, even. It’s fun.” She faced you, suddenly serious. “Will we have fun, Y/n-nie?” Those innocent fucking doe eyes of hers, staring expectantly at you.

You sigh, pulling her onto your lap as you inhaled her sickening perfume. Dangerous and sweet, lingering on her skin. You’d soon make it disappear, leaving her whole body drenched in sweat.

Just as she planned for you to.

Grabbing her beautiful corset, you took your time untying the lace before finally looking at her delicate frame.

God, you were going to ruin her little body entirely, until she was writhing and yelling for you to stop. “One time, and one time only. Got it?” She nodded, seaming pleased enough with your answer.

She’d carve her way onto your brain nice and slow, no worries. So, for now, a one-night stand would suffice.

“Just this once.” She hid her face in the crook of your neck, giggling with delight to have her wishes granted.

You finally gave in to your carnal wishes and kissed her, hard and urgently. You’d let her win, just once.

Because it’s Halloween, and she is indeed the most beautiful fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

“H-harder, Y/n. Fuck!” Karina moaned loudly, nails scratching your back to the point where thick red lines adorned your whole back. “Deeper, now.”

Like a queen, she demanded, making you roll your eyes. Her face was all fucked out, her hair unraveled and sweaty from the pounding, and she was absolutely sure her hips, ass and thighs would be all bruised from the way you were gripping them, carving the strap onto her as you made Karina your own personal fucktoy.

“You’re sure too demanding for someone someone who was begging to be filled minutes ago.” You taunted, carving yourself into the girl even deeper. Her hands were interlocked on your neck and her legs did the same to your waist, trying to steady herself at the intensity. “You know how much of a whore you are, right? Going up all those floors by yourself with that fucking strap in your basket just so I could have free use of all your holes.”

“Shut up.” She squeezed her eyes, gasping for air as your hands blocked her pulse point, down her neck. “God, you’re so full of yourself.”

You laughed at her brattiness: she’d never give up, truly. Removing your hands from her skin, you opened her thighs so the strap could reach deeper onto her sweet spot— which it clearly did, as Karina announced so herself. Her wetness was nearly drenching the whole table, making the sound of your thrusts even louder as you placed your fingers on her clit, not yet moving but applying just the right amount of pressure.

“Keep acting up and you won’t get to cum.” You told her, your free hand going up to pinch one of her voluptuous breasts. They were so bouncy and pretty, you just wanted to suck and mark them until there was not a visible inch of her milky skin that wasn’t covered in bruises.

Karina opened her dark eyes, being surprisingly gentle as her teeth scratched your lips. She sucked on your lower lip and, before you had any time to acknowledge, she bit it hard. You drew back, surprised, making her laugh.

“Oh, Y/n-nie,” She licked the blood from your lips, smiling at your reaction. With an unfazed gaze, the girl guided your wrist on her clit, urging you to play with it faster and even harder. She gave your cheek a little kiss, too, adding, “You’re damn cute when you think you’re the one in control.”

You hummed, deciding to focus on Karina’s pleasure instead of indulging the silly provocations she so adored to lead on. With that, you did as told, paying extra attention to her little hole as you returned to your pace, circling and toying with the blonde’s swollen sex until her body began to tremble and she collapsed under you, reaching her orgasm unannounced. You fucked her through it, allowing the dancer to gather her breath and enjoy the final hum of sensations.

Even completely flustered, Karina still looked gorgeous: her body all marked and bruised, a piece of art— your art, and her cunt wet and swollen, still all opened and ready for you.

“You look too pretty like this.” You breathed, verbalizing your thoughts before thinking straight, to which she let out a smile, extending her hand so you’d help her hop off the table.

“I know.” The girl playfully winked at you as her arms found your waist, embracing you in an spontaneous hug.

Of course, you should’ve guessed nothing Karina does is ever not carefully planned. In a second, you find yourself sitting on your chair and she was all over you, now taking her turn into marking her territory. Her mouth sucked and nibbled your clavicle until a line of hickeys are proudly shown, along with her scratches. You don’t mind, though. In fact, you love to have her using you as she wishes, her possessiveness heating up your core at each dirty thing she told you.

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself, too, you know.” Although her tone is light, the murmur that follows is dense and drenched in possessiveness, “We’ll have to fix that, soon. No one can stare at my pretty toy like they currently do.”

“You wish, Karina.”

“I do, my love.” She licked her lips, groping your body like a woman starved. “Now lay down for me, will you? I’m quite hungry, and I need a taste of you.”

You scoffed at her words and the excessive sweetness in her tone, but as always, did as told.

Just for tonight, you reminded yourself. You’d relent to her wishes just for tonight. And only because it was Halloween, and you were working hard. You deserved a treat.

#aespa x you #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa smut #aespa scenarios #aespa karina #yoo jimin #karina x reader #karina smut #yu jimin #karina aespa #karina aespa smut #yoo jimin smut #yu jimin smut #yoo jimin x reader #yu jimin x reader #sol writes #sol’s works

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justaaveragereader · 7 months

Text

Nothing But Business

Pairing: Ceo!Yeosang x Stripper!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Dom!Yeo, Sub!Reader, Unprotected Sex, Cream Pie, Degradation, Spanking, Reader Is A Stripper🤪, Humiliation, Slight Choking, Possessive Yeo, Name Calling (Pretty Girl..), Oral, Deep Throating, Yeo Is Kind Of A Meany👀 But Gets Soft At The End.., If I Missed Anything…👀👀Lemme Know!

A/N: I saw a clip on TikTok of “business man” Yeosang, and he’s been plaguing my mind ever since, bc dom business man Yeosang?!? I’m SICKKKKKK!

Your body moves fluidly against the pole in his penthouse, windows so large in his home, they make you feel like you are standing on top of the world. Like everyone is ants, while you are God watching down below. The city lights help illuminate the living room. As the song changes, you slow your movements down, peeling pieces of your clothes off till you are in nothing but a thong that covers nothing, and a lace bra that shows off everything, leaving nothing to the imagination. Your eyes catch his so often, he is seated like he’s playing God. No one is higher on the successful scale than the Kang Yeosang, often referred to as King Yeosang. The heir to the Kang fortune. A businessman by day, and your favorite customer by night.

You’d drop the world if it meant you’d get at least 5 minutes with him, he never spoke much, but when he did, it always swept your breath away, if sex had a voice, it definitely would belong to Yeosang. All you did was dance for him, nothing more. Even though his eyes clearly told a completely different story. A blind man could see that you wanted each other, yet he always made no move, and you were too shy to make the first move. As the song comes to an end, you do one more twirl around the pole before landing in a split. Giving him a perfect view of your plush ass. As it smacks the floor it jiggles slightly. You hear a quiet hum of approval from Yeosang, as he swirls his whiskey around the glass once more before. Leaning back, you can make out the thick outline of his cock in his dress slacks. Your gaze falls a little too long on his cock.

Resulting in him letting out a quiet laugh, bringing the glass up he takes another small sip. Your body heats up with embarrassment as you know you had been caught gawking at his bricked up cock.

“Do you see something you like?” He says loud enough for you to hear, the deep, scratchiness of his voice from the alcohol and from not speaking for so long sounds like velvet in your ears. Slowly getting off of the floor, you shift your eyes down to the floor, apologizing to him for staring. Letting out a deep chuckle, he drinks in your form once more.

“Why don’t you come here, pretty girl?” Your eyes dart up to him, stopping your movements from gathering your clothes from the ground. Your eyes meet his, a glint of mischief is behind them.

“Wh-What.?” You whisper out, dumbstruck at the fact he wants you to stay longer than your scheduled time. Not that you had any plans, even if you did for Yeosang? You’d stop the world from spinning.

“I said…I want you to come over here.” Letting his body relax further against the couch he’s on, while his eyes wander up and down your practically naked body. Was this really happening? After months, and months of dancing for him, he’s making the first move. As you step down from the area that your pole is on, he lets out a tsk noise, shaking his head as he picks up his glass, sipping it. You pause your movements.

“Crawl to me.” He says through a smirk, bringing the glass of whiskey to his lips to take a sip. Slowly you get on your knees. Humiliation pricks your skin, the lower you get to the floor. The dim lights gleam off of your lip gloss, resulting in Yeosang to adjust himself, letting the glass in his hand warm up due to the warmth you are making spread through his body. As the condensation from the cool glass meets his palm, he brings it up to take a small sip. Watching you how a tiger watches its prey before them.

As your knees hit the floor, you slowly make your way towards him, your eyes are glued to the floor, too humiliated to make eye contact with him, you could feel his burning gaze on you. Flickering your eyes up to catch a glimpse of him, you are taken back by his state, any other man you wouldn’t even be on the floor crawling for them, yet alone submitting yourself. If this was any other man you’d scream how much of a sleaze ball they were, but with his muscular legs spread wide open, with one hand on his drink, and the other sitting between his legs, he looked nothing less than of a God.

You can feel the floodgates open in your panties, clenching your hands into a fist, you continue to crawl towards him.

“Stop.” He says suddenly causing your body to freeze right before his legs. Sipping his drink once more he places it down, leaning to get a closer look at you, his elbows on his knees. You can feel him exhaling on your skin. That's how close he is to you.

“You wanted me to crawl to you, didn’t yo-.” Before you can finish your smart mouth reply he has your face squished between his hand, while you are on all fours between his man spread legs.

“You are going to learn to watch your tongue when speaking to me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Biting your lip, you felt heat flush your body, nodding slowly he lets go of your face, leaning back against the couch. Swishing the glass of alcohol around once more. You can hear the ice cube clink around in the glass.

“Such a pretty thing…” he whispers out quietly to himself, tilting your chin up so you can look up at him, you swear you can see the lust swirl in his pretty brown eyes, the birthmark by his eye looks like he had been kissed by a Goddess with how perfect he was up close.

“You want me..?” He whispers out, voice laced with such a timber tone your body does a noticeable shiver. Biting your lip, you nod while your eyes continue to scan over his features. A wide smug grin takes over his face, an arrogant flame fuels his body. Letting out a pleased noise he leans back, into the couch, while you are on the ground you are eye to eye with his hard cock. That is suffocating in his slacks, running your thumb over the head of his cock. He lets out a deep breath that he clearly had been holding. His head falls back against the back of the couch.

You slowly run your fingertips over the outline of his cock, taking in the girth and the length of it. With such small soft movements, small groans leave Yeosangs mouth, you see his thighs slightly twitch with each soft touch. How could such a big serious man, fall apart like puddy in your hands? Biting your lip, your hands smooth over his slacks before undoing his pants, lifting his body up he shimmy’s out of them, letting them pool around his knees. His cock easily springs to life, smacking you in the face, the head of it is cherry red, beads of precum are pooled around the tip. If it wasn’t for such dark slacks a visible spot would’ve been on his pants.

Placing your thumb on the head, you rub the precum around, a deep moan leaves Yeosangs mouth, biting his lip, you can see his chest heave up and down. Letting your tongue roll out, you run it over the head collecting the tanginess of him. His hips jerk back, taken back by the sudden feeling of your warm tongue on his cock. Running your tongue over the vein on the underside of his cock. Everything about him is God sent, the weight of his cock on your tongue is captivating, heavy enough to have your mouth watering in anticipation of what’s to come. Lowering your mouth slowly on him, you take him inch by inch. Letting the head of his cock nestle in the base of your throat. Breathing slowly out your nose, you try to swallow causing your throat to contract around his throbbing length. Letting out a loud groan his hand shoots to the back of your neck, gripping it tightly. His cheeks are flushed red, sweat is beading around his hairline. His eyes bore into yours. You swallow once more, your throat contracts around his cock, with him sitting in your throat, spit just pools around your lips, slowly trickling down his cock.

“You trying to make me cum already, pretty girl?” He groans out, ending his sentence with a chuckle. You feel heat spread all over your body, both from embarrassment, and from being turned on. With the salvia that pools on his cock, your hand dips into, traveling down to his balls, and giving them a slight massage. Causing him to let out a throaty groan you haven’t heard before. His hand travels from the back of your neck to the top of your head. Giving it a soft pat before, rubbing the pad of his thumb over your hairline by your ear. Bobbing your head you take him as far as you can. Another loud groan leaves his mouth. Your tongue rolls out to the underside of his cock with each suck, making sure to drag your warm tongue over his vein each time. Paying extra attention to the way it throbbed in your mouth. Each time you gave his balls a slight squeeze he would thrust his hips up in your mouth.

Causing you to gag around him, wanting to show what he had been missing out on, you continue to take him deep. Eyes watering, mascara running down your face. Biting his lip, he cocks his head to look at you. Your misty eyes, meet his. You can see that glint of something unknown looking behind is brown eyes . Pulling off of him with a loud pop, refusing to break eye contact with him, you untie the loose knot on your top that is barely doing anything to cover your chest. Letting it fall to the ground your tits fall out, his eyes immediately following the way they fall freely. His cock bobs at the sight. Giving his balls a soft squeeze once more, causing his cock to bob so hard it smacks his lower stomach, smearing your spit, mixed with precum all over his button up shirt. Your hands rise to unbutton the lower buttons on his shirt, causing you to catch a glimpse of his body. Running your hand over his abs, you see his stomach contract. Causing him to let out a low growl noise. You were affecting him in more ways than you could think of.

“You going to ride me, pretty girl? Or are you going to continue to stare up at me while my dick throbs in front of that pretty face?”

Body moving instantaneously, you hop up. Legs semi wobbly due to how long you were kneeling before him you putting on knee on the side of his body, he pulls at your bottoms, tugging them to you knees, lining himself up with your dripping cunt, you sink down onto him, letting your other knee swing over to the other side of his body. Slapping your ass cheeks as you slide down slowly on his cock, you let out a loud mewl. His thick cock stretching from wall to wall in your cunt. You could feel him pulsating in your warm walls. The drag of his vein, you could feel the want not only coming from him, but also coming from how deep he was buried inside of you.

