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gimmethatagustd · 9 months

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wanna watch a sex tape | kth (ft. pjm)

When Taehyung invited you over to watch a movie, you didn’t think the movie he had in mind would be your sex tape… And you definitely didn’t think his roommate would want to watch, too.

↳ pairing: taehyung x reader x jimin

↳ wc/date: 6.9k | August 2023

↳ warnings: no pronouns/gendered language for oc except "pussy", namjoon has mono and it's not the album (hahahaaa), homemade pornography, Big Dick Tae, exhibitionism, humiliation kink (but it's like... unintentional? tae isn't mean or anything), handjob, blowjob, deepthroating, facefucking, crying, anal and vaginal fingering, unprotected anal and vaginal sex, double penetration, creampie, subspace, sub!reader, soft!dom tae, switch!jimin ig, an insane amount of lube like way too much, they're all arguing with each other the entire time, tae tries to deepthroat a camcorder

↳ notes: lol yeahhh soooo... idk what's up with me and threesomes lately, but, uhhh, i'm too embarrassed to proofread this so i'll do it later hkjds

↳ masterlist / taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? up! - lil vada & donnysolo

The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles (mini-series) Masterlist

“It’s just a movie,” he’d said. “What’s wrong with two friends watching a movie? It’s Netflix and chill in the most literal way, I promise,” he’d insisted.

So why does Taehyung have pulled up what appears to be a video editing software instead of Netflix?

You sit with your back against Taehyung’s headboard and your legs tucked beneath you while you watch him place his laptop on the bed in front of you. The moment he presses play, you feel all the blood drain from your body.

“Kim Taehyung, turn that the fuck off!” you screech. You lunge forward to slap the space bar, effectively pausing the video. ��Why? Why why why why why?”

“You said I could pick the movie,” Taehyung says with a slight pout.

“This is not a fucking movie!”

There on the screen, with a fucking sepia filter, is a still of Taehyung’s fingers lodged deep between your thighs. The tendons and veins in his wrist and forearm pop to the surface from the thrusting motion. In the second it took to pause the video, you’d heard your own breathy moans blare from the laptop’s speakers.

This is probably the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you in your entire life. Probably in anyone’s life! You’re living a nightmare.

“You’re right, it’s not a movie,” Taehyung sighs. He leans back on his palms and lets his head loll to the side as he stares at you blankly, almost as if he’s bored. It’s enraging how hot he looks. “It’s just raw footage. I have a lot of edits to make before I could call it a movie. For starters, I already hate the filter.”

Ears and cheeks aflame with invisible heat, you dig your fingers into the bed’s fluffy comforter to prevent yourself from clawing Taehyung’s eyes out. He’s genuinely insufferable and has been for as long as you’ve known him.

You don’t know how you keep finding yourself in these unfortunate situations with Taehyung. The first time, he provoked you. How could you have reasonably walked away from him at Hoseok’s party when it was in your own fucking apartment? After he fucked your pussy and took a photo when you came? What were you supposed to have done?! You’d already tried kicking him out. The little shit just wiggled his way under your skin and made you itch.

The whole striptease thing hadn’t been your fault, either. Hoseok had a whole conversation with you about not “scaring away” his friends as if it’s somehow on you that his friends are all annoying. But you love Hoseok, no matter how difficult he makes your life sometimes, and you told yourself that you would do better to be nice. Helping Taehyung with his college photography assignment seemed like a nice way to hold out an olive branch to the asshole. How could you have known that it would end with, with, with a sex tape?

Because that’s what this is on Taehyung’s laptop. A fucking sex tape.

You made a sex tape with Kim fucking Taehyung, the most infuriating man on the planet, and now you’re sitting on his bed while he explains his editing software like this is the most normal thing you could be doing on a Friday night.

“Are you even listening?” Taehyung narrows his eyes at you. His fingers hover over the trackpad, posed to click on the video’s play button.

You swat his hand away, and he yelps.

“Stop it right now,” you snap. “We are not watching this.”

You’re so embarrassed that your entire body is on fire. The skin at the nape of your neck prickles, and your stomach swoops so severely that you’re afraid you might pass out from how difficult it is to inhale. It doesn’t help that Taehyung’s previous look of irritation has morphed into something slimy and smug.

Of course, the universe is never on your side. Assuming Taehyung will let this go is nothing more than a pipe dream.

“You’re that upset about it?” Taehyung isn’t sincere when he asks.

Using the arrow keys, he fast-forwards through the video. Despite your embarrassment, you can’t take your eyes off the frames as they quickly flash across the screen. Taehyung lingers momentarily on a part of the video that makes the heat in your face travel south.

Most people look better in real life than in photos, but Taehyung is flawless no matter the circumstance. His sharp, dark eyes stare back at you through the screen. From the angle his head is tilted, his eyes have a narrowed, almost sleepy appearance as he looks through his eyelashes at the camera. You can only see the top half of his face because the lower half is buried between your thighs.

You straighten your posture and clasp your hands in your lap. Forcing yourself to look away from the laptop is hard, and you hate yourself for being so affected by the image of Taehyung eating you out. It was a fluke. A mistake. Something fueled by lust and some weird desire for you to prove that… what? You could fuck him, and it mean nothing?

“This is the best part.”

You don’t want to look again, but you do. It isn’t Taehyung’s comment that draws you toward the laptop once more, but another voice. Your own.

“I liked you better when you were crying and begging for me like a good boy.”

In the moment, you thought you’d been snappy and clever when you said that line – meant to be an insult more than anything. Listening to it now, you’re ashamed to hear something far more… suggestive to your tone. Had it really been like that? Or are you overanalyzing now?

“I can still be a good boy for you like this…”

Taehyung’s rough, fucked-out voice makes your entire body tense. It was fucking hot when he said it then, and hearing it again only confirms that, yes, it was fucking hot.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and broken moans flood the room. Watching yourself on video is surreal, a version of you that you wouldn’t otherwise ever know. Most people live their entire lives without knowing what they look like when they’re having sex – not like this. And here you are, watching a version of you fuck yourself on Taehyung’s cock in the very bed you sit on right now.

“Honestly, I’m offended that you don’t even appreciate how well I edited these shots. They all flow so seamlessly; didn’t you notice?”

For some reason, the pout Taehyung wears tugs at your heart in a way you wish it wouldn’t. He just looks so genuine.

“Taehyung,” you speak sternly, hoping you can set the tone for a more serious conversation. Even though your face isn’t in the video, you’re still a little nervous about what Taehyung will do with it.

Another part of you is very turned on because the video is still playing, and even though you’re looking at Taehyung, you can see the movement out of the corner of your eye. It only gets worse when Taehyung’s moans grow louder.

“Yeah?”

Taehyung’s lips part slightly. You watch him run his tongue against the inside of his cheek with your heart hammering in your chest and heat pooling between your legs. Taehyung exhales in real life, the sound soft and shaky, at the exact moment he cums in the video.

Whatever you were about to say evaporates from your mind like mist in the wind because he sounds so pretty.

Fucking hell.

“What?” Taehyung tries again to get an answer from you, but you can’t speak.

By now, you’re thoroughly wet, to the point that your thighs feel damp from being pressed together. Your underwear is uncomfortable when you shift, and you wish you’d worn more than a pair of baggy basketball shorts. They go well with your cute cropped hoodie and the Nikes you left at Taehyung’s front door. At least they’re black, so there’s no chance your arousal will be seen through your clothes.

The last thing you need is for Taehyung to know you’re turned on.

“Nothing,” you finally respond, tearing your gaze from his face.

The new view is worse, though. You immediately look down and see the last frame of the video. Taehyung’s cock rests on your bare ass, cum splattered on your cheeks and lower back, his cock shiny and slick. You breathe in sharply and seal your fate because Taehyung immediately pounces on that tiny detail.

“I know you liked it,” Taehyung goads, his pout morphing into the classic grin you’ve grown to both hate and love.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Don’t lie.”

You twist around to face him fully. “Listen here, you little piece of–”

It’s like deja vu, really, how your eyes fall to look at the bulge in Taehyung’s pants. This time, he’s wearing light grey sweatpants that are a little tight in the crotch, showing a clear outline of his cock resting along his thigh. The fabric at the head of his cock is darker than the rest, a wet spot that has your body throbbing with desire.

Perhaps from the attention, Taehyung’s cock kicks up, twitching in the confines of his sweats. He lets out a quiet, breathy laugh.

“I’m listening.”

Taehyung reaches over to squeeze your knee when you still don't speak. Slowly, he glides his hand up your thigh. Once he reaches the hem of your shorts, he lifts his gaze from where his hand is hot on your skin to your face. His eyes lock with yours as he slips his hand into the leg of your shorts and continues following the inside of your thigh.

Despite Taehyung’s body heat, you shiver from his touch as he travels higher and higher. It tickles, but you bite your lip and force yourself to stay still. The only part of you that moves is your chest as you rapidly take shallow breaths. It does nothing to calm you down; if anything, it worsens everything. You’re working yourself up to the point that you’re gushing in your underwear.

Taehyung’s fingers trace along the elastic, and you know he can feel how soaked you are. His gaze weighs heavy on you, eyes dark and lidded. He presses his fingers against your underwear and drags them along your lips, lightly increasing his pressure to massage your clit.

“Oh,” you let out with a gasp, digging your fingers into the comforter. You automatically open your legs further, allowing Taehyung better access. He continues rubbing your clit through your underwear, his movements too slow and light for your liking. “Taehyung…”

“Hm?” He’s so fucking smug you want to slap him, but you also don’t want him to stop.

“Just, fucking, just–”

Your desperate request for him to just fucking finger you already is cut off by Taehyung’s bedroom door flying open. With an embarrassing scream, you practically leap off Taehyung’s bed.

“Taehyungieeee! I was supposed to hang out with Namjoon hyung, but he canceled because he got fucking mono. Can you believe? Who gets mono at almost thirty years old? Seriously! I asked him who he’s been making out with, but he–”

The dark-haired man stops midsentence with his jaw hanging off its hinges. Wide, unsuspecting eyes flit from your look of horror to the outline of Taehyung’s dick in his pants to Taehyung’s hand now resting on your knee. But what’s somehow the most embarrassing thing is that the man’s eyes eventually land on Taehyung’s laptop, where his dick and your ass are still on display.

“Oh wow.”

Taehyung lets out a long groan and lets his head roll backward.

“This is exactly why I tell you to knock before you come in here.”

“W-what!” The man sputters. “This is my fault?”

After a moment of staring at the ceiling, Taehyung levels his gaze to stare at the man. “Did you knock?”

The man looks pained when forced to say, “No…”

You would rather die than be here right now. You watch the two men begin bickering about proper roommate etiquette because this is apparently Taehyung’s roommate, Jimin, who you didn’t know even existed. A convenient thing to leave out, right? Of course, Taehyung wouldn’t fucking tell you that there’s the possibility that someone might be in the apartment with you.

“Well, what are you watching?” Jimin walks toward the bed to get a better look at Taehyung’s laptop. “Fuck, that guy’s cock is huge. What’s this on?”

“Oh my god, Taehyung, make it go away!” You finally hiss, slapping Taehyung in the arm to make him do something.

Taehyung throws his head back in a fit of laughter, which makes you slap him even harder.

“That’s me.”

Jimin nearly chokes. “Excuse me?”

The look on Taehyung’s face is a mix of pride and mischief. He’s absolutely glowing, absorbing all the praise, even if it’s accidentally given.

“That is my cock. And the ass…” Taehyung jabs his thumb in your direction, much to your displeasure.

“Oh,” Jimin exclaims. “Your ass looks great.”

“For fuck’s sake, I need to get out of here.”

“No!” Taehyung reaches for your arm to keep you from getting up. “We haven’t even fully watched it yet.”

You narrow your eyes and gesture in Jimin’s direction. Even if you wanted to watch the sex tape – which you definitely don’t – you can’t watch it with Taehyung’s roommate hovering over you like this. You don’t even understand why the guy is still here or how he and Taehyung can converse normally while Taehyung’s got a literal erection.

Boys are so fucking weird.

“Can I watch, too?”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head. There’s no way, no fucking way. And yet Taehyung’s already nodding and scooting over for Jimin to sit on the other side of him.

“I worked so hard on this, and it’s going unappreciated.” Taehyung glares at you.

Before you can react, Taehyung has restarted the video. His hand migrates from your arm back down to your knee and squeezes lightly, maybe in an attempt to be comforting, but you’re already beginning to die inside from embarrassment.

It doesn’t help that Jimin is gorgeous. You find yourself admiring him as he watches the video, which Taehyung has now turned on with full volume. Jimin’s eyes are glued to the screen. Occasionally, he makes little comments to praise Taehyung’s editing skills or point out how you and Taehyung have “great chemistry.” But the most intriguing part is when Jimin begins to squirm.

