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skzdarlings · 5 months

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part ix: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 11,700 words)

chapter warnings: the usual dynamics. child abuse history. reader in peril. violence and death. explicit sexual content.

(THE SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER! <3)

You move back into your father’s house after graduation. You are surrounded by all your old pains, your childhood and adolescence written into each familiar brick and tile. Your past overwhelms you at every turn. It is a fight to focus on your future.

But you are ready to fight.

The only question is how, especially when you are battling your own emotions in that house.

Your reprieves are small. You find some solace in routine and the distraction of your job. Your father gives you an internship at his company. The role is honestly superfluous, comprised of busy work and redundant tasks, but it is clear he is not ready for you to meddle in any real business affairs. You are not sure if that is because he does not trust you or because he does not trust his business people with you.

You still see Jeongin and Seungmin, less than you did but often enough. They are both pursuing higher degrees so when you meet them at that campus coffee shop, it feels like a moment back in time. But lingering on the past, even the good memories, is no greater help than lingering on the bad ones.

Because there is also Felix.

You return to silent, secret communication. He will make you feel flushed with just a glance, so much thought in his gaze that you feel it to the depths of you. It seems like he does not even need to touch you to make love to you.

But when he does touch you, it releases you from the prison of your house and your mind. You put your body in his hands for a few precious moments and he takes care of it. And in the long days in which he bears the dehumanizing commands of your father, wearing the identity of a non-person to never arouse suspicions otherwise, then he places his humanity in your hands for safe keeping. You give it back to him with your own glances and careful touches.

It takes so much effort to take care of each other, so the idea of active offense seems nearly impossible. Felix certainly thought it was impossible, the one time you asked, but that was years ago. Things have changed. You and Felix have changed.

You do not know what your father is holding over his head. You only know it is something, and you think it might be time to find out what.

You want to do this right. Felix does not have to carry his burdens alone anymore. You need him to truly understand that you want to protect him as much as he protects you. You know there is a part of him that still believes he does not deserve it.

All your plans are thrown into flux the day your father calls Felix into his office.

Usually when your father summons Felix, it is for routine updates. But this is a long meeting. It lasts at least two hours with the office door sealed shut. Your mind races with the possibility of what is being discussed.

You find yourself gravitating to that side of the house, anxiety worsening the longer that door stays shut. As the clock ticks, your nerves get the best of you. You wander closer, hoping you can hear from the corridor.

The guard at the door stares at you. His scrutinizing regard gets under your skin. Before you can stop yourself, you snap at him, “What? I’m just walking.”

“You don’t need to walk here,” he says and waves you off, dismissive as always.

A lot of the men in your father’s employ seem to get some perverted joy out of dismissing or punishing you. They have since you were a child. Their surveillant eyes played host in your nightmares for years. His smug countenance coupled with his threatening stance makes your blood boil in helpless frustration.

“Fuck you,” you say. You want to hurl it at him, but it spills out of your lips no stronger than a whimper. Your fists are balled at your side and your brain is screaming to walk away, but your body goes cold.

“Do not take a tone, bitch,” he says.

The unwarranted name-calling feels like a slap. It is him flaunting the obvious truth: your father has never taken your side and he never will. You are nothing but a problem that needs to be solved. You are still just a stupid, emotional child who needs a fist closed around her to keep her safe from the greatest danger in her life: herself.

“I said walk away, little girl,” the guard continues. “Your presence is not needed.”

“I’ll go where I want,” you say. “This is my house.”

“It’s your father’s house. Now walk away or I will escort you myself.”

“I dare you to try.”

You feel like you are outside of your body, watching this ridiculous scene unfold with no way to stop it.

He takes a menacing step forward and you stumble back. You bump into the wall and hit a small mirror, barely a nudge but enough to knock it off its hook.

It shatters at your feet. Yu step on a shard of glass and sharp pain lances through your foot. It feels like someone driving a knife straight through it. You scream, the sound ripped out of you in surprise.

The office door swings open and your father storms out. For a moment, he looks alarmed, eyes wide and brows high, but this only fuels his anger when he sees you are unharmed. Fury conquers fear in moments.

“Look!” you cry in protest. You lift your foot because you must have a massive shard of glass protruding from it.

Your father does not even look down. He marches into his office and shouts something that you are too disoriented to register. Your attention has narrowed to a pinprick of a point, centred entirely around the gash in your foot.

You only register what is happening when a familiar face enters your vision. Felix is in a black t-shirt and jeans, his hair in a short ponytail with not a strand out of place. Whatever transpired in that office was clearly not confrontational. He is completely fine.

His thick boots crunch over the glass. On your father’s order, he swoops you easily into his arms and carries you into the office.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” you say. Your tears infuriate you. They are the result of physical pain but it is only exacerbating the hurricane inside you. “God, it hurts so much. How big is it—”

“A foot wound hurts more than usual cuts,” Felix says.

He puts you on the couch in your father’s office. You father is standing by his desk, drinking coffee and rolling his eyes. You want to shout at him, purely on instinct, but your coherency is shot when Felix pulls the glass out of your foot.

More tears fall, some in relief. Then you look down and see an impossibly tiny shard. You cannot believe how small it is. It truly felt like it went deeper, like it slashed right through your foot.

“Show me,” your father says.

Felix meets your gaze, his eyes apologetic. He lifts the glass for your father to see. Then another glass breaks when your father smashes his coffee mug in a fit of frustration.

“It really hurt!” you protest, feeling as pathetic as you sound.

“Ridiculous, dramatic child,” your father says. “Felix, close the door.”

Felix obeys. He cannot show any hesitation. He is the emotionless robot that your father wants.

Felix closes the door as commanded then stands against it. He folds his hands behind his back and stares ahead, not sparing you another glance. He looks every inch a waiting soldier. Someone who would sooner drive a knife through his own hand than disobey an order.

“You want to cry?” your father asks, as if you are not already hiccupping on half-aborted sobs. “Do you have any idea about the scale of work I have to accomplish this week? Do you think I play games behind these doors? For you to – to – to waltz around, acting like a child and throwing a tantrum over nothing—”

You must be dripping blood on the hardwood but he does not even care to look. He stalks to his desk where he sits.

“Felix,” your father says, his rage barely suffused in the address. He gestures to you and says no more.

You and Felix meet eyes. He conceals his alarm fairly well. You doubt anyone else would see fear and concern in the subtle crease of his brow. He makes it look contemplative, but you see it. You see him.

And you know he is making a mistake before he even says anything.

“Sir?”

Your father, who was looking at a file on his desk, lifts his head.

You and Felix have been in this office many times. He has watched your father beat you, and you have watched him take as many strikes on your behalf. Your father’s instructions are implicit in the environment, under the circumstances. He is asking Felix to deliver a beating on his behalf. Experience and common sense should be clarity enough for a soldier like Felix.

This confusion, feigned to buy himself a moment, is worthy of your father’s furious stare.

“What?” your father snaps.

Felix hesitates, then approaches.

That moment of hesitation is enough. You look at your father. Just like you can read Felix, you can read that man. You can see the calculation behind his eye. Everyone is a thing, a statistic, a number, something that be crunched and calculated, something that can be used and discarded if the calculations are unfavourable. Things are supposed to function according to his commanded algorithm.

Felix is not supposed to hesitate.

You were correct to assume your father would never suspect your affair based on romance. He does not see or recognize an exchange of true love. But he understands violence. He understands its absence. Felix could kiss you and your father would not notice, but Felix refusing to hit you is worth a second glance.

With very little time to think, you diffuse those suspicions before they take flight. When Felix is near, you do not hesitate to swipe at him. You land a mean smack on his cheek that sufficiently surprises him.

He meets your eyes. They are narrowed with righteous anger as you play the part you must. You know he sees the apology in them. You hope he sees the forgiveness.

Felix returns the smack. He does not hit you anywhere near as hard as he could – even your father would hit you harder – but it is still enough of a crack that your head turns on impact. You clutch your cheek and your whole body quivers, like it is confused by the alternating directions of pain.

“Don’t you dare touch me again,” you say, looking at Felix. “You stupid animal. I hate you.”

That you know he cannot misunderstand.

And so it is within that mute understanding you hand yourself over, as you have so often done. Felix does what he can to lighten the severity, just as he always does, but it still requires a few good hits so your father believes your weepy surrender.

You are very quiet after. You can hear your father’s pen scratching across a paper pad. He watched it all then went right back to work.

You remember when you chased the high of his attention just to linger in a pit of despondency for hours after. You do not feel that now. Pure, unadulterated rage flows through you, hot as fire and as all-consuming. You feel no other emotion in that moment.

You look at your father, unwavering.

“I despise you,” you say.

Then pen on the paper stops. For a moment, he seems struck. But then he crosses a line on the page and resumes his work, not once looking at you, your bruises, or your blood. Not acknowledging your anger, the one trait you inherited from him.

“You’ll see,” your father says, with a fair degree of poise and equanimity. Unbothered, like he is talking about ordinary things. You suppose he is. What could be more ordinary to this man than the ominous prophesizing of his self-inflicted horror? “One day,” he says. “When I am gone and you really see the world for what it is, you will understand why I did what I have done. You will be safe and you will thank me.”

I will kill you before I ever thank you, you think, and realize with a shiver you truly mean it.

“Felix, retrieve Domino,” your father says.

Domino is the guard posted at the door. When he enters, he gives you a cursory glance, his cheek dimpled, the amusement towards your situation scarcely concealed.

Your father’s money might afford him influence over this stock of men, but they are all in the business of profitable pain. Military men, ex-cops: they are a dirty and criminal ilk who are accustomed to holding authority in their own right. It is little wonder they never liked you and you never liked them.

“Sir,” Domino says, at attention.

“Take my daughter to her room and see to it she is tended. Then send someone to clean up this mess. I have work to finish here and I will not tolerate any further interruptions. None. Do you understand?”

“Sir,” is the reply, affirmative, with a sharp nod.

“Good. Felix. Sit.”

Your father gestures to the chair across his desk and Felix moves towards it. Unlike the perfect boy soldier who once sat in that chair, Felix kicks it because he is glancing back at you.

You meet his eye for a brief moment, then the world spins as Domino picks you up. It is a grappling yank, like you grab a thing, with no care for injury or a polite touch.

You are carried out of the office and back to your room. One of the crew’s medics patches your foot. You sit through it with a cold detachment, then your room is empty and you are alone, waiting in bed for Felix so you can ask what is happening and discuss what to do.

Felix never comes.

In your wildest imaginings of what transpired behind that door, a job is not what you anticipate. It is at once too strange and too mundane.

A job is not an operation; it is an errand, a sleight of hand conducted in the shadowed crevice of a greater business scheme. It is not unusual for your father to send his men out on these jobs. But in all the years Felix has been in his employ, he has never been sent out. His only occupation is to serve as your bodyguard, and he has proven time and again how he is irreplaceable in that position.

You do not know what makes this job different. You glean only a little information from the chatter of the crew, just enough that you know it is a stealth acquisition and a rare, unprovoked move against Miroh. Your father is known for his defensive tactics, seldom manoeuvring in offense, so you suppose the inclusion of his best solider on a risky venture makes sense. Felix is likely your father’s only guarantee.

But you cannot shake there is something else. Felix is more than just a soldier and Miroh is more than just a businessman. You know their past is tangled together.

You do not get a chance to ask. The next time you see Felix is through a window. You are in the upstairs corridor, staring down at the driveway as he climbs into a van with a few other agents. Then the van pulls away and it is just you in that house with your temporary replacement bodyguard team.

Even your father leaves, though you doubt he will be involved in the physical mission itself. You overhear him telling your security that he anticipates returning in a week. You count down the hours until then.

By the second day, you are sick with worry. Sitting around with your unanswered questions makes the time drag. Hours pass in dissociation, unmoving and anxious. You decide that waiting will only worsen your state. Although you are not keen to wander around town with your security entourage in tow, you cannot sit here either.

The team is made of three men including Domino. They are all as subtle as a scream with their bulk and demeanour, and every bit like all the others.

Though they will undoubtedly report even the most mundane actions, they acquiesce and take you into town. The campus café is one of your father’s approved locations.

You are not sure if you want to run into your friends. The distraction would be a welcome one, not to mention the balm that is a smile from a friendly face, but you also have no idea how you will explain the obvious security. You are exhausted with lies. You are not sure you could spin a convincing story even if you wanted, and you do not.

The café is always quiet before lunch. There are a few students scattered around so even though you feel ridiculous, no one pays you much attention.

One guard waits outside the door, one inside by a window, and Domino stays by your side as you order your drink and take a seat.

You forgot just how invasive and uncomfortable this dynamic was. If you were not so drained, you would be snapping at them just to relieve the tension drawn tight in your chest. Instead, you endure. Every breath feels more strained than the last. You cannot focus on your work any better here. The words on your screen are just meaningless letters and shapes.

You stare at your hands, at their faint, vibrating tremble.

Then you hear your name. The guards have been addressing you as girl, sometimes subject or the daughter when speaking to each other. The gentler murmur of your name momentarily stills the shaking of your fingers, steady as a hand grasping yours. You lift your head and see Jeongin, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder, his dark hair a shaggy mess, and his concerned eyes flitting between you and Domino.

“Hey,” Jeongin says with that dimpled smile. “What’s up?”

“Who is this?” Domino asks. Before you can answer, he turns to Jeongin and says, “Stand back. You do not have permission to stand here.”

“Oh my god,” you say, slapping a palm to your forehead.

You are flooded with childhood memories, idiots like this intimidating everyone who tried to speak to you for longer than a minute. Whether they took the form of a guardian or masqueraded as a janitor or something else, they always made everyone sufficiently uncomfortable. Even Jisung was often disturbed by them, though he drew the wrong conclusions about their identity. He was good with weird.

Jeongin must be made of a similar mettle. He gives your guard a pinched look, lip curled like he smells something bad, but he does not move. He looks at you with a tip of the head, concern once more creasing his features.

“Do you need help?” he asks.

The poor guy must be so confused. You look like you are being held hostage in a coffee shop by a stupidly inconspicuous thug.

All you can do is sigh and shake your head. “I’m fine, Jeongin,” you say, a very unconvincing lie. “I’ll catch you around, yeah?”

“Move along,” Domino says.

Jeongin looks at him. His glance flicks up and down. Then he says, “Your fly is down.”

Domino stares at him, unblinking, as if he can vaporize Jeongin with just a glare. Jeongin stares back.

“Really, Jeongin,” you say. A genuine breath of a laugh leaves your lips. Jeongin could not even throw a punch without smacking a chair, but he is willing to stick up for you. And his annoyance tactic is the funniest defense you can imagine.

Jeongin finally leaves, but with a glance over his shoulder. You fight the urge to throw something at the guards who watch him go.

“Who was that?” Domino asks.

“I don’t know his name,” you say. “He was just a classmate a long time ago.”

You hope that is enough to make him forgettable.

You act casual, taking a sip of your coffee. Then Domino looks down into his lap, quickly checking his fly. Your snorting laughter sprays coffee everywhere.

Fortunately, this does not impact the report. You are allowed to return to the same coffee shop the next day. This time both Seungmin and Jeongin are there, books open but blathering in distracted conversation. Another young guy is sitting with them, maybe a classmate, though he has no books with him. He is sprawled in a chair, holding a coffee and grinning at whatever the boys are saying.

He notices you first, probably because you are staring. He tips his head as he looks at you, black bangs falling across his forehead. He is noticeably stocky and broad, but he smiles behind the brim of his coffee cup and it is incredibly disarming.

He is handsome but the overt flirtation brings only pain. It makes you think of Felix. You barely slept last night, tossing and turning with anxiety. Your stress only worsened when you woke in an empty bed.

You are so fraught with anxiety, your whole body feels taut like a thread about to snap.

Something is going to happen, or maybe it already has. It is bad. You know it intuitively, the way you know which hand will strike when your father is in a mood, the way you know a black car on a quiet street is an enemy, the way you have always known this life is a death sentence, a slow execution by the brutality of weathering.

You look away from the stranger’s smile. Then Jeongin sees you and his laughter fades, concern and curiosity drawing his brows together. He nudges Seungmin who looks too, tipping his head with a questioning look.

You just shrug and take a seat at a different table. There is nothing else to do.

Domino sits with you, as bored with his duty as ever. You believe your whole team is annoyed with their job. Your father would not leave weak soldiers in charge of you, but he also had to take his very best with him. These men are probably too competent for menial work and are likely offended by their assignment. They are the worst of the best.

Which is how you steal a moment to talk to Seungmin. One guard outside, one at the window, and Domino at your table. He lets you leave to get some sugar for your coffee, watching with glazed-over indifference as you fuss at the counter.

Seungmin joins you, pretending he is also grabbing sugar.

“You’re keeping some weird company,” he says in a low voice. “Are you in some kind of trouble? Do you need help?”

You swallow an unexpected lump in your throat. Your friendship with Seungmin and Jeongin was only ever casual, so it is quite touching that the two civilians are so willing to defend you, even when standing at an obvious disadvantage against your thugs.

Your prepared lie gets tangled in that lump. You swallow it down. For a moment, your mouth is open with nothing to say. You both stir your coffee slowly. Eventually you take a breath.

“It’s complicated,” you say. “It’s just to do with my dad. Thank you, though.”

There is a beat of silence before he says, “We’re friends, okay? Just let us know if we can help.”

You have been trapped in solitude for days now. Seungmin provides the comforting reminder that your world is not all bad. Though he cannot do much to help, the sentiment in his simple offer is enough to temper the worst of your anxiety, at least for the time being.

“Thank you,” you say. “Really.” You spare a glance at Domino who is watching you intensely, just waiting for you to slip up and do something that warrants a reprimand or report. “I better get back,” you say. “Say hi to Jeongin, and say sorry from me for yesterday. You guys have fun with your friend.”

“Oh, we don’t know that guy. He just sat with us out of nowhere,” Seungmin says, laughing. “He says his name is Changbin. But he paid for our coffee so he can sit wherever he likes, haha.”

You smile at his playfulness. He smiles too, then he walks back to his table. Your eyes follow him and settle on the stranger – Changbin.

