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rainylana · 3 days

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“Don’t cry.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: a spa session with your new boyfriend turns out to be both of your breaking points.

requested by anonymous! i hope you like it and that I did it justice! i kind of took it and ran. i made it much more deep than i initially planned, so i hope you like it!

warnings: talk of sexual abuse and rape, with both eddie and reader, angst and tears, language, mentions of drug dealing and absent parents. reader is struggling to connect with eddie and he doesn’t know why, kinda leaves in a cliffhanger??

Sometimes Eddie wondered if you liked him, because half the time it didn’t seem like you did. You’d become stand-offish, quiet, shrink in on yourself. His “Are you okay?” was always met with an “I’m fine.” and nothing more. It always seemed like you were protecting yourself. Not just from him, but from everyone. You loved his friends, but sometimes they scared you. You never knew who to trust. Would one of them hurt you, given the chance?

One thing was for sure though, you loved Wayne. He was like the father you never had growing up. From the way he talked, looked, his personality, it reminded you of a father. Eddie was extremely lucky to grow up with him while he did.

Eddie wasn’t stupid, however, he knew some of your behavior had to do with your upbringing. You’d shared some of it with him before, time and time again, here and there. You’d grown up pretty similarly to him. Dead beat parents that abused you, surrounded by their friends who eyed you like a piece of meat for them to chew on. When you grow up like that, you’re bound to be a little messed up. Eddie understood that. He was the same way.

But with you, it was different. He didn’t want you to feel that way around him. The relationship hadn’t been going on for that long and was still fairly fresh, but he wanted you to trust him. And even dating might have been a stretch, you were just very good friends who weren’t very good friends with anyone else.

You liked Eddie, maybe even loved him, but there was no lying when it came to the fact you were struggling to connect with him. Could you really trust him? Was he just like the men from your childhood? Would he fuck you and ultimately leave once he got his full satisfaction? You’d cried yourself to sleep many of times during the night at the thought.

Sometimes you didn’t feel safe. Not with him, not with his friends. You only ever felt truly safe with Wayne. You didn’t know why. You hated the way you felt. Eddie was a good man. He was good to you. He had yet to do anything that proved otherwise. But the dark corners of your mind lingered closer and closer to the edge, reminding you of what once was your reality on the daily. You hoped this time it was different.

“I like this color on you.” Eddie’s tongue was stuck out in concentration, one hand holding your foot, the other holding the brush of the pink nail polish bottle. “It’s cute.”

“Pink?” You smirked. “You like pink?”

“On you.” His lashes fluttered up to you briefly.

The gesture was cute, but anytime he did something sweet like this you couldn’t help but think if he was luring you into a trap. Your stomach was littered with jitters and nerves. Day by day your anxiety was staring to become more out of control. You thought about ending things with him. It wasn’t fair to him to not give the relationship your all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’d miss him dearly.

“Well, thanks.” You smiled softly. “I don’t like painting them by myself. The angle is too hard.”

He muttered a Mhm with his tongue out, blowing on your little toe so the pain would dry. “I used to paint my nails black when I was a teenager.” He said.

“Really?” You said amusedly. “Why’d you stop?”

“Got out of the habit, I guess.” He dipped the brush back in the bottle. “Plus, not that I cared, but kids at school were givin’ me shit about it.”

You knew Eddie had the same childhood you did, in some sense anyways. Eddie wouldn’t talk about it much, especially never about his mother. But his dad was something you knew struck a nerve. You should share your traumas together, that’s what you always told yourself. You knew you both could relate to one another, but the relationship was still too fresh. Maybe neither was ready for that.

“Want me to do your fingers?” Eddie asked, blowing on your last toe as he finished up his fine work. “I gotta say, babe, I did pretty good.”

You flexed your freshly painted toes and grinned at his work. “You did! Thank you.”

He put the bottle on the table and plopped down beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “So what now? What’s next on the spa list?” He smirked and you did the same, laughing breathily.

“I won’t make you succumb to all my girly stuff.” You laughed. “Anything I can do for you? Your hair looks like it needs brushed a little.”

“What?” He gave you an incredulous look. “I keep my hair very much maintained, thank you.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t, Eddie.” You rolled your eyes. “All I said was it needed brushed a little.”

You hopped up and got your plastic hairbrush from the bathroom, pointing at him with it when you returned. “Your turn to be pampered. Sit on the floor.”

He shook his head amusedly and sat down where you had, your legs falling at the sides of his shoulders as you gently began combing out his curls. He didn’t mean to, but he sighed in content.

“Feel good?” You gave a shit eating grin.

“You’re a-lot gentler than Wayne used to be.” He relaxed under your touch. “He always pulled at my hair and got it more ratted up than it already was. This feels good.”

You smiled at the mention of Wayne. “Well, I’ve got a woman’s touch, honey.”

“Yes, you do.”

It was quiet and peaceful for a while as you brushed his hair, the both of you content in the silence. When he touched your ankle, caressing it, your heart began to pound. You hadn’t had sex with him yet. You were too scared to. You knew it was time, it had been almost two months and you knew Eddie had long since been ready to sleep with you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You did. You fantasized about him just as much as he did you, but you were terrified of him leaving once you finally crossed that line. Out of instinct, you brought your legs up to you, sitting criss-cross like he was.

You heard him sigh and your stomach ached with guilt. You should give him what he wants.

“I’m sorry.” You say guiltily.

“You never let me touch you.” Eddie said flatly, staring at the ground as you continued to brush his hair. “And you won’t tell me why.”

Your eyes teared up and you stopped brushing, bringing it down to your lap. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all you say.” He shook his head. “You don’t need to be sorry. You just need to tell me why I scare you so bad.”

“You don’t.” You denied, trying your hardest to convince him. When he said things like this, you felt foolish for thinking the way that you did. “It’s just- it’s- it’s just me.”

Eddie turned around, looking up at you to find you with tears in your face. “If it wasn’t true you wouldn’t be crying. Don’t I deserve the truth, Y/n? Have I don’t anything at all to make you scared of me?”

“No.” You sniffled, getting off the couch to go into the kitchen of his trailer. “You haven’t.”

Eddie watched you, becoming more and more anxious by the second. He sat there, waiting for his answer, anything but no. “Do you want to break up?”

“No!” You cried, shaking your head wildly. “No, that’s not what I want.”

“You don’t even like me, Y/n.” He scoffed to himself, closing in, becoming cold and shutting down. Something he hadn’t done in a long time. “You won’t open up to me. I can barely touch you. You look like you’re disgusted to be around me.”

“That’s not true!” You snapped, taking a step toward him. “Stop saying shit like that!”

“Then you say something for a change!” He argued back, not moving from his spot on the floor.

“But it’s so stupid!” You shook your head. “It’s ridiculous!”

He gave you a look. He was waiting and he wouldn’t back out this time. Either that, or he was going to break up with you. The thought made you want to vomit. Maybe you did care more deeply for him than you were letting on.

“We don’t talk about what happened when we were kids,” You sighed through tears, voice breaking. “We’re..both the same, but we don’t talk about it.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as you began, wondering after all, if he wanted to hear where you were going with this.

“Mom wasn’t around, so that left dad and his friends.” You stared at him, being as open and honest as you could now. There was no beating around the bush with this. “I…Jesus,” You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal at the time, but they’d…they’d use me.” You took a deep breath after the last word. No stopping now.

“They would play poker, touch me, rape me.” You weren’t crying anymore, talking mostly to yourself now at this point. “And I know you would never do that to me, Eddie, but sometimes I’m so afraid of it happening again and I just shut down.” You closed your eyes. “You touch me and I’m so afraid you’ll abandon me once we sleep together. That’s all anyone has ever done in my life.”

“Fuck me, then leave.” You sniffled. “That’s all they ever do.”

Eddie’s eyes were drooping, slightly narrowed and brows furrowed. He shook his head softly, you almost missed it, and you knew you’d made him at a loss for words.

He looked up to you briefly, licking his lips before he spoke. “There was this one guy my dad would deal for,” He began. “He was a big dude, almost seven foot. I was only thirteen. But dad would bring him into the house and he…would look at me. Just watch me wherever I went.” He stared at his hands, not daring to look at you.

“I think he payed dad.” His voice broke, but he refused to let any tears fall. “Because I screamed and screamed and he wouldn’t come.”

You let out an audibly gasp and covered your mask, your heart falling to the floor with a splat.

“Oh, god, Eddie,” You crawled to the floor and knelt beside him.

“It’s okay.” He stopped your apologies. “I didn’t tell you for you to be sorry for me. I told you because you need to know you’re not alone, and not everyone is out to get you. You’re safe with me. I want you to believe that.”

You let out a wet sob, tears rolling down your red face. “How do I stop being scared? I want to be with you.”

He smiled softly, a finger swiping at a tear. “We have all the time in the world for that, angel.”

You grabbed his arm and laid your head against his shoulder, sobbing like a broken child.

“Oh, baby,” He kissed your forehead. “Don’t cry.”

It would be a long road to recovery, but you could both do it together. Slowly, every day you would both open up to each other about what you went through, and day by day, it would get easier.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #requests #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb

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afterglowsainz · 1 day

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i'mgonnagetyouback pt. 2 | max verstappen

part 1

summary: max is determined to win y/n back before leaving las vegas and an unexpected reunion at the hotel's pool might be just what he needed

warnings: none

word count: 1.5k

a/n: okay so i wasn't actually planning on doing a part 2 to this but a few people requested it and since i'm a pathological people pleaser here it its !!

the tortured athletes department series

“okay so, step one.” charles’s voice caughts his attention.

if max was gonna get y/n back, he needed to do it that weekend, she was leaving for her other tour dates and he had other races, and he needed a plan. that’s where charles, daniel and lando come in.

“break up with your girlfriend.” the monegasque continues. the other two men in the room nod, agreeing with the ferrari driver.

the second y/n’s concert finished, max felt the urge to go running backstage to her just like old times, but his plans were interrupted by the women he went to the concert with in the first place. his girlfriend wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and her daughter was too exhausted to even walk in a straight line, so he took them both to the hotel and then ran into charles’s room to create a plan, calling daniel and lando to join them.

“you’re right.” max says.

the thought of breaking up with his current girlfriend has been on the back of his mind for a while now. he didn’t really wanted to accept it, but he’s been in love with y/n all this time and it just wasn’t fair to be with someone else. step one was the most urgent.

“step two, call y/n and tell her that you wanna talk to her.” daniel speaks this time.

this one was the step he was the most nervous about. they haven’t talked for ten months and now suddenly he was thinking of getting back together, i mean, what if she moved on already? just because he hasn’t doesn’t mean she didn’t either; but he remembered her singing a few hours ago about getting him back, even if it was just to punch him in the face. he would take what he can get.

“maybe mention that you went to see her show as well.” lando adds.

“what if she thinks i’m a creep or something?” charles gives him an incredulous look.

“mate, come on, you’re her ex, not some random dude.” max nods again and felt the stress of anticipation already creeping in.

“it’ll be fine, max, nothing to worry about.” daniel tries to reassure him and lando smiles at him in the same way.

he exhales and stands up from the chair he was seated on.

“i should go back to my room. start things with the right foot.” they all agree with him and wish him good luck.

when he got back to his room, he saw his girlfriend’s daughter already asleep on her bed and his girlfriend laying down and watching something on tv. he prepared himself internally and went into the room.

“hey.” he says. “can we talk?”

he was quick. it was as uncomfortable as breaking up with someone is, but he felt a bit relieved after. she tried to persuade him into thinking about it, he said he didn’t want to hurt her. he told her they could stay at that room and he would just ask for another at the reception, she agreed. she asked if this was because of y/n, he stayed silent for a moment. he couldn’t lie, not that it was all already out there, and y/n was not a secret he had to hide to anyone. he said yes. she asked him to get out. he did.

max went down to the hotel’s reception and asked for an extra room. since it was a bit late at night they asked him to wait an hour until they arranged one of the suites for him. he agreed without complaining and was about to head back to charles’s room, however, already on the elevator he impulsively pressed the button for the last floor that took him directly to the pool. it was dark and there was no one there, the dim lights on the inside of the pool being the only lightning.

he walked over to the balcony and admired the view of las vegas beneath him, from his position he could see the whole downtown, including the track that he would be driving that weekend. if he wouldn’t have been too distracted he would have heard the sound of small steps going his way, stopping right at the entrance.

you thought you were seeing things, or that you had gone mad. you blink twice, and when he didn’t disappear, you knew max verstappen was standing right in front of you. you could recognize him anywhere.

the uncomfortable burning feeling of being looked at got the best of him and he finally turned around. he didn’t say anything, thinking it was his imagination playing games, but it wasn’t, you were right there, just mere inches away from him.

“y/n.” was all he could say. he figured a hello would be the way to go. “hey.”

you looked just as shocked as he was, but that didn’t stop you from answering.

“hi, max.” your voice was more confident than how you actually felt.

you had just done a three hour show and just wanted to relax a bit in the pool before going back to your room, and now you were there, facing your ex-boyfriend.

“you’re staying here?” he asks, regretting it instantly because of course you were.

“yeah.” you answer, not moving a single centimeter. “i have a few shows this weekend.” you explain.

“i know.” he says, almost too quickly. you arch a brow at him but don’t say anything. “i’m racing here this weekend.” you nod.

“i know.” you copy his answer, although you take a few more moments to say it.

“i went to your show.” he says out of nowhere.

this shocks you even more than before because what does he mean he went to your show?

“what?” is all that you could mumble.

“tonight.” he clarifies. “i went to see you. i hope you don’t think that’s… inappropriate.” his eyes finally leave yours and he looks at the pool instead.

“i don’t think… why would it be inappropriate?” you ask, a bit flabbergasted still. “i don’t think that.”

he nods relieved to hear you say that.

“so you went to the show?” you ask again. “you heard me sing all those songs?” you question, a bit shy.

“yeah, it was incredible.” he smiles at you. “you’re the most talented person i know.”

this makes you blush because he still has that power over you. you couldn’t manage to thank him for the compliment, so you just smiled at him, which was enough for him.

“i liked your surprise song.” he states, more confident this time.

“oh.” you reply. “you did?” he nods. “yeah, i guess it’s a fun song.” you chuckle, knowing damn well you wrote it thinking about him.

this was it, he thought. this was the moment he had been fantasizing about since he stepped into the stadium that night. how to get y/n back? this was his opportunity to do something. no charles, daniel or lando to whisper in his ear. it was all him.

“is it true?” he questions.

“what?” you frown.

“what you were singing in the song?” he explains. “i’m not gonna flatter myself thinking you wrote it about me, but, did you?”

you bit your lip trying not to laugh. how could you confess that to him?

“are you asking me if i want you back?” he notices that you ignored his question, but he didn’t care.

“i know i do.” you looked at him for a few seconds too long, processing his answer.

“i thought you had a girlfriend?” you mumble and he shakes his head.

“we’re not together anymore.” finally, he moves slowly from the other end of the balcony toward you and you remain still. “i’ve always been yours.”

you look at him properly this time, you could see every detail of his face now with how close he was to you and you felt like the ten months you haven’t talked to him hadn’t passed at all.

“and i can understand if you moved on already, but i must tell you i haven’t, for me it has always been you.”

the reasons of why you had broken up all those months ago seemed so silly now. he wasn’t a bad guy, and you weren’t a bad person. your break up wasn’t ugly, both of you had just been too busy with your crazy schedules and you thought ending things would be for the best, but not a day had passed where you didn’t regret that decision.

max was everything, and he was here in front of you, asking for a second chance.

“and when i saw you tonight at your show and i just fell more in love if that’s even possible, and i thought of all the time we wasted and i…”

you touched his face with tenderness and cut him off with a kiss that was long due.

—

liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe and 5.482.049 others

yourusername viva las vegas! 🏁 incredible crowd for and incredible night ⭐️

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user1 omg best day of my life 😭

user2 night 1 post we wonnn

user3 girl we see that emoji 👀

user4 we see max in the likes too 👀

user5 please don’t start this i couldn’t take it 😩

user6 max at the concert, she posted pictures and she sung imgonnagetyouback as a surprise song, las vegas n1 really won 😭

user7 MAX WAS AT THE CONCERT ???

liked by yourusername, schecoperez and 893.482 others

maxverstappen1 Brand new, full throttle… 🏎

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redbullracing congrats legend! 🏆

user8 the only time he smiled during this whole weekend 😭

user9 max is so me cause i also talked shit about this race only to lowkey enjoy it at the end

user10 not him using the lyrics of so high school 😭😭

user11 sir is there something we should know? 👀

yourusername who’s that grand prix winner? 😮‍💨

maxverstappen1 i love you ❤️

user12 WHAT SINCE WHEN

user13 chat is this real ???

user14 y/nstappen back together the earth is healing 🤍

liked by francisca.cgomez, maxverstappen1 and 7.482.949 others

yourusername where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me 💘

tagged maxverstappen1

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user15 EXCUSE ME MA’AM ???

user16 omg y/nstappen i used to pray for times like this‼️

user17 the alchemy mentioned we won !!!

user18 Y/NSTAPPEN NATION LET’S RISE

alexandrasaintmleux so happy to have you back in the paddock🫶🏽💞

yourusername girl i’m happy to be back😭

user19 the fact that he actually run over to her after winning the race ohhh i’m so normal about them 😩

user20 MAX VERSTAPPEN CAN YOU FIGHT?

maxverstappen1 could never fight the alchemy❤️

yourusername my maxxx ❤️

user21 pls they’re the cutest 😭

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artificial-transmutations · 23 hours

Text

Historically Accurate

"I'm telling you, Hollywood is going down with all the woke crap! You know what they say: Go woke go broke!"

Julian and Wallace were on their way back from the lunch room and the former was listening to the latter complaining. Julian had tried to avoid any topic like this, but, really, it was a mine field with Wallace. Just about *every* topic had the potential to turn out political.

"I don't see what's wrong with a little inclusion in pop culture." Julian said, not wanting to argue but also not wanting to leave that opinion unopposed.

"Everything! It's just plain wrong, and it's brainwash, too. I mean, it's like a mind virus, poisoning everything! There's a western coming out next week. But it's all bullshit woke agenda again. The cowboy is black and gay! Literal brainwash and historical rewrite."

Julian frowned. How could an intelligent person like Wallace be so stupid at the same time?

"Why does that even bother you? I thought you hated westerns."

"Yes, that's not the point. Fact is, it's historically inaccurate and just pushing the woke agenda."

"Actually, I think it's not even historically incorrect." Julian pondered as they entered the lab using Julian's keycard and an iris scan of both scientists.

Wallace was borderline angry now.

"What are you talking about? Everyone knows that cowboys were the whitest and the straightest people there were."

"I'm not quite sure", Julian said. "Weren't there freed slaves and so on? And I would guess if you were underway with another guy for prolonged periods of time, not everything staid straight, too."

"Bullshit! Everyone knows cowboys weren't fags, and they were white."

Wallace seemed agitated now, and his usual stiff demeanor became even more pronounced.

Wallace was in his mid-forties, but the way he was talking, he seemed way older to Julian.

Julian on the other hand was awfully young for the position he had. Being 25, he still didn't look like he had finished college, even though he had his doctorate already.

It was really a bit sad, he thought. Two of the brightest minds and they were bickering over basic, meaningless distinctions like ethnicity or sexual orientation.

"We could just ask the computer." he proposed, but Wallace frowned.

"We are not supposed to use the equipment for private research." he said.

'The computer' was part of the highly secretive project they worked on. When finished, it was supposed to be a time machine, simple as that. The actual time travel device didn't work properly yet, but a part of it, a chronoton boosted quantum computer that was able to access history itself to answer questions about the part, was already functioning quite well.

"But we are supposed to test it from time to time. Are you afraid of the answer it might give?"

"Of course not." Wallace grumbled. "Fine. Computer! Is there any historical evidence of gay black cowboys?"

The voice activated system acknowledged the request with a beep. While waiting for the answer, Julian checked the parameters of the system and found them in near-perfect condition.

Finally, the system answered, with the neutral male voice it was programmed with.

"A significant portion of cowboys consisted of people with African heritage, especially after the freeing of slaves after the civil war. Homosexual acts and attraction were common among cowboys, especially during the trail drives. Demonstrating..."

"Hrmpf." Wallace said, clearly not happy.

Julian, who was still checking the readings, scratched his head.

"Did you remember to disconnect the capsule before making the query? It seems to be drawing power."

"Ah, crap. That's just because of all the bullshit talk. Computer, stop!"

"Unable to comply. Demonstrating... Target: Montana Frontier Area, June 1865..."

The white walls of the chamber started to glow in an ever brighter white that was beginning to hurt the eyes.

"Crap. Julian, cut the power!" Wallace said, now with a clear notion of fear in his voice. The younger scientist didn't answer but tried to do as he was told - but did not succeed in time.

Suddenly, with a flash, their surroundings changed and the two of them found themselves in the middle of a rugged mountain range, on the border of a pine forest. It was late afternoon and the scientists found themselves in a just set-up camp. Two horses were standing nearby, and a small herd of cows was grazing at a meadow.

Wallace sighed and shook his head angrily. "Just great. Look at the mess you just put us in. Now we have to wait until we're rescued. And, apparently, we have to meet some black homo cowboys."

Julian looked around but couldn't see anyone around.

"I would have also guessed so, but there doesn't seem to be anyone there."

His heart sank as he had a terrible suspicion. He had been experimenting lately with a normalization circuit that would embed the time travelers into history instead of superimposing them onto it. That was - according to his theories - a rather elegant way to resolve the repelling effect the historical structure had, but it wasn't finished by any means. It had never been tested and even theoretically, it wouldn't be able to achieve a partial embedding, only a full one at best. And the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that it had still been connected to the system.

As Julian thought about how to break it to Wallace, he noticed something strange about the other scientist. It could be a trick of the light, but he looked way more tanned than before.

"Uhm... It might actually be somewhat worse than that. I think my normalization circuit was still active when you activated the machine."

"What? What does that mean?" Wallace looked at him, furiously now.

"Well, I would guess..." Julian struggled and gave up. "Look at your hands, I think it's pretty self-explanatory."

