#believe me you will KNOW about it if i do i would not shut up about it

[scarfacemarston]

Teacher!Natasha x Teacher!Reader Oneshot

For Lesbian Visibility Week! If you enjoyed this, please note and reblog! Feel free to send other prompts or requests! Prompt: The students come into your classroom complaining about Natasha as a teacher not knowing you're her wife. This is version 1. You sighed as you glanced at the digital clock on your computer. Damn. Your planning period was almost over, and you really needed to finish grading these essays. Soon, you would be back to teaching your high school history classes for the day. The period ended far too quickly as students began to file their way into the classroom, discussing this and that. You were so engrossed in your work that you were hardly paying attention until you heard “Ms. Romanoff” mentioned not once, not twice, but in a string of sentences. Oh boy. Ms. Romanoff was one of the more controversial teachers at the school known for her no-nonsense attitude, sternness and sarcasm , but she was also fair with a dry sense of humor. “Why did I take international politics as an elective? Oh, that’s right, I thought it would look good on my transcript!” One student said sarcastically. “She’s so nitpicky! I got an A-. AN A MINUS!” “Hers is the only class I don’t fall asleep in anymore. Not since….last time.” “She’s so strict even the Macklin brothers shut up.” “She’s terrifying. I heard she used to be an undercover agent in the CIA”. You smirked at that one. You should probably look into that rumor. “A spy? Shut-up, man. Who’s going to believe that?” “I heard she was a failed actress.” “I heard she voiced the Russian Siri.” “I heard she’s a rich heiress that lost all her cash.” “Look, guys, I don’t care. She just ripped our class to shreds.I just can’t right now. Nearly the entire class failed her last test. These test corrections are going to take all night.” “At least you’re allowed test corrections! We’re her AP class and the only way we can make up points is through a new essay.” “She’s scary. I swear” “I think she knows what I’m thinking and then that makes me think more and then she thinks what I’m thinking and that thinking makes my head hurt.” “I was ONE minute late to class and she gave me a late slip!” “One time my grandma called me in class, and she made me pick it up.” You shot a quick text to Natasha before the bell rang. Her classroom was two doors down from yours since you two were technically in the same department. Time to log off your grading program and begin class. You pulled out the binder with today’s lesson plans ready to begin. “Wow, you all are full of comments about Ms Romanoff today.” You said neutrally. “Miss Y/N, you don’t understand. She’s so ….uh, extra.” You withheld a smirk. Natasha wasn’t what you would call extra, but she was set in her ways.” “I don’t think she’s extra. I think she just has high standards.” You responded. One of the students rolled their eyes.

"Do you all talk about me like this when I'm not here?"

"Nooo Ms. Y/N, we would never!"

"Well, maybe you could extend the same courtesy to my wife next time," you said, withholding a laugh. The room fell silent. A pin could have dropped.

“Fuck” you heard someone say under their breath. “Language”, you chastised, but you couldn’t say you blamed them. You saw the students in various forms of awkward shuffling, a cough here or there or “Ummm” or “Uhh” as students tried to form sentences. “Wait, you’re married?” a student questioned before being glared at by the others. Your fourth period class was near silent for the rest of the period, with the students seemingly still in shock. One minute til the bell rang. You saw a flash of red hair out of the corner of your eye. Thirty seconds. Natasha knocked on the door. “Hey, you, we’re all ordering from Robert’s Deli for lunch. You want your usual or will you finally try something new?” Natasha teased. The class whipped their heads collectively towards the door. It was becoming harder not to laugh. Natasha narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on, Y/n?” “Oh, you’re scaring my class, dear!” You said, smiling widely. Natasha scoffed. “Dear, huh? Oh, so they found out, didn’t they? As if us entering the building together and leaving together in the same car wasn’t hint enough that we’re married.  Yeah, I might have scared a few of them. It was well deserved, trust me, Isn’t that right, Reynolds?” Jason Reynolds sank down into his seat, not meeting Natasha’s eyes. The bell rang. The students couldn’t scramble enough as they grabbed their bags and rushed past Natasha. You gave a small laugh as you finally met Natasha. “You’re a mean woman, you know that?” “Hey, you texted me, babe.” “It was great, not gonna lie. Sorry the “secret” is out.” “It’s not like we’re closeted, we’re simply professional. I’m surprised they didn’t figure it out sooner….or maybe I’m not.” Natasha muttered. Your stomach growled. “Alright, I’ll look up the menu. Find something new to try for once. Promise.” You said in response to your stomach. Natasha nodded. “Don’t want you to scare the next class because you’re hungry.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romonova #black widow #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Baby’s Gotta Gun (Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You’ve been in a situationship with Rafe for over a year and when you show up to his party that he invited you to and there’s another girl all over him, you’ve finally had it. WK: 1.3k

Warnings: Gun play, unprotected sex, jealousy, possessiveness, reader is a lil unhinged, switch!Rafe, switch!reader, a lil fluff dashed in. Porn/no plot. 18+MNDI!

This is for me and @babygorewhore’s Writing Prompt Game, feel free to click the link and come play!!🤍

“Tell me, tell me who owns this fucking cock.” You run the tip of his pistol over his plush split slick lips while you bounce on his cock like your life depends on it. The sound of your wet cunt and hips slapping together echoing through the room.

“You - fuckin’ shit - you do baby, you own my cock.” Rafe’s eyes roll back when you start to rotate your hips, his large hands grip onto the fat of your ass while you ride him like a fucking succubus.

“Didn’t I tell you to fucking look at me while I take what’s mine, huh?” You move the gun to his head, shoving it against his temple as your free hand grips onto his jaw, squeezing his cheeks together until he opens his eyes. “You look those other girls in the eyes while you fuck them or do you just get it in and move on? Because when you fuck me you take your time, tell me how beautiful I am and how much I mean to you but then you’re buried in the next hoe you see.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. You know - oh fuuuck - you know you’re my girl.” Rafe feels like he’s about to fucking bust any second. Your pace doesn’t falter for a moment, fucking yourself on his cock like you’re trying to drain him of every drop of cum in his body. Driven by pure jealousy and rage.

“Yeah? You’re always fucking saying that, Cameron. But then shit like this happens. I show up to your party, that you invited me to and there’s some bitch on your lap with her tongue down your throat the minute I get here?” You run the barrel of the gun down the side of his face as you chuckle darkly, using your grip on his jaw to shake his head side to side. “If you don’t want anything serious why are you always buying me shit? Scaring off every dude that talks to me? Telling everyone I belong to you while you’re out fucking around?”

“It’s just… baby, shit, if you keep fucking me like that I’m gonna fucking blow my load any second.” Rafe hates to admit that your possessive jealousy is only turning him on more. The crazy look in your eyes, the way you’re fucking him like you own him, while you hold his gun. It’s really fucking doing it for him.

“Don’t you dare fucking cum, Rafe. I’m not done with you. Answer my god damn question.” You slow your pace a bit as you take his face in both of your hands, the grip you still have on the pistol causing it to press against the side of his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m all yours from now on, alright? I fuckin’ mean it. I was just scared, baby. You’re too perfect for me. Knew if I made you mine for real I’d have to marry you someday.” He’s not even sure why he said that, it’s not like he hasn’t subconsciously thought about it before. You were perfect in every way before but this possessive display just makes him want you even more.

“HA! Thirty minutes ago you were dry humping some girl you’ve never talked to and now you’re talking marriage? Be so fucking for real, Rafe.” You bring the gun to his temple again, leaning in so your lips are brushing the shell of his ear. “If you were a real man you would’ve made it official a fucking year ago.”

That was the final straw for him. If you didn’t wanna believe him he would fucking show you how serious he was. He grips onto the gun, easily ripping it from your hand while his other arm wraps around your waist, using his hold on you to flip you on your back. He hovers over you, turning the tables on you by pressing the gun against the side of your head.

“Will you just shut the fuck up for a second. You’re my girl, aight? My girl.”

“I’ve heard that like a million times, pretty boy, doesn’t mean shit to me. You really think I’m gonna just-“ your words are cut short when he slips the gun between your lips.

“I said stop talking, I fucking mean it every time I say it. And you’re right. I was being a pussy bitch. But now I’m gonna show you who you belong to, who I belong too.” He pulls the barrel out of your mouth slightly before slipping it back between your lips. “Suck.”

You roll your eyes, leaving your lips open. He grips onto his cock, slamming it into your wet pussy in one swift motion, starting up at the brutal pace. “I” Thrust. “Said” Thrust. “Fucking suck.”

Your eyes roll back, this time in pleasure, as your wrap your lips around the cool metal, swirling your tongue.

“Hey” His large hand slaps your cheek lightly. “Fucking look at me while I take what’s mine.”

Your eyes fly open and you're met with his intense ocean blue stare as he fucks you hard and deep, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust of his hips. “Yeah, there’s my fucking girl.”

He pulls the gun from your mouth, pushing himself up on his knees, his thrusts never faltering. He smirks down at you before bringing the spit slick barrel to your clit, circling it in time with his cock pounding into you.

“Ohmyfuckinggod!” You cry out as you cum, your walls pulsing around him.

“Yeah that’s it, fuckin’ cum for me, that’s my girl. Say it, say you’re my girl.”

“I’m your girl, daddy, I’m your girl.” You babble and Rafe smirks, knowing he has you right where he wants you now that you’re back to calling him his rightful title.

“And I’m yours baby, got it? Always been yours. Always thought about you. Always felt shitty and just wanted to see you after I fucked around with anyone else.” He feels his high start to build, tossing the gun to the side before he leans down, covering your body with his. He laces his fingers with yours and captures your lips in a surprisingly tender kiss, that completely contradicted the way he was fucking you.

“Yeah, you’re fucking mine. I’ll kill any bitch that tries to touch you.” You practically growl, burying your face into his neck so you can suck on his skin, marking him as yours.

“That’s so fucking hot - shiiiit, baby girl, I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill my pretty little pussy up.” You bite down onto his shoulder as your long manicured nails scratch down his back, marking him up even further and it sends him over the edge. His hips still against yours as his cock twitches inside you, painting your walls with his cum. “Yeah, that’s a fuckin’ good girl, take my fuckin’ cum.”

Rafe rolls off of you, panting as he falls to his side. He pulls you into him and you lay your head on his chest, placing a soft kiss on his peck.

“Did you mean all of that?” You ask nervously, afraid to look at him.

“Babe, look at me.” He cradles your face in his hand urging you to look up at him. When your eyes meet his, he smiles softly. “You’re my girl, okay? And I’m yours. No more games. No more bitches. Just you and me, aight?”

“Yeah, alright. That sounds nice, daddy.” He leans down, kissing you passionately as he weaves his fingers through your hair.

“Plus, I’ll kill any guy that even breathes your air.”

“Yeah? Well I’ll kill any bitch that even thinks about you.” He chuckles, placing another gentle kiss on your lips. After this? He kinda believes you. But he doesn’t mind, because he would kill for you anyday.

#rafe Cameron #rafe Cameron x reader #rafe OBX #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe x you #rafe fic #Morgy & Dolly’s writing game #Dolly writes

[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

just luke discovering he might have a praise kink with you. lord have mercy.

warnings: praise kink, dom!luke, pet names, unprotected p in v (don’t), oral s3x (m receiving)

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

“Ah. Fuck, baby, do that again”

Luke let out another strangled moan when you gagged around his cock, your throat tightening. He couldn’t believe you would do anything he asked you to.

It happened every single time. You would literally say yes to anything, the only thing he was sure you were not gonna agree to, was to having sex with him.

Boy, was he wrong.

Now he had you on your knees in his cabin, gagging around him over and over again until he wanted to ask you to stop, but how could he? Everything about this was heavenly to him; your warm mouth, the tears in the corner of your eyes, your swollen lips, your nails digging into his thighs whenever you felt him too deep inside your mouth, his hand wrapping around your hair in a loose ponytail and push your head further into him.

But this wasn’t about him, as much as he wanted it to be. He had promised to fuck you earlier during a potent training session, a promise you would not let slip from your mouth until it happened. And it didn’t, yet.

And he didn’t know why he said it, he really didn’t know, but the way your eyes lit up as if he was a god you could worship, the way there was a sparkle held in them, so bright yet so appealing. You looked inviting to him, he wanted to eat you alive, but he knew that things had flipped the other way around when he said it. He had just gently asked you to stop sucking him off; that was it. But Gods, what came after…

“There you go” he cooed, gently pushing your head back. “Good girl”

It made your guts spin in a way it never happened before.

Luke didn’t know what got into you. You were suddenly out of breath, your chest pressed against your tight t-shirt suddenly stopping its movements and you just stared at him in awe.

He got scared.

“Are you okay?” he gently asked, attempting to place a stray of your hair behind your ear, but he only reached to cup your jaw before you spoke.

“Call me that again”

He tilted his head, confused.

“What?”

You sighed. “Call me that again” you repeated, voice thick with desperation. “Please?”

Luke hesitated, unsure or what to make of your request. His mind raced with questions, but deep down, he couldn´t deny the thrill that suddenly coursed through his body. He leaned in, elbows resting on his knees, as he raised one of his fingers to trail it down your jaw. “Good girl” he said.

The effect was instantaneous. Your breath hitched, and your eyes fluttered shut at his tender touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

A dark chuckle erupted from him, a mean action. A fucking praise kink, you had to be joking. He didn´t know how to feel about it, mainly because he didn´t expect you to be into this type of stuff. But as he started to dig into his mind; how your cheeks flustered red when someone complimented your skills, how you smiled sweetly whenever people praised your new techniques, or the way you styled your hair, or how good you dressed. He had it all in front of his nose and never saw it.

But he also realized, you didn´t want this from anyone. You wanted it from him; his words, his validation, his encouragement, his approval. You wanted him to tell you how good you were, you wanted him.

He brushed his thumb over your lip. “My beautiful baby” he whispered with desire. “All you want to be is good to me, right?”

You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks flushing red. Your heart raced with excitement when you nodded eagerly, unable to deny the truth on his words. All you wanted was to please him, to be everything he wanted and more. You saw his grin widened when he flickered his eyes into yours, then back to your lips. He leaned in more, brushing his pink and puffy lips against yours.

“You´re so needy for me” he murmured in a seductive tone. “But I like it. I like knowing that what you crave are my words. That you´ll do anything to please me”

Your body hummed in anticipation due to the intensity of his words. You tried to lean further into his touch, you wanted more. Luke´s finger trailed down the column of your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Tell me what you want, baby” he whispered.

Your head was spinning, leaving you breathless for a moment. “I want you” you confessed in a tiny voice. “I want you to take me, to show me that I´m yours”

“Show you that you´re mine?” he repeated, the mockery evident in his voice. But your eyes glistened, shining with tiny tears due to the previous work he had put you through, and because of the sudden fear that you might have taken it too far. It wasn´t your fault though, it was what you felt. The need to please Luke in any way you could was always there, always with you, and now that you had the chance to do it, you and only you, you didn´t wanna miss it. So, as you looked up at him in awe, mesmerized by his features and figure, like a god, he pressed his thumb over the tiny bit of mascara that had escaped your eyes, removing it, he said; “I can do that”

And he did.

It was not hard to fall into Luke Castellan´s arms and have the need to stay there forever. He was poison, intoxicating in the best possible way. His scent, his touch, his presence —, everything about him had you under his spell, captivated by his allure, by the need to belong to him completely.

With one hand pressed on the back of your head and the other holding a tight grip on your hip, Luke moved with a primal, almost animalistic intensity that left you gasping for air in between the pillows. He sent waves through your body with each thrust, along with a tight feeling on your belly every time the tip of his cock hit that sweet spot.

And his words never seemed to stop.

“You´re doing so good, doll. Behaving like the good little girl you are” he murmured under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.

He had gotten rid of your clothes long ago, after giving you the most intense orgasm thanks to his skilled tongue and fingers, now the only piece of clothing covering your body being your panties, messily pulled to the side, growing damp at scratching Luke´s cock with every snap of his hips.

He was growing his praise to you unconsciously, he had to close his eyes many times to prevent himself from exploding into you. You were just so fucking beautiful, he could just cum due to the sight of you; your hair messily flying over your sweaty back, your hands gripping the sheets, the way your flesh squished together when you squirmed or when his hand would grip tighter.

He had to let you know, eventually. “This fucking body is a crime, baby” he cooed. “It´s so perfect. You´re perfect, taking my cock so fucking well”

Luke´s words sent a cold jolt through your body, electrifying every nerve and sending you further into ecstasy. You felt his words dripping down your spine, flames burning like the intense desire in between you two.

“God, Luke” you managed to choke out. “Don´t stop, please”

He responded with a low growl, his movements becoming more urgent as he began to chase down his own release. Your cunt tightened around him more every time, gripping on his cock inside you in a wet and warm embrace that dripped down your thighs. Each thrust was more intense than the last, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

As your bodies moved In perfect synchrony, the room filled with the sound of skin to skin, punctuated by the symphony of your moans and Luke´s ragged breaths.

