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sailor-aviator · 10 days

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By Its Cover: Chapter One

By Its Cover: Chapter One

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Content Warning: Anxiety, Anxiety attack, Debutante presentations, Sibling not being supported, Spoiled sibling, Self doubt, Negative self talk, Catty girls will be catty girls. I think that's really all, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.6k

Series Masterlist

“Dearest, you must stop squirming.”

“This dress is uncomfortable.”

You picked at the skirt of your gown, an off white in color, as your mother let out a heavy sigh as she pursed her lips. You stood outside the throne room with a gaggle of other, more eager, debutantes waiting to present themselves to the queen. You couldn’t think of a worse punishment if you tried, if you were being quite honest.

The thought of parading yourself around for all to gawk and inspect had your skin crawling, and while you weren’t proud of it, you had even attempted to feign illness in order to escape the mortifying spectacle of it all.

“Enough,” your mother huffed, grabbing your hand and jerking it down to your side as several of the other ladies of the Island turned their scrutinizing gazes towards your direction. Your mother gave them a polite, cheery smile, never taking her eyes off of them as she turned towards you. “I know you are nervous, darling, but this is something that must be done. Your sisters all had to do it, and I before them. It is simply something one must grit their teeth and bear.”

You let out a heavy sigh, signaling your reluctant understanding of the situation, and your mother’s shoulders visibly relaxed. You mustered up your best smile, one that you were almost positive looked more like a grimace, and stood up a little straighter as one of the palace attendants walked briskly up to where you stood.

“My lady,” he nodded at your mother, sweat beading his brow as he gave a quick bow before turning to you with a look of distress. “You are next. This way, please. Hurry, hurry.”

You sucked in a breath, sparing your mother a half panicked look as you were ushered towards the towering doors that led into the throne room. Your brother and sisters were in attendance, you knew this. Most of high society was behind those doors, and the ones that weren’t stood behind you, eagerly awaiting their turn. Your fingers trembled with nerves, and you were vaguely aware of your mother glancing at you just as nervous.

You were sure you looked as worse a state as you felt. Your skin felt clammy, tight against your face as you sucked in deep breaths through your nose, letting them out through your mouth. The hum of conversation sounded behind you, and you felt your pulse quicken as you heard the attendant announce your name behind the ornately carved doors of white and gold.

The whispers behind you hushed as the doors slowly opened to reveal the crowd of nobles and well-to-do families gathered in the spacious room. Your eyes roamed over the familiar faces, clinging to where your siblings stood in the middle of the room, your brother giving you an encouraging smile as your sisters looked on. You spotted Natasha not too far off, an encouraging smile on her face that stood in stark contrast to the concentrated grimace that pulled on your brother’s lips. You gulped, taking a shaky breath as your mother cleared her throat quietly behind you, signaling for you to start walking. Your eyes snapped forward, meeting the stunning green of the queen’s.

Queen Penny was a most beloved monarch, having been the figurehead of the royal family for decades since she married the king. Her quiet grace and beauty was apparently a strong compliment to the wisdom and discernment of the king, not that anyone your age would really know considering he had kept himself cloistered away in the palace for almost an entire decade. No, very few had seen him, rumors of a prolonged illness following his name with every mention—something the queen was quick to make her displeasure known about, and so mentions of the king were kept hushed between stolen whispers and curious glances whenever she showed up to an event alone.

Now, her attention was trained solely on you, the look of terror on your face must have seemed a sight to the dignified woman as you took a tentative step forward. A perfectly manicured eyebrow raised slowly as you took your second step forward, slowly picking up pace as you made your way down the makeshift aisle. All eyes were on you as you strode across the room, doing your best to hold your head high and shoulders back, vaguely aware of your mother keeping pace behind you.

“Smile, dearest,” you heard her whisper quietly. You inhaled sharply, stiffening at her words. You willed yourself to pull your lips into a smile, cringing at the forced feeling of it and knowing that it looked as awful as it felt. You could have sworn you saw the queen’s own lips twitch, but still her face remained stoic as you came to a stop in front of her. You were barely conscious of the fact that you managed a curtsy, dropping your head slowly before rising once more.

The room was quiet, silent enough to hear the scampering of a mouse. You waited with bated breath for something, anything. A dismissal? A laugh at your awkwardness? An ill-tempered comment at your utter lack of decorum?

Another beat of silence passed before the queen rose from her seat, eyes staying fixed on your near trembling form. Her lady-in-waiting stepped forward, but was quickly waved off as Queen Penny took slow, measured steps down to where you stood. You held your breath as she stopped in front of you, green eyes scanning you from head to toe before moving back up. She said nothing as she circled you slowly, her eyes studying you for any sign of weakness or perceived imperfection. You heard her state your family’s name with a thoughtful hum.

“Your sister was the season’s diamond not five years ago, yes?” She asked from behind you. You swallowed thickly, not daring to turn and look as you nodded.

“Yes, your majesty,” you replied, surprised at how even your tone was given the panic coursing through your veins in that moment. You were surprised you even remembered you had sisters.

“Yes, I remember,” she agreed. “Married an earl, if I remember correctly.”

You heard your mother murmur her assent, and you assume the queen had looked to her for confirmation.

“The youngest of four girls,” Queen Penny continued, “you must have had your hands full, Celine.”

“No more than any other mother, your majesty,” your mother replied with a nervous chuckle. The queen hummed in agreement as she rounded your other side to come face to face with you once more. You glanced up at her with trepidation, waiting for her verdict. Her face remained impassive before her lips pulled into a regal smile.

“You show promise, my dear,” she said, placing her fingers below your chin to raise it as she looked down at you. “You may just be the season’s greatest surprise yet.”

And with that, she turned and made her way back up the steps to her seat. Your heart stuttered in your chest, frozen with the shock of the encounter before snapping out of it as your mother’s gentle touch pulled you back into the moment. You looked back to see her with a tight smile on her face as she gestured for you to step to the side so that the presentations could continue. You felt your cheeks warm at your slight blunder, allowing yourself to be led off with the other debutantes.

“But Mama, why her?”

You rubbed your temples to try and soothe the headache you were currently trying to fight off as Georgiana screeched her displeasure throughout the manor. Georgiana had been so proud of the smile and nod the queen had given her the year prior, boasting about it to anyone who would listen for a solid week after it had happened.

“Georgiana, my darling, you must calm do-”

“She doesn’t even deserve it!” She screeched once more, whirling around to fix you with a glare. You winced, shrinking back into the settee with a grimace. Though you loved her dearly, Georgiana was perhaps the most spoiled out of all your sisters.

She had been the perfect image of what it meant to a young lady of one of the oldest families of the Island. Her hair was always poised in elaborate updos with her dresses styled in the latest fashions. Her outward appearance, however, was no match for the ugliness she kept inside in your opinion.

While beautiful in outward appearance, earning many interested suitors in the season prior, she was determined to have nothing but the best.

“I think I’d like to marry a Duke myself,” she had commented one day once her many suitors had left. “The only thing better would be a handsome prince.”

You had snorted at the idea. You loved your sister dearly, but her expectations of the lavish life she should lead left you with a sick feeling in your stomach. A quiet life surrounded by family and friends suited your tastes quite well.

You were ripped away from your silent musings as your older sister stomped towards you, wrath consuming her features as you pressed yourself further into the seat.

“What makes you so special?” She huffed, crossing her arms with a sneer. “Why would the queen show such an interest in you of all people? You’re so…boring.”

You bit back the angry remark that threatened to leave you at the insult your sister hurled your way. Just because you didn’t delight in the latest fashions or take part in the favorite pastime that was gossip, didn’t mean you were boring. You spent your days strolling through the gardens or park with Natasha or in the parlor with your latest read. Did you loathe the idea of going to parties or finding yourself stumbling along the dance floor? Of course you did.

You weren’t stranger to the fact that you had been compared to your elder sisters from the moment you were born. Of course your parents had treated you all with equal kindness and love, but those outside your family were not as forgiving of your faults or perceived imperfections. Now you were beginning to wonder if the judgement had been following you all along.

“I don’t know, Georgie,” you answered her quietly, glancing towards your mother for help. “Perhaps she was bored. You know how she likes to stir things up for her own amusement.”

Georgiana seemed to mull this over for a moment, and you could see the frown that tugged at your mother’s lips as the words passed through your mouth. Before any of you could say anything more, the doors to the parlor opened to reveal a familiar older man strolling through with a smug smirk adorning his face.

“Good afternoon, one and all,” Pete Mitchell drawled as he sat down on the settee next to you. Mr. Mitchell belonged to a wealthy, respectable family, albeit as the second son tasked with making his own way in the world. He had been a dear friend of your father’s since boyhood, and was practically an uncle to you and your siblings.

“Peter,” your mother sighed, looking relieved as the tension in the air was cut by the cavalier aura that Mr. Mitchell seemed to exude everywhere he went.

“How lovely to see you,” she smiled, sitting across from you as Georgiana took up space in one of the armchairs, a small pout still marring her features.

“And you as well,” he grinned back at your mother. He turned to face you, the smirk falling back into place as he regarded you. “I heard you made quite the impression on our dear queen, Bug.”

Georgiana stiffened noticeably, and you waived him off with a scoff.

“I’m sure the queen was merely bored with all the humdrum of the day,” you offered stiffly. The room fell into an awkward silence as Mr. Mitchell glanced between the three of you as you looked everywhere but at Georgiana.

“I believe I’m sensing some tension,” Mr. Mitchell spoke finally.

“Nothing ever gets past you, does it, Peter?” Your mother sighed.

“No matter,” Mr. Mitchell grinned, looking between the three of you excitedly, “Charlotte and I are hosting a ball tonight, and I wanted to come by to invite you all personally as the family of my dear, late friend.”

“Oh, Peter, how lovely,” your mother smiled. “Of course we will be in attendance. Won’t we girls?”

Georgiana clapped her hands excitedly as you felt a wave of dread wash over you. Mr. Mitchell leaned closer towards you to whisper in your ear.

“Don’t you worry, Bug,” he said. “I’ve already got the books laid out for you in my library when you’re ready to sneak off.”

You offered him a thankful smile as he turned his attention back towards your sister and mother. Perhaps there were people in this world who understood you after all.

The Mitchell’s manor was as ostentatious as any of the nobility’s homes as far as you were concerned, and it was a wonder that they weren’t mistaken for the actual ruling class more often.

Your carriage stopped in front of the steps leading up to the entryway, and an attendant moved forward to open the door and offer his hand to your mother to help her out, followed by Georgiana, with you stepping out last. The cool, night air was abuzz with excitement, laughter, and the sound of general revelry from those in attendance that evening. It already felt suffocating as far as you were concerned.

“Smile, my darling,” your mother murmured to you, resting a gentle hand on your arm to steer you towards the front doors. “It is a party, after all. You should at least try to have some fun while you are here. You’ve already caught the eye of several suitors.”

Your head whipped around, spying a group of men assessing you from across the yard. A frown tugged at your lips as the feeling of dread came back in full force. They weren’t unattractive by any means, but you weren’t thrilled at the idea of being appraised like a piece of meat either.

“I think I’d rather pluck my eyelashes out one by one then entertain that lot,” you muttered, earning a sigh and a sharp look from the older woman.

“Bug, please.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek for a moment before casting her an apologetic look.

“I am sorry, Mama,” you said, defeated. “I will try to make the most of our time tonight.”

Her disapproving look morphed into one of kind understanding. “That is all I ask, my darling.”

Georgiana walked a couple steps ahead of the both of you, eager to fawn in the attention of the available suitors in attendance that evening. William had gone ahead of your little group to arrive earlier in the evening whilst Lydia and Theodosia would arrive with their husbands throughout the night if they hadn’t arrived already.

Several men appraised Georgiana as she passed, a pleasant smile on her face as she sauntered into the ballroom. Her pale, pink gown swished about her as she greeted old friends and passed demure smiles to the men she walked past. You felt more and more out of place the further into the room you wandered, pressing closer and closer into your mother’s side.

“Bug!”

You turned to see Natasha making her way towards, purple skirts in hand as a grin spread across her face. A smile of your own broke out across your lips, and you abandoned your mother’s side to rush towards your best friend.

“Nat!” You exclaimed, grabbing onto her hands as the two of you met in the middle. “You cannot believe how relieved I am to see you.”

“You?” She laughed. “I had to go through a whole year of this without you! It’s me who’s relieved.”

She pulled you off to the side, glancing around the room as she did so.

“I see Georgiana has already started her ritual,” she snorted, nodding towards the middle of the room. You turned to see your sister surrounded by a group of potential suitors, their gazes never leaving her even as her friends attempted to garner attention with a well timed comment here and there.

“Let her have her pick,” you scoffed. “Everyone will be so busy with her and her future husband, I’ll slip beneath their attentions and escape for the season.”

The two of you began to walk the side of the room, avoiding collision as you chatted arm in arm.

“You don’t want a husband?” Nat inquired, arching a brow at you in amused curiosity.

“Not if I can avoid it,” you chuckled. “I enjoy my freedom too much. My sisters have set the standard of the perfect housewife and lady, and as we both know, I am anything but. I am far too well read for any of the young men here for them to feel secure in the fact that they’re the smartest person in the room, and any other man who would want me is simply not worth having.”

“Honestly, Bug, I don’t know how you manage it,” she smirked sardonically.

“Manage what?” You asked slowly, giving her a curious look.

“Manage to make something as fun as courting and the attention of men seem absolutely barbaric and grim,” she quipped with a laugh. You rolled your eyes with a smile, moving to say something but you were stopped as you ran into a wall.

You stumbled back with a grunt, resting a hand on your chest as you glanced up. Not a wall, no, but a solid chest of warm muscle.

“Is this what we’re stooping to now, ladies?” Drawled the man as he turned around with a tired sigh. He was handsome, you’d give him that. Blonde hair cut short that still seemed to dance in front of his ivy green eyes. A chiseled jaw that clenched in irritation as he regarded you with a raised eyebrow.

“I beg your pardon?” You asked him, brow furrowing in confusion. He rolled his eyes with a scoff.

“Are you that desperate for my attention that you need to assault me in order to gain it? Did you think I’d rush to your side and play the gentleman? I can assure you, many have already tried that approach, and they’ve all failed. You’ll have to come up with something new, I’m afraid.”

A muscle in your cheek twitched with your growing irritation at the arrogant man in front of you.

“What?” You asked him flatly, face already hardened into a glare. Nat rested a hand on your shoulder to keep you calm, all too familiar with your temper.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said politely, offering him a placating smile, “but I’m afraid we have no idea who you are.”

The man studied her for a moment before his emerald gaze flickered back to you curiously. Something seemed to have clicked in his mind because his irritation morphed into a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

“Seresin?”

All three of you turned to see William approaching you, a look of pure excitement on his face as he fast approached. He let out a laugh as the other man gave him a grin.

“My god,” your brother exclaimed, pulling the other man into a brief hug before clapping him on the shoulder. “It is you! It’s been years, hasn’t it? You’ve been off gallivanting across Europe for God only knows how long.”

“I see you haven’t changed a bit, Will,” the man laughed. Your brother’s gaze flickered to yours before doing a double take.

“There you are,” he said, moving towards your side. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Seresin, you remember my younger sister.”

The man turned to you once more, and your cheeks warmed at the feel of his eyes roving over you.

“Come now,” your brother chided. “Surely you remember Bug.”

The man’s eyes alighted at your nickname, a smile curling on his lips that made him look much more boyish and mischievous than before. It was the smile of a familiar face, and suddenly you remembered a friend of your brother’s from when you were small. A handsome boy with golden hair and green eyes that spent nearly every holiday off from the prestigious boarding school at your home with your family.

“Lady Bug,” he breathed in what appeared to be disbelief, and you scowled at the nickname.

“You’re the only one who still calls me that,” you griped, causing the blond’s smile to grow.

“I suppose it’s a name that can remain between us then,” he suggested, taking your hand in his and placing a lingering kiss to the back of your hand. The heat in your cheeks grew, and you quickly snatched your hand away, clearing your throat and gesturing towards Natasha who still stood at your side.

“Nat,” you chirped, waving between the two. “This is Jake Seresin, Duke of Austin. Your grace, this is Natasha Trace.”

“A pleasure,” Nat smiled politely with a small curtsy.

“Miss Trace,” he nodded, eyes darting back to you. You swallowed thickly, looking anywhere but at the man in front of you. It was then that you caught Georgiana’s eye as she made her way across the room to your little group. She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she sidled up in between your brother and the duke, a coy smile sliding onto her face as she batted her eyelashes at the latter.

“My, I was wondering where you were, brother,” she sighed, casting William a look over her shoulder before fixing her gaze back onto the handsome man in front of her. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Georgie,” William started, clearing his throat, “don’t you remember Jake? He spent quite a few holidays with us growing up.”

Recognition lighted in her eyes.

“Oh my!” she exclaimed with a laugh. “It’s been so long that I hardly recognized you, your grace. We were just children last we met if memory serves, but it would appear that we are children no more.”

“Yes,” he agreed, eyes straying towards you. “It would appear we have all grown up.”

Georgiana turned to follow his gaze, a scowl creeping onto her face as she realized he was looking at you.

“Of course, this is Bug’s first season,” she commented with a hollow smile. “I even wonder if she was ready to make her debut. She’s still so much like the little girl we all knew.”

You pressed your lips into a firm line, willing yourself to stay calm in the face of Georgiana’s blatant baiting. Her gaze met yours, daring you to speak up, but you knew better than to give fuel to your sister’s fire. Instead, you turned to look at the dance floor, choosing to ignore her rather than play her silly, little game.

“I recall being rather fond of that little girl,” Jake remarked, and you felt your lips twitch into a smile before schooling your features once more.

“Yes, well,” William interrupted with a clap of his hands. You turned to see him offer his hand to Natasha with a small smile. “Miss Trace, would you care to accompany me to the dance floor?”

“I would be delighted, my lord,” she smiled, taking his hand as he led her off to join in the next dance.

“Oh, I do love to dance,” Georgiana sighed, looking up at Jake through her lashes. “Do you like to dance, your grace?”

Jake offered her a polite smile. “I suppose there are worse pastimes.”

“Bug much prefers to have her nose shoved inside a book, I suppose,” Georgiana remarked, barely concealing her sneer. “I have no taste for them, as I find them dreadfully boring. When I’m not waltzing, I’m practicing my pianoforte. I’m quite accomplished, you know, but I’ve always said I would have liked to make a career out of dancing were such a thing possible.”

“You don’t like dancing, Bug?” Jake asked, turning to look at you with curious eyes. You opened your mouth to answer, but Georgiana cut in.

“Oh, she can’t stand it!” She giggled. “Ever since we were little, I’ve always been the dancer. You’ll hardly ever find her on the dance floor.”

You supposed you were used to being talked over, being the youngest of your siblings—the quiet one, even. You had your opinions, of course, but being the fourth daughter and sister of an earl made it so that you flew under the radar more often than not. You were simply forgotten at the best of times and ignored at the worst. What could the fourth daughter possibly have to contribute to a conversation that the others before her had not already offered?

Still, it surprised you when Jake paid little mind to Georgiana’s comments on your nature, opting instead to maintain his focus on you. Like he was still waiting for you to answer.

“I don’t…dislike dancing,” you started carefully, glancing out on the dance floor. “I suppose what I dislike is having to pretend that it doesn’t hurt when boys step on my feet during it.”

A grin broke out on the blond’s face, and the scowl Georgiana shot your way did not go unnoticed by you.

“I suppose that would dampen anyone’s attitudes towards dancing,” he joked with a wink, and you felt a stirring in your stomach as your cheeks heated once more. Perhaps it was nerves from the unexpected attention.

The song ended, and Georgiana let out an exaggerated sigh as she shot a longing glance at the dance floor. Jake grimaced before schooling his features into a more placating look as he offered his hand to Georgiana.

“Would you care to dance with me?” He asked her politely. Georgiana gave an excited gasp as she placed her hand in his, shooting you a triumphant look that you chose to ignore. She was the clear choice between the two of you, so why she seemed to think this was a competition was beyond you. Still, you couldn’t help but notice the glance back the duke did as he accompanied your sister out onto the dance floor, and for a split second, you wished it was you instead of her.

You shook your head to rid yourself of your thoughts. You were lucky to be in the position you were in. You were the youngest daughter, an afterthought. You had the freedom to do what the others could not, to disappear without ever marrying if you so chose. You could live your life in solitude with the freedom of expanding your mind and not having to worry about playing lady of the house under the authority of your husband.

You lifted your chin, watching as your best friend danced with your brother and your sister danced with the duke. You could be content on the sidelines, away from everyone else.

Silently, and careful not to attract attention, you slipped out of the ballroom and into the foyer, padding up the stairs to Mr. Mitchell’s private library. He had promised you a new menagerie of tales, and as you crept higher and higher up the stairs, twisting and turning down the halls, you came upon the quiet stillness of the library. The fire was already lit, as if your surrogate uncle knew you’d make your way up sooner rather than later, and as you ran your fingertips on top of the leather-bound books, the dreams of a different life faded into memory.

A/N: Chapter one is done!! What did we all think? I'm so excited to see who Regency!Jake turns out to be and who Bug will grow into as a character. As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to be notified on when I post updates, please follow my side blog (@sailoraviator-library) and turn on post notifications! My work is cross posted on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

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wileys-russo · 6 months

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i thought of a PERFECT lessi fic. so r is a teacher and one of her students have a cute crush on her. lessi notices the little gifts she’s getting and gets jealous

school yard crush II a.russo

"-alright that's the bell and i will see you all tomorrow. make sure to be sensible and smart when walking home or by the road please year three!" you called out after your students as they filed out one by one, chattering happily that the day was finally over.

"miss?" you looked down to see one of your boys was requesting your attention, hiding something behind his back. "yes ben?" you gave it to him as he shuffled from foot to foot. "this is for you bye!" he handed you a folded piece of paper and raced off out of the room causing you to laugh.

watching to make sure all of them made it out safely you returned to your desk, having some homework to mark before you could head home hopefully before five.

taking a seat you opened the letter, a smile growing on your face as the boy had scrawled a poem using the letters of your name to compliment you. "so cute." you chuckled, taking a photo of it and tucking it away in your desk.

"lessi? you home?" you called out a few hours later as you let yourself in, not having seen her car in the driveway. dumping your bag on the counter you noticed a heart shaped note stuck to the fridge indicating your fiancé had headed to the market to grab a few things.

unsure when she'd left or when she'd return you headed off to shower, ready to wash off the day and get comfortable to continue the marking you'd not yet finished.

stepping out of the bathroom and into your bedroom you could hear music and smell the inevitable scent of the blondes cooking signaling she was home. changing into her arsenal travel top and a pair of shorts you made your way toward the source of the alluring scent.

"hello you." she saw you before you reached her, stirring something in a pan as she sent you a beaming smile. "hi baby." you kissed her gently in greeting before clinging to her tightly, feeling an immediate sense of calm settle over you as the two of you shared an embrace.

"you smell lovely." the striker mumbled as she rubbed your back and kissed your cheek, the two of you stepping away from one another. "it's this new body wash, it's caramel scented." you yawned, rounding the bench and settling yourself on a stool.

"when did you get that?" alessia asked curiously, moving to chop some carrots as she kept a watchful eye over what was already on the stove. "one of the kids at school gave it to me, i tried to give it back but he started to cry and i felt too guilty." you admitted with a sheepish smile.

"mm teachers pet? every class needs one." alessia laughed, sweeping the carrot off the board and into the pan. "no i think he has a crush, it's quite sweet really." you chuckled, alessia's smile disappearing at that. "should you be encouraging that?" she questioned with a small frown.

"i'm not encouraging it!" you chuckled as your fiancé simply hummed. "alessia russo are you jealous of an eight year old?" you teased with a grin, the blonde sending you a glare over her shoulder. "no." she grumbled with a frown.

"my love i mention that my name's gonna change once i get married like every five minutes. i'm not leaving you for him less." you laughed at the question.

"i'd also be marrying you in prison if you did." alessia retorted as you clicked your tongue in agreement. "look its harmless babe. i'm sure his parents got the body wash anyway, you know very well they have no issues trying to bribe me to pay their kids a little extra attention. and you have no issues eating the chocolates that follow!" you smiled standing up and moving to hug her from behind, poking her very ticklish sides as she squealed and grabbed your hands in hers.

"he did write me a little poem today though. you know you could take some tips from this kid i don't see any love letters from you!" you teased, placing a few gentle kisses to her neck. "i leave you notes in your lunch all the time!" alessia protested with a huff.

"yeah that say things like 'property of future mrs russo' or 'reminder that you have the best fiance in the world'." you laughed with a roll of your eyes. "they make you smile do they not?" alessia raised an eyebrow as you had to agree.

"then you're welcome."

"mm so romantic." you smiled, the blonde pecking your lips before you removed yourself, grabbing your phone and waving her over to read the poem from today.

"i guess that's a little bit sweet." alessia admitted with a sigh, stealing another kiss and returning back to the stove.

"what's cookin good lookin?" you questioned as you slid your laptop out of your bag, placing it down in front of you and moving your bag to the floor.

"beef ragu." you could have moaned at the answer, instead sighing happily as alessia chuckled at your obvious excitement.

