#so just reposting this here cause it was one of my favorite moments | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cinnamonmilf · 2 months

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summary: you meet ellie in a dream

cw: reader mentions she is an english lit major if u don't like it imagine she said it was the major of your choice, flirty friendship but no dating yet (repost from old account)

BEFORE YOU READ!!!:

WHY BOYCOTT TLOU PALESTINE LINKS DAILY CLICK

"Before you speak don't move 'cause i don't wanna wakeup"

The bright light was making it hard to keep your eyes open, not a single cloud in sight. It was a beautiful place, there was no denying that. Spring had always been your favorite season: leafy trees, blooming flowers, green grass and sunny days. If spring was a place, this would be it.

You decided to explore it, feeling the soft breeze on your skin. There was a big meadow, with a beautiful forest next to it. The bushy green trees complimenting the flowery field. There was something about this place that was so peaceful. Like you were the only person in the world and everything worked for you, rather than against you.

It would be a shame to leave so soon, so you take a seat in between the flowers and take everything in. How could a place so beautiful exist?

Your tranquil state is quickly interrupted by the sound of the grass and dirt being step on. You turn your head to see who the culprit is: a freckley auburnette with big green eyes and, for lack of a better adjective, an angelic face. You were prepared to snap at whoever had taken the sweet blissful state away from you, but after seeing her there was no way.

She doesn't say a word. She sits next to you. You'd usually not even consider just letting a random stranger make their way to you and sit next to you but this felt different. Saying that you had never met this girl before was an understatement, yet it felt like seeing an old friend.

Her presence was warm and pleasant, you felt safe.

"If you are interrupting my moment shouldn't i at least know your name?" you ask her with a playful grin.

"Fair enough. I'm Ellie." She chuckles.

You tell her your name and she nods in acknowledgement.

"We haven't met, have we?" you inquire.

"Not that I'm aware, but it-"

"It feels like it," you complete her sentence before she can, earning a smile from her.

"Well, l've never seen you around here. Think I'd remember a pretty face like yours," she says will a smirk on her face. You scoff in response, finding her antics amusing.

"It's my first time here," you explain.

"Hmm, when you'd get here?"

"What?" You ask with a puzzled face. And suddenly you realize you can't remember how long you'd been here, let alone how you got here.

Before she can even answer your question you wake up by the obnoxious sound of your alarm.

7:00 a.m.

The dream was uneventful, to say the least, but there's something about it that makes you think about it over and over again throughout the day. It was one of those dreams that bring you unexplainable comfort, like a tender embrace, like feeling like a kid again, like feeling some sense of home in there.

And, well, of course there was Ellie. You kept trying to think if you'd seen her before. Her face plagued your thoughts the most. You'd never seen anyone like her, you'd never met anyone like her.

Something about her made you feel like you could spend hours and hours with her and still crave her company. It was ridiculous, you'd spend time how long with her? Fifteen minutes? And yet, you'd never felt that way with anyone before.

Alas, it was a dream. Just a dream. She was just a beautiful entity your psyche had created. Maybe your brain knew it's what you craved and was cruel enough to give it to you in the dream realm, only to get it taken away.

You realized it was useless to dwell on your dreams, so you ended up putting the thought of Ellie aside and continuing your day.

That was, until nighttime.

The warm ambience surrounded you once again and before you could take it all in, you heard that raspy voice that had been echoing in your mind all day.

"You left yesterday," she said.

"Had to go to school." You giggle at her frowny face. She rolled her eyes at you.

"Yeah, well, I didn't get to ask anything about you." And damn her flirty tone because it made you weak in the knees.

"What do you wanna know?"

"Just tell me about you." She shrugged.

"Well, I'm 21, I'm in college, I like cats, reading, animals in general, l like the color green and...I'm pretty boring, don't have much more to tell you.” You chuckle.

"I like green too."

"Really? That's your take on what i said?" You laugh.

"What was I supposed to say?" She protests with a laugh.

"Whatever," you roll your eyes at her now. "What about you?"

"Well, I'm 22, I'm also in college, I like space, science, comics," she tells you, not really sure what else to add on to the list.

"Space?"

"Yeah, like, planets and stars and Nasa and shit."

"Nice, is that your major?" you inquire further.

"Yeah, astrophysics.."

"Just how smart are you?" You ask. Frankly, surprised by the girl.

"Shut up." She laughs. "What about you?"

"English Lit." You explain.

"Suits you."

"Is that good?"

"Yeah, it's good." She responds with that cocky smile that you have grown to love in a couple minutes.

She had a sort of charm you hadn't really seen elsewhere. It was quite boyish and youthful. She had you a little mesmerized. It was quite stupid, considering you barely knew her, but it was true.

"Do you-" and before she could finish her question, you were once again sucked out of your dream.

You groan in annoyance. Annoyed from being woken up, but mostly by the cold morning air reminding you once again that she wasn't real.

Your brain was creative, you'd give it that. Astrophysics is something you didn't even know you could come up with.

You do the whole thing again. Get up, brush your teeth, go to school, try to pay attention to school even when you all could think of were Ellie's freckles and her peachy lips and her pretty dark lashes and the way she had a bun this time, rather than the half-up half-down hairstyle she had last time. Also, about the fact that she was going to ask you something. What was she going to ask you? You could only hope you'd be blessed tonight once more and be able to dream of her.

And so as the sun came down you prepared yourself to go to sleep.

"Please let me dream of her," you thought to yourself. Pleading your subconscious mind.

You don't know when you finally fell asleep, but you were once again in the forest you had began to grow fond of.

"You have a tendency of leaving mid conversation."

There she was.

You turned to face her, "I don't really control it, you know?" You laugh.

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

"What were you going to ask me yesterday?" You ask as you softly kick her foot with yours, an affectionate gesture.

She looks down at your feet, pleased by it. Did the smirk ever leave her face or was it permanently there?

"I was asking if you have a boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? Ew no."

She laughs at your frowned eyebrows and your disgusted face.

"So you like girls?"

"Why? Are you gonna ask me out?"

You'd later cringe at your own question once awake. How on earth was she supposed to take you out?

"Maybe." She said nonchalantly.

"Right. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Not to worry, all yours."

"You are kind of cocky, do you know that?"

"Oh, come on, you like it."

"Do I, now?" You ask with an incredulous chortle.

"I mean, you do get nervous every time, so l'd say so." She shrugged.

You could immediately feel your cheeks heating up. How could a girl make you lose your composure so easily.

"You are so annoying," you said, to which she just laughed.

Night became favorite time of the day from then on. All you did was repeat the cycle everyday: wakeup irritated, hope your day passed as quick as possible (not without reminiscing of your dream all day long), and go to sleep in hopes of dreaming of her again. And again.

And again. Which, to your surprise, you did. Every single night you dreamt of her.

Somehow your dreams went from feeling like minutes with Ellie, to feeling like a hours. In which you talked about everything.

She was the most fascinating person you'd ever encountered. She was smart as hell, funny, kind and of course, had that little cockiness that never really left her side. Which -she was right- you did really like.

Your dreams had always been quite vivid, but you had never appreciated it until now. You were able to really examine her face, hear her voice clearly, see the detail on her tattoo. You'd feel her hand against yours when you walked around the place, or her hair on your fingers as you raked them through her hair when she'd lied on your lap. Nonetheless, it was always accompanied by that soft and warm glow that came with the dream. You could only imagine how much more you’d cherish it all in real life.

And that was the problem. You were completely and absolutely enamored by a girl in a dream. A girl that didn't even exist. But how could you go on with your life knowing you'd never find anyone like her, knowing the perfect girl for you was nowhere to be found?

Life started seeming unappealing to you. Taking class, hanging out with friends, going out. None of it made sense. All you could think of all day long was the night. Every single hour you spend awake seemed like one more hour of you and Ellie being apart. It was eating you alive and you were allowing it.

As dusk arrived you went straight to bed and let yourself fall into a deep slumber.

Your favorite girl was there, waiting for you. You went to hug her. Ellie hugged you back, allowing herself to relax into your arms.

"Missed you," you whispered.

"You say that everyday," she chuckled.

"I miss you everyday," you giggled in response.

She took your hand and the two of you began your stroll. Admiring the trees, the lustrous pond, the flowers. It never got old.

Today you were telling Ellie about school. You mentioned how you'd lost interest lately, not really bothering enough to commit to your studies as you used to.

"Why's that?" She asked.

"I don't know. I don't really care about much lately. Not school, not my friends, not reading." It mildly concerned Ellie, but she didn't say anything.

"You must care about something," she said as she nudged your shoulder.

"I care about being here with you." You shrugged.

"Yeah, but, something else." She insisted.

You shook your head. You didn't want to lie to Ellie. She was the one person you could talk to. And the truth was that she was the only thing to seem worthy of your attention as of late. "I just wanna be here with you all the time."

"It doesn't work like that, doll," she cooed as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You felt a tear trail down your cheek, one that Ellie was quick to gently wipe off with her thumb.

She held you for the rest of your time together.

The next morning you slowly opened your eyes, trying to adjust to the change in lightening. You didn't feel vexed like every other day.

You had a tight knot on your chest that you couldn't explain. A fast-growing affliction that wasn't usually there.

After that night, you never dreamed of Ellie again.

It had been three months since you had last seen her. The first few weeks were pure agony.

There was a lot of crying and screaming involved. You were confused and angry and miserable. There was no way to fix it and you didn't even know what you were feeling.

There was no one you could talk to either. What were you supposed to say? That you fell for someone in a dream and now you couldn't deal with the fact that your brain wouldn't let you dream of her anymore?

You kept going to sleep every night hopeful of seeing her again, but it was completely useless. You eventually gave up, realizing it wasn't going to happen.

You were forced to resume your life. You focused yourself on studying, hanging out with your friends, going back to your beloved books. Everything was starting to go back to normal. And yet, there was not a single day where you didn't think of her.

You were headed to your favorite café. Wanting to get some studying done and leaving your apartment for a little bit. As you finally arrived, you settled on your favorite table, put your headphones on and got to work.

Truthfully, your table was a mess. Your computer open, books everywhere and sticky notes all over the place. But it helped you get the work done and that's what mattered most.

After a couple hours you decided to pack everything up and make your way back home, sleep finally sneaking its way up to you.

As you were walking out the door you heard steps hot on your trail.

"Hey, you left this."

Your turned around to see who the familiar voice belonged to. She was handing you a notebook, one you must've missed in the midst of your mess.

As you moved your eyes up to thank the kind stranger, you were met with those two piercing eyes that hadn't been able to leave your mind. The short haired girl with auburn hair, freckles and button nose was standing right in front of you, in the flesh.

It was Ellie.

a/n: hi this is a repost from my old account :) i’ll repost part 2 in a couple days and while i write part 3. hopefully it doesn’t flop massively

taglist @fleshunger @elsbunny222 @whore4abby

#works 𝜗ϱ #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie fluff #ellie williams fluff #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #wlw #lesbian #ellie williams fanfic

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writingforstraykids · 1 month

Text

Always back to you - Chp.2

Pairing: Minho x m!Reader (mention of Chanlix)

Word Count: 7523

Summary: Minho and you grow closer over time as he watches you handling his beloved son with such ease. Minjun's innocent question, asking you to stay with them, changes the dynamics a little. One day, you're taking the trust Minho offers you regarding his son a little too freely, and it ends in a mess...

Warnings/Tags: fluff, single dad!min, angst, domestic shit, double "date" with chanlix, panic attack (brief description), argument (y/n and minho/ minho and chan), min collapses during practice

PART ONE | PART THREE

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Two weeks later

You just left the local aquarium, and all of you felt like getting something to eat now. Minho had mentioned their planned visit to the aquarium a few days ago, and Chan and Felix had decided to tag along, inviting you as well.

It had been great fun seeing Minjun so fascinated with everything and answering all his questions. Chan and Felix fell back occasionally, taking some private moments as a couple for themselves as well, which left you a lot of time to talk to Minho.

Now, you’re back outside, standing in front of the aquarium. “You’re hungry, mate?” Chan asks, kneeling in front of Minjun.

“Yes,” he nods, wrapping his arms around Minho’s leg and cuddling into him.

“Then let’s go get some food, yeah?” Chan suggests with a warm smile, and Minjun nods.

Minjun glances around before gently tugging at Minho’s trousers. “Daddy?” he asks, and Minho hums in response. “Up?” he asks, seeming a little intimidated by all the people after the peace and quiet at the aquarium.

“Come here, dumpling,” he chuckles, picking him up. He tickles his side, pulling a sweet giggle from him, and kisses his cheek. “Let’s go eat, yeah?”

“Yes,” he nods, much more content up here now.

Felix looks up from his phone and taps Chan’s shoulder. “Babe? I found something,” he tells him, and Chan’s hand finds his as he leans over to glance at his phone.

“There’s a small restaurant not far from here that offers a lot for kids,” Chan tells them after humming agreeingly. “They even have a small playground in the back in case he gets bored and some coloring sheets.”

“Oh, guys, seriously, we can go wherever you want. He can still have some of mine if they don’t have kids' portions,” he assures them, and you notice his slight discomfort.

“I don’t mind, it looks good,” you agree with Chan.

“Minho hyung, relax; there’s plenty of stuff for all of us there. We don’t mind, honestly,” Felix assures him with his usual bright smile.

“Okay then,” Minho nods with a shy smile.

The theme restaurant is vibrant, decked out in bright colors, and adorned with characters from children’s shows. It was every kid’s dream, but as you sit down and look over the menu, Minho feels a familiar sense of dread begin to settle in. You excuse yourself for the bathroom and leave them for a moment.

“What would you like to eat, Minjun?” Minho asks, pointing to pictures of various kid-friendly options. “They have dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, or maybe you’d like some noodles?”

Minjun scrunches up his face and shakes his head fiercely. “No! I don’t want those!” he protests loudly, causing a few nearby customers to glance over.

Minho’s heart sinks; they are in his son’s favorite type of restaurant, yet the usual struggle is unfolding. “Come on, buddy, you love dinosaurs. These nuggets look fun,” he tries to keep his voice cheerful, but the frustration is hard to mask.

“I don’t want it! I want to go home!” Minjun’s voice starts to rise, edging towards a tantrum.

Minho shoots his friends an apologizing look and shakes his head gently. “Baby, we'll eat here as we said.”

“They have your favorite noodles, Jiho; look,” Felix tries to help, showing him on the menu.

“No!” Minjun swats his hand aside. Felix blinks in surprise but draws his hand back with an apologetic grin toward Minho.

“Minjun, hey,” Minho says more firmly than he intended. “I know you're upset, but we don't hit people. Say sorry to Lix, baby,” he lessens the firmness in his voice again.

“Sorry, uncle Lix,” Minjun says timidly, tears starting to form in his eyes.

“It's okay,” Lix assures him gently.

Minho takes Minjun's little hands into his and gently smiles. “Thank you, buddy. You still don't want to eat?” he asks.

Minjun shakes his head, avoiding his eyes. By the time you arrive, Minjun is on the verge of tears, and Minho is feeling the stares of other people, each look like a weight added to his shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask gently, taking your seat next to Minho.

“He doesn’t want to eat anything,” Minho explains, rubbing his temples. Chan gently pats his back, trying to calm him a little.

You turn to Minjun, your expression thoughtful. “You know, I was really hoping you could help me with something,” you begin, speaking directly to Minjun. “I’m super hungry, and I can’t decide what to eat. Maybe you could choose something for me? What do you think is good here?”

Minjun, now distracted from his brewing fit, looks curiously at you. “Fries…or dino nuggies...” he mumbles, still upset but intrigued by the involvement in the decision-making.

“Great choice. But I heard this place has a secret dish that’s really, really cool,” you whisper conspiratorially. “It’s a magic pizza that makes everyone super happy when they eat it. Do you think we should try it?”

Minjun nods, a slight smile breaking through his frown. “Okay, we can try,” he agrees shyly.

You wink at Minho, who looks at you in astonishment as you get up. You talk a word in private to your waiter before the rest orders their things. While they wait for the food, you engage Minjun in a conversation about the aquarium you had visited earlier, effectively diverting his attention from the earlier situation.

When the food arrives, the pizza is presented by the waiter, who plays along with the 'magic' theme, sprinkling imaginary dust over it. “Enjoy your magic pizza, brave knight!” he exclaims, leaving Minjun giggling.

“See, it’s magic because it makes you smile,” You say, taking a small slice and offering it to Minjun. “You want to try some magic?”

Minjun hesitates for just a moment, glancing at his father.

“Go on, baby,” Minho encourages him.

Minjun nods before taking a tiny bite. His eyes widen in surprise. “It’s good!” he declares, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Minho watches the scene, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him. He smiles at you, mouthing a silent "thank you." The rest of the meal goes smoothly, with Minjun even trying some salad from Felix's plate and some noodles from Chan's.

As they leave the restaurant, Minho feels lighter than he has in days. “You really have a way with him,” he says to you as you walk toward the park.

“It’s all about making it fun, turning it into a game,” you giggle. “Sometimes, kids just need a little distraction from their worries, even if it's about food.”

Minho nods, watching Minjun run ahead to the playground with Chan and Felix. “I guess I need to be a bit more creative with meals,” he admits.

“Or just call me when it’s time to eat,” you joke, and you both laugh.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of laughter and play, with Minjun in high spirits, having forgotten all about the lunchtime drama. As Chan and Lix say their goodbyes, Minho feels not just the exhaustion from a day well spent but a profound appreciation for his friends.

“Thanks again, Y/nnie. Today could have gone a lot differently without you,” Minho says as you part ways with them.

“Anytime, Minho,” you reply with a warm smile.

“Let me drive you home? You're on our way after all,” he says, and you take his offer.

Minho gets Minjun settled in the back before driving off. “Y/nnie?” Minjun's little voice comes from the back.

“Yes, buddy?” you ask, turning to face him.

“Stay?” he asks, and you frown at him gently.

“Stay where Minjunnie?” you ask.

“With us?” he asks timidly.

Minho glances at his son through the mirror. He can see the need in his eyes and swallows hard. He knows how much his son sometimes longs for someone else besides him. He asked about his mother before seeing other kids at the playground.

You glance at Minho nervously, not quite knowing how to respond without hurting either of them. “You mean for dinner?” you ask, trying to find a way out.

“No…always,” he says softly, his big round eyes watching you timidly.

Minho stops at a red light and stares out of the window, avoiding your look. His grip around the steering wheel tightens as his thoughts start spiraling, once more feeling like he isn't enough for his son. He knows he isn't.

“Oh, love,” you say quietly and reach back for him. “It's okay, you know, we see each other sooo often, and I'm always at the company.”

“But I miss you,” he says softly, and you honestly don't know what to say about that.

“You want to stay for dinner?” Minho speaks up quietly, and you look back at him. He sees the hesitation written all over your face and swallows softly. “It would be fine,” he assures you quietly.

You nod slowly, considering Minho's quiet offer. "I can stay for dinner, Minjunnie," you tell him, smiling as his face lights up. Minho gives you a grateful look, the tension easing from his shoulders as he turns back to the road.

The rest of the drive is spent in a comfortable silence, broken only by Minjun's occasional chatter from the back seat, talking about his day at the aquarium and the 'magic' pizza he had enjoyed. You listen, amused by his excitement and the way his eyes sparkle when he recounts his adventures.

Arriving at their home, Minho helps Minjun out of the car and into the house, with you following close behind. The familiar warmth of their home greets you and you slip off your shoes at the door, following Minho into the kitchen.

"I can help with dinner," you offer as Minho begins pulling ingredients from the refrigerator.

"Thanks," Minho says, his voice soft. "I think I'm just going to make something simple I know he likes. Is some pasta okay with you?"

"Perfect," you reply, setting the table while Minho starts cooking. Minjun hovers between the two of you, occasionally helping by passing ingredients or stirring the sauce under Minho's watchful eye.