It’s still early in the video, just after Taehyung starts eating you out, when you notice Jimin’s hand move to rest in his lap. It isn’t subtle how he adjusts his erection in his jeans, but he doesn’t know that you’re staring at him.

There’s something about knowing that this complete stranger is now hard because of watching your porn that rekindles the arousal buzzing inside you. It doesn’t help that Jimin and Taehyung are right; the video is hot. It’s ridiculously hot.

Distracted, you don’t realize Taehyung’s attention is no longer on the video like Jimin’s is. Instead, he’s got his eyes on where his hand disappears into your shorts again. This time, he wiggles his fingers inside your underwear.

The first press of his fingertips against your clit makes you moan, high-pitched and desperate. You immediately slap your hand over your mouth, and Taehyung chuckles.

“Y’know, I was thinking…” Taehyung begins, noticing that Jimin’s now watching his fingers move in your shorts. “We should make another video.”

“You should,” Jimin agrees immediately with a nod. It’s eager, without shame, and that alone makes your pussy throb for some reason.

Are you into exhibitionism? Is that what this is? What the fuck is going on?

“No way,” you try to protest, but another moan comes from deep in your chest when Taehyung slips his middle finger inside you.

“I could film it,” Jimin offers, as though finding a director is the issue. His chest rises rapidly as his pretty eyes roam your body.

Just as before, you let your legs spread. By now, Taehyung isn’t trying to hide what he’s doing. He openly fingers you with his roommate sitting right there, watching. You lean back on your palms and let your head fall back when Taehyung squeezes your thigh with his other hand to hold you open.

“Yeah, Chim, you film it,” Taehyung agrees. “Baby? Wanna do it now?” He slips a second finger inside you, and you think it’s unfair that he’s asking you this while fingers you because you’d probably do anything to get him to fuck you right now, whether you want to admit it or not.

“Fuck you,” you hiss. “Fine.”

With a grin, Taehyung removes his fingers from you. You want to complain, but he and Jimin are off the bed by the time you sit up again. You sit there, dumbfounded, as Taehyung heads to his closet. Jimin trails behind him, nodding at the instructions Taehyung gives him.

The two return to the bed once they each have a camcorder. They’re smaller than the one Taehyung used before, sleeker, and more colorful compared to the all-black, more heavy-duty one from before.

Taehyung sets his camera on the bed next to you while Jimin fiddles with his from where he stands at the edge of the bed.

“Take your clothes off, baby.”

You bite your lip at the term of endearment you’ve always told Taehyung not to call you, that he calls you anyway. This time, there’s something different about it. You watch him shred his clothes, tossing his t-shirt to the floor and then dropping his sweatpants. As you expected, he isn’t wearing underwear. The sight of his cock, so big and hard that it hangs heavy between his legs, makes you finally start moving.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you throw out just because you have to stay in character unless you want Taehyung to think you’re in love with him or something.

But he grins like an idiot and kneels on the bed while he waits for you to strip. You thought it would be weird getting naked in front of a stranger, but excitement thrums through you as you think about Jimin’s eyes on you, filming you, while Taehyung fucks you.

“Should we do introductions like they do in those casting videos?” Taehyung grins up at Jimin.

The poor guy’s face is bright pink, and his forehead glistens with sweat. Nothing has even happened yet, but he’s completely hard and looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. His hands shake worse than yours had when Taheyung ate you out in the video.

“Chim.”

Jimin swallows but doesn’t speak.

“Jimin,” Taehyung tries again. It seems like Taehyung has a knack for leaving people speechless. He moves to the edge of the bed, still on his knees, and leans forward slightly. Jimin must be too nervous to move because he stands completely still as Taehyung opens his mouth.

You watch with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal as Taehyung takes the flip screen of the camcorder into his mouth. All the while, he keeps his eyes locked on Jimin’s.

It’s so fucking hot you have to look away.

Finally, something snaps. Jimin jerks backward, pulling the camera out of Taehyung’s mouth.

“Tae!” He exclaims in disbelief, quickly using his sleeve to clean the screen. “What is wrong with you?”

“If you wanna join us so bad, hurry up and take your clothes off.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. Your dick spoke for you.”

Jimin takes his eyes off Taehyung to look at you. It’s an unspoken request you find yourself granting by nodding your head without even thinking. How could you deny a man that looks like that? Whatever happens, happens. But you know that you want them both if you can have them. The thought just never crossed your mind before.

It seems that Taehyung has helped you learn a lot about yourself, like how you apparently get off on being embarrassed.

“I don’t want to fuck you,” Jimin announces to Taehyung. He tries to look serious, but it’s hard not to laugh when his dick bobs from how quickly he tugged his jeans off his body.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to fuck you either; shut up.”

You thought it would be awkward having Taehyung and Jimin in bed with you, and it is, sort of. Uncharted territory is scary, no matter what it is. It must be evident that you’re feeling this way because Taehyung reaches for you. He pulls you close by the back of the head, and you think the kiss will be rough and charged. Instead, it’s soft. He moves his lips with yours in a gentle rhythm, something meant to be grounding and comforting. His other hand cradles the side of your face, and his thumb caresses your cheek.

“You guys are so cute.” Jimin’s comment makes you pull back from Taehyung.

“No, we’re not.”

“Thank you.”

You scowl at Taehyung, but he’s still wearing that grin that’s getting harder to hate. It slowly fades into something darker once Taehyung finally looks at your body, eyes lingering on how shiny and wet your thighs are from him fucking you with his fingers.

Taehyung bites his lip, reaching for the camcorder on the bed beside you.

“Let me record Jimin fucking your face, baby.”

You and Jimin gasp simultaneously, immediately turning your heads to look at each other. Even though it’s clear that Jimin was invited into this to have sex with you, too, for some reason, you thought Taehyung would be greedier. You thought he wouldn’t want to share, didn’t expect that he’d be the one calling the shots.

Then again, it isn’t that surprising. Hasn’t Taehyung always called the shots? Sure, you let him, but he was good at it. A director. He’s in his element, you realize.

You quickly realize, once Jimin’s cock is down your throat, that Jimin is the greedy one. He kneels directly in front of where you sit on the bed and digs his fingers into the back of your head to hold you still as he fucks your throat.

“You’re doing such a good job, baby,” Taehyung murmurs. He kneels next to you, recording all the sloppy sounds and visuals of you messily gagging on Jimin’s cock while you jerk Taehyung off.

Tears spill from your eyes as Jimin’s cock hits the back of your throat. You do your best to keep pumping Taehyung’s cock, but your rhythm falters.

“Fuck, yes, swallow. Like that.”

Jimin’s moans are different than Taehyung’s. While Taehyung’s moans are soft and deep, Jimin’s are high-pitched and erratic, coming in stunted waves rather than smooth like Taehyung’s. They sound pretty together, even if they’re so different.

You can tell Jimin won’t last as long as Taehyung, though. He has to pull away from you very quickly, which is fine because you gasp for air, leaning forward slightly to catch your breath.

“Don’t go so fucking hard,” Taehyung snaps once he sees your reaction.

“Wha–” Jimin’s eyes grow wide.

“I’m fine.” Your voice is hoarse, but you’re genuinely okay. You pat Taehyung on the thigh to reassure him because, well, it’s kind of cute that he cared enough to chastise his friend like that.

Taehyung reaches down to wipe the tears from your cheeks with a stern look that feels strange coming from him. “Let’s take care of you, okay, baby?”

It’s soft, the way he talks to you. It isn’t for the cameras.

“I wanna go first. You got your chance before,” Jimin whines.

“Why don’t you ask me then?”

Jimin crosses his arms against his chest. “May I fuck you first?”

“Sure,” you say with a shrug.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but despite the annoyed look on his face, he flops backward onto the bed. The motion causes his cock to slap against his hip, and he groans, slightly rolling on his side.

“See, stop being such a drama queen,” Jimin chides.

You let out a rather unattractive snort that makes Jimin grin.

“I like him.”

“Shut up.”

For once, Taehyung doesn’t have a witty comeback or a stupid smirk to flash your way. Instead, his face twists into something unpleasant. The expression quickly dissolves, and you almost feel like you’ve imagined it.

Taehyung leans back on his elbows and looks down at where you settle between his legs. Even when Jimin moves to kneel behind you, Taehyung’s eyes never leave yours except to check the flipped screen of his camcorder.

“Wait, use this.” Taehyung sits up, and his cock is suddenly very close to your face. He reaches over to open his nightstand drawer, nearly ripping the entire thing out. “A lot of it.”

Something passes between Taehyung and Jimin’s hands. You only glimpse it, but between what you see and the sound of a cap popping open, you know it’s a half-empty bottle of lube that Jimin is now squeezing all over your ass.

“What the hell,” you hiss as the cool liquid drips down your thighs. “Might as well dump the whole fucking thing on me, shit.”

You refuse to admit that it feels nice having Jimin massage the lube into your skin. It heats up quickly, and his hand easily glides across your muscles. You feel yourself sink forward, lifting your lower half to give Jimin more access. In the midst of how good Jimin’s hand feels, something cold and hard presses against your lower back.

“If you ruin my camera, Jimin–”

“That’s hyung to you.”

“No fucking way.”

Their banter would be cute if you didn’t have your ass in the air and Taehyung’s dick mere inches from your face. And maybe if you didn’t fucking hate Taehyung and weren’t wary of Jimin at best.

“Are we gonna do something, or…?”

Taehyung fluffs a pillow behind his head to keep him propped up so he’ll have a better shot for filming.

“Yeah, put it in your mouth.”

You roll your eyes because there Taehyung goes, bossing you around again, but something deep inside whispers that you fucking like it. Not that you would say it out loud. You can’t help how your pussy gushes over him, though. It’s a betrayal, honestly.

“Say, please.”

Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you. “No.”

You don’t have a chance to bitch him out because Jimin chooses that moment to slowly inch his cock inside of you.

“Oh my god,” you moan with your lips brushing against the base of Taehyung’s cock. You rock back gently, helping Jimin ease into you.

“So tight,” Jimin says once his hips are flat against your thighs and his cock is fully buried inside you.

“Right?” Taehyung murmurs. “You always feel so good.”

It’s a bit difficult to bob your head along Taehyung’s cock when Jimin’s fucking into you like his life depends on it. The rhythm is all off, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind. He’s watching you with fucking stars in his eyes, hyperfocused on where your lips suckle the head of his cock. When you take more of him into your mouth, he switches the camcorder to his right hand and reaches out to you with his left.

Taehyung runs his thumb along your upper lip, shallowly dipping into the corner of your mouth to feel how little space there is with your mouth full of his cock.

“Don’t run away; you gotta take it,” Jimin grunts, squeezing your waist and pulling you back hard onto his cock.

You want to snap at Jimin that it’s not your fault you keep getting lurched forward, but Taehyung’s letting out cute little whimpers from you rubbing your tongue against his slit, and you don’t want to do anything to make him stop.

When you finally pull off Taehyung to breathe, a string of spit connects your lips to his shiny cock.

“Can I fuck you in the ass, baby?” Taehyung practically hums the question, his voice already fucked out, deep and hoarse. “I think we need to diversify our portfolio.”

At the question, Jimin slows down his thrusts until they’re shallow and don’t jostle you too severely.

You’re nodding before your brain can catch up to how your body reacts to Taehyung’s request.

“Jimin?”

“On it, boss.”

You mean to groan in annoyance at how fucking corny they are – as if they’re actually trying to make this into a bad porno – but a moan comes out instead as Jimin slowly presses a generously lubed finger against your rim.

“Have you done this before?” Jimin asks, working you open with one finger before moving on to a second.

“Y-yeah,” you whimper, the sensation of Jimin’s cock still moving inside you while his fingers are in your ass enough to make you lose your mind. Even if you hadn’t fingered yourself before, the amount of lube Jimin poured all over your ass removes nearly all the friction and tension.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Taehyung groans in an almost frustrated tone. He reaches down to pump his cock since you’re virtually useless with Jimin’s fingers and cock moving inside of you simultaneously.

“Oh my god, Jimin.” You bury your face in the inside of Taehyung’s thigh, biting down just to ground yourself.

“Shit, that hurts,” Taehyung hisses, but he doesn’t tell you to stop.

Once Jimin has four fingers inside of you, he leans forward to get closer to ask you if you’re ready.

“Do you want us at the same time?”

Something that almost sounds pained comes from Taehyung, a broken whimper you’ve never heard from him before. He squeezes his eyes shut and nods his head even though the question isn’t for him.

“Please, fuck, Y/N, please say yes.”

You can’t even appreciate hearing Taehyung beg because you’re desperate for this, too.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just, let’s go.” You get up, nearly slipping from all the lube that has dripped down onto your body and Taehyung’s.