Wallace looked down at his darkening hands and paled. Even now, he still had a considerably darker skin tone than before, darkening with every passing second.

"Shit." he said. "That's what you get for fucking around with a half-finished experiment."

Julian didn't even dare to mention his suspicion. If his normalization circuit was really active, that would make Wallace an actual, black cowboy, and not just him. Julian was also a time traveler, so he, too, would be affected.

Meanwhile, the changes in Wallace seemed to have proceeded. His facial structure looked like it was in motion before finally settling on a generally broader, manlier shape: The jawline became more pronounced, and his cheekbones raised.

"Is there... anything going on with me as well?" Julian asked.

Wallace looked over at him.

"Yeah, your hair color is changing, and I think your eye color. Blonde and blue-eyed, how cliché. But most importantly, you're not becoming fucking a fucking Black man."

Wallace didn't say Black man.

For some reason, this didn't bother Julian half as much as it should have. He felt rather at ease, and the untamed wilderness around him awakened a sense of adventure inside of him that he didn't know was in him.

Meanwhile Wallace was also feeling a change within. A surge of confidence emerged from within him that was entirely alien to the deeply insecure man at first, but quickly became more and more part of his personality. It was like his core was solidifying into a confident and assertive nature, a boldness and quiet he secretly always wished he had. At the same time, his body structure changed considerably.

Where before, Wallace had been a physically unimpressive mid-forties man, it now seemed like the years melted off of him, and for every year that he lost, he gained three pounds of muscle mass and beef. His shoulders widened, his height increased, and his frame expanded in order to accommodate the new body mass.

"It's not that bad, ain't it?" While Julian's body had not changed much besides the hair and eye color, his voice sounded entirely different now. It had a southern lilt to it, but it was charismatic and charming. It was the kind of voice you could listen to for hours without end, perfect for reading an audiobook - or telling campfire stories.

"Well now, I ain't too sure 'bout that." Wallace's voice had changed even more considerably when he answered. He had gained a thick southern accent, and his voice had dropped to a low and smooth voice that sounded commanding even if he didn't intend to.

"Ha, look at that, your skin's startin' to change now, too!"

And really, Julian's skin had started to adapt as well, but it was quickly becoming apparent that it went a different route than Wallace's. Instead of darkening to the almost black tone that he was sporting, Julian's skin became rougher and got a sun-kissed tan instead. His facial features sharpened, as his cheekbones looked chiseled all of a sudden and a rugged beard texture was adorning his chin. Julian seemed to notice it, too, since he started touching his new face immediately.

"Cool! Always wondered what I'd look like sportin' a beard." he said, apparently not too unhappy with the changes.

There was no denying Julian looked good, which made Wallace feel a touch of jealousy. In his opinion, it wasn't fair that he was the only one having to deal with the black skin. That feeling quickly faded, though, as his changes continued. His hair became very short, curly and dark. At the same time, a short beard formed on his chin and upper lip, giving him an even manlier appeal. At the same time, chest hair sprouted, sparsely of course, as it was normal for a man of his heritage. A strange feeling overcame Wallace. He wasn't necessarily *proud* to be Black now, but he also didn't mind it anymore. He was proud of a lot of secondary assets, though, like his bulging muscles or his handsome face. As his eyes became a dark brown, he had to smirk as he sat down by the fire, readjusting himself in the process. And, of course, his big cock, which might also have been positively influenced by his new ancestry.

Wallace watched as Julian turned around and tended to the horses. His body was now, finally, also changing. It didn't become nearly as bulky as his own, but instead lean and agile, with narrow hips and a well-distributed surprising strength, as Wallace knew. While Julian was busy with the horses, Wallace had a good view of his ass. It filled out the jeans just so well, and Vallace only noticed now that the other man's attire had changed. He was clad in a pair of blue jeans, a vest and, of course a Stetson now, and Vance always thought that this outfit accentuated the best parts of his partner quite well. He preferred black leather, himself, since the material was sturdier and felt better on the skin.

Vince felt his cock hardening in his leather pants and readjusted himself again while also leaning back and spreading his legs to make more room for the erection. He wasn't afraid of anyone seeing his rude behavior. The only other man within a wide range was Jesse, the owner of that juicy ass. And he was allowed to see... well, everything.

Vince waited patiently until Jesse returned to the campfire, with a big smile on his face.

"How them horses holdin' up, partner?" Vince asked.

"They're good. Just a tad worn out from today's ride." Jesse answered.

"Well, there's somethin' else needs tendin' to, if you're free to lend a hand. Or an ass." Vince grinned and made his cock throb in the confines of his tight leather pants.

Jesse grinned at the display of masculinity and massaged his own cock.

"Hell yes!"

As Jesse moved over in his usual graceful movements, Vince leaned back. There really wasn't anything better than being a big, black cowboy. Especially not with a partner like Jesse, who was always happy to make the nights in the wilderness a little less lonely.

Certainly not poor and lonesome! Also check out this awesome writer!

There are a few more versions of Jesse and Vince, over at my tip jar.

#male transformation #straight to gay #muscle transformation #racial transformation #cowboy #historical transformation

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miley1442111 · 1 day

Text

safe- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

you and aaron have jack (obvi) and a daughter, ellie. :) (1.4k + words)

summary: you become an unsubs target

pairing: husband/dad aaron hotchner x wife/mother reader

warnings: general cm minds topics, knives, stitches, head wounds, trauma talk of harm coming to the team, the reader is harmed, etc.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There you stood, your own blood as well as another's blood all over your body.

What happened?

You were just leaving work, you were going to pick up Jack and Ellie on your way home. It was taco night, you three would cook together tonight, though since Aaron was on a case a few states over, you would be the only ones doing it. So, how did that exact same unsub get to you?

You sat in the ambulance, stitches going into your skin, but you weren’t even flinching, you didn’t even feel it. You knew Jack and Ellie were expecting you, so was Jessica.

“Can I make a phone call?” You whispered to the paramedic. She nodded her head, sympathy on her face. “Thank you.”

You pulled out your phone as she finished the stitches in your head, moving onto the ones in your arms.

“Hey Jess,” You sighed into the phone.

“Hey, is everything alright?” she asked. “Do you want me to take Jack and Ellie for the night?”

You could honestly cry at her generosity. “Yes please, thank you so much Jess.”

“No problem,” she smiled, worried from the other line. “Are you hurt?” she whispered.

“I’ll be ok, someone just… yeah,’ you sighed. “Tell Jack and Ellie I love them, yeah?”

“Always.”

You hung up. The paramedic finished up and the officer who had been sitting with you for the past few minutes escorted you to a squad car and brought you to the station, informing you that the FBI were on their way. The FBI, really? Surely it wasn’t Aaron, right?

God, you missed Aaron. You’d never wanted to see him more in your life. Just to know he was ok, that he was there.

Such luxuries could not be afforded at that current moment.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron sat beside David on the plane, exhaustion pulling at his eyes as Spencer read out the latest attack.

“Oh, apparently there was one survivor,” Spencer said. “That might be his next target.”

��We should look into them, what’s the name?” David asked as Aaron yawned.

“Y/n Y/l/n, she has a son, daughter, and husband,” Spencer said, and Aaron was wide-awake again.

“Pardon?” He asked, hoping he’d heard wrong.

“Y/n Y/l/n. She was beaten pretty badly and had a head wound and a stab to the arm, she’s at the station now. SHe agreed to a cognitive interview. She’s a professor of nuclear physics at a university nearby-” Spencer reads off.

“She has more pHds than boy genius, 5 and counting,” Penelope interrupts him from the screen.

“Well, she is older than me,” he stressed, attempting to keep some of his pride.

“By what, 4 years?” Emily snorted, the rest of the team laughed, but Aaron was frozen.

A head wound? You got stabbed? He felt faint. Immediately, he reached into his pocket to grab his phone, trying to call you.

You didn’t pick up.

He tried again as the team stared at him in bewilderment. What was he doing?

No answer again.

“Sir-”

“I want a profile before we leave this plane,” he ordered and the team all stared at him. “Is that too much for you?” He asked snarkily. They all shook their heads and began breaking off into groups to work. Aaron stayed seated, a million thoughts running through his head at once. Was Jack ok? Was Ellie ok? How much blood did you lose? Was the unsub already on his way to you again? Were you a target because of him?

“Hotch I think we have something,” Morgan stated after 30 minutes. “The unsub is targeting women with the same description as the survivor. I'd say he’s a college student who is jealous of her husband. He’s formed a parasocial relationship and obsession with her and his delusions have led him to hurt those closest to her. It makes sense she’s beautiful, described as being extremely kind and caring about her students, she’s ridiculously intelligent, and apparently she and her husband are madly in love with each other. What’s her husband’s name Pen?” Derek asked, looking at the computer.

“Aaron Hotchner,” she said, a gasp following her words. Aaron looked up, meeting the eyes of the team as they stared back, shocked.

He could deal with them later.

“Send police to Jessica's house,” he ordered before he got up to go to the back of the plane for a moment of peace. He took out his phone, dialling Jessica’s number.

“Hey, is Y/n ok?” She asked. “I have Jack and Ellie right now, are you with her?”

“Not yet, I’ve sent police to your house, just as extra protection, ok?”

“Alright Aaron. Take care of her when you see her, she seemed pretty shaken.”

“Course,” he gritted out and hung up. This was going to be difficult.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat in an office, a cop’s jacket strung over your shaking shoulders. You were still covered in blood, you still saw the horrible image of one of your students being killed in front of you.

Where was Aaron?

“Can I go and clean up?” You sniffled, asking the sheriff who was sitting at his desk beside you.

“Course sweetheart,” she smiled softly. “There’s a bathroom down the hall, if you want a shower there’s one in the training centre.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, feeling smaller than you ever had. You were told to be careful with your stitches and that you’d be brought into the hospital in the morning once all of the stuff with the station was over. You walked down the hall to the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, staring at your bloodstained face and clothes. The tears started falling, going down the drain with a red-tinge.

You grabbed some tissue, wet it, and started scrubbing your face. The ache of your body was nothing to the turmoil in your head. Was it your fault one of your students was killed? Was Jack ok? Was Aaron ok?

You didn’t even notice him coming behind you until he took the tissue out of your hand. He discarded it, damped the towel from his go-bag in his hand, lightly washing your face. Tears fell freely as he did so, but he wiped them away, a comforting hand on your lower back as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your clean cheek. He continued his gentle cleaning, bringing it down to your neck.

“I’m sorry too.”

He smiled softly. “You don’t have to apologise for anything.”

“Neither do you, but we do it anyway.”

His emotions became too much all of a sudden, the feeling of nearly losing you becoming unthinkable.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

After Aaron sufficiently cleaned as much of the blood off of you as he could, he took your blood-stained shirt off and replaced it with one of his extra dress shirts. Walking outside the bathroom, you felt eyes on the both of you. You recognised some of the team from stories and photos Aaron had shown you. They stared as Aaron wrapped you into his side and walked you back into the sheriff’s office.

“I want the kids,” you admitted. “I know we shouldn’t but I’m so worried that they're not ok,” you cried into his bicep as he sat beside you.

“I’ll send one of the team to grab them and Jess,” he nodded.

“Please don’t leave,” you whimpered, holding onto him for dear life. You needed him.

“Of course not, honey,” he soothed. He signalled for Derek to come in. He walked in, careful of your feelings. “Will you go to Jessica’s house and pick up Jessica, Jack, and Ellie?”

“Of course sir, but… who’s Ellie?” he whispered the last part.

“My daughter,” Aaron said and Derek went wide-eyed.

“I’ll be right back with them,” he promised.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Darling, do you feel up to telling me about it? Or even just something?" he whispered against your skin.

"I know who did it," you whispered back. You felt such guilt. You knew the unsub, he was one of your students Andrew. Andrew was obsessed with you, with your life, but you just took it as a student being interested in your life to get out of work. You didn't pay enough care to the way his interest dampened when you spoke about Aaron and when you talked about your anniversaries or dates.

"Honey-"

"His name's Andrew. He's in my chemical sciences class."

Aaron was silent for a moment. "Alright. I'll send officers his way."

"I'm so stupid, I didn't even realise-" you started but Aaron shushed you with a gentle kiss.

"Don't talk about my wife like that," he joked. You chuckled softly and he felt a sense of great accomplishment.

"I'm so glad you're here," you sighed into his neck.

"I'm so glad I'm here too."

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You're married?" Derek asked.

"Yes," Aaron admitted as he ran a hand through your hair as you lay on his lap asleep, Ellie and Jack playing by the sheriff's desk.

`'And you have another child," Penelope said, shock apparent in her voice and facial expression.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Spencer asked.

"I wanted to keep her safe," Aaron smiled. "I also just assumed you'd figure it out. Clearly you're not all as good as you think you are," he chuckled.

The team collectively rolled their eyes, but still smiled. Aaron was happy, you were safe, another unsub was awaiting jail, and they could almost feel the love radiating off of Aaron.

All was well.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :)

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faetreides · 11 hours

Text

🪺 - # WINTERGREEN CANDY CANE !!

cw: canon typical mind games, baby trapping/pregnancy, manipulation, reader’s emotionally constipated, tashi’s injury, cunnilingus, cockwarming, tit fucking, established tashi & patrick (there’s no feelings between them but they stay together for reader in the beginning), lactation, not rlly smut focused despite the tags, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, ambiguous baby daddy (even though the ending can be read a certain way), one mention of patrick x art, afab reader, there’s a thought about you being injured but it’s not serious, small time skip (?) type thing and implied future pregnancies, purposefully vague/unreliable narrator vibes

patrick and art’s descriptions are heavily insp. by these posts

consider commissioning me or leaving me a tip if you enjoyed!

They never tell you that Tashi got injured on purpose. She’s too good to fall victim to what plagues so many athletes, but you don’t know that. You, her assumed rival and yet also the poster child of sportsmanship. Rivalry can bring out affection in people, it can highlight the need for someone who can understand you better than anyone else possibly could. You’ve never been anything but soft and sweet, but you can still summon the lightning streaking across the sky in your eyes when the game begins. There’s a glow around you that Tashi craves like a moth craves the shadow behind the light they fly into.

Tashi’s fall from her pedestal was painful and the hardest decision she’s ever made, but for the first time she made it for love. The set up was the easiest part, but now she has to actually make the serve. And she can’t do it alone, she’d be stupid to be blind to how her boyfriend and his best friend’s stares linger. What she and Patrick shared fizzled out a while ago, but if she lets him go, then that signs her up for a battle she’d rather avoid. Sometimes pleasure can be derived from depriving an animal of the chance to kill rather than setting it free and giving it an opportunity to go after you first.

Who knows, maybe someday you and her can share matching injuries.

Luckily, Patrick shares the same sentiment, quickly agreeing to the arrangement and plan when he visited prior to the injury. Art’s good at downplaying his toxicity, so Tashi wasn’t concerned about if he could play the part of a “worried friend”. You’ll bust into the office while she’s getting checked out to see Art there, and the infatuation you've been harboring for him will keep you in place. The queen on the chessboard who can’t really move however they please at all. Patrick will return in a “rush to see his girlfriend”, and you’ll be too intrinscingly intertwined in their web to cut yourself loose.

You weren’t the one she was playing against, but because of your “friendship” you’re there in the audience when it all goes down. The shock of something career ending happening to someone who had the most potential of anyone you’d ever seen is staggering.

You practically run to see if Tashi’s okay, and the disappointment that you might never play with her again is palpable. But she’ll be fine, you tell yourself, she has to be.

Art has already left by the time you get to the room she’s in, doing one of his parts of the plan and allowing Tashi to put everything into motion. He’s waiting nearby, running his hands through his hair as he imagines all the ways he can comfort you. Because you will need comforting later, and your future husband knows the best remedies for your incoming sadness.

You’re standing gobsmacked in front of her bandaged knee, a confirmation that this is really it. You shrug off your bag and let it slide down your arm to the cold floor. Your mouth opens but the words don’t come out. You struggle to know what to say as Tashi’s eyes meet yours.

“What am I supposed to do now, huh? My top competitors gone up and left me hanging.” You sigh, trying to keep the kicked puppy look out of your eyes.

She’s in pain and you’re making this about you. But if you and Tashi aren’t bound by Tennis, then what are you bound by. Your friendship doesn’t go beyond the court, so what do you even share now?

There’s no big declarations, no babbling where you word vomit about glad you are that she’s okay. Neither of you are those kinds of people. The energy in the air is dead, but the situation is too serious for awkward small talk. All you two can focus on is what’s ruined, but only one of you can also acknowledge what stands to be gained.

“Take a break, then.” She says plainly, a touch too proud to beg. “For me, I mean who else am I gonna let see me like this?”

That last is an attempt to lighten the mood, to use humor to point out how you’re truly the only person she’d let see her in tatters. Your eyes widen and you freeze, but then you take a seat next to the cot and take her hand. Your smile could destroy the sun, she thinks, and even if the earth was plunged into darkness you’d make it feel like there was nothing to be worried about at all.

“Okay, just for a little bit.” You chuckle and rub her shoulder delicately.

You don’t know what on earth possesses you to say it, but you realize that the absence of a challenge would drive you insane. There’s other reasons for it, ones you’re aware and ones you’re not. But you and Tashi have a way of saying just enough without ever needing to be raw and reveal what you really mean. If there’s a coherent meaning to be found.

“A little bit” ends up being forever, your pregnancies see to that.

Tashi makes Patrick and Art hinge a match solely on who’d get first crack at it; they play so savagely that you’d think they were stray dogs fighting over moldy scraps of food. She’s there when you get morning sickness and she sends the boys out with a list of what you’re currently craving at that moment. She’ll brush your hair and do your skincare for you, rubbing your belly while everyone’s asleep and telling you’re baby that she’d better be their favorite (after you of course).

Tashi takes pride in how she pleases your pussy when you’re too swollen to put in any of the work. She licks broad stripes up your soaked cunt, nipping at your clit and getting you to cream into her mouth in no time at all. She presses sweet little kisses up and down your folds, wishing you could see her love on your pussy properly. They’ve had competitions on who can make you squirt the fastest, and Tashi will never fail to mention that she’s never lost once.

Patrick gets really into cockwarming, getting you nice and settled in his lap. He has to take deep breaths so he doesn’t immediately start thrusting, he knows he has to think about the baby. But the pregnancy has made you impossibly tight, and your hormones make you go crazy for his sweat and natural musk. You’ll whine at him to hover over your head so you suck on his heavy balls. You nag about how he needs to take better care of himself, but you’ve grown to love swallowing his tangy load while you’re suffocating in his pubes.

When that happens depends on how long either of you can hold out, Patrick will tease you about how slutty you’ve been lately and squeeze your face with one hand. His cock will twitch inside of you, snug and strangled. He'll suck Art off till both of their lips are bleeding and you’ll motorboat Tashi’s tits to pass the time. You’ll start swiveling your hips somewhere along the way and his resolve will crumble like it never existed in the first place.

That’s for later though. He fastens the ugly neon cartoonish headphones over your belly and turns on the attached mic, doing storytime with the softest grin on his face.

Art on other hand likes fucking your leaking tits, he loves when drops of milk lube up the slide of his dick in the valley between them. He’ll thumb at your sensitive nipples and flick them, cooing at you when you moan and lap at his cockhead during the split second it reaches your mouths. He’ll look after your breasts outside of the bedroom. He’ll massage them and drain them for you if they’re feeling particularly sore, two of them will be latching on either tit while the third will be sucking on your tongue. His pecs bounce with every languid roll of his hips through the pocket his hands create, and he brings your hands up to them so you’ll grab on and leave scratches.

Art gives you more cum, his literal breeder balls are too big and full, and he’ll bet that he’ll give you more children. His thrusts have a certain punchy rhyme and rhythm to them while Patrick’s are sloppily enthusiastic and feral.

Art picks out supplies for the nursery with you, supporting your vision wholeheartedly and agreeing with every color and stuffed animal you choose. He and Patrick continue with their careers, and Tashi finds a way to coach them both, they need to support you and the new member of their slightly dysfunctional family. Tashi writes up the speech you give when you announce your early and extremely unexpected retirement, and she massages your feet when you collapse on the couch from the sheer emotional exhaustion. Art pecks each of your toes as she does so. Patrick plays tic tac toe against himself in the hollow of your throat.

And when the baby’s born and they can finally see who actually got you knocked up, Tashi says that maybe Patrick will get to be happy that he’s finally won something.

- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or give my works to ai

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abouttofillhisshoes · 3 days

Note

Lena!! ❤️❤️❤️

I finally thought of a request for my fav MPIND Matty 🤭

Maybe something with girlie using a toy on him? Maybe a vibrator? Overstimulation perhaps?

-Sugar-coat-it <3 <3 <3

@sugar-coat-it This was supposed to just be a short blurb but i got way too carried away xx. hope u like it!!

Rush! - Matty Healy

A/N: This was so fun to write!! MPIND Matty lives in a special corner of my heart i think i might never stop writing for him. @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff tysm for being my (half decent) beta reader and making sure this isn't totally shit. Enjoy!!

wc: 9k

content warnings: filthy, semi public?, but also not really, overstimulation, teasing, begging, dom! reader, most of the time, matty is a cocky piece of shite but we love him, grinding, bondage, marking, use of sex toys, specifically a vibrator, what else hmmm, both of them are high, so dubcon?, still in their right mind though, wow the content warnings are long

Everything reeked of cigarette smoke and cheap liquor, hints of Jimmy Choo’s ‘illicit’ lingering in the air around Matty. You scrunched up your nose at the scent, Matty obviously having doused himself in it while you were in the bathroom, straightening your hair. Soft music played in the background, Matty using his turn on the Ipod to put on some ambient stuff George had made (yup, George was a music producer now for some reason? Quarter life crisis vibes.)

Adam was on his way, his little red Kia primed and ready for a good smoke sesh in some parking lot somewhere. It was nearly winter, which meant going outside was hardly an option considering neither you or Matty actually owned anything resembling warm clothing.

“I'm not letting you wear my coat again. Remember what happened last time?” he says when he sees your ‘finished’ outfit; a pair of jeans and a sage green long sleeve top, adorned with white and beige rhinestones. How dare he even mention that day, the state you entered the house was completely his fault.

