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happy74827 · 5 months

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Loosing Control

[Gideon Graves x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Your love is a thing of magic. It's strong and apparently real and Gideon doesn't quite know how to deal with it.

WC: 2489

Category: Slight Lime/Spice {Gideon’s POV}

I’m actually surprised that so many people love my Gideon fics. The AMOUNT of anons I’ve suddenly started to receive this past week just because of this man is astronomical and I’m totally here for it!! (Also this gif got me feeling all types of things 🫣)

『••✎••』

Gideon Graves was at a loss for words. He didn't know what he had expected from this meeting, but it certainly wasn't this. He wasn't exactly in a position to be calling anyone out on the carpet, so to speak, but it had been at least an hour since you had burst into the office—pounding on the door, demanding to be let in—and Gideon had done nothing to stop you. Instead, he sat on his sofa, staring at you in silence. He'd already known you would be upset. He didn't need you to tell him that.

"Look," he said.

Gideon Graves was a genius. He knew that. His ability to multitask and think fast on his feet had gotten him far in his career and had garnered him numerous accolades and awards, from the Pulitzer to the Nobel Prize. And yet he hadn't expected you.

He wasn't sure what he had expected. You had been his assistant for nearly five years now. Gideon had made it clear from the beginning that he was not interested in anything more than a professional relationship between the two of you, but that didn't mean he hadn't thought about it. There was just something about you. The way your mouth moved when you were speaking. The way you stood so close to him in the mornings that he could smell the soap on your skin and the coffee on your breath.

"Just give me a minute," he said.

You blinked at him. "What?"

Gideon stood up and paced the room, adjusting his glasses and running his hands through his hair.

"There are so many things I want to say, but they all seem like the wrong things," he said. "I've never really been good with words."

You pressed your hand to your lips, shaking your head. "No, no, I get it. It's my fault. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here like this."

"You're not making this any easier for me, you know."

"No, I—I know." You drew your hand away, and your face flushed. You sat on the edge of the sofa, pulling your knees to your chest. "You don't have to make excuses for me or anything. I know I just barged in here."

"You always do that," Gideon said. He leaned his hip against the edge of his desk, resting his weight on his elbow. "You've been my assistant for five years now and you never knock."

You smiled. "You told me not to. You said I was always allowed to come into your office without knocking."

Gideon shrugged. He had been trying to get you out of his hair, to be completely honest. You had been such a nuisance—so nosy and needy and persistent—and yet he found himself drawn to you. He never meant for things to go this far. He was a lot of things, but unprofessional was not one of them.

He wasn't sure why you had come here. What you had possibly thought you were going to accomplish. Gideon Graves did not feel. Not in the way other people did. He could love, sure, but it wasn't in the traditional way. He could want and need and desire. But he wasn't capable of love. He hadn't loved his mother. He hadn't loved his father, though he had always been fond of the man.

Gideon had not loved you. Not at first. In fact, you had been an irritation, a nuisance. And yet, as time went on and you had learned to read him better, to anticipate his needs and desires, your presence became comforting. He liked being with you. He enjoyed listening to your voice, the way you laughed and smiled, and how you always looked so pleased with yourself, no matter how small the task you had completed.

"You have to understand," he said, "I'm not..."

Gideon searched your eyes. You were beautiful, he realized. You were soft and warm and kind, and he had never really thought of you as anything more than an assistant, but there was something about you now, something that made you look different. He couldn't quite explain it.

You were staring at him, your gaze fixed on his face.

Gideon cleared his throat. "You need to know what you're getting yourself into before we go any further."

Your brows drew together. "What do you mean?"

"I'm a broken man," he said, holding his hand in front of his face. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. "I can't promise you anything; I'm not... I’m not good at this sort of thing. You have to know that."

You tilted your head to one side, studying his face. He could see the worry in your expression. Gideon had seen that look before so many times. His father had given him that same look when Gideon had first told him he wanted to go to college. His mother had given him that same look when he had decided to move to Toronto alone. Even his own reflection in the mirror had looked at him with that same worried expression when Ramona had left him.

You looked at him as though you were afraid of him, but you didn't speak. You just looked at him, waiting.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he said, "and I can't promise that this will end up working out. It never has before, and it probably won't this time, either."

"Is this about Ramona?" you asked, your voice soft. "Is that what this is about?"

"No," Gideon said quickly. "That's in the past. That was... I was young and foolish."

"You weren't young," you said with a laugh. "I was literally there when you made the whole league thing. Then you got your ass—no offense—kicked by Pilgrim and that girl with the beautiful scarf.”

Gideon had never talked to anyone about that moment. He didn't talk about his failures, at least not when they were that severe. Even he had to admit that getting his ass kicked had been a bit of an embarrassing moment for him.

"Yeah, let’s not talk about that,"

You laughed again. "You know what this sounds like to me? It sounds like you're trying to talk me out of being with you."

"Well..." Gideon frowned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I guess that's true."

Your expression softened. "That's because you think it's not going to work out, isn't it? Better not to try than fail, right?"

Gideon didn't speak.

You moved across the room, crossing the floor until you were standing in front of him. You placed your hands on his chest, sliding them up the sides of his neck and cradling his face in your hands. You were looking at him, searching his eyes.

"I know it's hard for you to trust people," you said, "but I've been by your side for five years, and you don’t need to use a chip for assurance that this will work."

“Wait a minute, hold on—”

You leaned into him, kissing his lips. You smiled against his mouth, giggling softly. You were kissing him. You were kissing him. You were actually kissing him, and Gideon didn't know what to do about it.

You pulled away and kissed him again, harder this time. You moved against him, pushing him back so that he fell against the edge of his desk. His heart was pounding in his chest. You had your hands on his shoulders now, pushing his coat from his body.

For once, Gideon didn’t have control, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He liked being in charge. It was what he was used to. He knew what he was doing and how to get things done. Yet, here he was, watching his jacket drop to the floor, feeling your hands on his body.

“Do you still think you need that chip of yours?” you asked, pressing your lips to his ear.

Gideon sighed, tilting his head back as you kissed his neck and his jaw. You were undoing his tie now, letting it drop to the floor.

“Listen, I had a perfectly good reason for that chip. Ramona, she was...I had a lot going on with her, and it just made sense at the time, but then—shit—I didn't mean—I didn't—this is—it's really complicated, okay?”

You were kissing him as he spoke. You kissed the corner of his mouth. You kissed his neck and collarbone. Gideon had to remind himself to breathe. He had to remind himself how to move. How to think. How to do anything.

"You really are all over the place," you murmured.

Gideon glanced at you, panting due to the lack of oxygen in his system. His eyes were full of you, the shape of your face, the sound of your voice. The curve of your nose. Your smile. Your lips.

You had your hands on his shoulders, that same soft, pleading look in your eyes. You looked at him as though you wanted something, and it was hard for him to deny you, but it wasn't that simple. It never was.

"I can't promise you anything," he said.

You nodded. "I know."

"I'm not the easiest person to be around. I don't even know how I'm supposed to...to..." He swallowed. "I just don't know how to do this."

You stepped away from him, taking your hands from his shoulders. You seemed to know the right thing to say. You always knew the right thing to say. "Don't worry about that right now."

Gideon turned from you. He needed to get a hold of himself. He couldn't be weak like this. He needed to be in control. He needed to focus.

"I need to get back to work," he said, rubbing his eyes with his hand. "We've been away for too long."

You stared at him for a moment. You seemed to be waiting for him to change his mind, but he didn't. He knew he needed to focus. He needed to do what he had always done. He needed to bury himself in work until it was all that consumed him, and there was nothing else to do but sleep and breathe.

"Okay," you said. “Okay, Gideon.”

He didn't look at you as you turned to go. You hadn't even given him a chance to ask you to stay. He couldn't look at you right now, so he didn't turn around as he heard you open the door, close it behind you, and leave.

You hadn't left him mentally, though. Not yet. He could still smell your perfume in the air. He could still see the shape of your body in the chair in front of his desk. He could hear the way you sighed, the way your voice had been soft when you had said his name.

Gideon needed to get back to work, but all he could think about was you. He didn't even know how he had managed to convince himself that it was a good idea to push you away. He did the opposite with Ramona, forcing her into his life until she was a part of him.

So why was it when you had actually wanted him, he had pushed you away?

It had never happened with anyone else, not like this.

Gideon reached up to his neck, touching the skin where your lips had been. It had only been a kiss, a simple touch, but he couldn't remember the last time someone had made him feel like this. You were so soft and kind and... beautiful.

He reached down for his fallen coat that you had tossed to the ground. He lifted it, carrying it to the back of the sofa. He picked up his tie, too, and placed it into the pocket of the jacket, folding it neatly.

There was so much he didn't understand about himself. There was so much he didn't know and would likely never know, but he knew how he felt about you. He could admit that to himself, at least, even if he couldn't admit it to you. Not yet.

“Idiot… Idiot.” Gideon groaned, burying his face in his hands. He sat down on the edge of the couch, falling onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, his mind drifting back to you.

When Scott Pilgrim had won that battle against him, Gideon was left to wake up and realize that there was a whole world out there that he had no control over. It was a frightening thing for him to come to terms with, but there it was. The world was going on with or without him, and he couldn't change that.