“I can´t hold back much longer” Luke confessed, his voice strained with effort. “You feel too damn good”

You clung to him desperately, nails digging into the flesh of one of his thighs as you urged him on. And then, with a final, desperate cry, you tumbled over the edge, body twitching momentarily. Luke followed close behind, his own climax crashing over him like a wave, and inside you.

As your pleasure subsided, you collapsed into each other´s arms, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths as you lay there, bodies still sweaty and shaky due to the aftershock of such an electric moment.

You laughed then, a hand covering your face. “What?” Luke asked, a confused smile painted on his face.

“Nothing” you shrugged off, turning your neck towards him, a shy smile in your mouth. “You´re too good at this”

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #pjo series #pjo #pjo smut #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x you #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan imagines #pjo x reader #luke pjo #pjo luke

[spacerockfloater]

Cassian had been eating an early breakfast with them this morning when Rhys had gotten the bill for Nesta’s night out. When Rhys had read each item aloud. Bottles of rare wine, exotic foods, gambling debts …

Oh, do shut the fuck up people. You’re acting as if Nesta requested three muscled, naked, oiled up, male sex workers come to her table and feed her whipped cream with their dicks. She ordered fucking food and drinks for fuck’s sake. The horror! You’re building a fifth mansion, you can afford to pick up the tab you cunts, especially after she fought your fucking war for you. Boo fucking hoo.

Feyre had stared at her plate until silent tears dripped into her scrambled eggs.

Now, what the actual fuck is this grown ass woman crying about? Bitch, pull your melodramatic self together. You’re acting as if Nesta made the front page of the local newspaper for being a serial killer. Calm the fuck down. Your husband is reading you a fucking bar’s bill, for crying out loud. A private bill, that was available only for you to see, until your toddler of a partner decided to let everyone know about it. Like, the only acceptable reason for you to shed a tear is realising you’re shackled to this piece of shit for eternity.

Cassian knew there’d been previous conversations—fights—about Nesta. About whether to give her time to heal herself, as they’d all believed would happen at first, or to step in. But as Feyre wept at the table, he knew it was a breaking of some sort. An acceptance of a hope failed.

Yes, because we all know that the only two ways of helping a traumatised person are either leaving them completely alone with their self destructive tendencies and excluding them from our lives (not a single painting of Nesta in Feyre’s home, pity job offers from Rhys, just superficial attempts of Feyre inviting Nesta to witness her perfect new life and house but no true attempts at connecting with her) or stripping them off of every bit freedom and forcing them to do unpaid physical labour. Now every hope is obviously lost!

It had required all of Cassian’s training, every horror he’d endured on and off the battlefield, to keep that same crushing sorrow from his own face.

Cassian, for the millionth time, I hope someone throws your hypocritical ass in a deep fryer as soon as possible. Looking forward to Elain’s prophecy coming true.

Rhys had laid a comforting hand on Feyre’s, squeezing gently before he looked at Azriel, and then Cassian, and laid out his plan. As if he’d had it waiting a long, long while.

Rhysand, you sly, manipulative snake, you. You never fail to disgust me. Aiming to break your own fucking wife apart so that she, in her vulnerability, goes along with your pre-prepared schemes, while simultaneously acting as if you’re her shoulder to cry on when you’re in fact the reason she’s crying, is actually nauseating. And I thought Tamlin was the beast! Rhysand is the worst thing that ever happened to Feyre. At the very best, they deserve each other. And that’s me being generous.

#acotar #acosf #anti rhysand #anti cassian #anti feyre #anti feysand #anti inner circle #anti ic #pro nesta #fuck these guys

[mcflymemes]

CHALLENGERS (2024) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary.

who says i want somebody to be in love with me?

i don't want to fuck you to prove a point.

fuck me because you want to.

are you gonna do it or not?

tastes even better than it looks.

i just told you i missed you.

i really want to kiss you right now, but i'm worried that if i try, you'll think i'm the worst friend in the world.

you know, it hurts me sometimes how little you believe in yourself.

decimate that little bitch.

let's be honest, you gotta feel bad for the kid.

you're not a spring chicken anymore.

dude. he's a pancake. you're gonna flatten him.

how's this feeling?

we're ready for you.

so obviously this isn't the result you wanted today.

you choked.

i don't want you to embarrass yourself.

i'm just a little rusty. it's a confidence thing.

get your fucking confidence back. i can't do it for you.

i'm so sick of you using this as an excuse to have a fucking meltdown.

you said we could watch a movie.

you're evil.

i'm gonna quiz you on it tomorrow.

sir, i don't know who you are.

i don't think we have much more to talk about.

i haven't spoken to you in five years.

i was just taking a little nap.

move, or i'm calling the cops.

you were really something back then, huh?

we always talked about how amazing it would be to win this together.

i'm a crazy person.

any predictions about how that's going to go?

can you do me a favor? can you not, like... demolish me tomorrow?

shut the fuck up.

if it matters to you so much, i can just give it to you.

i need it to look like i really beat you.

don't guilt me with your dying grandmother.

she's the hottest woman i've ever seen.

you were... fucking incredible.

baby, we've got to get going.

i'm not going to that party.

are you that threatened by me?

we can't both just go in there, dicks swinging.

i'd let her fuck me with a racket.

hey, do you smoke?

of course they will remember you.

see, that's your problem. you think you're like an artist or something.

you just want to win because you love it when people tell you how talented you are.

are you on facebook?

i told you tennis was boring.

you just got this crazy look on your face.

are you on a date?

i don't kiss and tell.

why did you want to have dinner with me?

i think you might be the worst friend in the world.

i didn't know you were so concerned about my feelings.

of course you still have a thing for her.

we just had what i'm assuming is the best sex of our lives.

i fucked your brains out?

what do you think you need? a cheerleader? a fuck buddy? a girlfriend?

you're talented, you're charming, and you've got a big dick.

excuse me for inconveniencing you.

don't expect to sleep here tonight.

stop going easy on me.

i'll be whatever you need me to be. i'll fuck off if you want me to.

i need you here, actually.

you're referring to when i declared my love for you.

you're not in love with me anymore?

i've been dreaming about this for five years.

i'm gonna propose something to you, and it's gonna make you angry. it's gonna make you very angry. but you have to hear me out, okay?

i'm finally ready to listen to you.

how dare you fucking ask me that.

do you think it's cute what you're doing? do you think it's funny?

that's the stupidest fucking thing i've ever heard.

i've always wanted you.

you didn't do anything to me. i did it all to myself.

i think i've reached the limit of my willingness to have this conversation with you.

do you understand how embarrassing it is that you're here?

you've never beaten me.

tell me it doesn't matter.

will you just hold me?

i'm not here to fuck you.

i miss watching you play. you were so beautiful.

#challengers #mcflymemes #rp prompt #rp meme #rp memes #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #sentence starter #sentence starters #sentence starter prompt #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #look at me making memes left and right today

[heauxvibez]

Gentle

warning: angst, mentions of depression/anxiety, fluff. Enjoy!

It had been days since Joe lost his match. It meant he could finally be home, taking a break from the WWE's busy schedule. You were thrilled to have him home, just the two of you for a while. Joe was excited too, or so he thought.

He released a huge sigh of relief when he was told prematurely about the outcome of his match with Cody. He loved work but also missed being home with you, and the flexibility to do what he wanted without having to make huge shifts around his work schedule. The guilt that constantly ate at him for missing milestones in your life would finally be put to ease. Your promotion at your job, your birthday, buying your first brand new car with your hard-earned money, all things he missed out on celebrating due to his work.

But as time went by, you noticed a change in him. His energy shifted dramatically. He became quieter, answering with short sentences and avoiding conversations. He barely ate, only managing to do so when taking his medication.

You had to decline many invitations because he wasn't up for crowds; they made him anxious. The bedroom became his refuge, all he wanted to do was lay in bed and rot. It was starting to worry you.

Joe himself didn't understand what was happening. He wanted to shake off this feeling, but it clung to him stubbornly. It was like he'd forgotten his place in life, his roles as your husband, friend, and son. He felt worthless. As the Tribal Chief he knew everything, life was in his control, he was in control. Nothing could phase him when he was his alternative self. His bronze skin was as thick as ever.

But as Joe, he was vulnerable and soft, his hands could barely grasp the concept of life outside of the arena. He believed that he'd let everyone down by missing important moments, especially you. Despite your support and pride in him, he couldn't shake the feeling of being resented. His anxiety whispered that you all hated him, leading him to isolate himself in the room. He thought that by avoiding interaction, he'd be less of a burden.

You were left in the dark, unsure of what was happening with him. You didn't want to jump to conclusions, but you couldn't ignore the signs of either depression or anxiety. It was a delicate situation; you didn't want to say or ask the wrong thing and risk pushing him away. You were at a loss for how to approach him without causing further distress.

"Babe..", you called out as you cracked open the door. Your head peaked in to reveal him bundled under the sheets.

"Hmm?" he hummed back, avoiding looking in your direction.

The room matched his mood—dark and cold. You approached him cautiously, arms crossed before quickly relaxing them, not wanting to convey that you were mad or upset in any way. Squatting beside the bed, you met his gaze. His hair was tousled, covering his face like cobwebs, his eyes red, lips downturned. He looked miserable.

He almost melted at the feel of your fingers feathering through the knots of his tangled beard. He hadn't groomed himself in days, so he looked a mess. But to you he still looked like perfection, just needed a little love. You searched his face, to him it felt like judgment, but for you...you were just looking for any sign of your loving husband.

"You okay?"

That question alone almost unraveled him. His eyes shut tightly, becoming a dam for the flood of tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He covered his face with his hand when he could no longer contain the wave of emotions. He shook his head, answering your question.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry. I'm sorry", you pleaded. You didn't know what to expect. You thought it would take a while to break through his tough exterior.

Not wanting to overwhelm him, you hadn't moved. You stayed squatted in your position, stroking the side of his face that wasn't covered by his huge hand.

"Talk to me, baby. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong," your voice, soft and gentle, began to ease the tension. It seemed to pull him back from the brink of a panic attack.

"Breathe, just talk," you urged. He took a deep breath, his exhale brushing against your face. His hand fell away from his face, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and watery eyes. You met his gaze, your own eyes welling up with empathy. You fought back your tears, wanting him to feel safe expressing himself.

Joe tried to speak but faltered, closing his lips and shaking his head. He was at a loss for words, unsure of how to begin.

You let out a gentle sigh as you brushed his greasy hair away from his face. He hadn't bothered to wash it in days, neglecting self-care. As your fingers ran through his strands, an idea dawned on you. With a small smile, you met his sad eyes.

"It's been a while since you washed your hair, huh?" you remarked.

He nodded, still focused on you.

"How about we have a little wash day? I just got some new hair care stuff," you suggested.

There was a moment of silence as he considered it. He didn't want to leave the safety of the room, but he was also bothered by his oily, limp hair.

"Yeah, that sounds nice," he replied softly.

"Yeah? Let's go," you said, standing up and offering your hand. He slowly rose from the bed, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the kitchen.

Since childhood, your family had always washed hair in the kitchen sink. Moms, aunts, and cousins would have you lay flat on the counter, and it was always your favorite part of hair care, like a special ritual.

Your hair care routine had evolved. With the right products and tools, you felt like a pro, especially during tasks like washing your hair. Now, wash days were more enjoyable, and you loved washing your husband's hair too. It was a favorite bonding activity.

"Okay, lay down on the counter," you instructed.

One perk was your spacious kitchen, allowing you to recreate the wash days you cherished from childhood. He hopped onto the counter, and a bit of excitement gleamed through his eyes. It had been a while since you shared an intimate moment like this. With his travels and recent struggles, there had been little room for such simple things.

You stepped away briefly to fetch your hair care items. Your favorite line was created by Taraji P. Henson, who understood the needs of tight coils like yours. Today, you opted for the Honey Fresh clarifying shampoo to remove oils from his locs and the Make It Rain conditioner for moisture.

Returning to the kitchen, you laid out the items on the sink: shampoo, conditioner, Denman brush, wide-tooth comb, and a shower cap—everything needed to care for his hair.

You couldn't help but watch as he lay with his eyes closed, fingers intertwined on his belly. Though he didn't show it, he was eager for this wash day, just like you.

Turning on the sink, you tested the water temperature with your fingers, ensuring it was just right for his scalp.

"Okay, let me know if it's too hot or cold." you instructed. With his eyes still closed he nodded.

The water hit his scalp and you watched as his brows furrowed then relaxed.

"Is that okay?", he nodded once again,

"That's perfect."

The warm water felt like a soothing touch on his scalp, the best sensation he'd felt in days.

"Good," you smiled, running your fingers through his hair. It took a moment for the water to penetrate his hair, the oils causing it to bead off into the sink. The touch of your nails on the back of his neck sent shivers down his spine as you worked the water through his hair.

"Alright," you murmured to yourself as his hair drank in the flowing water. With a twist, you shut off the tap, the room now silent. You placed the detachable head back in its place, and your fingers found the shampoo bottle, releasing a dollop into your hand. With a soft sigh, you worked the dollop into a nice lather with your palms.

You started at his hairline, the pads of your fingers tenderly grazing his scalp. Purposefully avoiding using your acrylic nails, your touch was feather-light. You wanted to cocoon him in bliss and make sure that he was as relaxed as possible.

Your fingers trailed to the hair behind his ears, a familiar path that never failed to make him weak. His ears, his sweet spot, where the slightest touch made his toes curl. Each time your wrist brushed against his ear, he moaned softly, bringing a slight blush to your cheeks.

"Feel good?" the soft words left your lips.

"Feels great." he confessed with a contented sigh.

His response brought warmth to your heart as you continued your movements, moving towards the center of his scalp where he was often tender-headed. With gentle strokes, you massaged the area, mindful of his comfort. In this moment, you found joy in this simple act of caring for your husband.

Though you wanted to get into deeper conversations about his well-being, you hesitated, not wanting to disrupt the peace of the moment. Instead, you chose to stay silent, allowing your gentle touch to speak volumes. But Joe had other ideas.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled

"Don't be, you haven't done anything wrong," you assured. Although you knew what he meant. He felt remorseful for acting distant and pushing everyone away, but you knew it wasn't his fault. He was grappling with emotions beyond his control, and you gave him space to work through them.

"But I have, I haven't been the best husband lately. Well really in the past few years if we're going to be honest."

"Joe-"

"No, listen.." his eyes were flooding with tears again.

"I have not been the best husband in years. I thought with this time off I'd be able to make up for lost time but the more I sit with myself, I'm wondering am I capable of being a good husband? I don't even know who I am outside of Roman Reigns."

Tears were now flowing freely down the side of his eyes and into his hair. For the past 4 years, he had been an alternative version of himself. He completely immersed himself into a character and with the time he had to actually sit with himself, he realized he wasn't really sure who Joe was.

Tears were now rolling down your face. It hurt to see him doubt himself like this. You knew who he was—Joe and Roman were completely different. It was hard to believe he couldn't see it; he was struggling with imposter syndrome.

You wiped your tears away with your wrist, trying to steady yourself. You needed him to know that you didn't share his negative feelings about himself.

"Well, your feelings are valid, baby, and I never want you to feel otherwise. But just because they're valid doesn't mean they're right."

You rinsed the shampoo out of his hair with the detachable head of the sink.

"You might not see the difference between Roman and Joe, but I do. I'm not in love with Roman; I'm in love with Joe. I didn't marry Roman; I married Joe. Roman is manipulative, selfish, cold-hearted—wicked, even," you chuckled softly. Joe wiped away his tears, mirroring your laughter.

You began to wring the excess water from his hair. It was finally clean. Now, you just needed to condition and detangle.

You reached for the condition and squeezed a quarter-sized amount into your hand. Then you gently spread it through his clean hair.

"But Joe.. Joe is sweet, he's vulnerable, and he would give the shirt off of his back to anyone in need. We all love Joe and we understand that just because you're away it doesn't mean you're neglectful, you're doing what you have to do to support your family. Joe is a husband, he's a son, he's a family man, he's a sweetheart, he's you."

Using the Denman brush, you carefully distributed the conditioner and untangled his hair, avoiding any painful pulls.

"You are not Roman, you are Joe. Do you understand?", you asked, pausing to catch his gaze. He kept staring ahead.

"Look at me," you said softly, but firmly. His eyes met yours, resembling those of a puppy.

"Do you understand?"

His lips curved into a soft smile and he nodded.

"Yes, I understand, baby," he affirmed. Leaning in, you tenderly brushed your lips against his forehead, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath yours. Then, with a gentle passion, you pressed your lips to his, sparking a feeling that had been dormant for too long.

As you pulled away, you couldn't help but shower him with one last sweet kiss on the tip of his nose before getting back to his hair.