"if food is the way to the heart you could have asked me to marry you the first night you cooked for me and i'd have said yes." you grinned, flashing your wedding ring at her as she sent you a wink.

"come on come on come on, i want butts in chairs within thirty seconds or we'll do extra math all afternoon instead!" you warned playfully as your class took their time dawdling in from their morning break. though at that threat they sprinted in and hurried to sit down making you laugh.

"it's quiet reading time to calm down a bit, everyone go and grab a book please!" you encouraged, gesturing toward the bookshelf on the back wall.

"why did you get us to sit down if we had to get up again to get a book miss?" one of the girls called out with a groan. "because i can! now off you go." you waved, taking a seat at your desk. focused on the paper in front of you you jumped slightly as you glanced up and found a pair of eyes much closer than you thought.

"these are for you miss." ben thrust out a handful of flowers and weeds, messily tied together with a hair tie as dirt showered down on your desk making you wince. "did you pick these out of the garden buddy?" you asked to which he nodded with an eager grin.

"okay. i think we need to have a little chat." you smiled, standing to your feet and gesturing for him to follow you outside. "3C my listening ears are on, so keep reading and no silly business or its times tables for all!" you warned seriously before stepping out of the classroom and partially closing the door.

"how come you brought me those flowers ben?" you started gently as the two of you sat down on the bench outside your classroom. "because my dad gets my mum flowers." he answered matter of factly as you bit back a smile.

"okay. so you got them for me because..." you encouraged for him to finish your sentence. "you're really pretty, like my mum." he again answered confidently. "now ben that is very sweet, but you know you and me aren't like your mum and dad." you started softly.

"i'm your teacher, so we have a special relationship but not like the one your mum and dad have. i am always here if you're feeling sad or upset or confused or angry or if you just need to chat, and i'll always do my best to help you. but i already have a fiancé, and i love her like your dad loves your mum." you continued, the boys face falling slightly but nodding along.

"and she gave me this ring which means that we promise to only love each other like your dad loves your mum. one day when you're ready and a lot older, you'll find someone like that too! but you have to stop getting me things okay? its very thoughtful but i want you to only think of me like a teacher or a friend, okay?" you finished as ben nodded.

"now you and olivia are pretty good friends right?" you diverted as he confirmed. "so why don't you go and give her the flowers? because you can give best friends things like that too to make them smile! just not teachers." you clarified as the boy let out a small oh and nodded quickly.

"alright. thank you for listening! back inside you go." the smile returning to his face as he raced inside you let out a sigh, taking a moment to collect yourself and return, clapping a pattern and grinning as all your students clapped back.

"only me!" you perked up as your fiancés voice rang through your shared home, a thump as she tripped over on the way in making you grin as she hurried to the kitchen.

"welcome home clumsy." you greeted her as the blonde returned and wasted no time flopping her taller form down on top of you. "how was dinner?" you asked, running your hands through her hair, alessia having gone out with a few of her team mates after training.

"it was lovely. missed you though!" she pouted as you kissed it away, having declined her invitation in favor of lesson planning. "brought you some leftovers. have you eaten?" she pushed herself up to hover over you as you shook your head with a guilty smile.

"baby it's nearly nine thirty! no more work, i'm banning it." your fiancé scowled, closing your laptop expertly with her foot and hauling you up to your feet. "those are for you too." she kissed your cheek and nodded to a bunch of flowers on the counter as she moved to heat you up some food.

"oh lessi, they're gorgeous. thank you!" you smiled softly in appreciation as she placed a bowl into the microwave. "are these just because i told you about ben today?" you teased, having called the striker during your lunch break to fill her in on your conversation.

"no! they're just because i love you." alessia defended, moving to press her body into yours and bury her face in your neck as you hummed with a chuckle, the taller girls lips beginning to mark a trail down the column of your throat as she pushed you a little harder into the counter.

"maybe it had a tiny bit to do with it...but just a tiny bit!"

#woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #engwnt #alessia russo #woso #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso fanfics

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mayadarlings · 2 months

Text

Good things happen to those who wait.

—★! Tags: NSFW, MDNI, AFAB! Slow?? Sex toys, a man way too big, size kink. Fingering.

★- Part 1 here!! Part 2 here!!

You regret missing it. The night GD streamed, you were stuck at work and time was not on your side. Even if you managed to show up, you doubted you could compete with those who had bottomless wallets for donations. By the time you got home, the stream had ended and a lucky winner had claimed their prize, leaving you frustrated at being outdone by someone with more money to spare.

After that, there was a complete lack of communication. No live streams, no new videos. Total silence for five long months. You couldn't help but constantly check his page, refreshing it so frequently that your browser started suggesting it the moment you typed in his name. It was necessary; what if he suddenly returned and started streaming while you weren't paying attention? That would be unacceptable. So you remained his dedicated watcher, eagerly anticipating his return to once again capture your heart and even cause some inevitable arousal.

With no new posts to peruse, you exhausted all of the content already shared on his page. His previous streams and videos became a regular part of your nightly routine – laptop open, legs spread, fingers working their magic as you reached climax again and again. But in just a matter of weeks, this routine grew stale and your fingers failed to satisfy you. You craved something real, something similar to the man who had become your obsession.

On your day off, you made a choice to be daring and try something completely new. Not too far from where you live, there was a sex shop with its bold black exterior and eye-catching logo, "Don't ask, Won't tell." You never thought you'd ever have a reason to step foot inside until today. Trying to remain inconspicuous, you dressed casually in a gray hoodie and shorts, praying that no one from your complex would spot you as you wandered around the small store.

You quickly located the Dildo section in the far corner of the store, it was strategically placed away from prying eyes, giving you the freedom to browse without feeling self-conscious. The selection was overwhelming; there were dildos of all shapes, sizes, and colors that you didn't even know existed. A row of bright and vibrant toys caught your eye, ranging from hot pink to deep purple. Upon closer inspection, you noticed that some were smaller than others and angled differently - some leaning more to the right or left. Curious, you read the label below that simply read "beginners." Were these meant for beginners? You couldn't help but feel a little cocky; surely you could handle more than just beginner-level toys.

Your gaze drifted down to the shelf below, where a collection of dildos labeled as "intermediate" caught your eye. They were all around 5 inches long, a decent size, and you found yourself reaching out to touch a deep blue one that fit perfectly in your palm. But upon closer inspection, it wasn't the right one. It wasn't like his - GD's. You needed something that would remind you of him.

So you moved on to the last row, where the sign in bright red read "Expert". These dildos were flesh-colored and ranged from 6-8 inches in size. They looked almost identical to his. You picked up a realistic-looking one with a caucasian skin tone, measuring at 7 pushing 8 inches. It was thick and veiny, standing tall and proud unlike the ones in the first row. This was the one you wanted - it was as close as you could get to experiencing him.

You approach the cashier, trying your best to avoid making eye contact with her. But her questioning look, as if asking "are you sure about this?", burns your face with embarrassment. The transaction is completed hastily, almost as if the cashier wants you out of the store before it becomes too awkward. You grab the discreet black bag from her hands and make a hasty exit.

You let out a deep sigh as you leave the shop, knowing all that was left to do was walk back to the apartment. It was a simple twenty-minute trek, maybe twenty-five if you got unlucky and had to wait for a red light at the stopwalk. You started on your way, clutching the shopping bag tightly, afraid that passerby's might try to peer inside. As you rounded the corner, a single raindrop landed on your head, followed by more until it was pouring without warning.

The unexpected downpour caught you off guard with little time to react. You were positive that the forecast called for clear skies, so you didn't bother bringing any protection. As droplets of water hit your skin, your eyes dart around in search of shelter. Finally, you spot the bus stop with its small roof offering some relief. With bare ankles splashing through puddles, you hurry towards it.

Taking shelter at the bus stop was a much better option than attempting to walk in this downpour. It was already raining hard enough to make a twenty-minute walk feel like eternity, and you would have been completely soaked if you had attempted it. Now, at least, you could relax a bit, knowing that you were somewhat protected and dry. All you had left to do was wait for the storm to pass. As you take out your phone from your pocket to check the weather app, a sudden shadow looms over you and a large figure squeezes into the small space next to you.

You quickly lifted your gaze from your phone and had to tilt your head back to meet the imposing figure who squeezed into the already cramped area. It was a man, who paid no attention to you whatsoever. He was wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled tightly over his head and a black surgical mask covering his face except for his piercing brown eyes. Those same eyes locked onto yours as he noticed you staring at him.

Your body tensed up, and you averted your gaze, avoiding looking at him altogether. You couldn't help but think, "Could he be any more intimidating?"

The two of you stood next to each other in utter quietness for what felt like an eternity. He kept his gaze fixed ahead while you found yourself inexplicably fascinated by your own shoes. A sudden, loud splash caught your attention and you looked up just in time to see a group of children running by, gleefully splashing and playing in the puddles.

The combination of mud and water was heading straight towards you, ready to create a messy situation. But before it could hit you, he smoothly stepped in front and took the full force of the splash. He grunted as the liquid hit him, but he shook his head and glanced at the kids who seemed oblivious to the mess they had caused.

You were taken aback by his sudden actions, and you couldn't help but look back and forth between him and the mess on his previously spotless hoodie. The stain was large, surely leaving a big wet spot. "I- I mean, you didn't have to do that." You cursed yourself for saying the wrong thing as he raised an eyebrow. "Damn, that’s not what I meant."

He shakes his head and lets out a low chuckle. " 'S okay."

As soon as he spoke, you froze in place. His voice was unmistakably deep and one that you had heard before. You couldn't help but wonder if you were overreacting. Out of the corner of your eye, you observed him as he attempted to wipe away some moisture on his hoodie with a handkerchief. As far as you could tell, there were no visible tattoos on him.

Apart from that, you couldn't help but sympathize with him. He didn't have to do this at all. It was refreshing to see chivalry still existed, and the least you could do was assist him. "Do you live close by?" you inquire, causing him to pause and turn his gaze towards you.

They say that everything in life is predetermined by fate, and it seems like fate had a plan for you when you asked that seemingly innocent question. Little did you know, your simple act set off a chain reaction of events. He lived far away, but you couldn't let him go on with that stain on his hoodie. So after the rain stopped, you brought him back to your apartment complex and showed him to the laundry room.

“Just give me a moment to grab my detergent. The stuff the landlord gives us is terrible.” You told him, motioning for him to take a seat on the nearby chair, which he did without saying a word. You quickly went up to your apartment and threw the bag on the couch before heading into the bathroom to retrieve the detergent. As you headed back downstairs, the scene in front of you left you speechless.

The man had removed his jacket and tossed it into the laundry, his back tense and facing away from you. He was dressed in a grey t-shirt that revealed his defined forearms. You couldn't help but recognize the tattoos decorating his skin. Could it really be him?

You had to act casual, not let your excitement show. You didn't want to seem like some creep and scare him off like a desperate fool. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you approach him with a gentle smile and present the bottle of detergent. "This will make your hoody spotless and leave it smelling amazing."

He turns his masked face towards you, revealing dirty blonde hair and a weathered complexion. It's not the kind of wear and tear that comes with age, but something else. "You have a staring habit," he says bluntly, catching you off guard. You didn't even realize you were staring at him.

You feel like you're about to jump out of your skin, but you manage to compose yourself. "Sorry," you apologize quietly as you approach the washing machine. You pour in a generous amount of detergent for his jacket and close the lid with a firm click. "The washers here aren't great, so if you want, you can come up to my apartment until it's finished." Normally, you wouldn't invite a total stranger into your home, hell you wouldn't have even let him see which complex you lived in, but your curiosity gets the best of you.

He stands there with his arms crossed, scanning you from head to toe. His intense gaze makes you feel exposed, as if he can see right through you. "I'll only be here until it's finished," he says in a smooth yet cautious tone. After all, you are a stranger. He understands that and so do you.

With a nod, you lead him up to your apartment, locking it behind you once you step in last. He seems to pause, taking it all in, glancing around at every little thing but not touching.

After a brief nod of your head, you guide him up to your apartment and lock the door behind you as soon as you both enter. He takes a moment to survey the space, his eyes scanning every detail but not daring to touch anything. You set your keys down on the kitchen counter while he settles onto the couch, trying to get comfortable. His gaze falls upon the black bag resting nearby, and although he doesn't reach for it, he does lean in closer to see what's inside.

You step out, and he's back to his usual self, sitting motionless as if nothing had happened. You realize you completely forgot about the bag in your hand; it was an easy oversight. Smiling at him, you take a seat in the armchair across from him, but he catches you off guard. "You seem like the last person who would shop at that kind of store."

As he speaks, you feel a pang of confusion and want to confront him about his words. However, your attention is diverted by the black bag you left out in the open. Your face flushes with embarrassment and your jaw drops, but you're unable to utter any words or even come up with an excuse.

His smirk grew as he observed your flustered reaction. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes gave it away. "I was just joking, didn't think it would make you so shy."

You huff and lean back in the chair, feeling defensive. You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze as you say, "I'm not shy. I just…"

"Just?" He teased, casually draping an arm over the couch.

Feeling self-conscious, you defended yourself with a shy tone and blushing cheeks. “It’s perfectly normal to want a change.” you explained.

All he does is hum, but his eyes are fixed on you. Those damn eyes that seem to see right through you. "A little big don't you think?" He nods towards the bag.

You widen your eyes in surprise and finally gather the courage to confront him directly. "That's quite a bold topic to bring up with someone you barely know," you say.

"Coming from the woman who allowed a stranger into her home without even knowing my name, that's rich, love."

Touché.

“So whats your name then?”

“Simon.”

“Mines is y/n”

The two of you began to talk or rather you talked up a storm. As you spoke, he sat there and actually listened. Despite being the one to do most of the talking, he let you vent about work for almost ten solid minutes without interrupting. All he did was nod along, showing that he was truly paying attention.

You asked about his job and he wasn't very forthcoming, only mentioning that he traveled frequently. You ventured to ask his age and discovered he was twenty-eight years old. He didn't seem eager to talk about himself, so you changed the subject out of respect for his privacy.

He wasn't exactly the most exciting person, but he had his moments. Every so often, he'd tell a cheesy dad joke that made you giggle. You loved seeing the sparkle in his eyes whenever he cracked a joke. The two of you were having such a good time together that before you knew it, an hour had passed and you could hear the familiar beep of the washing machine downstairs. "Hold on, I'll grab your hoodie," you say as you get up and step out of the apartment for a moment.

He sat alone, quietly anticipating your return. By chance, the two of you had crossed paths, a coincidence he was grateful for because… he knew who you were. He noticed you struggling to make connections in your mind while he had already recognized you.

He had come across your profile on his streaming platform. You were a new fan, which he could tell based on your activity. How? Your profile picture was of yourself, and you never participated in the chat or donated. This piqued his curiosity about you, but he didn't bother reaching out at the time. However, when he saw you waiting at the bus stop in the same city as him, he took a chance and decided to approach you.

Now he was currently sitting in your apartment while you were busy downstairs. His gaze kept returning to the toy inside the bag, a flimsy and unnecessary item in his opinion. Why would someone like you need a toy? Surely you had a boyfriend, right? He heard your footsteps approaching and quickly turned to watch as you entered the room. "Why the toy?" he asked curiously.

You approached him and handed him his jacket, just cleaned and now carrying a hint of lavender. He brought up the dildo again, but you were feeling more assured this time. "As I said before, I wanted to experiment with something different."

He snorted in disbelief at those words, reaching over and holding up the black bag. "Why would you need this when you have a boyfriend, right? You do have one, don't you?" Simon secretly wished that you didn't have a boyfriend. You were too beautiful to be with someone who couldn't satisfy you.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as you quickly take the bag from his hand and set it on the ground. "No, I don't have a boyfriend and so what if I have a dildo, what's it to you?”

For the first time, Simon is at a loss for words. He's confused, and even he doesn't understand why he cares so much. What he says next surprises not just you, but himself as well. "I could do better."

How the hell are you supposed to react to that? What would be an appropriate response? Was it meant as a joke, maybe? "Yeah, right, and pigs can fly." You try to rebut with a half-hearted tone, still uncertain of how to handle the situation.

As he sits up, his posture becomes rigid and his gaze locks onto yours. His eyes, a deep brown like icy orbs, possess an inexplicable warmth when focused on you. He takes a moment to assess you, his gaze lingering on your hips before meeting your eyes once more. You can feel the weight of his stare, as if he is trying to read your every thought and emotion. His expression remains stoic but there is an intensity in his eyes that cannot be ignored.

The realization washes over you like a wave, leaving behind a tingling sensation that starts in your toes and travels up your spine. He's serious…actually serious. Your heart races as his intense gaze bores into yours, causing a familiar heat to pool in the pit of your stomach and spread through your body. Your intuition spikes, confirming what your body already knows - there's only one man who can make you feel this way. It's ironic, really, that getting turned on was the only indication that he is the mysterious streamer you've been pining after for so long.

A bead of sweat forms on your forehead as you struggle to maintain a composed exterior, but inside you can't deny the desire that surges through you. Simon practically offered himself on a silver platter, you couldn't let this opportunity slip by. You could feel the tension in the air as he waited for your response. "Prove it then," the words escaped your lips in a rush, betraying your eagerness. But it was too late to take them back now. The anticipation and lust swirling between the two of you was palpable, like electricity in the air. Your pulse quickened as you prepared for what was to come next.

After hearing your confirmation, Simon's eyes darken, their once warm hue turning into a deep and intense shade. He slowly rises from his seat on the couch, his tall frame easily towering over you. Without saying a word, his large hand comes to rest on your hip, gently brushing his thumb in tender circles. His touch brings a sense of warmth that radiates off of him, causing you to tremble slightly. You can feel how gentle he is with you, knowing exactly how to handle you with care and tenderness.

With a firm grip on your waist, he gently guides you onto his lap. His strong thighs support your weight effortlessly, as if you were weightless in his arms. Simon tenderly presses his lips against your neck, his surgical mask now discarded, leaving his warm breath and soft kisses to trail down your neck and over your shoulder. The feeling sends shivers down your spine and causes you to squirm involuntarily, releasing a shaky gasp from your lips.

Desperate to catch a glimpse of his true identity, you strain your neck to see his face, but he squeezes your waist possessively. You felt his warm breath on your neck as he murmured, "You'll get to see if you behave, love." A soft kiss was pressed to the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck, making you whine with need. Despite your curiosity, you couldn't resist the calming effect of his embrace. The need to know his true appearance still lingers, but you trust in his promise and enjoy the moment with him.

His rough hands glide up and down the curves of your body, pressing firmly against your back as he pulls you closer. You can feel his chest rising and falling against you, and you can't ignore the bulge in his pants pressed against your plush ass. Despite the thick fabric of his jeans, you can sense every inch of him. He is just as large and intimidating as you had seen from watching him on screen. Perhaps even too big for you to handle. Simon's hand ventures underneath your hoodie and slips beneath your shirt, his calloused fingers tracing slow circles on your stomach. Though they are rough and coarse, they mold you like soft dough in a baker's hands. You feel like a piece of bread ready to be shaped according to his will.

With a deep sigh of relief, you let your eyes flutter closed, the tension slowly draining from your body. Soft moans escape your lips as his hands work their magic, easing away the stress and bringing a sense of pleasure to every inch of you. Your eyes snap open as one hand ventures underneath the band of your panties and gently strokes between your legs. You can feel the corner of his lips curl up in a confident smirk against the sensitive skin of your neck. "Already so wet," he whispers huskily, making you crave more of his touch.

Simon's fingers glide over your clit, causing it to quiver under his touch. He's exploring, trying to figure out what turns you on. When your body responds with a subtle yearning for more, he applies pressure with his index and middle finger, gently swirling them around your sensitive spot. You inhale sharply, almost unconsciously closing your legs at the sensation of a new hand wandering all over your body.

As Simon's fingers glide over your body, you feel a rush of electricity shoot through you. His touch is tentative at first, exploring the curves and crevices of your skin as if he is mapping out every inch. When he finally reaches your clit, it feels like a firework has been lit inside of you. Heat spreads from the contact point to every nerve ending in your body. You can't help but huff as he presses down with his index and middle finger, creating a slow, tantalizing swirl against your sensitive nub. Your breaths come in quick pants as your body responds to the unfamiliar sensation, arching towards his touch and almost closing up in surprise.

Gently, Simon nudges your thighs apart with his own, a low growl escaping him as he nibbles on your ear, his breath is hot against your skin. “That's a good girl,” he whispers, his voice gruff and full of desire. “Let me take care of you.” His touch is featherlight, teasing and electrifying, making it hard for you to focus on anything else. As one hand wanders up and down your body, the other finds its way to your perky breast, kneading and caressing it gently. Simon is determined to leave no part of you untouched, his actions attacking all of your physical senses at once.

A sharp pinch on your hardened nipple elicits a tiny squeal from you, and he responds by gently kissing your cheek. His lips trail up and down your jawline, providing comfort for your cry. Your slick has already coated his fingers, and it now seeps through not only your shorts but also your panties. He can feel the wet spot on his knee, evidence of your arousal. "Your pretty cunt doesn't get enough attention," he remarks, observing the way you're leaking all over him with a smirk on his face.

He uttered that word, "pretty," in such a raw way that it only made you more aroused. He noticed how wet you were and withdrew his fingers, teasingly waving them in front of your face as you try to catch your breath. "Look at the mess you've made," he says, running his fingers against your lips. You obey and open your mouth, tasting the salty slickness on your tongue.

The vulgarity of his words shot dopamine straight to that lust-filled brain of yours, and you couldn't deny the fluttering arousal that followed. He noticed this and pulled his fingers back from between your legs, holding them up to your face. Your breath came in short gasps as he taunted you with your own slick moisture glistening on his fingertips. "What a mess you made," he said, rubbing his fingers against your lips, encouraging you to open them. You complied eagerly, tasting the tangy saltiness of yourself on your tongue. It only made you want him more.

You suck on his finger, savoring the taste of yourself as your tongue laps at it with eagerness. The taste of yourself lingers on his skin, sweet and intoxicating. Simon's eyes are glued to you, mesmerized by your actions. His pants feel unbearably tight, but he knows he must take things slow and loosen you up before he can have you completely.

“Want me to keep going?” Simon asked in a commanding tone, and when you nodded, he shook his head. "I need words from you, Doll. Tell me what you want."

Your lips feel swollen as you bite down on them, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. But you can't forget your current position and the events that led to it. "I want more Simon, please."

Simon grunts and nods, taking his finger out of your mouth and holding onto your hips with both hands. He guides you to lean against his strong chest, positioning you so you can see his face. His rugged appearance, with a fresh stubble brushing against your soft skin, adds to his appeal. A cut on his nose gives him a rougher look, but it only makes him more attractive. He uses his fingers to collect your wetness and spreads it over your clenched opening. Taking advantage of your distraction, Simon slowly inserts his index finger into your tight hole.

He can't help but groan at the incredible tightness he encounters with just one finger. Your walls squeeze and cling onto him as if your life depends on it. It's a good thing he's taking the time to loosen you up, because if his cock were to experience this level of tightness, he'd have you pinned down on the couch in no time, causing your knees to shake uncontrollably.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion, his large index finger feeling almost intrusive as it slowly enters you. It fills you more than your own fingers ever could. Simon tenderly kisses the side of your lips, reassuring you. "It's okay, I've got you…I've got you." He pauses to make sure you're comfortable before continuing. His fingers continue to explore with care, his thumb gently pressing against your sensitive clit to mask any pain with pleasure. A deep moan escapes him as he feels your walls pulsating around him, making his cock throb in anticipation within his boxers. It begs for attention.

You looked up at him, your eyes blinking rapidly as you flinched when he slowly inserted another finger into your tight and slippery opening. It was a bit too much to handle, but you forced yourself to bear it with clenched teeth and an open mouth. Your cheeks were flushed and your skin had goosebumps all over from the stimulation. The pain gradually turned into a hint of pleasure, causing your nipples to harden in response. His two fingers moved in and out at a slow pace, your whimpers of discomfort slowly transformed into moans of pleasure. Simon quickly found a rhythm, picking up speed until there were wet slurping sounds coming from the movement of his fingers inside you.

The intensity of the moment was immeasurable. The sight of you writhing on his lap, your body shuddering and your walls gripping around his fingers, drove him to grunt loudly in response. He could feel his own cock throbbing and pulsing with desperate need as he watched you shatter before him. With deliberate care, he curved his finger and found a sweet spot deep inside you that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back. Taking note of this, Simon altered his rhythm and started moving faster, his fingers thrusting in and out with an almost frantic pace.

But he didn't forget about that special spot, and each time he hit it, it sent waves of ecstasy through your body, leaving you breathless and craving more. You were starved for touch, and Simon could tell by how eagerly you pushed against his hand, your hips seeking out his fingers no matter how deep they delved inside you. He was playing you like a skilled musician, knowing exactly which strings to pluck to elicit the most intense reactions from your body. And despite only having just met him, Simon seemed to have a better understanding of your own body than yourself.

He knows that adding a third finger now would be too much for you to handle. Instead, he expertly curls both fingers inside of you and uses his other hand to pinch and tweak your swollen clit. The pleasure is overwhelming and has you seeing stars and cumming far too soon. Your whole body arches off of him, your legs trembling like leaves in the wind as your orgasm crashes over you uncontrollably. You weren't given any build up or time to prepare, it came on full force and ready. When you come down from your high, he pulls his fingers out of your quivering core, holding you close with one arm while the other shifts you slightly for comfort. His pants are now slick with your release, evidence of your intense climax.