As the pasta cooks, you and Minho chat about work and plans for the upcoming week. The conversation is light, but there’s an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken lingering between the lines.

Dinner is ready in no time, and you all sit down to eat. Minjun chatters happily, clearly enjoying having both of his favorite two people together. The meal is delicious, and you compliment Minho on his cooking, which makes him smile with pride.

After dinner, Minho insists on cleaning up, so you take Minjun into the living room to play a game. As you build a tower of blocks, Minjun's earlier request echoes in your mind. You glance towards the kitchen, where Minho is quietly washing dishes, and your heart twitches with a mixture of affection and concern.

"You're really good at building things," you comment, watching Minjun place another block on the tower.

"Daddy says I'm good too," Minjun states proudly, his concentration evident as he places each block.

"Of course he does," you encourage him, your thoughts still on his request to have you stay. It wasn't just about tonight—it was about all the nights and all the days. He wanted you there, a permanent fixture in their lives.

When Minho returns, drying his hands on a towel, he finds you and Minjun laughing as your tower wobbles before toppling over. He can’t help but smile at the sight, feeling a warmth spread through him he hasn't felt in a while, not like this. He watches you, studying your features as he has so many times before, and something in him screams not to think you're beautiful. But you are. Lately, he can't help but notice it again and again.

"Ready for bed, buddy?" Minho asks after checking the time.

Minjun pouts but nods, knowing that bedtime is non-negotiable. You help Minho get him ready for bed, a routine that feels both familiar and strangely intimate. Minho reads Minjun a bedtime story, and you watch, feeling a part of this little family.

After Minjun falls asleep, you and Minho settle on the couch with cups of tea. The house is quiet; the only sound is the occasional distant car passing by.

"Minjun seems to be getting attached to you," Minho begins, breaking the silence. "More than just as Y/nnie from work.” You nod, unsure of what to say, feeling the weight of Minjun's request weighing on you both. "I've been thinking about it," Minho continues. "About what he said in the car. It's not just that he misses you, Y/nnie. I think... I think he's looking for that missing piece. A family."

You meet his eyes, seeing the vulnerability there. "Minho, I-"

"I know it's a lot," he cuts you off, his voice gentle. "And I'm not asking for anything, not really. I just... I want you to know that you're already part of our family. If you ever want that, for real, it's yours. But no pressure. I mean it."

The offer hangs in the air, profound and sincere. You take a deep breath, feeling the significance of his words settles around you. You’ve grown to love Minjun and Minho, too, in a way that is more than just friendly concern.

"Thank you, Minho," you finally say, your voice thick with emotion. "That means more than you know. I love being with you guys. It feels like home."

Minho reaches out, his hand covering yours hesitantly. "That's all I needed to hear," he says with a relieved smile. “You can stay with him as much as you want to. There's no one else I trust him with as much as you.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, your hand still feeling warm as he draws his own back again.

You stay a little longer, talking and planning for the coming weeks until the yawns get the better of both of you.

As you leave, Minho walks you to the cab he called, and the night air is cool and comforting. "Stay safe, Y/nnie," he says, leaning close to hug you. You hug him back, a little surprised. "See you tomorrow."

"See you," you reply, the warmth of his hug lingering as you drive away, the image of Minjun’s sleepy smile and Minho’s thankful eyes etched in your mind.

Tonight, Minho’s words feel true in your heart—you are part of their family. And as the city lights blur past, you realize how much you’re looking forward to what the future might hold. Yes, you're delusional enough to hope there could be something deeper than what you have now.

At first, you were still hesitant about staying with them so often, knowing how important it was for them to have some time to themselves. Over the following weeks, dinner with them grew into a part of your daily routine. You and Minjun spend a lot of time together in the kitchen, trying out new dishes, which makes eating a fun experience for the little one. This allows Minho to wrap up things at the company in peace, able to focus on himself for a little without having to worry about his little troublemaker. Minjun looks forward to cooking with you in the evening which makes saying goodbye to his father so much easier.

With all the cooking, you two start making extras for everyone. You know they have a fridge at the company where they store their personal stuff, so you and Minjun start filling it regularly. It delights them all, always finding a fresh meal for whatever time of the day or night if your name is Chan. It feels like you're not only part of Minho's private, small family but also his bigger family at work.

It’s been almost a month since Minho’s offer to be part of this family, and you didn’t regret it one bit. You all found your routine by now, and you had a spare key to their house, allowing you to get home earlier with Minjun. It means a lot to you that Minho trusts you when you tell him you’re taking his son home. Minho and you have grown closer, knowing how much it meant to both of them that Minho was sharing his home with you.

It’s getting harder with every passing day to ignore how much he means to you. How beautiful he is when he’s wrapped up in a blanket, hair messily falling into his face, a wide smile on his face as he’s fooling around with Minjun. How treasured the sound of his genuine laugh after a long day had gotten. How caring he is for both Minjun and now, to some extent you. How strong he is for his kid, making sure to excel both at work and at being a father when all he wants is to hide away sometimes.

Tonight, you and Minjun decided to make dumplings and surprise Minho with them for dinner. The kitchen is soon filled with the aroma of spices, the rhythmic sounds of chopping, and laughter. Minjun, your little bundle of energy, is sitting on a chair next to you, his eyes bright with excitement. You patiently show him how to prepare the filling, and Minjun watches, eager to learn.

“Okay, Minjunnie, you want to try mixing?” you ask, handing him a large spoon.

“Yes,” he nods quickly, taking the spoon with both hands. His attempts are messy but earnest, and you can’t help but laugh as a bit of the filling spills over the side of the bowl.

“Good job, buddy! Now, let’s make the dumplings,” you encourage him, showing him how to place a small amount of filling in the center of a wrapper. You demonstrate pinching the edges together, a technique that has taken you a while to master. Minjun tries to mimic you, his small fingers fumbling at first, but with each attempt, his technique improves. “You’re a natural!” you compliment him and get the sweetest smile in return. Once more, you realize how similar he looks to Minho when he smiles, cheeks grow squishy, eyes squint in joy, and the bunny teeth show.

Later, as the dumplings steam, Minjun's attention shifts to the window. "When is Daddy coming home?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"Soon, I think. He might be very tired, though. He had a long dance practice today," you reply, checking the dumplings.

As if on cue, the door opens with a soft creak, and Minho steps in, his face showing signs of exhaustion. Minjun runs to him immediately, almost tripping over his feet, wrapping his little arms around Minho's legs.

"Daddy! You're home!" Minjun exclaims, looking up with a smile that falters as he notices Minho's tired expression.

"Hey, little chef," Minho says, his voice weary as he bends down to scoop Minjun into his arms. "Did you make all these dumplings?"

Minjun nods proudly, and then his face turns serious. "Daddy, are you okay? You look sad."

Minho manages a tired smile. "Just a bit tired from practice, baby. But I'll be okay. Smelling those dumplings definitely makes me feel better."

You watch them, your heart swelling with affection but also concern for Minho. Lately, the dance practices have been intense, often leaving him drained. "Let's eat! I bet your daddy's hungry," you suggest, ushering them to the dining table where the dumplings were now ready, steaming hot and inviting.

The meal is cheerful, with Minjun chatting about his day and the dumplings he helped make. Minho eats with evident pleasure, praising Minjun's efforts, which makes the boy glow with pride. However, you notice Minho grimacing slightly every time he moves his shoulder.

After dinner, while Minjun is occupied with his coloring books, you approach Minho. "You're really pushing yourself hard, aren't you?" you ask softly, concern coloring your tone.

Minho sighs, rubbing his shoulder. "Yeah, the new routine is tough. But it’s what I love to do."

You nod, your hands reaching out instinctively to his shoulder, your fingers pressing gently. "Maybe I can help a little," you offer.

Reluctantly, Minho agrees, and as your skilled hands work over his sore muscles, he feels the tension beginning to ease. The room is quiet besides Minjun's occasional hums as he colors and Minho’s low hisses whenever your fingers meet a tense spot.

"Thank you, Y/nnie," Minho murmurs, genuinely grateful.

"It's nothing," you reply, your hands steady.

As you settle into the evening, Minho watching Minjun draw and you tidying up the kitchen, you feel complete, having spent a day well. The night ends with Minjun falling asleep early, curled up on the couch with his favorite blanket in Minho’s lap. “I’ll better get going,” you say with a glance at the clock. “I’ll be late on set tomorrow; I have an important call about a possible photoshoot for you before…but I’ll make sure someone’s there to keep Minjun occupied until then.”

“Alright,” Minho nods thankfully. “Get home safe, yeah?”

“Always,” you promise and gently squeeze his shoulder as you leave.

The next morning dawns bright and early for you. After a quick breakfast and the call, you make your way to the set where Minho is filming the music video for the song with Chan. Today's plan includes picking up Minjun from Minho’s set and treating him to some ice cream—a little surprise to break the monotony of his dad's long shooting days.

Upon arrival, you notice the usual hustle and bustle of the set, but with an added layer of excitement given the complex scenes scheduled for the day. As you navigate through the crowd of crew members and equipment, you spot Minjun sitting near one of the monitors, his eyes wide with fascination as he watches his father perform.

"Y/nnie!" he exclaims, his face lighting up as he sees you approaching. He runs over, nearly tripping over a cable before you scoop him up into a hug.

"Hey, my little star! Watching Daddy work, huh?" you say, smiling as you set him down.

"Yeah, Daddy’s really cool!" Minjun responds, his enthusiasm infectious. You chat briefly about what he's been watching before steering the conversation towards the day’s special plan.

"So, how about we grab some ice cream after this? Just you and me," you suggest, watching his reaction closely.

Minjun’s face splits into a broad grin. "Ice cream! Yes, please! Can we get chocolate?" he asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Chocolate it is. Let’s go," you reply, your heart warmed by his excitement.

The ice cream shop isn't far, and the walk there is filled with Minjun's chatter about the various things he’s learned from watching his father on set. You listen, amused and impressed by his observations and memory.

Arriving at the shop, Minjun presses his nose against the glass display, his eyes scanning the array of flavors. "Two chocolates, please!" he declares when it’s your turn to order.

With the cones in your hands, you find a spot outside on a bench. Minjun eagerly attacks his ice cream, and the chocolate soon smudges his lips and cheeks. You can't help but laugh, pulling out a few napkins to clean him up.

"Y/nnie, do you like being with me and Daddy?" Minjun asks suddenly, his tone serious, as he looks up at you with those big eyes.

"I love it, Minjun. Being with you and your dad is the best part of my day," you answer honestly, touched by his question.

Minjun nods, seemingly satisfied with your response, and returns his attention to the rapidly melting ice cream. "Good. You're fun," he adds, his words muffled by a mouthful of chocolate.

As you sit there, watching Minjun enjoy his treat, you reflect on the changes in your life since joining their little family. Each day has brought its challenges and joys, but moments like these highlight the beautiful simplicity of your new life.

About half an hour later, you decide to make your way back, not knowing what mess your little surprise caused.

Minho brushes a strand of hair from his face, eyes flickering to Minjun’s prior spot, only to notice he isn’t there anymore. He frowns and quickly scans the room, a shiver running down his spine when he can’t find his son anywhere. “Chan hyung,” he asks, terrified, grabbing his friend's arm.

Chan turns toward him, frowning, confused. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks worriedly, seeing the fear in his eyes.

“Where’s Minjun?” he asks, and Chan glances around the room, not finding him either.

“Baby, where’s Jiho?” he asks Felix, who’s already looking. “Min, who was watching him?”

Minho inhales shakily, his hands trembling by now, and his stomach tightens in pain. “I…He was right there the whole time,” he says, pointing at the now-empty chair next to the cameras. “Hyung, he was right there and-.”

“Breathe,” Felix tries gently, wrapping his arm around him. “He’ll be okay, yeah?”

“You don’t know that,” he shakes his head, anxiously watching Chan, who’s talking to their staff and trying to figure out who had seen him last. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have stopped watching him,” he whispers, and Felix squeezes him gently. Chan quietly ushers their team from the set so it’s only them, and pulls out his phone. Minho braces himself on his knees and squeezes his eyes closed as a wave of nausea crashes over him. “I’m gonna throw up,” he whispers, and Felix soothingly rubs his back, reminding him to breathe. He exchanges a worried glance with his boyfriend, anxiously biting the nail of his thumb.

The door opens, and you step inside, accompanied by a brightly smiling Minjun, who’s carrying a small bag of waffles for all of them. You look up, startled, and notice how empty the room is now, as well as Minho’s anxious form. Is he having a panic attack? Minho looks up, and the moment his eyes meet yours, something in his anxious expression changes. The fear makes room for a sudden coldness you’re not used to, which quickly gets replaced by anger. “Where the fuck were you?” he asks dangerously low.

“Minho, what’s wrong?” you respond, confusion evident in your tone as you hold Minjun’s hand a little tighter.

Minho pushes himself to his feet. “You took him. Without telling anyone? That’s what’s wrong!” His voice rises with each word, the strain of the moment overtaking his usual composure.

You glance down at Minjun, whose smile fades as he senses the tension. “I…we just went for some ice cream,” you explain, your voice steady despite the rising anxiety. “Minjun wanted to surprise you with-”

“A surprise? By letting me think my son had gone missing?” Minho snaps back, his words sharp and biting. “You don’t just take him, Y/n! Not without telling me.”

Minjun’s eyes begin to water, and his lower lip trembles as he looks up at his father and then at you. “Daddy, I wanted to.” His voice is a whisper, drowned out by the escalating argument.

“Not now, Minjun,” Minho says, a bit too harshly, his focus still fixed on you. "What were you thinking, Y/n?" he snaps, his voice laced with accusation. "You know you're supposed to let me know before taking Minjun out!"

You swallow hard at the sharpness of his tone, your eyes wide with surprise and hurt. "I'm sorry, Minho," you reply, your voice trembling slightly. Fuck. "I didn't think it would be a big deal. We were only gone for half an hour."

But Minho was beyond reason, his frustration bubbling over. "It is a big deal!" he insists, his expression one of betrayal. “I trusted you. How could you just take him without telling me? What if something had happened? How would you explain that, huh?”

Your heart clenches at his words, the hurt evident. “Minho, I would never put Minjun in danger. You know that.”

“No, I don’t,” Minho says harshly, making you take a step back, your grip on Minjun’s trembling hand loosening. What?

“Let’s all just take a breath, okay? This is getting out of hand,” Felix suggests, looking between you and Minho with concern. “Minjun is safe. He was with Y/nnie, and they weren’t far.”

"Minho, calm down," Chan steps in, seeing the clear shock written all over your face, his voice firm. "He was just trying to help out. You're overreacting."

But Minho now turns his anger towards Chan, his frustration boiling over. "Stay out of this, Chan," he snaps at him, his tone cutting. "This is between me and Y/n. This is about my kid."

“Calm the fuck down right now, Min,” Chan says, his voice rising as well.

“Channie, baby, please,” Felix chimes in, fearing that his involvement would only make it worse.

You let go of Minjun’s hand, looking at Minho timidly. “I thought you trusted me with him. You left him at home with me all the time, Minho. How is that any different?”

“The fucking difference is I knew!” he yells at you at the top of his lungs.

Minjun flinches, the bag dropping to the floor. His face crumples, big tears spill down his face, and a loud cry ripples through him. Felix quickly scoops him up, walks a little away from the whole mess, and soothingly talks to him. It’s the first time Minjun has allowed Felix to comfort him when he’s upset, curling up in his arms.

You nod gently and shakily pull the keys to his house from your pocket. “That doesn’t give you an excuse to be such a fucking asshole,” you say, more calmy than you feel right now. “You just ruined his day; congratulations. Here, I won’t need them anymore,” you say, throwing the keys to his feet. “I’ll send you an email with your schedule for next week and make sure to find a proper replacement.”

“Y/nnie,” Minho breathes out, the reality of your words slowly settling in.

“Don’t Y/nnie me, not after this,” you shake your head and grab your jacket. “I’m sorry, Chan, I really liked working for you guys. You’re amazing,” you tell him before leaving, tears burning in your eyes painfully.

As soon as the door closes, Chan snaps at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Minho?!” he yells. “Are you insane? You just lost the one person who’s always been there for you. The one person your son felt comfortable around. You wouldn’t still be here without him; I hope you know that!”

“Fuck off!” Minho snaps back at him, feeling cornered.

“No, you fuck off! Minjun has no one to look after him when you’re busy except Y/nnie. Without Y/nnie, you wouldn’t even be part of the group anymore because you can’t fucking handle it on your own!” he says, and seeing Minho’s face fall, he knows he went too far.

“Chris!” Felix raises his voice at him, looking at him shocked.

“Well, thank you for finally being honest with me,” Minho says dryly, nodding to himself.

“Min, he didn’t mean it like that,” Felix tries gently as Minho makes his way over to them.

“Give me my son, please,” he says quietly. Minjun nearly screams as he eases him out of Felix’s hold. He flinches back, eyes filling with tears at the broken sound.

Felix worriedly glances down at the little boy clinging to him tightly. “Minjunnie, you’re gonna go home, okay?” he asks, growing anxious, at him shaking his head firmly. “Your daddy’s gonna take you home now,” he says, gently lifting him off his chest.

Minjun shakes his head, sobbing heavily, and holds onto his shirt tightly. “No, Daddy’s stupid!”

Minho carefully eases Felix’s shirt from his son’s hands and takes him into his arms. Minjun starts kicking, hitting his chest. Minho presses his lips together tightly, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, holding onto him tightly so he won’t slip from his grip. Minjun wails in his arms, still fighting him as he carries him outside to the car. “I’m so sorry, buddy. Daddy’s an idiot,” he tells him shakily, the seatbelt slipping from his fingers repeatedly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, finally managing to buckle him up. He closes the door to the car and tries to hold back the sob threatening to leave him.

“You forgot your stuff,” Chan says softly, suddenly next to him.

Minho quickly wipes his cheeks with his sleeve and takes the bag from him. “Thanks,” he mutters, not meeting his eyes.

“Min…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” he says carefully. “You’re doing your best, and we all know it. That wasn’t fair,” he tells him.

Minho throws the bag onto the passenger’s seat and shakes his head, sniffling. “It’s fine. You were right. I suck at this, and I’d do you all a favor if I quit until he’s older.”

“Don’t say that,” Chan says gently, shaking his head. “We couldn’t do this without you.”

“I highly doubt that,” he says, voice breaking.

“Minnie,” he says quietly.

“Fuck, Channie hyung, I messed it all up,” he finally breaks down, hot tears spilling down his cheeks.

Chan pulls him into a tight hug, swallowing at how hard Minho is trembling in his arms. “What happened in there, hm? You’re usually not like this,” he asks carefully, and Minho shakes his head with a sob. Chan chews on his lower lip, realizing this could possibly go deeper than he thought, considering Minho’s insecurities regarding raising his kid right. The question hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed. “Look, I know you’re doing this whole parenting thing on your own, and you’re doing an amazing job,” Chan continues, soothingly rubbing his back. “But you can’t let your fear make you forget who your allies are. Y/n loves Minjun almost as much as you do. He wouldn’t just take him without any consideration of the risks.”

Minho’s eyes met Chan’s, a mixture of anger and sorrow battling within. “I know. I just... When I didn’t see him, all I could think about was all the things that could go wrong. He’s everything I have, Channie. He's my baby, and no one can just take him without telling me.”

Chan nods, smiling at him sadly. “I know, mate, I know,” he assures him. “Let me drive you two home, okay? You shouldn’t be driving right now,” he says, and Minho nods weakly. “Come on,” he urges him gently. Minho slips into the passenger’s seat, wiping his cheeks with his sleeves messily. Chan notices Felix a few steps away, anxiously chewing on his lower lip. “You’re coming with us, baby? We can take a cab from there,” he tells him, and his boyfriend nods quickly.