"I know it's going to take time for you to adjust, and I understand it won't be easy. But I want you to know, I'll be here every step of the way. I promise," your voice was filled with unwavering support.

Carefully, you lifted his head to secure the shower cap, ensuring his hair received the deep conditioning treatment it deserved for the next 10 minutes.

"Thank you, for everything...I love you," he whispered, his words carrying deep gratitude and love.

"I love you too, handsome," you said, your heart brimming with excitement as you anticipated having your husband return to his true self.

---------------------------

Hope yall enjoyed!

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx @theninthwonder

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #wwefanfic #romanreignsimagine #romanreignsoneshot #roman reigns fluff #fanfiction #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You stare at your phone. It can’t be. After everything else going wrong, you can’t deal with Floyd. It suddenly makes sense why he was messing around with your phone. Ew, he’s kind of a creep.

You don’t answer and put the phone away. Well. You have no money, you’re about to have no home, and your milk is spoiled. Don’t panic. You can figure this out. You’re an adult, aren’t you?

First, go to the bank. You need milk. Once you have a coffee, you’ll worry about the whole eviction thing. You leave the convenience store and open Maps to look for the nearest bank kiosk. Not too far, one block. At least you’re getting your steps in.

You follow the directions on screen and turn to cross the road. You’re so distracted, you forget to look both ways and nearly get hit by a gleaming bumper. You wave a head but don’t look up. You need to get to the bank.

You come up to the pulsing blue dot and glance around. Huh. You don’t see a bank. You turn around and face the ATM built into the side of the building. Oh goddang! You walked to a bank machine, not a bank. Is it you? Are you the problem?

You drop your shoulders. Alright. You’ll just try again. You scroll to the next location and spin around, nearly colliding with a new wall. Oh, not a wall, a person.

You look up at Mr. Henson as he watches you with a line between his brows. Somehow, you’re not very surrpised. This guy is everywhere. It’s almost like he has no hobbies.

“Oh, hi, sorry, excuse me, I’m just on my way to the bank--”

“Ah, running short? Need me to spot ya?” He raises his hand, showing a black credit card.

“Um... noooo,” you utter in confusion. The other day, you ran off after calling him names. You really don’t believe he’s changed his stripes. He’s still a snarling tiger getting ready to feast. “Thanks, but I--”

“Things are tight. Job market’s trash, housing isn’t any better, and those banks,” he whistles and puts his card away, “they like to fuck around, don’t they?”

You look at him, scrunching your face up.

“Y-yeah. Weirdly, I did just get a notice to...” your voice trails off. “Why are you bugging me?”

“Bugging you?” His brows pop up and he guffaws, “oh, sweet lips, you’re funny, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know few jokes but--”

“Think a little harder, cupcake,” he lowers his timber and stares at you.

You blink and wet your lips, pushing them together. Think about what?

“Look, about yesterday--”

“I’m talking about today,” he insists.

“Sure, uh...”

“Do I really need to spell this out for you?”

“Spell what out?” You cringe, clawing for some hint of what he means.

“Your bank card isn’t working, right?” He asks, you nod. “You’re getting evicted.” Another nod. “You have no job.”

You make a face, “yes, okay. Rub it in. Alright. I get it. You’re some important guy and I’m a loser. Don’t worry. You own this city but I think I’m on my way out.”

He sighs and presses his fingers flat on either side of his nose. He drops them and opens his eyes again, “it was me. I’m the reason you—Don't you understand what I can do to you? I got you fired, kicked out, and poor in one day. What else do you think I could do?”

Your chest hollows out and your stomach lurches. What? Him? He just doesn’t stop.

“Sir, what—why would you—I'm sorry I called you a meanie. I was upset and the coffee, I tried--” You sniffle and shudder out a half-sob, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, well, you shoulda shut those sweet lips and opened those ears, huh?” He grins, “look, cupcake, you’re not going anywhere. You try to run back to your family, I’ll find you. Your mom’s a good lady, you shouldn’t trouble her. She doesn’t make enough teaching brats to put up with another one.”

“My mom—how--”

He spins his finger in the air, “catch up, honey bun. Alright? This is it. I’ll lay it out real clear for you, right now. You have no money, no home, you have nothing. You are nothing.” He jabs his finger at you, “so, I can solve all your problems and make you something.”

You look around. There’s really no way out. He’s a psychopath. You think. You don’t really know the difference between that and sociopath.

“Are you like CIA or something?” You ask.

He scoffs and flinches, “oh man, you are something else. Really, each time you open that mouth, I’m blown away by the idiocy. Rather just get blown, you get it?”

You shake your head and pout.

“Look, I think we can sort this out, Floyd. Really, I’m really sorry and I understand now. I get it. You’re very important and I messed up. I’m nothing and I did everything wrong. And from the bottom of my heart, I apologise. So, can I please have my life back?” You say, “I think we’d both be happier if we just went on our way and never saw each other again.”

His eyes dart away and he stares into the distance. Exasperation wrinkles above his brow and he looks back to you, hands on his hips, “too late, buttercup. So, let me put it as plain as I can. You don’t get a choice. You belong to me now. Just like everything else in this city. You are mine.”

“You can’t... do that.”

“I am doing that,” he insists. “Another thing,” he raises his hand, showing his palm, “it’s Lloyd.” He emphasizes the consonants of his name, “Lloyd Hansen. You can call me sir or Mr. Hansen. Hell, if we’re getting frisky, you can call me daddy.”

“Ugh,” you groan in disgust and curl your lip.

“Ugh?” He mimick the noise, “I’m about to--” He shakes his hand and sucks in the end of his sentence, “fine. Show, don’t tell. Got it.”

You cry out as suddenly he lunges at you. He grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you forward down the sidewalk. He marches beside you as you writhe and paw at his large hand. You whimper, helpless as pedestrians move out of your path.

“Your mouth got you into trouble, now let’s see if it can get you out,” he growls.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the man #the gray man #drabble #series #au #mob au

[syoounn]

•Asking bsd men silly question and proving them wrong

•Characters: Chuuya, Fyodor, Sigma

(This is a silly rushed fanfic just dropping it, lol)

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Chuuya

Chuuya was peacefully snuggled up to you.. as you were bored, of course, and decided to start something silly again. You sit up on a bed, looking at him seriously.

"Chuu.. Would you give me your heart.. if i needed it?" You asked.

“I’d give you more than just my heart if you needed it, Doll.” Chuuya said as he placed his hands together, resting them on his stomach as he looked up at you with a soft smile. “Ya know that.”

"Wrong answer..!"

“What do you mean wrong answer?!” Chuuya was quite confused by the reply, finding it puzzling as his eyebrows furrowed. That was a clear answer right there… Was it because it was too straightforward, or did you really want to be difficult…? He thought to himself.

"You got it wrong, so, no kisses for now," you said, teasing him..

“Dammit” Chuuya mumbled, feeling upset about the wrong answers he was giving, but now a tad annoyed at the fact that he couldn't get kisses if he wanted one. “Dammit, you're being difficult on purpose, aren't you, Doll?”

"Fine, keep bein' difficult then." Chuuya groaned, now turning away from you and burying his face into the pillow so you couldn't see his pout. "I'm trying to kiss ya here, but I guess that ain't happening."

You giggled as you watched him sulking and hugging the pillow. Chuuya's pout deepend, hearing you giggle, knowing that you were deliberately trying to annoy him. He wasn't going to cave in that easily, and so he laid there, continuing to sulk with his face in the pillow. "Shut up, you're so damn cruel and for what...?"

Chuuya grumbled as he kept his head buried into the pillow, making sure his annoyance was apparent, but finding it all too amusing to turn back around.

He could just grab you whenever he wanted to, so why was he being so hesitant now? With a groan and a light huff, he rolled over to see you. Taking a deep breath in, he prepared to grab you, wanting this to be over.

Chuuya felt you go slightly limp when he pulled you onto him, seemingly getting comfortable. Oh damn, you were in his grasp now. He could hold you as long as he wanted to, keep you close to him. He smiled to himself, enjoying the sound of your breathing. With a light snicker he spoke,

“There, now I got ya.”

You're now locked on Chuuya’s arms, making it impossible to get out of it. He buried his face on your neck and mumbled about you being mean as you just chuckled and eventually gave up and cuddled him back.

You still can't help but adore his pissed expression and successfully got him played as two of you enjoyed the embrace of each other and

Fyodor

You've never seen much of emotion on Fyodor... so you decided to ask a question since he believes in himself that he's never wrong. He's a smart man, after all.. you just pray that your trick would work on him.

"Can i ask a question..?" you asked.

Then go ahead, dear. Fyodor leans back in his chair, and a small smirk appears on his lips. As he looked like he already knew what you were planning.

"Do i mean the world to you?"

Of course, you do, beloved. You mean more to me than anything else in the world. Fyodor gives you a soft look, and as he speaks, his voice is gentle, though there's a hint of something else within the deep timbre - something that feels a little off. Your heart skips a beat as his dark eyes narrow, and he leans forward, crossing his legs.

Therefore, he didn't say the real answer as you were happily about to prove him wrong.

"That’s a wrong answer..!" You said.

He snorts. That's wrong? You're telling me that's wrong, dear? An unreadable look passes through his eyes.

"It should be, i mean the universe to you," you said proudly and finally had a chance to prove that he's wrong by your own words.

Fyodor stares at you, his eyes almost seeming to shine with a dangerous shine. Do you want me to ask you a question, my dear?

You looked at him confused as he spoke with the smile of his.. "Do you think I would make you my wife if you didn't mean the universe to me, darling?" Fyodor's voice is low, and there is no trace of his usual humour when he speaks.

You completely froze and got defeated there... he definitely got you.

He chuckles as he leans back slightly. His voice, although still cold, turns back to one full of amusement when he speaks once more. "Now, my dear, don't look so scared. I'm sure I can help you with your worries." Fyodor gives you a small wink before he gets up from his chair, his movements graceful and smooth as he walks over to you and wraps his hands around your waist... as he slowly-..

Sigma

Holding a soft smile as he looked at you with those shy loving grey eyes of his.. Sigma has always been soft and gentle with you. He's currently cuddling with you after a long day from managing the Sky Casino. You decided to confuse him, perhaps.. "mess" with him.

"Hm.. if you said the correct answer, I'll give you something.. "

“And what question is that, my love?” He asked while still holding your small frame close to him in his arms, his hands gently rubbing your shoulder and your back. His soft smile never faltered.

"If you were in a room with 100 women.. would you be able to tell my laugh?"

“Without a doubt.” Sigma replied instantly. He could easily recall your cute and bubbly laugh. It was one of his most favourite things about you, apart from his love for you, of course. He's so in love with you..

"Incorrect..!"

“But..?” He seemed confused by your reply. He truly believed he was able to tell your laugh easily apart from others. He then looked at you with some form of disappointment, waiting for you to tell him the right answer.

"Why would you be in a room.. full of women?" You asked suspiciously...

He went silent for a moment. His facial expression was still one of disbelief. He eventually spoke his answer to your question after processing it.

“I wouldn’t be in a room full of women, I’m only interested in one.” He then softly chuckled in that same shy, loving manner that he always did.

“The one that’s currently in my arms.” He added afterwards. He then brushed his thumb through your hair, keeping a soft, loving smile.

“I have no interest in being in a room full of women, or any other woman for that matter apart from you.” He reassured you, his soft loving smile never faltered. He was still brushing his thumb through your hair.

“That’s the real answer.”

And yes.. as you expected.. you can't really continue what you were planning as you can't help but melt on his touch and loving gaze. It's hard to try and mess with him on how adorable he looks.. you really got defeated without even trying.

Sigma chuckled as a result of your defeated expression. His soft, loving smile stayed in place.

“I knew you were trying to pull something. But I was able to answer it just fine.” He teased you, softly placing a kiss on your forehead. Since you would always pull the unexpected on him, he always managed to win using that loving gaze of him.. your weakness.

Ranpo

(Bro already knew the answer before you could even asked.)

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#bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd fluff #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader #sigma x reader

[tinyundercover]

pepper & felix

part eleven

the aftermath of last night word count: 2.5k

Felix stared at the ceiling, vaguely aware of the alarm beeping on his nightstand.

It was grating to his ears. Internally, he knew that he needed to get ready for class, but the events of last night simply refused to leave his mind. Stressful memories weighed down on him like a rock, leaving him motionless in his bed.

Pepper is my soulmate.

The voice in his mind and the borrower in his walls were the same person. It was comforting to finally have an explanation for his strange feelings towards Pepper, and why he always felt so drawn to him… but at the same time, it was hard not to feel absolutely terrified.

A month ago, he didn’t even know that borrowers existed. Worry fluttered around Felix’s chest as he wondered how they would possibly further their relationship, considering their vast size difference and the uncomfortable power imbalance between them. He had only held Pepper a few times, and he had been wracked with anxiety every single time. Now, he wasn’t just putting the life of a borrower in his hands, but his soulmate’s. 

…And what was he supposed to tell his friends and family?

Felix sighed heavily, drawing his blanket further to him. Part of him wished he had stayed at Alice’s place yesterday to explain everything to her, but he hadn’t wanted to keep the borrowers there any longer. Today, he would have to talk to Alice alone and explain the situation without putting Pepper and his sister in more danger.

A sleepy, familiar voice suddenly floated into his mind, disrupting his thoughts. “Your alarm is going off.”

Felix sat up abruptly, finally registering the consistent beeping that filled the room. With a flush he leaned over, shutting off his alarm, then brought his hands to his chest. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

“About me, I hope,” Pepper said sleepily. A second later he added, “Basil says hi.”

It took a moment for Felix to register who “Basil” was. He drummed his fingers over his chest, curious, wondering if Pepper had meant to share his sister’s name or if it had slipped out by accident.

His lips twitched into a smile. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Mhmmm.”

Pepper’s voice had already drifted off into exhaustion. A warm feeling swirled around Felix’s chest, and as he got out of he bed, he tried to remain quiet for his small, sleeping guests.

—— 

Sunlight filtered through the window, dappling the floor of the hallway in yellow. Felix waited against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, checking his phone every few minutes.

Alice had agreed to meet him here, but as time stretched on, Felix was beginning to doubt her. His stomach twisted in a mixture of fear and guilt, and he prayed that Alice would at least be willing to listen. They had been friends for almost three years. He wanted more than anything to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Hey.”

Felix glanced up, heart skipping a beat when he caught sight of Alice approaching. Her expression was empty, but Felix couldn’t help but notice the tightness of her hand around the strap of her bookbag.

“Alice,” Felix said in relief, straightening up. “Hi.”

She stopped a few feet away and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. Her blue eyes danced over his form before meeting his gaze again. She said nothing, clearly expecting him to talk first.

“Did you tell anyone about them?” Felix asked before he could stop himself.

Dark lashes blinked. “...Why would I do that?” Alice responded after a moment, tilting her head. Felix still couldn’t read her emotions. “No one would believe me.”

Relief rushed into Felix’s chest, and he exhaled, nodding. “Good. Thank you. They’re not supposed to—”

“What the hell happened last night?” Alice cut him off, exasperation seeping into her tone. “Seriously, what the fuck?”

Felix immediately faltered. He supposed that was a fair reaction, but he still wasn’t prepared for her sudden frustration. “It’s— it’s a lot to explain.”

Alice raised her eyebrows.

“They’re just people,” Felix clarified, fiddling his thumbs and frowning. “But… a lot smaller. They’re not, like, dangerous or anything. Just people.”

“Well, obviously,” Alice pointed out. “I just want to know what they were doing in your apartment.”

Felix found himself at a loss for words. How much was he allowed to share with Alice without putting the existence of borrowers in any more danger? 

“They’re my friends,” he said slowly.

Alice stared for a moment, eyebrows lifting. “You’re… actually friends with them?”

Felix frowned and nodded, and Alice crossed her arms, brow furrowing again. “Oh. When they said they were your friends, I… I thought they were lying. It’s not like you’ve ever told anyone about them.” She peered closer at Felix, eyes icy. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or Breanna? Owen?”

Warmth spread through Felix’s chest, a bit flustered to hear that the borrowers had referred to themselves as his friends. He then hardened his expression as he processed Alice’s other words, the warmth fading. “They’re a secret,” he pointed out. “Humans aren’t supposed to know about them because when they do they put them in jars.”

The anger entered his voice without meaning to. Alice stepped back, hurt etched in her expression. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know– talk to them?”

“I tried to!” Alice exclaimed. “They just freaked out!”

“Alice,” Felix exhaled, momentarily pressing his fingertips to his temples, “they’re three inches tall. Just think about what we look like to them. Of course they would freak out– they were probably scared of you.”

“I barely touched them.”

Felix blinked, processing her words. Heat filled his chest, hot and angry. “Are you serious?”