“I don’t understand how Taehyung ended up not doing any of the work,” Jimin grumbles as he helps you turn around.

You’re hardly paying attention to the men’s bickering. They can do whatever weird bromance thing they’re doing, but you’re trying to get doubly dicked down. Cameras or not.

You sit on Taehyung’s abdomen with your legs on either side of his thighs and face Jimin. Taehyung’s large hands squeeze your waist to lift you up while Jimin grabs Taehyung’s cock to guide the head to your rim.

“I can’t believe I have to touch your dick,” Jimin adds to his list of grievances that you’re sure Taehyung will never hear the end of.

Taehyung just laughs, causing your body to jiggle in his tight grip.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

Jimin grimaces. “I really don’t.”

It’s surprising that the two have never done this before when it feels so natural for the three of you to fall into place like this.

Eventually, Jimin lets go of Taehyung’s cock once the tip pushes inside you. Taehyung feels much bigger than you remember, and Jimin’s fingers certainly don’t compare. Luckily, Taehyung is gentle as he pushes past the ring of muscles. Thank god for the ridiculous amount of lube. It allows you to sink down on Taehyung’s cock with only mild discomfort at first.

“Relax, baby,” Taehyung murmurs. His hands slide up to squeeze your tits, rubbing and pinching your nipples as you eventually slide fully onto his cock.

“O-o-okay,” you stutter as Jimin kneels between you and Taehyung’s legs.

Jimin’s slow as he eases his cock into your pussy, mindful of the pressure you will feel with both cocks inside you. He pauses when he’s halfway in to squeeze even more lube onto his cock, making sure there’s enough to drip down to Taehyung’s, too.

“What are we filming, a fucking lube ad? What is this?”

“Shh, baby, you’re gonna ruin the audio,” Taehyung scolds from behind you.

Biting your lip, you watch Jimin’s face as he concentrates on sliding into you. He’s pretty, sweet even, but… he’s not Taehyung.

“Wait.”

Jimin’s bright eyes flit up to meet yours. Concern twists his features, making his eyebrows scrunch together. “Are you okay?”

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt? Did we not prep you enough?” Taehyung tries to sit up, but Jimin slaps his thigh.

“Stop moving!”

“I just wanna know what’s going on!”

Taehyung rubs comforting circles into your sides, sliding his thumbs down to trace your hip bones before running his palms back across your ribs.

You shake your head and try not to think about what you’re going to say.

“I… I want to,” your face heats up, and you internally scold yourself for feeling the way you do. “I want Tae.”

Your words are rushed, but Jimin seems to understand – perhaps even more than what you’ve let on because he gives you a small smile and eases out of you without any questions.

“What?” Taehyung peers from around your body.

“No assfucking for you, buddy. Better luck next time.”

“Jimin!” It’s your turn to haul a slap, this one hard against Jimin’s arm. “I’m a person.”

At least Jimin has enough sense to appear bashful. Grabbing your arms, he helps you lift off of Taehyung. He guides you so you’ve got your knees on either side of Taehyung’s hips.

When you straddle Taehyung, you press your palms to his chest and dig your fingers into his firm pecs. He’s gorgeous like this, skin smooth and tan. A few moles scatter his torso, like little flecks of chocolate that you suddenly realize you’ve missed out on having the chance to lick up. His cheeks are dusted a light pink, and his sweaty bangs are brushed away from his forehead.

He’s gorgeous all the time, but especially like this.

“See something you like?”

You dig your nails into his skin, and Taehyung winces, but he maintains that stupid fucking sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Shut up. Maybe.”

Taehyung’s grin widens. It’s bright and lopsided, makes him look like an idiot, honestly, and your stomach swoops because, fuck, you’re so fucked.

“Are you two lovebirds ready or what? My dick is starting to hurt.”

Taehyung apparently thinks slapping your ass is the best way to respond to Jimin’s question.

Reaching between your bodies, you guide Taehyung’s cock inside your pussy. The unholy amount of lube makes it easy for him to slip in, which is good because you need to focus on relaxing your body once you feel Jimin’s cock press against your rim.

You’ve never had two dicks at once – god, it sounds insane when you think about it, even though you know plenty of people who have explored this side of their sexual fantasies. It just isn’t something you’d do, mainly because you’ve always been insecure and a little shy. The hardass exterior is a great wall you’ve built to hide from getting your heart broken, but of course, Taehyung has managed to fuck with all your plans.

It’s a strange sensation once Jimin fully bottoms out. The three of you freeze, allowing your body to adjust.

After a while, Taehyung grabs your ass, holding you open as he and Jimin slowly begin to rock into you. As it was when you were sucking Taehyung off, it’s a bit difficult to find the right rhythm at first. Taehyung and Jimin bicker back and forth about who should thrust first and who should pull back. Taehyung jostles you in his lap a few times, squeezing your thighs to adjust your legs against his hips when he isn’t kneading your ass.

Jimin eventually pushes down on your back, pressing you against Taehyung to open your hips more. The action pushes your chest into Taehyung’s face, much to his amusement, because he immediately sucks one of your perky nipples into his mouth.

“Oh god,” you moan, reaching out to squeeze Taehyung’s broad shoulders when he flicks your nipple with the tip of his tongue. His mouth is wet and warm, and your nipples have always been extra sensitive when you’re aroused.

“Fuck, Tae, just, go now,” Jimin instructs through gritted teeth.

Taehyung begins thrusting into you at a different tempo, knocking your heart into your throat because you can feel both of their cocks alternating thrusts inside of you now, both rubbing against each other between your walls.

It’s embarrassing when the first wave of tears starts streaming down your face. You start babbling, hardly aware of what you’re saying because the pleasure is so intense it feels as though your brain completely short circuits.

“Tae, Tae, oh my god, Taehyung,” you breathily chant into Taehyung’s ear. You can’t lean far forward because you have to keep your back arched for both Jimin and Taehyung to comfortably thrust into you. That frustrates you because you suddenly feel the need to be closer to Taehyung. It’s like everything inside of you will explode if you don’t.

“Tae, I n-need y-y-you,” you sob.

“Shhh, baby, we got you, okay? I got you.” Taehyung reaches up to lightly wrap his hand around your throat. It isn’t meant to choke you, just to comfort you with his presence since he can’t hold you against his chest.

“Dropping?” Jimin asks as he pounds into you from behind.

“Just sensitive, I think,” Taehyung responds for you, and it makes you warm to know that he knows you well enough to answer correctly.

His hand slides from your throat to hold your jaw. The position allows him to press his middle finger into your mouth. You immediately suck on it, finding comfort in it even as you continue to cry from the pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum. Tae. I’m gonna cum.”

Taehyung’s hand quickly drops to squeeze between your bodies. He rubs your clit, adding the extra sensation you need to finally push you over the edge. You cry out Taehyung’s name as you cum on both his and Jimin’s cocks, fingers digging into Taehyung’s pecs so hard that you worry you’ll draw blood.

Jimin immediately cums, too, the feeling of your ass clenching around his cock proving too much for him.

“Wait, wait,” he pleads until Taehyung stops moving. “Let me pull out.”

You whimper when you feel Jimin ease out of you, your ass clenching and unclenching as your body adjusts. Now that only Taehyung is inside you, you collapse against his chest. Your lips find his neck and suck, making him shiver underneath you.

“Can I move?” Taehyung asks, and you hum, too afraid to speak.

Taehyung fucks into you harder than he had before. There’s something desperate about it, the way he chases his pleasure and can thrust at the speed he wants without needing to match with Jimin. You don’t even know what Jimin’s doing, probably cleaning himself up or filming you. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is how Taehyung moans your name as he thrusts into you. It’s sloppy and wet, something Taehyung appreciates.

“You sound so good,” he moans into your ear. “Will you cum for me again?”

You frantically nod your head, already almost there.

“Just let go for me, okay? You can trust me.”

It feels like more than just sex when he whispers it in your ear, another quiet promise meant for you and not the camera.

You cum for a second time, this one accompanied by a silent scream that’s pressed into the crook of Taehyung’s sweaty neck.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Taehyung groans, squeezing you against his chest as he finally finds his release, too.

You feel warm and gooey, none of your limbs cooperating when Taehyung tries to move you off him. Jimin has to help, and the two lay you on your back and get to work cleaning you up. It should be embarrassing, but you kind of like having two men doting on you. It’s nice, even if you’re still a little sticky from cum and lube, even after they’ve done their best to wipe your body down.

Why haven’t you ever done this before? This is lovely. Men should be taking care of you.

You smile at them, brain fuzzy and warm, when Jimin helps Taehyung tuck you into bed.

“How are you feeling?” Taehyung asks. He presses his thumb to your bottom lip, caressing it lightly.

“I’m barely holding on.”

Jimin snorts and immediately turns his head away when Taehyung shoots him a death glare.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” The nervousness in Taehyung’s voice is cute.

“You’re cute.”

Rather than say something smug, Taehyung covers his face with his hands.

“We broke Y/N.”

“What?” Jimin whips his head back around. “What, because you’re cute?”

“Yes.”

You use the rest of your strength to slap Taehyung in the thigh. “Oh, shut the fuck up before I kick your ass. Take the fucking compliment.”

Taehyung peeks at you from between his fingers. “Fuck, you scared me for a second there.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jimin stands up and stretches his arms out. “You’re both fucking drama queens.”

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jimin x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #the wannabe photographer chronicles #wwast #thanks for 1k 🥺#thanks for 2k 🥺

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yawnderu · 5 months

Text

Haunted — Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

Mini masterlist for the series of drabbles of Ghost as an ominous dark figure in the corner of your room who has been haunting you.

cr: @mikrotyalm13

You fight your demons, I ride mine

The masked man gets closer than ever, never making a single sound even when his heavy body climbs into bed with you.

The man in my nightmares

He's always lurking, only there because you let him.

Pervert

Frustration builds up after weeks of being unable to get off, his brooding figure always watching you. Lucky for you, he offers you a hand— ... literally.

Touchy

A year after you start seeing him, getting used to his presence is the least of your concerns, not when he's so clingy.

Attention

Unable to cum for months, you dare masturbate in front of the masked man. Surprisingly, he's willing to help.

Simon is protective of you— too protective, not even allowing the monsters from his world to get close to you.

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emeraldborealis · 2 months

Text

For the Record

Pairing: Ex-husband John Price x GN!reader

TW//CW: Mention of manipulation, John trying to change, slight suggestiveness, nothing serious though.

A/N: I do plan on making this a mini-series but I'm getting surgery so I'm not sure when I'll be able to make a part two and put out.

Words: 3,185

You are currently reading Chapter one

The Do-Over Series Masterlist - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five

This was possibly the worst idea in your entire life. You've known fools who have made better decisions.

But it's John. And it's you. Who are we really kidding here? Five years of being divorced and you haven't even been on a single date with someone else.

So when you conveniently ran into each other and he suggested it, you couldn't say no.

What are you even doing with your life? You groaned, pulling at your face in stress. "For the record this is self destructive." You wandered your house, making sure everything was clean and in place, no dust or cobwebs lingering in corners. He didn't need to know how long it'd been since someone last came over. He'd call you a hermit again.

"For the record I am aware of that. Come on, don't go crying to your mom like a child when this inevitably breaks your heart. Again. She doesn't want to hear about it." It's always been a bad habit of yours to talk to yourself, John always found it amusing.

Adjusting the pillows on your couch for the fifth time your eyes caught a glimpse of an old stain, bringing back one too many memories for your liking. Skin, all skin, laying like a French girl waiting to be painted, or Princess Leia in her stupid bikini. But there was no bikini, just John and his stupid hat.

"Enough of that." You nearly had to slap the thought out of yourself. "I'm screwed."

No, no. You weren't screwed. All you need to do is keep your composure. Remember why this didn't work out last time. Keep yourself together. Don't ever let him know you miss him. There would be no recovery from that.

What was the reason you agreed to this again?

He lied last time. He manipulated you. You were too young to know better. Now you do. All you have to do is use each of his answers to these 'questions' he wanted to ask you as a reminder of what he'd done. Keep your head out of his hands.

He did seem remorseful for what he did. He actually apologized. Promised things would be different now. He said he missed you. "Stupid sympathetic creature." You cursed at yourself.

You couldn't even lie and say you didn't miss him too. His warmth, his bear hugs, how he'd listen to you and ask about your day. How he'd take an interest in you. No one else asked about your day. Or gave such damn good hugs. Not to mention kisses...

The questions will make one thing clear. How you've grown and changed. How you've grown apart. The person you are now probably isn't even compatible with him anymore. Too different. Not a good fit for who he was when you were together. You had boundaries now. Right?

