#or sunlight through closed eyelids

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 1. the beginning

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: A head injury on patrol causes you to lose your memories of the outbreak and the people you have grown to know and love over the last ten years.

Chapter Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and wounds, vomiting, angst, amnesia

WC: 7.6K

A/N: I shortened the timeline a bit - all of the events from the first game have happened, but this takes place ten years after the outbreak instead of twenty.

Series Masterlist

Pain.

That was all you could recognize at first. The back of your head throbbed so badly, you couldn't even open your eyes. There were sounds, but they were unidentifiable through the searing, red hot pain radiating across the back of your skull. Tenderly, you reached your hand back to press against the source. You recoiled instantly, the pain too much to bear. A thick and sticky wetness coated your fingers.

Then you smelled it.

The smell of metal. Coppery, familiar. Then... did you smell fireworks? Was it the Fourth of July? A few years back, your older brother was messing around with fireworks and nearly blew off his hand, ending the night in the emergency room. Your parents never let him forget it. Is that what happened? Did he make some stupid bet with you? A game of chicken wasn't out of the realm of possibility. He always brought out your competitive side.

You forced your eyes open just a crack, the sun immediately causing you to close them again. It was too bright and your brain was vibrating like it was trying to escape from the confines of your skull.

You were outside. It wasn't dark, fireworks wouldn't make sense. What was going on?

Then you heard your name. Someone shouting it, over and over, panic stricken.

You tried to hold up your hand, wave them off, tell them to stop being so loud, but you could barely lift your hand before the nausea hit. Unable to stop yourself, you rolled onto your side, your head screaming and punishing you for the sudden movement as you heaved, emptying the contents of your stomach into the grass. The force of it made your head hurt even more, if that was even possible.

The smell of acid mixed with the smell of metal, now.

Maybe you were dying.

Someone's hands were on your shoulders, pushing you onto your back, yelling your name over and over.

"Stop," you pleaded weakly, tears springing into your eyes. The pain was too much.

"Jesse! Get her water!"

You groaned and covered your face with your palms. The sunlight was so fucking bright that you could even see it through your eyelids, a red glow everywhere you looked. You needed darkness. You needed quiet.

"Here, drink," you heard a man's voice say, then the hard plastic pressed against your lower lip. You whimpered and tried to pull away, the thought of anything in your stomach making you feel sick again.

"Shit, Joel's gonna fucking freak," you heard another male voice say from behind your head.

Against your better judgement, you forced your eyes open. Blinking rapidly, you locked eyes with the first person you saw. A man with dark, curly hair that went past his ears, with patchy facial hair and soft, brown eyes. Your eyes drifted down to his dirty, denim jacket, and then you saw his hands. Fear shot through you when you saw the drying blood, fist still clutching a gun, and as you tried to scramble away, you bumped into someone behind you, causing you to panic.

Why were they surrounding you? Who were these people? It wasn't fireworks, it was gunpowder.

"Get the fuck away from me!" you screeched, but the dark haired man inched forward, his free hand reaching out to you, telling you to calm down, it's okay, sugar, but you continued to crawl backwards, ignoring the pain throbbing behind your eyes. What did these people do to you?

"Whoa, it's alright," the other man said. A younger man, also darker hair, but shorter.

Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, panic seizing you from head to toe. Your eyes flicked around the forest, the huge tree trunks making it impossible to figure out where you were.

"W-where am I? Where's my mom?"

The man holding the gun frowned and exchanged concerned glances with the other man.

"She's gone," he said gently, as if it were obvious. A strangled noise got caught in the back of your throat when you looked at the man's gun again.

"What did you do to her?" you asked, voice wavering. The man's eyes dropped to the gun in his hand and he quickly holstered it.

"I didn't do anythin' to her, sugar," he said, and again looked at the younger man before continuing. "She died the first day."

"What?" you asked, lip trembling. What the fuck was going on?!

"First day of what?"

"You don't remember?" he asked, and you could see the worry in his face. His eyes wide and his hand a little shaky.

"No, I don't fucking remember! What the fuck are you trying to pull?" you exclaimed, your voice rising the angrier you got.

"Sugar, do you know who I am?" he asked, sneakily taking the handgun that laid abandoned by your side in the dirt and tucking it into the back of his pants.

"No," you spat, then winced and clutched the back of your head again. When you pulled your hand back, you saw fresh blood coating your fingers. Your heart began slamming in your chest and you were finding it difficult to bring in enough air to keep you level.

"Jesse, get a rag," the man ordered. Jesse jumped up and jogged over to a backpack discarded on the ground. Old, worn, faded, with splashes of blood.

Then you saw the bodies.

Well, you supposed they could be considered bodies, but they didn't look like people. Not anymore. Their skin was sagging and grey. Clothes, torn and dirty. Mangy hair ripped out in handfuls at the scalp. Their mouths were agape, revealing yellowed teeth and stinking of rot.

"What the fuck?" you whispered as your vision narrowed. You faintly realized Jesse was pressing a rag against the back of your head, trying to stop the bleeding and had you not been so scared and confused, you might have shoved him away.

"Tommy, what do we do?" Jesse asked, and you could hear the fear in his voice now. His hand shook against your shoulder as he tried to keep you still.

"We gotta get her back home, have Nick take a look at her," he said, and you looked back and forth between them, flabbergasted. Talking about you as if you weren't right there.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," you told them. You tried to stand up, but fell to your knees. Tommy knelt down next to you, his arm circling around your shoulders, but you shrugged him off.

"C'mon, sugar. We ain't gonna hurt you, you just hit your head and you need to see a doctor," Tommy said. "Jesse, grab me my first aid kit."

"I gotta go home," you mumbled, and forced yourself to stand again. You couldn't see straight. Everything around you was spinning even though you were fairly certain you were standing still. "I need to see my dad... my brother."

"Shit," you heard Jesse mutter under his breath as he hustled over with a small, leather bag.

"Okay, why don't we take you to a doctor first, then we can talk about your family, alright?" Tommy asked gently. "I'm just gonna patch you up til we get back," he added, reaching into the bag for some medical tape. You watched as Tommy instructed Jesse to hold the rag against your head while he ran the medical tape around, holding the cloth in place.

You didn't have much choice. As you looked around, you were becoming more and more aware you had absolutely no idea where you were or what was happening. You definitely weren't home. There weren't trees like this back home.

So, begrudgingly, you agreed to follow them. Tommy stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled, a sharp, piercing noise that made you wince. You were confused until you heard the soft pattering of hooves approaching, and through the trees, three tacked up horses emerged. A pale yellow one slowed and stopped a few feet away from you, snorting loudly and stomping its foot. You watched as Tommy and Jesse grabbed their backpacks and mounted their horses. Then Tommy seemed to realize the problem and quickly slid back down to the ground.

"I'll give you a boost," he said, crouching next to the yellow horse and lacing his fingers together. Slowly, you walked forward, eyeing the horse wearily before gripping the saddle and stepping one foot into Tommy's hands. He hoisted you up as you tossed your leg over the side of the horse and you bent forward, momentarily burying your face in its mane while you tried to stop the world from spinning. Fuck, your head was going to explode.

You followed Tommy's horse while Jesse took up the rear, all of you maneuvering around the rotting corpses littering the ground.

"What is this?" you asked, utterly confused. "Did I faint when we found a bunch of dead bodies or something? We have to go to the police," you told them, panic rising once again.

"We will," Tommy said, and you took a deep breath. Okay, things were making sense. You hit your head. Maybe you fell off your horse and knocked yourself out. You don't remember meeting these men before, but they seemed to know you, and they didn't appear to be threatening. If they were, they wouldn't give you your own horse, right?

"How far away are we from your home?" you asked after about ten minutes.

"Not far. Maybe another half hour or so. You holdin' up okay?" Tommy asked, twisting around in his saddle to look at you, his eyes briefly glancing over your shoulder at Jesse.

"Yeah, I think so. My head really hurts, though," you said, blinking slowly. "Do you have a farm or a ranch or something?"

"A what?" Tommy asked, confused until he looked down at the horses. "Oh, right. No, but we do got a barn."

"Oh, okay," you said uncertainly. You looked around at the trees as your horse obediently followed Tommy's. It was so quiet. You must have been deep into the woods because you couldn't hear any road noise at all. Looking up, you didn't even see or hear any planes. You had never known quiet like this before. It was almost... peaceful.

You looked back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Jesse, who gave you a nervous smile.

"Is he your dad?" you asked, and Jesse snorted.

"No," he chuckled, then cleared his throat and wiped the smile off his face, becoming serious again. "No, Tommy's just my friend. Our friend," he added, and you slowly nodded before turning back around.

You loosely held the reins in your hands as you made your way through the forest, the only sounds coming from your horses and the birds singing in the branches above your heads. When you crossed a small stream, Tommy called over his shoulder not much further now.

At the end of the forest was a clearing. You could see it already. A huge gate and reinforced walls surrounding what you assumed was home to these men, but it looked like a fortress in the middle of nowhere. There were even guards with guns strolling along the top of the fences.

This didn't seem right.

"Stop," you told your horse, but of course it kept walking.

"Stop!" you shouted, and it pinned its ears back. You looked up at Tommy, who had now turned around in his saddle.

"How - I don't know what I'm doing, tell it to stop! I want to stop!" you told him as the panic rose from your chest and squeezed your throat.

"Pull on the reins," Tommy said, and you quickly tugged them, making the horse come to a sudden halt.

"Where are we? What is this?" you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him. By now you had made it just outside the gates, and the guards on top were looking at Tommy questioningly.

"This is Jackson," Tommy said calmly, then slid down from his horse to approach you. "This is where we live. We got a doctor here who can take a look at that head wound."

"Why don't you live in a normal house? A normal town? I don't understand," you said, and the tears began to well up in your eyes. You were so frustrated and everything was so confusing and all you wanted to do was go to bed and forget this ever happened.

"I'll explain everythin', I promise, but first we gotta get you to the doc, alright?" he asked as your tears began to fall. Tommy glanced up at the top of the fence and nodded. You watched as a handful of men began to crank open the gate, revealing the beginnings of a quaint -looking town.

"Can you get down? Go slow, I'll catch you if you fall," he said, and when you looked into his eyes, you could see affection there. You did as you were told. Swinging one leg over, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself to the ground, Tommy's hands reassuringly hovering above your shoulders until you were standing on your own two feet.

"Are we... together?" you asked him.

Tommy and Jesse both laughed heartily and then he quickly shook his head.

"No, sugar," he said, a smile still etched across his face. He looked over at the open gate and his smile slowly began to fade. "But we oughta get you to the doc right away."

You sat on the edge of an exam table, head tilted down, chin against your chest as the doctor Tommy introduced as Nick stitched up the laceration on your scalp. He had numbed the area pretty good with something from a very large needle that sent you spiraling into a frenzy until Nick and Tommy managed to calm you down and convinced you they were not in fact trying to drug you and sell you into sex trafficking, like you had accused them of trying to do.

Once the doctor started to work on your injury, Tommy excused himself, mumbling something about needing to talk to someone and that he would be back as soon as possible.

Nick said he had to cut away some of your hair, that you would have a small bald spot for a while, but the rest of your hair would be able to hide it effectively.

After he took care of the cut, he began to examine you further. He flashed a bright light into your eyes, making you wince and recoil. He asked you strange questions that you were confident you didn't answer correctly based on the expression on his face.

"Cordy- what?"

"Cordyceps," he repeated.

"No, I have no idea what that is. Is it a band?" you guessed, and he shook his head.

"Well, you certainly have a concussion, and I'm afraid you have some memory loss," he said, sitting down on the small stool across from you.

"How much is 'some'?"

"Uh, difficult to say, but ten years? Give or take?" he said, and you balked.

"Ten years?!"

He nodded.

"I'm afraid so. Can you tell me the last day you do remember?"

"Well," you began, relaxing your shoulders as you thought. "I remember it was fall, but it was still hot out. I had a long day at work - I'm a banker," you told Nick, and he nodded. "My feet were killing me, I had barely sat down all day. It was family dinner night at my parents' house. Me and my brother go over there every Friday. My dad made ribs out on the grill so he wouldn't heat up the house with the oven. My mom was wearing this new, green dress that I thought looked hideous but I lied and told her it was cute. And my brother was telling us about a girl he had met the weekend before."

Nick looked at you to continue, but when it became clear you were done, he sighed.

"That's the last day you remember?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, finally picking up on the concerned look he was giving you. "Was that really ten years ago?" you asked, softly this time. Nick pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and nodded.

"Oh my god," you breathed, looking around the sparse, run down room. What happened in ten years to make the world look like this? You were about to ask when you heard shouting coming from the lobby of the infirmary.

Nick jumped up and opened the door, then turned back to you.

"I'll be right back," he said, then shut the door quickly behind him.

You sat on the edge of the bed, legs lightly swinging as you tried to piece together what you knew.

Ten years.

Ten whole years, just... gone.

What memories did you make in that time? Your mom is dead, but what about the rest of your family? Is there anybody in this town that you might actually remember? You looked down at your body. You thought you looked the same, maybe a little thinner, but otherwise the same. Did you ever get married? Have kids?

The shouting got louder and pulled you out of your reverie. It was a man's voice, and it was growing closer. He sounded angry. Livid, even.

You could now hear him opening up the other exam room doors and calling your name, ignoring the voices of Tommy and Nick urging him to stop, and a jolt of fear shot through you. Glancing around the room, you looked for something, anything that might protect you or reinforce the door, but it was too late.

The door swung open and you jumped off the table. If this man was going to hurt you, you wouldn't go down without a fight.

He paused in the doorway, his eyes raking up and down your body, assessing you silently while you did the same. He was tall. Broad shoulders strained underneath a black T-shirt. A blue flannel was clutched in his fist. You could see his muscles twitching under his tanned skin, and when your gaze finally met his, you felt something else other than fear. Something you couldn't quite identify. You knew this man, but you didn't know how.

His hair was dark and had loose curls, similar to Tommy's but shorter and a little lighter. The beard surrounding plush looking lips had a dusting of white at the corners of his jaw, but it was his eyes that drew your attention the most. A deep, beautiful brown that told a whole story in just one moment.

Nick and Tommy stood behind the strange man, looking back and forth between the two of you. Dragging your gaze off of him, you looked at Tommy, hoping he would explain.

Then the man said your name softly and your eyes flicked back to him.

"What?" you finally said with an edge to your voice, growing annoyed with how nobody felt compelled to say anything. They just kept looking at you, waiting for you to acknowledge him as if you'd known him your whole life.

"You remember Joel. Right, sugar?" Tommy asked, and your eyes drifted back to him. All three men stared at you, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Slowly, you shook your head, and Joel's face fell.

"Is it permanent?" Joel asked, turning to Nick.

Nick paused, his mouth opening and closing as he considered his answer before clearing his throat.

"It's too soon to say-"

"The fuck d'you mean?!" Joel roared, grabbing Nick by his collar and shoving him up against the door. You stumbled backwards in surprise.

"Joel!" Tommy yelled, yanking on his shoulder, trying to loosen his grip on the poor doctor but Joel just shrugged him off.

"Fix her!" Joel yelled, redness creeping up his neck as he slammed Nick up against the door again.

"I-I can't just fix her! What do you think this is? Look around!" Nick stammered, his fingers clawing at the backs of Joel's hands.

You gasped and felt your knees give out from underneath you. Slowly, you sunk down to the floor, crippled in fear. You huddled against the side of the bed, your hands clamped over your mouth as you rocked back and forth, trying and failing to keep your tears at bay.

"Joel! Let 'em go, you're scarin' her!" Tommy yelled, and that finally seemed to snap Joel out of it.

His grip instantly loosened and his head swiveled towards you, his eyes softening when he saw you curled up on the floor. He rushed forward but you held out a hand to stop him.

"Don't come near me."

He froze and stared down at you, hurt written all over his face.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, and you flinched. Baby?

"Maybe we should give you two a minute," Tommy said. Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

"N-no! What do you mean? No!" you cried out. You clawed at the table, pulling yourself up as the tears dried on your face. Joel took a few steps back and stood against the wall, crossing his arms and dropping his head, hiding his face.

"It's just Joel, he ain't gonna hurt you," Tommy said softly, but you still shook your head.

"Look what he just did!" you exclaimed, not even caring anymore if you were hurting his feelings. "How can you say that?"

"Because he loves you!" Tommy said, sounding exasperated.

The room fell silent, the only sound coming from you as you struggled to catch your breath. You glanced over at Joel but his chin was still tucked against his chest.

"Is that true?" you asked him. He nodded, but still didn't look up from the spot on the floor.

You sighed and rubbed your palms roughly over face.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? There's just a lot happening right now and I'm very confused," you said, suddenly feeling guilty.

"I get it," Tommy said, looking back and forth between you and Joel, but Joel still appeared to be fixated on the floor. "Why don't you go home and rest. Can she, doc? Maybe some sleep will help?"

Tommy raised his eyebrows at Nick, trying to get him to agree and play along. Say yes. Don't piss off Joel.

"Yeah, perhaps it's a good idea if you went home. There's some evidence to suggest being around a familiar setting might trigger your memory to return," Nick said, and Joel finally looked up from the floor.

"What else can we do?" he asked as your fingers fidgeted at your sides. You really didn't like the idea of going home with this man. He clearly had a short temper and that set you on edge.

"Are there any personal effects that she holds some sentimental value to?"

Your gaze bounced back and forth between the men as they all talked about you like you were some science project.

"Yeah," Joel said with a nod.

"Alright. Start with that. Anything since you've known each other would work best, see if it jogs her memory. A necklace or a trinket-"

"Yeah, I get it," Joel said, finally chancing a look in your direction. You quickly dropped your gaze from him and looked back at Tommy.

"Can I talk to you?" you asked Tommy, who looked at Joel. Joel didn't say anything, he just stared right back at Tommy, his jaw clenched and his shoulders rising and falling slowly, as if he were trying very hard to control his breathing. You looked back and forth between them, waiting for the silent standoff to end.

"I'll be outside," Joel finally muttered, then stalked out of the exam room with Nick in his wake, leaving just you and Tommy.

"I don't want to go home with him."

Tommy sighed and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his eyes.

"It's your home, too," he said.

"He scares me," you replied, crossing your arms. "He's a loose cannon. I-I don't feel like I know anyone here and everyone seems to know me. Do you know how that feels? Do you know how scary that is?"

Tommy dropped his hands and looked up at you.

"No, I don't. And I'm sorry, but I promise you nothin' bad's gonna happen. Joel's always had a short fuse but he would never, ever lay a hand on you. He's been head over heels since the moment he met you, and you love him back, sugar."

You looked around the room, needing a break from eye contact for just a minute while you gathered your thoughts.

"How long have I known him?" you asked.

"Five years."

You nodded and chewed on your lower lip.

"And how long have you known him?"

"All my life."

Your eyes darted over to his in surprise and he gave you a small smile.

"He's my older brother," Tommy explained, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh," was all you said, suddenly feeling like shit for saying such things about his family.

"Listen. Why don't you give it a chance, hm? One day. See how it goes, and if you're still uncomfortable, we'll figure somethin' else out," Tommy offered. You considered it for a moment before reluctantly nodding your head. Aside from just walking out of Jackson, you didn't see much of a choice.

To say the walk to Joel's house was awkward would be putting it mildly.

You weren't sure if he overheard your conversation with Tommy, or maybe he just could sense how you felt about going home with him, but ever since you forced yourself to leave the exam room to find him waiting for you in the lobby, he had been very quiet.

His feelings were hurt, that much was obvious, but what could you do? It wasn't like you set out to intentionally hurt him. You had no idea who he was at the time.

You still weren't sure who he was.

You tried to subtly admire his profile as you walked side by side. He had a strong jaw, a sharp nose and a full head of hair, although you could tell he was older than you. By how much, you weren't sure.

You tried to see underneath the gruff exterior, wondering what on earth made you fall in love with him, but it was so hard to see past your first impression.

Well, second first impression.

Then he turned his head to look down at you. Your eyes met and you thought you felt a small flutter in your chest, but you couldn't tell if it was nerves or fear or something else but his eyes were absolutely beautiful. There was something so sincere about them and you found it oddly funny that they seemed to betray the rest of his hardened expression.

"Anythin' lookin' familiar?" he asked you. You blinked and looked around.

The street he was leading you down was filled with people. Children laughing and playing, adults chatting and smiling. If it wasn't for the setting being so strange, it would feel normal. You squinted at some of the faces as you walked by, hoping you would recognize somebody, but you didn't.

"No," you said with a shake of your head, and you thought you saw his shoulders slump next to you but you didn't want to get caught staring at him again, so you focused on looking straight ahead.

The two of you remained silent the rest of the walk, although you could feel the energy radiating off him and for the first time, you began to realize this must be just as hard for him as it was for you.

You were examining the huge watch towers that surrounded the town and wondering what on earth would require such firepower when you realized Joel was no longer at your side. You swiveled your head around, suddenly lost in a sea of people that were smiling at you as they strolled on by but you didn't see a single recognizable face. You felt the panic begin to build again until you heard your name and a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up and actually felt relief when you saw Joel.

"Sorry, thought you were still with me," he said, then tilted his head towards a side street he must have began to walk down without you.

"We live down here," he added. You heard someone call out both your names as you walked down the street. Joel waved to an older gentleman on his porch and after a brief delay, you waved as well.

"This is so weird," you muttered, shaking your head as you looked around.

"Yeah, I reckon it is."

Joel stopped short in front of a small, two-story house with a large front porch. You looked up at it, taking in every detail. The shutters, the rocking chairs, the small garden out front surrounded by a white picket fence, hoping something would click but you still felt nothing.

"This is your house?" you asked him. He watched you carefully as you continued to look around, wishing he would see something in your eye that would give him a shred of hope.

"Our house, yeah," he corrected you. You glanced up at him and quickly looked away, feeling too guilty when you saw the look on his face.

"Sorry," you whispered.

"Don't be sorry," he told you, but he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and glanced around. "D'you wanna look inside?"

You nodded and followed him past the gate and up the little stone path that led to his - your - porch steps. A flash of yellow in the garden caught your eye and for the first time, a small smile played upon your lips.

"Oh, I love black-eyed susans," you said dreamily, your hand instinctually reaching out to touch the delicate petals.

"Yeah, I know. You told me your mom planted 'em every year," he said, stopping at the top of the steps to look down at you.

"That's right," you said with a smile. "Although it drove her crazy because-"

"The bunnies kept destroyin' 'em," he finished for you.

You stared into each other's eyes for a moment: him, waiting for you to remember, and you, wondering how you could forget.

"Yeah," you finally said, then dropped your gaze and cleared your throat, giving the flowers one last look before ascending the stairs to the front door.

Joel unlocked the door, pushing it open all the way and stepping aside so you could go in first. You peered inside for a moment before taking a step forward.

The first thing you noticed was it smelled faintly like firewood and coffee. The kitchen was to your left, living room to your right, and a staircase was in front of you next to a small hallway that appeared to lead to a back door of the house.

Joel stepped inside behind you and shut the door quietly, allowing you to take your time and process everything at your own speed. He desperately wanted to drag you around the house and show you things you should remember, but he refrained. Instead, his eyes followed where yours went. When you looked at the kitchen table, he thought remember when we had breakfast there this morning? When you looked at the fireplace, he thought remember on our anniversary when we couldn't make it up the stairs quickly enough so we made love in front of the fire? When you noticed the board games, boxes all frayed and worn, sitting on a bookshelf next to the couch, he thought remember when you beat Ellie in Scrabble and she flipped the board over?

But of course, you didn't remember any of those things.

You looked around blankly, and he could tell you were trying to remember but not a single shred of recognition flickered across your face. Your eyes landed on the kitchen counter and you took a step forward.

"We had coffee together today, didn't we?"

Joel's heart fluttered excitedly in his chest.

"Yeah, you remember that?" he asked, quickly joining you at your side. You looked up at him and he could immediately tell what your answer would be.

"No, I'm sorry, it's just-" you pointed to the two mugs still sitting together on the counter and he nodded solemnly.

"Oh, right," he said, then walked over to pick them up and rinse them off in the sink. He turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you slowly navigate the kitchen. Opening and closing drawers and cupboards, picking up a recipe book and flipping through it, then looking at the paintings on the walls.

"Did you or I draw this?" you asked, stepping towards a portrait that was clearly of him.

"Neither. Ellie did it," he told you, and you looked at him curiously.

"Ellie?"

He nodded and just as he was about to open his mouth to explain, the front door whipped open, startling you.

"Is it true?" a young girl with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail asked as she barged into the kitchen. When her eyes landed on you, she dropped her book bag and stepped forward, peering at you as if you were under a microscope.

"Ellie-" Joel began, pushing off the counter, but she cut him off.

"People are saying you lost your memory or something, is that true?" she asked again, and you nodded slowly.