You were there for him, though. You had always been there for him. You had been so soft and kind and gentle. His ego was completely shattered when Scott brought him to his knees, but you had been there for him, comforting him as he recovered emotionally.

And yet, that wasn't all you had done for him. You have helped him in so many ways since you started working with him. You were the perfect assistant—attentive, thorough, and never a bother. He could ask you to fetch anything for him, and you always had.

You also knew when he wanted to be left alone and respected his boundaries. He had to be very careful around people. If you use the wrong words or the wrong tone of voice, everything could fall apart. And it had—it was—with Ramona.

Ramona. It still hurt to think about her, but he could admit that what he felt for you was far different than what he had ever felt for Ramona. What he had felt for Ramona had been a sort of hyperfocus. That was what he told himself anyway. She made him feel things that no one else ever had, but it had never been real. And Gideon knew the difference. Ramona wasn’t love; it was obsession.

You were love. You made him feel so... so human. He didn't want to get into the nitty-gritty details of that, but you made him feel alive. You made him feel real.

Gideon sat up and crossed the room. When he was stressed, or upset, or upset because he was stressed, he found himself pacing. It was one of the few that helped him focus. As he paced, he glanced at the door, staring at the knob as he imagined you coming back through it.

That’s it, he thought. He needed to do something. He needed to go after you to make things right. Make sure that you knew he was serious. Make sure that you know what was at stake here.

Gideon wasn't good with words, but he knew that he would figure out a way. Figuring out ways to fix things had never been a problem for him.

He was the smartest man in the world. How hard could it be?

God, I need to learn how to write actual endings instead of leaving everything open 😭😭

Conclusions are the bane of my existence istg

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lovelypham · 7 days

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EYES DON'T LIE

ʬʬ prompt:where you were invited to your best friend's birthday party only to realize how jealous you'd get when seeing him with others girls,little did you know he felt the same way about you ✎wc:458 ✩⡱pairing:non-idol!bestfriend!jake X fem!reader ˳೫˚∗warnings: jealousy,fluff,kissing,confessing, mildly suggestive

╰┈➤song recommendation:Eyes don't lie-Isabel LaRosa ✩⡱

╰┈➤

As you watched Jake,your best friend for more than 5 years who was also coincidentally your crush for the past 6 months,effortlessly indulge in yet another conversation with a girl at the bar, a sigh escaped your lips Despite knowing it was his own party and you didn't have any excuse to limit him from talking to girls,a feeling of jealousy tugged at your heart strings.

hesitantly agreeing to come after Jake quite literally begged you, you found yourself tucked away in a corner, sipping your probably ninth drink of the night,while shooting daggers in his direction. Laughter and music filled the air, and while everyone was having a good time you weren't.

When another girl got a bit too comfy with Jake, you decided to escape to the peace the unoccupied pool outside provided. The summer breeze messed up your hair, and the alcohol in your system blurred your thoughts as you stared into the night sky.

✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦

Suddenly, Jake showed up beside you, his presence bringing you both comfort and nervousness. "hey__" he murmured, his voice low while saying your name. "you seem a little distant. everything okay?"

You hesitated, caught off guard by the way he knew you so well "yeah, I'm fine," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant"I just needed to get some air I felt suffocated inside"you replied in an awkward tone

Jake leaned in closer, his eyes searching yours in way that made your heart beats race. "Are you sure?" he whispered, his breath warm against your freezing skin.

You swallowed a lump, feeling exposed under his gaze. "honestly, I'm just... feeling a little sick," your voice carrying uncertainty

A smirk tugged at the corners of Jake's lips as he leaned even closer, his lips touching your earlobe. "so you're not jealous,huh?" he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine you gasped and then quickly denied his allegations saying "what are you talking about jake?" . he said one thing "Eyes don't lie,baby"

Your breath hitched as Jake's words sent a jolt of electricity through you. Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a heartwarming kiss. It felt like the world around you faded away, leaving only the burn of his touch and the pounding of your heart

✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦

After you pulled away, both of you breathless he sighed and said"i was only talking to so many girls because I wanted to forget about you, we always promised ourselves to never date or catch feelings for eachother, because we believed it'll ruin our friendship"

you looked to your right to catch a glimpse of his face only to find out he was already staring at you

you took his hands in yours and layed them on your lap and with a comforting smile you told him "that's what i told my self too jaeyun, but love can't be hidden like any other emotion ,I've had a crush on you for as long ask i can remember and I always shrugged it off but I can't handle seeing you like this anymore" he then tightened his grip around your hands and replied with" do you wanna maybe be my girlfriend? " you quickly said"yes! omg of course jae" you then kissed him again but unlike the first kiss this one was hurried but still as meaningful as the first one

✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦

you suddenly heard loud cheering and screams, only to realize your friends have been watching the whole thing from the start

˳೫˚∗

(note: this is my first time writing an actual fic so please go easy on me😭😭, I'll gladly take any constructive criticism of any kind just no hate💗)

this is all fiction and not meant to represent any mentioned idols as they are in real life

©lovelypham works 2024

#enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #jake sim #kpop bg #kpop icons #sim jaeyun #kpop fluff #jaeyun fluff #enhypen jaeyun #kpop fic #enhypen fluff #kpop moodboard #lovelypham:works #viralpost #sim jake #jake enha #enha #enhypen #enha imagines

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maryangelex · 7 months

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Never Let Me Go (Pt. 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Captain John Price x f!Reader

Summary: The doors have opened for a new dynamic between you and Price, one you're unfamiliar with but welcome with open arms, and it surprisingly only escalates when he's deployed

Warnings/Tags: NSFW, phone sex, masturbation, sexting, lingerie, panty kink.

A/N: comment if you'd send John a saucy pic!!!

Song for this one is The First Taste by Fiona Apple.

Ever since that morning at the cafe, John has become even more of a staple in your mind, occupying every waking thought and becoming the plot of every dream you've had.

The day after your little moment together, it had been hard to look at the man in the eyes without your mind going blank, cheeks a feverish red, and heart racing a million miles beats minute. And you could definitely tell he enjoyed to see you flustered by him just being in your proximity; as if he could see how your mind recalled every second of that moment, as if he could see the wetness of your panties when you thought about it.

And you wouldn't dare tell your cousin. Even though you told her everything in your life, that you would take to your grave.

For the past couple of days since then, John has continued his daily routine of coming to see you and spending at least an hour enjoying his coffee and your company. He's become yet another regular whose order you knew by heart. Sitting with him or even so much as taking his order and having his presence fill the cafe has become what you look forward to the most.

Today he entered the cafe like always, picking a seat at the counter to chat with you. His closeness brought the familiar, pungent smell of his masculine cologne, a scent that flooded your nose and felt like a warm hug. You smiled at him brightly and greeted him like you did every morning, which he did too. The way he eyed you always gave you goosebumps and a chill down your spine, with a pleasant flutter in your stomach.

You poured him his coffee and breakfast pastry, which he insisted you surprise him with a new one each time.

"You look lovely today, love," he gave you that cheeky smirk of his, with the fake innocence behind those kyanite eyes.

You scoffed, feigning humility, "You say that every day, John."

"And I mean it every day," he chuckled, taking his coffee with a pleased hum.

"What do you have planned for today?" you asked, your elbows propped on the counter. You thanked the fact that it was a light morning to be able to entertain John and that your cousin had been the greatest wingwoman you could ever ask for by taking care of the store whenever John came in.

"Same as always, talkin' to the pretty girl at the cafe, runnin' errands," he sighed, "But I'm the bearer of bad news today, actually."

You quirked a brow, "How so?"

"I've gotta go back to work, love," he said with an earnest sadness in his tone, giving you an achy look. And your heart sank for a moment, a tightness in your throat that came up all of a sudden.

"I'm actually leaving tomorrow," he cleared his throat, his voice apologetic, as if he was already soothing you and apologizing for the fact that he had so evidently made you woeful, made you miss him already.

All you could think about was the worry that this was him calling it quits, to whatever it is you two even had going on, if there was anything going on, to begin with. Maybe you had taken things a bit too seriously with John, maybe all he wanted was some company before he was off.

You cleared your throat, pushing down any sign that you were so visibly heartbroken. "I'll be wishing you all the best while you're away, John," your smile was forced as you were about to turn to the counter behind you, but John's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"I wanted to tell you because..." he started before noticing the loudness of his voice, "I was wondering if even while I'm gone, I'll still have you to come back to." The man's request was like Cupid's arrow through your chest.

"I'll be gone for a couple of weeks, but I'd like to come back n' still have a pretty barista to pour me my mornin' coffee," the cheeky bastard gave you a hopeful smile, which you returned and huffed a laugh.

"Of course, I'll be here waitin'," you said sincerely. You meant it, you really did. You would be waiting for him patiently and eager for his return. Now you felt stupid for being so insecure and anxious about John's intention; and you made a mental note to go easier on him, to trust him that he was an honest man with a kind heart that had a spot for you, because thus far he'd shown you nothing but that.

" 'M glad to hear that, dove. Does that dinner offer still stand for when I come back?"

"My door's open," you said, biting your lip to still your racing heart.

John spent the rest of the morning with you, chatting you up like he always did. He told you about what his deployment tends to be like, how sometimes all they have him do is linger around their temporary base and go through intel and reports and endless paperwork, and how it's up to the big guys to say what they do next.