“Fuckkkk…” a loud moan leaves Yeosang. His head falling back into the couch while your head falls back. Looking up at the ceiling you give your hips a small wiggle trying to stretch your cunt to accommodate his size. It has been a long time since you've been intimate with anyone, and your dildos had nothing on the girth of Yeo. His hands come down to grip the fat of your ass. Continuously smacking it, and gripping it tightly.

“This pussy is so fucking good. I can feel you gripping me with each movement, pretty girl.”

You let out a small moan, dropping your head so you can look at Yeosang beneath you. Even though you were on top of him, you knew who was in charge. He had the power, while you were just the provider. Biting your lip, you move your hips slightly, before creating a small pace with bouncing up and down on his large cock. His hands never leave your ass cheeks. Spreading them further, so his cock could reach deeper in you. As you go down on his cock, he thrusts his hips up, cock driving deeper into you. Brushing right over your spongy spot, you let out a loud moan. Gripping his shoulders to try and stabilize yourself. With each thrust he’s delivering to you, you bite your lip, trying to hold onto your orgasm. It hasn’t even been a full 5 minutes but the way his cock was brushing up into you, it’s like his body was trained to know how yours operated. One of his hands leaves your ass, coming up to you face, tugging your bottom lip that’s between your teeth out. Wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, he pulls your face down to his own, noses brushing against each other. His hot breath is on your lips.

“Don’t hide those sounds from me, pretty girl.”

He crashes his lips on yours. Tongues instantly tangled with each other. Your hands roam his upper body feeling every muscle contract as you continue to ride him, his hand tugs your body further into his. He's soaking you in any way he can get. His other hand planted firmly on your ass, while the other holds the back of your neck. You know it’s a dominant power move, he holds so much power within himself, within the world. Yet such a powerful man who is craving you how the world craves him.

His thrusts become sloppier, you know he’s close. His hand moves down to your clit, rubbing it in small slow circles. Your eyes flutter back, his tongue still explores your mouth while all you can is let breathy moans into his. Your toes clench.

“Ye-Yeo I’m close, I’m so fucking cl-close.” You moan out in stutters, a heat rushed through your body, pulling his lips back from yours. He hammers up into your cunt, making sure to dive as deep as he can go. Both his hands travel down to your ass spreading your cheeks, making sure to aid you in your bouncing. He can feel your walls contract, you throw your head back, stopping all movements from you while Yeosang still thrusts into you. His warm lips move to your ear talking you through your orgasm.

“Yeaaa…that’s right, pretty girl. Cum all over my cock.” Planting a soft kiss on the side of your neck, you are pushed over the edge, with a loud moan you are cumming undone on him. Your walls squeezing him tightly, his hips stutter with zero caution his own orgasm washes over him merrily seconds after yours has begun.

“Shit, shit, shit. You feel so fucking good.” He says through grit teeth, making sure to continue his thrusting. Trying to milk you of your orgasm, not even fully caring about his. All he cared about is that you got yours. The warmth of his cum in your throbbing cunt, makes you let out a loud whimper. You feel so full of him. Full of his cock, and full of his cum.

Your body falls slack forward against his chest. His hands run up and down your back. Soothing you as you catch your breath. Your head sits in the crook of his neck. Just as you are drifting off his phone rings, making your body jump awake. Sitting up slightly, you try to get up out of his hold. His cock is still buried deep inside of you. Making a soft moan leave your throat with all of your movements. His cock stirs back to life inside of you. Your eyes shoot over to his phone that is ringing. His eyes follow your every movement.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” You whisper, shifting your hips slightly trying to be released from his hold. His hands are firmly holding your back. He wants you here, he’s waited this long to have you. He’s not about to let anything scare you off. Shrugging his shoulders slightly, his eyes bore into yours. Causing you to feel quite shy, like he wasn’t buried balls deep in you. Like you couldn’t feel his dick brick back up inside you.

“Now why would I answer my phone when I have a pretty thing like you in my lap?”

DO NOT REPOST.

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #kang yeosang smut #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang smut #yeosang scenarios #yeosang x reader #ateez au #dom!ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez yeosang #kpop smut

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azullumi · 2 months

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“under the burning hill” ; aventurine

premise — you say you know him, what will he choose?

tags — angst, with comfort if you squint, mentions of death, a lot of metaphors, spoilers to his backstory, i seriously don’t know how to tag this one, not proofread, 0.9k words; ficlet

tagging — @toorurs

note — i once cried to those tiktok slideshows that are like “if you really know your mother/self/father/sister/brother, what will they choose?” and then this fic happened. this is NOT my celebration fic for getting him, i have different one in my drafts

you say you know aventurine, what is he choosing?

a chance to be with his family again

he dreamt of flowers and gardens, of empty fields and large floating clouds, of tears and warmth, and he knelt into the dream where he felt the warmth of his sister’s hug and the soothing melody of his mother’s song. he buries his corpse who knew his father’s voice and how he would hold his child. in his dreams, he is good and he is loved.

he had nightmares of blood and fire, of wounds and tainted, dirty clothes, of screams and cries, and he’ll run away from the blades that will chase him, his body will become a corpse along with many others as he hides in the bloody waters. he has known death even before he saw his reflection.

and when he awakes from this, he’ll find himself in an empty bedroom despite the corners and the walls adorned with furniture, decoration, and dust. he’ll find himself alone—waking up yet he’s still in a nightmare. his family isn’t there.

for his shackles to never exist

the chain suffocates him—there’s the harsh smell of rusting metal and the cold tug of the chain when he moves his hand. his clothes are tattered, the collar and the hems burned off, and he stands before the eyes that scrutinizes and looks down on his existence. their gaze leaves letters that burn on his skin and it forms into a scar that will never heal, a reminder of what he is meant to be and will always be.

but he walks in the streets in flamboyance, the chain never seen on his wrist and neck as if it never once touched him. he treads the line of freedom and restriction recklessly and like a bird who has never known how to spread its wings, he could never reach far into the sky.

the form of his shackles have changed; it doesn’t mean he also has.

to stop the tremble of his hands

he fiddles with his fingers, adjusts the way his watch rests on his wrist—he keeps his hand busy and hidden. he wears a smile on his lips and utters such words filled with confidence as he places his bet, as he gambles his life, yet he desperately tries to conceal the way his hands tremble as he clutches on to his chips.

he wagers his life as if his existence was only a mere chip on the table, but it’s the only control he’ll ever have over himself.

an apology

he has dealt with scornful gazes and harsh remarks, has dwelled on the hidden meaning behind people’s words. he’s all too familiar with the cruel and unkind thread that weaves into their tongue as they speak—some may sing praises to him yet their eyes would harbor only hatred and disgust.

he wishes someone would ask for his forgiveness, but why would he even deserve one? what did he even do to deserve one? what did he do? does his existence outweigh the heaviness of a single syllable the word carries? was he worthy of one? does he even have any worth?

he can only let their gaze taint his skin, rearrange the letters of the words they utter into the one he will never hear.

(he has never forgiven himself either.)

to finally let go

how bruised are his knees and how long will he repent for the sins he has never committed?

he holds on to his burden as if it was a part of him, as if he’ll be nothing but an empty vessel if he loses his hold on it. he knows it's holding him down, knows it's making his hands bleed but it’s everything and the only thing he has known for—the thorns has been engraved into his palm and became part of his skin. he’ll stuff his mouth full of rotten food and leave his stomach empty, and he’ll believe this is what he’s made for.

perhaps when he'll finally find a place to put everything down, he’ll learn how it feels to live for himself and not for the things he carries.

you say you know kakavasha, what is he choosing?

to never have to say goodbye

farewell is a form of poetry and he is a poem.

in most days, he’ll hear his sister’s voice in the empty corridors of his home, he’ll hear the echoes and follow him into places she could never reach (his wishes will never be enough to save her). he’s haunted by the unspoken farewells and the goodbyes he is forced to make, watching their backs as they leave or his own.

(he wishes he never knew the word.)

(his child self) having a conversation with future him

children are bound with endless dreams and light to see into the dark as they walk into their future—he was (once) one of them. he’ll stay up at night wondering what’s ahead of him, grasping on to what little left of his hope that things will become better, and when he sleeps, he’ll dream of talking to his future self.

“are you happy?”

if he’ll have a conversation with his future self, he’ll tell him everything and anything, make him recall the memories lost when growing up, trace the stars with him as he asks him the questions he’s curious to know the answer to (his future self will know him inside out but he, the child he once was, will never know him). and maybe he’ll put their palms together once he notices his agitation—and he’ll see the differences of their hands and notice the dying light in their eyes—as they ask for their god’s blessings.

he’ll tell him: everything will be okay, even when he’ll only be met with silence.

(get onstage

fear not

never look back.)

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bvidzsoo · 2 months

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Love Me Like A Rockstar (8)

Chapter 8: Own My Mind

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

Warning: cursing

Word count: 8.3k

Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au

Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm back with a new chapter and let me tell you, ever since I've started writing this there's been little changes to the plot here and there, but...we should all thank Song Mingi for the way he's been acting this weekend for bringing a major change to it (i wanna kms ha-ha *dies in pain*) Anyways, I have a love-hate relationship with that man right now, don't mind my dramatic ass. Please listen to Maneskin's Own My Mind before or while reading this chapter, just the usual! If you want to be added to this story's taglist, just leave a comment on this post and you'll be added! Also, the drawing our girlie is talking about that is on her bed (later in this chp.), is absolutely waterbomb Mingi and it's a call-back to chp. 4 hehet. I have a surprise at the end of this chapter lol. One last question and then I'm going, should I do a Q&A surrounding this story? Like, if you have any curiosities about it, you can send in an ask and I'll gladly answer it! ^^ I hope you'll enjoy this part and, as always, let me know your thoughts about it!

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @sharksandminhos

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

I shivered as I hurriedly shrugged off my jacket, backpack discarded the second I stepped inside my warm home, the loud thunder cut short as Mingi quickly closed the front door behind himself, hissing and groaning. I turned my head to watch him struggle out of his worn-out jacket as I stepped out of my shoes, hardly believing that from just a few minutes out in the rain, even my socks got soaked. Mingi’s head shook as his body trembled, and I couldn’t help but chuckle as I watched him. He looked quite hilarious with his black hair sticking to his forehead, glasses so wet he couldn’t see through them anymore, loose clothing now sticking to his lean body like a second skin.

“What’s so funny?” Mingi playfully furrowed his eyebrows as he took his specks off, shaking the water off the glass, as wiping it against his already wet clothes wouldn’t have helped him in ridding his glasses of water.

“You.” I mumbled with a chuckle as I peeled my cardigan off, skin covered in goosebumps as my damp skin was exposed to the chilly air in the hallway. Mingi rolled his eyes, and placed his glasses back on as I took off towards the wardrobe by the stairs, chewing on my bottom lip. Mingi would have to change out of his wet clothes, unless we wanted him to catch a cold. I couldn’t leave him standing there like that, shivering and sniffing as he already sneezed loudly. His apology was sheepish, but I just flashed him a small smile before opening the heavy door of the wardrobe. There were minimal chances that the box I was looking for was still inside the wardrobe, considering the fact that my mother would go on a cleaning frenzy every month and throw out almost everything inside the house that she deemed unusable anymore. Therefore, there were almost one to zero chances that the box I so vividly remember having placed here ages ago, was still in its spot.

“Uh, do you think I could use the bathroom real fast?” Mingi asked, voice sounding unsure as I kneeled down in front of the wardrobe, eyebrows furrowing when I didn’t spot the box right away.

“One second, let me find something.” I called out, leaning forward as I pushed my mother’s long coats hanging in my face out of the way, and disappeared further into the wardrobe as I pushed and pulled at the thick blankets she kept in there. I thought about giving up for a second, about her having thrown out the contents of the box I was searching for, but I gasped when I felt the sturdy cartoon underneath my fingertips. With a triumphant smile, I pulled on it, a few scarfs and my very old Hello Kitty beanie falling out in the process. The box felt heavier than I remembered it to be, and my heart settled knowing that my mother didn’t throw it out. But that didn’t mean it didn’t start beating wildly once I sat back on my heels, box placed in front of me. A chill ran down my spine, and I knew right now that it wasn’t because of the chilly air and my damp skin. Whatever still remained inside this box…is what I never had the strength to throw out, to fully get rid of every memory lingering of Yunho. I gulped, chewing on my bottom lip as I hesitated opening it up. But there was another loud sneeze, and as I briefly glanced at Mingi, I couldn’t help but notice the light red tinge on his cheeks as he typed away on his phone, completely soaked. I really had no other choice but to open up the box of pandora.

And a lump formed in my throat when I finally opened it, a stale scent hitting my nose. My eyebrows furrowed when a golden butterfly necklace sat on top of everything, a harsh reminder of all the gifts Yunho would buy for me during our relationship. I have thrown out all the gifts, except this one. It was expensive, and frankly, too beautiful to be thrown out or gifted to anyone else. Gulping, I pushed the necklace aside and sighed as I dug around the box, jaw clenching at the three sketchbooks getting in my way. They were filled with drawings of Yunho and myself, of all the places we’ve been to, of all the places I have wished to visit with Yunho. Of all the memories we have once made, and of all the memories I wished we could’ve made. Being an artist was amazing, but at certain times it was a nightmare in disguise, brain able to conjure such vivid images that never happened, that it could fool me into thinking that they have actually happened. I sighed quietly as I felt eyes on me, and finally found what I was searching for. A fuzzy and faded knitted sweater, a plethora of colors mixed together, from beige to a light purple, black and silver in the mix too. I pulled it out of the box, together with the grey sweatpants, and cleared my throat as I stood, hands burning the longer I held the clothing in my hands. I felt guilty, almost disgusting as I neared Mingi again, trying to avoid his eyes as he had an easy look on his face, smiling despite continuously sniffing.