“That only happened because you booked it down the fucking street and left me there!” It was true. The two of you had been sharing his massive coat, both of your bodies easily fitting into it, up until he decided the last four blocks home were to be a sprint, and took his jacket with him.

“Touché.” he grins as you shake your head at him. Fuck him, honestly. You tell him as much, his only reaction being a simple shrug of his shoulders, and his attention was back on his reflection in the mirror, carefully applying glittery purple liner to his eyelids, giving him a sort of emo-fairy look. Ross’d take the piss out of both of you, all dressed up to go smoke in a car on a wednesday evening, but you knew Matty already had some sort of comeback prepared, about how at least he groomed himself, and wasn't desperate to be a ‘proper’ lad (cue Ross chucking the nearest object he could pick up in Matty’s direction).

Impatient as ever, you sigh loudly, trying to get Matty to stop hogging the shared vanity. You could always just go back into the bathroom, but his lightbulb was truly shit, and besides, most of the stuff he was using was yours anyway.

Finally, you give up on trying to keep the piece, and promptly shove him off the chair

“Stop doing yourself up and move-” he doesn't budge, hanging on to the edge of the desk for dear life, refusing to let you finish getting ready.

“Violence is never the answer- Fuck off, christs sake, fine!” he whines like a child, getting up and throwing himself on the bed, and you cringe as it creaks loudly beneath him.

“You love it when I hurt you, shut up.” you tease, watching the look in his eye dramatically change. “Not like this!” he shoots back, flipping you off before grabbing his Ipod, switching to something more punk, heavy drums and guitar filling the space.

“Touché.” you repeat his own words back to him, and he rolls his eyes, sitting up. Taking the same brush, also using the same color, you frame your eyes with purple eyeshadow, trying your hand at a smokey eye. The two of you were matching more often than not, with Hann’s comments on it slowly getting on your nerves

“You both look the fucking same, its like you’re clones.” he’d overexaggerate, just to get a reaction out of a easily riled up Matty.

“D’you reckon Ross’ll have the good stuff this time? I can't deal with Hann’s bickering otherwise.”

You shrug your shoulders, looking at Matty from the corner of your eye. Maybe Adam’s comment rang somewhat true, seeing as Matty was wearing the exact same color scheme you were. Green Jersey top, definitely stolen from George, paired with blue, seventies style jeans, white and red trainers peeking out from beneath the too-long pants.

“I dunno, but we could go to the shop if it's shit, maybe get some wine?” you suggest. It was always 50/50 with Ross, and bad weed always fucked Matty off to no end, making him unbearable. Almost finished, you look around for your mascara, hands rifling through the piles of makeup littering the desk.

“Where’ve you put the mascara?” you ask, slowly getting annoyed.

“Left.” he answered curtly, engrossed in the newest edition of vogue. Sure enough there it was, bots of product caked around the cap. Coating your eyelashes with it, you hear Matty stand up and walk over to you. Setting spray topped off your look, and you run your fingers through your hair, smoothing it out.

Matty isn't particularly strong, but then again, neither are you, so the strong hand around your wrist was useless to fight against, and you let him pull you up. Face to face with Matty, you quirk an eyebrow at him. What was he playing at?

“You look absolutely gorgeous, darling.” you blush at the compliment, quietly telling him to fuck off, smiling as you see him grin at you. His brown eyes rake over your body, giving you a slow once-over, savoring the sight in front of him.

“Stop looking at me like that-” he cuts you off with a tug of your hair, smashing his lips against you. Surprised, it takes you a solid few seconds to properly kiss him back, utterly overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the kiss. His tongue immediately shoved past your lips, licking into your lips with fervor, drinking in every small gasp for air.

“Taste like sugar as well, so sweet.” He pulls you back in, deliberately not giving you an opportunity to answer. You feel his hands wander, trailing down your back and under your shirt, caressing your bare torso. His fingers toy at the band of your bra, teasing the clasps. Refusing to let you go, he presses your body flush against his, and you can sense every inch of him on your skin, like electricity, the smell of him travels up your spine, intoxicating.

The buzz of your phone snaps you back into reality. The guys, your plans. It takes every ounce of self control in your body to press your hand to his chest, effectively separating the two of you. Matty looks at you with a hurt expression, hands quick to cup your face, desperate to taste you again. Shaking your head, your voice is slightly as you tell him that the others are already outside.

“I haven't seen George in like three weeks. You're not the only person in the world, you know.” George was up to his eyeballs in Uni coursework (yes, Uni), and hasn't been able to hang out since forever, making you really miss him.

“I could make you feel like i'm the only person in the world, have all your attention on me.” he says with a wink, tracing your collarbones over your shirt. Matty was a hard person to say no to, with the way he peered down from above you, eyes wide, silently begging you to just stay.

“No.” you say firmly, grabbing your bag from the chair you were previously sitting on and slinging it over your shoulder. Instinctively, Matty takes it from you, holding it out of reach.

“Can't have you carrying your own bags, what would people think?” he teases, pushing past you and out the door, his footsteps heavy on the carpeted stairs. You follow him, heartbeat finally starting to slow. Already at the front door, Matty waits for you to tug your boots on, leaning against the coat rack as you did.

“What the fuck was that about, anyway?” The way he kissed you was passionate, hot, and definitely not something you just do on a whim. He tries to play innocent, raising his eyebrows and shrugging his shoulders.

“Nothing, just wanted a peck.” he answered, running his fingers through his slightly damp hair, still not fully dry from the shower he had taken a few hours prior. You scoff, looking at him in a ‘are you serious?’ type way.

“You fucking jumped on me, don’t be a such a dickhead.” you feel around for your cigarettes and light, smiling fondly as you realize it's the one Matty had gifted to you. “What was your end goal? You know we’re about to meet with the others!”

“I’m sorry for kissing my girl, jesus,” he exhales sharply, hand reaching for the doorknob, a loud honk sounding from the other side. Swinging the door open, Hann looks truly fucked off as the two of you walk down the driveway and climb into the car. Now usually, you would sit in the middle, between George and Matty, letting you comfortably lean forward to talk to Ross and Adam in the front, but it seems as though Matty had other plans.

Shoving past you, he settled into the middle seat, setting your bag on the floor next to your leather clad feet. George looks over, slightly confused at the new seating arrangement, but accepts it, going back to rolling the first spliff. The car starts, sputtering before actually turning on, Hann letting out a sigh of relief. There had been multiple occasions where his ‘precious baby’, as he called her, refused to start, leaving all of you stranded until Ross somehow managed to find the problem and fix it.

“See, this is what I mean,” Hann gestures to you and Matty, facing primarily Ross “They look like fucking clones of each other, its weird.” Matty reaches past the headrest and tries to smack him, causing the car to sway slightly as his hands leave the steering wheel.

“I’m trying to drive, fucks sake.” Hann mutters, pissed off now that Matty had almost made him crash the car. You set a firm hand on the dark haired boy's shoulder, lightly pulling him back into his seat. His legs are firmly pressed up against you now, and you feel a familiar tingling sensation blossom under your skin.

“Try to go steady, ‘m almost done.” George has this legendary talent of being able to roll the perfect spliff in even the most impractical situations, making him a god in Hann’s eyes. The car slows down slightly, and you see George lick the spliff closed, admiring his work. Matty immediately snatches it out of his hands, grinning from ear to ear as he sniffs at it, the smell filling his senses.

“God, you’re so fucking weird, mate.” Ross grimaces as he eyes Matty, watching him try to evenly light the spliff, failing miserably. Both you and Ross couldn't stand the earthy, stuffy smell of weed, constantly begging Hann to roll down the windows whenever someone decided to smoke in the car. Matty, however, had some sort of hash-fetish, and absolutely loved the smell of it, hotboxes being his favorite activity ever. He thought it heightened the experience, which was a load of shite, but he believed in nonetheless.

You were almost there, the Mcdonald’s parking lot being your end destination. Taking the scenic route, the five of you passed the spliff around, partially skipping Adam so as to not get him completely off his tits while he was driving. Matty agreed to rolling down the windows, seeing how nauseous Ross looked, with you not being far behind. Wind raked through your hair as you leaned your head onto the edge of the car.

Feeling at ease, peaceful and very, very high, you don't even notice Matty’s hand trailing up your thigh. He was just like that, touchy and overly affectionate with everyone, not just you, though, the type of affection did differ slightly. Scratching your skin lightly, you feel his fingers claw at the thin material of your jeans, grabbing hold of your panties through them. Your eyes snap up to meet his, and he pulls suddenly, letting go of the elastic. It hits your skin with a muffled smack, and you jump, noticing Ross’ eyes on you, peering over his shoulder.

Slightly disoriented, you don't even register Matty wrapping his fingers around the base of your neck, pulling you in for a hot, definitely too passionate kiss. Yelping in surprise, you sigh, almost inaudibly, into the kiss, letting him take control for a few seconds. George groans as he spots the two of you, dramatically shielding his eyes.

Realsing where you actually were, you pull away, shooting Matty a look that can only be described as ‘what the actual fuck was that?’. His skin is flushed, matching the color of his droopy eyes. Hann doesn't seem to have noticed Matty’s little PDA stunt in the back seat, blissfully unaware of the reason Ross was grimacing right now.

“I'd rather not see you snog, thanks.” Ross spits out, making a fake gagging motion as his eyes meet George’s, equally as unsettled as he was. Adam hadn’t seen the two of you, but the mental image was enough to make him join the other two in their disgust.

“What, you jealous mate? You can ask to join, it's no problem.” Ross laughs sarcastically, taking the spliff out of George's hands, taking a deep drag. He could sense Matty wasn't finished yet.

“You’d have to shave first, can't have you shedding all over my girl.” You still weren't used to him actually calling you that. It felt off, especially with your three other best mates staring at the two of you, silently wishing Matty would just shut the fuck up, for once. He was killing the soft, chilled out atmosphere with his incessant loud babbling, making George roll his eyes until you were sure they were going to get stuck there.

Ignoring the various groans of protest, he pulls you back in, basically climbing on top of you now. You giggle, partially because of the distinct floaty feeling clouding your mind, and partially because of Matty’s complete lack of shame, making him snog your face off just to rile up his mates, not really knowing how much it affected you. You pretend to be annoyed, shoving him off of you, wiping your mouth to really drive home the point.

“For the love of god, Matty, stop humping her, she's probably sick of you by now.” Hann says, making sympathetic eye contact with you in the mirror. He knew how you felt about the kissing in front of the rest of the group, not wanting to alienate them from you and Matty’s dynamic. The whole thing was a complicated mess.

His hand is still on your thigh as you squirm around a bit, you manage to gather your thoughts and speak for yourself.

“I quite am, fuck off, Matthew.” he tenses.

Now, to anyone else, you sound completely normal, if maybe a bit fucked off. Purposefully putting distance between you two, Ross reaches back and hands you the almost done spliff, and you inhale lightly, finishing it off. Matty is uncharacteristically quiet and you know he can feel your eyes on him. A warning.

He was prone to acting out like this, loud and obnoxious, almost bratty. To Ross, George, and Hann, this was normal, his fits a cry for attention, wanting all eyes on him, but to you, it meant so much more.

Stubbing out the joint, you throw it out the window, dangling your arm down the side of the car. George was calm, collected, and seemed to be enjoying life as Adam finally parked in your usual spot, turning the car off. Spreading your legs out more, you bump your thigh against Matty’s, making him twitch slightly, a soft smile spreading onto your face.

“Matty.” you say, his eyes darting up to meet yours.

“Mhm?” nudging him, you lift both your legs up and onto his lap, draping yourself over him. George is a bit startled, but guides you over his lap as well, letting your feet settle against the other side of the car, pressed up against the door.

“Fag?” George asks, holding out a pack of cigarettes in your direction. You happily take one, and so does Matty. Placing it between your lips, you watch George as he hands Matty his lighter after he lights his. His fingers fumble a bit, before finally flicking it on and inhaling the smoke, letting the nicotine mix with the weed, his face nothing but blissed out. It reminded you of what he looked like when he-

“Here.” he mumbles, holding the lighter in front of your face.

“Do it for me?” you ask sweetly, leaning your elbows against the back of your seat and the headrest of Hann’s, making yourself comfortable. His breath hitches as you shift, the bottom of your thigh pressing against his crotch. Two can play at that game.

The flame paints his face in an orange hue, and you feel the world close on around you. The way his delicate hand holds up the light to your cigarette makes your head spin, and not just from the weed. You feel George shift beneath you on the other side of the car, rifling through his pockets, pulling out a small baggie and rolling papers, getting to work rolling another spliff.

Hanns voice rings dully in your ears, asking George to hurry up a bit, saying he was nowhere near the level of high he wanted to be at right now.

“Let me do it, stop nagging.” George's movements are slower, his motor skills definitely more than just slightly inhibited.

“Good?” Matty asks, your attention turning back to him. His eyes are glazed over, red and half closed, and his hair falls over his face, indicating he’s long overdue for another haircut. Mattys hands settle on your knees, rubbing small circles over the bone, warmth blooming underneath your skin wherever he touches. You refused to let it show, opting to lean your head further out the window, admiring the stars glimmering above you, the cold of the night biting at your cheeks.

Matty can tell you’re cold by the way you shiver slightly, and he feels a bit bad, even if he did tell you to bring some sort of extra layer.

“I’m fucking freezing.” you state to the car, Ross turning around to face you, lowering his seat back a bit despite Georges protests.

“There's a blanket in the back, I think.” Hann nods in agreement, confirming his statement. Knowing you wouldn't be able to reach, Matty blindly feels around for it, fingers meeting a slightly scratchy, but still soft, knitted blanket.

Draping it over you, his hands linger on your waist, goosebumps forming on your skin as his nails graze your tattoo.

George is finally finished with the spliff, and hands it to Hann so he can light it. He greedily inhales, letting the feeling overtake him. A soft groan leaves his lips and you see the back of his head slouch against the headrest, lolling off to the side.

“This is some good shit, no wonder Matty’s so quiet.” Hann mumbles, half to himself.

“Told you, my guy’s the real deal.” Ross says with pride, like he’d grown it himself or something. Putting his feet up on the dashboard, he leans back, head craning to talk to Hann. Their conversation is quiet, meaningless, with Ross going on about his stupid bass instruments and chatting pure shit to a half dozed-off Adam.

George is in his own world, gazing out the window and off into the distance. He was tired, you can tell by the way the rings under his eyes were dark and prominent, evidence that he hadn't been sleeping much these days. Uni was truly kicking him in the arse.

A loud sigh from Matty makes you snap out of your thoughts, flexing your toes a bit, trying to stretch without bothering George too much. You feel a tap on your leg, telling you it's fine, and that you can move freely. George smiles at you from across the back seat, stoned out of his mind and looking like he was ready to pass out in the next five seconds.

“Y’alright?” you ask Matty, who keeps shifting around beneath you. One particular movement makes your legs spread, his big palms gripping the side of your left thigh, kneading the flesh.

His eyes flash up to yours, and the look he gives you is fucking delicious. Lips slightly parted, wet and swollen from his teeth gnawing at them for the past half hour, the sight makes your thighs clench, a cough escaping your lips.

The spliff makes its way to you, and you take a drag, your lips wrapping around it as you make direct eye contact with Matty. Your lipgloss rubs off on the filter, and you hand it to him with a smirk.

“I’m fucking knackered, I need to sleep.” George's deep voice cuts through the silence, and Hann nods in agreement.

“We’ve been here like an hour! We never hang out, let's stay for a bit.” Ross protests, sitting properly and trying to face everyone at the same time.

“Yeah, let's.” you side with him. Matty’s eyes widen at your statement, and he goes to speak. A sharp look makes him rethink his actions, and he slumps backwards into the leather, pouting at you. You grin at him playfully, seeing him start to do the same, before pressing your leg down, right onto his crotch. Underneath the blanket, not one could see what you were doing, giving you the perfect opportunity to fuck with Matty

“Fine, but I'm driving home in 20, whoever doesn't want to walk is coming with.” The tinge of annoyance in Hann’s voice is painfully obvious.

Time passes at a snail's pace as you continue your movements, thigh pressing down onto his steadily hardening cock ever so slightly, not wanting George to figure you out.

“D’you reckon Britney’s a good shag?” Ross asks, and you realize he’s holding a magazine, Britney Spears plastered onto the cover.

“Mate, maybe you shouldn’t-” George starts, but another voice cuts him off.

“Probably, I mean, just look at her.” it's Matty speaking, you realize.

His voice is drawn out and deep as he holds out his hand, silently requesting Ross to give him the paper. He’s taunting you, and fuck, is it getting to you. The way his eyes scan over the cover makes your blood boil, and you stare him down, warning him to stop.

“She’s fit.” He says, refusing to look at you as he takes a drag from the spliff, passing it on. His eyes finally dart over to yours, reading you like an open book. You were jealous, and he knew it. It was his goal, after all, to rile you up enough so you knew how he’d been feeling since that moment in your room.

“Hey Hann? I'm feeling a bit shit.” you lie through your teeth “Can we go?”. Ross tries to stop him, but with the vote being 4-1, he groans as the car sputters on, and Hann backs out of the lot.

You go to sit normally, putting as much distance between you and Matty as physically possible, not even looking in his general direction. Not really speaking to anyone, you listen to the soft sound of the radio, the music distracting you a bit. Matty’s eyes are glued to you, watching your every reaction, you can feel it. He silently begs you to stop being mean, ignoring him like this. You almost cave. Almost.

The drive feels longer than it actually is, George being dropped off at his house first. He waves goodbye through the window, which is the only reason you turned to the other side. Eyes avoiding the boy next to you, you blow George a kiss goodbye, hoping he gets some actual sleep tonight.

You and Matty were now both facing forward, chatting to Ross.

“Must be great, having an whole fucking house to yourself.” Ross grunts out, clearly still fucked off that you decided to leave so ‘early’.

“It is,” Matty answers, telling him how nice it was to live without his parents and with you, even if neither of you had the ability to prepare an edible meal, or clean the house every once in a while. You chuckle as his words, painfully true as you think back on the state you’d left your room in, clothes and books and various items strewn about the place.

Matty turns to you, your small giggles at his story making him think he was off the hook. You shoot him a look, and he immediately retreats, knowing it wouldn't be that easy. Not that he didn’t like a challenge, especially from you.

“Alright, you two.” Hann breathes as the car comes to a halt in front of the house. The soft rumble of the engine was deafening as you opened the door, climbing out of the vehicle. Matty followed quickly, almost banging his head against the roof, narrowly avoiding a small concussion. You tapped on the window, waving goodbye to both men in the car. Flashing a smile, you turn to Matty, grabbing his hand and leading him up the steps.

Inside the car, the conversation quickly shifted.

“What's going on with them? They’ve hardly spoken since he stopped trying to jump her bones in front of us.” Ross just shrugs, mind spinning different scenarios of what could've gone down.

“D’you think they’re fighting?” Hann nods, noting that you did look a bit pissed off towards the end.

“I dunno, it's weird though.. them being a thing.” Ross hums in agreement.

“Just leave them be, they’ll sort it out.”

The click of the door unlocking was as loud as a jet engine, and you push it open with your shoulder, Matty trailing closely behind you. You take your time, taking off your shoes, setting your bag down onto the floor next to the coat rack. He fidgets on the spot, not quite sure what to do next.

Without warning, you spin around, shoving him backwards into the door, both your hands on his shoulders. The tension is thick, his heavy breaths loud and desperate for you to fucking do something.

A beat passes between you before he finally speaks, stuttering over his words.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t h-have fucked you off, not infront of everyone.” you raise your eyebrows at him, a condescending smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“So you knew what you were doing then, trying to rile me up like that?” He nods, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows. He mutters out another “‘m sorry”, like it was going to save him at all.

Your hands trace his collarbones, just like he had not three hours prior, and you see his breath hitch when you dig your nails into his skin, leaving behind red indents.

“You wanna kiss me?” you ask, tucking his hair behind his ear sweetly, letting your fingers run over his jaw.

“Yes.” he gasps, your chest now fully pressed up against his, your bodies now flush. Mattys eyes are filled with desperation, lust, thoughts clouding his mind and the sight of you wasn't helping him think clearly.

“How badly do you want to kiss me?” he tries to speak, but you shush him. “How much do you want to touch me?”

A guttural groan leaves his lips, and his hands find your back, grabbing onto your waist for support. You look at him expectantly, tapping his face to get his attention back on you.

“Please, I'm sorry, just– fuckk, please darling.” His voice is small, soft, filled with want and desire. He pulls you in closer, and you feel him, fully hard, pressed up against your upper thigh. Your hand travels lower, pushing his shirt up as you go down, fingertips ghosting over his bulge, leaking and painfully hard.

“This all for me?” Matty looks like he’s going to combust, but still, he manages to force out a small, choked ‘yes’.

“You think you deserve it?” He freezes as you squeeze him through his jeans, feeling him twitch in your hand. A desperate whimper rips itself from his lips, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck, breathing shallowly.

“I’m sorry, just– please. I’ll do anything, just fucking touch me please, please, oh god–”

You mouth at the spot where his neck meets his jaw, sucking an aggressive hickey into the skin, simultaneously stroking him over his clothes. Trying to seem unaffected, you pull away from his cock, placing that hand over his chest, hearing him whine at the loss of contact.

“Upstairs. Wait for me.” Those four words manage to leave him absolutely breathless as he scrambles to tug his shoes off, throwing them into the corner. One last look is directed at you over his shoulder as he walks up the steps, almost tripping. Catching himself on the bannister, he disappears from view.

You use the moment to take several deep breaths, steading yourself. Matty might be the more expressive one, but he had this effect on you, even if he didn't know the full extent of it. Every reaction you elicited from him made your knees weak, your façade of control slipping slightly. Running your fingers through your hair, you glance at yourself in the hallway mirror, making sure you look good. Good enough to send Matty fucking spiraling.

The house is silent, apart from the odd creak of the floorboards underneath your feet. The door to your room crashes against the wall and you push it open, eyes immediately finding Matty.

Jesus christ.

