#really wanting to get back there but it feel unattainable at the moment | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jiminrings · 2 months

Text

fail-safe

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.

The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.

He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.

You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.

Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.

He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.

He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.

You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.

Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.

“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”

He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.

He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.

“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”

“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.

“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”

“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”

You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”

“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.

You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.

You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.

You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane.

You go where your love goes.

“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.

“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.

“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.

“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.

“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.

He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.

Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She’s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.

“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.

“Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it. “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”

It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.

“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”

“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”

He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.

“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.

He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.

Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.

“Did you win?”

“Nope.”

“Let me throw that out for you.”

“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. “I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”

“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”

“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”

Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.

“Sure.”

( ♡ )

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye.

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself.

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.”

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot.

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.”

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion.

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

“You can have the helmet.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.

He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.

Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place.

It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.

You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.

“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.

“Why are you up?”

“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor.

“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.

It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.

You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to. You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.

Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.

“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.

“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.

You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”

“But that’s still easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.

He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”

Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.

You’ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.

“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”

You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.

“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder.

You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”

“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.

He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm.”

“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”

He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.

Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.

You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.

He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.

Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.

( ♡ )

Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.

Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.

When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.

You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.

Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation.

It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears.

“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.

Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.”

The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.

You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.

Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”

He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her.

Yoongi’s your next plausible option.

“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Heh.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”

You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”

“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.

The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.

“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.

“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,

“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.

Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”

“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.

“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know, try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”

“But it is.”

You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.

You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.

By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.

The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.

He thinks that you don’t get him at all.

“What do you meandon’t?”

Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”

Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.

“Can you be my first kiss?”

“Are you insane?”

“Ugh.”

You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.

You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.

You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.

“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”

“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.

“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.

You try until the solemnness turns into pity.

“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”

Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

( ♡ )

You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.

You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts.

You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you��re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.

Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.

Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.

Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.

You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.

“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.

“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”

“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.

He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”

“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”

“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”

You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.

You leave your home without saying another word.

Namjoon’s panicked.

He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.

He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.

Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.

He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.

The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.

Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.

It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.

“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.

Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”

Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.

“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.

“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”

Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”

It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas.

Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.

They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with.

Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it.

There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.

“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.

“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.

“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”

The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”

You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.

Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.

#HOW R WE FEELING TARGET AUDIENCE!!! :O #yoongi imagine #yoongi oneshot #yoongi oneshots #yoongi series #yoongi angst #yoongi angst imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi au #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts yoongi imagine #bts yoongi x reader

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nayatarot777 · 4 months

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how do they view you? • love/crush pick-a-card

i don’t do love readings usually (because they’re just usually not of interest to me) but i’m trying to soften my heart so here’s a lil something for you guys 😂

• pile one •

your person views you as someone who can be very verbally defensive or someone who can really hurt people with their words. the things that you say could be very harsh or damaging. i’m also seeing that they may view you as argumentative, whether this energy is directed towards them or other people. they do view you as very unattainable to them - perhaps because of all of this energy - but they also see you as extremely intuitive and psychic. you know things that not just anyone could see or know. they also feel like you’re quick to speak up for yourself when you realise that some bs is going on. and i feel like they recognise that situations that someone is trying to bully you in or play you in some way are the situations when you can get very vicious with your words. you’re quiet and perceptive for the most part until you need to defend yourself. there’s another card about you having very strong boundaries and being defensive - again, whether this is just with them or other people. this plays into the viewpoint of you being unattainable for them. you don’t play about your energy so when someone fucks with your energy you’re quick to put them back in their place and put up boundaries between the two of you. they view you as someone who doesn’t play around. i’m living for your energy, pile one, i’m ngl 😂. dark feminine energy to the fullest 👏🏾

this person might not know how to feel about you. they have multiple feelings about you that they can’t really make sense of. they also view you as someone who has many options in your love life. like you could have anyone that you want. and that’s probably from your high standards and your boundaries. because they know that you know this already. they view you as someone who’s emotions mix with their logic. they believe that if it doesn’t make sense for you to love someone - you won’t. it’s as simple as that. i feel like you guys aren’t the people who can easily be played because you won’t allow yourself to be played again and again by the same person. you have too much awareness of your worth and what you’re deserving of for that bullshit. they feel like you’re quick to cut off people who you’re romantically involved with if they try to play games with you. you’re not one of those people who settle for less than what you know you’re deserving of. you’re extremely loving. but you’re not a fool with your love. you rationally think about where and who you should direct it to. who deserves it and who doesn’t. so whoever’s coming towards you needs to come correct. periodddd 💅🏾

i love this 🤭

find the extended audio reading about how they feel about you here on patreon

• pile two •

your person views you as extremely self-sufficient. self-sufficient in terms of your finances, physical stability, and/or your self esteem. they don’t view you as someone who relies on another person for anything that you know you can give to yourself. and even if you feel like you can’t give something to yourself in the current moment, you will find a way to get it for yourself. you could definitely be in a relationship with this person already. if so, then they feel like you’ve helped them to build a really successful life with you. you’ve made it easy to create a happy life, a happy home, and/or a happy family. for those of you who haven’t done those things with this person, then they view you as someone who they could have a really good relationship with. because they believe that you’re very good at teamwork. at working with someone to create stability. they may feel like your independence and your hard work to build stability for yourself is fuelled by a lot of pain and trauma. perhaps childhood trauma from when you didn’t have (or were prevented from having) stability and happiness growing up. for someone specific, this person knows about a divorce or a splitting of your family - whether this is your split or your parents’. and they believe that’s why you prioritise your self-stability and creating happy connections and spaces for you to thrive in.

you’re a go-getter, pile two. you have extremely strong masculine energy regardless of your gender. they view you as a creative. a visionary that will always go after your goals in the most efficient way possible. they also view you as a great leader. especially if you’re a boss/managers/in a position of authority at work. or if you’re the one who primarily runs things in your household. they just view you as someone who’s constantly knowing how to direct people to work together to create harmony in the workplace or at home. and if not, then they just view you as someone who has mastered self-governance (another thing that you could’ve been prevented from in the past). they view you as someone who has been through a lot in life. someone who has been hurt and beaten down repetitively. but you’re still standing and putting in the work to maintain yourself in life. you’re not someone who gives up despite all of the bs that’s thrown your way. due to all of your negative experiences and trauma, you’re someone with extremely strong boundaries. someone who’s very protective of self and of the people who you love and care for (such as your family). if any of you are parents, this person views you as a mama/papa bear 😂. they feel sorry for anyone who tests your kids lmaoo. they can tell that you’re someone who fights your hardest to defend your loved ones from the feelings and experiences that you’ve had to endure yourself. there’s a lot of respect for you from this person because of your history - and because you’ve accumulated so much self respect for yourself despite all of this.

find the extended audio reading about how they feel about you here on patreon

• pile three •

just like pile one, your person views you as someone who knows how to defend yourself in arguments or from verbal attacks. there’s also something about you being stubborn with your beliefs or what you know. once you know something about someone or a situation, nobody can tell you shit. you stick to what you know and what you believe. you’re not easily manipulated. you’re someone who’s also an extremely hard worker. you’re viewed by this person as someone who’s focused on really perfecting your craft. maybe even a perfectionist as a character trait. and now i’m hearing “one track mind”. when you’re focused on something, you’re FOCUSED. they believe that you have a lot of places that you want to go in life, and it seems like you’re always moving forward onto the next thing to work on and perfect. they see you as someone who has the whole world in your hands and you’re not stopping for anyone.

they feel like they don’t know that much about you. like you’re secretive (whether this is purposeful or not). they can’t just guess your personality or what type of person you are with other people like they might be able to with others. they do view you as someone who’s extremely sweet and kind though. and this might surprise them in a way, because it’s not commonly seen from you - at least to them. there’s a masculine energy to you that has flickers of really feminine, sweet, loving energy - and that’s probably why they can’t make much sense of you. you’re extremely focused on work, it seems. or on your own personal development journey. they see you as someone who’s going after creating the life that you want. they can tell that you’re serious about your life. your person views you as someone with A LOT of potential. but not even just in terms of a relationship, but in terms of your life in general. they can tell that you go after opportunities - especially opportunities with work and money.

i had to pull more cards for you guys than i did for the other piles, and i really feel like it’s because this person barely knows anything about you. but they definitely admire the little about you that they do see.

find the extended audio reading about how they feel about you here on patreon

#pick a card #psychic readings #pac #tarot reading #pick a photo #tarot #pac reading #pick a picture #pick a card reading #tarot pick a card #pick a pile #pac readings #pac tarot

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 1 year

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Can we get some more jealous Wednesday from you your writing is just so great! Maybe an angsty thing where Wednesday has a friends with benefits situation with reader and they get into an argument about it and reader avoids her for the next few days hanging out with another person and Wednesday watches this all go down and as days go by getting more jealous how touchy this person has been and she drags reader away up to her room and could you give it either a fluffy or smutty ending please? 👀

casual love

masterlist word count: 2332

any ‘wednesday’ fic i do will be set at ‘nevermore university’ so the minimum age of any character will be 18

wednesday addams x fem!reader

18+ : angst with a happy ending, smut; fingering, brief choking, heated kissing, jealousy, implied dom/sub, pretty soft smut tho

A secret, that’s what you were. Just a way to pass time in the privacy of her dark room, it didn’t mean anything to her and it didn’t to you to begin with. A casual relationship is what you both had agreed upon, no strings, no feelings, just a tryst. A way for you to blow off steam.

And it was great, it really was. Until you let your heart control you - but it happened all at once. You didn’t notice until it was too late, the way she kissed you felt different and any compliment she gave in passing made you bashful. What once was meaningless sex suddenly meant something to you; you had fallen for the painfully unattainable Wednesday Addams and she was none the wiser.

It was bittersweet. You’d often imagined your first love, how you’d get butterflies around them and their kiss would feel like fireworks, how their lips would taste oh so sweet and when you’d hug you’d never want to let go. But expectations only hurt you in the end.

The worst part of it all is that you were right, you had fallen down the rabbit hole of romantic cliches with flushing cheeks and an eager excitement at the knowledge of her company. You’d fix your appearance any time she’d knock on your dorm’s door and greet her with a smile, a swirling in your belly when she’d give you a smile in return.

It was all you’d imagined but it wasn’t real. Feeling this way was forbidden, as stated in the agreement the pair of you had made. So now each sweet kiss comes with a sour aftertaste and the sex leaves you feeling empty, clinging onto something you can never truly have. You think it’s better to have her like this than not at all, but how long can it last?

So you’re holding on to a hope that you know will crush you, the idea that she could feel the same. Lying beside her half naked in your bed after an evening of lust all you can do to stop the nauseating sadness is stare up at your ceiling. The way her arm brushes against yours gives you goosebumps and it’s enough to make you cry.

“Wednesday, I’m not sure I can do this anymore.” The words came out before you had a chance to think them through. You couldn’t look at her, focusing instead on the lightbulbs dimly lit filament with your nails picking at a loose thread in the material of your t-shirt.

“Why not?”

You coughed to clear your throat, sadness beginning its change into anger at the way she seemed so unbothered. Any chance of quelling the simmering feelings was that hope you clung onto but you’d be a fool to entertain the idea of her loving you back.

“Because I broke our number one rule.” You sighed, wiping the tear that fell from the corner of your eye before it reached the pillow. You thought you heard her breath hitch and that glint of possibility flickered for a moment until all she said was ‘oh’. You kept quiet, you both did, with Wednesday leaning against the headboard and you feeling hot with embarrassment. With sadness. And anger.

“I suppose we should stop this, then.” She spoke, classically indifferent just as always. You’d usually find it endearing but right now all it does is heighten that bubbling fury. “I thought we’d agreed to keep feelings out of this-”

“Get out, Wednesday.” You interrupted through clenched teeth but she just looked at you, lips parting for just a second as though she was about to speak and when she didn’t words rose from your throat like acid. “I said. Get. Out.” You sat up to look at her, gesturing towards the door, watching as she noticed the pure anger over your face and the glazed over eyes, whites turning pink with held back tears.

You didn’t watch her as she left, fixing your gaze on your hands in your lap with the tears spilling now, causing you to gasp out a sob with the aching in your chest.

–

Wednesday didn’t truly understand what she was feeling, feeling much at all was rather new to her so this strange hollow sensation doesn’t make sense. She wandered the hallways back to her own dorm with her eyes cast down, wondering why you had to spoil it.

She thought it had been going well, she wasn’t like her parents with how obsessed with all things romance they are, she didn’t need love. What she needed was something to pass the time, to satisfy the urges that she finds herself having. She would never fall in love.

Wednesday didn’t care, not at all, she didn’t return your feelings so what issue is it if you try to move on with somebody else? She doesn’t care when, the next day, you quite obviously avoid even glancing in her direction. Keeping your eyes so far away it was as though she was an eclipse.

It definitely didn’t bother her to see you spending more and more time with Bianca over the following few days, laughing in her company and allowing her hand to linger on your arm. Anyone would imagine themselves crushing the offending hand with a hammer and some brute force - it didn’t mean anything.

“Wednesday, go and talk to her.” Enid spoke with a nudge to her best friend’s arm. You were lingering in the hallway with Bianca and Yoko and Wednesday had barely taken her eyes off you. Enid saw the way she looked at you, longingly and in adoration, if only her best friend wasn’t so oblivious.

“Why would I do that?” She muttered in response, dragging her eyes away from where you laughed, leaning into Bianca’s side in a much too close fashion for Wednesday’s liking.

“Because you obviously care about her.”

“You’re delusional Enid, I think those nail polish fumes are getting to your brain.”

“And you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, I just don’t see how she could’ve moved on so quickly.”

“I thought you weren’t an official thing?” Enid answered with a teasing smile, catching Wednesday in a little bit of her own logic.

“We weren’t. I’m not like my parents, Enid. I don’t fall in love, I don’t get butterflies in my stomach or whatever other nauseating concepts you all like to babble about. It wasn’t anything, it was just casual.”

“People who don’t have feelings for somebody usually don’t stare down anybody who so much as puts an arm around them. Whether you like it or not, Wednesday Addams, you have been bitten by the love bug.” She grinned, a perfect contrast to the scowl on Wednesday’s face.

“I can assure you no insect has bitten me, I’d rather enjoy such a thing.” She muttered, crossing her arms in front of her chest in annoyance, a burning anger bubbling inside of her at the sight of your head leaning against Bianca’s arm as the three of you chatted.

“You laugh at the things she says-”

“I find her amusing.”

“You invited her to our dorm to watch movies.”

“We have the same taste.”

“You let her read your manuscripts.”

“She’s one of the only intelligent people around here.” Wednesday shrugged.

“You know her coffee order, you bought her her favourite book, you let her meet your parents, you-”

“Enid. You may be my best friend but I am not immune to the annoyance of your incessant rambling.” She interrupted her with a raise of her hand.

“My point is, you have feelings for her. And they’re definitely not negative ones.” Enid returned with a smirk. “And you’re definitely jealous.” She added in a whisper. She expected an arguing retaliation, a comment on her being stupid or ‘too wrapped up in trying to witness a real life rom com’ as Wednesday had once labelled it. But instead she was met with quiet, seeing Wednesday intently looking behind her with her jaw clenched dangerously tightly and her hands balled into fists.

She glanced over her shoulder to find you being pulled into a hug and turned back to the empty place that once held the body of her best friend.

Thick soled black shoes clicked against the wooden hallway floor as Wednesday walked past her, nearing where you stood, oblivious to her approaching form. You weren’t aware of her presence until she grabbed your arm, yanking you away from the group as they just watched in a stunned silence as she dragged you away without a single word.

“Wednesday, what the fuck are you doing?” You asked her as the way her fingers grasped at your upper arm were bound to leave a mark behind, and you knew how much she enjoyed that.

“I am sick of watching her put her hands all over you.” She hissed, dragging you through her door before slamming your back into it firmly with her hands on your waist.

“You lost any right to give a shit the moment you walked away.” You returned in an equally angered tone, trying to fight against her strong hold of you. A hand made its way around your throat at your attempt to move.

“You’re mine. Nobody else is allowed to touch you. Only me.”