Mindful of your orgasm, he gently lifts you up and places you onto the plush couch. You sit there for a moment, heart racing and breath catching in your chest. Your mind is dizzy with pleasure, trying to process everything that has transpired. Suddenly, a metallic clank and a loud zip interrupt your thoughts, causing you to open one eye and peer up at Simon.

He stands directly in front of you, blocking out the rest of the world with his strong body. As your eyes trail downward, you come face to face with the very same girthy cock that had captivated you on screen. Up close, it was even more daunting and intimidating than before. Thick veins pulsed along its length, the tip glistening with precum from being pressed against his boxer briefs. His heavy balls hung low and full, adding to the overwhelming image before you.

"You didn't think this was over, did you?"

♡! This one is really long but I don't like how I did the sex scene that much. o(TヘTo). Expect more of Simon talking in the next!!

˚ ✦ . Taglist (People who commented): @theirkenfiles @@crazy-phan-girl13 @forgotten-lego-piece

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost smut #simon riley #simon ghost x you #simon riley x you #cod x reader #call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #call of duty smut

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sunflower-lilac42 · 3 months

Text

✧ 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 || hughes brothers ♔

summary: after numerous occasions, the hate gets too much for the hughes sister and she breaks down

warnings: hate, crying

notes: i'm honestly not sure i liked the way this turned out especially the ending since i had massive writers block finishing this. just another hughes!sister fic, my comfort home. i have a couple more hughes!sister fics in the works and/or planned. add yourself to the taglist ➵ taglist!

publish date: 02/04/24

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

Hate was a horrible thing. It happened no matter what, if you asked for it, if you didn’t ask for it, if you did something, if you didn’t do something. The bottom line was that hate was uncalled for even if you did something to deserve it. No one should have to go through that level of comments.

Y/n sat in her bed, covers pulled up to her chin as she stared out the window. She had a teddy bear tucked into her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around it. Her TV played a video with a fireplace on it, creating a warm atmosphere in her room.

She felt sad, a new wave of depression rolling in. She had spent today on socials, getting caught up with the latest and interacting with her friends. She occasionally got hate, most of it from her brothers' fans who just desperately wanted to have her life. It bothered her to a certain extent, she knew she had no control over who her brothers were and what they had become, what they did for a living.

Today the hate was worse and she didn’t know why. She hadn’t done anything differently than in the past, simply just living her life as usual. She didn’t know if the comments themselves were worse and there were more of them or if it was her mind playing tricks on her and making them a big focal point.

She didn’t want to get up, her bed and blankets brought her enough comfort which is all she needed right now. She could hear Luke and Jack arguing from the kitchen and she rolled her eyes, there was never a time when their home was silent. She snuggled herself deeper into the bed, not even sure if it was physically possible.

She knew she should go tonight, she hadn’t seen Quinn in a long time, not having gone to the previous ‘hughesbowl’ as they called it. She wasn’t a big hockey person, despite her family’s name. She never understood the appeal of it, you watch a bunch of men or women, race back and forth on ice chasing a tiny round piece of rubber while hitting others.

That being said, she didn’t know why her brothers playing each other was so special. Matthew and Brady had played each other plenty of times, so they just added a third brother and it was the biggest thing on the planet. She got the appeal of it but not so much as the big deal, she was proud of them sure and it would make for a good game but past that?

She heard footsteps coming towards her room and she quickly ducked her head under her comforter to be ignored by whoever was coming to the door, “Y/n/n?”

She was silent, steading her breath, “I know you’re awake.”

Still nothing and at this point, Luke was just about ready to give up until Jack charged in, “Get up!”

She wasn’t in the mood to see everyone rave about her brothers, she didn’t need to go out into the world and see more hate spread about her. What would it be this time? Oh, she’s not supporting Quinn, that’s kind of a bitch move. Oh, she favors Jack and Luke too much. She’s wearing Quinn’s jersey, that must be her favorite brother. Do you think she’s using them to get with any of their teammates? She couldn’t do anything right anymore.

“Y/n if you’re not up in the next five seconds I’m bringing a pot in.”

“Do you even own a pot?”

“No… but you’re talking now.” Jack cocked an eyebrow, an all too familiar smug look making its way onto the boy’s face.

Y/n turned around to face her bedroom door and muttered, ‘Congratu-fucking-lations.”

“Someone’s got an attitude.” Jack whistled, eyebrows raising again.

“Bro, come on.” Luke hit his older brother on the chest before walking over to the girl, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s a load of bullshit.”

“It’s nothing, Luke.” She raised her left arm to wipe the growing tears in her eyes. Luke eyed them carefully, placing a hand on her arm, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Good luck tonight.”

At this, Jack furrowed his eyebrows, “Why are you saying that like you’re not going to go?”

“Because I’m not.”

“What do you mean you’re not? You were excited to see Quinn.”

“I dunno.” Her eyes looked everywhere her brothers weren’t.

“Are you not feeling well?”

She merely shrugged before turning over again, the boys exchanging looks, “All right well if you change your mind, let me know and I’ll come back and get you.”

“Okay.” The brothers left, heading to the Rock leaving their sister alone with her thoughts.

It was twenty minutes later that she felt she wanted to go, she should support her brothers no matter what. She got ready, throwing a Canucks shirt on and her Devil's beanie covering her hair to hide the uncleanliness of it.

She texted Jack and asked for him to come back for her, to which he responded instantly with a yes. She sat on her bed, swinging her legs back and forth as she waited for her brother to come and get her.

✧༺✎༻∞

To y/n the game was uneventful, just another one of the hockey games she could add to her total. The six of them had decided they would go out for dinner and being away from Quinn for such a long time she decided to ride with him to the restaurant and back.

When they got back to Jack, Luke, and y/n’s home, the girl immediately returned to her room, not so much as saying a word to anyone. The five remaining Hughes’ exchanged confused glances, “Has she been like this for a while?”

No one responded to Quinn’s question at first until Jack thought back to earlier, “She was acting a little weird before the game but I just thought she was tired.”

They all seemed as if that was a good enough assumption and sat in the living room watching a movie. Meanwhile Luke had been oddly silent, he knew there was something wrong with her from the moment he walked into the room this afternoon.

He excused himself from the family, walked down the hall to her room, and knocked on the door, “Go away!”

Luke entered the room and just as before, knelt in front of her so their eyes were meeting, “I know there’s something up with you.”

“No there’s not.”

“Come on, spill it.”

It was silent before y/n looked at her brother with glistening eyes, “Why are people so mean, Lukey?”

That was all it took for her to start crying, Luke wasting no time jumping onto the bed, wrapping his little sister up in a hug. The sudden affection caused her to let the tears flow over and bury her head into his chest. All Luke could do was hug her tightly, staring at the wall as his heart shattered. There was nothing but the sound of her sobs he could listen to, it was like the world had gone dead silent to amplify her cries.

He closed his eyes, trying not to let the tears form or fall from them. He heard her sniffle, signaling that she was calming down a bit. There was a knock on the door and she quickly whipped her head up, “I don’t want to see anyone. Please.”

The boy looked conflicted before coming up with an idea, “If it’s mom and dad how about I tell them to go away but if it’s Jack and Quinn you have to let them in okay?”

She nodded, knowing that she wasn’t going to get very far with this. Luke called out, waiting for the person on the other side of her door to respond. When the voice called back and they both instantly recognized it was Quinn’s she sighed before squeaking out a ‘come in.’ Quinn entered the bedroom, his younger brother following behind him with his hands crossed across his chest. Quinn took notice of the girl’s face, followed by Jack as they sat at the end of the bed, ‘What’s going on?”

Y/n sat up pulling her knees into her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She looked hesitantly between her brothers, not wanting to say what it was that was happening to her. She was old enough she didn’t need to be treated like a baby who could break at any moment.

Quinn’s older brother persona was comforting out of all three of them. If she had to rank them, let’s just say Jack would be at the bottom of her list while Luke was tied, or maybe just slightly under Quinn. She only looked at him before looking back down. Luke placed a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder, “We want to help you, y/n/n.”

Words were hard for the youngest Hughes, not knowing how to explain how she felt or what was happening. They never came easily to her, they never pieced together to form a complete sentence sometimes, and they never made sense when she was upset. She reached out for her phone that sat on the nightstand and Luke leaned over to grab it for her, placing it in her hands.

She pulled up screenshots of the comments so took, a constant reminder of why she wasn’t good enough for the Hughes’. She held the phone out, ready for any one of them to take it. Quinn was the first to take the phone, eyes scanning over the screen and swiping through the pictures. His facial expressions were very noticeable, his eyes widening at the language used, his mouth frowning at the comments, the tears in his eyes as he thought about his little sister going through this.

He passed it to Jack when he was done, rubbing his eyes rid of the tears. They all waited in silence as Jack and Luke read the messages, tension filling the air. The three brothers exchanged looks, silently conversing without y/n noticing. In the silence, y/n started to grow anxious. What if they started to realize that what they were saying was true? What if they started to believe them?

Luke turned off the phone and placed it back on her nightstand, looking at his older brothers in a way that asked who was going to say the first words. They could all see the gears turning inside their sister’s head, nervous about what she was thinking. Quinn reached an arm out and placed it around her, pulling her into his side, “You know none of that is true, none of it.”

She just shook her head, not believing a word he said. Jack tried next, attempting to break through to her, “It’s going to be hard to hear at first, y/n/n, but nothing they say is true. They just-” Jack sighed, not really knowing where to go from there.

“They just hate me, it’s simple. They hate me which makes me hate myself.” She put her head down so it was resting on her arms.

The brothers hadn’t felt this sad about something in a while, they gazed at her with tears in their eyes. They never would have thought that she of all people would be getting hate, she’s not even a public figure. They felt horrible about themselves even though it wasn’t their fault, she was experiencing this just because they were related to her.

Quinn removed his arm from around her shoulders moving to sit in front of her. He moved her arms so she had to lift her head to look at him, “What?”

“Don’t say that. You have no reason to hate yourself, y/n.”

“Don’t cry.” She could hear the tears in his voice despite the fact that she wasn’t directly looking at him.

“Can’t help it. Our little sister is sitting in front of us, crying because she thinks she’s not good enough.” Luke spoke for the first time in a while. His voice cracked at some point throughout the sentence, bringing him to tears.

She reached out to hold his hand as a form of comfort which he gladly accepted. She looked at the three, noticing Jack’s oddly quiet persona. She tilted her head in confusion and looked him in the eye. When he made eye contact with her, he broke down himself. His tears left his siblings in shock, not expecting him to do that.

“What’s wrong, Jack?”

“I don’t want her to go through what I went through.”

Quinn moved from his spot to wrap his younger brother in a hug, “She won’t and you know why?”

He shook his head, burying his head into his shoulder, “Because she has us. Because she has you.”

The four Hughes siblings were left a crying mess after that night. Each of them fully broke down at one point or another, some more than others. Quinn had broken down in silence when all four went to bed in the same room at the thought of his younger siblings being this sad, being attacked by people who were nobodies. Jack’s breakdown affected everyone, he had known what his sister was going through. After his rookie season, he thought it would never let up.

Luke broke down mostly because everyone else was, he didn’t like seeing everyone sad. He started laughing halfway through crying because he didn’t actually know why he was crying. This was near the end of the night, everyone had practically run out of tears by then and laughed with him as soon as he started to.

Y/n only broke down at one other point during the night, it was right before they went to bed. She had gone on her phone and the first thing she saw was a comment from someone on her latest post. She had begged her brothers to make it stop even though she knew they couldn’t do anything about it. However, she was determined not to let it bother her anymore so she made her brothers promise her they would help her with it.

And they did, they would protect her from anything even if it was their so-called fans.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 27 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-“I have a surprise for you.”

Hearing this fills you with what is perhaps a disproportionate amount of trepidation.

However…consider the source.

“Oh?”

“I wasn’t going to give it to you yet, but…I think I’d better.”

You are not sure what to think about this, so you remain silent.

He takes your hand, leading you up the stairs.

As you walk down the hallway you are filled with more and more apprehension, convincing yourself that there is some trick he’s pulling around the corner. He has been disappearing on and off, refusing to tell you where he was going, but vaguely hinting that he was cooking something up for you.

You fear it’s something you don’t want at all, like a red room fully fitted with racks and restraints and hooks hanging from the ceiling. If he frames that as a gift you swear you will pull a Bertha, and burn this personal version of Thornfield Hall to the ground.

You do not like it, when he insists on covering your eyes as he walks you through a door close to your bedroom upstairs. By the time you take three steps into the room you have damn near worked yourself into a lather, a fine trembling running through your limbs.

“Shh, baby, you’re going to like this,” he assures you, which is no real assurance at all.

Five more steps before he stops you, removing his hands with a flourish.

Your heart leaps to your throat.

Floor to ceiling windows let in a flood of morning light to the room. There is a big table, and copious shelves, and…an easel.

You realize he has made you an art studio.

Your feet move forward of their own volition, taking in the various boxes stacked on the table and the shelves. They’re art supplies, and you recognize brand names that you could hardly afford on your barista’s salary. Sennelier. Windsor and Newton pigments, top tier. Fine brushes from France and Germany that cost fifty dollars a piece. Tablets in every size and every tooth of Canson paper.

“Oh. My. God.”

“You…like it?”

He almost sounds vulnerable in that moment, which is entirely ridiculous.

You imagine how you would have reacted, if your relationship had been normal. You would have thrown your arms around his neck, showered him with kisses.

This studio is everything you’ve ever dreamed of having, as an artist.

As it is…he is buying your complacency, if not your love, trying to distract you from your situation with expensive trappings and let’s face it—adult arts and crafts.

It hurts.

And yet, you know you’d better fucking say something, or Mr. Nice Wick is going to flee the scene.

“How did you know?” you ask, fingering a box of brand-new oil pastels. “It’s perfect in every way.”

You are trying your best to sound happy about it, but your throat is tight, and you know he’s going to get mad about it any second now.

He couldn't have surprised you more, if he'd stood on tiptoe and performed a pirouette, as when he simply gathers you into his arms.

“I had help from the owner of the art supply store,” he admits. “Pretty sure they'll be sending me a Christmas card for the rest of my life.”

You laugh at that, settling into the hollow at the base of his throat. It feels so good, just to be held like this. A part of you cautions not to trust it—but most of you is so exhausted from living on edge, you just take the comfort at face value.

“Did you go to Mr. Morton’s shop?” you ask, referring to the local art stop in town. You don’t know why this gives life to a glimmer of hope in you. It’s not like the kind old man would have any reason to suspect you’re here, with John Wick, just because the mysterious newcomer suddenly had a yen to buy out the store of all its art supplies.

“No, I went a little farther afield.”

Almost as though he was covering his tracks.

“Oh.” You cannot conceal the note of disappointment in your tone. “John…” You muster your courage for the next question, hoping you won’t blow the day all to shit, but you suddenly need to know. “Am I a missing person?”

He presses his lips to your forehead, and speaks quietly against your skin. “Technically, no. A friend of mine will ping your passport entry at JFK soon. You’ll tender your resignation with regrets at the coffee house. I’ll have your little apartment cleaned out. You don’t need it anymore.”

He really did think all this through. You digest the details of his Machiavellian plan rather distantly, as though you are on the outside watching from above. He has orchestrated your disappearance masterfully, but also in a way that won’t raise questions with authorities should you happen to resurface in his company. In a twisted way this gives you a sliver of hope, that maybe he doesn’t intend to keep you locked away forever.

A fool’s optimism, perhaps, but at the moment it’s all you have.

“Where’s my phone?”

“At the bottom of the Grand Canal, I’m afraid.”

“That’s littering.”

He just snorts in answer. You find that you regret the fact that all your photos are lost. You never did back them up on the cloud. How strange, that such a record of your life could be erased with the destruction of one electronic device.

Talking about this doesn’t seem to scuttle his mood, so it gives you the courage to ask, “Can I come in here whenever I want?”

You are so hopeful in your request that you sense him war with himself, in the end unable to outright say no. “If you're a good girl,” he qualifies with his lips still on your forehead.

Hiding beneath his chin, you grind your teeth at this caveat, but don't voice aloud any of the pithy comebacks that come to mind.

Then you notice your sketchbook from Italy is sitting on the worktable, along with your custom bound copy of Jane Eyre.

After everything, you’re not sure why seeing it there, knowing it had been in his hands, makes your heart skitter in your chest. He follows your gaze, a dark eyebrow lifting. It is filled with sketches of him from before you met up in Venice. The whole fucking thing is practically a confession of the grinding longing you'd felt for him, in the first couple weeks after you left. You can’t deny it now, but you can choose not to acknowledge it aloud.

He stares you down, clearly hoping for…something. A confession, perhaps, or at least an admission. You feel like a bug under a magnifying glass in the sun, fixed with that gaze. But you hold fast, and in the end he sighs. “I’m going to go clean up breakfast,” he tells you. “Have fun with your new toys.”

He kisses your forehead before quitting the room, and once again you fancy that if one were to squint, you could almost mistake the two of you for a normal couple.

-He actually leaves you to your own devices until darkness begins to fill the trees beyond the window.

By the time he comes to collect you he has changed into a black button down and dark jeans. It suits him to his bare toes, and inwardly you sigh. Why does this devil of a man have to be so goddamned handsome?

“So, what has my little artist made today?”

You are loathe to admit, the answer is nothing.

You opened every box, gazed at the pastels and paints and pencils longingly. And yet with charcoal in hand the fine white paper taunted you, inspiration an illusive thing.

You had no idea what you wanted to draw, or paint, or make. The past week has been so jarring, you would think you would be bursting with something, but all you draw is a blank.

You shrug, curled up in the comfy chair by the easel, your drawing pad open in front of you. He takes the seat opposite, regarding you quizzically.

“You don’t like it in here?”

“I love it,” you assure him, and its no complacent lie. “I just…have been soaking it in.”

“Hmm.”

You can tell that he’s disappointed, and your treacherous heart skips a beat.

You failed to turn on any lights, as the sun is setting. John flicks on a single lamp on the side table, washing his one side in a dramatic glow. It is as though something clicks into place, as you look upon him. Your dark angel, your sinister lover, your obsessive captor, a man you should hate, but you are drawn to him like a moth to the flame.

Perhaps now, he shall also be your muse. Was ever there a man better suited to embody the mysteries of Caravaggian shadow?

“Don’t move,” you say softly, and begin to draw.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine #john wick fic

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hunn1e-bunn1e · 2 months

Text

神話 - "Fallen Star Seeking Enigmatic Clouds"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which the Traveler and Paimon unknowingly come across a mysterious adeptus by the name of Sky Weaver while the two are exploring near the sparsely populated cliffsides of Mt. Mingyuan. Or; In which the long-forgotten tale of the adeptus Sky Weaver is uncovered by Aether from the lips of the various Adepti of the Nation of Liyue and the people who know them.

🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞

The swirling cloud of mist watches closely as the golden blonde boy descends the mountain with his fairy-like friend in his arms. As the boy becomes but a silhouette, the cloud glows the colors of the night sky once again as it changes shape into something more humanoid. The white mist fades away and in its place stands a beautiful man with hair so long it sprawls out against the off-colored teal-green grass.

"...A most gracious and inquisitive fallen star has stumbled upon one's mountain dwelling..."

The man mutters quietly as he rests a thoughtful thumb against his lower lip; eyes still trained on the path that the boy left from.

" ...In One's sky it is most often that stars fall in pairs... thus, this must be the star that accompanied the tenacious one all that time ago..."

The man closes his painted lids as he recalls the time he met the first of the pair. A girl, with hair and eyes of gold who dressed in otherworldly garb. The tenacious little star, who descended from the sky and assisted in slaying his God, his creator, in cold blood and sunk into the abyss to become a "god" herself.

"Master?"

A soft and youthful voice to his left curiously called out to the man.

The beautiful man glances behind him and spots a small child with winged ears and small purple markings on his face. Yu Wuzhe, a half-adeptus child whom he found not too long ago and took under his guidance. The man sighs softly and gently rests his hand upon the young boy's choppy white hair in a silent assurance of his well-being.

"Why'd you go and help that nosey mortal? Ugh, I– er... One is most tired of those humans en... encro...—"

"...Encroaching..."

"—encroaching upon my– uh... one's masters territory. It is quite bothersome."

The the half-adeptus grumbles as he crosses his arms; his winged ears give a few frustrated flaps with puffed-up feathers as he glares at the spot where the blonde traveler once stood.

The boy's master hides an amused chuckle behind the sleeve of his silk robe; watching his pupil cutely puff out his cheeks as he pouts. He pets the five-year-old's little head to calm him down; already used to the child's antics from raising him till now.

"...Compose yourself, Yu Wuzhe. One simply sensed that the mortal was one of the two stars of gold that were fated to descend upon Teyvat long ago..."

The man utters intelligently; momentarily forgetting that he's speaking to a young child.

Upon seeing the utterly lost look on the you boy's face, however, he quickly corrects his wording.

"...The mortal is important..."

The man simplifies; his face betraying his hidden exasperation.

Yu Wuzhe huffs, slightly envious of the golden blonde being considered important to his fath– master before grabbing onto the adeptus' large hand and tugging along as he starts to march higher up the mountain. The older man only chuckles at his pupil and easily follows along at a slow pace.

"...Once we've arrived, one must review your vocabulary, you seem to be struggling..."

"Aw man– er... I mean uh... how um, o-di-ous?"

"...Yes, one shall most definitely be occupied once one reaches their abode... how arduous..."

🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞

Footnotes:

I wanted to give Sky Weaver a half-adeptus companion to teach as Cloud Retainer did with Shenhe and Ganyu since I thought that it would be cute. Yu Wuzhe's name came from the Traditional Chinese translation of Raindancer or 雨舞者, which was originally what Sky Weaver was supposed to be called. 神話 means Myth. Sky Weaver's banner is a placeholder; the character used is Chuyi Flower Cake from The Tale of Food.

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Genshin Masterlist and Series Masterlist!

If you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know! #thetaleofskyweaver @itztaki @sassy-cat-in-town @xharisrealm @lupicalbestwolf @pjmsies @just-here-reading @chibiduck @dellalyra @kiiyoooo @heavenlysilence0vx @2nd-number @yourfavoritefreakyhan @mshope16 @paastaboi

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python333 · 7 months

Note

I love your writings sm. And I love the way you write platonic stuff with task force 141 😋

You can ignore this if ya want but I just can't get over reader angst. Honestly atp I starve for angst. Could you feed us another angst fic? Like platonic 141 with a reader where she maybe got pretty badly injured while being on a mission? :3

AND. don't forget to stay hydrated and eat well!! Take any breaks you need 😌.

(sorry if this doesn't make sense English is not my native language 🥲)

below zero — python333

— — — —

synopsis u get thrown into a freezer after refusing to give up intel to enemy soldiers, and u get thrown into a freezer, and ghost comes and saves u :3

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 5.2k

warnings hypothermia, disorientation, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hi anon thank u so much for all the compliments!!! before i say anything else, i wanna point out that i 1) only really wrote ghost into this and 2) literally read the request completely wrong and i think im actually just illiterate because how did i mess up this bad. ALSO hi its been a month since i posted on here i swear i'm still alive i'm just super busy with school!! updates are going to be extremely slow, so i apologize in advance. still, i hope u enjoy it anyways tho!! its all hurt/comfort + angst/fluff + protective/soft ghost :3

When you were thrown into the freezer, the first thing you noticed were the bodies.

There’s ten that you can immediately see, and twelve once you look a little bit closer. All of them are suspended from the ceiling, each hanging from their ankle—with said ankle being held up by a meat hook.

When the door had been closed shut with a loud, booming thump you hadn’t felt any immediate fear. But now, as you’re sitting in the corner of the freezer you’d been trapped in—the corner farthest away from any bodies—that fear is starting to set in.

Before this, only a few minutes ago, you were being interrogated. Your captors were asking for information on the details of any upcoming missions, objectives, target locations, anything that you had about the 141 that you could share with them, they wanted.

Of course, you didn’t say anything. You remained silent throughout the entire thing, not talking once, even when at the end of the whole thing your interrogator slammed his hand down onto the table you were sat down in front of and yelled at you to say anything.

When he and his team figured out that you wouldn’t give them any information, you remember he muttered something unintelligible under his breath and swiftly walked over to your end of the table. He had uncuffed your ankles from the legs of the chair you were sitting down on and uncuffed your wrists from the table, and before you could fight back, he grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and dragged you behind him.

Then, he led you to the freezer you were trapped in now, and threw you in roughly before shutting the door behind you. You had hit and scratched at the door for a good minute after being thrown in, and after you figured that it was a waste of time trying to do so, you sighed and retired to the corner.

Now, as you’re huddled in the corner, you kind of regret not giving them the intel they needed.

The freezer wasn’t too bad at first—you thought you’d last pretty long in there, and mentally called all the dead bodies hung from meat hooks in there pussies and simply walked around for a bit. The walking helped warm you up a bit, but soon it got tiring, and you retired to the corner farthest away from any dead bodies.