You still didn't know the details of what he really did, he persisted that it was for your own safety, that he couldn't tell you even if he wanted to, but that truthfully he'd prefer to keep that side of him away from you because you were too good for those sorts of stories.

But you saw he made the effort to provide you at least a bit of clarity on his line of work, sparing you the gory details and instead giving you some peace of mind about what he did, and a small glance into that part of his identity at the same time.

By mid-afternoon, he was still there, probably the longest he'd been there with you. The shop remained fairly slow when it came to customers and orders, given that it was a random Wednesday when most people would be at work and only bothered to come to grab a small bite and a quick espresso on their break.

John showed the utmost patience when you became mildly busy though, enjoying the sight of you at work and the simplicity of just being with you, you felt it in the tenderness of his gaze. You asked him about the errands he said he needed to run, but he shook his head with a dismissive shrug and told you to "never mind that," that it wasn't as important as spending his last day home with you.

The man couldn't be any cheesier, and you loved every bit of it.

He managed to prolong his stay until the last minute, you had lightly scolded him that he needed to rest as much as possible before heading into whatever shitty conditions he'd be in for the next couple of weeks.

"I'd be lyin' if I said you scoldin' me wasn't makin' me like you more," said the cheeky bastard as he put his arms through his jacket.

"I'd make one hell of a naggin' wife, huh?" you joked, and if your eyes weren't deceiving you, you caught a glimpse of a light heat dusting John's smiling cheeks.

"A man would be so lucky." His words made your stomach flutter; his flirting never failed to make you feel some sort of indescribable way. The best way you could put it was that it made you feel giddy and wanted.

You escorted him outside, standing by the entrance of the shop in a spot that was out of sight from those inside, allowing for a bit of privacy with John. He stood in front of you, cozily close as always, and with a hand coming up to your hair to twirl a strand around his index finger. You had noted by now how much he enjoyed your hair, or touching you in any sort of way in general.

"So I'll see you in a few weeks, yeah?" there was hope in your tone, minding the dreadful thought that he might not come back.

"Promise," he said huskily, an affirmative tone that read your mind, "Don't worry your pretty little head 'bout me, I'll be back before y'know it, dove."

You took a stead forward and cupped his face gently, then stood on the tips of your toes to reach his tender lips. He welcomed your kiss, of course, declining his head to meet you, one hand on your waist and the other migrating to the nape of your neck.

You kissed him tenderly, but more confidently than you ever had before, with a newfound certainty, as if knowing that it was okay for you to kiss him first without hesitation. John kissed you back with fervency, his rosy lips catching yours and reluctant to let go.

When you two pulled away he held you tightly against him in an embrace before he left. It pained you to say goodbye, this man that you had known for such little time had your heart in a tight lock already.

It had been a week since John had left on deployment. You did not expect to be this worried in your life over someone. You had never had a long-distance relationship (if you could even call it that as being what you and John had). You didn't want to admit to yourself how much you missed him, or how much you thought about him, or how you dreaded something happening to him.

He couldn't have been more reassuring though, hardly ever failing to text you his status as best he could. He had let you know before leaving that he'd become less consistent at texting you, but that he'd go out of his way just to send you at least one message a day.

Every notification from him put your racing thoughts at ease, no matter how simple it was. Texts telling you about how work was going, in a way that made it sound like he was on a corporate business trip or as if he was a lorry driver traveling from one end of the country to another. Sometimes his texts would be about how he missed you, how the coffee in the base was sewage water and it was making him livid and exhausted, followed by the zombie emoji he had recently added to his regular repository.

A lot of the late-night and early-morning texts were tooth-achingly sweet, though; you cherished those the most, reciprocating the messages with sincerity.

Tonight he told you he had managed to get a tent to himself while two of his boys snoozed in another one with the third one on watch for the night. He told you he was hoping to get some restful sleep for once, given that he wouldn't have to hear someone else's snoring, but said it was just impossible to sleep with the thought of you banging in his head.

You thought he had you wrapped around his finger, but you didn't mind in the slightest. Instead, you decided to be bold and use that to your advantage. You felt naughty doing so but that was the best part of it. The heat that had been brewing in your core had started to be bothersome ever since John had given you a first taste of what he offered you.

So you made your way to your dresser, digging in the drawer where you kept your panties and finding a set you hadn't worn in god knows how long. It was like dusting off an old book. You only hoped it fit you still.

And it did, to your surprise even better than the one time you had worn it since you first bought it. The little fuchsia pink thong was snug on the fat around your hips, accentuating the plump curvature of your ass, and the lace balconette bra teased your nipples through the thin transparent fabric.

Your heart beat fast and you felt the dampness between your legs at both the sight of you in your bold garments and at the thought of sending John a picture. You dwelled on it for a moment, contemplating whether or not you should send it. Maybe it was unsafe to do so, maybe he'd get caught.

But you decided to give in to your impulses. You snapped a picture in a pose that showed your front, your curves popping in the revealing outfit, your tits pert, and showing the evidence of your arousal. Only your body and hair were visible in the frame, choosing to hide your scarlet red face and smile.

You waited a few moments, eyeing the photo closely before deciding "Fuck it" and hitting 'send'.

Your breath hitched, almost in disbelief that you managed to do that. You were quite proud of yourself, honestly. As you waited expectantly you bit the tip of your thumb in anticipation, staring at the chat on your screen.

But all you could see was the empty chat beside your picture. Then, John's chat bubbles finally popped up, only to disappear after a few seconds. They popped up and disappeared twice more after that, but no message was sent in response.

Your face fell, your throat running dry when you cursed at yourself. Did you freak him out? Was it bad timing?

You jumped with a shocked yelp when you heard the sound of your phone vibrating. You were getting a call from John now. You cursed at yourself once again, clearing your throat and bracing yourself to apologize profusely before you picked up.

"Hey, John I--" you stuttered before he interrupted you with what sounded like a breathy groan from his end.

"What're you doin' sendin' me pictures like that, naughty girl?" his voice was low and almost a purr through the phone.

You felt like you had gone into cardiac arrest at the sound of his voice. He sounded aroused, and it couldn't be more noticeable. You bit your lip suppressing the grin that tugged at your cheeks, laying back on your bed as your skin burned hot with the pleasure that rose within you.

You couldn't be more pleased with yourself.

"Thought you might enjoy that," you giggled.

John hummed contently, "Oh, I'm enjoyin' it alright...you've no idea how much." You heard a deep thigh coming from him.

"I think I have an idea," your hand trailed down your body, fingers brushing over the skin exposed skin of your breasts.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Mhm," you said coyly, your fingers traveling to the thin fabric covering your nipples, ghosting over the perked buds. "Would be lyin' if I said I didn't feel the same way."

"Fuckin' hell, princess," he growled, "N' I thought you were an innocent little thing."

You chuckled, your hand now toying with the hem of your panties. The sound of wetness came through the other end of the call, making the fire between your legs burn hotter. A moan brewed in your throat when your hand finally slipped into your panties, striking your index and middle finger between your folds and collecting the slick that pooled there.

"You toyin' with my pretty pussy, love?"

You nodded to yourself and answered with another "Mhm," letting a needy sound out as your fingerpads pressed against your achy clit.

You heard John's breath become ragged, the squelching sound becoming more rhythmic. Your fingers tried to match his pace as you rubbed tight circles on your clit, your pussy becoming impossibly wetter at the thought and sound of John jerking off on the phone.

"Fuckin' miss you, dove...miss the sweet taste of your pussy. Remember those cute panties I took from ya? Got 'em here, fuckin' my fist with 'em...thinkin' o' you."

You let out a whimper, recalling John fervently devouring you and the perverted act of him saving your underwear; now knowing their purpose made your mind hazy and your clit quiver. It felt like ages now, and your ache for him had been growing stronger since then.

"Want you, John," you babbled, quickening your pace, your hips wiggling and rolling to grind yourself on your fingers.

"Tell me what you want from me, sweet girl," he purred.

"Want your mouth," you breathed, your hand leaving the phone as you held it at the crook of your neck and shoulder, migrating to your pleading cunt to dip your fingers into your entrance. You let out another audible moan as you worked your fingers on your clit and filled yourself with the two others, "Want your cock, John."

You heard the man on the other line practically moan as he cursed at your words, "My sweet girl wants my cock, huh? You're gonna make me cum if y'keep talkin' like that." You heard him panting, the sound of him stroking his slicked cock hitting your ears, making you pump your fingers harder and faster.

"Tell me how you're fuckin' yourself, love," he commanded, and you obeyed him. You told him how you were fucking yourself with your fingers and how they weren't enough, how your clit would only be satiated by his mouth now.

"Oh my needy girl, 'm gonna fuck you good when I get back home to you." he cooed, a string of curses and groans falling from his lips. "Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?"

You moaned in response, only being able to manage a desperate "Uhuh," as you were reaching the precipice of your orgasm. John was nearing his too, you could hear it as he babbled on about needing you, about how he was gonna fuck you like you deserved when he got back home, about how he was gonna claim your pussy with his cock.

You announced your emerging climax with a cry and a choked moan, your body convulsing and your pussy clenching around your own fingers. The desperate chants of John's name were what made him cum, the way you cried out for him breathlessly and mindlessly, your moans almost sounding like sobs.