"Holy shit!" she sputtered, and Joel repeated her name again, but harsher this time.

"Sorry," she mumbled, then pulled out a stool that was tucked under the kitchen island and plopped herself down. "Are you, like, okay? How's your head?"

"Uh, better now. The doctor gave me some medicine and it finally stopped hurting so much, but I got a pretty bad cut," you reached back and touched the bald spot with your fingertips. "He had to stitch it up."

"Can I see?" she asked, and you couldn't help but laugh a little, completely missing the way Joel perked up when he heard it.

"Sure," you said, turning around and lifting up your hair. "Can you see it?"

"Yeah, fucking gross, dude," she said with a shudder. You dropped your hair and turned back around.

"Is she your daughter?" you asked Joel, and Ellie burst out laughing.

"No way," she said, and he just rolled his eyes.

"I don't understand," you said with a frown. "Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," she told you so casually it almost gave you whiplash.

"Oh, my god! I'm so sorry," you said, feeling terrible, but she just gave you a look like you were crazy. Maybe you were.

"It's cool," she said, looking back and forth between you and Joel. "So she really doesn't remember anything?" Ellie asked him.

"Only stuff from... before," he said, narrowing his eyes at Ellie as if trying to silently communicate with her.

"Oh," she said, nodding slowly as if she understood. "Shit."

"Before what?" you pressed, but they both ignored your question.

"Why don't you give her some time to settle in," Joel told Ellie. "Meet us later for dinner at the Bison."

"Yeah, okay," Ellie said, sliding off the stool and picking up her abandoned backpack.

"You don't live here?" you asked her.

"Sorta. I live in the garage, see?" she said, pointing out the window to a building out back with a large window in the front and a small light next to the door.

"In the garage?" you repeated, appalled, but she just laughed.

"It used to be a garage. Joel helped me fix it up and it's more like a guest house now. Right, Joel?"

"Yeah," he said, walking deeper into the kitchen so he could look through the window with you. "You helped her paint it," he said quietly.

"I did?" you asked, and they both nodded.

It looked like they were both waiting for you to say something further, waiting for you to maybe recall the color or the weather that day, but nothing was ringing a bell. You looked at them hopelessly and Joel averted his gaze.

"Go on, Ellie. I'm sure you got schoolwork," he said, and she rolled her eyes as she turned and headed towards the door.

You watched her walk through the backyard and unlock the garage, catching a brief glimpse of the inside before she shut it softly behind her.

"You wanna go lay down for a bit?" Joel asked after he noticed you yawn, and you nodded. You followed him up the creaky staircase, your eyes drifting over everything you could find, hoping something would jump out at you along the way. When he got to the top of the stairs, he stopped suddenly between two bedroom doors and you gave him a confused look.

"What's wrong?" you asked, the look on his face beginning to worry you.

"Nothin', I just realized..." he trailed off and took a deep breath, still staring at the two doors. "We share a room and I just realized tonight'll be the first time in years we sleep apart."

You looked away, feeling uncomfortable. You could see the anguish all over his face. His jaw ticked to the side and he was blinking faster than usual and the guilt was burning a hole in your stomach.

"I'll stay in the spare room," you said, breaking the tension. "Can you just show me where I keep my stuff and I'll-"

"No," Joel said, shaking his head. "I'll go in the spare room. You stay in our room. Maybe it'll help... it should be more familiar to you in there."

You decided not to argue with him. He finally stepped towards the door on the right and pushed it open, leading you into a master suite with a queen sized bed in the middle of the room. There was a quilt on top that appeared to be handmade in various shades of greys and purples. You ran your hand over the material thoughtfully while Joel opened a few dresser drawers and pulled out some spare clothes for himself.

"This is pretty," you said, and he turned around to look at the quilt.

"Becky a few doors down makes 'em," he said, turning back to the dresser. "You really wanted purple and I fought you on it, but you always win," he said with a chuckle. You smiled to yourself as you continued to look around the room while Joel collected a few more belongings. You noticed a pair of reading glasses on top of an old western book on one end table. The other end table had a few loose hair ties, a homemade lip balm, and a black, leather bound book with a pen on top. Without even thinking, you walked forward and picked it up, flipping through the pages one by one. It appeared to be a journal, and it looked like it was your handwriting.

Joel stepped out of the bathroom attached to your room and saw you holding the book. He swallowed and watched your face closely, looking for any sign that what you were reading made sense.

"I was gonna show you that tomorrow. Thought it would be too much today," he said after a few minutes.

"I kept a journal?"

"Yeah. You don't write it in often, but sometimes if somethin' special happened, or you just felt the urge, you would write it down," he said, putting his toiletries next to his clothes on the bed.

You closed the book and placed it back on the table, staring at the old cover, lost in thought. You had a million questions and you had to start somewhere.

"Joel... what happened?" you asked him. He frowned, not following at first until you clarified. "In the world, I mean. What happened? Because all of this," you waved your hands around the room and gestured out through the window. "This doesn't seem right. Did I join a cult or something?"

Joel shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't wanna overwhelm you," he began. You sat down as well, making sure to put plenty of distance between you.

"I'm already overwhelmed. Just please... tell me what's going on."

He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall.

"The world ended," he said bluntly, glancing in your direction. You stiffened but you waited for him to elaborate. "It was quick. Happened on a Friday, everythin' was gone by Monday. There's this fungus called cordyceps-"

"Nick asked me about that," you said, and he nodded.

"Well, best guess is the fungus mutated and got into the food supply. It, uh, it infects the brain. It grows and takes over, but it doesn't kill you. Well, not technically." He could see the confusion on your face. He wasn't explaining this right. "The fungus wants to spread, you see? That's it's basic function. If it killed the host, it wouldn't be able to spread. So, the host remains alive, but they're no longer... them."

"And the hosts are... people?" you guessed, and Joel nodded.

"Yeah. Spread like wildfire. One person would get bit-"

"Bit?" you repeated, eyes wide.

"Yeah, it's how the fungus spreads. Through blood. One person would get bit and they turn within hours."

"And there's no cure?"

Joel paused and took a deep breath, his gaze darting nervously around the room.

"No, there's no cure," he finally said.

You sat back on the bed and thought about what Joel just told you. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense. She died the first day.

"And my family?" you asked softly, closing your eyes as you waited for the answer. Joel looked at you, his heart breaking that he had to deliver the news.

"They didn't make it," he said, and one tear slowly escaped and slid down your cheek. "It was a miracle you even made it. That any of us made it," he added, hoping to take the sting out of it.

"A miracle?" you scoffed, opening your eyes now. "How do you figure, Joel? What's the fucking point in living like this?" you asked him angrily, standing up from the bed and pacing around the room.

"Don't say that," he said sadly, rising to his feet. "Believe me, I thought the same thing," he said, unconsciously scratching at the scar on his cheek. "But it turns out there's plenty to live for. It ain't so bad."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" you challenged, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What is there to live for? Because I have to be honest, I'm not seeing it."

Joel swallowed as he watched you angrily move around the room.

"Love," he said quietly, and you stopped. You stood with your back to him, your shoulders rising and falling as anger and frustration coursed through you.

Finally, you turned to look at him, tears silently falling.

"But everyone I loved is dead," you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. "My family is dead! Everyone I know is gone! What do I have left?" You dropped your hands and looked at him, tears steadily falling as you waited, completely forgetting the obvious answer.

"You have me," he said, his voice cracking. "And I know that don't mean much now, but I promise you, it will."

Your head fell forward, chin tucking into your chest with your hands on your hips.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, still looking down. "That was so rude, I didn't mean to say it like that."

"This is hard for me, too," he said, taking a few steps towards you, then stopped. He wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you close, tell you everything was going to be okay, but he had to remind himself that he was essentially a stranger to you.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizin' for somethin' that ain't your fault," he told you sternly. You dragged your eyes back up to him, your shoulders slumped forward, eyes puffy and red.

"What if my memory never comes back?" you whispered. It was a question Joel didn't want to ask out loud but knew eventually it would be brought up. He took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye.

"Then I'll have to make you fall in love with me all over again," he said with a small shrug, and you let out a huff of laughter at that.

"You sound pretty confident," you replied.

"I did it once before, I can do it again," he told you, his gaze never wavering. "I'll never stop tryin'. What we have together, it's... it's rare. And it might sound stupid, but we're meant to be together. If you let me, I'll prove it to you."

Something in his eye made you feel calmer the longer you looked at him. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't joking. He meant every word. You tore your gaze away from him and looked around the room again. The room you shared with him. The room where you held each other, kissed each other, made love together. Years of memories etched into the floorboards. Countless secrets whispered into the pillows. Laughter and tears echoed against the walls. Your eyes found him again just to realize he never looked away. He stood tall and firm in the middle of the room, patiently waiting for you. And you had to assume if he felt this strongly about what you had, then it must be worth fighting for.

"Okay."

Follow @punkshort-notifs for fic updates ❤️

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfic #protective joel #joel miller x you #joel tlou #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #Pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #ikwya fic

[crystallinestars]

I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it

A short-ish fluffy drabble about morning cuddles with Aventurine inspired by this gorgeous official art of him on Twitter (click the link, I promise your eyes will be blessed). I've written enough hurt/comfort for him, so it's time for some fluff. This was supposed to be short, but it somehow turned into 3 full pages.

The title for this fic is actually the title of a song (and album) made by The 1975. Check it out if you're curious!

WARNING: Contains spoilers for Aventurine's real name!

Pale sunlight shone through the half-closed curtains of the window, illuminating the room in a dim light. You slowly woke up, retaining fragments of the dream you just had as you blearily opened your eyes. You couldn’t quite remember what it was about, but the feeling of serene joy it left behind was still palpable. Such dreams were very rare for you, but perhaps the recent good dreams could be attributed to the handsome blond man sleeping beside you.

Despite the mattress’s large size, Aventurine lay in the center, ignoring his half of the bed in favor of sleeping right next to you. He had pulled you close to him last night, joking that you might feel lonely in such a large bed. You knew that in reality, he did it because having so much space between your bodies made him feel isolated. That was how you found yourself sprawled in the middle with Aventurine, your hands still intertwined from when you went to sleep last night.

Glancing at the blond, you saw him resting on his back, the covers pulled down just enough to unveil the messy state of his black pajama shirt. With all but the top button undone, the two halves of Aventurine’s shirt bunched up to reveal his toned stomach, which slowly rose up and down with every deep breath he took.

Seeing him softly snoring with his hair in disarray and pajama’ shirt all scrunched up, was an adorable sight. Aventurine’s guard was lowered around you in this moment. He allowed you to see this vulnerable side of him that nobody else had the privilege to.

With a soft chuckle, you straighten out his pajama shirt and pull the covers higher to cover his belly so he would stay warm. Reaching a hand out, you gently brushed a few stray locks of hair from his face, smoothing out his bangs and marveling at how handsome Aventurine truly was. In the pale sunlight, his hair glowed a soft gold, making him look almost angelic. While asleep, his features had a look of innocence to them that was usually absent when he was awake.

During the day, he was Aventurine, the cunning and confident gambler who bet his very life for the sake of the thrill and higher rewards. But at night, he was just Kakavasha. A lonely and empty man who sought the comfort and love you had to give. Your beloved Kakavasha.

You had the option of getting up and starting your day, but a glance at the clock told you it was only 6 am, too early for your liking. In all honesty, you would much rather stay snuggled up in the warm bed with your boyfriend and sleep for a couple more hours, which is exactly what you did.

Letting go of Aventurine’s hand, you scooted closer until your body was pressed against his side, and loosely wrapped your arms and legs around him as if you were hugging a giant teddy bear. Aventurine remained peacefully slumbering, unaware of your movements.

Resting your head on his chest, you exhaled a contented sigh, relaxing against the warmth of your boyfriend’s body. The slow and even beating of his heart assured you that he was here, he was alive and in your arms, and before long, your eyelids began to droop as sleep claimed you once more.

…

Rays of sunlight streamed through the window, landing directly on Aventurine’s face and rousing him from slumber. With a grimace, he cracked open his eyes and squinted in the bright light, before raising a hand to block out the rays. 

Morning had come, much to his dismay. 

Aventurine glanced down at you. You were pressed against his side with your head resting comfortably on his chest, arms and legs securely wrapped around him as if you didn’t want to let him go. The blond man’s heart skipped a beat, expression softening into an endeared smile. Something about the way you held him made Aventurine feel loved and protected.

Still groggy but unable to go back to sleep, Aventurine chose to remain in your warm embrace for a while longer, unwilling to get out of bed to start his busy day. Peaceful and leisurely moments with you like this one were far too few for his liking. 

The blond wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer while you slept, and chuckled when you let out a soft snore. 

Really, you are far too cute, he thought. Glancing at your face, Aventurine’s eyes roamed over your peaceful expression. Out of everyone he was currently acquainted with, you were one of the few who showed your genuine feelings in front of him. None of your expressions were a mask, and he still wasn’t used to someone being so open with him.

Right here in his arms, you were more vulnerable than ever, placing your complete trust in him to keep you safe. To Aventurine, your trust was one of the greatest treasures of all. He cherished the fact that you allowed him into your heart and showered him in all the love you had to give.

As much as he loved the sight of your sleeping face, the Avgin had begun to miss your pretty eyes. Those eyes that looked at him with joy and love—all things Aventurine thought he would never experience with someone again. 

With a soft sigh, he lowered his head and kissed the top of your head, basking in your presence and breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of your hair. 

He tried his best to not wake you, but you had stirred awake regardless, woken up by his caresses. Reluctantly opening your eyes, your sight was greeted with the adoring violet gaze of your beloved.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he murmured, voice a little hoarse from sleep. Aventurine's speech was uncharacteristically soft and gentle, showing a more tender side of him that only you were privy to.

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I’m glad I got to wake up next to you for a change,” you reply with a small yawn. Aventurine usually woke up before you so he could get ready to attend a meeting or prepare for another dangerous mission, which usually resulted in you waking up alone in an empty bed.

“Oh? Did you miss me that much?” the blonde couldn’t resist teasing you, a playful grin pulling at his lips.

“Very much so,” you agree without missing a beat, refusing to let his teasing fluster you this time. Plus, it was the truth—you did miss him. Letting out a deep sigh, you nuzzled your face into his warm chest, still feeling a bit sleepy.

Aventurine fell quiet at this, his playful expression softening into something more subdued, but it lasted for only a split second before his lips curled into a familiar smile once more.

“Hey, since it’s rare for us to wake up together, how about celebrating the occasion with a delicious breakfast? I can order anything you like, just tell me what you want to eat,” he offered, already reaching for his phone on the bedside table.

You groaned, not in the mood to think about breakfast or move from your warm spot in bed just yet.

“Not yet. Give me five more minutes. Please, Kakavasha?” you whine, tightening your hold on him.

Aventurine let out an amused chuckle and sighed, finding himself unable to refuse your request. Truly, it’s a good thing you were unaware of the power you held over him because he couldn’t ever say no to you.

“Alright, alright, fine,” he relented, abandoning his phone in favor of wrapping his arms around you to hold you close. “But I expect something in return.”

You only let out a muffled sound of protest in response, but otherwise relaxed into his embrace, keeping your head comfortably resting on his chest.

Despite his teasing, Aventurine also enjoyed cuddling in bed with you like this. Sooner or later, both of you would have to get up and start your day, forced to part from one another. But Aventurine was grateful for these five extra minutes. Every minute spent with you was a minute of feeling alive again.

Even though his time was precious, he treasured these little moments with you that brought him a sense of belonging and peace.

#hsr x reader #star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #I have another fluffy Aventurine thing planned #Pray things go well for me so I can write it soon

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.2k / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・chan x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, berry being the perfect girl she is. inspired by these bubble messages and @cosmic-railwayxo's treachery. (love u deni)

𝟬𝟲:𝟯𝟲 — “Where’s my baby, hm?”

This is the question on Chan’s lips the moment he lets go of the bedroom door, closed with agonizing caution as to not wake the figure still curled up under the duvet inside.

It’s early. Early enough so the walls are colored a rich beige by new rays of sunlight, so his footsteps are the only sound reverberating around the hallways when he commences his search. Early enough to evidence how he was only bestowed a few hours of sleep before waking up with a budding headache and leaden eyelids.

But he doesn’t mind the lack of rest, not this time. Not when there’s a wad of love with a freckled snout and floppy ears under the same roof for the first time in too long.

“Berry?” Chan calls, his voice tattered and low, like sandpaper. He rakes his eyes over the spots he remembers to be her favorite. Maybe they’ve changed since he was last home. Maybe everything has changed since he was last home.

The thought causes a familiar pang to go off within him, poignant and powerful, but the quiet scuffle of paws against hardwood takes the edge off the guilt straightaway.

Chan finds the beginnings of a smile on his lips before she even rounds the corner, and when she does, well. His grin might as well split his face down the middle. He’s on his knees in seconds, outstretched hands rediscovering home in the puppy’s silky fur as she clambers onto him with blown pupils and excited pants.

His adoring coos of her name falter into muted laughter, which then fragments into a sob. His vision narrows to his precious girl and then starts to blur. When Berry climbs up to give his cheek a few happy licks, she’s fascinated by its saltiness.

You emerge from the bedroom a little over an hour later. Sleeping is hard enough when you’re jetlagged, and even harder when there’s only mattress where you remember Chan’s warm solidity to be. The fabric of Chan’s hoodie suppresses your vocalization of his name as you ungracefully pull it over your torso, still struggling to rouse your body from sleep.

Your beckon produces no response. You wrap a hand around the nearest door frame and peek your head into the living room, a little more alert now.

“Chan? Baby?”

You feel silly. How many visits has it been for you to still feel this nervous, wandering around Chan’s family home? Yet you undoubtedly are, whether because of your absentee boyfriend or that his whole family is a few walls away. You pad through the silent abode with mounting trepidation and intense care to not make any more sound than necessary.

Then you reach the family room and instantly come to a standstill, hands drifting to your sides, features deliquescing to a soft smile. 

Lying on the nearest couch is your boyfriend, head propped up on top of his elbow, his fluttering lashes and gently oscillating shoulders indicating that he’s asleep. You can’t see his face below his eyes, as he has his nose nuzzled into the Cavalier spaniel resting securely in his arms, snoring tacitly into his sleeve, slumbering as deeply as her human companion.

You’ve been stumbling upon Chan sleeping in unexpected places for the better part of two years now, but you still liquefy every time as if it’s the first. These are the moments, you’ve come to realize, when you can care for him in ways he would never let you while conscious: a lift of his laptop off his thighs, a brush of your lips against his hairline, a cardigan draped lightly over his back. These are the moments when you understand in full how far you’ve come together, for him to trust you with his exhaustion with such transparency, to be so vulnerable as to leave you with memories of him that he’ll never have.

Despite your prolonged experience, it’s hard to describe what exactly you’re feeling in this moment. The mere mention of Berry has always dissipated the shadows that veil his face, has always chased off the burdens that cling to his spine. How do you put it into words, seeing your happiness at his happiest?

It suddenly occurs to you that the window beside them is cracked open. That, and you spotted extra quilts in the top shelf of Chan’s closet last night.

Chan’s eyelids lift when he feels the gentle weight of a blanket fall upon his body; so do the corners of his lips, when the culprit materializes before him. Sitting on the edge of the couch, a hand hovering over his frame, face creased into a flinch.

“Sorry,” you whisper, closing the distance between your fingers and the curve of his neck. The pad of your thumb moves over his cheekbone like a willow branch skimming water. “I didn’t think that would wake you up.”

Both of you up, you mentally amend, seeing as Berry has noticed your presence and is wagging her tail with enough vigor for it to thump against Chan’s chest. He lets her wriggle out of his arms and into yours; you emit a noise of glee and gather her into you.

If only you had seen the expression he wears then, watching your eyes scrunch closed at the frenzied kisses she presses to your face. His first love and his very last.

“Don’t apologize,” he answers. “I’m the one who should be sorry for leaving you in bed, I just…”

His voice trails off, but he knows by the softness in your irises when they meet his that you already know.

You move like clockwork. Chan presses up into the back of the couch, the quilt’s edge lifted in wordless invitation. It is your chest that Berry burrows into this time, the top of her head sliding into the space between your chin and the sofa’s cushion. It is Chan’s chest that you’re folded into, the arms around your waist like the coziest of cabins in a sun-spattered wood. It is the back of your neck that he nuzzles his nose into, but not before he litters gossamer kisses across the expanse of skin, as if printing the notes to a lullaby he knows well.

Everything is warm, so warm, so right, and jetlag starts to feel like a distant trouble.

You open your mouth while teetering on the cusp of a dream.

“Baby?” 

He hums into you, listening.

“Always be happy, okay?”

You don’t notice the solitary tear that traverses the bridge of his nose, lands in the cotton of your hood, and dyes the bunched-up fabric a few shades darker. You don’t notice how his embrace around you tightens marginally, like how one’s eyes can’t help but find their dearest possession when the building’s on fire.

“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your nape once more. Your and Chan’s eyes close together. Berry licks your chin again, then follows suit.

(Another hour later, Chan’s parents walk into the family room. They decide to go out to breakfast for fear of making too much noise in the kitchen, Chan’s mother blotting away tears as she ducks into shotgun, Chan’s father laughing at her sentimentality while blinking back his own.

Another few hours later, Hannah takes maybe fifty-some photographs of the triad of unmoving heaps occupying their couch. Then she grumbles at Berry for being dead asleep at eleven in the morning: “Those two arrived here from across the world yesterday. What’s your excuse?”)

🔖 (send an ask or reply to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support.

#bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan imagines #chan x reader #chan fluff #chan imagines #bang chan x you #bang chan scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids soft hours #*writing #*drabble #*d: chan #k-labels

[destiny-fics]

[7:30 am] - Choi San

Warnings: morning sex, riding, reader takes on a more dominant role, San has a big dick, reader gets called baby and sweetheart, San gets “used” for the reader's pleasure and he likes it.

Masterlist

A/N: in my San feels, going feral over the video of him dancing with his shirt off, this very self indulgent little fic was born.

18+ Only. Minors DNI

“Shhh, we might wake up Mingi or Seonghwa.”

“Fuck them,” San laughed softly, continuing to press soft ticklish kisses to your neck and cheeks. “Who cares if we wake them up?”

“You do,” you giggled, gasping as San's morning wood pressed into your thigh. “Because you don't want to get scolded.”

“I'd get scolded if it was for you,” he mumbled into your neck, grinding his erection into your thigh.

“That's sweet Sannie,” you hummed softly, sliding your hands into his hair and tugging gently, making the man hovering above you moan.

“That's me,” your boyfriend hummed, kissing your cheek as he flipped the both of you over so you were sat atop him. “Your sweet, sexy boyfriend.”

“Now I didn't say sexy,” you giggled at San's scoff, rolling your hips on top of his. His eyelids fluttered and he gripped your hips tightly.

“Oh? So you're grinding up on me because you think I'm not sexy?”

“I didn't say that either,” you smiled, pulling your sleep shirt, which was actually just one of San's shirts, over your head, shivering as the cool morning air hit your bare skin. San grinned, letting his hands smooth up the sides of your torso and up to your breasts, thumbing your pebbled nipples.

“But, for the record,” you sighed dreamily as San gently flicked your nipple. “I think you're very sexy.”

“Yeah? So what're you going to do about it?”

San raised a challenging eyebrow, one hand sliding down your body and into your sleep shorts to swipe his fingers through your wet folds.

“I…” you rolled your hips into his hand, sliding your own up San's defined abs, fingers dipping into the valleys between each one. “Am going to ride your big, fat, sexy cock. If you'll let me, of course?”

“If I'll let you?” San repeated back to you, a laugh in his voice as he circled your clit with his fingers. “Baby,” he drawled, “I'll let you do whatever you want to me.”

~

San thought you looked ethereal like this. Early morning sunlight cascading in through his bedroom window to paint your skin with a warm glow. Your hands were planted on his chest, thumbs caressing his nipples as you bounced on top of him, soft, sweet moans falling from your lips.

“Fuck Sannie,” you sighed, clenching around San's cock as you sat yourself fully on top of him. You threw your head back, eyelids fluttering closed and lip tucked between your teeth. “So fucking good.”

“Yeah?” San grinned, rolling his hips up into you.

“Yeah…” you sighed out again before resuming your slow grinds on top of him. You smoothed your hands down San's torso and then up your own, tweaking your own nipples, making yourself whimper out in pleasure. San groaned watching you, smoothing his own hands over your thighs, squeezing the flesh gently. He could watch you forever when you were like this, so full of pleasure, bathed in sunlight and using his cock, using him to make you feel good.

“Fuck that's it sweetheart,” he moaned, pressing his thumbs hard into your thighs. “Ride me…use me.”