“These are the only male clothing we have in the house,” I said as I reached my hands out, looking at Mingi’s chest rather than eyes, “hopefully they’ll fit you.”

“And if they won’t, you can always give me one of your colorful fuzzy cardigans.” Mingi’s tone was playful and I chuckled, giving him a playful glare. Those cardigans would never fit his broad shoulders. The tightness was gone from my chest as Mingi took the clothes from my grasp, a thankful look on his face. The guilt remained, but it wasn’t so pressing anymore.

“You can change in the bathroom downstairs,” I pointed towards the closed door across from the wardrobe, “towels are in the cabinet above the toilet. Do you need a hairdryer?”

Mingi shook his head with a smile and gave my soaked hair a light tap, “Thank you, Y/N.”

The way he seemed to linger on my name sent my heart into a dumb frenzy, and I found myself flustered beyond, emotion so foreign I forgot how to speak for a second. And Mingi didn’t miss it, fuck, because he walked away with a smug smile towards the bathroom and paused in the doorway for dramatic effect, before disappearing with a damn wink. I huffed, glaring daggers at the closed door as I scurried to shove everything fallen out back inside the wardrobe, closing its door rather harshly. I licked my chapped lips and raced up the stairs, throwing the door to my room open and taking a second to take in its state. My desk was messy, but that’s just how it always was, I couldn’t do much about it right now. I opened the blackout curtains, however, the weather already gloomy enough to cast shadows inside my dark room. I flinched as another thunder rumbled through the sky, and grabbed the first clothes I found in my closet, walking to the bathroom upstairs.

After having changed into wide legged leggings that had cotton on the inside, I quickly threw on a white tank top and a soft pink mock neck sweater, sighing in content as warmth finally enveloped my body after I have dried up the dampness on it with a towel. I skipped down the stairs as I had a towel around my head, messily towel drying my hair, completely missing the tall form standing at the foot of the stairs as I stumbled into him. I yelped, but Mingi quickly steadied me by the elbows. Before I had the chance to pull the towel off my head, two large hands grabbed at it and started softly rubbing the towel against my wet hair. I froze, everything inside me stopping as even my breath stilled, eyes wide open. Mingi said nothing as he continued with his actions, quietly humming to himself. I was afraid he’d be able to hear my loud heartbeat as I breathed through my mouth, lips parting as I struggled to calm down. I was thankful for the towel hiding my face, because I could feel the blush spreading down from my cheeks to my ears, and even neck. I couldn’t remember a time when I have blushed this hard, and it made me feel slightly disoriented. For God’s sake, Mingi was simply towel drying my hair for me, why was I having such a visceral reaction to it?! My mind seemed to be screaming at me, but I was too busy trying to regulate my breathing, doing so quietly, as Mingi’s hands became a little rougher, almost pulling on specific strands of hair. My eyes narrowed as he turned my head left to right to his likes, and I groaned as his fingers dug into my scalp.

“Hey, stop it!” I whined and slapped at his hand, making Mingi chuckle as he ruffled my hair to the point I had strands from the back falling into my eyes.

“Oh, good,” He was still chuckling, “for a second there I thought you had fallen asleep with how quiet you were.”

Despite not being able to see his face, or anything if I looked ahead, I could still peek down and see his feet. I was standing on the last step of the stairs, and with an evil grin, I jumped down, his naked toes falling victims to my attack. Mingi yelped loudly, and I cackled as I pulled the towel off my face, smiling at him smugly.

“Serves you right since my hair is all knotted up thanks to you.” I raised my eyebrows at him as Mingi had his right leg raised, massaging his toes with a pained expression.

“So you break my toes?!” He exclaimed, his deep tone a few octaves higher, making me snicker to myself as I threw the towel at him, making him yelp and look at me with an appalled expression on his face.

“Stop being a baby,” I stuck my tongue out at him as I walked towards the front door to lock it before I went inside the kitchen, “And wear some slippers before you come to the kitchen.”

Mingi was closely following behind me, ignoring my words, “What, one of your dwarf slippers? It’s either my toes or heels will be dangling off.”

The image was funny in my head, but I ignored it in order to throw him a scrutinizing look, “The tiles are cold in here, you’ll catch a cold.”

A wide smile spread on Mingi’s lips as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest, biceps bulging underneath the tight fabric of the sweater, “You’re so cute when you worry about me, doll.”

There goes the pleasant exchange we’ve been having up until now. My voice became devoid of any expression besides the glare I threw at him, mirroring him as I crossed my arms in front of my chest, “I’m not cute. I’m merely saying you’ll probably catch a cold since we’ve been out in the rain not even fifteen minutes ago. And since you’re a singer you should be taking a lot more care of yourself.”

Mingi remained silent for a few seconds, until I watched a light hue tinge his cheeks. Was he blushing because I was lecturing him? Just what in the hell?!

“You’re right, sorry.” Mingi mumbled, but showed no intentions of actually following through with my words as he walked further inside the room, sitting at the table, feet up on the chair as he hugged his long legs to his chest. For such a tall and broad man, he looked extremely tiny sitting on that chair right now.

“Uh,” A little confused by the turn of events, I looked around the kitchen, trying to remember the initial purpose of me coming here, “Right. You don’t like tea, so we have coffee or hot chocolate to warm us up, which one would you like?”

Mingi’s eyes lingered on me for a second too long, taking in my whole being before his eyes settled on my face again, a smile so genuine settling on his lips that his eyes were sparkling, “Hot chocolate is fine.”

I hummed, a little breathless, then turned to open the cabinet above the microwave to take out two tall mugs for the hot chocolate. For some reason, I didn’t mind Mingi’s eyes following my every move as I tinkered around in my kitchen, taking everything I needed in my hands to prepare them on the counter. The thought of having Mingi inside my home, sitting in my kitchen, wearing my ex’s clothes, acting like we’ve been friends since forever seemed to hit me at once as I froze for a second while pouring water inside the second mug, Mingi’s mug. And what was even more surprising was not finding any thoughts that suggested that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this, that Mingi didn’t belong inside my kitchen. I didn’t want to dwell more on why it all felt so right, so instead, I watched as the mugs whirled around in the microwave, locking these thoughts away for later…I knew they’d come back late at night to haunt me, it’s just how it always was.

Mingi clearing his throat gained my attention as I glanced back at him, and tried not to look too long. The way Yunho’s clothes perfectly fit Mingi’s form was alarming, albeit the sweatpants seemed to be slightly too long for Mingi. I’ve had Yunho’s clothes since highschool, which was a few good years ago, yet they still fit Mingi. It made me wonder if the two ever exchanged clothes or wore something matching, like best friends would do for fun. I know Yunho had once mentioned having matching rings with Mingi, but back then I was too jealous about their closeness to ask any further questions about any other matching items they had. And it was a little surprising just how well Mingi’s skin tone was complimented by the colors of Yunho’s old sweater, Mingi’s necklaces sitting on top of the knitted fabric. That sweater was one of my favorite’s while Yunho and I were dating, Yunho always seemed to be glowing when he wore it. At some point I had even forgotten that I still had it. Perhaps I should do something about the contents of that box, join my mother next month in her frenzy cleaning marathon and throw out its contents.

The microwave pinged and I took the two mugs out, realizing that Mingi and I had been staring at each other for at least a good minute, my cheeks flushed again. A soft chuckle was heard behind me, but I ignored it for my own sake. The silence didn’t last for longer as I opened the little packages containing the hot chocolate powder to pour into our cups, “This might sound crazy, but I swear I’ve seen this exact sweater on Yunho quite a few times.”

I froze, thankful that I had my back to Mingi as panic flashed over my face. Deep breaths, I had this. Mingi didn’t have to know, I could lie my way out of this. And so, I forced a small smile on my face as I faced him while walking to the fridge, “Really? Well, coincidence, maybe. It’s my cousin’s sweater, he forgot it here once, but as he lives overseas he never came to get it and my mother just placed it away for when he comes to visit us.”

I didn’t have one single male cousin. Let alone cousin’s that lived overseas.

“Oh,” Mingi mumbled as he picked at an undone string on the sleeve of Yunho’s sweater, “Yeah, that could be it, a coincidence, I mean. Besides, my memory is a little fuzzy, I might be wrong.”

I gulped away the guilt that suddenly bloomed in my chest and grabbed the whipped cream, raising it up, “Whipped cream for your hot chocolate?”

I grinned at Mingi as he slowly shook his head, “I drink it simple.”

“Really?” I asked surprised as I walked back to the mugs, “Not even with marshmallows?”

Mingi shook his head with a small smile and so I mixed his powder with the warm water, handing it to him. Mingi had a fond smile on his lips when he took it, his cold fingers lightly brushing against mine, making me blush like a stupid schoolgirl who has a crush. And I do not have a crush on anyone, let alone on Song Mingi. I swiftly turned around, hoping that Mingi didn’t notice me blushing as I quickly put whipped cream in my hot chocolate and stuck two marshmallows in it, putting everything away quickly. I turned to face him as I took a sip, leaning against the counter. Mingi sat in a cross-legged position on the chair as he had the mug in his hands, ring clad fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic. I couldn’t help myself as my eyes lingered on his painted nails, slowly trailing up to Mingi’s face. His black fluffy hair fell in his eyes, obscuring his sharp eyes slightly as they were devoid of the black eyeliner now, a few blemishes tainting his otherwise glowing skin around his jaw, glasses slipping low on his tall nose, and plump lips red and slightly wet from how much Mingi always licks his lips. The simplicity of his whole being has never looked more attractive than right now, and as Mingi opened his mouth to say something, I was startled by such alarming thoughts, and so I hurried out of the kitchen.

“Let’s go up to my room!” I called out, on the brink of crying from all these stupid emotions I was suddenly feeling, trying to calm my crazily beating heart. Who allowed my brain to think in such way of Song Mingi? When did I even start considering him attractive? He was annoying, obnoxiously loud, arrogant and irritating, there was absolutely nothing to like about him or find in him attractive. I had to get a grip of myself right now! Mingi’s footsteps were dull as he followed after me, probably surprised that I had waited for him at the top of the stairs, unknowing of the storm inside my head, matching the raging storm outside. Lightning flashed every two seconds, skies rumbling with thunder, shaking even the ground at times. I hated storms, but suddenly it wasn’t as unbearable as before. When Mingi stood next to me, I lead us towards my room and pushed the door open, leaving it like that as Mingi walked in once I stepped aside for him, allowing him inside my safe space.

I have never been consciously proud or embarrassed of what my room looked like, the thought of what others thought of it absent up until right now. As Mingi walked further inside, head turning each and every way, taking everything in, suddenly I realized I was scared of what he would think. My walls were painted a light grey, on purpose, and there was little to no space left bare except for the wall on which the window was. My bed was pushed up against the wall to your left just as you walked inside, sketches that I have done throughout the years plastered up and put on display, my very first drawing even making it up on my wall. It was my little personal museum, a way of reminding myself of where I started out and how much I have evolved ever since, and even how much I was still changing as I was experimenting with my styles, learning a new technique in the class of Mr. Yoon. The desk across from my bed was messy, like I have said, it was littered with everything I needed to have at hand. Pencil holders filled to the brim, at least five of them, then there were brushes and little paint tubes littered all over it, notebooks and discarded sketches sitting underneath it, with my laptop hanging just a little dangerously off, not having paid much attention where I have put it this morning. A plain canvas was spread out on the little free space I still had, a project I had planned on starting today, now postponed for tomorrow. The wall above my desk had three modest shelves filled to the brim with books and some vinyl’s I have started collecting not long ago, pots and plants hanging off from the sides. The wall around the shelves was decorated by posters and pictures of my favorite bands, a few of my favorite paintings mixing in with them. The little stand next to my desk had my vinyl player, plants underneath it and around it, little ones. And then in the corner there was an old guitar that once had belonged to my mother, who has had a phase back in highschool and dreams of becoming a band member, famous and rich. She didn’t have the heart to gift the guitar to anyone, so she’s always kept it and passed it on to me once I was old enough. I never had an affinity for playing any instruments, but I do enjoy good music. A mix of old and new artists making it in that mix, actually—perhaps Noir Zenith slowly becoming one of them too, but Mingi didn’t have to know that. My closet was to the right just as you walked in, and it was of dark and sturdy wood, expanding from the ceiling to the floor. I had a little mirror right on its right side, the wall above and behind it, going right behind the door even, littered with my favorite painter’s paintings. Of course, they were only prints made at the local copy shop, but that didn’t matter. Fairy lights hung above my bed and from the lamp on the ceiling. The two nightstands on either side of my bed were more organized than one would expect from me, little makeup buckets placed on the one closest to the window, charger cable and some headphones sitting on the dark wood. The one nearest to the door had pictures of myself and my mom, and of Seulgi and I on display with a little clock, its drawer so filled with notebooks that I couldn’t quite close it. Thankfully the drawers of my desk weren’t so filled, I had just rearranged them last week, one evening when I was too restless to sleep.