“You really think he’ll quit?” Felix asks timidly.

“Min? No, he-” he says, but Felix shakes his head.

“No, Y/nnie,” he says, chewing on his lower lip anxiously. “That would be the worst thing for Minjun.”

“I don’t know, baby,” he shakes his head. “That depends on Min and Y/nnie. We can’t do much; they have to be okay…but Minho feels like shit for it,” he sighs and kisses his cheek. “It’ll be okay, baby.”

“Mhm, maybe,” Felix nods before slipping into the back to Minjun, who’s still crying softly.

“L-Lix,” he whimpers and reaches for him again.

“Hey, buddy,” he says gently, taking his hand. “It’s okay, yeah? We’re taking you home now, okay?”

“O-Okay,” he hiccups.

Minho remains quiet during the ride home, silent tears running down his cheeks as he’s biting his lower lip hard. Minjun cries quietly in the back as Felix tries to soothe him a little.

They reach their house not much later, and Felix carries Minjun inside. He exchanges a long look with Chan before moving Minjun to the room with all his toys.

Minho's face is a canvas of frustration, marked by the occasional wipe to remove the tears running down his cheeks. Chan gently guides him to the sofa and sits down with him.

"Minho, man, we need to talk about what happened," Chan begins, his voice firm yet gentle, trying to cut through the tension.

Minho nods, not meeting Chan's eyes, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I know, I know I messed up. It's just... when I couldn't see Minjun, everything went black. I panicked, Channie hyung."

Chan places a hand on Minho's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "I get that, really, I do. The fear of losing Minjun is real and valid, but the way you handled it with Y/n wasn't fair. You trust Y/nnie, don't you?"

"I do, but at that moment, all that trust just... vanished. I just felt so out of control," Minho confesses, his voice cracking with emotion.

"It’s important to remember that Y/n cares about Minjun almost as much as you do. He wouldn't have taken him without considering his safety. But I think this goes deeper, Minho. This isn't just about today, is it?" Chan observes, trying to dig deeper into Minho's fears.

Minho sighs, a long, weary sound that seems to carry the weight of the world. "It's everything, Chan. The pressure of work, trying to be there for Minjun, getting closer to Y/n, and not knowing where the line is—it's all piling up. And today, I just... broke."

Chan nods, understanding more than Minho realizes. "You're not alone in this. You've got us, you've got Y/n…you need to fix this."

Minho wipes his face. "Maybe you're right. I need to handle this better, for Minjun and for myself."

"And you need to apologize to Y/n properly. He deserves that much, Minho. He's been here for you through thick and thin."

Minho knows Chan is right. The thought of facing you was daunting but necessary. He owes you an apology, one that acknowledges his overreaction and the hurt it caused.

Later that day, after taking some time to compose himself and gather his thoughts, Minho found Minjun playing quietly in his room. His little boy looks up, his face still showing signs of the day's stress.

"Hey, buddy... can we talk?" Minho sits beside him on the floor, his tone gentle. Minjun nods, his eyes curious and a bit cautious.

"I want to apologize, Minjun. Daddy got very scared today when I couldn’t find you, and I didn’t handle it well. I shouted, and that wasn’t right. I’m sorry for scaring you," Minho starts, his heart heavy.

Minjun moves closer, leaning into his dad. "Okay, Daddy… Y/nnie bought ice cream."

"I know, and it was a wonderful idea. I’m sorry for ruining it. And I’m sorry for how I spoke to Y/nnie. He didn’t deserve that. I’m going to apologize to him, too," Minho says.

"Do you still like Y/nnie, Daddy?" Minjun’s small voice is filled with worry.

"I do, very much. Y/nnie is important to us, right? I made a big mistake today, and I hope he can forgive me," Minho explains, hoping his son could understand.

Minjun hugs him tightly, "I forgive you, Daddy."

Minho chuckles softly, hugging his son back. "Thank you, baby."

Two weeks later

Life had once more settled into a stressful rhythm for Minho following the upheaval of his outburst and its emotional aftermath. Days morphed into weeks with Minjun by his side; each one layered with the joys and challenges of single parenthood, combined with his demanding schedule. Despite his deep love for his son, the strain of juggling his roles was evident.

Minho is preparing Minjun's backpack for the day, his movements automatic. The routine is well-practiced but no less draining. Minjun is playing on the carpet, glancing at his father suspiciously as he's preparing breakfast.

“Daddy, you okay?” Minjun’s small voice cuts through the morning stillness, his eyes wide with concern.

Minho pauses, taken aback by the question. “Of course, buddy,” he replies, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“You're tired,” Minjun says simply.

Minho sighs, the weight of his exhaustion settling deeper on his shoulders. He is tired—more than tired. Each day felt like a battle, each night a too-short break from it all.

Later that day, after getting Minjun settled, the effects of chronic stress, sleep deprivation, and emotional turmoil begin to manifest more aggressively. As he moves through the complex choreography, his steps start to falter, his usually sharp movements grow sluggish, and his focus wanes.

“Minho, take five!” Chan calls out. “You’re off today, man. Everything alright?”

Minho nods mutely, too spent to formulate a response. He retreats to a quiet corner, his breath uneven, his heart racing uncomfortably in his chest. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to stave off the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

Just as he felt like he'd be fine, a sharp pain clutched at his chest, his breathing growing labored, and the room seemed to tilt on its axis. Panic claws at his mind as he staggers, trying to call out for help, but his voice is a mere whisper.

“Minho!” He hears someone shout and feels hands steadying him just before everything goes dark.

When Minho regains consciousness, he finds himself on a couch in the studio’s lounge, surrounded by concerned faces—Chan, Jeongin, and Felix, holding a distressed Minjun. An ambulance siren wails in the distance, growing louder as it approaches.

“What… what happened?” Minho manages to ask, his voice weak.

“You collapsed, man. Scared the hell out of us,” Chan replies, his expression tight with worry.

The paramedics arrive swiftly, assessing Minho quickly. Blood pressure high, heart rate erratic, they murmur words like "exhaustion" and "stress" as they prepare him for transport to the hospital.

The hospital tests confirm what Minho had tried to ignore: he was suffering from severe exhaustion combined with stress. The doctor’s advice was obvious. "You need to rest, Mr. Lee. Your body is telling you it can’t keep up this pace. If you ignore this warning, the next incident could be more severe."

Minho lies back on the hospital bed, the sterile white of the room a stark contrast to the vibrancy of his daily life. The words hit hard, a sobering reminder of his mortality and the stark reality of his responsibilities as a father.

Chan, who had accompanied him, squeezes his shoulder. “You gotta take care of yourself, Minho. For Minjun’s sake, if not your own.”

“I know,” Minho murmurs, the gravity of his situation settling in. “I just… thought I could handle it all.”

Chan’s look is sympathetic but firm. “No one can handle everything alone, Min. You need to let others help. Maybe it’s time to reach out to Y/nnie again. For support.”

The suggestion lingers in the air between them, heavy with implications. Minho’s thoughts drift to you, your warmth, your laughter, and the comfort you brought to both him and Minjun. The thought of reaching out, of potentially being rejected, is terrifying, yet the fear of what might happen if he continued on his current path is greater.

Anxiously, Minho makes the decision to call you from the hospital, his heart pounding as he dials the familiar number. The phone rings, each tone echoing like a drumbeat in his tense silence.

“Hello?” you ask, cautious yet warm.

“Y/nnie, it’s Minho. I… I need to talk to you. It’s important.” His voice is unsteady, and his admission of need is a significant release of his tightly held pride. “I…I need help.”

There’s a pause, a breath held, and then released. “I'm listening.”

Minho's voice wavers as he speaks, the hospital's fluorescent lights casting stark shadows across his face. "I... I had an incident today at rehearsals. I collapsed," he confesses, the words tasting like defeat but necessary in their truth.

You suck in a sharp breath at his words. "Minho, are you okay? Where are you now?" you ask, your voice thick with worry.

"I'm at the hospital. They're telling me it’s stress and exhaustion. Nothing life-threatening, but...can you look after Minjun for a few days?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip as you're silent for a while.

“So you're suddenly trusting me again?” you ask dryly.

Minho takes a moment to answer. “Minjun does…that tells me everything I should need to know,” he says quietly. “I've been an asshole, okay? I know I was. Once I'm better…can we talk? Really talk?” he asks timidly.

You sigh softly, rubbing your face. “Where is he?”

“He's with Lix,” he tells you, heart racing in his chest as you didn't answer his question.

"Get some rest, Minho. We'll sort everything else out later," you reply, your voice a soothing balm to Minho’s frayed nerves. Shit, he missed you.

“Thank you,” he says, tears burning in his eyes.

“Just…take care, okay? Your little boy needs you,” you say quietly.

“I will.”

PART ONE | PART THREE

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @zehina @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @queer-possum @james-is-here @roriiror @minholover1

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bethelighthalazia · 2 months

Text

Terrifying - Part 2

Summary: Yunho feels horrible for scaring and hurting you, so he apologizes and promises to do everything to show you how important you are to him and how much he loves you.

Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: bf!Yunho X fem!reader

Word Count: 1753

Warnings: mentions of wounds/scratches, mentions of hurting, sad Yuyu, mentions of crying, insecure reader

networks: @newworldnet

[note: thank you, @ja3hwa for helping me with finding a good ending paragraph <3]

© by bethelighthalazia. Do not repost, copy or translate. Unless stated otherwise, those works are mine and born from my own ideas. I don't have any claim on the mentioned real existing Idols whatsoever.

At the dorms, the others were around you the moment Mingi stepped through the main entrance. San took you out of Mingi´s arms, who then left again to check on Yunho while you were placed on the big sofa. Wooyoung had already grabbed blankets to cuddle up in the living room with you to watch any movie you want. It seems that Yunho had called the others, the second you and Mingi had left the apartment, to tell them what happened.

“Y/n, could I check on your wounds please?” Seonghwa asked with a gentle voice, a first aid kit in his hand while he sat down on the sofa next to you. You nodded, wiping your face with one hand while holding your other arm out towards him. “Oh, you´re wearing the bracelet we got you!” A smile on Seonghwa´s face, he gently dabbed some disinfectant ointment on the scratches, causing you to wince ever so slightly every time. “Do- do you think he's mad at me now? I- I think I hurt his feelings…” You sniffled quietly, some new tears appearing in your eyes, but before Seonghwa could answer, you´re pulled into a tight hug by Wooyoung who shakes his head no.

“He's more worried about you being mad at him, y/n.” Jongho said, carrying a bowl with your favorite snacks over to you. “Don´t worry, he loves you, that I am absolutely sure of.”

When he put down the bowl, the maknae gave you a soft squeeze to the shoulder before then leaving the room, he didn't want you to possibly get overwhelmed with too many people around for now. Hongjoong also came over to the sofa and placed a kiss on top of your head, something he had done almost ever since you met the boys, because he sees you as his sister, and then whispered something to Seonghwa before leaving to go check on Yunho as well, knowing you're in the best hands.

Yeosang just stayed quiet, sitting on the other sofa and turning on the TV for you, knowing well which ones are your favorites to watch. Your head was now resting on Wooyoung´s shoulder, you felt your eyes getting heavy, but you didn't want to fall asleep yet, too scared that nightmares could haunt your dreams. “Woo? Why- why do you all seem so calm?” You asked after a few moments, frowning a bit when you realized that they are too calm for what happened. When Wooyoung exchanges looks with San, Seonghwa and Yeosang, you swallow hard. Is there something they don't want to tell you? A secret that they hide from you?

“Y/n, I think-” “That's something Yunho should tell you himself, y/nnie.” Mingi, who just entered the dorms again, cut off Seonghwa who was trying to answer you, but then the others just nod at Mingi´s words. When you heard his voice, your head perked up, accidentally hitting Wooyoung's chin slightly, your eyes wide. “Mingi, how-” “He is okay, Hongjoong hyung is with him now to help clean up your apartment. He sent me here to see how you feel and if you need anything.” Mingi hummed, coming over to sit on the floor right in front of the sofa.

“I'm…okay?” With a raised eyebrow, Mingi looked at you, he could always tell if you´re telling the truth or not and often, he even knows better how you feel than you do yourself. With a little sigh, you shrugged, not even sure how exactly you feel. But you weren't in pain anymore, that is something you can say for sure.

“Really Mingi…I am not in pain or anything, I just-” “You´re confused, right?” Nodding, you fully focused on your best friend, Wooyoung laid an arm around you again to calm you down a bit. No one spoke for a while, just letting you relax and hopefully doze off a bit. It indeed almost worked, your eyes heavy while your head rested against Wooyoung´s shoulder and Mingi caressed your hands in a soothing manner, you almost fell asleep.

That is, until a jingle of keys, quiet voices and the sound of a door unlocking is heard. your head jerked up, again hitting Wooyoung´s chin, when you heard your boyfriend´s voice answering to Hongjoong. Mingi got to his feet almost instantly, staring at the entryway, where soon Hongjoong and Yunho appeared. “Hyung, are you-” “Everyone out, except for y/n, Mingi and Yunho.” Hongjoong said and, to everyone's surprise, the room actually cleared. The captain just patted Yunho ́s back gently before leaving as well, but you knew that he’d be just one room further, so he could intervene if needed.

While Mingi just stared at them, Yunho had only eyes for you, an expression like a beaten puppy on his face. You know that he's feeling horrible, knowing that Yunho is not the type of person to hurt others purposefully. Yet, your body flinched slightly when he took a step closer to the sofa, your movement causing him to freeze on the spot. Mingi sat down on the armchair nearby, just in case, but he didn't intervene at all.

“Y/n, love I-” Yunho started, but then got quiet, not sure what he could say to undo his actions. “I know that nothing I say would make you forget that I hurt you…and I-” He took a deep breath, just standing in the middle of the room, not coming closer to you for now. “I would understand if you'd hate me and never want to see me anymore.” His voice got quieter with every word he spoke, you could see how hard it is to talk while knowing that you probably are scared of him now. “But please…could I try to explain? I won't try to make any excuses, because I know my behavior was absolutely unacceptable and no excuse or apology could undo it.”

With a short glance over to Mingi who gave a reassuring nod, you then nod as well, patting the free space on the sofa next to you. “O- okay…I have a question though…are you still mad at me?” You asked quietly, to which Yunho quickly took a few steps over to you to take your hand, just to then freeze when you flinch. “S- sorry, I didn't mean to scare you again-” He whispered, slowly kneeling down in front of you, taking your hand in his. “But please, y/nnie, my love, my heart, I could never be mad at you. I wasn't even upset with you earlier, but with myself and all the stress I had the last weeks…I tend to bottle it all up and sometimes it just bursts out of me. Usually I would come here and tell Mingi, then we would go to the gym or something, but this time, I didn't…and let it out on you.”

Yunho's voice broke, the thought of hurting you already let him get teary and his heart dropped. “B- before I asked you to be my girlfriend, I swore to myself to never have such an outburst near you…and now I even scarred you because of it-” Pulling his hands away, he sat on the back of his feet, still kneeling in front of you, his head dropped against his chest. He truly looked like a sad puppy and you would love to pull him into a soothing embrace, yet you cannot bring yourself to do so. Even though you knew that he meant every word, and that he would never purposefully hurt you, you cannot shake off the fear and the broken trust between the two of you.

“Yunho-” You whispered, his frame getting smaller as he curled into himself , almost slumping in front of you when you didn't use your usual nickname for him. This was what Yunho always had feared; to hurt you and to push you away from him. “I- I just…I still love you, but…but I also am scared. I trusted you with my life…but now? I don't- I don't know if I can trust you. So-” With another deep breath, you tried to steady your voice, tears again stinging in your eyes. “So please…give me time, okay? I love you…and I still want to be with you, but- but a trust that's broken like this…I don't know how long it might take to rebuild, but…but you will have to show me that I can trust you again…”

Yunho nodded silently, his mind racing. You still wanted to be with him, even though you knew that he would be capable of hurting you? His heart beat faster, with a quick movement, he wiped away his tears before looking up, he had no right to cry when he was the one who had hurt you. “I will do anything, jagiya. Everything to show you that you mean more to me than anything else.” He then said after a few moments of silence, his voice quiet but hopeful. “You are my everything, y/nnie, and I am so…so thankful that you give me this chance.”

You already knew that your heart forgave him the moment he called Mingi to get you out of the danger he might have gotten for you back then, proving already that he never wanted to hurt you in the first place. But, forgiving does not mean to immediately trust him again, both of you knew this. And both of you were ready to be patient. After a short glance around to reassure yourself that Mingi is still in the room with you two, you slowly moved, getting down from the sofa to hug Yunho, who's still kneeling in front of you. The hug felt awkward and you didn't keep this closeness for long, but when you whispered an “I love you, Yuyu” before leaning back, you could feel his heartbeat accelerate and a hopeful expression appeared on Yunho's face.

“I love you, y/nnie. Thank you for letting me prove myself to you, even if I don't deserve your kindness after I hurt you like this…” You sat there in silence for a moment letting him say sorry over and over again, glancing at Mingi every now and then to make sure everything was okay. You knew this situation wasn't going to go away. And you knew he would stop at nothing to show you that you can trust him again.

It was going to be a long road and Yunho was willing to travel down it. For you.

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itsonlydana · 1 month

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where snow falls and conversation strikes | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

Your train gets caught in a snowstorm and when the first class gets moved into the normal compartments, a beautiful man asks to sit with you

warnings/tags: modern(ish)!AU, First Meetings, Fluff

wordcount: 3,7k

an: wrote this mostly on the train on my way to work every morning so it took a while and suddenly its 25° c and not 0°c anymore... oops? and lets ignore that my layout for fics is not even close to uniformly

+ masterlist + rules + read the fic on ao3 +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The view outside the train window was white in its purest form. The mush of white flakes went from gently landing on the glass to completely covering it, obscuring everything behind an opaque wall.

A few hours ago it had been a wonderful sight of frost-tipped mountains, sloping meadows, and high-risen forests that made the long journey not only bearable but quite enjoyable. The hours had flown by just like the landscape, yet – as the newspapers had predicted it would happen – the gray clouds coming in from the seaside had caught up with the train weaving through the country and now, ever so slowly, it lost its speed.

It couldn't have been long to the city. The last stop had been a while ago and if it weren't for the clouds hanging so low, coloring the sky ashen and the snow that just wouldn't stop falling, you could have probably seen the first small villages that dotted the outside of the city.

The train slowing down had been inevitable, you had known as much when you had boarded earlier this morning, though you had hoped to arrive at the destination fast enough that you would have outrun this weather.

Back in the city, back home, the weather would have been a small inconvenience but nothing that would hold you back.

The old speakers crackled just as you adjusted your seat, bringing forth another storm though this one ravaged through the inside:

"We're mighty sorry 'bout this bother, but we kindly ask for yer patience. We've been movin' at a snail's pace 'cause of this darn weather, and now we're told we gotta face this blasted snowstorm 'fore we can carry on."

Even through the walls of your compartment, you heard the groaning and moaning of the other passengers.

It wasn't surprising, the decision to travel onward would be foolish – everyone on this train knew – but the times you did travel like this you found that people seemed to bond over these expressions of annoyance toward something no one could be blamed for. The annoyed grunts that were passed along the rows with an eye roll made up for hours of silence daring the others to interrupt their own peaceful silence.

Your sigh fogged up the window, and you let your head fall back against the cushions, fixating your gaze on the white haze outside when the scruffy voice continued speaking after clearing his throat:

"As it's damn impossible to know how long this weather's gonna last or whether it'll get worse, we kindly ask our first-class guests in the rear carriages to come through to the front. Heating there could be gone any minute. Make room for 'em. You'll of course be helped with your luggage."

Knowing that there is not much else to do than to sit back and wait, you picked up the book you had been reading, a collection of short stories by your favorite author that you knew by heart yet the familiar words provided comfort and you were quickly far away in those lands described.