You raised an eyebrow as the words slipped from San's mouth, the man below you having the decency to look shocked at himself. He shivered as a small smirk made its way onto your face. You threw your head back with a soft laugh before looking at your now blushing boyfriend. You planted your hands back on his chest. “That…is so fucking hot Sannie. You want me to use you? Use you for my pleasure?”

“God yes…baby please.”

You laughed again, leaning down to capture San's lips in a filthy kiss. He whimpered into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours. He whined again when you pulled away, blinking up at you with hooded eyes. You smirked down at him again, biting your lip. “Well then,” your voice had taken on a tone which made San shiver. “Your wish is my command.”

Taglist: @hiseu @yeosayang @avyskai @whatudowhennooneseesyou @foxdaisy @maskedmochii

#kpop smut #ateez smut #choi san smut #san smut #hard thoughts with rose #kpop hard hours #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #san hard thoughts #san hard hours

[daosies]

finding sunshine

it rains whenever you're gone. the melusines wonder why.

neuvillette ♡ gn!reader

warnings: lovesick neuvillette, yapping, reader is immortal

notes: sorry everyone im a chronic yapper

"looks like it's going to rain today," trow says. she stares out the grandiose windows of opera epiclese, observing the darkening sky and the piling clouds.

aeife nods. "after all, monsieur neuvillette said that mx [name] won't be visiting for a couple days."

"really?" trow replies, her lavender eyes beginning to wilt as she fiddles with her paws. "that's a shame. mx [name] always has the best souvenirs from their travels..."

the melusines have developed a weather system that relies wholly on you. if you're present, then the skies will be clear. if you're not, then there will be downpour—oftentimes torrential—as if the sky itself were mourning your absence, begging you to return.

"it has always been like that," aeife says. "mx [name] brings sunlight!"

suddenly, neuvillette steps out of his office. the melusines instantly straighten up, their eyes wide with adoration as they trail after the iudex, tiny footsteps echoing throughout opera epiclese.

"monsieur neuvillette!" trow exclaims, "are you taking your lunch break today?"

the iudex nods. "yes, please excuse me for a couple minutes, trow, aeife."

they salute him eagerly before returning to their ranks. the melusines observe neuvillette with great curiosity as he steps outside, surrendering himself to the rain as it drenches his clothes, his skin, his locks. glass beads trickle down wispy, pearl-colored strings, tracing across the bridge of his pale nose and the bones of his cheeks.

neuvillette lets out a lofty sigh. he stands under the rain, relishing in its embrace as his mind wanders a little, yearns a little, as he closes his eyes. droplets kiss his skin as neuvillette retraces the flutter of your lashes and the curl of your lips.

he remembers—vividly—the way your smile would reduce him to a quiet, awestruck mess, the way you would say his name (but it's not even his name, just his surname is enough to make his resolve waver) and the way the world would blank at that. he remembers, and just the thought alone is enough to make something flutter within his stomach, enough to make his heart ache and yearn and pine.

neuvillette supposes—no, he knows that his heart does more than just beat. he knows that his heart does more than sustain life, because closer to him than the blood that courses throughout every part of his body, you are there. you are there in the essence of his soul, the fibers of his being and the water that gives him sustenance. you are there, everywhere and here.

you are in the rain that cherishes his skin, the rain that floods fontaine.

his heart does not simply beat—his heart loves. it loves to the point of extinction, to the point where it threatens to burst from the confines of the ribs that retain it. neuvillette loves to the point where it hurts, where love becomes longing and longing becomes you.

the rain stops—but it doesn't—it continues to fall around him, but where the water once met his eyelids are replaced by a warm, familiar hand.

but neuvillette does not need sight to recognize who it is. he can tell by the callouses adorning your palm, the weathered scars from centuries ago. he can tell by the mere touch of your fingers, firm yet gentle, and the way you don't bother to shield the rest of his face from the rain.

you know him. that realization brings the rain to a standstill. the clouds begin to give way as the sun begins to peek through, engulfing fontaine in its dainty light.

"miss me that much, huh?" you ask, your hand still covering his eyes. although he cannot see you, neuvillette can picture the haughty expression tugging at your features, the toothy grin that brings sovereigns to their knees.

neuvillette can see you even when he can't—that's just how it is, and how it always has been.

"yes," he admits, leaning into your touch. "yes, very much." he does not bother to question why you've returned early, why you didn't sent him a notice in advance. neuvillette does not care—for once—about the technicalities of your return, opting to relish in the fact that you did return, that you are here, with him, in the flesh.

you release your hold on him (not figuratively, never figuratively) as neuvillette stares at you with wide, enamored eyes.

looking directly at the sun is dangerous. the rays emitted from the star can burn holes in one's retinas, damaging their vision and their ability to see.

neuvillette does not care, though. he will continue to look at you directly, to stare into your own eyes—which may be brighter than the sun itself—and brave the rays. what is sight for, if not for beholding you?

"of course," you state matter-of-factly, "what will you do without me?"

the iudex pauses.

"i don't know," he responds truthfully, violet eyes glazing over at the thought.

you brush the side of his face with a tender touch. a small smile etches onto your face as you whisper, "don't be sad. i was just joking."

neuvillette swallows the lump in his throat. how pathetic, for a sovereign like himself to be reduced to a mere fool at your words, your hypotheticals. what will his kin do if they find out he's willing to give up his sight if it means it will belong to you? what will his kin do if they find out he's willing to lose it all, to forget who he is if it means he will become a part of you?

closer to him than his very blood, you are there. you are there in the water that he commands, the water that he cherishes. you are there, always.

the sky clears, and the world halts its weeping. neuvillette sheds his stupor, his grief, as he holds a hand out to take your bag. it's heavy, filled to the brim with various gifts for melusines, he presumes, and neuvillette doesn't even bother suppressing his smile.

"how were your travels?" he asks, as if he doesn't already know. you've sent him multiple letters (at his request) and have elaborated—in striking detail—about how much you loathe the foggy islands of enkanomiya and the harsh climate of dragonspine. if not for his position as iudex, neuvillette wouldn't have let you experience such conditions alone.

the issue is not that you aren't strong, it's the fact that neuvillette is weak. his heart—which beats for you, which lives for you—is weak, his mind reaching the worst of conclusions whenever you are gone for a day later than you told him you'd be. neuvillette is paranoid, he is scared of loss because he fears it will one day be all he knows.

"it was good," you say, and neuvillette nods, urging you to continue. "i'm not done, though. i want to explore sumeru's deserts."

neuvillette shivers at the thought of a desert, but all he can hear of himself is the deafening ring of his ears, the stutter in his chest as bubbles pop in his stomach.

"you're leaving?" he asks, struggling to keep his voice from wavering. "again?"

you offer him a gentle smile. your hand brushes briefly against his, and in those minute moments, neuvillette feels the emotions of a lifetime. yearning becomes longing and longing becomes you, and again, the cycle of rain and sun continues, the constant thump-thump, thump-thump remaining within his chest.

neuvillette has long grown used to your whims. whatever you want, you will find a way—that's just the kind of person you are. the kind of person you've always been.

so he will do what he does best: wait.

"when will you leave?" neuvillette queries, his voice pathetically meek. you merely shrug, a distant expression on your face as neuvillette follows your gaze, pupils tracing over the horizon line and the mountains that border sumeru in the far, far distance.

he wonders what it'd be like to be in the center of your gaze. to be the receiver of your wishful expressions, to be the one you search for amidst the endless sky.

neuvillette wonders what it'd be like if you looked at him with a fraction of how he looks at you—what it'd be like if you missed him, if you thought of him, if you perceived him, even in the slightest.

because to be perceived is to be loved.

"maybe tomorrow," you respond, unsure of yourself. "or the day after. 'm not sure yet, i'll figure it out when the time comes."

he nods, his voice dying in his throat as neuvillette trails after you, following you into opera epiclese. it always goes like this, he thinks, with me following after you. neuvillette is familiar with your silhouette; he thinks he's lived his entire life chasing it, wishing to be in it.

instead of dwelling too much on the future, neuvillette opts to treasure the present. in the comfort of his office, neuvillette offers you various confectionaries he's accumulated throughout the day (all for you, even though he didn't think you were returning today), his hands instinctively coming to set up your favorite chair and unfurl the heavy quilt of your favorite blanket.

even when you're gone, parts of you still live with him, coexisting in the daily happenings that he sometimes overlooks. you live with him in the obnoxious-colored blanket (despite how worn the color is, you still insist on keeping the musty thing) folded neatly on his shelf, in the chair—your favorite chair—remaining stiffly in the corner of his office. you live with him, you always do, in ways beyond tangibility, in ways that are embellished in his very bones.

"looks like it'll be sunny today," trow says. she stares out the grandiose windows of opera epiclese, observing the limitless sky and the egg yolk sun.

aeife nods. "after all, monsieur neuvillette said that mx [name] might be staying for a couple days."

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x gender neutral reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #genshin x you #genshin x y/n

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Idol!Han Jisung x F!Reader TW : cheating ; breakup ; regret ; very angsty ; surprise pregnancy ; Word Count : 3.5k Request : it was the winner of the poll, does that count? A/N : Here we go!! Gonna make this one hurt!

You sat on the couch, knee bouncing, phone in your hand, watching as the clock at the top of your lock screen switched to 3 in the morning. Not a single text, not a call, nothing from the man whose selfie adorned your lock screen with his puffy cheeks and his adorable smile that you fell in love with every single time he flashed it at you. You had gotten nothing since he had left for the award show almost 9 hours ago, the award show that you had watched from start to finish, even catching the moment when all of the artists had gotten up to start heading out. He wasn’t there anymore… But he sure as hell wasn’t home. 

Maybe he just went back to the dorms… Was what you had thought at first, just a simple thought to try to ease your mind and keep you from thinking the worst, but if that were the case you were sure that he would have texted you to let you know instead of keeping you up all night waiting for some type of communication. Had something bad happened? No, you would have seen it on the news and you were sure that you would have heard something by now. No… He was just ignoring you… Maybe he was just drunk. 

Either way, you wanted to call him just to be sure, especially since you were tired of waiting around for him. You dialed his number and let it ring, and maybe you should have hung up after the third ring to save yourself the heartache that came once the phone was answered. Not by him though, by someone else… You wished it had been one of the guys, but it wasn’t… It was a girl, one that sounded drunk and flustered and… God, you didn’t even want to think about the sinful noises that were made between each word as you heard your fiance's drunken giggles in the background mixed with his own noises… Noises that you had heard on multiple occasions when you were the one sharing the bed with him. 

“Sorry… wrong number…” You had mumbled, trying to hold back the sobs that were caught in your throat, feeling like they were going to choke you completely. You couldn’t breathe, your vision was a blur, the room felt like it was spinning, but you knew that the nauseous feeling wasn’t from being dizzy… No… it was from knowing that the man that you had planned on spending the rest of your life with, the man that you were willing to devote the rest of your life to was lower than low… And the men that you had trusted to look out for you like brothers look out for their sisters had most likely cheered on that man when he took another woman into his bedroom. 

It was hard to remember when you fell asleep, but you knew that you didn’t do it on purpose considering you woke up on the couch the next morning curled up in the fetal position. Your eyelids felt heavy and the sunlight that poured in through the open window burned your sensitive eyes that had been draining tears like a faucet the night before. “Looks like someone fell asleep while watching the award show. You’re so cute, shnookems.” Jisungs voice sounded out from somewhere close by, although your sleep and tear blurred vision made it hard to focus on where he truly was. 

You would have just thought that the night before was a bad dream, just some awful nightmare that you had since he wasn’t at home next to you, but when he let out that quiet little giggle it brought you back to the phone call and you felt sick all over again. “I hate you…” You said as flatly as possible, wiping the sleep from your eyes to finally focus on him, the way his smile faded to a look of shock at what you had said. “Don’t… Don’t talk to me… I hate you… I’m done with you.” 

Not even a good morning, nothing to start the day so that you could lead into the breakup. You went straight for it, diving headfirst into the conversation. “Wh-What are you talking about? Babe, come on… That’s… That’s not funny. Come on… You must have had a bad dream or something… let’s get you some coffee.” He stammered, pushing himself up off the recliner to walk over to where you were now sitting up on the couch, fresh tears already brewing on your bottom lashes. 

His hands were outstretched, waiting for you to grab them or maybe even take your place between his arms, but you smacked them away, shaking your head as you glared up at him. “You’re shit! You’re a lousy, no good, cheater! And don’t you even try to lie to me and say that you didn’t because I fucking heard you, Jisung!” You shouted, although your voice cracked on multiple occasions. You were devastated, heartbroken, but most of all you were pissed. 

So badly you wanted him to deny it, to tell you that it wasn’t true, but his hesitation and the look of guilt that washed over his features was enough for you to know that it hadn’t been a bad dream, that what you heard was real. “Babe… Let’s just… Can we talk about it?” He whispered, keeping his hands at his sides although you could see in the way that they were twitching that he wanted nothing more than to hold you, although you would have just pushed him away if he tried to. 

“Talk about what? I don’t want to hear lies or excuses. I heard enough last night. I waited up for you after the fucking show, I waited until 3 in the goddamn morning… And I called you… And some… Some other girl answered and I… I fucking heard everything. You disgust me! I want nothing to do with you!” You finally pushed yourself off the couch, trying to move past him, but his arms wrapped around you, trying so hard to keep you from walking away. “Don’t! Don’t touch me!” You screamed, pushing him away from you. 

It seemed so hypocritical for him to be crying right now, especially since you were the one that had been cheated on, but alas, the tears that flowed down your cheeks were perfectly mirrored on his face. “I was drunk! I was drunk and I know that’s not an excuse, but I really… I truly didn’t mean it! I swear to god, I didn’t!” He sobbed, taking tiny steps towards you, but for each small step that he took, you took two more back. “Baby… please… I love you so fucking much… I… I can’t breathe… I just… I need to know that things will be okay. I can… I’m sorry… If you need space, I can do that… Just don’t… Don’t leave me… Please.” 

“How…” You scoffed, shaking your head, laughing in both shock and disbelief at the audacity that he had to even try to plead. “How can you possibly be so fucking selfish? You don’t have the right to tell me not to leave after you cheated on me. I’m done. We’re over. You can…” You pulled the ring from your finger, the ring that you promised that you’d never take off… But that was before all this, before you knew how he really was. “You can have this back, I don’t want it. I don’t want any parts of you. I’m so fucking glad that this happened before I was dumb enough to marry you.” You threw the ring to the floor right at his feet, the diamond facets reflecting the light of the sun. “Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t try to have one of the guys try to get in touch with me either. I don’t want anything to do with you or anything that you do once I walk out that door.” 

“Then don’t walk out…” The words rushed out as he swiped the ring off the floor and ran over to where you were standing. “I’m stupid… I’m so stupid. I don’t want to lose this… I don’t want to lose you. One chance… I just want one chance to prove to you that… That I didn’t mean to do it, I’ll never do it again. It was a mistake!” 

“Would you just stop already?!” You hissed, whipping around on your heel to face him as he followed you into the bedroom. “This is hard enough for me, and I don’t need you hounding me about how sad you are because you fucked up. You don’t deserve a second chance, you don’t deserve anymore chances because you’re a cheater, and once a cheater, always a cheater. So either help me pack my shit up so I can get the fuck away from you, or go sit and wallow in your self pity in the living room while I do it myself.” 

///

“So you’re not gonna say anything about it? You’re not even gonna tell him?” Soobin asked as he sat across from you in the little cafe. He had been your savior since you had left Jisung, allowing you to crash in the dorms at night until it got to the point where he eventually just told you that you might as well live there. He and the rest of the boys rarely ever saw the ones that you were trying to avoid unless they were on music shows, but Jisung was none the wiser that you, Soobin, and the rest of the guys had gotten so close. It made it easy to stay with them and practically hide out in their dorm until you made enough money to get a place of your own. 

“Soob… With all due respect, I haven’t even had the time to process it myself, and the last thing I want to deal with is my ex fiance coming back into my life when it’s been turned upside down once again.” You retorted, running your hands over your face as you let out a loud sigh. “I’ve got so much shit that I have to figure out, and I have less than 4 months to do it. I’m stressed enough as it is… I don’t need him to add onto that.” 

It was crazy, but you were pregnant, and to find out when you were already 5 months along was even crazier. You hadn’t gained any weight that you knew about, and even if you did gain anything, it wasn’t enough for you to think that it was from anything but maybe eating a little bit more than you usually would. You had experienced no symptoms at all, and you were so stressed with life itself that you hadn’t even cared for the fact that you might have missed a few periods, you even accompanied the lateness to the overload of stress. 

It wasn’t until you felt something weird, the movement in your stomach, that you asked Yeonjun to take you to the hospital because you had for some reason assumed that you had somehow gotten worms. “But it would be his kid, right? I mean… Doesn’t he have the right to know? I’m not telling you to do it now… But… I mean… it’s his kid.” Soobin tried to reason with you, and you hated that you had decided to confide in one of the two level headed ones in the group, but he was also easier to talk with and you were closer with him than the others. 

“I’m not going to hide it from him… I’m just not ready to tell him yet. Let me work this out in my own head first and then I’ll drop the bomb on him.” Although you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to tell him. Sure, it was his child, but you also didn’t want to have to deal with sharing custody of this surprise child with your cheating ex. It would be so much easier to just raise the baby yourself and if anyone asked, you could just say that it was someone else’s, although that felt morally wrong… But then again, what Jisung did was morally wrong as well. “I’ve got to figure out housing, I’ve got to tell my boss… It’s a lot… I don’t want to deal with him right now.” 

Soobin nodded, humming understandingly as he reached across the table, placing his hand over top of yours that was drumming nervously against the wooden top. “It is a lot, and that’s why me and the guys are going to help you. You can continue staying at the dorms, even after the baby is born if you don’t find a place soon enough. We will help you.” And maybe it was the hormones that caused it, but the kindness of his words and the softness in his eyes had you uncontrollably weeping in the tiny cafe. “Oh boy… Uhm… Come on… Let’s get you back home.” 

///

Jisung sat in the interview chair, his mind cloudy from lack of sleep. Promotional tours and mini shows had him exhausted, and working on the new album kept him busier than he usually would be. He was thankful for it though, unable to think too much about his mistakes, having no time to think about you and what you might be doing. He missed you, but it was clear from the lack of texts or calls back that you didn’t feel the same. Maybe you had blocked him, and he wouldn’t blame you if you did, but it would be better that way so you wouldn’t have to read the texts that he sent you daily about how sorry he was and how much he loved you. 

“Are you ready to start?” The interviewer asked, and all the guys nodded in unison, all except Jisung who was trying his best to just keep his head from falling forward and dozing off. “Great! So, my first question is for Han…” The sound of his name had his eyes shooting open, pretending that he wasn’t on the verge of passing out right then and there, nodding to let the interviewer know that she could keep going. “So, we’ve all read the headlines and, we’ve come up with our own conclusions regarding some recent events in your life…” The vagueness had Jisung lowering his eyebrows questioningly, waiting for her to get to her point, but a part of him had a sinking feeling on where the question was going. “How do you feel about your ex fiancee being seen out on dates with another idol?” 

Jisung wasn’t very up to date on current news, especially in the world of music considering he had his own headlines to make with the upcoming album. He hadn’t seen anything about you being out on dates with anyone, especially another idol, and he surely hadn’t heard about it in his little circle of other famous friends. He wasn’t even sure if what the interviewer was saying was true, but if it was, his genuine reaction would be heartbroken, but he had to play it off like he wasn’t. “Well, we’ve been apart for… For a while now and… Well, if whoever she’s with is making her happy, who am I to be upset about that. I want nothing but the best for her and whoever she may be with…” He said, trying his best to sound confident, but he was already getting choked up and he felt his eyes glossing over as tears threatened to fall. “Can we take a quick break? I’m sorry.” 

Minho was quick to follow behind the younger man who had rushed into the closest corner as he tried to cry as quietly as possible, which was quite hard, and it felt like all the eyes in the room were on him right now. “Hey… Hey, come on man. Calm down. We don’t even know if it was Y/N that was in whatever pictures that the interviewer was talking about. It could have been anyone, and you know that sometimes interviewers say things to try to get certain reactions out of us. It’s okay…” He tried to pat Jisungs shoulder in an attempt to calm him down, but when the younger man turned around he was an absolute wreck. 

“But what if it is her? I know it’s been months, and I know I fucked up, but I don’t want her with anyone else. I want to be the one to make her happy and take her on dates. I want to be the one that comes home to her at night and cuddles up next to her.” Minho grimaced at the cringy images that were being painted in his mind right now, but he tried to hide it, he was really trying to be there for Jisung even though he knew what had happened, and if asked to take a side, although not in front of Jisung, he would take yours in a heartbeat. “What other idol would do that? I’m so nice to everyone… Who would take her from me like that? Why?” 

Minho shook his head, taking a deep breath through his nose and letting it out slowly. “I think you’re getting way ahead of yourself. You need to calm down and finish the interview, and then we’ll go home and work things out after we figure out what is going on. Okay?” Minho offered, and in the back of his mind he was hoping that whoever it was in the picture wasn’t you because that would surely only make things worse, and Minho didn’t want to see Jisung worse than what he was right now. 

///

“What are you talking about?” Soobin asked, and you turned the corner of the hall to look at him, about to open your mouth to question what he was talking about or who he was talking to, but he quickly lifted his finger to his lips in a motion for you to stay silent, which you quickly obliged to. “Jisung, she’s not here. I don’t know what pictures you thought you saw, but I really think you’re freaking out for no reason.” He put his phone on speaker so you could listen, and part of you wished that he hadn’t because hearing Jisung put two and two together was making you freak out just as much as he was. 

“I’m not freaking out for no reason!” Jisungs shrill voice screeched through the speakers of Soobins phone. “I know what my fiancee looks like! I’ve had multiple photos taken of her and I like that! I know that’s her! Why are you with her?! You took her from me!” He continued shouting, and you could hear his voice breaking at the end of each sentence and then the heavy shaking breaths as he tried to catch his breath between crying and speaking. 

Soobin shook his head, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Clearly Jisung wasn’t going to back down, and you didn’t want Soobins life to be made harder by Jisungs constant badgering, so just as Soobin was about to speak, you spoke up. “He didn’t take me from you.” You stated matter-of-factly, and Soobins mouth fell open as silence filled Jisungs end of the line. “You cheated on me. You caused this. And you can stop attacking him. It’s not like we’re together, I’m not with anyone right now because I’ve got bigger things to deal with and handle then finding someone else to be in my life.” 

You heard Jisung gasp, and then the shuffle of feet as he seemingly ran off somewhere, maybe somewhere more private, or maybe somewhere where all of the guys were, you weren’t quite sure. “Why… Why are you hiding from me? Why are you ignoring me? I just want to see you… I just… I need to see you. I fucked things up, I get that… But… Maybe we can be friends… I still want you in my life, Y/N…” He whispered, and it made it clear that wherever he went, it was far away from anyone and everyone. “Can we just meet up or something? I can even come over to their dorms if you don’t want to be alone with me… Just… Something, anything… please?” 

You looked around the dorm that was littered with boxes from nursery furniture, a stockpile of diapers, wipes, and baby bottles and powdered formula just so that you’d be ready. There was no way in hell that he’d be able to come over here and see you without figuring out what was going on. “No… I… I don’t want to see you.” You muttered, biting your bottom lip, and for some reason, foolishly waiting for Jisung to understand. 

“Well… I don’t care. I want to see you and… And I’m coming over. I’m coming over to see you dammit.” He said, and before you or Soobin could argue against it, the call had ended, leaving you and Soobin to stare at each other with panicked eyes. This wouldn’t end well… There’s no way it could. 

Perm Tags :

@whatudowhennooneseesyou @duchesskaren @mytherapisttoldmenotto @lovesunshinefelix @moon0fthenight @kurolils @maruskz @hello-2-u-from-me @mrswolfiechan @bunnychangbin

@his-angell @if-spearb @yomomma104 @lanatheawesome @facelesswrittes @grannyindehouse @cutie-wooyo @felixmainacc @syuuji @jiisungllvr @yukichan67

@randomwimp @silentreadersthings @cutiespaghetti @furiousheartpoetry @its-hannjisung @lixpixstix

@felixluvr915 @wordsofkpop @kayleigh-28 @szkstay @spnwinchestersd @fleatree @yehsehneeah @vampcharxter @iloveksmohsomuch @lvlnijiro @neteyamsmate4life @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @delululi @insertsomethingaboutanimehere @karlitaburrito @laylasbunbunny @chimicurri-a

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids angst #skz angst #stray kids headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fics #skz headcanons #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz drabbles #skz fics #han jisung #jisung #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #jisung x reader #jisung x you #han jisung headcanons #han jisung imagines #han jisung scenarios #han jisung drabbles #han jisung fic #jisung headcanons

[amuromi]

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ, 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 9.8k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! college!au, minor illness/sickness (heatstroke), semi-established relationship (poly), hurt-comfort, feelings of inadequacy, pet names (baby, baby girl, honey), fingering, oral (m & f!receiving), safe word (not used, just mentioned)

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ It’s kinda crazy that Gojo, Geto, and Shoko ended up in the same class because how did jujutsu tech manage to find two special grade sorcerers and a reversed curse technique user all at once. Being in their class would’ve been like Destiny’s Child except everyone but you is Beyoncé.