“I mean– I put them in my pocket for a second, and then I put them in that jar, but that’s–”

“You hurt them!” Felix retorted before he could stop himself. Alice jumped. “Didn’t you see the bruise on Ba– on that girl’s face?”

Silence stretched between them for several seconds. Alice’s face fell, blinking rapidly. “That was an accident. She fell when she was in the jar.”

“That you put them in,” Felix objected, features sharp.

Alice stared at him, lips slightly parted, brow furrowed. Felix could sense the frustration floating off of her, and guilt instinctively crept its way into his chest past his own anger. He hadn’t meant for this to turn into an accusation. 

It was hard for him to truly believe that Alice would intentionally harm either borrower beyond repair. As difficult as Alice was being, Felix understood that she was just confused about last night’s events. He couldn’t exactly blame her for acting irrationally towards the borrowers when she didn’t even know that they existed until twelve hours ago. (It’s not like his first interaction with Pepper had gone smoothly, either.)

Alice tended to maintain a tough, closed-off persona, which Felix usually found admirable. Unfortunately, Alice’s attitude meant that strangers tended to think she was cold-hearted– so Felix couldn’t even imagine how a borrower might perceive her, with every one of her actions amplified tenfold. Honestly, if Felix was three inches tall, he would be positively terrified of her. 

Felix took a deep breath, focusing on Alice again. “Just… just please don’t tell anyone about them,” he said finally. “That’s all. I’m sorry you got mixed up in this.”

Alice said nothing.

—

“But did she say sorry?” Pepper demanded.

The borrower had his palms pressed to the back of his neck, pacing back and forth across the counter, mindful of the large knife being wielded only a foot away. Felix was chopping tomatoes on a cutting board, and although his eyes were focused on the knife, he was paying attention to what Pepper was saying.

“I think she feels bad,” Felix responded after a moment, brow furrowing. 

“She should feel bad,” Pepper grumbled. “She could have killed us.” The memories of being shaken around a jar flashed through his mind, and he instinctively dropped his hands to hug himself, shuddering at the distant feeling of his joints slamming into solid glass.

Felix spared him a glance, eyes searching his small form, before turning back to the cutting board. “Ah… is your sister doing okay?” His voice was light.

Pepper stopped pacing and peered up at Felix. “She’s okay. She’s been sleeping all day, actually, but she’s overdue for some rest.” A miserable thought entered his mind, and he frowned, registering for the first time this evening that he was holding a conversation with a giant. “You know, yesterday was the first time she’s ever been seen by a human.”

Worry crossed Felix’s face. “Oh. That… that must have been awful.”

“It was.” Pepper nodded dejectedly, unable to sugarcoat it if he tried. “I mean, I was terrified, and I actually have experience with humans.” He gestured vaguely to Felix, who had abandoned the cutting board and was now giving Pepper his full attention. “But it was all new for her. It had to be so… overwhelming.”

The borrower sighed, gaze wandering to Felix’s hand, which was resting on the handle of the massive knife. “Being grabbed is not fun.” He shuddered at the memories of being trapped in an unrelenting grip, arms painfully pressed into his ribs. “You’re— you’re completely helpless, and when you’re against someone so much bigger than you it’s terrifying. It’s— it’s just…”

He trailed off at Felix’s wide-eyed expression. A twinge of guilt entered Pepper’s chest at the memory of their first meeting, and he shifted on his feet. “I’m really lucky that you’re nice,” Pepper added as an afterthought. Felix said nothing.

Felix remained quiet for the remainder of the cooking process, occasionally nodding or humming in response to Pepper’s rambling. Part of Pepper felt guilty for insulting Felix’s friend over and over again, but in his defense, she had literally kidnapped him.

In all honesty, it was just nice to spend some time with Felix alone. 

“What are you making?” Pepper asked finally. Felix had moved further down the corner to where the stove was, turning the heat on. The occasional click or clang of Felix’s cooking equipment made Pepper a little dizzy, but he ignored it.

“Pasta,” Felix replied, holding up an uncooked piece of rigatoni before dropping it into a large pot. A flush crossed Felix’s face suddenly. “I, um, I thought these pieces might be easier for you to take home with you.”

Something fluttered in Pepper’s chest, warm and surprised. A small part of him— his defensive, primal instinct— hissed at him for taking handouts from a human. 

But at the same time, it was a nice feeling to be considered in something as insignificant as dinner.

“Thank you,” Pepper said breathlessly. 

As Felix stirred a wooden spoon into the pot, Pepper began his trek along the counter. Felix had moved the cutting board away after he had scraped the diced tomatoes into a pan, opening up Pepper’s path towards the stovetop.

As he approached, the heat from the humming stove was startling. Pepper had watched Felix cook for a year, but he had always been hidden away in the walls. This was the closest he had ever been to the stove while it was on.

A small gap, about half an inch long, was nestled between the edge of the gray countertop and the smooth white surface of the stove. On the burner closest to Pepper was a wide black pan, and although Pepper couldn’t see the pasta sauce within it, he could certainly smell it. Past the pan was a tall pot, bubbling with water.

The cooking process had become surprisingly loud in the last few minutes. Unable to quell his curiosity, Pepper stood up on his toes at the edge of the gap, trying to peer into the pan which contained the pasta sauce.

Felix caught his eye, and although Pepper trusted his own instincts, Felix certainly didn’t.

“Wh— hey,” Pepper objected, suppressing a flinch as Felix’s large hand suddenly approached. Alarm bells rang in his mind, and on instinct he dropped back into his heels. 

Felix hadn’t touched him all day, hadn’t even tried. The last thing Pepper had expected at this moment was for Felix to grab him, especially after what happened last night.

But Felix didn’t grab him. The human barely even looked at him, blue gaze distractedly shifting from the small borrower back to the stovetop. Pepper blinked in surprise as the back of Felix’s knuckles bumped into his chest, slightly curled inward, gently nudging the borrower away from the stove. Pepper’s small hands landed on Felix’s forefinger for stability.

“Careful,” Felix murmured, withdrawing his hand and turning his attention fully back to the boiling pot of water.

Pepper blinked. His own hands floated in the air, empty and useless. He hadn’t expected the gentle touch from Felix, nor had he expected it to vanish seconds later, feeling strangely empty.

So much power resided within Felix’s hand. Pepper had felt the sheer force radiating from those fingers, each one surpassing him in height, and inwardly he knew that Felix could have done anything he wanted. Felix could have snatched Pepper up or swatted him away without even batting an eye, but the knuckles against Pepper’s chest had been soft, careful, gentle.

Felix was humming to himself, clearly not aware of how significant his action had appeared to Pepper. The borrower stared up at him, heart fluttering, suddenly in awe of the calculated way Felix was moving his hands around as he cooked.

It’s not like Pepper had actually been in danger. As a borrower, he knew better than to stand at the edge of the counter without paying close attention to where he placed his feet.

Still, as he stared up at his soulmate, he felt incredibly touched.

——

The empty jar was still sitting on Alice’s counter, sticking out like a sore thumb. She hadn’t touched it since last night.

It was hard not to stare at it. She leaned against the wall opposite to the counter, a glass of water in hand, the room silent aside from the faint hum of the kitchen light. 

She couldn’t sleep. 

She hadn’t been able to sleep last night, either, not since Felix had left her apartment with two tiny people in hand.

The jar seemed to taunt Alice. It was on its side, left there after Felix had tipped it to free the tiny people inside. If Alice looked closely, she could see the smattering of tiny handprints on the glass, each one smaller than her fingernail, and she could only wonder what the tiny people were doing now. 

Her phone was in her hand before she could think about it, her thumb hovering over Felix’s contact, and she briefly thought back to how it had felt to hold two entire people in a fist. Her nose scrunched, and she stared down at her phone’s glowing screen, unable to move a muscle.

With a heavy breath she finally turned her phone off and slipped it into her pocket.

She’ll see Felix tomorrow at their first rehearsal, anyway.

------

tysm for reading!! <3

@smallsday @compact-katrina @satethesatelite @taters169 @entomolog-t @gtzel @gt-newbie @da3dm

#pepper & felix #g/t #g/t writing

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

“I went to the gym, so I will be able to hold you up even longer” 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾

“I went to the gym, so I will be able to hold you up even longer” additional tags: (wrongly) assumed infidelity, miscommunication that gets resolved, this must be an au bc mickey would obv never interrupt his own sleep to leave the apartment

Mickey steps carefully into their apartment, taking great care to shut the door without being too loud. He closes it with barely a click. But nothing can prepare him for what happens next.

When Mickey turns, it’s like he’s stepped right into a 90s romantic drama, the single floor lamp clicking on to shine in a perfect spotlight, revealing where his husband is very much awake, and very much waiting for his return.

He’s sitting on the couch. Tucked up in his bathrobe and the most unimpressed frown.

“Fuck.”

“Who is he?”

Mickey glances from left to right. Behind himself. Looks at Ian again, his heart still pounding in his chest from the startle. “Who’s who?”

“Don’t gimme that.” And now Ian’s standing up, gathering his robe around himself as he prepares to fire off The Chin. “You disappear every night - yes, I noticed,” he states before Mickey can interrupt. “Bring a bag with you… Come home sweaty… I know you think you’re sneaky, but you’re fucking bad at hiding this, Mickey.”

It takes a second for everything to sink in. For the endorphins from the last couple hours to start pumping upward into his brain this time. 

And… Damn.

Ian caught him.

To be perfectly honest, Mickey thought he was getting away with this shit - was being real cagey and everything too - even getting a shower in before sliding back into bed with him.

“Two hours. That enough to meet up with him and do what you gotta do?”

Meet up with who? Yeah right. “You think I can get somebody out at this hour?” Mickey asks, his confusion starting to put him on edge. “Been doing this shit all on my own. Well-... I mean ‘cept for the other handful of guys who show up sometimes…”

And the way Ian’s eyebrows rise is almost as startling as how he stops in his tracks, repeating the words back to him with dragged out intensity. “‘Handful of guys’...?”

It’s got Mickey slugging his bag off his shoulder, the dramatics of it all really killing his high. “Christ, Ian. What’re you bein’ so bitchy for-”

“What am I being bitchy for.” There he goes again, repeating shit. Like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Mickey are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah - what - I was doin’ this shit for you, anyway. Thought you’d at least be excited about it.”

Oh. Fuck. Ian does not like that. “Excited?” Off comes the robe, in a flurry of angry movements. He’s running hot, and not in a good way. “Why the fuck would I be excited about my husband cheating on me!”

And it’s-...

He’s-...

Wait a second.

“What?”

“You thought you could go out every night and meet up with a ‘handful of guys’ and I’d be jumping for joy?” He sure is using air quotes like he’s having a good time with it, but no no no-

“What the-...” Mickey shakes his head, trying to clear the air because holy fuck, “I ain’t fuckin’ cheating on you, Ian - the hell?”

“You just said-” 

“Christ, you think I’m out bangin’ other dudes?”

“Wuh-...! You-...!”

Mickey rubs a hand over his mouth, everything suddenly making a whole lot of sense. The dramatics. The theater of it all. Ian was catching him coming home from the act, but ‘the act’ ended up being two very different things in their respective heads.

“Holy shit,” Mickey breathes out, going for his bag so he can put that thought immediately out of Ian’s head. “Look.”

He tugs the zipper open. Starts dumping out its contents on the floor right between them - his gym shoes - his old-ass iPod - a workout shirt - socks that stink so bad that they’re all he really needed to avoid all this. One whiff would’ve immediately made things clear.

But it’s enough now. Ian is slowly putting all the pieces together, the worry in his brow evening out and his chin returning to normal pointedness. Finally.

“You…” you says, hope returning. “You’ve been…going to the gym…?”

Mickey gestures to the pile of clothes in between them, his tone evening into something honest. “Yeah, man. Thought you wouldn’t notice once you knocked out…”

Ian eyes over everything one more time. Then slowly, his lips pull into a small pout, those eyes flicking away. “I notice every time you’re not in bed.” ‘Bitch.’ He wants to add it so bad. Mickey can practically see it trying to break through.

But he doesn’t. And there’s something so sheepish and honest and vulnerable about it, that Mickey can’t help but smile, peace returning as he stuffs his clothes and shoes back into his bag. “Fuck would I ever cheat on you for, ya dummy?”

A beat passes. Thoughts lingering. “I dunno… I just thought-...” 

“Well stop.” It sure makes a lot of sense, though. Now that he sees it through that lens. Fuck, he’d probably think the same thing if their roles were switched. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to getchya all riled up…”

“S’okay…” Ian watches as Mickey gets himself sorted. Still has a lot of questions trying to get out - he can tell. And it starts with this one. “What do you mean you were doing this for me?”

It’s the correct one - right away. And Mickey’s glad he asked, actually. Because if he must know…

The floorboards creak beneath his shoes as he steps up into Ian’s space, his muscles warmed up and ready enough to finally show off his skills. 

And when he does it - when he wrangles his giant-ass husband in and hauls him up until he's got those thick thighs straddling his waist, Ian’s startle and wide eyes say it all as Mickey slots him up against the wall - all two hundred pounds - keeping him held up in his arms.

“Been goin’ to the gym so I can lift ya,” he preens, impressed with his own strength.

Because he’s been working for this moment. For the look of sheer shock in Ian’s eyes from the rush of it - how it simmers into delight and pride and something much, much steamier the longer he holds him up.

And damn, that little breathy, impressed laugh that huffs out between them. “Fuck, Mick…”

Oh yeah. This is what all that 2am weightlifting has been for.

“You like that, huh?” Mickey grins, the atmosphere shifting familiar and fun - heavy in a good way. “This do it for ya?”

From his arms, Ian nods, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he takes a second to eat Mickey up with his eyes, those big arms wrapping around the back of his neck. 

He probably thought he was doing a decent job at hiding how hot he gets with this - when Mickey can make him feel small and moveable. 

They’re both absolute dogshit at keeping secrets, it turns out.

[ send me a smutty one-liner ]

#gallavich #ray writes #smutty one-liners

[pockettwinzz]

My Heaven - S.JY

୨୧ Warnings ୨୧ : Fluff, Angst, Toxic parents, Kissing, SFW, not proofread

୨୧ A/N ୨୧ : wrote this in a haste cause i really wanted to release smth for the weekend so I apologize if it's bad :3. Also enhypen's releasing a new version of dark moon ><

୨୧ Word count ୨୧ : 1.7k

As you sat in your new college classroom, your mind drifted away from the mundane lecture on ancient history. You couldn't help but wonder how the rest of your college experience would turn out. With your perfect 4.0 GPA from high school, you had been accepted into one of the most prestigious universities in the country. However, even though you had been top of your class and had received countless awards and accolades, it seemed that your parents were never truly happy with you. They constantly pressured you to study even harder and to strive for even greater heights.

Meanwhile, Jake, who had coasted through high school with mediocre grades and minimal effort, had been welcomed into this new university with open arms. Everyone seemed to love him, and he was constantly surrounded by a group of friends. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy as you watched him laugh and joke with them during the break.

As the semester progressed, you found yourself struggling to keep up with the workload. Your classes were more challenging than you had anticipated, and the constant pressure from your parents only made matters worse. You often found yourself staying up late into the night, hunched over your books, tears streaming down your face as you tried to understand the complex concepts and theories.

Life wasn't going how you wanted it too and seeing others, mostly Jake, sucked up to the professors, get high grades without much effort made you feel even worse. You didn't understand why your parents always thought you were useless. You tried to talk to them about it, to tell them that you were doing your best, but they never listened. They just kept pushing you harder, telling you that you could do better. You started to lose hope, to feel like you were drowning in a sea of academic expectations.

You never knew when it happened, maybe when Jake stole the first position, or maybe when he scored more marks from you on that one chemistry practical, but it was safe to say you hate him. You hated him for being so perfect, for being so loved, for being able to do everything effortlessly while you had to work your ass off to get even a B. You hated him for making your life miserable, for making you feel like you were never good enough, for making you feel like you were nothing but a burden to your parents.

One day, after yet another grueling exam, you decided that you'd had enough. You couldn't take it anymore. You walked up to Jake in the hallway, your hands shaking with anger and frustration. "Why do you get everything so easy?" you demanded, your voice quivering with emotion. "Why does everyone love you and hate me?"

Jake looked taken aback by your outburst, his perfect features twisting into a frown. "What?".

"Why does it always have to be like this?" you cried, your voice cracking. "Why does everyone always love you and hate me? I just want to be normal, just once!" You felt like you were about to burst, like all of the anger and frustration you'd been feeling for so long was building up inside of you, ready to explode. You didn't know why you were telling Jake any of this, but you couldn't help it. You needed someone to understand.

Jake hesitated for a moment, seeming unsure of how to respond. Finally, he took a step closer to you and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Look, I get it," he said softly. "It's hard sometimes, trying to live up to everyone's expectations. But you know what? You're amazing. You're smart, and talented, and you've got so much to offer. You just need to believe in yourself, okay?"