The knock on your door had you nearly jumping out of your skin with nerves. He was here. Like, actually here. And he knocked. He knocked on the door that used to be the door to his house. That must have felt weird.

Opening the door to your ex husband standing there felt both like a dream and a nightmare.

"Hey." His voice was a little rougher than it used to be, probably from more yelling and smoking those damn cigars of his. You did have to admit it was almost hotter now.

This man was going to take you to an early grave. The worst part was that you were going willingly, letting him take your hand and gently help you down into the six foot deep hole you'd spent the last five years trying to dig yourself out of.

"Hey.." You forced your eyes to stay on his face, staring at his nose so you wouldn't have to make eye contact. You'd probably strangle yourself if you let your eyes wander over his broad shoulders and strong but soft torso and got caught. Keep your eyes on his face. Look at the cute mole on his nose. Look. At. It.

"What do you think?" He asked as he stepped into your house. Stepping past the threshold of what had been protecting you from all outside intrusion. Allowing the man who hurt you to walk right back into your life.

As he stepped past you, you couldn't stop your eyes from wandering over his back, drinking all of him in again. You hadn't gotten to the last time you saw him when he suggested this whole thing. He seemed more grown now, despite being the same height and roughly the same size, he just seemed different, more mature.

This whole thing was just to remind yourself you didn't want him back in your life. The last goodbye. This was how you were going to let the last fragments of yourself that still cared about him go. They were the only thing that was going to be left in that grave.

"Uh... About what?" You weren't even paying attention, not sure if you'd missed something he'd said. Stupid move to zone out like that really.

John chuckled, the sound filling your stomach with butterflies, a heat uncharacteristically rising to your face. You hated butterflies. Moths were superior, eating clothes was cooler than eating carcasses, and tasting with your feet was weird. "My flannel. You gave it to me, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Anyways." You lead him to the kitchen, dishes set out haphazardly on the table that you'd gotten distracted from fully and properly plating. "I was going to set the table, placemats and all. But that seems a bit too fancy for what this is. I don't know what I was thinking. That's weird for the setting."

You went to grab the 'fancy' plates from the table, along with the placemats, but John stopped you, leaning his chest against your back he gently put his hands on yours, pulling them away from changing the tableware. "Leave it, love. Reminds me of a first date."

The feeling of his chest pressed against your back had you fully straightening your posture very quickly, almost as if he'd electrocuted you with his unexpected touch, accidently headbutting him in the process.

He groaned, taking a step back and clutching his nose. "I'm so sorry." You fret in a panic, raising your hands to try and remove his to check on his poor nose, but you stopped yourself from touching him.

"It's fine, dear. I should have remembered your reactions to suddenness from when we were together." Sniffing, he pulled his hands away from his face. "Not bleeding. Just a good bonk, no harm done." He reassured, ruffling your hair, making you glare softly at him. He knew you hated that. Revenge, you suspected.

"Even still, I'm sorry." You apologized again, shuffling on your feet awkwardly. This wasn't going well. Definitely for the best.

"You have anything to drink? Maybe that would help." You weren't sure if he meant it'd help the pain or to help smooth out some rough edges between the two of you. Probably the ladder. You were tense, it didn't take a perceptive individual to take notice of that. However, you didn't drink anymore, so that would be pointless. He didn't know that though.

"Um." You had to think for a moment. "I don't drink anymore, but I might have something. Scotch? I think a friend left it here one time."

"Yeah, scotch works." He smiled softly at you, his crows feet becoming more visible. Damn he was cute. Was it derogatory to call a man of his caliber cute? Who cares.

"Okay, I'll go see if I can find it." You walked away from him a little too quickly for it to be casual, walking out into the garage to check for the scotch hiding in the fridge. Probably. You weren't actually sure this scotch existed.

By some miracle the scotch did exist, tucked safely in the back of the mostly empty garage fridge. You didn't even recognize the brand of scotch that was on the bottle, hopefully it wasn't terrible. Even if it was, that could be well deserved.

Walking back into the house you held the bottle of scotch a bit triumphantly. "There's a good chance this scotch is terrible." You placed it down on the counter, moving to grab him a glass.

"I'd settle for drinkable, love." He really needed to stop with the pet names. Your poor heart and constitution couldn't handle them. Not when his voice was so damn hot. It was criminal. Really.

"I make no promises, this friend of mine doesn't have a reputation for good taste." You poured him half a glass, was that too much?No. He could hold his alcohol well.

Not drinking for so long has completely skewed your ability to measure how much was too much.

Turning around you brought his glass over to the table, noticing something you had definitely not put there. "You lit candles?" You set his glass down by his plate, it was at the same spot of the table he used to eat. You hated that you'd retained that knowledge this whole time. And that you were still accommodating to that preference of his.

"I thought it'd help set the mood." He sat down at the table, taking a sip from the scotch. You took his lack of spontaneous vomiting as a good sign.

"What's 'the mood'?" You walked away from him, pulling dinner out of the oven. You really cooked a homemade dinner for your ex husband. Maybe you had lost your mind. Not to mention it was one of his favorite dishes. It was also really easy to make. Shepherd's pie. Not a personal favorite.

"Hopeful?" He chuckled, smiling at you again. The shepherd's pie did not go unnoticed by him. He noticed anything and everything. Damn his job. Damn him.

You didn't say anything, sitting down at the table before you served him, putting food on his plate for him, the proper amount for him. Old habits never dying and all that shit.

His smile softened towards you, watching your brow furrow in self frustration. He thought you were being really cute, all nervous and trying to keep walls up despite all your actions being to try to make him comfortable.

"Your hair is different. It suits you. I like it. Do you like it?" He refrained himself from touching your hair. It had changed in style over the five years of being out of contact. He felt this style suited you better, it was more you than anything you had while you were married to him. He'd never meant to control you the way he did.

"Oh, yeah. I do. I've had it like this for a while. You really like it?" You absentmindedly moved to touch your hair, fiddling with it. You didn't even think about what he might think of it. Moving past doing things because you thought it would please him. You were working on doing things for yourself. Something a self help book said to do.

"I wouldn't bring it up if I was just going to lie to you. It's cute." He seemed sincere enough. Maybe he did actually like it.

You watched a bit anxiously as he took the first bite of his food, hoping beyond hope you remembered how to make it how he liked. Closing his eyes he let out a soft hum of approval. It was good. He liked it. He wasn't gagging at least. Though he'd never gagged on your cooking, even when you burned soup. He still ate it and asked for seconds. He was always one to spare your feelings.

"It's good?" You couldn't stop yourself from asking, cursing the part of yourself that still required his approval and praise. Praise sounded really good right now. His voice praising you.

You needed to get out more, reconnect with nature. Maybe that would fix you. If not you could always simply choose to become a weird witch lady in the forest and never return to society.

"Of course. Always is." Something in his eyes told you he knew what you wanted from your question. "Best shepherd's pie I've ever had." He indulged you, taking another bite. If you weren't careful you'd find yourself married to him again without a single question asked. He couldn't have you again. Not after last time.

"Doubtful." He traveled a lot, ate a lot of different places. You were sure he'd found one better somewhere.

John took a deep breath, deciding not to argue on this. If you didn't want to believe him you didn't have to. He'd only done this to himself. Trust needed to be earned, not given. "So, how's work?" He changed the subject.

"Work? It's um... well it's work." You'd served yourself a much smaller portion, and it still felt like too much. You'd barely had three bites.

"That good huh?" He chuckled, trying to keep things light between you. He of all people knew how much work could suck sometimes.

He did what he did because he was one of the few people who could. Got his hands dirty to keep people like yours clean. To try to make sure the people he cared about wouldn't be the next dead and bombed people on the news. He wasn't perfect. He knew that. His work had some fatal flaws. He knew that.

Better him doing it than someone who would follow orders blindly. Someone who was willing to go too far. Do too much. Make wrong decisions easily. Hurt the wrong people. John knew who was and wasn't his enemy.

"It's really not so bad. Keeps me busy. Helps me get out of the house. I like my coworkers. Pay is decent too, keeps me afloat well enough. Sometimes things get a little tight." Why did you admit that? He's going to get in, he's going to use that against you. Get you hooked on his leash again.

He looked at you for a moment, thinking before he began. "You struggle with money? If I would have known-"

"I can handle it. I don't need charity. Not your responsibility." You put an end to his offer before he could give it. You did not need something chaining you to him. Didn't need that reliance.

"Alright. I'll let you handle it." He backed down, trying not to put you on edge. He wasn't the same man he once was. His views on things had changed. Realized you only worked as a person when you didn't feel trapped or controlled. He wouldn't try to control you again.

Aside from getting back into your life that is.

"Thank you. Because I can handle it. Promise." You missed when your thoughts were wandering, that was more fun than this tension.

"If you came to me I'd always help you. Give you an easier life. I tried to give you an easier life, took care of everything for you. Made it so you didn't even need a job." He knew he shouldn't have said it as soon as the words left his mouth.

"It's depressing not having a job, I wanted a job. Staying at home and not working was only fun and enjoyable when you were home. Otherwise it was terrible for my mental health. I need to be doing something." He should have understood that aspect about you better, since he was the same way.

"All I wanted was to give you more time for your hobbies, you always complained you were too tired after work. All I wanted was to feel like I was providing for you. Like I was doing something nice for you. That I was working hard to provide for you so you could just relax." His intentions weren't rooted in your purposeful destruction, even still, it hadn't been a good situation for you.

"I'm not a self motivated person. I need something to do, a routine. It was fine when you were home because you would keep me accountable, but when you were away all I'd do was rot and wait and hope you'd come home alright. It wasn't healthy for me." In the middle of being at a standstill it's easy to feel guilt for not progressing. Especially when you were raised to work.

"I'm sorry." Apologies came from him so easily now. He really had matured. He would have never taken accountability for his part in things before.

It wasn't all his fault.

Still, between the two of you he was the one who should have known better.

"It's alright." Forgiveness was something you'd found to be quite freeing in recent years. Easier to move on from things. Not dwell on them so severely. This was different from being a pushover. You weren't just lying down and taking it. No, you held the control this way.

Looking down at his plate then your own you took a deep breath, sighing softly. You really weren't hungry enough to finish your food but you hated to waste. "Need help with that?" He took notice, because of course he did.

"Sure." You switched your plate with his, giving him his fork and taking your own. Standing up you took his plate to rinse it off and put it in the dishwasher. Starting to clean up dinner while he minimized waste for you. A human garbage disposal is what you used to call him teasingly.

Once he was done he brought your plate and put it in the dishwasher, getting to work on washing dishes while you put the food away. All too quickly slipping into old routines. This was not good. Keep your guard up.

When everything was clean and put away you refilled his scotch before you both migrated to the living room. The couch felt too intimate so you opted for the floor, resting your back against the couch.

This felt too much like your first date. But you knew that was the point, a do-over of sorts.

But this was different. It had to be different. That whole life was a lie.

You stared at him for a long time, he was sitting on the couch, his drink in his hand resting on his knee. He stared back, keeping eye contact. Damn this was not going to go well. His big soft eyes could not lure you into caring for him again.

That was a lie. They definitely could.

"So, we're asking thirty six questions? Is that what you said? Are we coming up with the questions or are they predetermined?" Finally you looked away from him, crawling over to push the button on the electric fireplace to turn it on, then immediately regretted it. Too romantic.

"Predetermined, love. I have a list for us to go through." If he kept up with the sappy pet names you were sure you were going to be rolling on the floor like a dog for him, begging to be loved and given attention again by the end of the night.

This can still work out for you. Keep your head on straight. Don't fall for his cheap tricks. This is still the man who manipulated you, even if he's apologized and asked for penance. If he wanted to, he could do it again. Don't let him.

"So then, should we begin?"

#x reader #oneshot #reader insert #gender neutral reader #cod fandom #cod #angst #cod fanfic #john price #john price cod #captain john price #captain price #captain johnathan price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader

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lure-of-writing · 2 months

Text

Little sister; all in a days work

Note: I was thinking of making this like a little mini series, Rhysands sister doing normal sister things and how Rhysand would react. Let me know if you have any suggestions and if you like this idea

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: None that I know of, let me know if I forgot any!

Summary:As Rhysands younger sister you had perfected the art of annoyance by the time of your fiftieth birthday. And making your brother regret all life choices was all done in a day's work.

As Rhysands younger sister you had perfected the art of annoyance by the time of your fiftieth birthday. The easiest form of annoyance came from flirting with the shadowsinger and lord of bloodshed, personally this was your favorite pastime but your brother's worst nightmare.

It was the traditional family dinner at the river house and you had stepped out of the room to grab another drink when you came back in to see there were no empty seats. It was honestly shocking how little furniture your brother owned considering he was the high lord, but ya know the wings kind of make it hard to furniture shop. Looking around the room you find the perfect place to sit. Azriels lap. With grace earned only after a lifetime of practicing you made your way over to your favorite person and said nothing as you took a seat in his comfortable lap.