“And why the hell should I do as you say?”

“Because I broke the rule too.” She rushed out, hovering her lips over yours. “It has been brought to my knowledge that I’m actually in love with you.” Her breath was warm against you and you closed the space between you with a push of your lips against hers, reunited with more passion than before.

It was an easy rhythm to fall back into after a few days apart, with her hands pushing beneath your shirt to feel your skin beneath her palms and yours pushing the jacket past her shoulders.

She stepped backwards with her hold still on your waist, locking eyes with you with a small smile tugging at her lips which you returned until you reached her bed. She guided you onto your back, climbing on top of you to straddle your waist as she pulled her shirt over her head, ridding you of yours shortly after.

Her lips kissed along your collarbone softer than they had before, teeth grazing your skin, licking tentatively across your neck with a bite and a suck to leave a mark behind. It was more tender than before but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to show who you belonged to,to let everyone see.

She reunited your lips once more, pushing her tongue past your lips along with slow and heated kisses. Your tongue flicked against hers only to be pushed with dominance whilst she smirked against you at the small whimper you let out. Everything about the kiss was intense, messy and palpable with little thought and precision, just two bodies moulded together in lust.

Her hips pushed into yours, mindless grinding against one another with desperate attempts to relieve the aching feeling between your thighs. The way she pulled at the button of your jeans just showed how truly hungry she was for you, slipping her hand past the waistband of your underwear with a teasing fingertip sliding through your folds,

“God, Wednesday, touch me. Please, I need you.” You murmured into her mouth, it was as though she was addicted to the feeling of your lips moving with hers the way she wouldn’t pull away. It was different than before, less transactional, not something for a quick relief but something neither of you wanted to end.

She groaned into your mouth at how you felt around her fingers when she pushed them into your pussy, revelling in the warmth she’d missed as she began a steady pace, curling them into you perfectly whilst her kisses never wavered.

It felt so good to be kissing you, letting herself feel everything she’d been trying to ignore. How she loves the flavour of your lip balm and how you play with the hairs at the nape of her neck when you hold her close. She let herself enjoy the way your teeth gently tug at her bottom lip and how you sound when you whimper into her mouth when her thumb rubs over your clit and how excited she gets when your hips buck in an attempt to chase your release because it lets her know just how good she makes you feel.

She let herself feel, finally letting herself experience what is an act of love between two people and no longer just a casual fling - a quick fuck with a focus on pleasure before parting ways.

Wednesday could feel you getting close, soaking her fingers while your hips matched the rhythm of her pushes into you and your nails dug into the skin of her back leaving crescent shapes behind.

“I want to see you fall apart for me.” She spoke through her heavy breaths, breaking away from the kiss to look down at you and your parted swollen lips. Her cheeks were tinted pink and her eyes were even darker than their regular shade. Her hair was slightly ruffled from your hand and she looked at you with pure lust. The sight along with the fingers fucking into you was enough to bring you over the edge, clenching around her digits with a moan of pleasure and an arching of your back off of the bed.

She watched you intently as you came down from your orgasm whilst she pushed her fingers past her lips, sucking your juices from her skin appreciatively until they were licked clean.

“Fuck, I love you, Wednesday Addams.” You breathed.

She greeted you with a rare large smile, immediately grabbing your face between her hands and smiling into the kiss she pressed to your lips. She loved you too and she’d spend the rest of the day showing you just how much.

#wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday fanfic #wednesday addams x reader smut #wednesday addams smut #wednesday x reader #wednesday x reader smut #wednesday smut #wednesday imagine #wednesday x female reader #wednesday x y/n #wednesday #wednesday netflix

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daydreaming-nerd · 20 days

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Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 6

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 7, Part 8

AN: Y'all I love Eris so much I hate making him a villian here. Someone comment some Eris fic ideas so I can write something good about him.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, heavier SA in this one, Smut

Word Count: 7,094

I woke up the next morning to warm, strapping arms wrapped around my bare skin. The velvet stone of Cassian’s bare chest pressed against my back. The sheets were so disheveled from last night's escapades that they barely covered our bare bodies. I felt a soft kiss being pressed to my cheek and I turned to find Cassian beaming down at me.

After admitting our feelings for one another, we spent the rest of the night wrapped up in each other's arms just enjoying each other's warmth. I didn’t mind the comfortable silence. I had been waiting to fall asleep on the general's broad chest. I intended to savor every moment.

I still couldn’t believe the events of last night. How his hands felt roaming my body. The fire his lips left on my skin. The feeling of him inside of me. Everything about him was addicting, and I found myself wondering when it would be appropriate to ask for him to touch me again.

“Good morning beautiful,” Cassian smiled down at me pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“Good morning general,” I smiled back brushing a lock of dark hair out of his face.

The second Cassian and I finished last night he looked at me differently. Like I was his whole world. Not that he hadn’t always looked at me that way, but this time it was different. As if finally having me made him a changed person.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, his eyes raking my body looking for any sign of injury.

“A little sore,” I admitted shifting my legs between the thin sheet. “But nothing I can’t handle.”

“It won’t be like that next time,” he assures me, pressing another kiss to my forehead like he can’t help it.

“Oh, there will be a next time?” I smirk and Cassian rolls his eyes.

“I’ll have you for as long as you let me princess,” he beams. “I wasn’t lying last night. I really do love you with all that I am. I never want to be parted from you.” His eyes shone with such love as he reiterated every word.

While I didn’t doubt his love, it was comforting to hear again in the light of day when the effects of too much wine had worn off too.

“I love you too Cassian,” I smile pecking his lips as I feel his arms hold me closer. My stomach gurgles, telling me it’s time for sustenance.

“I think your stomach likes me too,” Cassian laughs, pressing a hand to my abdomen.

“Well you were touching it last night,” I mused, pressing a kiss to his lips earning a growl from him. He pressed me further into the mattress and the feeling of his bare body on mine was enough to make the blood flowing through me heat up. “Cass, wait I have to pee,” I giggle, pushing him away.

“And you have to eat,” he laughs, rolling off me. “Go ahead, the bathrooms over there. We can get breakfast when you’re done.”

I stand and become acutely aware of how naked I am. I search the floor for something, anything to cover me up, and find Cassian's shirt lying on the floor. I quickly throw it over my head, aware of how his burning gaze watches my every move.

“Fuckkkk,” I hear Cassian groan behind me.

I turn to find him face down on his pillow, wings splayed.

“What?” I laugh making my way towards the bathroom.

“You’re wearing my shirt and it’s turning me on. That’s what.” he groans into the pillow.

“Well then maybe you can help me take it off when I get out,” I smile before closing the door.

Cassian’s bathroom was surprisingly neat. For a male who was always on the go, it surprised me. My eyes looked at the enormous bath, one clearly made to accommodate his wings. On the edge lay a bar of soap, clearly what that cedar smell was coming from. His scent was strongest in here. I did my business and washed my hands in the intricate sink that was much like mine.

I surveyed myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess and my lips looked like they had been kissed thoroughly, which they had. I thought about the night, from how it ended going back to how it started.

Eris.

The ring.

My blood ran cold as the once joyous look in my eyes faded. I was an engaged woman who had just had sex with another man. Cauldron save me. But Cassian wasn’t “a man” he was everything. I loved him with everything I was. I had loved him for so long now.

As I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror I couldn’t help but think of my people. The children in the street I saw the day Rhys told me Eris wanted to marry me. The sour taste of guilt filled my mouth. I had chosen Cassian over saving my people, over saving my brother. Oh gods what have I done?

The guilt came first, but the reasoning came second. I had to find a way I could have it all. Autumn Court armies to save my people and Cassian to save me. There had to be a way. I just wasn’t sure of how. I only knew what had to be done now.

I exited the bathroom no doubt looking more somber than I did when I entered it. My eyes were fixated on a certain black dress at the edge of his large bed. I felt Cassian’s eyes follow me all the way to the dress as I picked it up and fished the gaudy ring out of the pocket.

“What is that?” he asked, scooching up the bed curiously.

“It’s my engagement ring,” I deadpanned, slipping the ring on my finger once more. My eyes turned to Cassian who had thankfully put on pants while I was in the other room, not that his muscled chest wasn’t distraction enough.

“Are you going to give it back?” he asked and I could hear the layers of uncertainty in his tone, It nearly broke my heart in two.

“Not yet.” I sigh, inspecting the ring on my finger. “For now we will have to go on acting like nothing is happening. I can’t tell Eris yet. I need to find a way to get more armies for our court.”

Cassian stands and I can feel his tension radiating throughout the room, the presence of a general making itself known.

“You know that Eris won’t just give us armies without something in return,” he says, his tone trying not to waver.

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I can’t change the contract,” I say turning to him. “All he seems to want is a son. Maybe if I can give him one he will let me go and we can-”

“No, absolutely not,” Cassian’s rough voice cuts me off. “I won’t let you pay for armies with your body. Not when the troops I’ve trained are ten times better fighters than the Autumn Court armies,” he argues, coming to stand in front of me.

He takes his hands in mine, thumbs brushing across the band on my left hand. He’s practically begging me to look at him but I can’t face the embarrassment I feel. Not when he’s so honorable.

“I don’t doubt your abilities Cass, but it’s about numbers right now. Hybern has more bodies than we do. We need more soldiers.” I say quietly.

I know that I’m right, but pushing Cassian away feels like the most wrong thing I could ever do, and I can’t decide which feeling should prevail.

“I would rather die than watch you carry Eris’ son,” he says shortly like the words themselves are cutting his mouth.

My eyes finally meet his, and in that deep hazel lies a worry by the likes of which I’ve never seen. “Do you love me, Cass?” I ask, trying not to tear up.

“You know that I do,” he assures me, moving a hair out of my face.

“Then I need you to trust me. I need you to understand that the safety of my court matters to me. I love you Cassian and I want to be with you always. I’ve denied myself of you for so long that I know I can’t stay away from you now. But just like it’s Rhys’ job to be High Lord it’s my job to be a Princess.” I start watching his eyes soften already. “Give me time to figure this out. I’m going to find a way that I can have you and have my court safe. I just need you to give me time and I need you to believe in me.”

Cassian’s eyes soften and his hands move from my own to my back, pulling me into a hug. I can’t help but wrap my arms around him as well, remembering a time when it was all I wanted.

“I understand, and I trust you y/n,” he says into my hair and I feel my body relax. “I only have one condition.”

“Anything Cass,” I say into his chest.

“That we continue this courtship in secret,” he states. “I know it’s a lot to ask but I don’t think I can stay away from you y/n.”

I can’t help but smile at his words. “Of course Cass. I had no intention of being without you,” I say now staring up at him. “Besides, it might be fun to have a secret relationship,” I smirk, leaning in for a kiss.

Our kiss was halted by commotion erupting from down the hall.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Azriel’s voice boomed from the living area down the hall.

I pulled away from the kiss and Cassian and I’s eyes met with a confused glance, both our brows furrowed. My mind races through the night's events trying to figure out what could’ve made Azriel so upset. Then it dawned on me.

“The puppy!” Cassian and I both exclaimed in unison.

I pushed myself off Cassian making a beeline for the door. My bare feet padded down the carpeted hall toward where I left the little pup. Curse Cassian and his glorious body and his delightful cock for making me forget about the little furball I left sleeping by the fire.

I turn the corner to find Azriel holding the pup in one arm as he inspects the whiskey glass I broke when Cassian had me on the counter. Azriel’s jaw drops and I look down to realize that I’m still in Cassian’s shirt. As if in queue the general himself rounds the corner half-naked. My eyes flitted to Azriel’s other hand which had a chewed-up boot grasped in it.

“Oh, Az I’m so sorry,” I say, padding over to pluck the pup from his arm. She greeted me happily, licking my face as she had done a thousand times before.

Azriel inhaled sharply and twisted his face, “I love y/n, but you reek of Cassian.” he cringed.

“Hey!” Cassian protested from the other side of the room.

“We are the worst secret keepers in the world,” I laugh, turning to Cass with the puppy in my arms.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” Azriel laughs. “But I need to know why there’s a puppy here.”

“Cassian got drunk and stole it from Eris for me,” I laughed, placing a kiss on the puppy's head.

“Well if you need to find her a home I know someone,” Azriel said, stepping closer to brush a large hand over the pup's face.

“Really?” I asked Cassian who was watching his brother expectantly.

“Yeah, I just came from Windhaven. There’s a little girl there who just lost her mother. I think she might need a new friend,” Azriel smiled at me, petting the pup again.

I looked at Cassian, my eyes already pricking with tears at the thought of giving a little girl some hope. He just gazed at me like I put the stars in the sky, or wrote one of those damned war books he loved so much. I’m not sure what changed last night for him, but I would never protest the way he looked at me now.

“You want to go to Windhaven little girl?” I asked the puppy, and all I got in response was another big lick.

Cassian's pov:

“I can’t believe you finally did it man!” Azriel cheered enthusiastically, clapping me on the back.

We had just given the little girl her new friend and were now inspecting the camp. I wished I had Rhys’ ability to show people things mind to mind, Y/n would’ve loved the sight of that little girl seeing the puppy for the first time. Her eyes lit up and I could tell that she hadn’t felt true happiness for quite some time. She said she was going to name the puppy Mira and then proceeded to talk Az and I’s ear off about how they were going to everything on earth together. Y/n would’ve loved to see the puppy find a happy ending, but I didn’t want her anywhere near this camp.

“Yeah I guess I did,” I shrugged.

I knew that I should be more enthusiastic about finally being able to be with y/n, hell I should be in a temple on my hands and knees thanking the cauldron that she's my mate. But there was a lingering fear and sadness that I would still lose her to Eris despite it all.

“Why don’t you sound excited about this? This is the girl you’ve been pining over for years and now she’s your girlfriend,” Az pushed my shoulder trying to snap me out of my funk.

“She’s not just my girlfriend Az,” I admitted, kicking a stray rock out of my path.

“Wait what,” Az said, footsteps coming to a halt on the gravel path. “She’s your-”

“Mate,” I cut him off. “Y/n is my mate,” I say and I can’t help but smile at finally getting to say the words out loud.

In an instant Azriel’s arms were thrown around me nearly tackling me to the ground, “Cass I’m so fucking happy for you. You both must be so happy,” he cheers and I feel the sadness creeping in again.

“She doesn’t know yet,” I tell him, stepping away from his embrace.

“What do you mean she doesn’t know?” Azriel says furrowing his eyebrows.

“The bond snapped for me and not her,” I say sitting down on a log. “I was going to tell her, but she is still dead set on getting us those armies from Eris and she was so passionate about saving her people I couldn’t bring myself to complicate things for her. She’s going to try to negotiate with Eris so we can be together and still have the Autumn Court’s alliance. But, she needs time to think of a plan, that’s why we can’t tell a soul about us, not even Rhys. I’m worried I’m going to lose her Az.”

Azriel sits down on the log next to me and places a comforting hand on my shoulder, “Trust her Cass, she’s a princess she knows what she’s doing,” he assures me.

“I just don’t understand why she won’t just call off the engagement!” I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

“She bears a burden we will never fully understand. So does Rhys. All we can do is be here for both of them and show them support,” Az says, turning his gaze to the valley below us.

My head hears his words and understands them. I know why this matters to y/n and I know that no matter what I say we really do need more soldiers. However, it doesn’t stop my heart from lurching just thinking about how Eris will treat her while she figures out her plan. Gods this is so wrong…

Wrong

y/n's pov:

I had never worn red in my life.

Night court black was always my color of choice and at times I would branch out to blues or darker shades of violet but never red. Yet here I found myself, clad in a burgundy dress.

Apparently becoming Eris' fiance came with certain aesthetic changes that were out of my control. Yesterday a whole trove of dresses in varying reds and oranges and even a few gold ones were sent to the house. Some were labeled for certain events, like the upcoming engagement party that was occurring at the end of the week. Others weren’t labeled for anything, like the one I wore now. Nevertheless, I hated every single one of them.

“Any particular reason why you’re wearing red today?” Cassian smirked from where he stood in the foyer, his chest puffing up with male pride as his siphons seemed to glow.