You think the freezer is below zero degrees—no, has to be below zero, because now, just about five minutes after being thrown in, violent shivers have started to wrack your body and you swear you can’t feel your lips anymore. You haven’t been able to feel any sort of warmth in the past four minutes, all of it disappearing within the first.

And God, the smell. The smell of frozen, rotting flesh really isn’t something you ever want to smell again. Thankfully, there’s no live flies in the freezer—all of them had died of the severe cold, creating small black circles under each hanging body where they died.

You currently have your knees up to your chest with your hands trapped in between your thighs to try and keep them warm at least, with your forehead resting on the top of one of your knees. It’s working, kind of. The palms and backs of your hands feel just warm enough to not be considered cold, but the tips of your fingers are so cold they’re beginning to burn.

You pull them back a bit to trap your fingertips in between your thighs, exposing the area where your wrist and hand meet to the cold, sighing as your fingertips warm up just a bit. Your thighs, thankfully, still have some heat trapped in between them, and you think your stomach is still somewhat warm.

Around ten minutes later, you feel the heat trapped in your thighs start to dissipate. Fucking fantastic. You sigh and let your head tilt back, the back of it hitting the wall behind you, making you wince at the cold metal directly on your head. The cold seems to crawl through your hair and make it to your scalp, small pinpricks of the cold spreading throughout your scalp and the back of your neck.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is then, of how this is quite literally a freezer, and of how said freezer has already claimed twelve lives. Or, at least, has housed twelve dead bodies and several unfortunate flies.

Just then, the fear finally starts to set in.

At first, you weren’t all too worried about being saved—you figured you’d be found soon enough, since your team has a general idea of where you are. But the more you think about it, the more your brain emphasizes the general part of general idea. You start to think about how they don’t know any specifics.

Sure, they know that you were captured, and that you were being held in some small part of Italy, and the people who captured you—but what did they know beyond that? Did they know your exact location? How long would it take them to figure it out? And how long would it take them to get here?

Would you even be alive by the time they got here, if they ever did?

You notice your teeth starting to make an annoying chattering noise and you bite down to stop them. The violent shivers that wrack your body don’t help, the intense trembling only succeeding in making you more anxious. You start to become hyper aware of the cold that crawls onto your back from the freezing metal you’re leaning back on, and you quickly push yourself just a foot away from it so that it no longer bothers you.

Your feet are starting to feel numb, you don’t think you’d be able to stand on them anymore if you tried, for you fear you’d just stumble and fall down. You look around the small freezer. There’s nothing that could help you get out—there’s only the bodies suspended from the ceiling and the dead flies that surround them.

You’re glad none of the bodies are facing you—you don’t know what you would do if you had to sit in the corner with a bunch of dead bodies staring at you with their vacant, frozen-over eyes. Thinking about the eyes makes your own water, and you blink away the small tears that’ve gathered on your waterline.

You can’t feel them, but you see the tears that were once in your eyes now clumping together on your eyelashes, making your brows furrow. With them starting to cling to your eyelashes comes blurriness for the top half of whatever you can see. You sigh, a white puff of condensation hanging in the air as evidence of your exhale, and move your hand out from in between your thighs to wipe away the tears from your lashes haphazardly.

You don’t bother to put your hand back in between your thighs, instead just resting it on top of your knee. Despite it only having been around fifteen minutes since you were thrown into the freezer, you’re starting to feel more fatigued and your breath slows down significantly, as does your heartbeat.

Another ten minutes of doing nothing but staring at the wall opposite of your own pass by, and disorientation is starting to set in. You feel oddly forgetful—like at times, you forget how you even got into the freezer, and have to wrack your brain to remember that you literally got thrown into it and are now trapped in here until someone rescues you. Assuming they do. Who was it that would even rescue you?

You think long and hard for a few seconds, and can scrounge up nothing from your confused mind. You let out a frustrated huff and let your head tilt and fall forward so that your forehead is resting atop your knee, another shiver ripping through your frame. It almost feels like it’s getting colder in the fridge.

Suddenly, you hear a loud banging noise—albeit, it sounded more muffled to your ears, but you could tell it was loud—and guns being fired.

You can’t really tell when the gunfire dies down, but you can tell when the thumping of someone’s boots grows louder and closer to the door of the freezer. You try to stand up, not really knowing why since you’re in no condition to fight, having been in a freezer for about forty minutes, but you still attempt to.

You find that standing is extremely difficult after practically being frozen alive for the past forty minutes, because as soon as you try to even push yourself off of the ground with your shaky hands, you discover that you aren’t even strong enough to push yourself up a single inch before having to stop. As well as that, you find that the ground is just as freezing as the walls and air of the freezer, because your hands now ached with frostbite.

The action causes an unexpected wave of exhaustion to roll over you, and you pant to try and catch your breath, breathing white puffs of condensation out into the air.

You hear a loud bang against the door, and jump at the sound, your head whipping towards the door. You hear another loud noise, and the confused fog that’s taken over your mind only grows thicker, your disorientation only growing stronger with it. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the feeling reminds you of a word, and you know what the word is, but fuck, why don’t you know it at the same time? Why can’t I remember anything?

There’s another bang, and you hear muffled cursing before suddenly the door bursts open, a man wearing a skull mask stumbling in after it does so—he probably ran into it to open it, you think, watching the man get his balance back. He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on you, and the moment they do, you finally remember something.

That’s Ghost.

Somewhere in your confusion-clouded mind, you’re happy that you’ve finally remembered something. But right now, you can’t really think about anything—your mind is blank, and you can barely even process what you’re seeing.

You’re so caught up in thinking about the fact that you aren’t really thinking, you’re just focusing a little more on whatever’s going on in your mind and not actually retaining any of it, that you don’t even notice Ghost rushing towards you and kneeling down right next to you.

He pauses for a moment, but after a second he makes the decision to put one hand behind your back and snake one under your legs, the warm physical touch making you wince. Not that you didn’t like the warmth—you just didn’t like the sudden temperature change beneath your knees and across your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Ghost grunts as he picks you up, one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you up into a sort of bridal carry. He nearly drops you because of how cold your skin is—for a moment he thinks your back and legs are wet, then he realizes that no, they aren’t wet, you’re just really fucking cold.

He takes a moment to make sure you’re secure in his arms before tilting his head to the side, all the way down to his shoulder, and muttering something into his earpiece. Despite being so close to him, his voice only sounds muffled to you—in all honesty, just about everything is starting to sound more muffled to you. You can only tell he’s done talking because he lifts his head back up and readjusts his arms around you, before walking out the busted-open door.

The walking quickly turns into running, which then turns into sprinting, making your surroundings go blurry and makes your vertigo worse—it almost feels like you’re falling. You’re grateful you haven’t eaten anything in the past few hours, because you fear that if you had, you would’ve thrown it all up by now. All you can see are blurred colors—the hallways, you vaguely remember, because I’m in a building. How’d I even get here? Why am I here? You’re pulled out of your confused thoughts when you’re set down on the ground somewhere, and forced into a lying position with your limbs all outstretched. When you slowly blink up at what you thought was the ceiling, you’re both surprised and not surprised when you see the blue-black night sky.

Not sure of what’s going on, you try to get up, but Ghost quickly pushes you back down, muttering something under his breath. He pauses for a moment, his blurred figure stopping any and all movements, before he suddenly picks you back up, making you wince at the way your head spins at the sudden movement. You hear a quiet, muffled—but clearer than before—’sorry’ from Ghost before he’s running again.

It’s a much shorter distance this time, and instead of immediately setting you down, you hear something click and suddenly you hear another muffled voice. They sound concerned, you mentally note, Or maybe confused. Maybe both, actually. No yeah, definitely both. Well, now just concerned. Or maybe that’s confused.

Caught up in your confused thoughts, you don’t realize that you’re being set down on a few comfy seats. You aren’t pulled away from your own thoughts until you feel two warm hands cupping either side of your jaw, and hear Ghost’s oddly distressed voice becoming more clear by the second. You now acknowledge the weird ringing in your ears that almost drown out the sound of Ghost, and struggle to figure out what he’s saying through the annoying noise.

“—something,” You catch the end of Ghost’s sentence, and blink up at him slowly.

“Huh?” You elegantly ask, coughing and wincing at your hoarse voice, not knowing how it got so hoarse—or why it hurt so much to talk. Your throat almost felt like it was burning, but it also felt oddly numb, a sensation you couldn’t quite put a name on.

“Oh my god,” Ghost sighs, his forehead falling onto your chest momentarily as he takes a few deep breaths. He brings his head back up from your chest and says, “I almost thought you were dead when I got in there. Jesus, you look dead. I need to— I need to get something, a blanket or— why the fuck don’t we carry any heat packs or anything in here? Swear to God, I’m gonna—” You don’t pay too much attention to Ghost’s panicked ranting and shift your head to the side to try and look at where you are, and you discover that you’re in a car. Oh. Cool. You spot the door on the passenger seat’s side still open and swinging a bit, as if it’d been opened quickly just a few moments earlier for someone to quickly get out.

Ghost suddenly backs up and gets out of the car, though staying within a foot of it, looking around for a moment before heading to the back of the car. Your head clears up the tiniest bit, just enough for you to be able to assume that he’s heading to the back of the car to get to the trunk for whatever reason, and you simply lie there on the seat cushions.

A few seconds later, Ghost comes back with a somewhat-fluffy jacket, and carefully gets into the car—half kneeling down so that he doesn’t need to lean on the seats to get to you. He tosses the coat over your chest, and it does absolutely nothing at first, at least not until Ghost gets a bit closer and tucks the coat tighter around you, treating it like a blanket. Then, it starts to warm you up just the tiniest bit. Beyond that, it does absolutely nothing. But props to Ghost for at least trying.

He quickly backs out of the car and once he’s out he closes the door behind him, and you want to get up for a moment, just to go see what he’s doing, but you don’t have to. He gets into the car again, this time in the driver’s seat, and he turns on the ignition. Once the car rumbles to life, he immediately turns up the heat and leans over to the passenger seat’s side in order to close the door, and with a grunt he manages to do so.

The newfound heat makes you shiver, and it almost feels like you’re in a microwave defrosting. Distracted by the sudden temperature change, you don’t pay attention to what Ghost is saying into his earpiece as he glances out the front window of the car and back at you. You simply tug the jacket tighter around your torso and relish in the warmth.

“—ay. So we’ll just leave then, and you’ll be fine?” You pick up from Ghost’s conversation, perking up at the mention of leaving, “Copy that, Captain. I’ll get them back to base.”

‘Captain’—Oh, he’s talking to Price—says something that makes Ghost sigh exasperatedly and take his index finger off of his earpiece, instead settling both of his hands on the steering wheel of the car and stealing one last glance at you before setting his eyes on the gravel ahead of him and pushing down on the gas pedal.

—

When you wake up, you’re significantly warmer than you were… however-long-it’s-been-ago.

You look to your left and see nothing but a white wall and a heart rate monitor—which displays that your heart rate is 115—then to your right, where you see Ghost sitting in a plastic chair close to the bed you’re laying in, eyes closed with his head tilted to the side and resting on his own shoulder.

You don’t bother trying to wake him up, not knowing how long he’s been asleep or how much sleep he’s gotten, and instead simply turn your head back to stare up at the ceiling.

After maybe five minutes of zoning out and staring up at the ceiling, you hear clothes rustling and look back over to your right, seeing Ghost start to stir in his sleep. Just a few seconds later, he stirs awake, slowly blinking his eyes open.

You watch silently as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and he breathes in sharply through his nose before looking over at you and seeing you staring at him wordlessly. You both blink at each other for a long, awkward moment before he speaks.

“… Did you, uh… how was your… rest?” Ghost asks, not sure what to say. What exactly do you say, after saving one of your teammates from potential death?

“Good,” You respond, your throat having an odd, small burning sensation when you talk.

Ghost looks like he’s holding back a few words for a moment after you speak, and after one expectant look from you, he mumbles, “You should really say ‘well’ or ‘fine’ instead. It’d be more grammatically accurate and is more grammatically aligned with the verb ‘rest’.”

“… Okay?” You blink, thrown off by the unexpected information, “I’ll, uh… keep that in mind, next time someone asks me how my rest was.”

“You get asked that often?”

“I only get asked that by you.”

“Ah.” Ghost nods, looking off to the side for a moment. You’d think he was your dad and you’d just asked him how babies were made with how awkward he was, and you honestly expected the next words out of his mouth to be ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ before he hesitantly asks, “D’you feel better? After the whole being-trapped-in-a-freezer… experience?”

“Experience?” You question, a light laugh evident in your voice, “Yeah, I feel better. I like being warm more than, y’know, being frozen alive. Laying down in a warm bed is nice.”

“I didn’t know how else to phrase it,” Ghost huffs out, leaning back in his seat.

“So you’re gonna correct me on my grammar but you can’t think of a better word than ‘experience’?”

“Don’t get smart with me, [c/n].”

“I’m just saying,” You shrug lightly, wincing a little when your shoulders ache as you do. Ghost notices this and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t mention it.

“Then stop trying to sass me.”

“Sass you? Jesus, fuck, don’t talk to me like I’m some preteen who just found out that they can talk back to their parents.”

“Isn’t that what you are, though?”

“No, I’m— you know what? Fuck you. Get out. I hate you. You suck.”

“That’s a colorful choice of words to say to the man who saved your life,” Ghost raises an eyebrow at you, “I’m still waiting for my ‘thank you’, by the way.”

“Don’t care, you’re never getting it,” You say stubbornly, making Ghost sigh and stand up. You look up at him as he stands up and try to sit up in your bed, but wince again when you try to move your arms. Still, you attempt to push yourself up, and only relax your weak joints and lay back down when Ghost presses a gentle hand to your shoulder to get you to stop trying to sit up.

“Don’t,” He warns softly—you didn’t know his voice could get that soft—as he pushes you back down, “Medics said you’re to keep laying down for a bit while you warm up. We’ve gotta wait until your BPM is below a hundred before letting you up.”

“That’s stupid,” You huff out, though not fighting Ghost pushing you back down.

“It’s not stupid,” Ghost lightly chastises you, “It’s doctor’s orders. Once your BPM is below a hundred, we’ll know you’re warmed up enough to start gettin’ up and walking around.”

“… Still stupid,” You grumble, not commenting on the way Ghost’s hand lingers on your shoulder even after you’ve already laid back down. Ghost sighs and kneels down so that his shoulders are level with the railing of your bed.

“You’re too stubborn.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not!” Your light arguing only proves Ghost’s point further, and he knows this, the knowledge of it making him snicker quietly.

“Uh huh. Sure, kid,” He begins to retract his hand from your shoulder, but upon seeing the disappointment that immediately seeps into your expression once he even barely begins to lift his hand from your shoulder, he immediately lets it rest right back onto your shoulder.

You both sit in silence for another few moments before Ghost speaks up again, this time a bit quieter and in that same soft tone he’d used earlier, “I tried to get to you quicker. But we needed some time to get your exact location, and when we found it we were a hundred and sixty klicks away, and it was just—it took us… some time to find you.”

“It’s fine. I understand,” You respond, about to shrug but stopping yourself, not wanting to feel that aching in your shoulders again, “I don’t even know how I let myself get captured, that— that’s probably on me.”

“You didn’t let yourself get captured, you just did.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

“I don’t know, I just—” You take a deep breath before continuing slowly, “I didn’t let myself get captured, but I also didn’t do enough to fight against it, so I feel like technically—”

“Fuck the technicalities about how you got captured, you got captured either way, and you got thrown into a freezer,” Ghost cuts you off, talking quickly, before sighing and continuing in a softer voice once again, “Please, just let me try to be somewhat comforting for once. You know I’m bad at this, and that I never do this. So just… don’t talk about what happened like that, if not for your own mental health’s sake, at least for my attempts at making you feel better.”

You open your mouth to say something else but ultimately close your mouth and let out a deep sigh through your nose, not saying anything, letting Ghost continue to talk.

“I, for whatever reason, feel… very oddly bad for you,” Ghost poorly explains, before pausing to think for a moment then rephrasing, “Not… not as in I pity you, but as in I feel bad for you in a way that I feel like I’m at fault for what you went through even though I know I’m not at fault. It’s like empathy but… worse. Not saying empathy is bad to begin with, but this is like if empathy was bad and it became worse and—”

Ghost cuts himself off with silence and lets out a frustrated huff at his inability to put his feelings into words, and tries again, “I feel bad for you in a way that I don’t know what exactly you felt or how you felt in the moment that you were in that freezer but just the idea of you being in there without me for… I’m assuming an entire hour, if not longer, makes me feel like I failed. I don’t know what I failed at—”

Ghost quickly pauses before sighing and continuing, “Actually, no, I do. I feel like I failed at protecting you. Which is strange, because that’s technically not my job, but I felt—and still feel—obligated to protect you especially and that bothers me. Not bothers me in a sense that I don’t like you or the thought of… protecting you, but bothers me in the sense that I’m not supposed to feel like that. No amount of teasing, or borderline bullying, or anything should’ve ever made me feel obligated to think of you like— like— like…” Ghost trails off, leaving you wondering what he meant to say. He stays silent for a few moments, before you try to fill in for him.

“Like… what, a kid?” You offer, watching him shake his head negatively. You think for another moment, before trying again, “… Like your kid?”

Ghost nods affirmatively, hesitantly, and you want to scoff at the hesitation.

“And what, that’s bad to you?” You ask, your words more venomous than you intended. Ghost sighs and nonverbally shakes his head negatively before responding to you.

“Not bad in the way you’re thinking,” He answers, before elaborating upon seeing your confused expression, “It’s bad not because you’re bad, it’s bad because I’m bad.”

“… No you’re not?”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re really not,” You insist stubbornly.

“Please don’t be stubborn with me on this,” His tone makes it sound like he’s almost begging you, which is… somehow beyond terrifying to think about.

“I’m not being stubborn, I’m being honest, you’re really not.”

“But I am,” He sounds like he’s trying to make his tone sound like there’s no room for any further arguments, but he fails, and you continue to argue with him.

“No you’re not!” The whole conversation feels like a parallel to the one you’d both been having just a few minutes earlier, except this time you’re not giving up as easily, “How are you bad?”

“I’m—” Ghost pauses for a moment, not having expected that argument, and he weakly argues, “I just am!”

“You’re not, and you fucking know it!”

“Okay, well—” Ghost sighs and looks away from you, “You might not think so. That’s fine. But I know I am. If not for anything else, for you. I’d be… terrible as any sort of… I don’t know, role model to you.”

“Jokes on you, you’re already a role model to me.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” You raise an eyebrow at him, “You aren’t a terrible role model. A little emo, sure, but not terrible.”

“I’m emotionally and mentally unstable, and am terrible with empathy. I’m blunt, abrasive more than half the time, and I tell the shittiest jokes known to man. I can’t— I don’t show my face to anyone. I expect everyone to act the way I want them to. I’m almost always busy.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” You brush off, “And, for the record, I don’t know what abrasive means and I can’t tell empathy from sympathy without using Google.”

Ghost looks back at you in disbelief and stares for a moment before saying quietly, “Abrasive means harsh. And empathy is showing understanding for others while sympathy is pity.”

“I also like your shitty jokes,” You add on, “I think they’re great. They make everyone else mad so I like them. And some of them are funny.”

“You find them funny?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s…” Ghost blinks at you, eyes a little watery, before huffing out a small laugh, “That’s ridiculous, none of them are funny. I call them shitty for a reason.”

“Some of them are pretty funny.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“The Mayflower one.”

“… That one?” Ghost asks, tone humorous but still disbelieving, “Out of all the ones I’ve told, that one?”

“Yes, that one,” You insist, before pausing and holding back a smile while tacking on, “Unless you wanna tell it again to try and change my mind?”

Ghost thinks for a moment before telling the joke, “If April showers bring May flowers, what do Mayflowers bring?”

You feign cluelessness for a moment, “What do they bring?”

“Pilgrims.” The bluntness of the delivery makes you quietly snicker, much to Ghost’s surprise, the laugh not forced or anything.

“It’s still good,” You sigh, small giggles still escaping your lips.

“It’s really not,” Ghost sighs, finally retracting his hand from your shoulder to settle it on the railing of your bed and use it to help himself stand up. Once he fully stands up, he looks down at you, and one look at your face makes him want to whisk you out of bed and at least hug you, but he knows he can’t with your sore muscles and still-somewhat frozen skin.

Instead, he opts for grabbing one of your hands gently and giving it a very emotionally charged squeeze, and holding it for another few moments before letting go.

“I’m not forgetting that, by the way,” At Ghost’s confused eyes, you tack on, “You confirming earlier that you think of me as your kid.”

“That—” Ghost stammers for a moment before saying, “That was barely a confirmation, that was just— that was nothing.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Yeah. Yep.”

“So if I told you that you saying that that was nothing is making me a little bit upset…”

“… Then I would say, out of pity, that I did mean it and that it was a confirmation.”

“Good to know,” You nod.

“But that’s only a hypothetical.”

“Right, yeah, of course.”

You both stay silent for another moment, the silence now a little less awkward, before Ghost says, “I’m gonna, uh… head out, now.”

“Alright,” You hum simply, watching as Ghost nods to you as a sort of ‘bye’ before heading towards the curtains in front of your bed.

Before he can exit, you quickly and quietly say, “Thank you, for saving me.”

He pauses, a little confused on why you chose now to thank him—and why you thanked him at all—until he quickly recalls earlier in the conversation when he’d mentioned expecting some words of gratitude.

He smiles behind his mask, the smile evident in his voice as he replies to you, “No problem.”

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sluttywoozi · 2 years

Text

For Worse or For Better | PART 1 OF 3

Prompt: this marriage was supposed to be a scam but, but listen,

For: @lenireads

Rating: T || Word Count: ~3000

Warnings: fake marriage au, strangers to spouses to lovers, wine and champagne drinking, food mention, swearing, flirty/sexist comments from men (unseen but mentioned), attempted unwanted touching of the waist (reader stops it and its not a huge plot point), wonwoo is oblivious, kissing, some suggestiveness but not as much as is normal for me sorryyyy, this is a full on romcom just so yall know

Reader Notes: in grad school, i say wife multiple times, girlfriend once, and cleavage once, wears a dress and heels, receives flirty/sexist comments from men (briefly mentioned), attempted unwanted touching of the waist (reader stops it and its not a huge plot point)

Wonwoo has no idea what he was thinking when he asked you to marry him.

All he knows is that late one night, after a few too many whiskeys, his boss told him he’d never get on the board if he didn’t settle down. All the execs were traditionalists, apparently, and wanted to give the position to someone who’d use it to support a family.

Wonwoo tried to argue, tried to explain that he didn’t see himself settling down, that he was the right person for the position, that cats should count as family.

Nothing got through, and that night, Wonwoo poured his boss into a cab and left work feeling defeated.

Mingyu called, picked up on the exhaustion in his voice, and offered to bring food over and brainstorm ideas. Now, Wonwoo doesn’t normally go to Mingyu for ideas, just out of self-preservation, but he was feeling a little desperate.

He’d been working toward this position for five years now - starting in the mailroom and moving up step by step, with Chief Financial Officer as his end goal. It was finally in his sights, but one pesky little factor was keeping him from reaching CFO, and he knew that rat bastard Alan Connor was vying for the position too.

Connor was already engaged to a nice woman named Helen, and if Wonwoo didn’t figure something out, he’d be glaring at Alan over a celebratory dinner. And he knew the douche would request seafood, knowing full well Wonwoo hates it and would have to pick at the sides like a peasant.

No, Wonwoo simply could not allow it.

He supposes that’s why he listened when Mingyu mentioned knowing someone trying to avoid international tuition for their Master’s Program. And he listened when Mingyu said they’d considered getting married to obtain citizenship. And he listened when Mingyu offered to put him in contact with them, saying that you could solve your problems together.

The next thing he knew, Wonwoo was standing next to you in front of the minister, sliding a ring on your fourth finger to the tune of Mingyu’s loud weeping in the aisle behind him.

It was awkward at first.

Wonwoo had a spare room and you were looking for a place to stay, so the logical decision was for you to move in with him.

You were like a ghost the first few weeks, staying in your room most of the time, mainly emerging to cook or get water. It was only after he got takeout for the fifth night in a row that you appeared in the kitchen, telling him that if he wouldn’t let you pay rent he could at least stop getting delivery and let you cook for him. It made sense to say yes at the time - Wonwoo was getting tired of eating nothing but restaurant food, and you would be cooking for yourself anyway, so it wouldn’t be hard to double the portion.

That was Wonwoo’s first mistake.

Well.

Second, probably, after marrying you in the first place.

Because agreeing to your proposal meant he came home to delicious smells and soft music and you, dancing in the kitchen in your pajamas, with a glass of wine in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. It was so heartwrenchingly domestic that Wonwoo started wondering why he didn’t want a family in the first place.

It got worse when his cats started liking you more than they liked him. Maybe it’s because you’re so warm, both in personality and body temperature. Maybe it’s because you were home more often than he was, doing online temp work until your citizenship went through and your tuition was adjusted. Maybe it’s because you were happy to pet them until they were tired of affection, or because you let them sleep on you, or because you spoke to them so sweetly.

Wonwoo’s not sure, but he does know he literally felt his heart clench in his chest the first time he walked in on you cradling Mr. Mittens like a baby.