“Uh no absolutely not.” Rhysand had managed to cough out after his wine went down the wrong windpipe while waving his arm in a get up motion. “Absolutely not?” Morrgian was sitting on the floor leaning up against the couch when she glanced over to where the high lord was staring before giggling into her wine. There you were perched on Azriels lap holding your own glass of wine in one hand while the other was draped over his shoulder and lightly playing with his hair. This was nothing unusual for you considering you loved how much it got to your older brother but it was the fact that Azriels hand rested on your bare thigh that was exposed due to the slit in your dress. And he had his other hand positioned on your waist, just to keep you from falling of course. That was unusual and it had Rhysand on edge.

You watched from the comfort of your seat as your brother removed Feyre from his lap and made his way over to you. From your position he towered over you forcing you to crane your neck up to look at him. “Can I help you, my dearest brother?” The fake sweetness dripping off your voice was Rhysands last straw. Without a word he reached for your arm to get you off of his Shadowsinger but the next thing he knew Azriel had blocked his hand with his wings and wrapped you up in warmth of his body and protection of his wings. “I think next time you sit like this with Feyre she should pull her away from you.” Azirel looked up at Rhysand to see his controlled face of anger and exhaustion. You really made sure to keep your brother on his toes with your antics “But I don’t think you would appreciate that.” After a long sigh and Feyres beckoning to come back to her and to leave you alone Rhysand reluctantly agreed and began to make his way back to his mate. Peaking your head out from Azriels wings you smirk at your brother's defeat. Turning your attention to the shadowsinger you thank him for playing along as he always does to which he just nods. But what the others can’t see is the comforting circles he's soothing over the skin of your legs. “Brother!” you call out just as he reaches his mate after his defeat and watched as he slowly turns around to see just your head peeking out at him from Azriels wings. The sight makes him want to puke. “If you are going to try and enforce a rule I would try not being a hypocrite while doing so.” You nod your head towards Feyre where she once again made herself comfortable in your brother's lap.

The next incident of you testing Rhysands patience was on a lovely Tuesday morning during training. Cassian had picked you to fight him in hand to hand combat. All was going well until Cassian had you pinned on the floor with a knife to your neck. The logical part of his brain told him that Cassian would never cause you any harm but the older brother with no logical thinking told him you were in trouble and to get Cassian away from you. What Rhysand failed to realize was the compromising position the two of you were in. Were laid out on the floor of the training mat with Cassian's body in between your legs and most of his body on top of yours. Cassian was going to get up as soon as he had knocked you to the ground but as soon as he went to push himself off of you he felt your mental claws poking in his brain. “My dear Cassian?” he could all but feel you in his mind “Uh Yeah?” if you weren’t determined to make your brother's stomach churn you would have laughed at how confused the general sounded. “Could you just stay here for a moment I want to see something”

Rhysand was no more than five feet away from you and ready to rip Cassian away from his little sister “I think I like seeing you like this Cassian. Should we try this position later in your room?” Feyre watched from across the roof top where she was training as her husband's face turned green and he gagged while trying to get Cassian to move. Unfortunately for him, his general found it hilarious and collapsed right on top of you. Rhysand had never wanted to bleach his ears until that very moment.

As a little sister it is your life goal to make your brother question his life choices at least once a day and if you didn’t, well then, you simply weren’t doing a good enough job. And you had yet to finish your job today. Earlier in the week your brother declared you and your family would be paying a visit to the court of nightmares and you couldn’t be more pleased. Where was a better place to stress out Rhys then in the fretful place of nightmares.

You had spent the afternoon getting ready with Feyre and Morrigan. You each took turns with doing your makeup and hair while filling each other in on life events and the gossip of the inner circle. “I forgot to ask you what you're wearing?” Feyre looked at you through the mirror as Mor perfected her makeup.

Everyone had gathered downstairs in the living room ready to go except for one person; you. And as if on cue the sound of high heels on marble floors could be heard coming down the stairs. “Oh no. Not happening in a million years.” sharply lined eyes and glittering eyelids blinked at him in question. The outfit in question was a black backless and sleeveless corset dress with slits on either side that went up to your hip bone. Unfortunately for your brother it was happening. As you finally reached the bottom stair Azriel had his hand out waiting to help you with your descent. He watched as his brother looked you up and down to take in the far too revealing outfit you had donned and you had winked back in acknowledgement of his wandering eyes. “Before you say anything I think you forget your mate has worn much, much worse.” you glazed at Rhys' partner with a shy smile “No offensense Feyre, you know I love you and you always look stunning in those outfits.” your high lady smiled back at you and giggled before smacking her husband's arm. “Let her live Rhys, she is grown after all. And if we don’t leave now we will be later than we already are.” With his wifes input on the matter you knew Rhysand wouldn’t argue with her.

The first to arrive were Cassian, Mor and Azriel. Then you made your appearance followed by the high lord and lady. As the high lord your brother was busy playing court politics and you couldn’t be bothered with the boring stuff so without a second thought you threw yourself into the pool of bodies after you had grabbed a drink. The Fun times were cut short as a random male had slid in behind you and wrapped his arm around your waist. “What is a pretty girl like you doing here all by herself? Huh?” his hot breath was on your ear and an educated guess could be made that he was either drunk or simply did not know who your brother was.

Without saying a word you removed his arm and began making your way to where you knew Azirel would be leaning up against a pillar constantly looking for a threat. By the time you had made it to the edge of the crowd you had figured you lost the random man but the brute apparently made it his life mission to follow you to the end of the earth. Moreso his life as he reached for your arm and pulled you back into his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?” The truth-teller was pressed in the man's throat the moment he had pinned you to his chest. All you could see was Azriels chest until you looked up and saw pure death in his eyes. It was a look you knew all too well. This man had signed his death certificate. “Get your hands off of the high lord's sister before I break them off one by one.”

The murmur that spread across the group of people was enough to catch the high lord's attention where he spotted you in between Azriel as he held the truth-teller to a random man's neck and the random man holding you to his body. Suddenly you were thrust into the arms of his brother as the man made a break for the exit. Rhys made sure he wouldn’t be able to get away. Gently Azriel guided you to where he had been standing before you had been grabbed. “Are you ok? He didn’t hurt you or anything right?” the watchful eyes of the shadowsinger observed you for any signs of harm and when he was content with his evaluation he finally looked back at you. “He couldn’t have hurt me even if he wanted to. You would have killed him if he tried.” Rhysand watched from afar as Azriel made sure you were ok and it calmed him down to know he had some who he could trust besides himself to protect his little sister and that brought joy and appreciation for the man he calls a brother. What didn’t bring him a sense of appreciation to the high lord was watching you stand on your tippy toes clad in heels and place your hand on Azrael's cheek while the other hand went to his hair as you full force kissed him. Rhysand had never been more ready to kick Azriels ass as he watched him return the kiss. After what felt like forever you finally separated from the shadowsinger once you felt eyes on you. Glancing around the room until you found the prying eyes and judgment laced with anger that was hitting you like a wave you find your brother's harsh stare and twitching eye that matched his jaw. Shrugging you sent your brother a wink before grabbing your savior's hand and leading him to an exit while giggling. Making your brother regret all life choices was all done in a day's work.

#acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #Rhysand x sister!reader

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mybrainproblems · 2 years

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the thing is. i'm probably going to be a nightmare about resi somewhere and there doesn't seem to be much of a resi fandom on tumblr but i will put money on reddit and twitter being absolute trash fires given how ppl are reacting to the trailers and inside look video.

i've always wanted netflix resi to be enjoyable but now i'm like. oh i hope this has absolutely top notch amazing character work like i love campy resi with its cardboard cutout characters and sniper handguns and i would have loved it to be that, but now i'm like NO. PRESTIGE DRAMA. make it obvious that the racists are racist and their complaints about the actors are just whiny bullshit.

#perhaps i ended up a dabbcrit dabbfan (confusion) bc from what i've found he seems to approach genre stories and franchises #with diff focuses and interests from me but a similar mindset: being a contrarian bitch about the source material #my hope is that the show ends up being raised doubles to the shitty fanboys who demand things be ~*CaN0n*~ and seem to #completely lack the media literacy and mental capacity to understand what a fucking adaptation is #did these chucklefucks enjoy the easter egg heavy canon-ish cgi resi show that was an absolute nightmare slog snoozefest?#like i am UP on the goddamn lore so everything in that show made *sense* to me but it was so so SO fucking bad #just an abject failure at telling a story that contributed ANYTHING to canon like who the fuck was that mini series aimed at?#get ready to potentially hear a fuck ton about resi if i manage to pace myself and not binge it all in one go #resi

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ohtobeleah · 8 months

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Bruises // Jake Seresin

Summary: After a mission goes south, Jake finds himself captured by insurgents that show no remorse. But what’s worse than knowing he failed his mission? Knowing that the Weapons Systems Officer who trusted him to bring her home safe was in the same cell as him. Collecting bruises that match his own.

Mini Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Chapter One: [Happily Ever Afters Don’t Exist] A certain naval aviator shows up on your front doorstep right on cue. Because when the nightmares are too hard to handle on their own? You and Jake find solace in one another’s presence. (2.5k ) (Out Now)

Chapter Two: [Tactile Takedown] When a missile is headed right for Roosters F-18, Jake makes a decision that could end up costing you your life. (4.4k) (Out Now)

Chapter Three: [In The Arms Of The Enemy] Both you and Jake come face to face with the man you only know as ‘The Commander’ who you soon find out has very little patience for bullshit. (4.6k) (Out Now)

Hotshot: The moments before you were brought into your cell & the memory that haunted Jake Seresins mind. (1.3k )

Chapter Four: [Men & Their Many Masks] You and Jake find yourselves alone in his cell for what feels like a week. Passing the time with mundane conversations. But when The Commander and his fellow officers finally come back? Things take a turn for the worst. (5.3k) (Out Now)

Chapter Five: [Emerald City:] *** You’re forced against your will by three insurgents all the while Jake helplessly watches on. In return? He’s given a gift made only for the broken hearted. (4.8k) (Out Now)

Chapter Six: [Ninety in Five] *** Hours, Days, Weeks, Months. Just how long have you and Jake been enduring the horrific torture at the hands of a Rogue Nations Commander. (5.4k) (Out Now)

Chapter Seven: [War Wounds in the Ward] When help finally arrives, Jake believes it may be too late. The extent of both your injuries are finally revealed and the both you come face to face with the reality of just how long you’d been held in captivity for. (7.4k) (Out Now)

Chapter Eight: [The Platform] When Jake wakes up beside you after seeking refuge in your company, he’s forced to face a nightmare he thought would only ever exist in his mind. (1.6k) (Out Now)

Epilogue: [Before, During & Never After] There one place Jake Seresin knows where to find you after he’s woken by a startling bark. (1.6k) (Out Now)

Concepts / Blurbs.

-> [Don’t Wanna Miss My Stop] Jake Overdoses

-> [Don’t Blame Me] Jake doesn’t blame himself for how you died. He blames himself for why you died.

Status: Complete

Life After Death Spin off Series

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin angst #Jake Seresin whump #jake hangman x you #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction

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cherry-leclerc · 3 months

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method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series - humor, strangers to friends/roommates

word count: 5.1k

cherry here!... first req that turns into a mini series and I'M SO EXCITED. the idea was perfect and i really hope you all enjoy this little story based off one of the best films :) common changes and adjustments are made for the plot but HAPPY READING

*can you guess what film it's based off of? where the title originates from?

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 1

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

Parents know best - at least that’s what we’re all told growing up. How about bioengineering? Cardiothoracic surgeon? Architecture? With braces and a messy fishtail, you shake your head profusely as you clutch onto your notebook.

"No. Journalism."

“Why didn’t I listen to my mom?” Groaning, you rub your tired hands all over your face as your roommate stares back, bewildered by your sudden frustration.

“You’re telling me doing open heart surgery would have been better than writing an article?”

Aiming a pencil at her, you gasp as you cover your mouth and she squints her brown eyes at you. “I am so sorry!” Running up, you hug her desperately. “I’m just stressed, I’m stressed, I’m stressed!” You pull away. “I’m stressed.”

Amelia chuckles as she sits down on a stool, pointing for you to do the same. “You, my serial killer friend, need a break.” You frown at her choice of words. If I take a break then I’m going to get fired. She smiles brightly. “You won’t though.”

You can distinctively pinpoint the moment a ripped up journal turned into a laptop. It was senior year of highschool and you finally had the courage to confront your parents and tell them that you, if fact, were not joking about your bachelors in journalism.

"Darling, how will you make a living out of something like that?"