Before you could finish the story you had left on though, a noise startled you and pulled you right back. The door of your compartment slid open by a tall man peeping his head in.

"Good evening, forgive the intrusion, but might I trouble you for a moment? I was told I could find a seat here. Would that be alright?" The man raised his shoulder to stop the bag he was carrying from sliding down, it wouldn't do what he wanted and slipped to his elbow.

He was beautiful, despite the distressed look on his face that was covered by his long blonde hair falling into it as he glared at the bag; on its way down his arm, it had taken the coat he had hung over it with it so that it dangled close to the carpet floor of the train.

You stared at him long enough that he arched a thick dark eyebrow and you flinched.

"Oh, yes.. yes of course!" You prayed that your cheeks weren't as red as you feared they might be as you nodded.

There was enough space inside the compartment, your suitcase was pushed under your seat and the bench across from you had been free, but you felt the need to look like you would make room for him.

Since there was nothing in the way, really, all you did was pull the bag next to you closer and kick away a piece of lint that stuck to the carpet.

"Thank you," the man slipped inside, coat, bag, and another suitcase dangling from his long arms.

You tried to look busy and lifted your book high up to your face while he stowed his suitcase away, a sleek dark blue leather one that unlike yours had no stickers on it or clothes sticking out. Then he entangled the coat from the bag to hang it on the door before he turned and stared at you.

"Can… can I help you?" you asked when he remained silently scrutinizing you.

His eyes were an icy hue of blue and you would have compared them to the snowy weather outside, cold and unmoving, if there weren't the slightest hints of nervousness in them.

"I don't want to inconvenience you any further but" – he swallowed and lifted a hand to brush some hair away, revealing the faintest of blushes on his high cheekbones– "I fear that I can't stomach traveling backward very well. Would you mind switching places or I could sit beside-"

"It's fine!" you interrupted him. Just him standing there seemed to affect the man quite a bit, he was swaying even though there was no movement, and what harm would it cause you to switch places?

You quickly gathered your back, closing the book with your thumb in between to mark the page you had left on and smiled at him as you sat down on the other side. "It's no problem at all, I have no preferences where I like to sit."

The upholstery was chilly under you and your legs groaned as you moved them for those few steps for the first time in hours instead of just folding them over each other

The man sat down, mumbling a soft "Thank you". His legs were long enough to brush against yours before he angled them toward the window, his slender hands resting on his lap.

Silence fell just like the snow, with the man growing as still as a statue, his eyes hefted outside the window, and you finding a comfortable position to get back to your book.

Despite your best efforts to concentrate on the poetry, your mind couldn't stop straying to the man.

He must be one of the first-class-traveler, you would have noticed him on your short walks through the train whenever you got bored or had grown restless.

His hair stood out, worn long enough to brush past his shoulders and over the cream-knitted sweater he wore, and then there were his eyebrows, the only dark spot of color in a face that could have been cut out of marble. He certainly looked expensive. He made the impression of a man who owned his own – equally perfect – bust.

He suddenly turned his head, not by much but he caught you looking at him nonetheless. Like a deer in headlights, your mouth simply fell open in a forgotten lie to excuse yourself for staring.

Thankfully he didn't comment on it, instead, his rosé lips curved into a smile.

"I'm Thranduil, by the way. I think I should tell you so that you have a name to complain about the stranger who not only stormed into your compartment but took your seat as well" He held out his hand.

You took it after a relieved breath. His fingers were cold, his grip firm. "Nice to meet you Thranduil," you introduced yourself and noted how his fingers flitted over your racing pulse point at your wrist, "Don't worry, I'd be a fool to moan about having a conversation partner, you've done nothing but turn this boring journey interesting"

"Ah, but you haven't realized how awful I am at small talk. I make a dreadful conversationalist," he admitted with a laugh and let go of your hand.

"We could simply skip that part then," you offered boldly and finally closed your book in your lap. "Tell me, what stop did you get on?"

He arched an eyebrow at you and rested his elbows on the table between you, placing his chin on the intertwined fingers. "What? You want to know where I came from and not were I'm going?"

You shook your head, "No, I'll see where you have to get off, this is much more interesting."

Thranduil looked at you for a moment, his eyes taking you in like he wanted to figure you out. Then he huffed, giving in. "I got on right at the first stop," –you smiled, encouraging him to continue talking, which he did, his lips twitching to a smirk– "I stayed in Laketown with a friend over the holidays, but I didn't want to impose on him any longer."

"So you brought this weather with you?" You grinned.

"Oh, one hundred percent," he said, sounding so serious that you nearly giggled, "I had so much fun shoveling snow every morning for ten days that I simply wanted to continue at home." Thranduil tipped his head to the side, examining you once again. "And you?"

"God no, I don't get to pick up any tools while I'm on vacation," you said, knowing full well that's not what the question was about.

"No?"

"No," you sighed, "Try being the youngest at the family reunion. I'm glad my parents let me shower and dress myself. Gosh, I think they would've cried if I even thought about helping with the snow."

Amusement lit up his face, lifting all his sharp features. "Tell that to my friend's little one. She's a fierce thing; knocking at my door at sunrise all dressed up and threatening me with her shovel that I better be outside before she had to come again."

"Oh my! Say, whatever was she threatening to do instead?"

Thranduil chuckled and shook his head, "I didn't stay long enough in bed to find out."

A knock sounded from the door, interrupting the conversation as an older woman opened your compartment. "Hiya, loves. May I offer you some tea? Dreadful weather outside and with the heating back there gone completely, we don't want ya to catch a cold," she said.

"Ye–"

"We'll take two cups," Thranduil's directive voice overshadowed yours, there was an authority in it that even you wouldn't want to cross. He was already pulling a fancy black wallet out of his pockets, which produced a fresh note that gave no room to argue or chip in. "Keep the change," he said while the train service employee shuffled inside and placed a tablet on the table between you.

"Thank you, Sir Oropherion!" She beamed at him and slipped the note through the buttons of her blouse, "You're always too kind!" Then she turned to you and lowered her voice in a faux-whisper: "He's just as handsome as he's single. But you didn't hear that from ol' me."

Thranduil scoffed, though you could see a faint blush on his cheeks. "You are a horrible gossip, Hilda! Go bother some of the other passengers or they'll freeze to death."

A little bit louder and glaring toward Thranduil, she added: "A shame his attitude is like the weather; he could use a sweetheart like you.

With a last wink, she turned and left you to stare after her, wondering what just happened.

"Impossible, that woman."

Thranduil's low rumble pulled you back to him, leaving that poor – now again shut – door alone before your eyes drilled a hole through the wood in search of an explanation.

The man across from you didn't offer you one either, instead, he was reaching for one of the silver spoons that the woman, Hilda, had given to you as well as a cup filled with milk and a small tower of cookies.

Somehow you had the feeling this wasn't what the other customers would get but rather a gesture of whatever fondness the woman pledged to the blonde, who used the tiny tongs to drop two cubes of sugar into his cup.

"So," you said and cleared your throat. Thranduil looked up, nearly killing you on the spot with the daggers in his eyes daring you to speak on the matter. Of course, who would you be if you shied away because of that? "She seemed lovely. A friend of yours?"

"No. No, she's not," Thranduil said. He pushed the other cub toward you, encouraging you to take from the all-paid-for beverage.

You wrapped both hands around it, marveling how beautifully and frail the cup looked and felt, and after taking a small sip, you smiled benevolently and waited for Thranduil to continue.

He rolled his eyes, admitting defeat in his thickheadedness of remaining aloof. "I travel this route to Laketown quite a lot. Once a month, sometimes two or three times, or whenever my schedule allows me to actually. That woman made it her personal mission to get on my last nerve; chatting to me and leaving me sweets and tea without me asking for it. After a while, I could at least get her to accept my money for it. She's keen on finding me my soulmate so I no longer travel this much alone."

"Aw, but that's cute," you said and drank another sip of the hot tea. You didn't know what burned more, the tea or Thranduil's hardened eyes, "What? She looks out for you; the journey is long and she just doesn't want to be lonely."

"Whyever you feel the need to defend her is unfathomable," he scoffed as if you taking Hilda's side was the most outrageous thing he'd ever heard, "You don't even know if her accusations are true– if I'm lonely. Maybe I like traveling alone!" Thranduil placed the cup back onto the tray with such an energetic movement, that it clinked. His lips twitched.

"That…" you started and nodded toward the cup, "was far too defensive. Why, Thranduil, it's no shame to admit to something, especially not to a stranger." His expression was still unreadable though the sharp line of his jaw protruded even more like he was biting down on his teeth. You made sure to keep your tone lighthearted: "Dare I say this is even the perfect chance to get it off your chest? Who knows if we will see each other again. Time to spill all your deep, dark and dirty secrets."

He fixated you with his cold blue eyes. Your words had left an impression on him, that much was clear and you would even go so far to say he was considering them.

Thranduil made a sound close to a "Humpf!" and you smiled and nodded, pushing him evidently over the edge for he rolled his eyes, clasped his hands together and leaned back into the cushions.

"Very well," he sighed though clicked his tongue as he saw your satisfied smirk, "You are right, traveling alone can–" lifting one finger, he punctuated the word "get a bit lonely. Not to say it's like that every time but I find that this conversation, despite the uncalled-for nosiness on behalf of my private life, makes it a lot more enjoyable than the hours I spent in the first class."

"Aww," you waved off in false modesty, "that's such a sweet way of saying I basically rescued you from a death of boredom."

"Bit of an overstatement"

"Okay, first-class, no need to knock my ego down like that."

"Anyone ever tells you how cheeky you are?"

You smiled brightly, "All the poor, single, and handsome men I chat up on these travels."

Thranduil laughed out and shook his head more for himself than anything else. He extended his hand towards his cup once more, coinciding with the moment you brought your tea to your lips.

As your gazes met over the rising steam of porcelain, the black tea seemed to carry a subtle sweetness reminiscent of the shared smile between you, if only for a fleeting moment.

Or maybe it was the sugar, combined with the subtle loneliness that was your own travel companion nowadays, a constant bitterness coating your tongue.

No matter what, another sip of tea flushed it down.

"Now," Thranduil cleared his throat and dabbed the sleeve of his sweater at the corner of his mouth where a small drop of tea rested next to a shy smile. The tea disappeared – the smile stayed. "Do you want to tell me where you are going?"

The answer was simple, you just had to tell him the name of your station, but you hesitated.

This felt too good to be true, and maybe, if you disappeared without giving him any real information, there wouldn't be the urge to keep your eyes open when you arrived home, hoping he would be looking for that mystery woman he met on the train.

Before the moment passed for far too long to be deemed anything but awkward, the train jolted. First, there was this one tug, then another one, and then, right when you looked up at Thranduil and understanding passed across his face like a ghost, appearing and disappearing right again, the wheels set in motion.

"Seems like we're off again," Thranduil said quietly, turning his face to the window.

He cleared his throat and you watched him swallow, not breaking away from the fuzziness outside that mirrored what you felt in your stomach right now. He was beautiful, even with that sadness settling heavy on his shoulders.

Why you couldn't just offer a piece of yourself now that he has given you some of him, that you didn't understand yourself because this trip had been the loveliest in a long time, the conversation quick and easy and nothing like the pestering questions about your romantic life that your brothers and your mother had poured over you, and while yes, you just met him, there was a connection between you.

More than strangers on a train.

And you wanted it, so so much.

To have someone by your side wherever you go.

"Thranduil–" you spoke so suddenly you not only startled Thranduil; the sound of your own voice frightened you as well.

"Yes?"

"This thing working again? Ah yes, now yer can hear me 'gain. Darn line cut off for a moment there. Next stop, Mirkwood Central Station, arriving in 'bout five minutes. We apologize for the delay 'n hope y'all get to your destination safely. To all those leavin' us: Remember to grab all your things before ya go. Hope to see y'all again real soon."

The rest of the sentence died on your lips as you listened to the announcement. How they managed to be on time when you needed another delay, another moment to sort out your thoughts was an unwanted miracle.

Right when you wanted to panic and quickly pack up the book you hadn't opened up again, Thranduil got to it first.

"Five… five minutes?" he gasped and jumped out of his seat, knocking his long legs into the table resulting in you both reaching for the rattling cups trying to stop them from crashing down, hands brushing just enough for you to nearly smash the pot of sugar away as well.

"Wait. This is your stop?"

Thranduil nodded, already throwing his coat on. "Yes, oh it's such a shame! I had hoped we had more time to finish our tea." He threw a sad glance at the half-empty cups; although the switch to look at you spoke of a far greater regret than simply leaving two cups of tea behind.

A laugh burst out of you, taking both of you by such surprise that you wondered if it had come off as discouraging or far worse: like you were making fun of him.

You hastened to explain: "This is my stop as well!" – the wide smile that shot to his eyes turned into a smirk – "This is me, Mirkwood Central. So if you want–" you interrupted yourself by standing up and grabbing your jacket, "we could get a tea later?"

"Yes!" Thranduil said quickly, "Yes, I would love to. Do you have any plans for the rest of the evening?"

You copied his smile. "The rest of the evening? Bit eager, aren't we?" You were teasing, mostly, because that seemed to affect that glimmer of playfulness in Thranduil's eyes that made them look like molten silver, but you couldn't deny that you wouldn't have canceled all your plans if you'd had any to begin with, to stay in Thranduil's company.

"I will gladly take every bit of time you can offer me," Thranduil said, "Any man would be this eager to get to know you."

You were still blushing when you stepped into the narrow corridor of the train, the tight space and crowding of passengers waiting to exit as well making it impossible to stand anywhere else but close together, Thranduils taller body a warm presence in your back and whenever you swayed his large hand found your shoulder to steady you and his amused chuckling reverberated in your stomach.

The train finally made its way into the bustling train station, the smoke of other trains clouding up the window and excitement like only arriving at a special destination could evoke in one filled the air inside the train, the hushed talking growing as other passengers saw relatives or friends or lovers waving to them, children pressing their faces against the glass or tried to run past you with their parents following close behind.

One particular stormy child knocked you straight into Thranduil as the doors opened and cold air greeted you while your face lightened up with a blush.

"I hope I won't lose you," you said, jokingly but the air was stolen right out of your lungs as Thranduils gloved hand grabbed yours.

"Don't worry," he said and helped you step onto the metal platform, watching carefully as you hopped onto the platform. He looked beautiful in the evening lights of Mirkwood Station, white snowflakes landing gently on his long lashes. "I won't let that happen!"

©itsonlydana 2024

#📁files: thranduil fanfics #thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction #thranduil x you #the hobbit x reader #thranduil oropherion #king thranduil #thranduil #the hobbit x you

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dejwrld · 8 months

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— number 7 on paradis titans hockey team can get a little mean after he loses a game.

( cw ) ⸻ modern au, sports au, profanity, mean dom!jean in 4k hd ultra, female anatomy, her/she pronouns, afab, established relationship (reader and jean are married with a child), reader implied to black, creampie, impact play, oral ( f.receiving), slight spit kink, spanking, breeding kink, pet name usage (good girl, babygirl) he's just a lil salty he lost a game, i promise i ain't showing favoritism to najma lmfao, this fic was second place for the poll i posted week ago, wc: 2.1k, minors dni ! repost from old account!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀dedicated jean baby mother aka @honeybleed

When Jean lost a game, you always seemed to walk on eggshells. The nicely decorated home grows silent as a mouse when your family enters the mansion. Your son seemed to fall asleep during the long ride from the ice rink to the house, and you only tucked him in his bed after stripping him out of his clothes. Neatly folding up the hockey jersey with his father's number on it and placing it away, you placed a loving kiss on top of his sandy brown colored curls before exiting the room. You were sure to close the door behind you since you weren't sure how Jean would react due to losing the game.

When Jean's team lost, he grew quiet. A little too quiet. His interviews with ESPN and other sports outlets weren't as cheerful and confident. You could literally see the frustration and sadness in his light brown hues. The rides home are always silent, other than the questions your five-year-old would ask randomly. As a new wag (an obnoxious term for wives & girlfriends of sports players), you always ask the other partners how exactly they handle huge losses.

Eren's wife, Emilia would only shrug, mumbling about how Eren usually forgets about the loss after a day or two before he's back on the ice, perfecting any screw-ups he made during the game. Connie's girlfriend CJ would make a subtle joke about giving him head after the game to make him forget about the disappointing end of the hockey team's season.

You walked towards the master bedroom of your home, your body leaning against the door frame as you watched Jean tug off the Grey Nike sweatshirt he wore. He tossed it in the laundry hamper in the corner of your room, now only in a white wifebeater. His toned arm flexed with each movement he made as he shuffled around the room. Occasionally, his gold necklace with your initials and your son's initials moved with each quick motion he made.

"Do you want to talk about it? I know it was such an important game," Your tone was soft-spoken and came out as if you were whispering.

"Strip." was the only thing Jean uttered as he was undoing the string on his Nike jogger pants.

Your lip gloss-covered lips parted to speak, but in the back of your mind, you were just thinking about making Jean happy. He was going through some wild emotions at the moment, and who were you to object against them. They lost the opportunity to compete for the Stanley Cup, so you knew the man in front of you was seeing complete red at the moment.

"Keep my jersey on, though. Everything else off." He huffed.

You stepped further inside the room, your back backing into the door to close it so you wouldn't wake up your son. Your fingers begin to unbutton the jeans you were wearing, slowly tugging them off your smooth legs. Soon, your panties joined them as Jean's index finger motioned for you to come here. With each step you took, you could feel the cool breeze in your room hit your bare bottom, sending a chill down your spine.

When you were face to face with Jean, he didn't say much. However, you could feel how hot he was. How frustrated he was. One harsh push on your king-sized bed caused your lips to let out a gasp. Your body hit the bed like a fragile little doll Jean wanted to play with. He's grabbing a hold of your ankle that was decorated with the gold anklet with his name on it with a cursive font. His lips placed soft kisses on your ankle, causing you to squirm under his firm touch. You expected him to treat you like a fragile rag doll that had just been snitched up. But boy, was you wrong. In one motion, he had turned your body around so that you were lying on your stomach, mumbling about how he needed you so badly.

"Be a pretty wife and get on all fours, m'kay," He said lowly.

You did what you were told, getting on all fours. The oversized jersey that formally belonged to Jean raised just a bit to be able to see the cup of your ass. A low yelp tumbled out your mouth when you felt Jean's large hands slap at the flesh of your ass before you could feel his hand massage the stinging flesh. A sharp hiss came out of you when you felt another slap on the opposite cheek; Jean once again repeated the process of massaging your ass cheeks. He's teasingly letting a coo tumble off his lips as you can only stutter out his name like a broken record.

"Just want to taste you real quick," His words were soft yet intimidating. He angled your body provocatively so you felt like such a filthy woman. "Just stay like that for me, please," he says before his callous fingertips are traced alongside your puffy lips. The teasing action caused your skin to be littered with goosebumps.

Once again, you desperately coughed up a yelp when you felt him slap at your throbbing cunt that was aching for his attention. The similar motion he did with your asscheek, Jean's multimillion-dollar massage at your pussy. This time, your wetness coated his fingers ever so negligibly. "You like it when I do that, huh?" He asked.

He didn't wait for you to respond before kneeling to taste you. The flat of his tongue collided with your puffy lips to lick up your juices formed just by his spankings. A weak whimper came out of you as you seemed to relax in his touch as he was eating you out. When Jean wanted to taste, he wanted to taste every fiber of you. Practically burying his face in the messiness between your thighs caused your toes to curl.

"Jean." You moaned out as you felt him glide his tongue up your slit. The lewd sound of him slurping up the mess he was making bounced off the bedroom walls. You could feel the sharpness of his nose poking you from the back; the man practically was devouring you at the moment. You were so close to breaking the perfect arch, but you knew what consequences were to come.