"Shut up" you snapped, shrugging his hand off your shoulder. "You don't understand anything. You've never had to struggle, never had to fight for anything." You turned away from him, anger and hurt burning in your chest. "Stop pretending to be so nice. I hate it, I hate you"

Jake let out a sigh, looking genuinely hurt. "I'm sorry if I've ever done anything to make you feel that way," he said quietly.

You turned back to him, tears streaming down your face. "It's not just you," you sobbed. "It's everyone. I'm just so tired of feeling like I'm never good enough. I'm tired of feeling like a burden." Jake's expression softened, and he reached out to wipe away a tear from your cheek.

"You're not a burden," he said gently. "And you are good enough. You're more than good enough. You just need to remember that." He hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "And you know what? If it means that much to you, I'll help you. I'll help you get through this."

You looked up at him, surprised by his offer. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you want me to help you, I will. I'll study with you, or whatever you need. We can work together to get through this," Jake explained, his voice firm but gentle. "Because you're right, it's not fair. You are good enough, and you deserve to be happy. You deserve to have people believe in you."

You felt a strange sensation in your chest, like a warmth spreading through you. You didn't quite understand it, but it was nice. It was nice to feel like someone actually cared. "Really?" you asked, looking up at him. "You'd really help me?"

Jake nodded, his expression sincere. "Yeah, of course I would. We're friends, aren't we? Besides, it's not like I've got everything easy. I've just learned how to deal with it."

As tensions began to ease between you, Jake started to show you a different side of himself. He'd always been considerate and caring, but now those qualities seemed to shine brighter than ever before. He'd listen intently when you spoke, offering thoughtful advice and encouragement. He'd laugh at your jokes, even when they weren't funny, and he'd make an effort to include you in group activities. You began to feel a warmth in your chest whenever he was around.

One day, as you studied together in the library, you noticed Jake looking at you in a way that made your heart skip a beat. His eyes seemed to hold an intensity that you'd never seen before, and it made you feel both nervous and excited at the same time. As you spoke, he'd occasionally glance at you, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. It was then that you realized, with a start, that you were in love with him.

Over the next few weeks, your friendship blossomed into something deeper. The way Jake treated you, with respect and admiration, made you feel like the most special person in the world. You found yourself looking forward to spending time with him, just talking or watching a movie. The gentle way he touched your hand when he passed you a pen or the way he'd tease you about your favorite TV shows only served to intensify the feelings you had for him.

One evening, as you studied together in his room, the lights were low and the only sound was the soft rustling of pages. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn't even notice how close Jake was sitting to you. You were acutely aware of his presence, of the way his shoulder brushed against yours every time he reached for a pen or turned a page. The air between you seemed to crackle with an electricity that you couldn't quite explain.

As the night wore on, you found yourself glancing up at him more and more often, studying the lines of his face, the way his hair fell across his forehead, the way his lips moved as he spoke. You felt your heart race every time he looked at you, and you could swear that there was something different in his eyes. Something warm and intense.

You tried to concentrate on your work, but your mind kept wandering, drifting back to the way he'd been acting. You wondered if he felt the same way about you. You wondered what he would do if you confessed your feelings. A part of you was terrified of ruining your friendship, but another part of you longed for something more. Something deep and lasting. Something real.

"J-jake," you stammer, your voice barely audible over the thunder of your heart. "I-I love you." The words hang in the air between you, heavy and palpable, as if they've been weighing on your chest for far too long. You feel your face flush with embarrassment, but at the same time, there's a strange sense of relief in finally getting the words out.

Jake goes still, his eyes widening in surprise. He hesitates for a moment, searching your face, before exhaling softly and leaning in closer. His lips meet yours, tentatively at first, but with a growing intensity that takes your breath away. You can feel the heat of his body pressed against yours, his hands gently cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss.

The world around you fades away as you lose yourself in the sensation of being connected to him. His taste, his smell, the feel of his skin against yours—it's all so familiar and yet so new at the same time. You moan into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, wanting more of him.

Jake responds eagerly, deepening the kiss even further. His tongue dances with yours, teasing and exploring, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the passion building inside of you, a warmth spreading through your entire body. You never knew you could feel this way about someone, this alive, this desired.

As you break away from the kiss, your eyes meet his, and you see the love reflected there. It's a look of wonder and awe, as if he can't quite believe how lucky he is to be sharing this moment with you. He trails his fingers down your cheek, over your jawline, and to your lips again, this time softly tracing their outline.

"I love you too, Yn," he whispers. "I've loved you for a long time."

Your heart soars at his words, and you feel a newfound sense of joy and security wash over you. You realize that this is what you've always wanted, to be truly loved and cherished by someone as wonderful as Jake. You lean in and kiss him again, this time with more passion and longing, as if you could never get enough of his lips on yours.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡Permanent Taglist ༘˚⋆𐙚｡ @cha-eui @alvojake @heeslut4life @wondipity @dollywons @wonlvkay

{reply or send ask to be added Minors + blogs w/o ages DNI}

#enhypen #pockettwinzz writes #enha x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x female reader #enhypen jake #jake sim #enhypen fluff #sim jaeyun #sim jake x reader #jake x reader #jake x y/n #jake fluff #jake fanfic #jake angst #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #dividers by dollywons #moodboards by pockettwinzz #sfw

[pinkandlilacroses]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Angel - Paige bueckers

part 5

• summary {in which an unsuspecting girl falls for the basketball star}

• warnings {angst, mention of sexual acts}

• comment if you would like to be added to the taglist

“i shouldn’t have done that” was the last things she said, before running out of my dorm

what the fuck. she has feelings for me? do i have feelings for her to. i need to find her

‘bella’ has unblocked ‘paige’

bella

- paige where are you

- paige please talk to me

- please

- where are you

- answer me

- i’m coming to your dorm

i slam my bedroom door shut, this is all happening so fast. she was ignoring me and now she likes me????

what?

“paige is know your in here” i say while banging on her door

“bella leave me alone” she says, door still shut

“paige let me in” i say, almost begging the girl

she opens the door, teary eyed

“paige” i say, my tone shifting completely, turning soft and calm.

“you dont need to talk to me, pretend i never said that” she says, tears streaming

“i want to talk to you”

“you just feel bad”

“i feel the same” i say, partially shocking myself, shes all i’ve been thinking about for weeks. maybe i like her and maybe i want her to be more than just a one time thing. and hearing that she feels the same, relive flooded my body. i’m not delusional, she feels the same

“no you don’t” she says

“why don’t you believe me paige, your all i can think about” i say, walking towards her and the dorm room shuts

“you were ignoring me”

“i was ignoring you cause you were doing the same” i say

“i was ignoring you cause i like you”

“i like you to” i say, genuinely

“i cant like you” she says, tears forming in her eyes again

“why cant you paige” i say, completely erasing any space between us and lightly stroking her bare arm

no response

“paige” i say, looking up at her, shes not looking at me

“paige answer me” i say, my own tears making an appearance in my eyes

“i cant bella, i want to, but i cant”

“you cant what”

“i cant be with you, ever” she says, each word breaking my heart further. confusion is an understatement to how i’m feeling right now

“then why would you say what you said paige” i say, anger arising

“it was a mistake” she says, her emotions emulating my own

“this is fucking ridiculous” i say, breaking away from her and throwing my arms up in defeat

she drags my arm, so i’m back in my original position

“i didn’t say i wanted you to leave” she says, timid

i want to stay, i really do. but shes just gonna fuck me over again, and i’d let her

“why so you can fuck me and never speak to me again!” i say, fuming at the blonde

“im sorry” she says, voice raising to my level

“it was a mistake and you know that” she continues

“how many fucking mistakes do you make paige, cause i can list plenty” i say, rudely

i can see tears forming in her eyes, and i can feel my eyes doing the same. fuck

“don’t cry” she says, her own voice breaking from emotions

“paige is really like you, why are you doing this to me” i ask, letting my tears fall

“im so sorry bella, but i cant do it, i wish i could but i cant”

“whats the reason paige? what do you want from me” i ask, emotions at an all time high

“hey guys” azzi and avery say

fuck

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers smut #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #uconn #azzi fudd

[sweetcherryharry]

Begin Again — 06

Synopsis: Harry and Y/N had a secret relationship for almost two years, until they broke up. A year later, she shows up at one of his Love On Tour shows.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to get her voice to work.  "Harry," she managed to whisper, the word a mix of apprehension and a strange sense of relief.

Silence stretched across the line, broken only by the faint hum of his breathing. The tension that had simmered beneath the surface of their reunion was now a palpable force, thickening the air with unspoken words.

"Y/N," his voice finally came, hesitant yet laced with a surprising tenderness. "Are you alright?"

The question caught her off guard. Despite everything, his first concern was for her.  A wave of conflicting emotions washed over her – guilt, gratitude, and a lingering ache in her chest that spoke of the bond they'd once shared. "I… I will be," she finally managed, her voice trembling slightly.

"Have you…seen it?"  His question hung unfinished, the unspoken words echoing in her mind – Have you seen what's happening online?

A bitter laugh threatened to escape her lips. "Just a little bit," she admitted, the understatement of the year. Natalie and Maia had given her the broad strokes. It was enough to know that her carefully crafted world was about to implode.

"I'm so sorry." His voice was thick with sincerity, laced with an unspoken understanding of the maelstrom she was about to face.

Y/N closed her eyes, briefly overwhelmed. His apology, while genuine, did little to change the situation. "Don't be," she said softly, pushing down a bitter laugh.  "It's ironic, isn't it? All those years of hiding, and now…"  Her voice trailed off, unable to articulate the absurdity of it all.

"It's a mess," Harry finished for her, his voice heavy.  He seemed to understand the unspoken weight of her words, the sting of a love they'd protected so fiercely, now suddenly exposed in the harshest possible light.

A wave of memories washed over Y/N – the secrecy, the stolen moments, the fear of discovery that hung over them like a constant shadow. And then, the pain of their breakup still lingered, a dull ache that this unexpected reunion had reawakened.

"We were so careful," she whispered, the words filled with a mix of regret and resignation.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his voice. "I know," he said gently. "Believe me, I know." There was a hint of self-recrimination in his tone, the weight of the past they shared settling between them.

The memory of his invitation to Harryween suddenly resurfaced, a flicker of warmth amidst the chaos.  He had invited her back into his world, a tempting glimpse of what could be. But now… she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Harry," her voice was hesitant, "I don't think I can go to Harryween." The words were like a heavy weight settling on her chest.

Last night, after their bittersweet moment in the backstage bathroom, they had went out to the Love Band’s living room and conversed there happily for a while —by themselves and with other people—, and during those moments, he had invited her and her friends to the next show, which was Harryween.

She had agreed. The invitation was friendly, and she knew how amazing Harryween was. Besides, she knew her friends would love to go (Y/N too, even though she would keep it a secret).

But now… with all of this going on, she wasn’t so sure it was the best idea to attend. All eyes would be looking for the mystery girl in the crowd.

"I figured you might say that," he replied, his tone surprisingly understanding.  "It's probably for the best."

Despite his words, a pang of disappointment shot through Y/N. Part of her had hoped… but reason won out. It was simply too risky.

"But Y/N," Harry continued, a hesitant note entering his voice, "What if... what if there was a way?"

She sat up straighter, a flicker of curiosity battling her apprehension. "A way? What do you mean?"

"Think about it…" he said, "it's Harryween! Everyone will be in costume. You could disguise yourself, Maia and Natalie too. It will be packed with people all dressed up." A pause hung in the air as tension and possibility crackled between them.

Y/N's mind raced. The idea was both absurd and strangely tempting. Could she pull it off? Could things get back to normal, even just a little bit, in the middle of all this crazy mess?

"I don't know, Harry," she said finally, her voice laced with apprehension and a touch of yearning. "It sounds crazy."

"Maybe," he shot back, a hint of playfulness returning. "But sometimes, crazy's just what we need."

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Y/N's lips. There was a time when they'd thrived on a little bit of crazy, pushing boundaries and creating their own secret world. But this… this was on a whole different level. Public scrutiny, paparazzi, and the potential fallout felt like a hurricane waiting to erupt.

"Even with a disguise," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "there's no guarantee they won't recognize me. The media… they're relentless."

"We can take precautions," Harry assured her, his voice firm yet laced with a newfound determination. He was determined, he wanted to see her again.

The memory of their shared past, the stolen moments before and after his shows and clandestine meetings, sent a shiver down her spine. A tiny part of her, a part she'd buried deep down, yearned for a taste of that carefree intimacy again.

"Just… think about it, Y/N," he continued, his voice softening. "No pressure. But if you do decide… I'll make sure everything is arranged. Secure seats, a top-notch disguise… the works."

The silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of the decision before her.  A part of her craved a sense of normalcy, a chance to reconnect with Harry outside the whirlwind of chaos. But the other part…the cautious, pragmatic part…knew the potential risks were immense.

"I… I'll let you know," she finally managed, her voice a mixture of apprehension and a strange sense of anticipation.

"Alright," Harry replied, a hint of disappointment in his tone. "And Y/N…"  he hesitated for a moment, "stay off your phone for now. Don't look at social media. Things are going to get…intense. My PR team will be in contact with me soon, and we'll figure out our next move together, okay?."

After she agreed, the call ended. 

Y/N sat with her friends, staring at the phone, her heart hammering in her chest. 

Harryween. Disguises. Stolen moments. It all felt like a dangerous, thrilling game. And deep down, a part of her was already considering the unimaginable– defying expectations and stepping back into Harry's world, if only for one last night.

Natalie and Maia exchanged worried glances, sensing the inner turmoil their friend was facing. The silence in the room hung heavy, broken only by the soft buzzing of Y/N's phone, each new notification a potential explosion of chaos.

"Well?" Maia finally broke the silence, her voice edged with concern. "What did Harry say?"

Natalie reached out, gently squeezing Y/N's hand. "We heard some of it, but… what's the plan?"

Y/N took a deep breath, the weight of the decision pressing down on her.  Should she tell them about Harry's crazy proposal? A part of her yearned to share the burden, while another feared their reaction.

"He…" she began hesitantly, then trailed off. How could she possibly explain the allure of stepping back into the madness, even for one night?

"He wants me to go to Harryween," she blurted out, unable to contain the secret any longer. “Want us to go to Harryween, tomorrow night.”

Natalie and Maia's eyes widened in surprise.

"Go? As in, be there?" Natalie asked, her voice incredulous. "Isn't that like…walking into the lion's den?"

Maia frowned. "But how? Won't everyone recognize you? It's the most exclusive concert of the whole tour!"

Y/N explained Harry's proposal in a hushed tone. "He says he can get us good seats… somewhere discreet. And disguises. He thinks with the right costume, no one would suspect a thing."

A flicker of excitement sparked in Natalie's eyes. "Honestly, that sounds kinda thrilling. Like a spy mission."

Maia, always the more practical one, shook her head. "It sounds like a recipe for disaster. Y/N, the press, Harry's fans… they'll be relentless. If they figure it out…"

Y/N knew her friend was right. It was a massive risk, a gamble with potentially devastating consequences.  But as she thought of Harry, and the possibility of a single night of stolen normalcy, her heart beat a little faster.

She took a deep breath, trying to process their reactions. Natalie's thrill-seeking nature mirrored a small part of her own, while Maia's caution resonated with her rational side.

"I know, I know," she sighed, running a hand through her hair.  "It sounds insane. But… there's this part of me," she paused, searching for the right words, "that yearns for it. Just one more night, one more concert. It also feels a bit bittersweet, since I attended the last Harryween…"  Her voice trailed off, a pang of nostalgia twisting  in her heart.

Natalie leaned in, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and understanding. "Y/N, we get it. This whole situation is crazy. But you have to do what feels right for you."

Maia nodded in agreement. "We're here for you, no matter what.  But please, think about this carefully. There may be fallout you haven't even considered."

Y/N's gaze fell on her phone again, the thousands of silent notifications piling up like a countdown to chaos.  "I need to think," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.  "And… well, I'm waiting for Harry's team to propose some strategies. We'll have to see what they say."

The mention of last year's Harryween hung in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the life she'd left behind. It had been a magical night, filled with the thrill of Harry's performance and a shared secret only they knew. 

Could she recapture that magic, even in the midst of this storm?

—

Time seemed to both crawl and race by as Y/N sat alone in her apartment. The warmth of the recent shower did little to combat the chill that had settled in her bones. Strategies and concerns echoed in her head, endless 'what-ifs' twisting her stomach into knots.  

She'd ignored her social media all day, the constant stream of notifications a terrifying countdown she wasn't ready to face. Instead, she'd buried herself in meaningless tasks, tidying the apartment, anything to keep her hands busy and her mind from spiraling. Her phone buzzed incessantly, messages from worried acquaintances and distant friends piling up, demanding confirmation – was she the mystery girl? She couldn't even bring herself to read them. 