You heard him let out a muffled groan signaling his orgasm as if he had bitten down on something to keep quiet as he came.

All that was heard in the call now were both of you's panting breaths, until John let out a tired chuckle and you giggled in response, feeling flustered by your exchange. You lay on your silky sheets with a mess between your legs as you exhaled contently.

"I should send you pictures more often," you quipped.

"I'd love it if you did," John said, "And I'll keep my end of the bargain."

You hummed a laugh, repeating "I'd love it if you did," as your response.

#cod mw2 #call of duty mwii #fanfic #john price #john price cod #john price call of duty #captain john price #john soap mactavish #cod fanfic #john price smut #john price x reader #john price x y/n

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eksvaized · 5 months

Text

𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖔𝖔

John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

The impatient knock on the door made you stand up straight. You shoved your still-full duffle bag into the wardrobe, deciding to unpack in the evening when everyone will cease bothering you.

Your eyes scanned your room before you opened the door to see who this time came to annoy you.

"Show me." Soap said and took a step closer to you, his palms pressing onto the outside of the door frame, as he leaned forward slightly, entrapping you. His figure towered over you, sheltering you from everyone strolling past your room in the hallway.

"I've been gone for almost two weeks, and when I return, instead of a warm greeting, I get… whatever this is, hmm?" You put your hands on your hips and cocked your head to the side. A small smile curled onto your lips as you pondered exactly what he was demanding to see.

You haven't seen Soap for a long time, and you have missed him. Out of everyone else on the team, you were the one closest to him, always by his side. And maybe you spent a lot of time with him, always looking for reasons you should hang out together just because you had a teeny tiny crush, but that didn't matter. You would never tell him that.

Confessing to him would be a poor idea, and you didn't want to risk it in case it wouldn't go as you hoped, and instead of Soap telling you he is head over heels in love with you, you would merely make things awkward between you two.

"Ghost said he saw it." Soap persisted, his fingers tapping against the wood impatiently, and it wasn't until he mentioned Ghost that you realised what he wanted from you.

"You want to see the tattoo?" You asked, and he nodded, grinning. "Fine. If you guess where it is, I'll show you."

There was no purpose in forcing Soap to play this game other than for your personal amusement. Ghost correctly guessed the placement of your new tattoo on his fifth attempt. Intrigued, you wondered if Soap could outdo him.

His blue eyes scanned your body, inspecting every inch of your skin that wasn't covered with clothing. You leaned lazily in the doorway, shaking your head each time he made a wrong guess.

When you realised he would not get it right, you sighed and straightened your back, hooking your fingers around his arm and dragging him inside the room before closing the door.

"You're awful at this game." You rolled your eyes at him.

"Because it's a shite game." He replied, and you both continued to bicker until you gestured for him to sit down on the bed.

He did as you told him, his eyebrows rising as a playful smirk appeared on his face.

Soap leaned his back against the wall, his lips parted, and you knew he was about to make some silly comment, but before he could say anything, you glared at him, and he closed his mouth.

You began undoing the belt on your cargo pants, and after unbuttoning the pants, you untucked your shirt.

At first, you avoided looking at Soap because you could feel his eyes sweeping over your curves. In any other situation, you would have been thrilled to get him in a position like this - on your bed, sitting and watching you strip - but you had to keep reminding yourself that you were his friend, he was here because he wanted to see your tattoo, and after you were going to show it to him, he was going to leave.

You dared to glance at Soap; it was as if he was under a spell, his wide eyes and fidgeting fingers unable to break away from your captivating presence, his gaze following your every move.

As your face got hot, the redness crept across your cheeks. Before he could see your embarrassment, you turned away and exhaled quietly, trying to gather your composure and ignore the loud pounding of your heart.

You gathered your shirt up, along with your sports bra, and tugged it up before pulling it over your shoulders, exposing your back to him. The bed creaked, and you heard Soap stand up. You looked over your shoulder to see what he was doing.

He approached you, his eyes skimming across your flesh. You turned your head away and bit inside your cheek, glueing your eyes to the ground.

His silence created an unsettling stillness that permeated the room.

"Do you like it?" You finally breathed out, gnawing on your lips anxiously.

You didn't get the tattoo to please Soap, but you wanted him not to hate it.

"Mhmm.." He was too lost in his thoughts to reply.

As his fingertips brushed across your skin, a faint shiver ran down your spine. The gentle touch sent a tingle of electricity through your body, causing your heart to skip a beat. You could almost hear the delicate brush of his fingers as they glided across the ink, following the intricate pattern on your back.

"Did it hurt?" He asked, but you had to pause for a moment before answering because words got lodged in your throat.

With just one touch from him, your body froze, as if you were about to melt into a puddle on the ground and your knees were on the verge of collapsing. He was so gentle, trying not to apply too much pressure, which made it difficult for you to keep still because his touch tickled.

“A bit." You finally breathed out. “But don't tell Ghost, because I told him I didn't feel a thing."

Soap laughed and nodded. The feeling of his warm breath on your back sent shivers down your spine, making you squirm involuntarily. Suddenly, he wrapped his fingers around your waist, letting them slide down as he squeezed your hips lightly.

"Don't move. I haven't finished looking yet."

You shut your eyes. His hands were warm, and you could feel his thumbs circling on your lower back. The overwhelming urge to surrender to your desires was making you question your sanity. You yearned to turn around, push him onto your bed, and capture his lips in a passionate kiss. Nevertheless, you suppressed these thoughts and maintained your composure.

He was your friend, right? And you don't go around randomly kissing your friends.

You kept repeating that in your head, but the way his fingertips grazed over your skin, his hands on your waist, his breath tickling you… It made you feel as if he was doing it all on purpose, like he enjoyed teasing you, pushing the boundaries, and waiting for you to snap.

Eventually, when he leaned so low that his nose brushed across your skin, you looked over your shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Your voice was a little high-pitched, but you managed not to stutter.

"Trying to get a better look." He replied, and you could see him trying to fight off the smirk that was beginning to form on his face.

You observed him slowly starting to rise, feeling the sensation of his nose gliding up your spine before he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

"I love your new tattoo." As he leaned in close and whispered, you could feel the faint brush of his breath against your neck, sending a wave of goosebumps across your body.

The sound of your rapid breathing filled the room.

Soap stayed still for a bit longer, relishing in the sight of you crumbling and losing your composure due to his playful taunting.

But before you could confront him and ask what he was doing, you felt a soft tug on your shirt, as his fingers delicately slid down the fabric, covering your back.

He then said something about how he would see you later at dinner. With a mixture of surprise and confusion, you watched as he exited your room, leaving you feeling flustered, as you nibbled on your bottom lip, trying to understand what had just happened.

#call of duty #cod #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you

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alicerosejensen · 1 year

Text

Just angst written for a sad composition. I'm too depressed to write something funny😔

I've been crying a lot lately, so I pour out my pain in text.

warning: angst; reader's death; Leon suffers again; No happy ending; fem/reader

I am a delicate gentle nature. Physically weak, so the reader is anyone but not a DSO agent. It does not say the cause of death, so everyone invents for himself.

English is not my native language, but if you liked the test, let me know that everything is not so bad with my translation. It looks different in the original, but I spend too much time looking for the right words in English.

You were always beautiful. But now, to the disgusting gnashing in his chest, twisting the most cruel pain out of his lungs, Leon did not want to see your dead beauty. This bomb in Washington where his entire squad was killed, and then... you. All his precious love, which he so cherished and protected, lies before him. His cumin, sandalwood, spring rose that withered too quickly. An angel who decided to return to heaven...

All white and silk. The long sleeves of the dress would completely cover your velvet arms, if they were not placed on your stomach, and you are all surrounded by fragrant flowers - roses and lilies. Hair, combed and loose, neatly laid on the pillow, perfectly complements the look. Soon you will be sleeping in the dry earth, and not walking around his apartment in lace. You won't wake up in his bed anymore and Leon won't pull you in for a teasing kiss.

What is left for him now? Remember your facial features until strong alcohol erases them from his memory? And it's almost obscene to die so young...

"My sweet girl... you too cruel to me"

If you knew how much pain your leaving brings him, you would have stayed with him longer. Dear angel given to the desecration of a cruel fate. Leon touches a cold palm, but it seems warm to him, his eyes are attentively following your face, hoping to catch a spark of emotion in this lifeless powdered marble, but you continue to sleep soundly. There is no pulse. trembling fingers wrap around your thin wrist, searching for the gold chain of your bracelet, making Leon's heart creak uncomfortably.

Your light was his strength. As if a long presence in his life helped the gentle sprouts of trust and a calm life to break through the stones of lived horrors.

Leon is still holding on to your hand like a drowning man holding onto a lifeline, but what's the point of holding on to someone who will never return? In fact, he is so tired ... flecks of tears shine in the corners of his eyes, but no one notices them. A new wave of despair covers him, pulling him into the deep sea to the very depths, from where it is already impossible to get out. Being non-religious, Leon now remembers all those angels that his mother once told him about as a child. A barely living echo of childhood slips through the mind, echoing back to real life. It seems that you really were one of those whom he so wanted to see when you were a boy, and now you are just a sleeping beauty who will not be awakened by any kiss from a handsome prince.