"Fuck." You moaned before you reached out, clawing at his sandy brown hair. Your fingers grabbed his hair as you rocked backward upon his kitten licks. Your orgasm was right there; you were so close to the finish line while your knees were growing hazy.

But Jean soon pulled away, letting your body fall limp like a deflated balloon that's lost all its air. Your poor cunt felt like it was pulsing, your orgasm was snatched away from you, and the lump of pleasurable despair disappeared.

"I can't have you cummin' just yet, baby girl," Jean commented. The little facial hair he had was stained with your juices. His upper lip lingered with your scent, and his tongue tasted like you. Maybe that made the man in a complete trance all over again.

His grey sweatpants grew tight at the crotch area. His dick was screaming to be released from the tight compress of his sweats and boxers. Jean quickly pushed down his sweats and stepped out of them like an over-enthusiastic virgin that was about to get a spliff of pussy for the first time. His blood was fuming, and he was still a bit frustrated by the loss. Especially considering the number of penalties he racked up during the game. His cock bulged in the black-colored Ethika boxers (another sponsorship he received for singing a multimillion-dollar contract) before he tugged them down also. His thick cock tapped at his toned torso when his boxers came down also.

Once again, he's grabbing onto you like a doll, dragging your whithering body toward the end of the bed. His hand firmly pushed your lower back to ensure your arch was perfect. It was a wonderful sight to see his beautiful wife completely exposed like this to him. A lovely ass up face-down position just so he can have his way with him.

You were anticipating for Jean to shove his cock inside you. Despite it being the same dick you've ridden, sucked, choked on, and the list goes on, you still found yourself chewing your lower lip off at adjusting to his girth. He was a grower for sure, with a slight curve that could kiss at that spot that caused your pedicures toes to curl. Your favorite part of his dick was his tip. It was a splendid sight when you would climb under the covers to suck him off when he complained about morning wood. It was a nice mushroom shape with a slit that gushed out so much cum when he wanted to.

"You know if you relax. You'll get used to it quicker." Jean suggested. With his slender digits climbing up the jersey, you had on to undo the bra you were wearing.

With quickness, you're removing your bra tossing it to the side with ease. Your hips bucking to receive any form of friction between Jean and yourself, but you could only feel his tip tap at your sopping entrance. "Don't be so fuckin' rude, and wait," Jean uttered as he grabbed a hold of his cock. He rubbed his tip at your entrance. Teasing you bit by bit before he's pooling all of the spit in his mouth and letting it drop down on his cock. His hand stroked his dick quickly before he once again was poking at your entrance.

"You want to make me feel better after that horrible game, right?" Jean questioned.

You only nodded as you were on all fours, your fingers grasping at the sheets below you before your mouth gasped apart, feeling him stretch you out. He didn't even wait until you adjusted to his huge size before he was pushing himself inside you like a madman. His hands grasping at your asscheeks just to feel upon you a little more. His thrusts weren't the usual slow and passionate filled; they were harsher. He was genuinely fucking you like he hated you. It was your fault that the team was two points short of going to the play for the Stanley Cup. You could only let out poor pathetic moans, moaning out for Jean.

"That's a good fuckin' girl; you're taking my dick so well," Jean uttered as his hips bucked forward into the plush of your ass. His eyes glowed excitedly at the sight of your pretty pussy, swallowing him with each thrust. The mixture of your wetness and the spit he coated on his coat was imprinted on your thighs like a nasty masterpiece.

He had one hand holding your back down while the other was grasping at the hockey jersey with his last name on it. He gripped the jersey severely to have some form of control over his brass thrusts. Ignoring your whimpers for him to slow down, or you would cum.

"Don't cum." Jean uttered out.

His words were more like a command, a dangerous warning you wanted to poke at until he exploded.

"Please Jean..." You whined into the pillow, which at this point was stained with your own drool and tears.

"What did I say, hm?" He questioned. His right hand slapped at your ass cheek causing you to let out a whine.

"Don't...cum," You hiccupped between moans.

Jean would only hum in agreement. His hips irrationally bottomed inside your dripping cunt before he pinned your arms behind your back. His tight grip on you caused you to chew at your lip as if it were some chew toy. "We'll cum together like it's supposed to fuckin' be," He commented.

You felt so lightheaded at the intense amount of stimulation upon your body. Your limbs felt like they were screaming for you to relax, and the burning sensation that was bubbling in the pit of your stomach was ready to burst.

Jean's hold he had on your folded arms only grew tight with each shove forward into your pussy. He could feel his balls grow heavy each time he tapped at that one spot that caused your eyes to cruise in the back of your head. Jean's eyes were shifted closed as he was so pussy drunk, the harsh groan that grumbled off the back of his neck caused his Adam's apple to move. His thick white cum filled you up to the brim as you moaned through the sensation. Jean brought the ends of his wifebeater up to his teeth, nibbling at the ends as he rocked you on his cock slowly. He could feel your pussy pulsing around his cock, milking him of every droplet of his cum. His brown hues practically glistened at the creamy sight of a white ring around his cock with each slow thrust.

When he pulled out slowly, letting the hold he had on you go and watching you collapse breathlessly on your stomach. His fingers combed through his hair, which seemed to stick to his forehead due to the intense workout.

"I feel much better now, baby, thank you."

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein smut #aot x reader #aot smut #anime smut #anime x reader #black reader #aot x black reader #female reader #angelshubnetwork #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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cb97breathing · 1 year

Text

WHEN YOU KISS THEM FOR THE FIRST TIME. FT HYUNG LINE

Pairing: Skz Hyung Line x Reader

Theme: Fluff, Friends To Lovers, Hyung line reacting to you kissing them

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: Please do not repost or translate my work! Let me know if you wish to be on the tagged list.

CHAN:

“C-Channie!” You choked out between laughs. “Please stop!” You tried to get away from him as he continued to tickle you, making you laugh so hard that tears were flying down your cheeks. No matter what you tried he would always over power you as you writhed helpless beneath him.

“Not until you stop saying that you’re ugly.” He growled playfully. “You’re beautiful, say it!” He grinned as he attacked your sides. You gasped for air as he continued his assault and weakly hit him in the chest trying to push him away.

“Never!” You cried as you continued to try to escape. “I’m an ugly whale.” You squeaked as you felt him get more aggressive with his tickling and soon it was becoming hard to breathe. You were laughing so hard that no sound was coming out. Your chest hurt and your face was going numb. “Okay! I-I’m beautiful!” You cried out. “Please stop.” You begged. His hands stilled as he hovered over you with a proud smile. You stared up at him, panting softly, trying to regain all the air you lost from laughing. You both stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity. You loved his eyes, you loved him. You had loved him for so long but were always scared to admit it. He gently brushed the tears away from your eyes and smirked softly.

“That’s my girl.” He whispered softly. His words triggered something in you and before you knew it, your lips were pressed against his. You felt him freeze as your lips touched and you moved away blushing deeply.

“I’m sorry I– I wasn’t thin–” Before you could finish your sentence his lips pressed against yours, kissing you passionately as you melted beneath him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you closer to him.

“Took you long enough.” He whispered happily into your lips.

MINHO:

You whimpered and buried your face in Minho’s chest as you heard the loud roar of thunder. Your body trembled as your best friend held you tight, his large hand rubbing your back as he tried to sooth you. You had been left out in a thunderstorm when you were younger and had been scared of them ever since. Everytime a storm hit, Minho didn’t hesitate to come and console you. Didn’t matter what time it was, he was there.

“It’s alright, Kitten.” He whispered softly as he ran his fingers through your hair. “I’m here, I will never let anything bad happen to you I promise.” He whispered softly. You clung to him and felt your heart flutter at his words. You never really realized how much you loved the man holding you until recently. You looked up at him gently as you heard him start singing your favorite song to you. Tears flew down your cheeks as you looked up to him. In that moment, your eyes betrayed you, all they showed was love.

Minho looked down at you and his gaze softened as his eyes locked with yours. You let out a shaky breath and leaned up pressing your lips to his. You knew that this could destroy whatever the both of you had but in that moment you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You felt him kiss back almost immediately and cup your tear stained cheek in his hands. You both laid there, pouring your hearts out in a slow deep kiss before you had to pull away for air. You blushed when you realized what had happened, but Minho just grinned at you. He pulled you back in for another kiss and the thunderstorm that had terrified you was long forgotten.

CHANGBIN:

“Changbin, don’t you da–” You gasped as you were hit in the shoulder with a snowball. You stared at your best friend, eyes wide in shock as he stood there grinning mischievously. “Oh you little shit.” You growled out as you made your own snow ball. “This is war.” You threw one at him and it hit him right in the face, causing you to laugh hysterically. But the look on Changbin’s face made you stop in your tracks. He growled as he made another snow ball and you slowly backed away. “Now Binnie.. You started this.” You chuckled nervously. He didn’t hesitate to throw it at you and hit you square in the cheek.

You cried out as you felt the impact and cupped your cheek as you heard him laugh obnoxiously. You glared at him and while his guard was down you pounced. Changbin let out a cry of surprise as you tackled him into the snow and straddled him. You both fought playfully as he laughed loudly.

“Y/n, I’m sorry!” He laughed out as you tried to tickle him. “Please stop!” You grinned as you watched him squirm, but soon he flipped you over. You squeaked as you felt him pin you down against the cold snow. You looked up at him and blushed when he smirked down at you. “You’re doomed now.” He teased as he leaned in closer to you as he raised a snowball in his right hand. Your heart pounded and before you could stop yourself your lips pressed to his. You heard the snowball fall from his hand as he froze. But before you could pull away he was kissing back and pulling you into his arms. At first you did this just to distract him, but deep down you had wanted this to happen for a long time. Your lips moved passionately against each other for what seemed like an eternity until the both of you pulled away panting softly for air, noses and cheeks rosy from the cold. “Please do that again.” He whispered softly and you gladly obliged.

HYUNJIN:

“Y/n, do you have a death wish?” Hyunjin growled out. To anyone else it would seem like he was mad but you saw the playfulness in his eyes as he wiped the paint off his cheek. You smirked as you held the paint brush up playfully.

“I was bored and you were ignoring me.” You pouted. “This is your punishment.” You grinned as you splatted some paint on him again. Hyunjin gasped and looked at you with wide eyes before smirking at you playfully.

“Oh you’re so gonna get it.” He smirked as he grabbed his own paint brush and whipped it at you making paint splatter all over you. You gasped as you looked at him with wide eyes. “You started it Mon Chérie, endure the consequences.” He laughed. Before you knew it, you were both running around his studio, flicking paint at each other for what seemed like over an hour. You both looked like a total mess by the end of it.

Hyunjin had you pinned against the wall, his hands on both your wrists as you both panted softly from being out of breath. Your heart pounded as he stared deeply into your eyes. He pressed his forehead to yours and you couldn’t control yourself, your lips brushed against his and his eyes widened, you looked into his eyes and blushed. He didn’t move away from you, he didn’t run or back away in disgust instead he stood there looking at your lips. You couldn’t bear it anymore and pressed your lips to his in a deep kiss. He kissed back without hesitation and his hands moved to link his fingers with yours as he pressed into you. Your lips moved feverishly and passionately against each other, as if you needed to keep going to survive.

“Finally.” He breathed out into your lips.

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flowerandblood · 4 months

Text

The Doubt & The Delight

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, description of physical and mental disabilities, remorse, depression, hysteria attacks, swearing, trauma, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 1 − The Knight & The Judge Part 2 − The Sin & The Penance Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

This is the last part of this story. Thank you all for such a nice reception of this entire mini-series, it was supposed to be a oneshot, but as usual it turned out to be something more! This is probably one of my favorite works here and I can't wait to hear your opinions.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night, after what had happened between them, he sobbed silently for the first time since the day of the accident in which his parents died. He didn't know what else he could do − he felt helpless and couldn't sleep, despair completely possessing his heart and mind.

Don't ever touch me again.

We are even.

He clenched his eyelids, letting the tears run down the sides of his face onto the pillow lying under his head.

Some part of him wanted to go to her door, to fall to his knees and beg her to open it for him, to let him hold her close, to fall asleep in her embrace.

He needed her so much, but he knew he had no right to demand anything from her.

She was doing more than she had to anyway.

He shuddered as he heard the sound of the door opening; stupefied by the sedatives and painkillers for a moment he had no idea where he was or who he was − he raised himself up on his elbow and hissed, feeling his head ache incredibly.

He opened his eyelids and immediately closed them, blinded by the light from the windows − he gave up with a sigh laying back on the couch, trying to calm himself down.

"Daeron?" He called out loudly, trying to remember what had happened, whether he had drunk too much alcohol the evening before or overdosed on sleeping pills.

He heard someone's footsteps and froze when he saw her frightened face; she came towards him with her eyes wide open as if looking at a ghost, stopping at a safe distance.

"− I'm just helping him change, we'll come soon − God, how pale you are, should I call the doctor again? −" She muttered clearly genuinely horrified by his condition, but he shook his head quickly.

"− did you call the police yesterday? −" He asked lowly, thinking with horror that no one at the prosecutor's office could find out that he was still struggling with his trauma and had almost caused a car crash.

She shook her head quickly, playing with the fingers of her hand in a nervous gesture.

"− n-no − the man we almost collided with wanted to do it at first, but when we got out of the car and said you'd fainted he called an ambulance and let it go − he apparently decided you'd just had some sort of attack and didn't want to add to our problems −" She replied once looking him in the eye, once looking away − he could see that she clearly wasn't coping with the situation or what had happened between them.

He sighed in relief, running his hand over his face, thinking about the fact that securing Daeron's fate was now his priority and he needed to pull himself together.

"− I'm going to go help Daeron and we'll make something for breakfast soon −" She said quickly and turned away, moving down the corridor towards his little brother's room, disappearing behind the door.

The two of them had tried not to look at each other all morning, heartbroken and horrified by what had happened between them − they both felt that their lives had slipped out of their control and he resented himself for dragging her into it all.

The doctors advised him to stay at home for a few days and rest, so he called Alys to ask her to bring him his documentation.

"− sick leave? − something happened? −" She asked concerned, and he sighed heavily, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, not having the strength for this discussion.

"− I've been overworking lately, I need to slow down − can I count on you? −" He asked matter-of-factly, hearing her snort of amusement on the other side.

"− sure − I'll be there in half an hour −" She replied calmly and hung up; he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face and put the phone down on the table top.

He glanced over his shoulder, hearing the sizzle of the pan and shuddered meeting her gaze − she lowered her eyes immediately as if caught in the act, concentrating on not burning the pancakes, Daeron wheeled around her in his wheelchair placing clean plates and cutlery beside her.

They ate breakfast together, both of them really only talking to Daeron, passing cups and juice to each other out of politeness only. He felt a pleasant shudder when his fingers touched hers, looking her straight in the eyes − her lower lip twitched a little, only a quiet, sad thank you came out of her mouth.

As they ate Daeron said he would do his own homework and then change her to look after him, as if he was now the one to take on the role of his caretaker.

As he left his Esmeralda stood up, picking up the dirty dishes from the countertop − he took his plate from her hand, swallowing hard.

"− no need, I'll do it − I'm better now, I don't want to force you to stay here any longer than necessary − thank you very much −" He said in a low voice, getting up from his seat and stepping around her, opening the dishwasher with a light movement, tossing in the cutlery and other dirty dishes she'd held earlier.

He felt her looking at him, his heart pounding like crazy, for some reason he wanted to cry again.

"− I'm sorry − for what happened yesterday −" She muttered in a whisper and he raised his shocked gaze to her, frozen still.

She stood in front of him covering her mouth with her hand, trying to silence the loud, ragged breath that shook her body along with the sob that wanted to break from her throat, tears began to fall from the corners of her eyes one after another.

God, she was remorseful.

"− no − no, stop − you didn't do anything wrong, I wanted it −" He said quickly, but she shook her head.

"− I couldn't sleep − I felt awful −" She uttered with difficulty, choking on her own tears, and despite her telling him never to touch her again he put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him in one sure movement − her body did not put up any resistance to him, her fingers tightened on his sweatshirt in a helpless gesture.

"− I-I'm sorry − I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you −" She mumbled out and burst into quiet sobs.

He thought with despair that he had broken this poor girl, brought her to a state where she felt like an abuser.

He embraced her tightly, snuggling his face into the hollow of her neck, stroking her back reassuringly − her wonderful scent and the warmth of her body had a soothing effect on him, he thought he wanted to remember this moment for a lifetime.

"− I'm the one who hurt you − I took something away from you and you tried to get it back − you asked me if I wanted it and I made it clear that I did − easy − breathe deeply − it's all right −" He whispered in a trembling voice, running his large hand through her back and hair. She snuggled into him so tightly that he felt tears under his eyelids himself − he pressed his lips together not wanting to let them flow out but it was no use.

"− thank you for everything − I'm feeling better now, I'll be fine by the time Helaena arrives − go home and get some rest − I'll think of something and explain to Daeron why you can't work for us anymore − I'll send you your pay by transfer so you never have to see me again − hm? −" He asked softly and she only nodded, her whole chest trembling in convulsion as she drew in a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her.

He wanted to tell her that she was the most wonderful person he had ever met.

He wanted to tell her that if she ever needed help, she could always count on him.

He wanted to do that, but he only flinched when he heard the doorbell ring, reminding himself of Alys − they moved away looking at each other in pain, the sight of her wiping her cheeks red from tears broke his heart.

He realised that he was a monster.

As soon as he opened the gate for her, Alys walked into his house with thick folders of documents in her hands, looking elegant as usual in her jacket, long trousers and high heels. She smiled at the sight of his Esmeralda, and she pressed her lips together realising with horror that she stood dressed only in his hoodie.

"Good morning. We don't know each other yet." Alys said to her and held out her hand to her − she, not knowing what to do, herself embarrassed by the situation and how it looked shook her hand, squeezing it firmly.

"Good morning." She muttered and just threw to him that she was going to go see how Daeron was doing with his homework − Alys led her away with her eyes looking at her with a calm, curious expression on her face.

"Who is this beautiful little flower? In addition wearing your hoodie I think." She asked amused, a note of mock accusation in her voice, as if she had solved the equation. "Is it because of her that you can't concentrate lately?"

He threw her one warning, sharp look, which did not deter her, however − he sighed heavily and shook his head.

"She's Daeron's caretaker and she had to stay here to help me take care of him after I fainted yesterday. They were at a carnival ball together and she had nothing to change into." He replied coolly, wanting to end the subject quickly, frustrated.

"Is that why you both cried?" She asked lowly raising an eyebrow, the piercing look in her bright green eyes told him clearly that she felt the tension that hung in the air between them. He swallowed loudly, looking away, not wanting to look at her smile full of satisfaction.

"Thank you for bothering to come all the way out here. I'll be gone for a week, we're in touch." He replied dryly − she threw over his shoulder that if he needed her for anything he could count on her and smiled at his Esmeralda heading for the exit, saying it was a pleasure to meet her.

As the door closed behind her there was an awkward silence between them. He saw that she was wearing his hoodie and shorts that were too loose on his brother but on her they fit perfectly despite the manly cut, in her hand she held the bag with her costume.

She was leaving.

He will never see her again.

"Are you sure you can manage?" She asked uncertainly, not looking at him. She seemed pale to him, he thought that for some reason Alys' visit had saddened her, but he didn't even dare assume it might have had anything to do with him.

At most, she might have thought he was a bigger bastard and pervert than she suspected.

"Yes, we'll be fine. Thanks again." He muttered, trying not to look at her, but to poor effect, thinking only of how wonderful it was to hold her in his arms, how tightly she snuggled into him seeking refuge and comfort.

He realised that he craved such closeness from her as much as the touch of her naked body.

He wasn't just about sex.

She, however, merely nodded, raising her sad, tired, embittered gaze at him once more, and after a moment she turned and disappeared behind the door.