Eventually, the isolation was unbearable. Seeking any distraction, she messaged Natalie and Maia, assuring them she was okay, or as okay as someone could be in this situation.  The simple act of reaching out brought a sliver of normalcy back into her chaotic world. 

A flicker of her phone screen broke the renewed silence. A text from Harry.

She couldn’t help but feel her heart racing seeing the new notification on her phone.

Hi sunflower xx

Can we meet? I just had the PR meeting, and I’d like to talk about the options with you, in person.

A surge of adrenaline washed away the exhaustion. She didn't hesitate.

Yeah, sure, my place?

Not even a second after, there was a reply from him.

It’d be perfect :)

Can you send the address? xx

Since they had met and started dating while she was studying abroad in London, and then they moved together back then, she never had a place of her own in Los Angeles when they were dating. So, naturally, he didn’t know where she lived anymore.

She quickly shared her address, and decided to brew tea while she waited for him to arrive.

Within thirty minutes, there was a knock at her door. Y/N took a deep, steadying breath before opening it, revealing Harry on the other side. He looked slightly disheveled, the usual polish of his superstar persona replaced by a hint of vulnerability that tugged at her heart.

"Hey," he said, his voice low, a soft smile playing on his lips that seemed imbued with genuine warmth and a touch of nervousness.  

“Hey,” she replied, stepping to the side of the open door, “Please, come in.”

As he walked into the open space of the shared living room and kitchen, his green eyes scanned the place. “It’s a lovely place,” he remarked, his compliment genuine.

A strange sense of displacement washed over her as she watched him cross the threshold. This apartment –this space she'd meticulously chosen and decorated– represented a chapter of her life he had never been a part of. Seeing him here felt disorienting, like a dream overlapping with reality.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, closing the door behind them. An echo of shared domesticity hung in the air, a reminder of a past they couldn't speak of. "Would you like some tea?" she asked, more out of habit than genuine hospitality.

Harry shook his head slightly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "I'm alright, thanks."

A tense silence stretched between them as they both took a seat on the couch. The apartment, once her sanctuary after their break up, now felt charged with emotion. Everything felt too much – the weight of the online storm brewing outside, the secrets they carried, and now the disorienting intimacy of being alone together for the first time in almost a year.

"So," Harry began, running a hand through his hair – a nervous gesture she remembered all too well.  "How are you?" His question was gentle, his eyes reflecting a genuine concern that cut through the awkwardness.

Y/N looked away, her gaze settling on a framed photo on the bookshelf – a memento from a solo trip, a testament to the life she'd built for herself after him.  "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.  "Overwhelmed, I guess. Confused. This whole thing… it's surreal."

"I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry. For all of this." His apology hung in the air, heavy and sincere.

"It's okay," she forced a smile. "Don't worry about it. We always knew… there was a chance this could happen." Her voice trailed off, the unspoken words lingering between them. Fame had always been a looming shadow in their relationship, a constant threat to the fragile normalcy they'd tried to build.

"So," Harry began again, a hint of resignation in his voice, "about the PR meeting…"

And just like that, the fragile bubble of intimacy burst, and the focus shifted back to the harsh realities of their situation.

"It's not pretty," he admitted, a sigh escaping his lips.  "They're suggesting… well, the classic options. Deny everything. Issue a statement about respecting privacy. Simply ignore everything and keep quiet. Or..." he hesitated, meeting her gaze, "they suggested we frame it as being long-term friends, and that we would hang out from time to time, explaining me being in your picture.”

The options swirled in Y/N's head. Complete denial felt false and cowardly. A generic statement about privacy reeked of celebrity evasion. Ignoring everything was simply not an option with the way social media was imploding. But the last suggestion, framing their history as a friendship… it wasn't a lie, not entirely. There were a few months when friendship was the cornerstone of their relationship, before love had blossomed.

"That's… not the worst idea," she admitted cautiously. It would mean bending the truth, selectively obscuring the past, but it felt less damaging than an outright denial.

Harry seemed to relax slightly, a flicker of relief in his eyes. "It's the least harmful way forward, I think. Buys us some time while giving people a plausible explanation. And..." he paused, a hint of vulnerability in his voice, "I wouldn't hate having you back in my life, even as just a friend."

His words echoed in the silence. Y/N felt a pang of longing, a flicker of the old connection reigniting. Being his friend –a safe, public version of what they once had– was a tempting proposition. And yet…

"Yeah," she replied, the word barely a whisper. A wave of doubt washed over her. Could she do this? Could she see him, interact with him, knowing the depth of their shared history, and pretend it was only friendship?

A memory resurfaced: the stolen moments, the shared laughter, the way his touch had once felt like coming home. Could she truly bury all that and relegate him to the role of a casual acquaintance from her past?

Harry seemed to pick up on her inner turmoil. "I know this is a lot," he said softly. "And we don't have to decide anything right now. But…" a hint of hope crept into his voice, "would you be open to the idea?  Just… hanging out, as friends, and see how it feels?"

A sliver of guilt pricked her conscience. Saying 'friend' felt like a betrayal of their past, but it was also a lifeline in this storm. "Okay," she said, her voice stronger this time. "We could…try."

Unbeknownst to her, Harry felt a bittersweet relief wash over him. "Friends" – the word sliced through him, a constant reminder of the love he still harbored immensely for her. But he could see the hesitation in her eyes, the internal struggle. It was for the best –her best– he told himself firmly. 

For her safety, for his career, this was the path they had to tread, even if it meant walking over shards of his own broken heart.

The memory of their breakup played on a loop in his mind. The ache hadn't dulled over time; it had merely transformed. It was the price of his ambition, his relentless climb to stardom, and the cruel reality that success had made their love impossible to sustain. 

And yet, watching her swept into the spotlight, her name and face twisted in the cruel narratives of the online mob, ignited a fierce protectiveness within him.

He couldn't change the past, even if he wanted to with his whole being. She was his home, his whole life. She was the love of his life, and he had lost her almost a year ago.

If pretending friendship was the shield to protect her, he would wear the mask with unwavering conviction. It would hurt, every smile, every innocent touch, every conversation constrained by the invisible boundary they now had to uphold. 

But it was a pain he could endure, a pain he would gladly choose if it meant offering her a semblance of safety in the eye of this relentless storm.

"Look," Harry interrupted her internal struggle, determination in his voice, "I have to make a quick call. My team... they need to get the word out. An exclusive, a carefully worded leak… something to back our ‘long-time friends’ story."

A touch of bitterness edged his voice, but Y/N understood. It was the game they had to play, the reality of his world she could never truly escape.

Harry retreated to the kitchen of her apartment, his voice a low murmur as he spoke to his team.  Y/N sat alone in the living room, the weight of their decision pressing down on her. When he returned, his expression was unreadable, a mix of resignation and a strange hint of hope.

"All set," he said, a forced lightness in his voice. "The wheels are in motion. Tomorrow…well, tomorrow things will be different. Hopefully."

A quiet "thank you" slipped from Y/N's lips, laced with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. The weight of their decision settled on her like a heavy cloak.

Harry's gaze landed on the coffee table, where a beautiful, carefully crocheted bouquet of pink, white, and yellow flowers sat nestled atop fashion magazines. A flicker of recognition softened his eyes. "Hey," he said, his voice husky, "isn't that…"

Y/N's head snapped up, a wave of warmth and nostalgia washing over her.  "The flowers? Yeah," she admitted, a hesitant smile tugging at her lips.

"From that little market in London?" A smile bloomed on Harry's face as the memory came rushing back. "We spent ages arguing about which colors you should get."

Y/N's smile widened. "I can't believe you remember! I thought for sure you'd force me to choose the blue and purple ones."

"I almost did," Harry chuckled, his voice filled with a warmth that seemed to contradict the carefully constructed distance between them. "But pink and yellow were always your colors."

Laughter bubbled up from Y/N, genuine and unexpected. 

The dam holding back memories seemed to crack, and a torrent of shared experiences flooded their minds. They reminisced about their adventures, a clumsy encounter at a local bookstore. They recounted the time they got lost on a hike in the south of France, ending up stranded with nothing but a granola bar, two green juices, and a breathtaking view.

Each shared story was a brushstroke, painting a vibrant picture of their past love. With every laugh, every playful jab, the line between friends and lovers felt increasingly blurred. The comfortable silence they'd strived for earlier seemed a distant memory, replaced by an easy flow of conversation that only years of shared history could create.

The familiarity of their interaction was both a balm and a poison. They'd fallen into an old comfortableness, one that both recognized, deep down, as a home they could no longer share.

The night went on, and the arrival of take-out momentarily broke the tension. The act of setting out plates and choosing something mindless to watch felt like a step back towards their agreed-upon boundaries.  

Neither spoke of it, the desire to cling to this stolen moment of normalcy outweighing the need to address the elephant in the room. The movie became a background hum, the plotline irrelevant compared to the unspoken narrative playing out between them.

A comfortable silence settled over them as the movie progressed. Exhaustion from the relentless stress of the past day crept in, their eyelids growing heavy.  Before they fully realized it, Harry's head dipped forward, finding a natural resting place on Y/N's shoulder. She stiffened for a fleeting moment before relaxing, a sigh escaping her lips.

Subconsciously, they shifted closer, years of shared habits overriding any pretense of detachment. As sleep stole over them, nestled together on the couch, it felt achingly, heartbreakingly like home. 

The outside world, with its prying eyes and manufactured narratives, ceased to exist. For a few fleeting hours, they were just them, finding solace in a love they couldn't bear to name.

taglist:

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @one-sweet-gubler @jjsgirlp4l @lovingmesstuff @gem1712 @tinyhrry @kipperthedog2004 @behindmygreyeyes @theekyliepage @winterrays @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @slutforcoffein @a-strange-familiar @grapejuice-rry @tranquility-moon @tpwksummer @awkwardbisexuall @ameerakane20 @harryspirate @that-one-little-soybean @voniikg @lovergirl42442 @daydreamingwithaseaview @harrysdaydream22 @lonelyxhabit @obsessed-with-every-book-ever @silenthappyplace @hesdebility @lomlhstyles @cookielovesbook-akie @champagneneen @tbsloneely @b-reads-things @awatt31 @walkingfromlondon @snorksquid101 @imtooindecisiveforthisshit @hannah9921 @moonstoneandmoonlight @renatavieira @harrysluvv @daphnesutton @oknothanks26 @satellitelh

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harrystyles #harry imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles series #famous!harry

[hyuuukais]

⋆.˚𖦹°‧✮‧°𖦹˚.⋆ ERROR 404

pairing ~ yang jeongin x fem reader

synopsis ~ y/n starts getting messages from an unknown number after buying a used phone for cheap. as she finds out more about the boy she's talking to, it turns out there's much more to this than a wrong number --- he died, and she's talking to his spirit, yet he has no idea what happened to him. will y/n have what it takes to solve the mystery of his death? or will the boy's spirit remained trapped in his phone?

warnings ~ gen, drinking

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CH 4 ~ ENERGY (wc: 2.7k, 7 screenshots)

Flipping the open sign to 'closed', you wait for Minho behind the counter. There hasn't been much more communication from him since the last time you talked, only a confirmation of when you're meeting. Changbin made sure to leave before he decides to show up, feeling too uncomfortable facing an old friend. Other than the occasional check-in text from Jeongin, you haven't had much ghostly interaction either, which you think is for the best.

Each interaction so far has taken more and more energy, starting with the man on the bus and then the elderly woman. A headache, then nearly passing out? At this point, you'll end up in the hospital. A chill goes down your spine thinking of that; would it be easier for the ghost to get to you unprotected like that, lying in a hospital bed unconscious and exposed?

The sound of the bell alerts you of Minho's arrival. Adjusting yourself to lean against the counter, you watch him close the door and lock it. When he turns around, he catches your eye and gives you a light nod of acknowledgment. Slowly, he makes his way toward the counter, fingers trailing over an arrangement of pink carnations mixed with greenery. Minho stops, letting a petal fall between his fingers and onto the floor. Shaking his head, he closes the distance between himself and the counter with a couple of strides.

"I don't know if I believe you," Minho says, leaning on the counter; his face is too close to yours. "But I'm willing to try and help. I owe Changbin."

"How so?" You ask, unsure if you'll get a reply when he places his bag on the counter and takes out a sleek laptop.

"Why do you need to know? That's between me and him," Minho doesn't even spare you a glance as he opens the device and starts typing. "What's the kid's name again? Any lead suspects yet?"

"Yang Jeongin and no, not really," You answer with a shrug. "I guess the most notable person is his best friend, Hwang Hyunjin."

"Have you looked into him yet?" Minho's eyes dart up between yours, returning to the screen and starting to type. "Could be something there."

"I don't know-" You're interrupted by a buzz and look down to see a text from Jeongin.

Rolling your eyes, you place your phone face down and focus back on Minho's typing. He's not saying anything, but his eyebrows are knit together in concentration as his fingers fly over the keyboard. Other than the sound of the keys, the flower shop is eerily silent, making you slightly uncomfortable. Ever since this has started up, quiet rooms have you on edge, waiting for the next visit from another spirit.

Minho sighs heavily, stepping away from the screen and pacing in front of the counter. You let him take his time, a hand sitting in his hair showing he must be thinking hard. Hopefully. You'll see in a moment.

"Nothing is showing up," Minho stops in front of his laptop, slamming it shut with the hand not holding his head. "Absolutely nothing, just a warning- error, whatever."

"The same thing happened to me!" You stand up straight, fingertips holding the edge of the counter tightly. "When I found this blog that was talking all about his death, it wouldn't let me read the rest of it and said there was an error! It's like something is stopping us from finding out-"

"Invisible forces?" Minho raises an eyebrow.

"Isn't that the whole thing? Normally, people can't see ghosts. Why do you think probably half the world doesn't believe in them?" You say. "So, yeah, invisible forces."

"Alright, sure," Minho slips his laptop bag into his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. "I'll look into Hyunjin. Goodnight."

"Wait-" As he turns to leave, you call out; he looks back at you over his shoulder. "Would you... could you give me a ride? Being alone right now has me kind of freaked out."

"Won't you be alone at home?"

"Yeah, but it's different," You mumble, looking down at your feet. "It still feels safe there."

Minho hums in response and you don't move.

"Aren't you coming?" He asks after a moment, car keys jingling in his hand.

You lift your head and spot him holding the front door open. Grabbing your bag and jacket, you walk out after Minho and follow him to his car parked down the road. He opens the door for you politely and you step in with a small 'thank you', fiddling with your bag strap as he walks to the other side and lets himself in. The ride to your house is silent, save for the occasional direction from the GPS.

Along the way, you spot a few stragglers out on the streets, one catching your eye when you're stopped at a red light. An uncomfortable feeling washes over you as they keep staring and you shiver, breaking the eye contact and focusing on the road in front of you. When the light turns green, you take one last look and jump. They're right outside your window, the imprint of a hand left on the glass as Minho starts driving again. He gives you a weird look that you miss, too busy trying to learn how to breathe again.

Ten minutes later, you're standing outside your door picking up the keys you just dropped from your hands shaking too much. Minho is stationed outside watching you get in safely, your cheeks flushing from embarrassment when you struggle to get your key in the lock. Switching the light on, you can hear the rumble of Minho driving away and take a deep breath. You're home now, nothing can hurt you here.

Entering your bedroom, you flop face first into your plush bedding and stay like that for a moment. You feel a dip at the end of the bed, but it doesn't freak you out. By now you can tell when it's Jeongin; his presence feels familiar. The bed moves slightly as he adjusts and gets comfortable beside you and you turn your head enough to be able to peek up at him. He's staring straight ahead, hands folded in his lap, and you see he's even kicked his shoes off. Shaggy black hair falls into his eyes and he shakes his head enough to clear his sight, his eyes then falling onto yours- you've been caught.

"Like what you see?" He teases, head rolling to his shoulder to face you completely.

"No," You lie with a grin, propping yourself up on your elbow. "Not at all. Personally, I'm not a fan of having dead people in my bed."

Jeongin laughs at that, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. You watch him relax, sliding further down into your pillows with a content expression. As much as you want to join him in seemingly falling asleep, you still need to change and wash up. But-

"I gotta go," You say, rolling off the side of your bed.

"What?" Jeongin sits up, hands behind him. "Why?"

"Changbin wants to hang out."

"I thought you were in for the night?" Jeongin's voice goes higher at the end of the sentence.

"Me too! But it's been so long since we've done something fun. Now, which is better? This," You hold a plain black dress up to your body. "-or this?"

You switch the black for a dark red strapless shirt and some black pants and watch his reaction. Although he hesitates, you can already tell he's thinking the second and you toss the dress back toward your closet. After he covers his eyes, you change quickly and do some last touch-ups before leaving the room. Jeongin follows you and you both keep an eye outside for Changbin.