Queen Bea was wrapped around your shoulders like a fur stole, and your fingers were running up and down Mr. Mittens’ stomach, his purrs audible from the front door. He’d stopped in his tracks, eyes wide behind his glasses, breath caught in his throat, because Mr. Mittens didn’t even let Wonwoo hold him like that.

(Mr. Mittens had been adopted to help soothe Wonwoo’s anxiety, but he discovered soon after that Mr. Mittens himself had even worse anxiety, and thus entered into their lives Queen Beatrice, his emotional support cat’s emotional support kitten, who now runs the entire household)

Then you started school, and Wonwoo announced to the company that he’d gotten married to his long-term girlfriend. The financial advisors at your university were a bit suspicious at the sudden change in your marital status, and he had colleagues asking him left and right what you looked like and for cute photos from the vacations he’d lied about going on with you. It was starting to make him nervous, and it must have been obvious to you because you had the genius idea of staging couple photos.

You disappeared and came home one Saturday afternoon with various outfits and props, plus Mingyu in tow to act as your cameraman, and off you all went.

(Gyu’s a self-proclaimed Instagram whore so he had a lot of ideas, and knew spots all over the city that could be passed off as more exotic locales)

Wonwoo felt so stupid after for thinking it would be a safe outing, that he wouldn’t be put further at risk of falling for you with every snapshot of you kissing him on the cheek or wrapping a scarf around his neck or staring at him like you love him. You dragged him all over the city that day, your hand warm in his, Gyu trailing behind the two of you and shooting Wonwoo eyebrow wiggles every time he turned around. He felt like such a newlywed, posing for pictures with you on his arm, and it just made things all the more dangerous for him.

But it worked, the pictures got the financial aid office off your back and got him in closer with his superiors, and Wonwoo learned nothing.

(Conveniently, one of the places you’d fakecationed was where the President had honeymooned)

For posterity, Wonwoo set his favorite photo from that day as his lockscreen, and stubbornly ignored the butterflies that rose in his stomach every time he checked his phone.

It got a bit more difficult when the board started asking why Wonwoo didn’t bring you to any company functions.

There were… a lot.

And before, Wonwoo hadn’t felt the need nor the desire to attend the many dinners and parties and cocktail hours the board paid for, but now, he had a wife. Wonwoo had a wife.

And Alan Connor didn’t, yet. It was time for you to start making appearances, and the excuse that you were studying for an exam or working on a paper could only pass for so long, so Wonwoo dragged you with him to the next dinner party.

That turned out to be a great decision because not only were Connor and Helen unable to attend, but you, Wonwoo discovered, were a natural at charming old traditional dudes and their wives.

You had knowledge on seemingly every topic, and you had the whole table leaning in to hear your every word without coming off like a know it all. You fielded the flirty (and sometimes sexist) comments from the men with grace, subtly twisting their words to compliment their wives instead, leaving the women blushing and hiding smiles behind cloth napkins.

You were a revelation, honestly, and even got the board to help clean up at the end of the night without twisting any ears. It was the most fun Wonwoo had ever had at a company function, and he resolved to bring you to every possible one after.

Which was yet another mistake, because Wonwoo had failed to consider the possibility that he’d be charmed too, by your intelligence and kindness and wit. And he was charmed, beyond belief, falling deeper with every outing and falling harder with every sleepy smile you’d send him from the passenger seat afterwards, the way you’d pad into the living room, makeup gone and hair loose, pajamas on and arms ready to snuggle.

With Queen Bea and Mr. Mittens. Not with Wonwoo.

Never with Wonwoo.

It was getting harder to pretend he didn’t wish it was him you pulled into your arms at the end of the night.

And now here Wonwoo is, staring at you from across the ballroom, his eyes tracing the line of your neck and his smirk hiding behind a champagne glass as you tilt your head back to fake laugh at his coworker.

The crystal chandelier refracts flecks of light on you, golden beams dancing on the soft skin exposed by your slip dress, and Wonwoo tries not to let his eyes linger too long on how the silk fabric drapes over your chest, glides down your body, outlining everything he gets to see but not touch.

His only consolation is that you don’t let anyone else touch either, and he smiles secretly when he sees you grab the touchy asshole’s wrist before his hand can land on your waist, flicking it away from you with disdain. Wonwoo’s first move as CFO will be convincing the board to transfer that guy to Alaska.

You turn on your stilettos to stalk toward him and Wonwoo tries to compose himself, smoothing down the lapels of his suit and straightening his tie, hoping you didn’t notice him watching the interaction.

“Hi honey,” you breathe, then hiss through teeth clenched into a smile, “I swear to all that is holy, if one more of your bastard colleagues tries to feel me up, I will be sending this pointy ass heel through their foot.”

Wonwoo laughs, gives you explicit permission, and tries to pretend your rage doesn’t turn him on before wrapping a loose arm around your waist and guiding you over to the champagne table. God knows the both of you could use another glass.

His eyes shift behind his glasses, trying not to follow the drop that slipped past your lips and is currently trailing down your neck, descending toward your chest rapidly. It will show up on the silk, and you’ll be annoyed he didn’t tell you, but he can’t find it in himself to say anything or to stop the drop rolling into your cleavage. You must feel the chill, because you catch it daintily with a cocktail napkin before it gets that far, and he looks away just in time to see Alan Connor storming over.

“You’re getting the promotion, dickhead, congratu-fucking-lations,” Connor all but shouts at Wonwoo, voice barely low enough to avoid attracting attention.

“What do you mean? How do you know?” Wonwoo can’t keep the excitement out of his voice and glances over at you only to find you still glaring at Connor for calling him a dickhead. He feels his heart swell and can’t suppress the fond smile rising on his face, feeling so lucky to have a fake-wife as protective as you.

“You just had to get married before me, didn’t you? Do you know how long I’ve been planning this? How hard it’s been to put up with her?” his rival seethes, chest rising and falling rapidly, face reddening with rage.

Now Wonwoo really doesn’t know what Connor’s talking about.

“Put up with who?” You say in unison with Wonwoo and look over to him with a little smile, your eyes glittering. You sound a bit more suspicious than Wonwoo, who sounds more bewildered than anything.

“Helen! She’s not my fucking fiancée, she’s an actress, you idiots,” he grits out with derision, “I hired her to pretend to be engaged to me so those old bastards would give me the promotion! I was willing to fake a goddamn pregnancy if it got me CFO,” Connor shouts, gesturing wildly, eyes bulging.

Wonwoo and you are both struck silent. He can feel his heart pounding, both at the fact that he’s going to be the new Chief Financial Officer and at the fact that Connor has been faking his relationship too. Not as well as Wonwoo was, apparently, if he dislikes Helen this much.

You barely have time to gather yourselves before another voice booms out above all the chatter stirred by Connor’s outburst.

“Alan Connor. Thank you so much for reassuring me the board made the correct decision. I expect your letter of resignation on my desk tomorrow morning,” President Laybourne states jovially, though his eyes are burning with ire.

Connor pales, “Bu-but sir, tomorrow’s Saturday! Can we just discuss this like civilized adults, please?”

His pleas are unsuccessful.

Wonwoo tries not to feel smug as he watches his former enemy be escorted from the hall by security, coughing to cover the laugh attempting to escape him when Connor shoves the guard's hand off his shoulder and shouts, “I can walk by myself!”

The fear rises within him again when the president lingers, eying you and him and the way you stand so close together. Wonwoo doesn’t know when it happened but your hand is entwined with his, fingers tangled together, and your other hand is clutching at his forearm, wrinkling his suit.

“Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” the president chuckles. “Get it? Because you have cats.”

Wonwoo laughs much too loud, and he can feel your nails digging into his skin even through the wool of his jacket, telling him to tone it down.

“Yes, we do have cats,” Wonwoo agrees breathlessly, nodding his head until his glasses start to slip down his nose and your hand appears to still his head and gently push the frames back up to rest correctly.

President Laybourne eyes him again before continuing, “The promotion is yours, Mr. Jeon. Welcome to the Board of Directors,” he finishes with a smile and his hand primed for a shake.

Wonwoo tries to compose himself, gently freeing his fingers from yours and wiping his hand off on his pant leg, just in case it’s gotten sweaty, before taking the other man’s hand and firmly shaking it once. Wonwoo’s hand searches for yours as soon as he lets go, probably clutching your fingers tight enough to cut off circulation.

“You know, I always thought there was something off about Alan and Helen. They seemed… a bit too fake, a bit too perfect,” the president shakes his head, staring into the distance. “I just didn’t feel like they loved each other, not like Marci and I do. Not like you and your wife do,” he finishes with a clap on Wonwoo’s shoulder that nearly knocks him over before saying goodnight and returning to his wife.

“Well, now we can never get divorced,” Wonwoo jokes.

You laugh, saying, “That’s fine with me,” under your breath, and Wonwoo laughs too, before he processes your words and starts to feel like he might die.

“What? What did you say?” He asks, somewhat desperately, nearly out of his mind with hope.

Your eyes grow wide, your mouth snapping shut, and you rush out in one breath, “Um, nothing, I’m gonna go see if they put out more of those spring rolls, I’ll be right back!”

You try to spin and speed away, but Wonwoo is faster than you and catches you by the elbow gently before you can run to the snack table.

Your eyes won’t meet his, and he ducks and moves around trying to catch your gaze before you finally turn back to him, and he begs, “No, please, tell me what you said.”

Wonwoo knows he looks pathetic, practically panting and imploring you with his eyes to be honest, his brows pinched so close together they’re skewing his glasses, but he doesn’t care.

If you said what he thinks you said, it will change everything.

You gnaw on the inside of your bottom lip, looking at him through the sides of your eyes, before your shoulders lose all their tension and you sigh, “I said it would be fine with me. If we never got divorced.”

You sound defeated and small, like this is something you’ve been holding back, and Wonwoo feels all the air in his lungs exit in a whoosh before both hands fly up to cradle your face and pull you into a searing kiss, months of pent up love and adoration and fondness and lust pouring from his lips into yours. Your shoulders bunch up a bit and your hands move to cover his, and Wonwoo fears for a second that you’ll pull away, tell him that wasn’t what you meant, but you just pull him closer, kissing him back until you’re breathless too.

Eventually, Wonwoo realizes both that you need air and that you’re at a public function hosted by the company of which he’s just been made Chief Financial Officer, and gently detaches from you. He stays close though, can’t bear to go further than a few inches, and you stare into his eyes before breathing out, “Should we go home? I think we should go home.”

Wonwoo nods before you’re done talking, and he makes straight for the exit on light feet before you veer to the side, tugging him towards his colleagues, and he’s grateful you remembered that the two of you should say your goodbyes.

He’s as quick as he can be about it, shaking hands and accepting toasts, and when he hears you tell everyone how proud you are of him, knowing you mean it, his heart starts swelling.

Then Wonwoo hears you say, “My husband and I should be getting home, have a great night!” and something else starts swelling too.

(His dick. Wonwoo is talking about his dick. Oh you got it? Good.)

AN: hiiii so this was a sleepover fic turned oneshot for the lovely @lenireads who was the first person to join my taglist!! thank you so much for supporting me and i hope you enjoy!! there will be a smutty part two, don't worry!!

PART TWO

ALTERNATE ENDING

taglist: @confusedbansheee @junhui-recs @burningupp-replies @heeseung-lover686 @favehoshiposts @gyvswhore @jaysawake (unable to tag) @1004luvangel @bangchanbabygirlx @Baldi-2 (i know you filled out the taglist again but i still cant tag u for some reason im so sorry) @just-here-to-read-01 @gaebestie @noryyyyyyyyy @heavenly-mobo @smalliechelle @shuabby1994 @snowgirlfallen @noraehey @swinterr @fr0g-filez

you can join my taglist here

#wonwoo fluff #wonwoo smut #wonwoo x fem reader #wonwoo x female reader #wonwoo x reader #svt fluff #svt smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen au #seventeen #svt #svt au #✨emily writes✨#svthub #lowkey mingyu is a genius and this was his scheme and it all worked perfectly according to plan #kaili 🪢

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

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SACRILÈGE || Teacher!Tom Cruise (+18)

Summary: Mr. Cruise is the director of St. Helena, a religious boarding school for troubling young women. Besides managing the school, he also teaches physics and mathematics. Lost in a forest, St. Helena is said to give a second chance to desperate girls. When your parents sent you there, they expected you to behave... Not to engage in a twisted romance with your teacher

Words: 3k of pure smut

Tags: Religious context, toy, fingering, corruption kink, age gap (reader is in her early 20's and Tom is 45-50), this is straight-up porn with a minimal plot so don't expect this to be a masterpiece. You've been warned. Minor DNI.

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“To solve this equation we will have to…”

Mr. Cruise’s words flew across the room but never really reached you. A small sigh escaped from your juicy lips as you repositioned yourself on the wooden chair. As you did, a delightful surge, followed by a wave of arousal, spread through your whole quivering body. It was like that at each of your movement.

“Now, I’m going to ask one of you to come and solve the new equation I just wrote on the board.”

You slightly wiggled on the chair, pressing your body against its surface a bit harder. It felt so frustrating not to move as you’d wish to… The friction of your panties’ fabric against your swollen and sensitive clit, pleasant at first, had become a lustful torture. It almost made you whimper but, fortunately enough, you had managed to choke it in your throat before it reached your lips. All you wanted was to moan but you knew that if you did, you would be in trouble. The thing was that the heat pooling in your loins was slowly turning into a wildfire, which threatened to burn you from within. You gripped the edge of your seat and clenched your fingers around it, for you did not know what to do anymore to control the pleasure you were experiencing. Your pulsing walls tightened around the vaginal plug that was buried in your drooling cunt and satisfying your growing sexual appetite.

Weeks ago you discussed with the baker’s wife during your gardening time and when the topic of men came you told her, quite timidly, that you never had sex before. She was not particularly surprised. You were trapped in religious boarding school for women after all. However, the baker’s wife still wondered why you had never fucked with a man before your parents dragged you here. To this question, you just shrugged. You were simply not ready. It seemed like your desire only woke up days after your arrival at St. Helena — how ironic. You could have slept with men countless times before, but it was only when you could not do it anymore that your body bloomed with sexual urges.

The first advice your friend gave you was to masturbate, which you did but it could be quite difficult for intimacy was scarce at St. Helena. You shared the dorm with five other girls, and shower time was strictly monitored by the nun in charge of the floor on which your bedroom was. All in all, your whole day was planned down to the minute. As a consequence of this tight schedule, you could not really find the time nor the intimacy to relieve your naughty needs.

There came the idea of the vaginal plug. What happened next was quite simple: you saved the pocket money your parents sent you each week and asked the baker’s wife to buy you something. You had the plug for a few days but it had already become a necessity. The toy was extremely practical for all you had to do was push it inside your pussy and keep it as long as you wish. It was not like someone would rummage through your panties though.

“Y/N. Would you come to the board please?”

Hearing Mr. Cruise voice calling your name snatched you from your pleasure bubble.

“Oh, uh, me?”

“Is there another Y/N in my school I don’t know about?” He replied quietly, but the corner of his lips was tucked in a faint amused smile.

“I am afraid I won’t be able to solve this. To be honest with you I am not good with maths, Sir..” How you managed to line up so many words in a row without stuttering was a mystery.

“That’s okay, Y/N. We’re going to solve it together and I’ll explain the process to the class at the same time.” His forest green eyes stared at you with vivid interest. Your relationship with the attractive Mr. Cruise had been rocky. He was often more demanding with you than with the other girls. It was probably because your parents had warned him you were quite a rebel soul. It seemed like he was looking at you with a bit more of intensity than he should do, but you chased away the thought, certainly influenced by the indescribable arousal the sex toy was giving you. Defeated, you had no other choice than obey Mr. Cruise if you wanted to remain free of all suspicions. Gathering the willpower left in you, you shut your thighs tight and stood up on your staggering feet.

“Are you okay?” He asked, noticing the goosebumps not only on your arms but also on the skin of your legs your high socks could not cover. You were cute in a way he could not speak… Especially when you were wearing your skirt.

“Yes, Sir!” You hurried to reply before making your way to the board under the insistent gaze of your teacher, trying to keep your legs as closed as you could. With each step, another wave of pleasure crashed against your walls and reflected in your whole body. And during the whole walk of shame, Mr. Cruise did not look away, his emerald iris tantalized by the way your hips were swinging … Or by the adorable color your cheeks had turned into when he started talking to you.

“Alright.” Once you reached him, the teacher handed you the white chalk he had been using to write on the blackboard. You took it, barely daring to look at Mr. Cruise’s handsome face. The first time you saw him, you had to ask God for forgiveness in your prayers for a tsunami of obscene thoughts flooded your mind. St. Helena’s director was a breathtakingly attractive man in his late forties or early fifties — you could not tell. But what you could tell was that he inspired you with many wet dreams even though he was more than twice your age and could be your dad. So, looking at his piercing feline eyes when your pussy was tortured by a plug would 100% make you climax here in the middle of the classroom.

You grabbed the chalk and tried to focus on the calculus, but the gears of your brain did not want to work. They remained silent, like the frozen mechanism of some vintage clocks. In spite of the pressure of being in front of the class, your body could not take care of anything else than the maddening sensation of the plug’s egg shape stretching your tight and needy pussy. The sex toy was too big for you inexperienced hole, so you often had trouble putting it in.

“That’s okay, my dear. Let me explain the solution to you.” Joining gestures to words, Mr. Cruise’s large and slightly calloused hand wrapped yours and led the chalk on the board. Warm skin against cold one, the temperature difference between you strengthens the unbearable arousal pooling in your lower back. The musky and manly fragrance of his perfume tingled your nostrils, making you want to bury your face in the crook of his neck as you sat on his lap like a good girl.

No, Y/N! Don’t think about that kind of sinful thing! You forced your mind not to drift from the calculus, but you did not understand a single. Not that you weren’t hearing Mr. Cruise’s seductive voice, but you were not listening to it.

“And that’s how you solve the problem. See, Y/N? That was not so difficult.” He said, with a charming toothy smile etched on his lips.

“Thank you, Sir.” You said, your eyes still fixed on the wooden floor as blood rushed to your face. At least I can go back to my chair, you thought. You had barely moved when the teacher’s hand gently grabbed your wrist. Surprised, you finally glance at him.

“For the last ten minutes of the course, I ask you to stay here,” As he talked, Mr. Cruise gently put his hands on your shoulders and pressed on them. Forced to sit on the edge of his desk, you shut your eyes trying to keep your composure but could not hold the feverish sigh that came out, “So that you’ll be more attentive and you’ll leave the class understanding today’s lesson.” The teacher said with the most caring tone you’d ever heard. He held your shoulders for a little while, pressing on them a bit strongly. You discreetly pulled your lower lips with your teeth to not whimper as the plug pushed deeper into you because of the pressure Mr. Cruise was applying. His forest green eyes shone with a lecherous appetite — Could he know that something was buried in your cunt? No, it was not possible.

The attractive director Cruise finally freed you from his grip and took one quick glance at your perky nipples, which were pointing under the tight fabric of your blouse. Then, he focused back on the class.

The last ten minutes seemed to be hours of endless carnal torture. You felt your pulse in your swollen clit, and all your holes were open in anticipation of getting filled. Tears almost overflooded your Y/EC eyes for the hellish arousal you were undergoing almost made you run out of breath. Desire ignited your virgin body, and the sparkled that originally started the fire was Mr. Cruise.

The ring echoed in the corridor, striking the end of school — or striking a miraculous liberation for you.

“Alright girls, don’t forget to do exercises three and four for tomorrow. See you soon.” The teacher said, hands crossed in his back.

You stood up from the desk, quickly grabbed your stuff, and proceeded to leave the classroom.

“Not you, Y/N.” You froze

“Sir?”

“In my office. Now.” His sweet voice had turned to ice when the last woman exited the room, leaving you and Mr. Cruise alone.

Stricken by panic, your heart quickened and your being shattered. Now you were in trouble.

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You had followed Mr. Cruise to his office in complete silence. Not once you tried to ask him the reason behind such an appointment nor what did you do wrong, for you were far too afraid of the answer. Yet, the most logical part of your mind was trying to soothe your fears: no one could possibly know about the plug. You had managed to hide it so well that no one ever suspected you owned such an object. At this point, the only possible reason behind Mr. Cruise’s reprimands was your distracted behavior during today’s class. The seductive man made you enter the room first so that he could shut the door behind you. What you did not expect was to hear the door’s locking though. Chills ran down your spine as a thin streak of pussy juice ran down your inner thighs.

“Do you know what kind of school St. Helena is, Y/N?” He asked, his words sharp as glass shards. You turned around to look at him.

“A religious boarding school, Sir.”

“A religious boarding school,” The teacher repeated, tilting his head to the side without looking away, “You’re right, dear. So, can I ask you why do you have such a dirty attitude?”

Your heart stopped, thunder-stricken by fear.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Sir.” You tried to sound convincing but you stuttered like a guilty child. Mr. Cruise walked to you and leaned to whisper in your ear.

“Bend over the desk.”

Your breath hitched, for the atmosphere thickened in the room. This time, you were shaking like a leaf. Did you hear well?

“Y/N. Bend. Now.” His voice remained quiet but his words were coated with a thrilling coldness. Having no other choice than giving in, you sniffed and bent over the director’s desk, your skirt lifting up and exposing your panties to him as you did so.

“Y/N… You are such a naughty girl,” He said, shaking his head with discontent. However, you could perceive a tint of excitement in his tone. He seemed to genuinely enjoy the whole situation. Mr. Cruise’s grin could not help but stretch further at the sight of the wet spot on the fabric of your panties. He could almost smell your arousal from here, and it was slowly driving him crazy.

“The Devil is in you, I knew it.”

You squealed, for you felt his fingertips brushing your intimate part above your soaked underwear, “So wet…”

You bit your lips, almost choking with shame.

“He makes you mind buzzing with impure thoughts, and you are listening to them.” When he decided he had petted your pussy enough, he pressed his fingers right where your plug was. A feverish and slutty moan escaped from your lips.

“Do you want a man to fuck you, Y/N?”

“N-No, Sir!”

“Little liar,” He growled and his fingers hooked your panties’ fabric to slowly pull it down along your legs. Eyes wide open, your body remained frozen with both terror and intense arousal at the sensation of the room’s fresh air caressing your exposed sensitive folds. No matter how hard you tried, your brain could not get over the fact you were bending over your director’s desk, your pussy in sights , “ You’re such a whore… A whore that needs to feed her greedy cunt even during my class. You should be ashamed.” Something in his voice made you wetter: he was lecturing you, but his breath had become a bit erratic. Now you were convinced he was as turned on as you. A quick look was enough for you to notice the huge bulge between his legs. His cock twitched, hypnotized by the wonderful sight of your glistening lips and your filled hole.

“Confess, or I’ll expose you to the whole school so that they know what a slut you are.

“I-I want to be filled!” You blurred out, desperate.

“Tell me more.”

“I don’t know why, Sir, but I have these constant disgusting urges since I arrived here. My dreams are filled with perverse images, and I wake up in the middle of the night sweaty and soaked with love juice,” As you talked, Mr. Cruise watched the plug move inside your tight walls.

“This is a very serious matter, Y/N.”

“I tried to resist but I crave sex so bad, Sir… I am so sorry!! I won’t do it anymore, I swear I’ll throw this toy away and I’ll behave! But please don’t tell the others!!”

“Hm.” He simply replied, thrilled with arousal and starting to feel too tight in his pants.

Following a serious accident that had happened years ago, Mr. Cruise turned to God and gave up his debauchery to live closer to purity. But when you arrived at St. Helena, you shook all the foundations he had spent the last years building. He who was certain to be immune to sin soon found himself jerking off every night thinking about you, his oh-so-young student. With your perfect curves and your mischievous pout, you swept away his self-control and corrupted his holy heart to the core with obscene urges since the first day he met you.

Mr. Cruise’s senses were overwhelmed: his eyes could not look away from your dripping cunt and the plug. His nose was deliciously assaulted by the faint smell of your perfume. His ears were lulled by your shy whimpers. His mouth was watering at the simple thought of licking your forbidden fruit — and his hands, oh how he wanted them to spank the Devil out from you with them!

Keeping a bit of self-control, he swallowed and brought his hand near your entrance to softy grab the plug’s edge between his fingers.

“Are you virgin, my dear?”

“Y-Yes Sir, I am.”

“So you don’t even know what it feels to have your fragile flower pounded and your inside filled with warm semen?”

Fire rushed to your cheeks and loins at his words, as if your whole body begged for someone to fill every of its hole. Your fingers clenched on the wooden desk, “No I don’t, Sir.”

“Good,” Without the slightest warning, the teacher pulled the toy out of your pussy. An exciting suction noise echoed in the room. This, added to the surprise, caused you to moan louder and wave your hips, asking for more. As soon as he relieved the tension in your walls, glistening love juice flowed from your stretched hole like magical water from the fountain of Youth. Mr. Cruise moistened his lips with his tongue, drooling over the sweet taste of you, “there, love. There…” He whispered with a caring tone, his free hand gently stroking your lips and, sometimes, he pressed the tip of one finger against your hole for it to just drip even more.

At this point, you had to bite your tongue not to beg him to fuck you.