Sprawled out on top of crumpled sheets, Matty’s eyes rake over your body, his cock visibly twitching in his pants at the sight of you. He had already taken off his shirt, the material bunched up next to him. The atmosphere in the room is heavy, thick with lust and desire and want and every other adjective that could be used to describe the fucking wet dream of a man currently sitting on your bed.

His hands trail up his chest, toying with his nipples as he bites his lip at you, a wild look in his eyes. Your feet take you to the foot of the bed, kneeling down onto it, not quite sure where to look. His skin is flushed a deep shade of red, the blush spreading from his face down his chest, which was rapidly moving up and down as you reached out to touch him.

“How do you feel?” your voice shakes, and you know he can tell. Does it actually matter to you at the moment? Absolutely not.

An indecipherable sigh leaves Mattys lips as he looks at you, curls sticking to his forehead and his cock rock hard against the fabric of his jeans.

“I feel–” he starts, words getting caught in his throat as you trace the inseam of his pants. You still, motioning for him to continue.

“I feel so good, please touch me, I need you so bad. So gorgeous like this, love you so much– jesus.”

You listen to his rambles as his eyes screw shut, everything being far too much for him. It's delicious, the way he squirms under even the slightest touch, involuntary noises spilling from his lips.

He trusted you, and you knew that well enough. Your entire relationship was built on a foundation of trust, a promise that you would never, ever, harm each other. Your hand reaches up to clasp his, squeezing gently. He smiles softly, wiping away the beads of sweat that had collected themselves on his forehead.

Your eyes glance over to the nightstand next to the bed, the wooden exterior a stark contrast to the otherwise black furniture of the room. The bed creaks as you get up, slowly pulling the drawer open. Matty watches you move, fluid and sure, as you take out a vibrator, you hear a small gasp escape him.

“You want me, Matthew? Want to be good for me?” you grin at him, throwing one of your legs over his lap, settling right below his hips. The way his cock is straining against the zipper of his jeans couldn't be comfortable in the slightest, but you let him suffer longer, relishing in the way he whined whenever you shifted on top of him, just like he did in the car.

“Will you let me use this on you?” That question is the final nail in the coffin, an animalistic groan ripping itself from the depths of Mattys throat as you palm him through his pants, beads of precum painting the front.

“Please,” his voice cracks slightly, eyes silently begging for some sort of relief.

“You know, you really shouldn’t have pulled that little stunt.” you speak, voice dripping with honey as you unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal making your heart speed up. Unable to speak, Mattys hands go to settle on your waist, gripping the fat of your hips.

“No.”

“W-what?”

His chest heaves as you grab hold of his wrists, pinning them up above his head. The belt he wore with his pants, while usually completely unnecessary, suddenly proved quite useful. Your hands fumble a bit as you bring the leather up, binding his hands to the metal bed frame. The arousal plastered on his face was impossible to hide as he gives the belt a tug, sucking in a deep breath of air when he realized what you’d just done.

“You’re so fucking– holy shit, you’re perfect.” his praises go straight to your core, and you grind down onto his thigh, feeling around for the vibrator that you’d placed somewhere next to you.

Towering over him, you observe.

It feels like you're daydreaming, the man in front of you just a figment of your dirty, vivid imagination. His skin glistened with sweat, and your eyes flicker down to the bulge in his black calvins. If there was a heaven, you’ve definitely reached it.

Running your fingers up and down the vibrator, you grin at him, watching his thoughts run wild, every possible fantasy playing out right in front of his eyes. Clicking the toy on, you rake your nails over his chest, the loud vibrations filling the room.

You had never done this before, but the utter look of devotion Matty gave you proved that he trusted you completely to do whatever you wanted to him. He follows your movements closely as you press the toy to the underside of his cock. Immediately, you see his eyes clamp shut, his hands instinctively pulling and fighting against the restraints.

“You like that, baby? Feel good?” you coo at him, taking in every single twitch of his body, savoring it. He frantically nods his head as you move his boxers, letting his cock slap up against his stomach. The feeling of the vibrator straight onto his weeping erection felt like pure heaven, desperate moans spilling from his lips, unable to control his own actions.

“F-feels so good, it’s so good, a-ah, fuck me–” he whimpers as you up the speed, your free hand cupping his face, smudging his eye makeup. Blissed out and shaking, Matty tries to hold off as long as possible, desperately wanting to be good for you.

“I can’t– I'm so close, please, let me cum.” his eyes search your expression, begging for permission. Pleasure trickles up your own spine as a sudden movement of Matty’s thigh beneath you makes you grind against him again, a soft moan leaving your parted lips. You swear you could cum just from the sight of him alone, twitching and begging and so, so close to the edge he could taste it on the tip of his tongue.

Shoving your fingers into his mouth, you watch as he chokes slightly, eyes welling up with tears. It's so unbelievably erotic, seeing him fall apart like this, all because of you. His dick twitches in the tell-tale way that lets you know he’s seconds away, just needing a little push. You lock your lips onto his neck, licking and sucking and biting marks into the skin, making him moan around your fingers. It's all too much for him, and his voice cracks once more before spilling into your hand, painting his stomach and the toy with ropes of thick cum, gasping and shuddering as you keep the vibrator against his cock, working him through his orgasm.

You finally kiss him, fingers weaving through his hair as you lick into his mouth, his arms still helplessly trying to pull free.

“That was– fuck– I can’t even describe it.'' His voice is raspy, sore. He looks utterly fucked out, a sly grin already adorning his face not ten seconds after you gave him the most mind blowing orgasm of his life.

“You dont think I'm done, do you? After the shit you pulled in that car?”

Your sudden change in tone makes Matty’s eyes widen, his hips bucking up against you. The evil look in your eye as you lean down to catch his lips in a kiss only makes him impossibly more turned on, fingers itching to touch you, a groan of frustration leaving his lips when he realizes he can't do anything but lay there and take what you give him. You move, one of your hands leaving his chest.

“What are you–?” The click of the toy is impossibly loud as a wanton moan rips itself from his throat, his hips twitching away, the sensation overwhelming and raw, almost too much. You grin from ear to ear as you study his reactions, writhing and pulling at the belt holding him in place, eyes silently begging you to just let him go.

“A-ah oh fuckk, no- I can’t–” he cries, arching his back, exposing his neck even more, adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he tries to swallow down his sounds

“You can, I know you can.” you lick across the expanse of his collarbones, teeth grazing the skin harshly, the slight pain only making Matty thrash more, the leather of the belt digging into his wrists.

“It’s too much– jesus christ-” he chokes out as you tangle a hand into his thick curls, tugging his head forward, making him look at you.

“Look how desperate you are, you sure it's too much?” you press a kiss to his lower stomach, his muscles tense under the skin.

“I need you so bad, fuck,” he sucks in a deep breath, making direct eye contact with you.

“Look at what you do to me.”

His sudden change in tone makes you take a second, truly taking in the sight before you. He smirks when he sees you staring, arching his lower back with the sole purpose of riling you up, knowing exactly how to get to you, and in turn, get what he wanted.

“Such a slut, fucking begging for attention, aren’t you?” he nods slowly, winking at you provocatively as his eyes follow your movements. The name made his breath hitch, and the return of the toy back on his hardening cock feels like pure ecstasy, moans and whimpers spilling from his lips as you continued speaking.

“Was it worth it?” he cocks his head at you, asking what you meant.

“Was it worth it, fucking around in the car, embarrassing me like that?”

“Absolutely, if it gets me this.” he purrs, trying to provoke you once again. You were going to make him eat his words if it was last fucking thing you were going to do.

“You have a lot of confidence for someone who was grinding against my leg under a blanket not even an hour ago.” A small laugh comes from Matty as he playfully tugs at the restraints, the sound morphing into a moan when you press the toy down harder, feeling him getting close again.

“Gonna cum again, make a filthy fucking mess of yourself?” Matty is so far gone, his cocky persona falling away in bits as he bucks his hips against the vibrator, chasing his high. You watch him, sweaty and out of breath, his hands straining against the leather, the mix of pain and pleasure making his head spin.

“I love you so much, please let me cum, please i’ll do anything, just let me cum–” there it is. Anything. He doesn't know the weight his words hold, willing to say everything and anything for you to let him fall over that delicious edge.

“Cum for me, let me see you.” your voice shakes, one hand planted firmly on his chest for balance, while the other holds the toy to his cock, twitching and leaking all over himself and you as he cums, screaming your name loud enough that it echoed through the whole house.

You watch as he shakes, gasping for air and writhing against the sheets, so overstimulated he could barely form a coherent thought.

“Again.” you whisper as Matty shakes his head violently, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Do you want to stop?” he shakes his head again, hips bucking up against the toy, desperate whines and groans filling the room. His chest heaves, lungs expanding as far as they could go to try and bring some oxygen to his brain. Breathless and exhausted, he looks at you, eyes wet and pleading, the mix of pain and pleasure driving him insane.

“Don’t s-stop.” he begs, voice sore and hoarse. Thoughts run widely through your mind, wondering how much more he could take before tapping out. “If you need to stop, tell me.” you say firmly, his frantic nods telling everything you needed to know. Clicking the toy back on, the reaction is immediate, visceral as he jerks under the warm feel of your lips on his jaw, pressing hot kisses down the skin, mouthing at his neck.

Pulling back, you admire the deep purple marks you left behind, tracing them with your free hand.

“You’re fucking glorious- I- I could look at you forever, so pretty on top of me, fuck, like a fucking wet dream, so perfect–” you listen to him babble through curses and moans, eyes drooping shut as he bucks up into your hand.

“Yeah? You’re so gorgeous for me, taking everything I give you.” you whisper back, pupils completely blown out with lust, the high you were still yet to come down from heightening every feeling, every sensation, until you were grinding against his thigh, desperate for him.

“I see you, baby,” your eyes snap up to his, a filthy smirk spread onto his face, “C’mon, use me like a toy, use me to get off.” his voice is sultry and low, working hard to bite back screams as you finally give in, sparks of electricity shooting up your spine as you increase the pressure on your clit, soft moans and gasps spilling from your lips as Matty tenses his thigh, lifting it slightly to meet your movements.

“Don’t cum until I tell you.” you warn, refusing to give up power, even if Matty made it incredibly fucking difficult to not give in. His eyeliner was smudged, tears streaming down his face, your fingers wiping them away sweetly. You bring your tear soaked hand to your mouth, licking it clean while making direct eye contact with Matty, the expression on his face making the salty taste on your tongue completely worth it.

It didn't take much to bring you to the edge, the warmth in your core blooming everywhere else in your body, your blood feeling hot as you balance yourself. Being met with Matty’s smirk as you look up, the smugness quickly morphs into white hot pleasure when your hand finds his nipple piercing, giving it a small tug.

You had convinced him to switch it out, the black metal ring being replaced with a purple barbell. It shimmered if you looked at it from a specific angle, a perfect contrast to his milky white skin, suiting him well. He gasps when you don't let up, tweaking the metal and rolling his nipple between your fingertips, an indescribable feeling radiating from his chest, making all the remaining blood in his brain rush down south.

You were so close, you could taste it. Matty knew this, doing his best to get you there, just as you were doing for him, holding off his own orgasm. Filthy words leave his mouth, making you feel dizzy with pleasure, the feeling of his jean clad thigh against your clit making your legs shake on top of him.

“So good, you’re so good– fucking marvelous, I could write a thousand songs about you like this.” he groans, eyes never leaving the spot where your core met his leg, watching closely.

“I’m so close, fuckk.” you whine, your high pitched voice like music to Matty’s ears, his cock visibly twitching against the toy.

“Cum for me darling, wanna see you fall apart on top of me.” he coos, and you feel your control slipping. It was all consuming, the pleasure making time slow as you barely manage to slow down to speak.

“You first.” A relieved sigh leaves Matty’s lips, hips bucking violently, precum bubbling from his tip, coating your hand where you held the toy against it. One last arch of his back and he cums onto his stomach, painting his skin white.

You groan at the sight, your own orgasm hitting you like a freight train, vision whiting out as you buck against Mattys thigh, his eyes burning a hole into your skin. He watches in awe as you gasp and stutter, the visual of his third climax too much for you to handle, carnal desire overtaking your body.

Collapsing on top of him, your chest heaves against his, everything blurry and disoriented. He tried to move his hands to your back to hug you, but realizes he’s still tied up, the leather really digging into his skin, leaving angry red marks.

“Darling?” you look up, apologizing profusely as you undo the belt around his wrists, kissing the burns it left behind. Matty chuckles quietly, running a soft hand through your hair, pressing your face into his chest.

“That was..” he starts, eyes still wide in disbelief.

“Okay?” you offer a hint of insecurity evident in the way you speak.

“Fucking amazing, visceral, undescribable, life chang-” you cut him off with a firm kiss, silently telling him to shut up. He giggles into the kiss, his other hand pressing against your lower back, pulling you impossibly close.

“It wasn’t too much?” you ask, gesturing to the marks on his wrists. He shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He assures you it doesn't hurt at all, and besides, “You know I like it when you hurt me.” The cheesy wink that follows his statement makes you roll your eyes, leaning down to breathe in the scent of him. Fucking Jimmy Choo, ugh.

“You have to stop using my perfume, you smell like a woman, it's unsettling.” you complain, wishing he’d use some sort of musky cologne instead.

“I thought you liked it when i'm girly? Remember that time when I wore that skirt and you fucking mauled me–'' he tries to tease, being rudely interrupted by you digging the heel of your foot into his leg, making him yelp in pain.

“That was different,” you mutter, avoiding his taunting gaze.

“Was it?”

“Absolutely, yes, now come here.” you grip his jaw, crashing your mouth against his, biting his lower lip, enjoying the small gasp he lets out. The kiss is hot, filled with love and trust, your heart swelling up in your chest.

“Don’t ever pull that shit again, George could have noticed and that would've been a complete shit show-” you shudder at the thought of your mates knowing anything about your sex life, gagging inwardly.

“You were the one grinding your leg down on to my dick, don’t act all fucking innocent!” he protests, a playful tone to his voice.

“Imagine Ross knowing anything about what we do, he’d lose his mind.” you comment. Knowing him, he’d physically throw up and never speak to either of you ever again, the mental image having scarred him for life.

Matty is oddly silent, his hands fidgeting. Your eyes widen in realization

“Dont tell me you fucking– Matty!” you shut your eyes, embarrassment flooding your body.

“He’s my mate, and he asked. Who am I to deny him?” you hit his chest, propping yourself up as you laugh in disbelief.

“Ross asking doesn't make it any better!!” you screech, watching him pull back at the sheer volume of your voice “For fuck’s sake Matty, what did you even tell him? I’m never going to be able to look him in the eye again, fucking hell.”

“Just about the camera, nothing else, I swear!” you cup your face, letting out a frustrated groan.

“You know I can never speak to him ever again? The fucking camera, are you taking the absolute fucking piss?!” you throw curses at him as he giggles into your hair, muttering apologies and promising to never say anything again.

“‘M sorry darling, i won't give out the details of our sex life anymore.” he jokes, earning a choked giggle from you, unable to stay mad at him.

Looking up at him from your spot on his chest, anger fades as you take in his features. You could look at him forever if he let you, drinking in every inch of skin, committing it all to memory. Your fingertips touch the top of his cheeks, wiping away any left over make-up, smiling fondly as you do so.

Love. That's what you see in his eyes. Pure love, utter devotion. His breathing is slow, the soft sound of his heartbeat comforting as you lay back down onto him, nuzzling your face into his skin. You could stand the permeating stench of Jimmy Choo if it let you hold him this close to you.

“You’re mine.” he mumbles into your hair, stroking up and down your spine, pushing your shirt up.

“I’m yours,” you answer, this overwhelming feeling of adoration taking over your whole body. Matty was yours, and you were his, from the second he said the words ‘I love you’ that night on the terrace, overlooking the glowing city.

Life with him seems so real. Growing up properly, getting your own house, getting married. It was all possible, still, it felt far away, a distant future. You let your thoughts spin in your mind until the exhaustion won, your body going slack against Matty, soft snores filling the room.

Matty lays awake beneath you, the darkness of the room enveloping his senses.

“I love you so much,” he mutters under his breath, knowing you couldn't hear him anyway. That was the moment he knew, the moment everything solidified.

You were just kids, the pair of you, young and free, life filled with infinite possibilities. So much was uncertain, but he knew one thing without a doubt. Eyes flickering over to his coat, they fell on the outermost left pocket. It wasn't about the pocket itself, but what was inside. Dark red velvet, the same shade as your favorite color. A box.

A small one.

#i had so much funnn #hope yall like the ending #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #drive like i do #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x you #matty healy fluff #the 1975 smut #matty healy x reader

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grimm-writings · 3 days

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Hey! Can I request a falin x reader where reader is a lone researcher in the dungeon and stumbles into chimera falin and the two fall in love?

Maybe Like a 5 times the reader has met chimera falin and 1 time the two get to meet after she’s turned back type story?

beauty/beast

…ft! falin x gn! reader

…tags! 5+1 format, reader is like slightly unhinged, fluff with moments of angst, slight suggestiveness

…wc! 2789

…notes! grimm tries not to come off as a monsterkisser for nearly 2.7k words, the fic,,,, hope you enjoy!!!! i love chimera falin so bad…

One

You can’t say you didn’t ask for this.

It’s a death sentence to traverse into a dungeon on your own, especially with your lack of combat skills. If you were sane, you’d have hired a bodyguard to help take down monsters you couldn’t handle. Fortunately, you are not, and decided instead you could very well handle monsters in a pacifistic way.

Any companion you told this to chose to stare at you like you admitted to dark magic.

So, you’ll simply prove the nay-sayers wrong! After all, how hard can it be to tame some monsters?

Very hard, actually. Like… incredibly.

You had to pride yourself in how you managed to sweet-talk some petty thieves for advice on monsters in the floor you’re currently on, even how to avoid orcs! At least that much is out of the way.

As for fighting, well, sometimes a very sharp slap to the head with a book, or even the sharp tip of a pen can subdue anyone, if just to give you enough time to run.

Besides, blood makes for some extra ink if you just happened to come by a dead body!

Going purely on efficiency alone, you’re doing tremendous work! When it comes to your study? Not so much.

The purpose of coming all the way down here is that you have a very specific urge. That being, to tame a beast. Some researchers gained the will to try and do the same to elemental spirits, why not other monsters?

One of the most common rebuttals you receive is that monsters are animals, they can’t be tamed at all, and you shouldn’t even try lest you want your head bitten off. Considering thus far you only got bitten by a walking mushroom, you think you’re doing rather well! (You did take an hour to contemplate to yourself how a walking mushroom seemingly has teeth, though.)

That brings you now later to the fourth floor, trying to shield your notes from the water as you lament losing more ink. Sure, you might write a little bit more than should be necessary, but you surely can’t be out already!

So, delight fills you as you peer past a doorway to see the top half of a woman face down on the floor. Haha, you can likely drain her pretty easily for some ink! Looks fresh enough, and some patches of her are already damp with red!

You skip over, humming as you do so, when all at once the woman jerks and looks up at you. Her golden eyes pierce your own, making you freeze in place. You wonder if something had gotten mixed up and a succubus ended up making its way to an upper floor, when the walls of the small tower the woman is inhabiting collapses.

A chimera screeches at you, as if telling you to leave it alone. If you weren’t so awestruck, you would have tried to shush it, lure it towards you and petted its oddly human head. Alas, you let the chicken-legged thing go, finding a safe haven for itself.

Day 1: I have found a beast in its purest form. I must pursue it. I must tame it.

Two

‘Obsession’ would be putting your experience lightly.

You had never wanted to gaze upon a monster as much as you wished to see the chimera again. Unique is its proportions, the lower body of a dragon and the torso and head of an adult tallwoman.

To anyone else, its face must be more of a lure. With the prettiest face and… great assets to boot, like a fish drawn to an angler fish's light, a blindsided adventurer comes near.

You had tried to navigate where the beast has gone, observing the damages of certain areas to lead you closer to it.

Thoughts course through your mind like speckles of a daydream as you walk and walk and walk, trying to sneak past other enemies and adventurers as you do so. What would its feathers feel like? Is it different from the mop of blonde hair on its head? You didn’t get the chance to observe its eyes – are they human or monster? What of its body heat? What is its diet?

Ah. Diet.

Your own body stops walking in realisation. By all means, comparing their mouth to the rest of their body, it’s ultimately impossible for the chimera to have a stable diet in this dungeon, correct?

Perhaps… you need to make a lure of your own.

Even after days of navigating the dungeon, you still have plenty of rations from the surface remaining in your bag. Hopefully the chimera likes the most noble meal one can fit inside a lunchbox — meats and pasta with the richest sauce. One could say your taste in meals is unique, eliciting a morbid curiosity. If the beast is more in tune with its human side, it will react the same.

You don’t know what tempted you to arrange a table with two chairs on either side. It’s not like the chimera could fit, but it was only suitable for your first formal meeting with it! Oh, how you can’t wait to observe it eating, and so close…!

If you’re lucky, it may even attempt to taste you.

You promptly shake off the thought.

What you focus on now is to draw the chimera near. It seems to favour secluded areas, but has been seemingly chased around. Aw, is it scared of humans? That’s just adorable! Or, maybe, it’s resting before setting off on a search… Now that’d be some juicy stuff! Who’s the chimera’s prey? Another monster, or humans?

Oh, of course you’ll use yourself as bait. You’re not a coward!

You know basic enough spells that you won’t be entirely drained of mana upon use, lighting up a route to catch the chimera’s attention upon spotting it. Down you lead it, making yourself look as bright and delectable as possible, before sitting in your seat, your meal readily prepared for the chimera.

You smile up at her as she pokes at the food you prepared, and she begins to eat.

Day 3: The beast was very hungry upon encounter. Even when she finished the meal, she insisted on having something more. I complied, and soon I had emptied my entire share of rations. The chimera eats food made for humans easily. This elicits curiosity – it might be proof enough that the chimera’s existence in this dungeon is unnatural. Even now, it looks too… human. I feel uncomfortable now referring to the beast as such – an ‘it’. Thus, I will refer to the chimera as ‘she’ from here on. It suits her. She truly is magnificent. All signs point to her being an attempt at creating a ‘beast-kin’, but instead of using the soul of a monster and body of a human, it’s as if it’s a mesh of both. A disgustingly beautiful transformation. To compare, it is not dissimilar to the breeding of a pug. Deliberately done to appease someone, something. A selfish birth. Someone must be wanting to do the same as I to the chimera – tame her to their whims. …I’ll have to look further into this.