Mingi was quiet as his mouth was slightly open, eyes wide as he took everything in, eyes falling onto my bed. I followed his sight and was mortified to find my biggest sketchbook open and displaying a quite realistic sketch of Mingi performing on stage. It was from the night I had a breakdown and Mingi found me in that diner. Seulgi had sent me some pictures she had taken of Wooyoung and accidentally slipped in one with Mingi too, and because the image just wouldn’t leave my mind, I knew I had no choice but to draw it. I dived for the sketchbook as if my life depended on it, all of it happening so fast I hoped Mingi didn’t actually catch what the drawing—or better said, who—the drawing was of. I shut it closed and pushed it off the bed, the light thud loud in the silent room. When I turned to look at Mingi, ready to face his smug face and taunting words, I was surprised to find his attention on something completely different. Of course, I should’ve expected from a man who plays in a band to be enamored by the vintage guitar in my possession. Its body was a light blue and had cherry blossoms painted over it, something my mother admitted to doing so, which lead to an argument with her father back in the days when he had seen the “damage” my mother had done to the pricey guitar.

“Is that a Martin D-19?” Mingi gushed as he walked toward the guitar, mouth hanging open. My eyebrows raised at his knowledge about it upon one glance. To me, it looked like a regular acoustic guitar. But then again, I should’ve expected it from a music major and a guy who has a literal band and plays the bass.

“Yeah, it was my mother’s.” I answered as I set my mug on the nightstand and sat at the edge of my bed, watching the awed expression on Mingi’s face. He had placed his mug by the foot of my desk as he crouched down, admiring the guitar from up-close.

“It’s absolutely beautiful.” Mingi whispered, fingers carefully tracing its body. Not even at gun point would I have admitted my next thought, which was of just how beautiful Mingi looked in this exact moment. Lightning flashed and the ground shook with the intense thunder, making Mingi tense for a second before he turned back to face me with the prettiest smile I have ever seen on someone.

“Your mother knows how to play it?” He asked, sounding enthusiastic. I was breathless, but after a big gulp, I forced my brain to function.

“Yeah,” I answered with a small smile, “she was a big rock lover back in the days, even wanted to start her own band. But due to her parents negative reactions to it, she unfortunately had to give up on that dream and do something more ‘real’.”

I rolled my eyes at the end of my sentence, not very fond of my grandparents. They weren’t bad people, but they also treated my mother harshly, and even myself, always asking about my future plans and straight up crying when I told them I wanted to become a painter. I saw the way Mingi’s face hardened for a second, but I knew he didn’t want to talk about it as he became expressionless quickly after. I was curious what made his mood become sour so quickly, if he perhaps related to what I have said in some way, but I wouldn’t prod. If he wants to tell me, he will sometime. So, instead, as a distraction, I scooched up further on my bed and patted the mattress next to me with a lazy smile, watching Mingi’s eyes slightly widen. He looked a little shy as he grabbed his mug and rose up to his full height, steps almost hesitant as he approached the bed, making me snort. It made Mingi narrow his eyes as I crossed my legs underneath myself as he kneeled on the bed and then settled beside me, long legs extended as he playfully wiggled his feet left and right. I chuckled as I clasped my hands together, letting them rest in my lap as Mingi took a sip of his hot chocolate. The silence was comfortable between us, the harsh rain hitting the windows loudly, wind rocking trees harshly, and the lightning and rumble a constant background noise.

“Last time when we performed at Outlaw, when you didn’t come,” Mingi paused and turned his head to look at me, “you know, when we met at the diner—”

“Let’s not talk about that.” I muttered with a grimace and Mingi hummed, licking his lips.

“Right, so, that night,” His voice was quiet, lips pulling into an abashed smile, “the crowd was bigger than usual, at first I blamed it on being a rowdier night, but it turned out those people were there to see us, Noir Zenith, to see me.”

I felt a small smile appear on my own lips, Mingi looking pleased with himself despite the light pink tinge of his cheeks, “And now Hongjoong might help us sign with a record deal, I feel like everything is finally coming together. Like my hard work is finally being rewarded.”

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from smiling too wide, subconsciously reaching out to hold Mingi’s arm as he looked me in the eyes, “That’s so good, Mingi! You deserve all the praise and attention your band gets, you’re really good.”

“You really think so?” Mingi sounded small, eyes wide in wonder as he flushed more. I knew I have said some things that weren’t the nicest, and now it made me realize that Mingi never deserved hearing those things from me. Yeah, I didn’t like the guy much at the beginning—not that now I like him more—but I still shouldn’t have shit on his music, on something he pours his whole soul and heart into.

“I really do, Mingi.” I slightly squeezed his arm, hoping that he could hear the sincerity in my voice as a wide and bright smile spread onto Mingi’s plush lips, so contagious that I found myself with a matching smile on my own lips. I chuckled, for some reason not wanting to release his arm just yet, the knitted sweater soft and warm under my touch.

“Lovely seeing you slowly turn into my number one fan, doll.” Of course, trust Mingi to ruin the moment. My eyes narrowed as I sighed loudly, slowly shaking my head. Mingi chuckled before taking a large gulp of his not so hot anymore chocolate, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Now, don’t get cocky.” I rolled my eyes, pulling my hand off his arm, watching as his eyes lingered where I have touched him, “I can recognize good work without becoming your fan.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Mingi mused playfully and I scoffed, bumping my shoulder into his before I went to retrieve my laptop from my desk, “Seonghwa and Wooyoung want us to try out new genres.”

“Really?” I asked surprised as I settled back in my previous spot, knee brushing against Mingi’s thigh, “Like what?”

“Well, nothing specific, just something little softer.” Mingi pursed his lips, fiddling with the mug in his hands, “Maybe something more indie rock.”

“I love indie rock,” I muttered absentmindedly as I powered on my laptop, “and why are you reluctant?”

Mingi seemed surprised that I had caught on, but it was quite obvious in his tone that he didn’t sound very enthusiastic about it, “Because my voice is rough and raw, unlike Seonghwa’s who’s smooth and almost angelic, and Wooyoung’s who’s can reach pitches I can only dream of and has a roughness that is absolutely soft at the same time, alluring.”

“Your voice is deep and powerful, it conveys every single emotion you’re feeling when you sing, Mingi. Your raspy tone alone tells a story, even without speaking the same language I would understand what you’re singing about. But just because it’s rougher and more powerful compared to Seonghwa and Wooyoung’s doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful and enchanting, Mingi.” Occupied with typing in the password to my laptop, I failed to notice the way Mingi’s breaths became shallow, the way his eyes bore into the side of my skull, “I think your voice is unique and desirable, you should be proud of it and not look down on yourself because of it. Many wish to have what you have, so really, don’t think any less of yourself because you think Seonghwa and Wooyoung are somehow better and more alluring. It’s not true, each one of you has their charm and well…I think you’re the most charming out of the three of you.”

I didn’t expect the expression on Mingi’s face when I turned my head to look at him. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were glazed over as his sharp eyes watched me intently, his breaths loud as his cheeks were red. My eyebrows furrowed, and for a second I worried I have made him angry, but the longer I looked, I realized the look in his eyes had nothing to do with anger. I gulped and averted my eyes, suddenly feeling my heart race again, biting my lower lip and trying to ignore the overbearing proximity between us. It was only our knee and thigh touching, yet it felt like Mingi was all over me, his scent still strong despite having changed out of his clothes and getting soaked by the rain. He always had a sharp scent surround him; it reminded me of pine trees.

“Thank you.” At last, Mingi found his voice and it was lower than before, goosebumps covered my skin as the low baritone of it traveled through my body. I nodded once in acknowledgement, not trusting my voice as I went on the internet to search for some movies to watch and pass the time while we wait for the storm to pass. If it passes, “Do you think rapping would fit my tone?”

It was an unexpected question, but as I mulled over it, I concluded that Mingi had the perfect timbre to both sing and rap, “Yeah, I think it would.”

I dared to take a peek at Mingi from the corner of my eyes, and was relieved to find the intensity gone from his face, instead, a soft smile grazed his lips as he finished his hot chocolate. He leaned back and placed his empty mug next to mine on the nightstand and fished his phone out of his pocket, “I found some old videos of me at school plays, let’s see what my music genius bestie thinks of them.”

I rolled my eyes, but nevertheless peered over Mingi’s shoulder in curiosity, “Don’t make fun of me, I’m merely stating something that someone with not musically trained ears hear. You should be more thankful.”

“I’m more than thankful, Y/N.” Mingi suddenly turned his head, our faces too close for comfort, so I quickly leaned back as he placed his arm on my thigh and pressed play on a video he pulled up from his gallery.

『Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?

Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?

Do you wanna know what the good, good, bad things all feel like?

Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?』

The movie of my choice was simple, The Quiet Ones. Nothing better than something a little spooky while there’s a wild storm raging outside, but to my utter surprise, Mingi looked terrified after only ten minutes of watching it. We were both leaning against the headboard of my bed, pillows behind our backs, and laptop placed between our lower bodies as our legs were stretched out. And despite the laptop being between us, Mingi’s shoulder pressed against mine not even five minutes after settling in our current spots. Trying to watch the horror movie, which was one of my favorite movie’s, turned out to be a fail, and I had no choice but to give in to Mingi as he only stopped whining when he got what he wanted. And that was watching a rom-com from the nineties, called 10 Things I Hate About You. I’ve seen it numerous times already, but it never gets old. There is something about the way the actors play their parts, and the plot too, that have me coming back to it with the same enthusiasm I had for it when watching it for the first time. At first, I thought Mingi hadn’t seen it and had only went along with my suggestion because he didn’t know what else to watch, but when he started quoting Patrick’s lines as if he were the character himself, I narrowed my eyes at him and poked his arm. After some painful jabs, he admitted that it was his favorite movie and he regularly rewatched it, especially if he was in a bad mood. That was a piece of information I wasn’t expecting from someone like Mingi. He looked like a guy who enjoyed tough and brutal movies, with the occasional romance movies if a pretty girl begged him to watch it together. Turns out, Mingi’s favorite genre is romance, and he hates horror, and depends on the type of thriller whether he likes it or not.

We found ourselves joking and laughing throughout the movie, making our own commentary about it after our first disagreement. Which was about whether Patrick accepting the money to charm Kat was right or wrong. Of course, it was very wrong to play with someone’s feelings and get paid for it too, but Mingi argued that if he never accepted it, then him and Kat would’ve never gotten together. And for that, I threw in the hypothetical scenario of him accepting money from Wooyoung so that he could take me out on a date and make me fall in love with him if that meant Wooyoung could have Seulgi date him. Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed and he declined such scenario, exactly proving my point why this was so wrong then, but he remained believing that for Kat and Patrick it totally worked out. And then he had the audacity to compare my stubbornness to Kat’s, making me call him just as stupid as Patrick was.

Time flew by as our laughter got louder, completely missing the way the rain had started to quiet down as we were immersed in the movie we were watching. It felt like a bubble was wrapped around us, isolating us from the cold world, and letting us enjoy ourselves without being so cautious of what we were saying. It felt nice. I couldn’t remember a time when I was able to let loose with someone other than Seulgi. It was a nice feeling, it made me excited in some way, completely making me forget that I was doing this with Mingi. He made it too easy to forget my worries and made me feel really comfortable all of a sudden, never stepping out of line—if we ignore his stupid flirting—and always keeping everything lighthearted. It was a nice change for once.

I groaned as I let my head fall back, lips pursed as my ass had gone numb from sitting so much in one place. Mingi snickered as Kat reversed into Joey’s car, clearly amused by the snarky remarks exchanged between the two characters. He was clearly into the witty exchanges, especially between Patrick and Kat, even having said that it makes Kat attractive how quickly and well she can shut Patrick down. I had told him that she wouldn’t have to do that if Patrick wasn’t so stupid most of the time, making Mingi roll his eyes at me, and say that I simply didn’t appreciate some good banter. Which wasn’t even true, I liked bantering if it had a smart purpose, not just to rile each other up, what was the point of that?

I licked my lips as my head lulled to the right, eyes falling on Mingi’s profile as he had his legs up, leaning forward as he hugged them around his knees with one arm. He was smiling and chuckling, pretty red lips pulled to the side, showing off his white teeth. His brows were dark, and his browbone being more prominent really sharpened his face in a very aesthetically pleasing way. Mingi’s face was very beautiful, and as an artist, I couldn’t help but admire it, and recognize it. So many pretty portraits of his face could be made, pity he doesn’t model. My lips pulled into a tiny smile at the thought of him modelling for me when we had to sketch human forms for our next class. I’m sure my professor would appreciate my drawings even more. Mingi’s glasses were discarded, and my eyes paused on his long nose, biting my lower lip just as Mingi chuckled again, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. He sniffed before rubbing two fingers against his plump lips, wetting them not even a second later. I gulped as I suddenly wondered what they would taste like. It was such a startling thought that I jumped, but Mingi suddenly looking at me certainly scared me more. I gulped, instantly blushing as a friendly smile painted Mingi’s lips as he leaned back, placing his head on the pillow, and letting it roll to the left. Our gazes connected, and I wasn’t surprised to find my heart beating so quickly once again, my lips pulling into a straight line as I struggled to keep my breathing even. Mingi’s easy smile didn’t disappear as his eyes racked over my face, it only became wider.