I realized that he thought I had chosen red to match his siphons. My cheeks flushed at the comment as I peered down at the gossamer fabric. Red wasn’t just the Autumn Court’s color, it was Cassian’s color, and suddenly I didn’t mind the change so much.

“Unfortunately no,” I sigh, taking his hands in mine. “Eris sent a bunch of these over, it seems I’m already expected to assimilate into the Autumn Court culture.”

Cassian smiles at me putting his hands on my waist, “Well you look lovely in my color darling,” he says nuzzling my neck and I’m immediately put at ease.

I tilt my head up to place a loving kiss on his lips, relishing the feeling of him moving against me, his hands gripping my waist tighter. It was likely the last kiss we would have today. I pulled away to admire that beautiful face.

“Now remember we have to act like nothing is going on between us,” I remind him. “That means if Eris touches me in a less than polite way you can’t intervene or you’ll blow the whole operation.”

“May I imagine all the ways I wish I could intervene if he does?” Cassian smirks, pressing a kiss to my forehead and holding me close.

“Only if you tell me about them when we get home,” I laughed into his chest.

“Done deal princess,” he chuckles, letting me go.

I check to see that my engagement ring is on and the glamour to hide my scent from Eris is up before Cassian scoops me up and launches us into the sky.

As we fly over the mountains and valleys I can’t help but let my mind drift to my current running plan. I figured the best course of action would be to make Eris realize how poorly matched we are. He might want to be the “first” to bed me, but after that, he’s still married to me and he certainly wouldn’t want to spend the rest of his life with me. Not when I hated him. If I could scare him with the permanence of marriage maybe he would back out altogether. Then we could try and renegotiate for some of his armies.

We land firmly on Autumn Court soil and like always Eris is there to greet me within moments. I let my hand rest on Cassian's shoulder for as long as I possibly can and the second I have to reach for Eris I already find myself missing the warmth of him.

“You’re a vision in Autumn Court red my pet,” Eris muses, pressing a kiss to my lips.

“I was surprised you sent me so many,” I say, looping my arm in his and letting him lead me through the castle.

“Well now that you’re officially mine it was time to start decorating you,” he smirked, glancing down to the ring on my left hand.

It took everything in me not to roll my eyes at the comment. “Well they certainly are beautiful,” I say shortly trying to not let my disdain show.

“You’ll have many more after we are married of course,” he replies.

My stomach lurches at the thought of the wedding taking place in just a couple weeks. Dear gods, I hoped this ramshackle plan of mine worked. I wanted to bring up the idea of marriage now but my thoughts were cut off as we rounded the corner to find a large banquet hall full of large three-tier cakes. Four or five servants rushed about fixing each cake and setting up the plates and forks. As we approached the table I ran my hand along the thick tablecloth admiring the details on each white frosted cake.

“You sure are hungry,” I joked with Eris glancing behind me to see Cassian standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest.

Eris let out a chuckle, “I can assure you it’s not the cakes I’m hungry for my pet,” he says low into my ear, his proximity suddenly way too close for comfort.

“We have a grand selection of cakes for you to choose from,” interjected one of the servants who was helping set it up. I had never been so thankful for an interruption. “The one before you is red velvet with a white chocolate buttercream.”

If I had to deal with Eris today at least I would get to do it with cake. I grabbed the pre-sliced cake before me and went to take a bite. I hated to admit it, but it was incredible. The sugary, spongy cake melted in my mouth and the sweet frosting made for the perfect companion.

“What do you think little flame?” Eris asked, finishing a bite of his own.

“It’s incredible,” I nearly moaned, trying not to talk as I savored my second bite.

“If you like that one you might like the chocolate raspberry with the same frosting,” she said, handing us each a plate of another cake.

Once again the dessert melted in my mouth, somehow even better than the one before it. The servant left us to bring out more flavors while we spent the next few minutes comparing cakes. Eris was being uncharacteristically normal and I started to wonder if he had regretted his behavior at the ball. If he had he didn’t acknowledge it.

We approached the last cake on the long banquet table and I couldn’t help but notice the intricate designs piped onto each tier. Large white leaves cascaded down each level like fresh ivy. If I didn’t know it was frosting, I would’ve thought it was hand-carved marble.

Suddenly Eris’ presence behind me was more than stifling as I felt the heat radiate from his body. He reached an arm around me to wipe a finger through the intricate design of the pastry. He stood next to me and almost as if on instinct my eyes fixated on his. His once amber eyes were a darker color than usual and I knew it wasn’t because of the lighting.

“Open,” he instructed, holding his finger close to my lips.

My mind told me to fight, scream, kick, and run into Cassian’s arms. I could sense the general's burning stare to my far right. But as if I was puppeteered, opened my mouth and closed it around Eris’ finger. The flavor of sour lemon coated my tongue, how fitting. He pulled the finger out with a pop, his eyes darkening at the sight of the leftover frosting on my lips.

“Good pet,” he smirked before taking my hand and wiping one of my fingers through the frosting so he could do the same to me. His mouth wrapping around my digit had me ripping my hand from his grasp in panic.

“Eris I want to talk about the wedding,” I said foolishly, acting on pure emotion.

“What about it little flame?” He asked, resting his hands on my waist.

I took a second to ground myself, taking a deep breath to keep myself from lashing out and acting like a fool. If I wanted this to work I had to be dignified and collected. I had to make sense.

“I just want us to really think about it,” I start as he nuzzles my neck. “I mean marriage is forever.”

“It better be,” Eris says, pressing a kiss to my temple, his hands wandering up and down my waist possessively.

“Forever's a long time, I’m just not sure-”

“Are you saying you don’t love me?” Eris cuts me off stepping back to look at my face.

I scan his face, trying to decide if I should tell him the truth. This conversation was not going the way I wanted.

“You know that I don’t,” I say calmly hoping he’ll see reason.

Eris’ eyes darken again the silence so heavy between us the only thing that can be heard is the clattering of plates and forks that the servants are cleaning up. I look for a hint of anger within those auburn eyes but all I find is a simmering calm. One that doesn’t ease my nerves.

“Leave us, all of you,” Eris orders the waitstaff. The sound of hurried steps echoes about the room as Eris keeps his eyes on me. “That means you too filth,” he turns his head to Cassian.

I turn to meet his eyes as he scans me for any sign of panic. But I just nod at him to follow Eris’ orders. I don’t know what comes next, but I do know that if Eris finds out even the smallest information about us Cassian’s life will be forfeit.

Cassian nods back before stepping outside the double oak doors and shutting them.

The air in the room thickens and I swear the candles lighting the chandelier above us start to dim like all the life had been sucked out of the room. Eris stepped closer to me and I felt my backside hit the edge of the table as he loomed over me.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear, pet,” he grated. “The second I slipped that ring on your finger you became mine. My property. Mine to own. If you don’t love me now I will make you love me if only to have that much more control over you.” he said, slipping a finger under my chin to force my gaze upon him.

“I could never-”

His hands slipped under me, placing me on the banquet table, “I would be careful what you say little flame,” he growled, hiking my skirts up so he could run a hand over my thigh.

“Eris you can’t fuck me we aren’t married yet,” I gritted as he started leaving open mouth kisses on my neck.

“Who said anything about fucking you?” he sneered in my ear hand moving up the inside of my thigh to cup my sex. “I just want to play with my new toy.”

I was petrified. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even think as his hand slid into my panties and up my folds. A low groan rumbled from his chest. This time I didn’t stop the tears as they fell silently down my face.

Cassian's pov:

I had been in battle before. I had seen friends and fellow soldiers die right next to me and whenever it happened I was filled with an insatiable rage that had me killing everything within a 10-foot radius.

Nothing compared to the fury I felt now.

He’s touching your mate.

It was like my biological makeup was forcing me to tear the doors from their limbs and rip Eris to shreds. I could feel everything. Her ice-cold fear mixed with moments of pleasure that I knew were beyond her control.

The sound of shattered glass on the marble floor reverberated from the other side of the door…

I swear my blood started boiling beneath my skin as I felt every emotion she was going through. The only thing keeping me in check was the knowledge that if I betrayed her trust, I would never regain it. That thought made me equally sick so I chanted the only thing I could think of in my mind.

Hold on baby

y/n's pov:

The bathwater was scalding hot. Just like I had instructed the house to make it.

When it was time to go Cassian had asked me if I wanted to talk about it but I just couldn’t face it. I couldn’t admit to him what had happened. I just felt so dirty, and if I was even going to speak to him I had to feel clean again. This is how I found myself flying home with him in silence before making a beeline to the bathroom to jump in a boiling hot bath.

Well, his bathroom to be exact. For some reason being in an abnormally large tub felt more comforting at the moment. As I at in the middle of the pool-sized tub I started to feel Eris’ hands being washed off me.

The experience was horrible.

While he fingered me he allowed his hands and his mouth to run over every square inch of my body. My neck, my legs, my waist, the swell of my breasts. The only saving grace I had was that he didn’t take my dress off, but what comfort was that really?

The worst part of it all was that I came for him. Something I wanted to reserve for Cassian and Cassian alone. The look on my face when I came undone, the sounds I made, all of those belonged to Cass. Yet, Eris had now borne witness to it, and I wondered if my general would still want me.

A light knock sounded at the door. One I declined to answer.

The door creaked open and from the side of my eye, I could see a tall figure in the doorway. His hair was swept up in a bundle at the base of his neck, red siphons glowing.

“Hey, are you okay?” Cassian asked quietly, like if he spoke too loud I might shatter into a million pieces.

“Not really,” I deadpanned, still unable to meet his gaze.

I felt him kneel down beside the edge of the bath and in that moment I knew that he was aware of what transpired behind those closed doors and it took everything in me to not spill my guts.

“Why my bath?” he asked, sensing I didn’t want to talk about it.

The subject change had me turn my eyes to him. Swirling around in that shade of hazel that made my stomach flip was all the sadness in the world and I cursed myself for being the reason that was so. Gods, I was a fucking monster no matter what I did. If I left Eris to be with Cassian I would bear the blood of thousands and if I stayed with Eris then I would watch the love of my life and the most honorable man I know be torn to shreds.

“It’s bigger,” I shrug lifting my hand from the water to place it on his forearm that rests on the edge of the tub.

He glances down to where our skin meets and I see his eyes go wide at the angry red color of my arm.

“Y/n the water is too hot you’re burning yourself,” he fussed, placing a cool hand over the irritated skin. His eyes were glassy with worry and it drove a stake through my heart.

“I don’t care,” I uttered. “I need the feeling of his hands all over me washed off.”

“Then let me help you,” he says softly, grabbing a washcloth beside him and the bar of soap. “This is all I have,” he holds up the cedar-scented soap. “Do you want me to go to your room to get you something better?”

“No, that’s fine,” I nod to him.

He lathers the soap in his hands and rubs down my shoulders, his strong fingers rubbing the tension from my muscles. The familiar smell of cedar surrounds me and I take a deep breath to bring the familiar smell deeper into my lungs.

Cassian takes his time washing every inch of me, all the while his eyes looking for marks that Eris might’ve left of me. Like if he saw even the faintest bruise he would fly back and put his head on a pike. Cassian touches me like I’m made of glass and could shatter at every moment. Even while washing the most intimate parts of me he never made it feel sensual, it was just care, and love.

He used the small bowl at the side of the tub to rinse the soap out of my hair, finally cleansing me of Eris at last.

“Better?” he asked, his voice less timid than last time. My body had loosened up, signaling I was coming back to myself.

“Much better,” I smiled at him. “But I would be astronomically better if you were in here with me.”

“Can’t say no to that,” he smirked, rising from his knees to tug his clothes off.

I couldn’t help but stare as he meticulously de-robed himself. Every gracefully carved muscle, every scar, the way that he moved. It was all so captivating. I had seen him bare before, but that was in a heat of lust. Seeing him like this? He was a work of art and I desperately wished I was an artist so I could paint him.

He slipped into the tub behind me, arms instinctively wrapping around me to cradle me to his chest. On instinct, I flinched. Not because I thought Cassian would ever hurt me, but because I felt like I still carried the weight of what Eris had done to me.

“You don’t have to feel guilty about what happened, you know?” Cassian said as if sensing my feelings. “You were a victim y/n. If I had been given permission I would’ve torn him limb from limb for touching you like that.”

My body relaxed against his words but it didn’t stop the thought that plagued my mind, “he made me cum Cass.” I whispered.

“That was your body’s natural reaction. You can’t control that,” he assures me, holding me even tighter.

A beat of silence passes and I can’t help but remember the feeling of coming undone for Eris.

Wrong.

It felt so wrong when it happened. I had never been more ashamed in my life. I had promised that all of me belonged to Cassian and yet my own body betrayed me. I knew Cassian was right, it was just my body reacting, but it still happened and it raised one question…Did Cass still love me knowing that I had been defiled by another man?

I knew it was pathetic to ask. I felt like an idiot even bringing it up. But I wouldn’t know peace until I heard his answer.

“Do you still love me?” I said quietly, like if I said the words too loud they would turn around and bite at me.

“Gods y/n of course I still love you. Sometimes I love you so much I can’t breathe, it’s like the words get caught in my throat and they suffocate me,” he says burying his head into the crook of my neck.

I turn in his grasp to face him, water splashing around and spilling onto the tile floor. He looks so vulnerable like this, and it only makes me love him more. The fact that my mighty general would be this vulnerable for me, and only for me.

“Eris might take, and take, and take from me until I can figure this out,” I say, my wet hand caressing his cheek. “But all the while, I want you to know that every square inch of me belongs to you, Cassian. When my body leaves this world, my soul will stay with you, for to separate the two would be sacrilege.”

“Y/n,” he breathes softly before pressing his lips to mine.

The feeling of his skin against mine is enough to cloud my head. The love is so strong, so real, the realest thing I’ve ever known. The kind of love that inspires books and sonnets. The kind of love that weaves its way into mythology forever recited by drunken men in taverns.

I feel his arousal grow beneath me and my body goes weak at the knowledge that it happened just kissing me.

“Fuck,” he hissed pulling away to peer down. “I’m so sorry y/n, I know you don’t want to given all that you went through-”

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his, earning a low groan from deep in his chest. Maybe he’s right and I shouldn’t want this right now. But I do. I want him, I want all of him and I wonder if I’ll ever be truly sated.

My hand ghosts over his chest, past his abs, and towards his cock. I pull my mouth from him to watch his face as I hardness beneath my fingers. In one swift motion, I line myself up and sink down onto him.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, his eyes blown wide as he grips my hips sliding me up and down his length.

“Cassian,” I whisper long and low feeling every solid inch of him fucking into me.

His hands roamed my water-slick skin, making it easy for him to touch every inch of me. I would never get tired of this, of feeling so full. Of feeling completely and utterly one with him. I slammed my hips down on his, not caring about the massive amounts of water splashing over the edges. My hands roamed all over his body, loving the feel of every muscle beneath my fingers.

“It’s like you were fucking made for me,” Cassian groans moving a wet hair from my face so he can press his forehead to mine.

I place my hands on his abs to help move myself up and down his cock. My fingers secretly commit every single muscle to memory and I swear one day I’ll get myself off on his abs alone. My eyes open just enough to watch his face contorted in pleasure. His eyebrows furrow as if he’s trying to keep himself from losing control.

I slow my movements, unable to keep the pace I set. His hands fly back to my hips holding them in place and suddenly he’s fucking himself into me at a rate that has my body going limp. The only thing keeping me up? My hands braced on his pecs.

“Oh gods Cassian!” I cry, my voice broken up as he hits me so deeply I never thought possible.

“Cum for me y/n,” he grits out and it’s enough to have me seeing stars.

“Ahhhh Cass!” I cry, cumming all over his cock eyes brimming with tears from the sheer pleasure.

He struggles to thrust back into me from the way my orgasm constricts around him. But I feel his thrusts start to falter as his head falls back on the edge of the tub. He cums in me with a groan so deep and primal I swear I could fuck him again if my legs weren’t so tired.