Three

You feel less in control of your studies these days.

The more you hang around the dungeon, scavenging for food and following your muse, the more insane you feel. But, for the sake of research, you power through.

The chimera, she has been opening herself up to you. When she gets anxious, her feathers ruffle, and you shush her with pets. She calms down occasionally. Once, you had encountered her, blood on her body and under her fingernails. You cleaned her using the mana-infused water. She had never looked so calm.

She doesn’t feel like a monster you have tamed, but a friend.

This scares you.

Sure, there’s the possibility that the chimera is an unnatural phenomenon, and isn’t even a monster.

But that also means you’re losing your resolve.

The chimera sits with you, as you scrub her red-scaled talons free of dirt and blood. Her upper body leans on you, resting. You can even hear little chirps slipping from her lips.

She’s so cute.

Even as her golden eyes soften, the small slits in them dilating to exhibit relaxation, she smiles at you. You don’t flinch when her hands take your face to look at you. She’s a bird after all – she might be trying to memorise you, how you look, so she knows not to hurt you in the future.

You were nearly about to reminisce on your further embarrassment when the chimera speaks.

Four words. She spoke four words in the common language, leaving you staring at her. You’re speechless. She must know that she’s caught you off guard as she slowly tucks your hair behind your ear and moves away.

The moment is quickly ruined. “Dragon!” A boyish voice calls. “There you are. You’ve been leaving my side so frequently. There’s no time to–”

An elf in a cloak freezes upon noticing you. His heavy eye bags rival your own as he glares down at your sitting position.

You don’t do anything, merely looking up at your friend in confusion. She is back to being silent again, reaching her arms out to the elf, as if about to pick him up. He swats at her, before pointing at you.

“Kill them,” he demands her.

She hesitates. You also find yourself unable to move. So the chimera is under someone’s control after all. This elf, forcing you apart from your friend.

You hardly process your friend lifting you off the floor, her fingers closing in around your throat. Tighter and tighter. Your eyes can barely make out her empty expression as she squeezes the life out of your lungs.

Snap.

You fall onto the floor, and the mad mage leaves with his dragon in tow.

Day ??: “My name is Falin.” The chimera told me this last time we encountered one another. She has a name. A beautiful name that belongs just to her. Falin. …I would say ‘my Falin’, but she is not. She is under the control of that elf. I wouldn’t want her to be my Falin anyway. She shouldn’t belong to anyone. I was revived by a kindly Eastern woman, who is accompanying a group of retainers following their lord. They are joined by another party, also recently revived. Apparently, in my revival, I had uttered her name, “Falin,” and captured the attention of the malnourished lord. He is looking for her. …I was informed she is his love. Pushing personal feelings aside, I asked to come along. I neglected to mention Falin’s current state. I couldn’t do that to him right now. Maybe once he sleeps, or eats… but not now. Falin, I wish to save you. That is my goal now. You are not a monster to be tamed.

Four

Today, you met Laios Touden.

He is Falin’s older brother, you learn.

You met a lot of people, actually. You met Falin’s party, an elf who Falin went to school with, as well as Laios Touden.

“You’ve seen Falin?” He asks you, brow creased. He had leaned forward in interest. Lord Toshiro, Kabru, and Asebi were also listening to you with intrigue.

You nod. “Yes, but I fear the situation might be a little more than you have bargained for,” you vaguely inform.

Your words would be interrupted by Laios’ request to talk privately with Toshiro, to which you comply. You do already have a feeling of what's being said, something Kabru seems to pick up on as he glances over at you.

“Falin… isn’t faring well, is she?”

“Not in the traditional sense,” you reply. Kabru grimaces, clearly not appreciating your rather… erratic way of conversing. You add before he could talk back, “she’ll come back for me.”

Kabru furrows his brow. “Excuse me?”

His question remains unanswered until you are swept up in a heated battle. Looks of horror cross everyone’s faces at the bloody acts committed by the chimera.

You merely smile.

“Hello beauty,” you whisper when she turns to you. Falin steps forward, cornering you. You welcome her with open arms – and the world becomes dark again.

Day ??: Scorned though I may be by Lord Toshiro, I know myself not to be mad, but in love. Yes, I am in love. I know this now for certain. I know that he, too, is in love. I do not see his wishes badly. In fact, from a sane man’s mouth, it is perfectly understandable. Dark magic is dangerous. As is love. He’s risking his own reputation for it, even if others don’t appear to see things the way he does. But when push comes to shove, I am not that sane man. I am joining Laios Touden’s party in the retrieval of Falin. The aftermath of the battle consisted of a hearty meal. Who knew monsters could taste so nice? Keep this in mind for the next adventure. I had figured this all came from the result of black magic. Marcille Donato is a much more interesting woman than I thought. I’m sure I could learn a lot from her. Hence, we march forward. I know you aren’t in your right mind, Falin, but trust that I am. I will risk it all for you, beauty.

Five

The ice is cold underneath your fingertips. The woman encased inside is relaxed, as if she’s merely asleep. To see her completely separated from the lower half of the chimera body was something uncanny to you, so used to seeing her towering over you, able to squash you like a bug.

You turn to Marcille as she approaches. “You had the right mind, keeping her fresh like this. Deep down, you really did want to follow through with the plan!”

The blonde elf is sheepish. “I did end up causing a right mess in the end. It… It was selfish of me.”

“It was love,” you reply.

“Not the love Falin needs, though,” she finishes.

You both stare up at her in silence. If you were delusional enough, you could swear you could see Falin breathing.

“I love her,” you admit, quieter than you have ever been. “Is that alright with you?”

Marcille turns to you, her eyes wide. For such a gossip, she really hasn’t picked up on it?

“I…” She hesitates. Her hands reach her trousers, and she scrunches up the fabric in her hands. “It’s not my choice what – or who – Falin chooses. I don’t think I have the right to decide anything for her.”

You nod, graciously taking Marcille’s word to heart.

You feel you’ve also changed throughout your journey. Volatile as you may be, you appreciate Falin as she is. An untamed beauty. Not for anyone to claim or put their ideals onto.

She’s simply Falin.

“Come on,” Marcille takes your hand. She has the kind of look on her face where you know she accepts you readily. “Let’s go eat, okay? For Falin.”

You smile back. “For Falin.”

I don’t care about the day anymore. Falin is being revived today. Soon, I’ll have a chance to meet the real her. The beauty behind the beast. Ha. I haven’t called her that for a while. Maybe I’ll follow Toshiro’s way and propose immediately too? No, Marcille may accept me, but that might result in another need for revival. I can’t wait to get to know you.

the first time

Falin opens the door with a dazed expression, not expecting the crowd waiting around the door. Of course, this resulted in quite the hoo-ha. People running around, celebrating the successful revival of Falin Touden. You wait patiently for you to be welcomed once more.

The woman is sitting calmly at her bed. Some of her features are still feathered, but you’ve always liked how they felt underneath your fingertips.

She glances up at you, examining your form.

You’re taller than she thought.

“Hi,” you say, handing over a random blade of grass you picked.

Falin takes it. Her fingers brush against your own. She starts twirling the natural green between her fingers. She smiles warmly. “Hello,” her soft, tired voice returns. It’s so sweet that you might melt. “My name is Falin. It’s nice to meet you.”

You know from the way she glances up at you that she already remembers you quite well.

Feeling the happiest you’ve ever been, you fall into Falin, pulling her into the tightest of hugs.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you too, beauty.”

Today, she asked me if she could belong to me. I said yes, but only if she belonged to herself first. She accepted.

#✮ grimm's fics!#FALLS OVER #this is my longest fic so far i think wow #as falin deserves #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #falin #falin touden #falin x reader #falin imagines #falin touden x reader #falin touden imagines

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heavenlyvision · 2 days

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replacement pairing: johnny cage/reader wc: 600 warnings: ANGST!!!!!!!, gn!reader, no use of pronouns or y/n a/n; i uhhhh, found an idea i wrote a very long time ago and thought "how fucked up would it be if johnny did this?" and then adapted it for him and rewrote some stuff :3 hehe i love you guys (please don't be mad) </3 ANGST UNDER CUT

His hands trace the curves and contours of your body slowly as you sway in the cool breeze the evening is providing. If you were to be looking from the outside in, this would look like a perfect moment between lovers and while the moment is between two lovers, to you, it feels less than perfect. His mind is elsewhere whilst yours is focused solely on him, on this moment, it hurts to know that he’s thinking about them again.

You never knew who they were, but he had mentioned sparingly that you were like them, you just didn’t know to what extent that was. Sometimes you would do something small, like laugh when you couldn’t quite line all the buttons up on your shirt correctly and he would get this sort of glazed-over look in his eyes with a small, sad smile and you would know that you had done something to remind him of them. It seemed, no matter how hard you tried… everything you did was a memory of them. To him, it was almost like you were them.

When he was with them, he loved freely, easily, limitlessly but it wasn’t enough, and they left him for someone else. He was a shell of himself… until he had met you and you sparkled, you had loved him so certainly, it came effortlessly to you, and that was one of the first times he had made the connection in his head, between the two of you. You were unapologetically yourself, just like they were, it was why he loved them, their fearlessness and ability to just be themselves in a world full of people trying to be someone else. It’s also why he loves you… because to him, you are the same.

Tonight was supposed to be about you and it had started that way. He took you to your favourite restaurant for dinner and then a blissful stroll under the night sky, where you both just talked and enjoyed the moment together. It would’ve been… it could’ve been perfect, if it weren’t for his distant gaze. You ignored it, you did your best anyways, to pretend everything was… perfect.

Back in his apartment he had taken you out onto the balcony and asked to dance, it was silly but appreciated, the soft glow of the moon, the quiet humming of music. It was everything, you had always wanted a night like this and when you asked how he knew… his reply was simple.

“They would’ve loved this too.”

It hurt, it crushed you, it was getting to the point where you weren’t sure if he could differentiate between the two of you anymore. What memories had he made of you and what were the ones of them? Does it even matter to him anymore?

You’d stopped moving and he knew automatically that he’d fucked up, “I’m not them, Johnny,” you’d frowned, “I’m me.”

“I know that, of course I know that, and I love you,” he was lying, and you both knew it, he didn’t love you, he loved the memories of them that he saw in you.

The pain in his eyes was the kind when you fear you might lose someone, he was afraid… not of losing you though, of losing them. You love the happiness you bring him; you love him, you just don’t love that you aren’t the one actually giving him that happiness.

Your head leant onto his chest as you murmured, “Don’t forget it…”

“I love you,” he’d repeated.

You weren’t sure if he were trying to convince you or himself.

#visions blurb #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage mk1 #johnny cage imagine #johnny cage #mk1 angst

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katelynnwrites · 20 hours

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i can do it with a broken heart | laura freigang

warnings: angst with no happy ending

word count: 831

summary: you're determined to fake it 'til you make it, even with a broken heart. also known as your the reader's perspective of down bad

a/n: the third installation of my 'the anthology' blurbs series

you can feel laura’s gaze on you, from across the locker room.

a few short weeks ago, you would have blushed and teasingly told her that it’s rude to stare.

now, it makes your heart clench so you plaster a large smile on your face and turn to look at tanja, starting an intentionally cheerful conversation.

it is impossibly hard for you to ignore the blonde, especially when her eyes are on you again, this time in the club as you and your teammates celebrate the club’s win.

in stilettos, you have a drink in hand, a pretty sequined dress on and your makeup is done to perfection.

she’s sitting alone, at a table by the side of the bar and you can practically read her mind. you know her well enough for that.

‘she’s having the time of her life.’

well you can show her lies.

you can show up to trainings on time. you can attend every team bonding with a bright expression. you can do it all. even if it’s killing you inside.

because you’re a real tough kid. you can handle your shit.

after all they say you gotta fake it ‘til you make it. and you will.

so the one thing on your mind, repeating over and over as you push through each and every day is ‘lights, camera, bitch smile.’

even when you wanna die, you will do it.

your ex said she would love you all her life.

you believed her. you still do because you see the dark circles she has. she’s clearly devastated and barely holding herself together.

and you know it is all your fault for breaking up with her.

but you had to. had to because you love her so much. you trust her excessively and before you fall any harder for her, you needed to stop yourself.

it would have hurt too much when you landed and you know that if you allowed laura to love you the way she wanted any longer, there would be no coming back from that kind of pain.

so for your own sake, you had to leave her. even though it gives you overwhelming guilt to break her heart.

but you can grin like you’re winning and you can hit all your marks.

you’re playing better than ever because you know you are good. you know you’re good because you can do it, even with a broken heart.

you cry a lot now that you have left the striker but you are still so productive that one could consider it an art.

really, it’s only through the extensive uses of subtle makeup, face masks, cooling eye packs and the odd frozen metal teaspoon that no one has noticed it yet.

most of your relationship with laura was spent staying over in her apartment but there were nights that were spent in yours.

more than a few if the way you keep finding her things in your drawers is anything to go by.

first it was a old penn state sweatshirt. the next, one of her retro frankfurt jerseys.

now it’s her favourite pair of jeans.

you choke on your tears when you find it among your own clothes.

she’d worn them to your first date.

laura might keep looking at you but she avoids you like the plague otherwise. she doesn’t want to walk near your cubby in the locker room or be in the same training group as you.

she must hate you and you can’t blame her.

it is part of the reason why you cannot bear to return any of her things to her. they are the last tangible memories you have left of her, crucial evidence that for a brief time, you had the love of your life.

you feel like you’re drowning in your grief now but you can hold your breath.

because you’re a real tough kid. you can handle your shit. there is no reason to drag the german woman back into it, if she would even deign to give you the time of day.

so breaking down, you’ll hit the floor. all the pieces of you shattering as the fans chant, ‘more!’.

you might be depressed and you might be struggling but you will be damned if you’re not doing your best.

you will show up at trainings and team bondings on time, with a happy grin fixed on your face. you will only post the most positive and staged content on your social medias and you will not let any of your teammates or most importantly laura herself, see just how not okay you are.

‘lights, camera, bitch smile.’ you think once again.

even when you wanna die, you’re doing good. you know you’re good because you’re miserable and nobody even knows.

you swore that you would fake it ‘til you make it and you’re doing it.

it’s your new job and you are not going to let anyone try to come for it.

#laura freigang imagine #laura freigang x reader #laura freigang #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #woso oneshot #eintracht frankfurt frauen #dfb frauen #gerwnt #katelynnwrites #'the anthology' blurbs series

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mcflymemes · 2 days

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PROMPTS FROM THE SONGS ON TIME LIFE'S ULTIMATE LOVE SONGS COLLECTION - YES, THAT COMMERCIAL * assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary. "cauuuseee i'm your laaaaady (imagine owning the world's greatest love songs)... and you are my maaann..."

your voice is warm and tender.

i'm your lady, and you are my man.

whenever you reach for me, i'll do all that i can.

i am always by your side.

sometimes i am frightened.

i'm ready to learn.

i could hardly believe it when i heard the news today.

i had to come and get it straight from you.

they said you were leaving.

from the look upon your face, i see it's true.

tell me how am i supposed to live without you?

how am i supposed to carry on?

i didn't come here to break down.

a dream of mine is coming to an end.

how can i blame you?

it helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star.

if love can see us through, then we'll be together.

your love is all i'll ever need.

i look in your eyes and there i see what happiness really means.

the love that we share makes life so sweet.

here and now, i promise to love faithfully.

nothing can take your love away.

i believe in love.

now i know i've succeeded.

i'll be eternally grateful.

come back again.

i want you to stay next time.

don't wake me up too soon.

unforgettable. that's what you are.

have i told you lately that i love you?

have i told you there's no one else above you?

you fill my heart with gladness.

somehow, you make it better.

every time you go away, you take a piece of me with you.

i'll always love you for the rest of my days.

you gave me hope when i needed someone near.

you have made my life complete.

tell me, who could ask for more?

when i kiss your lips, i start to shiver.

when i'm in your arms, nothing seems to matter.

i don't care how you get here. just get here if you can.

if i had my way, then surely you would be closer.

i need you closer.

still, i can't figure out what went wrong.

i'd still do anything for you.

i can pretend each time i see you that i don't care and i don't need you.

i've learned so much from you.

if you fall, i will catch you.

you said "go slow."

you know our love was meant to be.

i want you here with me from tonight until the end of time.

you're always on my mind.

you're the meaning in my life.

no one needs you more than i need you.

i want to see you clearly.

these dreams go on when i close my eyes.

i see the questions in your eyes.

i'll never break your heart.

i'll love you with every beat of my heart.

wherever you go, whatever you do, i will be right here waiting for you.

i'm stuck on you.

i guess it's time for me to come on home.

so hard to see that a woman like you could wait around for a man like me.

#mcflymemes #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters #ONLY $16.99 PEOPLE!!!!!!

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atruththatyoudeny · 3 days

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Happy 28th! Here are all the lovely fics I read this month:

where we landed | blueskiesrry | [70k] The leaves were green the last time Harry stepped foot in Holmes Chapel, a stark contrast to the candy apple, butterscotch painting them now, years later. Harry first notices them on the train, gazing out the window with a downturned mouth. A warm something floods his stomach–memories, Harry imagines, of him as a boy, longing for the days when he’d live elsewhere and have to take this very train home for the holidays. He wonders how it’s possible to have once felt eager and euphoric at the sight of changing leaves yet now to feel nothing but tired. He sighs softly, turning away from the trees to look at his daughter, half-curled in his lap, asleep. or: harry returns to his hometown with his sick daughter and more reminders than he bargained for of the boy he once loved when he left a handful of years ago

MARRIED FOR A WEEK?! | gravitycentered | [20k] Hi guys :) You might recognize Harry from one or two of my old videos .. I was tagged in the Married for a week challenge so I asked him to be my husband ! We had to live together for a week and take each other out on a couple romantic dates and that, check out the video to see how it went :) Give it a like if you enjoyed and maybe subscribe if you haven't already. Love you all - Louis x

It's everything else that matters | words_of_my_own | [83k] At forty, Harry has settled down in London, as a single dad and successful businessman. Along comes Louis, his son’s new friend, who turns out to be more than he appears at first sight. Their paths are slowly intertwined as life stories are unfolded and feelings arise. *** "They may only be joking around here… …or the atmosphere has just turned slightly flirtatious. Louis' raised eyebrow and quirky smile adding on to it. It’s fun and exciting, and Harry doesn’t think twice before he throws another glance over his shoulder, just to find Louis steady eyes on him, his teeth digging into his lower lip. Christ, the bloke really is handsome. Sexy, even. And this is definitely not how Harry normally reacts to people of the same sex, but…apparently, he is now."

He Was a Different League (When I Was Nothing Much) | AFangirlFantasy | [21k] Sick of being alone, Marcel is forced (by Niall) to join an online dating app. The idea is well and all, except for the inconvenient fact that he hasn’t moved on from his childhood sweetheart - Louis. If only Marcel could learn to let go, he might actually be able to love again. Or, an AU where finding that 'someone new' actually leads to finding that 'someone old,' and Marcel is painfully oblivious.

I want to wake up where your love is | marcythesassykitten | [166k] “Kinda feels like it is, though. And it’s okay to be pissed at me because of that,” Louis' voice was still the normal feathery sweetness Harry was used to, but it had a harshness to it that he couldn’t place until he looked up and met Louis’ eyes. There was so much pain exposed for Harry to see, for him to be able to pick at, taunt or ignore. Louis was sitting right there, allowing Harry to see all the broken pieces, the sharp edges that had never been mended back together with the love and kindness they needed. In that moment, Harry saw his own pain reflected back at him in Louis’ eyes. He could feel bits of his own heart calling out for him to reach out and allow the two battered hearts to heal together as one. “It’s not. I’m not… I’m really not,” or, a chicago-inspired story about lost dreams, unjust fates, undying love and lots of pizza, repressed feelings, cute kids and, of course, cats

Welcome Home | Jelon | [49k] Louis Tomlinson had to put a stop to his football career for a couple of months and he decided to go back home to rest his mind for a little bit only to find out a really weird coffee shop owner started to visit his mother on a regular basis with just as peculiar but lovely kid named Maxine.

Half a World Away | SilverStuff50 | [10k] Bothy: A bothy is a basic shelter, usually left unlocked and available for anyone to use free of charge. It was also a term for basic accommodation, usually for gardeners or other workers on an estate. Bothies are found in remote mountainous areas of Scotland, Northern England, Ulster and Wales. They are particularly common in the Scottish Highlands, but related buildings can be found around the world (for example, in the Nordic countries, there are wilderness huts).

#28th appreciation #fic rec #monthly reads #my reads #monthly fic rec #larry fics

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danibee33 · 3 days

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The Queen’s Guard- Chapter 7: Trust

knight!simon riley x queen!reader

cw: dark themes, *pls read at your own discretion*

word count: 3.8k (everything in italics is a flashback)

[<<<< chapter 6]

You still feel the faintest tremble in your fingers, your cheeks ruddy from the cold night air that breezes over your skin and through your hair. The world seems so bright, even in the darkness- like you could see every wonderful, beautiful thing in a way you simply couldn’t before. Like you were lighter than the winds, and higher than the sky. You feel like you could be flying.

And if you had known just how good being dead feels, you certainly wouldn’t have waited so long-

+++

“What?!”

Simon places a finger over his lips, silently shushing you; and you know better, immediately regretting the outburst, no matter the shock that lingers in your system, discretion was still paramount—

Your clandestine meetings had been growing more frequent; waiting for the moment he would be relieved for the night and your handmaids had flitted away to their own rooms, their own lives- so that you could slip behind the heavy wool tapestry that now hangs over the entrance to the tunnels.

You always meet in the same spot, making your way to the small adjoined alcove where you would find him waiting- either toying with his daggers or simply staring ahead, lost in thoughts you so desperately wished to hear until he heard your muffled footsteps, the sound of fabric rustling, that alerted him to your presence.