The hours leading up to Helaena's arrival he spent with Daeron, playing together FIFA'23 and other games that his brother thought would distract him from all the unpleasant events of the past weeks.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine. You just need to rest. It's good that you and Esmeralda have reconciled." He said clicking beside him on his pad, trying to win a race against him on the big space track. He swallowed hard, thinking with pain and shame that they hadn't reconciled at all, that they weren't even.

What she did was a desperate attempt by her to regain what he had taken from her, the feeling that she had power over her own body.

It didn't bring her any relief though − it seemed to him that it made her feel even worse.

She wasn't like him − she'd probably never behaved like this before, and she was horrified to find that she didn't recognise herself.

He had destroyed her, taken away her innocence, devoured her.

He pressed his lips together, trying to stop the burning tears that forced their way under his eyelids from flowing and grunted loudly, trying to focus on the game.

As he prepared the room where his sister was to sleep, and where his Esmeralda had previously spent the night, he noticed a purple cloth lying on the floor. He reached out and picked it up, realising after a moment that it was a scarf she had worn on her head in the form of a headband.

He pressed it to his face and closed his eyes, with a squeeze in his throat thinking that the material was permeated with her scent.

He kept it.

Helaena had arrived straight from the airport in a taxi for which she had paid crores − as soon as she stepped inside she dropped her suitcase, ran up to him and threw herself into his arms. He burst out sobbing, feeling her familiar, tender closeness.

He wasn't sure when was the last time someone had hugged him, stroked him, told him everything was going to be alright, that now he was the one being taken care of.

Taking the opportunity that Daeron was playing in his room on his laptop, they sat side by side on the living room couch to discuss what had happened.

"I think I've stopped coping. I'm slowly losing my self-control." He muttered, burying his face in his hands, feeling that he needed to at least partially throw off what was going on inside his head − he felt his sister stroking his back comfortingly.

"Me and Aegon left you alone with all of this, sinking into our own grief. We all focused on Daeron because we decided you were older and better able to handle it all." She said with pain and some kind of regret, as if she only now realised that he wasn't a fully formed adult then either.

He let the air out of his lungs, feeling like a small, clumsy child again, embarrassed that he wasn't coping, that he had chaos in his head, that he was stuck and unable to get out of the mess he had sunk all the way into.

"I thought it would be good for you to have a change. For you and Daeron to fly with me for a few weeks, get some rest, during which time we can work together to find you some sort of therapist, someone to help you get over all this." She said warmly, and he shook his head quickly, terrified of her suggestion, of having to reinvent himself somewhere, of not being in his home, of not having his things and activities.

"No, I can't do that. I need a rest, but here, at home. I do think, however, that it will do Daeron good to spend time with you, to get away from it all. Maybe when I have a bit of time to myself I can somehow…sort it all out." He muttered, feeling her worried gaze on him.

"You shouldn't be left alone."

"I haven't been alone with my thoughts for five years. I need this." He said regretfully, realising that he had devoted all his strength to his younger brother, leaving himself with nothing.

He felt empty.

"And he needs a change of environment. He sees me gloomy and tired every day. You will help me the most if you take care of him for a week or two so that I can get myself in order."

"You have to promise me that you will go to therapy. You're taking on too much on your shoulders." She said cautiously, and he nodded to her, wanting everyone to finally give him a break.

Daeron was at the same time happy about the sudden unplanned holiday, but on the other hand very worried that he was going to be left alone at home.

"But who will take care of you? Esmeralda?" He asked hesitantly, and he replied that he would manage on his own, that they would talk on the phone every day, that he just needed a bit of rest to think things over.

As they packed to leave he was with them in body, but not in thoughts which drifted far away to her, to what had happened between them.

Despite the fact that they had sex with each other twice, it was the memory of that morning in his kitchen when he held her in his embrace that he remembered most, the innocence and tenderness of that gesture, the warmth of her body, the smell of her hair, the fact that for a moment she had allowed him to get close to her.

He knew he would never see her again.

Waving them off, already seated in the taxi, watching them drive away he wondered what the point of living such a terrible person like him was.

He cleaned the whole house, sorted the papers in his office, put up the laundry and emptied the dishwasher, doing everything unhurriedly with complete silence all around him, only the sound of the wind outside the windows and the quiet pounding of raindrops against the windowsills.

He finally sat down on the sofa, staring dully ahead, before lowering his gaze to the small container of sleeping pills he'd been taking for days to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He wondered how many he'd have to swallow to not wake up.

He didn't know why his hand reached for his phone − his fingers tapped out a question on Google and, to his surprise, many different topics on forums about how to commit suicide painlessly popped up.

He read statements from some young, desperate, frightened people who couldn't cope with life and responses from others, some encouraging them to commit the act and explaining how to do it, others asking them not to do it, that they would be happy to talk to them, to support them through this difficult time.

He thought of Daeron, of how if he had done it, his little brother would have completely broken down, that it would only add to the pain of his whole family, and that Helaena would never forgive herself for leaving him alone.

That it would have been selfish of him.

On the other hand, his mind reminded him of his aggressive, merciless interrogations, the way he approached witnesses, the way he approached Alys, what he did to his Esmeralda when she recognised at once his malicious, dark nature.

How was someone like him supposed to continue to take care of Daeron? How was he supposed to pretend that he was a good man who could advise him on anything, be his authority?

He thought that his little brother should have stayed with Helaena − she was the calmest of them all, surely she would have handled his parenting much better, given him what he needed.

He reached for a small container of pills and stared at it, turning it between his fingers with a loud rattle, wondering dispassionately what he should do with himself.

He hummed as if he remembered something and slipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a thin, purple folded cloth − he looked at it, feeling the need to call her.

He didn't know why he would do that when he was sure she didn't want to see him and couldn't even look at Daeron, to whom he would have to explain why she would no longer be taking care of him upon his return.

He guessed that she would only pick up out of politeness, and he would again flood her with his problems, his suicidal thoughts, forcing her to worry about him, to feel sorry for him even though he didn't deserve her sympathy.

He didn't even know when he unscrewed the container, when he tilted his head and poured its entire contents into his mouth, taking a deep sip of water after this, letting his judgment of himself run deep into his stomach.

He seemed to regain his sanity only after a moment, staring at the empty vessel wondering what he had actually done.

Oh fuck.

God, what had he done?

No, no, no, no.

He went into a complete panic, his heart started pounding like crazy − he didn't know how much time he had before he lost consciousness, so in a gesture of helplessness he dialled her number quickly, wondering if she would answer from him this time.

He thought he was pathetic, but he was scared, there was no one else to turn to − his body was shaking all over from stress and terror, his breathing quick and raspy, tears of fear in his eyes.

Biip.

"− hello? −"

He heard her uncertain voice on the other side and drew in the air loudly, shocked, swallowing hard, taking a deep breath, running his hand over his face.

"− fuck − I − I − I did something very, very stupid − I took a whole packet of sleeping pills − I don't know what came over me − oh fuck, what have I done −" He muttered in a squeaky, high-pitched voice, like a helpless child who had broken a vase and realised what his parent would do to him when they found out.

"− what? − oh God − are you home? − I'm calling the ambulance −"

"− n-no − no, fuck, they'll kick me out of the national prosecutor's office − please −"

"− go quickly to the bathroom and try to induce vomiting − give me the code to your gate, I'll be right there −"

He seemed to act in an amok, as he rose from the couch everything around him swirled − she told him to take his phone to the restroom, so he did.

He fell to his knees in front of the toilet, shoving two fingers down his throat − after several attempts he finally threw up, whooping with his tears, coughing loudly, his whole body shaking in convulsions, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

How could he do this, how could he be so selfish?

"− I'm sorry −" He mumbled, sliding slowly to the ground, feeling his mind begin to envelope in a blissful peace and quiet, her voice coming from the speaker of his phone seemed to him only a distant whisper.

He thought he would take a nap for a while, rest and when he woke up everything would be fine.

It seemed to him that minutes, hours or years might have passed when he felt someone move his body − he shuddered as someone's fingers forced their way between his lips, his numb body powerless to resist.

"− come on, please − get it out of you − God, what have you done − please, please, come on −" He heard her crying beside him, the tips of her fingers pressing against the back of his tongue, until finally his stomach convulsed with a powerful spasm, and his body threw it all out with his throaty cough of exertion.

He heard her sobs, smelled her scent, her closeness, how her hands washed his face with water, how she stroked his head as she hugged him to her breasts, mumbling in despair that he was a fool, something warm and soft enveloped them.

He fell asleep, recognising that this was what heaven must have been like.

When he woke up he felt everything around him spinning − he muttered in displeasure, another cramp squeezing his stomach.

He pulled himself up, in the dark looking for the toilet, at the last moment leaning over it and vomited again, panting loudly, everything around him blurred, it seemed to him that it was morning.

He heard movement beside him − someone's hand touched his back and stroked him with a gentle, affectionate gesture as convulsion again shook his body, which was trying with all its might to rid itself of what he had swallowed the day before.

Nothing more than a mumble left his mouth, his head drooped involuntarily − he felt someone pull him back to keep him from sliding down onto the tiles. He lay down, something soft enveloped him again.

"− it's okay − sleep −" He heard her whisper and thought that the pills he had taken were causing him to hallucinate, that he was probably dreaming it all, and since he was and she wasn't really there he could embrace her, his arm grabbed her waist, his face snuggled between her breasts again with his loud purr of contentment and exhaustion.

He felt her hands embrace him, stroking his head and back − he thought, feeling the hard floor beneath him, that they were lying in the bathroom and she must have brought the duvet and pillows from his bedroom, sleeping in that room with him.

He fell asleep and woke up hearing someone walking around his house, once in a while someone touched his head − he heard her voice asking him some questions that he was unable to focus on − she was only answered by his frustrated sounds indicating that he just wanted to sleep on.

Finally when he opened his eyes he managed to see anything − the bathroom door was open, the light in the room was off. He had a perfect view of the corridor and part of the living room lit up in the sun − he heard someone's footsteps, his heart jumped into his throat when he saw her silhouette in the doorway.

"− hey − hey, how are you feeling? −" She muttered walking up to him and kneeling beside him, her loose hair in a slight disarray, she was wearing shorts and a plain white Tshirt. He looked away from her breasts when he noticed she wasn't wearing a bra, swallowing hard.

He didn't reply, feeling an overwhelming sense of shame, remembering what he had done, how disgusting and selfish he had acted, that he had forced her to help him again despite having caused her such harm.

"− I − I would like to talk to some therapist −" He choked out with tears in his eyes, not looking at her but somewhere in front of him, his breathing shallow and uneven − it seemed to him as if his lungs had completely clenched.

"− alright − alright, I'll look for someone nearby − okay? −" She asked tentatively and he just nodded, unable to look her in the eye. He heard her get up quickly, and a moment later she was back, sitting down next to him with her phone in her hand, typing something quickly on her screen, apparently scrolling through the accounts of doctors who had offices in the same town.

"− there's a Dr Smith, he's got a free appointment in two days at one o'clock in the afternoon, or a Dr Morgan, but he… −"

"− anyone − as soon as possible −" He said dispassionately, looking blankly ahead, heard her swallow hard and click something quickly, heard his phone vibrate beside him on the floor.

"− I've booked you an appointment and sent you details via message −" She mumbled, and he nodded.

"− thank you − you can −"

"− I spoke to your sister on the phone while you were asleep and told her everything − we agreed that Daeron will stay with her and I'll watch over you until your first appointment −" She said coldly with some kind of regret from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. He pressed his lips together, feeling his body tremble and closed his eyes, wanting to just disappear.

He shuddered, looking at her in disbelief as she slipped her purple scarf out of the pocket of her tracksuit shorts, the same one he'd found on the floor and kept. She tied her hair with it, combing it into a ponytail, staring straight into his eyes.

"I found this on your couch. Did you think of me before you did it?" She asked, with soft, sure flicks of her fingers arranging her curls as she saw fit. He swallowed hard at her question, feeling a burning sense of embarrassment.

"− yes −" He sighed. She let out a quiet breath at his words, placing her hands on her thighs.

"− are you able to get up? −"

With her help he managed to rise with difficulty − he brushed his teeth feeling the still disgusting taste of vomit and acid on his tongue and then lay down on the sofa, grabbing his head. He watched her silhouetted in the kitchen as she opened the cupboards one by one until she found his first aid kit.

He saw her throw away all the packets of sleeping pills he had.

"− hey −" He threw to her wrinkling his eyebrows, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep a wink without them.

"− you'd better not speak −" She said warningly, without giving him a single glance, so he gave in, sighing heavily and closing his eyes, figuring there was no point in arguing.

To his surprise she moved around the rooms as if this was her home, sat down next to him at the other end of the sofa with an apple in her hand and turned on the TV as if nothing had happened. He looked at her, wondering if she was really going to sit here for days, but then decided it didn't matter.

When he finally got the phone call from Helaena he listened to almost half an hour of a litany from her about how irresponsible and selfish he was, only to hear a moment later that she loved him very much and that he needed to start taking care of himself − he assured her several times that he already had an appointment with a therapist, and Esmeralda wouldn't leave his side.

"− is that what you call me? −" She asked quietly after he had hung up, looking at the TV screen on which the news had just been airing. He looked at her surprised, realising that it wasn't actually her real name after all.

"− yes −" He replied lowly, playing with his phone between his fingers.

They didn't talk much to each other apart from the usual basic politeness. After a couple of hours he felt well enough to get up − he was still dizzy and still had no appetite, but he drank plenty of water and thought with relief that the danger had passed.

Evening finally fell and, tired after all that had happened, he simply headed upstairs to his bedroom, wanting to give her some solitude and privacy.

Changing into his pyjamas, which consisted of a simple t-shirt and black tracksuit bottoms, he shuddered and looked in disbelief at the door to his room when it opened, her figure stepping inside as if nothing had happened, climbing on his bed, lying under his duvet, turning her back to him.

What?

He pressed his lips together, wondering if he should say something or not, but in the end he couldn't resist.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to sleep. I'm tired. Could you turn out the light?" She asked quietly.

He grunted and, as she requested, walked over to the switch, flicking it, complete darkness fell all around them.

The thought that she was going to sleep in the same bed with him, even if only to keep an eye on him, made him instantly hard.

He lay down at a safer distance behind her, looking at her back and neck, knowing that she could feel his breath, but not daring to touch her.

He wondered if she was punishing him this way, showing him that she was at his fingertips, but after what he had done there was nothing else he could do but watch.

It would have been enough for him if he could have just jerked off looking at her, concentrating on her scent and the fact that she was next to him, but he felt he had no right to bring himself relief after all of this.

He didn't deserve it.

That's why he was just dying in agony, writhing − without his pills despite his fatigue he could not fall asleep, on top of that he was too aroused, her closeness was driving him crazy.

"− will you stop squirming? − I can't sleep −" She muttered at last, raising herself up on her elbow, looking at him with furrowed brows.

He felt his lips part involuntarily in desire at the sight of her face, at the thought that she didn't have a bra under her shirt, that there were her lovely breasts under that material that he could caress all night.

"− sorry −" He just choked out, trying to calm his breathing, his cock pulsed painfully swollen under the material of his sweatpants.

He made big eyes and flinched, embarrassed as she pushed back the duvet that covered them both, her gaze going to his trousers and what was going on inside them.

A tense silence fell between them − he could feel his whole body quivering with desire, grief and shame.

He wondered if she would mock his state and his desperation.

"− we can do it if you want − like civilised people − I'd like to experience some sleep tonight −" She said softly and he looked at her in disbelief, the bulge in his sweatpants twitched hard at her words.

"− are you sure? − I wouldn't −"

"− make me feel good −" She said quietly.

He drew in the air loudly as she said this, grabbing the material of her t-shirt and lifting it, pulling it over her head, revealing her lovely breasts to him.

She sighed loudly when his face immediately pressed against her nipple, alternately sucking and licking it with the tip of his tongue, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her back. She moaned quietly, surprised when he pulled her to him, her palms sliding into his hair, holding him close.

They lay on their sides, embracing each other in a tight grasp. He wriggled in disbelief and delight, willing and eager to show her how much he regretted it, how much he desired her, how much he loved her − his hand grasped tentatively her other breast, kneading it with his fingers.

"− so soft −" He gasped, listening to her quiet sighs of pleasure. He felt her throw her leg against his waist, which he grasped confidently, clenching his fingers on her thigh and pulled her closer, letting her feel how much he wanted her, his manhood throbbed impatiently beneath his trousers, hitting her stomach.

"− how −" He asked between flicks of his tongue licking and sucking her hard, puffy nipple like a little child, stroking the soft skin of her hips. He slipped his hand under the material of her shorts, tracing his fingertips over her plump buttocks, wanting to be sure that this time he would do everything the way she needed it, give her pleasure and reassurance, at the pace and the way she wanted it.

She stroked his hair at his question and placed a short, warm kiss on his forehead − he murmured lowly as he felt her begin to rub against him, encouraging him to do the same, his lips letting go of her nipple with a loud plop to look at her.

"− you on top − but touch me down there first −" She whispered embarrassedly, turning onto her back, pulling his arm behind her, looking at him with a gaze hot with desire and affection.

He leaned in, letting his swollen lips brush hers, which responded immediately to his caress, her fingers cupping his neck, deepening the kiss.

"− mmm −" She hummed, squirming beneath him. He ran his hand down her body, in a tentative, unhurried motion slipping his hand under the material of her shorts, wanting to give her time to react, but she sensing this spread her thighs wider, easing his access, his fingers finally running over her swollen, hot, wet womanhood.

"− God, little one − I want to use my mouth here −" He gasped appreciatively, thinking only of the fact that he had been dreaming of this for weeks. He smiled involuntarily when he saw her nod quickly, her sweet, full lips parted in an accelerated breath.

"− okay −" She whispered quietly, letting him slide the material of her shorts and underwear off her − he marvelled at the sight of her naked body, thinking with some kind of emotion that he felt like crying.

"− so beautiful −" He whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her stomach, on her womb, on her hip, on her thigh, knee and calf. He looked at her and noticed that she was watching him intently, her breasts rising and falling in uneven breaths, her hands on either side of her head.

"− come here −" He murmured softly, in a gentle motion pushing her hips closer to him, spreading them in front of him − he heard her gasp loudly as he leaned over her bared flesh. He let his hot breath envelop her skin before his nose ran over her hot, soft womanhood, his lips lazily clinging to her folds, placing a lingering, sticky kiss on them.

He tightened his hands on her thighs when he felt her throw her head back with a sweet, surprised moan, her fingers traveling to his short hair, stroking it in impatient motion, pressing his face close to her body.

"− please −" She mumbled, and he huffed with amusement, trailing his lips up to her puffy clit, sliding then down to her leaking, swollen slit, teasing her barely, not giving her what she needed.

"− no − we're going to do this very, very slowly − with due respect to you −" He hummed contentedly, feeling some kind of pride that he could do it this way, could give it to her and be what she needed.

She whimpered softly, writhing before him, her breathing quickened and shuddered, her body trembling in his hands, thirsting for fulfilment.

"− don't be cruel −" She mumbled resentfully, as if she thought he was teasing and taunting her. He sighed quietly, placing a warm, hot kiss on her sticky skin − a surprised, loud moan escaped her lips as the tip of his tongue suddenly forced its way inside her, deeper and deeper with each stroke, imposing an intense, fast pace on her.

"− o-oh fuck, yes, lick me −" She mewled, clenching her fingers in his hair, bucking her hips against his face, trying to find a more intense source of rubbing. He smirked under his breath as he discovered after a moment between her fleshy muscles the spot he was looking for, her whines increasingly pathetic and helpless, her walls beginning to throb around his tongue.

He heard her whimper his name, her whole body tensed as if she was trying to break away from him, but he didn't stop, letting her come on his face.