For a moment, her words had you second guessing your choices. Could she be onto something? Know something perhaps you don’t? The older, the wiser, no?

But you had already applied - it was done. So you tipped your head firmly, clicked your tongue against your straight teeth, and smiled.

"I’ll find a way."

You moan softly as you hit your forehead with the palm of your hand. “What I would give to just be an elementary school teacher…Grading papers, cute kids-”

“Shit everywhere, tantrums, headaches, signs of early aging - oh God - receding hairline!” Amelia pales as she scrunches her nose in disgust. “Nightmare.” The blonde reaches for your hands, intertwining her fingers into yours. “But this is your dream, it’s what you're good at. Don’t let a little writer's block scare you away.”

“Goodness gracious! Are you alright?” Lucy’s southern accent surprises you as you fix your crutches. The older lady had been working at the famous magazine company since you can remember, always a cheerful receptionist. Loud, too.

You wince. “Oh, you know…clumsy me?”

"Eleanor is never going to let me take a vacation. I would have to die first."

Amelia’s eyes twinkle deviously.

"Then that’s what we’ll do."

"Die?"

“It’s okay, I could open it myself,” you yelp as Lucy swings the door to your boss’ office. Let me, she insists as she pushes you in. Tumbling, you hurry to fix your posture as you nervously giggle, beady eyes staring back at your rude interruption. “I had no idea you were in the middle of a meeting.”

Eleanor and a crowded room all look you up and down before she sighs. “You’re already here, what is it that you need?” You shudder at her cold tone.

“I- uh- I mean, if it’s possible, I was t-thinking I could maybe get a m-m-month off?”

Oh no, someone whispers as they catch the editor-in-cheifs face change. Your stomach drops. Or not, I’m fine! The gray haired lady stands up as she tauntingly makes her way over, circling you like a hungry lion. “And why do you need a month off?”

“Doctor’s orders?”

She hums, analyzing your casted leg and left arm. “I’m sure you can type with your right hand. Off you go.” You blink. Once she takes a seat, she narrows her eyes again. “I said you can go.”

“Of course. Have a nice day.”

"She’s going to see right through me," you repeat for the millionth time as Amelia's boyfriend, Roman, works on the fake casts.

She groans. "With that attitude she will! Get it together. You have to stand your ground and don't dare walk out of that office without a month off."

Terrified of your best friend, you nod. "Thank you again for this future doc, hope you don’t get fired."

He pales. "The things we do for the people we love, am I right?" Amelia blushes.

Letting out a shaky breath, you brace yourself before tripping and falling straight onto your back. The whole room gasps in shock as Eleanor stares back with a bored expression. Shit, are you okay? Peeking with one eye, you catch Grayson - Eleanor’s son - staring back with a helpful hand.

He had always been nice to you, bringing you coffee whenever he was around. Sometimes he even helped you brainstorm new ideas. Your heart rate accelerates as you struggle to get up. Mother, she can’t be working in this condition. She huffs as she waves her hand in dismissal, Dior bracelets clicking against one another.

A month. That’s it.

“Thank you,” you whisper as he helps you into your overly priced Uber. He tilts his head, slowly tracing your features.

“You're lying, aren’t you?” He signals at your poorly done cast.

“I c-can explain-”

He laughs. “Your secret's safe with me.” Reaching over, he buckles you. Your breath hitches. “Enjoy your time off. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I’ll be waiting for you!” You swoon as you retell your embarrassing story to the cozy couple who cuddle on the couch like proud parents.

Amelia claps. “He’s the one! I feel it!” Roman scoffs. Settle down, daydreamers. Your friend slaps his hand. “Debbie Downer.” You giggle as she wiggles her eyebrows. “So…what are you going to do now that you're free?”

You tap your chin. “Um, probably write.”

Her smile falls. “This is the whole reason we even did any of this! For you to not think and just enjoy yourself!”

Her boyfriend nods, floppy hair bouncing up and down. “Yeah, I didn’t go through all that,” he signals to the casts that lay by the doorway, “Just for you to lay around doing what you always do.” He stands up to grab an apple. “Travel, I’m serious.”

Amalfi Coast. It called you poor in seven different languages as you tug your suitcase into your AirBnB. Amelia and Roman had sat through 8 hours of planning everything, detail and safety included.

"Oh, click that one!" Roman tsks his tongue as his fingers slide against the keypad. The blonde beams. "That’s perfect!"

"Perfectly out of my range," you sigh as you slap it shut. "I’ll die homeless if I stay there." The couple share a silent look before returning their attention.

"Well, we were thinking… " the brunette starts before your friend cuts him off, jumping up and down on his lap. He groans.

"Sorry, honey, but anyways, we’ll pay for it!" Your jaw drops as you wave your finger, shutting down the idea.

"There’s no way I’m going to let you guys do that-"

"Okay, maybe not all, but at least a good chunk of it," she butts in as Roman stays with a soft smile. "Isn’t that right? " He nods.

"Take it as an early birthday present," he adds. Your chest tightens at their kind gesture.

"That’s still a lot of money." You grow light headed.

"Then no birthday presents for two years," Amelia squeaks as she grabs your hands over the coffee table. "Just don’t say no, you need this." You debate inside your head for a few minutes before letting out a shaky breath.

"No birthday presents for the rest of my life and we have ourselves a deal."

Which is how you landed in one the most beautiful homes you think you will ever see in your entire life. You can’t even pretend to try and fit in because everything seems to make your eyes pop out of their sockets.

After a bit of unpacking, your sweet tooth gets the best out of you as you grab your purse and head out the door. You can’t help but take pictures at almost everything you see, but everyone was doing the same so there couldn’t be too much judgment. Paying for your lemon sorbet, you hum constantly as you stare into the ocean. The breeze was warm, but not obnoxiously so. The rocks underneath you tickle slightly as you get comfortable.

Then you hear it, light snores. Startled, you turn over as you catch a man sleeping, arm laying over his stomach. You think about maybe moving location but when he releases soft whimpers, you find yourself growing sympathetic. What if he was in trouble? You couldn’t let a person die if they were three feet away from you. Hesitantly, you crawl your way over as you tap his leg.

“Ciao,” you say, but you can only catch his nose scrunching up since he had a hat laying over him, covering his mysterious features. Biting down on your lip, you dig your finger harder. “Ciaooo.” Sitting up abruptly, he groans, shoulder bumping against your cone. You yelp before pouting at your treat melting all over the surface.

“Oh merda, colpa mia,” he apologizes as soon as he notices your gloomy mood. “Posso comprartene un altro se vuoi, ti prometto che non sono un serial killer-” Like a cat being bathed, you jump up high as you create a large distance.

“Serial killer?” you squeal. He catches onto your accent swiftly as he waved his hands in defense.

“I’m not! I’m not!” You eyed him suspiciously, chest heaving heavily. “I was offering to buy you another cone and saying that I’m not a sick serial killer, that’s all…” He signals to your desert. “I feel bad.”

Releasing a soft breath of relief, you smile politely. “Don’t worry about it. I was just trying to see if you were okay, you were kind of…” You theatrically twitch as he chuckles. Your cheeks burn up at the sound.

“I’m fine, thank you.” A beat. “Sort of.” Softly narrowed eyes stare back at him. Do you need anything? He winces at the bright sun. “I feel a bit sick, if I’m being honest.” He zigzags a bit before falling straight into the rocks, painful grunts following. You shriek as you run over, flipping him onto his back.

“Holy fuck, holy fuck.” Other than a cut up lip, he’s fine, but he groans like there’s no tomorrow. Rightfully so, you start panicking as you dab his bottom lip with the hem of your shirt, then you remove his hat.

“Don’t!” But you’re already tossing it over your shoulder as you analyze his bruised up cheek.

Green eyes look into yours as you stop breathing. His eyes are sensitive, like some sort of past soulmate, if you believe in that type of bullshit. His hair is rusty brown, long strands hitting up to his lashes. His nose is slightly pointy and it’s worse that they’ve always been your favorite kind. Lip swollen from his clumsiness, but a natural pink. Freckles and moles sprinkle along his face.

Scooting away, he raises finger over his lips, cryptically telling you to hush. Confused, you lay your palm against his cheekbone. “You need to see a doctor.” Now he becomes visibly bewildered as he cocks his head to the side. You don’t know who I am? Flushed, you extend your hand, introducing yourself. “And you are?”

The brunette lets out an unhinged laugh as his large hand swallows yours. “Charles, I- I m-my name is Charles.” Dimples pop up from how wide he’s smiling, and that almost leaves you gasping for air. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Then he grabs his head in discomfort. “Seriously though, you need to see a doctor.” No, he starts. You roll your eyes. “Fine, a medico or whatever you want to call it.” Helping him up, he leans against you as you wheeze.

“I’m perfectly fine, I just need to sleep.” He pants against your head, catching a whiff of your shampoo scent. “Pretty,” he mumbles. You blush harder. “Do you think you can take me to the nearest hotel?”

“I don’t know if that's such a good idea,” you mutter. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but I don’t know you at all.” He shyly nods before removing his arm away from your figure, and all of a sudden it’s cold.

“I get it, don’t worry.” The green eyed boy waves goodbye before stumbling away.

You have always been a bit of a people pleaser, one of your many flaws. Amelia and Roman had always called you out on it, stopping you from making stupid decisions.

But Amelia and Roman weren't here.

“Wait.” Charles turns around, loopy eyes squinting at your blurry physique. Making your way over, you take his arm and place it over you. “You can stay with me, I’m just up that hill.”

“You can’t be helping out boujee vagrants,” your friends scold you over the phone as you grimace. “Why would you do that?”

You nibble on your painted nail. “I felt bad…”

Roman snickers before coming into frame. “What if he’s some kind of maniac?” Like a child, you shake your head.

“He said he wasn’t!”

The couple groan at your naiveness. “Boy, let’s just trust everyone we meet then!” The blonde pushes her face directly onto the screen. “You need to slap him awake and kick him out.”

But there was something so peaceful and homey about the way Charles was sleeping, covered like a butterfly in a cocoon. His chest rises up and down as he occasionally reaches for the other pillow, bringing towards his chest. With one last glaze, you leave the bedroom.

“I can’t do that to him. He was in really bad shape, you should have seen him.”

God can’t even help her, Roman grunts before strolling away. Amelia sighs. “Listen, I know you’re just being a good person, but you don’t even know this guy. We just want you to be safe.” I know, you mumble, chewing on your hoodie’s string. She tips her head. “Let him stay the night if you want, but tomorrow, he leaves. I’m not playing around.”

“Tomorrow,” you reassure her before hanging up.

He had slept for a day and a half and you were starting to get worried but after contemplating throwing his body over the balcony, he was stretching like a newborn baby. “That was the best nap I’ve had in years.” You chuckle awkwardly at the stranger.

“That was most definitely not a nap.”

He smiles. “Did you sleep well?”

“So good,” you respond quickly and he would have settled with that if it weren’t for your dark under eyes.

“Shit, you haven’t slept?”

“I did, I promise!” Green eyes reflect intently as you crumble. “Okay, I didn’t, but it was only for two days.” Two? You cringe. “There was just one bed and I didn’t know whether you were-” You trail off.

“Wasn’t what?”

Maroon paints your cheekbones. “A psycho killer…” You can tell he’s offended by the way he rubs the tip of his nose, as if he’s trying to ease the tension.

“I’m not the Monster of Florence or anything like that,” he mutters as you begin to apologize, watching as he sits far enough away just in case you feel the need to bolt out the door. “But I understand why you don’t trust me. We don’t know each other…So, why don’t we work on that?”

It takes about an hour for him to tell you what he considers the basics about his entire persona, and you rant about your upbringing. He frowns.

“That must have sucked. Not having parents who believe in you.” You flinch at his truthful words.

“I think they’re starting to get it,” you pathetically try but even he can see right through your weak excuse. Focusing your attention onto your twiddling thumbs, you exhale. “How did your parents react when you told them you wanted to be a mechanic?”

The Monegasque seems stunned for a nanosecond before munching on a blueberry and crossing his arms. “Their only priority was for me to be happy and doing what I love.” You smile sadly.

“Are you happy? Do you love it?”

“It’s my favorite thing in the world.”

You feel a giggle bubbling inside your throat with the way he speaks about his job, but then you’d be doing the exact same thing that others do to you. He coughs. “So tell me, you really faked an injury?”

Your stomach hurts from how much Charles was making you laugh and before either of you knew it, the sun had set. “Did we really just waste an entire day?”

“I don’t see it as wasting my day. I really like talking to you.”

Forcing yourself to look away, you untuck your legs from underneath your butt. “Wanna grab something to eat?”

There’s a comfortable silence that lingers between you both as you walk the busy streets of Amalfi. “Do you really need to wear a beanie? It’s burning hot.” Looking around, he shrugs and continues walking.