He would usually still be in his armor, his helmet sat carefully to the side- but this night, well, you couldn’t help but to admire the way he looks for a bit longer than you’re proud of.

Instead of black steel, he was covered in warm linens and rich leathers, still dark in nature, with a riding cloak over his shoulders and most of his face concealed under a heavy cowl. But when he saw you, you could see how his whole demeanor shifted. You watched his shoulders relax and the tension bleed away from his expression- watched his eyes flicker and glow in the candle light as he reached out for you, pulling you into his arms just as he did nearly every night now-

But, you weren’t in his arms anymore, no, you were pacing fervently- one hand propped on your hip and the other tangled in your hair,

“Simon, are you sure? I mean- this- this is ludicrous-”, your voice is quiet again, but each word feels labored and breathless, your lungs unable to fill themselves properly, “What you’re suggesting-”

Tentatively, he steps forward, capturing your arm easily, your name spoken so softly, in a way that conveys patience and gentility while still demanding your attention, “Breathe, My Queen.. C’mere-”

He wraps you into a tight hug, letting you bury your face in his tunic, and gods- the way his scent fills your senses, his overwhelming heat, the mass of his arms caging you in, protecting you from yourself. And when he speaks again, you lean in even more just to feel the baritone reverberate through is chest and right into yours,

“There is no other way.” Simon starts, “None that would assure that they’ll never come searchin’ for you.”

The moment he feels your breathing settle to an acceptable rate, he steps back, but only far enough to frame your face in his hands- those damned eyes prying you open; not in a destructive way, no, but in a way that reassures you, that tells you he can see your trepidation, your apprehension. A look that tells you he only wishes to open you up so that he might take them all away, let your burdens rest on his shoulders-

“Do you trust me?”

Your answer comes without pause, because it’s not one you have to give a second thought to as you turn to kiss the inside of his palm, your lips brushing against the rough skin, “Of course.”

And there must be something about the conviction in your voice, or the sincerity beaming in your eyes, because Simon sweeps you into a burning kiss so suddenly, your mind has to catch up to your body as you pull yourself closer to him- enjoying how exposed the feel of his torso is to you in these thinner layers. You swear you can feel the delicious bulk of his muscle flexing against you, your hands venturing over the breadth of his chest, reveling in how it heaves with each breath.

“I want you..” You whine into his mouth, your back now pressed into the frigid stone wall, one of his hands still tenderly cupping your jaw as the other holds your waist.

Most every meeting you have with him of late devolves into this; into feverish kisses and eager touches, you know he craves you just as much you hunger for him- more than that, you yearned for him. But, no matter what you do, or how far it goes, his self-control and willpower seem to far surpass your own, and it always ends with him holding you still- pressing sweet kisses against your forehead and your hair, his voice so kind and soft that it could bring tears to your eyes,

“I know, sweet girl..” He whispers, still kissing you, though you feel his hands tensing- ready to put a halt to it if he feels even the slightest slip in his control, “You already have me- m’yours. Only yours. But not like this-”

This time when you whimper out his name, fighting vainly to push his hand lower, your aching core so desperate for his touch, he groans; it’s a low, gravelly noise, his lips pulling up into something resembling a snarl just before you watch his head roll back.

He pulls in a deep, drawn out breath, inhaling through his nose and exhaling just the same- once, and twice. And you realize now, just how close he had let himself get to breaking his own self-enforced oath if he was having to fight it this hard.

Taking one more deep breath, he finally meets your eyes again, moving slowly and cautiously to tuck a stray bit of hair behind your ear. You let him fawn over you for a moment, your head tilted back to rest against the wall and your own gaze nearly as dark as his,

“No. You deserve more than this, love..”, he traces your bottom lip, eyes focused on the plump, pink skin there before flitting up, “When I have you, I don’t want it to be in some dark, musty tunnel.”, he pauses again, tilting his head to the side, “And I won’t have our first time be tainted by the memory of another man’s bed-”

Your breath shudders when Simon leans in again, nuzzling gently against your cheek- the tip of his nose grazing over the flush peak before he plants a kiss in the same spot, speaking again as he repeats the motion,

“No, little queen.. I want to take my time with you. I want to taste every part of you, starting here-”, a sharp gasp fills the void around you at the sensation of his tongue just above your pulse point, still hot and wet when he kisses it with a smirk on his lips, “and here..”

He gently pushes your hair out of the way, exposing your shoulder so that he could mirror the action there as well, drawing yet another breathy little whine from you,

“Stop it, you insufferable brute..” You speak the words through clenched teeth, and yet, your hands pushing down on his shoulders give an entirely different story- but he does stop, standing again to tower over you, completely unfazed by the daggers in your eyes.

And the cocky grin on his lips turns into something much warmer, his eyes not so ravenous anymore, “Believe me,” he savors your name, letting it sit in the air between you before continuing, “when I say I intend to replace every memory of him, or anyone else, I mean it. I want to show you what it’s supposed to feel like, in every way.”

+++

You pull back on the reins to come to a stop at Simon’s side. The horses’ breaths are hard and fast, much like your own, a cloudy mist of hot air dissipating as fast as it comes with each heavy snort. The castle is far below you now, just a speck in the distance, the valley it’s settled in perfectly illuminated under the dazzling full moon,

“Still think we have ‘til mornin’?” Johnny’s voice breaks the silence, his red stallion giving a tired chuff as it hooves at the cold dirt below.

Simon turns back to answer with a shrug- though his eyes land on you first, searching for your nod of approval before glancing to where the Scot waits, “Should. But, we won’t stop yet, the horses can go for a bit longer-”

You dig your heel in just enough to prompt your mare forward. The dark beast is familiar to you- chosen because she’s one of the fastest the king owns, owned, and it shows as you quickly catch up to Simon, taking your place just on his right flank, with Johnny bringing up the rear.

The plan was to ride as far as the horses could go, hopefully putting you outside of the borders of the kingdom before the alarm is raised, before whatever poor soul unwittingly discovers your treacherous crimes-

No.. don’t think like that. It had to be done.

Against the wind, you focus on Simon’s hulking form before turning your head long enough to catch Johnny’s eye. And you hate how sad he still looks, hate the grim set of his lips, and the consistent knit in his brow- there’s been no bright smiles this time, no boisterous banter, or snarky quips. He was still angry with you, and yet, he couldn’t stop watching you like you might vanish if he blinked too long.

But, you don’t blame him. How could you-

+++

Tap-tap … Tap-tap-tap

The world comes into focus again at the sound of your guard’s beckoning- you’re back in the Grand Hall, sitting on the throne, the weight of your crown perched on your head pulls uncomfortably at your scalp as the man in front of you rambles on and on. Something about the year’s bountiful harvest, and you can’t be sure what else, but gods, his voice feels like it grating against your eardrums.

You just can’t be bothered to focus on such trivial things, not when your mind wanders to the promise Simon had made to you- to take you away, to save you. Though, you suppose he’s already saved you in so many ways, more than you could ever make up to him, but you swear to yourself that’ll spend the rest of your life trying-

Hiding the exasperation in your tone, you raise your hand, “Very well, Lord Barclay. Thank you, for your time, and your very thorough survey.”

Simon’s arm is placed under your hand before you’ve even attempted to stand, it’s not an unusual or uncomely gesture, he had done it many times before, but holding onto to him like this now feels too intimate. Because you know how warm his skin is beneath yours, how firm the muscle is under the cold steel and unforgiving leather of his gauntlet-

“Thank you, Ser.” You say evenly, only sparing the most fleeting glance upward to find his eyes already on you.

It sends a shock through your system, and yet, there’s an odd sense of pride that trickles through you as well. Knowing your deception, knowing you can hold him as such, and he can look at you like that, with those around you none the wiser of your indecencies, your unbecoming thoughts-

And it’s only a matter of seconds, from the moment your fingers are settled over his forearm to the time you’re standing, but it’s enough to reignite the ever present burn you feel for him,

“‘Course, My Queen.” Simon bows his head as customary, but just like the first time you met, he doesn’t avert his eyes, and his coy expression does nothing but stoke the flame within you. But, you have a sneaking suspicion that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and that he quite enjoys playing with fire.

—--

By the time you get back to your rooms, the sun had nearly set, the once brightly lit hallways now glowed warmly with candlelight and the remnants of dusk as you stop outside your door.

Simon opens it for you, ushering you inside before relieving the other guard. He would be there all night tonight, which meant you wouldn’t see him until morning- and while the thought of him still being close, guarding your rooms, is comforting as it always has been; you already find yourself missing his touch, his warmth, and it had only been a week’s time since you got your first taste-

Gods, you’re hopeless. And never have you felt more like a spoiled brat than you do in this moment, giving Simon one last pitiful look before the heavy door clicks shut.

The candles in your entryway were already lit, but you find it odd when you round the corner to see your bedchamber still dark, save for the milky light filtering through the windows. Which is the only reason you see the odd shadow hunched over on your dressing bench, and a strangled sort of gasp lodges itself in your throat when it moves- slowly, at first, lifting its head to face the dim light.

“Johnny?”

You turn to grab the nearest candle stick, not registering how the hot wax splashes onto your hand as you set it down again. But, now that you have it, you’re not sure the light helps or only makes it worse, because now you can see just how disheveled he is- his hair is a mess, from the wind or from him running his hand through it, you don’t know. And his eyes.. he’s looking back at you with a wild gleam, his lips parting as if he might say something before they clamp shut again. The ties on his tunic are loose, the fabric hanging open, exposing the tan skin underneath and small chain hanging around his neck-

“Johnny- I.. What are you doing here?” You step closer, seeing the familiar paper in his hand, his fingers creating wrinkles and indentations from how hard he grips it, like he’s afraid to let go of it, but it almost seems to pain him at the same time.

And you know exactly what it is. It’s your letter, the one you wrote to confess your intentions, your plan to die. A morbid living will-

“Oh, Johnny.. I’m- I sent a raven-”

“Shut up.” He growls, and it stuns you, hearing the anger in his voice directed at you. He moves to stand then, not to get any closer- but to just look at you. Eyes lingering on your crown, and over your face, searching for something you can’t see or understand as he takes a small step forward, his mouth twisted into a thin line and his throat bobbing.

Seeing him like this is unlike anything you’ve felt, you think. Seeing your immutable Johnny on the verge of tears, his usually bright eyes, dark and stormy- your chest feels like it’s cracking open the longer the silence fills the space, until your own tears spill over, staining the rug in perfect little droplets. But what can you say?

‘Oh, I’m sorry you thought I was dead- but surprise! I’m not.’?

What could you possibly say to make it better-

“How dare you..” When he finally speaks, you hear the syrupy rasp in his voice, one tear rolling down his cheek- and then another, tangling in his unkempt facial hair, “You selfish, stupid girl! Why would ye write this? Huh?”

He doesn’t shout, but you can tell it’s taking everything in him not to- the restraint shows in the red flush of his skin and the rigid set in his shoulders, the rage in his eyes as he looks down at you before shoving the letter into your hands. Your own tears haven’t stopped, and you feel frozen in place, wracked with guilt and anguish and frustration,

“I’m sorr-”

Johnny huffs out a sarcastic laugh cutting you off, running a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots,

“I thought you were dead.. DEAD, Sunny. And you’re sorry? That’s all you got?”

It’s the way he waves his hand at you that causes you to flinch, and that terrible frustration blooms into full blown anger when he turns his back on you. You crumple the paper in your hand, forming it into a deformed sort of ball so that you could chuck it as hard as you can, aiming right for the back of his head,

“Selfish? I’m selfish?” You hiss, watching with satisfaction as the paper ball hits its target, bouncing off his head and rolling somewhere you can’t see, “My whole life has been serving others- and I’m the one who’s selfish? How rich coming from you, MacTavish.”

He turns on his heel, a look of heated confusion on his face, “What’s tha’ s’pose to mean? Like I haven’t served? Who do y’think is out there fightin’ your wars, your highness?”

With a short scoff, you turn away from- wiping the moisture from your face and yanking the crown from your head so you can toss it on the bed, “Oh, enough of that! What happened to ‘not a lord or a queen’? Are we not just us, anymore? Is that all you see?”, you gesture back to the crown, “Because that’s not me- that isn’t all I am-”

Just as quickly as it had come, your anger fizzles out, the flashfire smothered with a sadness so deep, so profound, you’re not sure what do with it,

“I was tired, Johnny. Weary, down to my marrow-”, a broken sob tumbles out as you wrap your arms around yourself in a lame attempt to find comfort, “I never meant for it to be selfish, I only thought I was doing a favor. For myself, for you. I can’t explain it..”

You watch his own flame die out with your words, watch the furious glint in his eyes settle- and when he steps forward, you don’t try to stop him, you don’t stop him when he pulls you into his arms, or when he presses a long kiss to the top of your head,

“I know, I know- I’m so sorry.. I dinnae mean a word of it, I know you’re not selfish. Hells, you’re probably the most selfless person I’ve ever known. But, Sunny..”, he pulls your face up, wiping the tears and mucus away, looking down at you with a softness you weren’t expecting, his big hands cupping your cheeks and jaw, “When I- When I thought you were..”

He bites his lip, breathing through the word on his tongue- not wanting to say it out loud anymore than he already had, “I thought I lost you..”

It comes out in a whisper, his eyes, still brimmed with tears, so steady on yours it makes your breath shorten- because he had never looked at you like that, and you had never seen him the way you see him now, had never given a thought to the idea of wanting him to hold you like he is now, wanting him to look at you-

No, no- he’s Johnny. Just Johnny.. Your best friend, you had grown up together, seen every stage of each other- from kids to scrawny pre-teens, awkward teenagers at best, you had both seen the other at their worst. So, why are you so surprised to look at him now, and see how handsome he’s become, how tall he’s gotten, and how well he fills out his clothes-

Stop, just stop- you admonish your own thoughts, he’s still just Johnny.. He’s not Simon.

“I know..”, you say, blinking away the tears and wrapping your hands around his wrists, “But, never again. I promise, Johnny.”

That seems to break his hypnosis, focusing on your words, on the feel of your skin on his- he shakes his head, releasing you gently and clearing his throat, the tension that had been there only moments ago gone dormant, “What changed?”

You glance over your shoulder, looking towards the entryway, wishing you could see Simon for just a second, “Well.. we’re hoping you can help with something.”

“We?”

+++

Simon’s path takes you deep through the forests, and as soon as you reach the river, you follow its meandering trail for the better part of the night- guided by the moon and stars, your trio traverses land that you had never seen, much less touched. And you only wish for a chance to see it in the sun, hear the birds singing, and the breeze rustling through the boughs; watch the water babble and flow, glittering in the sunlight.

But, there is something otherworldly about experiencing it at night. You hadn’t been outside the castle walls after dark, ever, now that you think about it- never mind on horseback.

And never mind the fact that you’re doing it to run away from your life, your identity left behind.. everything you’ve ever known..

So, why aren’t you afraid? Why have you never felt more content, more safe, than you do right now? Through the soreness and discomfort, the adrenaline still teeming in your mind and body, all it takes to settle your thoughts is meeting Simon’s gaze- still so steadfast and assured.

Or feeling Johnny’s calming presence next to you, warm enough to cut through the chill. Even if things aren’t as natural between you as they used to be, you know you could still lean on each other, that he would be there for you, and you for him.

But there’s something about the odd tension that still lingers when he looks at you, like invisible tendrils that bind you, pulling and stretching. But you don’t understand it, you only feel the strain, like a warning or an omen, something threatening to snap. But it won’t just yet.. not now-

Simon comes to a slow stop, you and Johnny following his lead up the high ridge. And faintly, you hear the crashing of waves, the wind picking up wildly as you break the treeline.

The cliffs, ones you had only seen as a child, glow brilliantly in the sunrise. It’s enough to steal your breath, and make your head spin. They had brought you home.

You’re so entranced by the glorious sight in front of you, by the sting of your hair whipping across your chapped cheeks, that the feel of Simon’s hand on your leg almost startles you,

“We’ll stop here for the day.. eat and rest.”

He lifts you from the saddle, keeping his hands stretched over your waist until he’s sure you're steady on your feet, “Are you all right, my queen?”

Johnny watches from your peripheral, meeting your eye for a split second before you answer, a tired smile on your lips,

“I’m not your queen anymore, Simon..”

[chapter 8>>>>]

taglist: @spxctorsslxt @ssc7514

#knight!ghost #call of duty #medieval au #simon riley #simon x reader #lord mactavish #I neeeed them #fic: the queens guard #cod #but make it medieval #simon ghost riley #johnny mactavish #also on ao3

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givehimthemedicine · 1 day

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El's protectiveness and friendships in the lab

wanted to take a minute to appreciate that El's protectiveness isn't a character trait that only emerges post-lab. she's always been that way [assuming, for this post, that NINA stuff more or less happened]; it just couldn't always present in a way that looks badass on a poster.

El and Eighteen

only crumbs here, but if I have to point out a lab kid that El is friendlier with than the others, it's Eighteen.

El holding Eighteen's hand is the only affectionate act I've ever noticed between any of the lab kids, and offering that comfort to her littlest sister is probably as "protective" as El can afford to be (esp as an eight year old with the least power and social standing of anyone).

when the kids in general laugh at El for failing at the light game, Eighteen is not one of the kids shown doing so.

Eighteen is the first dead child El is shown to be upset about. it's not that she looks more distressed about her than the others, but it's odd that she saw Ten dead on the floor next to Brenner a second before this and didn't really react. (maybe she couldn't tell Ten was dead from the doorway? idk)

maybe an El/Eighteen friendship is cornplating or whatever the youths are calling it, but bearing in mind that we're never actually told that El/Eight had some super close friendship, maybe theirs looked something like this.

side note - are friendships even permitted in the lab?

letting the kids form friendships could be dangerous, as Brenner, couldn't it? risks them forming alliances against you? this is why I was asking the other day if socializing seems discouraged in the RR. like, even the bullies, who were "friends," never chatted openly in there unless the cameras were off. maybe any lab friendships have to be hush hush by nature.

anyway idk there's just something about us going "🤯 same numbers!!!" upon seeing the 001 / 011 tattoos, and then 008 + 018 being the only other kids El is hinted at being friendly with... why are we reusing the same pattern? 001 / 008 / 011 / 018 just happen to be every combination of those three numbers within the number of available children.

especially with El "being 8" (as in, years old) at this time. it's giving Henry, 12 / mother of 5. idk where I'm going with that but I'm squinting. Eighteen, you're not some bizarro Little Eight who has an inverted friendship with Big El, right?

El lashing out in the lab

we're shown repeatedly that El hates seeing people get hurt, but multiple times onscreen (and you know innumerable times off) she witnesses severe abuse to her siblings, and we never see her act in their defense like post-lab El would. of course, that's because she realistically can't. we know trying to help anyone in the lab accomplishes little except getting both people in trouble. but I was thinking about how we DO see El lash out for her own sake in 1983. so what's the takeaway? El cares more about protecting herself than others? nah. let's look at the other guard killing scene (again. assuming this really happened):

when similarly cornered in 1979, El's immediate response is silent surrender.

why is her behavior so different? because she's weak? too scared / well controlled? too nice to kill? all those factors have already been established as non-issues in this moment. (she does have her powers here; the circle game proved that Brenner can't control El and knows it; killing when cornered is canonically within her nature)

you might think having a staff member on her side would make her more defiant, but instead she's more compliant here than in '83 (either time. even in the non-guard-killing flashback, El screams and struggles the whole way.)

El and One

he's the difference. she doesn't know he's her brother or has powers yet, but he has presented himself as a fellow prisoner rather than someone in a position of authority. she's also already seen him get punished because of her.

as far as El knows right here, if she lashes out - whether she then escapes successfully or not - she'd be bringing SEVERE punishment onto a nice guy who can't defend himself or escape.

she has a chance at freedom, the power to kill, and the escape route all planned out, but she doesn't do it. the thing that's not in her nature is abandoning a friend to God-knows-what punishment on her behalf.

so while One killing the guards is an act of protection to El, it's also a massive act of protection to One that El is ready to throw out the whole plan right here. don't miss it just because it's not the classic El-screamy-hand thing.

she's sacrificing her chance at freedom in hopes of slightly mitigating his punishment. (they're both doomed to very bad punishment upon capture right here, but if she escapes I think he'd get punished even worse. so she's choosing to share in pretty bad punishment over him being punished extremely severely and her not at all.)

even aside from punishment, she knows she'll be returning to an even worse home life than the one she believed necessitated her immediate escape (Brenner apparently arranging for her to be killed).

so here, can she afford to act out not only because she's acting alone, but because she's an only child, so to speak? there's no one else who could potentially suffer as a result of her actions. no other siblings to use as leverage. no one to protect.

whatever consequences Brenner carried El off to after killing those orderlies, she bore it alone.