But the worst thing is not your dead body in front of him, but these dreams that will torment him at night not letting him forget about you, constantly returning on black wings and slowly pecking at the soul like vultures.

"Come on, princess, have pity on me..."

But you don't get up. If he had the strength, he would have pulled you out of that wooden box, but what's the point? Leon is tired of scrubbing the shit out of himself, but something inside is always breaking. Constantly he loses those he values most in the world, as if everything he touches turns to ashes. He want to get back in the car, open the glove compartment and come back to you only to put a bullet in temple and fall on your chest. Something inside Leon dies again with such new strength that his own body can not stand it. Leon doesn't cry, though a scream of hatred constricts his throat. Why are you lying here and not in your common house?! Why are you silent instead of laughing?! Why, despite all the vows given to him … left him. All emotions are completely destroyed, only you are in front of him like a nameless statue of a talented sculptor. He found refuge in your heart, listened to his beating at night, and now there is only a faint smell of your things that will soon completely disappear and everything that now reminds you of you will also leave him. Leon strokes your hair - it is no longer so silky and shiny and kisses each finger, clasping your thin palm with both hands.

For a second it seemed to him that your eyelashes trembled. Just one moment before someone puts a hand on his shoulder, causing him to grit his teeth. He had your unfinished books at home, a list of films that you planned to watch together, but instead he preferred to get drunk in a bar and feel sorry for himself. Now he will have enough time for this activity.

Leon feels like a nobody. A walking shadow with a heart pierced through and through, from where blood flows in an inexhaustible stream. He lied to you chewing the words "I love you" soaking them with caustic poison and lost meaning. Because if he loved you… he would never let that happen. Idiot … he would now be lying next to you, inhaling your scent and kissing every inch of skin, every mole, every small scar.

Your death killed two, but they mourn you, they sing a serene dirge, seeing you off, as it were, from this dirty and ugly world to another. Cleaner and brighter where you are and a place where you do not need to worry about the safety of life.

This suit he's wearing: black - Leon hates black - buttoned up, pulled tight to strangle himself, and deep despair.

In his memory you are always warm, joyful, beating in euphoria from your small victories. Always beautiful, with a beautiful voice and beautiful dreams that Leon didn't deserve. He will have only a marble headstone, from which he will shake off fallen leaves, bringing you fresh flowers..

He didn't deserve you. But no other woman, not even Ada, can take your place. You left, but his love for you remained, something that supported him in all his missions.

Bitter irony, today is the day of your funeral, and Leon has not yet drunk, although there is already a drunken fog in his head. All he's afraid of right now is that you won't be waiting for him on the other side. He removes the other hand from his shoulder, pulls out of his pocket a small, completely unremarkable silver ring - it's more like a belated request to share the rest of his disgusting life with him, making her a little happier - and puts it on your ring finger, then carefully puts his hand back on the stomach.

You will not share your life with him. And he really shouldn't have put the ring on you because Leon didn't have time to propose. He bought the simplest immediately after returning from New York, deciding that later you yourself would choose what you like best in the jewelry store and already wanted to return home when the bell rang, once again crossed out all his hopes.

"Always a bride and never a wife."

Cruel, but you did worse to him. Three days ago, he would have killed anyone who would cause you to cry, and now you yourself have become the cause of his tears. Him and many others who mourned you.

However, you really looked like a bride. Leon can't help but smile before he says goodbye to you forever. No, you did not take pity on him, did not open your eyes, but he could never be angry with you for a long time. Even now, when everything is tearing him apart, Leon just touches your cheek.

He loved you... so even if your scent starts to fade from pillows and clothes, he will still have your picture. A little reminder of who has always been waiting for him. The bitter amber liquid in a glass may drown out your voice in his head, the image of you, but this shabby photo will always be with him, no matter how much time passes before a new scar appears on his heart.

So the lid of the coffin is forever closed. You disappear into the darkness, although Leon knows (or just wants to believe) that you have long been somewhere beyond the sun. Therefore, today it is not raining and there are no clouds. Streaks of light fall on Leon's face and hair as you go underground, and he thinks you're next to him, resting his chin on his shoulder, the way you always liked to do when he was busy with paperwork. That crystalline hope is the last thing he has left, so he doesn't stay behind to make a moving speech. He doesn't have to say anything, and there's no point in muttering apologies anymore, so...

"Sleep well princess. Maybe I'll go to bed with you soon too."

Because Leon no longer knows how much strength he will have to fight all this.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #reader #angst #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy resident evil #leon scott kennedy x reader #vendetta leon #Spotify

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mar3ggiata · 25 days

Text

professional help, c5. preview

simon riley x original character.

abstract: hi this is Simon. okay, before you read this, I'm gonna say this once and never repeat it again. maybe she was right. don't tell her I told you, and don't you dare even remember anything I said in this stupid chapter.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, awful deaths.

song to listen to when reading this: Heartbeat, Childish Gambino.

He had thought about Jude quite a bit. He knew nothing about her, but she made an impression on him. She was interesting. He wanted to know if she was still angry at him, for what he said. He thought a lot if he had been too rude, and he always settled on a no. He had fun, played a bit, picked a little fight. He was sure she could handle it, she didn't seem like the type to get offended easily.

He made it a mission to find out things about her. He wanted to know if she still lived in that apartment he saw a year prior, the layout of her house. Did she live alone? Maybe she had a boyfriend. How old was she? Knowing so little about this girl drove him mad. She had an intriguing presence, she was captivating. And she always seemed to crash important events. This time she didn't bother knocking on the briefing room door. She came straight in. This time she really looked like death.

'He didn't show up' she said, not waiting for anyone to speak.

Jude interrupted him, and frankly, ha quite hoped she would. 'I'm going with them'. Him and Price spoke at the same time 'You're not'. We're not out here playing spies. She didn't flinch. 'I am!'

'You're gonna tell us if you see him, 'kay?' he instructed, strapping his vest tighter on his chest. 'Sure'. They were passing by a few shops, a gas station, a mechanic shop. 'How long have you been working here?' Gaz was really interested into making conversation hu? Simon was driving silently, his foot lingering on the brakes just in case he spotted something. 'Two years' she replied. Her tone was soft unlike when she had talked to him. Her voice was warm. Not really the time to get to know each other, guys...

notes: hi... I'm very tired. I've been thinking about LIFE a lot lately. I've worked all weekend (waitressing) I'm still trying to deal with having a million exams, my ex is messaging me and I don't like one of my girlfriends anymore. life feels weird these days. I can't really get which emotions I'm feeling. I feel like I've neglected this story, I'm still posting chapters that I wrote months ago but I will have to continue at some point... and I love this story and I love Jude and I want to continue, it's 9.11 pm and I'm ready for bed guys I'm not playing with you. I'm sorry if chapter four was a bit shit. and I don't have a picture for chapter 5, I promise I will make one asap. and try not to explode. have a good night/day, full chapter on Saturday!

love, mare.

taglist:

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

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helloalycia · 1 year

Text

watching TV [one] // kate bishop

summary: everything seems like it's going perfectly in your life – your girlfriend, your best friend, your job – until it's not. After your girlfriend breaks up with you so suddenly, you're left trying to understand what the problem was, but Kate is there to make it all better.

warning/s: mention of a breakup, mild violence and injury.

author’s note: i’ve literally had this in my drafts for so long and finally managed to finish it. It’s based off/inspired by the song ‘Watching TV’ by Sara Kays – feel free to listen to it whilst you read (I’ve popped the song below). Hope you enjoy!

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

"Are you really just going to sit here and keep buying coffee, Kate?" I ask my very determined best friend with amusement.

"Well, I got told off last time for staying all day and not buying more than one drink, so yeah," she replies like it's obvious. "And I don't want you to get fired because of it, so duh. I'd buy the whole menu if it meant we could hang out, Y/N."

I roll my eyes, feeling my smile widen at how cute she could be sometimes. I worked in a coffee shop and, since graduating, I'd been increasing my hours to pay rent which meant I was spending less time with Kate than usual. So, naturally, her solution was to hang out with me at work.

"You're cute, I'll give you that," I say, shooting her an appreciative look, before setting her third cup of coffee down before her. "Please don't have a caffeine overdose for my sake though."

She grabs my hand and puts it on her chest. "You feel that? It's a little too late."

I laugh when I feel the faint thrumming of her heart in her chest, faster than it should be. "Wow. I'm definitely cutting you off now."

"The things we do for love." She flashes me a grin and I shake my head with dismay.

Before I can think to say anything else, I glance behind her and my smile widens when I spot my girlfriend entering through the front door. She looks around, mirroring my smile when she spots me, too.

"Hannah, what are you doing here?" I ask with surprise.

She leans forward to kiss my cheek, making me grow warm at the contact. "I was running some errands and thought I'd stop by. Also just wanted to double check we were still on for tonight."

"Of course we are. I'm looking forward to it. Already got the snacks in and the films ready to go," I answer excitedly, meeting her brown eyes.

We'd planned for her to stay over at mine tonight and have a movie night just because, and to say I was looking forward to it was an understatement.

"Kate, hey, how are you?" Hannah asks politely, noticing her presence before us.

Kate's smile fades slightly and I can tell she's trying to remain civil. "Hey, Hannah... I'm good. And you?"

Hannah gives her a smile. "Doing great..."