There was a whole galaxy behind those beautiful deep brown eyes of his, they sparkled with life and an excitement I haven’t seen in anyone before. I wished that I could recreate that in my drawings, but I wasn’t good enough to give simple eyes such deep emotions yet. And I really wished I was able to do so, because the longer I stared into Mingi’s eyes, the more lost I got in them, thoughts and worries disappearing into nothingness. Mingi’s hand twitched for a second and I tensed when I felt a finger gently poking my cold hand. I gulped, but I wasn’t able to look away as ever so softly more fingers brushed against my skin like feather, Mingi’s bottom lip between his teeth. His actions were slow and cautious, probably afraid that I would pull away, but I was too captured by his alluring gaze to even think to move away from him. Slowly, his longer fingers intertwined with mine and his rings cut into my skin when I squeezed his hand, uncaring that it hurt a bit. I knew my cheeks were now surely very red, but I couldn’t actually be bothered to feel embarrassed, not when Mingi’s cheeks were dusted pink as well. His high cheekbones were flushed the pretties color they could have been, and I smiled as Mingi blinked, looking abashed. Somehow no words had to be exchanged between us, everything felt comfortable, scarily familiar. I haven’t felt like this…since my ex. And not even with him have I felt so safe and understood, it always seemed like there was some invisible barrier between us, and I never understood why. With Mingi, if I allowed myself to feel and be unafraid, no barrier lay between the two of us.

I gulped, eyes suddenly falling on Mingi’s lips as his tongue poked out just slightly to wet them, his plump lips red and full. I’ve never seen a person have such full lips, and it made me wonder if they were as soft as one would imagine them be. Aware that my eyes were glued to Mingi’s lips, I looked back up in his eyes, trying to ignore how insanely attractive his mole right underneath it made him look. There was something about Mingi’s bareface that was so charming and beautiful that it almost made me feel jealous of it. Mingi sniffed quietly, and his bottom lip was between his teeth again as his eyes fell to my lips, my rapid heartbeat halting for a second. Could he be having similar thoughts to mine? I wouldn’t know, but when Mingi’s eyes found mine again, they were just slightly more intense and sharper. Like he was determined and nothing could stop him. I gulped loudly as he moved his head, just lightly, but it was closer than before. My heart was beating like crazy, but almost as if I was under a spell, I found myself shifting my head just a little bit closer. Mingi’s eyes no longer were on mine, and as my lips parted when I licked them, I felt Mingi’s hand squeeze mine just a little bit more. I gulped as I proceeded to lean even closer, my eyes fixated on Mingi’s lips now too, just wondering and wondering infinitely if they were warm, soft, wet, and what they would taste like. I didn’t startle nor flinch when Mingi angled his body so that he could lean dangerously close, the bridge of his nose brushing against mine. His hot breath mingled with mine as our lips were parted, a pull so magnetic I couldn’t untangle myself from it even if I tried to. My eyes threatened to flutter closed as I pressed my nose against his, the side of our lips rubbing just a little together as I couldn’t breathe regularly anymore. Mingi’s lips pressed ever so slightly against the corner of mine, feather like, and it suddenly wasn’t enough. The distance, it was too big—even if it didn’t even exist between us anymore—and I squeezed his hand as I angled my head to finally press our lips together, Mingi’s breaths audible due to our proximity.

But suddenly, a door was slammed shut loudly, “Sweetheart, I made it home finally! I saw a car parked in front of our house, all’s good?!”

The curious and shrill voice of my mother sent Mingi and I flying away from each other, both of our eyes wide as I was panting, my whole body burning. I couldn’t look at Mingi as I scrambled to press pause on the movie and Mingi was off the bed in a flash, sprinting towards my window. I could still feel his hot puffs against my face, and I gulped as I forced myself to forget everything I felt just seconds ago.

“The rain stopped,” Mingi’s voice was hoarse, so gravely that I had to clench my fists to stop myself from doing something I would regret, “I will be going.”

“I’ll go downstairs, let my mom know you’re here.” My voice wasn’t better off, I sounded breathless. I felt lightheaded as I got off the bed, standing and pausing for a second.

“Right, I’ll change back into my clothes and then—”

“No,” I didn’t mean to sound desperate as Mingi’s eyes fell on me, I had to look away in embarrassment, “keep them, they are of no use to me.”

“Right.” Mingi cleared his throat and I quickly walked past him, thankful that he stepped aside, and hurried out of my room and down the stairs. I took a deep breath to compose myself as I heard my mother placing down plastic bags in the kitchen. I needed to behave like everything was fine, when nothing was fine anymore.

“Hi!” My greeting was high pitched and way too cheery, my mother’s eyes narrowed when she saw me standing in the doorway, “Glad you made it home, the storm was awful.”

“It really was.” My mom grimaced as she continued unpacking the groceries, “You got home alright?”

“Yeah, uhm, actually,” I gulped and bit my lower lip as I heard Mingi coming down the stairs, “a friend from university drove me home as it was already raining, and he, uhm, stayed over. Because the rain was so bad he wouldn’t have been able to drive home. You know, safety measures and all.”

My mother paused and looked up at me with both of her eyebrows raised, “He?”

And on cue, Mingi appeared next to me, glasses pushed up on his nose adequately for once and hair not as messy as before, “Hello, my name is Song Mingi.”

“Nice to meet you, dear.” My mother’s eyes were glinting, looking way too happy for someone who was just introducing themselves. I was afraid of what would come, so, I grabbed Mingi’s arm and guided him towards the coat hanger.

“Mingi’s leaving, mom.” I said as I let go of his arm, averting my eyes as he wore his shoes and pulled on his jacket.

“Already?” My mom asked with a pout, coming to stand in the doorway, “Don’t you want to stay for dinner, dear?”

Mingi froze, eyes first finding mine before he looked at my mother with a polite smile, “Don’t worry, Mrs—”

“Oh, don’t be all formal with me, I hate that shit.” My mother chuckled and winked at him, “Call me Boyoung.”

Mingi gulped, seemingly taken aback by my mother’s behavior. I couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, knowing how surprising the contrast between my mother’s personality and mine was. Sadly, I haven’t taken after her when it comes to my attitude, but that’s fine.

“Well, Boyoung, thank you for your offer, but my friends and I actually agreed on dining out tonight.” Mingi’s excuse sounded real, so I knew he wasn’t lying. I gulped when my mother threw me a very slick glare, almost saying that this was my fault. I rolled my eyes, offended by her assumption.

“That’s a pity, dear,” My mother pouted, but soon a bright smile appeared on her lips, “But you are invited for whenever you feel like having dinner with us, right, my starlight?”

I tried not to glare at my mother for the outrageous nickname, especially when I saw Mingi’s lips twitch in amusement. I told her not to call me that in front of others so many times, “Right, mom.”

My mother chuckled, all too aware of my dislike for the nickname, before her eyes landed on Mingi again. There was a brief pause, one too awkward for my liking, and then Mingi was clearing his throat and opening the front door.

“Uh,” He made eye contact with me briefly, “talk to you later.”

“Wait,” My mother’s eyebrows furrowed as Mingi stepped outside, trying to adjust the strap of his backpack, “Aren’t those Yun—”

“Talk to you later!” I loudly said, making sure to send my mother a very alarmed look as Mingi froze for a second before he hummed quietly and took off towards his car.

The air was chilly and humid due to the harsh rain, and as I closed the front door, I knew I had a lot of questions to answer when my eyes fell on my mother’s amused face.

❱❱ Next chapter

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lol, this is the surprise I mentioned...I saw this post and it would just not leave my mind, besides, I think it's very fitting for our plot, no?

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honeyed-hedonist · 1 month

Text

SFW:

Rarely cooks for himself because he’s always on the go, but when he does find the time to whip up a meal, it’s always the best thing you’ve ever tasted.

Dry sense of humor, but will crack a smile (and sometimes even a laugh) despite himself at your puns/jokes/general silliness

Stubborn as all hell. Will fight tooth and nail with you over the dumbest shit just because he’s so obstinate.

Speaking of stubborn, good luck getting this man to admit he was wrong. You could draft a whole essay in MLA format with a PowerPoint presentation on why, in fact, he’s completely wrong and he’ll still look you dead in your eyes and say “That proves nothing. I’m right.” Sir, no you are not, let me count the ways.

Don’t let that deter you though! He apologizes for his stubbornness in other ways--whether it’s a bouquet of your favorite flowers or bringing you coffee in the morning, he’s a man of action, not words.

Stoic and standoffish when you first meet him. It takes him a little while to soften, and there’s a big part of him that wants to cave, to break down those walls and open himself back up, but he fights it every time. Despite that, he craves softness and warmth, so when you come along to give it to him in droves, it’s a losing battle for him to keep you at arm’s length

Once those walls are down it’s like night and day. He’s handsy, can’t keep them to himself. He’s always gotta be touching you in some capacity if only to remind himself that you’re real and he needs to cherish every moment he gets with you because he knows better than most how quickly things can change.

Will always make time for you. Doesn’t matter the time of day or night, doesn’t matter what he’s doing, you call and he’s on his way.

Uses all sorts of pet names on you in English and Spanish. Mi cielo (my heaven/sky), mi alma (my soul), chula (cutie), reinita (little queen), mi amor (my love), babe/baby, angel, sweetheart, sunshine, and bunny to name a few. If it’s sweet and makes you fluster, he’s all for it.

Speaks Spanglish a lot, especially when he’s mad. Will switch between both so fast you can hardly keep up, and he’ll stop mid-rant and give you a sheepish smile, shrugging his shoulders. “My mouth has a mind of its own, bonita. Lo siento.”

Calls you often when the two of you are apart. Can’t end his night without hearing your voice. No matter where he is, you can guarantee your phone will ring right before you fall asleep every single night. He always says he’s just calling you to say goodnight, but then the pair of you end up talking for hours. Not that you mind, the lack of sleep is worth it.

NSFW under the cut 18+ NO MINORS.

NSFW:

Oscillates between a hard and soft dom depending on the day he’s had or the mood he’s in, but regardless of that, he’s always the top.

Eats for his pleasure. When his face is buried between your thighs, it’s not about you, it’s about him and he’ll eat until he’s satisfied, regardless of how desperately you try to shove him off. “Nuh uh, mami, m’not finished yet. Lay back and take it, huh? Be a good girl and let me have my fill. Tastes too damn good.”

Grunts and growls most of the time, but when he’s feeling softer that man 100% whimpers.

A vocal lover--he likes to taunt and tease you, overwhelms you with praise, forces you to answer his questions even in the midst of your fuzzy-headed bliss. “Speak up, princesa. I asked you if you can feel me deep up in that belly. Yeah? There we go. That’s my girl.”

His favorite positions to fuck you in tend to alternate, but he’s a big fan of doggy with his hand around your throat while you’re on your knees with your back to his chest, mainly because it allows him to sink his teeth into your neck and speak absolute filth in your ear. Missionary or a full blown mating press and prone bone are others he enjoys. Also likes to pound into you from below when you ride him--again, this man is all about control so even when you think you have the upper hand, you don’t.

Big on marking you--with his fangs or otherwise. When you ask him to bite you for the first time he goes absolutely feral, fucks you so hard you can’t walk right or sit down for a week, your chest, neck, and back littered with bruises, bite marks, and a prominent puncture wound at the hollow of your throat.

Stamina for days. My guy could spend hours on end fucking you into the mattress and he does every single time. There are no quickies with Miguel--when he makes time for you, he makes time. Will clear out an entire day and dedicate it solely to taking you apart and piecing you back together just so he can do it all over again. “One more round, baby. C’mon, need it. You’re not gonna deprive me, are you? Nah--you know better. Open up for me, chula, just like that.”

Big breeder balls. (Sorry, I don’t make the rules.) My boy will stuff you so fucking full. Practically cums buckets and loves to watch it ooze out of your abused little hole when he’s finished pumping several loads inside you. “Lookit that, huh? Ese pequeño coño está lleno, ¿no?” (That little cunt is stuffed full, isn’t it?)

To be continued…..

#miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #sipderman 2099 #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #smut writing #spiderverse imagine

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nolita-fairytale · 10 months

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did you ever end up writing the phone call blurb?? i am STRUGGLING to find it and im so desperate 😭😭😭

called you again (extended)

a/n: ok so i never got to writing the actual phone call that transpires between carmy and reader, that gets her to chicago in the first place. and if i recall correctly, @cool-girl-is-hot was also patiently awaiting this phone call. since i'm doing the follower celebration, what a perfect time for me to bring this back, @bunnywritesmarvel.

You answer the call before you can talk yourself out of it, immediately putting it on speaker.

“Hi,” you say, your voice shaking a little.

And it’s as if a fog clears, like you've been waiting to hear it for a long time.

“Hi,” he replies, his voice soft, yet hesitant.

You're met with a long silence on the end of the other line as the two of you dance around whatever it is Carmy called to say. There's a part of you that wants nothing more than to spill everything, lead the conversation like you always do, but after months of radio silence, you know you can't do that. If Carmy wants to reconnect, then he's got a whole of groveling to do considering he pretty much ghosted you since he moved back home.

"I uh. I heard," he finally says, in reference to your recent change of employment.

"Oh," you sound, your voice higher in pitch than you imagined it would be as you scramble to find a better word than 'oh.' "I... um. Yeah. My heart wasn't in it anymore."

What you want to say is, my heart moved to Chicago and forgot how his fucking phone works.

"Yeah," Carmy replies, and you can practically hear him pacing back and forth as he searches for something to say.

You share another silence, this one much more tense than the last, like a hot pot of water about to blow its lid off in pressure, as you wait for him to ask you something -- anything. How hard could it be?

How are you? What's been going on? Sorry I haven't called.

But he doesn't say anything of these things. Instead, when he finally speaks again, all he says is:

"So listen. I uh-, I got this guy. He’s- he’s self taught but he’s got a lot of potential,” Carmy explains, his delivery becoming more and more confident as he hides behind the work.

“He just needs a good teacher – someone to inspire him – give him some of the foundations he would’ve gotten in culinary school. I think uh, I think you'd like him.

So after four months of no contact he... needs something from you? You can't help the feelings of anger and disappointment that grow inside of you.

Was he upset that you quit the restaurant -- here to talk you into going back -- now that he needed a favor? A stage?