You settled on sharing a plate of pasta since it was almost bedtime and neither of you weren't that hungry. “Good, right?” he questions the moment you shut your eyes about the delicious taste. You hum.

“Free orgasm right here.”

Choking on his food, he quickly takes a sip of water as you smack his back. “I think I’m good now,” he squeaks as you smile timidly. You can feel the way he judges you as you devour your fair share, but you can’t help it. Connecting your gaze to his, he looks away as he drops his fork against the fancy plate. “Thank you for letting me stay the night.”

“Oh. Yeah, no problem.”

The brunette chews on his bottom lip. “It was nice getting to know you, really.” You blink back dazed as he continues. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip.”

“You’re leaving?” Even your inquiry shocks you as he smiles back warmly. I don’t want to interrupt. You’re looking for peace, remember? Trying to think of a quick enough excuse, you say, “Having someone to keep me company doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. I-I mean if you’re not busy.”

Under the table, you were crossing your fingers as he took in your offer. The brunette nods. “I guess it could be fun.”

“You did the right thing,” Amelia congratulates you the next time you call her. “Rather be safe than sorry.”

Just then, Charles walks in with a bag of peaches, grinning proudly as he makes his way over. “Agreed. Listen Amelia, I have to go. Adventure awaits! Tell Roman that I miss him! Talk to you later!” Hanging up, you greet your roommate. Awkwardly, he passes you the juicy fruit.

“Friend back home?” You hum, biting down. Taking a bite of his own, he bows his head. “You miss your boyfriend?” You stop chewing.

“Boyfriend? Oh, you mean Roman?” He clenches his jaw, then relaxes. You cackle loudly. “He’s my best friend's boyfriend,” you clarify. “We’re close - all of us.”

“Oh.” Tossing the seed away, he rises up to his full height. “Wanna see something cool?”

“You got insurance?” you joke as he covers your eyes, leading you mysteriously. You’re not going to get hurt or die if that’s what you’re worried about. You giggle. Okay, we’re here. Removing his hands, you take a minute to adjust your eyesight. “What the fu-”

“Cool, right?”

You scoff. “Cool? This is beautiful.” Running over to the cherry red Ferrari, you reach out before turning back to the 26 year old. He nods. Delicately, you brush your hand against the leather seats. “Where did you get this?”

“I know a guy.”

“Mafia leader?”

“Ha-ha,” he mocks as he unlocks it, going in to open the door. “Hop in.”

Humid wind sends your hair flying as you let out loud shrieks from the speed. You don’t know how he found such an isolated spot, but you don’t ask questions with how much you enjoy the thrill. “Again, again!” you cheer as he does professional donuts. The car comes to a halt as you fling forward and he stays as straight as can be.

“How about I teach you?”

“Okay, put the car in gear.” Following instructions, you listen attentively. “Turn the wheel and floor it, but make sure to be alert and keep your foot on the brake just in case.” Swinging harshly, you let out a scream. “It’s okay, try again.”

After a while, you still couldn’t get it down and your frustration was starting to show. But he was patient, spilling out different versions of advice. Twist sharply. Biting on your bottom lip, you huff before trying again. His words circle your mind as you drive the Ferrari straight ahead before turning the wheel and pressing down on the gas. Your adrenaline picks up when you realize what you had just done.

“That was perfect!” Raising his hand out for a high five, you squeal as you smack it hard. He hisses, but you’re on a roll.

“Hold on, Charles, you're in for a ride.”

Though his car is moving fast, the Monegasque feels as if he’s stuck in slow motion as he admires the way you control the Ferrari. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t find any of this attractive. It took you a while, sure, but your determination got to him as he kept his eyes trained on you, peeking over at you where you sat mumbling the steps over and over. Arms maneuvering the wheel flawlessly, knotted hair fanning your face. Stepping on the break, he barely has a moment to react before he slams right onto the dashboard. You wince.

“I should have warned you, crap! But you were doing so good! Your head would not move an inch.” Admiration paints your voice. Embarrassed, he rubs his temple.

“I got a bit distracted, but I’m fine.”

“Okay,” you mumble skeptically. Honking the prancing horse, you turn to him with a Cheshire Cat grin. “How about a drink, professor? My treat.”

“What’s the occasion?” the bartender asks as he fills two glasses of whiskey. I can do donuts now, you brag. His brows raise up in shock. “That’s impressive. It takes a good person to teach you.”

“It does, but lucky for me, I got it.” Discreetly you point over at Charles who sits with yet another baseball hat. “He’s pretty great.” The man's face drops as he leans against the table, getting closer to you.

“I’d say so! That’s Charles Leclerc.” Flabbergasted as to how he knows his name, you take the two drinks and raise them up as a silent thank you. “Free drinks on me if you need anymore, amore!”

On the way back to the small table, you ponder on the weird encounter. Had they met before? Perhaps Charles had fixed his car or something along the lines. Grazie, the Monegasque smiles as he takes a sip of the cool drink. You do the same, wide eyes shining at the taste. “Holy crap, this is good.” Swallowing the rest of the golden liquid, you signal at the bartender for the rest of the bottle. Nodding, he brings it over as Charles lowers his head, green eyes trained on his lap.

“It’s somehow sweet,” you narrate as you serve yourself another. “More?” He shakes his head, wavy hair following his movement. It’s the Italian charm. You hum against your cup. “Must be. Tastes like paradise.”

It’s safe to say that you were obsessed the minute you started growing tipsy. Squinting at the squawking girl who was pouring her heart out on the stage, microphone in hand, you snap your fingers loudly, jumping up. That. I want to do that! Your travel buddy chuckles. “You do?”

“Of course I do. Plus, my voice is all warmed up.” Massaging your throat, you march over at the little old lady who plays the tarnished piano. “Potrei cantare dopo?” She nods kindly before wrapping up the song. I have another one in me, the girl yelps as her friends pull her off stage.

“Oh great, a drunk removed for another drunk,” someone shouts out when you stumble on stage.

“Hey. Blame the delicious drinks!” Flipping through the book, you narrow your eyes. “This one,” you cheer excitedly as you whisper into her ear. She beams. No one ever asks for that one! Practicing against the keys, she nods as you twirl your way back on stage.

All eyes are on you as you play with the hem of your mini dress. Normally, you’d be a nervous wreck, and maybe the liquor helped, but you weren’t afraid of making a fool out of yourself.

“You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere.” Soft keys echo through the small bar - for sure a guitar would have been better, but something about the familiar instrument makes Charles feel cozy as he listens to your voice. It isn’t perfect - you were drunk after all - but it was enough to make everyone listen closely like you were some divine object.

Swaying, with you smiling sheepishly as you move your eyes through the crowd of strangers, and you’re glad the green eyed boy isn’t one of them. Is it fast enough so we can fly away? The brunette grins at you as you spin in your dress, ponytail fluttering like grass in the gentle breeze.

“So I remember we were driving, driving in your car. Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk. City lights lay out before us, and your arm felt nice wrapped ‘round my shoulder.”

There is some sort of unexplainable shift inside of you as you feel yourself sober up with his intense stare. His brows are drawn softly, listening to your sweet voice, as if you would disintegrate and never be seen or heard of again. A click - you just clicked.

“And I had a feeling that I belonged. I had a feeling I could be someone.”

Kicking the door wide open, Charles carries you in as he settles you on the bed. You flop around like a fish out their tank for good measure, then pout, bare feet pressing up against his clothed abs. He halts. “I need to change…take off all my makeup...” All of it, you mouth, droopy eyes struggling to stay open.

“I can get you what you need.” Last time he dug through a girl's suitcase, on a mission to find all her essentials, he had a girlfriend. Pushing away his thoughts, he jogs back over to your limp body. “Okay, here you-”

Curled up like a rolly polly, you breath gently as you sleep. The 26 year old isn’t too surprised, but rather confused. Does he just leave you now? Pacing the room, he nibbled down on his nails as he weighed his options. He could let you sleep peacefully and possibly get a beating in the morning for leaving you to rot with all the nastiness or he could get it done quick - not look twice - and maybe still get a beating.

“I’ll be fast,” he mutters to himself as he grabs your makeup wipes. He tries to be as ginger about it, a cool towel erasing your light makeup. As soon as you scrunch your face up like a baby rabbit, he stops and rushes away. Good enough.

Now comes the complicated part. Slip the dress off, change her into her jammies. Easy peasy. But the more he thinks about it, the more he’s unsure. One night with your outside clothes won’t kill you.

“Take it off, Charles, please,” you grumble as you tug on your dress. His Adam's Apple bobs up and down with panic as he nods to himself. Green eyes flicker the room before they land on his t-shirt. Oversized - would cover you whole - fast.

As if he’s being chased down by the police, he runs over and in a quick motion, slides your dress off before tugging his shirt over your head, dropping your passed out body onto the bed and throwing the duvets over you. Grazie, you murmur from underneath as he sighs.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Fucking hell,” you groan, clearly feeling the awful hangover. After promising to never drink again, you rub your eyes as you yawn, focus becoming drawn to the black shirt. Your stomach drops. No, no, no. Hurrying to look for your phone, you quickly unlock it before freezing.

Who is Charlz Leclerk? You can’t even recall when you must've searched this up, but Google definitely understood your investigation.

"Tell me, Nico," you pout as you take a sip of your whiskey as you wait for Charles to come out of the bathroom. "How do you know my friend's name?"

He beams excitedly. “Amore! He’s…” Blinking harshly, you try your best to listen and read his lips as he makes funny hand gestures. For a second, you swore he was swerving an invisible car. Waving his hand, he laughs. "Look him up."

Monegasque racing driver; Formula One; Currently racing for Scuderia Ferrari.

“What?” you whisper as you throw your phone away, eyeing it like the plague. No. Charles was a mechanic - a mechanic, for god sakes.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” He tosses you a paper bag. “It’s a sandwich. Eat.”

How can he even look at you and act like everything is okay? Did he do anything wrong? No, not really, but why would he keep this from you? You’re surprised to find yourself feeling hurt by his secretive actions as he stares back innocently.

“Is it not good?” he questions when you chomp down sadly. It is, you reassure with a mouthful. “Hey, I was thinking we could go for a swim. The weather is nice out.”

“Mhmm,” you respond meekly. “Is it okay if I meet you there? I-I was thinking I could rinse my body first.”

The brunette nods. “I can wait for you.”

“No!” You blush at your eager tone. “We’ll just meet up.” Okay? Grabbing his things and yours, he strolls out the door, but not before gifting you a small wink. Call me if you get lost. “Asshole!” you cry out as he chuckles, slamming the door behind him.

In a matter of seconds, you’re already dialing work. “Lucy! Is Eleanor there?” Sweetheart, how are you? How’s the leg? The arm? Do you need me to- “I’m fine. Can you connect me to Eleanor, it’s urgent.” The older lady giggles as she switches you over.

“This better be good.”

Clearing your throat, you fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “I have an exclusive.”

Eleanor’s rich and elegant voice scoffs. “What about your arm?”

“Like you said,” you hum. “I still got my right one."

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prythianpages · 4 months

Text

Wanna Be Yours | Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand x Reader | When the Night Court and Dawn Court strike a deal, healers in exchange for Illyrian training, you rush at the opportunity to leave your home. You plan to keep a low profile but upon meeting the High Lord of night, your efforts are futile. He takes an instant liking to you and is set on being yours.

warnings: angst, mentions of blood and injury

a/n: This can be read as a stand alone imagine :) but there will be a part two. once again, we have another mini series inspired by a song: I wanna be yours by the Arctic Monkeys. I love when the guy falls in love with the girl first and I feel like it suits Rhys. This takes place before the events of ACOTAR.

The world awakens to a gentle warmth–a tender kiss from dawn. The stars are like a fading dream, bidding their silent farewell and the first tendrils of sunlight emerge, painting the sky in hues of soft pinks and purples. The world seems to hold its breath and so do you.

It’s so beautiful. The way night surrenders to day. The way that no matter how dark it gets, the sun will rise again. It makes you miss home but you don’t miss what waits for you there.

“You don’t belong here.”

You startle and the world tilts beneath your feet. The edge of the terrace offers a daunting view of the Court of Nightmares–a harsh landscape of rocky mountains that seems to promise a swift but unforgiving descent. A hand grasps your arm, pulling you back from the brink, the force spinning you around until you find sanctuary in a pair of strong arms.

As you lift your head, the world regains its focus, but your breath hitches at the sight before you.

A man, heartbreakingly handsome, captures your gaze. He has sun-kissed skin and short dark hair, reminiscent of a raven’s feather, that frames features that seem almost too perfect to be real. Yet, it’s his eyes that draw you in–a shade of blue so deep it borders on violet. Flecks of silver dance within those celestial irises, mirroring the stars that had bid their farewell earlier. His gaze is intense, sparkling with an allure that feels both familiar and bewitching.