“I’ll keep your misbehavior for myself. Let’s say it will be our little secret,” He started.

You sighed, half reassured even though the shame was still burning your cheeks. The sensation of Mr. Cruise petting your virgin cunt, his fingers grazing your sensitive flesh, and his thumb massaging your swollen clit blissed you out. Mouth half opened, head slightly tilted backward, and eyes shut, you were starting to get dizzy.

“Under one condition,” He grinned, satisfied with the reaction his touch provided you.

“Sir!” You whined as he slipped one finger into you.

“I’ll keep my tongue but, in exchange, I want you to keep that slutty sex toy buried deep in your innocent pussy during each of my lessons.” His words melt like butter. As he talked, he slipped a second finger and started massaging your pulsing walls with back-and-forth movements. Your body answered by arching your back and spreading your legs even wider. Drool dripped from the corner of your lips. This was so humiliating and exciting at the same time you could not resist moving your hips on his fingers, lingering for more and more.

“Y-Yes Sir! Owww more, please Sir!”

But Mr. Cruise pulled out his fingers, doing the exact opposite.

“Enough for today,” He brought his glistening fingers to his mouth and, eager to taste you, he licked your juice from his skin, humming with joy as he did, “Now take your plug back, and go take a shower. Dinner will be served soon, and people will ask questions if they don’t see you there.”

You stood on your shaking legs: he had turned you into a dirty and soaked mess. With an ashamed hand, you leaned to pick your panties up but his hand brutally slapped your butt cheeks. You squealed, half in surprise and half in pain. His lips quirked in a sadistic smirk.

“Hurry up.” He concluded before you left the office with your head down and your pussy dripping. You closed the door behind you and disappear into St. Helena’s dark corridors, sin weighting on your shoulders.

Your twice-your-age teacher just fingered you and you liked it. So much that you’d die for him to do it again. A shaky sigh escaped from your greedy lips, that wanted to taste his. Maybe he was right when he said that the Devil was inside you and everything you did.

And you were ready to embrace it if it meant to drive your teacher pussy drunk for you…

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Tag lists for Tom Cruise’s babies: @malavera @helloitstsyu @tomsf18 @moondustfairies

#tom cruise x reader #tom cruise #tom cruise smut #tom cruise x female reader #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell x reader #tom cruise fic #pete mitchell x you #tom cruise x you #ethan hunt #tom cruise fanfic #tc fic #tom cruise one shots

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shutupheathersorryheatherr · 2 months

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"Birthday days"

Summery: a short Beomgyu x reader fic in celebration of his birthday! you two start celebrating a day early and its adorable and heartwarming-- the love between you two really shows. The type of love you give each other— whole heartedly and true. The playfulness and newness you too still have… all these things are all that matters approx: fifteen minute read

warningz/ info: kissing, established relationship, some cursing here and there, talking of food. reader gives beomgyu a bit of tough love and he loves it. reader is gn! and they cuddle. think thats about it! lemme know if I missed anything as always!

A/n: ok I know (or at least I hope) that beomgyu doesn’t see this but happy birthday you talented-in-literally-everything man! i think this is my first birthday fic but ugh he deserves the title lmao because in the words of that one song from destiny's child: I WANNA CARE FOR UUUU MAKE YOU DINNER AND DESSERT PUT YOUR DEWRAG ONNNN

~this is simply a piece of fiction. My imagination onto “paper.” This is in no way is mean to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone.~

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

You snort out a genuine laugh as he presses his nose into your neck. and he feels as if he was made to make you do so and to hear it. whatever you two were talking about before slips your mind as you ease into a comfortable silence with him. as talkative as the man currently breathing onto your neck is, it wasn't something you got often.

The silence is quickly filled, though, when he pokes his slimy little tongue out to lick your neck. You shrink back and laugh out a scream. "ah!" you laugh, "ew beomgyu! thats disgust-- get off--" he hums, arms trapping you to him, reveling in your body warmth as he was only in boxers and a sleep shirt. this was supposed to be a very special but normal none the less night before his birthday... full love, kisses, and good food. but of course neither of you could hold fast to that. you knew it from the beginning anyways

Thats when it happens-- he nips at your neck and you nearly squeal. "Beomgyu!" he doesn't say anything. then he goes for your collarbone. not enough to leave a mark but enough to get you smiling at him, his hair brushing your cheek as he pins you to him, legs tangled with his even though you two are standing. "Lemme go, Beomgyu!"

"I don't know a Beomgyu! I'll let you go if you say the right name and address me correctly!" you roll your eyes and scratch up his back. he shivers in the best way possible as you smile. "Can you let me go now... beom?" he huffs into your ear, but releases his grip a bit none the less. "... I'll except it..." you peel yourself away from him to look him in his pretty deep brown eyes. "what else would you have liked, you big baby?" you tease. he was so spoiled, but he was right, you barely ever call him by his actual name anymore. at least not in private. it soon shifting into terms of endearment. and even before you were together, you always had some sort of nickname or term to address him with.

"Baby would've been nice...." he fake sulks, "love, darling, honey, handsome, your treasure, light in your life. anything, really." you glance over at the clock. "Sure” you roll your eyes, “anything. we need to try to get to sleep, baby." he pouts, and all you feel like doing is kissing those lips until both of yours are numb. but he only grips you tighter at your bedrooms door, halfway in the hallway.

"Nope! I wanna hug hola bit more. and dont be so mean! its my birthday after all."

You smile into his hair as he finds his face nuzzled back into your neck. "Not for another five minutes its not." you chuckled. you two were joking, of course. you always liked to start celebrating each others birthdays as early as can be. and this time it just so happened to be at tonights dinner.

"Fine fine," he grins, "can I hug you all I want once it hits midnight?" he bargains. you playfully scoff. "I would barely consider this hugging." he puffs out warm air onto your neck and kisses the places he wiped at before, adding on your throat to peck. "But youve got yourself a deal."

You climb into bed, Beomgyu following you closely behind. You pull he covers up to your chin, settling into your designated spot as he does the to his (basically meaning wherever was right next to you) You turn to him, fully expected one of his teasing facing at you under the dim light, ready to do your nightly sleepy talk. he surprises you with his quick seriousness though.

"Happy anniversary." he pecks your lips, truly never being able to stay away from them for long.

It had been a full year since you'd confessed your true feelings for him on guess what? the night before his birthday. you hadn't planned on in much, but you knew you wanted to do it when the time felt right and had wanted to for a while. you were sure he had a thing for you too-- the way the air with him was always thick and slow moving as molasses told you quite enough. the little gremlin actually whined when you'd brought it up. "I was gonna say it your next birthday!" you simply laughed at him at the time. "well, you were taking too long." then it started what had to have been your first "argument" as a couple-- who was gonna take who out first.

"What about I take you out..." you remember him crawling closer to you on the floor, now in between you legs, "tomorrow, hm?" you chuckled. "dude!" you put a hand to your head and massaged your temples, so this was how it was gonna be? you just had to pick him? "its your birthday tomorrow!" He gets this dumb look on his face, eyes wide. "oh.... " "yeah 'oh'!" you shout at him, "its supposed to be about you!" "it can be about you too...! about us!"

He then tells you hes gonna confess to you your next birthday to make up for it. your first "argument" as a couple was interesting. and when you tell him that his face turns a shade red enough to challenge any tomato. "we're a couple?" he blinks, small smile hidden behind his lips. "you wanna be?" he lets his smile bloom in full and nods his head so fast you wonder how the boy isn't dizzy.

But what makes you dizzy is how long ago that all was. it felt like just yesterday you had kissed him for the first time, caught in between not letting go and and curling into yourself like a turtle to hide your beaming smile. you still felt the giddiness of it all as if this was your first week together. hm, you think, some things might never change. and to be honest, you were ok with that if it was this.

You two felt comfortable, haven fallen into a good routine like youve been together for ages. and sometimes it did feel like that even though it had only been a year. because of how god damn close you were before then. so close that sometimes you'd get teased that you looked like a couple. but even with all this, there was never a dull moment. somehow you two made everything into a new experience. a new good memory. it was never boring, even laying with him here in silence.

Oh... wait... in silence! you suddenly remembered that you hadn't responded to him yet, just staring at him. once you focus more on his face hes got his eyebrow raised and a knowing smile on his face, shaking his head slightly. "happy anniversary, my love." and you dont give him even a second to complain and whine about why you didnt call him that sooner before you scoot closer to him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and swinging a leg over his hips. you glance at the time quickly. yup "And happy birthday."

You didn’t know what it was, or maybe you did because you loved him. But nonetheless the you the strongest magnetic pull towards him. Never before have you felt the way you do now. You think you’ll remember this night forever. Next to you, already half asleep, beomgyus thinking the same thing. And that no mater where you two were in life you’d have each other to just be happy with. Cause that’s the feeling among other wonderful ones that you brought each other— unbridled happiness.

And you two stay like this, until your breathing slowly matches and you drift into what was probably the same dream about the year before.... only slightly interrupted with a bear with a party hat but we won't talk about that.

The next morning and youve rushed around enough, making everything just right for your adoring boyfriend for the entire next five to seven business days. it was quite a bit of preparation, especially since you didnt wanna bang shit around and wake him up, but you feel accomplished none the less, hoping he'll like it.

Youve prepare quite the spread of his favorite breakfast items, all cooked and seasoned to perfection. as youre admiring your work, you hear a groan from the bedroom, beomgyu opening the door you shut gently earlier. hes rubbing his eyes and pouting, such a cute sight that all you wanna do so litter him with kisses. "What'r you doin?" he stands there, swaying back and forth because of the morning cold that's hit him. "I woke up and you weren't there. I wanted to hold you." hes a bit groggy but his senses are slowly coming to him and a wide smile graces his face, tops of his cheeks poking under his eyes.

You jog over to him, hands at your sides. and grab him by the shoulders, turning him in front of you and leading him to the breakfast table. he stops you and puts his hands on your shoulders, mimicking you, sly smile on his face. you stop in your tracks. "im sorry I wasn't there when--" "its ok and I thank you. but come to bed after we enjoy? just for another ten minutes. I didnt realize how much I missed morning cuddles with you." his eyes were more open now, he was more alert, but having him say that just put both of you into relaxation mode. "sure thing, baby." you smile at him. fuck he was so cute it didnt even make sense.

His sock clad feel pitter padder on the floor and you plop him down and he protests. "y-you you made all this?" he sounds a mixture of surprised and touched, though what else was he to expect? he knew you'd try to make this day the best ever-- even from the start. "this is too much. thank you but--" you put an eating utensil in his hand. "just try it please." he takes a bite of the thing closest to him., then another, than another. he makes a couple sounds of enjoyment then turns to you. "why'd you do all this?"

"I wanted you to love it! duh! im gonna make this day perfect for you and you better not expect anything less!" you yell and he chuckles. it was funny, just like the years past, especially last year, here you were, yelling sweet lovely things at him. tough love that made him gooey on the inside... and outside most of the time. he Stands up so quickly you barely have time to say that he better go sit down before his breakfast gets cold and to go enjoy his food.

He puts a firm but very gentle hand on where your neck and head meet thumb rubbing circles on your lower cheek. looks deep into your eyes then kisses you. "I love it, baby. thank you, really. it's all too much. come sit and enjoy it with me." he never fails to amaze you with how he can go from this goofball to something that makes your knees weaker than anything else he does, wanting to melt into him.

You sit next to him as always, knees touching in a way that somehow made two grown peoples hearts flutter like it was the first time. he sets down his utensil next to his plate, knowing better than to set down your hand and distract you from your food. he leans closer to you and kisses your cheek, an act so small and innocent but meaning so so so much to express his love and gratitude. you smile and he kisses closer to the apple of your cheek again, and again, and again.

Now hes barely leaving your skin before he goes in for another one, nose bumping into you and yeah, maybe the window is open but he doesn't really care if the neighbors are out. each little kiss on your cheek makes a small sound that makes you smile even wider. and here you two are, his birthday but you both are giddy as he keeps pecking your cheek over, over, and over. the food can wait another minute, the expressions of love an adoration are all that matters.

~end~

thanks for reading! If you liked it please leave some love like comments and or reblogging!

taglist: @itz-yerin

#beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x poc reader #beomgyu #txt beomgyu #beomgyu scenarios #tomorrow x together #ghosts writing #beomgyu had me fainting™️ (as always) on this one #beomgyu fanfic #choi beomgyu #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu txt

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jinwoosungs · 1 year

Text

{ 97 }

pray for me.

nicholas d. wolfwood x single.mother!reader

warnings: unedited; thirst post; minors do not interact.

by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.

the night was cold, seeming to pierce through you as you struggled to maintain your balance whilst running across the streets of jeneora rock. your voice was hoarse, crying out your son’s name as you searched for him with a desperation.

you couldn’t believe how this all started simply because you wanted to make your son happy. due to how you were in charge of closing shift at the diner, you were given little choice but to take him with you. in hopes of keeping your son preoccupied, you had gifted him a rainbow colored ball all while telling him to remain inside the diner’s break room.

you had listed off some rules for him to follow, and truly believed that he would behave himself. so when it came time to close the diner after you had finished cleaning the place, you could almost feel your heart drop to your stomach when he was nowhere to be seen in the break room.

the cold sweat was felt pooling against the nape of your neck, and when you searched around for him while bathed in complete and utter despair, you swore your heart broke upon seeing how the diner’s back door was left wide open.

and that was all the urging you needed to come rushing out of the diner.

having your son when you were just 20 years old, being a consequence of a one night stand you had hoped would lead to something fruitful due to your loneliness-

but oh, how wrong you were at the thought. for when the man who had helped fathered the life growing deep inside of you found out you were carrying his child, he had ghosted you within mere seconds. you recall just how terrified you felt at the thought of becoming a single mother.

since the moment you were born within the cold and barren world, you had always been alone. your memories were filled with yearnings and daydreams pertaining to how you would find someone who would love you unconditionally and raise a family with them. and despite how you found yourself loathing the man you had slept with-

you couldn’t bring yourself to carry any amount of hate towards the child growing from within you.

each day, your heart simply grew with an intensity for your baby boy, not stopping such powerful emotions from becoming stronger even when he was born. for five long years, you spent caring for him, growing with him as he helped you learn to love yourself.

you had to find him, for if you lost him, then you would have no reason to live.

your voice echoes throughout the sleepy town, becoming hoarse when a familiar, shrill cry was heard, the sound of it piercing through your very heart.

“MOMMY!” you follow the sounds of your son’s terrified cries, leading you to an alleyway as you were face to face with a powerful man trapping your son within his arms. he held your child in a powerful grip, close to breaking his arm just as your adrenaline reaches its peak.

“my, i was hoping that by catching this little brat, i’d be able to get your attention.”

“you fucking bastard, unhand him at once.” you automatically stalk closer to him, having every intention of ripping those damn hands away from your son when the sudden appearance of a gun pressed against your child’s head makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“if you take a step forward, i’ll blow his fucking brains out, and if you refuse to cooperate, heh. i might give you the same treatment as well.”

you were close to screaming, about to ask this fucker just what he wanted when you felt a sudden presence coming from behind you. from your periphery, you saw what looked like a hefty metal cross. the faint scent of cigarettes were all that filled your senses, and you found yourself turning back to look behind you.

he wore a bored expression on his face, eyes hidden beneath a pair of sunglasses as a cigarette hung loosely from his thin lips. keeping his gaze on the bastard that still held your son hostage, he gestures at you to take a step back before aiming the cross at him.

“don’t you know it’s rude to separate a child from his mother?”

you weren’t given a chance to breathe when a sudden, pulsating beam of light was suddenly aimed at the prick and your son-

oh dear gods, your son...!

your eyes water for the briefest of seconds, opening as the tears streamed down your face with you reaching out to him-

only to feel the same, strange man in the suit step closer to you, all while placing the child within your outstretched arms. your heart began to pound, racing anxiously from within your chest as you felt as though it were close to imploding. you look into that man’s eyes, seeing his gaze soften just the tiniest bit at the sight of you clinging to your son.

“i...i don’t know what to say-” you trail your eyes forward, trying to see just what had happened to that bastard only for your savior to step directly in front of you, as if trying to shield you from such a malicious sight.

“i wouldn’t if i were you.” he warns, voice turning deeper before letting out a grunt as he tosses his cigarette to the side. with a soft coo in your voice, you could still hear your son whimpering with fear. “mama, h-he destroyed my ball, the one you g-gave to me. and i d-don’ want you to be m-mad at me.” you continue to comfort him, telling him that it was more than okay, and that you were happy to buy him a new ball later.

his tears were still felt staining the front of your shirt, but all you felt was a staggering relief that he had been saved. “i...i don’t know what else to say, i- thank you.”

your gaze remained honed in on his form when you beckon him to tell you his name. the man seemed hesitant, looking away from your gaze before letting out a sigh. “it’s nicholas, nicholas wolfwood...” he trails off, holding his giant weapon across his shoulder before lifting a hand to grace at your features, gently framing at your cheek, “and besides, there’s no need to thank me. a kid needs his mother to grow up healthy and strong.”

knowing that you would do anything to show this man simply known as nicholas your gratitude for saving your entire world, you muster all the courage you had and ask him to escort you back home-

and much to your shock, it works.

------

by the time you came back to the safety of your apartment, your son was all but worn out. you settle him back within the comfort of his bedroom, tucking him into bed before pressing a lingering kiss against his forehead, whispering your love to him once more before exiting his room.

you close his door and look behind you to see nicholas standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room. he had his massive weapon settled over to the corner of the room. your heart was pounding, nearly choking you with its anxious beats when you step closer to him. “can i offer you anything to drink? or to dine on, for that matter?”

nicholas meets your gaze before shaking his head, “ah, no. that won’t be necessary. since you’re already home with your kid, i should probably go.”

your mind was spinning, desperate to somehow show him just how grateful you were to him for saving your son. stepping closer to him, your hands slowly reach up to remove the sunglasses that hid his eyes from your curious gaze. he keeps staring at you with an unreadable expression, yet you couldn’t help but admire the beauty of his rich, dark cobalt gaze before bringing yourself even closer to him. clutching at the front of his dark suit, meeting his eyes for the briefest of moments before your lips collided with his in a bruising kiss.

you could feel him groaning, unable to hold back his own desires for you when his arms come to wrap themselves around your form. you kept pressing yourself closer to him, letting out a soft whine of his name when he pulls away from your heated kisses first.

“oi, this doesn’t seem fair. i don’t even know your name yet- oh, fuck.”

you cut him off by gently nipping at the base of his throat, telling him your name in a sultry voice before pulling away from the lanky man. you tug at his wrists, giving him no choice but to follow you as you lead him to your bedroom.

your clothes were strewn all across your room, leaving you both bare as you began kissing your way down nicholas’s body. his pale form was surprisingly built as you admired the lean muscles that seemed to decorate his frame. his hands kept delving themselves within your hair, letting out a grunt here and there each time you gave a few nips against his skin.

you continue kissing your way down his body, placing a lingering kiss against his chest, where you could feel his heart beating from beneath your lips before going lower...and yet lower still. you didn’t stop the way you trail your lips down until you reached the slight trail of dark hair leading down his abdomen. you admire the prominent v shaped dip seen against his hips and felt your mouth water when you came face to face with his throbbing erection.

filled with the need to please him, your hands slowly began to stroke him, forcing a loud groan to escape from his lips. “you must behave, mr. wolfwood, or else you’ll wake up my darling son...and i would be forced to stop.”

“nngh...!” your words succeeds in making him bite against his fist, feeling your lips kissing at his inner thighs as he fought back the urge to thrust his cock inside of your mouth. pressing one last kiss against his thighs, you return your attention back to his aching shaft, admiring how pretty it was for a brief moment before descending upon him.

your lips wrapped themselves around his mushroom tip, feeling a moan escape from the confines of your throat when nicholas arches his back against the bed. you feel him suddenly dart forward, remaining stiffened and upright against your bed when he feels you take him in. your hands worked on pumping whatever couldn’t fit within your mouth, feeling your own core fluttering with absolute need for him each time he lets out a breathy moan of your name.

unable to handle the ache for much longer, you remove one of your hands away from his girth to reach down against the aching flower between your legs. the way you slowly began touching yourself while keeping sucking at his shaft doesn’t go unnoticed by nicholas when he suddenly lets out a strained whisper of your name.

within seconds, you found yourself suddenly pulled away from his cock as nicholas’s arms were wrapped around you. he grunts, sitting up so that you were now pressed against your bedsheets before spreading your legs. once you were wide open for him, nicholas leans down to devour at your slick walls.

he was relentless when it came to pleasuring you, the all-consuming pleasure you felt was enough to make your back arch against your bed. now, you were the one who struggled to keep your moans quiet, biting down against the back of your hand with such intensity that you could feel your teeth imprint against your skin.

the squelching sounds nicholas made the moment he introduces a slender finger within your gummy walls was enough to make you cry out. you were so close to reaching your completion- ready to spill yourself inside of his mouth when he suddenly pulls away from you.

almost immediately, your hands reach out to him, ready to let out a string of protests when nicholas wraps your legs around his waist, tracing at the outer lips of your slick walls before thrusting himself deep inside of you. you could feel the scream of pleasure nearly become ripped from your throat had it not been for the fact that nicholas had surged forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

“careful, you need to keep quiet, remember?” nicholas’s voice had taken on a darker tone, making you tremble at how sensual he sounded while shamelessly licking away the tears of pleasure that fell down across your cheeks.

it has been far too long since you had been intimate with any man. your days and free time were dedicated to caring for your son, and thanks to nicholas, you were finally able to feel like a woman. as if experiencing some form of enlightenment each time nicholas’s hips met with yours.

you could truly feel every inch of him as he pounded himself into you, the obscene sounds of your union making you roll your eyes back in response. you were so close, so close to reaching your high as you felt whispered phrases of “oh god oh god oh god, this feels so good, nicholas...!”

“that’s right.” he leans down to press a kiss against your swollen lips, biting down against them before hoarsely telling you, “pray for me, pray for me to bring you to heaven as you come.”

that was all the urging you needed to feel the coil snap within your abdomen as a silent cry was felt escaping from your lips. your walls began to convulse around nicholas, trapping his cock deep within your womb as your walls began to milk him for all he was worth as he shoots his seed deep within your core, painting your slick walls white with his release.

truly, it had been so long since you felt such an intense release, making you fall back against your bed with nicholas landing on top of you. a light sheen of sweat was seen all across your skin, and his heavy weight was actually quite comforting to you as you felt his lips press lingering kisses against your damp neck.

feeling exhausted, you tilt your head over to press a kiss against his cheek, thanking him once more before allowing yourself to succumb to your exhaustion.

------

the coldness you felt surrounding you was what ultimately rouses you from your peaceful slumber.

you sit up in bed, letting out a soft gasp of nicholas’s name-

only to find that your bedroom was completely empty.

your heart breaks at the sight, making you get out of bed as a faint soreness was felt between your legs. with shaky steps, you pick up your clothes and put on the shirt you wore last night, still smelling the faint scent of sweat and cigarettes lingering against your skin.

coming out of your bedroom, you saw that it was still early in the morning and that your son was still asleep. despite the ache you felt from nicholas’s sudden disappearance, you knew that it was for the best-

and besides, you still had your son to love and care for after all.

trying to ignore the fact that nicholas’s cross was nowhere to be seen, you were about to check on your son when the sight of something colorful catches your attention. facing the object, you felt your heart suddenly race with anticipation once more, seeing the sight of a new, brightly colored ball settled against your table with a folded piece of paper next to it.

your steps were shaky and uneven, coming closer to your table as you lean down to get the note. unfolding it, you suddenly felt a warmth coursing through your veins when you read the following words written in a hurried scrawl:

for your kid.

i look forward to seeing you again someday.

-yours

ndw.

a.n. - hhhhh forgive me father for i have sinned. dear god is nicholas d. wolfwood an attractive man.

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #nicholas wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x reader #trigun stampede x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood x you #nicholas wolfwood x you #.stories

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wooahaes · 10 months

Text

under the sun [joshua]

pairing: non-idol!joshua x gn!reader

prompt: darl+ing inspired fic.

word count: 11.4k~

warnings: slightly suggestive at the very very end, but its left up to interpretation whether anything happens!! (its just two idiots in love making out for a minute). so, so much skinship and platonic-ish kisses between joshua and reader throughout. depictions of nightmares + mentions of vague illness and injuries within said nightmares. food mentions. more straight forward, flirty joshua throughout fic. mentions of joshua being mr gentle sexy.

daisy’s notes: men i am down bad for after writing this........ also sorry to anyone who asked to be tagged but wasn’t: several names didn’t pop up when i tried to @ them !! (plus tumblr for some reason hates when i try to have a taglist so if it DOES show that u were @-ed but didnt receive a notif, im so sorry!! ive had this issue for a while and i have no idea how to fix it...)

< day 3 || masterlist ||

summary: It all starts when you wake up in a field without a name or any memories to define yourself with. Thirteen men take you in as one of their own, and slowly you begin to wonder what is going on within this world… and between you and one of them.

It wouldn’t be wrong to say that Joshua already had a soft spot for you.