I let my upper body fall onto his chest, and the sound of bathwater spilling reverberates around the room. I try to catch my breath as I think of how badly I already need him again. Even in a way that’s not sexual. I just need him near me, need his skin on mine, and for the life of me I can’t explain why. Was sex always like this? Is this why my parents kept me so sheltered? Because if I knew it would be like this I would never be able to stop?

“Is it always like this?” I panted trying to regain my strength as I slumped onto his chest. “Was it like this with your other partners?”

“Gods no, you’re my-” he pauses as if he’s thinking of the right thing to say. “You’re the love of my life. It’s not like this with anyone else.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop needing you Cass,” I say, pressing my lips to his chest already craving the feel of him.

“I feel the same y/n, I feel the same,” he says, kissing my brow.

“Take me to bed?” I ask quietly.

“Of course baby,” he chuckles, standing out of the tub and taking me with him.

I had been sleeping with Cassian for the past three nights after the ball. At first, I tried to sleep in my own bed, ignoring how badly I wanted him to hold me. I didn’t last long, as an hour in I found myself tiptoeing to his bedroom down the hall to crawl under his sheets. Before I could even lift a hand to knock he ripped the door open. Apparently, we both had the same idea. So he swooped me into his arms and tucked us both into bed.

After that, neither of us even tried to pretend we didn’t want to fall asleep next to one another.

Cassian dried me off with a fluffy towel, still careful as ever with every touch. After drying himself off he carried me to his bed where we snuggled down beneath the sheets just like we had that first night.

I took a deep breath, running my fingertips up and down his arms as he spooned me from behind, his breath hot on my neck. As if in response he took a deep breath in, as if to savor me.

“I can’t tell if I love how you smell like me or if I miss how you always smell like jasmine and amber.” he smiled into the crook of my neck.

“I like smelling like you,” I laughed snuggling into him more.

Cassian pressed a kiss to my cheek and pulled me impossibly closer to him. As sleep settled deep into my bones I felt him curl a wing around me, like a second layer of protection. At that moment I slept soundly, for no sadistic prince or wicked dream could find me here.

In that embrace, amidst the warmth and love, I found solace, knowing that in Cassian's arms, no darkness could ever touch me.

Part 7

Taglist: @crystalferret202, @nickishadow139 , @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21, @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @mybestfriendmademe, @anxious-study, @bxm-1012 , @mal-adaptive-dreams , @sh4nn ,

Permanent Taglist: @fides25,

#cassian smut #cassian #cassian acotar #cassian x you #cassian x reader #cassian x reader smut #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand fluff #rhysand smut #rhysand #rhysand angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x reader smut #azriel smut #a court of thorns and roses

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fiapartridge · 3 months

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gabe perreault imagine please 🙏🙏

long time coming | gabe perreault 💌🌊⭐️

gabe perreault x fem!reader

summary: you're sick and the only person who can cure you is your best friend, gabe!

warning(s): fluff, fluff, fluff

author's note: eee this is my first gabe fic! thank u anon for suggesting him, i was in a huge writers slump so ty ty ty! enjoy!

You had heard stories of people falling in love with their best friend; it happened to your parents, your older sister and her boyfriend, all of your cousins, but to you, love just felt unattainable, like maybe you were the exception. The love bug skipped a generation and was already preparing for the next—but now? Now you felt it. You felt it crawl underneath your skin and bubble in your stomach. You felt your chest tighten and the heat rise to your cheeks.

You were in love, true love.

“Gabe,” you groaned over the phone, his breathing sounding staticy over the line. You had been sick for a few days, only a slight cough and an itchy throat, but today felt 10 times worse. Your stomach was aching, your head felt like it was getting hit by a basketball every couple of seconds, and you sniffled so frequently you were sure that something was going to go up the wrong pipe and straight up to your brain.

And you felt bad, not only because of your illness, but because it was nearly 2 AM and you could hear Gabe shuffle underneath his dark blue sheets in the dorm he shared with his best friend, Will Smith. You knew it was late and this was wrong. I mean, the boy had a game against Boston University in the morning, now was not the time to wake him, but you just didn’t know what to do. You felt like you were dying and all you needed was one of Gabe’s famous hugs and maybe a back rub (he was really good at those).

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying not to wake the snoring Will on the other side of the room. His eyes were fighting to stay open, determined not to lean onto his fluffy white pillow and fall back to sleep. “You okay?”

You sniffled, grabbing another tissue from the box that laid beside your bed. “I feel like I’m dying,” you responded, your voice sounding congested and nasally—not in the slightest like your normal tone.

You could hear shuffling on the other side of the phone. Then, you could hear keys jangling and his closet door opening, a hoodie getting thrown over his body, and then the door to his dorm being pulled open. You wanted to protest because you knew what he was doing, where he was going, but you had no energy to speak. Instead, your stubborn voice turned to loud coughs that made Gabe want to pull you in his arms and hold you until they faded into oblivion.

But he couldn’t. It was too much for you. It would be weird. You wouldn’t feel the same. It was the exact same thing he’s been telling himself for months (really what he’s been telling himself since the moment he met you). It would ruin your guys’ friendship and you will never want to speak to him again. If only he could hear your thoughts because then, maybe he’d be thinking differently, and it wouldn’t be so hard.

Three soft knocks on the door of your dorm signaled exactly what you suspected would happen. Gabe was your best friend and if he caught the flu, you would be there holding his hand and making him a bowl of chicken noodle soup. If you were crying about a failed test, he would buy you ice cream and agree to watch countless episodes of The Bachelor until you were feeling okay again. One time you were sick with Covid and Gabe didn’t even care. He stayed with you during quarantine, snuggled under mountains of blankets, watching movies until you were sick of them, and gossiping about anyone and anything. It wasn’t a surprise that he caught the sickness a couple days later. Your moms laughed about the memory, finding it endearing that you two loved each other so much that you were willing to be sick together.

Gabe settled some medicine on your bedside table before lifting your light pink covers and crawling into bed with you. You fit perfectly into his arms, like this spot was made just for you. Despite your sweaty forehead and aching body, he held you tightly, placing small kisses on the crown of your head. Your parents had always joked about you two getting married someday, but sometimes you wished that it was real; that you would grow old with him and live in a big white house with a white picket fence and a large rose garden in the backyard. You truly couldn’t see your life with anyone else.

But that was silly. Gabe was your best friend. That would just be weird—right?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He walked all the way from his building to yours in the middle of the night despite having a ginormous game tomorrow. He felt unreal, like how could a person be so perfect and somehow be yours?

“Don’t be,” his words were just as soft. His chin resting on the top of your head as yours fit in the space between his neck and shoulder, leaving delicate kisses on his adams apple. This isn’t what best friends do, you told yourself. Best friends don’t kiss each other. Best friends don’t cuddle underneath sheets and hold hands to “warm each other up.” It was confusing and you hated it. You hated not knowing how he was feeling when you knew exactly how you felt about Gabe.

“You didn’t have to come here.”

“You called.”

You laughed. “That doesn’t mean anything. You could’ve stayed in bed and slept longer and had good dreams and—”

“Hey,” he smiled down softly at you, lifting your chin to look up at him. His hand lingered there for a while, not wanting to move away from you. There was something about you that made Gabe want to be closer and closer. There was something that made him want to parade you around campus, telling everyone that you were his. He wanted to see you in his jersey and kiss you after games and hold you tight at parties. He wanted to take you with him to New York when he plays for the Rangers after college and introduce you to his family as his girlfriend instead of just his best friend. Gabe was ready for more, but he hated thinking that you might not be. “I wasn’t just going to let you die, okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, like that one time you pushed me down that water slide at Hurricane Harbor.”

“Pft, you wanted to go down that.”

You chuckled incredulously. “There is no way you just said that.”

“‘Oh, Gabe, please take me on this waterslide. I’ve been dying to go with you.’”

“I don’t sound like that.”

He grinned. “Yeah, you sound like this,” he said, pinching his nose with his fingers, his voice sounding blocked and nasally.

You pushed his hands away, hiding your face in his clothed chest. “Shut up.”

“C’mon, you love it.”

“I will fight you.”

He ran his hand up and down your arm, your eyes fluttering closed and your breathing steadying. He held you tighter, wrapping both arms around you and snuggling deeper into the bed. His last words before you fell into hypnosis lingered in your mind as you couldn’t even escape your lovestruck dreams of the perfect boy. “Keep telling yourself that, sicko.”

By the time the sun rose, you were sure that he would be gone; that his hoodie would be collected from the carpet, that his legs would no longer be intertwined with yours, and that his belongings would be gone, but he was still there and you were still in his arms and everything was still perfect. His breathing was soft and slow, his little curls were a bit tussled, his cheeks were pale, and you wondered what he was dreaming about that left a ghost of a smile on his face.

You wanted to wake up like this everyday and everyday after that. So yeah, maybe you were in love. Maybe you were in deep. And maybe you were ready to tell him.

He rustled around before lifting his eyes open, his smile growing wider when he saw your pink face, knowing he caught you staring at him as you glanced around the room, trying not to make eye contact with the boy.

“Feeling better?” he asked, turning to his side and facing you.

A strand slipped through your loose ponytail and settled on the front of your face, covering your eyes as he allowed his hands to work faster than his mind. He slowly brought his hand up, carefully moving the strand behind your ear. And you would expect the moment to be over but when his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb lightly running over the smooth skin of your face, you knew that maybe just maybe there could be something more.

You nodded slowly. “I’m okay.”

“I’m glad. I hate seeing my girl sick,” he spoke softly as if speaking any louder would shatter the calming atmosphere.

My girl. You wanted to allow your mind to toss and turn, investigate the meaning behind those two words, search for his thought-process, his feelings, anything, but for the first time in forever, you felt serene and calm with him. You didn’t feel the need to wonder what this meant for the two of you. You were perfectly content where you were now, where you were going, and what you were going to do next.

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat fast yet gentle. His eyes wandered down to your place of connection and when they met yours again, you could’ve sworn you saw something: a spark, hope, clarity, confirmation.

And when he leaned in, holding your face close with the hand still resting on your cheek, his lips hovering over yours, desperate to connect, you knew nothing would be the same. He would never be just your best friend anymore. And you were perfectly okay with that.

As Gabe leaned in, his lips met yours in a tender, yet passionate kiss. It was a moment that felt suspended in time, where every sensation was heightened—the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips, the racing of your heart. In that instant, all doubts melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of certainty and bliss.

The kiss deepened, as if both of you were pouring all the unspoken feelings and desires into this one act. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands as you pulled him closer, wanting to feel every part of him against you. His arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer as if he never wanted to let go.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the outside world fading into insignificance. When you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, you found yourselves gazing into each other's eyes, the realization of what had just happened sinking in. But there was no fear, no uncertainty, only a profound sense of connection and joy.

“I’m sick,” you said, making Gabe chuckle softly. Of course your first words after a long-anticipated kiss would be that. But that’s what Gabe loved about you. You were you in every sense of the word. You are the reason his stomach hurts from laughing every time he comes back to his dorm, staring into space as he thinks about your giggle and your smile and your stupid humor. You are everything. You’re the world.

I just kissed the world, Gabe thought. My girl.

With a smile that spoke volumes, Gabe whispered, "I don’t care."

“You will when you get sick.”

“And will you be here? When I get sick?” he asked, his thumb running back and forth on the exposed space of skin on your pelvis.

You nodded. You would be there for him through anything no matter what. “Always.”

“Then I’m okay with it.”

And in that moment, as you nestled into his embrace once more, you knew that the stories were real and true; that love is real and true, because you just fell in it and you couldn’t be happier.

#gabe perreault #boston college #boston college hockey #gabe perreault x reader #gabe perreault imagines #gabe perreault imagine #gabe perreault fluff

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saturnville · 2 months

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marry me, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x amelia mae

content: john proposes to amelia mae.

an: I told y'all I'd write it eventually, hehe

John Egan did not have marriage in his cards. It seemed like a farfetch idea that was unattainable; at one point undesirable. He was a playboy, a rolling stone; women, alcohol, and the infamous party life at his fingertips. Those things consumed his life like a fire, until her cool waters calmed the flames.

He didn’t consider himself to be marriage material. He was selfish. Impulsive. Immature. The qualities any woman would reject in a good husband. But, she peeled back the layers and helped him discover what was under the surface. He was kind, gentle, protective, and so loving. To her, he was a dream.

Amelia Mae was the kind of women to never let slip through the cracks. She was too good of a woman to not be desired by other men. He would be a fool to not make every effort to spend the rest of his life with her. Who would he be without her?

Within two weeks, he had a velvet box with a gold ring inside, waiting to encase her finger. He was nervous. Nervous that he’d say the wrong thing, that he wouldn’t say enough, or that she’d reject his proposal an dhe be left feeling like a fool.

But, they’d grown so much together, they’d spent so much time together, they’d loved each other more than life itself. Would she really?

John caught her off guard. She was bustling around the kitchen trying to ensure the brownies for dessert were perfect. Crunchy on the outsid eand gooey in the middle just as they liked. She search the cabinets for powdered sugar, and when she turned around, she found the pilot on one knee, shiny gold ring staring at her. “Johnny…”

“I kept trying to find all the right words to say, but I don’t think words could amount to what I want to say. I just know that I love you and I want to spend the rest of my days with you. Rose, will you marry me?”

Amelia placed the bag of sugar on the table beside her. Her moves were slow and calculated. Her watery eyes dropped to the ring. Just as she described. Gold with the prettiest square diamond in the center. Stunning. She nodded slowly, a shaky smile on her lips as she tried not to cry like a baby.

“Yes?” John asked, eyes hopeful. Amelia repeated his statement with more authority and nodded. John let out a sigh of relief and smiled like a kid in the candy store. Slowly, he pulled the ring out of the box and slid it on her left hand. She examined it in awe.

“I tied down Major John Egan. Do I get an award?” She giggled softly. John rolled his eyes playfully and stood to his feet. He swept his thumb under her eye to wipe away the fallen tears and shook his head.

“Ha ha,” he replied, unamused. “But I don’t know, make it to the back fast enough and you might.”

Amelia’s lips pursed and her eyebrows raised in interest. She eyed the brownies on the eye of the oven then her fiance. She swiped one off the counter and skipped to the bedroom. “Don’t keep me waiting!”

With a chuckle, John watched her go, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at the thought of spending the rest of his days with her As he followed her into the bedroom, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the woman who had changed his life in ways he never thought possible. In their shared moment, he knew that he had found his forever in Amelia Mae.

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okkotsuus · 11 months

Text

mi hermosa (sae i.) !

features: sae i.

contents: suggestive. sae is kinda ooc. reader is a model. hickies/neck kissing. sae feels you up kinda. gender-neautral reader. filming. sae is himself. vivid descriptions. insinuation at the end. 4.2k words.

notes: self-indulgent. my very very bad spanish. partial google translate bc i forgot most of my lessons. i just think not being able to understand what someone's saying but knowing what it means by how they say it is really hot. telenovelas are making me delulu. i luv sae.

heavily inspired by this edit from my queen koca ( @daiseukiis )

as you study your reflection in the glimmering surface of the bathroom mirror, you can't help but feel your own chest puff in pride. like a bird after hours of preening, even you were forced to acknowledge that you looked stunning at this moment.

maybe it was what felt like the endless hours you were forced to sit still while the makeup artists touched up every single pore and freckle on your face, or maybe it was just how they were able to bring out the untouchable features that were already there. either way, you felt as if you were on top of the world at this moment. you felt untouchable, unattainable.

the ringing of the bell signaling the end of the crew's lunch break drew you back into reality as you messed with the flyaway that had begun to escape what felt like a helmet of hairspray.

your shoes clicked against the tiled floor as you hurried on set. when you made it there, you saw the crew scrambling around as they finished the last props and lighting adjustments. they called every cue in a practice run and tested cgi with extras before taking the first shot.

you smoothed the clothes that hugged just right over your body. the material under your fingers felt expensive, smooth and soft. they were luxury for the brand that you were shooting and commercials for. along with other high dollar items, all to impose the idea of regality.

it was a perfume and cologne commercial. so it was guaranteed to be eccentric.

truth be told, you didn't even know what the shoot had in mind. you weren't part of the original cast, as you were still an up-and-coming model. but you were the only model who would agree to shoot on such a short notice.

your co-star, whom you had yet to even see, apparently had some sort of falling out with the person who was supposed to be in your spot. the crew had quietly pulled you to the side and told you that the moment he laid eyes on them, he immediately demanded for someone else, or he would quit. it made you so very anxious for him to see you, much less to co-star with him.

the thrumming of your heart pounded in your ears as your eyes flit to every corner of the room, trying to guess who you were going to be on screen with. if it went well, you would be able to get some connections out of this, right?

maybe a bit too optimistic for a guy who just looked at a model much more famous than you and threw a hissy-fit...

you saw the director approaching and quickly you attempt to compose yourself, not wanting your nervous sweat to make the mua's hard work run. you put on a wobbly smile as he greets you.