You want to keep smiling, want to imagine the stranger is just an awkward university kid making friends in a weird way. But Changbin is looking at you again, with the same intensity as Domino. Your eyes skirt his shoulders and biceps and his too-charming smile.

You want to chalk it up to paranoia, exacerbated by the extra stress of the last few days. But something is off about this stranger appearing here, suddenly, at a place you are known to frequent, the week your father is moving against Miroh, when Felix is gone and you are vulnerable. He is sitting with your friends, like he knows they are your friends, like he can trick you into trusting him by their proximity.

He is not like your father’s guards who are blatantly out of place. Changbin is so visible that he is invisible. Just a friendly college boy.

Just like Felix.

You are being ridiculous, you tell yourself. You cannot walk around assuming everyone is an enemy. But you cannot shake the feeling of wrongness, the awful premonition that something is going to happen.

You try to ignore Changbin as you drink your coffee but you are unsuccessful. Your hackles are raised and will not come down, made worse by the indifference of everyone around you. Domino is none the wiser. The other guards have not left their posts. Your friends are laughing with him like he is just some guy.

You ask yourself what Felix would do. You imagine he would not cause a scene or confront Changbin. He would quietly take your arm and usher you to safety, only fighting in retaliation if necessary. Part of his job has always been discretion, but he has never relished in violence anyway. It is always a last resort.

Your instincts have often propelled you into heated action until you freeze, always one extreme or the other. Now, you calm yourself and steady your shaking hands. You comfort yourself the way Felix would. You tell Domino you want to go home. He makes some agitated remark about you needing to make up your mind, that you only just arrived, but you do not rise to his bait. You close your laptop and pack your bag.

It takes one second. Changbin is sitting with your friends, then you look down. When you lift your head, he is gone. The boys think nothing of it. Your guards don’t notice. You want to scream but you know it won’t make a difference. These men won’t listen to you.

You leave with your guards. The large campus is practically a city unto itself, separated from the mainland by a stretch of woods. It is a scenic drive with a deer park in its centre, but all you see is rain ripping through branches and the shadows between each slash of grey daylight.

You are almost relieved when something thumps heavily onto the roof. But the relief that you were right is short-lived when all hell breaks loose.

You close your eyes, arms wrapped around yourself in the back seat. Glass shatters and the car skids to a rough stop, flying off the road and onto the forest terrain.

You open your eyes to the windshield in pieces, the driver frozen with his head thrown back. Domino and the other guard are out of their seats in seconds, making the same mistake as Miroh’s men all that time ago. You know how this fight will end.

You look through the broken windshield. Changbin flies into view and knocks Domino onto his knees. It takes one roundhouse kick for him to fall over, unconscious. The other guard tries to take a shot but Changbin disarms him with a couple sharp moves. You close your eyes when Changbin shoots.

He fights with the same fluidity as Felix. For a moment, you are back there, eighteen years old and frightened and relieved all at once. Except when the back door opens this time, you are not quick to rush out. It is not Felix waiting for you.

Changbin clears his throat and you slowly look over. He is wearing jeans and a leather jacket and does not look ruffled in the slightest. Dark hair falls over his forehead as he tips his head. He smiles, handsome and charming. As unassuming as Felix when his eyes crinkle up with delight and he laughs like he has never known pain. Like he was not raised for the purpose of violence, property of Miroh, of your father, of whoever else, acting as their hand because they won’t get their own fingers dirty.

Changbin gestures to you, curling his fingers, a mute come here.

“Hurry up,” he says. “Time to go.”

You imagine escaping out the other door, trying to make a run for it through the forest. You know you will not get far.

“Are you one of them?” you ask, impulsively. “Miroh’s?”

You already know the answer.

Changbin blinks at you, then laughs.

“It depends,” he says, then tuts like he thinks you are preciously naïve. “I personally think I’m one of a kind. But I guess we’ll find out. Now get out of the car.”

With little choice in the matter, you obey. Your legs wobble when you stand so you instinctively take the hand he offers.

You have not yet steadied yourself when he yanks you into his arms. Though Felix undoubtedly holds strength in his lithe form, he is more dexterous and athletic than outright powerful. He knows how to use his body to its best advantage. But Changbin is strong and he does not hide it, the bulge of his biceps crushing you in the hard, ungiving circle of his arms. Leather and muscle cage you in tightly, so unyielding that you cannot even squirm. Your heels dig at the ground as he hauls you away from the car. A belated scream claws its way up your throat but gets strangled in his chokehold.

Then you feel ice, so cold it burns. Your racing heart propels each freezing shard through your bloodstream.

You realize he stabbed you with a needle. It is a flickering thought, only momentarily realized, then you are plunged beneath the surface of that ice, drowned in black waters, and you think no more.

You are plunged into an oblivion so deep and so fast that you wake thinking no time passed at all.

You hear before you see. The patter of rain overhead is not unlike its tapping against the roof of the car. Groggy, you think you are still there, your arms wrapped around yourself while waiting for the worst.

Then your sense of smell creeps in, overwhelming you with damp and something metallic. A cool breeze pebbles your skin as it washes over you. It coaxes you out of your bleariness.

You blink awake, the blurry world taking gradual shape around you. It is not the world you left behind, no sign of a car or campus or coffee shop. It looks like an old warehouse or maybe a factory, but the room has been stripped to its bare bone essentials. The exposed pipes and rotting damp of the high walls account for the smell.

The breeze blows from your left where a garage door is open. You squint towards the grey light of the rainy day. You do not know how long you have been unconscious. It looks like early afternoon but your body tells you that you have been asleep for longer than a few minutes.

You try to gather your bearings. You see a harbour in the distance, past the pavement and the fence and what must be a drop to water below. Your university is not near any body of water. So you must have been unconscious long enough to transport this far. A few hours at least, but given the light maybe it has been a full day.

That is all you can deduce. You do not recognize the warehouse or the harbour.

You do recognize the man in front of you, though it takes a second. Changbin is no longer dressed like a civilian, wearing a black combat uniform and boots. His shirt covers his arms but fits like a second skin, his bulk emphasized. He is squatting on the ground a few feet from you. He holds a black mask in his hand, one that covers the lower half of his face when he swings it up. He lifts and lowers it a few times, absent-mindedly it seems. Then he realizes you are stirring and fastens it in place.

Your head is pounding. Your petulant side wants to bark a complaint, but even you know taunting this man would be beyond stupid. Changbin is not just any soldier. Miroh did not send one of his regular men. He clearly learned his lesson last time. Even without asking, you know Changbin is like Felix. He did not merely train as a soldier; he was born and moulded into it.

And, unlike Felix, he has had no reprieve from Miroh.

You come into your body, stretching your fingers. Your hands are cuffed behind your back and locked to your chair. One ankle is cuffed to the chair leg. Metal jingles as you move, testing your bonds.

You stop when Changbin approaches, your heart thumping as hot adrenaline melts the ice in your blood.

“Good morning,” Changbin says. “How did you sleep?”

Your body is still slow to respond, but you manage a decent glare. It makes him laugh.

“They told me you were funny,” he says. “That you make your father’s men look like a joke – not hard, to be fair.” He tips his head, looking at you like he is waiting. All you do is stare. “Come on,” he whines. “Say something funny.”

Your stomach turns over itself, not because Changbin is taunting you… but because you think he isn’t taunting you. He does not speak with the sarcastic intonation of your father’s men, dryly mocking your helplessness in his presence. His eyes are big and resolutely focussed, seeming to genuinely anticipate your retort. He is almost child-like with his attention.

This impression only solidifies when he sighs, morose, and crouches again.

“Do you want something?” he asks.

“Let me go?” you say.

It comes out rough but it makes him laugh behind the mask, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Aha, you are funny,” he says and slaps his knee. “Anything but that. But don’t worry your head.” You flinch from his touch, but all he does is pat your head like he is reassuring a frightened puppy. “This isn’t about you,” he says. “Well, not yet. Maybe later. First… Your father took something from us. And he won’t give it back.”

Changbin removes the mask so he can smile, one of those disarming smiles that is so at odds with the rest of him. Felix might switch demeanours depending on the circumstance, but Changbin flickers between faces from one breath to the next.

“We just need it back,” Changbin says. “Then, maybe, we’ll even the score. Maybe. Don’t worry about that yet. For now, you just need to sit. Are you thirsty?”

The distinct reverberation of gunfire comes from the front of the building. You shriek and duck your head, like that will do anything to protect you, gasping as you listen to bullets ricochet off the walls in some distant room.

When everything goes quiet, you lift your head. Your chest is heaving with each deep breath, your adrenaline bleeding out your pores so even the air around you feels like it is humming. You stare at Changbin who has not moved a muscle, still squatting and staring.

“I think we have lemonade,” he says. “You want that?”

You do not even know what to say. His sincere but stunted peculiarity reminds you so much of a teenage Felix even though Changbin looks older than both of you.

There is more gunfire. You duck your head and slam your eyes shut. Changbin does not move until it stops, his mouth open with another comment, but he silences himself when the far door opens. Then he is swift, on his feet with his mask secured. He stands at your side as he silently watches the approach of a small group of men.

You are still reeling from panic, so it takes you a second to realize what is happening.

“Felix!” the cry leaves your lips.

Five of Miroh’s men surround him, suited guards in various states of dishevelment, like they have been fighting for much longer than a few minutes. Felix is bound with his hands behind his back, a yellow bruise already forming on his chin. His own dark uniform is singed with bullet holes. His hair looks like it was slicked back, but he has sweat through some of the product, tendrils of blonde falling into his face.

Despite his state, his attention is all on you. Eyes assessing, scanning you from head to toe.

When you meet his gaze, the whole world falls away. These men, this place, none of it exists for a breath of a moment. Felix is here and that means you will survive. Everything will be fine. You have always kept each other alive. This time will be no different. You can see it in his eyes, in that oh-so subtle twinge of a smile. You can hear him without him moving his lips.

Hello, sweetheart. You’re safe.

They put him on his knees. His gaze flits to either side. You can see him calculating. Oh, he is here on purpose. He let himself be caught, you are certain, so he could find you and rescue you and—

“Target acquired,” a man says.

It takes you a moment to realize he is talking about Felix.

You look at the man then at Changbin, considering his earlier words.

Something your father took. Something they want back.

It hits you all at once. You have not been kidnapped as leverage against your father. You have been taken as bait for Felix. They don’t want you, they want him. An irreplaceable soldier your father stole from Miroh a decade ago, that he has paraded in front of him for years at galas and parties. Using him as a bodyguard for his wayward daughter and not as a soldier, not until now. Biding his time before using Felix against the house that made him.

You can see your father’s stupid machinations clicking into place. He is a perpetual child throwing a tantrum. His movements are sloppy and immature. He steals from his enemy, a weapon he does not know how to use, thinking it will keep him safe, letting it make him cocky. And now he is sitting somewhere as it all blows up in his face.

Or it would. In an ironic twist of fate, you are saving your father.

Because as far as Miroh knows, Felix is here as your bodyguard, acting on your father’s orders to retrieve you. All Miroh has to do is pluck him from the fray. And as a bonus, he has you in captivity for future leverage.

It would have been a good plan. It would have worked if Felix was an emotionless machine. If would have worked if Felix was here because of a command.

But Felix loves you.

He is here to save you.

In a quick move, Felix sweeps two men off their feet. He rolls on his back and propels himself to his feet, hands bound under him, leading with his core. He slams his head into an oncoming guard and the man stumbles back. Three out of five on the ground. Then suddenly one hand is free of the cuffs – he must have been picking at it the whole time - and he swings the dangling metal in another’s eye.

You flinch away from the violence, even while rooting for Felix. A few more thuds and you know all five men are incapacitated. You open your eyes and lift your head, watching Felix drop the handcuffs on the floor. He absently rubs his wrist, his gaze drifting from you to Changbin. His fingers freeze, his eyes narrowing as he perceives the stoic soldier at your side.

Felix stares, like he if he looks hard enough, he will see through the mask.

“You’re new,” Felix finally says.

Changbin rolls his eyes.

Changbin reels back and hurls a knife in a swift arc, right at Felix’s face. Felix is just as fast and catches the handle. He returns the throw. The knife clatters on the ground as Changbin surges forward.

These two are evenly matched. Watching them fight is terrifying and unpredictable. They dance around each other, delivering equal blows and blocking similar shots. In the end, Felix wins in one move miscalculated by his opponent. With an opening granted, Felix takes Changbin down. One, two, three hits to the head. Changbin stumbles backward, his mask falling. He is disoriented when he looks Felix, but Felix sees him with complete clarity.

You learned to read Felix a long time ago. You know all his expressions by heart, the crease of each smile memorized, the track of each tear committed to heart.

You have never seen this face, this mix of horror and bewilderment as a barely conscious Changbin slams onto the ground. Then it is Felix who missteps, tripping over his own feet as he reaches for the opponent he just threw down.

“Changbin,” he says. “You’re alive, I—”

Changbin swings at him but is too dizzy to land a hit. Felix catches the punch. He should throw one back, finish him off, but he hesitates. His brow furrows. He grabs Changbin by the neck of his shirt and yanks him close.

“Chris,” he says. “Chan. Chris. Where is he?”

Changbin laughs. It turns to choking when a dribble of blood gurgles past his mouth. He spits it at Felix then heaves a rough breath.

“Oh, fuck you, Yongbok,” he says. “’You’re new’ – didn’t even recognize me—”

“It—it’s been so long—and I thought you—”

“Yah, not all of us got to attend pretty parties these last years like you—”

“Stop it, you don’t know anything about what I’ve been doing—”

“Chris he says. First thing he says.” Changbin squirms but does not have the strength to rip away, especially with Felix gripping him so hard. He heaves another aggravated groan. “You know Chris died because of you. He’s been gone for years.”

“No,” Felix says, his voice pinched. His eyes rapidly water, his knuckles white from his death-grip.

Changbin shakes his head but slips further. Felix once more catches him when he should be ending him, sniffling hard as he gets on his knees.

“He’s not dead,” Felix says. “He can’t be dead—”

“Why don’t you ask your boss?”

As if on cue, your father’s men burst into the room. Felix looks at them in surprise even though he must have coordinated their arrival.

Changbin laughs. “I hope it was worth it, Yongbok,” he says. He uses one last burst of energy to throw himself forward, propelled away from Felix. He rolls across the ground then stumbles to his feet, running past the open garage door, into the rain, and disappearing around the corner.

Felix is too stunned to chase him. You look at Felix, on his knees and holding nothing, palms up like he expects something to appear in them. He closes his fists as your father’s men approach.

Then he slides his figurative mask in place, assuming his usual role. He kicks the literal mask discarded by Changbin, then finally looks at you.

“Get the car,” Felix says to the men. “And check the grounds for anything useful.”

The men disperse and Felix approaches you. He kneels at your side and picks at the lock of your handcuffs. You are crying before you can stop yourself, overwhelmed with everything that just transpired.

“Shh, sweetheart,” Felix whispers, looking at you with pain of his own. “It will be okay. Just a little longer.”

The handcuffs drop. He squeezes your hand in his.

“Just a little longer.”

You are several cities over, hours away from home and even further from the job your father was conducting against Miroh. Miroh was clearly trying to divert his enemy. He tried to steal Felix back while doing so.

Neither he or your father accounted for you, for Felix, for all the love between you.

You are in a small hotel room away from prying eyes and military men. You are scrubbing yourself clean in the bath and he sits on the rim of the tub, wiping your back with a cloth.

You checked in two hours ago. You spent most of that time blubbering incoherently, catching your breath even hours after freedom. You have not had a real conversation yet. Felix has been quiet, his eyes intermittently far away or so intensely focussed on you that it makes you hiccup with more tears.

You hiss when he presses his thumb to the mark on your neck, the little bite from the needle so carelessly plunged into your vein.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, smoothing with a gentle circle.

“This has been the worst week of my life,” you say. “And that’s saying something. Oh my god, and it’s only Wednesday.”

Felix laughs in spite of himself, though it is more of a breath than a sound. He drops the cloth in the water and you shiver as he caresses the bare skin of your back.

“I love you,” he says, like it is something he has always said, like it is easy to say. Like he could say it again and again.

The room feels so quiet. His voice is soft but it sounds like a shout, echoing back in this intimate space. Your breath catches. You go very still.

Then he says your name in a breathless murmur that is exhaled with more adoration than the word love itself.

“No games,” he says. “No jokes. No hidden meanings or secrets.”

“Felix,” you say. It is all you manage.

“I know,” he says weakly. “I know, sweetheart. You don’t have to say anything, I just…”

His hair is wet from a quick shower, combed back neatly, more composed than the rest of him. You look up as he runs his wet fingers through it. The bruise on his jaw is darkening, a burned gold that looks incredibly painful. He shed his outer layers, is wearing a black t-shirt and black pants. He has a silver army tag, or something like it, marked with your father’s name and not his own. It’s new. Something the field agents wear. Good as a collar.

You reach out and take hold, ripping it off his neck. He looks at it dangling from your fist, as surprised as you that it broke so fast.

Maybe it really is it that easy.

His hurt jaw wobbles. He touches the bruise and looks down, away from you, head bowed as if in supplication. Worshipful. Penitent.

“I’m sorry,” he says, lighter than a whisper. “I will tell you everything. I just want to be a person for you a little longer.”

“Felix,” you say, dropping the tag on the floor. You kneel in the bath and reach for him with your wet hands. He does not lift his head when a silent sob wracks his body. His shoulders shake when you touch him. “You have always been a person to me.”

“I know,” he says, voice breaking. “I know, sweetheart. I owe you so much—”

“You don’t owe me anything—”

“I owe you everything.”

He looks at you then, his dark eyes wet with tears, his expression serious. He breathes a shaky exhale then leans away, grabbing a towel.

“Come here,” he says, and stands.

Moments later, you are standing on the floor, wrapped in the towel in his arms. He bundles you tightly and you rest your head on his shoulder, safe and secure with his strong hold around you.

“I love you,” he says, his wet cheek pressed to yours. “Even if you hate me, even if you don’t, even if you can never say it back, I love you and all the life you have in you.”

“I’m a mess,” you say, trying to laugh, but it comes out weak.