"Be careful, okay?" Jeongin talks low, keeping his eyes on the road when you look over at him. "Lots of energy in those kinds of places, don't need you getting hurt. Especially if you're planning on drinking."

"Are you worried about me?" You tease.

"No, I just don't want you to become one of us before my case is solved."

"Cold."

"Just like my case." This makes you laugh, a light catching the corner of your eye.

Changbin steps out of his vehicle and starts to approach, but you're already waving goodbye to Jeongin and exiting before he can get up the steps to the front door. The night air is crisp, goosebumps forming on your exposed skin, but you're quickly ushered into the warmth of the car. In the window of your house, you can still see Jeongin watching when you drive off. On the way to the bar, you and Changbin sing along to his daily playlist to bring up the mood, and it works incredibly well. By the time you're entering the building, any thoughts of ghosts and death are gone.

Ordering two of the same drink, you and Changbin sit with your backs to the bar and observe the others, making up backstories for each person who passes by you or seems interesting. About four drinks later, Changbin has convinced you to join him on the dance floor. One more drink, and you find yourself surrounded by strangers, distracted by the loud music flowing through your veins. It seeps into your skin and you can feel the beat moving inside you, letting your body take control. In front of you, Changbin shows off his moves and you can hear people cheering, but you know to him it's just the two of you here.

The music slows and so does your body, adrenaline leaving as you brush some hair out of your face. Changbin's expression is all scrunched up in a pout and you laugh at the way he appears to be going in slow motion; it's funny, that is until you notice how everyone around you is following his lead. Panic starts to settle heavy in your chest, turning every direction to try and spot what's causing this.

You sway on your feet as you see the first spirit weaving through the bodies toward you. There's a hole in the center of his head, dried blood crusted down his nose and chin. Moving back to the bar, you stop when you almost hit the chest of someone else; her eyes are dark as she towers over you and you step away. You let your body guide you away, walking turning into a frantic dance to avoid the mass amount of spirits that seem to be mixed with the crowd. The exit isn't too far now, but you seem to be getting sluggish purely from being near this many spirits. You can hear your breathing turn to wheezing as you stumble forward with a hand out, your fingers barely brushing the red handle before someone is wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you away. There's no fight left in you, your eyelids heavy and your body falling limp. Someone is calling your name as you're torn away from whoever is holding you, blurry visions of colourful figures above you being the last thing you see before your eyes flutter shut.

-

When your eyes open, you don't recognize the room you're in. Dust falls from the ceiling, visible in the moonlight coming through a window above you, white curtains pulled to the side. The bed you're in is much too small for your body, pale blue sheets twisted under your legs. Rubbing sleep out of your eyes, you sit up slowly, a wave of dizziness rocking you. Once it's over, you take in the rest of the room.

It appears to be a child's bedroom, string lights pinned corner to corner emitting a dim gold on the walls. Tucked in the corner is a small desk with art supplies messily organized in compartments, one cup of paintbrushes knocked over with dried paint water soaked into a drawing. You stand and pick up the drawing; there's two boys standing by water, but one has been smudged by the spillage. They seem to be watching something out there, but the drawing is unfinished.

Directly next to the desk is an open door leading into a short hallway. Stairs lead downward with candles melting over the railing, wax dripping onto the wooden steps. As you walk toward the stairs, you can't help but look at all the photos covering the walls. Most are artsy, decorative shots, but one in particular catches your eye. There's a family of four, but the photo is torn at the parent's middle, leaving only the children to be seen holding hands and smiling wide. It's almost unsettling.

Following the pathway, it ends at the doorway to what looks like a living room, but all the furniture is covered in white sheets. You cover your mouth to suppress a noise when you spot a man standing by a fireplace. The sound of your hand slapping over your mouth must have alerted him, his head whipping around to look at you.

"What are you...?" He's turning fully now, head tilted to the side and eyes squinting. You have to hold in another gasp when you realize it's Hyunjin you're looking at.

"I don't know," you reply quietly, bringing your hand back to your side. "I've never been here before. I don't know where I am."

"You shouldn't be able to get in here. You-" He stalks toward you and grabs your wrists, bringing you into the room with him.

You watch his eyes widen as the moonlight hits you, eyebrows knitting together and mouth falling open slightly. The grip on your wrists is bruising, and he gives no sign of letting go. There's a shift in the air and he looks away from you and past your head, eyes narrowing at something in the space behind you.

"Back off," He warns, and you're almost too scared to know what he's seeing. "Stay right there."

His voice wavers, hands finally loosening and you're able to pull away completely. This, however, is a mistake. Hyunjin is reaching for you again with a shout of your name as hands grab you from behind, tearing you away from the room, the house, this whole place.

With a gasp, you sit up in a hospital bed, lights blinding you. Someone is touching you, trying to calm you, but you fight them off; you've had enough of peoples skin on yours. Head in your hands, you take deep breathes and notice just how badly you're shaking. You hadn't even realized you were crying until now.

"Y/n! It's just me-" Changbin's voice is clear beside you now that you're a bit more adjusted. "Hey, it's just me. You passed out."

"What?" You finally let him settle you back against the stiff pillow. "I did?"

"Yeah, and I think it's ghost related, but I don't know," Changbin shifts in his chair uncomfortably. "Jeongin's been blowing up your phone."

He hands you the small device and you unlock it to see he's right, Jeongin has been blowing up your phone.

Jeongin replaces Changbin, sitting in the chair with his legs crossed at the ankles. Neither of you talk, but he does stare at you with concern visible on his face. You lay down on your side, keeping your eyes on him as you get comfortable, or at least as much as you can be. There's a moment when he opens his mouth, but a nurse comes into the room to check on you before he can say anything. She explains you'll be able to go home soon, just rest for now.

When she leaves, you sigh. "I wish I never left my bed."

"Me too," Jeongin admits quietly, a faint blush of red creeping up his neck and you giggle.

The energy with him is so different than other spirits and you can't understand why. With him, it's warm, easy; It's not draining or unwelcoming in the slightest. Being with him feels nice, like a dream you don't want to leave.

Jeongin follows you out of the hospital, into the cab they provide, and back into your home. He waits outside of your bedroom as you change, opening the door to let him back in. Crawling into bed, you catch a glimpse of Jeongin next to you. This is the first time you've seen him look so unguarded since you've met, so peaceful, and you drift into sleep thinking of him.

~

notes ~ this is unedited bc it's 2:30 am and i'm tired so pls ignore any mistakes lol

taglist ~ @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @bloomingstay @sona1800

@dollschan @defnotfertilizedtoesw @thisisnotjacinta @kayleigh-28 @kayleefriedchicken

@lailac13 @linocvp1d @ilov3jeong1n @mooseung @kkamismom12

reply or send an ask to be added (18+)^^^ green means i can't tag you

#⋆.˚𖦹°‧✮‧°𖦹˚.⋆ ERROR 404 #skz #stray kids #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x fem reader #yang jeongin #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #yang jeongin fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz series #yang jeongin series #smau #partial smau #non idol au #i.n x reader #i.n x fem reader

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Second Chance - Chapter 13

Masterlist

Warning: small amount of angst (talking about death, past trauma), mostly fluff, swearing, gay panic(both reader and Yelena are in love your honor)

Note: This has been my favorite chapter I've written so far this story.

Word Count: 3.5k

You understood why people rode motorcycles. There was no way to hear your thoughts over the engine’s roar. The whipping wind covered your arms and legs in goosebumps. As you swerved through traffic or made turns, your heart would pound. It was freeing. Yelena slowed down to a stop at a red light. “How are you doing, Easton?”

“Good,” you smiled. “Where are you taking me? You aren’t kidnapping me, right?”

“If I were, I would not tell you. That would be very dumb,” you rolled your eyes and pinched her sides. She yelped as the light turned. “You are so annoying.” You giggled and held onto her as she took off. This was oddly nice. At the moment, you weren’t a girl trying to beat a deadly disease. You were just a girl on the back of a motorcycle with no care.

*

“You brought me to an aquarium,” you said, a little shocked as you took the helmet off. Yelena helped you off the bike. Your legs were a little shaky.

“Yeah, you like to draw animals, so I thought it was a good idea,” she busied herself with locking up the bike, but you liked the blush that covered her cheeks. “If you want to go somewhere else, we can.”

“No!” You cringed at how aggressive that sounded. Yelena stood up with her eyebrows to her hairline. “I’d-” your phone started to ring and cut you off. Sighing, you pulled out your phone. It was Tony. You stared at it, weighing the options in your head. Either answer it and explain you’ll be back at the tower later or ignore the car, text him that the doctor’s appointment went well, and tell him you’ll talk later. You chose the latter and sent him a quick text. “I’d love to go with you,” you said to Yelena. “I may fact, ramble, so tell me to shut up if I’m annoying.” Yelena smiled.

“Never, I like listening to you talk.” It was your turn to heat up.

“Oh,” your voice cracked. Goodness, this woman was trying to kill you. Yelena chuckled and offered you her arm.

“Come on, Easton, let’s see if you know your stuff.”

*

“What the fuck is that?” Yelena asked, staring into the tank. You smacked her chest at her language as you saw some kids nearby. She looked offended, but you pointed at the kids. Rolling her eyes, she looked back at the creature.

“It’s an Atlantic sturgeon,” there was no need for you to look at the plague to know what it was. It was like that for all the animals you passed.

“I think you meant dinosaur,” you laughed and shook your hand.

“You are not wrong. They are considered living fossils,” you were looking at the creature swimming around, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yelena watching you, hanging onto every word you said. That also happened at every exhibit. Even though you were worried you were annoying her, she reassured you weren’t and to keep talking. That was different. You went to an aquarium with some girl you met online; she found you annoying after the first exhibit. You kept quiet after that. “There are over 28 species of sturgeon, and the earliest fossil was dated to the Late Cretaceous period.” You heard Yelena mumble, ‘So dinosaur.’ You smiled and continued, “Atlantic sturgeons were abundant but have declined due to overfishing, water pollution, and habitat impediments.” The blonde frowned.

“Why do humans suck?” You laughed as you moved to the next part of the aquarium.

“I think it stems from some of us believing they are entitled to an Earth that we share,” you shrugged. You were excited to walk through the tunnel and see the sharks. According to the pamphlet, they had a few black-tip reef sharks. “But conservation efforts have made positive efforts to undo some of the damage.”

“Do you think it’s enough?” You looked at Yelena. Her eyes were on the animal in front of her, but once again, she seemed a million miles away.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Over time, the scars may fade away, but the memory of what happened stays,” you sighed. “I don’t think that will ever go away.” You hated the sad look on her face. You pulled her to the next area, which focused on the restoration effects that the aquarium was part of.

“However,” it was perfect timing as an employee came out with a little penguin. The area soon became filled as everyone tried to get a look at the little creature. You watched Yelena’s eyes light up as the employee set the baby down and it waddled to its parents. You glanced at the temporary sign that explained what happened. The female penguin was rescued from a fishing net. She was pregnant, and her fin had to be amputated. The aquarium staff slowly introduced her to a lone penguin that wouldn’t mate. It was the aquarium’s first same-sex couple. “Even in the darkest times, something beautiful can emerge.”

You couldn’t help but look at Yelena. The blonde caught you staring at her, and her eyes glanced down to your lips, but she focused back on the penguins. You let out a shaky breath and pushed the thought of kissing her out of your head.

*

On the third phone call, Yelena couldn’t ignore her sister anymore. “Oh, so your phone isn’t broken,” she rolled her eyes at Natasha’s teasing comment. The blonde stepped to the side while you stayed at the touch pool. You tried to get her to touch some animals, but Yelena refused to put her hand in the water. “Did you kidnap her?”

“No!” Yelena huffed. “She came with me willing,” she sighed. “Okay, that sounded like a kidnapping plot.” Her sister laughed.

“You chose the wrong day to confess your feelings to her. Stark is annoyed.” Yelena thought that man was a giant toddler. Today was going perfectly, and she wasn’t sure if she would tell you anything. You needed a day away from doctor appointments and a reminder of what would come. You needed a day to smile, laugh, and see the beauty in life. Yelena wanted to give that to you.

“Look, I have a few more planned ideas, and Stark has called her three times. Can you get him off her back?”

“Will I be the maid of honor at the wedding?”

“Suka (bitch),” Yelena mumbled as her sister laughed again. “I’m doing this because her doctor appointment was not great.” She stopped laughing immediately.

“What do you mean?” So Yelena told her everything from the lie you told, refusing to use Morgan, and the next steps for your treatment. “Fuck, okay, I’ll deal with Stark. Just enjoy the day with your girl.”

“She is not my girl,” Yelena huffed. Natasha laughed, and Yelena hung up before her sister could say anything else.

“Here,” the blonde turned around and saw you with three bags from the gift shop. You were handing one of them to her. “I got you something.”

“Easton,” she whined. “I was going to buy you something.” You rolled your eyes.

“Just take the gift, Blondie,” she snatched the bag from your hand. Deep down, her heart skipped, and she was fighting to keep a smile off her face. “The dinosaur? Seriously?” She pulled out a stuffed sea demon from earlier.

“Sturgeon,” you laughed. “There is something else in there,” Yelena grumbled and opened the bag again. At the bottom was a small jewelry box. She opened it, and there was a ring inside. It was a simple silver ring with a turtle charm. “A ring to replace the one you gave me,” you explained. “Also, they donate a small amount of the proceeds to save turtles and,” you pulled out a small piece of paper from your pocket. “Every ring has a tracking number, so go to that website and track your turtle.” Yelena smiled. The turtles were her favorite part, and the face you picked up on that made her happy.

“Thank you. You did not have to get me anything,” you smiled, looking at the ground and shrugging your shoulders.

“It’s the least I could do for you taking me here. I had a lot of fun.”

“Well, the day isn’t over yet.”

*

A quick stop at her motorcycle to put away your bags, and Yelena gave you her jacket so you could walk by the water. You were grateful for the pockets to keep your hands to yourself instead of grabbing Yelena’s. “Do you want to know something funny?” You asked her. She nodded right away. “My mom was terrified of the water. She was so shocked that I was drawn to it,” she smiled at you. “I miss her,” you admitted. “Going through this without her sucks.” You felt your throat burn as you tried to keep your tears away. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to make this depressing.” You saw Yelena move her hand, and she whipped away a tear that fell down your cheek.

“Do not apologize for talking about her or your condition,” she said. “It is a part of who you are.” She stopped to pick up a seashell and handed it to you. You smiled and looked it over. It was a perfect cockle with different shades of purple. “The past can be complicated to talk about.” You slipped the shell in your pant pocket. You grabbed her hand instead of putting your hands back in the jacket. She smiled at it.

“You can talk to me about your past, too,” you told her. “I won’t force you to, though.” The blonde shrugged.

“There is not much to discuss,” she said. “I was trained to be a pawn in a man’s chess game.” You read the files on the Red Room that SHIELD had, so you knew a fraction of what she went through.

“But you are free now,” she nodded and kicked up some of the sand. You walked in silence until she sighed.

“I used to live in Ohio,” she said. “With Natasha and our parents.” You stayed quiet and allowed Yelena the space and time to speak. “It was a mission crafted by the Red Room, but it was the closest thing I had to a normal life. I was six when the mission was over.” Your heart broke for her. She was far too young to be subjected to such darkness.

“I bet you were a cute kid,” you said, knowing Yelena did not want your pity.

“Oh, the cutest,” you liked the smile that was now back on her face.

“And the biggest troublemaker,” you teased. The blonde gasped.

“I was an angel, a perfect child,” you rolled your eyes and dropped her hand.

“Keep telling yourself that, Blondie,” you pushed your fingers into her side and laughed at the yelp she let out.

“You are in for it now, Easton,” you took off running and heard her race after her. You felt privileged to listen to her laughter so unguarded and unrestrained. You wanted to hear it again and again.

*

You pulled Yelena into a small store while she led you to a nearby restaurant she found online. The reason was because you saw a small sketchbook from the window. It had a collage of pictures from the area. “Don’t you have enough sketchbooks,” the blonde teased you as you walked up to the counter with your sketchbook and a pencil.

“You can never have too many sketchbooks,” you left the store with your bag in hand. “And this sketchbook will remind me of our day today.” You smiled. Yelena’s face softened, and she grabbed your hand.

“Are you going to show me what you draw in it?” You shrugged.

“Maybe, Blondie, maybe.”

That is how you found yourself at a table with Yelena, whining to see your sketchbook. You finished your appetizers and were waiting for the main course. While you ate and talked about everything and nothing, you were sketching. It was nothing special; it was just basic line work of moments from your day. Later, you could add more details and color them. There were moments you couldn’t forget. The way her eyes lit up when she saw the penguin. Her smile when you got her the ring. You wanted to remember them forever.

“Come on, Easton,” she whined for the fifth time. “Let me see them,” you rolled your eyes and closed the book.

“They aren’t even started,” you sipped on your water. “I like to sketch out sides so I don’t forget them.”