"y/n, great to see you, sorry again for the short notice! so, as you were told, today we are shooting a luxury l'eau de parfum commercial." you nod along, watching as he tells a personal assistant to go get a 'mr. itoshi.' you have no clue who that is, but he seems important given the way the pa broke into a cold perspiration at his name. maybe it was your tyrant of a co-star?

the director continues his rundown of the shoot, going over the details that normally would have been told before you would have signed the contract. "so, today you will be in very close proximity with your co-star. intimate touching, scantily clothed, innuendos, is that okay?"

you hesitate for a moment, since you were new: you had never done anything like this before. truth be told, you were feeling a little shy. until you saw him.

those half-lidded uncaring eyes of turquoise that had your heart racing from more than just the anxiety of it all. his hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his tight-fitting, black, suit pants. his white button-up is tucked in and only half buttoned, leaving a tempting portion of his toned chest teasingly exposed. a silver chain drums against his collarbones with every step he takes, darkened-blush hair ruffling with movement. god, he is stunning. just the sight of him had you nodding absent-mindedly to everything the director was saying. you didn't care about your doubts, as long as you were doing the intimate touching and scantily clothed-ness with him (for the commercial of course, nothing else...). you don't care how embarrassing it is.

he came to a stop an arms-length away from you, staring down at you under his nose. you can’t help but anxiously fidget; the confidence from earlier disappearing as you suddenly felt like the side character who’s screen time just ended, your presence completely being devoured by the main character that just entered the room under his scrutinizing gaze.

he huffs, clearing his throat before turning away from you. you wince, ready to be dismissed and humiliated, yet it never came.

"acceptable."

with that, he was gone. you were left gawking. all that pride you had lost was restored in an instant. he didn't instantly hate you? it was somehow the biggest ego boost you had been given in a long time.

the crew member who you had somehow become friends with starts squealing and bouncing up and down while you raise a shaky hand to feel the heat burning at your cheeks. is this real?

the final run of all the technical components finished and you went to join mr. itoshi on the set. unlike him, you weren’t aware of what was going on each scene, hence why the producer had to stage things more carefully. they weren't annoyed at all, instead thankful that she could find someone so last minute, even if it meant the shoot taking longer. it just wasn't worth the pay cut it would have taken to recast.

as the lights dim slightly, you turn your attention to the producer: sitting in her chair with the script.

"first of all, big thanks to y/n for making it on such short notice—” scattered claps from around the room all in your favor, “without them, we could never shoot this commercial! okay so, the first scene is going to be sae and y/n just sort of holding each other. it's intimate and coy, going to help us lead up to the bigger things going on later in the shoot. break a leg everyone!"

you felt your cheeks lightly warm at the description of the scene, clearing your throat before turning to sae, who was adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves and his open collar. you copy his professionalism and smooth out the wrinkles on your own luxury clothing items.

he takes a step closer to you and plants one hand on your hip, his fingers slightly digging into the plush of your skin as his other arm winds around your back loosely. sae’s breath fans over your face as he gently huffs through his nose. lashes fluttering as those aquamarine hues zero in on you, with his plush, pink lips parting slightly.

all of it is head-spinning, mind-boggling, he is so captivating. but you force yourself to remember this is a job. so you rest one of your hands over his muscular bicep, the other fisting the collar of his half undone shirt. your head tilts to the side to allow yourself to inch closer to him. the world goes silent and the two of you just stare at each other.

it was a moment frozen in time, both of your lashes flutter as you maintain that heavy stare. breath fanning in the small yet far too large gap between the two of you. your back is subtly arching as you press yourself further into him.

"cut!"

yes, all for the shoot, of course...nothing else, no other reason.

sae steps back from you, your arms stay up for a moment before falling limply to your side. you clear your throat and turn to the producer, desperately hoping that it didn't need another take, you weren't sure if your heart could take it.

"amazing job, that was a flawless take! y/n, you should really consider becoming an actor, the chemistry you created with sae was palpable. great work, take five while we get ready for the next scene, you two!"

you breathlessly thank her and scramble offstage, returning to hair and makeup to see if anything needed to be retouched. while the artist was touching up your lips and powdering your nose, you couldn't get sae's touch out of your mind. it lingered on your skin like a brand, hot and heavy.

your next costume was to change into a button-up just like the one sae was wearing, it was left even more unbuttoned. you were given a pair of white safety shorts to wear under it, a very obvious illusionary tactic of being pantless. you couldn't help but feel shy.

it was call time so you returned to the set, eyes locking on sae who abandoned the white shirt he was in and instead just wearing those fitted, black pants. he still had the necklace on; on that tempting delicacy of a body he has. you force yourself to focus on that. lest your vision slip to his sculpted torso, again.

when your eyes meet his after he catches you desperately trying not to stare, he had this cocky light to him. this time he isn’t looking down at you, more like looking through his lashes. it’s entrancing. he makes you want to curl up in a ball and disappear. he makes your stomach twist and heart race.

the producer came in and sat down, delivering the brief of the scene. "okay, so this scene is pretty tame as well, just the costume change makes it more risque. so basically sae is standing in the bathroom and y/n comes up behind him as rests their chin on his shoulder. with how things are going, it should likely be done in one take. break a leg!"

sae stood at the counter, hands on the counter and he leaned down and leered into the mirror at his own reflection. his eyes lidded as he licked his lips and tugged on his bottom one with his teeth.

you took a deep breath and approached him when the clapperboard slammed shut. your steps are soft as you pad against the faux tile, rising to your tippy-toes to hook your chin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. your arms wrap around him and rested atop his hands on the counter. smelling something almost intoxicating you sniffed at his neck, it was a cologne: hints of musk and teak-wood. it was the kind of scent that had your eyes rolling back into your head, which you were able to refrain from, luckily.

your touch lingered as they announced the end of the scene, dragging your fingers lightly against his skin. his eyes caught you as he raised a questioning brow, leaning back against the bathroom counter. your eyes traced every rise and fall of his abs before you turned and left in a flustered huff, not noticing the quirk of his lips in the slightest smirk.

as you snuck away, regretting it immediately, he caught you. slightly off to the side and away from peering eyes, sae itoshi looms over you with that intense stare you figured was just for the cameras. his lips rested against the shell of your ear as he breathed out a whisper. "ten cuidado, cosita hermosa...*"

you can’t help the shiver that runs up your spine as a whine is pulled out from your chest. you desperately hope he hasn’t heard it, but he very clearly did when that smug look came in view. his hands gripped your hips as he said one last thing before departing. "no empieces cosas que no puedas terminar.**" again, he was gone.

you felt your back meet the wall behind you as you covered your mouth, trying to stabilize your racing heart. you have not a single clue what he said, but you just couldn't help but feel the effects of its trance regardless.

it took a long time for you to drag yourself back to hair and makeup, they had to powder your entire face pretty much. your now ruffled hair took a little fixing due to that…moment. luckily, you didn't need a costume change. all costumes did was spray something, likely the perfume you're advertising, onto the insides of your wrists and neck.

you spaced out during the producers instructions, leaning against the counter-top. your attention being forced back onto the shoot when all of the sudden sae is caging you against the counter. one hand pinned yours atop the porcelain where it had rested, the other gripping your wrist and brought it to his face, where he pressed a searing kiss to it.

he sniffed at it and a cheshire grin split his face, "y'know this one's my favorite baby. makes me want you..." he groans the ending, leaning closer and pressing his lips to your neck. you couldn't remember if this was a scripted line or not, but you couldn't bring yourself to care; you'd savor it the same either way.

you lean your head back and rest your unrestrained hand on the back of his head, fingers threading in light mahogany tresses. he kisses up the column of your neck, nose digging against the exact places where the stylists had sprayed the perfume. you can’t help the whimper that slips from your lips at the subtle nips he makes at your skin. they're light enough not to turn red and leave marks that makeup would have to cover, but you can feel them. you can feel every drag of his tongue and every mold of his lips against your searing skin.

his head lifted from his torturous kisses as his eyes bore into yours, you feel so small under his gaze, like you were pressed under his thumb. he leans in and your eyes squeeze shut as his lips ghost over yours. your grip on his hair tightens as your back arched to press your chest against his.

everything just felt so real.

maybe that's why the producer yelled another enthusiastic "cut!" it you jumping and startled. your eyes met sae's taunting gaze as he pulls away, leaving you limp and boneless against the counter as you reeled from all that.

"wonderful work guys, we're making up for all the time we had lost with sae's... fit—” to which he rolled his eyes, remembering that event and sae’s glaring hues, “keep it up! gosh this is wonderful acting, i really need this kind of stuff from my cast on the film we're shooting tomorrow... next one is the last scene we'll need you two together on set for."

your heart aches a little at that, but at the same time it has you puffing a sigh of relief. you couldn't handle this any longer, he was just so... so? intense, alluring, intoxicating? nothing seemed right, these words were all too mild to encompass what sae itoshi was.

your hands reached up to cup your cheeks, feeling their burning intensity on your palms. you shook your head and mentally give yourself a pep talk before going over to get your final touch-ups and clothing adjustments.

your shirt was pulled down to expose your shoulders, the open buttons drawled down to just above your stomach. hair and make-up left you alone, saying that it would be better for them to be slightly messed up anyways. that made you slightly realize what this scene was going to be showing.

you can’t help but feel hot under the collar, or well; lack of a collar, now. you couldn't look sae in the eyes when you saw the set: a bed with slightly ruffled white sheets. what you were able to notice was that he had lost the belt on his pants, which were now unbuttoned and unzipped. they sag down lower on his hips, revealing the line of muscles that ended when the branded band of his boxers peeked out just below a slight trail of hair on his lower stomach.

you gulp, eyes finding every single thing you could fixate on except sae. the changing lights, the rush yet control of the crew as they all got ready for the camera to roll, the producer talking. oh wait the producer is talking.

"—or this scene, we're going to have both of you on the bed. sae will be on top of y/n, face in their neck. y/n will have their legs slightly around him, and i trust you to know where your hands need to go. oh, and you're going to be looking into a camera above you. you both have been doing so well, i've never had a shoot with two actors who have never met, much less ones who have gone this well. let's finish it up people!"

you sort of just stood there, stunned. you’re pulled over to the bed by sae, who has that slight wolfish grin playing on his lips. he puts his hands on your shoulders, leaning into be closer to your face. to the outside eye, it looked like he was giving a co-star a pep talk, how sweet.

but you knew different, you saw the grin and narrowing of his turquoise eyes, the way his fingers dig into your skin. you knew this was anything but a friendly chat. "wouldn't it be such a shame if they all found out that you weren't acting, that you were really just this desperate for me, hermosa?***" his breath was hot and his voice rasped, it was so addicting, you couldn't help the shudder that wracked up your spine as you dumbly nodded.

sae looks you over, head to toe, one last time before pulling away as his expression returns to neutral. you let out a shaky sigh and sat back on the bed, scooting to be further in the center. you sit there for a moment before laying down.

you can’t help the nervous feeling in your stomach that swirls as sae slowly stalks towards you; he was the predator locking on to his prey. there was a hunger in his eyes that was just too intense.

languidly, he crawls along the bed to you. he stops, hovering over you and looking at you with that same unruly need. he leans ever so closer, close enough to feel his breath fanning over your lips.

his eyes study you, taking in every single reaction you make. you feel his analytical gaze run over every curve and dip of your body, soaking you in and engraving it into his mind. his hands plant themselves on your hips, effectively pinning them to the mattress as he puts some of his weight on them. he slots one of his knees between your own, which you had so pathetically clamped shut.

you lift the leg that wasn't between his up to loosely rest over his lower back, hooking and keeping him there. you brought one of your hands to splay over the wide span of his back, between his shoulder blades. the other was placed at the nape of his neck, fisting and grabbing at the strands of hair that fell a little longer than the rest. his head was pulled down to bury his face in the crook of your neck, breath puffing over spots that had you shuddering in place.

"ayyy... mi hermosa es una gran 'actriz', ¿no?****" his words were hot against the side of your neck, feathering over your skin. you couldn't help the twisting and curling of your stomach at his words, which you didn't understand a lick of. it was just the way he rasped and twined every syllable that had you quivering under his voice, under his touch, under him.

you heard the snap of the clapperboard, but it was all muted. everything sounded faint. your senses were too focused on the calculated squeezes that sae gave on the width of your hips, roiling and kneading flesh under deft, lithe fingers. you too were focusing on the open-mouthed kisses he was trailing along the junction of your neck and shoulder, the column of your throat, your jawline. every drag of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, it had you shaking like a leaf in the wind.

the expression you sent to the camera hanging above you was nowhere near acting. it was the kind of raw desire that actors wished they could emanate. you tug at his hair, trying to pull him a little further back; to spare yourself from this torment. he only lets a rumble escape his chest, nipping along your heated skin, which had become slightly sheened from an ever-so-thin layer of sweat.

the way your back arches off the plush mattress, leg that wasn't wound around him kicking pitifully at the sheets, it was downright sinful. it made you feel pathetic, falling so pliably into the hands of a man you haven't even known for three hours. so desperately begging him for more with unspoken mannerisms and looks. it was like public humiliation; the way he had you under his control to the very point of your toes curling against the pure white sheets that crumpled around you.

you stare at yourself in the reflective lens of the camera that stares down at you, forever capturing this moment; before it is broadcasted to millions, if not billions of people. it caught every facet, every single little tick until you had exploded. it caught your widened eyes, which screw themselves shut. it caught your hands gripping and pulling at locks of blush hair. it caught your agape mouth, lips glossy with your own spit; and it caught you sinking your teeth into the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip to silence yourself. it caught every ministration sae subjected you to, and every little receptive reaction you gave him in return.

that red blinking light in it died, but you couldn't bring yourself to tap out. drunk on the feeling you pulled him closer, stretching to hook your chin over his shoulder: burying yourself in his scent, in him.

"...ut! guys, that's cut!" gods, it was so hard to snap yourself back to reality. your eyes flicker over to the producer, who was staring so closely at the two of you. in a hushed whisper you shook sae, telling him to get off of you. to which he answered, "don't care, let 'em watch."

you pushed him up with your palms butting against the front of his shoulders, ignoring the pointed glare he gives you. "well i do, so off." with that, you slipped away from him. you sat against the front of the stage, waiting for feedback. the air of the fans made the spit on your neck from sae's searing kisses feel cold, sending a shiver racking up your spine.

the man stands behind you, shadow looming over and consuming your own. your shoulders rounded as you huddled in on yourself from his all-consuming presence, trying to hide the fluttery feeling in your stomach.

"great work, that'll be all we need you two together for, and all we'll need y/n for. thank you for the great work!" the crew clapped and you felt a smile stretch your cheeks. even if it wasn't all acting, you couldn't help the pride that swelled in your chest at their praise.

you gather up your things, not seeing sae again. bidding farewell to everyone: the producer, the director, and every crew member who worked specifically with you, not hearing a word from sae. as you walk out of the door, you saw a familiar figure leaning against the metal-sheeted wall, sae.

turquoise eyes glanced over at you, not nearly as cold as they were the first time they had. if anything, the hues that cast an ever so dark spell on you and your beating heart. he raises himself from the wall, walking towards your figure. hands in the pockets of a pair of grey sweatpants, a black compression shirt stretching over his broad chest. fuck, what was he doing to you?

his hand tucks a strand of hair away from your face, fingers sliding from where he had left it behind your ear along your jaw. he holds your chin between his fingertips, gentle but steadily raising your head to look up to his eyes. his other hand starts to creep under the hem of your shirt, drawing circles so faint they give you goosebumps along the soft flesh of your tummy.