“You’re alive. I don’t think anyone understands better than you, what it means to have a life,” he says. “The way your life fills you, the way you hold onto it no matter how many times someone tried to take it away.”

You are hiding your face in his neck, embarrassed and amorous and teary all at once. Then he lifts you up and turns around, perching you on the counter. You wriggle your arms free, tucking the towel beneath them. You steady your breathing as he picks up a cloth to wipe the smudged vestiges of make-up off your cheek.

“I remember the first time I saw you,” he says. “I’ve always been so scared. I hide it, yeah? But it’s there. Miroh, your father, everything about them… It was like living in a nightmare. They were bigger than life. They controlled dangerous people. I couldn’t imagine anyone standing up to them.” He smiles now, his thumb smoothing over your cheek. “Then you burst into the room and started a fight with one of them. I was shocked. I thought, is this girl crazy? What have I gotten into?”

“That girl was crazy,” you say, laughing.

He laughs too, but shakes his head. “She was the only sane one,” he says. “God. You had more passion in your little finger than I had ever felt in my whole body my whole life. And I thought… I will never feel that much emotion. I knew it was too late for me. I wasn’t living for myself and I was fine with that. I couldn’t be saved.” His eyes are teary again. He takes your hand and looks down at it. “You took my hand. Even in your anger, even in your everything, you saw something… You touched me once and it was like life rushed into me. And I hated myself everyday after that because I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t what you needed. I could take your beatings but I couldn’t save you because I was a scared coward and you were stuck with me—”

“Shh, stop that,” you say. You run your fingers through his hair, smoothing the pieces he rucked up.

He wipes his cheeks. He plants his hands on the counter, on either side of you. His eyes are closed when he takes a deep breath.

“Miroh couldn’t kill your grandfather,” Felix says. “He tried and he failed. Your grandfather was willing to sacrifice everything for himself. Your mother died in his place. You and me were on opposite sides of the world, both just babies. You never knew your mother. I never knew my parents. Miroh decided he needed a new generation of soldiers. There were a few of us, all over the world. When we were old enough to speak and run and fight, he recruited the best. I was one of the best. So was Changbin.”

“And Chris,” you say, remembering the exchange in the warehouse.

Felix’s face scrunches in pain. He nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “We travelled together. We trained together. We were like brothers.”

“What happened?” you ask. You lay a hand on his chest and he takes it, holding it there.

“I was stupid,” Felix says with a self-deprecating laugh. “I believed Miroh. I thought… there are bad guys out there, simple as that. If we get rid of them, then we won’t have to be scared anymore, yeah? They wouldn’t have to hurt us if we just got rid of the bad guy. But it wasn’t that easy. I killed your grandfather and it didn’t end anything. Chris was right. Because he always knew. He said it wasn’t right, what Miroh was doing. Chris could have been the best if he could let go of who he was, and just be what he was supposed to be… but he didn’t. I… I felt like I… I couldn’t afford to be that way… If I wasn’t the best, I was nothing. If I couldn’t kill, I was going to be killed. And by the time I realized he was right, it was too late.”

He finally meets your gaze, squeezing your hand in his.

“I almost died on a job and Chris saved my life. He wasn’t supposed to. In Miroh’s order, if something happens to a soldier, you leave them behind. You don’t waste resources on the weak. Chris disobeyed orders and all his training to save me. I told him I wouldn’t have done the same and he said I know, that’s not why I’m doing it. It’s just the right thing, Felix. I thought, how can someone like this even exist, after everything he’s seen and done, how does he still try to find the good? I didn’t know if he was stupid or smart. Then a commander found out what he did and they took him out of our order for re-training. I still saw him but we couldn’t talk. He had so much potential and the organization didn’t want to throw it away. They tried to break him. It wasn’t working. It broke me instead. I realized I had to get us out or die trying.”

He looks at you and says, “You get it, don’t you? The way Jisung saved you. The way he was your friend. The way he was just there. That was Chris for me, yeah?” His voice is rife with desperation, like he needs you to understand this more than anything else.

“Yeah,” you say softly, feeling that very heartache all over again. “I do. I get it, Felix.”

“Then you know,” he says, voice breaking, “how I felt when I let him down. I let everyone down. I fucked up a job, trying to undermine Miroh. I thought I could outsmart him but I didn’t. It just opened a door for your father to get in. There was a stupid skirmish over a politician in Miroh’s pocket. Your dad was trying to buy him out and it ended in a fight. Three of our best men dead. Including Changbin, I thought. Just someone else I let down. I was taken alive. I knew if I went back to Miroh, I was dead. If I ran off on my own, Chris would never escape, and they would break him eventually, or kill him trying. I couldn’t go. I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t take Miroh on my own. So I made a deal with your father.”

And what I get is a life worth more than mine.

You remember those words. Felix once spoke them in an emotional moment, lost to his memories. You never knew what he meant. You realize now he meant Chris, the friend he left behind, the friend he sold himself to save.

“You gave up your life to my father,” you say, “and in return—”

“He would rescue Chris,” Felix says. “It was a win for us both, yeah. Take out Miroh, steal his assets. My friend gets his freedom. Your father gets a soldier. I was willing to give up my life. I figured I never had one. I wouldn’t miss it. All I knew was how to be a soldier. I didn’t even know how to want something else. But then you… You.”

“Felix,” you say, overwhelmed with his confession and the depth of his feeling.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I let you down.”

“What? How?” You touch his face, cupping his chin in both hands. “What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t save you,” he says, voice rasping and light again, speaking above a sob. “At first because I couldn’t leave, not until we rescued Chris. And there was never an opportunity. I waited years. Years. And by then I had to keep waiting, because I couldn’t have wasted all that time for nothing. I had to save him. I had to save someone. Or else I failed everyone. It had to mean something. I couldn’t—”

“Felix,” you say. “It was an impossible situation. We were kids for half of it. I don’t blame you for anything.”

“I do,” he says, barely more than a breath, a faint whisper against your skin. “I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t do enough.”

“We have no way of knowing what else could have happened,” you say. “We did our best. And now—”

You cut yourself off. And now? What happens next? You heard their conversation in that warehouse. You know why Felix looked so torn apart.

“Chris,” you say. “Is he…?” Dead. “Was Changbin telling the truth?”

“I don’t know,” Felix says.

Dead. For years. Because of Felix. Because of your father.

It does not take much to piece together the implications. Your father is a cowardly, underhanded schemer. He poisons teenagers and beats his daughter and hides in his mansion except when he’s lashing out for attention. He put Felix under contract, but the only guarantee of servitude was his honour and one stipulation. Honour would mean little to your father. But a person, that he could leverage. That he could calculate and control. So long as he could dangle Chris over Felix’s head, then Felix would be bound to him.

And the best way to guarantee he would never have to fulfill his end of the bargain, the best way to guarantee Chris would never escape, would be to kill Chris himself and never tell Felix.

You see it written all over Felix’s face, the horror of this very plausible idea. That in his effort to save Chris, he actually got him killed.

There is a long moment of quiet. It is a very empty silence. There is no way to confirm if Chris is truly dead, and so Felix cannot truly mourn him. There is also no way to prove he is alive, so he cannot take any action.

You hold his hand. It is all you can do right now. You look at where your palms touch, where your fingers lace. The caress of his skin against yours never fails to touch your heart. Even this simple touch warms you. It affects him too, because he exhales and leans in, resting his forehead against yours.

You want to comfort him but your shiver betrays you. The heat from the bath is diffusing and you are in nothing but a towel. Felix laughs and shakes his head, withdrawing.

“Sorry,” he says. “Let’s, uhh, get you dressed first.”

“Or at least under some covers.”

“Someone could come knocking,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say with a jut of your chin. “And?”

He stares back at you. This silence is not so empty, a heady and contemplative regard as he glances at your lips then the rest of you. Then he sweeps you into his arms and carries you into the room.

You kiss his cheek, just above his bruise. You are not sure if he winces from the pain or the affection.

The moment your head touches a pillow, you feel your eyelids drooping. Exhaustion hits you instantaneously. You groan and snuggle under the covers, quite convinced this plain hotel bed is the comfiest bed in the world.

Felix hovers at the bedside, folding your towel. You look back at him with sleepy eyes. It is early evening but he must be as tired as you, from the physical exertion if not the emotional one.

“Aren’t you sleepy, baby?” you ask.

He drops the towel and has to fold it again. It is messier the second time, then slides off the dresser into a lump on the floor. He ignores it, approaching the bed. You pull back the cover in offering.

You think he strips down to his boxers, but you are fast asleep before he even unzips. You stir a little when he climbs in the bed, but his presence is so comforting that it sends you right back to sleep. It is the most restful sleep you have had in a while. But, predictably, falling asleep in the early evening means you wake up in the dead of the night, bright-eyed.

The room is dark. The clock reads 2:17 AM, blinking in red, the only light in the room other than a blue wash of moonlight pouring through the translucent curtains.

Felix is curled up behind you, an arm under his head and the other over your hip. When you wake, he follows but slowly, shifting and grumbling. He does not usually sleep so deeply. It is a testament to the day.

You sidle up to him, your back to his front. He is in his boxers and nothing else, bare skin against yours as he hauls you up against him. You lay your hand over his, resting it on your stomach then on your breast. It is not especially flirtatious, merely intimate. He touches you and you sigh contently, too awake to lose yourself but enjoying the comfort nonetheless.

He exhales. It sounds a little ragged. You look over your shoulder, at his dishevelled bed hair and dark freckles, the bow mouth you so missed, the tenderness in those dark eyes when he gazes back at you.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Hmm? For what?” You roll onto your back to look at him better.

He scrubs a hand down his face then pushes back some unruly hair. “I think, um.” He looks up at nothing. “A part of me always thought a day would come when you would hate me for real. I’m, uhh, a little… I guess I just… was more prepared to be hated than, um, cared about, after everything.”

You lean over him, propping yourself on one arm. He meets your serious gaze, licking his lips under the intensity of your stare.

“Do you see me that way?” you ask. “That I would be that unforgiving and fickle?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Of course not. It’s not how I see you, it’s… myself.”

“Well, I don’t want you to see yourself that way either,” you say. “It offends me.” You say this was a dramatic air, making a point of shoving your nose in the air.

It makes him laugh, a real smile pulling at his lips. You swear it brightens the room.

“Does it?” he says. “I’m very sorry. I’ll have to make it up to you.” He reaches for your face, strokes his knuckles over your cheek, but you pull away.

“That won’t be necessary,” you say, in the same playful tone as him.

“Oh?” he asks, chasing, stroking your other cheek.

“Yes,” you say. You catch his hand and lower it. When you speak again, it is sincerely, without any joke or artifice or double-entendre. “I don’t just care about you, Felix,” you say. “I love you. And you don’t need to thank me or pay me back. You just need to believe it.”

He blinks up at you, surprise written all over his face. You feel flushed with heat even though the admission is obvious. Saying it out loud, truly and honestly, makes your heart flutter anyway. Love and want tangle together in a knot inside you, making you feel soft and desirous at once.

His lips part with a breath as he stares at you. You chase those lips, leaning down and sealing his mouth in a kiss. It takes only a second for him to kiss you back, cupping your cheek and parting your lips with a swipe of his tongue. His bruise must not hurt too badly, or maybe he is just ignoring the pain, but you are careful with your light kisses despite his attempt at more.

You always happily concede to his more dominant guidance. This time it is a little different. You are telling him something with your kisses and you want him to hear it, without any games or distractions. So you take both his wrists and push his hands into the bed, at the same time swinging on top of him. He looks surprised a second time, looking at where you press his hands into the sheets.

He could easily buck you off, but he lets you kiss him like that. You kiss his cheek and under his jaw, avoiding the bruise, then down his neck. His hips lift under yours, rolling against you to get hard. You are already wet and naked, making him moan, a low, dark sound as you grind your softest parts against the hardening line in his boxers.

It makes you want to skip right to it, but you are determined. You kiss down his chest and he laughs when your tongue swipes his nipple, evidently a little ticklish. You smile and keep going, until your lips hover above the hard bulge in his boxers. You kiss him through the material then tug it down. He shuffles quickly, ripping them off and tossing them aside. Then his hand is on the back of your neck as you take him in your mouth.

The hotel room affords some privacy. He makes a little more noise than usual. Or maybe he truly does not care anymore.

Yes, you think, loving at him with your mouth and hands, let yourself go.

He must be getting close because he squeezes the back of your neck and lets out a groan. “Slow down,” he says. “Please. It just—”

“Feels good?” you ask, a little cheekily, but he answers earnestly, with a nod and shaky exhale. “Mmm, okay,” you say. “Tell me what you want.”

This gives him momentary pause. Then he grips your neck more possessively and guides you up.

You follow his direction, lifting your head until your pretty raw lips are hovering just inches from his.

“Get back on top me,” he says. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“Oh. Well.” He has said far dirtier things in the past, but usually in the context of your role-play, where you are the worst versions of yourselves, the real you just laughing under it. It is a little different for the real him to so blatantly state his desire.

It leaves you just as weak in the knees. It is a miracle you manage to swing a leg over him, but you get there. He helps line you up, then he holds your hips and slides you right down until he is fully inside you. It is a lot all at once, especially after time apart. You did not have many opportunities for sex before that either. But you are so wet, despite the sharp burn, it is a smooth fit, and you adjust quickly, mostly because he wastes no time rolling his hips up into you.

“Oh,” you say, hands on his shoulders and mouth falling open.

“That’s it,” he says, taking complete control even though you are on top, holding your hips, guiding you to match his rhythm. “Could – uh, yeah – could have you on your knees, begging for it, without doing anything. So easy for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you say, gasping. “Just for you.”

“Just for me,” he says. He pushes himself upright, wrapping an arm around you and pushing your face into his shoulder. He holds you there, fingers stroking the nape of your neck as he fucks you, drawing all those soft, whimpering sounds of you. “That’s it,” he says. “That’s my girl. Just for me. Hold onto me. I’m gonna come. Spread your legs, your pussy can take it. Good girl. Just like that.”

You are wrapped tightly around him, clinging to him as he comes as promised, deep and hard inside you while you tremble and sigh in his arms. Then he lifts your head to kiss you, a quick peck before he presses your foreheads together to just breathe.

“Can you…” Your voice comes softly. “Can you maybe stay inside me, just another minute.”

“Fucking… fuck,” he says, making you laugh. He smiles too. “Yes. I can do that.”

He keeps you in his arms as he lays back. You lay against him, his heart pounding against your chest. You stay like that for a while, almost drifting to sleep when he slides his hand up your spine, reawakening every sensitive nerve in your body.

He says your name, that loving murmur of a sound. You lift your head to look at him. His gaze darts to your lips then back to your eyes.

“I wouldn’t trade places with any of them,” he says. “I want to be your bodyguard. I want to set you free. I want to keep you safe until the day I die.”

“On a few conditions,” you say. “The first, that you cannot die for a very long time. The second, I will only be free when you are. And finally, you can be my bodyguard, but only if I’m your bodyguard too.”

He smiles, his eyes bright and his cheeks dimpled. His nose nudges yours.

“All right,” he says. “Consider it a promise.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader

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her-stargirl · 4 months

Text

Unknown Dances

Mizu x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Mizu has culture shock while also having to attempt to fit in, however she ends up making a friend at a noble ball.

authors note: I literally researched about 17th century court dancing for this guys (I already knew a little from my intro to dance class but not nearly enough)

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The cultural differences between Japan and London were so striking to Mizu that it took her two days to to understand a small bit of it. From what she had heard a ball of noblemen was being held and she thought that would be just the place she could find her next target.

She used Fowler as her way in since she assumed he was probably quite well respected among white people.

Mizu scanned over the party, she felt, strange wearing such an odd English outfit however to stay discreet she needed to look the part.

There's a band in the corner about to start a new song and the way people are locking eyes it feels as though they all know what song will be next. They begin finding partners and Mizu feels a tap on her shoulder.

A girl with her hair tied back into a beautiful updo, wearing a yellow ballgown is standing there. "I'm sorry I couldn't help but notice you look lost..have you never seen this dance before?" The girl seems nice. "Here follow me I'll help you," she gently takes Mizu by the hand and pulls her over to the two lines already forming. One of women and one of men.

Mizu was dropped off in the middle of the line of men, she didn't like this, she needed to get back on track. She had no idea was she was doing and-

The music starts.

She looks down at the feet of the man in front of her and follows as the man circles in front of his parter and back to his spot, then waits as her partner, the unnamed girl in the yellow dress, circles around her. One arm holding out her skirt, the other close to her chest.

This is all to stressful, she looks at the girl with a worried expression, however the gaze is not reciprocated because the girl is having the time of her life, smiling, laughing.

Mizu thinks the girl might laugh herself to death however the music stops and the girl turns to Mizu, "That was fun wasn't it?" Mizu is bright red with embarrassment? anxiety? she didn't quite know.

"Ah, you look ill come with me," the girl tries to grab Mizu's hand again. "No! I don't know you and yet you keep dragging me around, I demand at least a name!"

The girl looked surprised for a minute, a look of 'oh! a foreigner maybe that's why they were so confused!' but she soon snapped out of it "Goodness I'm sorry, my name is y/n..I'm also sorry for dragging you into something you don't know well people usually catch on quicker than you did."

Mizu felt her body destress a bit however she kept her gaze sharp, "Its..a pleasure to meet you y/n.." Mizu said, still quite unsure.

"Likewise" y/n says smiling patiently.

"Well y/n if you'll excuse me I have some um..important business to attend to," Mizu turns to walk away, face still red from embarrassment.

"Alright..um..I'll see you later then," y/n says in a somewhat upset voice, she hoped that this wouldn't be the last time they see each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mizu's plan was beginning to prove unsuccessful, everyone she had talked to had little to no info. She found herself back in the large ballroom.

She stared out at the crowd of people, and there she was, the girl in the yellow dress. Still dancing, still smiling. Mizu was envious.

She felt, compelled to that girl, as if she was out loud saying 'Mizu, come over here and dance! you're wound so tight!'

Before Mizu even thought about it she was already out on the floor taking y/n's hand, "May I dance with you?" she asks in a calm yet alluring voice.