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

A bird swoops lazily overhead. A black dot silhouetted against the white flame of the sun burning overhead. Sheets of heat shimmer off the pavement, tracing out rippling waves in the humid air that wane only in the shade of the trees. Still, spears of sunlight pierce through the leaves, each wavering beam feeling hot as cigarette burns even in the small halo of shadows cast by the outstretched branches. A breeze meanders through the courtyard, doing little to stave off the midsummer heat. Like tossing a single cup of water on a blazing inferno, the reprieve from the heat is only momentary. 

If the oppressive heat bothers Shoko, she doesn’t show it. Her face is veiled in a grayish haze as she takes a drag of her cigarette, sinuous threads of smoke curling through the sweltering air. Another breeze limps past with a bit more force, enough to knock the smoldering ash from the end of Shoko’s butt. It lands in her lap, eating a black hole through the cloth of her skirt before she can dust the mess away. A dot of pale skin beams through the deep blue fabric, too big to be salvaged. Shoko gives you an unamused glower when she catches the edge of your stifled laughter, tossing away the remnants of her cigarette to look closely at the damage. She brushes away the last bits of ash before clicking her tongue, sulking over the destruction of a recent purchase. 

“Maybe if you hadn’t been smoking on campus…” you hum with just enough amusement to earn you another side-eyed glare. Despite the heat you lean in closer, until your shoulders are touching, so you can whisper in her ear. “Do you want me to buy you a new skirt, honey?” 

Shoko matches your sardonic tone, eyes curved into half moons as she mockingly hums. “Fuck off.” 

She smells like cigarettes and melon shampoo as another gust of muggy air wafts past, stirring up sparkling particles of pollen that cling to the sheen of sweat shining on your skin. Everything is sticky and overwhelming, but the world shrinks to something more manageable as you tilt your head back, eyes closed to the pinholes of sunlight twinkling through the treetops. Bursts of red play behind your eyelids, vision going bright and hazy when your eyes finally open. 

“I’m assuming you’re done for the day?” Shoko asks, nodding to your abandoned weapon as she fishes in her pocket for another cigarette. Yaga-sensei had recently granted you stewardship over a cursed tool from Jujutsu Tech’s extensive armory with explicit instructions to practice before taking the bow on any field missions. Gaudy and ornamental as it is–clearly a show of some past sorcerer’s craftsmanship–the bow carries the ability to hit any target the wielder can imagine. It’s why Yaga-sensei entrusted the weapon to you to begin with. Your infallible memory makes you the perfect user of such a cursed tool. Given enough practice. 

It’s been a strenuous task and the courtyard is littered with the fruits of your labor, arrows imbued with trace amounts of cursed energy strewn across the ground. 

“It’s better to start small,” is all the advice Yaga-sensei had to give on the matter. Practice, as per his instructions, has been little more than standing in one spot while Shoko went around campus naming off landmarks and collecting the arrows as they hit their target. The torii gate near the dorms, the old well behind the cafeteria, the broken statue near the track field. Your phone battery is nearly depleted from how long she’s been going around the school grounds, giving you new targets through the speaker. The soreness in your arm had been expected given that the bow was sized to someone larger than you, making the draw strength something difficult to contend with on the first few shots. It’s simmered to something tolerable but that still leaves the mental strain it takes to perfectly visualize each location. It’s taxing on the mind, and the beginnings of a headache that could be attributed to heat exhaustion is starting to drum up behind your eyes. 

When you don’t offer an answer Shoko brushes her fingers across your forehead, outwardly it seems like she might be brushing the stray hair from your forehead but you recognize the trained calculation behind the simple touch. She wipes your sweat on her ruined skirt and purses her lips. No verbal admonishment comes, but you can tell by her expression exactly what she’s thinking. Estimations of your temperature as it correlates to your current state surely running through her head, but she’s never been one to nag you into submission. Shoko is nothing if not a watchful entity. Simply standing idly while people make decisions, only giving input when asked. Which you haven’t because you can expect a barrage of “I told you so’s” for straining yourself to this point of exhaustion over simple practice. Not a mission, not even a precursor to an aptitude test. Just practice for the sake of honing your skills. 

It’s that gnawing sense of perfectionism that has you standing despite Shoko’s skeptical glare. She won’t say it but the medical training in her is clearly showing on her face, frowning as she watches you collect your arrows. They’re still imbued with trace levels of your cursed energy but without the bow they’re only going as far as a normal arrow. The sun beats down on your back, singeing your skin even through the fabric of your shirt every time you stoop over to pick up another arrow. Shoko sighs, muttering something about “always so damn stubborn.” 

“It wouldn’t kill you to take a break.” She says. More directly this time. Combat has never been Shoko’s strong suit. Her reversed cursed technique being far more suited to the walls of an infirmary than any active battle. Practice for her is suturing and sterilizing. Nothing like the grueling physical feats you’re expected to endure for the sake of honing your craft. But even still she’s one of the few marvels attending Jujutsu Tech because no one seems to have a stronger aptitude for reversed curse techniques than Shoko. It’s truly unfair that of your four-student class, you’re the least remarkable. It makes you want to work harder, twice as hard as anyone else, to prove you deserve your place here. So instead of slowing down and taking that recommended break, you roll your shoulders and force yourself to focus. 

“I took a break.” You did. Because why else would you have been sitting around underneath a tree if not to take a break from the boiling heat that’s melting you down to a paste with the way you’re sweating. Your skin and brain feel like they’re about to liquify and evaporate. But you can’t relax. Even when you sat beside Shoko the feeling of peace was only momentary. The silence brought on by exhaustion only lasted until you gained a second wind strong enough to get you back on your feet, bow in hand despite the way your shooting arm is really starting to ache from the heavy draw weight. You had some experience with using a bow and arrow but it didn’t mean the strength needed to shoot such a massive weapon wasn’t laborious. Still, the dull throb in your arm gives you something to think about that isn’t them. The other two members of Yaga-sensei’s second year class. 

Flashes of white and black cross your mind. Abstract, undefined. Not enough to draw your mind away from your next target: the dead tree in the far corner of the courtyard. Should you shoot facing away or try aiming upwards, towards the sky? An ordinary arrow would fly straight up, perhaps get snatched off course by the wind, but no matter the direction you shoot, an arrow shot from this bow will always hit its mark. You feel the cursed energy singing through your hand as you nock your arrow. 

“That wasn’t a break. You sat down for two seconds.” Shoko rolls her eyes as she watches you draw the bow. “I know you said you’re fine, but–”

“I am!” You say too quickly. Shoko frowns at your insistence. “I just…” You struggle to come up with an explanation for your erratic behavior that doesn’t start and end with the anxiety burning like acid in your stomach. Stinging and simmering as it spreads through your nerves, leaving you with nothing to say in your defense. You hazard a shrug, hoping your indecision will mollify Shoko. It doesn’t and she levels you with an expectant tilt of her head. 

“It’s stupid.” And it is. Because how can you explain that you feel like an imposter in a school with such a rigorous entrance exam? They wouldn’t have let you in if you weren’t worth the trouble of teaching and you know that, yet you still can’t shake the feelings of inadequacy. Not when you’re learning in the shadow of the two most promising sorcerers of the modern era. And it doesn’t help that in your bid to be more like them, you’ve gone and gotten yourself far too involved. What started out as you probably being a bit of a nuisance–always close, underfoot like a puppy–turned into them seeking out your company once you realized the desperation could be dialed back a bit. In trying to seem uninteresting after following them for so long, you made yourself easy to miss. Because, of course, they’d notice if the person always standing in their shadow up and disappeared. 

Now, you’re tangled in a web of their making. A fly struggling beneath the watchful eyes of those spiders keeping you close. It feels suffocating, like chains tightening around you every moment you let yourself slip deeper into the oddity that is your relationship with the Special Grade sorcerers. Gojo Satoru. Geto Suguru. Even thinking of their names has started to spike your pulse with anxiety. And “relationship” is too charitable a word for the arrangement you have with them, seeing as you’re little more than an accessory, something to be added and removed at a whim. A cage of your own making. It’s what you get for always trailing after them like their talents would pass through their air and cling to you, make you worth more than you are. Now you’re here. Always at an arm’s length. Never closer and never further, held firmly in a place they can always reach you regardless of your own conflicting feelings. 

It had been fun at first, to know they wanted you in their lives, in their bed. Although, the newness of the physical arrangement wore off quickly. Now it feels like the tenuous bond has degraded beyond what it had been even when you were nothing more than a tenacious classmate. Before you’d been acquaintances, maybe even friends, but now it feels like you’re something less than even that. A person to pass in the halls and accompany on missions. It stings at your pride to know you only lasted a year. Chewed up and spit out now that your second year classes have reached the halfway mark, a break between semesters fast approaching. 

“Can’t be that stupid if it’s bothering you,” Shoko says patiently, lighting up another cigarette. She takes a deep drag as she waits for you to shuffle through your thoughts, landing on the least offensive truth you can offer. 

“I want to break up with Gojo and Geto.” It’s hard to break something that was built on shaky foundations to begin with, but it’s the best you can come up with without explaining the winding ins and outs of your strange situationship with the men in question. Because Shoko–hell, everyone–thinks the three of you are dating. Like a proper relationship. A happy crowd of three. Shoko blinks through the haze of smoke streaming from between her lips before nodding pensively. 

“You can try.” 

It’s something ominous, though Shoko looks a bit miffed about having to be the one to tell you. Like you should know better than to even consider something like that. The words settle like cold stones in your chest. Heavy and shivering despite the heat still bearing down through the clouds. She goes to sit back in the shade, pulling out her phone to text someone. You ignore the tap-tap-tapping of her keyboard in favor of pulling back your bow string again, aiming at a cloud passing overhead. The arrow shoots up, before winking out of sight with a faint glittering burst, like a flash of light off the edge of a blade. It lands in the trunk of the dead tree with a dull thud. And because you can and it’s something to cut through the cluttered thoughts, you keep shooting. Landing arrows around the courtyard because you’re too tired to go through the ordeal of hunting up every arrow if you go back to shooting them around campus. 

“I think that’s enough for today.” A new voice rings through the courtyard, distinct enough to distract you. A face cropping up unbidden in your mind’s eye, thoughts of the people you’ve been spending your afternoon avoiding springing up like weeds in a garden. Blue eyes and dark bangs invade your thoughts and you lower the bow before you can send an arrow into someone’s head. If you lacked discipline, were more easily startled, you might’ve shot before your reflexes caught the mistake in your mental visualization. Gojo would be fine with his infinity but Geto has no such barriers protecting him from unforeseen projectiles. Red covers white and black as you imagine the arrow piercing through his skull. 

“I’m fine.” It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. Now that Geto is standing in front of you, your mind has turned to tangles once more. Your usually calm and collected thoughts knotting up on themselves. He and Gojo scramble your brain in a way no one should be able to, like a radio losing signal and turning to static. It makes you want to give up on the endeavor of loosening the mess with slow, careful consideration. Quicker to cut out the tangles and be done with it. White threads. Black threads. Snip them all and watch the tension unravel. 

“You shouldn’t be practicing outside like this when it’s so hot. When’s the last time you took a break?”

“I took a break!” Shoko doesn’t offer support when you look to her to corroborate the half-truth. Instead the fledgling doctor shoves her phone in her bag and you realize the betrayal. It must’ve been Geto she was texting. Shoko isn’t the type to share anything she’s told in confidence, so there’s no worry that she mentioned anything you said to him, but she must’ve said something to raise a flag in his mind if he showed up so quickly. Shoko dusts the dirt from the back of her skirt before drifting past the two of you, murmuring about going home as she leaves you alone with your not-boyfriend. 

For all her nonchalance, Shoko is quite perceptive. A trail of smoke follows after her as she retreats, effectively extracting herself from the equation before she becomes a factor in a fight. Because that’s all you and the boys seem to do anymore. Over nonsense. About you training too hard and them treating you like something that needs protection. Or perhaps it’s just you fighting. Spitting and clawing like a caged animal because that’s how they make you feel. Small and weak and trapped. 

Even from a distance, Geto is overwhelming and it has your hackles raising before he says anything more.  

“I took a break.” You bite out, hoping your attitude will ward him off. “Now let me practice.” Unfortunately, Geto won’t give you the satisfaction of being done with the conversation just because you’re feeling a bit angry. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” There’s that edge of concern you’ve come to know so well. That softness in his voice that sounds almost patronizing, like you’re not aware of your own body’s limits. It makes you sink deeper into your irritation. 

“Yeah,” you scoff, “because I’m some weak Grade One sorcerer.” 

“I didn’t say that. Stop putting words in my mouth.” Quieter, to himself, he mutters about how you and Satoru are just alike, “so fucking stubborn.”

“If you overwork yourself you’ll get hurt. I’m just worried about you.” And there it is. He’s worried. Thinking about you in a way you’ve never had to think about them. As something weak and needing a watchful eye to keep them safe. Gojo and Geto are literally the strongest sorcerers of the new generation. No one has ever had to worry about them. And if they have–you have, though you’ll never admit it–it’s a wasted effort. They return from every mission almost completely unscathed. Only as ruffled as a few hairs out of place because Geto is lethal without having to manifest his collection of curses, and nothing can touch Gojo without his permission. The memories of him letting you go beyond that barrier of infinity crop up unbidden in your mind and it makes you fit another arrow on your bowstring. Burns are starting to form where the bow chafes at your fingers but you pull back the string again, deciding to shoot another arrow dead ahead with no other target in mind. 

“Don’t worry about me.” The words sound empty even to your own ears. Because as much as you crave your own type of recognition, want to prove that you’re not the weakest–most useless–second year student, you like knowing that you have their attention. Something like if you can’t beat them, join them. You’ll never surpass Gojo or Geto’s abilities but you’ve still earned their approval in a way no one else has. Even if it’s all balanced on a precarious edge. So close but so far. They have each other, and then you. They could take it all away in a second and sometimes you wish they would. It would save you the ordeal of being seen as the bad guy for cutting ties with them when everyone knows how attached the three of you are. If you aren’t with Shoko you’re with them and seeing any of you alone is a rare occurrence. It’s something you’ll have to get used to because losing them might mean losing everyone. Shoko doesn’t seem to think it’s possible but what if you prove her wrong? 

Another shot hits its target. What if you’re wrong? 

Geto sighs, real loud like he has a right to be upset. Like his mind is anywhere near as hoarded yet empty as yours. The thought of leaving makes you feel light with released anxiety and heavy with the guilt of betrayal. All at once. Too many knots. Too many thoughts. The bow falls to the wayside as you press your hands to your head, trying to will away the pain stabbing behind your eyes. Headache–maybe heatstroke–made worse by all the stress Geto’s caused just by existing near you. You lean down, hands grabbing vaguely at the ground, smacking blindly across the pavement until you find your bow. 

The sun is bleaching everything bright white and it’s hard to see even with your eyes squinted against the throbbing pain and stabbing light. The arrows are abandoned, far too many strewn about to be of concern at the moment. Right now, all you want to do is get away from Geto. Go somewhere where he isn’t and recollect your thoughts. Somewhere inside, with water and air conditioning. Your footsteps are staggered, legs feeling more like melting wax than anything solid beneath you. 

Move, you try to say, go away. It’s a slurred groan but you shoulder past Geto anyway. Or, at least, you try to. Instead you bounce off of the solid planes of his body. It sends you stumbling in another direction, so quick that your vision begins to dip and swirl like looking through water. There’s the vague sound of something warped and panicked but mostly it sounds like you’re underwater. Everything is shimmering black and blue for a moment before even that fades to nothing. 

It’s cold. Not a bitter kind of cold but something chilled and pleasant, made less frigid by a vague sort of warmth wrapped around you to stave off the biting edge of the water. Everything is tepid and dim as goosebumps prickle up your arms. The budding shivers are chased away by gentle hands soothing over your damp skin. It’s enough to shock you to full attention after lingering in the soft ether between sleep and wakefulness. Water sloshes around you, splashing over the side of the tub as you bolt upright, hands gripping the edge of the porcelain as you struggle to make sense of your surroundings. The last memories you have are steeped in searing heat and blinding light, pinched with pain as the sun leached away at you. The sun is gone now, replaced with the milky white light of the moon. It spills through the open window, highlighting the sharp edges of marble and chrome; the expensive appliances of a luxury apartment. 

Hands tease at your waist, pulling softly to coax you back to where you’d been laying against their chest. You know Gojo just by touch. It’s a privilege few are afforded now that he’s developed a mastery of his infinity, yet here he is wrapping his arms over your stomach to keep you close to his chest. His heart beats steadily against your spine, a consistent metronome that clashes with the anxious skipping of your own pulse. The headache that had been pounding away at your skull like a hammer and chisel is gone, replaced with the sound of your blood rushing in your ear as each subtle touch of Gojo’s fingers tracing against your skin sends you reeling. 

Lips find the tip of your ear, then the edge of your jaw before settling against your pulse fluttering in your throat. His silence is nearly as deafening as your racing heart. It’s so strange to find Gojo so quiet as he presses feather-light kisses into your skin. A damp hand presses into your forehead. There’s a faint hum and then a sigh before his slender fingers drift over your eyes. His lips are at your ear again, the feeling of his breath rushing over your skin making you shiver in his arms. 

“Stop thinking.” His voice is unexpectedly harsh, like he’s angry with you, and it only makes you think harder. It’s obvious you’re in his apartment but the spaces in between point A and point B are blurred, a staccato rush of images flickering in and out of focus. You were at school and then suddenly you weren’t. Last you remember, you were with Geto. Near Geto. Trying to get away from him. And now you’re naked in a tub with Gojo, and he’s upset with you. He says it again, “Stop. Thinking.” 

Because you value your sanity, or what little shred of it you have left, you really do try to calm your racing thoughts but it’s so hard with him so close. And he won’t let you go. His hand stays over your eyes, pinning your focus on him and him alone. His voice. His skin. His anger. Because no matter how much Gojo tries to mask his emotions with a veneer of humor it’s always painfully clear when he’s upset. At least to you. His voice gets lower and his smiles get tighter. Every word that comes off his tongue now is graveled with restraint and it only works to further scramble your mind. Makes you anxious at the unknown. The feeling of being caught in a web springs to life again as his fingertips dance over your stomach, slender fingers feeling like the legs of a spider tying you up in its web. It gets your breaths quickening until you can’t fill your lungs fast enough, heaving and gasping as you grab at the edge of the tub, trying to pull yourself away from him again. 

Let go. Let go. Let. Go! 

It’s a mantra marching through your head until he lets you free at last, so quickly that you go spilling over the side of the bathtub. The tiles are cold and unsympathetic and you yelp as your knees land hard against the marble. Gojo watches you, blue eyes almost glowing in the dimness of the moonlight. You scramble gracelessly to your feet, snatching up the first towel your hand touches as you rush to be away from him. Today was meant to be spent in seclusion. Away from Gojo. Away from Geto. Yet you’ve been pushed towards both of them like a compass leading you north because Geto is just beyond the bathroom door, on Gojo’s bed. 

It’s brighter in the bedroom, lit by the bedside lamp as Geto looks up from his book. It’s set aside quickly in favor of moving towards you. With each step he takes you find yourself drifting towards the door. Your clothes are nowhere in sight and the towel you grabbed hardly offers enough coverage for you to flee back to your dorm in, but the alternative of staying here, with them, is wholly unappealing. Just the thought of spending another moment with them ties knots in your stomach. 

Nervous. They make you so nervous. So anxious about every facet of your existence. They won’t say it but you can see it in the way they treat you like something left over. Something to dote on when they’re done focusing on each other. It was nice at the start because you could pretend you weren’t bothered, but now it’s all you see. A divided front. You. And them. With such an obvious split, it’s only fair that you should have the choice to break free completely. Screw what Shoko said. Of course, they’d let you go. They hardly have you to begin with. But all that bravery evaporates the second your back hits the wall, cornered under Geto’s watchful eyes. 

“Back up,” you breathe, not daring to look him in the eyes. His hair is loose, sweeping over his shoulders to curtain your face as he leans his head against yours. All he says is, “no.”

“Please, back up, Geto.” He’s always preferred manners and you try to sound docile even as your voice starts to shake. You feel him shake his head. No, again. 

“S’not my name.” His hands trace up your shoulders, thumbs brushing against your neck before hooking under your jaw to make you look at him. Slowly he asks, “What’s my name?” 

“Suguru.” It’s something weak and scratchy as your throat tries to close around each syllable but he hums like it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. The meager croak is echoed as Gojo emerges from the bathroom with Geto’s name on his tongue. There’s a dozen unspoken thoughts in that single word, all of which Geto seems to recognize in an instant. 

“She’s fine, I got her. Always.” Geto says like you’re a dog that tried to bolt the moment the front door was left open. And despite how insistent you’d been earlier, and how easily Geto said it now, you’re not fine. Truly, you’re the farthest thing from it, and their hovering is making it worse. They usher you towards the bed and you’re perched on the edge as they crowd in around you. 

There’s too much skin involved. With your clothes missing you’re left in a towel, clutching it to your chest to lessen even a modicum of the vulnerability you feel with both men staring down at you. Geto reaches to brush a strand of hair away from your face and you shrink back. His hand falls away but it only leaves space for Gojo to come closer. 

“Stop touching me.” Gojo hums like he didn’t hear you even as his lips find the furrowed space between your brows, lined taut with tension beneath the softness of his mouth. 

“Stop touching me!” Your voice is cracked and edged with hysteria but it works well enough to get them to give you even just a moment to think. Steadying breaths rattle in your chest as you try to pluck up the courage to look at them. Geto catches your eye first because he’s the easiest to look at. His face has always been more guarded, more neutral, than the telegraphing billboard that is Gojo and his big blue eyes. Your thoughts are already so scattered and looking at him will only make it worse. Geto tilts his head as if he’s weighing each thought in his mind. 

“What’s wrong?” His tone is cold. Stripped of that usual affection drawl, Geto’s voice sounds almost angry. Somehow it’s everything and nothing that you wanted to hear. Anger will make this easier. If they’re frustrated and bitter it will be easier to cut ties. Still, hearing how detached he sounds makes something inside you crack. 

“Let’s break up.” In all your imaginings there was anger. Shouting and fighting, though never begging. You couldn’t imagine you’d be worth the loss of even a shred of dignity to them. Why would they lower themselves to beg you to stay? But instead of anger, your words are met with laughter. 

Quiet at first and then louder as Gojo nearly doubles over with how hard he’s laughing. As if you weren’t even worth the effort to get upset. He couldn’t even muster a single harsh word. Instead he’s laughing and the familiar sound is like salt over soil, withering your resolve. The heat of your desperation simmers to something cold and shriveled in the wake of his poorly stifled amusement. 

“Stop it!” It’s small and petulant but he quiets down almost instantly, as if he hadn’t been giggling just a moment before. All the mirth drains from his face and turns to something blank and menacing, blue eyes flashing in the low light. You say his name hesitantly, suddenly unsure of yourself, and his eyes narrow. 

“Try again.” He’s as insistent as Geto that you call him by his given name. You’re far too close to be playing at calling them by their surnames, as if they’re just passing acquaintances and not your supposed partners. 

Softly, you say his name, “Satoru.”

“That’s right, baby. You know my name. Tell me again. Say my name.” He’s getting in close again, face so close to yours that you can’t see anything but him. Pure white hair, clear blue eyes. He’s smiling again. Something coy and teasing as he waits for you to say what he wants to hear. He hears it once then says, “Again.” And again and again as he leans in closer with each murmur of his name until his lips are sealed over yours and his name is only a breath shared between shallow kisses. 

“You know my name, baby,”–he spares another kiss–“so call me by it. I’m not some random guy for you to be calling Gojo. Never have been. Never will be.” The latter declaration sounds almost threatening, and it reminds you that you just tried to sever this bond of familiarity between the three of you. Yet here he is telling you it will never be that easy. Why can’t it be? How entrenched are you in their lives that you can’t walk out just as quickly as you came? Time spent with them is sparing between missions. Today has been a seldom quiet moment to yourself between field work and neither of them had come to see you until Shoko went and planted that seed of doubt with Geto. 

“We’re not together now,” you try to insist upon your previous request. “It would be strange to call you by your name. We hardly see each other. Wouldn’t people think it’s weird if I addressed you so casually?” 

“You know that’s not true.” Geto says, thumb pressed against his brow. A habit of his that spells out his frustration as clearly as any words could. 