It gets awkwardly quiet and I hate that it has to be like this. Hannah and I have been dating for about a year now, but her and Kate have never really gotten along. Or rather, there's just an awkwardness between them that never disappeared with time like I wanted. They both meant a lot to me and so made the effort with one another for my sake, but it's clear they wouldn't choose to converse if they could. I've tried talking to Kate about it, but she claims everything is fine. Same with Hannah. So, I just got used to it.

"Right, well I should get back to work," I break the silence with a small smile, looking between them. "Hannah, c'mon, I'll take your order. And Kate." I give her a warning look. "Last coffee. I mean it."

Her sincerity returns as she challenges my stare. "We'll see."

I scoff gently, leaving her to it as I return to my position at the till. Kate never listens, what can I say? But I won't lie – I love having her around.

As planned, Hannah stays over that same evening, watching films with me and eating way too much junk food to be considered healthy. But it's fun and I have never felt more relaxed, not unless I'm by myself or with Kate.

She stays overnight, sharing bed with me and cuddling to no ends, before I make us both a hearty breakfast and we reside on the couch to watch some midday TV together. Maybe the normalcy of it all is what throws me off – bad things shouldn't happen when everything feels normal. That's the whole point of something being normal, it's not bad. And yet...

"Y/N, I need to tell you something."

I hum in response, not really paying attention as I watch the telly. "Go for it."

Hannah hesitates. "I'm serious."

I furrow my brows slightly, glancing over at her at the change of her voice. "What is it?" When I notice the guilt in her expression, I straighten up and mute the TV, giving her all of my attention. Clearly something is bothering her. "Hey, Hannah, what is it? What's wrong?"

When I grab her hand, hoping to provide some comfort for whatever is bothering her, she pulls hers away.

"I'm breaking up with you."

I blink, taken aback by her bluntness. "You're– you– what?"

It doesn't seem plausible, what she said. Is this a stupid joke? Because it's not funny.

She chews on the inside of her cheek, eyes avoiding mine, and the longer she's quiet, the more my fear builds up that she's being serious.

"I didn't know how else to say it," she says quietly. "But I'm breaking up with you."

It's as if her words aren't quite sinking in because they just don't make sense. Breaking up? We're literally watching TV – how can she be breaking up with me?

"I don't understand," I say slowly, before attempting to reach over for her hand. A strike of hurt passes through me when she yanks her hand away further. "I need you to explain. To talk to me. I'm– what?"

She shakes her head slowly, standing up. I follow her with my eyes, trying to hide the way my breathing is becoming quicker, panicked, worried.

"I can't do this anymore," she says awkwardly, running a hand through her hair. "That's all."

Standing up, I try to step closer to her, unable to acknowledge the truth of the matter which is that she doesn't want to be near me. But how? Why? We were cuddling last night and now she suddenly can't stand me? What?

"Hannah, please give me more than that," I say with a teary smile, confused. "How can you suddenly want to break up? What's going on?"

She clenches her jaw, finally risking a glance my way, and it's like I'm staring at a completely different person. Her eyes are void of love or adoration or anything I feel for her. Has it been like that for a while? Have I never noticed?

"I'm sorry, Y/N," she says, and she sounds anything but, making my heart ache. "I should go."

There are no words to describe the utter disbelief I feel at watching grab her shoes, pulling them onto her feet. She's leaving? That's it? What?

"Wait a minute, Hannah," I say quickly, snapping back into action and following after her. "You're breaking up with me? Just like that? How can you–? I don't understand–"

"I don't love you anymore!" she snaps, making me jump. She swallows hard, exhaling and looking my way with guilty eyes. "I've been trying to tell you for a while now. It just never felt like the right time."

My throat closes up as she stares at me with pity. Shameful warmth creeps onto my cheeks. She doesn't love me anymore?

"That's all," she finishes softly, like it's not a big deal, like my heart isn't shattering at every word she speaks.

"You don't... why would... you..." I swallow thickly, trying to stop my voice from shaking so much. It doesn't help that she's staring at me with pitiful eyes. "What did I do?"

She sighs, rubbing her forehead with her forefinger and thumb. "Nothing. I just... I don't love you anymore."

My vision blurs with tears as I look to the floor, trying to figure out what that means. How can she not love me anymore? We've been fine. Nothing has gotten between us, we literally just hung out all evening. I'm still in love with her – she's my girlfriend. How can she decide she wants to leave all of a sudden?

"I'm sorry," she says once more, but it's mere background noise to my jumbled thoughts. Her hand ghosts my wrist, an apologetic squeeze, before I hear her leaving my apartment.

So, that's it? She leaves? And I'm alone? No explanation, no reason, just that she isn't in love with me anymore?

What?

Before the initial hurt can take over, I'm still very much confused. I try to call her, needing more of an explanation then a mere 'I don't love you anymore'. We've been together for a year – how can she just want to throw that all away? Doesn't she owe me more than a blunt breakup?

When she ignores my calls and texts, merely sending a 'l have nothing more to say, Y/N' text with finality, I realise she's dead serious. This isn't an elaborate prank, nor did she care enough to give me more than what she did. It's over. And I'm just supposed to accept that.

I've had breakups before. One where I've been the dumper, and another where I've been the dumped. Neither have hurt as much as this. I expected those, there were signs there. Lack of communication, the feeling like we were drifting apart, the bickering... it was obvious when my previous relationships were coming to an end. But this one came out of nowhere. I had no chance to prepare, to tell myself to stop loving her back.

I shouldn't spend my time wondering why, but it's all that's on my mind. If I'm not crying in my room, missing someone who doesn't want me anymore, then I'm wondering: why? What was the reason? She doesn't love me anymore, but there has to be a reason why.

Something about me isn't good enough for her. Something about me is so undesirable that she stopped loving me. What? Was it that time I showed up late to dinner and left her waiting fifteen minutes? Was it that time I disagreed with the way she spoke to her mum and we argued briefly about it afterwards?

It's so easy to reflect on every disagreement, every minor argument, every time I could have pissed her off... one of those times must have been it for her. The reason she called it quits.

What is it?

As if getting broken up with isn't embarrassing enough, it had to be by the girl my best friend never approved of. Such a cliché, right? That should have been an instant red flag, the girlfriend not being approved by the best friend. And yet I still went for it.

The last thing I want is for Kate to find out, for her to think that she was right. She'd never say it, but just her thinking it would be enough to make me feel even shittier. She'll have to find out eventually, but for now, it's better to keep to myself. Besides, I'm definitely not in the mood to face anybody at the moment, so I try to stick to myself.

Whenever she asks to hang out, I give her some lame excuse why I can't. Half the time it's because I'm actually working, but she'd never know the difference. If I'm not doing that, I spend my time applying for better jobs that actually utilise my degree whilst questioning every aspect of my relationship. How hadn't I seen it coming? Hannah had just woken up one day, looked at me and decided she couldn't love me anymore.

Yeah, it's safe to say I've never felt worse.

Of course, soaking in self-pity doesn't go down so easily when your best friend is as persistent as she is.

I don't know why I expect anything less from Kate, who is the definition of a hyperactive puppy, but I'm still surprised when she visits me at work one afternoon.

"Kate? What are you–? What are you doing here?"

She quirks a brow as she shoots me an amused smile. "Don't act too surprised."

I clear my throat, straightening up. "Sorry, I– sorry, just, what's up? How did you know I was working?"

"We'll, you've only been saying you're busy with work every time I want to hang out with you, so I thought I'd stop by," she says dramatically and with an easygoing smile. "That okay?"

I nod, looking down at the till. "Yeah, of course. Sorry."

She pauses, so I look up to see her humour is gone, replaced with concern. "Hey, are you okay? You seem preoccupied."

I force a smile, not wanting to get into this now and definitely not ready to tell her about the breakup when it's still so fresh. "Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry. Just tired from all the shifts, sorry."

She dips her head to find my eyes, her blue ones flickering between mine worriedly. With a low voice, she says, "What's with all the extra shifts? Do you need money? Because you know I'll always help you, Y/N."

I shake my head, widening my smile and hoping it looks genuine. "Kate, I'm fine, don't worry. Now, come on. What can I get you?"

She chews on her lip, no doubt about to retort, but thankfully she decides not to and instead orders her drink. After moving to go get it ready, I sigh inwardly, knowing I need to make more effort with her. She'll definitely suspect something if I keep avoiding her.

It's hard to focus on applying for jobs when you're definitely not in the mood to, but I still force myself to at least dedicate a few hours a day to searching and starting some applications. After all, I don't want to be working at a coffee shop forever.

I'm at home doing just that when Kate messages me, asking if I'm at home. After telling her I am, she invites herself over and I can't exactly stop her, even though I'd rather just be alone, so I tell her okay and throw on a more presentable outfit (AKA putting on pants).

When there's a knock at the door, I roll off my bed and answer it, unable to stop the small smile appearing on my face at the sight of Kate. Even though I haven't been myself lately, she always manages to make everything a little better without even realising.

"Hey," I say, stepping to the side to let her in. "How you doing?"

I notice she's wearing her Avengers sweatshirt and joggers which is just a black outfit with the Avengers logo printed on the corner.

"You been at the Compound?" I ask, closing the door after she steps in.

"Hey, yeah," she starts, sounding a little distracted.

"Oh, cool." I lead her to the couch as I ask, "So, how was training or whatever it is that Avengers do?"