“How did you get into drawing?” You smiled.

“My great-grandmother, actually. She died before I was born. She was an artist, and I thought she was the coolest person,” you explained. “So my mom got me an art set for Christmas. I feel in love with it.” Before Yelena could respond, the waitress approached the table with food. You both thanked her, and you took a pill to help with the nausea. If Yelena saw you take it she didn’t draw attention to it.

“So, can I see?” She asked and pointed to the book. She gave you perfect puppy dog eyes. With a shake of your head, you handed it to her. You observed her face as she flipped through the first few pages. The realization that you were drawing her dawned on her, and she set the book down.

“You are drawing me,” you nodded. “Why?” You wanted to give her many compliments, but they died on your tongue.

“My nana used to tell my mom to draw what inspires you,” you shrugged and focused on your salad. It’s easy to feel inspired when I’m with you.” You heard a surprise noise that came from the back of her throat. Her cheeks were light pink. “Making you blush is kind of cute, too.” The blush on her cheeks depended.

“You are so annoying,” she mumbled, throwing her straw wrapper at you. You laughed and focused on your food. It was so easy to act like this with her. It may be too easy.

*

The view was amazing. After dinner, Yelena drove back into the city and once again refused to tell you where she was taking you. It was far from the tower even though it was past 9 o’clock. Instead, she took you to one of the high-rise apartments where a young girl was waiting for you with extra jackets and gloves to let you in. So you stood on the apartment’s roof, leaning against the railing and looking at the city skyline. “Hot chocolate for you,” Yelena said, handing you a cup. You thanked her with a smile. She stood next to you, her arm barely touching yours.

“Why did you do this?” You asked. The question had been nagging at you since dinner. She shrugged.

“I wanted to,” you face her as she sipped on her drink. Finally, she sighed. “I saw you lose a little hope today at the doctor’s. He said for you to get through the nest phase, you can not lose that so,” she sipped on her drink again. “I was hoping today you would see something to help with that.” And she was right. It was annoying how easily the Black Widow could read you. During your appointment, you didn’t lose hope; you wanted someone to fight this battle for you. You wanted someone to hug you and not tell you it would be okay because that wasn’t certain. You wanted someone to be by your side through the good, the bad, and the ugly. You wanted her. That scared the shit out of you.

“You are supposed to be looking at the view,” she teased you. You weren’t sure how to tell her that you rather look at her. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to go through this alone to save yourself and her from the heartbreak.

Life has a funny way of testing you. Why did this disease have to bring you together? Soon, Yelena started leaning closer to you. Before your lips touched, you placed your hand on her chest to stop her. “What are you doing?” You questioned.

“I was going to kiss you,” she whispered. “Do you not want me to?” Oh, you wanted her to. You wanted to know what her lips felt like on yours or her hands on your waist. To finally feel her heartbeat against yours. But you couldn’t give her that. Instead of answering, you pulled away from her and ran inside. Running was something you excelled in. You ran from the pain of losing your mom and your friends. You ran to New York because DC reminded you too much of what was. So you went back to what you knew and ran.

“Wait,” Yelena called after you as you opened the door and threw your hot chocolate away. It was much warmer inside, and you pushed the elevator button. “Can we talk about this?”

“I don’t do this,” you pointed to the space between you and her. “While I’m going through this.” You refused to look at her.

“Because you are dying.” You nodded.

“It wouldn’t be fair to you,” the elevator opened, but Yelena stopped you from entering. “Let me go,” your voice cracked. It was pathetic how weak you sounded in your demand as if you never wanted her to let you go.

“Why do you get to decide what is fair for me?” She questioned. Finally, you looked at her. She has a determined look and a tighter grip on your hand. You’ve seen her like this only at training: determined, focused. When you stayed quiet, she continued, “I have thought about it. I understand the possible outcome, but what if you live and we wasted time because of fear,” your mouth became dry as you stared at her. “We all end up dying some sooner than others. Why should we let fear of dying stop us from living?” You licked your lips.

“I’m not afraid,” you weren’t. You told Pepper and Tony that. A small part of you was surprised you’ve lived as long as you had. You survived the car accident, the Blip, and a hurricane in the Atlantic. Still, you refused to die. It was like a bad joke that cancer was the thing that was going to kill you. Not the dangerous animals you faced, the unpredictable weather, and the less-than-safe places you visited as a solo female traveler. It was going to be cancer.

“I think you are, maybe not of death, and that is okay because I am afraid too,” she took a step closer, and your back hit the wall behind you. “But I have lost so many years because a man thought he was entitled to my body. I do not want to waste any more time.”

“I’m not afraid,” you repeated. Yelena softly smiled.

“Then prove it,” you rushed forward, your hands on her neck and your lips against hers. Her hands moved to your waist and pulled you closer to her. You could feel how fast her heart was beating, or maybe it was yours. You knew you were screwed as soon as your lips touched hers. They were soft and tasted of hot chocolate, the chapstick she used, and her dinner. You pulled away and rested your forehead against hers. You closed your eyes and tried to get your breathing under control. It was no surprise that she would leave you breathless.

“I don’t want to break your heart,” you admitted and opened your eyes. She closed them and let out a shaky breath that you felt against your lips.

“I do not want you to either,” she whispered. “But if you do, then I am glad I gave my heart to you to break.”

*

You snuck back into the tower and onto Yelena’s floor. Her hand held tightly onto yours. It was impossible not to follow her. Her apartment had a similar layout to yours but not as decorated. You had no time to look around as she dragged you into her bedroom and gave you some of her clothes to wear. Once you changed and your teeth brushed, you lay under the covers of her bed with her head on your chest. You chuckled. “What’s so funny, Easton?” She asked.

“Nothing,” you ran your fingers through her hair and felt her melt against you. “I didn’t like you’d like to be the little spoon.” You felt her tense. “Noting wrong with that,” you reassured her. “Everyone deserves some cuddles.” Yelena sighed, and you felt her fingers grab your free hand.

“I like listening to your heartbeat,” she whispered. “It is comforting.” Who would have thought that a Black Widow was such a softie? You smiled and kissed her head.

“Thank you for today,” you said. “I forgot how much I miss enjoying life with another person.” She stayed quiet, and that was okay. You figured today was a lot for the blonde, but the silence was comforting and less lonely.

_

Taglist: @likemick, @averagetmblrusser, @wandaromamoff69, @simpforyelenabelova, @cd-4848,

#second chance #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x y/n stark #yelena belova x stark!reader #yelena belova #black widow fanfiction

[darkbluekies]

Of course I write psychopaths as well lmao, gotta keep the trademark

(Last private story thing I promise, I'm just so excited about these two sorry🥹🫶🏻)

Ps these are pretty violent so warning

Story 1

He wakes up to a hand slapped over his mouth. His eyes widen. At first he can't see anything, everything is too dark and blurry. As soon as his eyes have adjusted, he sees a pair of cold, gray eyes above him. The gray eyes are hidden by black stripes. HG lets out a skin-like squeal that is muffled by the hand over his mouth. Panic fills the chest. HO holds his index finger over his lips and hushes quietly.

"Come with me," the boy whispers. “I have a knife.”

HG can't move. HO gently helps him sit up with a soft, guiding hand resting on his small back. HG feels his head spinning from lack of oxygen and looks around. In the beds around him lie all the others, innocently asleep. If he just opened his mouth and said something they would wake up and be able to help him, but the sight of the shiny metal resting on the bedspread makes him sick. If he tries to wake the others, he will get the blade through the stomach.

HO notices that he has seen the knife, because he smiles crookedly and lifts it.

"It wasn't Archie (i have deleted that character so its okay to show the name) who took it, believe it or not," he grins and turns it over in fascination. "If you go along and shut up, you won't come into contact with it, okay?"

HG body twitches. He finds it difficult to nod, but finally manages to gently nod his head. HO runs his left hand through HG brown locks with a humble smile. He places the edge of the knife against HG'S back and forces him out of the dormitory. HG'S legs don't want to move and nearly trip him over the threshold on his way out. The stand is pressed hard against his waist. Millions of thoughts run through his head, but he can't understand any of them. They are flashing red as warning signals, but none of them are warning him of anything, they are screaming for help.

He doesn't want to die here. He doesn't want to die tonight. HG wants to cry, but doesn't dare.

HO takes him through the dark corridors, over to Dr. C'S office. He opens the door and lets HG walk in before him with the knife between them. The older boy flinches when the table lamp comes on. In the soft glow of the lamp, HO appears even colder, even paler.

“Are you going to kill me too?” HG asks quietly.

"Kill you?" HO repeats confused. "Why would I do that? Who have you been talking to?”

HG doesn't answer.

"Who have you been talking to, HG?" HO repeats, louder. He presses the knife against his pelvic bone.

"EDW," he gasps, thinking that EDW has a better chance of getting away from HO a second time.

“Who else knows? BN knows, right?”

HG feels his breathing hitch.

"Fuck," HO mutters and turns his gaze to the window. "Damn he's stupid."

“Why is he stupid?” HG ventures to ask, his heart pounding against his ribs. "What is it that you want?"

“You know a lot about medicine, I suppose. You are addicted to it. Help me find a poison strong enough to kill a horse.”

HG shivers. At first he doesn't move, doesn't answer. The thought of what HO will do with a poison strong enough to kill a horse makes his stomach turn. Softly, HO reaches out his hand for HG'S hair, but this HG backs away. He doesn't have time to stop himself. Ho takes a firm grip on his hair with nails scraping against HG'S scalp.

"Stop!" snarls HO. “Stop doing that!”

He lets go of HG, who nimbly staggers backwards and hits his hip on the desk. The pain penetrates the medicine, shooting lightning bolts through the blood. His chest rises and falls in a frenzy. His legs soon won't hold him up.

HG nods quickly and exhales slowly. The head spins uncomfortably. He wants to sit down.

"It's pretty pathetic when you think about it," says HO, twirling the shiny knife in his hand. “How dependent you are on the medicine, that is. Quite sad. Quite fascinating. The whole of you is fascinating, HG.” He raises his gray, intense gaze. “Like that time when you got a freak out during the test. When you screamed and punched and kicked like a madman. It was the only thing that made me endure that test. I can't scream, so I want you to do it for both of us.”

HG thinks he's going to pass out. If he hadn't seen the knife in HO's hands, he would have thought he had been stabbed in the stomach.

"What do you mean?" he gasps.

“It hurts, HG, everything hurts so much ... but I can't do anything. I want to tear myself apart, but I can't. But you… you're perfect.”

"Do not touch me."

“But, HG, in heaven you will be well. You won't have your pain anymore, so what if your human body is broken?” He smiles shyly and shrugs shyly. “I mean… how would you be able to stop me?”

Disgust fills the mouth. HG glares at him. He wishes he had opened his mouth inside the dorm and risked a stab in the stomach.

Story 2

OL was pushed down hard on the chair. Philip stood behind her, a rough hand resting on her bony shoulder. Mr. D calmly turned the revolver and smiled in shock. He exchanged an amused look with PH.

"This one is Edwardian," he said amused. “Where did you get this?”

“From a man who wanted me dead—at your command.”

Mr. D frowned, thinking, as if trying to figure out who could have tried to kill her. OL wanted to snort. How many had been ordered to kill her, if Mr. D had to think about it? He shook his head, letting it go.

"Oh, it's not important," he said, putting the gun aside.

He rummaged further in the bag and fished out the teddy bear with a mocking laugh. OL glared away at the wall, refusing to pay him any attention. She blushed, but didn't try to defend herself.

"You're too old for stuffed animals," he said.

Out of the corner of his eye, OL could see how he grabbed the teddy bear with both hands, and easily ripped off one of its legs. She widened her eyes in panic and threw her head in Mr. Dutcher's direction, her body filling with ice.

"Stop!" she screamed shrill and shot up from her chair, but was brutally pushed down by PH. “Let it be!”

Mr. D's lips twitched into a smile as he nonchalantly tore off the teddy bear's other leg, and both of its arms. He had his head beheaded and his eyes gouged out. OL wanted to scream, but her voice got stuck in the pit of her throat. She found it difficult to breathe. He waved the remains of the teddy bear in front of her eyes in an attempt to ridicule her but she boldly turned her head away, refusing to look at him. Mr. D opened his hand and flicked it across her face. OL's head flew to the side with a strong whiplash, and a scream mixed with surprise and pain rolled off his tongue. If PH hadn't kept a firm grip on her shoulders, she probably would have followed the head, down to the cement floor which was now full of white fluff.

"Don't think I've forgotten how rowdy you are," snapped Mr. D, shaking his hand free.

Her left cheek ached, throbbed and burned. OL turned her head towards him with a flash of anger in her tear filled eyes. He kept eye contact with his cold, dead eyes as he tore through the bag. He suddenly dissolved and lifted out the diary. He dropped the bag and what was left of the teddy bear onto the cement floor.

"Here we have it," he said, sounding possessed, manic. “Here we have it, finally.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the warehouse. OL breathed quietly, straining the air between her teeth. Nausea surged inside her and pressed against the pit of her throat. She watched as Mr. D flipped through the pages, skimming through the various texts. He seemed surprised by what he read, though he tried to hide it behind a pleased grin.

"It's not a little you've written," he noted, looking up from the pages. “You must have protected this book with your life, right? Who knew about it?”

"None," OL answered shortly. “I made sure no one knew about it.”

He waved the book menacingly in front of her eyes. “What were you planning to do with it? Did you intend to use it as blackmail to get out of the contract? Or did you intend to publish it to bring me down? You know no one would have believed you, right?”

OL did not respond.

"Shall we have some reading aloud?" he asked. "Then we'll see if it sounds credible."

He flipped back and forth. OLS's cheeks burned with shame. She had exposed herself on the pages and written things she never thought anyone—especially not one of the men who hurt her—would read. Mr. D was going to hold it against her.

“You have pages left,” he said. "Your last writing is from the eighteenth of September 1916"

OL struggled against PH's grasp. "Stop! You disgusting creep, stop mentioning it!”

Mr. D took his nose out of the book. He met OLS's manic eyes that were flooded with desperate tears. She hadn't read anything she'd written since September eighteenth, had forgotten how much it really hurt.

"What did you call me?" he asked tentatively.

“A creep!” yelled OL through violent sobs. “You are a vile, cowardly creep! Damn you are a man! A man would never have treated us the way you did! You deserved to get rid of your biggest ships, and all the money you had wasted on them!”

Another hard blow slammed across her face, a harder one. OLS neck snapped.

"You must have been afraid we would tell someone about what you did," she hissed, turning her head back to Mr. D. "Why else would you have kept us inside the house?"

“It was your uncle's idea.”

“Because he did everything to be on your good side! It's your fault that they are dead — your fault that I'm left alone! I'm so glad TN stole the contract that night, and tore it up. You can find the pieces in the diary, if you don't believe me.”

"I was with your sister when she died."

A cold wind pulled through her, chilling her heart in a macabre way. She seemed to lose her hearing for a few seconds. The body went numb.

“Do you even know what happened to her?” asked Mr. Dutcher, cocking his head. "Not? Then let me tell you.”

OL couldn't answer, her voice was stuck in her throat. She didn't know if she wanted to know. Her head had already given her every conceivable scenario of how TN had died, one worse than the other. She might have scared herself. Knowing what had actually happened could be good for her. OL hesitated. What would she do if what Mr. D said was worse than what she had imagined? Or if he lied?

"She was all alone," said Mr. D, sighing. “She tried to run away from me, but I caught her. I pulled her by the hair, away from everyone else. I punched her, kicked her and pounded her head on the deck.”

OL covered her hanging mouth with her shaking hands as she shook her head in despair. She didn't want to hear any more.

“She screamed for you, OL,” continued Mr. D, “until she passed out. Then I picked her up and threw her overboard. She woke up when she hit the surface of the water, but she didn't manage to stay up for long.”

"You're lying," OL whispered in horror. “That—…that can't have happened—”

He grabbed her head.

"You know I'm not lying," he said. “But no one will believe you if you try to tell them. Especially not without this one.”

OL followed the diary with his eyes. He dropped it on the cement floor. From his pocket he took out a box of matches.

“Wait, what are you doing?” screamed OL in panic, trying to fight PH once again. "Don't do it! Please don't, I'll do anything! D, please!” Her voice rose octave after octave to a shrill, panicked voice.

Mr. D paid her no attention. He drew the match against his ashtray, let the flame grow, then let it go. It fell against the diary, caught fire instantly. OL swallowed her scream and watched the diary burn. Years of work disappeared before her eyes in less than a minute. The dark red book took off a black surface, and its pages crumbled into ash. She couldn't move. All evidence of the pain she was forced to go through, the memories of her long lost sisters and gifts, destroyed, killed.

“Don't worry, OL,” said Mr. D, accepting an iron pipe from one of his henchmen, “you won't have to try to prove this to anyone. You will not get out of here alive.”

#bluetalk<3