Y/n just smiles politely and nods, taking Mizu's hand and swaying softly, "I'm sorry for coming off so," y/n pauses trying to find the right word, "strongly earlier" She gives Mizu an awkward gaze.

"I'm just not used to people taking a strong liking so fast," Mizu says, attempting to hold eye contact however she's fairly bad at it because she's focused on how her feet are moving.

The song comes to an end and people disperse, this time Mizu is the one to pull y/n. The two walk down the hall to a quieter spot. Mizu was acting so fast she didn't quite know what she was even doing she-

"I'm sorry I don't know why I pulled you off to the side, you can go back if you'd like," the words come out however she doesn't want them to.

"No its ok, I'll stay here," y/n says, "I need a minute away from the action" she lets out a soft chuckle.

Its quiet for only a minute but feels like forever before the silence is broken, "I'm going to be painfully honest I was drawn to you because of your eyes...not because you looked lost," y/n says "they're just so unique and such a beautiful color."

Mizu felt her cheeks flush hot and fast, "thank you...? wait um, you're welcome? no that's not right eith-" y/n cuts Mizu off with a loud, joy filled laugh. "I know what you meant don't worry."

Mizu inhales sharply, "That color..yellow, it's beautiful on you" Mizu rushes the words out, she's never felt like this.

"Thank you," y/n says with a polite and delicate smile.

Another song is beginning back in the main ballroom, "This is my favorite!! lets go!" y/n says looping her arm around Mizu's. Once again dragging her off to dance.

#mizu fanfic #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x fem!reader #mizu x y/n

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

Text

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. ii

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter

chapter summary: Joel tries, and fails, to keep Sarah away from you, and you get to know the family across the street a little bit better. It’s a slow burn, so let the yearning begin, baby! pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 7.7k chapter warnings: some light angst, alcohol use, references to marijuana use, parental neglect. divorce mention, implied age gap. reader has daddy issues - shocker! a/n: Was absolutely floored by the love on part one. Seriously you all are the best. I hate doing chapter summaries because I don't like giving away too much info, so I'd suggest just reading this. This story might end up being a longer than six parts, because I don't want to rush anything and it's been really fun to write these relationships as they form! Let me know what you think :)

-March 25th, 2003-

Joel cannot keep Sarah away from you.

Unfortunately, he can’t blame her. Unlike him, she doesn’t need an excuse to show up on your doorstep after school and on the weekends to be in your company. Still, he doesn’t technically know you that well, and he imagines you didn’t intend to see her as often as you did after extending some kindness to his family for one night.

Despite the two of you having not spoken since you helped him with the Tommy situation, Joel feels like he knows you, or is getting to know you, just from the snippets of information Sarah drops to him, which is then followed by a barrage of questions.

“Do you know she grew up in New York City? Have you ever been there?”

“She gave me her old tennis racket. Do you think I could start taking lessons?”

“She says her brother got her front-row tickets to The Strokes last year. You like them, don’t you?”

Joel decides to give Sarah a talking to about her tendency to wander over to your house whenever she sees your car in the driveway. Perhaps you are just being friendly, and feel bad saying no each time she’s asked to come in. He tries to broach the subject with her one morning in the kitchen while she’s eating breakfast. They’re already running behind, her for school, himself for work, but neither of them are in a rush. If you’re already late, what’s an extra ten minutes?

“Take it easy, alright? She might not want company after a long day at work,” Joel leans over the countertop, hand wrapped around a mug of hot coffee, watching her shovel cereal in her mouth.

“Dad, she said I could come over whenever,” It’s accompanied by an eye roll, which is a new thing that had started about six months back. Teenagers. Well, almost teenagers. She’s still the sweet kid he’s always known, he’s just playing with fire trying to talk to her at seven in the morning, an indent on the side of her face still fading from where she slept on a crumpled pillow.

Joel was at least grateful that she did have occasional company on nights when he was working late. It made him feel better to know Sarah wasn’t alone.

“What do you even do over there?”

“Homework, reading….watching TV.”

“So the same thing you do here?”

Sarah thinks about it. “Well, no, because she’s teaching me to knit.”

“And what does she do while you do your homework?”

“She works too. Or makes calls.” Sarah smiles a little. “It sounds like people ask her for advice a lot. She does give good advice.”

“Better than mine?” Joel holds his hand over his heart with mock offense.

Sarah groans. “Relax, don’t get jealous…there’s just stuff I can talk to her about and not you. Girl stuff.”

“Girl stuff? What like, boys?”

“No, you wouldn’t get it.”

“I was a boy once.”

“Ew, dad, gross.”

“How is that gross?”

“Just- not everything is about boys, okay?”

Joel isn’t going to argue with that, and Sarah eventually goes back to finishing her cereal.

“Alright babygirl,” he raps his knuckles on the counter after he’s finished his coffee. “I’ve gotta load up the truck, and you better get going, or I’m gonna get an earful from Miss Davis.” He grabs his keys and his wallet, then yanks a baseball cap over his mess of hair that’s long overdue for a haircut.

“Oh, I bet she would love an excuse to talk to you,” Sarah slides out of her seat with her empty bowl and marches towards the sink to rinse it out, grabbing his empty mug on the way.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you remember how giggly she was at parent-teacher conferences?” Sarah says. “I’ve never seen her so happy before.”

It’s Joel’s turn to roll his eyes. He’d pegged it as unusual, but never considered it was because Miss Davis was into him. He wishes Sarah isn’t so….observant.

Over the years, Joel has basically kept his head down, doing his best to keep things together. Because of that, he feels like he’s sort of lost his ability to pick up on when women are interested in him. And it’s safe to say, in general, he’s had a pretty uneventful love life since Sarah’s mom left.

For the most part, he got by on flings — one night stands, casual no-strings-attached arrangements that always fizzled out. Joel had never been a man who liked that sort of thing, and ultimately craved a deeper level of intimacy, companionship, but he had trouble sustaining anything more. And even when he thinks of the more serious relationships he’d had over the years, those were also never completely satisfying.

The fact of the matter was that when you had a kid, you weren’t just looking for someone for yourself anymore. For most people, introducing their partner to their parents is always a big deal. But for Joel, it was always introducing girlfriends to Sarah. Over the last decade he’d only ever introduced her to three different women, and at that point he had usually been dating them secretly for several months before deciding that it was serious enough. It always felt like he was trying so desperately to ensure they liked each other. But he could tell that Sarah was never quite comfortable with any of them. And when they’d start asking about moving in, marriage, and babies — he’d always panic. It was reasonable for them to want those things, hell, he wanted those things. But it had to be the right person. He knew he couldn’t bring someone into his life, forever, that didn’t love Sarah like a parent should. Like he did. No one ever would, and because of that, he knows there’s a good chance it’ll just be the two of them forever.

So, even if Sarah’s teacher, as cute as she was, were to ask him out, he would never be able to go. But less for the latter reasons, and more because he knows he’d never hear the end of it from her.

“Alright, that’s enough. I’m leaving in five minutes…with or without you.”

“Nooo!” Sarah screams in mock panic, scrambling upstairs to brush her teeth.

Joel exits through the garage, grabbing a few extra tools from his workbench that he needs for the job today and a saw.

When he opens the garage door, the harsh sunlight is the first thing to greet him, and then he sees you.

You’re in your driveway across the street, barefoot and in a short, black silk robe that’s cinched at the smallest part of your waist. Next to you is a man in a suit, holding a briefcase and trying to straighten his tie. He can’t do both at the same time, though, so he pauses and turns to you, murmurs something, and you slow to help him, your fingers wrapping around the tie, tightening where it’s looped around his neck and tucking it into place, straightening his lapel before stepping away. The type of domesticity that doesn’t happen with a one-night-stand.

It makes sense, he thinks. That you’re with someone like that. It’s the world you’re in all day. And even though he’s standing in his own fucking driveway, Joel feels like he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to. Or maybe, he just doesn’t want to be seeing it.

Joel tears his eyes away, putting his stuff in the back of the truck – the toolkit, the saw, glancing over to see the man kiss you on the lips and mutter something unintelligible before getting in a shiny, blue sports car. You nod, offer an easy smile, and stoop to pick up the newspaper. The car's engine roars to life, and you cross your arms, looking after it until it peels out of the cul-de-sac.

The bashful smile you’re wearing drops instantly once it’s out of sight, and he watches you pinch the bridge of your nose, and tilt your head back to the sky.

He turns before he gets caught, and slams the back of the truck shut, which is a little ignorant in hindsight. Joel looks over his shoulder to see your attention has shifted, and you’re shielding your eyes and squinting at him.

Great.

“Hey Joel,” you wave, your opposite hand pulling at the bottom of your robe, in a futile attempt to cover yourself. You look good, obviously, but it makes Joel feel a little guilty to make the observation because it’s clear you didn’t actually intend to be seen like this.

“Morning,” he answers.

“Where’ve you been?” you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Busy. Work.”

“That’s no fun but…same here, I guess,” You shuffle forward hesitantly.

Joel takes a beat to think about what he’s supposed to say in response, but doesn’t get the chance, because you speak up again.

“Hey uh, not to put you on the spot, but were you actually serious about fixing my step the other night?” you ask.

Before he can answer, you continue.

“It’s okay if you weren’t, but I twisted my ankle on it the other day, so I need to get it fixed before that happens to someone else. I was thinking maybe I’d just call-”

“No-”

“It’s no big deal if you can’t-”

“No,” Joel cuts you off. He had been biding his time, waiting for the right opportunity to bring it up to you, not realizing that taking said time probably made him look like an asshole. “Don’t call anyone else, I can do it. How about Friday night? Will you be around?”

“Friday?” you answer, pondering. “Yeah, that works. I have a friend from out of town coming to visit, so I’ll be home early because I’ve gotta pick her up from the airport.”

“Alright, I’ll try to cut out early, too.”

“And also I can pay-”

“Stop it, I”ve got you, don’t worry,” he waves his hand.

You smile at Joel. He’s sure it means nothing, but he gets some satisfaction from how sincere it is compared to the one you’d given the guy you had been escorting out of your home.

He feels himself grinning back, and you open your mouth to speak, but are cut off by the sound of his screen door slamming. Sarah stumbles down the steps, backpack hanging off one shoulder, headphones to her walkman around her ears, holding her bright pink windbreaker in one hand and a book in the other. She looks at Joel, then you, standing in your driveway, and her face lights up as she calls your name.

“Hey, Sarah,” you wave.

Sarah opens her mouth to speak, and Joel knows whatever she’s going to say will start a much longer conversation that unfortunately they just don’t have the time for.

“She’s gotta get to school,” Joel tilts his head in the direction of his daughter before she can say anything. “But I’ll get that done Friday.”

“See you then!” You turn on your heel, and he looks away for a second to Sarah before glancing back in your direction, and you’re already gone, the only evidence you were there being your front door slamming shut.

Joel waits until he and Sarah are in the car on their way to school before he speaks again.

“She’s never mentioned a boyfriend or anything, has she?”

Sarah doesn’t even look up from her book. “No.”

Joel nods, and it’s quiet for a moment.

He hears Sarah’s book shut. “Why?” she turns to him, and she’s got her eyes narrowed, like she’s trying to figure out what the question really meant. He’s never seen her make that face before, and it’s a little terrifying, because it looks like she could see right through him.

Joel wracks his brain for a good enough excuse. “If she has people over, I don’t want you hangin’ around adults I don’t know.”

That seems to satisfy Sarah, and the skeptical look on her face disappears. If anything, she seems slightly annoyed by the comment, which is definitely preferable. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that because it’s never happened.” Sarah plays with the dials on the radio, changing the station until it lands on one playing The Chicks, her favorite group. She hums along to the song, filling in the gaps whenever the radio cuts out, and looks out the window.

“Alright.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-March 28th, 2003-

“Oh, I wanna come!” Sarah jumps up from the couch and joins Joel in the entryway. It’s Friday evening, and he’s about to head out the door to your place.

“You’re stayin’ in tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“Well first of all, you’re grounded, in case you don’t remember.”

“You don’t even know what that means, though.”

Joel shakes his head, because she’s right. He’s never had to ground Sarah before, but when he’d gotten a call from her teacher that she had failed her last math quiz, and was close to not passing the class, he figured it was an appropriate punishment. “I’m pretty sure it means you can’t leave the house.”

“But this is barely leaving the h-”

“Second of all,” he cuts her off. “She told me earlier this week she’s got a friend visiting, so it’d be rude to intrude if that’s the case.”

Sarah groans, throws her head back, and falls onto the couch dramatically. “But I’m so bored.”

“You could study. Practice dribbling, clean your room, clean your bathroom-”

“Dad, it’s literally Friday night.”

“And?”

“All that stuff is so boring.”

Joel can’t help but chuckle. “Look, when I get back we can watch a movie. This won’t take long.”

She sits up a little, placated. “Okay, but it’s my turn to pick.”

“Deal. I’ll be home in an hour or so,” he steps out onto the porch.

There’s a special kind of glow in Texas about an hour before the sun sets. Warm light filters behind the trees, casting the leaves and anything else it catches in a golden halo. Joel takes in the view for a moment as he walks across the street, skipping the rotten step and knocking on your front door.

You answer it quickly. “Hey, you wanna come in?”

Joel supposes he doesn’t have to, and could just let you know he’s here, stay out on the front porch and just get the job done, but he accepts your invitation anyway.

There’s another woman sitting cross-legged on the couch, two half-full glasses of wine on your coffee table, music playing low on some speakers in the corner. The front windows are open, despite the chill of the evening, and your sheer curtains billow in the breeze.

“Claire, this is my neighbor, Joel,” you say. “He’s helping me out with the steps. His daughter’s Sarah, the one I was telling you about. ”

“Oh, yeah.” Claire’s face lights up in recognition. “Joel. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he nods.

“Claire’s visiting from New York. We grew up together,” you explain.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Her and I were roommates at boarding school,” Claire explains, finishing off a glass of wine. “We got into a lot of trouble together.”

“Hmmm, if I recall, it was more like you got me into trouble, but sure,” you say.

“You were bad, if not worse, than I was.”

Joel smirks, and you turn to him, changing the subject. “She’s jetlagged, so we’re just staying in for the night.”

“But…we’re still getting drunk, obviously.”

“Oh yeah, that too,” you say flatly, although to Joel, you don’t seem drunk at all. Luckily, your friend answers his question with her next sentence.

“This one isn’t very good at keeping up, though,” Claire tilts her head in your direction, then finishes off the glass of wine in her hand.

“You sound like Vincent,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, how is Vincent?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you cross your arms and look at Joel. “She always had the biggest crush on my brother, and it was dis-gus-ting.”

“To be fair,” Claire clears her throat. “At the time, he was pretty dreamy. And if we’re being honest….he still is…too bad he’s married.”

“Divorced, actually. But still…” You wrinkle your nose. “Gross.”

“Divorced?” Claire sits up, jaw dropping. “When? Why didn’t you tell me? What happened?”

You raise your hands and shake your head, like it’s too much to get into. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it later. Sorry, we’re being rude,” you turn back to Joel. “Can I get you anything? Want some wine?”

“I would, but it doesn’t usually mix well with power tools,” Joel answers. “I should be good, though, I brought everything I need.”

“Great well… I’ll let you get to it, then.” you pad across the floor to return to your friend on the couch. “We’ll be in here if you need anything.”

“Sounds good,” Joel nods at you and your friend before stepping back out onto the porch.

The screen door shuts behind him, and the birds are quieting down for the night. He only has a little bit of sunlight left, but this shouldn’t take him long. Just as he is about to get started, he hears your friend’s voice, muffled, from inside the house.

“Okay, I thought you were lying because your taste in men is usually questionable, but you’re right, he is really cute.”

“Dude,” you interject, and Joel hears a sound of impact, like a smack on the arm. “Lower your voice the fucking windows are open.” Claire starts giggling, and you continue. “You know you don’t have to say, like, every thought that comes into your head.”

He hears your friend laugh even harder, and eventually you join her. Joel shakes his head, but even after he starts working, can’t keep the grin off his face.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 5th, 2003-

It has been the longest week of your life. Work had been hectic – you’d spent the last five days going to so many meetings and dinners with potential clients that you had almost no time to do your actual job. Plus, your visit from Claire had already wiped out nearly all your energy, since you had spent the whole last weekend showing her around Austin, entertaining.

Normally, on a Saturday like today, you’d do a number of things – the first of which would be to sleep the fuck in. The ideal schedule would go something like this: You’d get out of bed in the early afternoon and immediately order some kind of takeout – most likely pho, or ramen, or some other type of soup. You’d get high, eat the takeout, and then watch TV until you’re tired enough to go back to bed in the early evening. If you’re feeling motivated at all, you might change into a fresh pair of pajamas before you crash again. It would be the ultimate lazy day, and you had desperately wanted it.

However, the past version of yourself had made plans to play tennis in the morning with some friends, and then check out a new breakfast place in the city. Sometimes you hated how optimistic she was about your ability to wake up before 10 a.m. While you weren’t excited to play tennis, you were excited that there was, at some point, going to be food involved.

So you dragged your ass out of bed, rifled through a box of clothing in your garage (one that you still had yet to unpack) to find a tennis skirt and visor, and then got in your car to go play all before 8 a.m. Then, you’d had your ass handed to you by your friends on the court. It was a little humbling to realize that you weren’t very good at tennis anymore. The last time you’d seriously played was when you were still in school, and you’d originally started because your father had wanted you to be involved in an extracurricular activity. According to him at the time, anything involving the arts – music, dance, drama – didn’t count. You had challenged this idea, and it had escalated to become one of the top ten worst fights you’d ever had with him. After that, you had learned that it was better to just do as you were told.

You’d joined the tennis team, and started to pick up on how intrigued your father was by the trophies and ribbons you’d bring home when you did well. He started to ask you questions when he saw them, pat you on the head and say things like ‘that’s my girl’. Regardless of whether or not you liked playing, you had finally found a way to earn his attention. So, you got better. One time, he even came to your school to watch one of your matches. Of course, when you lost that one, it all kind of crumbled. But you still stuck to the sport since that’s what all your friends were doing, even if it didn't get you what you wanted.

On the drive home from your morning out, belly full of breakfast and ready for a nap, thinking of your family brings about a terrifying realization.

You look at your phone. Shit.