“Majority rules.” Gojo teases. “You’re not leaving us so you better quit bringing it up before we think you’re serious.”

“I am serious!” You feel Gojo laughing at you more than you hear it. The steady rumbling in his chest as he pulls you to lay beside him on the rumpled sheets. He kisses the tip of your nose and chuffs out an amused “nah,” as if his words are enough to void your own. 

“What’s your safeword, baby?” Geto asks from the foot of the bed. The suddenness prompts you to answer quickly, an ingrained instinct drawing the word “cloudy” off your tongue. Geto hums and touches your ankle. His fingers aren’t as delicate as Gojo’s. There’s more weight behind even the lightest touch as his fingertips find the jut of your bone before drifting higher, raising goosebumps on your exposed legs. He climbs onto the bed, hand lingering on your skin as he looks down at you. 

“What’s wrong, baby? The truth this time.” 

“I want to break up. That’s all.” It feels like a lie when you’re confronted with Geto’s piercing gaze. Gojo scoffs from his place nuzzled against the column of your neck, lips pressing hot kisses against your fluttering pulse. 

Geto presses further. “Why?” 

Why? As if you had to justify your desire for distance when it’s all they’ve been treating you with. A constant reminder that you’re different, separate. They’re doing it even now, minimizing your words to nothing even as you try desperately to get them to understand that you’re serious. It’s like they’re keeping you on a leash and you’re tugging at your lead, begging to be set free. 

“It’ll be easier for all of us.”

“Easier, how?” Gojo asks as he traces over the shape of your collarbones above the cover of your towel. 

“No one will have to pretend anymore.” 

“Who’s pretending? ’Cause it sure as hell ain’t me.” Gojo snaps, arms cinching tighter around your waist. 

“You been lying to us, baby, is that it?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer. “Our girl’s been playing with our feelings, huh, Suguru?” 

“That’s what I’m hearing.” Geto agrees. 

That’s not true. If anyone’s been lying, it’s them. Treating you so sweet when it’s plain to see the only people that matter to them is each other. They’ve always been together until you stumbled along, weak and starry-eyed. Wholly intent on earning your place in a group of such skilled sorcerers. They doted on you, taught you, loved you, but how truthful can a love borne of pity be. You’re a kicked puppy limping along behind them and it’s taken you this long to realize how truly pathetic you’ve been. Training makes a sorcerer, not trailing behind in a race you’ll never win. Chasing the backs of two people you can never hope to reach. It’s cruel of them to pretend you were ever someone worthy of being beside them. It was never going to be you and it makes you wonder how long they planned to let you live in this delusion.

“I’m not the one lying.” It’s quiet, barely the wisp of a sound, but they hear it. Gojo sits up quickly, pulling you with him so that he and Geto can pin you between them once more. 

“So it’s us?” Gojo bites, voice grated with anger. “You think we’re lying about our feelings. You think we don’t love you?” It’s better that you can’t see him as he kneels behind you, chin hooked over your shoulder, but there’s nothing shielding you from Geto’s endlessly dark glare. His head tilts, bangs sweeping over his eyes as he stares down at you with a harsh set to his lips. 

“Who said that, baby? Who told you we didn’t love you?” When you shake your head, Geto scoffs. 

“Don’t tell me you made up that lie yourself.” Gojo grunts. “You got lost in that pretty little head of yours and decided we don’t love you anymore, is that it?” His hand is over your eyes again, turning the world dark. It’s something he’s always done, covering your eyes like putting a blanket over a cage. It forces your mind to quiet, to focus on less. A habit you assume he developed as an extension of his own. 

He dampens his Six Eyes with blindfolds and tinted glasses, so of course he’d know exactly how to quiet your mind when it starts to race out of control. Your hands lift towards your face, uncertain if you want to move his hand or hold it closer. Your fingertips rest against his skin, not pushing, not pulling, but without your arms against your sides the towel slowly comes loose to pool around your waist. Warm hands are quick to chase away the chill of the room as Geto’s fingers brush against your ribs, Gojo’s free hand settling lower on your waist. They both move in closer until you’re locked between their bodies. Gojo at your back and Geto against your chest. The latter lifts your hips, pushing the towel aside completely as he pulls you into his lap. You can’t see him through Gojo’s hand, but you’re sure Geto is staring at you, gaze likely steeped in disappointment. 

It reminds you of what Shoko had said, “You can try.” And this is your reward for the effort. Trying suggests a margin of error for failure, and you’ve failed spectacularly. Undressed and caught between the two of them, feeling their hands against your naked body as they try to convince you to stay. 

“You’re wrong, pretty girl,” Gojo hums, cheek pressed up against your ear as he leans over your shoulder. His voice comes from all around you. Humming through your spine and over your shoulders as the soft timbre comes up from his chest and settles as a low draw in his throat. You hear it nearly echoing in your ear as his mouth ghosts over your skin. He’s so close, hand still guarding your eyes from seeing anything beyond his skin. He’s got you surrounded and it’s only made more overwhelming as Geto moves in closer until you can feel his breath against your lips. His face is different from Gojo’s as he nuzzles against you. The white haired man is made up of straighter edges–a slim jaw and sharp nose–to match the deceptive softness he presents to the world, like a blade hidden in a sleeve. Geto is comparatively more broad, all brute strength and heavy hands as he presses his nose against yours. 

They’re being gentle. You can feel it in the way their muscles move beneath their skin, tensing and curling with controlled strength. They’re so strong and you feel like a feather caught between two rocks as they press against you, woefully inferior and easily brushed aside. Still they don’t allow you to float away. Both of them press close to keep you exactly where they want you. Lips find your skin. Warmth blooms across the curve of your shoulders and up the column of your neck as soft pecks graze your parted lips. There’s nothing heady or frenzied about this moment. It’s less feverish than you’re used to, yet there’s no absence of emotion because being between them has always been fraught with passion. A hand trails across your chest, settling over the steadying thrum of your heartbeat, and you realize belatedly that they’re going slow for your sake. Just a moment ago you’d been overwrought with panic and each of their glancing touches works to bleed the tension out of your body. 

“Still with us?” Geto asks. He and Gojo always seem to move in tandem. Geto’s hand has only just started to tip your head up to meet his gaze when Gojo’s hand finally slips away from your eyes. You must say something in the affirmative because Geto hums, thumb brushing over your lips before he looks over your shoulder at Gojo. Something unspoken passes between them in the briefest glance and then you’re moving, getting dragged into Gojo’s chest as he sits up against the headboard with you between his legs. His towel has been brushed aside as well, leaving only Geto clothed. He evens the odds a fraction by pulling his shirt off, ruffling his hair so it falls messily around his face. Pretty.

Geto scoff, “Now you have something nice to say, baby?” You hadn’t meant to say it out loud but they both seem amused if not a bit mollified by the slip of your tongue. 

“Our boy is pretty, isn’t he?” Gojo asks, shifting his hips until you can feel the length of his approval pressed against the small of your back. Wet and hot, leaking and throbbing against the base of your spine as his hands press against your stomach to pull you impossibly closer. 

“Gentle.” Geto reminds him, eyes fixed on the way Gojo’s fingers are making impressions in the softness of your skin. Any harder and he’d start to leave bruises but Gojo knows better. Geto wouldn’t let him hold you hard enough to break and Gojo himself is far too aware of his own strength to ever lose control like that. 

“M’always gentle,” he says against the nape of your neck, the sentiment nearly lost as his teeth scrape across the sensitive skin. A shiver skitters down your spine, skin dotted with goosebumps as his tongue soothes the faint sting his teeth left behind. 

“I know you are,” Geto agrees, reaching past your shoulder to touch Gojo. The man nearly purrs, a soft chuckling noise vibrating against your skin as his tongue tastes where your pulse is rushing in your throat. 

“We’re always gentle with you, aren’t we, baby girl?” Geto’s eyes are on you now. The pitiful little “yeah,” you manage to squeeze out around the lump in your throat hardly qualifies as an answer. But they are, and isn’t that the worst part? They’re so gentle with you like they know you’re too weak to handle them unbridled, like you’re wrapped in caution tape and stamped with stickers marking you as fragile. Weak. It’s embarrassing that even in their most vulnerable state they’re more than you could ever hope to handle. 

“Our girl.” Gojo sighs. The strongest sorcerer of the new generation and yet his touch is so gentle it seems almost hesitant as one hand moves away from your waist to dip between your legs. He echoes the whimpering sound you make as the pads of his fingers brush against your clit, seemingly reveling in the way your body tenses as he traces gentle shapes against the sensitive bud. His touches are fleeting, teasing, hardly enough as he pants against your shoulder. Geto’s hands smooth up the inside of your thighs, thumbing against the muscles as he spreads your legs wider for Gojo to touch. His second hand comes away from your waist to join the first, teasing at your fluttering heat before sinking a singular finger inside. He groans louder than you do, mumbling against your dampening skin about “so wet, baby,” as he works his finger inside you, adding another and another as he stretches you out with each curling thrust of his fingers. 

Geto seems content to watch, thumbing soft circles against the shaking muscles of your thighs as Gojo takes his time loosening you around his fingers. 

“You’re making a mess, baby girl.” Geto teases. You can feel it. Gojo is frustratingly good at everything he does and this is no exception. He’s winding you up tight as he hooks his fingers against that spot inside you that has you keening and arching away from his chest. There’s the faint sound of a protest, a groaning “no!” as Gojo’s body follows yours, not letting you put any distance between you. 

“Be nice,” Geto laughs, pushing against your sternum until your back is against Gojo’s chest once more. Once you’re settled his hand trails to your nipple, brushing against the pert bud before the heat of his mouth swallows your breast. His tongue laves over your skin, leaving a glossy wet trail across your chest as he nips and licks at your breasts. It’s all overwhelming. The heat of two bodies against yours, reflecting the warmth of your own. Sweat gathers where Gojo is panting against your neck, lashes tickling your cheek as he looks down as where Geto is leaving faint marks against your skin. Your hips shift, trying to shy away from the mounting pleasure but Geto’s hold on your thigh is unflinching and only works to push you further into Gojo’s lap. You can feel the latter grinding against you, cock drooling against your skin as he grinds against your ass. 

“Fuck, baby,” Gojo’s whining now, in that same breathy way he does whenever he’s at the edge of cumming. “You close, baby, gonna cum for me?” His fingers work faster inside you, rubbing real nice against your clit as he babbles a mantra of “cum, baby, please, please, cum,” in your ear. You do because they don’t give you much of a choice with the way they’re hitting all your weak spots at once. Just one of them is enough to override your senses, but together they all but melt your brain until your thighs are shaking and you’re staining the sheets with how hard you’re cumming. Gojo doesn’t let up on your clit but he pulls his fingers out of you with an embarrassingly slick sound to fumble for his cock. Geto helps, lifting you higher so Gojo can slot his cock against your pussy. He leans forward like he’s trying to wrap himself around you, rutting feverishly against your wet heat and whining when he doesn’t end up inside you. Geto seems to take pity on him, brushing Gojo’s hand aside to stroke his flushed cock soaked with a mix of both of you. 

“I got you, baby.” Geto hums, leaning over to kiss Gojo. With the way they’re meeting in the middle, just over your shoulder, you can hear every sound they make with frustrating clarity. Every little groan Gojo makes as Geto kisses him. It’s loud and sloppy and you feel spit dappling your shoulder when they pull apart, joining the sweat already beading on your skin. 

Geto murmurs, “You too, baby girl,” before enveloping you in a kiss of your own. His tongue finds yours easily, coaxing you into a deeper kiss as he groans against your mouth. He kisses you like he’s trying to swallow you whole, to consume every part of you. It’s startling and grounding all at once. A kiss like that can’t be fake. It eases a bit of tension from your body and Geto feels it, humming against your mouth as he pulls away, a faint smile on his lips. He kisses you again only briefly before moving lower, dappling your skin in warm kisses before he settles on his stomach with his head between your legs. He gives Gojo’s cock a few more teasing strokes before wrapping his lips around his swollen length. Behind you, Gojo keens, wrapping his arms tight around you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. Geto’s eyes are on you as he swallows Gojo’s dick. 

“Fuck,” Gojo shivers against your back. “Wish I could see him. Tell me what he looks like, baby. What does our boy look like between our legs?” It’s an odd request if only because Gojo can see so much. Yet here he is relying on your vision to tell him what he can’t see. 

“S’pretty,” you tell him, “so pretty.” 

“Yeah,” Gojo agrees instantly. “Yeah, our boy is so pretty. Fuck, Suguru!” 

“He’s taking you so well.” Geto hums at the praise and Gojo whines behind you, hips jerking up. Geto’s hands settle on your thighs once more, gripping like he needs something to focus on while he’s taking Gojo’s cock to the hilt. You lay a shaking hand on his head, fingers carding through his soft hair, pulling it away from his face as he blinks up at you. 

“So pretty, Suguru.” He pops off of Gojo’s dick at the sound of his name on your tongue, shifting forward until his lips are wrapped around your clit. Your hand tightens in his hair, unsure if you want to pull him away or guide him closer as the simmering sting of overstimulation slowly bleeds through your body. He decides for you, pulling away far too soon and dragging you up with him. You fall against his chest as he nods for Gojo to move. You’re laid out in the space he leaves as Geto shoves his pants down his thighs.

There’s a wet spot on the fabric from where his cock has been leaking in its confines, precum beading on the flushed head. Gojo is quick to clean up the mess, kissing the tip of Geto’s cock and taking him halfway down his throat. Geto groans, tossing his head back in a wave of glossy black hair as he takes Gojo’s mouth with a few short thrusts before pulling the blue eyed man off of him. He keeps his hand in Gojo’s hair, guiding him up to his knees to kiss him again. There’s a peek of tongue between their mouths and it has your thighs pressing together just watching them kneeling over you. 

“Want you,” Geto breathes against Gojo’s lips, hardly parted from their kiss. “I don’t care how, jus’ want you.” An approving hum follows as Gojo lays himself on top of you, hips slotted against your. 

“Lift up,” he murmurs, sliding a pillow under your hips as he grinds his throbbing cock against you. “Feels so good, baby.” He whines. When he leans in to kiss you, there’s desperation sparkling in his eyes. He’s kissing you hard enough to push your head back into the mattress, nipping and licking like he’s trying to pour everything he can into the press of your mouths. His body is pressed against yours in every way he can manage. Fingers threaded with yours as your hearts beat in feverish tandem, hips pressed flush as Gojo grinds against you. There’s the vague sound of a cap popping then a pitiful whine against your mouth as Geto’s hand finds Gojo’s hip, holding him still as he presses a lubed finger inside Gojo. He melts in an instant, squirming and whining as Geto keeps him steady with a hand on the small of his back. He takes his time with Gojo, letting him relax into the feeling and stalling when he whines about it being too much. By the time Geto is satisfied with how prepared Gojo is, the latter is stumbling over his words, babbling about “please, I want it, please, please!” with his hips caught between you and Geto. He can’t seem to decide exactly what he wants but Geto does it for him, leaning against his back as he strokes his dick. 

“You want it?” Geto teases, nosing at the hollow behind Gojo’s ear. The white hair man nods, face drawn in desperation as he ruts into Geto’s fist. “What do you want, baby boy?” Geto asks as he drags the head of Gojo’s throbbing cock through your wet folds. 

“Inside!” Gojo’s voice cracks with the volume of his desperation. Geto chuckles and kisses his shoulder. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” He hums, guiding Gojo inside you. His shaking stills in an instant as he melts against you. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whines. “It’s so warm inside. Squeezing me so tight, fuck!” His babbling only devolves further as Geto presses inside him, nearly incoherent as he writhes between your bodies. The strongest sorcerer reduced to a whimpering mess before you, because of you. There’s something reassuring about it as you brush Gojo’s damp hair away from his eyes, tasting the salt of his sweat as you kiss his forehead. He can barely return the affection, nuzzling against your cheek as Geto pulls back to start fucking him in earnest. Gojo finds his rhythm pinned between the two of you, rutting into you whenever Geto pulls away. His fingers are back on your clit, making a mess between your prone bodies as he tries to rush you towards the edge. He’s already shaking and whining, teetering on the edge of pleasure from all of Geto’s attention. 

“Gonna cum, baby?” Geto huffs. There’s a nod and a litany of words spilling from Gojo’s lips that sound like “m’close,” as his hand grabs Geto’s thigh to pull him closer. Gojo grinds against his cock, fingers not letting up on your clit as he makes himself cum on Geto’s dick. 

“Good boy.” Geto coos, hands soothing against Gojo’s waist as he shivers. He’s close, you can tell by the way his hips are stuttering, balls tightening as they smack against your skin. He cums hard, body going rigid as he spills inside you. Still, even when he’s finished he doesn’t stop moving his hips. Bright blue eyes stay locked on the frothy mess seeping out around his cock until Geto gets him to pull away. His cock is soft and flushed between his legs, strings of your shared arousal staining his skin as Geto lays him down beside you. Gojo is quick to cling, slinging an arm across your waist as his head settles against your shoulder like he can’t bear to part from you for even a moment. His hand seeks out yours, twining your fingers as Geto fills the space Gojo left inside you. He chuckles at the wet sound it makes as he sinks inside you, hair curtaining your face as he leans down to kiss you. 

“Feel so good, baby girl. So fucking good. Can’t believe you wanted to take this away from us.” He groans as he sinks into your heat. Gojo had gotten you to the edge, wound you up near to snapping, and Geto doesn’t seem keen on giving you a moment to relax. His hips grind against yours with startling intensity, like he’s fucking all his anger into you. 

“Tryin’ to leave us like we don’t fucking adore you. You don’t even realize how much we need you, do you?” He grits out. They need you? It sounds inconceivable, and yet here you are. In Gojo’s bed, with Geto losing himself inside you. Who else has been allowed to see them like this? 

“You’re good, baby.” Gojo whispers. “So strong and so kind. We gotta be gentle with you, can’t let you get tarnished and jaded the way we have. Gotta keep our girl protected and happy for as long as we can.” He kisses your ear. 

“We’ve seen so much,” Geto pants. “Can’t let you end up like us.” Somewhere in his soft groans there’s a promise, a vow to keep you away from the things they’ve seen. It makes something come loose in your chest, a tension unraveling at last as tears prick at the edge of your vision. It’s a sorcerer’s job to protect and they were protecting you. All this distance and turmoil you’ve been suffering because they want to protect you. Not because you’re weak but because they’re strong. You’ve heard whispers of the things that happened while they were in high school, things you’d never wish on your worst enemy. Gojo had died somewhere in their second year. Of course they want to keep you behind them, a wall between you and the cruelness of their world as Special Grades. Your vision swims with tears as you pull Geto into a kiss, mumbling out sniffling apologies. 

“M’sorry, m’sorry! I just wanted you to take me seriously. It always feels like I’m an afterthought when it comes to missions.”

“Baby, you’re the only thought.” Gojo sighs. “You’re our soft place to land and we’d like to keep it that way. We like you soft. You can be strong all you want but when you’re with us, you gotta let us treat you nice, yeah?” You think you nod, babbling back an affirmative, but it’s hard to know as the head of Geto’s cock grinds against your sweet spot, his fingers rubbing over your messy clit. Gojo thumbs at your nipple and it’s the last bit you need to send you over the edge with a cracked shout. 

“That’s right, baby, shit.” Geto groans as you clench around him. He presses in close, forehead against yours as he works himself to the edge. Each panting breath is shared between you as you rest the hand Gojo isn’t holding against the nape of his neck, nails scratching lightly in his hair. 

“Please, wanna feel you. Please cum, Suguru,” you whisper against his lips. He returns the coaxing with a soft “fuck,” pressing his weight against you as he cums with a graveled grunt of your name. You feel the mess leaking down your thighs, a mix of Gojo and Geto dripping out of your cunt as Geto pulls away with a few fluttering kisses. 

“Thank you,” he says between each press of your lips. “Thank you for trusting us.” Belatedly, you realize you had trusted them. Implicitly. Geto had even gone as far as reminding you that you had an out, asking for your safe word even when you could tell he didn’t want you walking away from them. Even in your anger and panic you’d trusted them to treat you carefully, and they had. Gojo is still pressing soft kisses into your skin as he clings to you. His leg has found the space Geto left between yours, hooked over your thigh to keep you from squirming away from his sweaty embrace. 

“Don’t get too comfortable.” Geto says as he runs his hand up Gojo’s thigh. “We all need a bath and I’ve gotta feed you two.” 

“M’not hungry.” Gojo grouses, burying his face further in your neck. 

“Don’t be a brat.” Geto groans. “And we definitely need to get some fluids in this one.” He says, wiping the sweat from your brow. “She was already dehydrated. We shouldn’t have tired her out like this.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, really meaning it this time, but Geto brushes you off. 

“You probably feel fine but you’ll be complaining about a headache in an hour tops, so up you go. Shower, then food. You can whine about how mean I’m being once you’ve gotten something to drink.” Gojo grumbles something that sounds faintly like “I’ll hold you to that,” as he gathers you into his arms and carries you to the bathroom. They argue about who gets to wash you and what food to order, falling into the familiar rhythm of push and pull between them with you as the mediator, gently guiding their petty arguments with a soft laugh. It’s a comfortable place to be, just one step behind them. 

#gojo ★ #geto ★ #gojo smut #geto smut #gojo x reader smut #geto x reader smut #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #jjk smut #★ mine!

[cultrise]

MIRROR SEX. SAL FISHER

♱ CONTENTS NSFW, mirror sex, clit rubbing, riding him, soft sex, a little praise, p in v ᵎᵎ wc 2.2k

ᵎᵎ check the mlist for kinktober here !

your boyfriend might not have been as attentive all the time, and that was fine.

you understood the constant struggles sal went through, with everything going on from his nightmares to the paranormal investigation he had ongoing for years. it was his thing, but lately, he had been obsessed about it.

you sighed as you walked around the house, passing by neil who was hurrying out the front door “hey! call me or todd if you need anything, yeah?” you turned around, a smile plastered to your cheeks as you saw the way neil’s dressed “sure thing, dude. have a nice date!” you coo, bending over the kitchen counter and flashing him a smile.

the tall man makes his way out of the house before stopping and rushing back in, panicked “have you seen?–“ you raise your hand, showing him his phone “this?” he lets out a relieved breath, taking the phone away from your hands “fuck.. thanks. almost forgot my own head again” you smile, giving him a slight pat on his shoulder “go. you’ll be late” he smiles back before heading to the door “oh yeah, by the way. might wanna check on sal. dude’s been in the shed for a while now. think he didn’t sleep last night”

you bite down on your lip as the door closes. in truth, you did miss out on the weight of your boyfriend’s body next to you in bed the other night. you just hoped you were wrong. making your way through the backdoor, you step out into the yard, the sunlight blinding your sight. you take in the fresh air, the warm sun, the lively chirping of the birds. your hands hover over the passcode on the door.

the door makes a creaking noise as you push it and you’re welcomed to the sight of the rusty shed, walls filled with articles, pages, and clues regarding the cult you were all investigating. it had been a long treacherous journey that was nowhere close to being over. which is why sal sat at the table, analysing some newspapers into the lamp light. you leaned your weight onto the doorframe as two tired eyes pierced at you from behind the mask.

“damn, you look like shit” you state as sal scoffs “gee, thanks, babe. it’s why i wear a prosthetic” your lips open at his response before you roll your eyes “you know that’s not what i meant, sally” the blue-haired boy chuckles as you approach him. you move one hand to the back of his head, fingers unclasping his mask and setting it down on the table. you take his face into your hands and his head drops limp into them, letting himself be caressed.

your digits trace his scars and run over his tired eyelids “there’s my pretty boy” his eyes shoot open, lips moving upwards into a smirk “thought i looked like shit” your response comes in a second eye roll “i don’t know why you wear that mask around the house. it’s summer, sal, your face is all sweaty” you brush the hair sticking on the sides of his face away “habit” he replies as he sneaks a hand to your waist, burying his head into your tummy with a tired sigh.