“Just for a week, maybe?" Carmy suggests, his voice going up at the end, almost as if it's a question.

"I can’t pay you much but uh, well we’ve got a little money, which is a whole other story, and I can talk to my brother-in-law. He can put you up somewhere… you know… if you want to. If that helps.”

Oh.

He's asking you to come to Chicago.

While it feels like it changes things, you're still ambivalent and you certainly don't want to get your hopes up.

"Carmy..." you trail off on an exhale. "I don't know."

"Sure," Carmy nods, chewing on his lip, suddenly feeling extremely self conscious about asking you in the first place.

He wants to take it all back, tell you it was a stupid idea, and apologize for even saying something in the first place. But he doesn't. He can't. Because after working himself up to call you for the last few hours, there's no way he's going to back out now.

Let it rip, Bear.

"I uh... well, I understand. If can't-. Don't want to. Maybe I shouldn't've uh..." Carmy stammers through, the heat rising to his cheeks.

"It's just uh. Tim told me... you might be looking for some inspiration."

Right.

You pause before asking:

"Can I... Can I think about it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. Sure," Carmy is quick to answer, because he really wants to make this okay for you.

For the both of you.

And because hearing your voice for the first time in four months feels better than he ever could've imagined.

"Okay. I'll uh... I'll think about it," you drag out, because you know you'll need some time to process this.

"Listen, I uh. I'm late to meet Liz. But I'll let you know. Either way."

"Yeah, okay. Okay," he answers, nodding eagerly.

"Okay," you reply, listening to Carmy bid you a soft spoken goodbye before ending the call.

"Holy shit," you hiss, putting your phone down on the table, your hand folded over your heart as you can feel it race.

Well, you've got quite the decision to make.

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #make my heart surrender #comfort and chaos

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voltronisanobsession · 8 months

Note

hi! i was wondering if i could request a percy jackson! platonic headcanon fic where like luke, y/n is also being manipulated and possessed by one of the evil gods and the group finds out? (also i’m sorry to go all teen wolf but she starts to act kinda like void stiles) ty!

Reader being Controlled by a God

NEVER apologize for going all teen wolf, I love this idea😍😍😍😍😍 when you say headcanons fic, imma think you meant headcanons but with a story plot🔥

I think this is a little more generalized than what I usually write

I’m telling you, when I finish heroes of Olympus, WE WILL HAVE A BIGGER AND BETTER GROUP OF CHARACTERS💀🙏🙏🙏

The change is a slow process

Not many caught onto your change appearances, those who did marking it down as an off day you had

Plagued with nightmares and visions, paranoia grows as you distance yourself from the group slowly

This god, you didn’t know their name or their face

The fear they instilled in you was enough for your confidence to break down though

It was like having a devil on your shoulder, it’s soft whisperings influencing your everyday life

You tried blocking it all out, but it was getting too much! You could never escape the whispers, even in sleep, which was way worse than being awake

Yet you didn’t dare tell a soul, what would people say! Would Chiron kick you out of the camp? Gods, you can’t be kicked out another home again, you just can’t!

You lose sleep as this god takes its hold on you, grip tightening more as the weeks pass

It isn’t long until you began listening to the voice, listening to it as it planted seeds of deceit and darkness

I think the one who would pick up on your weird changes is Annabeth lowkey

She notices EVERYTHING

When you don’t show up to breakfast in the mornings, she takes note of it. During training, she notices how you have this far off, dull look in your eyes. Like you’re there physically, but mentally somewhere else.

She definitely sees how you look at everyone now, a distrusting expression as you distance yourself from those around you

So when the girl tries approaching you about it, making it known that she’s worried for her friend, Annabeth is taken aback by your defensive aggression

“Don’t worry about it, its none of your buisness” you would say, eyes narrowed and arms crossed, shutting down any other attempts she tries to make

And while the others try to reassure her you could be upset about something else, one look at you and she already knows that there’s something more

You begin doing small tasks for your new friend

They’re small at first, pack a bag with a few necessities, steal some drachmas, your cabin mate won’t notice a few missing

You don’t even notice as they get a bit extreme, wordlessly following its orders to sneak into Chiron’s office and take some files, and to go into the woods after they call lights out in the dead of night

You’re friends grow even more suspicious and worried as you seem to creep around the camp grounds

They might even hear you whispering to yourself one day. What’s next, you would ask. Whose here? Hiding behind a tree, your friends would finally see that there’s something seriously wrong with you

Percy prays to any god or goddess listening that you just haven’t moved on from your invisible friend phase, but as always, nothing ever goes his way

This voice that first haunted even your sweetest of dreams was a familiar one that you grew to trust

They’re all waiting to watch you stumble, my dear. They’ll use you until there’s nothing left of you.

Join us, you’ll have me to guide you through the new life I’m offering you.

Your final task sets everything in motion, setting off every alarm in every demigods head as you walk past them.

With one mission in your head, you head towards the training grounds where Percy and a few others swung their swords at dummies

Taking the nearest sword, you walked up to Percy from behind, pushing everyone who got in your way

Speeding up to close the gap between you two, Percy’s instincts takes over as he quickly glances behind him and narrowly dodges your swing at him

He wouldn’t have any time to think as you continuously swing the sword you held at him, not once stopping even as he tried talking to you

“What’s going on with you?! Talk to me y/n!

“Do you seriously ugh- think talking is gonna get you out of this?”

Because of your sloppy form due to the wrong sized sword you took, you were taken down by the green eyed boy, causing you to scamper away from him

Heaving and looking at him with irritation, he could make out a dark shadowy figure lingering behind you, almost encasing you with its darkness

That’s it

It isn’t until Annabeth comes running in with Chiron that you make your escape into the woods, where they search hours for you, only to come empty handed

But you didn’t leave without leaving behind a small gifts

At sundown, three hellhounds were released into the camp grounds by portals no one knew existed

Just like Luke, you had betrayed them all, yet they felt that they couldn’t blame anyone but themselves!

The signs were there since the beginning!

It seemed that this god, a new enemy, had taken over your head, and your friends weren’t going to stop until they finally had the real you back🔥🔥

Cue epic music playing in the background

#pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #platonic pjo #pjo headcanons #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson headcanons #headcanons #x reader #pjo #Percy jackson #Annabeth chase #annabeth chase pjo #Annabeth pjo

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nataliawrites · 1 year

Text

Crowning Glory // Max Verstappen

Max Verstappen x Princess of the Netherlands!Reader

Max prided himself on his control. His job depended on it. His life depended on it.

Even when he briefly lost control — and he really doesn’t regret the infamous pushing incident — it was always of his own doing.

Until you came into his life.

A knock on the door to his driver’s room started Max. It was race day and it was rare for him to be bothered when he was preparing on his own. A home race meant that everything was heightened. The adrenaline thrummed deeper. The cheers were louder. The Orange Army was nearly blinding in the stands.

“Max,” the familiar voice of his team principal filtered through the door after another knock, “I have someone who would like to meet you.”

“Can’t we do this later, Christian? I know you know my routine by now.”

“Just open the door. I think you’ll be happy to change up your routine this once.”

Max heaved himself off of the small couch and went to send the Brit and whatever guest he brought along away so he could continue to focus on the race in peace.

He opened the door, prepared to shut it in a second, but stopped short when he saw who was standing next to Christian. The guest in question was wearing an elegant summer dress in a bright shade of orange sure to be similarly reflected upon thousands of Dutch fans around the track.

She was also the subject of his long running teenage crush. A crush he thought he had gotten over until he was staring open-mouthed at her right in front of him.

“Hallo,” she takes the initiative to greet Max considering he was still making somewhat of a fool of himself in front of her, “it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Max bends into a hasty bow, unsure of the protocols for meeting someone he had only ever seen on the news and the pages of magazines, “Your Royal Highness, I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m the one intruding on your preparations,” she waves his apology off. “I just wanted to stop by and wish you luck before the race. It is my first time attending a Grand Prix in-person but my family and I have been fans for a long time and started following your career when news of an incredibly promising young driver racing under the Dutch flag first made its rounds.”

“I-thank you, Your Highness. I am honored.”

“Well, I will leave you to continue getting ready. Mr. Horner promised me a tour of the garage. Good luck again, you do your country proud.”

Max remained frozen in the doorway, watching the heir apparent walk away with the Red Bull team principal, bodyguards seemingly materializing from the walls to surround her as they made their way into a public area of the F1 Holzhaus.

Max managed to get you out of his head once the race began. The second he got into the car, nothing else mattered. Everything beyond the track ceased to exist as he pushed the car to its limit and passed the chequered flag for yet another home win.

But when it came time for the podium ceremony, there you were front and center, ready to present trophies to the three drivers. Max swore he could feel a spark travel up his arm as your fingers brushed his while handing him the trophy. “Well done! Tonight we celebrate.”

Turns out the celebration was a far cry from the ones he was used to. Instead of a club, Red Bull team members were invited to join you at a nearby royal residence for dinner and drinks. Max listened to you explain why from his seat next to you at the long dining table as you waited for the first course to be served, pleasantly warm from champagne already, “I used to love going out. Tried to have a typical university experience, you know? But I was almost kidnapped last year and despite security stepping in on time I have been forbidden from doing so again. Too much risk.”

And there it was. The reminder of just how different your lives wore despite both being Dutch public figures. One day Max will retire and can live a relatively normal life if he so chooses while you will ascend to the throne and lead a kingdom.

He didn’t exactly pity you — royalty was royalty at the end of the day — but he did sympathize with the constraints that it placed on you and how you lived your life.

Max clears his throat, “I’m not exactly sure how this whole thing works but I would love to take you out.”

He waits for a response and nervously cards his fingers through his hair when he doesn’t get one, “only if you want, of course, Your Highness. I have a sailing boat on the coast not too far from here. It’s not a yacht, though you are welcome to join me on that too if you are ever in Monaco, but I promise that it is peaceful and private. I just thought you would like to get away from all this,” he gestures around the room of mingling Red Bull staff and dignitaries, “for a little.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hhmm?”

You ask again, “are you sure?”

“Sure about what? That I would like to take you on a date? Quite sure.”

“Any privacy we have won’t last long.”

“I know.”

“The press can be brutal.”

“So I’ve learned. I don’t particularly care.”

“There are rules …”

“I will learn them.”

“Okay,” you finally allow a shy smile.

“Okay?”

“Yes, Max. I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. But if we are to date you have to call me Y/N.”

“Gladly … Y/N,” he tests out how your name feels on his lips for the first time.

“Oh and you will have to meet my parents.”

That gives him pause. “Your parents?”

“Yes.”

“As in the King and Queen.”

“Yes.”

“I have to meet the King and Queen?”

“It’s all still a bit old fashioned, I’m afraid. We will need their approval.”

You’re quick to reassure him when you see how quickly the color drains from his face, “my father is a big Ferrari fan but he has a soft spot for you. You need not worry.”

“Your father is the King.”

“Yes.”

“My King.”

“Yes. And he’s my father. You’ll have to get used to it if you see us going anywhere.”

“Right. Of course …” A few seconds pass. “But he’s the King.”

You pat his hand where it’s splayed on the table, “you’ll be fine.”

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cinnamostar · 5 months

Text

drunken confession

pairing : jeongin x gn!reader

summary : jeongin is hopelessly in love with his best friend and finds himself drunkenly confessing his love

wc : 3.2k (got carried away)

cw : unrequited love (soz), best friends, angst, sadness, alcohol/drinking, allusion to hook ups, non idol!au, post college, let me know if i missed anything

a/n : this wasn’t suppose to be very long. I kinda hate the ending but let me know whatcha think! also im still on my phone so i apologize for any mistakes made :’)

jeongin sighs heavily, vexation all over his face as he watches you from a distance, the empty seat in front of him mocking his lonesomeness. his grip on the now empty cup of coffee tightens in frustration, his knuckles turning white as the poor disposable cup collapses onto itself due to his strength, while yours still remains full on the other side of the table, likely losing all its warmth at this point.

he couldn’t quite understand what he was feeling and what he has been feeling the past few months, but it was becoming extremely irritating to constantly feel this sinking feeling in his chest whenever your attention was ripped away from him. he hated the bitter taste that filled his mouth every time you’d talk to him about your latest date, how he had to force a smile, and pretend he was happy for you even though he could feel his stomach churn over every detail you shared. it was miserable, it was becoming unbearable as time went on, yet there was no way he could ever resist an opportunity to spend time with you.

despite the difficult emotions of jealousy, the moments where he was able to have you all to himself, he felt like he was floating through time and that the stresses of life no longer existed. the impeding doom of growing up and adulthood was nowhere to be found when he was with you, as you always infected him with childlike joy and laughter he dearly missed. your very presence had become absolutely addicting, finding himself craving your radiance and wanting nothing more to bask under the warmth of your personality.

somehow, you were able to create to this addicting cocktail of placidity and nervousness that he downed every day without hesitation. one that made him fidget with bubbling shyness and excitement, yet he had complete trust in your willingness to accept him wholly with no reservations. he knew your gentle touch would handle his glass heart gingerly, never daring to overlook a single scratch or mark on it, yet you had no idea that recently, you’ve been the cause and remedy of the microscopic cracks and tears his heart had been weathering. the naked eye would never be able to notice how your ignorance to his unwavering devotion to you brutalized his tender heart, how your inability to recognize his undying love for you was slowly causing his resolve to crumble down as he struggled to contain the truth of his emotions. and despite your lack of awareness, the flustering butterflies you’d inject him with would cause his entire body to overheat, turning him into a blushing mess, which ultimately melted away the very fissures you created. the constant push and pull of this relationship was becoming exhausting and jeongin knew he needed to say something soon, as it wasn’t your fault your best friend kept his true feelings clandestine from you.

but how? jeongin knew every detail of your love life, he had witnessed you go through countless partners, and he was certain he was far off your image of a potential suitor. he had his full trust in you, knowing that if you didn’t return those very feelings, it would never change the nature of your friendship with him, however the fear of rejection was absolutely paralyzing. he wasn’t afraid of losing his friendship with you, but he no longer knew if he could trust himself to not let it drastically impact your relationship with him, not knowing what an inevitable heartbreak would do to him. his silence was his prison, and fear was his captor.

especially now, something as simple as you catching up with an old classmate at the cafe you are both at sends his mind into a seething frenzy of jealousy and insecurity. he has no idea who this person is, but he hates witnessing how much they make you laugh and how they would so inconspicuously brush a hand against your arm in some lame flirtatious attempt. he doesn’t like how much you’re enjoying the conversation, and is desperately pleaing to whatever divine entity there is to smite that person away. he should be the one making you giggle so bashfully right now, not that guy.

eventually, you make your return to jeongin, but he doesn’t miss the fact that you just exchanged numbers with that mystery man. “ah, sorry about that! i didn’t realize how much time had gone by,” you apologize sheepishly, taking your seat while lifting the now lukewarm coffee to your mouth.

jeongin does his best to push aside the whirlwind of emotions he had just gone through, “it’s okay, it happens,” he shrugs off convincingly, “who was that?”