I can sorta read this as protective of the other kids in general - not that she did it, but that she didn't until now.

am I saying Brenner might have randomly punished other kids as a result of something El did?

have you met the guy? definitely would've threatened it, might've actually done it. manipulation by whatever means necessary.

when you work in a building full of superpowered people who hate you, you gotta control them psychologically, because physical control isn't something you can maintain for long. it's imperative that they're more afraid of the consequences of kicking your ass than they are of whatever torture you're putting them through. emotional manipulation using friends and innocents as pawns is a classic move. (another reason the kids might want to keep lab friendships secret even if they're allowed.)

that's not theory - we've seen Brenner use this tactic onscreen, telling El that he'll have Owens killed if she tries to get to him. he knows he can't physically control her, so he exerts psychological control by placing Owens' blood on El's hands to get her to cooperate.

the phrase "blood on one's hands" means being responsible for deaths, not having literally, personally committed murder. this imagery is used onscreen to denote El's sense of guilt about the massacre well before she comes to the conclusion that she actually did it. (this could be symbolism that El's mind organically dreamed up instead of engineered fuckery, but who knows. we have no textual explanation yet for how her hands would be that bloody).

and together with Brenner very textually using the kids against each other in other ways - having them literally duel each other in the circle game, but also the "driving them to do exactly what he wants" stuff - I don't think it's unreasonable to figure that fear of harm to the other kids was a manipulation tactic used in the lab.

that definitely includes One - lines like "I'm not going with you / if he finds me he will find you" "I wanted to help you, but I only made things worse" smack of a guy kept in line by fear of something happening to the kids.

and the Brenner-orchestrating-El's-murder story smells like a psyop. is this just Brenner wanting One to think harm would come to El as a consequence of his actions? (she became "uncontrollable" as a result of his coaching). El is too valuable an asset to actually kill. who would know better than One that the treatment for being uncontrollable is soteria, not death? assuming One is being truthful, why would he not see through that. idek what I think is going on here anymore

anyway. MKUltra is ALL about manipulation but I'll talk more about that in my other post

times El protects her friends the same way she protected One

practically every move El makes is about protecting her friends but I want to point out a few times that are specifically reminiscent of her protection of One, where she's ready to give up her freedom to protect her friends even at risk of the worst case scenario (going back to the lab):

sacrificing herself to protect the party from the demogorgon ("no more") <- is that line in reference to the 6 people the demogorgon has snatched, or is that a massacre reference given how incredibly parallel these scenes are. I'm not sure whether "goodbye Mike" meant she thought she'd die or just get so wiped out that she'd be easily recaptured by the lab

leaving Kali and "freedom" to return to Hawkins and protect her friends, where she volunteers to go back into the lab to close the gate

leaving Cali and "freedom" to return to the lab to get her powers back to protect her friends

final thought: I just had a chuckle with myself at the fact that iirc it's Mike and Nancy whose lives El has individually, directly saved the most times.

[honorable mention for Max because I don't know how to quantify 4x9. is that like one massive save?]

like, Mike, okay, but why the Nancy emphasis when she and El have basically zero onscreen relationship. (actually I have a lot to say about El and Nancy coming up soon that might add context)

idk.. lab sibling guilt smth smth El protecting Nancy "she'll be like your new sister" and Mike "will you be like my brother" Creeler. you gotta love it

#another chunk off the analysis. I promise it's coming #givehimthemedicineanalysis #putting 'El saves Holly Wheeler's life' on my s5 bingo card

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magicshopaholic · 2 days

Text

Past Lives (Hoseok x OC)

Summary: Faced with an ambiguous relationship from your past, you start to doubt your blossoming relationship with Hoseok.

Pairing: Hoseok x OC

Genre: I wish I could tell you what genre this is but let's go with contemplative flangst (fluff + angst)

Word count: 4.6 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mentions of parental death

A/N: A lot of OC focus in this one. Takes place about a month after Caterpillar, the same weekend as A Day in the Life.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @purpleseoul7 @sumzysworld @xjoonchildx @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids

Listen to: "it's hard to get around the wind" by alex turner

hoseok masterlist | main masterlist

Chaeyoung spots the restaurant across the street and checks the map on her phone to make sure it’s the right one. A notification pops up on the top of her screen at the same time.

Hoseok [12:40] This interview is taking a bit longer than expected. I’ll keep you posted.

Her heart leaps lightly, unexpectedly. It’s not that she’s looking forward to hanging out with him exactly, but amidst the chaos of his tour, it’s the friendly thing to do to catch up with him during the few days he is in town.

Right below Hoseok’s message, though, is the one she’d gotten earlier today - unexpected, but unavoidable.

Hi, Chaeyoung! How are you, darling? I’m in Seoul for the weekend and I was hoping we could grab lunch if you’re free? I would love to see you. Let me know!

Hesitating for a fraction of a second outside the restaurant, she wonders if she can still fake an excuse and make a break for it. But then she sighs, knowing she won’t do that. Once, she might have - and she wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But the years have passed and Chaeyoung has grown, and while the past may not have escaped her mind entirely, her reaction to it certainly has.

Stepping in, she’s about to ask the hostess about a possible reservation but then spots a table for two at the far end next to a large window, already half-occupied. Taking a deep breath, she walks over, waving when her companion looks up and spots her.

“Chaeyoung!” Soyeon’s face lights up, the faint smile lines creasing around her eyes. She stands up and moves towards Chaeyoung as if about to give her a hug but hesitates at the last moment. Chaeyoung pauses as well, before leaning forward a bit and meeting her stepmother in a slightly awkward hug.

“This is a really nice restaurant,” remarks Soyeon as they sit down. “Especially these little menus on every table,” she adds, touching the framed cocktail menu with white waves around the edges, a little trinket hanging on the side with a string. “Good choice.”

“A friend told me about it,” says Chaeyoung, glancing out of the corner of her eye at her stepmother. In her late forties, she looks fresh out of a lifestyle magazine, her long summer dress modern but with a subtle bohemian print along the edges. Years ago, that kind of clothing used to make Chaeyoung fume, for it wasn’t what the rest of the mothers wore and Soyeon stood out like a sore thumb. Today, she can’t help but appreciate the originality, wondering if trends really had changed so much over the years.

“Oh, before I forget -” Seoyeon rummages through her white tote bag and retrieves a clear box with gold tape around it. “Tim Tams. They restocked it at the Foodhall in the mall after ages.”

It takes all of Chaeyoung’s willpower to not lunge for the box. Hands trembling slightly, she takes it at a normal pace, exhaling at the sight of her favourite dessert in the whole wide world. “I - oh, my God. I haven’t had these in so long. I’d given up on ever having these again.” She bites her lip. “Thank you.”

Soyeon beams. “I haven’t seen them in a long time either but I had to go to the mall yesterday to buy a couple of things for the trip, so I thought I’d stop and check.” She shrugs, clearly relieved at Chaeyoung’s reaction. “Guess I got lucky.”

“I mean, I’m dieting right now but Tim Tams I can make an exception for.”

“Why -” Soyeon frowns but stops abruptly. “Well, as long as you enjoy them.” She smiles as Chaeyoung sets the box to the side. There’s a few seconds of silence; now that the initial bit of this lunch has gone without any major hiccups, the pressure to keep the delicate cordiality going is surfacing. A waiter appears and a couple of minutes are occupied while they order drinks (margarita for Soyeon, mojito for Chaeyoung), and then the silence returns.

Soyeon speaks first. “So… how’s work going?” She leans forward with her hands clasped under her chin. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Um, I guess.” Chaeyoung shrugs. “It was a bit daunting at first but I think I’m getting the hang of it.” Not sure how to elaborate further, she lets her eyes wander to the rest of the room. She was right: it is a nice restaurant, breezy and floral, with tons of natural light.

“Your brother mentioned you might have to start travelling a bit,” she says, as their drinks arrive. At that moment, Chaeyoung’s phone lights up on the table.

Hoseok [12:55] The blooper reel for this interview is going to be so embarrassing. Who serves drinks and then tells jokes?

“Cheers?”

“Oh -” Chaeyoung, who had been about to absently take a sip, sheepishly clinks her glass with Soeyon’s. “I don’t know. No one’s said anything yet. I did have to go to Busan last year to cover the arts festival but -” She shrugs. “Nothing since then.”

“You covered the arts festival? That’s amazing!”

“Well, not really covered,” she clarifies, not really wanting to get into something she’d been bemoaning for a while last year. But then she catches sight of Soyeon’s full attention on her and something loosens in her stomach. “I’m still just doing research. It’s not bad, but… you know what, it’s fine. Not everyone in Conde Nast who wants to become a columnist actually becomes one,” she mutters, taking another sip of her drink.

Soyeon nods sympathetically. “I understand. Everyone starts at the bottom but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get frustrating now and then. But don’t give up,” she adds after a moment. “You have the talent.”

Chaeyoung frowns. “For research?”

“For writing.” She gives her a look. “You used to always do so well in your Korean language class - oh, and you won that essay competition, too.”

Her memories stir. “That was… eighth grade,” she murmurs, touching the edge of her fork. “I think the quality of writing at Conde Nast is probably higher than that.” She glances up to see Soyeon nod and look away. “But… you’re right. I didn’t even remember that competition,” she admits.

Soyeon raises her eyebrows. “It was a beautiful essay. The one about the mother searching for her children after the tsunami? Drove me and your father to tears when we read it.”

“Really?” Chaeyoung frowns, a faint smile appearing on her face. “My dad?”

“Oh, yes. He pretended he didn’t but I saw him tear up.” She grins. “Everyone was very proud of you that day.”

Chaeyoung says nothing. It’s coming back to her now, the fact that her father couldn’t make it to the middle school award ceremony because he worked long hours back then. Soyeon had offered to come but Chaeyoung had immediately rebuffed that by claiming only babies brought their parents along to things like this. The only person who had been cheering for her in the audience was Chanyeol - and his best friend who had been begrudgingly dragged along.

As the waiter stops by again to take their food order, Chaeyoung sneaks a glance at her phone, hoping to see another message from Hoseok. But there isn’t one; pursing her lips, she locks the screen and places it next to her plate.

“So what else is going on with you?”

“Oh, um -“ Chaeyoung tears her eyes away from her phone. “Nothing, really. How’s my dad?” she asks after a moment.

“He’s okay. Getting a little restless after retirement, but he’s adjusting.” Soyeon gives her a small smile. “He really misses you two.”

Chaeyoung tries not to scoff. “Chanyeol, maybe.”

But Soyeon shakes her head. “You, too. He tells everyone that his daughter works for a big magazine in Seoul.”

“But his son works for a tech company in Busan. The saddest day of his life was the day my brother moved out,” she points out. She looks up to see Soyeon’s expression shift to resemble something like sympathy, and immediately changes the subject. “Do you talk to him often?”

“Chanyeol? Sometimes. I travel to Busan every few months so we catch up if he has the time.”

Chaeyoung frowns slightly, unsure of what kind of answer she was expecting. It was no secret that as kids, he got along with their stepmother much better than she did, making an effort to be polite to a grown-up.

The food arrives then and Chaeyoung clings to a couple of minutes of silence as they dig into their plates of pasta. She wonders briefly why her brother hasn’t brought up Soyeon in their conversations if they indeed talk that often.

“He told me about his new girlfriend,” says Soyeon, sprinkling some oregano on her plate. “She sounds great.”

“Hayoung? Yeah, they were in the same class in school. She, Chan, Hoseok - all of them. She’s nice.”

“What about you?” She raises her eyebrows with a smile. “Any special boys in your life?”

Ignoring the weak jolt of her heart, Chaeyoung shakes her head. “From high school? Not a single one. I don’t think boys started liking me like that until college.”

“Well, Chanyeol was quite protective of you,” says Soyeon in a matter-of-fact way. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the boys in school thought twice about messing with you.”

It’s not that it’s a surprise, really, but she feels a sudden rush of affection for her brother. She remembers the ice creams and the free use of all his toys and his generosity with pocket money, but maybe it extended further than that. Maybe, just maybe, her childhood idea of she and her brother being a team against the world wasn’t entirely in her head.

“He can get annoying sometimes, too,” she says nonchalantly, recolving to call him later tonight, just to chat. “He pesters me endlessly to download this app that’s supposed to track my spending and savings for me.”

Soyeon doesn’t say anything but the look in her eyes makes it clear she isn’t fooled by the blasé tone. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I’m just going to run to the ladies’ room.” She scoops up her phone and slides out of the chair, walking away as her dress flows behind her.

Chaeyoung picks up her phone. There isn’t a message from Hoseok yet, but she sends him one anyway.

Chaeyoung [13:30] Having one of the stranger afternoons of my life. I’ll tell you about it later. If you’re ever done with your interview, that is.

She sends both messages, hoping a second later that she isn’t coming across as desperate. She begins to panic but then a reply appears.

Hoseok [13:32] Can’t wait to hear all about it.

Her heart leaps as Soyeon returns, a faint citrus scent following her. “Sorry about that. What is it?” she asks.

“What is what?”

“You were smiling just now.”

“Oh.” This isn’t a topic she wants to get into with anyone, least of all her stepmother. There’s the latent fear that whoever she talks to will automatically think she’s regressed into her obsessive teenage self, while the much more real fear is that it might just be true.

It’s not just you. He kissed you, too. He’s texting you, too. He wants to hang out with you, too.

The mantra repeats itself in her head, objective truths that make all the difference between their old dynamic and their new one.

“It’s nothing.”

Soyeon pauses but evidently lets it go. “Okay. Actually, there is something I wanted to talk to you about. It’s not really the kind of thing I wanted to say over the phone.” She licks her lips, looking slightly nervous.

“Okay,” says Chaeyoung slowly, setting down her phone and sitting back in her chair.

“Um… so, your father and I… well, we’re doing our estate planning. You know, working on our wills.”

“Why?” Chaeyoung asks sharply, hearing the sudden anxiety in her own voice. “What’s - what’s wrong with -”

“No, nothing!” Soyeon shakes her head immediately, holding up her hands. “Your father is fine. It’s just run of the mill stuff, you know. Just so we have all our affairs in order. Nothing is wrong,” she clarifies, waiting for Chaeyoung to nod before continuing. “So… he is, of course, dividing his assets between you and your brother, but since I don’t have children of my own…” She clears her throat, eyes flickering downward.

Chaeyoung says nothing. This conversation is taking an unexpected route and this is the last topic she wants to deal with today.

“Well… there are some things I own that I would’ve probably left to my daughter, if I had one. Jewellery and the like, things I got for my wedding - and I’m not saying you’re my daughter or that I’m your -” She clarifies quickly, and Chaeyoung nods again, wordlessly. “But… I would like to leave that to you, if you’re alright with it.”

Her phone lights up again, another message from Hoseok.

Hoseok [13:45] Fucking hell. There’s a road blocked on the way to the airport so I’ll have to leave earlier than planned. Filming might get pushed up but I’ll still try to make it. Letting you know just in case.

The disappointment in her stomach feels faint, like she’s imagining it - or hoping for it. Chaeyoung forces herself to respond in a steady voice.

“Um, I think you can leave your things to whoever you want. I don’t think you need to ask.”

Soyeon nods, and her eyes fall slightly. “I know,” she says softly. “But I want to ask. We aren’t very close and… I don’t want to presume anything.”

Chaeyoung bites her lip. Her chest feels uncomfortable, and she tries to work out which road on the way to the airport might be blocked. Why it would, today of all days, how much earlier Hoseok would have to leave to catch his flight, and what the odds might be of him actually meeting her at Sephora later today.

“Chaeyoung?”

“I -” Chaeyoung clears her throat. “Of course, you can. Thank you.”

Soyeon raises her eyebrows for a moment, as though surprised at this quick response. “Oh. Okay. Wonderful. That’s - that’s really… thank you.” She smiles and reaches for her drink, taking a quick sip. “I should ask for some more ice. What about you? More ice?”

“Sure. And… I know we aren’t very close.” Chaeyoung looks down at her plate before forcing herself to meet her stepmother’s eyes. Her stepmother, who made sure that not a single birthday went by without wishes and a gift. “But that’s on me,” she mutters. “You did your best.”

The waiter stops by and it seems to take Soyeon a moment to remember why she had called him. As she requests him for more ice and to clear their plates, Chaeyoung glances at her phone out of the corner of her eye and feels the knot in her chest loosen. Maybe the road will get unblocked by the evening. Maybe filming will end early, or maybe there won’t be traffic between Big Hit and Sephora.

“You know, you can leave jewellery to Chanyeol, too,” she half-jokes when they get their dessert menus. “He’s not bad at accessorising.”

Soyeon chuckles. “You might be right. I am planning to give him something, though.” She hesitates. “In a year or two, if everything looks like it’s going well… I was thinking of giving him my engagement ring. I’m hoping he’ll propose to Hayoung with it, if he wants.”

Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows. “Wow. That’s… wow, an engagement ring. Oppa’s growing old,” she remarks in wonder, making Soyeon laugh. “He and Hayoung make a good couple, though. I could see her as my sister-in-law.”

“Yes, but I want to ask him when the time is right.” She leans forward slightly. “Can it stay between you and me till then?”

Chaeyoung nods, somewhat endeared by the prospect. They order a tiramisu to share and return the menus, when another message pops up on her phone.

Hoseok [13:55] Interview just got done. Do you think you can meet me at Sephora in about an hour?

Chaeyoung grabs her phone and immediately types out a reply. “Sorry,” she mutters to Soyeon, hastily sending a Yeah, I’ll be there to him.

“No problem. Everything okay?”

“What?” She sets her phone down. “Yes, everything is… okay. It’s good.” But she can feel the smile starting to spread across her face, suddenly glad she had the foresight to bring the gift card with her to lunch.

“Yeah? Someone interesting been texting you all afternoon?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” she answers automatically. “I mean, not interesting, just… it’s Hoseok,” she admits lamely.

“Our Hoseok?” Soyeon looks both surprised yet somewhat knowing. “Chanyeol mentioned you two were friendly now, but are you…”

“Friends?” Chaeyoung guesses. “Yeah, I guess. We both live here and I guess we started hanging out last year…” She shrugs, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. “It’s not a big deal. But, yeah… we’re friends.”

“That’s nice,” she says. But there’s that knowing look in her eye again, and Chaeyoung isn’t sure if it’s a guess or if she’s being that obvious. “You two kind of… clashed growing up.”

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes, grudgingly appreciating Soyeon’s attempt at being diplomatic. “That would be an understatement. But, yeah, I guess once I stopped being a creepy stalker and he got his head out of his ass… we actually get along pretty well.”

Soyeon waves her hand as the tiramisu arrives and they each grab a small silver spoon. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she says as they attack the dessert together. “You were a kid - and everybody that age wants validation from someone they look up to. You had a crush,” she tells her. “We’ve all been there.”

Chaeyoung knows it’s meant to be comforting, but it struggles to get through. What if I’m still there?

“Can I tell you a secret?” she blurts out. It suddenly occurs to her that there are two people at this table who lost their mothers when they were children. “You can’t tell anyone - especially not my brother.”

“Of course,” says Soyeon instantly. “Is everything okay?”

At this pivotal moment, Chaeyoung’s voice seems to give up on her. It’s happened before, the couple of times she’d been about to confide in Sooah before chickening out, for there was no guarantee anymore that she wouldn’t tell Jimin. Sunmi would be no help in general, her work friends weren’t close enough and had zero context, and Chanyeol was simply out of the question.

She clears her throat. “Hoseok and I… kissed,” she confesses before she can lose her nerve. She sees Soyeon’s face start to relax and hurriedly continues. “It was the night of my birthday. He came over, brought me a Sephora gift card and cupcakes… and we hung out. He offered to go skincare shopping with me and told me about his tour. And then right before he left… he kissed me. Or we - we kissed,” she finishes awkwardly, wishing she was less incoherent about this.

“Oh. So, are you two dating?”

“No,” she answers immediately, realising now that she was also possibly dreading an over-the-top reaction by Sooah, one that would make her want to crawl under her bed covers and never reappear. “No, we’re still friends. We haven’t really talked about it. He’s been abroad ever since. It’s… kind of confusing, that’s all.” When Soyeon doesn’t respond, Chaeyoung worries she may have overshared. “What?”

“Nothing…” Soyeon bites her lip. “I’m trying to decide between the advice I should give and the advice I actually want to.”

“The second one.”

“Okay, then.” She sets her spoon down, their half-eaten tiramisu abandoned between them. “I watched Hoseok grow up and while I love him like family… I would tell you to protect yourself.”

Chaeyoung pauses, not expecting this. “What’s the advice you should be giving?”

“You know…” Soyeon shrugs. “Follow your heart, tell him how you feel, don’t be ashamed of your feelings.” She purses her lips. “I’m not saying you should be ashamed of your feelings or that you shouldn’t follow your heart, but… maybe you want to see where this goes before confessing anything? He’s doing so well for himself and we’re all very proud, but I can’t imagine that that life would be a walk in the park to put up with. Just… don’t be in a hurry, especially if you’re not sure how he feels.” She pauses. “Or how you feel.”

There are too many grudging truths in this piece of advice. For the first time all day, she doesn’t immediately glance at her phone when it lights up with a message.

“Did I spoil your mood?” Soyeon asks as they’re heading out. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention. I was just trying to -”

“No, I know.” Chaeyoung interrupts her. It’s raining now; the sunniness of the day has disappeared as though it never existed and they stand under the roof right outside the door of the restaurant. “You didn’t spoil anything. Maybe… maybe we’re just meant to be friends and nothing more.”

“Maybe. I’m not pretending like I know everything about your relationship with him. I know that he’s a good kid with a good heart, and so are you. And teenage reactions don’t mean much when you’re grown up.” Soyeon tilts her head and places a hand on Chaeyoung’s shoulder. “I’m not at all surprised that you two get along. And he would be incredibly lucky to be with you. But maybe I’m biased.”

They exchange a small smile. It feels a bit more real now: the kiss, the feelings, the fact that Jung Hoseok isn’t just a teenage fantasy anymore.

“Thanks. That’s good advice. I could’ve used more of it over the years,” she adds.

Soyeon averts her gaze for a moment before looking up again and smiling. “We have time,” she says. “I’m just a phone call away.”

Chaeyoung nods. One of the stranger afternoons of my life. “And thank you for the Tim Tams.”

Soyeon laughs. “Don’t worry. I bought a second box just for myself.” Chaeyoung grins as Soyeon’s phone pings and a cab pulls up in front of the restaurant. “How are you getting home?”

“Oh, I’m going to Sephora - er, the mall. I’ll take the bus,” she says, pointing at the bus stop across the street. “It’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Soyeon raises her eyebrows. “Alright. Text me when you reach. And… say hi to Hoseok for me.” Her eyes twinkle and without thinking, Chaeyoung steps forward and hugs her stepmother. Soyeon seems to freeze for a fraction of a second before hugging her back. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart,” she murmurs, stroking her hair. “And have fun at Sephora.” Stepping away and tucking a strand of hair behind Chaeyoung’s ear, Soyeon hurries out into the rain and into the waiting cab.

Chaeyoung waves to her as she leaves, too many mixed feelings churning through her. But it’s lighter somehow and as she crosses the street in the rain, cringing slightly as her hair gets wet, she suddenly feels older and more capable.