April 5th.

Immediately, you dial a number on your cell. You’re aware of the dangers of talking while driving but you know if you don’t make this call, you’ll never hear the end of it. The line only rings twice before it’s picked up.

“Hello?”

“Vincenzo!” you say with your best – but probably horrible – attempt at an Italian accent.

“Well, well, well….if it isn’t the estranged daughter…” the familiar timbre of your brother's voice answers. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You roll your eyes. “Well first of all, fuck off…” We're off to a great start. “...and second of all…Happy Birthday.”

You hear your brother’s chuckle on the other end of the line, a noise that you’d been on the wrong side of – laughing at you, not with you – more than once, but your heart aches a little at the sound of it now. I miss you, you wish you could say, but you keep it to yourself.

“Thanks, I’m surprised you remembered,” he says, lightly.

“I’ve never forgotten.”

“There was that one year-”

“Oh my god, I was like twelve.”

“You were fourteen.”

“Okay, well, sorry…It’s been over ten years and it hasn’t happened since.”

“It feels like you’ve forgotten more than once, but that might just be because it’s pretty much the only time you ever call me these days,” Vincent says, and if you were with him, in person, you’d be able to tell by the look in his eyes whether or not he was joking. But over a cell, you’re not sure at all.

“That’s not true,” you say, turning your car into your neighborhood. “But I mean, the phone does work both ways.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you catch something flippant in his tone.

“Do you want this to be a nice conversation or are you gonna be an asshole?” you ask, maybe a little too matter-of-factly, but at least you can determine whether or not it’ll be a waste of your time to try and be cordial. If he’s in a bad mood, you know it’s pointless.

“Relax,” he says, and you hear a hint of the teenage boy you once knew. “You’re always so ready to argue with me, I’m joking.”

“Very funny,” you say, and try to be nice about it, because deep down, you know Vincent is right. You don’t talk to your brother enough to argue with him when you do speak. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. “So what are you doing on your big day? Anything special?”

“Nothing really special, I worked out, had lunch with a friend, and I think I’m having dinner with Elizabeth tonight.”

“Oh…really? Elizabeth?” At the mention of his soon-to-be ex-wife – or maybe current ex-wife? You’re not sure – you’re surprised.

“Yeah she and I are uh….talking still, I guess. For Ethan, mostly, but…I don’t know…the divorce isn’t finalized, and I think now that I’m seeing a therapist and shit, maybe we can work something out. We’ll see.”

“And do you want to work something out?”

“I mean, she’s only the love of my life so yeah, it’d be great.”

“I think so, too. How is Ethan, by the way?”

“Oh he’s great,” you hear your brother’s smile over the phone. “Just a big ball of energy, and so fucking smart. He told me he misses you the other day.”

Your heart lurches at the mention of your sweet, five-year-old nephew. “You’ll have to tell him I said hi, and that I love him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” he answers. “You know, next weekend I’m having a proper birthday party. We’re all going to the Hamptons. I could fly you out here, you could tell him in person.”

“I can’t, I got shit to do,” you answer a little too quickly, turning the car into your cul-de-sac.

“What uh, your little corporate gig keeping you busy?”

There’s a subtle dig in there, little.

“Maybe.”

“I’m telling you, all I have to do is phone a friend, and we’ll find you something here that’ll pay a thousand times better and won’t have you working weekends.”

“I don’t work weekends,” you say, pulling into your driveway. “And I’m not interested.”

“You like making yourself miserable, don’t you?”

“Vinny,” you say, exasperated, putting your car in park. “I’m happy here.”

“In Texas? I don’t believe it,” he says. “And you know, at this point, you’ve proven whatever you wanted to dad. After everything you’ve done, he probably respects you. Like, you did it. You cut yourself off, you made a name for yourself, you don’t need us anymore. Congratulations, amazing. I get it. But you should come home now.”

“Vincent,” you repeat yourself. “I’m not going back. You know what it was like for me. For you.”

“You’re my fucking family too, you know? You can’t just let him control every decision you make,” he says, and he’s not quite yelling at you, but he is sounding a lot more stern than he was before. “And by the way, it wasn’t so bad. You and I always got along.”

“Even if I move back, things will never be like they were.”

“You don’t know that.” he says it with such a deep sadness in his voice that you want to take back every cruel thing you’d ever said to him – not just from today, from forever. And then he speaks again. “You know, you used to be so sweet when we were kids….I don’t know what happened.”

I do, you think. “I had to look out for myself.”

Before he can respond, you change the subject. “Anyways, you should move out here instead,” it’s only halfway a joke.

“I’m not leaving New York.”

“Well, I’m not leaving Austin.”

“Well…” he says, clicks his tongue. “Then I guess things’ll just stay this way.”

“I guess so.”

You wish you could offer more. But he has never understood. The silence on the other line is so loud, your ears are ringing.

“Look, I just pulled in my driveway, I gotta get going.”

“Yeah.”

“But have a nice day, okay?” you’ve gotta turn this conversation around because it went so far off the rails. “Tell Elizabeth I say hi, and I hope you do work things out with her because you know I think she’s great. And give Ethan a kiss for me.”

“I know, and I will,” you can see him closing his eyes, fingers pinching between his eyebrows.

“I love you.”

“Yeah…okay,” he says, like he doesn’t believe you, and it’s a punch to the gut. As usual, you weren’t able to say the right thing. Tears start pricking the back of your eyes, guilt twisting deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Goodbye,” in one swift movement, you end the call and get out of the car, slamming the door shut. You’re sad now, but it’s only a matter of time before you become angry, which is always easier to deal with, so you just gotta suck it up until it passes.

Trying not to be upset is such a high priority that you don’t hear your name being called right away, and when you turn around, it’s too late.

“Hey!” Sarah Miller is skidding to a stop in front of you, wearing boots that look a size too small for her feet, dressed in athletic clothes with her hair pulled back. “My dad says I’m not grounded anymore so I can-” she falters when she sees your face. “Are you okay?” she asks.

Clearing your throat, you fix your expression and try to shake away the lingering disappointment like dirt off a kitchen rug. “Yeah I’m fine,” you lie. “So does that mean you passed math?”

Since that night you let her stay when she was locked out, you’d seen quite a bit of Sarah. It was a little unconventional, and you probably needed to find friends in the community that were more age appropriate, but you enjoyed her company. She would hang out and do homework at your house while she waited for her dad to get home from work. You had always valued your independence, and told yourself you preferred to be on your own, but whenever she left, your house always felt a little emptier than you remembered. Maybe you needed to get a fish or something, since Martini’s appearances were few and far between.

“Not yet, but I did get an A on my last test. I hate to say it but my dad was right…studying actually helps.”

“Yeah, that tends to be true,” you say, relieved at how easy the smile comes, and you glance over your shoulder to see Joel standing at the edge of his driveway with his hands on his hips. He looks fucking good, and you’re almost sort of mad about it, or it’s hopefully just the irritation kicking in after the conversation with your brother.

Does Joel know? He has to. It’s like having whatever the male version of a siren is living across the street from you – working with his hands, being a doting father, and mowing the lawn shirtless when it’s hot out. And apparently this was a record-breakingly hot spring, because you’d seen that more than once. Not that you minded, though it only made you want a closer look. Years ago, you probably would’ve scoffed at what sounded like a suburban mom’s wet dream, but actually experiencing it, you felt differently. There was just something about him.

You give Joel a wave, and he waves back, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he’s trying to decide if he wants to come over and talk. As usual, he seems like he’s got somewhere to be, but he’s too polite to tell you to fuck off.

“How have you been? I’ve hardly seen you,” Sarah says. “Did you play tennis today?” she pokes at the racket that’s hung over your shoulder. “Were you serious about teachin’ me to play this summer?”

It’s hard not to be amused at the barrage of requests. You admire her ability to be so enthusiastic, so open, something that most people are unable to do, but for her, is effortless. She’s older than your nephew, but you get the same kind of relief from interacting with both of them. The kids are alright. At least, some of them are.

“Of course,” you answer, and notice that Joel is slowly and hesitantly making his way up your driveway. It’s upsetting that everytime you run into him, you conveniently look like shit – like last Tuesday when you’d just rolled out of bed and were still in your robe. Or right now, after spending the whole morning chasing after balls on a clay court, scuffed knees and hair slick with sweat. But you suppose that’s sort of what neighbors are for.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you ask Joel.

“It’s goin’,” you take him in as he gets closer, notice the way the arms of his t-shirt are just a little too tight because of his biceps, and feel like you need to take a cold shower to wash yourself of this morning. “Babygirl, we should probably get going.”

He calls his daughter babygirl? There’s no way he was being serious, that it isn’t some ironic joke, or part of an act. You always assumed that was just something you saw in movies.

“Because I did so well on my test my dad is takin’ me on a hike,” Sarah says, and then her face lights up. “Wait….you should come with us! Dad, can she come?” Sarah whirls around to face her father.

Joel looks down at Sarah, and then up at you, and then at Sarah again. “I mean, that’s fine, but…she might have other things going on.”

It’s hard to tell if he’s trying to give you an out, or if he’s hinting that you shouldn’t come. And you probably normally wouldn’t want to go, but the alternative is moping around your house and thinking of all the things you could’ve said differently to your brother to ensure the conversation would have gone better than it did. You’re always desperate for a second chance to do things over, and do them right.

You look between the two of them, back and forth. “I mean I would totally, I just…don’t want to interrupt a father-daughter activity-”

“You aren’t,” Sarah says so quickly that Joel looks offended. “I couldn’t leave the house this week so we’ve been spending too much time together.”

Joel frowns. “That’s rude.”

“What?” she says. “It’s true.”

Joel sighs. “She’s right, though. You wouldn’t be interruptin’.”

“Please?” Sarah begs, and you realize you can’t say no even if you want to. You wonder how Joel was even able to ground her for a week, looking in those big, innocent eyes.

“Yeah, just…uh, could I put my stuff inside and maybe change?” you ask, gesturing towards the house.

Joel nods, and Sarah rocks back and forth on her heels. “Yes, yes! Take as long as you need.”

“I’ll be fast,” you assure her, and duck inside.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halfway into the hike with Sarah and Joel, and you’ve decided you’re out of shape. You try to tell yourself there could be another reason you are so out of breath – you already worked out once today while playing tennis. But that doesn’t seem like a good enough excuse. Of course, you’re trying to play it cool, because you’re not about to embarrass yourself. Sarah is entertaining you with all kinds of talk about school, and soccer, and sleepaway camp she gets to go to for two weeks once school's out. And you suppose the pain you’re in right now is also welcome distraction from thinking about Vincent.

However, you can’t dip away from the group to rest for a second, because Joel is already trailing behind, and he’d catch on. However, his distance – several paces back from where you and Sarah walk – is not because he’s out of shape. On the contrary, he seems to be putting almost no effort into the steep climb. He’s on his own, head on a swivel, kind of like a brooding security guard, and you wonder if he feels left out.

You steal a glance over your shoulder to take him in, shrouded by the verdant foliage. He looks at home in this environment, sun-kissed and rugged, a finger hooked behind the strap of a leather bag he carries over one shoulder, his gait measured. Aloof, but there’s a quiet confidence to him that draws you in, causes your stare to linger just a touch too long, so when he turns his head straight, his eyes catch yours. You focus back on the trail ahead.

He hasn’t said much since you’ve started hiking, or in the car, even. Most men are easy to read, but so far, Joel has kind of stumped you. There were times, during the night that you’d helped him bail his brother Tommy out of jail, that you had thought maybe he was- no. He’d been pretty tense in every other interaction you had, so you still couldn’t decide if he had been flirting with you.

And he was older than you, you were pretty sure. Not so old that it wouldn’t be out of the question for him to be interested, but enough that, depending on the type of person he was, might see you as a little too young for him. And he had a kid, responsibilities.

You were a-single woman with a high-powered career, one cat and a fish on the way. You slept in on the weekends, refused to learn to cook for one, and got violently stoned on your back porch a minimum of three times a week. In suburban Texas, most of the women your age were long since settled, and you were an outlier. It was fair to imagine that Joel probably didn’t see any real promising future when he looked your way…. or maybe he was more of a one-night stand kind of guy, and didn’t care about that at all. This was not necessarily information you needed – but you wanted it anyway.

Not feeling like an outsider would be one upside of moving back to New York – you could be exactly yourself, and still blend right in. It was one of the parts you missed most, besides Vincent. Your heart sinks, and you realize that the hill you’ve been climbing has flattened out, and so you’re able to think clearly again, which is why you’re thinking of your brother.

Sarah has pulled away, and is wandering towards a clearing. Your eyes are on her form, bounding up ahead on the pathway, the sunlight peeking through the leaves dancing on her skin, when your foot lands on a loose rock, and slips out from beneath you.

Please, God, n- You don’t even get the chance to plead yourself out of humiliation, because there’s a steady hand on your hip and your back collides with a broad chest.

“Gotcha,” Joel’s voice is right in your ear — when did he get that close?

He’s solid, strong, and for the shortest, sweetest moment, you’re overwhelmed by him – get notes of his bar soap (pine, cedar, mint) mixed with whatever laundry detergent he used, and just the faintest bit of - Fuck. In one swift movement, he brings you upright like you’d never slipped at all, then pulls back. The skin on your hip smarts even after his hand drops away.

“You alright?” Joel steps beside you, watching Sarah, who stands with her hands on her hips, her back turned to you both.

“Yeah,” you nod. He looks back over at you. “Come on,’ he tilts his head towards his daughter, and you walk beside him to where she’s standing.

The whole hike you’d been so occupied with bullshit. Trying not to think about your brother. Trying not to act too out of breath. Trying to not let Joel catch you staring, although you’d already failed at that. But now, you wish you wouldn’t have been in your head, because what you’d come to see made worrying about all that seem stupid.

Stretched out in front of you was a wide creek with moss-colored water that flowed down over layered slabs of rock, and crashed into the waterfall’s churning basin. The sun hits the mist in just the right light, and casts a series of rainbows midair, which move and shift as you turn your head to study the lush, tree-lined shore across the river.

You’re standing with one hand on your hip, and out of the corner of your eye Sarah shuffles back a few steps to stand beside you, looping her arm through yours, her cheek on your shoulder while you both enjoy the view.

“I’m glad you got to see this,” she says, and you can just make it out over the sound of the falls. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“It’s beautiful.”

Joel’s hands land on Sarah’s shoulders as he steps close behind you both. She straightens, leans back against him until he wraps his forearm across the front of her in an easy embrace, and she grabs for his wrist with both of her hands, tucking them beneath her chin. A pang of familiar grief stirs inside you at the sight, and you turn away, back towards the view.

“This is the only time of year it’s worth seeing,'' Joel says to you. “It dries up in the summer.”

“It’s still pretty in the summer,” Sarah pipes up.

“Not as pretty.”

“Can you get me the water?” she asks. Joel grunts an affirmation and a moment later you hear the sound of a zipper.

When you’ve had a considerable amount of time to contemplate life while looking at the water swirling across the granite, you turn to find Sarah sitting on a rock, struggling to peel an orange, and dropping each tiny piece of skin she can get off into Joel’s begrudgingly outstretched hand.

You use the opportunity to stretch your calves against a nearby tree.

“Have you hiked before?” Sarah asks.

“Here and there,” you say. “But not often.”

“Why not?”

“Well this is basically a workout. I don’t like working out, I’m pretty unathletic.”

You’re surprised when that draws a smile from Joel.

“But you play tennis.”

You shrug. “Eh, kinda.”

“Me and my dad go hiking a lot.”

“That’s sweet,” your eyes flicker from hers to Joel’s, because they are both staring at you, and you’re pretty sure, though it’s hard to tell from this distance, that their eyes are the identical shade of caramel. Sarah finishes peeling her orange and Joel pockets the scraps of skin. She eats a slice before offering you both your own, and you step closer to accept it.

Sarah’s taking her last bite of orange when Joel speaks up.

“Should we head back?”

Sarah turns to take one last look. It’s mid afternoon, the slant of light from the sun as intense as it can be, and you squint when it reflects back off the water and into your eyes.

“Yeah, we can,” Sarah decides, and it’s clear that Joel would have stayed there for as long as she wanted. It wasn’t up to him.

The hike back isn’t nearly as difficult. It’s all downhill, and Joel leads. Sarah stays behind with you, and clings to your arm while she teaches you how to navigate the trail without slipping. Back at the trailhead is one steep step that drops off into a puddle of stagnant water.

Joel jumps down first, and turns to offer his hand to Sarah, who takes it and leaps lightly, landing on two feet on the other side. You aren’t sure what you’re expecting, but it’s not for Joel to offer you his hand to you as well. But he does.

“Careful,” he murmurs. And of course, you could’ve easily done this yourself, with no help. It’s a two foot drop and an inch of water. But you accept it anyways, putting some of your weight against his hand as you hop down, noticing how he doesn’t waver.

By the time you’re long since settled in the car, pulling into Joel’s driveway, you can feel sleep tugging down your eyelids. A steaming shower and a pair of pajama pants is imminent, and it’s like your body knows. Surely, you will still probably feel guilty about your brother, but you’re convinced that you won’t lose sleep over it, which you consider a win.

Sarah, who insisted that you both sit in the back together on the way home – leaving Joel in the front alone – gives you a quick hug after you’ve gotten out of the car, and then plucks the car keys from her father.

“Sorry, I drank a lot of water and I have to pee!” she says, before jogging up the walkway and unlocking her front door.

Joel lets out an exasperated sigh, but turns back look at you with startling warmth.

“Thanks for having me, I really needed that,” you tell him, and you’re not sure why you feel compelled to be honest with him, but continue on. “My brother and I got into it on the phone this morning, so if I didn’t go I probably would’ve spent all afternoon moping in bed.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice soft. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” you say, quickly, brushing it off. “Siblings, you know?”

“Yeah,” he nods, but you can tell he isn’t convinced. “I know.”

“How’s Tommy, by the way?” you ask. “Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

“He is,” Joel answers. “We actually have a big project we might be about to book. Pays well, and will keep us employed for the next year.”

“Oh that’s exciting,” you nod. “So what I’m hearing is…if my step rots again, you wouldn’t have time to come fix it?”