He purred contentedly as he felt how much of her moisture flowed out of her tight entrance, determined to make sure he licked every drop and not let anything go to waste despite her cries.

He surprised her when he didn't pull away, but repeated all the steps from the beginning, slowing his pace again, merely teasing her with his lips, her body twitching at his every move, overstimulated and delicate.

"− n-no more − I want you inside me −" She mumbled softly, and he looked up at her, licking his lips with his tongue, feeling her words in his trousers.

Even though he planned to spend the whole night between her thighs, he couldn't refuse such a request.

"− it's okay − there you go −" He hummed, rising to his knees, slipping his sweatpants down just enough to release his swollen, hard erection leaking from his precum. He placed one hand next to her head, the other guiding the fat, pink head of his cock between her widely spread thighs.

"− such a good girl − hm? − my sweet little baby, am I right? −" He cooed and she nodded quickly, looking at him with big eyes hazed with desire − it seemed to him that she didn't recognise him, that she didn't believe he was the same man she had met then.

He didn't believe it himself, but it felt wonderful.

They both sighed loudly when, with one slow thrust, he opened her wide on his swollen length, leaning over her, pressing his forehead to hers, her trembling hand rising to stroke his cheek, her lips pressed to his in a warm, innocent kiss.

He murmured contentedly, forcing her to fit all of him inside her with an impatient thrust of his hips − he heard her quiet cry of discomfort and surprise and swallowed loudly feeling his manhood pulsing intensely inside her, so hungry for her closeness.

She closed his waist between her legs, crossing them over his back, and he lay on top of her, pulling his t-shirt off quickly, resting his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing her, feeling her little, puffy nipples on his naked chest.

She sighed sweetly, looking up at him dreamily, trailing her fingers down his face and neck as he slipped out of her only to sink into her again a moment later with a loud click of her moisture − she was all wet and warm inside after her intense orgasm, her muscles squeezing him wonderfully from all sides.

"− that's it − just like that - it's okay −" He whispered tenderly, letting himself sink into the taste of her sticky, plump lips again, her hands trailing down his sweaty, muscled back as he involuntarily sped up his pace, pressing his nose to her cheek, slamming into her with more and more sure, brutal thrusts of his hips, groaning low along with her.

"− oh, fuck, baby −" He gasped, listening to her moans of pleasure, her insides wonderfully warm and tight, quivering all over in sensation, soaking him wet. He began to root aggressively into her weeping cunt panting hard, all around them only the loud sound of their moist, naked bodies slapping quickly against each other.

"− please − please − please −" She mumbled out looking up at him with her mouth wide open, digging her fingers into the hot skin of his back − he could feel her walls clench around him tighter, sucking him inside. He shuddered hard at her words, focusing now only on rooting again and again into her warm, fleshy interior.

"− I don't know if I'm going to let you sleep tonight − I think I'd rather do this with you instead −" He breathed out into her mouth, pushing his tongue deep into her throat − he felt her body shake as she convulsed, her hands clenched painfully hard on his body as she came a second time with sweet mewl of effort, panting loudly as if she couldn't catch her breath, her muscles began to throb greedily around his cock, sucking him inside.

He tilted his head back and sighed in relief, a few sloppy, rough thrusts prolonging the inevitable − his warm cum spilled deep inside her, a hot wave of pleasure surging through his lungs.

He crushed her with his body, feeling their bodies quivering and twitching all over, both of them panting hard as if they had run a marathon, their hands running blindly over each other's naked skin as if they wanted to calm and soothe each other.

"− I love you −" He muttered, lying with his eyes closed, his nose snuggled into her hot, soft cheek. "− you know that, don't you? −"

"− yes −" She answered him quietly, and he sighed heavily, snuggling into her like a small child.

That much was enough for him.

He didn't expect anything from her.

He just wanted her to know it.

He spent that night as if in a frenzy, holding her close, embracing her from behind tightly with his arms, their legs entwined together in disarray. He fell asleep with his face pressed against her hair, completely overwhelmed by her wonderful scent, the warmth of her naked body, one of her hands placed on his making sure he didn't let go of her soft breasts.

They hadn't said much to each other after they awoke − when he turned her face towards him and he just sank into her swollen lips in a sticky, hot kiss. She purred sleepily at this caress, her fingertips running over his jaw.

She let him take her a second time then, from behind this time − she was so wet from their shared moisture that he slid into her without much difficulty, stretching her wonderfully tight walls with a sigh of delight.

He rooted into her with lazy, slow thrusts of his hips, making sure that each time the fat head of his cock rubbed her sweet spot, one of his hands playing with her puffy, little nipple, the other sunk deep between her thighs, teasing her swollen clit.

"− do you want me to stop? −" He whispered in her ear, and she shook her head, digging her fingers into his arm with which he embraced her at the waist.

"− n-no − it feels good −" She muttered in embarrassment − he kissed her hot cheek with a sticky click of his saliva seeing her lips parted in accelerated breath, her dreamy, warm gaze.

"− so I'm afraid I'm going to fill you a second time, sweet girl −" He hummed, running the tip of his nose over her pretty face. She moaned quietly at his words, feeling him suddenly speed up, slamming into her with more confident, brutal pushes − she tilted her head back, his lips immediately pressed against her neck.

"− d-don't − don't leave marks −" She mumbled out, quickly clenching her hand in his hair − she whimpered softly as she felt his fingertips dig harder into her fleshy folds.

"− I won't, baby − shhh −" He hushed her, running his lust-swollen lips over her soft skin, feeling her weeping walls squeeze him greedily at his words, forcing him to thrust into her more aggressively, his fingers sinking into her plushy thigh, holding her in place, panting along with her.

"− ah, G-God − She babbled, responding helplessly to his movements with rocking, both of them groaning in pleasure and relief as her muscles began to clench against him in a sudden orgasm, his thighs all sticky with her wetness.

"− yes, that's it − oh baby −" He muttered, letting go, with the last of his strength thrusting into her for a moment more before his seed filled her to the brim.

He hid the tip of his nose in her hair with his eyes closed, panting loudly with pleasure, holding firmly her body trembling in fulfilment in the tight embrace of his arms.

"− can I stay inside you? −" He whispered into her ear and she only nodded, falling into slumber again a moment later.

For the first time in many years he didn't have to get up at dawn, he didn't have to focus on work, on Daeron, on anyone or anything more than himself and her.

He couldn't believe it was really happening.

He lay thinking only of the fact that he was deep inside her, that he could feel her and smell her − he placed one of his hands over her heart wanting to feel how it beat, how her chest rose and fell in calm breaths.

The days before his appointment with the psychiatrist he had spent between her thighs.

She walked around his house wearing nothing but his T-shirt and it was enough for him standing behind her to lift its fabric a little to see her lovely, plump buttocks.

"− stop − we need to eat something −" She muttered as he knelt on the kitchen tiles while she was trying to prepare dinner for them, so that he could kiss her hot, soft skin with a murmur of satisfaction. His hand slipped lower, between her thighs, his fingertips collecting her moisture mingled with his semen, a reminder of what he had been doing to her all day.

"− I adore you −" He gasped, sliding his lips lower, placing warm, sticky kisses on her thighs and calves, he heard her quiet sigh.

"− does your friend know that you have a second lover? −" She asked quietly, and he froze, quickly lifting his gaze to her, understanding immediately that she was talking about Alys.

He didn't want to make a mistake and lie, but he also didn't know how to present it so she would know that it was a done deal for him.

"− I stopped seeing her after what happened between us −" He said softly getting up from his knees, looking down at her, putting an unruly lock of her dark hair behind her ear. "− I didn't see the point in it, because all I was thinking about was you −"

He confessed with a kind of pain and weariness, and she lifted her gaze to him, her bright eyes looked at him piercingly, warm and gentle. He leaned in placing a long, drawn-out kiss on her forehead.

She snuggled into his chest as if seeking refuge, and he embraced her kissing the top of her head devotedly, running his large hands down her back in a reassuring, tender gesture.

"− I can't promise you anything −" She said at last, and he swallowed hard, knowing what she meant.

"− I know − I don't expect it −" He whispered, cuddling his face into her fragrant hair, closing his eyes, her closeness and her scent calming him in some strange, incomprehensible way.

"− I will always wait for you −"

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires

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hopeluna-archived · 1 year

Text

── ❊ Request: Hey I love your work you’re one of my favorite writers on tumblr!! If you want to I have an Idea! Could u do obey me headcanon or fic on an mc who is sick? TYSM!! __

── ❊ Characters: Lucifer x reader

── ❊ CW: none! Except me being dumb :D 'cause at the end of writing this, I realised that I read the request wrong and thought that you had requested a Lucifer fic with sick reader so excuse my dumbness and I hope u like this <3

M.list

"Lucifer, I really don't think I need another bowl of soup- no don't give me that look, I feel just fine I promise"

Lucifer had turned into a complete mother hen from the moment he came back to the house from RAD and learned from Mammon that you had caught a cold.

He was on you in a second, arranging the bed with fluffed pillows, making sure there is a warm cup of tea on the table beside the bed and occasionally glaring at his brothers when they make too much noise, warning them that you have a headache.

The last 30 minutes had been spent on Lucifer insisting you to have some soup as he was convinced you hadn't eaten enough, ignoring the fact that he had made you eat three bowls already.

"You need to have a full stomach, MC- its important to have your strength back" Lucifer gives a firm nod your way, gesturing to his raised hand with a spoonful of broth, ready to handfeed you if thats what it took.

"Fine! But this is the last one" sighing, you took a mouthful of the warm food, you had to admit it did feel good to eat it and have it soothe your aching throat.

Lucifer sat there for a while, making sure you were actually going to eat everything and not try to skip over stuff, when the incessant shouting of his brothers outside the door reached him. He made out the words "Solomon", "food" and "MC" before he quickly made his way outside the room.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

It took almost an hour to convince Solomon to hand his cooking over to the brothers, insisting that they would give it to you and that there was no need for Solomon to stick around as "we're pretty sure you've got other important stuff to do".

When the wizard finally relented and made his way out, Mammon and Levi were tasked to get rid of the food. "Throw it away, bury it, just get it away from me!!", were Asmo's exact words.

Lucifer tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose in the middle of all the bickering and chaos. Not one peaceful day in this house.

Deciding to ignore the brothers, he entered the room once again to check on you, just to find you asleep, with a light snore and a empty bowl on the table.

Taking off one of his gloves and pressing the back of his cool hand to your forehead, a little frown made way to his face on finding yours still flushed with warmth.

Just as he went to pull his hand back, with a sleepy incoherent mumble, you grabbed his hand to snuggle to your heated face. I can stay a bit here, I guess.... and with a last look towards the door to make sure one of the brothers didn't stab another one, Lucifer took his shoes and coat off and carefully got under the covers, the movement receiving an appreciative hum and more snuggling from you.

The next morning when you woke up feeling refreshed and headache gone, the smile on your face was definitely worth it to Lucifer to get sick.

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 1 year

Text

Dress Code | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi! this is a repost because some bitch ass reported my original posting of this fic 🙄

warnings: asshole exes, anxiety, some alcohol

You didn’t hear Bucky call out for you. He tried once, twice, to get your attention, but failed. Only when appeared behind you in the bathroom mirror did you notice his presence. You jumped, silently cursing the winter soldier training that made him so stealthy. And while you always loved to spend time with him, you hadn’t intended to show him your outfit. You didn’t even know why you tried it on. It sat at the back of your closet for almost a year and a half, ignored.

But Bucky’s unannounced presence put you in a difficult position. It was too late- he’d seen the outfit never meant for his view.

“Oh, wow…” his voice pulled you back to reality. A long moment passed as he raked his gaze slowly over your form in the mirror. “You look incredible.” His mouth nearly watered at the sight of you in such an out of character ensemble. Black, tight, revealing. It gave away just enough without revealing everything, teasing Bucky with what remained concealed.

You gave him a sheepish smile in the mirror, not ready to face him for real. “Oh, um, thanks, babe… you like it?”

He gave a nod so vehement that you feared he’d get whiplash. “We might not even make it to the party…” He shot you a devilish wink that made your chest tighten. “I’ll tell Nat you looked too delicious for me to share you- I’m sure she’ll understand.”

A shy laugh made its way out of your mouth as you picked at your cuticles. You’d done your nails just for tonight, but suddenly had the urge to peel the polish right off. “Um, I actually might change, though- I’m not sure. But I swear I’ll be ready soon.”

Bucky placed his hands on your hips and gently turned you toward him, placing a light kiss to your glossed lips. “No rush, doll. I just came in here to ask- what kind of wine does Nat drink? Sam wants to get her a bottle, but he wasn’t sure what she likes.” His fingers trailed up and down your sides as a mischievous smile pricked at the corners of his mouth. “I just got distracted by the absolute goddess standing in front of me…”

A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. “She um, she likes reds. Cab is her favorite, but she’ll drink merlot.”

He granted you another chaste kiss. Bucky had experienced a lot of hardship in his life, endured more torment than anyone could imagine. But keeping his hunger for you under control proved to be the hardest thing he’d ever done. And when he pulled away from your lips, he only managed to drag his eyes away from you long enough to reply to Sam’s text.

As Bucky typed, you faced the mirror once again. You had to admit- you did look amazing. But you still feared leaving the apartment in such an outfit. Maybe you’d keep it relegated to the bedroom, allowing Bucky- and only Bucky - to see it.

“Are you sure…” you said, your voice timid. “Is it okay if I wear this?”

Bucky gave you a laugh and rested his hands on your hips. “Well, I’m not the best person to ask for fashion advice, cause I mostly wear black on black. On black,” he gestured to his monochromatic outfit. “But you look amazing. So, I say go for it, doll.”

Bucky’s praise warmed your cheeks once again, but you remained conflicted. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! You know how causal Nat is- the last place you’d find a dress code is at one of her parties.” He pressed his chest to your back and dropped a few kisses along your neck. “In fact, she might even try to steal you away from me.”

You gave Bucky a roll of your eyes and contemplated your options. Sure, you could slip into a pair of jeans and a cute top like always, but something in you wanted to pull out a new look. Something fun. And this dress was the perfect choice. Bucky clearly though you looked like a knockout, and you loved the way the fabric hugged your body. No event was more perfect for this dress than one of Nat’s parties- it was meant to be.

“Well, in that case, I’m ready to go.” You took Bucky by the hand and led him out of the bathroom, more confident than ever. But the seed of doubt you’d planted earlier began blossoming into full on worry. And before you even made it out the bedroom door, you found yourself doubling back.

“Oh, actually- I’m gonna grab a jacket real quick.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “are you sure? It’s pretty warm tonight, sweets, and this is an outdoor shindig.”

You gave an overly casual shrug, “yeah. Just in case- never know when you’ll need it.”

The night went off without a hitch. You spent hours sipping on elderflower & pear seltzers and laughing with your closest friends. Compliment after compliment flew your way- everyone loved your look. Red wine flowed and music pounded. And like a group of schoolchildren, the party quickly separated into a group of guys and a group of women. You spent your evening with Nat, Maria, Wanda, and the rest of the girls while Sam, Clint, Scott and a few other guys stood near the bar.

But Bucky blurred the line. He couldn’t keep his hands off you, couldn’t resist you in the slightest. Every twenty minutes or so, he felt compelled to pay you a visit. He was drawn to you with no hope of resisting- not that he ever wanted to.

Observing you from afar just wasn’t good enough. He needed to be up close and personal; close enough to smell your perfume, to taste the wine on your lips. He never wanted to impede on your time with Nat and the other girls, but you were just too mesmerizing. It almost seemed as though he were a sailor, and you, his siren. And if you led him to his death with your tantalizing, magnetic song, he wouldn’t mind.

And though you appeared to have a great time, Bucky clocked a slight tension. A stiffness in your shoulders. A rigidity in your jaw. It wasn’t constant. But it was there. And Bucky wondered what had you so uncomfortable. He kept an eye out for outsiders and made sure your drinks were safe- nothing felt out of the ordinary.

And as he escorted you to his car after the night’s festivities came to an end, you didn’t bring it up. You didn’t mention a creepy stranger or an off-color comment from Sharon. Only positives spilled from your wine-stained lips.

When you finally arrived home, Bucky opened the door to the apartment and guided you inside. The alcohol was on top of you, and he didn’t fully trust your teetering steps. The last thing he wanted was for you to twist your ankle.

“I’m ready to not be walking on knives…” you said- or, slurred. You rocked side to side, the effects of the alcohol pushing you off balance as you tried to escape your heels.

“Here, let me, baby …” Bucky steadied your body against a wall before kneeling in front of you.

He carefully unbuckled one heel at a time, and slipped your foot out of the tight shoe. “This is like a reverse-Cinderella situation, isn’t it?” He laughed, staring up at your slack-jawed smile, “only I wouldn’t have to try your shoe on every woman in town.” He stood and swiped a bit of smeared lipstick from your skin- before smearing a bit more with his own lips. “I mean, who could forget a face like this?”

A contented sigh left your chest as you melted against him, “I’m really glad we went tonight. I like celebrating Nat.”

Bucky trailed kisses around your hairline and across your cheek. “Yeah? Good. I was afraid…” he almost stopped himself. You were drunk. Sleepy. Maybe this wasn’t the right time. But if he waited till tomorrow, he knew there was a chance you’d come up with an excuse by then. “I thought maybe you weren’t having a good time.”

You cocked your head to the side, your glassy eyes narrowing just a touch. “Huh? Why?”

Bucky shrugged. “Well, you seemed a little tense, doll. All night. I kind of thought maybe you were upset or something. It seemed like…” He let out a sigh. Maybe he was projecting. He always assumed he’d done something wrong. Or that he hadn’t done something you wanted him to. But he needed to know. All he ever wanted was to be better- the best- for you. He wanted constructive criticism and performance reviews. He needed to be as perfect for you as you were for him. And so, he pressed on, “Every time I walked over, you kinda stiffened up.”

A frown pulled your features downward. Your hands shot up to Bucky’s cheeks and pulled his face toward yours. “Oh, Buck, oh no- I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything…”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he laughed. “I just wanted to double check.”

“I only thought you might do something- or, actually…” You paused for a moment, formulating your drunk, murky thoughts. “It really has nothing to do with you.”

Bucky wasn’t following. He was certain that this was a mistake, that he should’ve waited till morning to bring it up. But it was too late now.

“I just kinda got used to it and so I expected it to happen. But you didn’t do it!” You gave his cheeks a gentle squish. “So it’s all good.” With that, your lips swept against his in a soft kiss, smearing his skin with your lipstick.

Bucky almost didn’t want to ask. But he needed to know. “I didn’t do what, baby?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “call me slut.”

Bucky’s ears started ringing. There was no way her heard you right- was there? Maybe he was drunk- no, he couldn’t get drunk. Maybe he imagined it? “Wait, what? Why would I call you a…” he didn’t want to say it. “Why would I do that?”

“Because of my outfit!” You said it so casually, so matter of fact. Almost as though it were normal. “It’s pretty tight. And revealing. And my titties are almost, like, all the way out.” You gave your chest a shake. “So I thought you’d get mad at me. But you didn’t!” You pressed another long kiss to his lips, “thanks for not yelling.” A soft, tired smile punctuated your sentence. But Bucky knew this was a red flag.

He knew instantly this was a holdover from your ex. The one who belittled you, criticized you, acted as though you belonged to him. He made you feel like you were his property, like he was in control of your entire life. What you wore, what you ate, what you watched- he decided.

He was insecure. He knew how beautiful you were, how out of his league. And so, he opted to tear you down. To blame you for his own self-doubt. To chastise and berate you for showing what he deemed ‘too much’ skin or wearing ‘too much’ make up. He always asked who you were dressing up for, who you were trying to impress. If not him, who else was there? What other reason did you have to get dolled up?