“Breathe, darling.”

His voice, a velvet symphony, wraps around you like the answer to a question you hadn’t even fathomed to think of yet–a revelation that ignites a feeling you can’t quite discern but it stirs the deepest recesses of your heart.

Suddenly, you’re pushing away from the male with a deep exhale as a delicate pink that reflects the sky above you flushes your cheeks.

“y/n!”

Your eyes widen at the sound of your name being called.

“y/n.” The male in front of you repeats to himself and you never thought your name would sound so beautiful as it does in this very moment. His lips curl into a knowing smirk.

Alette, your guide, comes into your view. She bends over slightly as her chest heaves and she catches up with her breath. She turns to the male, bowing her head in acknowledgment. “My High Lord.”

All blood drains from your face and your heart skips a beat. High Lord. You just met the High Lord of the Night Court and embarrassingly so. You contemplate whether it’s too late to bow your head or not but the thought of Alette scolding you for not doing it sooner stops you.

“I see you’ve met one of our new healers.” Alette inclines her head toward your sorry state. “I do apologize for her entering your palace without prior clearance.”

Cauldron boil you. You caught a glimpse of him pressing his lips together, as if suppressing something. Perhaps a scowl, frown or smile–you don’t know– because you're swiftly averting your gaze. You’re too scared to move, not wanting to draw more attention to yourself than you already have.

“Forgive me,” you’re saying as you drop to your knees and bow your head. “I didn't mean to trespass. I felt a little suffocated down there and I had no idea this was your home.”

“Where are you from?”

Panic steals your voice and it’s Alette who answers for you.

“She’s one of the few healers that came from Dawn, my High Lord.”

You sense the weight of his gaze upon you, an intensity that envelops you with an almost overwhelming power. Your throat tightens.

“And what of her skill?”

“The best of this year’s cohort.” Alette replies with no hesitation. There’s a subtle fondness in her voice that makes your heart swell with pride. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed.

“You may rise.” It takes a while for you to register that the High Lord is addressing you until Alette is awkwardly clearing her throat. You blink and rise to your feet but keep your gaze low.

“You’re coming with me.”

You lift your gaze, gaping at his back. Does he—No, there’s no way he can know. The High Lord pauses.

He turns his head over his shoulder and looks at you in an expectant manner. You look at Alette, who nods her head at you, so hesitantly, you follow after him. Your heart races as you hear him tell Alette to pack your things because you won’t be staying in the Court of Nightmares anymore.

Velaris, the city of Starlight, is a breathtaking haven nestled within the Night Court. It’s often referred to as the Court of Dreams. It’s a place of ethereal beauty and enchantment. The stark contrast it presents in comparison to the haunting Court of Nightmares leaves you in awe.

But what strikes you the most is the High Lord of the Night Court–the master of duality. In Hewn City, where the air is always thick with tension, he wears a cold, stoic mask and every calculated step he takes echoes the weight of his stern authority and great power. This is the High Lord you’ve heard of. So when he told you, you’d be joining him in the city of his private residence, you were terrified.

It was a short lived fear because the High Lord you’ve heard of is not the High Lord you’ve come to know over the past couple of weeks. In Velaris, he sheds the shroud of shadows and reveals a different side to him. A softer side. A leader built from genuine warmth and kindness.

You’ve come to understand he has a complex role as High Lord of the Night Court. He is a blend that is both harsh and dangerous, yet undeniably beautiful and remarkable, constantly navigating through the delicate balance of power and compassion.

There is one unchanging thread that weaves through both cities. A thread of charismatic arrogance. He carries it effortlessly, employing it in a charming grace. One that he directs skillfully, particularly, when he turns the full force of his charm on you. You’d be lying if you said you were immune to it.

Upon your arrival, the High Lord–or Rhysand as he prefers you to call him– introduced you to the city’s healer. Madja. Though you’ve undergone extensive training in your home court, it felt little compared to the years of experience Madja carried with her, leading her to take you under her wing as her apprentice. You were a fast learner and given the nature of Azriel’s–Rhysand’s spymaster– and Cassian’s –Rhysand’s general commander– jobs, you had a lot of practice and challenges to hone your skills.

A tired yawn escapes from you as you navigate the halls of the infirmary to Madja’s study with the intention of wishing her a goodnight before retiring to your room. Your stops falter when your ears pick up on the distinct voices of Cassian and Azriel and suddenly you’re wide awake.

“–was ambushed by dark forces–”

“–never seen so much blood–”

“–I should make haste then–”

“–he only wants y/n–”

Shadows slink out from the corners, momentarily dimming the faelight in your hand in a silent greeting. The voices, once animated, hush and then cease altogether. Madja is the first to emerge from the study, with Azriel and Cassian trailing behind.

"The High Lord requests your presence.”

Not much can unsettle you, given your role as a healer. You’ve tended to a variety of injuries, seen tremendous amounts of spilled blood and have had to navigate through the sorrow of heartbreaking losses. But this. This feels different. This isn’t just anyone. It’s Rhysand. The male, who despite his shameless flirting, has consistently shown nothing but kindness to you. Though the nature of your relationship is uncertain, the mere thought of him being harmed sends a sharp pang through your chest, an ache that transcends the usual clinical detachment you maintain in your profession.

There’s an urgency in your steps as you approach Rhysand’s weak form on the infirmary bed. His body is extremely pale and shivering. A thick layer of sweat clings to his skin. There’s blood everywhere. On the floor, on the bed. It continues to seep out of the wound at his abdomen.

His lids are heavy, laden with exhaustion but he still manages a weary smile when he spots you. “You’re here,” he breathes in surprise, his words carrying a blend of relief and vulnerability.

“I’m here,” you confirm with a reassuring smile as you brush back the dark tendrils of his hair from his face. Though your touch is gentle, the lines on his face seem to deepen.

The air around you begins to shimmer with a soft, golden light. You cast a keen eye over his abdomen, the golden light dancing around you as you assess the full extent of his injury. The wound is deep and not healing as it should and your nose crinkles as the pungent smell of poison drifts up at you.

Rhysand winces as your healing touch meets his wound. Despite his blood staining your hands, you move with practiced grace, drawing upon the healing energies within you. Each movement is deliberate, an intricate crossing between magic and skill as you strive to counteract the effects of the poison.

Rhysand sucks in a sharp breath. He feels like he is dying but he won’t admit that to you. He doesn’t want to scare you. “It hurts.”

“I know,” you respond, your brows furrowing in concentration. The quicker you work, the less pain he’ll have to endure altogether. “It’s the poison.”

His eyes squeeze shut and his face contorts with agony as you press further into the wound. A strangled whimper escapes from his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you frown, halting your movements. You turn your head toward the double doors, where you know Madja waited in her study despite the late hour, in case you required assistance. “Should I go get Madja instead?”

“No,” his hands weakly grasps yours to keep them from leaving him. “I–I’m okay. I only need you.”

You nod and take a deep breath, urging your powers to continue surging through your bones and veins. Charged with vitality, they embody a tender current, eager to breathe life into every fiber of the recipient’s being. You sense the poison recoiling at your touch, prompting another cry from Rhysand. Though you know the poison will put up a painful fight, there’s a sense of relief as you realize it is one you can win.

“It’s going to feel worse before it gets better,” you say, your eyes darting to your makeshift table. “I don’t have anything for you to bite down onto. I’m sorry.”

“Tell me a story,” he pleads, his voice desperate and raspy. “Anything. Please.”

“Anything?” You say in contemplation, falling into a thoughtful pause as you search your mind for a story to tell.

“When I was a little girl and my parents were separating, my uncle would take me to the countryside,” you begin to share, your voice softening with the weight of the fond memory and in the intimate space between you and Rhysand, a subtle shift occurs.

“It was my favorite place in all of Dawn. The flowers were always in bloom and the grass was tall and green. We would wake up early to watch the sunrise together. Those were the moments where the world felt so still yet so gentle.”

“One night, as the moon gracefully surrendered its space to the emerging sun, I cried. The realization of the sun and moon being eternal strangers gripped my little heart. The sun, in its golden glory, would never know the tender glow of the moon, and the moon, adorned in silver brilliance, would remain untouched by the sun's warm embrace. It made me sad.”

“My uncle, at first, laughed. He teased me, which made me cry harder. He realized the genuine depth of my sorrow and that’s when he shared something with me,” you continue, a nostalgic smile plays on your lips as you recall the moment.

Unbeknownst to you, Rhysand’s gaze warms in the gentle embrace of the shared memory. He’s momentarily distracted from the stabbing pain.

"He told me that the moon's glow is but a reflection of the sun's radiance," you explain, the magic of your tale intertwining with the magic of your healing touch. "How beautiful, he said. That the love of the sun for the moon is so pure that he sets down so that people can admire the beauty of her.”

"I was still sad, holding onto that stubborn desire to witness the sun and moon together. That's when my uncle introduced me to the magic of an eclipse—a rare celestial dance where the sun and moon finally come face to face. When the next one arrived, my uncle whisked me back to the countryside to witness it, and for the first time, I felt such overwhelming joy. Tears welled in my eyes but they were tears of happiness. I didn’t know one could cry tears of joy until that moment.”

Still aglow, your hands continue their delicate work. You observe a subtle relaxation manifesting in the features of Rhysand but there’s a weariness that settles over you. You know all traces of the poison are gone because its toxic essence was absorbed by you in your haste to protect him. It takes its toll on you, wearing you down and leaving you feeling slightly unsteady, but all you care about is him.

The gaping wound on his abdomen gradually yields to your skillful touch, and a peaceful serenity settles over his face. His eyes flutter shut, and in the hushed atmosphere, Rhysand's words pierce through, lingering like a delicate whisper in the air.

"I think I might be in love with you."

The confession tugs at the strings of your heart, urging it to soar, but you swiftly quell the rising emotions. You attribute Rhysand's words to the delirium induced by his pain, knowing he’d forget all about it. You wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot your story as well. You swiftly clean him up and use your magic to replace the bloody sheets with clean ones before taking your leave. Exhaustion tears at your bones and you can only muster a meek smile to Azriel and Cassian, who waited anxiously outside the infirmary doors for an update. You head straight to your room after and collapse onto your bed.

The following night, as you retire to your room from another day of endless work and studying, you find a carefully wrapped gift at your door. There’s no name on it but as you read the note attached, you have an intuitive inkling as to who the thoughtful gifter was.

To the Sun, in your golden glory, may you always feel such overwhelming joy.

A beautiful embellished trinket box lays beneath the wrapping engraved with two cosmic entities–the sun and the moon. As you open the small keepsake, you're greeted by a soft, ethereal glow that radiates from within. It casts a warm and gentle light and you watch as a projection of the moon and sun dance around you before finally converging into a mesmerizing eclipse.

Rhysand's POV

Like clockwork, Rhysand wakes at the break of dawn with the tendrils of a persistent dream lingering in his mind. A dream that has possessed his nights for weeks. As sleep releases its grasp on his eyes, he reluctantly rises from the bed and decides to get ready for the day, knowing that if he tried, he would not be able to fall back asleep.

He navigates through the familiar halls of the Moonstone palace, mindlessly making his way toward one of the terraces. His steps falter.

There, amidst the soft hues of the awakening city below, stands a feminine silhouette–a vision bathed in the tender light of dawn. You. A sense of cautious curiosity courses through him, eclipsing the remnants of his restless dreams. His gaze lingers on you. There's a nuance in your presence, a fine radiance that hints that you are not from here and though he should be concerned over an unannounced visitor in his home, he can’t bring himself to do so.

A subtle flutter dances in his chest. He’s speaking before he could even properly think.

“You don’t belong here.”

You startle and lose your footing. You’re about to fall but before gravity claims its toll, he moves with swift determination. He reaches forward and grasps your arm, pulling you from the dangers of the edge of the terrace and into the safety of his arms instead. You lift your head and a gasp escapes your lips. Your eyes widen as they look up into his.

“Breathe, darling.”

His mind is searching yours with a quiet desperation but all you are thinking about is how devastatingly handsome he is. He doesn’t perceive you as a threat. Yet, there’s something hauntingly familiar about you.

He hears a name being called. Yours. And then it hits him like a sudden gust of wind. You’re the girl from his dreams. The one he’s dreamt of nearly every day this week and as he repeats the name, his lips curve up into a smirk.

He found you and realization dawns upon him like the morning sun. You don’t belong here but not because you’re from a different court. It’s because you belong with him.

a/n: this part came out a lot softer than I thought it would. The quote I used about the sun loving the moon so much came from something I saw on pinterest. I am a sucker for the sun and moon and stars lol

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #acotar rhysand #rhysand imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff

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