“take a break” your voice drops an octave as your fingers work their way to his scalp “please” and he groans in response, pushing himself into your touch “fine.. wasn’t getting anywhere anyway” he moves his head to the right, watching the mess of papers and pencils on the table, all scattered words and underlined phrases that led to nothing in the end. it was frustrating, he felt obligated to help. yet every clue they had found seemed to either be erased by the members of the cult or led nowhere, which made them start over completely.

you back up, making room for him to get up. sal tiptoes, fingers reaching up to the ceiling as he stretches with a yawn, his hoodie rolling up to reveal his abdomen. you try not to stare at the happy trail peeking out from his boxers “after you” he so gentlemanly offers as you both step out of the shed, closing the door tightly behind you. and soon enough, the creak of the bed is heard as he throws his whole weight on the mattress with a content sigh.

you giggle at his behaviour, arms crossed over your chest. he gestures for you to join him, standing on the edge of the bed as he motions you to sit between his legs. as soon as you do, sal slouches, placing his chin on your shoulder and relaxing his sore muscles “missed you” he says quietly as his arms trap your waist into an embrace “i live with you, sal. how can you miss me?” you smile as you play with the rings on his fingers.

you look up at the mirror in front of the bed, watching sal’s expression shift. his eyes meet yours and your spine shivers at the intensity of his blue orbs “i haven’t been around these days. with the investigation and all. i’m sorry” your head cocks to the side, resting atop his “i understand why you do it, sally. it’s alright” he gently shakes his head “it isn’t. you’re the most important person in my life right now. there’s no excuse for ignoring you”

heat rushes to your cheeks at the serious manner of his speech, the sudden confidence rush hitting you like a truck “larry’s gonna be mad if he hears that” you smile as sally meets your expression with a grin “i’m serious, baby” your hand intertwines with his and you sigh, contented “you’re here now” cold lips touch the surface of your neck in chaste kisses “mhm”

“you need to take care of yourself more. you’re fucking up your sleep again” you scold him as he pouts, halting his ministrations “i mean it, sal” he nods, pulling away slightly, in defence “okay okay. i got it” you truly hope he does, since he has a habit of promising to take care of himself and not doing it “i sure hope so” and sal smiles, pressing a cheek to yours as he meets your eyes in the mirror again “i will do it. just not yet”

“what do you mean ‘not yet?’ “ you frown as he smiles, hands traveling from your waist to your hips and thighs “want to take care of you first” your eyes widen and your heart rate quickens at the implication “of me?” he smiles, gently pressing kisses to the space behind your ear “you know what i mean” and you feel yourself break into sweat. you want to be selfish. you want him to let you take care of you in a way only he can. but you also don’t want to rob the precious sleep time away from him.

“you should rest” you say, almost breathless as he smiles against the skin of your jaw “i’ll rest afterwards” his right hand slides up, tugging at the waistband of your pants and sneaking in between your legs. your breath hitches as his fingers find their way to your clothed clit and start rubbing gentle circles on it. you suddenly recall the first time you got intimate with him. the shy stares, the red cheeks, the stuttering. over the course of your relationship, sally had gotten way more confident, being able to keep that soft and tender heart of his intact despite the trauma he had endured.

you loved this man beyond words, he was aware of it and was sure to remind you every day that he felt the same. from small touches to telling you directly, sal was scared of making you ever think he had changed his mind in any way about you. if anything, he was probably falling in love with you more every day. and he knew the spark between you wasn’t about to die anytime soon. especially since he could feel the wetness pooling on the fabric of your panties after a few kisses and light touches.

“should’ve told me you missed me so much” sal whispers as you take ahold of his wrist, biting back a moan “you seemed tired. i didn’t.. fuck.. didn’t want to distract you from your work” you whined as he watched you in the mirror. you felt his hard-on poke your lower back “you know i’ll always make time for you” and his words go straight to your aching cunt, as he starts rubbing faster and faster. you dreaded the idea of having to clean your clothes afterwards.

your moans get louder as he settles his face in the crook of your neck again, sniffing your hair and taking your scent in “missed you so much.. fuck. how could i leave you for that stupid investigation? i’m such an idiot” he groans as his other hand sneaks under your hoodie and starts squeezing lightly at your breast. “don’t call yourself that” you scold again, before choking out a desperate moan. you were so close.

the moan makes sal’s breath hitch and his hand stops it’s movements as you look at him through the glass pane in front of you “sorry, i can’t do this anymore. need you so badly” he groans as he undoes his sweatpants, pulling them down slightly alongside his boxers. his dick springs out, tip leaking with precum as he grips your hips. you’re quick to follow his lead, removing your pants and soaked panties as you raise yourself slightly.

he guides you over him, nails digging into your hips as he points to the mirror “look at me with those pretty eyes” and you listen because it’s very rare that sal takes this kind of initiative, if any, in the bedroom. his blue eyes scan over your flushed face as he pushes your hips down, cunt swallowing his length. the friction makes you moan in unison, his cock sliding with ease between your folds.

by his stare you could tell he didn’t intend on breaking eye contact and, no matter how flustered you were by it, he looked too good to stare any other way. as your ass touches the skin of his thighs you both take a moment to adjust to the feeling, gasping softly at the way he’s feeling you up “shit.. missed this so much” sal moans as he looks down at the way you’re sitting on him “oh my god, sally, move!” you whine as he moans in approval, hands guiding your hips to ride him.

“shitshitshit you feel so good,,, fuck me” sal moans, throwing his head back slightly before he looks down once again, watching the way your wetness spreads on his dick. your hand flies to your mouth as you try to muffle your moans, failing miserably. as your eyes open you can see him staring at you once again through the mirror, cheeks red. the air in the room seems to disappear as your hip movements get quicker, needier. after all, he had unintentionally interrupted your orgasm and you were in desperate need to cum.

noticing your demeanour and reminding himself of how he stopped making you feel good a few moments ago, one of his hands trails down to your cunt, rubbing at your puffy clit again. your pussy clenches around him desperately, his name coming out from your lips like a prayer “sal, oh my god… please.. shit” and he groans in approval, muttering a string of “i know, baby, i know” as he pushes his hips up so he can reach deeper into your core.

your nails dig into his thighs and he kisses your spine lovingly as your eyes roll in the back of your head. his left hand supports your weight as your body shudders, making sure you don’t fall over “fuck, sally!” you whine as you cum all over his cock and thighs, making a mess on the sheets. his hand slides up from between your legs to your hair, caressing it gently as he praises you. you watch him in the mirror with half-closed eyes, nodding at him so he continues to move inside of you.

his lips touch the space between your shoulder and neck as he looks at you, continuing to push him on his cock, desperate to get himself off. you smile at him gently, taking in the view “i love you” you let out, earning a moan “love you too… shit… you’re so pretty” sal whines as he feels himself coming undone in return. it doesn’t take long until he’s filling you up with thick layers of cum, moaning and gripping at your hips with staggered breaths.

you both fall back on the mattress, panting softly as you try to reach for your panties to put them back on. you were way too tired to clean up. you turn your attention to your boyfriend, eyes closed as he pants softly, lips formed into a tiny ‘o’. your cheek presses against his chest, hand moving his face to the side and making him open his eyes.

you caress his features, watching his gaze soften as your eye and mouth corners turn up into a smile “hey” and he mirrors your expression, pressing a kiss to your palm, pupils almost turning into hearts “hey”

© cultrise | don’t steal, copy or translate my works.

#✦— kinktober. #𐙚 — pages. #𐙚— dreamscape. #sal fisher #sally face #sal #sally face x reader #sal x reader #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher smut #sal fisher x reader smut #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober '23

[arieslost]

one night only | cl16

charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: when the miami grand prix comes around, charles books a hotel room.

word count: 3,263

warnings: 18+ content MDNI!! mentions of cheating (don’t do it), cursing, charles is a player but you’re down bad (who isn’t), this is my first time writing smut so enjoy!

special thank you to @venusacrossthestars for being my beta reader, ily bestie <3

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

unknown number: Our hotel. 10:30. Your keycard is at the front desk.

It was like clockwork. Every weekend of the Miami Grand Prix, you always ended up with a keycard in your hand. When Monday came, you woke up, showered, and took the tiny bottle of shampoo that you used with you when you left. It went in a shoebox under your bed to remind yourself not only of your mistakes, but of each and every night you spent forgetting them in the arms of the biggest mistake himself— Charles Leclerc.

It’s happened twice now. You hardly remembered the first, barring a joke you made about whether or not you needed to sign a NDA. Charles had silenced you by backing you up against the locked door and pressing heated kisses to your jaw, lips moving down your neck as you pulled him closer. He was excited that weekend— he’d taken P2, and it was thanks to the celebration he partook in at the club that he met you.

You were a bartender for the VIP section at a club near the track. It was easy work, if you didn’t mind all the flirting and catcalling. You were never one to be affected by it; you knew they were all either drunk beyond recognition, or would be by the end of the night. You loved your job. You also loved your boyfriend, whose shift you’d picked up that night.

But then Charles Leclerc, Scuderia Ferrari’s golden boy, sat down at the bar. Your bar.

After that weekend, you didn’t have a boyfriend. How could you, when every time he kissed you, you saw a certain Monegasque behind your closed eyelids? When every time he touched you, you imagined different hands caressing your skin?

You’ve always prided yourself in being a strong, independent woman, but when it came to the Formula One driver, all your inhibitions went out the window, and your pride with them. So you tried not to get attached to him. You were perfectly happy to be the annual hookup, to let yourself go for one night out of the 365 that came in a year. You didn’t need to get to know him, you didn’t need to learn more about the sport; you didn’t even need to kiss him on the mouth.

You didn’t.

So why were the words “our hotel” making your heart race every time you read over the text from his unsaved number?

You thought about responding, but in the end, you settled for liking the message, just like you did the last time he texted you. It had been his idea to keep this up in the first place, anyway.

2021.

“Where’re you going?” He was half awake, sleep fading quickly from his eyes when he took in the sight of you with your hand on the doorknob.

“I was leaving… unless you changed your mind about that NDA?” You quipped.

“That’s as funny as it was last night,” he groaned, stretching out and pushing the blankets off his body.

Ahh, last night. He’d put his boxers back on before falling asleep, but they didn’t really leave much to the imagination. Especially because it was all so fresh in your mind. The way he looked– hair mussed after all the times your hands had run through it, golden skin against the crisp, white hotel sheets, the red scratch marks on his back… Yeah, it was a miracle that you didn’t launch yourself back into the bed right then and there. You still dreamt about it sometimes, the way he looked so ethereal in the early morning sunlight streaming through the curtains.

“Are you going to continue to mock my sense of humor, or can I be on my way?” Your throat was so dry.

“I’ll be back in the area next year.” He didn’t offer any explanation— it was Charles Leclerc. He didn’t have to.

You fished out the piece of paper you’d scrawled your number on earlier before promptly stuffing it into your pocket in a moment of retrospection. Hell bent on leaving the room before you acted on the impulse to get on top of him again, you tossed it onto the nightstand.

“Make sure I can tell it’s you.” It was the last thing you said to him before you finally made it out the door.

Now, you read over his text again as you climbed the steps to the VIP section of the club. Our hotel. You were going to need some liquid courage if you were going to fuck him tonight.

A solid perk of your job was free access to the VIP section when you weren’t working, and in times like these you were most definitely going to take advantage of it. A couple shots were all you needed to take the edge off, and you downed them in quick succession before checking the time- 10:10. You were cutting it close, but the closer it got to 10:30, the antsier you became. You decided to linger for five more minutes, and called for another round.

“You okay?” One of your coworkers asked from behind the bar as he filled the shot glasses in front of you. “You look a little nervous.”

You laughed, waving him off. “I’m fine. Now leave me alone so I can enjoy my drinks, will you?”

He flipped you off good naturedly before turning to his other customers.

With another shot down, you took out your phone, the text still front and center on the display. You swiped it away, instead opening up the search engine. Against your better judgment, you typed the sentence you’d been restraining yourself from searching up all day long: miami gp 2024 results.

The first thing you saw was his name. CHARLES LECLERC WINS 2024 MIAMI GRAND PRIX.

You fought the urge to smile, quickly grabbing your fourth and final shot and tipping it back. Ironically, the burn of the whiskey sobered you up a little as you gazed at the picture showcasing his beaming face and dimpled cheeks, both hands lifting the first place trophy high in the air. You made the mistake of bringing up the race (or lack thereof) the last time you saw him, and since then you’d made an effort to try and avoid anything to do with F1.

2022.

“Disqualified? I mean, it’s shit!” You exclaimed heatedly as you wiped down the bar. Your phone was burning a hole in your pocket, making your stomach squirm with excitement every time you remembered the text.

Same hotel. 10:30. There’s a keycard at the front desk. No NDA. You had giggled at that last bit, and if you’d completely given up on your morals then you might have fallen in love with him for remembering the joke that he didn’t even crack a smile at last year. You’d practiced some French, and you paid attention to news about the Miami Grand Prix, but you hadn’t given up on your morals.​​ You weren’t going to fall for and pursue the guy you only saw once a year.

The French was simply because you wanted to brush up on your rusty high school skills. As for the news… well, you were in the area. Everyone was paying attention to the news.

“I didn’t realize you cared so much.” Your coworker replied, an eyebrow cocked at your reaction to what the reporter was saying on the TV.

“I don’t care, I just think it’s stupid.” You backpedaled, trying to sound more casual than you did a second ago, especially when Charles appeared on the screen looking nothing short of dead inside and your heart began to beat a little faster. “Everyone should be able to race.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the FIA for you.” One of your patrons grumbled, thumbing through his wallet and producing two five dollar bills. “Thanks, guys.”

“You keep that,” you shoved both bills into your coworker’s hand after the customer was out of earshot. “I have to go.”

You changed at the speed of light in the VIP bathroom before going to the hotel. You showed the clerk your ID, collected the keycard, entered the room, and promptly made a fool of yourself.

“I heard about the disqualification on the news…” You trailed off when you were met with a glare, not necessarily towards you but rather the topic of conversation.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” Was all he said before he practically manhandled you onto the bed, pulling his shirt over his head as you bounced back on the mattress. “When I’m with you, I don’t want to talk about work. I don’t want to talk at all.”

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, any other words dying in your throat as he hurriedly pushed your dress up past your stomach and immediately started kissing every inch of newly exposed skin.

When he reached the apex of your thighs, he looked up at you. “The only thing I want to hear you say for the rest of the night is my name, understand?”

He’d grabbed your hands and put them in his hair that night, right as he had you seeing stars courtesy of his head between your legs. You dreamt about that, too. A lot. You always woke up sweating, in desperate need of a certain type of relief that only he could give you.

You were thinking about last year again as you walked through the revolving doors into the hotel lobby, the shots of whiskey making your veins thrum with excitement.

The way he had whined when you pulled his hair.

The way he smirked at you as he crawled back up your body, so full of himself and so damn sexy.

You found yourself wondering what he’d be like tonight after winning the race as you gave your name to the clerk at the front desk, hoping she wouldn’t comment on how flushed you looked. She asked to see your ID, then handed the keycard over. Room 24. You were there in moments. He always booked a room on the third floor. As you walked down the hallway, you were vaguely aware of the fact that, against your will, this had become something of a routine.

You and Charles Leclerc. One night only.

For three years in a row.

You hadn’t even bothered to dress up this time— your clothes wouldn’t be staying on very long, anyway.

You were glad to see that you’d gotten there first when you opened the door, pocketing the keycard as the door swung shut behind you. There was no point in looking around the room; you knew the layout like the back of your hand. Eventually, you drew your attention to the view out of the large window, moving the curtain out of your way to admire the view of the Miami night. You tried imagining what everyone else was doing at that exact moment to distract yourself, but your mind kept going back to Charles.

Charles, Charles, Charles. Just thinking about him made your heart knock against your chest, and you were in the middle of mentally berating yourself for it when you heard the door opening and Charles himself walked in, the trophy you saw him holding in the picture still in his hand.

“Hey,” you greeted him, nerves adding a slight shake to your voice.

He gave you a soft smile in return, setting the trophy down on the nightstand and adjusting it slightly.

You remembered how he reacted the last time you mentioned his job, but this had to be different. Besides, it felt wrong not to acknowledge it when the trophy was literally sitting right there.

“Congrats— or, actually, félicitations on the win,” you said, dropping the curtain back and stepping closer to get a better look at the trophy. “Much better result than last year.”

“You’re not kidding.” He scoffed, taking his hat off and tossing it on the other side of the nightstand. “You know French?”

“A little.”

He had changed out of his race suit, but when you stood next to him you could still smell the champagne.

“Think you’ll be in the running for the championship?” You asked casually, even though you knew that he was in a great position already and was most definitely in the running for the championship.

You tried to avoid Formula One. You just weren’t all that successful.

He gave you a look, like he was trying to get in your head and figure out when you’d started paying attention. “I hope so,” he finally answered. “This could be the year.”

“I hope so too.” A pause. “Would it be overstepping if I said I was proud of you?”

This brought a real smile to his face, his dimples seeming even more prominent than they did in the photo. “Not at all. It’s actually really nice… hearing that from you.”

The usual initial awkwardness had finally faded away, and you knew what was going to happen next. You wished you could sit down with him and listen to him retell every moment of his triumphant race, but you couldn’t.

That’s what girlfriends do. Not hookups. You were perfectly fine with being a hookup, and you would continue to repeat it to yourself until you believed it again.

To mask your disappointment, you reached out and gently took his hand. His palm was warm under your touch as you pulled him close. “How about we celebrate that first place, hmm?”

The two of you moved like a well oiled machine, even after not seeing each other in a year.

He always tried to kiss you. You always turned your head at the last second. If he was disappointed, he never showed it, instead focusing on getting you underneath him. Not that he had to try very hard.

Charles had a way of making you forget. With every brush of his fingers against your bare skin, every press of his lips at your collarbone, you slipped away from reality more and more, until the only things that mattered were you, him, and the hotel room. Nothing existed outside of the four walls you were within, and how could you care right now? You couldn’t, not when he had already gotten you out of your shirt and bra and his hand was gently taking hold of your breast. He was taking his time, studying your every move in response to his own. His thumb brushed across your nipple just enough for your breath to catch in your throat, a soft gasp escaping your parted lips.

“Yeah, baby, I know,” he murmured, ego clearly inflated by the fact that the slightest touch from him still had you reacting this way, and you wished more than anything that you could kiss that stupid smirk off his face.

“I thought we were supposed to be celebrating,” you managed to say as his thumb continued its back and forth motion.

“This is me celebrating.” He paused, giving you a pointed look. “Is this not good enough for you?”

You bit your tongue, chest rising and falling as you squirmed underneath him due to the sudden lack of stimulation. “I-I just—”

“What? Utilise tes mots, chérie. Je sais que tu peux.” Use your words, dear. I know you can.

You took a breath, then looked directly into his stunning green eyes as you reached up, grabbed his wrist, and pushed his hand down. “Je te veux ici, Charles.” I want you here.

He cursed lowly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment when he heard you speaking French back to him. “You said you only knew a little.”

“Just the important stuff,” you teased, eyes traveling down from his bare chest to his fingers as he tugged your underwear off.

The rest of his clothes followed, and he didn’t waste any time rolling on a condom and pushing himself into you, a punched breath leaving his lips once he was fully seated inside you. “Thought about this all day,” he said, large hands running over your naked body. “Couldn’t wait to see you.”

“You can’t say that kind of shit to me, Charles.” You sighed, your eyes closed as you adjusted to him.

“Why not?”

“Because it messes with my head,” you admitted.

“I mean it, though.”

“Did you mean to say ‘our hotel’ too?” You opened your eyes now, the burning question finally about to be answered.

“It is, don’t you think?” He asked, and then he started to move; slowly, tantalizingly.

“Shit. I can’t think when I’m with you.”

You couldn’t talk after that, not when he was making you feel so good. You could only wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer and marking his neck wherever your lips landed. You shouldn’t have, and he should have stopped you, but neither of you cared. Every lewd noise coming from his mouth made you feel hotter and hotter, and just when you thought you were going to burst into a ball of flames, he started talking.

“I want you to look at yourself,” he instructed breathlessly, maneuvering you so he was now laying on his side behind you… and you were staring right into your own eyes in the shiny surface of his first place trophy. “See how beautiful you look when I fuck you.”

You gasped, eyes rolling back, bringing your arm back so your hand could find a home in his hair again. You watched through the trophy as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin and arm tightening around you as he picked up his pace.

“Charles, I—”

“Mhmm,” he moaned in your ear, his hand slipping back between your legs when he felt you tightening around him. “Go on, baby, let go for me.”

You didn’t need to learn more about Formula One, but you had. You didn’t need to know more about Charles Leclerc, but you wanted to. You didn’t need to kiss him on the mouth. But your mind was hazy, and you wanted to know how his lips felt on yours. You wanted it so bad that, when the both of you had come back down to earth, you didn’t fight it when he leaned in and captured your lips with his. He kissed you deeply, rolling you onto your back against the pillows. You felt his hand against your cheek, and as you opened your mouth for him you tangled your fingers with his.

You weren’t stupid. You knew that things wouldn’t change.

And they don’t.

You still wake up before him in the morning. You still shower. You still put your clothes back on. You still trade parting words with each other, and you don’t hear from him for another year. You still take the shampoo bottle and put it in your shoebox when you get home, ignoring the ache between your legs the whole while.

Nothing changes.

Except now, you’ve spent a year knowing what it’s like to kiss him. You know how easily your lips mold together, how you would happily spend your one night with him doing nothing but kissing him.

And when the text lights up your phone, a thrill shoots through you.

CL16: Our hotel. 10:00. You know where to find your keycard. 😉

Maybe, somehow, you can find a way to keep your morals and be in love with Charles Leclerc at the same time.

note: well, here it is— after two+ years, i have made my long awaited return to posting fics on tumblr. i’ve done it in style by posting 18+ content for the first time; i hope it wasn’t too cringy to read. i don’t know what came over me, but here we are. thank you so much for reading.

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

also, i’ve been out of high school for almost three years now, so i greatly apologize if the french is bad or incorrect.

beautiful dividers by @saradika !!

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @naturallyspontaneous @whatever7justchillin @outerudeth @devlovesbooks @wegaveitago @seagulltacotoaster @acarguello1 @fangirlika @simplyscorpio @nuccibeboo2 @heeygemmilala @toppersjeep @anedpev @vee2004dee @chriss-club @lewisroscoelove @scaramou @aneverythingwriter @bingewatche @candystarfish @bestpart0fmylife @topgunmav1df1 @taytaythirteen @jackiekennedys @tpwk-loml @mangodreamsicle @rafaaoli @bunbun9396 @olicitymckono @weareallsnottygirls @jenm26 @alicecourtier @oliveswiftly @janeholt3 @d3kstar @l-inas @smiithys @spookylilmeep @barcelono @ililali-blog @srhh15 @sainz-leclerc @lilycampbells-blog @cassandra-nerezza-black @nova-rush

#full fic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc smut #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #cl16 #cl16 x reader #cl16 smut

[works-of-fanfiction]

Toothbrush || Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: It’s still early days for Lando and the reader, but he’s ready to start seeing more of her.

Song: Toothbrush by DNCE.

Warnings: None, just a wholesome read.

Word Count: 2.3k

a/n: every time I listen to this song, I imagine little fanfic scenarios in my head, so I finally wrote one! I’m a George girl at heart, but I think I’m in my Lando era rn. short but sweet - hope you like it!

With Lando’s arm strewn across your chest and his soft snores in your ear, you didn’t dare to move. Streams of sunlight bled into the room through the gap in the curtains, illuminating his tanned shoulders that poked out of the covers. Pins and needles prickled at your feet as you fought desperately not to leave the bed. He looked so comfortable and he deserved the extra rest after all the busy weekdays preparing for the new season.

You turned your head to catch a full glimpse of his face, his mouth hanging slightly open and eyelids twitching involuntarily. You often wondered what he dreamt about, as you did with anyone who fell asleep in your company. Dreams fascinated you; the weirder the better. Your workdays often started with your colleagues all sharing their wild and wonderful dreams from the night before, with the odd nightmare sprinkled in. If only you had a pound for every time your manager dreamt of losing his teeth…

Your bladder deceived you, the pressure growing the more you tried to ignore it. Sighing, you pushed the covers off your body, careful not to disturb the half that covered the sleeping driver beside you. You shuffled to the right, fingertips gently lowering Lando’s hand onto the pillow, hoping he didn’t stir. The fresh morning air whipped around your bare frame, and you resorted to hugging yourself as you tiptoed into the ensuite.

You moved with caution, tearing the toilet paper slowly and studying the squares as they ripped apart bit by bit. As much as you hated not flushing, you didn’t want to startle the poor guy, so you opted for closing the lid. That too was done carefully, not letting the wooden pieces make a single sound as they touched. You washed your hands quickly, scrubbing them dry on a towel, a comically bright orange towel with the McLaren logo plastered all over it. You’d laughed at it the first time you stayed over, Lando cursing himself for not hiding it before you arrived. You’d wondered where else random pieces of McLaren merchandise were going to pop up. Tea towels? Bed sheets? Branded cereal, perhaps?

On your way back to the bed, you scooped up Lando’s t-shirt from the night before, slipping it on and appreciating the fabric against your skin. It didn’t make a huge difference, but at least it covered the goosebumps scattered across your cold chest. Catching your reflection in the mirror, you combed your fingers through your hair, pushing loose strands out of your eyes. Hearing a rustling in the covers, you turned to see Lando stretching his arms above his head, his eyes still squeezed shut to avoid the morning light.