There’s too much to unpack from this afternoon so she decides to keep it aside until she gets home. As she nears the mall, the city caught in an unseasonal shower, the only part of her lunch with Soyeon that seems impossible compartmentalise is the bit about Hoseok.

He would be incredibly lucky to be with you. Part of her knows she’s jumping the gun; apart from the one kiss they shared and the innocent flirting at best, there has been nothing to indicate that they’re anything more than just good friends.

But there’s the other part, the part where he’s been texting her whenever he can, joking around with her, moving his schedule around just to shop with her. She isn’t imagining it, but the more she has to convince herself of it, the less special is feels.

It’s still raining when she reaches the mall. Splashing through the small puddles in the pavilion, she hurries into the mall, the AC making her shiver.

“Shit,” she mutters, tugging her thin cotton shrug around her. She catches her reflection in a mirror by the door of a clothing store and groans inwardly; her long hair, painstakingly shampooed, conditioned and straightened this morning, is damp and wavy down her shoulders, strands sticking to her forehead. Her eyeliner seems to have smudged as well, making her look like a drowning raccoon.

Hoseok [14:30] Just reached. Where are you?

Chaeyoung sighs and glances back up at her reflection. Taking a selfie of herself scowling, she superimposes it on a dramatic graphic of a stormy sky and sends it to him.

Chaeyoung [14:32] [photo] Got caught in the rain. I look like a crack addict.

Hoseok [14:33] OMG You still look cute, haha. Very punk. Like, bubblegum punk.

Chaeyoung feels a smile spread across her face at the response. Looking back up at her reflection, she shakes out her damp hair so it falls tousled down her shoulder. A lot more confident than she was a few moments ago, she makes her way to the escalator.

Sephora is on the second floor of the mall, with all the other cosmetics and skincare stores. It’s the biggest one, though, looking shiny and expensive.

As she approaches the store, she spots Hoseok inside. He’s wearing a hoodie, a baseball cap and a mask, but Chaeyoung recognises him instantly. He’s standing a bit to the inside of the store, in a corner by the eye creams, rubbing his eyes and looking down at his phone.

At the exact same time that Chaeyoung’s heart flutters at the sight of him, a different part of her conversation with Soyeon resurfaces out of nowhere. She takes a step back so she’s behind a pillar; she’s sure he can’t spot her now. Opening the camera of her phone, she holds it up to her face to look at her reflection again.

It can’t be. A simple text from Hoseok can’t change her opinion in an instant, not this much. Is it true, though? Is she, after all these years, still looking for validation from him?

It’s a more humiliating thought than any memory of her childhood crush. Liking Hoseok all over again is something she can handle; wanting his validation, his approval - it’s a path she can’t go down again.

Chaeyoung lowers her phone to sneak a look at Hoseok again. He’s taken off his mask now. A few people seem to have recognised him, but his attention is on his phone, face pensive.

She realises she hasn’t replied to his last message. Her thumbs hover over the screen; it’s not her finest moment, but she knows she can’t do this until she’s had some time to reflect, alone.

Chaeyoung [14:38] I might need to take a raincheck, literally. It’s pouring and I can’t get a single cab. I’m sorry.

With a heavy heart and hoping she doesn’t regret this, she sends the text. Peering from behind the pillar, she watches as Hoseok gets the message. He stares at his phone for a few seconds, his shoulders falling, before visibly sighing and taking off his cap. He runs a hand through his dark hair and puts the cap back on.

Hoseok [14:39] Oh. That’s cool. Let me know when you get back home safe, okay?

Chaeyoung almost gives it up right then but when she sees Hoseok exiting the store, she immediately flattens herself behind the pillar. Taking great care to not be seen, she watches Hoseok go down the escalator and disappear into the crowd.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#hoseok x oc #hoseok fanfic #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #micdropnet #k-vanity #houseofddaeng #wkcnet #hyunglinenetwork #bts jhope fanfic

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fic-heaven · 3 days

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Enemies to lovers with König and witty reader? I don't know if you also write about him so imma leave this here

Answering two anons at the same time lmao

Say my name

(König x witty! Reader)

🐥 The first time König appeared on my drafts was when I was making my last Reyes x Reader fic and um... I kind of wanted to keep doing lmao so here it is. Sorry for my broken English-

Angst/ SOCIAL ANXIETY/ slight nsfw/ open ending (if you guys want a part two and this short gets some attention)

⚠️ I still picture König as Lee Pace ⚠️

They say you transfered from SpecGru to KorTac because you simply wanted a change of airs. But it couldn't be that simple. Why were you so simple?

As antisocial as he seemed to be, König was well aware that a bond between teammates was needed in order to sync and function properly during missions. He wasn't the best at striking up conversations and never intended to improve on this aspect either, often trying to figure people out from the distance, he only approached them if he had questions about their character. Horangi once said it was weird but König frankly didn't care about what was socially accepted or not, he just made the effort to know his team because it was expected of him, and as great as it would be to have friends, he struggled socializing and had given up trying ages ago. König was paid to kill, not to make friends. And as far as his interactions went with his teammates, the only one who gets his game and could be considered his friend is Horangi. But you?

He had tried to investigate you, even going as far as using his position as colonel to gather as much information from your background to understand you without having to make any awkward approach. But nothing he found explained why you changed factions or why you behaved the way you did. You had a normal childhood, went to a good school, graduated being top of your class... Jesus you had a rabbit called Mr. Whiskers, even the deepest info given was borely normal. No trace of trauma or any mental disorder.

König begun studying you like a biologist would to a newfound species and got more and more invested and frustrated the more information he gathered, because he simply couldn't excuse your... Well, your everything.

He approaches you one time during morning drills, looks you up and down as you stretched, ignores the flirty comment you shot his way, because what the fuck is your problem? You don't know him. Then König proceeded to mouth the first thing he ever said to you, one of the main questions he had on his head as to why you would behave so strangely. And it goes like this: "Do you have any mental illness, hm?"

"I might have, yeah."

And you said it so casually. Do you, though? Are you being sarcastic or... God he hates you. Why can't he figure you out!? Why do you smile at him so much? Why do you flirt so much with him? Do you flirt with the others the way you do with him?

That new question made him observe your body language around others and listen carefully to any interaction you had and found nothing but your enchanting witty self. Of course you teased other members, but never so bluntly like the way you flirt with him. The colonel felt weirdly relieved at this. Maybe he liked the attention given? Scratch that, or course not!

One time after a tiring mission in Barcelona, Spain, König approached you with a bottle of water, you thanked him with a wink and he watched you swallow the whole thing before he proceeded to ask you the second question that plagued his mind: "Do you perhaps hide some secret trauma that permanently changed your behaviour, using sarcasm, smirks and jokes to protect your scared inner child in order to not get hurt again?"

"Hmmm... The day I found out my mother was Santa Claus I went bananas, but I wouldn't say it scarred me for life. Do ya want an M&M, colonel?"

He fucking hates you. He hates you. König aggressively snatched a handful of M&M's and stormed away. That night he swore he could hear your laugh echoing inside his head. Why couldn't you leave his fucking mind? What was it with you? Were you doing it on purpose?

_____

You were definitely doing it on purpose.

You have to be patient with König. But he was so hilarious and scary, it thrilled you to watch the two meter tall behemoth of a man walk near you and sneak watchful, calculated glances your way when he thought you weren't looking. If someone dared to ask, you'd easily answer with the honesty everyone knew you posses: You'd fuck König without a thought.

He's so feral in battle, so demanding and intimidating on the comms. His ridiculous voice made him all the more adorable contrasting with his appearance. Oh fuck that. Even his appearance was ridiculous, he looked like the red guy from that creepy show called "Don't hug me, I'm scared" or one of those executioners from the Shrek movie. But he was HOT, with that slutty waist accentuated by his bulky back, those long slender arms that could lift anything on his way, you saw him lift a fucking car a few inches so an injured woman could scape, and as she cried of relief you could feel your pussy crying as well at the sight. And oh his hands... The way he used them, so elegantly but rough, they'd make a beautiful necklace. His voice, as unfitting as it sounded coming from this KorTac monster, made you itch to hear more, his accent was so attractive that it quickly made you addicted to sound of it and your brain pondered on how he'd sound while doing other things. Lucky you, when the stars aligned and you two coincided in the gym you made sure to be close enough to hear the quiet grunts and sighs from the colonel as he trained, to your surprise he never moved away as if he knew what you were doing and thought nothing much of it. Safe to say, you'd gladly eat whatever interaction König graced you with with a speck of salt.

Though, when you begun paying attention to the details (because it was hard to guess his thoughts without seeing his face) You noticed a few things about the colonel that indicated he had a severe case of social anxiety. The way he self isolated, how he forced himself to interact with people resulting in very awkward conversations that led to him coming up as rude to what he got frustrated and scaped the scene, how he loved his job because you were convinced that he thought he was only good at killing. That made you wonder if he had other hobbies... It's funny to imagine a tall, muscly guy like him baking or making origamis.

______

Today you saw the ultimate signal that your big crush wasn't a people's person.

You two were on a meeting with some other KorTac members. König was peeling an apple and had finished it rather quickly as all of you spoke, but he spent ten minutes with the remnants of the fruit slowly browning and drying on his hand, so you decided to test your theory by walking to the near trash can to throw a random paper you crumbled quickly, after a few seconds König abruptly stood up to throw the dried fruit remnant, the tall Austrian glanced your way before he sat again and kept to himself. Okay, so judging by this and how stiff he looks, König doesn't know exactly what to do with his body around people, he needed an excuse to stand up and throw the finished apple so he waited for anyone to use the trash can to go after, BUT he waited a few seconds to stand so he wouldn't look like he was waiting. Must be stressful to be on his shoes. Interesting, but maybe you were overthinking too much, so you decided to do a final test that would definitely tell you if what you thought was right. You didn't want to come to this unless it was really necessary... You'll probably have to apologize later.

You directed all the attention to König by asking a number of things, (obviously work related) that caught the attention of everyone in the room taking the poor colonel by surprise, his cristal blue eyes widened for a minute before he composed himself answering everything you asked with a professional tone until you spotted the tremble on his hands, poor König noticed your attention drift to his hands so he slid them under the table. That's how you knew it. He couldn't handle being the center of attention for prolonged amounts of time. Your poor baby...

You gave him a sympathetic look that again took him by surprise, but by that time König had called the meeting over, gathered his things and walked out before you could approach him.

Damn you and your stupid beautiful voice and worried eyes trying to comfort him discreetly.

Gloved hands fidgeted with the bracelet on his wrist. König remembers the little girl who gifted him said thing. The day him and his team rescued her and some other orphans from a building about to explode, the worried colonel spent a few minutes comforting the little girl until she pulled the orange bracelet from her small SpongeBob backpack, he chuckled at the gesture and had never taken it off since. They even shared some letters from time to time, he held a piece of little Astrid in the form of a cute bracelet and she held a piece of him in the form of sweet spoken letters.

König saw her kind eyes in yours and it squeezed his heart so much he felt suffocated. Why would a teasing little vixen like you have such kind, gorgeous eyes? It was weirdly comforting that someone would look at him so softly like he wasn't a monster for once after so long.

His heart begun beating faster, his head was so full of questions about you it infuriated him. Long legs carried the colonel to the gym absentmindedly, like his body craved to ease some tension, but at the last minute he turned to the left corridor further from the gym, went to the right and finally approached the shooting range's door.

"Scheibe..." König cursed lowly, he could have very well bursted the door out of it's hinges, his gloved hand (still a bit shaky) took his favorite riffle from the top right corner of the shelf while he shot a backward kick to push the metallic door closed. He spent fourteen minutes shooting targets while mauling at your last interaction, rage swirled his insides and yet he couldn't fully hate you for asking questions, after all it was work-related, and the last soft gaze you gave him spoke volumes that you didn't want to advert all the attention to him out of malice. König was reloading his sniper rifle when he heard a gentle thud indicating someone had entered the room.

"You'd make an amazing sniper." You spoke softly trying not to startle him.

"You come to mock me? Laugh all you like. I'm well aware I'm too huge to be a sniper." He spoke in resentment over his shoulder before redirecting his focused gaze to the target ahead.

"I always say size doesn't matter! As long as you know how to handle your weapon, you'll make any girl blush."

Your dark humour takes König by surprise and he misses the dummy's head, he tries to hold back the chuckle that threatened to spill from his hidden lips. Luckily the shirt he wore as a mask shielded his face enough to make it look like he was holding in a cough or a sneeze but you weren't stupid. When he turns to face you placing the riffle to the near table he gets startled by how close you are, the smirk accompanying your lips as you weaseled close to his very sacred personal space made him curse lowly in his mother's tongue. The tall Austrian stepped back and you rose your hands in mocking defeat.

"Alright, I get it, personal space. Jus' wanted to hear ya laugh..."

"I didn't." He hisses.

"Didn't ya? I thought I heard it, must have been the wind."

Your sarcasm often infuriated König who never seemed to get a good grip on his English, so it was hard for him to detect when you were being serious or just pulling his leg. His hands flex on his sides, tiny waist move side to side as he balances his weight before he crosses his arms and leans his back to the wall. König raises a brow when your smirk morphed into a sincere apologetic smile as you admired his stance six feet apart from him.

"I'm sorry for what happened back there." You said honestly, he sucked in a breath. "Didn't want t' put ya on the spot."

The Colonel's cerulean eyes widen in surprise before directing his gaze to your tank top blinking rapidly. It was easier to listen if he wasn't looking directly at your eyes. "König..." Your voice was honey making shivers run up his spine and his skin erupt in goosebumps, his hands trembled even when he fisted them on his crossed stance. "Why don't we start again? Call me paranoid, but I feel like there's tension between us and not the type I'd like."

König wasn't shy, he wasn't, but that last line of yours made him feel like it, and it wasn't an ugly feeling? But it was a little uncomfortable, foreign, it squeezed his heart in a suffocating way, his hands were clammy, he felt weirdly light like if it wasn't for his tapping foot on the floor he'd float away. König understood what you were saying and it comforted him that you were on the same page, the weird unsteadiness between the two of you becoming rather unbearable and a constant topic on both your minds, it was relieving that you thought the same way. Suddenly the ugly anger he had for you quieted down.

The colonel lifted his hand your way offering you a handshake you took with mirth.

"I'm colonel König. Y-you are...?"

"Goddamn. Ain't your parents bit' egotistical? Namin' their baby boy 'king' in their native language." You say with a snicker shaking his hand. He takes it back abruptly but you don't flinch. "I'm Sargeant (c/n). My name is (y/n) (l/n). Is König the name written on your birth certificate or were you called somethin' else?" You press.

König is taken aback by this. When was the last time someone had asked the colonel his name?

"I am..." It tasted foreign on his tongue, like he had forgotten the sound of it, the taste of his own name on his tongue. "My name is Andreas Dobler. That's... That's my name." His name wasn't König, he remembers the man he left behind all those years back, the man under the dark cloak. Before things went to shit, before becoming colonel König.

"Andreas. What a curious name, never heard of it-"

"Say my name again." König interrupts. His voice weak but demanding and desperate. He loved it. He loved the sound of his name on your lips. It was strange, sweet... Arousing, even.

You blinked angling your head up to take a better look at his half-lid eyes. This time König didn't look away, your eyes met and suddenly the ugly tension from before was morphing into another type of tension, your heart beats faster in sync with his. You didn't know you were getting closer until König placed a hand on your waist and then the other, not pushing, not pulling, he simply laid them there and it came so naturally, your playful smile wavered slightly as your hands landed on his shoulders, he shivers. You tilted your head to the side and he was so lost in you, your aroma, your eyes, your lips, your touch, he didn't realize he was returning the head tilt.

Your lips parted, pink tongue darting to hydrate your dry lips until your pearls were visible from the gap, and his eyes catch every movement your mouth makes when you whisper "Andreas."

"Again."

"Andreas-"

"Again..."

"...Andreas..." Your hands slowly move to his chest, his breath hitches. His name has never sounded so sensual whispered by anyone's mouth. You were... You...

"You..." He isn't sure what to say. You are not sure either, suddenly your wit has abandoned you it seems. "You intrigue me." He decides to huff out, accent heavily pronounced.

There's a thousand thoughts swirling on König's mind, he has shared his name but it suddenly didn't feel enough, he wanted to show you who he was, his past, his thoughts, his hopes and dreams, even his face. How can a simple woman like you make König feel so much? Because you were no simple woman. That's why when he felt your small hands slide up his chest to the hem of the shirt that composed his mask, König didn't tense up, in fact, his shoulders relaxed embracing the touch of your fingers gently feeling his neck under the cloth, his stubble, his chin, his high cheeks... Gloved hands grab your wrists.

You stop, still looking up at him noticing the heaving of his chest and how lost in awe his gaze seemed.

"Not yet?"

"I-i... Do not..." Mind. He didn't want to refuse your touch but at the same time it was so overwhelming.

You give a small nod, König lets go of your wrists and you take this opportunity to nuzzle his cheeks, he gasps landing his hands on your waist once more, squeezing the flesh over your tank top. The feeling of your fingers on his face was so foreign it felt like you were touching a piece of his soul.

"Don't you worry, darling..." König lets out a small whimper at this. "I'm rushing things ain' I? We were just getting on the first name basis and I had to screw it all..." You wanted to sound apologetic, you promise, but it was so hard when your colonel was practically purring at the feeling of your soft hands scratching his stubble.

König was putty on your hands, he has never felt this way. His cheeks burn in embarrassment, he tries to move back but remembers he's already against the wall, and you, a small thing like you have him cornered like a honey badger hunting a lion. His lip wobbles and he tilts his head to the side as he feels your hands massage and explore his neck and jaw in long, gentle motions.

"Shy lil' thing... Aren't you pretty hiding under there? Maybe you are too beautiful to allow anyone the pleasure of a simple look. Like a sweet Ferrero Roche firmly wrapped and ready to be eaten." You whisper, voice raspy before you chuckle when his Adam's apple bobs with a swallow. Your body is now pressed compleatly against his, your dear colonel's hands tremble on your sides as he fists your tank top. He's nervous, he's shy, but you know he is enjoying this judging by the way his teary, half-lid eyes blink slowly every time you feel a new inch of skin.

"...Sag bitte mehr, ich flehe dich an..." (Say more please, I beg you.) König moans out, his german accent so strong masking how weak he was feeling at the moment.

He loved your voice, your touch... Your everything. The colonel ran his fingers on your lower back encouraging to continue, meanwhile he very slowly tilted his head higher allowing you more space on his neck to massage and scratch. You chuckle darkly feeling his member poking at your belly, your body instantly pressing harder against his cornered torso.

"You like the sound of my voice, colonel?" You humm, he makes a small noise. "Andreas...?"

His shoulders shake with the force of his shiver, nails digging deliciously on your lower back, you chuckle delighted at the sight tilting his chin to the other side to feel his nape, his ear and some locks of hair. "ich begehre dich..." The Austrian groans, his member now fully erect twitched delighted by the delicious pressure of your torso against it and your soft ministrations to his neck.

Both your radios churr alive until a voice breaks the static, a random operator checking on the comms. König almost knocks you over with how fast he straightened his back and the way his strong grip held you back, his chest heaving fast, eyes wide and vulnerable. You take the opportunity to grab him by the hem of the shirt he uses as a mask.

"Wait-..."

König freezes when he feels cold air hit the heated skin from his neck. You had lifted a portion of the cloth revealing the part you were previously massaging, caressing and scratching. His head moves up to the side trying to hide from your touch, his hands shoot backwards planting on the wall as if a force had taken them from the previous grip he had on you.

"I hope you can forgive me colonel... Can't help it..."

There's a long gash on his neck, a very old scar that seemed to be product of a knife fight or even a bullet, it's crocked and it goes up probably to his right ear. You lean close on tiptoes because he couldn't crouch due to how shocked he still felt, and you planted your wet lips on the surface of the sensitive scar. König's throat rumbles with a groan, his powerful hands finally make the move to take you, to cage your body impossible closer to his. A hard roll of his hips make him gasp in relief and you loudly huff when he handles you to where he was previously caged, his hands soon making small effort to lift you up, both legs wrapped around his waist and he THRUSTS. You are still kissing, licking and nibbling his neck, your hands exploring the long bulky surface of his back, König moans delighted at one particular bite until-

"Shit."

König turned his head back so fast you are sure his neck is rotatory, two pairs of eyes look in shock at Horangi who is standing there holding the rifle König had previously left before all of this happened. Your colonel was frozen in embarrassment his shaking hands still held you up and his boner was no longer stabbing you, the thing died at the speed of light.

"Jesus Christ. You gonna keep staring or you wanna join us, tiger?"

König snaps his head back at you comically fast, icy eyes glare in surprise, horror and astonishment.

"As fun as that sounds I'll leave you two to your games... 'sides, I don't think you'll be able to handle König alone, imagine the two of us. We'd ruin you." The Korean's response made you laugh enchanted with his wit, he walked out the door in quick strides leaving you two alone once more.

König huffs glaring at the wall behind you. The sudden unwelcome presence of his friend seemed to had robbed the magic from the moment. Your Colonel's body shagged slowly lowering your body, and the moment your heels touched the ground his head leaned down falling to the crock of your neck, the feeling of the warm cloth of his mask made you humm. He kissed your clavicle over his mask and you ran your hands to his shoulders until König slowly retrieved.

He took two steps back, with a very noticeable defeated look.

"Hey. We can keep going whenever yer up to. Don't look at me like that, sweet thing." Your voice carried a playfulness that comforted him from the sudden feeling of defeat.

König couldn't meet your eyes, his voice was shaky "I'm just not like this-..."

"Andreas-"

"DON'T -...!" He barked, startling you both.

It was too much, too sudden, too weird, too suffocating. He liked it at first but... König couldn't put into words what he was feeling right now. He hated that the moment was cut short, he hated that he felt like it was his fault and he hated the way you are looking at him with so much concern like when you two were at the meeting.

"Verzeihen Sie mir." He muttered giving you a final short glance before he rushed out of the place leaving the door open and your startled self still leaning on the wall.

You recognized those words even if you didn't know much of German.

"Forgive me." You translated in a whisper.

Will you?

#call of duty modern warfare #cod #witty reader #konig x reader #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader angst

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