“that was minho! he was an old classmate of mine! we worked on a group project together in freshman year,” you respond with a playful smile tugging on your lips, “he’s kinda cute, hm?”

internally, jeongin could feel himself fall to his knees and scream, but instead, all he does is hum in agreement. “he’s pretty good looking,” his eyes avoiding your gaze, “i assume you got his number?”

you chuckle at his question, “of course i did!”

“nice,” is all he could muster out as he does his best to ignore the acidic taste jealousy that was traveling up from his gut.

“mhm, maybe i’ll text him and see if he wants to go on a date tonight or something,” you muse, “what do you think?”

jeongin finally looks into your eyes with furrowed eyebrows, “tonight?”

“yeah, why not tonight?”

“y/n, we have plans tonight,” he reminds you, exasperation in his voice, “we’re suppose to go out to celebrate felix landing that job.”

your lips round out into an ‘o’ shape, “ooh, you’re right… i definitely forgot, im sorry! i guess that’s for another day.”

he rolls his eyes, both jokingly and with annoyance, “you can get laid another time,” but you don’t miss the layer of spite in jeongin’s tone.

you raise your eyebrows in confusion, “are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” he mumbles while forcing a smile, yet you’re able to see through it.

“no, something’s wrong. i can tell,” you press on, “what is it? lately you’ve been so… agitated? i thought you were just stressed with work, so i wasn’t going to bring it up, but i’m starting to get worried, jeongin.”

right, you always were quick to pick up on jeongin’s mood, even if it was the slightest change, yet somehow you couldn’t pick up on the one thing he prayed for you to notice. “it’s nothing,” he responds, wishing nothing more for the topic to be changed, “don’t worry about it.”

“you know i’m going to worry about it anyway.”

“i know, i’m sorry, it’s just…” he pauses for a moment, anxiety filling him as he tried to search for some excuse you’d accept, “i’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

“that’s okay, but you know i’m always here for you. promise you’ll let me know what’s going on when you’re ready?” you ask sweetly, a delicate smile of concern adorning your features as you hold out your pinky finger, “pinky promise?”

he lets out a breathy laugh, unable to suppress a loving smile at your antics as the resentment he felt earlier washes away under your inviting warmth, “pinky promise.”

જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴ જ⁀➴

the night arrives sooner than jeongin was prepared for, and he was way more buzzed than he planning on being. felix insisted on everyone taking a shot as soon as they arrived, even ordering 3 more rounds after that. it was safe to say that no one in the group was sober, but it seems like everyone was enjoying their time as they all cheer and clink their fourth shot of the night.

jeongin takes it upon himself to stay by your side the entire night, making sure you wouldn’t get yourself into any trouble in your drunken state, although he wasn’t the most reliable person in the room at the moment.

jeongin’s entire body is hot to the touch, likely the affects of the alcohol getting to him, but the drunken, lazy smile you flash him every now and then did not helping the growing red blush forming across his face. luckily, no one would expect you being the cause of his reddening face, but he was becoming uncomfortable sweaty as the night progresses.

perhaps it was his inebriated state, but jeongin often finds himself staring shamelessly at you, his heart overwhelming itself with affection at how stunning you look under the lowlights of the bar. there’s a subtle, yet enticing glow the alcohol brings out of you and he was absolutely enjoying how relaxed you seem in these moments. his heart would flutter and soar to the sky every time you’d laugh at one of his jokes, the way your eyes would become crescents and your nose would scrunch up caused him to bubble up with pride, and it had become his personal mission to continue to elicit that reaction from you.

although, much like other outings, something or someone would steal his spotlight and become the center of your attention. and it was just his luck that your old classmate, minho, happened to come to the same bar that night to celebrate something with his own friends.

usually, jeongin would be suffering from some case of anger and jealousy, but at this very moment, he wears a pitiful pout with somber eyes, his gaze catching the upsetting sight of you and minho flirtatiously giggling across the bar. he can feel himself sink deeper into his sadness, especially with the way you were leaning into minho every time he made you laugh, the way your hand would playfully swat his shoulder, god, did he wish that was him. how he envied the proximity you and minho were sharing, his heart trembling each time minho would lean into your ear to whisper something with a smirk, which clearly left you in a flustered state as you hid your face behind your hands.

this was an awfully cruel punishment, and he wonders what he had done in his past life to deserve this fate. eventually, a concerned chan notices the melancholic expression jeongin was wearing, and after following his line of sight, he was quick to connect the dots. the older man takes a seat next to jeongin and rests a comforting hand on his shoulder, “you like them, right?” he asks, using his other hand to point in your direction.

jeongin turns to chan, nodding his head while mumbling a hushed yes. chan offers a sympathetic smile, “and you haven’t told them?” again, jeongin can only shake his head, unable to produce a verbal response in fear his voice is would come out in a croaked sob.

“what’s stopping you?”

jeongin furrows his eyebrows at the ridiculous question chan asked, “why would i ever tell them when they’re clearly not into me?”

chan shrugs his shoulders, “well, you never really know. even if they don’t return your feelings, wouldn’t confessing help you move on? better yet, what if they do feel the same way? there’s only one way to find out.”

jeongin’s drunken brain was too fried to properly process chan’s words, turning his attention back to you and minho as he burns holes into minho’s head. “you’re telling me i have a chance? when they’re all over that guy?”

chan’s face cringes at the sight, “i mean…” he pauses, “you might..?” he says with uncertainty coloring his voice.

“you’re not a great hype man, chan,” jeongin responds dryly.

“hey! i’m trying to help while also being realistic with you,” he exclaims while raising his hands up defensively.

jeongin sighs, “i know, it just… it just sucks.”

suddenly, jeongin notices you leaving minho’s side and are now approaching his table. chan takes note of this, patting jeongin’s back as he makes his exit, “i’ll leave you to it,” leaving him with a small wink.

you appear in front of jeongin with a giddy smile on your face, leaning into his ear to whisper, “hey, i think i’m heading out now.”

he snaps his head to you, narrowing his eyes, “what?”

“yeah, with minho!” you respond coyly, unable to hide the widening grin on your face.

“y/n, no, you’re way too drunk right now,” he replies sternly, grabbing hold of your wrist before you try to make an escape.

a whine escapes you, “but jeongin! i’ve done this before, i’ll be okay. plus, he’s drunk too!”

“no,” he huffs, “i’m not letting you. besides, you’re suppose to be here for felix, not minho.”

“i’m sure felix wouldn’t mind!”

“i definitely do mind!” his voice raises as the anger he had been suppressing finally makes its appearance.

you’re taken aback by this, worry etching onto your features once more, “are you okay?” you ask, confused as to why jeongin now cares about this, as usually he has been rather supportive of your adventures in the past.

jeongin’s not thinking before he speaks, and he swears his drunkenness is going to get him in big trouble as he curtly replies to your question, “no, no i’m not and i haven’t been for awhile. but who cares, y/n. just go have fun with your hook up.”

your mouth drops open in surprise, “jeongin, what’s wrong? talk to me,” you’re slurring over your words, but your eyes are wide with worry and concern for your best friend who was clearly being afflicted by something. “minho can wait, jeongin. what has you so upset right now?”

“i-“ jeongin squeezes his eyes in frustration, trying to bite back his response as he rubs his temples, feeling a headache come on. “you! you’re what’s wrong!” he moans out, mentally cursing at himself as he watches himself create a mess.

“… me?”

“yes, you.”

you were silent as you watch jeongin put his head down on the table, your brain trying to understand jeongin’s few words, but the alcohol was doing a number on your thinking, struggling to come to any understanding. “i’m… i’m sorry?”

“it’s not your fault,” he mumbles, still hiding his face from your gaze, “it’s my own fault. it’s not your fault that i’m an idiot.”

“no, you’re not dumb, jeongin,” you reply, “look at me. tell me what i did.”

jeongin sighs, peeling himself from the table he was slumping over to meet your concerned eyes. “nothing. you did nothing, but…” he stops himself, unsure whether he should continue with his words as a surge of nerves causes his body to run cold. the anxious anticipation filling him as the words were just on the tip of his tongue, his heart pounding through his chest as his eyes struggle to focus on yours.

“but what?”

he bites his lip as his heart clamors away in his chest, the loud chatter of the bar suddenly fading away in the background as his face grows warmer than before. is this really happening? is he really going to say it right here, right now? while you both are far from being sober? this is not how ever envisioned this moment going, this was far from it and was plenty less romantic than he would’ve liked it to be, but his mind didn’t care about the current circumstances and was operating purely off the raw emotions his body was feeling. reason and logic had flown out the window, and the liquid courage was going to force him into a confession he was not prepared for.

“i’m in love with you.”

the world stills as soon as the words left his mouth, which instantly dries from the nervousness he was feeling. his hands slightly shaking as he tried to examine your face as frantic energy takes over his once angry demeanor. your face pales at his confession, your mouth twitching as you try to conjure up an appropriate response in that moment, but he knew from the lack of excitement in your face that you did not feel the same way about him. his heart ached and writhed in pain, one he always prepared for mentally, but the anguish was far more greater than he could’ve imagined as his chest collapses onto itself, his breath becoming shallow as he held back the ugly sobs threatening to spill out his lips.

“i’m so sorry, jeongin, i… i’ve never thought of you that way,” you ramble apologetically as your wore a pitying face.

jeongin only nods, shooing you off with a hand, not fully trusting himself to open speak.

“jeongin…”

“its okay,” he whispers in a quivering voice, hurt reverberating from each syllable, tears slipping down his rosy cheeks “just… go. it’s okay.”

part of you feels wrong to leave your best friend a sobbing mess all alone, wanting nothing more to comfort him, but you knew it was best to respect his wishes when you were the cause of his pain. “okay,” you whisper, a layer of guilt washing over you as you rush over to chan, whispering in his ear asking if he would watch over jeongin for the rest of the night. chan reassures he’ll be okay and that he’ll take care of him, not before asking you where you were headed. “ah, i’ll just go home… i don’t really think i should be here anymore,” you respond.

chan opens his mouth with raised brows “with that guy?” he inquiries, pointing towards minho.

the question earns chan a stern look from you, “i’m not that mean, no, not with him. i’m taking an uber home…. alone...”

chan laughs, “hey, i’m not judging if you do… you know…” quickly making an inappropriate motion with his hands that causes to slap his arm.

“chan.”

“just saying! nothing wrong with it, but don’t worry, he’ll be in good hands! i’ll let pretty boy know you went home alone, definitely not with that guy.”

“please be serious,” you plead, not wanting to rub salt on jeongin’s wound.

“alright, don’t worry about it. i got it,” he promises, waving you off as he walks back to a tearful jeongin whose slouched in his seat. “hey bud,” he whispers affectionately, wrapping a secure arm around his shoulders, “it didn’t work out, but i’m proud of you for doing it. it’s okay, this will pass too.”

jeongin wipes his tears away, taking a deep breath in to steady his voice as he sits himself up, “it’s fine, it’s fine. i’ll get over it soon enough.”

“right, you will.”

“just sucks a lot right now.”

“it does, but it’ll pass.”

“they’re going to fuck him anyway, right?”

“no comment.”

jeongin groans once more, throwing his head back while he sniffles. he knew his chances with you were nonexistent from the start, he saw this coming long ago, but it didn’t change how agonizing the pain of heartbreak was, and he foolishly realized all the time he spent avoiding it only worsened its blow. perhaps he should’ve ripped the bandage off sooner, but at the end of the day, it was his fault for falling in love with his best friend who never showed an ounce of interest in him. though, somehow, even if you were the one to break his heart, he knew you’d be the one to help him mend it once more.

#cinnamostar writes #jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #i.n x reader #skz i.n #skz i.n x reader #skz jeongin #skz jeongin x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids jeongin #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz x reader #skz scenarios #skz angst #stray kids angst

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frickingnerd · 5 months

Text

the world is (y)ours

pairing: ganondorf x fem!reader

summary: you love ganon, you really do. but you worry he has gone too far this time...

tags: manipulation, mention of death/murder (nothing graphic), toxic relationship, established relationship

“w-what… what did you do…?”

you couldn't take your eyes off the ruins of the city. only days ago, this place was a lively city, with dozens of people living in it. but now, it was burned down to ashes. you couldn't even make out what the burned down buildings used to be. and in the middle of all those ruins and ashes stood the man you loved.