“No,” Joel chuckles again, and you’re dizzy after hearing it. “I’d make time.”

You take a deep breath. “Good to know,” you shuffle a few steps backwards. “I better get going, though.” He doesn’t answer right away, and just as you’re turning to walk across the street, Joel calls out to you again.

“Hey,” and you pause, facing him again. “I wanted to ask you if…” he hesitates, blinks and shakes his head once before continuing. “If Sarah is coming over too much. If you want, I can tell her to cool it.”

“Are you kidding?” you ask. “I don’t mind at all. She’s great company, really.”

“You sure you’re not just sayin’ that to be nice?”

You sniff, look at the ground, then back up to him. “I’m not actually very nice.”

He studies you. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

“You hardly know me,” you shrug, and his eyebrows pinch together very briefly before his expression neutralizes. “I’m just saying….if I didn’t like having her around, you would know.”

He bobs his head slowly, and you turn back around to walk to your house, glancing at him from over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you around.”

- - - - - - - - - -

taglist: @yaskna @venomous-ko @lomljigg @yeehawbitchs @ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done @melancholicmelanin @reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer @superflymaterial @mikkorantanev @zbeez-outlet (i'm sorry if i missed anyone, i didn't tag anyone that didn't explicitly ask!).

part iii

#are we surprised that reader has daddy issues? odds are if you are reading this fic about the video game/TV DILF of the century you do too #i mean i certainly do #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x f!reader #joel Miller imagine #Joel Miller series #joel miller the last of us #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #Pedro pascal #TLOU HBO #TLOU fanfic #TLOU series #texas sun

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 26 days

Note

am i the asshole for yelling at my friend when i found out he had sex in my car?

i (26f) lived with my friend John (26m) when we were in college. John didnt have a car, but i did so i did most of the driving when we needed groceries/whatever we needed to go out for (it was a college town so it was mostly walkable, so we didnt need to drive every day). i have issues with other people using my car, especially when im not there (if anything goes wrong id rather it be my fault than have to deal with someone else totaling my car). but John had a girlfriend (Sarah) who also didnt have a car, so he would sometimes borrow my car (with my permission ofc, he never took it without me knowing) to take her on dates. when they were gone, i would constantly be nervous that something went wrong. there would be times they would go to a movie, then they would be gone for longer than the movie's runtime and i would get so anxious that something happened, then find out that they had just gone shopping/to dinner/etc after the movie ended. i never bothered saying anything because i didnt want to seem like a control freak saying "you can only borrow my car if you tell me exactly what you're doing and when you'll be back"

anyways, fast forward to now. i got a new car a couple years ago, John and i no longer live together (not because of any problems, we just got our own places after we graduated), and he is still with Sarah. one day John, Sarah, a few of our other friends, and i were all hanging out.

then at one point, Sarah made a joke about having sex in the car after Yesterday (the beatles movie from a few years ago). then i said "hold on, didnt you guys borrow my car to see that movie?" and everyone got really quiet. i turned to John and said "you had sex in my car???" and he tried to laugh it off but didnt deny it. and i got MAD. i was yelling at him and admittedly was pretty harsh (like calling him insensitive for violating my trust & property)

he said something along the lines of "i'm sorry, but it was a long time ago and theres nothing i can do to change it, and you dont even have the car anymore" and i realized he was right, and that screaming at him wasnt going to accomplish anything, but i was still mad so i left and went home

i asked some of my friends that were there if i was being crazy, and they basically said that it was understandable that i was mad, but yelling at him in front of everyone just made them uncomfortable and killed the vibe for the rest of the night, and there was nothing any of us could do about it now. no one told me how Sarah reacted, but she has really bad anxiety so knowing her, im guessing she didnt take it well that i got mad about something she said, and i do feel bad about that (though, in fairness, i assume she knows common decency and would know that having sex in someone else's car is wrong)

anyways, i dont think im the asshole because i think i have a right to be upset about that, and even though it was a long time ago i JUST found out about it so it wasnt that long ago for me. but i know i might be the asshole just because i yelled at John in front of our friends and made everyone uncomfortable over something that he can't do anything about anymore, and since i dont even have that car anymore, it has no impact on my life

tldr: my friend had sex in my car years ago and i found out about it and tried to fight with him about it in front of a bunch of our other friends, and it made everyone uncomfortable. so, am i the asshole for getting angry years after my friend had sex in my car? 🚗

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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thehusbandoden · 8 months

Text

You Flinch During an Argument -Amajiki Tamaki

A/n: so sorry this took so long! I had a good thing going but my power went out and it got erased </3

I do think this one's better though. Technically this is the third legitimate try <33

Edit: I'm trying out a new format for my info.. is it better or worse O.o

General info:

Wc: 1,176 words | angst to fluff/comfort | Character/s: Tamaki Amajiki

Warnings!: loneliness, snapping, flinching, a little bit of crying. Please let me know if I miss any! <3

The night was cold as you sleepily flipped through your journal, not wanting to write but knowing you should. The entries from the last three months have been short and filled with a dull ache of lonliness. They lacked the usual length and warmth you poured into the pages, ranting on about how sweet your timid Tamaki is and how much you adore him and his ever lasting warmth.

The rambling would go on and on, but now you wrote a paragraph or two about how your life has been 'fine' and that Tamaki has been super busy- if you wrote at all.

There was one or two that held multiple paragraphs of your frustration and not knowing who to blame- knowing that it wasn't Tamaki's fault that there weren't enough heroes to protect the innocent of your large city.

Tamaki was doing his best to protect the defenseless, and you admired that- but the dull ache that sat in the pit of your stomache couldn't go ignored much longer.

Sighing, you closed your journal, standing up from your desk to head to the living room, deciding to talk to Tamaki tonight.

Four hours later Tamaki walked through the front door, tall form drained from exhaustion as he made his way inside, already stripping off his hero gear.

"Tama?" You call, poking your head out from the living room to sadly smile at your Tamaki.

"Oh. Hey y/n." Tamaki yawned, dropping both his cape and mask onto the floor as he dragged his feet towards your room, tossing his belt onto the kitchen table before moving onto taking off his gear further.

"Wait, Tamaki!" You call, stopping at the bottom of the stairs as Tamaki paused, looking back at you.

"Yes bunny?"

"Ummm.. can we talk?" You ask, smiling at the nickname Tamaki gave you the first week into your marriage- though he later admitted that he thought of it when you two were simply friends but was too shy up until that point-.

"Baby, I'm really tired.. is it important?"

"Yes.. it'll only take five to ten mintues."

"Okay baby, where do you want to talk?" Tamaki yawned.

"How about the living room? I can give you a shoulder massage while we talk if you like." You smile, causing Tamaki's eyes to shine as he smiled down at you.

"I'd like that."

After you were both situated you started by squirting some lotion on your hands before spreading it onto Tamaki's left shoulder, immediately noticing his many knots.

"Okay bunny, what did you want to talk about?"

"Oh.. so I know that you're working really hard and are really tired.. and I also know that we haven't had us time in a while.. so I was wondering if you could take a day or two off? Not much, just a day or two would be fine."

Tamaki was silent as you bit your lip in anticipation, hoping you didn't upset him somehow.

"Y/n.. are you serious?"

"Y-yes?"

"Do you know how many people might be dying right now? I can't just laze about spending time with you because you're feeling lonely. Why don't you go hang out with some friends?"

"T-that's not the same.."

"How so?"

"I want to spend time with you Tamaki. You know, my husband?" You scoff, starting to get annoyed.

"And I want to spend time saving people y/n, why don't you stop being sensitve and start thinking about other people?"

"But I've been holding my feelings back for months! Please! I'm just asking for a day- even a few hours is fine!"

"Y/n. No. Now if you're done I'd like to get to bed."

Jerking his shoulder away from your touch, Tamaki started standing up.

"But wait Tama-"

"No. I'm disappointed in your selfishness y/n."

"Wai-"

"Stop."

"Pl-"

"I said stop!" Tamaki hissed, turning around to face you within a second.

At the sudden movement and change of tone you flinched back, tears gathering in your eyes as you stared up at Tamaki, eyes wide.

As Tamaki glared down at you he froze as you flinched, heart immediately breaking as he saw the tears in the corners of your eyes.

"Y-y-y/n I-"

"I-it's okay Tamaki.. you don't need to say anything. I get it. I-I'll just go to bed now."

"B-but y-y/n.." Tamaki whimpered, guilt consuming him as he watched you walk away.

"Y-y/n.. I'm sorry.."

You quickly got in bed after hurrying up the stairs, wiping at your eyes as you clung to your pillow, staying as far away from Tamaki's side as possible.

You awoke the next morning to the sun shining in your eyes.

Wincing, you turned around to feel for Tamaki, forgetting all about last night and the dreadful few months.

After feeling how cold Tamaki's side of the bed you sighed, memories coming to you in flashes as you stared at his side of the bed.

Wiping away the stray tears, you got out to get ready for a day worse than the one yesterday.

After getting dressed you made your way down stairs, deciding to get on top of your piling to-do list to help get your mind off of Tamaki.

Stepping into the kitchen, you stepped back at the sight of a lavish breakfast filled with all of your favorites spread across the newly cleaned kitchen table.

"T-Tamaki.." you whimper, looking at your beloved with tearful eyes as he guilty studied you with his indigo orbs.

"Y-y/n I-"

You interrupted Tamaki as you rushed into his arms, clutching the back of his shirt, desperate for comfort from the man you've grown to adore.

"Y/n I- I'm so so sorry." Tamaki mumbled, burying his face into your hair to mask the tears falling from his eyes.

"I forgive you Tamaki, I know you were just over worked and didn't mean to take it out on me."

"I promise you- I really didn't me an to, a-and I feel terrible about it."

"Shhh it's okay baby.. I already forgave you. We just need to reflect on what we did wrong tonight and make sure not to do it in the future. Next time, I'll wait until you're less exhausted, and you'll make sure to remind me that you're too tired, mkay?"

"O-okay.."

"Now baby.. why are you home? Don't you have work?"

"Nope, I took the next two weeks and a half off. I know that it won't make up for the months of loneliness, but I'll try to be better, I"ll take less shifts and make sure to only leave for emergencies when I'm off the clock.

"Alright, that's a good start."

"I may need today and possibly tomorrow to sleep.. but I cleaned the entire house -besides our room- and looked at your to- do list and did a few of the bigger things on there.. oh and I made us breakfast.."

"Tamaki. I love you. So, so much."

"I love you too bunny. I'm really rea-"