"what'd ya say we pick up where we left off back at my place, mi hermosa?*****"

* = "be careful, pretty thing..."

** = "don't start things you can't finish."

*** = "...beautiful?"

**** = "ayyy... my beautiful is a great 'actor', no?"

***** = "... my love"

okkotsuus 23

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x you #sae #sae x reader #sae x you #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #bllk sae #blue lock sae #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you

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rikiws · 25 days

Text

꩜ wrong person, wrong time.

non-idol!riki x gn!reader ┆ tropes; mutual-pining , they always just miss each other [angst] ꩜ Riki always had an issue opening up to people. He couldn't take compliments, and he'd always push people away, even when it'd hurt him too. But you were okay with that. You loved him, more than you could ever describe. So you'd wait for him. And he'd push you away. Until you gave up for good, and until he knew that you'd never come back. but nothing was ever that easy for you two.

. . . under the cut ⊹ (1.0k words)

“Wrong person.”

The harsh words fell right out of Riki’s mouth; cold and calculated. It wasn’t like he wasn’t expecting this moment. Riki knew exactly what he wanted to say and he did just that. He didn’t care that the now silent, sombre person in front of him used to be so bubbly around him before. It’s better that you knew the truth. Riki hated you. He hated how happy you were, how you wanted to see him being as cheerful as you were, to get him to laugh, when Riki had nothing to smile about. He hated the compliments, he hated the gentle words of affirmation that obnoxiously tickled him until it stung, he hated the soft smiles that’d make him feel unbearably warm.

Riki hated how scared he was.

But what he hated most of all was the way he felt his heart split into two when he turned his back on you, to hear that stifled sob of yours pierce through his chest from behind. Even then, he jammed his headphones into his ears, forcing a brisk walk away before he caught himself doing the same. Riki was the wrong person to love. Because words meant nothing to him. If you loved him, you didn’t. If you really loved him, he wouldn’t need to hear it from you. He’d rather see all the little things you’d do for him; like the way you’d always share your snacks at lunch; the way you’d delicately pick off leaves in his hair whenever you’d stare up at the clouds together; the way the corners of your eyes would crinkle just a little higher for him than for anyone else.

But Riki would always ignore it. He’d ignore how his heart did a somersault when you’d say something kind to him, when he’d feel the tips of his fingers warm up where your hands accidentally brushed across them. Riki would ignore how much he really liked you, all until he saw you giving away that smile- that smile that was just for him to see- to another boy instead.

You were so pretty, so happy, so…unattainable. He only realised how much he missed those dreadfully heart fluttering words of encouragement once he couldn’t hear them anymore. The sweet nothings that would thaw out his icy heart, the subtle touches that made his skin grow warm, the contagious smile that he’d struggle to not reciprocate. Well, it was all still there, just not to him. Instead, they went to someone who deserved it, someone who knew how special you were, someone who got to you before Riki could. And at that, Riki knew that you were the wrong person for him after all.

But why the hell would that mean that he’d stop loving you?

“Wrong time.”

It was laughable how similar you sounded to Riki now. A cold stare…but a look of longing behind your eyes that you could only wish that Riki paid enough attention to notice. You were over him now, you tried to convince yourself of it. You had someone who appreciated you, someone you loved more than anything, someone you knew would cherish you and that you would do the same. But the feelings you’d bottled up and corked for so long seemed to break and spill out uncontrollably the moment your searching eyes locked in with the other’s closed-off ones. Riki was still a brick wall, even at his most vulnerable, you could still feel the miles of space between them. You would move a step closer, and Riki would always react: three steps back.

You stared up at the taller boy, a bitter smile stretched tautly across your face. If only Riki had said all of this sooner, when your eyes didn’t twinkle around another man instead, when you still hadn’t given up. Now, it was your turn to walk away, to hear a sob, and to ignore it, as much as your heart wished to turn back. Yet you heard nothing. And when you fought with your own morals and turned back, Riki was gone, as if he’d never been there in the first place.

You could have been sure that this was the end of the both of you. Riki should have stopped you; asked you again and again if you really wanted to go your separate ways; begged you for another chance, because you’d take him back in a heartbeat.

If Riki really loved you like he said he did, he wouldn’t have been silent.

You thought that everything could end now. You could finally move on, and you’d never once look back. But when you found yourself loitering around Riki’s favourite spot, your spot, and when you turned to look behind you the way you promised you never would…

When you saw Riki, with your own eyes, under the cherry tree- just like the day you two met for the first time, and when the sunlight reflected on his face so perfectly like it always did, when every ray of light glimmered in just the right spot, all except for one, all except for the tear that ran down his cheek, you found hope. You saw Riki cry. You saw Riki cry… for you. And you’d wait as long as it took, as long as Riki needed, to wipe those tears off of his face and tell him that words really are all lies; that you weren't the wrong person; that it wasn’t the wrong time.

But alas, if only love could let one see realistically, maybe then you’d both see how true it was. Only then could you see how you two had destined yourselves to always watch from afar- to look, never touch. If you’d only push your absurdities aside and realise that you were never meant to be: For one would always wait, while the other would always love.

A/N : This was originally a silly goofy angsty oc thing I made out of spite but since I can't get the time to write much nowadays 😢 reduce reuse recycle ꩜ want to read more? check out my masterlist

#𓇼 ― rikiws #riki x reader #riki imagines #riki nishimura x reader #nishimura riki #enhypen x reader #riki angst #niki angst #enhypen angst #nishimura riki angst #riki enhypen #enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen niki #ni ki #riki nishimura

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 5 months

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hii love, how are you doing? 🫶🏻

so, i just read your latest pietro hcs and it's SO GOOD😭 (like everything else that you write, i'm literally in love with your writing) and i had an idea

can i request an angry love confession from pietro after him and the reader go to a mission together and she puts herself at risk to save him?

like, they're friends with benefits, but are distant bc both of them had developed feelings for each other, but neither say anything bc they think the other only wants sex, like you said. the reader putting herself at risk during the mission to save pietro it's the last straw for him, he gets angry and freaked out by the idea of losing her. so, after the mission, they're arguing and it ends up leading to an angry love confession 😏😏

hii lovie!! im sorry this has taken so long, it took me ages to figure out how to get them out of the danger part, so I took a break from it and had no luck so left that part blank. but you’ll see what I mean😭 and im doing well, hope you are too. thank you :(( you’re so sweet!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

MISTAKES AND CONFESSIONS

pietro maximoff x female reader

word count. 869

link to fwb hc’s

As of late, things with Pietro have been a little confusing - tricky, if you will - the complications of being friends with benefits making themselves more apparent after every meet-up.

Everything was going well, all going as planned, until the unforeseen moment when you actually fell in love with him. At the beginning of your elevated friendship, you both promised it would be strictly hook-ups, no strings attached, nothing else. And that's what you did - up until three weeks ago.

After a while, you found yourself declining his invitations to meet up, like you were starting to pull back from him. It grew more difficult to be around someone so unattainable, to have the constant reminder of his romantic disinterest, so instead, you withdrew yourself to make it less painful.

So now, when you cross paths at the compound, instead of a nervous hidden smile behind your hand, you avoid his gaze completely - turning your attention to the weather app on your phone.

It wasn't easy to ignore him, but it was getting there - that's what you told yourself, anyway.

All of your attempts to avoid Pietro got flipped on its head when the two of you got paired together for a mission - to retrieve intel from an enemy base. It was supposed to be a low-risk assignment: get in, collect the information and get out, but nothing is ever that simple.

As soon as you and Pietro stepped foot in the room of said intel, you noticed a red hue shine from under his foot. You immediately tugged at his arm, halting his movements when you realised what you had both walked into.

"Pietro! Wait, wait, wait," you call out, gripping at his upper arm. "Don't move. Keep still," you ramble, eagerly looking around the space.

"What is it?"

"The room— it's got these— I don't know, just keep still," you breathe out a reply, feeling flustered.

"It's okay," Pietro offers a brief moment of reassurance, keeping his eyes glued ahead - keeping still as instructed. "Are you okay? Are you on one, too?" he hesitantly asks.

"No, no, but you are and— I don't know what to do. Nat taught me what to do with these and— god, why isn't my brain working?" you mumble, frustratedly speaking your mind when you think about the possibility of something awful actually happening to Pietro - to both of you.

"Draga, it's fine. Really, it's okay," he whispers, slowly extending his hand behind, like he was awkwardly reaching for you.

"No, keep still— please. Just let me think,"

"You should go,"

"No, give me a minute,"

"Please, milovat. You need to go,"

"I said no. Just give me a second,"

You even your breathing, running an uneasy hand over your forehead as you assess your surroundings.

----- after ------ (im sorry about this, my brain broke)

You avoid each other's gaze, separately processing everything that happened - how you were both about to be blown to pieces, how you were willing to let yourself die to get Pietro out.

"That was so stupid," Pietro mutters, keeping his eyes fixed on a tree ahead.

"Excuse me?" you reply, neck whipping around to face him.

"That was so stupid," he repeats, emphasising each word.

"Are you kidding?" you snicker. "If you had minded where you were going we wouldn't have had to done all that."

"So you're saying it's my fault?" he retorts, face grimacing.

"Yes. I am," you retaliate. "It's your fault."

You both sigh, growing frustrated with the conversation. It was as if there was so much left unsaid, it all coming together like a whirlwind of mixed emotions - everything from your failed 'relationship' to no contact to just now. It was like you were both holding back on everything, too scared to bring up the subject that tarnished your original friendship.

"I told you to go, and you didn't. That's not on me. That's on you! Don't blame me for things we both messed up on."

"Me? That's rich,"

"Yes, you! Nothing is ever your fault, is it?" he sneers, the argument changing subject.

"You never listen! Always thinking about yourself,"

"Bullshit," he dryly chuckles, unamused smile on his face.

"I don't want to do this. It's boring and tiring," you cave, waving your hands in sign of defeat. "I give up. You win."

Pietro huffs, rubbing over his temples. "If you had just gone..." he murmurs, talking at the floor.

"I couldn't! I couldn't leave you,"

"Yes, you could. You should've gone. You could have died," Pietro's words soften as if it all hit him how real it was - how he could have lost you again, but for good. "You could've died."

"So could you," you turn to face him, meeting his saddened eyes.

His hands drop to his side as he steps towards you, walking to close the gap - the closest you had been in weeks. He keeps his gaze solely on you, looking over you like you're no longer a distant memory, like he was seeing you in a new light - the way he was supposed to see you.

He cups your cheeks, holding your face in his hands. "I could have lost you again."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

pietro taglist: @astermath @thewinterv @earth-elemental18 @lunnnix @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @randomawesomeperson102 @queerponcho @selfryed @daenerys-supremacy @dontknownameauthor @mrsbarnesxxx @honestly-who-even-is-this @simplyreflected @apxtowiris

#request #this is so bad omg im so sorry!!#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro x reader #pietro imagine #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff fluff #pietro marvel

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anystalker707 · 6 months

Text

Selfish

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x [gn, afab] Reader Kinktober prompt: Caught Tags: Oral / sloppy / Zoro eats you out / Transmasc friendly / use of 'pussy' tho / Some overstim

KINKTOBER LIST MASTERLIST

A sigh escaped your nose as you looked out the window of the crow’s nest. Usually, you’d hang out there with Zoro, but there still were the rare times in which you’d just sit there, observing the sea, like you did today.

Zoro was still there when you’d first arrived, with a barbell over his back as he did squats, talking briefly with you about how he’d been trying to increase the load. It was more than nice to sit there, watching his muscles flex under drops of sweat as he worked out—the pump made his muscles stand out, and it was impossible not to look. Soon, Zoro left, saying he needed some meat and napping after the intense training. What a shame. If you’d known he was training, you would’ve come to watch him before.

Your eyes wandered to where Zoro’s barbell was left, and your mind returned to Zoro's training. Today was leg day, but he was training arms and chest yesterday, and it was so fucking hot, too. Honestly, he was hot every day. The way his chest flexed during the overhead press, his sweatpants hung low on his hips during the chin-ups, his ass’ shape whenever he wore shorts for leg day… It almost felt wrong to keep using him with your eyes while he was so focused on training, but you were almost convinced Zoro did it on purpose when he turned the bench exactly toward where you were sitting whenever he did his chest exercises.

It wasn’t often that he did it, but you once caught him doing hip thrusts, and that haunted you for a good while. The way he held the heavy barbell right along his hips as he pushed them up. He was huffing, eyebrows furrowed as he fixed his eyes in a random spot while doing his reps, probably not even aware of your hungry eyes.

The fact your mind wandered around was no crime, right? You bet Zoro still thought about the day you were doing stiffs without knowing he was right there behind you, in a way your hips pushed right back against him when you bent down to grab the bar. He even took a sharp breath and walked away with a hand on his face, facing away from you. It had an effect on him, of course. That makes both of you even, since the mutual pining while spotting each other didn’t count, right? It was mutual. You leaned into each other’s touches.

Now, back to that day of the hip thrusts… You gulped, shifting a little in your seat. Those thoughts affected you way more than you wanted them to; you didn’t believe it was due to not having slept with anyone in a while. Zoro was genuinely hot.

You really wished you were on his hips that day, instead of the bar. Zoro probably had a big cock, given the bulge you’d seen through his gym clothes—the tight shorts and the sweatpants gave small room for imagination—, and you’d love to ride him, feeling him stretch you all nice while he reached deep inside you… Damn, he would look so pretty with scratch marks down his chest and his back. Maybe it was unattainable, but nothing stopped you from fantasizing. He could even fold you over and decide to take you right on the ground of the crow’s nest, that you’d be happy.

Your breath was a little out of pace, and it felt so hot between your legs. You’d been holding yourself back lately because it was wrong to touch yourself at the thought of your friend like that, right? Maybe it wasn’t so wrong.

The attempts to calm yourself down were in vain; you weren’t going to get up from there, the fantasies also didn’t get off your mind, and things only managed to get worse with the way you squirmed. Well, Zoro said he was going to eat and sleep, which meant it’d take a good while, right? You could use the moment you had alone in the nest for now.

A shaky breath escaped your nose as you undid the buttons of your pants and pushed them down with your underwear. The clothes were off one of your legs so that you could spread them properly, giving you better access to yourself.

“Fuck…” You whispered, reaching a hand between your legs. You were so wet already, all just at the thought of him. Shameful.

A gasp escaped your lips when your fingers met your clit, starting to rub circles into it, which drew a low moan from you. It felt so good, you had to hold back the temptation of just rubbing your clit until you came, instead letting your fingers down to your entrance.

Zoro’s fingers were much longer and thicker than yours—sometimes, you had the opportunity to see him holding his katanas from close while you fought side to side. He had such big, strong hands— A gasp escaped your lips as your fingers curled inside you, probably not reaching half where Zoro would reach, but that was something; most likely, also the best you would get of that.

You wished Zoro were there behind you, whispering in your ear about how well he’d prepare you for his cock, fingering deep inside, maybe caressing your thigh with his free hand, and—

“Hm?” The sudden sound caught your attention, making you immediately freeze and open your eyes, slowly removing your fingers from inside yourself. Zoro was halfway out of the trapdoor, looking at you with a blank stare. Out of all days, why did he have to come to nap here right today?

Zoro let out a long sigh as he finally climbed all the way up and closed the door before he walked closer. He was still shirtless, only in those sweats, as he walked over to you, clicking his tongue. Despite the almost empty expression, Zoro’s eyes were intense, darkening as he stepped closer and looked down at you. You wanted to just disappear, pretend this never happened. Hell, you didn’t even know if Zoro liked someone else, or if he was aroace, or if he—

“So that’s what you do when I’m not around?” The teasing was evident in his tone, and his lips slowly parted into a grin. Zoro had to take a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he shook his head. “Could’ve at least invited me, don’t you think? It’s selfish of you.”