This, however, was normal in his eyes. Every time a new person came from maybe either Soonyoung or Wonwoo onward, Joshua found himself doting on people a little extra. When Jun came, it simply felt like they were a tiny group of people living together. But something about that number ticking over from four to five or five to six felt... More, in a way. Although he didn’t dote heavily on Soonyoung, or Wonwoo for that matter, his affections were obvious from day one. The amusement he found in Soonyoung’s jokes, the gentle way Joshua made sure to keep Wonwoo (and later Jihoon, Minghao, and occasionally Hansol when he wasn’t feeling the chattiest) acknowledged in conversations (never forcing them to speak, but making sure they felt regarded as a member of the group), his friendly competitions with the others... He found ways to make sure people felt involved. Jeonghan was better at listening and giving advice, Seungcheol’s job was to lead, and therefore Joshua kept people feeling loved. Whether that be with casual conversation or the occasional mischievous prank he pulled. With you, he expected more of the same: he would dote on you in the beginning, and then it would fade into that same love and care he provided everyone with. Truthfully, Joshua enjoyed caring for people. There was a reason he was called gentle sexy, after all (... even if it was semi self-imposed).

And at the end of your first week living with them, Joshua saw how stressed you were becoming for one reason or another. So he decided he’d get to the root of the problem sooner rather than later. Once he finished hanging laundry with you and the others, he offered up a little picnic lunch--just the two of you. He’d packed up the sandwiches someone else (Mingyu, he thought) had made, and sliced fruit for you. All that was left was for the two of you to find a nice spot to sit in. He carried his bag with food and water bottles inside of you, while you had been tasked with the very important job of carrying the blanket he’d found for you.

He’d suggested the spot the two of you eventually settled into: half underneath the shade of the tree, and half underneath the sunshine. He spread out the blanket for two of you, gazing up at the cloudy sky above for a moment. He looked at you after a moment, gently patting the spot next to him. Yet when you sat down, he didn’t notice the way he slightly shifted to be closer to you without much thought. It felt... natural in a strange way.

“Like my second day,” you mused aloud at one point as Joshua was pulling the securely wrapped food from his bag. He looked up with a hum, but realized what you meant a second later: the two of you had lazed together under the sky that day, too.

His fingers grazed against your own for a moment, acutely aware of how the side of your hand pressed against his own that day. “It wasn’t that long ago,” he gently teased, a warm chuckle escaping his throat. “But you already fit in with us.” Just like we knew you would, he wanted to say, but he held back. Would that be a little too bold to say...?

“I do?”

He smiled. “You do,” he said, his hand already finding a home with your own, your fingers already lacing together with his. “I wouldn’t lie. I think we all care about you a lot, even if it’s in different ways.”

He could see the way you bit back a thought. Absentmindedly, your thumb brushed over his.

“Even Jihoon and Minghao,” he told you. He noticed the way you raised your eyes, already caught. And oh how cute your expression was. Maybe he’d catch you in silly little moments like these again if he could see that wide-eyed look again. “They’re just taking their time. They were like this with Seungkwan and Chan, too.”

It didn’t take you long to piece together the missing name there. “What about Hansol?”

Joshua’s eyes seemed to light up a little as he smiled. “Jihoon liked him almost immediately,” he said, “but he’s the exception. Jihoon likes you enough, and so does Minghao. They just take a little longer to warm up to people.”

“What about Jun?”

“Jun’s looking out for you, too,” Joshua said. “He’s also a little quieter about it. But... you know that Chan likes you. So do Hansol and Seungkwan...” His thumb ran along the side of your hand. “And so do I.”

He could see a flustered smile cross your lips, and you turned your face away from him, looking to the sky instead. But you finally spoke a tiny, “Thank you,” a second later. He laughed a little, warm and vibrant, at how adorable you truly were.

“So... What else is inside that cute head?” He smiled at you, tilting his head as though it’d allow him to peer inside and see said thoughts. “Anything new?”

Your smile slowly dropped, and you let out a quiet sigh. “Nothing so far.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he said, gently squeezing your hand. “It takes time. I think once you stop worrying about it so much, it’ll come to you.”

With another sigh, you turned back to face him again. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“It’s easy after a while,” he said, pulling his hand free from your own. He reached for the sandwiches he’d brought the two of you, offering one up. Your fingers grazed his again when you accepted it, and he turned his attention to unwrapping it slowly. “When you’ve been here as long as some of us have... You learn to accept each day for what it is.” He went quiet, staring down at his meal.

And you watched as proud, bright, warm Joshua turned into someone... quieter. Like the volume had been slowly turned down, number by number, until his melody could barely be heard while still being there. He said nothing for a moment, just staring blankly, brows drawing together as he gathered his thoughts.

“Sometimes... I pray,” he finally said. “And I think it helps. I grew up Catholic,” he looked back up at you, “That much I remember. I remember singing in church....” He went quiet again for a moment, idly pulling at a piece of the bread. “Singing’s really important to me, actually. Sometimes I don’t know why, but it is.”

You weren’t sure what to say to someone so pensive, so quiet compared to the version you knew most days. So you opted for what you knew was true: “You’re good at it.”

A smile crossed his face, even if it didn’t fully seem to be him again. “You’re sweet,” he said at first, eyes meeting yours after a second. This time, his smile actually met his eyes. “Thank you. But you should hear Seungkwan. And Seokmin, too,” he said, taking a bite of his sandwich, as if to distract himself from whatever thoughts had washed over him before. “Jeonghan and Jihoon are talented, too,” he said after swallowing his bite, “but you really, really need to hear how Seungkwan and Seokmin sound--especially if they sing together.”

That seemed to bring back the Joshua you were most familiar with. Not that you didn’t like this quieter, more thoughtful version of him: you thought that maybe, in time, you would learn how to speak to him in moments like that. It was strange, though... He always seemed so carefree so far, most days enjoying the freedom that this life could give him. It almost felt as though he was made for it. That wasn’t to say that you didn’t think Joshua could have those quieter moments: you were sure everyone there had them--even Soonyoung, who seemed to carry the most laughter with him, or Mingyu, who’s silly, goofy nature spoke for itself most days. Yet with Joshua... It felt as though you weren’t prepared to see that side of him peek out so soon.

It was cute, though, to see the way he happily hyped up the others and their talents. Soonyoung loved to dance--as did Jun, Minghao, and Chan, and Joshua was happy to sing the praises of everyone there. He’d let you see too much of himself, too soon. Maybe when the two of you were closer (and, truly, he hoped you would be), he would confide in you the way he confided in Jeonghan. He hoped you would feel the same safety in confiding in him, too: he might not be as warm as Jeonghan seemed to be, but he wanted to give you a warm place to land if you needed it, arms wide open and ready to embrace you when you needed it.

That night, he woke up from a far too vivid dream. The memory seemed to fade away soon, slipping from his grasp as he sat forward, a hand running through his hair. He’d been somewhere... crowded and loud, making his way through throngs of people. He remembered being approached, yet the face seemed... blurry and distant. Like he should remember it, but something in his mind refused to let him make out specific features.

“Joshua?” Jeonghan quietly mumbled from beside him, sleep laced into his voice. He stifled a yawn, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. “Are you alright?”

He nodded, slowly settling back into bed as he turned onto his side. “Just had a weird dream,” he said. “Nothing bad. Don’t worry.”

Jeonghan accepted the answer easily enough, eyelids drooping shut as he snuggled back into the space next to him. He’d talk to him about it in the morning--no need to wake Jeonghan up over something so silly. He slipped back into slumber as easily as he had pulled his blanket back over him, and was left with nothing else he could remember that next morning. He made his way to breakfast with the others, stopping long enough to glance at himself in a mirror. He looked the same, so why did he feel so... Different?

He’d waved at you on his way in, and noticed your shy smile as you waved back before returning to your conversation with Seokmin. Joshua went to get a glass, his focus purely on getting a glass of water. Maybe that’d help settle him, centering him on something other than what he dreamed about last night. Seungcheol had stopped beside him, though, his own glass in hand.

“Everything okay?” He asked in a quiet voice. “I felt you jolt last night.”

“You did?” Joshua raised his eyes to meet Seungcheol’s. “Just had a weird dream. It felt... real.”

Seungcheol slowly nodded, taking in each word with care. “Like a memory?”

“I think so.” Joshua paused. Yet... The other memories never felt so vivid. Not like this. They felt real in the same sense, but what made this one feel so intense...?

He saw you again, giggling at something Seokmin had said, and he could see the way he pressed kisses into your cheek with a smile.

Well. There might be his why sitting right there. All that was left was to chase after it.

“Today, I’m going to teach you something very important.”

Joshua’s hand was holding yours as he walked alongside the river with you, more-so to guide you than his casual form of skinship. He’d invited you along with him for a small walk through nature--something he enjoyed doing on his own sometimes, but today wasn’t just leisure. He’d left you waiting in anticipation after he finally decided to break the news to you as to why he’d suddenly invited you out again barely a few days after your picnic.

“The art,” he said, with a purposeful pause to build suspense, “of living one day at a time.” He let go of your hand after a moment, slowing to a stop as he turned to you. “I think you could use it.”

He was slightly teasing you, and you could tell from the way he was smiling at you. Yet you agreed easily enough to ‘take these lessons,’ since he’d casually offered you a ‘once-in-a-lifetime deal’ when he invited you out earlier. If there was anything Joshua was good at, it was keeping you entertained. Whether that be through playing guitar or singing, or building up to moments like these... You definitely found him charming in plenty of ways.

“It’s hard,” he said, “but I learned a while back that it’s better to accept each day as they come. It helped me relax, at least--and it helped a few of the others, so I think I’m an expert now.”

Charming and cheeky. A deadly combination, in your humble opinion, but you liked Joshua’s company too much. If he would be the death of you, then c’est la vie... At least Chan would hopefully avenge you, maybe with Seungkwan and Hansol at his side.

(Not that you had any worries with Joshua: he was strong and safe in the same way the others were. The only fear you truly ever could have was of impending heartbreak, if you let yourself fall for his charms.)

Joshua drifted away from you, plucking a few flowers from the ground before he turned back to you. “There’s a lot of beauty in nature. I think I knew it before, but living here really makes you appreciate it a lot more.” He made his way over, carefully placing the flower behind your ear.

It was at this point that you realized he’d placed the other behind his own, and he smiled at the way the two of you matched now: little yellow flowers almost making it seem like the two of you were a pair. He turned, starting off talking about his own walks he goes on sometimes, enjoying the scenery even though he’s seen it an endless amount of times by now, and you followed behind him like a duckling.

Eventually, he found a spot to sit. He nodded toward the spot next to him, the corners of his lips slightly upturned as he watched you sink down into the spot next to him.

“What do you see?”

You raised a brow at him. What?

“Humor me,” he said. “Just tell me what you can see.”

So with a long exhale, you looked around, and began to list off things. The river ahead of you, stretching toward the lake at the end of this path. The trees that surrounded both of you, having reached the more wooded area. If you looked close enough, you could see fish underneath the water, scales shimmering in the sunlight that peeked through the trees. Tiny flowers dotting amongst the grass: some pink, some white... and others yellow, like the ones you and Joshua still had behind your ears.

Your eyes trailed him up. “I see you, too,” you said after a moment.

It earned a smile from him. “Well,” he said, “I see you as well. Now tell me what you can hear.”

Part of you wanted to roll your eyes. It felt like the kind of lesson you might have as a child learning about their senses for the first time, but you began to list off things nevertheless. The sound of water rushing past (and, if you listened closer, you could hear a fish leap and land in the water again), the sound of birds fluttering through the trees. Joshua’s breathing. The wind as it rustled leaves. Your own quiet breathing, too. Part of you wondered if you could hear the others, had you been close enough to home: the sound of Jun’s loud laughter, or Seungkwan ranting at something Soonyoung joked about...

And when he prompted you next, you continued on: you could smell the flowers, light and sweet on the breeze. Feel the way that the grass was poking into your skin, the feeling of the flower, weightless, behind your ear. The warm breeze as it kissed your skin. The warm feeling of his hand brushing against yours.

“That’s it,” he said in a low voice. “The art of living a day at a time.” He was smiling again, eyes twinkling. “Living in the present moment and accepting it as that. The book Wonwoo brought back called it mindfulness, but I prefer my name for it.”

You couldn’t help but smile back at him. Even if it was a mouthful... You thought you preferred his name for it, too.

The next day, you and Joshua were tasked with cooking dinner. Conversation always came easy with Joshua: even if you had moments of being unsure what to say, he could easily fill the air and keep things flowing as the two of you worked. He always seemed to use chores as a way of checking in with you, too, just to make sure you were adjusting well. He noticed how close you’d become with Seungkwan, Hansol, and Chan--although he’d noticed that a few others had a soft spot for you (namely Mingyu... and Seungcheol, but for the sake of his friendship, he’d leave his name out of it for now).

“Joshua?” You looked up from the veggies you’d been chopping for him, and he merely hummed in acknowledgement. “So... What started this whole ‘art of living one day at a time’ thing?”

He hummed to himself for a moment, mulling over the exact moment that led to it. He’d come up with the silly little name for it after he started practicing mindfulness, sure, but... “Sometimes,” he started, “I’ll get stuck in my own thoughts. It was maybe a few weeks before Jun showed up, but Cheol and Jeonghan took me out for a picnic. And--I dunno. We just sat together, just kinda observing how peaceful everything is.”

“So you had a picnic with your friends, and you started to appreciate... everything?”

Joshua nodded, not looking up from his work. “Yep. It helped.”

“Would you do that with me?”

He paused, turning to see that you’d grown more flustered at asking your question aloud. Before you could apologize and try to backtrack, he merely nodded, “Sure. I’d gladly steal you away for a picnic if you don’t mention it to anyone else.” He went back to stirring the pot, the scent of spices heavy in the air. “I like having alone time with you.”

His heart stirred at his own words, aware of what he meant: I like being the object of your attention.

Right as he went to apologize for being so forward, you spoke up, “Then you can’t tell anyone, either.“

Joshua’s eyes were shimmering as he turned to you again, sharing a smile between the two of you as he realized that maybe things weren’t so one-sided for him. “Then... We can call it a date. If you want.”

“And if I do?”

Oh. Oh. This felt... fast. “Then you can pick our spot.”

Two days later, Joshua let you take the lead, a basket and blanket in his hands as you lead the way outside. The two of you had agreed to a little picnic lunch together, to reduce any risk of someone trying to tag along with you. Everyone would be scattered now, doing their own things as Joshua let you take the lead. He could hear the sound of Seungkwan and Chan bickering in the attic as he climbed up and into the church, and the tell-tale sound of Hansol’s warm laugh at an argument that was anything but serious. The two of you had passed Mingyu and Wonwoo on your way out, and he’d seen Seokmin go searching for Jihoon with Minghao tailing alongside him. Some of the others must still be out, finishing up their chores for the day. Joshua saw Jun on the way out, making his way back inside with an empty basket from doing laundry in his arms, and merely gave him a small wave.

You guided him out and to the same shady spot he sat with you on your second day. Together, you spread the blanket out before sitting together, chatting idly for a while..

“Joshua?” You suddenly said. “Tell me what you can see.”

His eyes crinkled a little with delight. Oh, how cute of you. He began to list things in a calm, even tone: the trees that grow thicker down the path to the lake, the river that ran near the two of you (and the shimmering of scales that are easier to see now, with the sunlight hitting them), the pebbles that were pressed into the dirt. He could hear the sound of your breathing, leaves rustling, the babbling brook... And he could feel the plush fabric underneath the two of you, the warm breeze as it kissed his skin in a way he wished would be replaced by something (someone, his mind corrected) else...

And even though the two of you had moved on from that sense, he smiled as he looked at you: “And I see you.”

Over two weeks of you being there, and Joshua felt as though he’d fallen for you too quickly. Too easily. Maybe in another life, this would have taken far longer. He would have courted you the right way, with dinner dates and long walks where he had to build up the courage to ask if he could hold your hand (out of respect for you rather than insecurity for himself: not all people enjoyed the kind of casual skinship that Joshua often saw Seungkwan partake in with...well... everyone). Maybe he should have asked you on the walk back how you felt, exactly...Yet his confidence had dwindled slightly. He felt something for you, yes, but how was he to be sure that it was love?

So he’d give himself a little longer instead. Enough time to know for sure that the enamored feelings he was almost certain of were what he thought they were. Every time a new person came, there was always this honeymoon period of adoration for them. For Joshua, it was the warmth of a need to welcome and care for a new person, and he knew himself well: it’d only last a week or two, three at the most, before it became something comfortable in his chest rather than an ever present flutter that punctuated his every action. Even if his gaze would drift down to your lips (a sign, in his eyes, that this was not the normal love he felt for new people)... He needed time to be sure.

Barely into your third week of living with them, Joshua woke up to the sound of you panicking.

He was far from the first person awake, though. You had curled up across the room, happy to be in Seokmin’s warm embrace since he was feeling particularly cuddly tonight, and you’d startled several of the others closer to you. He jerked up, running a hand through his hair to comb it back to his face as he watched you panic. The others had already taken to comforting you to no success. Seokmin kept an arm around you, trying to calm you down while your words were slammed together in this endless dribble, like water from a faucet coming out all in one heavy blast. Chan had reached out, trying to take your hand and wipe your tears as you kept trying to talk about the dream you’d had. Seungkwan spoke over you plenty, alongside Minghao, as they all tried to get you to slow down and breathe. You could talk afterward, yet you didn’t seem to listen. All Joshua could tell was that you had fought with Minghao in this dream, and then you ran away and ended up hurt, terrified no one was coming for you.

He kicked off the blanket, pulling himself free from the space between Seungcheol and Jeonghan with ease. Several others had woken up at this point, too, and he could hear Seungcheol mumbling something to Jeonghan as he was roused, too. Joshua, on the other hand, was more focused on getting over to you, falling to his knees in front of you.

“Hey,” he said softly, “it’s okay. It’s okay,” he reached for your hands, and, through your tear-filled gaze, your eyes met his own. “I’m here--”

All within seconds, you’d begun to move in for comfort, and he easily pulled you into his chest. Soon enough, he had sunk down to where he was sitting, letting you sob into his shirt as he stroked your back. His head leaned against your own, eyes fluttering shut as he focused on comforting you.

“It’s okay,” he said again in that low, soothing voice, “I’m right here. Just breathe for me, darling, okay?”

As if the words finally broke through to you, this time carrying some meaning to them, you gave him a shaky nod before squeezing your eyes shut tight. Your breathing staggered, and Joshua began to take in slow, deep breaths with you. Just to make sure you didn’t feel like you were alone now. He raised his head as you kept breathing, and he looked around at the sea of concerned faces that surrounded him now. Some of them were still half asleep (Mingyu and Hansol, Joshua noticed, and maybe Soonyoung, too), but they’d gathered around. They were a community, after all. This was far from the first time someone had a bad enough dream to evoke such a strong reaction (Joshua remembered plenty of incidents right offhand), and it created this understood feeling between them all: we check on each other, and we go from there. If you didn’t want to talk, they wouldn’t force you to.

You had realized that you disturbed everyone soon enough, and already began to apologize over and over, trying to make up a good enough reason to justify getting so upset over a bad dream. Joshua gently shushed you instead.

“It’s okay,” he repeated again. “You just had a bad dream. It happens to all of us.”

Which was enough to prompt Chan into bringing up how he woke up with a scream his first week there. He couldn’t remember what the dream was anymore, but it was bad enough that the others had to calm him down, too. He thought it was something to do with his life before, but Joshua remembered what it was. Chan had dreamed that he’d been kicked out of the group because he failed them in some way. Seokmin reached over, taking your hand in his, gently running his thumb across your knuckles as he shared his own story: he fought with Mingyu early into the latter’s first days with the group, and had a bad dream a while after of the fight getting worse.

They shared their pain with you without reluctance. They were human, too, after all: they had bad dreams and bad mornings, and sometimes they’d wake up crying like this too. Joshua just cradled you to his chest the entire time, though, tracing slow circles onto your back as you listened. Despite the stories being shared, you didn’t share your own now that you were calm enough that you could get it across better. No one pushed you to, though, past Wonwoo’s gentle question of whether you wanted to talk about it more. You had shook your head, curling up closer to Joshua before saying that you felt better now, thanks to all of them. They’d all started to go back to bed, Seungkwan telling you to wake him up if you needed to talk; he would happily listen if you needed him (or the two of you could go on a walk, too, if that’d help).

Joshua gently nudged you to get your attention. “What do you want now?” He asked softly. “You wanna go back to bed? I can get you some water if you want.”

You shook your head. “Can... Can I sleep with you, actually? You holding me helps...”

The surprise of your request made him grow a little flustered. He’d always be open to cuddling with you, but for you to say something like that...

He nodded, though, and brought you back over to where he’d been sleeping. Seungcheol wordlessly shifted over to make room for you, already grabbing extra pillows and blankets to help make you as comfortable as possible. Soon enough, you were curled up in Joshua’s arms again.

Over your head, Joshua had met Jeonghan’s gaze. His eyes flickered down to you for just a moment, and Joshua...

Well. He knew what Jeonghan was trying to ask. He merely nodded, and he watched as his friend nodded in return, understanding. A moment later, he’d seen the way you shivered slightly, and Jeonghan slid a little closer to ensure that you would be warm between the two of them.

Joshua loved you. Plain and simple. And now he was sure that both Jeonghan and Seungcheol knew (as well as every other person in that room). Everyone but you, hopefully. If he was going to tell you soon (and he would, he knew he would if he thought he had a chance), he wanted to do it right. But only when you were ready for that kind of relationship with him.

(And maybe he should call it overconfidence, but... Joshua had a pretty strong feeling that you loved him back.)

As much as Joshua didn’t want to leave you the next morning, it was Mingyu who gently nudged him awake, asking in a low voice if he’d come help with breakfast. He agreed, watching you sleep for a moment longer after Mingyu left him, and he slowly untangled himself from him. When you began to stir away, he gently shushed you, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he told you to go back to sleep for a little longer. You’d ended up turning over, reaching over for Seungcheol, who barely roused before he cuddled a little closer to give you further comfort. Joshua pulled himself from his blankets, watching the wordless way that Jeonghan filled the space he was leaving, eyes meeting his for a second in a silent go on, I’ve got them.

Mingyu was already working on breakfast when Joshua came in, his conversation with Seokmin coming to a halt. The two greeted him casually enough, and Joshua was put to work soon enough.

“Josh?” Seokmin said after a few minutes, earning a glance from him. “You and Mouse...”

Joshua said nothing at first, working on. Oh. It must be obvious now, then. Is this something he’ll have to address with everyone? “We’re only friends.”

“We know,” Mingyu said. “That’s not what we’re asking.”

You don’t need me to say it out loud, Joshua wanted to say. Because they knew: everyone had to, right? Last night was just... proof that the initial affection he held for you within your first days never went away. That it merely blossomed into something stronger. Barely a few weeks into you living with them, and you’d somehow captured his heart so easily. He didn’t want to call it all-out love, because love took longer to sow. Infatuation fit better. He, for the lack of a better word between “infatuation” and “love,” liked you.. a lot.

He waited until everyone, save for you, had filed in for breakfast. They were quiet, a few whispers about you flying around the table, and Joshua... Well. Joshua wasn’t an idiot: he saw the concerned glances people kept sending him. The way no one addressed him, but kept clearly talking about him.

And then he finally spoke up, “Don’t tell them.”

No one spoke. They merely exchanged looks, all knowing at this point.

“Not now,” Joshua said. “I’ll tell them when they’re ready. I’m not putting that burden on them this soon.”

It was still tense, but Seungkwan was the one who finally looked up from his breakfast. “Joshua... I think they like you, too.”

He wanted to say something. Anything. His face grew warmer at someone actually speaking the thought aloud. He thought you did, too: but he didn’t want to define your feelings in his mind. It would set expectations on you that he wasn’t comfortable setting: if you liked him back, then he’d want to hear you say it out loud. Not now, of course, but when you were feeling better. He knew the effects of a shitty dream all too well.

Chan barely touched his food before he excused himself, saying something about taking a walk before he’d start on his share of the chores. Joshua saw the concerned look Hansol and Seungkwan shared, and the gentle nod toward where Chan had left that Seungcheol gave them: go on. The two excused themselves as well, getting up and following after him quickly.

Joshua wasn’t an idiot. He knew he wasn’t the only person who felt more for you. He knew Chan did. He thought Cheol did, too, but Joshua knew that neither would stand in your way of pursuing who you loved. Whether it be them or someone else, they would accept it and learn how to move past their feelings. Joshua would do the same, after all. He loved you and your happiness. And if you would be happier with someone else.. Then Joshua would support you wholeheartedly while he took the time to heal.

That’s what love was supposed to be, wasn’t it?

Something weighed in the pit of your stomach for most of that day. Everyone had been concerned at breakfast that morning (which, to be fair, hadn’t surprised you in the slightest), and you had waved them off. You weren’t ready to talk about your dream quite yet, not until you tried to focus on the center of it all. By some stroke of luck, you’d found Minghao painting by himself--sitting at a bare space of wall that’d only been painted green in preparation. He’d been painting a circle of blue, merely glancing up as you came closer before greeting you casually enough.

You slowly sank down next to him when he invited you to. “Um... Minghao?”

He heard the caution in your voice, and it made him lower his brush, turning to you. “Is something wrong?”