“Mm… Come back to bed.” He mumbled, propping his hands behind his head like he was laid on a sun lounger. You sat on the bed beside him, resting on your right hip and tucking your legs in to lift your feet off the ground. Feeling the mattress dip, a lazy smile spread across his face as he prized his eyes open halfway. “There you are.” You laid a hand on his chest, smiling down at him before his eyes fluttered closed once again. “Beautiful.”

You exhaled, amused by his compliment. “You can’t even see me.”

“I don’t need to.”

He could be cheesy sometimes, but part of you loved it. You’d always enjoyed making fun of your friends in their honeymoon phases, mimicking their partners and overusing their new nicknames. You’d waited a long time for it to be your turn, so you planned on soaking up every pet name, pick-up line, and spooning session until they grew tired of hearing about it. God knows you’d heard more than your fair share of romantic tales.

All you wanted to do was lie back down beside him and burrow your head beneath his arm, but the grease in your hair and mascara stuck in your tear ducts begged you to go home and shower.

Being in the early stages meant that overstaying your welcome was still a possibility. You had yet to lie in past 10am with Lando, and were always dressed and out of the door before he’d even shed the covers. You’d made a promise to yourself at the start that you wouldn’t let yourself get too attached or seem clingy. Whirlwind relationships always sounded good until they weren’t, and you’d experienced them one too many times to allow it to happen again. Besides, Lando never seemed to argue when you slipped out of bed and left before breakfast. To him, it seemed like you just enjoyed your own space. For the past eight Sundays, you’d detangled yourself from his grasp, thrown on your clothes from the night before and left him with a simple kiss on the cheek, all before he’d even managed to open his eyes properly. Most of those mornings he’d rolled over to your side of the bed, inhaling the traces of your perfume and replaying the events of the evening over and over in his head. One day he’d tell you to stay; he’d hide your keys if it meant he could spend a few more hours in bed with you... What did you like for breakfast? If he ordered pancakes, would you stay and split a plate with him? Was it brown or tomato sauce you had with your bacon?

Lando felt you fidgeting on the bed and rolled over to grab your arm. You looked down in surprise, turning your wrist to take his hand in yours. “What’s wrong?” You asked, his fingers soft and featherlike against your palm, following the lines from left to right.

“What time is it?”

“Um…” You leaned over, checking your phone on the bedside table. “It’s almost 9.30.”

He groaned, slumping forward to rest his head against your arm. You laughed, moving so his head fell into your lap and your hand settled in the top of his hair. Catching a curl around your finger, you studied the tones in his hair and how they each caught the sunlight. Sitting there quiet and content with him made you a little sad, as you didn’t want to leave. Part of you longed for Sundays spent together, movies on the sofa with last night’s leftovers heating up in the microwave. You knew it was a fool’s dream considering he ended up in a new country every weekend. You cursed yourself for following your silly little rule and not taking advantage of the time you did have. In less than a month, he’d be calling you from hotels in the middle of who knows where with bad reception and voices urging him to hurry up and get back to work.

Sighing, you tapped Lando’s shoulder, whispering for him to sit up. “I should get going.” You said hesitantly, forcing yourself to stand.

“Stay. Just a little longer.” He gazed at you with puppy dog eyes, his hair unruly on his forehead and cheeks lined with crease marks from his pillows.

“Look at me, Lando.” You scoffed, waving your hands in front of your face. “I am in serious need of a shower.”

“I have a shower.” He stated obviously, his eyes finally widening to their normal state as he propped himself up against the headboard. “Towels are in the cupboard on the third shelf.”

“I… Lando – “

“Y/N.” He tilted his head, looking at you with raised brows. “You’re allowed to stay and take a shower.”

His words were laced with so much more than what he was saying. He wanted you in his shower, stepping out to wrap yourself in one of his towels with your damp hair leaving droplets on the countertop. He wanted your footprints on the bathmat – hell, he’d even put up with your hair clogging the drains if it meant there were traces of you in his home. He wanted more than just the ghost of you at his kitchen counter or out on the patio.

He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stood up and approached the cupboard, choosing a fluffy blue towel from the shelf. He rolled out of the bed, following you to the bathroom and flicking the extractor fan on above your heads. “Alright. You’ve got the rainfall shower which you turn on by twisting this towards you.” He instructed, trying to hide the smile that was creeping its way onto his face. It was crazy how long he’d waited to show you something so simple.

He turned the rainfall shower on, letting the water heat up for you. “The detachable showerhead is the same, just turn it in the other direction towards the wall.”

He stepped to the side, letting you slip past him. You stood shyly, his shirt still hanging off your body. “Well, I’m not going to shower with you watching!” You laughed, folding your arms and waiting for him to leave.

“Why? It’s nothing I haven’t already seen.” He smirked, mirroring your stance. Your cheeks flushed red at his words, visions of last night swimming around your mind. You needed him to leave the bathroom before you dragged him under the water with you.

He turned to leave, mindlessly adjusting the hand towels on the rack. “I’ll leave some clothes on the bed for you. There’s a spare toothbrush in the cabinet too.”

“Are you saying I have smelly breath?” You gasped, watching as he turned back to face you with the same cheeky grin on his face.

“Oh yes. That is exactly what I’m saying.”

Pulling the shirt over your head, you screwed it into a ball and threw it at him, hitting him square in the face and blocking his view. You turned to face the shower, leaving him with a foggy view of your backside through the textured glass. “Not fair!” He shouted over the running water as you dunked your messy hair beneath the stream.

“Get out, you pervert!”

He left the bathroom laughing to himself, closing the door behind him. He rushed to tidy the room a little, making sure to leave the clothes he promised on the bed. He took the liberty of putting your clothes in the wash with his, hoping you’d be okay with it.

When you surfaced from the bathroom with the towel tucked around your body and a beaming smile on your face, he swore he could feel his heart thumping against his ribcage. “Better?” He asked, sliding the pile of clothes your way.

“Much. Thank you.” You took the clothes, Lando turning away to give you some privacy whilst you changed. “Where should I put the towel?” You asked, giving him the all-clear to look at you.

“Just throw it in the hamper. I’ll sort it later.”

“Oh, I didn’t know where to put the toothbrush so it’s just in the pot beside yours.”

He smiled, looking at you but not saying a word. “What?” You asked, glancing down at yourself then back to him. “What’s wrong?”

Patting the space next to him on the bed, you sat down, pulling your wet hair over one shoulder. “I was thinking…” He started, reaching to grab your hand. Running his fingers over your knuckles, he studied the curiosity on your face as he rehearsed the words in his head. “Why don’t you leave the toothbrush in the pot?”

You didn’t catch on at first, but his words soon made sense as he shuffled closer to you, his thigh pressed against yours. Your face ached from smiling, Lando’s expression perfectly reflecting yours. “It’s convenient, you know?” He played it cool, earning him a playful slap on the chest.

“Yeah, sure! Convenience.” You mocked, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“By the way…” He spoke into your ear, his lips brushing against the lobe, tickling you. “I put your clothes in the wash, so you won’t be leaving anytime soon.” He drew back to look at you, surprised to see you still smiling.

“Good job I wasn’t planning on it anyway.” Throwing a leg over his, you straddled his lap and rested your arms around his neck.  He leaned forward, catching your lips with his and kissing you gently. Wet droplets from your hair fell onto his bare shoulder, making him shiver and laugh into the kiss. Pulling away, you swiped the water away with your hand, sliding off his lap and linking your fingers with his. He stood, grabbing the nearest hoodie hanging on the bed post and throwing it over his shoulder as he led you out of the bedroom and towards the stairs.

“So… breakfast?” His voice was muffled as he squeezed the hoodie over his head, stepping cautiously so he didn’t tumble down the stairs.

“Sounds good. What are you in the mood for?”

“I’m easy. I’ll have anything.” He opened the fridge and grabbed a carton of orange juice, turning to find you resting your elbows on the kitchen island. Something about you in his house, in his clothes, made his stomach do somersaults. It quickly became his favourite sight.

Pouring two glasses of juice, he slid one over to you, taking a seat on one of the stools. “How did you sleep by the way?” He asked, sipping his drink and snuggling up to you to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Pretty good. You?”

“The same… But I did have this really weird dream.”

Your ears perked up at his words and you turned to look at him eagerly. “Tell me all about it.”

#f1 x reader #f1 fics #f1 oneshot #lando norris x reader

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.

and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.

✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)

✦ featuring: alhaitham.

✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.

✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)

he didn’t know that it was your last day together. 

he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.

he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.

he didn’t think he’d lose you like this. 

he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow. 

“please, please,”  he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.” 

the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.

“wake up, please,”  he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—”  his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain. 

desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray. 

please, please tell me it’ll be okay. 

please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time. 

please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.  

“— just wake up, beloved.” 

by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere. 

no. no. this can’t be happening.

he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.

“alhaitham—” 

his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?  

“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.” 

those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.

i love you. 

he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.

until he can’t smell camphor anymore.

—

every person has their curiosities. 

they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.

for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.

after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?

alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things. 

number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person. 

he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.

and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away. 

you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.

you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.

‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”

alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.

and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’ 

“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.” 

“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”

“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”

those five more minutes were never five minutes long. 

but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.

—

alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play. 

“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,

i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!

oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,

wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”

you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.

loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.

but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones. 

a wish that you’d come back, somehow. 

he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did.  but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you. 

a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.

 he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.

“alhaitham, it's time to go.”  kaveh calls his name softly.

 alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,”  he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.” 

✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?

that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this

when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.

thanks for reading.

#—🖋 #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #astronetwrk #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #alhaitham x you #genshin x you #emotional blabbering ahead in the tags beware #this is hitting me in a place i didn't know existed hjsjs #like. i haven't lost anyone but i have lost my life as i know it? #this past year was full of so many endings and i've been struggling in some way everyday #like i didn't know that the last time i saw my friends would truly be the last time we ever saw each other #i didn't know that i'd be bidding goodbye to my parents as i left home through an airport #ANYWAY ENOUGH DUMPING. ig i'm just telling you to hug the people you love tighter and cherish every moment you spend with them #time goes by really quickly and you don't know where it'll go #ily guys #ew barf feelings </3 /j

[k-hotchoisan]

Number 11 please? :3

11. One night stand with Yeosang or Morning sex with Seonghwa?

My ass be giggling and kicking my feet at this piece when I know dAMN WELL that I’m the world’s grumpiest bitch in the morning <3 enjoy!

Warnings: smut, (consensual) somnophillia, morning sex, cream pie, unprotected sex, seonghwa is rough and whiny 🤤, (slight) overstimulation

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies

K’s 500 this or that: masterlist here!

Seonghwa stirs in his sleep slightly, a quiet moan leaving his lips, feeling the rays of sunlight kiss his eyelids through the curtains. He slowly opens his eyes, and he squeezes his thighs instinctively, waking up from his fragmented dream of something inherently sexual. He doesn’t remember much of it but what he does know that he woke up with morning wood and his mind is just buzzing with clouded lust.

When his vision finally focuses, he realises two things:

One; your back is facing him. He hears your soft breathing as his eyes trace the outline of your back covered by his shirt.

Two; his erection is just pressing against your bare ass, and that his arm is wrapped around your waist.

Seonghwa considers his choices, no clarity given when he’s starting to think with his dick the more he’s instinctively pressing against you. He lets out a shaky breath as his hand snakes under your shirt, and you jolt in your sleep from his cold hands resting on your breast. He holds still for a moment, not wanting to rise you from your slumber. It’s an excuse he gives himself—to cuddle and be physically close to you when it’s evidently more than that.

The soft squeezes he gives your tits become light pinching and tugging on your nipples, soft moans leaving from his gorgeous sleeping partner, and that only weakens his resolve to do anything less than that. Seonghwa presses his lips onto the nape of your neck. At this point, he’s still careful not wake you, the prospect of it all only sending jolts of adrenaline from time to time every time he feels you shift.

His hands smooth over your thighs, slowly trailing closer and closer to the patch of fabric that’s cockblocking him. His sneaks his fingers between your thick thighs, and the moment his fingers come into contact with the wet patch of fabric, his heartbeat quickens. Fuck. You’re this wet already. So he pulls his fingers back, while his strings of rationale slowly snapping one by one.

Seonghwa then decides remove him hands from your tits to tug against the waistband of your panties downwards, stopping every time he feels you shift or groan. Nonetheless, his determination overrides his impatience—and he’s rewarded when he manages to roll your panties low enough just past your knees without disturbing you. He wonders if you are feigning your deep slumber or are you just that deep into your dreamland that you don’t notice, but that this point, his rationale is thinning. He leaves you alone, just to peel his boxers off him, sighing softly as his cock springs out of the stained undergarment, and he tosses it somewhere on the bed.

His fingers find your wet folds again, and he slips a finger in a little too easily. He pauses, taking note of any movements from you, but you remain still.

Then he adds another, the second on slipping in as easily as the first. This time, a grunt slips from you, as you sleepily clench around his fingers. Seonghwa softly curses, just wanting to stuff you full already. His fingers start fucking your wet cunt—slow and smooth movements in and out—and he hears you slowly unravel below him, your soft pants and whimpers only egging him on. Seonghwa wonders what are you dreaming of, now that you’re being fucked with his fingers, your cunt only getting wetter and wetter as he continues.

He pulls his soaked fingers out, wiping it over his nightshirt before he has his fingers back at your folds to pull them open as he lines his cockhead right at your entrance and pushes in.

He throws his head back slightly and bites his lip from making any sound, at how your pussy warms his cock up instantly, and how you’re already squeezing him. Again, he holds still for only but a quick few seconds as his reasoning falters almost immediately when he sinks into you.

He thrusts his hips into you again, but the more he does it, the more he spirals from the way your pussy is just pulling him in. Soon enough he’s practically slamming into you, albeit at his best ability not to wake you up.

Obviously that never works. The pleasure from his cock is bleeding into your consciousness as whatever fragmented erotic dream you had dissolves in your brain. You’re rather disoriented, but your eyes are rolling back in pleasure as Seonghwa has his cock fucking into you, his thrusts growing more rough now that his strings of rationale have completely snapped.

“H-Hwa”, you call out groggily, albeit in between broken moans.

Instead of answering you, his arm wraps around your chest, hand cupping your throat as he pulls you back towards him, and he nips at the nape of your neck.

“So tight, so warm. Fuck. You feel so fucking good, Angel. I love it so much”, he moans into your ear, your mind dizzy and hazed from his husky voice echoing in every nook of your mind.

Seonghwa’s free hand trails down your thighs, and your legs unhook your panties off your ankles. He lugs your free leg over his, your legs spread open as Seonghwa grunts at the new angle that’s gradually turning him more feral—your heat more sopping and inviting, and he’s fucking into you so desperately, that the sound of wet skin slapping overpowers your weak moans.

He doesn’t relent, periodically biting his lip from how much the pleasure is engulfing him, reflected by his thrusts.

“Hwa, fuck, you’re so big- I’m gonna cum-“ you cry, your fingers clawing onto his arm on your waist, the knot taut in your abdomen before completely snapping, white spots splattering beneath your eyelids as you become completely undone, creaming in loads onto Seonghwa’s cock while you cry his name, letting him fuck you through your orgasm.

“That’s it baby. Keep it coming”, he groans, feeling his high ready to wash over him when your cunt convulses around him. “Shit, I’m gonna cum too. Fuck, you feel so good.”

He ruts into you, then stilling as ropes of warm cum stain your walls, a dragged out sigh of pleasure invading your ears as Seonghwa releases into you.

The both of you lay still for a moment, catching your breaths before Seonghwa gently turns you over to face him. You have a small pout on your lips while Seonghwa wears a sheepish yet unapologetic smile before he pecks your forehead.

“Good morning, angel.”

#k’s500thisorthat🌶️ #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #smut drabble #y/n x seonghwa #seonghwa ateez #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa #seonghwa

[intoxicated-chan]

hi bae ! if you’re comfortable with writing a forced proximity with daryl when him an reader are friends that would be so cuteeee

𝐃𝐨���❜ 𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

Summary ➳ After nearly a week without proper shelter on a run, you both finally found a house, only to realize there’s one bed.

(A/n) ➳ Wasn’t sure if this what forced proximity means since the first thing that came to mind was the one bed troupe, my favorite. If you want to request again, please don’t hesitate!

Word Count ➳ 670

Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, fluff, mentions of death/corpse, sleep deprivation, light swearing, One Bed Troupe…

“We’re holdin’ up ‘ere for the night.” Daryl muttered, his eyes scanning the room.

You slumped against the wall with a heavy sigh, wiping your sweaty forehead with an arm. You watched from the corner of your eye as Daryl made sure the house you decided to spend the night in was completely safe.

You heard him groan or curse whenever he found a weak spot, you got up once to help him only for him to point you away and demanded you sleep for once.

Like he was one to talk. The dark circles under his eyes were getting darker and darker by the day. He was the toughest guy you knew but you could see him getting weaker as well.

You kicked open another room, searching cabinets for medical supplies, canned food, drinks… Anything that wasn’t or seemed expired.

You shoved whatever you could find in your bag, your nose scrunching everytime you passed the couch with a rotten corpse on it.

You held your dagger up as you opened up the next room, finding it empty but a bedroom. Seemed to be a couple’s bed.

A single bed.

“Fuck me.” Your tongue clicked, folding your dagger away.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Daryl suddenly appeared looking around the room.

“There’s one bed.” You pointed out.

“I don’ see a problem.”

“Daryl, you need to sleep. You’ve been pushin’ yourself nonstop.”

“M’fine.” Daryl left immediately, giving you no chance to refuse.

You laid in the deceased’s bed, your eyes staring at the ceiling, unable to properly sleep, something that you wanted for days now.

You knew Daryl was pacing outside, his crossbow tightly in his hands, turning his head at any sound.

You groaned, leaving the room and found Daryl sitting at the covered window, peeking through the holes.

“How long you gonna sit there?” You asked him, sitting on the ground next to him.

“Walkers ‘round. Only a matter of time ‘fore they find us.” Daryl mumbled, not taking a second to look at you.

You tugged at his arm. “Go, sleep. I’ll take watch.”

“M’fine.” Daryl repeated, more sternly.

“Daryl.”

“(Y/n).” Daryl pulled his arm back, resting on his lap. “Sleep. Ya ne’er said it, but I know yer tired.”

“I can’t sleep if I know you ain’t sleepin’.”

“Ne’er said it ‘fore.”

“‘Cause I know you were sleepin’. C’mon, at least an hour.”

Daryl shook his head. “No, go.”

You went back without a fight, knowing how stubborn he could be. After a couple minutes of thinking, you were on the verge of falling asleep until you heard the door creak open.

The soft thuds of Daryl’s shoes.

You kept your eyes closed, listening as you heard a clack. Daryl putting his crossbow up on the wall.

You felt the mattress dip under his weight. “Hey.” He whispered.

You cracked an eye open, looking up at him.

“Don’ say anythin’. I jus’... I wanna sleep.” He remained in his clothes, on top of the blanket.

A smile formed as you scooted a little closer, laying on his arm as he already felt tense.

Daryl felt your breathing slowing down, letting him know that you fell asleep.

And as you slept, you couldn’t help feeling relaxed for once.

The sun shone through the cracks of the boarded up windows. You opened your heavy eyelids, using a hand to block the sunlight.

You yawned, attempting to get up. “Don’.” You heard Daryl said, tiredly.

You had now noticed you were laying on his chest, comfortably, with his arm draped around you.

“Mornin’ to you too.” You greeted him. “Sleep wel?”

“Don’ say a damn thing.” Daryl grumbled in response, voice rough.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Too late for that, Daryl.” You teasted, poking him in the chest gently.

“Shut up.” He huffed in annoyance, but you could see the amusement in his eyes.

You both lay there for a moment longer, feeling his thumb running over your side.

“Now get off me.”

“Jus’ a couple more minutes.”

“Off.”

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

Taglist ➳ @celtic-crossbow , @mrdixon , @duffmckagansbandana , @raspberryslxt , @lor-geeked , @thegeorgiahuntsman , @snailss ,

#x reader #x female reader #fluff #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl x female reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #twd x y/n #twd x you #twd x reader #the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x reader

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Eddie doesn’t sleep until the small hours of the morning. Mostly, he spends the night going over and over things in his head, wondering at everything he’d somehow misread.

The way Steve had always stayed after they had sex. The way he’d curled close to Eddie, showering him with soft touches and affection well after he’d technically needed to. The way Steve had started cooking dinner; trying out new, fancy-sounding recipes and trying to make it special, even when it was just the two of them. The way Steve had brought Eddie fucking flowers once, and had met his skeptical look with a shrug, saying that he figured maybe no one had ever bothered to bring Eddie flowers, and “Everyone deserves to get them once in a while.”

(The way Eddie had encouraged Steve to stay, had eaten up every bit of affection and hungered for more, had nudged playfully at Steve’s feet under the table while they ate, had kept those flowers well past death and still has one pressed between the pages of a notebook.)

It had all been there, so plain that even his bandmates had seen it, but Eddie – Eddie hadn’t let himself consider for a moment that it was something he could have. And now, because he’d told himself he couldn’t have something like that, he doesn’t get to.

A self-fulfilling fucking prophesy.

He finally falls asleep, miserable and alone in his bed for the first time in weeks, and wakes to someone banging on the front door.

Full rays of sunlight are streaming through Eddie’s window, and a quick glance at the clock tells him that it’s a lot later in the morning than he’d anticipated Steve showing up to get his things. One of the few complaints Eddie has (had) about sleeping with Steve is his chronic and apparently incurable early-riserism, but it’s past eleven a.m.

It’s late enough, in fact, that Wayne has probably come home and is trying to sleep, so Eddie rolls out of bed to get to the door before the knocking wakes Wayne.

Shedding his own sleepy haze as he jogs for the door, it occurs to Eddie that Steve knows Wayne’s work schedule and that, no matter how pissed he is, he wouldn’t be petty enough to take it out on Wayne.

So then who–

Eddie pulls the door open, interrupting his visitor mid-knock, to reveal the scowling face of Robin Buckley.

–ah.

Well, Eddie can’t say he hadn’t been expecting her, but he’d sort of assumed she would come with Steve attached. He glances out towards the driveway and sees only his van, Wayne’s truck, and Robin’s bike.

“He’s not here,” Robin says, curt and sharp. “I just came to get some of his stuff.”

That, Eddie hadn’t been expecting. He knows he fucked up, he knows Steve is hurt, but so much so that he’s outright avoiding Eddie? Eddie doesn’t think there’s ever been a conflict that Steve hasn’t met head-on, and he hadn’t expected this to be an exception.

All the same, he steps aside to let Robin in, prepared to fetch whatever she needs. He’d spent part of the night wondering whether he should gather Steve’s stuff up to make it easier for him, or if that would make it look like he was eager to have Steve out of his life; he’d eventually decided to just leave everything where it is.

“He said his migraine meds are here. And his spare glasses,” Robin says, and shit, that would explain where Steve is.

“How bad is it?” Eddie asks.

“Bad.” Robin answers shortly.

Eddie nods, gesturing for Robin to follow him back towards the bathroom.

He doesn’t know much about migraines, but he’s been learning. He knows most of Steve’s triggers (prolonged loud noise, heat, no sleep, stress) and he knows how to keep things dark and calm when one hits. He’s sat with Steve through a particularly bad attack, lying in bed with him, holding him carefully, watching tears stream out from beneath closed eyelids (not an emotional response so much as a physical reaction to the overwhelming pain) and feeling like his own eyes might well up, too, for the frustration of how useless he’d felt.

He directs Robin to the medicine cabinet and leaves her there while he heads back to his bedroom for Steve’s glasses. When he comes back, he sees Robin shoving some of Steve’s hair products into her backpack and feels a pang of upset somewhere in his chest. The shampoo had been one of the first pieces of Steve that had found permanent residence at Eddie’s place, sliding in next to his own soap after Steve had spent several mornings in a row complaining about not having his usual shit to shower with.

At the time, it had only made sense for Steve to have some toiletries there, since he stayed over so often. In retrospect, Eddie can see how it could have seemed like permission – and invitation. Welcoming. (And hell – hadn’t it been?)

Eddie hands Robin the glasses, and she tucks them carefully into a side pocket.

“I can’t stay away very long,” Robin says, voice crackling with banked anger, “so if you’re going to try to give me a reason not to come back later and kill you, make it snappy.”

(Make it snappy. Eddie almost wants to laugh, sort of wants to cry; it sounds exactly like the lame kind of turn of phrase Robin would have picked up from Steve.)

For all Eddie prides himself on his ability to improvise, on his extemporaneous speeches and infamous rants, he comes up empty. He’d spent all night wondering how he could have missed it all, why he hadn’t paid more attention, and he doesn’t even have an answer for himself, much less for Robin.

All he can really tell her is, “I didn’t know.”