It's supposed to be lighthearted but she doesn't fall into it like she usually does, leaving me curious.

"What?" I ask when she begins to frown at me.

She hesitates, eyes flickering to the spot behind me briefly, before saying, "I bumped into Hannah on the way back to my place before."

And as if somebody flicks a switch, any comfort I feel is immediately gone at the mention of my ex's name. Judging by Kate's face, she knows. And I don't know what's worse – the look she's giving me or the possible thoughts running through her head about me.

"Y/N...," she says gently, stepping forward. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I shrug indifferently, avoiding her sympathetic stare. "It didn't come up."

Kate raises her brows with slight disbelief. "Y/N."

I put my hands behind my back nonchalantly, trying to hide my fidgeting. "What did she say?" I ask.

She bites her lip, eyes studying me in a concerned way but one that only leaves me embarrassed.

"I was saying hello to her to be polite," she answers reluctantly. "And then I asked about you, if you were okay because you've been distracted lately and I thought she might know more than I do. But then she got all awkward and said she wouldn't know. So, obviously, I said what? And she–" She frowns. "She said she broke up with you like three weeks ago."

I close my eyes, wincing with embarrassment. She said that? If there was any way I wanted Kate to find out, this was the last.

"Y/N, what the hell?" Kate says, making me open my eyes to see her confusion. "What happened?"

I push my hair from my eyes and try to remain calm, but the feelings are bubbling away on the surface again and I begin to feel uncomfortable. "It's not a big deal. It was just a breakup. I should have known it wouldn't work out."

Should I have?

"What was the reason?" she asks carefully, and I hate that I can't answer that because I don't know. That's what hurts the most.

How do I explain to Kate that something about me wasn't enough for Hannah to love so she left me instead?

"Please can we just forget about it?" I plead quietly, risking a glance in Kate's direction. "I know this is the part where you say 'I told you so', but I'm–"

"Hey, no, stop it," she cuts me off, resting her hand on my shoulder and dipping her head to meet my gaze. "That's not even a thought of mine right now. I'm just worried about you... how are you?"

I flash her a forced smile, nodding. "I'm fine, Kate, see?"

It's a terrible attempt to convince her, but it's easier than telling her exactly how I'm feeling. I hope she doesn't push it, but she does one better and pulls me in for a hug. I didn't realise how much I needed it until she's wrapped her arms around me, squeezing me tight and providing a warmth I so dearly missed. I relax at the feeling, tucking my head into her shoulder and revelling in her care.

"Seriously, what happened?" she asks softly.

I don't let go of her, not yet. But she deserves an answer. And maybe I'm sick of bottling it all up.

"I don't know," I admit quietly, voice breaking embarrassingly enough.

She's patient, letting me hold her for a moment longer as I gather the courage to face her. It's not about her – Kate and I are close enough for me to tell her my deepest, darkest secrets. It's more about how embarrassing it is to be in this situation in the first place.

"She just broke up with me," I finally speak once I pull away from Kate's embrace. Her blue eyes watch me, hanging onto my every word, and it feels good to say it aloud even though my heart still breaks reliving it. "There wasn't any warning. And when I asked her why, she said– she said she didn't love me anymore. Just like that."

Okay, so saying it aloud doesn't feel good. I take it back.

"Sorry," I say when I realise tears are rolling down my face and my nose is all stuffy. Backing up, I look away and wipe my face with my sleeves. "I don't mean to be all gross. It's embarrassing, I know–"

"No it's not," she says quickly, shaking her head and watching me with a softened stare. "Is that why you didn't tell me? Because you were embarrassed?"

I exhale deeply, not knowing what to say because, funnily enough, I'm still embarrassed.

"Y/N," she urges, grabbing my hand, but I pull back gently, ashamed of the pity.

"Yes, that's why I didn't tell you," I tell her with a frown, meeting her gaze through blurred vision. "How isn't it completely and utterly humiliating, Kate? She broke up with me because she suddenly woke up one day, looked at me and thought 'nope, don't love her!' Something about me is unloveable, clearly. How isn't that embarrassing?"

Kate steps forward, grabbing my hand and squeezing it before I can let go. "Are you insane, Y/N? That's not true at all, not one bit!"

I scoff quietly, looking away from her. She only tugs me closer by my hand, forcing me to look at her.

"Who the hell in their right mind would fall out of love with you?!" she exclaims, throwing a hand up in the air. "There's clearly something wrong with her! You're amazing!"

I roll my eyes, finding it difficult to believe her. Besides, she's biased. As a best friend, she's not exactly going to put me down, is she?

"This isn't an 'I told you so' moment," she says adamantly, before pulling me into another hug, holding me so tight that I'm surprised she cares this much at all. "I'm here for you. I care about you and I wish you'd told me so you didn't have to go through it alone... please, don't push me away."

It's impossible not to love her right now, not when she's reminding me exactly how lucky I am to have her in my life.

"Thanks," I mutter into her shoulder. "I just... I don't want to talk about it."

I feel her nod in response before she pulls away and holds me at arm's length. I can't read her expression, surprisingly enough, but then she offers me a comforting smile and I almost regret not telling her in the first place.

That's Kate Bishop for you.

Since Kate discovered the truth, it's easier to just be me... the distant, moody, sulking version that is. I don't expect to feel better straight away, but it sucks being sad and I hate that I can't do much about it. I don't want it to consume me though, so I try not to distance myself from the people in my life, people like Kate. I try to keep my promise of letting her in and not pushing her away, but it's too easy to sulk.

"Did you see that, Y/N?! Clint taught me that one!"

I look up when I realise Kate is talking to me, jumping up and down with excitement, bow and arrow in hand. She invited me to hang out with her at the Avengers Compound whilst she gets some archery training in. She knows how much I love messing around with her whenever she invites me, but today I'm just not feeling it and I may or may not have been zoning out a little.

"I... sorry, Kate, I must have missed it," I admit with an apologetic smile. "Bet it was great though."

Her smile fades as she tilts her head, studying me. I know what she's thinking and look away, deciding that maybe I should leave if I'm just bringing the mood down. But then she skips over to me lightheartedly, taking a seat beside me.

"Hey," she says softly, tapping my knee with her forefinger.

I look over at her and she's already smiling my way, eyes looking up at me as she's leaned down, trying to catch my attention. Admittedly, my lips curl upwards.

"I want to take you to the fair that's happening in Central Park," she continues, straightening up in her seat, never looking away from me.

I exhale sharply, trying not to laugh. "I don't think I'd be very good company."

She lifts a brow hopefully. "Please?"

As much as I don't want to attend a fair, Kate's cute pout is very convincing, and I find myself sighing quietly, giving in with a nod. Her smile widens shamelessly before she pulls me in for a hug.

"Gross, Kate, c'mon," I whine petulantly, attempting to shove her away because she's all sweaty from training.

She only laughs and hugs me even tighter, winning against my useless attempts to fight her. I roll my eyes, pouting, but I'd be lying if said I didn't love it.

A few nights later is when the fair takes place and I realise what I've agreed to. The only reason I bother getting ready and not completely bailing is Kate's texts all day telling me how excited she is. For her sake, I try my best to push away my grumpiness as of late so we can actually have a good time.

I'm waiting for her outside my apartment building so we can go together when I spot her approaching.

"Somebody took their time," I joke when I see her.

"My bad," she chuckles nervously, stopping before me, and my eyes widen when I spot the cuts sprinkled over her face, covered by little bandages.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Raising my hand instinctively, I have to stop myself from touching her cuts, fingers hovering over them.

"For God's sake, Kate, can't you stay out of trouble ever?" I say with annoyance, though the worry I'm trying to disguise is still very much present.

"Nope...?" she says when I lower my hand, grinning sheepishly.

I settle with an eye roll, scoffing quietly. She's always been careless like this, gaining bruise after cut, even before she joined the Avengers. It always worried me, now more so than ever, but she's also unsurprisingly good at staying alive so I can't really say anything. Plus, I'm not too sure she'd listen to me if I tried to stop her from being stupid anyway.

"Come on, let's go!" she changes the subject, tugging at my hand. "I've already got my heart set on a corn dog."

"Yeah, yeah..."

When we reach Central Park, the fair is in full swing, bustling with people, vendors, rides and music playing loudly. It's the most perfect sight, instantly brightening my mood, to my surprise. Kate immediately drags me to the first thing she sees – a corn dog stand – before taking charge the whole evening. We play countless fairground games, hop on a few definitely unsafe rides, hit each other in the bumper cars and eat way too much junk food. I don't think I've enjoyed myself this much since the breakup.

By the time I'm pretty sure we've done everything the fair has to offer, twice over, we find ourselves sat on a bench to get off our feet. Kate is eating from a bag of popcorn whilst I take another look at our winnings from the night – a stuffed toy, some key rings, snacks... pointless stuff, but I can't love it any more than I do.

"You look happy," Kate says, and it takes me a moment to tear my attention away from one of the keyrings I'm studying. She's smiling at me, blue eyes twinkling with the neon lights.

"I am," I say, shrugging.

She purses her lips, looking down. "I missed seeing it."

I look away, unsure what to say but imagining what it must be like for her lately. I haven't exactly been the greatest company, but she's still stuck by me.