“Did... Did I do something?” You said slowly. “I mean. I don’t think I did, but--I had a dream that you were mad at me, and--and I just started overthinking and--”

“I’m not mad at you,” he said, plain and simple. For a moment, his gaze flickered past you, but before you could turn to see what he was looking at, he spoke up again. “If I was, you’d know. We’d talk about it eventually.”

Relief hit you all at once, and you let out a sigh. “Good...” You’d toyed with your sleeve, still feeling a slight nervous edge as you sat there with him. “I just... I had this dream where everyone seemed upset. But you--”

His gaze flickered up again, and then back to your face before he finally looked past you one final time. “Stop standing around and either sit with us or go.”

You turned, and Joshua had been lingering nearby. “Oh. Shua...”

“I can go--”

“No,” you said, “it’s okay. You can stay if you want. I don’t mind talking about it now.”

Joshua slowly nodded, making his way over before he sank down next to the two of you. He watched you for a moment, waiting to see if you would continue.

And soon enough, you did. “Anyway... I don’t know why everyone was upset, but you were the only one who spoke up and said whatever happened was my fault.”

Minghao furrowed his brow, looking up. “But you don’t know what happened?” When you shook your head, he continued. “I can’t say I wouldn’t be mad if something bad happened--”

“I ran away,” you said. “I don’t know why, but I just decided I’d leave for good since you all were better off before I came here.”

Joshua wasn’t sure what to say. He merely shared a concerned glance with Minghao, who, too, seemed to be at a loss for words.

“We love you,” was what Minghao said a second later, voice softer than before. “If something bad happened, we wouldn’t kick you out.”

“He’s right,” Joshua said. “We wouldn’t--”

“You didn’t,” you said. “I decided to just... Remove myself from the equation.”

That... was different, to be fair. But what could cause them all to be so upset that you felt that was the only option? To run away and live on your own instead? They were a community: no one should have to live a life of complete isolation. Seungcheol was always adamant about that after his own time alone.

“I know I wasn’t warm to you when you first came here,” Minghao said after a moment, “but I don’t want you to leave. You’re one of us now.”

With a slow nod, you let his words sink in. Us. Although you knew they’d all embraced you with open arms, letting you into this community, this family they had so lovingly come together to form... It still meant a lot to hear that you were a part of it. That they loved you.

Minghao looked back at the scene he’d been working on, pressing his lips together for a moment. “Do you have any ideas on what I should paint? I wanted to paint a pond, but...”

Joshua looked to you. “Mouse?”

“How about... ducks?” You suggested casually enough. “A little family of ducks.”

Minghao nodded after a moment, taking your suggestion into account before he began to wash his brush. “A family of ducks it is, then.”

You stood up, thanking Minghao for the talk as you went to leave him and Joshua behind. Yet Joshua rose quickly, following after you and stopping you once you were far enough to not be overheard by Minghao.

“Did you have any more bad dreams?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t. Thank you for being there, though. It felt like cuddling with you was all I needed.”

He chuckled. “Well,” he said, “all you have to do is wake me up and I’ll be there from now.“ He took your hands in his, swinging them slightly. “I always have room for you, alright?”

Your nose had crinkled when you smiled, giggling. “I’ll keep that in mind.” You slowly let go, taking a drifting step back. “Thank you, Joshua. I’ll keep it in mind.”

It was strange. Sure enough, you woke up that next night, sobbing again. It wasn’t as bad as the first time, but Chan had woken up Joshua for you when you asked him to. Instead of merely trying to soothe you back to sleep then and there, he glanced around before he gently pulled you to your feet, guiding you out of the room to make both of you a warm cup of tea. He sat next to you, watching the slow sips you’d take, cheeks still wet with tears. Despite the urge to go ahead and ask, to figure out what upset you this time, he let you have your space. The tea seemed to calm your nerves, and he merely waited for you to make the next move: if you wanted to go back to bed, he’d offer the spot next to you again. Or you could go back to Chan, who Joshua was sure was still lying awake, waiting to know if you were fine. When you finally lifted your head, meeting his gaze, you asked to talk about it.

This time, your nightmare was about Wonwoo. He’d fallen sick--really, really sick--in your nightmare. You swore you could still feel his feverish skin from when you were checking his temperature. It was almost as if he was going to die, and the thought of that had been enough to throw you out of your dreams and back into the reality you were living in. Wonwoo was okay: that was something you could see when you first woke up. Chan had stirred, asking what was wrong, and you merely asked him to get Joshua.

“If it helps... No one’s ever been that sick before,” Joshua said, his hand on top of yours. His thumb grazed the back of your hand. “And we know how to take care of each other. I’m sure Wonwoo would have been okay.”

Something about his presence seemed to calm you easier than the others did. He sat with you a little longer until your cups of tea were empty, and soon enough he’d made a space for you once more, letting you curl up in his arms again.

The same happened the next night: Mingyu had burned his hand in that dream. The next, you were lost in the forest with an injured ankle and you were scared no one would come for you. In another, your shoulder had been injured horribly... And all Joshua could do was be there for you each night. Sometimes he’d make you tea, or the two of you would go on a short walk to clear your head, but it always ended up the same: with you in Joshua’s arms, feeling safer than you had been before. He would wake up the next morning, feeling the weight of your body against his, sleeping peacefully.

(You finally gave up after that night and started sleeping next to him permanently until you worked out whatever was causing these nightmares. Not that he was complaining: he liked having you close to him.)

Seungcheol had been watching you one night after dinner, while the group was all still together, biting his bottom lip. Joshua wondered if he thought he could figure you out had he stared intensely enough, studying your entirety as much as he could from his place across the room. Yet his calling of “Mouse,” had been enough to catch your attention, followed by, “are your dreams still bothering you?”

You looked up from the puzzle you were working on with Minghao and Seokmin, a little more flustered at the outright question. “Not really...”

“Aren’t dreams a subconscious thing?” Hansol said from his spot on the couch, curled up with Jihoon next to him. “Maybe you’re just worried about something.”

“I’m not,” you said, a little too quickly in Joshua’s opinion. “I just had a string of bad dreams. It’s nothing serious.”

“Are you sure?” Seokmin frowned. “You can talk to us--”

“I’m fine,” you said, standing up. “I’m gonna go wash up for bed.”

They let you go without a fight. No need to push you now when you were already starting to get upset. Joshua merely said he’d go try to talk to you, just to make sure you were fine--even if you weren’t ready to talk. He’d found you brushing your teeth, and you’d pouted a little at the sight of him in the entryway.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said after spitting into the sink. “Maybe tomorrow, Shua.”

He slowly drifted closer to you. “That’s okay,” he said, slowly stopping next to you. “Do you know what’s bothering you, though?”

Reluctantly, you nodded after a moment. “I think I do. But... I don’t wanna think deeply about it before bed.”

He could understand that. “As long as you aren’t bottling it up,” he said. “We love you a lot.” He reached out to brush a stray hair back into place, and his fingers lingered at your temple for a moment before he drew his hand back. “I just want you to know that.”

“I love you guys, too,” you met his gaze. “Really, Joshua. I’m okay for tonight.” You leaned in, pressing a tiny kiss against his cheek. “Just tired from doing laundry with Soonyoung and Seungkwan earlier.”

He chuckled airily, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I understand. Just don’t be afraid to tell us things, alright?”

“I won’t.” You promised. “Goodnight, Joshua.”

With you heading to bed early, Joshua... knew what he needed to do. The group was starting to disperse when he returned, and he went ahead to stop Chan before he could go with the others.

“I was thinking about going for a walk,” he said. “Do you want to join me?”

Chan shook his head. “I’m good, Shua. Thank you--”

“Chan,” he said, a little more serious this time. “I think you should.”

Chan looked toward the others, and let out a sigh, before nodding. He understood what this was, and the two of them grabbed their shoes and began to make their way outside. Once the church doors were securely closed behind them, Joshua let out a sigh and looked up to the stars overheard, twinkling in the clear, dark sky... and then he nodded out toward the river. He and Chan walked in silence at first, making their way down the hill with slow, heavy steps, neither sure how to begin this conversation.

“I really like them,” Joshua said outright. “And I know other people do, too. In the same way, I mean.”

Chan didn’t look at him at first. “I know. I was there when you asked us not to tell them how you feel.”

“I just want to clear the air,” Joshua said, “because I know you love them, too.”

Chan met his gaze, and Joshua could see something (confidence, perhaps) waver in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, only to close it, looking away. “We’re all adults here,” he said. “I’m not going to treat either of you differently.”

“I know that,” Joshua said. “I trust you. But I don’t want any bad blood between us... and I don’t want to hurt your friendship with Mouse, either.”

With a heavy sigh, Chan shut his eyes for a moment, slowing to a stop. “As long as they’re happy, then I’m happy. I love them, Joshua, and I want them to be happy.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, turning away again to kick at a pebble along the riverside. “I’d be happy no matter who they love. It’s not like they can date all of us.”

“Can’t they?” Joshua said, only slightly teasing. “You know how we are with each other. I think if we all wanted that, we’d work it out.”

Chan’s face grew bright red, even in the low light. “Don’t say things like that!” He said, pouting, “I--I don’t want to think about it when they only like you.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “I mean it, though. We’re all more than just a group of people living together, though. Who knows,” he shrugged, “maybe in another life, we’d all be something together.”

“Maybe.” Chan sounded wistful as he stared off into the distance. “But they love you.”

But they love me, Joshua repeated mentally, turning the phrase over in his mind over and over. You loved him... “I think they do--”

“I know they do.” Chan said. “It’s kind of obvious now.” He pulled his hands from his pockets, looking back to the church. The two began their return up the hill, faster this time to get back inside now that they’ve cleared the air. “Are you going to talk to Cheol, too?” He paused, “I mean... It’s obvious. Isn’t it?”

Joshua let out a warm chuckle as he pulled open the doors. It was a bit obvious that Seungcheol felt... a lot for you. “It is. I’m not sure I’ll talk to him, though.”

“Why?”

“You admitted to your feelings,” Joshua said, following Chan inside as he turned to secure the door. “Cheol is the kind of person who’d rather deny them either until his feelings are gone or until the world ends if it meant they’d be happy. He’s just going to give them up--”

“And I will.” Seungcheol stood up from his chair, making his way over. “Are you two really talking about me?” He chuckled a little at the startled expression on Chan’s face. “It’s fine, Chan. Hansol mentioned the two of you left, and I had an idea why.”

“So you decided to just wait in the dark to scare us?”

Seungcheol shrugged. “I thought it’d be funny. And it was,” he nodded toward Chan, “very funny to see his face--”

“But that’s not fair!” Chan suddenly cut in. “Cheol... It’s not fair that you have to give up your feelings.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

Chan stammered for a moment, “I--But--It’s not--” And then stopped, collecting himself. “It is, but... You give up a lot for us already.”

“They don’t love me,” Seungcheol said, plain and simple. A fact that he had long since accepted. “They love Joshua. We’re both giving up our feelings because we care about them and want to see them happy.”

Joshua felt his heart sink a little. While Joshua would have done the same for you... It felt awful to hear it said aloud, especially from someone who felt so much for you. “Cheol--”

“It’s silly,” he said. “How hard I fell and how fast it happened... But they love you, Joshua. And I know you love them, too.”

Joshua wasn’t sure what to say. “Cheol, I’m--”

“Take care of them.” Seungcheol tucked his hands into his pockets. “I know they’ll do the same.” He turned, musing aloud, “You know who to see about signing up to perform on their day...”

So Joshua nodded, already knowing what he needed to do. Chan walked ahead, following after Seungcheol. He needed to tell you soon, but... Surely, you could wait a little longer, couldn’t you? Just long enough for him to say it the way he felt he needed to. He made his way down, through the long passage until he came into the main room... Where Jihoon had been curled up, reading a book on the couch, humming to himself as he drummed his fingers against the edge. He wasn’t tired yet, but Joshua knew he wouldn’t go to his guitar until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He called out to Jihoon, already bringing up the song they’d been working on with Jeonghan and how he was going to try and finish it. He’d need help with getting it right, but...

Joshua knew how to make his feelings for you clear. Even if you couldn’t answer him in the moment, he’d sing it proudly, just so you knew where his heart fell.

Sometimes, all you had to do to find Joshua was follow the sound of a guitar being played. It always would lead you either to him or to Jihoon (or, rarely, Hansol), and once you came close enough, you’d be able to hear the soft way he mumbled his way through lyrics as he tried to figure them out. You peered around the entryway to the room he was in, watching the way he quietly worked on. He’d yet to notice you, and you watched the way his fingers moved to make each chord. Something about the way the sunlight flooded into the room and illuminated him made it feel as though you were looking in on a masterpiece. If only you could paint it--committing it to memory didn’t feel like it was enough to capture his beauty. Those soft brown locks fell into his face, eyes half-lidded as the lyrics he were working through (Should I talk to you or not? / I thought for a while...) barely audible. Was this, you wondered, what Eurydice felt when she looked upon Orpheus? Or how the stones felt when he traveled to bring her back, parting the way with ease, so moved by his song? Even if you couldn’t hear every word he sang, there was something so genuinely beautiful about how he seemed to lose himself in his music. It was similar to the way Jihoon did, too, as well as Hansol: they loved it so deeply, it was as though they were meant to sing in some way. Like music was one of their greatest loves, and it’d be cruel to abandon it completely.

Joshua looked up soon enough, though, and the music stopped as those pretty eyes softened when they saw you. “Hello, darling,” he called out, thoroughly amused that he had caught you observing him. It was just as love-filled as when he called you that during your second day there, too. “You can come in, if you want.”

As if bewitched to move from your place, you drifted across the room toward him, heart guiding you more than anything. Joshua always seemed to have room for you, no matter where he was: there was space by his side at dinner, at bedtime, or in conversations... and even now, when it was the two of you alone, he was happy to bring you in.

“Do you know how to play?” He asked, turning his attention to tuning his guitar--one of the chords must have been slightly off, since he’d kept trying to tune and retune it as he worked.

You shake your head. “Hansol offered to teach me once, actually,” you watched as he worked on, humming in acknowledgement.

“And?”

“I turned him down.”

Joshua lifted his head, this pretty, amused glimmer in his eyes. “You don’t want to spend time with Hansol?”

With a giggle, you gently bumped your shoulder into his. “Of course I do. I’d just... rather learn from someone else.”

He merely chuckled. “I see.”

Wordlessly, as he finally finished tuning the guitar, Joshua moved in closer to you so that he could reach around you. He brought in your hand to lay on the strings, the weight of it mostly on him still. His fingers are rough as they guide yours into place, and it made you wonder how long he’d been playing guitar.

“This is how you do Em...” His breath hit the back of your ear, and he paused to make sure you were pressing down the strings firmly enough. Then he strummed, and you could feel the vibrations through those strings. “Hear that?” He said, and when you looked at his face again, you could see this proud glimmer in his eyes. “And if you move your fingers to these chords,” he was already moving on, “you can get C...”

Joshua gently instructed you as he could. Em to C to G to D, always guiding your fingers and helping you keep them in place, and punctuating each with a strum to let you hear the difference.

“You’ll get better with time,” he said, “we’ll work on it.”

“So that means there’s a next time?”

He shifted away from you, returning to the position he’d been sitting in before you came. “If you want there to be one. I like spending time with you, you know.”

“Good.” You rested against his side. “I like spending time with you, too.”

He chuckled warmly. “I won’t tell Hansol you said that--”

When you whined his name, he merely laughed a little more, head tilting back as his eyes scrunched up with joy. Yet soon enough, he went back to what he was working on, no longer softly singing lyrics under his breath. He merely hummed along, trying to figure out the part he was working on.

“Y’know...” You began to toy with a stray strand of thread on your sleeve. “I talked to Cheol yesterday.”

“Mhm?”

For a moment, you weren’t sure how to bring it up. So you sucked in a quiet breath, before finally looking up to watch his face and try to gauge his reaction. “Joshua. What do you think love is like?”

He didn’t seem to hesitate. “I think it’s putting someone else’s needs before your own. Wanting to be close to them, too. Caring for them in a way that’s different than caring for other people.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he continued to speak:

“It’s the way you make me feel,” he said outright, voice softer this time, as if someone would overhear if he said it any louder. He watched the way you went wide-eyed in response, clearly not expecting him to be so forward. “I was going to tell you differently. I mean, I still will, but--”

“You love me?”

He grew surprisingly sheepish, averting his gaze before giving you the tiniest nod. Strong, warm, outgoing Joshua had been reduced to a shy schoolboy because of one little question from you. “I think I do.”

His heart hammered in his chest, and he felt as though you could hear it from how silent the room had become.

“Oh.” It wasn’t flat. Or disappointed. It was warm, and a little confused, but he could hear the tiniest thread of joy laced into it. You gently bumped against his shoulder again. “Do you want to know how I feel?”

“I do,” he said, “but...” He met your eyes again. “Will you wait?”

... Wait? You’d thought that waiting was a little pointless when the fourteen of you were living this life together. What if things were over tomorrow? Why wait forever? Wasn’t that what Seungcheol told you, too? That you shouldn’t wait to confess to him? “Why?”

“I want to say it right,” he reached out, setting his hand over yours. “Okay? Let me sweep you off your feet.”

He didn’t expect you to laugh so warmly, so full of love at how cute he truly could be. “Okay,” you said, this teasing lift to your voice something he thought you’d gotten from hanging around him so much. “Then do it.”

Joshua set aside the guitar. He stood up, turning to you and offering his hand, and he nearly chuckled at your startled reaction.

“Wait, now?!”

“Nope,” he smiled. “You’ll just have to wait for what I have planned.” He nodded his head toward the doorway, “But I don’t want to give up alone time with you yet. Do you?”

You didn’t, either. With a smile, you accepted his hand, and happily let him lead the way. Although a few others had greeted the two of you, inviting you into a game, Joshua merely told them that the two of you had already decided to go for a walk together. Before someone could try to tag along, he’d already swept you away, happy to steal you all for himself for a bit. Not that he was the only one being greedy: you liked having Joshua all to yourself, too. The way he loosely intertwined his fingers with your own, just enough to keep your hands together but not enough to trap you with him, was sweet. Although when you tightened your grip a little, just to squeeze his hand, he wordlessly squeezed back.

And if he let go of you, just to sit in a shady spot under a tree, who were you to say no when he happily offered the empty space next to him to you?

(Even if it would later net the two of you teasing from Jeonghan when he eventually found you together, hours before dinner rolled around, comfortably sleeping hand in hand.)

Celebrations were always a highlight of having this group. Yes, there was plenty of manual labor that came first... But it would always be worth it to see someone light up, getting attention dedicated to them for a night. If he could see the way you smiled every night for the rest of his life, he’d be happy with that alone. Chan had held your hand as he brought you in, bright petals filling the air as they welcomed you into the group officially. Seungkwan had placed the flower crown upon your head, lips grazing your cheek for just a second--just as everyone else did. Joshua let his lips linger against your skin for an extra second, and found himself feeling a little greedy for doing so... and for wishing that he could steal you away again. He nodded along as Seungcheol eventually did his usual toast, and smiled at the sight of Chan with his arm around your shoulder, ever the dutiful best friend to you. It was clear that everyone there loved you. If nothing else, Joshua knew that you would be loved no matter what. And if his love for you faded into something akin to friendship, it’d still be love nonetheless.

Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan had performed their little song and dance routine--and Joshua had beamed the entire time. Maybe it was because you eventually settled into the seat next to him, letting him drape an arm around the back of your chair and press his side against yours. He loved the sound of your laugh, so full of genuine love for the three as they performed. Jihoon performed a medley of his songs--some new, some old, but these medleys were normal for him. Even with broken leftovers of songs he could never find it in him to complete, Jihoon made a complete experience for everyone to enjoy. Even Hansol had a song to perform, incomplete yet so uniquely him. Jun’s monologue had been written by him, Minghao’s art piece unveiled in the same dramatic flair that he always did...

Joshua pressed a kiss right in front of your ear. “Wait for me,” he said, getting up, “This is for you.”

He watched the realization cross your face as he drifted away, getting a guitar as Jeonghan came to join him. He let Jeonghan introduce the song as he prepped the stage: it was something the two of them had worked on with Jihoon, yet only recently finished together. Soon, he was sitting on one stool with Jeonghan on the other, already playing. You recognized the song soon: it’d been the one he had practiced when he told you that he thought he loved you.

I’m falling for you / falling for you... / it’s too late to escape

(And Joshua, in that moment, was certain he never wanted to. Especially when he fell asleep next to you, smiling at your sleeping face and caressing the white rose that Jeonghan had painted onto your skin.)

The song had been part one. Part two began the next day, before most of the others were asleep. He’d departed from your side early--not early enough to beat the others, but early enough that you were still comfortable in your bed. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, already moving to make his plans. He’d be making dinner with Seokmin and Mingyu tonight, and that meant he could get everything ready without looking too obvious.

It would be hard to avoid you for most of the day, but the others were a welcome help. Jeonghan would point you to him when the time came, but Seungkwan, Hansol, and Chan had been tasked with distracting you for the rest of the day. That meant staying away from the garden once chores were over, and letting him take the time to make everything perfect. From the string lights that Seungkwan had found for him to the plush blanket he spread out onto the ground... He had to make this perfect.

Seungcheol had found him while he was working. “You’re telling them, right?”

He smiled. “Is it so wrong to make it romantic?”

“No,” he said, leaning against a tree. “Like I told you... Take care of them.”

“I will--”

Yet he had let out a loud, long sigh. “Seriously... They’ve been staring at you for the past few days. How can you not say something sooner? I think I’d break if they looked at me like that.”

Joshua felt the opposite, actually: Seungcheol was in love with the group. It’d take a miracle for him to tell you how he felt, and even then... He’d probably take a thousand years to do it, too. Not when it made him look as though he was playing favorites. Joshua wondered, for a moment, if that was why Seungcheol seemed so okay to give up his love for you. To let you be happy with someone else. He pushed the thought away: maybe, in another world, Seungcheol wouldn’t have to struggle with his feelings... It made Joshua feel guilty, for a moment. But he reminded himself what they both knew: you loved Joshua.

(In another world, if you loved everyone alongside him... Joshua thought he could live with that. He loved everyone else, too, after all.)

He returned inside to bring out the picnic dinner, dessert packed as well in the form of sliced fruit. Especially strawberries, which he had carefully cut the tops off of and sliced in half. It was a simple enough gesture, but one he hoped you would love.

And when you finally came to him, you laughed. “Seungkwan refused to let me leave him until Chan finally told me what was going on.”

Joshua had been sitting on the blanket, but he rose to his feet, hands outstretched for you. “Does that mean you wanted to see me?”

“Silly...” You placed your hands in his. “I’ve been dying to talk to you all day.” With ease, you slipped your fingers in-between his. “About the two of us.”

“Does that mean there is a ‘two of us?’”

He could see you grow flustered, averting your gaze for a moment as you pressed your lip together. “What do you want?”

Joshua began to lower himself down, bringing you with him to sit together. He let go just long enough to push things aside, scooting forward so that he could be closer to you. He gently took your hands in his again, squeezing them as he gathered his courage to say what he needed to say. He knew he felt something for you, that you felt something for him, and yet saying it out loud was scarier. It made it more real.

“I want us.” He ran his thumbs over your knuckles. “I want to love you while we have the chance. I’ve thought a lot about it, and... I don’t know what brought us here. I-I don’t know what brought you to me,” he squeezed your hands, “and I’m okay with whatever it is, no matter what it is. Because you’re here,” he reached forward, fingers curving around your cheek, “and I’m with you. And... And I think that’s where we’re supposed to be.”

“Joshua--”

“I love you.” His heart was racing as he said it. The words felt at home in his mouth. “And it’s okay if you can’t say it back. But... I think I’m yours if you want me to be--”

You’d lunged forward, kissing him hard and nearly sending him toppling back. His hands fly to steady you, and he shut his eyes as he kissed you back. You threaded a hand through his hair, the other cupping his cheek as you smiled into this kiss. Deep down, there was a tiny urge to just lean back. To let you take over and kiss him and... more, if you wanted it. He let his mind go blank for a moment, savoring how soft your lips felt against his own... And then he remembered.

“I,” he said as he gently pushed you back, smiling. His hair was a little messier now. “I made us dinner. And as much as I want to kiss you again...” He cupped your face, “I don’t want it going to waste.”

It earned a giggle from you, and you pecked him on the lips one quick, final time for now. “Right,” you said, leaning away. “We have time.”

That the two of you did. He’d already begun talking about how he’d been working on this earlier with the others, just to make something that would hopefully taste delicious. The others would be leaving you alone tonight, which was ideal. He wanted to be the sole object of your affections tonight and tomorrow and every day that came after, if you’d let him.

“Maybe that makes me selfish,” he said, drawing you in once more, “I can’t keep stealing you away forever, after all...”

Yet your lips slanted against his, and it made him feel free. Maybe he was never the one stealing you away. After all.. You’d stolen his heart within days of coming here. How could he steal you when he was always yours? He’d have to learn how to share you with the others again, the tiny need to keep you close to him building inside him. Just to link you to one another, like puzzle pieces that have fallen into place...

Truthfully, as long as you stood side by side with him in life... He would be happy no matter where you were. Alone or with the others, all he knew was that he wanted you with him until the end.

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