“they were in my way, so i got rid of them”

he had his back turned to you and you could only imagine that his eyes were wandering through the remains of the city as well. yet he seemed to feel no remorse.

“they were in your way!?” you stepped forward. “all of them? all those innocent people were in your way? every single one of them?”

ganon didn't reply. because he couldn't. there was nothing he could say to defend himself.

“this…” suddenly, he raised his voice. “this is what we wanted. with this town gone, there's a gap in power. i'll be there to fill it and then we'll–”

before he could finish speaking, your hand met his face. normally, nobody would've been able to land a single hit on him. but he was careless. ganon thought he could let his guard down around you. but clearly, he couldn't.

“this isn't what we wanted! this is what you want! you want to seize control over hyrule! i only wanted to be with you–!!”

you tried to go in for another slap, but this time ganon was prepared. he grabbed your wrist and held your hand up. he was so much taller than you and yet you struggled against him. while you kicked and screamed at him, telling him to let go of you, he barely even bat an eye. there wasn't a single emotion on his face. he looked as calm as ever, until eventually he shoved you against the nearest wall, hands pinned above your head.

“you lost.” he told you calmly.

“no, you lost your way–!!” you screamed back. “you told me we'd be king and queen of hyrule! but not like this! not by killing people and taking those positions by force! this isn't how it was supposed to be… you changed…”

those last two words were barely a whisper, yet ganon heard them so clearly. the grip around your wrist loosened and one of his hands found its way to gently caress your cheek.

“i'm still the man you trust” he reminded you. “being your king was always my dream, my love. i just want us to rule, side by side. don't you want this? don't you want to be with me? don't you want to see me happy?”

you knew this was a trick. he'd have you tell him that you still love and trust him. in the end, you'd be the one apologizing, while he faces no consequences for his actions. because it was always like this. you loved him and you still saw the man he used to be in him. but that man was gone. and yet, you wouldn't stop chasing who he used to be…

“i… i still want to be with you.”

you lowered your head, too ashamed to even look at him. perhaps if you had looked at him, you would’ve seen that sinister smile spreading over his lips, as he spoke:

“i know you'd say that, my love”

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xzhdjsj · 2 months

Text

Page 142

Zaros x Reader

Zaros is temporarily unable to lie.

For the sake of this fic, let's pretend alchemy and potions, etc exist in Zaros' world😭 Also, this gets suggestive towards the end (just a teensy bit nsfw), if you're uncomfortable with that you might wanna stop reading at the marked point or not read this at all!

I may write a second part for this, but I'm not sure. Lemme know if you guys want a part 2! I hope you enjoy! <3

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It was a quiet day, unusually so. That's only because ever since Zaros’ arrival to the palace, a peaceful day has not gone by. His mouth is never closed. He always has something to say and not a care for repercussions. It’s annoying, extremely annoying, and it flares both your anxiety and anger.

Yet, somehow the peace and quiet feels almost wrong. Do you perhaps miss him?

You shake the thoughts from your head. Nonsense. Why would you miss him? Though, it is strange you haven't seen him all day, maybe it would be best if you looked for him. Only for the credit of being an observant host of course, nothing else!

You make your way to his door, slightly nervous to knock, but you do so anyways.

...

No answer. So, you knock again.

...

And again, there was no answer which is very unlike him. He may hate your guts but at the very least he’s polite enough to answer his door.

You scan the area for a quick moment, making sure you're all alone in the hallway, then press your ear to the door. How strange, not a soun-

"Can I help you my Earis?", a voice chime behind you.

You shout and turn to face its owner. A palace maid.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." She bows respectfully, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine." You sigh and placed a hand to your chest, "You just spooked me. It's alright."

"Apologies your highness. Is there anything I could help with?"

"Uhh no, I was just about to leave."

You swiftly turn to leave, desperate to get away from her. Then you stop at a realisation, maybe she knows where Zaros is.

"Actually," you turn to her, "Have you seen Sarl Zaros today?"

"He was in the garden earlier, my Earis. Though, I have no idea where he is now."

"Right, thank you. That'll be all"

You scurry off, unable to shake the embarrassment you felt. You know she'll keep her mouth shut, after all, if rumours are traced back to her it would cost her quite a lot, but the icky feeling still haunts you mind. What were you even thinking?

You find yourself in the garden rather quickly, but there was no sign of his blonde hair or elegant garments. Just greenery and sunshine. That means there's one last place you may be able to find him, the library.

And sure enough, he's there.

You pick up a random book, not bothering to look at the colour or memorise the title, and take a seat across from him.

"Earis, how nice of you to join me." He mutters, barely, as if he didn't want to speak.

"Is it really? Or are you just saying that?"

"It is... nice." He grimaces but swiftly hides it with the books he's reading. Something about potions and remedies, since when is he interested in alchemy?

"Oh uh- I see" you reply awkwardly. One unusual occurrence after the other, he's never outright nice to you, especially when you're alone. He's always giving you an earful of how spoilt and sheltered you are. What suddenly changed?

The silence engulfs you both, he has his head stuck in his book and you, well you're still in shock staring at him.

"Are you going to keep staring?"

"What?" You snap out of your daze.

"You were staring."

"Oh, no I wasn’t! I just zoned out for a moment. Sorry."

A pathetic lie, he knows it too. He doesn't even honour it with a response, or even look up from his books.

God everything is so freaking weird today!

"Are you alright, Zaros?" You blurt out before you can think.

He finds your eyes finally.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing! I just- You don't seem like yourself today, I was just wondering if you're unwell."

He sighs, exasperated and tired.

"If you really must know, I was accidentally served a glass of wine containing an elixir of truth. I'm fine otherwise, I just need to get rid of its effects."

"Ahhh, hence the book. I was curious why you were reading that." The wheels in your head turned. He consumed an elixir of truth, which means he cannot lie. It’s no wonder he admitted your company was welcome earlier.

"Hmmm I didn’t think you were so keen about reproduction either my dear Earis.” He eyes the book laid out in front of you.

Confusion laced your expression as you looked down. The title hits you in the face like a brick. It reads

“Reproductive Biology: Conception”

“Oh, dear god! No, I- I grabbed the wrong one!” Your face burnt of embarassment as you hurriedly returned the book to its shelf.

“Are you sure you didn’t just come here to find me then?” he chuckles at your dilemma.

You don’t answer, but no answer is still an answer. What an awful day! You turn to leave, having had enough of the awkwardness and embarrassment.

“Come sit with me.” He calls out to you, “It’d be rude of me to let you leave when you came all the way here to find me”

Reluctantly, you walked over to the table and sat with him.

“Did you miss me that much?” he pushed his book aside, casting his full attention onto you.

“Of course not, I just thought it was unusual that I haven’t seen you all day. That’s all.” You inform him, “Were you ignoring me on purpose?”

His expression shifts for a moment, but he catches it quickly.

“Why would I do that?” he dodged your question. “Did you miss me berating you?”

“I should’ve left when I had the chance.” You sigh and rest your forehead against you palm and he laughs.

“You’re the one who came all the way here to find me. It’s only fair that I have my assumptions.”

“Too bad they’re untrue.”

“Are they really?”

“You know what?” You retort, “If you want to ask so many questions, I propose a game.”

“A game? Go on, I’m listening.”

“We take turns asking each other questions and answer them truthfully. Not that you really have a choice anyways and I promise to be truthful as well.”

“You definitely have an unfair advantage, but I’m desperate for some entertainment, so I don’t see why not.” He leans forward, resting his face on his interlocked fingers. “Well then, I’ll go first. Did you come all the way here to find me?”

You sigh, “I did, but you already knew that, so why waste a question?”

“I wanted to hear you say it.” He smiled mischievously.

It started off tame, with harmless questions to tease each other. Pieces of memories from the past and truths to white lies once told, but as it progressed there was more than either of you bargained for.

(things get suggestive from here)

“Do you regret leaving all those years ago?”

“No, I don’t. Had I stayed, I wouldn’t know half the things I do now, and I wouldn’t experience the things I did. Besides, you made it clear you never wanted to see me again, I honoured your word for as long as I could.” His words only made your regret worse. “Do you regret being close to me back then?”

“No. Then, do you hate me for driving you away?”

His expression stiffens, and he just stares at you in shocked silence for a minute. “No, no I’ve never hated you. Do you hate me?”

“I could never bring myself to ever hate you. There’s too many memories attached to your face, fond ones that I cannot risk hating.”

“I see.” He murmured quietly.

“Did you think I hated you?”

“You did send me away and called me a leech. It felt kind of obvious. What about you? Did you think I hate you?

“Yes, and for some reason, it scared me. Did you… Did you ever forgive me for all the things I’ve said to you? They were awful, I know that now, and I'm... I'm sorry.”

“I did. As I said, I never hated you, and what good would it serve me to hate the person I lo- the person I grew up with.” He corrected himself. “Do you regret it? Sending me away.”

“Everyday for the past 8 years. I hoped you’d show up to every formal event we held, but you never did.”

“Wow are you sure you didn’t have some of my wine too?”

“Shut up. Did you think about me when you were gone?”

He tilts his head to the side slightly, “More than you’ll ever know.”

“How? What were you thinking?”

“Hold on now, you’re only allowed one question per turn. So I believe it’s my turn now. Did you think of me while I was gone?”

“Yes, I did.” You confessed quickly, “What were you thinking of when you thought of me?”

“So demanding. But I don’t think you want to know that, my sweet Earis.”

“It’s my turn, and that’s my question. If I did not wish to know, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“Fine, but you asked for this. When I thought of you, I often reminisced of our time together in school. Other times, my thoughts of you were quite… inappropriate.”

Your ear perked up like a kitten. “Tell me more.” You demand.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes. Tell me everything.”

He leans back into his chair, “I thought of you when I was with others. That’s why I was never able to keep a partner.”

“Wha-“

“Every time I looked into their eyes I’d think of you, and I knew my adoration was never for them. Every time someone laid below me I’d close my eyes and imagine you instead. The thought of you and what we could’ve been followed me, haunted me, ate away at my very soul. I didn’t want anyone but you, despite my criticism, you are what I craved.” His eyes never left yours, every word, every truth he spoke made your bones feel soft and your stomach tie into an uncomfortable knot.

There should be another word that meant speechless beyond the word speechless, it would perfectly describe how you felt in that moment.

“Zaros I… uhm” Your face is undoubtably red, and you cannot bear to look him in the eyes anymore.

“My turn now, darling.” His body lifted from his seat, and he moved to sit next to you, so close you could smell the scent radiating off of him. “Did you think of me the same way I thought of you?”

You could lie, you could tell him you’ve never thought of him when you were with another and you can tell him you never thought of him when you touched yourself… but he was truthful and you should be too.

“I did” you whisper, barely enough for him to catch, being only a breath’s distance from you.

“Yeah, I thought as much.”

Your information processing is cut short when his lips landed on yours and a warm hand on your cheek. Your eyes widen only to flutter shut. His hand tangled in your hair while the other gripped your waist, desperately pulling you closer. You hold onto his arms for support, too engulfed in this feverish kiss to think of anything. He kissed you like a starving man, he kissed you with 8 years’ worth of longing and every second was deliciously eager-filled and greedy. When he finally pulls away you’re gasping for breath. Your fingers are still gripping into his biceps and his, your waist. He tugs you closer, a silent plea for more.

His breath was warm on your face, and your body felt hot. His body felt hot. There was a sense of urgency in the air, and the world around you faded away again when his lips met yours. Your chest is pressed up against him while he pushes your back into the wall behind, desperate attempts to be as close as you can, A thousand curses upon the layers of clothes that separate you.

Time was definitely slowing down, and every touch of his fingers lit fireworks across your skin. It was addicting, he was addicting. Neither of you could get enough, the longing was too much to ignore. His fingers were warm, so warm they melted into your skin. The buildup of passion was ought to come crashing down at some point but before his fingers could slip further past the fabrics on your skin a familiar voice ring out.

“Sarl Zaros? Are you in here?” The Queen gently called out.

Your bodies split apart in seconds. He scrambles to the far end on the bench, and you rush to wipe your lips. You look over at Zaros, and his chest is heaving, same as yours. God you wished you didn’t look. The way he desperately tried to calm himself down did things to your stomach that you’ve never felt before.

You promptly stand and turn to greet your mother who’s approaching.

“Mother, good afternoon.”

“Oh, you’re here too dear?” she smiles at you.

“Yes, I was just uhm chatting with Zaros.” You lie through your teeth. “But I’ll be leaving now, I have other things to attend to.”

You walk past your mother, hurrying for the giant doors of the library.

“My Earis,” a rasped voice calls behind you. “You forgot your book.”

You turn around and Zaros hands you the book he was reading. You didn’t question it. There was no time for questions.

“Ah thank you Zaros” You flush when his hands touch yours.

“I think you’ll find page 142 most interesting, do give it a read.” His eyes were filled with lust, green embers burning holes into you soul.

“Tha-Thank you.”

You ran. You ran all the way back to your room, locking the door and dropping into your bed face first. What the FUCK just happened???

You wish you could scream, instead you try to process everything that’s happened. It started off so innocently, tame questions and light teasing but evolved to so much more. HOW?

You remembered his words before you left the library.

“I think you’ll find page 142 most interesting, do give it a read.”

You pick up the book he handed you, flipping the deckled edge to page 142. Obviously, there was nothing interesting, just a piece of paper that flutters to the floor. You pick it up, unfolding it carefully, to find a message written inside.

“If you wish to continue, meet me in my room at midnight. I’ll be waiting, my sweet sweet Earis.”

#zsakuva #sakuverse #zsakuva zaros #zaros #zaros atha’lin #zaros x reader #asmr

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