He even went through your closet once while you were away, ridding your wardrobe of anything he deemed ‘inappropriate’. He threw it all out and called you a slut, a whore- simply for owning such clothing.

He required you get his permission to wear anything short or low cut. He assumed you wanted to sleep with- or already slept with- any man you talked to. Coworkers, friends, the barista at your coffee place. He saw everything you did in public as flirtatious and risqué. He said he couldn’t trust you. That your friends were a bad influence. He did everything he could to pull your life apart until only he remained.

“Okay, we’re gonna talk about this more when you’re sober,” Bucky said, “But I’m never going to yell at you- especially not for something as inconsequential as an outftit.”

“You can yell at me,” you sighed. It was the sound of someone dejected, resigned- someone forced into submission. “Sometimes I don’t learn my lesson, and so I need to be yelled at. Ya know?” Your sad smile made another appearance.

Bucky shook his head. He was disgusted with your ex. With men in general, really. “No, that’s just something he told you, doll. You don’t need to be yelled at. I’m your boyfriend- not your parent, not your boss. I’m not going to yell at you- ever.”

You perked up suddenly. “Really? I like that, I like not being yelled at.”

Bucky nodded and left a kiss against your forehead. “You’re a fully grown adult; you’re allowed to wear whatever you want- you know that, right? You’re-” He took a pause and the quickly rephrased, “This is not me giving you permission. You don’t need my permission. I’m just saying, it’s your body. They’re your clothes. You should wear what makes you happy, not what you think I’ll ‘allow’”.

You stared up at him, struggling to make sense of such a foreign concept. “Are you sure? Cause… what if, what if I wanna wear something like, really slutty?”

Bucky’s head fell back in a laugh, “That’s not something I’ll ever I be opposed to.”

“But what if-”

“Baby, no ‘what ifs’. No ‘buts’. You should wear whatever you want, whether it’s a parka and snow pants or fishnets and those... those-” he made groping motions at his chest and came up empty, “what are they called? The sticky boob things?”

“Chicken cutlets!” you laughed.

“Yeah! Chicken cutlets!” He couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous name. “You don’t belong to anyone but yourself. Your body is yours. And if you want to wear nothing but chicken cutlets or those little pasty things, that’s your choice.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, weighing the truth of his words. The way you’d been treated was dehumanizing. Demoralizing. Asking permission for something as simple as clothing always made you feel stupid. Small. Ashamed. And though hearing Bucky say these things eased the tension in your shoulders, the apprehension in your chest remained.

“I just don’t wanna…” It felt stupid saying what you feared. You felt like a child. “I just don’t wanna get in trouble.” The admission came with a heavy sigh and few unexpected tears. You lived on a leash for so long it made freedom sound scary.

Bucky pulled you close and showed you the love you needed. He let you breathe. Unlearning the things your ex ingrained in you would take time, this Bucky knew. But he was more than happy to help you on the journey.

“You’re not gonna get in trouble. You can’t get in trouble- not with me.” He pulled your face from his chest and rested his palms against your cheeks, “I’m not in charge of you.”

Meeting his eyeline was hard; shame still had its hooks in you. “But what if I wear something really revealing and other guys hit on me?”

Bucky tucked a finger under your chin and lifted your head ever so slightly. When your eyes finally met his, you found an almost amused smile on his face. “Doll, I know how to fight,” he said with a wink. “It’s my job. Wear whatever you want. And if someone tries to make you uncomfortable, they’ll have me to answer to. Okay?”

This time, your smile was genuine. “Okay,” you laughed, “thanks, Buck. You the best.” You melted against his body with a sigh and barely noticed that he’d swept you up into his arms. No one ever cared for you the way he did. When you’d first met, part of you thought it was a front. Maybe he was trying to right the wrongs of his past by overcorrecting.

But it was real- all of it. His adoration for you, his devotion to you; everything he said was genuine. And as he carried you to bed and helped you get into some pajamas, you knew you’d never have to walk on eggshells with him. He’d never make you ask for permission or beg for forgiveness. He only wanted you to be happy. And if you wanted to wear a different, outrageous, barely-there outfit every day of the week, he’d happily fight off any man who dared comment.

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lucky-bucky-boy · 1 year

Text

Blooming Showers

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: A split-second decision leads to a night full of changes

Word Count: 3610

Warnings: Angst with some fluff at the end, little use of Y/N, assigned nickname towards the end, distrust, anger, wound/mention of blood, anxiety, racing thoughts, friends-to-lovers

A/N: This is definitely my longest piece I’ve written in a really long time. I started watching TASM with my cousin and friends and immediately fell in love with Andrew Garfield all over again so I NEEDED to write something. This isn’t smutty but I kind of want to do a part two thats smutty and angsty

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed and highly appreciated!

Rain softly padded against the window, causing the lights from outside to cast soft shadows, the lights from passing cars making those shadows dance. It was quiet, almost serene in New York - the sirens were few a far between tonight, and distant as well, the occasional coo of a bird trying to find shelter - there were no kids running down the fire escape trying to sneak out, no couples in petty arguments that shook through the thin walls.

Nights like this were few and far in-between, where for a few minutes you were able to fall in love with your city all over again, and you were able to remember every reason why you wanted to be here.

The only thing that would've made the night better would have been seeing Peter, your lifelong best friend, and partner-in-chaos. Your phone lit up occasionally with messages from him, apologizing over and over for missing another scheduled movie night.

It wasn't the end of the world, Aunt May needed help with something so you understood, but it still stung. This was the 4th one this year he'd miss. You understood when there was a foot of snow on the ground, and when midterms then finals week came, but it had felt like since graduation two weeks ago that Peter had been avoiding you.

Trying not to dwell on the sinking feeling was hard, so many changes were happening and your brain was becoming more and more hyper-aware that more changes were bound to come. Graduation may overall be a good thing, opening up new opportunities and finally not having to worry about classes you'd never use a day in your adult life, but it also meant that you were about to start a new chapter of life.

In an attempt to stop the racing thoughts, you decided Fuck Peter for missing your movie night and decided to watch a movie anyways. Pressing play on an old favorite, you left the comfort of your bed to grab some snacks from the kitchen.

Ten minutes. That's all you were gone, but in those ten minutes, the city's beloved vigilante slid your window open, practically tumbling off of the fire escape and onto the floor. He did his best to avoid your bed, not wanting to soak it in the rain or the blood that was on him.

There was a cut through his suit, not deep but enough to nick the skin and have scarlet drops dripping down. He reached for a towel that had been carelessly discarded by you earlier in the night, haphazardly tying his cut up with his free hand and then pulling his mask off.

Peter's breaths were rugged, head now leaned back against your bed as he tried to calm himself from the adrenaline rush of the near-death experience he just had. Sure, he only had a cut and a few bruises to show for it, but he knew deep down without his enhanced sense he surely would have been dead. He hadn't even processed the split-second decision he made to go to your apartment instead of Aunt May's house.

It wasn't until your shrill scream, the sound of the snacks hitting the floor that Peter's eyes flew open, looking at you as if he had just been caught committing a crime. His eyes were wide, realizing at that very moment the weight of his actions and inactions for the past several years. He didn't dare move, only a breathy sigh of your name leaving his lips.

Your brain moved quickly once you realize that the intruder sitting on your floor was Peter… Your Peter, dressed in a red and blue skin-tight suit, holding a mask, with your towel wrapped around his arm. There had to be a reasonable explanation.

"Peter?" You knew it was him, but your brain was still attempting to come up with some explanation as to why he was dressed as Spider-Man.

You quickly grabbed the stuff you had dropped, putting it on the bed and kneeling next to him. "Peter, what the fuck is going on?"

He stared at you, blinking a few times and not sure what to say. He knew there was a lot he needed to say, a lot that needed to be explained but he didn't know where to start. He's been lying to you about a part of himself for years now.

"I'm sorry," he breathed out, breaths still shaky.

You now realized the towel was covering a cut, the smell of iron mixed with city rain present in your nose. "Shit, what the fuck. Are you okay? What the hell is going on?"

He nodded, "I've been worse," he mumbled. "I'll be fine, don't worry 'bout me." He leaned his head back against your bed again, taking a heavy breath in.

That was the worst thing he could have said to you. Don't worry, at this point, you were worried and confused about everything.

"Peter, you're my best friend, you know I love you, but if I do not get an answer as to what is going on in the next minute I am kicking your ass and calling May."

His eyes opened, looking over at you. The look of regret and hurt was evident, "I'm so sorry," he said, barely moving. His body ached but his heart was aching more as he watched the expressions on your face change the more you noticed and pieced things together, "I should've told you but I was scared you'd get hurt."

"Peter, what should you have told me?" Your voice was betraying you, breaking and quivering as you attempted to be firm.

"I- I'm Spider-Man, I've always been. That's- Something happened tonight and I had to go help-"

"So you've been lying to me for 5 years now?"

He went silent and all he could muster was a small nod.

"You've been hiding this from me for 5 years? Peter - I - we tell each other everything. If you've been lying about this, then what else are you fucking lying about?"

The hurt in your voice was evident. It was more like betrayal, and distrust, and it wrenched his heart and gut. The silence lingered as you started piecing more and more together.

Five years. For five whole years, through your senior year of high school and the entirety of your college career, you spent attached at the hip to Peter Benjamin Parker - and he had been lying to you about a pivotal part of his life.

In hindsight, finding out Peter had been Spider-Man all this time made a lot of things make sense. Five years’ worth of last-minute cancellations, questionable excuses, black eyes, and bruises.

There was your senior prom. Aunt May was so excited that Peter and you were going together, she had always joked and wished the two of you would end up as more than friends. "Just memories for your wedding one day", she would say.

Everything leading up to prom was great. Peter went dress shopping with you, he got a tie to match the color of your dress, Aunt May made sure the two of you had a matching boutonniere and corsage, he even took you to and from your appointments the day of prom.

However, an hour into prom itself he had to leave hurriedly, frantically coming up with an excuse of not feeling good when moments prior you had just finished taking pictures and laughing at the cheesy poses.

That one stung, but you never admitted it, at least not to him. Peter had insisted you stay behind, spend time with other friends and he'd see you the next day. You're not even sure if he knows you left 20 minutes after he did, heartbreaking and feeling stupid for hoping Aunt May could be right.

The summer between your senior year of high school and your freshman year of college was filled with last-minute cancellations.

Since you were kids, specifically since second grade every Friday night was movie night and a sleepover. Even as you grew into teenagers Aunt May and your parents worked out an arrangement they could both be comfortable with to let you two continue your little tradition. But that summer every single one was canceled or Peter would leave early.

For weeks you were convinced Peter no longer wanted to be friends with you, that somehow, some way you upset him and he hated you. Until a week before college started and he called you out of the blue for coffee and school shopping.

Suddenly, things seemed normal again. Aunt May's house was close enough that Peter would go home for the weekend, and you would usually just follow along for Friday and then head back to your dorm Saturday. You'd meet up to study a few times a week or go run errands together, you were even back to gaming together once a week.

So, you figured that Peter's sudden change in behavior could have been from his break up with Gwen. You knew he didn't take it easy when she ended things after finding out she was accepted into Oxford. You couldn't blame her really, but you weren't happy to see Peter's heart breaking. He talked about it some, but his eyes would always tell you more than he actually would.

Of course, Peter would bail occasionally throughout college, but a lot of it made sense. He forgot about a project due or was just plain tired from working part-time and doing school.

The part that never made sense though were the bruises and scratches. Peter always had an excuse; got hurt in the lab, fell skateboarding, hurt himself helping Aunt May. But at the end of the day, that's all they were; Excuses.

Peter reached out to you, the touch of his cold hand bringing you back from your racing thoughts. "I…I know I shouldn't have hid it, (Y/N), I'm sorry I did. There was so much going on, so many threats and I- I just didn't want you to get hurt. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if you got hurt."

Tears began to prick your eyes, instantly jumping away from his touch, the feeling of dread and distrust sinking deeper into you with the singular move. "And what if you got hurt? How do you expect me to live with myself if you died?" Your voice was still shaky, fear now starting to fill in the gaps between each emotion.

Your eyes wandered to the towel he had tied around himself, blood beginning to seep through. "Peter," you reached for his arm but he grabbed your hand, stopping you and making you look him in the eyes.

"I'm okay, I promise. It'll heal quickly, just needed to stop the blood… I'll buy you a new towel." His voice was soft, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I'm not worried about the stupid towel, Peter." You sighed, "I- How could you have hidden this from me for so long?" You asked again, this time much more upset than angry.

Peter let out a shaky breath, his body finally starting to come down from the adrenaline and the full weight of his actions set in. "(Y/N), I mean it when I say I wanted to tell you," his voice was sincere, still holding onto your hand that had reached for his cut, "But I was more worried about your safety and making sure you wouldn't prioritize worrying about me over the rest of your life. The only person alive that knows is Harry. I never told anyone else, Aunt May doesn't even know."

It still hurt that Peter never told you, but it was starting to make sense, "How does Aunt May not know?"

Peter shrugged, offering you a soft chuckle, "You know she only sees and hears what she wants to. I never told her, but I'm also shocked she hasn't figured it out."

Peter gave you a look that made you know he was truly sorry, lower lip pouted out some, eyes big and wide, almost looking like a kicked puppy. "I know I have a lot to explain to you, and I know I need to rebuild your trust in me, but I need you to understand that I am really sorry for hiding it for this long. I've wanted to tell you since it all started, but I was told that it could put everyone around me in danger if they knew so I didn't want anyone to find out."

As much as you hated it, you did understand it. Giving him a soft nod, you let go of his hand instead of moving to rake your hand through his hair to get it out of his face. "I understand, but I don't like it."

"You don't like anything that doesn't go your way," he teased with a soft laugh, quickly earning a glare from you that made him laugh more. "I'll also explain everything once I'm not still soaked and healing." He said, motioning to his arm.

You nodded, "Did you wanna go take a shower? I can make some food or order takeout."

Peter thought for a moment then nodded. He unwrapped his arm, looking at the little scratch that was left behind from the wound he had not even 20 minutes prior. "Yeah, yeah let me go shower… do yo-"

"I'll put your clothes and a clean towel by the sink for you once you're in the shower. I'll also take your suit and the towel you have and throw it in the wash, okay? You just go get cleaned up while I find us some food."

Peter nodded, giving you a quick hug and kiss on the forehead before disappearing from your room. It took you a moment, immediately sitting down on the bed, attempting to process everything.

Your best friend of 15 years is Spider-Man. Your favorite person is your favorite superhero. Your best friend has lied to you to be able to go save people. Your best friend could have died, and has probably almost died countless times.

To say it was a lot to take in was an understatement.

You could hear the shower start running in the room next to yours, the sound thankfully pulling you from your spiraling thoughts and panic. As you moved through the apartment, throwing a frozen pizza in the oven and collecting some spare clothes Peter had left behind at your place before, the emotions started to make sense.

Yes, it did hurt that Peter had hidden this, but his reasoning made sense. The hurt that you couldn't shake was how many times you could have lost him. He could have been dead on top of a skyscraper, no one able to discover his body with how high up he is, and you would've been none the wiser. Or if he died on the streets and eventually was unmasked you'd be left to mourn with the rest of the world instead of being able to process the loss of your other half in private. You'd be learning and losing so much so quickly. You'd be lost in a pool of emotions so chaotic it would make this moment seem calm.

Peter was back in your room about 20 minutes later, the pizza fresh out of the oven and sitting on the bed with you. You were looking at the TV, not really watching the forgotten movie you put on. As much as you tried to not let your thoughts continue to run wild, your brain didn't want to listen.

He moved the pizza to the closest surface and sat on your bed, immediately pulling you in for a hug when he saw the lost look on your face. Your mind felt like it was a broken record, spinning fast but on repeat.

"What's going through your head?"

There was no reason to reiterate the same thing you had told him earlier. You pulled off of him, sighing deeply before giving him a small smile, "A lot, but I'll be okay."

He nodded, "So… movie night? I definitely owe you one."

You nodded, looking up at the screen momentarily, your gaze being pulled to your phone as a new news alert popped up about Spider-Man. You didn't bother checking it, but you're brain did finally click the two puzzle pieces together fully that Peter is Spiderman.

You looked over at him with narrowed eyes and a slight pout, "You're fucking Spider-Man," your tone was accusatory which caught him off guard, a slow nod all he was able to offer before you continued, "You have let me tell you for years that I'm in love with Spider-Man. That I would marry this person I thought I'd never meet. That's so embarrassing!" You whined at the end.

Peter chuckled, a blush on his features and his hand going to mess with the back of his head. "Yeah… you finally realize that means you've been saying you're in love with me for like… 4ish years now?" He teased.

It was a joke. It was just banter which was typical for Peter. He was always teasing, playful, and borderline flirty with you. But that statement rang a little too true. You froze, movements and breath seemingly paused, and Peter quickly noticed that your heart rate quickened.

It wasn't the first time that happened around him. He's noticed countless times before how your skin would heat up and your heart rate would increase when he complimented you. He even noticed when he would do something, only sometimes accidentally, that would turn you on. Peter, not wanting to ruin your friendship or make you uncomfortable, never acted on it though.

"You okay, daisy?" It was a nickname he didn't use often, but one that he's called you forever. It held a special place for him, a reminder of some of his first memories of you - flower hair pins and daisy doodles all over your school papers. It was also a term that usually had you flustered and stumbling.

"You finally realize I've been in love with you longer than that?"

Now it was Peter's turn to freeze, taking a moment to make sure he heard you right. He watched as you squirmed some, re-situating yourself and pulling at your clothes, heart rate quickening and eyes avoiding his.

It made sense really, but he couldn't believe it. Peter has had a crush on you since your 5th-grade school dance where you wore a dress your parents let you pick out, so you were beaming with pride and excitement. He remembers you spending the night at Aunt May's after, staying up all night eating snacks and playing video games.

Every day since he's made himself believe there was no way you'd like him back. Peter believed you were far out of his league, and even if that wasn't true he was too scared of losing you to take the risk of pursuing something more.

"How long?" Maybe that wasn't the right response but he wanted to know, felt like he needed to know.

"Longer than I can remember," you responded, breath shaky, "I can't lose you, Peter… I - Spider-Man or not, I can't lose you. And you coming in tonight, wounded and dropping a massive secret like that on me - Peter, you really scared me. I love you and losing you would kill me."

"You're not gonna lose me," his voice was soft.

"Don't make any promises you can't keep," you could feel the tears starting to form.

Peter moved to you, his large hands coming to cup your face and make you look at him. "I'm not making a promise I can't keep. You're not gonna lose me. Not now, not because of being Spider-Man, not ever."

He waited for you to blind away your tears, using his hands to squish your cheeks in an attempt to cheer you up a little. Once he got a soft laugh out of you, he broke out into a smile. "I love you," he said firmly, "I'm in love with you. I have been since we were kids." He confessed to you. "So I mean it, I'm not going anywhere."

Peter watched your eyes get wide as you processed what he said, feeling your skin heat up under his hands, "Can I kiss you?" His voice was soft and airy.

A slight nod was all he needed before he pressed his lips to yours. It was intense and soft and sweet, everything and anything all at once. Butterflies erupted from low in your belly and vibrated your chest. His chapped lips moved in sync against your bite-swollen lips, sending waves of electricity and emotions down your spine and through every nerve.

He pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours as the both of you caught your breaths. His hands fell from your face, searching for your own hands. "I know I have a lot to explain, I have a lot of work to do to make you feel secure and know I'll be here, but I'll do whatever it takes, daisy, I promise."

She huffed out a small laugh, pulling away and nodding, "Thank you, Petey," you pressed another quick kiss to his lips before pulling away fully, giggling at the almost shocked look he had on his face, "Looks like we both have a lot to get used to." Your gaze softened some, "No more secrets?"

Peter laughed as well, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his lips, presently multiple kisses to them. "No more secrets