“Oh, bullshit, you didn’t know!” Robin snaps, and Eddie rushes to quiet her. “Don’t you shush–”

“You can be pissed, just do it quietly,” Eddie hisses. “My uncle is asleep.”

The barest fraction of ire slips from Robin’s expression, and she jerks her head back towards the living area, following behind when Eddie goes.

“We both know Steve,” she says once they’re standing by the half wall that separates the kitchen from the living room, voice lower now but no less intense. “When he loves, he does it loud. Everyone else could see it from miles away, and it was right in your face. There is no way you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t–” Eddie drags a hand down his face in aggravated uncertainty as he tries to articulate. “I didn’t know it was an option!”

Robin’s eyes narrow, arms crossing over her chest as she regards him suspiciously. “You’re gonna have to elaborate on that one, Munson.”

“I mean – I’ve hooked up with people before, and it… didn’t change anything. Sex is just sex, right? Sex with a stranger doesn’t make them less strange, sex with a bar buddy doesn’t magically make you closer, and I thought – with Steve, I just didn’t think it would – I just didn’t think,” Eddie admits. “I never thought he’d want to be more than my friend, I didn’t think he liked relationships, I figured what we had already was more than I could possibly have earned, so I just never even let it be an option. Practically fucking blinded myself, apparently. Just told myself it was ridiculous and… here we are.”

“That’s depressing as hell, first of all,” Robin says, tone still sharp, “but it’s not a good goddamn excuse. What the hell would you have even done differently if you’d thought it was an option?”

“Honestly?” Eddie gives a strained laugh, letting his head fall back and making his confession to the ceiling. “Probably the exact same fucking things, just– on purpose. Sooner. More. I would’ve… known, and I could’ve appreciated it.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and when Eddie finally looks back down, Robin’s eyes are boring into him, startling in their intensity. It feels like she’s flaying him down past the bone, down to whatever the hell is at the core of him.

“Let me make this clear: I am not on your side. I will never be on your side if it comes down to you or Steve,” Robin says slowly, and Eddie only nods, because he knows that already. “Because, you know, I have never seen him happier than when he was with you – or when he thought he was with you, or whatever the fuck happened. But I have also never seen him more upset than he was last night, and I never want to see it again. You fucking crushed him, Eddie. You made him feel like he was stupid for seeing things that weren’t there, you treated everything the two of you did together like it meant nothing, you humiliated him in front of your friends–”

Eddie winces. “I didn’t mean–”

“I know,” Robin cuts in sharply. “If I thought you’d done any of that on purpose, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I’d probably already be crossing state lines to avoid murder charges. I know you didn’t mean to, but that’s not a fucking excuse. It still happened.”

“Okay, I know I fucked up. I know,” Eddie grinds out. “But you can’t get on my ass for not acknowledging a relationship I didn’t even know I was in. We never talked about it, okay?”

“It’s not about the relationship!” Robin only just keeps her voice to a hushed yell. “Should Steve have tried to talk to you seriously about it? Put a real label to it? Probably, yeah! But you–” she jabs a finger at him, “you didn’t pay any attention to him. You didn’t think about whether his feelings might change, you didn’t think about why he was acting differently around you, you didn’t think at all, you just took.”

Eddie opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He wants to argue that Steve is an adult who can make his own decisions, who had made his own decision, and he certainly hadn’t started sleeping with Eddie blindly. He wants to say that Steve had known what it meant to fall into bed with him, but he’s starting to understand that maybe he’s the one who hadn’t realized what it meant to fall into bed with Steve.

“You took him for granted, and that’s– that’s the worst part in all of this. Even if you were in some bullshit friends with benefits arrangement, you’re still supposed to be friends, but you just–” Robin pauses, pursing her lips around a frown. “People don’t fight for Steve, you know that? They just– I don’t know why, but they don’t, and it makes me so fucking angry, because he just gives people everything, without even thinking about it. He makes loving people look so easy that they forget that it's not and they take it for granted. They don’t treat it like it’s something special to hold onto. And I didn’t think you would be on the list of people who let him down like that.”

Eddie sort of wishes Robin had just tried to hit him instead. It would hurt less.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to fix this,” he admits. “You can yell at me all you want, and I’ll deserve it, but that’s not going to make it better. It’s not gonna make me suddenly able to un-fuck everything up.”

“I’m yelling at you because I want you to understand exactly what you did,” Robin says. “Because he’s going to forgive you.”

“He’s– what?” Eddie asks brows furrowed.

“We both know he is. Of course he’s going to forgive you. He’s probably already halfway to convincing himself this was all his fault. I’m not saying he won’t be angry and hurt for a while, but– he’ll forgive you, and he’ll want to be your friend again,” Robin says, low and serious. “So, no, you can’t un-fuck up. But make sure you’re worth that forgiveness.”

Eddie isn’t sure what to say to that. He isn’t sure there is anything to say to that. But it seems like Robin is done with him anyway. She hikes her bag higher up on her shoulders and turns for the door.

“Hey,” he finally manages, and Robin turns back to cut an impatient look at him. “I can give you a ride back. If you want. Get the meds back to him faster.”

“I can get back just fine,” Robin says, pulling the door open and tossing one last shot back at him as she leaves. “You were fine dismissing him last night – why start caring now?”

The door bangs shut behind her, robbing Eddie of the chance to argue – and he would have, because he does. He fucking does care about Steve. And if Steve gives him the chance, Eddie is going to fucking prove it.

No one fights for Steve? Fine. Then Eddie’s going to start right now.

Part 4

-

Tags: @bushbees, @y0urnewstepp4r3nt

#steddie #platonic stobin #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #robin gets to be a little mean. as a treat :) #solar wrote #solar gave this series a name #which is unfortunate but we all have to live with it now

[5starluvr]

Skz waking you up with kisses

[Genre:fluff]

[Warnings:none]

[Request: may i request skz waking up reader with kisses? it can be fluff or smut, whatever you’re in the mood for]

Bangchan

The sun's gentle rays crept through the curtains, painting the room in a warm glow.Chan couldn't help but smile as he watched his lover peacefully asleep. He leaned in, planting soft kisses on your forehead, gradually waking you with affectionate whispers and kisses.

You stirred eyes fluttering open to find Chan’s adoring gaze. "Good morning babygirl," he murmured, a grin spreading across his face.Your guy’s day began with shared smiles and the lingering sweetness of morning kisses.

Minho

As the morning sunlight gently kissed the room, Minho couldn't resist the urge to wake up his lover with a series of tender kisses. He leaned in, planting soft kisses on your forehead, each one delivering a silent message of love and affection.You stirred, a sleepy smile forming on your lips as you felt the warmth of Minho’s affection.

Slowly, Minho moved to your cheeks, savoring the delicate moment as your eyes fluttered open.Your gaze met his, and he whispered, "Good morning,Kitty." Y/n drowsiness melted away, replaced by a soft glow of happiness.Minho continued to shower you with kisses, expressing the love that words often fall short of.

Changbin

As the first light of morning painted the room in a soft glow, Changbin couldn't resist the urge to wake you up with a gentle kiss. He leaned in, planting a soft kiss on your forehead, hoping to stir you from your dreams without disrupting the peacefulness of the moment. You stirred slightly, a faint smile dancing on your lips as you began to wake.

Not content with just one, Changbin continued to place tender kisses along your cheek, savoring the warmth of the morning and the closeness they shared.Eyes fluttered open and you greeted him with a sleepy but affectionate smile.

"Good morning," he whispered, his eyes filled with adoration

Hyunjin

As the morning sun painted the room with a gentle glow,Hyunjin couldn't resist the temptation to wake up his sleeping girlfriend with sweet kisses. He leaned in, planting soft kisses on your forehead, gradually moving down to her cheeks.

You stirred, a faint smile forming on your lips as you slowly opened your eyes. The room was filled with a warmth that transcended the sunlight, and Hyunjin continued to shower you with affectionate kisses.Your sleepy gaze met his, and you couldn't help but reciprocate with a tender smile.

"Good morning, flower,"Hyunjin whispered, his voice a gentle melody. You’re still nestled in the coziness of your shared moments, replied with a contented sigh. It was a quiet morning ritual that spoke volumes, expressing love through the simplicity of those tender morning kisses.

Han

As the morning sun painted the room in a soft glow,Han couldn't resist the urge to wake you up in the sweetest way possible. Gently, he leaned in and planted a cascade of soft kisses on your forehead, savoring the warmth of the moment. Slowly, your eyelids fluttered open, revealing a sleepy but delighted smile.

"Good morning, beautiful,"Han whispered, his voice carrying the warmth of affection.Y/n, still half in a dream, stretched and let out a content sigh.

Their morning was bathed in the gentle exchange of whispered words and shared smiles, setting the tone for a day filled with love and connection.

Felix

As the morning sun painted soft hues across the room, Felix couldn't resist the urge to wake up his girlfriend in the sweetest way possible. He leaned in, planting gentle kisses on your forehead, hoping to stir you from the realm of dreams. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, greeted by the warmth of his affection.

Y/n’a sleepy gaze met Felix’s loving eyes, and a soft smile played on her lips. The room was filled with a quiet, intimate moment as he continued to shower you with tender kisses, each one a whisper of his love. With a contented sigh, you embraced the morning with a heart full of warmth, grateful for the sweet awakening orchestrated by Felix’s affectionate gestures.

Seungmin

As the morning sun painted the room in gentle hues, Seungmin couldn't resist the urge to wake you up in the sweetest way possible. Softly, he pressed tender kisses on your forehead, gradually moving to your cheeks and finally reaching your lips.Y/n stirred, your eyes fluttering open with a smile as you were greeted by the warmth of Seungmin’s affectionate wake-up call. The day began with a shared moment of love, setting the tone for countless more to come.

Jeongin

As the morning sun gently kissed the room with its warm glow,Jeongin couldn't resist waking you up with a series of tender kisses. The soft touch of lips on your forehead gradually stirred you from your slumber. Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, greeted by the affectionate gaze of jeongin , whose smile radiated love.

"Good morning, sleepyhead,"Jeongin whispered, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek.Drowsy smile transformed into a contented one as you snuggled closer, savoring the warmth of the moment.

At that moment, words were unnecessary. The language of kisses spoke volumes, conveying a depth of emotion that bound them together.

#stray kids #bang chan #han jisung #lee felix #changbin #hyunjin #jeongin #lee know #seungmin #skz fluff #skz headcanons #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz imagine #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz #skz felix #skz hyunjin #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids reactions #skz reactions #bangchan scenarios #seungmin x reader #s

[hannyoontify]

dream - yoon jeonghan

member | jeonghan x reader

genre | pure. teeth-rotting. fluff. js kie going through jeonghan brain rot

word count | 2.8k

synopsis | jeonghan pinches your cheek to remind you that this isn’t a dream

warnings | ass-grabbing?? but in a non-sexual way, lots of cheesy pick-up lines and flirting, reader and jeonghan are absolutely down bad for each other and it’s sickening

notes | my baby :((( i hope he feels better soon

Jeonghan’s eyes fluttered open as the pale sunlight seeped in through the bedroom window and curtains, casting bright rays of light onto the walls. Jeonghan could hear your soft, stable breathing next to him and rolled over to face your sleeping figure. You looked so peaceful asleep, your usual creases of worry were nowhere to be seen. Rather, it was replaced by a look of serenity and Jeonghan smiled endearingly as you wrinkled your nose in your sleep. He rubbed his eyes and draped a lazy arm over your waist, quietly watching you as you slept. He tried matching his breath with yours, but it only left him wheezing and breathless. 

His eyes roamed around your face, starting from your soft lips that jutted out in your sleep. Your nose that Jeonghan loved to kiss. That small tear mole on your cheek that mirrored his own. He admired the swell of your cheeks and traveled up to your closed eyelids. Jeonghan’s eyes trailed back down to your lips, which now were slightly parted, revealing the slightest bit of your teeth. He leaned over to press a quick kiss to your lips, smiling against your lips. You stirred a bit, which startled Jeonghan, but remained asleep. 

Jeonghan propped his head up with one hand, the other still draped over your waist, and watched you sleep, watching your chest rise and fall in a rhythmic pattern. After a while, (Jeonghan doesn’t really know how long it’s been–it could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours–he always had a horrible sense of time when it concerned you) your eyes opened and reached up above your head for a stretch.

“G’morning, sunshine.” Jeonghan whispered as you twisted around to get another stretch. Your hair was mussed and a mess, but he couldn’t care less.

“Morning, Hannie,” you mumbled as you scooched into his warm embrace. You pressed your face into his chest. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“Yeah.”

And although he couldn’t see your smile, he could hear it in your voice. “You’re such a creep.”

Jeonghan simply hummed and traced shapes on your back as you stayed in his warm embrace for just a little longer. You (unfortunately) pulled away and rubbed at your sleepy eyes and Jeonghan leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead.

“We need to make breakfast.” you muttered and threw the duvet off to get out of bed. 

“Oh, no you’re not.” Jeonghan’s strong grip on your waist kept you from going anywhere, and he wrestled you back into a tight cocoon of blankets. “You’re staying here today. I’ll make breakfast.”

You didn’t respond and looked at Jeonghan with a delighted look, your eyes sparkling. Your husband’s cooking was always a delight–and a surprise. You never knew if you were gonna get a Michelin star worthy meal or a barely edible looking lump of burnt… something. But judging by the soft look in Jeonghan’s eyes, you had a feeling you were going to get the former today. 

He reached over and pressed a gentle kiss on your lips, his warm hand cupping your cheek. The metal ring resting on his ring finger felt cold against your face, raising goosebumps on your skin. You smiled into the kiss and giggled as Jeonghan pulled away with a lovestruck look in his eyes. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

You felt your cheeks burning up at what he said and waved him away. “What’s with that cheesy line? We’ve been married for 5 years now, Hannie.”

“Exactly, and each day is better than the last.” Jeonghan pressed one last kiss on your forehead before disappearing into the hallway. You rolled your eyes at your cheesy husband and nestled into the blanket cocoon he stuck you in.

In the kitchen, Jeonghan was bustling about with a boyish grin stuck on his face. He loved doing these things for you; you were never an early bird and struggled to get out of bed and Jeonghan was always willing to do these things for you. After almost dropping two raw eggs and chipping a porcelain plate, your breakfast was ready to be served. 

Just as Jeonghan was ready to bring a tray into your shared bedroom, you shuffled out, still wrapped up in the blanket wrap he had put you in earlier. The edges of the blanket dragged along the floor as you sauntered up to the kitchen island and looked at Jeonghan with an expectant smile.

“Breakfast is served.” Jeonghan tipped his non-existent top hat and grandly gestured to the plate he laid out in front of you. The smell of the toasting bagel was what had drawn you out of bed, and the food looked better than it smelled(? Did that make sense? You didn’t know but you really didn’t care because you were so damn hungry).

Leaning on the opposite of the kitchen island as you, Jeonghan watched you inhale the bagel slathered in cream cheese, a bit of the spread smeared on your cheek. He reached over and wiped it away with his thumb, which made you cover your face in embarrassment and he laughed.

Jeonghan loved these kinds of mornings with you, a slow start to your day with no responsibilities. He could lie in bed with you as much as he wanted and he could press gentle kisses on your soft lips as much as he wanted to. 

He sighed and rested his head against his hand on the counter, his eyes full of endearment as he watched you enjoy your breakfast. You caught Jeonghan’s eye mid-bite and smiled sheepishly. “What?”

Jeonghan felt his own lips tugging up into a small smile. “Nothing, I just love you.”

He paused for a moment. 

“And sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream. I get scared that I made all this up in my mind and I’ll wake up any second as the loser I was seven years before I met you.”

You frowned. “You weren’t a loser, baby. You just hadn’t hit your prime yet.”

“In my mid-20’s? Sure babe.”

“Baby, don’t talk about yourself like that. I know for a fact I didn’t fall in love with a loser,” You pouted with more cream cheese on your lips. Jeonghan grinned like a middle school boy falling in love for the first time. As he bent over to kiss it off your lips, you reached for his hand and rubbed a soothing thumb over the back of his knuckles, feeling and committing to memory, every groove and channel etched onto his hand leading to his slender fingers.

When Jeonghan pulled away, it was your turn to reach over and pinch his cheek. “Ow, what was that for?” Your husband pouted and rested both hands on the edge of the marble countertop, slightly bent over at the waist to maintain eye contact with you. 

You smiled mischievously, but soon, the cheeky look in your eyes softened into an endearing one. “You felt that, right? I promise you, my love, this isn’t a dream.” You walked around the kitchen island and ducked under his arm to cage yourself between his body and the countertop. 

In a much softer voice, you said, “If this was a dream, I wouldn’t be able to do this…” you wrapped your arms around his torso and squeezed tightly, pressing your face into his chest and inhaling the scent of his body wash and your laundry detergent. The smell of home. “Or this.”

You reached behind Jeonghan and grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed. Hard.

“YOWCH!" Jeonghan rested his head on your shoulder and whined as you simply giggled into his chest. "Honey…”

It’s a languid and lazy afternoon; Jeonghan’s favorite kind. Even the weather seemed to act idle, the way the October sun hid itself in the clouds, refusing to reveal its face for the thousands of bustling people in the heart of Seoul.

Similar to the sun, you were also currently refusing to reveal yourself to Jeonghan. You hid your face in the sleeve of your sweater as Jeonghan whined. “Honey… it’s nothing to be embarrassed of! It happens to everyone. I wanna see your gorgeous face.”

You said something that was muffled by the fabric of your sweater and Jeonghan stopped walking to bend over to hear you better. “It’mmfs embarramffing.”

“What’s so embarrassing about a zit? I get them all the time!” Jeonghan said loudly, his chest puffed out with pride. It was your turn to whine this time as you hit his arm with a stifled giggle. Jeonghan’s face suddenly turned serious and he turned to face you. He gently pried your hands out of your face and held them in his own. “Baby, I love you and your face just the way that they are. No amount of zits or acne or bug bites is ever gonna change that. Okay? So let me see your absolute drop dead gorgeous face.”

You couldn't help but smile at his heart-warming ment and Jeonghan immediately brought a hand to his heart and pretended to faint. “They’re too lovely! Catch me, I think I’m falling for you!” 

You couldn’t hide your groan this time as Jeonghan slumped into your arms dramatically, imitating the flatlining sound of a heart monitor. “You’re the corniest person I’ve ever met.”

Jeonghan looked up from his place in your eyes and flashed you a blinding smile. “But you love it.”

“I would beg to differ.”

“Baby!” 

After lots of consoling and reassuring (and kisses), you were able to convince Jeonghan that you did, indeed, love his corny pick-up lines, and stand upright again to continue your late afternoon stroll in the neighborhood park. 

Hand in hand, the two of you continued your walk in silence. Jeonghan’s fingers were entwined with yours, his palm radiating with heat and comfort as he occasionally stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. The soft crunch of leaves under your feet and the soft, gentle breeze blowing past were the only sounds Jeonghan could hear. 

He heard you gasp softly and he looked over to see what had grabbed your attention. You tugged on Jeonghan’s sleeve and pointed towards a pathway to the right, where bright flowers were blooming.

“I wanna walk through there.” You whispered excitedly. 

Jeonghan didn’t know why you were whispering, but matched your volume nonetheless. “Let’s go, then.”

You began walking towards the direction of the flowers and Jeonghan lingered behind, watching you bound and leap towards the plants. When he caught up to you, you were already bent over, admiring the vibrant colors. As you began reaching out to pick one, Jeonghan grabbed your hand and pulled you upright. 

“It’s okay, I’ll do it for you.” Jeonghan bent over in your stead and picked out the prettiest flower he could find in the patch (that was within reach. Jeonghan loved you but he didn’t have the heart to step on plants to get a flower). He spotted a dandelion and he reached for it as well before straightening his back and looking at you with a proud smile. 

You stifled a giggle as Jeonghan gave you a once-over with a love-sick look in his eyes before he stepped closer to you and tucked the flower behind your ear. 

“What’s so funny, angel?” Jeonghan asked in a hushed voice. His dark brown eyes stared into your own. They were delicate and sweet as enticing pools of swirling dark chocolate, like a glowing light with flecks of gold reflecting the dull sun’s shine. 

“Nothing, I just feel like the main character in a cheesy rom-com movie,” You whispered. “Like you said earlier, I really hope this isn’t a dream.” 

This time, it was Jeonghan’s turn to reach over with his free hand—which wasn’t soaked in the sticky sap from the stem from the dandelion he picked earlier—and pinch your cheek. You pouted but Jeonghan simply reached over and pressed a quick kiss to your lips and rested his forehead on your own.

“It’s not a dream, okay? Here, we can blow and make a wish on this dandelion and wish for us to be happy together, just like we are now, until forever and after. Until the ends of the earth.”

Jeonghan revealed the dandelion to you and placed it between your two lips. “Make a wish,” Both of you screwed your eyes shut, desperately wishing and praying that the two of you will always be happy forever in each other’s arms. “And blow.”

Hundreds of white, cotton-like bristles flew in every direction–but mostly into your mouth. Due to Jeonghan’s poor calculations, he blew a millisecond before you did and sent all the bristes flying into your mouth. However, Jeonghan wasn’t left unpunished by the gods. 

The two of you pulled away, violently hacking and coughing as you tried to spit out all the fine needle-like substances out of your mouth, and Jeonghan began reaching in and swiping at his mouth and tongue.

A moment of silence.

“… Thath wath a lot leth romantic than I exthpected,” Jeonghan said. You gave him a look before bursting into laughter. He joined you soon after and the two of you doubled over, holding onto your stomachs for dear life until tears sprung out of your eyes.

Wiping away a stray tear, Jeonghan offered you a hand with a faint smile. “Let’th go home.”

If Jeonghan had to pick and name one place in your shared home as his favorite spot, he would pick the balcony with no hesitation. It was where the two of you shared your first meal together as a married couple in your new house, as none of your furniture had arrived, so the two of you sat on the floor of the balcony and watched the sun set over the skyline of Seoul and watched the nightlife come to life. 

It was where some of the most quiet, intimate moments that Jeonghan shared with you took place. Late night talks full of giggles and nonsense. It was also where the two of you had your serious conversations. Stolen kisses, hushed whispered, loving glances. In short, the balcony held a lot of memories for you and Jeonghan.

The balcony has changed a lot since the first night you and Jeonghan ate jjajangmyeon on the floor of the balcony. The railing was decorated with fairy lights and there were two lawn chairs and a coffee table—perfect for your late night talks.

Today, you and Jeonghan opted to stand. Your husband’s arms were on either side of you, trapping you between his warm body and the railing. His body acted as a wall of protection from the cold wind. Jeonghan nuzzled his face into your hair and inhaled, breathing in the soft scent of your shampoo and sighed in content.

You stared out into the sky, watching the sun set lowly over busy Seoul when Jeonghan spoke lowly into your ear. “What are you thinking about, angel?” His warm breath tickled your ear. The sun was a bright shade of red as it bid farewell to your side of the world, ready to pass the imaginary baton to the moon. Streaks of bright red, orange, and yellow pierced through the sky and cast shadow where the clouds were. It was like a painting. 

“Nothing, just… looking.”

Your husband sighed and rested his chin on your shoulder. After a beat of silence, he spoke again. “I love you, a lot. You know that, right?”

You hummed. “Of course I do,” You reached behind you and lightly ran your fingers through Jeonghan’s hair, the silk strands slipping through your fingertips. “And I love you too. So much.”

Jeonghan’s heart suddenly swelled with the immeasurable amount of love he felt for you in that moment. He buried his face in your hair to try and hide his welling tears, but his sniffling gave him away.

“Hannie? Are you crying?” You don’t wait for a response. You whipped around and held your loving husband’s face in your hands as he sniffled, his sparkly eyes tinged with red as a single tear streamed down his cheek. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Jeonghan nodded and smiled through his tears. “I just.. love you. So much. I never want to forget this moment with you. I want to treasure all the memories we share forever, locked in a vault in my mind so I can remember it for all of eternity.”

You gently pinched his cheek. “Not a dream, right?” Jeonghan nodded. “As long as I’m here with you, by your side, you’ll always remember the warmth and the love that we share.”

Jeonghan pulled you in by your waist and captured your lips with his soft ones. He pressed your body tightly against him, sharing your body warmth. You wrapped your arms around his neck as his mouth moved against yours, making you lose track of all sense and time. 

“I love you,” Jeonghan mumbled softly against your lips, as if it were a secret just for you to hear. “Always have, always will.”

“Me too, Hannie. I’ll love you for as long as you use those cheesy pick-up lines.”

“You’re never hearing the end of those.”

“I really hope not.”

reblogs and feedback is always appreicated ^-^

#hannyoontify.works #caratlibrary #seventeen #svt #seventeen fluff #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen jeonghan #jeonghan #jeonghan fluff #svt fluff #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan fluff #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fic #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #svt fic #svt scenarios