“Mmph, no, I just—”

Words escaped your grasp when Zoro lowered himself, kneeling down in front of you, right between your legs. His gaze continued on yours.

“‘Think I can give you a treat, hm? Please?” He eyed you from under his lashes, licking his lips.

Who were you to resist? You gulped, nodding as you pulled your hands away from yourself and allowed Zoro to take over. His eyes were still on you when he spread your legs apart further, with big hands grasping your thighs, but he eventually pulled you closer and set your thighs over his shoulders. Only feeling his breath fanning over your pussy was enough to make you shudder.

Zoro leaned forward, giving you an experimental lick that went from your entrance to your clit, then he looked back up at you. “Sensitive? Did you cum already?”

“No,” you breathed, voice weaker than you wanted it to be. Shit.

He raised his eyebrows and hummed softly before he leaned in again. His tongue was warm, running flat against your clit and giving it way better friction than you could’ve achieved with your fingers. A gasp escaped your lips, and you tried your best to keep your moans to yourself, gripping the edge of the couch.

Zoro’s tongue circled your clit, playing with it briefly before his it went down to your entrance. Your thighs quivered, almost squishing his head between your thighs, and your back arched when his tongue slipped inside you, lapping as deeply as he could. It felt way better than any fantasy your brain could come up with late at night.

“More,” you moaned, trying to keep your hips from moving, though it wasn’t easy, not with how good Zoro’s mouth felt. He mouthed at you, practically making out with your pussy as he sucked lightly, slowly starting to give more attention to your clit, but it still wasn’t much.

The arousal pooled in your lower stomach shamefully quickly, given how you’d been touching yourself earlier—not to mention how sensitive you were to Zoro’s touches by itself. Zoro was still mouthing at you when your orgasm peaked, almost making you really squeeze his head between your thighs if Zoro weren’t holding them. His fingers sank hard into your skin, which would’ve been uncomfortable if not so arousing. You gasped, arching your back and pressing yourself more against Zoro as you came.

Zoro made a slurping noise, humming against you, licking you clean. His tongue had no right to feel that good, making you whimper, and your thighs twitch a little whenever it ran flat against your clit.

“Mmph, Zoro…” You whined, your voice high-pitched and dragged. Well, you could barely hold yourself back anymore, given how he just kept eating you out even after you came. It looked like he’d been starving, mouthing at your pussy so hungrily.

Zoro’s lips eventually wrapped around your clit, giving it his full attention, and easily had your back arching and your toes curling. Your fingers ached around the couch’s edge with the way it dragged along the rough fabric. You were so sensitive already, but you wouldn’t ask him to stop—no, no, no, it felt so fucking good.

A breathless gasp escaped your lips when something pressed to your entrance, slowly slipping in. Despite the initial discomfort, it slowly added up to the previous pleasure. All of your assumptions about Zoro’s hands were so right. His finger reached in deep and, when accompanied by a second one, you couldn’t help but moan at how fine he stretched you, reaching in deep and curling against your sweet spot. He could reach all the nice spots.

“Z—Zoro,” you whimpered, toes curling, and the feeling from earlier was building in your lower stomach again. It was easier since you were already sensitive from a first orgasm. You hissed at the way he sucked on your clit and then gave it a fat lick—he spit on your pussy before he started eating it again.

It seemed like making you weak like that had been his goal all along. He watched you with unimpressed eyes, observing the way you squirmed until you were cumming again. Your eyes rolled back with pleasure as the feeling came undone, whimpering as Zoro kept eating you out through your high. Your mind went blank. He didn’t care about the sensitiveness, again; he insisted on licking you clean after you came, even licking his lips when he pulled away.

“Make sure to let me know, the next time,” Zoro sighed.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

#one piece #opla #one pice live action #roronoa zoro #x reader #x female reader #x male reader #kinktober #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #imagine #oneshot #scenario #zoro/reader

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susililys · 7 months

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MY SHIKATEMA FANFIC RECS MASTERLIST PART 3

Continuation of my ShikaTema Fanfic Masterlist, click here for Part 1 or Part 2 :

New Parents / Post Chapter 700 / BORUTO / Nara Family CONT.

Leave The World Behind by: SpicedGold ONESHOT Temari runs into Shikamaru while at the marketplace with baby Shikadai.

Home At Last by: orphan_account M | ONESHOT Married smut, Temari comes back home from Suna.

Newborn by: SpookyMoth ONESHOT Domestic, pregnancy fluff.

He's Only Ten But She Was Only Three by: drowninglinguists ONESHOT Shikamaru is on a mission and Shikadai helps Temari deal with PTSD.

Love and Pride by: silverkunai ONESHOT Father and son sweetness, Shikamaru talks with Shikadai after the Chuunin exam loss.

Father's Brains and Mother's Attitude by: Kimiz ONESHOT Give me Temari and Shikadai, mother son bonding fics anytime!

Raindrops by: SpicedGold ONESHOT Temari goes on her first mission now that Shikadai is old enough, but the Nara boys are taking it hard.

48 hours to live by: Majsasaurus COMPLETE Includes Temari's reaction to the Shikadai bomb situation.

History Lesson by: SpicedGold ONESHOT Mostly Shikadai and Temari talking about the past, Rasa and the Konoha Invasion.

Snapshots by: lisa29 ONESHOT Snapshots of Temari's pregnancy.

How Did We Get Here by: SpicedGold ONESHOT Temari muses on how she came to have a life that includes a loving husband and son.

Shikadai by: SuperAwesomePandaKitty ONESHOT Temari gets abducted while 8 months pregnant, sweet fic.

Tell Me It'll All Be Alright by: SpicedGold COMPLETE Shikamaru spirals as he deals with Temari getting severely injured on a mission.

Favourite Things by: Dunesya ONESHOT Temari gets asked what her favorite thing about Shikamaru is.

Wave of Affection by: Dunesya ONESHOT Temari reflects on life with her family.

The Night Off by: SpicedGold ONESHOT ShikaTema need a break, cue in babysitting uncles.

Waking Up To You by: SpicedGold ONESHOT

A New Perspective by: SpicedGold ONESHOT Shikadai gets to see Temari in action.

Rest, Relax, and Revolt by: SpicedGold COMPLETE One of the best fics I've ever read, where the Sand/Nara family go through a revolt in Suna.

Hachidaime by: ShrimpArmy M | ONESHOT Yessss, was waiting for ShikaTema fics with Hokage Shikamaru

New routines by: clumsydragon28 ONESHOT Mostly Temari and Shikadai mother son bonding, loved it!

First Steps by: KiaraShell ONESHOT Ok, but how cute is this?

Family Life by: Aspire2B ONESHOTS Cute family moments!

Life of the Naras by: shikamarubase ONESHOTS Awww I’ve gone through these so many times.

Obvious Reasons by: LettieB ONESHOT Shikadai asking the real questions.

A Warning by: Awnyaa ONESHOT Fluff, Temari equals deforestation.

Nothing by: thegizka ONESHOT Temari wants to do something for Shikamaru’s birthday, domestic fluff.

Nightfall by: SeaTempest M | ONESHOT Fluffy married smut.

RELATIONSHIP DRABBLES / DEVELOPMENT / ONESHOT COLLECTIONS

Falling Through the Clouds by: spiritedarray

Moments by: tiashew14

4,572 days later by: therewithasmile

Antics by: eternallove5225 Second chapter in this collection is definitely my favorite. .

Lazy Love by: existence555 Favorite chapters, 5, 7, 13, 24, 25, 28, 57, 68, 76

On… by: ArmchairAnthropologist

Days Gone By by: Adulson

A Troublesome Love by: spiritedarray

Not So Troublesome After All by: BrokenDreamz95

Everyone's Eyes by: TaintedMoonlight

Approximation by: lollipop-mania

They Are Good at Many Things by: lollipop-mania M

Troublesome Crybabies by: ichilover3

AU / CANON DIVERGENT

Shadows of a Nightmare Future by: Mr Gr33d COMPLETE This was such an interesting and good read. Time Travel AU where Shikamaru goes back in time to save Temari and Shikadai.

unattainable, irreplaceable, you by: teatin COMPLETE This is so insanely good, ShikaTema on opposite sides of a war, unresolved feelings.

The Day Bleeds by: pieceofmind22 COMPLETE I usually don't read fics with character death, but this one was really well done.

Salt by: Comatosejoy INCOMPLETE Temari has to go in hiding due to Rasa giving her hand away in marriage, just one chapter shy of being completed.

The Rules by: lafolleconnasse M l COMPLETE This one gives me some intense feels, so well written!

The Desert and the Deer by: nahra M l COMPLETE Death God Shikamaru, someone commented that this could be an award winning movie and honestly…facts!

Trial of the Heart by: Majsasaurus M l COMPLETE Really intense, dark, and well written. Took me some time to finish reading it cause our beloved family goes through some extremely rough times. Jinchuuriki Shikadai. Happy Ending.

Grandmaster by: notquitejiraiya (lethargicshadowlover) INCOMPLETE I usually don't like to read alternate universe fics for ShikaTema, but I’ve been enjoying this one.

Warriors Heart (A Prequel to Fated) by: CeeCeeK COMPLETE ShikaTema as samurais.

What it Takes to Make her Smile by: TaintedMoonlight COMPLETE This used to be one of my favorite fics growing up. Fairy AU.

Of Sand and Shadow by: CinderRoses M | COMPLETE Shikamaru and Temari meet in completely different circumstances when he's abducted by Suna Anbu. Really enjoyed this!

Book One- The Enemy by: SillySnowden11 M | COMPLETE This is such a good read! The villages are at war with one another and commanders ST end up having a tentative alliance. Slow burn romance.

New Blood by: JFalcon COMPLETE Very long multi-chapter fic that includes many other characters, but it has ShikaTema as the main relationship throughout and is very well written.

This took me so long to make, but honestly I've always wanted to have a list of all my favorite ShikaTema fics all in one place. Hope this makes it easier to enjoy all of these amazing works! Thank you to all the writers who have made my days better throughout the years!

#ShikaTema #shikatema fanfiction recs #shikatema fanfic recs #shikamaru nara #Nara Temari #Naruto fanfiction recs #Nara Family #ShikaTema Fanfiction #ShikaTema Fanfics #shikamaru x temari #Naruto Fanfiction #Fanfiction Recs #shikatemadai #shikadai nara #sand siblings

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canmom · 2 months

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conflict variations

A character wants something. But it's not easy to get! Over the course of the story…

1.1: they get it

…after various struggles, they get exactly what they want. They exit the story, their narrative force spent.

…they get what they wanted, but it turns out that it doesn't make them happy - and they abandon it to pursue something else.

...they get what they wanted, but it turns out that it doesn't make them happy - and they just have to live with that malaise.

…they get what they want, but the cost turns out to be too much to bear, and they must live with the regret.

...they come into zero-sum conflict with another character with a conflicting desire, and win. Are they magnanimous or cruel in victory?

…they pursue their wish to the bitter end, only to die attempting to realise it. Posthumously, their efforts finally bear fruit.

1.2: they don't get it

…they almost get what they want, but at the last moment they lose hold of it - whether by ironic twist of fate or fundamental character flaw.

…they discover that what they wanted is unattainable, and give up to settle for some other desire, bitter or just resigned.

…they discover what they wanted is unattainable, but refuse to give up, going ever further off the deep end in futile attempts to realise their goal.

…they are distracted or waylaid by other things, only to realise too late that they missed the chance.

...they come into zero-sum conflict with another character with a conflicting desire, and lose. Do they accept it gracefully, or are they a sore loser?

…they pursue their wish to the bitter end, only to die attempting to realise it. The goal is never realised, their efforts were in vain.

1.3 they realise they don't want it after all

…they are torn between this and another, conflicting desire, and forced to decide what is most important.

…they realise that what they thought they wanted isn't what they really wanted.

...they change over the course of the story. Why did they ever want that so badly?

1.4 they're in an episodic story

…they comically fail to achieve their goal again and again, and yet never give up, always coming back to try again in each episode of the story.

…they come close to achieving their desire, but fall short. But they'll try again, as many times as it takes - cue the next instalment…

…the overriding motivation fades into the background, serving mainly as an excuse to throw the character into other characters' stories. Perhaps it will be revisited at the very end?

1.5 they aren't moving today

…they make no real movement relative to their goal, but the moment portrayed serves to illustrate what sort of character they are or how they are feeling (a 'postcard' scene - can be a whole story).

...the reasons that they came to want this thing are explored, perhaps in detailed flashbacks, changing our perception of the character (great setup for 1.1/1.2/1.3).

#fiction #writing

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cherievol6 · 2 years

Text

crying in the backseat

DAMNNN this one hurt kind of. inspired by one of my fave lana songs ever. i wrote this really fast, so it’s not edited, but enjoy. also my uk girlies how are we dealing with this heatwave, i for one cannot move x

PART TWO IS NOW UP!

warnings: swearing, loving someone unattainable

word count: around 1000

"Let me at least get you a jumper, you're shivering." He muttered, unlocking his sleek black car in the car park and grabbing it from the boot. You feel embarrassment try and edge its way in, but you’re not regretful for barging into the bar and confronting Harry.

“Don’t try and pretend like you care about me right now, Harry.”

He slams the boot shut and looks at you with a frown. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I care about you.”

“Oh I’m sorry, skipping your best friend’s birthday meal for your ex-girlfriend’s party-”

“PR girlfriend.” He seethes.

“-deserves a fucking Saint’s award, my mistake.” You roll your eyes, turning your head away when he wraps the jacket over your shoulders.

“She told me it was a work thing! Something about some legal shit we need to re-sign about the whole PR thing.”

“And that couldn’t have waited?” You snap. “I shouldn’t have to find you in some random bar in Soho, whilst I’m already upset that the one person I wanted to show up tonight didn’t.” Your voice goes higher and higher in octave as you reach the end of your sentence, your throat closing up and sinuses blocking to prepare an outpouring of tears. You were gutted, especially after seeing his tattooed arm in the corner of a video of his ex girlfriend cheering and pouring shots whilst you were holding back tears at your birthday dinner.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding.” Sarah mumbles, prying your phone from your fingertips and glaring down at the phone with a stoned face.

“I thought he was at a meeting-” you say quietly, looking around to see if anyone noticed the commotion.

“Oh Y/N. I’m so sorry.” She panders you as you feel tears springing to their ducts. You fan your eyes discreetly and Sarah ushers you off to the bathroom.

“I can’t keep doing this. I think he has feelings for her, Sar.”

“You don’t know that, Y/N. Their relationship was to boost her new book, remember? If he had feelings for her, they’d be dating right now.” She says pointedly with an eyebrows raised, patting away your running mascara.

“Why are feelings so shit?”

“I don’t know, but I think life’s to short to not tell someone you love them. You might just get a surprise.”

“I’m sorry. How many times do I need to say it?” He pleads. “I genuinely thought this was a business meeting, that’s why I told you. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You don’t reply, looking out at the bustling streets and wiping your eyes.

“And how am I supposed to believe you? You’re not giving me much convincing evidence that you’re a reliable person, Harry.”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes taking in your body closed off in defence, completely opposite to how relaxed and close you usually are with him.

"I think we should call a taxi." His voice breaks as he says it, sighing and tapping away on his phone, trying to ignore the tears that were free falling from your eyes.

You hug his sweatshirt closer around your body as the cries silently rack your body, he doesn't even stand close to you. His perfectly tailored suit mocks your feeble state and you feel the most out place you've ever felt. Here you are, crying your pathetic eyes out whilst Harry's watch is ticking down the time that he's away from his celebrity life, a private bar bustling with big names that mean so much more than you.

“Trying to get rid of me now?”

"What? No! You’re worked up and need to go home. Please stop crying." He softens, trying to reach out his arm. You scoff at his audacity to tell you to stop, when he was the perpetrator for your emotional state.

"Fuck off." You mutter, stepping away and trying to pull his jumper off you. He looks more than hurt at your words, but you can’t bring yourself to be nice to him.