"Shh, I already said I forgive you. Now, let's eat!"

~~~

Series' masterlist | Tamaki's masterlist | Navigation

Tips <3

Reblogs help spread and support my work, therefore they help me immensely but any support is appreciated <33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way minus reblogging.

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year

Note

hello!! um I really liked the whole Military Creator you've written!

I'm wondering how would some of the boys/men react to that!

for example, Zhongli/Xiao as they have fought in wars before or Childe for his bloodlust. Feel free to add anyone you want too!

Headcanons: Zhongli, Xiao, and Childe Reacting to Reader being a Veteran Military Soldier.

Ah, I see, Anon! Here y'all go :) I hope you enjoy it!

Click Me For the Women Version!

Disclaimers: Might be OOC, Implied Violence/Battle, Mentions of Scars!)

Zhongli

This man. This old immortal man that is a dragon. He knows war like the back of his hand. Kinda quite literally, since once upon a time, some people hailed him as the God of War (Sorry Murata).

To hear that Reader was a former Military Officer for a nation you didn't run nor found, you just increased Zhongli's respect by a HUGE amount. There's no denying it.

"If you don't mind, Your Grace, may you tell me a few stories of your past experiences in battle?" Very attentive listener. He won't push if you leave a few details out, even if he is curious.

Honestly loves to listen to you and your stories! He commends you for your victories, and solemn your lost of the cherished ones. Zhongli is all too familiar with war, and it's very relatable.

Your tea talks with him are now more and more interesting, to say the least. You might be invited from Zhongli for tea instead of the other way around!

Xiao

General Alatus himself...the Vigilant Yaksha doesn't take war all too well. You can say that he's got extreme PTSD from it, and really—that's pretty much an understatement alone.

Won't push the topic much, since this boy does not want you to be stuck in a traumatic time, but he is curious about your military days, since you don't seem all that bothered of what you experienced.

However! This doesn't mean he won't want to check up on you. He may not be...good with emotions, but he's certainly going to try, for the Almighty Creator's sake!

"Your Grace....forgive my prying, but are you...okay?" He cringes just listening to himself ask the question. It felt like he was trying to make your achievements an understatement or a cheap byproduct.

Constantly remind this guy that what he asked hadn't upset or hurt you. This man is notorious for self-sacrifice and self-blame.

Overall, spending time with Xiao is probably good therapy for the both of you, in a way. keep up the tea time, because this man will eventually open up and actually relax and enjoy tea with you!

Childe

A little too thrilled to hear that the Almighty Creator has gone through war.

Immediately pounces on the matter. No cap.

"Your Grace, care to share some battle experiences with me?" Has an absolute gleeful and menacing smile on his face as his dead eyes shine brightly at you, boring into your soul.

Of course, he won't push for details—boy just wants to know the battles and fights you were in.

However, that doesn't mean he's heartless. He'll share your sentiment if a battle brought loss to your loved ones. Childe himself can't imagine losing one of his siblings. Ever.

Tea time with Childe is basically verbal sparring. You both are fighting by comparing your battles with one another. And it never ends.

And that's it! I hope you all like it :) Sorry for being so inactive these days—motivation keeps killing me, I swear. See you all around soon!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: If you're waiting for The Lost Shining God of Celestia or Forver In My Hold finale part—It's coming, don't worry! My brain isn't just motivated just yet, but it will be it out!

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

#yandere sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau genshin #sagau #genshin sagau #sagau cult au #sagau xiao #sagau isekai #sagau x reader #self aware genshin #genshin cult au #genshin self aware #sagau zhongli #sagau childe

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nayatarot777 · 10 months

Text

what do they adore about you? • love pac

a love pac? from me? shocker, i know. but i’m in the mood to tap into some cute and lighthearted energy so…here it is 😂

there is an extended 18+ reading for this pac on my patreon where we look at what this person adores about you sexually in particular. go check it out if you’re interested!

if you’re interested in a personal reading, then please read the info here

• pile one • 🏔️

this person adores how who they’ve grown to know you as is completely different to who they met you as. this could be due to you experiencing some ego deaths while knowing this person, or this is just about this person being granted permission by you to peel back the curtain to see what was behind the persona that you originally portrayed. and they’re in deep adoration of what they see fr. they love how you’re such a good match for them and how you can meet them halfway. i’m feeling like this person knows that they’re a handful at times and not the easiest person for most people to deal with, however you seem to know exactly what to do to help stabilise them and still make them feel like an equal. there’s a dedication that you have to genuinely participating in team work with them and your commitment to them, and you’re so generous with your nurture and your emotional care too. you may have known this person since childhood or you make them feel the same way that they did when they were a kid - safe and loved and cared for. highly nurtured. they adore your physical beauty. you could be natural most days - no/minimal makeup, simple outfits - but yet your beauty is still so obvious and bright to them. you don’t need any enhancements of any sort, in this person’s eyes. they adore your self esteem and how you know how to give love and compassion to yourself, therefore it’s not a difficult task for you to give that to them as well as others, either. they adore your self-care rituals - whatever that may be. i’m seeing someone watch you do your skincare routine and just stare 😂. i’m seeing something specific about them getting home from a long day of work and you ensuring that they have a comfortable, structured space to relax in with a nice meal to eat that they can tell has been made with a lot of love by you. that’s another thing. if you cook for them, they LOVE your food. this person could be on some old person vibes lmao. “grandad vibes” i’m hearing, and they love how you match that. if you’ve built a stable home together, they love how you know how to keep it orderly and structured. again, i’m feeling like this person would be a little lost in relation to that 😂. especially if you have kids. not to say that they’re useless, but there’s definitely more of a calm energy to you when dealing with these duties and responsibilities, whereas they may feel like they don’t hold that same energy as much - they might be a bit more high-strung and frazzled usually. all in all, you’re extremely healing for this person. especially with how you celebrate any accomplishment that they achieve - whether they think that it’s big or small. you could be the type to constantly want to celebrate in some way - maybe even throw parties - and they admire how you see anything and everything in life to celebrate and value.

extended 18+ reading here

• pile two • 🍰

you could’ve been drawn to pile one, too, since 2 out of 4 of the same cards came out for the both of you. this person adores how you’re really on your boss shit. you could be someone who owns your own business (a business woman in particular), or you’re just very high in your work position. either way, you do the damn thing and they see it. they love that you’re able to be completely stable on your own, not having to rely on anyone if you don’t want to. you have a lot of knowledge about your work, finances, and just the way that the world works. knowledge that could even be seen as something to not speak about by the majority of people. knowledge about the government? especially if you speak to this person about politics - they LOVE that shit. even if they don’t understand it themselves lmao. they adore how you carry yourself in such a strong and powerful - yet divinely feminine way. you show everyone that there’s strength in femininity. you could also fit into the typical definition of a “classy” person. whether it’s the way that you dress, your mannerisms, the way that you speak, etc. this person can see that you’re highly educated - even if not academically, you have so much self-education in that head of yours - and they can tell that you’ve really put in the time and energy to graft in either your work/career as well as your self-development. how much you value yourself. just like in pile one, your self esteem is adored by this person. nobody can tell you shit about yourself. you’ve done too much introspection to let someone else tell you who you are or who you need to be. they know that you’re constantly seeking for answers within. they love your introspection and how you question yourself and your behaviours. perhaps even as a way of finding your own worth - not coming from a place of a lack of worth - but more so “am i living up to my full capabilities?”. i’m hearing that you could remind this person of their mother in particular? maybe their mother had this demeanour too, and you naturally match that same energy extremely well. they have so much respect for you because you have so much respect for yourself. they also adore how, although you’re extremely abundant, you’re still very down-to-earth. you don’t let your money or materialism get to your head at all. you keep yourself connected to what you believe truly matters - which is your internal state. they also adore how you don’t speak that much. you’re not someone who just runs your mouth and talks about your business to just anyone. you’re extremely self-protective and make decisions based on what you intuitively know is right for you. you’re not a follower and you’re not easily swayed by what people tell you - you’re a free thinker. you’re deeply in tune with yourself and they adore you for everything that comes along with that.

extended 18+ reading here

• pile three • 🏖️

i literally just heard “a baddie with anxiety”. PERIOD 🗣️😂. this person adores how you still view life in the best way possible with the best confidence that you can possibly muster up when you’re met with adversity. a lot of you in this pile struggle with pretty severe mental health issues, but they see you dealing with this extremely well. they also love how you’ve managed to release any fears and anxieties that have stemmed from the judgements of others - especially from your family. you did this for the sake of your own happiness and honouring your own joy - and most of all, honouring your inner child. you have a very healthy sense of self despite being someone who has gone through certain types of treatment from others that would usually result in the opposite. you’re the embodiment of strength to this person. i’m seeing fire signs heavily throughout this reading - Leo and Sagittarius in particular, but definitely Aries too. i’m hearing that you’re able to “re-parent” yourself. where your parents perhaps didn’t “match up” (for lack of a better term) to what they were supposed to be, you decided to be your own damn parent and implement the teachings and the wisdom that you needed to, towards yourself. you’re also a pretty big “larger than life” personality to this person. i’m hearing “goofy ass” for a lot of you 😂, meaning that you’re always laughing and joking and not taking life all that seriously. they adore the connection that you have to your inner child and how you can see life as one big playground, almost, despite everything that you may mentally struggle with. these psychological struggles could get worse at night, but they admire how you know how to re-group and acknowledge the following new day as a new opportunity to make the most out of your experiences in life - big or small. they love your acceptance and readiness to just experience life. it’s like you have fears about insignificant things when you get into a tough headspace, but the shit that you should probably be worrying about (in terms of important life things) are the things that you don’t take too seriously. and it’s like this is your good luck charm for yourself. to just keep things lighthearted and fun. they also love how you’re awakened. to what you feel like your purpose is, or what your life is supposed to be all about. you could also be extremely aware of how other people live their lives in other cultures to learn from them and take from their teachings to implement them into your own life - that sagittarius energy is coming through. they could love your culture and how you stick to your cultural roots too - especially if this person is a different race, ethnicity or culture to you themselves. you take pride in yourself when you know that you’ve done a good job with something. they adore your confidence in yourself and where you’re directing yourself in life. period ☺️. i love your energy, pile three. you seem like a fun but knowledgeable person to be around who sees the bigger picture to your existence and i have to respect it and admire it myself 😂.

extended 18+ reading here

#pick a card #pac #pick a photo #pac reading #tarot #pick a picture

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satansaidnottoday · 6 days

Text

When you get sick

Based on the Uno reverse Beel pulled in the last post.

Info: Human AU, GN!Mc.

Summary: You've got the cold and now your boyfriend must take care of you.

Warnings: general talk of sickness.

Lucifer

Has "do what I say, not what I do" energy.

He urges you to take time off and rest. Says it's very important to relax for a timely recovery. Be sure to remember his exact words for the next time he is sick.

Will try to get out of work earlier so he can take care of you. He calls you throughout the day to see how you're doing and if you need anything. If you're in a really bad condition, he will take time off to take care of you.

He can't cook, but will order any foods you like.

He will cuddle you if you ask, but won't offer on his own. He is a little scared of it being contagious.

When you feel better, he won't expect anything from you but will accept any gestures of gratitude you give him.

Mammon

Whiny.

Thinks you're going to die.

You have to reassure him that it's just a cold every thirty minutes. I will try to get you to the hospital anyway.

He is completely at your service from day one. Do not dare move a muscle; the great Mammon has everything covered for you.

You have a fresh supply of hot tea always by your side. He makes sure you get all of your meals. He keeps a tally of every medicine you need to take. You basically have a personal nurse.

Lots of cuddles and massages.

If you're trembling at all because of the fever, he will hold you as if you were having a seizure.

He cries a lot when you're in pain, probably more than you.

When you're feeling better, he will expect at the very least a thank-you gift. A shopping spree would be preferable.

Leviathan

He doesn't know what to do.

Finds everything to be too overwhelming. He is really worried about you and wants to help, but he has no idea how to take care of a sick person. So, of course, he goes back to the person who used to take care of him when he was sick. Mammon.

He tries his hardest to be just as supportive, but it doesn't go well. The tea is always too hot or too cold, he only knows how to make ramen, and he keeps forgetting about the ibuprofen!

In the end, the best he can do for you is bring you more tissue boxes and lay down by your side while you watch movies. You reassure him that this is more than enough, but he still feels a little guilty.

When you feel better, make a great spectacle about how helpful he was. He did miss a butch of seasonal releases just to stay with you.

Satan

He will insist you take time off the moment symptoms start to show.

Shows up at your house with a butch of medicinal herbs. Mint to open up your nose, lavender to help with the headache, cardamom for... Something? He knows it had some healing property, but seems to have forgotten. He makes you some soup with it just in case it was important.

Won't go near you, even if you ask. Most he'd do is help you get around if your muscles are aching.

He will tell you about his latest read and how it made him feel. If you have read it, he will ask you to compare notes. Just trying to keep you entertained any way he can.

He brings all of his favorite tea blends for you to try out.

He won't expect anything in return for his care. He loves you, and that's just what you do for the people you love.

Asmodeus

Whiny 2.0

"My poor, beautiful thing."

He might not know a lot about caring for the sick, but he knows a lot about self-care. You will still have a runny nose, but your skin will shine, baby.

He will pamper you. Have all of the blankets. Sleep for as long as you want. Ask for any food, and he will get it for you. With unlimited snacks, you can even have his favorite chocolates. He will watch all of your comfort shows and movies with you.

Baths, many baths. They are really good when you're sick; they relax your muscles and help the bad energies leave the body.

As soon as you're feeling good, it's his turn to be pampered! So better be prepared.

Beelzebub

If nothing else, you're well fed.

All healthy meals, he won't let you indulge in sweets. Your body needs protein and veggies right now, and he will have them for you at every meal.

Will cut fruit for you as snack.

Pushes you to do some light exercises when you can. Sweat out the sickness.

He is very supportive, constantly telling you you're going to be okay. He will stay by your side every single minute.

He will carry you around if your muscles are sore.

When you're feeling better, he will make you desert. For the days he has you surviving on steamed broccoli and rice.

Belphegor

This is actually great news.

He gets to cuddle with you all day, and you won't be able to escape. He can even use you as an excuse to take a day off. No work, no school, just napping with his favorite person. Every day should be like that.

If only you didn't have to be sick for it to happen.

He doesn't know much about taking care of someone. Being the youngest one, everyone else always took care of him. But he doesn't like seeing you hurt, so he will try his best.

The best medicine he can offer you is a good nap in his arms, but he will try some of Satan's medicinal teas. If needed, he will get Lucifer to drive him to the pharmacy.

He doesn't know a thing about eating healthy, so you will get a diet of chips, pastries, and candy.

If you manage to get better, he will whine about not having your full attention anymore.

Thanks for reading!

#OB!HumanAu #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me!#obey me nightbringer #om! shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me gender neutral mc #obey me! headcanons

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whysojiminimnida · 11 months

Text

Remember When I Said Taehyung Might Not Be As Gay As We Thought?

Don't judge a man by his milfy wardrobe, he looks goooood.

It was... awhile ago. Maybe as far back as 2021 although I do not feel like link-searching it. It's in the archives if I didn't kill it.

Granted, there was a lot going on, then. There's still a lot going on and until now I had no desire to ever - EVER - return to this hellsite. Because Taekookers are fucking weird, yo. And some of y'all got a lil bit up in my shit too as I (fuzzily) recall. Which: it's whatever. I'm extremely unsocial, don't even answer my own DMs. And it's not personal, so I get it. I don't need or want to defend myself, but I will protect people I care about. With my absence, if necessary.

OT: I also totally kicked the big C while I've been out so that was nice. Yoongi the cat is pleased that his noms will continue uninterrupted. I will be in wigs for at least another year. It's all good. Oh LOOK at what we have here. Don't come at me for publishing this, I will explain.

I got it from actual media days ago, okay, and also: there was no expectation of real privacy. Keep reading. Or don't, I'm not telling you what to do.

ANYWAY. I had to come back, mainly to say TAENNIE IS REAL I TOLD Y'ALL IDK WHY NOBODY EVER BELIEVES ME BUT HERE WE ARE. I'm gloating. Honestly, it's so rude, I'd apologize if I cared. But I am rude and snorfling into my cheerios about this. Tae just made me so damn happy, is all.

LET THE MAN BE BI OR HETEROFLEXIBLE OR EVEN STRAIGHT IDC. Jennie clearly makes him happy. Look at his "I'm going to Paris to see my girlfriend" face!

And in that very specific jewelry look, no less. Foundrae. Again. Still. Hm.

Here's what I can tell you based on my limited third hand no sources no receipts this is probably utter bullshit usual disclaimer: It's a soft open, kids. This whole "oopsie we just so happened to get caught taking a lil walk in public with our managers in tow during which date at least one of us signed several autographs, what a surprise" is in fact a soft open for what will likely be a public confirmation PRETTY DAMN SOON. It might happen before I get this thing published, actually, depending on when I get it up. If it's before May 22 at noon my time, no idea. If after, well. Guess we'll see. Jennie's supposed to show up at the screening of HBO's The Idol that day, screening at the Grand Lumiere at 10:30 CEST. One wonders if she will arrive alone, or bring a plus one. It's a big ask, and if he does it they're probably getting married, that's how big a deal it would be. So I'm not holding my breath, but.

This seems like a reasonable prospect for a plus-one viewing. Might not be the only one but... Jennie's IN IT so.

I'M NOT SAYING THIS IS GONNA HAPPEN. I think it would be a fucking POWER move if it did, but I also do not necessarily expect that it will. It COULD. It... MIGHT. It might not. Either way they're a thing, I'm telling you. They are, have been, a thing. For awhile. And it is apparently quite serious - like up to and including talk of engagement serious.

Remember when a bunch of folk thought that one gummy bear dude was going to jail for "hacking" Jennie's phone only there's been no actual movement on any "investigation"? Yeah. Trickle truthing, they call it. Give 'em a little bit, let them deny it and yell and chew on it for awhile before you give 'em a little more. But c'mon, nobody's wearing half the love-themed couple pieces at Foundrae for no damn reason.

Seriously they got the whole collection almost and both have been seen wearing them almost exclusively. For a year.See airport pic above.

Look, I don't have inside info on Taehyung. I do not. I ain't hang with his friends and I don't know him personally. Never met the guy. But I know a PR move when I see one and this is exactly that.

We all know how toxic stan culture can be. Some ToadlicKKers (and a few of us house elves) are certifiably bonkers, if stan twitter is anything to go by. And the guys, the company, they expect a whole meltdown. They know this is not gonna make half their fans happy. I mean the tkkers have a point in that it looks like they wanted to be seen. BECAUSE IT'S A SOFT OPEN. What Taejen/Taennie/Jenhyung and the companies also know is that based on historic shipper behavior, this is gonna come back on Jimin, Jungkook, maybe Rose' and Lisa. And by extension, the other members. Maybe not as much due to their respective distance, but still. I bet by the time I finish this it will have already started.

Oh look there it is. Fuck those bitches, really.

Good LORDT. I'm not adding the audio, if y'all are that hungry for psycho hose beast Jimin hate hie thee to stan twt.

But, totally off-topic kinda...

... wouldn't it be cool if Jennie, who speaks great English, was hanging out with Troye Sivan and was like "so you know my boyfriend tells me that his bffs..." I'M JUST SAYING NETWORKING IS COOL AND FRIENDS OF FRIENDS GET THINGS DONE OKAY.

You know that girl has the scoop. If Tae knows it, she knows it. Oh heeeeyyy Troye.

Also OT: I love that Taekook have been hanging out a little more lately. It's refreshing. I genuinely think having Jennie in his life has been good for Tae in several ways. And you know, I'm kinda surprised Taennie has lasted this long. I didn't honestly think they would. It warms my decrepit, sad old heart a bit. Turns out I have a lot more to say so IDK IDK, if I feel okay about it I might be back. Right now I'm just waiting for the official Taennie nod and the continued total meltdown.

#oh shit here we go again #taennie #stan twt #cannes #taehyung #kim taehyung #jennie #meanwhile the jeon parks continue unabated but that's another thing #tae in paris #random troye sivan #cannes 2023 #yoongi the cat not the man #why the hell am i even here

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mouschiwrites · 2 months

Note

Hiiii

I was wondering if you could please make Jays head canons, or Jays story's?

Sure thing! :D

Ninjago - Dating Jay Walker Headcanons

It definitely wasn’t love at first sight when he saw you, but he couldn’t deny how attractive you were

He didn’t really see you like that; not at first, anyway

You were helping them with a mission, and once it was over he figured you’d separate forever, and that’d be that

But by the time the mission was over, he found he couldn’t bear the thought of losing all contact with you

He’d come to like your personality even more than your looks, which was really saying something since he thought you were STUNNING

So, just as you were about to part, he suddenly took you by the hand

He reddened, stuttering, trying to get out his words

You just smiled, knowing what he meant before he could even get a coherent word out

You guys exchanged info, promising to meet again sometime

Later that same night, Jay contacted you, requesting a meet-up at his favorite sushi joint in Ninjago

You guys continued on like that, taking turns picking your meet-up spots

It takes a while for Jay to actually admit his feelings, but he’s painfully obvious

Honestly you’ll probably have to make the first move, unless you want to wait forever

But when you finally start actually dating, he is ECSTATIC

He is THE turbo-boyfriend: super romantic, always showing his love in huge displays, memorizing all the things you like (as if he hadn’t done that already…)

His love languages are: All Of Them. Think of literally anything romantic (poems, gifts, doing chores for you, caring for you when sick, etc, etc) and he’s done it at some point

You might legitimately have to tell him to tone it down

Especially with PDA; we’ve seen in the show that he sometimes struggles with boundaries

He’ll always want to hold your hand or stand super close, but he’ll back off if you ask

Once you outline your boundaries, though, he does his best to follow them