"Stop it, for God's sake, it's too cold for you to be out here without a jacket." He huffs as he tugs the black zip up back over your shoulders despite your protests.

Moments of silence pass as the noise from the surrounding streets fills your ears.

“You need to learn your priorities, Harry.”

“You are one of my priories! You’re literally one of the only people, who isn’t my blood, that I care about.” He’s frustrated now, hands raking through his hair.

“Don’t spew that bullshit at me, if I was, you would have been there.” And you would love me back, you wanted to add, but couldn’t muster up the courage.

The tears begin to dry and you pinch the side of your thigh to shake yourself back to earth, trying to get your thoughts straight. You suck in a shaky breath and let out the final point you had been wanting to make for months after a multitude of occasions when Harry decided to prioritise his work over your commitments.

“Y/N-”

“I think we should put some distance between us for a bit. I need to get my head straight.” You say firmly through the stuffiness of your throat. He gapes, unable to come up with something to say, his own eyes brimming with tears.

“No, please. I don’t want to put distance between us, Y/N. You’re my best friend- I can’t do this without you, y’know.” His speech is frantic now. The word best friend drives an imaginary stake through the centre of your chest.

“You have other friends, Harry. Lots of other friends, that apparently you have more time for than me.”

The taxi, or rather, Harry’s casual chauffeur, mounts the gravel, signalling the end of a conversation.

“Y/N, let me come with you, I have something important to talk to you about-”

“I don’t want you to come with me.” You say quietly. I do.

“Please.” He tries again, eyes bloodshot and teary. This strikes up the waterworks in your body as well, and you simply shake your head, climbing into the back and slamming the door.

“Hi, Y/N.” Harry’s driver greets you through the mirror, and you smile back, asking him politely to take you home.

As he’s pulling out from the parking spot, you glance out the window with bleary eyes and jot tears streaming down your face, seeing Harry stood there like a ghost. His posture makes him seem defeated, eyes looking at the back window sadly, unable to see you through the blackout of the glass.

In the rear view mirror you see Jeff stalk outside, and although they’re far, you don’t miss him embrace Harry tightly, prompting you to look away and grip his jumper between your fingers, thinking about the words Sarah said to you.

PART TWO IS NOW UP!

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daydreaming-nerd · 1 month

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Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 4

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 5 , Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

AN: I wrote this hungover so you can just call me The Little Engine That Could

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, alcohol, SA, blood

Word Count: 3,121

If Eris could see me right now he would surely detest my un-princess like behavior and call off our courtship promptly. In fact I might put ‘standing on a pile of books to reach the top of a bookshelf’ in my Eris repellent arsenal.

Normally I would ask The House of Wind for assistance but I suppose that today it wanted to use me as entertainment. The large stack below me wobbled causing my stomach to flip as my fingertips brushed the edge of the leatherbound book I was just dying to read. I almost had it in my hand when my book stack teetered again causing me to gasp.

“Woah there princess!” boomed a voice from the hall. “Get down, you're going to hurt yourself.”

I turned my head to find Cassian clad in casual clothes, most likely about to turn in for the night. Seeing him in fighting leathers was deadly, but seeing him so domestic? It made my cheeks heat. My makeshift step stool wobbled again and I would’ve toppled over if it wasn’t for the general's hands grasping my hips and placing me on the ground.

“Thanks,” I smile as my feet firmly hit the plush carpet. I can’t help but feel a little foolish.

“Which one did you want?” Cassian asked, scanning the shelf I was close to climbing.

“Uh the red one, with the rose on the spine,” I reply pointing to it.

He reached his arm up and plucked the book from the shelf with ease. Gods now I really did feel foolish.

“Here you go,” he smiles, handing me the book. I take it from his grasp and for a moment his hand brushes mine sending shivers down my spine. In the 5 seconds I feel his skin I try to soak up all the warmth that it holds. Try to remember the sensation so I can replay it over and over again in my head when I go to bed.

“Thank you,” I smile trying to avoid those hazel eyes.

“See now you’ve taught me to fetch too,” he jokes.

I roll my eyes, “You’re never going to let me live that dog comment down are you?” I laugh.

Cassian flashes me a smile that threatens to make my knees buckle before perusing the bookshelf himself. I take it as my queue to relax on the couch next to the roaring fire. Ever since that drunken night when I ran into him coming back from Rita’s I couldn’t shake the words he had said to me… I’d do anything for you y/n. I tried to forget the feeling of his hands on my hips, the warmth seeping through the silk of my nightgown. But no matter how hard I tried, the scene continued to replay in my head over and over again.

Even now it was hard to read with him in the room. I tried to keep my eyes on the book I was reading, but even just watching him scan all the shelves was erotic. I watched as his fingers grazed over a few titles until he finally plucked one from its spot. He began to walk towards the door and before I could even think my words betray me.

“Wait!” I call out and he stops in his tracks. I mentally curse myself. Now what’s your plan dipshit?

“Do you need another book?” Cassian asks and I realize I’ve let him sit in silence for longer than I ought to.

“Could you stay and read here? I know reading is typically an independent activity but…” My voice trails off and I try to decide whether or not to voice my next words. “I find it hard being alone as of late.”

It was true. Whenever I had a moment alone my mind would wander to that interaction in the hallway… don’t marry him…and then it would wander to thoughts of Eris, that damned dream I kept having.

“Of course I’ll stay,” he says, turning from the door.

As long as you’ll let me, I’ll do anything for you princess…

Cassian walks over to where I sit on the couch, picks up my outstretched legs and places them on his lap so that he can sit down. His forearms rest on my shins as he flips open his book and I nearly gawk at how natural the movement is for him.

“You don’t have to sit next to me, you know?” I laugh. “You can sit in one of the chairs over there if you want to.” I say nodding to a set of armchairs in the corner.

“Yeah but this is the only seat close to the fire,” he replies. “Besides, those chairs aren’t very wing friendly.”

My eyes look back to the chairs and realize that he’s right so I shrug my shoulders and turn my eyes to my book. It was hard to concentrate on reading with the feeling of my legs in his lap but as my eyes scan the page I can’t help but get lost in the story…

“So you have me alone, in your bedroom.” Sofie says. “Now what happens?”

Alexander stalks towards her, looking her up and down. “Now I kiss you, and touch you, and make you mine in every way I possibly can.”

I feel my blood heat up and I avidly try not to let my toes curl knowing they are currently in Cassian’s lap. The scene progresses and I try not to look like I’m reading something so filthy in the presence of my general, which is near impossible.

Cassian clears his throat and I yank my gaze up expecting to find him looking at me like a scorned parent. Instead I find him quietly reading his own book. His own very large, very heavy book.

“That book is huge,” I point out and his gaze snaps to me. “What is it about?”

“It’s about war strategies,” he replies cooly. “I’ve read it before, but I like to brush up on it every now and then.”

“That’s what you read in your spare time? War strategies?” I scoff.

“Knowledge is power princess,” he smiles flipping through the pages of the abnormally large book. “I’m your general, don’t you want me reading this kind of thing?”

“I want you to read what makes you happy, especially when it’s for pleasure.” I laugh, shaking my head.

“Well then you’ll be glad to know that reading war books makes me happy,” he muses at me.

I shake my head and return to my own book, getting caught up in the heat of the scene once more.

“What are you reading princess?” Cassian chides knowingly.

“Oh nothing,” I say, pulling the book closer to my chest in a way that definitely could’ve been more subtle.

“Really because it looked like you were riveted a few moments ago,” he smirks, leaning over to try and see the title.

“Well it’s a good book!” I squeak, pulling the book back further so he can’t see it.

“Why are you hiding?” Cassian laughs. “Afraid I’ll judge your literary tastes?”

“Yes actually I am,” I laugh pulling the book away from his hand as he tries to pluck it from my fingers.

“Oh c’mon princess I showed you mine now show me yours,” he teases. One of his hands clamps down on my ankle so I can’t shift away anymore while the other snatches the book from my hands.

“Cassian!” I protest as he moves the novel to his other hand that’s hanging off the arm of the couch.

“As he kissed her feverishly his hands ran down her bare breasts, leaving goosebumps over the skin they touched.” Cassian read from the book. “This isn’t very lady like reading material princess!” he teases me.

In a panic I climb over his lap to try and get the book back but he pulls it even further away.

“Alexander's fingers traveled lower to her awaiting-” Cassian laughed before I finally grabbed the book from his hands.

“I’ll take that!” I said snapping the book closed.

It wasn’t until the book was safely in my possession once more that I realized the compromising position I was in… I was on his lap. I was sitting on my general's lap. I quickly scooted over to the side to sit next to him once more trying to hide the blush in my cheeks.

“Who knew you had a secret romantic side?” Cassian teases with a sly smirk.

“Yeah yeah, you found me out! Now go back to reading your book about stabbing people!” I brush him off with a laugh.

We spend the rest of the evening reading our respective books, this time without any interruptions. At first it’s nearly impossible to read while he’s right next to me, especially given the content of said book. But after a while I fall into a comfortable silence with the general, stealing glances at him whenever I can. At some point in the night, though I can’t pinpoint when, my eyes grow heavy and I fall asleep, one of the most peaceful rests I’d had in a while.

Cassian:

I’d be lying if I didn’t say the content of the princess’ book didn’t both shock and intrigue me. So much so that I couldn’t help but glance her way every once in a while just to see her little hands gripping the pages like her life depended on it.

Even though she was just sitting there reading, she was so undeniably gorgeous. No wonder her beauty had been built up to the point where she was practically a character from mythology. I almost cursed myself for admiring her too much, clearly just becoming another wide eyed male desperately seeking the princess’ attention. I recalled how Helion practically begged Rhysand for her hand, not to mention the other lords. Gods I really was just one of many when, and even more depressing, the least worthy of her affections.

At one point I glanced over to find her fast asleep with her book resting on her chest. I thought about leaving to go to my room or carrying her to bed. But she was so peaceful. More peaceful in this moment than I had seen in the past few weeks. I would kill anyone who dared pull her from that peace, and that meant myself as well. So I set down my book and let myself sink further into the couch.

I had never slept in the library before, but there’s a first time for everything.

Cassian:

“You’re even slower today than you were yesterday brother,” Azriel barked, swinging his sword towards me. I blocked with my own, the sound of metal on metal reverberating throughout the air. “Let me guess, another bad night of sleep?”

“I slept fine!” I grumble going in for the attack, he blocks me with ease.

“Are you sure? When I saw you asleep on the couch with the princess this morning you didn’t look too comfortable.” he smirked. The words caught me so off guard I missed my block and his sword sliced the back of my shoulder.

“Ahh,” I hissed at the cut.

“Sorry I thought you were gonna block that,” Azriel laughs.

“I’m fine,” I say, shrugging off the small cut. “Let’s go again.”

“Actually let’s call it, Rhys needs me on the border to check on things with Hybern,” Az replies, putting his sword over with the others.

I do the same and go to take off the wraps around my hands. I can’t help but notice the scars and calluses all over them from years of battle and war. Clearly hands unfit to be anywhere near the princess.

“How does the autumn court fare?” Azriel asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Still full of the most pompous asses in Prythian,” I roll my eyes.

“Good to see things haven’t changed,” Az laughs. “Does y/n seem to be warming up to Eris?”

My head immediately goes to that dark hallway. How she screamed for him to get off her. I’ll never unsee the fear in her eyes.

“No, she can’t stand him. But he seems to be warming up to her just fine,” I say trying not to sound as bristled as I am.

“Uh oh,” Azriel said, catching my tone.

“He was going to rape her the other day, I had to intervine.” I huff tossing away what’s left of my wraps a little harsher than I normally would.

“Are you serious? Why haven’t you told Rhys?” Azriel asks, his tone changing.

“She won’t let me, she's determined to see this thing through, for us, for her people.” I explain trying to stay calm.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see this coming,” Azriel says. “When she became this almost mythical being I knew that she would be a conquest. Especially for males like Eris. If he chooses to marry her it won’t be because he loves her. He just wants to say that he owns The Jewel.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I scoff at my brother.

“She deserves someone who loves her for her. Someone who sees her as more than The Jewel. Someone who has a big heart. Someone who makes her laugh. Someone that teaches her how to play drinking games,” Azriel went on and I knew exactly what he was getting at.

“Nice try Az, but it’s never going to happen,” I huff walking towards the door

“You wouldn’t know, you haven’t asked her!” he shouts at me.

I shake my head at my brother's persistence as I make my way inside the House of Wind. For what it’s worth, I should be flattered that he think’s the princess could ever love someone like me. But I don’t feel flattered, I feel like a joke. The kind that might be passed around by other men at taverns for years to come.

“Have you ever heard the story of the bastard general and the beautiful princess?”

“The poor fool fell in love with her and she turned him down flat!”

Gods I could hear the crowds of drunken fools laughing at the tale right now.

The kitchen in the House of Wind always seemed like the most alive part of the house and the part of the house I had always ventured to least. Meals always seemed to appear whenever they were required, leaving no reason to darken the kitchen's doorstep. However, while the cut on the back of my shoulder didn’t hurt, the last thing I needed was an infection. Which is how I found myself rummaging through doors and cabinets for the first aid kit.

“You’re bleeding.” said that beautiful voice cutting through the air like a siren's song. I swore then and there I’d follow it to whatever end.

I turned to find the princess, standing in the doorway clutching that red leather book from last night. I don’t miss her eyes glancing over my half naked body and it takes everything in me not to bear a self satisfied smirk.

“It’s just a scratch from sparring with Az,” I reply, trying to look over my shoulder to see the state of the cut.

“Here, let me help you,” she said, turning to the drawer nearest to her and pulling out the first aid kit.

“Don’t worry I can do it,” I assure her, the idea of her dirtying her hands by touching me makes me cringe.

“It’s on your back you won’t be able to reach it,” she answers, laying out the things from the kit.

“Princess you really don’t have-”

“Shh, think of it as me repaying you for fetching that book for me last night,” she says with a playful glint in her eye.

I smile remembering everything from me teasing her about the dog comment to the sight of her reading that dirty book. I turn around so she can see the small cut.

“Do you think you could sit down? It’ll be easier for me to reach.” she asked me.

“Yes sorry,” I replied sitting down.

My skin practically buzzes from anticipation, knowing I’ll feel the gentleness of her hands at any moment. I suddenly feel like an adolescent male again, excited at the idea of having a female hug me. The second the warm washcloth is pulled away from the cut it’s replaced by her hands smoothing a healing balm over it. I flinch at the chill of her fingers on my bare skin.

“Sorry my hands are cold,” she apologizes. I almost laugh, her hands are nothing but perfect. All of her is.

“No it’s okay,” I say back trying to keep my voice even. I feel her smooth a bandage over the cut and the second she removes her hands from my skin I contemplate begging her to touch me once more.

“All patched up!” she cheers, already beginning to pick up the supplies.

“Thank gods I thought they were going to have to amputate,” I laugh standing up and flexing my shoulder back and forth to get used to the feeling of the wrapping.

“We can’t have that. How would you dance at the Vanserra’s ball tomorrow night?” she jokes putting the kit back in the drawer.

“Ah yes, I forgot that’s tomorrow,” I say. In truth I had been counting down the days leading up to the dreaded event.

“You are coming right?” she asks and I can sense a bit of worry behind her words.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it,” I assure her.

“Good, it’ll be nice to have a familiar face there,” she smiles. “Who knows, maybe they’ll bring out that wine they had at dinner.”

“They better, there’s no way I can stand being in a room full of pompous assholes that long sober!” I laugh.

“Tell me about it, I’ll have to dance with Eris all night,” she says, rolling her eyes. The image of her in his arms is enough to make my blood boil.

“Who knows princess, maybe you’ll be surprised at your surplus of dance partners,” I smirk knowingly.

“I’m sure Eris will beat them all off with a stick,” she huffs leaning against the table, picking at her nails.

“Then he should talk to Rhys first and get a few pointers,” I laughed leaning against the table next to her.

"Or better yet, maybe I'll bring a stick to fend them off myself," she quips, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

With a shared laugh, we lingered in the moment, finding solace in each other's company before the looming specter of tomorrow's ball cast its shadow over us once more.

Part 5

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