He’ll probably slip up once or twice when he gets excited, but he tries his hardest :(

He’s very excitable when it comes to you, but he’s also prone to channel that energy into anxiety

And jealousy, which leads to insecurity

He sometimes feels that he’s not good enough for you, with you being as amazing as you are

Don’t worry though, you can easily cheer him up by showing him literally any amount of affection

But an evening cuddling and whispering sweet nothings works best ;)

Cuddling is a must with Jay; he clings to you like a koala, and he complains that he can’t sleep without you

In fact, he insists that everything is way better when you’re there

It sometimes annoys the other ninjas

They’ll be doing something completely unrelated and he’ll just sigh and go “I wish Y/n was here”

And they’re just like: 😐

He could (and does) gush about you endlessly to others

Much to many people’s annoyance

With all this in mind, I’ll finish off by saying he’s the type to shower you with all the love in the world but then break down sobbing when you so much as smile at him

(Please smile at him)

Thank you so much for this request! And thanks for reading, take care sweet doves!!

(divider by saradika)

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #jay walker #jay walker x reader #jay x reader #ninjago headcanons #jay walker headcanons

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bkaulitzz · 2 months

Text

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐭

more like this on my wattpad :3 @/b_kaulitzz

————————————————————————

info: LASER TAG LEMON, enemies to lovers if you squint, f!reader x dom!bill

c/w: just dirty talk, choking, fondling (f receiving)

a/n: THE FIRST HALF IS FROM JULY…my writing has improved so some stuff might be wonky

more under cut :)

"Happy birthday, to Valerie. Happy birthday to you!" Everyone sang, as Valerie leaned into her cake, blowing out her candles. I smiled as I watched her, she looked so gorgeous today, all dressed up for her birthday. I sat back on the couch, in a party room of the arcade place. It was lit with neon lights, the walls were carpet material with a purple hue. I hummed as I saw a plate of cake, held in front of me, looking up at the person who handed it to me. I felt my heart flutter as I met his dark brown eyes, taking the plate.

"Thank you, Bill, " I pursed my lips as I rolled my eyes, and he only smiled back as he handed me a fork. I began to eat the slice of cake.

"We're gonna play laser tag in a few, do you wanna join?" He said as he pointed his thumb back in the direction of the laser tag arena. I raised an eyebrow and looked over his shoulder.

"There's laser tag?" I muffled through the piece of cake in my mouth. He gave me a nod, grinning as he eyed me. "I'll join, I guess."

"I'll see you then, " Bill leaned down into my ear as he spoke. I felt my face heat up as he leaned back with a smirk, and walked off to get his piece of cake. I nibbled on my lip as I watched Bill awkwardly grab a plate from Valerie, they weren't even close. I don't even know why he got an invite. It was as if he HAD to be everywhere that I was. God, he annoys me. His stupid sly talk, his stupid hair, his pretty lips. I clenched the fork as I zoned out, my eyes on him. He turned to me, feeling my eyes on his. He tilted his head, coming over to sit next to me. "You shouldn't stare at people, it's rude, " He teased as he nudged me in my side with his elbow. I widened my eyes as I turned to him, we were so close that our thighs could overlap one another.

"I wasn't staring...I just zoned out, " I furrowed my brows, finishing the piece of cake. He tilted his head as he held a piece of cake to his lips.

"Why are you avoiding it? I know you were staring." He chuckled as he ate the piece of cake.

"I wasn't! Bill, just!... I just wanna play laser tag, " I huffed as I got up, to rush out of the rented party room. I left the used paper plate on the table in front of us. Bill frowned and watched.

"Wait!" I heard him call behind me as I excused myself past the other party people. I sighed in relief as I finally got out. I needed to get away from him. I looked around the arcade, eying each game. Guitar Hero? No, already played that. Dance Dance Revolution? No, too tiring. Air hockey! I widened my eyes and ran over, watching as a male leaned against it as he talked to another friend.

"Are you guys playing right now?" I spoke as I fidgeted with the hem of my long sleeves. The tan male turned to me, looking like he came straight out of a boy band. I felt a lump in my throat as my palms sweated, he smiled and shook his head.

"No, do you wanna play?" He asked as he went to the opposite side of where I stood at the air hockey table. I nodded, taking hold of a mallet. He smiled as he placed quarters in, taking a mallet and sliding the puck towards him. He hit it toward me, starting the game. I bit the inside of my cheek, hitting it back away from my goal. I smirked as the game went on, hitting the puck into his goal. He was so dreamy, his curls laid over his face so nicely, I almost lost the game from eying him. I furrowed my brows as my eyes went back and forth between him and the puck. We were tied, in the last seconds of the game. Come on, come on. I thought as I watched the puck slide back and forth, it was to the point you couldn't even see the distinct shape of it. I clenched the mallet as I tried to focus on the game, harshly hitting the puck. I gasped, feeling a pull on my wrist; my mallet gliding away from the goal as my grip pulled off, which caused the male to win.

"Come on, laser tag is starting, " Bill grumbled into my ear as he glared at the tan male. The male raised his arms as he watched us, smirking widely.

"I won! Have fun with your boyfriend!" I heard him say from a distance, as we walked off. I huffed as I stumbled along.

"He's not my boyfriend!" I responded, feeling Bill's grip around my wrist tighten. I frowned as we made it to where the others were. "What the hell, Bill? I was about to win!" I groaned as he let go of my wrist, once we got to the gear area. Everyone else was suited up, some fixing their shirts as they suited up.

"It's fine. You can play again later. This is more fun anyways, " Bill huffed as he walked to the opposite side, to put his gear on. I frowned as I watched him, what is wrong with him? I looked over to my side, only one vest left. I placed it over myself, sighing as I tightened it. The game controller opened the door, and everyone walked in. I followed behind, holding my gun up. I regret not inviting at least one friend here, everyone seemed to have a buddy. Techno music played above us, a countdown started and everyone ran off away from one another. Their vests lit up either blue or red. I chased after someone with a red vest, it was so dark, I couldn't make up their features or hair at least. My vest blinked as came close to them, giving off a zapping noise. I shot at them, before running off to hide behind a wall.

***

My palms sweated with the grip on the plastic laser gun. I backed up into a corner, behind a wall with a sigh as I wiped off the sweat on my forehead. The blue light from my vest lit my face from underneath as I took a seat on the carpet. I sighed, fanning myself. The noise and the heat were way too overwhelming. I checked my face with the back of my palm, hoping my makeup didn't melt off by now. I sighed in relief as no color transferred, standing up again with the gun. I looked at the time on the gun, listening to the computerized gunshots as people ran by. Maybe, if I stayed here, I wouldn't have to deal with anybody. I raised my eyebrows as my blue light began to flash, aiming the gun around. My back pressed up against the wall. My heart dropped as I watched a figure enter my vision, turning around the corner to face me. The dark-haired male aimed the gun at me with a smirk as the red light under him blinked, making him look more intimidating.

"Bill?! Don't scare me like that!" I scowled, aiming the gun at him to shoot with both hands. He shook his head, putting a finger over his lips as he quickly used his own gun to push mine away. The plastic harshly clashed against each other as I tried to keep my grip, my sweaty palms worked against me. I folded up a bit as I tried to pick my gun back up, only for Bill to take my wrists in either hand. He grinned, looking down at me as he pinned me. "You're cheating! Don't try to steal points off of me, " I tried to fight against his restraint. He bit his lip with a smirk as his eyes were hooded, leaning close down to my face. My heart raced, looking up at him as he glanced over my lips.

"It isn't cheating if both of us are in on this, " He leaned down to my neck, brushing his plump lips against my sensitive skin. I shivered, closing my eyes as I tilted my head away.

"I don't think laser tag is played this way, Bill, " I looked back down at him as he looked up at me through his eyebrows.

"You know..." He slowly stood up, taking both of my wrists in his left hand. He moved his free hand down to my lower jaw to lift my attention to him. My face heated up as he admired my features. "I think it's unfair how you always try to tell me what's right. Why don't I show you?"

"What?..." My stomach turned as his hand slid down to wrap around my neck. His grasp on me was firm, yet so gentle. My breath hitched as I watched him lean down to my lips, his lips parting with a grin as he looked up into my eyes.

"You're not fighting with me over something for the first time, " He whispered as he hovered his lips over mine. I slightly leaned closer, only for him to lean away.

"Bill, please..." I felt so ashamed, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He let out a mocking gasp, gently rubbing my neck with his thumb.

"This is new, I like this look on you, " He leaned back down, smirking as he hovered over my lips. Our vests were so close by now, forming a slight purple together in the middle. I clenched my jaw as I looked up at him. I leaned close, gently taking his bottom lip between my teeth. I slowly pulled back on it, watching his content expression. "You could've just said something, babe, " He finally pressed his lips against mine. I closed my eyes, letting out a small whine as his grip around my throat gently tightened. His warm and soft lips moved harshly against mine, and my head leaned back against the wall. Bill's lips chased after mine with a small chuckle as he moved his hand away from my wrists. My hands shot into his slightly sweaty hair, his hands gripping my waist as he pressed his body into mine. He groaned, the vests creating a barrier.

"You're so frustrating, " I said into the kiss, tilting my head as I pulled him closer by his head. He chuckled against my lips.

"Yea?" He hummed in response. I let out a small satisfied sigh, my legs feeling like overcooked noodles as I grew weak. My stomach turned as I felt heat grow between my legs.

"You annoy me so much, " I groaned as my lips begged for more. Each kiss feels just as addicting as the first one. He gripped my jaw, causing me to whine softly as he moved his lips against mine.

"Mhm?" Bill smirked against my lips, moving his knee between my thighs. I gasped softly, clenching my eyes as my arms slowly fell to his shoulders. I desperately moved my lips against his, my eyebrows curving inward. His free hand glided down my body, tasting my lips as his fingers dug into my thigh. I let out another sigh, allowing him to slide his tongue entrance. I slowly opened my eyes, his eyes meeting mine as he swirled his tongue against mine. I moaned softly, feeling his fingers slide against my folds through the thin leggings. He pulled away from the kiss, looking down at me as he slowly traced my clit. I arched my back, tilting my hips into his touch. "I'm so frustrating, I can't help it, " He breathed down my neck. My head went dizzy with the grip around my throat and his hand applying pressure onto my clit. I let out small moans, his face holding a proud smile as he continued. "I'm so annoying, " He dragged out, speaking into my ear. "Aren't I?" He placed a soft kiss on my ear. I let out a high-pitched moan as his finger gently flicked against my clit. I dug my nails into his shoulders, his vest protecting him as I tried to keep my moans down. "Tell me how annoying I am."

"Fuck-- you, " I managed to let out, biting my lip to fight back moans.

"Yea? Say that again, " He narrowed his eyes as he applied more pressure, circling my clit with his fingers. I trembled, letting out repeated pants. "Answer me."

"Fuck-" My voice shook as he continued to keep eye contact, sliding his fingers against my folds. He kissed my lips again, I let out a small whimper. He chuckled against my lips as his thumb pressed against my jaw. I desperately whine, curling my fingers into the sleeves of his shirt.

"I win, " Bill smirked against my lips as he stared down at me. I raised an eyebrow, my eyes following down to the dying light of my vest. He held his gun in his free hand, the audacity of him still having his hand on my throat. I clenched my fists, furrowing my eyebrows.

"No way. You're serious?" I picked up my gun, trying to shoot at him yet it was off. He slid a hand down to my vest as he kept me against the wall.

"I'm sorry...that you lost..." He mockingly frowned and pecked my jawline. My eyes were wide as I watched him leave with a smirk on his face. My nails dug into the gun, nearly breaking apart the gun at the seams. I'll get him back.

bill kaulitz, bill, kaulitz twins, smut

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iamnot-crazy · 3 months

Text

Stowaway Chapter 3

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Info: This is my first time posting a story on Tumblr and my first time writing a x reader.

Summary:

The reader is a slave to a nobleman due to her devil's fruit ability which allows her to control the emotions of the people around her. She flees to bump into Trafalgar Law and boards his ship.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

You have now made it your nightly routine to visit your captain once everyone has fallen asleep. You wouldn't use your power every night though sometimes you would sit in the corner you had made and read books with him or allow him to ramble to you to sort out his thoughts. After visiting a town you come back that night to find a black beanbag sitting in the corner you always sit in. You smiled taking it as your invitation to visit more often even when everyone is awake and can notice you sneaking into his office. Rumors did start to spread but they were all cut down by a quick glare from their captain.

Your powers started to increase now being able to feel people's emotions from across the room now when someone approaches you about their problems you are quick to know who it is and how they are feeling. You revealed your new ability by accident after a very long day when a crew member approached you from behind and you spoke up before they came within 3 feet of you, "No Shachi, Ikkaku is not mad at you for your last prank." You paused trying to read Ikkaku's emotion from across the room, "But she is extremely hungry if you want to make it up to her you should get her something to eat." You spoke without lifting your head and continued to rest on the table in front of you. Shachi froze holding his hand up ready to tap you on the shoulder but shook off any weird thoughts he might have about you and chalked it up to you knowing everyone so well. He smiled with a thank you and ran off to find some food for his angry crewmate.

Your slip-up would not have been a problem if it wasn't for Law sitting next to you reading the paper. Later that night when you came into his office he immediately questioned you, "Since when have you been able to feel other people's emotions."

You shrugged, "about 3 weeks ago." you then picked up your current read off the beanbag before plopped down on it. But Law was quick to do the math and realize that was the day he fixed your tattoo.

"How does it work?" He asked curiously,

You shrugged again, "I don't know it first started I had to be touching the person then I realized if I take my gloves off I can feel the emotions of the people around me."

"Your gloves are laced with Seas Prism right?" He question reaching out for your glove to investigate further. You pulled the glove off and handed it to him to investigate. When he put the glove on he tried to call a room but the biggest it would go was the size of a quarter. "If the gloves are limiting your abilities, I wonder how powerful you can be."

"That would be the goal of the gloves." You state not looking up from your book.

"Have you tried keeping your gloves off for a day?" He asked taking the gloves off and creating a room the size of the office and shambling the book in front of him trading it for another book on sea prism. The first book neatly replaced the new one on the shelves, ever since you began to crash his office you have been bickering with him about putting books back on the shelves and not just on the floor or desk and his office has now been the neatest it has ever been, it was still a mess with paperwork sprawled on the desk and the books are not in any particular order but you still consider it a win.

"I don't enjoy the feeling of everyone's emotions." You state answering his earlier question. But he ignored your response and continued to read about sea prism and its effects on devil fruit users. No book mentions anyone trying to conceal their powers like you do forcing its limitation. He swaps the book out for another on devil fruits and he finds a section about the feel-feel fruit. His eyes darted across the page surprised he hadn't read up on your powers before.

You slam your book shut gaining his attention, "I can feel your brain working overtime. Please don't tell me you are reading up on my devil fruit abilities." You watch as he quickly closes the book and shuffles it off to the side biting the inside of his cheek. You shake your head, "I didn't choose to have this devil fruit ability yes it has its perks but it has mostly just caused pain in my life." You grab the glove off his desk and place it back on your hand limiting the range of your powers and blocking off the feeling of guilt your captain was radiating. "I would prefer to keep my powers limited." You snatch the book off the desk and place it back on the shelf in a spot where you'll be able to tell if it moved. "Maybe it's time to head to sleep."

Law sighed, "I think I am going to stay up a bit longer." He stated turning back to his desk and notes.

"Fine but please don't try and learn more about my powers and if you do please don't tell me I don't want to know." You sigh before walking out of the room.

Law stayed true to your ask and the devil fruit book stayed in its position on the shelf but his eyes kept hovering over the book, he just wanted to know if you knew how he was starting to feel towards you but he thinks he already knew that answer.

The ship docked at an island with a large town and the crew was ready to explore. Everyone departed from the ship and took off down the street exploring the shops. You, Shachi, and Ikkaku decided to explore together mainly Ikkaku and you dragged Shachi along on your shopping trip for clothing.

Bepo and Law went out together unable to contain the crew who was excited to depart from the ship and stretch their legs. Law dragged Bepo into the bookstore where they collected a large stack of books.

You laughed as you skipped down the street and Shachi groaned holding two bags of clothing for you and Ikkaku. Suddenly you bumped into someone and you turned around to quickly apologize but froze when you saw who you bumped into. A large arm reached down and grabbed your arm yanking you upwards.

You let out a small scream as the large man held your arm and pulled you off the ground. Ikkaku and Shachi quickly began shouting at the man and running towards you, Shachi even dropped the bags he was holding.

"I haven't seen you in a long time where have you been?" The man hissed in your face spitting slightly, You started to pull at your arm trying to free yourself. "Your master is worried sick about you. I should bring you to him, maybe he will reward me if I do. Or maybe he will let me beat you back into submission."

You pale and stop struggling in fear, your eyes never leaving the man who would visit the mansion often to abuse your ability and beat you when he wasn't satisfied. Your master allowed it thinking you would learn how to use your powers more if the sense was beaten into you. Your heart was pounding outside your chest and the world seemed to have stopped.

Your ears rang with static drawing out any noise Ikkaku and Shachi were making as the guards of the man held them back. The only thing you could hear was the threats the man was making and your heart racing.

"ROOM!"

"SHAMBLES!"

You felt the grip on your arm disappear and you were surrounded by fur lying in Bepo's arms you could nearly make out the figure of your captain with his sword out and in a fighting stance in front of you. "Take her back to the ship." He hissed his voice breaking through the static. You turned your head into Bepo's chest and began sobbing. You couldn't do anything in the arms of your past abuser but stare and panic.

Bepo ran as fast as he could away from the fight the Captain was ending. Without a second thought, Law ran up to the man who held you hostage and sliced him in half using his fruit ability to keep him alive while doing so. The guards turned to help their commander but were held back by Ikkaku and Shachi who pulled out their katanas and began fighting back.

The man Law had cut in half just began laughing, "So she has been with you Trafalgar Law, has she been treating you well?" He laughed so more, "Oh how I missed her powers always made my day so refreshing and when it didn't teaching her a lesson would."

Law's knuckles went white as he ran up to the man using his powers to conduct an electric shock to the half of his body where his heart lay. "YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HER AGAIN!" Law shouted conducting another electric shock on the man who lay unconscious on the ground from the first blow. Law screamed as he continued to slash at the man dicing him into pieces.

Law stopped when more of his crew joined in the fight taking down the guards. Penguin was the first to run up to his captain to try to stop the terror he was inflicting upon the man who was probably a noble of some sort. He grabbed the arm of his captain and pulled it backward to convince him to stop and follow them as now they needed to make a quick escape before the Marines showed up.

They left but the man before them was not dead but in so many pieces it would take the Marines all day to put him back together and Law hoped that process would be antagonizing.

The crew rushed aboard the ship where you remained in Bepo's arms crying uncontrollably. The rest of the crew was already aboard the ship surrounding Bepo and you with concern. They turned when Law approached scared of his reactions and quickly stepped out of his way as he approached you.

Bepo was holding you tight trying to calm you bouncing you like a baby but nothing was working. Your breathing started to hicks as you attempted to suck in air but were unable to in your state which cause more panic inside of you and you began to choke yourself in sobs. Law noticed this and immediately ran over to you trying to calm you but nothing he could do would work, he picked up a nearby rock shouting shambles, replaced it with a sedative, and swiftly stabbed it into your arm.

Your breathing and heart rate slowed back to normal levels and your sobs quieted. Bepo's tight grip on you loosens and the mink looks up at his captain for answers along with the rest of the crew.

"Who was that guy?" Shachi finally spoke up above the quiet blanket that covered the crew.

"Somebody from y/n past." Law answers not speaking much on your past without your say. He places two fingers on your neck to observe your heart rate.

"He said her master missed her... Was.. Was y/n a slave?" Ikkaku dared to ask the larger question and the crew was filled with confusion and anger the feeling of protectiveness of the crew could be felt from a mile away.

Law pulled you out of Bepo's arms and into his own, "I will not answer questions about, y/n, while she is unable to speak for herself. We need to leave this town before the Marines show up. prepare the ship for dive." He ordered before storming off with you in his arms. He made a beeline for the Medical room placing you comfortably down on the table. He checked your heart rate for the hundredth time to ensure that not only were you alive but that you were not having an adverse reaction to the sedative.

After an hour of Law bouncing his knee impatiently waiting for you to wake up and crewmembers approaching the door debating about asking for an update you finally woke up. Your eyes fluttered open and your arm reached to your head to block the light in your eyes. As soon as you moved Law jumped onto his feet, "Y/N!"

You moaned in response, "What happened?" you looked over at Law, whose eye bags were darker than normal and his emotions of worry and concern hit you like a rock. You looked at your hand to see that your gloves were missing which is why you could feel not only Laws worry but the entire crew who rested outside the door. "Where are my gloves?" You mumbled trying to sit up.

Law passed the gloves he was holding to one keep his powers in check and two to ensure the gloves would not hinder your recovery. You put the gloves on closing off your connection to the emotions of the entire crew. With your gloves on you could now feel your own emotions hit you like a wave as the memories of today came back. Your head began to split with pain and the room began to spin. Unable to contain yourself you hunched over and vomited on the floor followed by tears. Law grabbed you by your shoulder keeping you stable.

"y/n look at me. Look at me." Law begged so you lifted your head and met his eyes. Your eyes were the darkest black that he had ever seen. "He is gone he not going to hurt you ever again."

You sniffled away some tears, "I was so scared Law. I was so scared and I didn't do anything just stared. I... I. Can't go back... They'll break me. I can't go back." you sobbed into your captain's shoulder.

He held you close to him and patted your head. "you won't I promise." he rubbed your back to comfort you as you sobbed. "have you ever heard of the will of D."

You pull back shaking your head and wiping away your tears to look at him clearly. "the will of D refers to the family of D which is also referred to as the natural enemy of god. And the celestial dragons refer to themselves as Gods." your mind wandered searching for his point. "my full name is Trafalgar D. Water Law." he paused to wipe away a stray tear of yours, "which means no one can touch you not while I'm here."

You smiled but tears still built up in your eyes and Law wished he had your power so that he could ease your pain.

***

Next Chapter

#trafalgar law #one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d water law #one piece x reader

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