"It's not true, y'know," she adds carefully.

"What?"

A pause, and then: "You're not unloveable. I wouldn't be here if you were."

At the mention of my words to her once she'd discovered the truth – my fear, deep down – I close my eyes and sigh quietly. A retort is at the tip of my tongue because no matter how convinced she sounds, I know it's not entirely true. Why else would Hannah simply fall out of love with me? Get bored of me so easily?

But before I can say anything, Kate's hand slips into mine, making me open my eyes with surprise. She takes my other hand, too, forcing me to face her slightly as she watches me with a seriousness she rarely showed.

"It hurts now, but it will get better," she says with complete and utter sincerity, her eyes boring through mine. "What Hannah did was horrible. The way she went about it..." She pauses, looking up with a suppressed scowl. "God, if I could see her again just to give her a taste of her own medicine." Shaking the thought away, she looks to me once more. "But that's besides the point. Don't let it ruin you, Y/N. You're the best. And you deserve the world and every good thing in it, and you'll get it someday. For now... well," she cracks a smile, jokingly, "you'll just have to settle with me.

A small smile tugs at my lips, heart warming at her words.

"You're the last thing from unloveable," she adds, giving me a knowing look.

I'm not sure if I believe her words, but I believe that she believes it, and that's enough for me for now.

"Thank you, Kate," I finally speak, surprised at way my voice breaks. Her words have more of an effect on me than I thought. Embarrassed but smiling nonetheless, I avoid her eyes and pull her in for a hug. "I love you, you know that?"

She snickers, returning my hug. "I know, Y/N. I think you know I love you, too."

I sigh contently, tightening my hold when she tries to pull away. She chuckles quietly, staying put, and I'm grateful because I don't want to let go just yet. She's been here for me when I haven't been myself and I've never felt more gratitude for her than I have right now. What I have here with Kate, this friendship... it's definitely unconditional. It always has been.

#kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop imagine #hawkeye #hawkeye imagine #marvel #mcu #hailee steinfeld

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cosmictapestry · 11 months

Note

could we get morpheus’s titties + body painting please?

B4. morpheus's titties

and

B34. body painting

this turned into a little sequel of sorts to the waxplay one

prompt list here

You make me feel beautiful, Lord Morpheus had said, and it's been ringing in Lucienne's head ever since.

And she understood, the moment he said it, that he was admitting to enjoying being cared for, fawned over, doted on. He has never been the type of king to demand such things from his subjects. He has never been the type of man to ask it, even of his lovers. And he had been embarrassed, or frightened, and he had gone slack in relief when she moved on without comment.

She has seen this from him before, of course, when they’ve bathed together, when she’s taken her time kissing all his skin. His reactions were always pained, unfamiliar, overwhelmed. He loved it, and he would not tell her so. You make me feel beautiful, he had said while she rubbed him with oil, adorned him with wax.

She loves to make him feel beautiful.

And so she retires to their quarters early to begin her preparations, summoning forth her materials in candlelight until his presence hums through the room, a warm thrumming heartbeat of power.

"Ah," he says, standing at the foot of the bed in all his black robes. She is bare, sitting on the bed, mixing paints with her fingertips on a gleaming silver palette. The curiosity on his usually expressionless face makes him look very young. "You have plans."

"I do," Lucienne says, not looking up from where she's mixing a shimmering indigo with her pointer finger. "I plan to paint.” She glances at him then, sees his eyes trained on her finger. “Tonight, I am the artist. And you, my lord, are my canvas.”

His eyes gleam silver by candlelight. “I’ve not seen you paint in many ages.” Lucienne’s hobbies have been numerous and relatively short-lived. Reading has always been her true love and inevitably other pursuits seemed to eat up all her unlimited time. “I keep my favorite of your pieces in my quarters.”

This is news to Lucienne. “You do? Which one?”

He tilts his head. “I’ve told you, surely? The dimetrodon mother whose sail catches the sun.” His hands twitch at his sides, almost nervously. “I love that piece.”

“Oh.” She does remember how he loved that work when she presented it to him. It was long ago—and in those days he was difficult to move, his control so rigid that she often could not tell she'd gotten through to him until she made him cry. And he had cried, when he first laid eyes on the finished work, and he had asked if he could keep it, but she hadn't thought... "I would have taken this up again sooner, had I known what it meant to you."

Gingerly he sits at the edge of the bed, one leg drawn up and his body turned toward her. He looks at his own hand, fiddling with a golden thread in the sheets. "I would prefer you to chase your passions as they occur to you," he says, and, much quieter, "I am simply honored to have received such a gift."

Lucienne tilts her head at him, his hunched shoulders and darting eyes. "My lord, are you still in possession of everything I've ever gifted you?"

Lord Morpheus is quiet for a long beat before a tiny smile plays on his lips. "Do you remember when we negotiated peace between the Never-Weres and the Always-Beens, and the Paradox Polyglot so irritated you that you sketched his likeness on the table linens three times over, each caricature more absurd that the last? And you showed me afterwards, because I admitted how he vexed me." He looks up now, meets her wondering eyes. "I've kept even those."

Lucienne raises her hand to his face, swipes two shimmering blue fingertips under his right eye, draws him forward to kiss her. He sighs like it is a relief. Her clean hand comes up to his neck, dips under his robes which fall off his shoulders of their own accord, baring him down to the navel, inky fabric pooled in his lap and all around him.

Her plan had been to take her time rendering a masterpiece onto his skin, but when she pulls back and sees the blue on his face, beginning to run like wetted kohl down his cheek, she decides there is no need for finesse to prove her point. Instead she takes his mouth again and wills the hand on his shoulder to become wet with a pale violet that she smears diagonally across his chest. His mouth opens on a gasp at the coolness of the paint, the glide of her skin.

Lucienne's thumb is dipped in gold now, and it swipes a crescent around his left nipple, then dabs the nipple itself. The hand on his face moves and is forest green and it wraps his pretty throat, then repeats the same grip on his right bicep, cleanly paints him from elbow to wrist. He shivers and pants against her mouth and makes a helplessly pleased noise when she squeezes both his hips with gold, paints an elaborate belt of intertwining vines at his waist.

She presses her forehead to his cheek to watch her work now, and he breathes heavily, listing against her, the robes in his lap noticeably tented. Lucienne draws one featherlight ruby-red fingertip up the heaving center of his chest, a shimmering vivisection that he arches into, then draws that red nail over his right nipple. He jerks and huffs and stays so still he trembles while she painstakingly renders him boneless.

She works inwards from his pec, drawing thin wavering lines of gold and orange and red, rays of brilliant sunlight. Closer and closer to that red-scratched nipple she paints until sweat is running in rivulets down his chest, smearing her work beautifully, until he is that watercolor sunrise she painted all those years ago, and he is whispering nonsense into her ear, his hips shifting and hands clenched in the sheets.

Lucienne licks and bites his neck, tastes salt and the sweet-earth of the dreampaint, and he keens for her. Then she lowers her head and she takes his sun-painted nipple into her mouth. He gasps, arches into her, words which are no words at all from his red mouth. Her hand, painted violet, pulls his robes from his lap, encircles his cock. Her lord cries out, and his head falls forward to knock against the back of hers, and she draws her teeth over his nipple, and he comes in her hand.

She raises her head again, kisses his face, his blue-smeared cheek, runs one now-clean hand through his sweaty hair to pull it away from his face. His eyes are wide open, staring now at the marks that cover his skin, still dazed and senseless with his release. There are, of course, tears in his eyes. "May I keep it?" he asks, very quiet and hoarse. "As something this aspect might wear?"

In answer Lucienne kisses her lord, drinks his startled little moan down like the finest wine. "It belongs to you," she says, meaning the paint and the aspect. "You are beautiful."

#the sandman #morpheus gets to be a muse. as a treat :3 #morpheus #lucienne #morphienne #these guys are cute. i'm pissed why are they so cute always #x #minors dni

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yuyu1024 · 4 months

Text

Won't you regret it?

Pairings: Yunho × y/n x Mingi

Genre/tags: arranged marriage, cheating

Warning: 🔞🔞🔞 cheating (dont ever do this guys), probably mention of food, alcohol & smoking, cursing, pet names, jealousy, smut/angst, kikk/fetish, semi public, fingering

~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 3.7k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: repost. There is a part 2 for this ♥️

Title is "I think... I love you"

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated 😊

***

I just got married. Literally just yesterday and I can't fucking believe it.

I've always thought that I would never get married. Not that I don't want too. It's just no guy ever likes me to that extent. I am in my late 20s. Well actually going on thirty in a few months. But surprisingly, here I am.

I married this guy because I was told to. I had to. My parents sold me like a piece of meat in exchange of a deal for the business. Typical drama shit. Now, I am going to be stuck in an enormous house pretending to be happy even though I am even unsure how will this work.

As far as I know, based on the few months I have known him before marriage, I don't think we have anything in common. He is a few years younger than me, he works in corporate in their family business while I just do art for leisure and part time job as you may say coz I do sell most of my work. Next thing is, he's so fucking handsome. He is a great catch. Tall, handsome, smart, successful and seems kind. (Sexy also btw) On the other hand, I do look normal, not sophisticated nor a fashionista. I am also a bit curvey than what people nowadays say, the standard beauty. So... He is so out of my league.

I pity him. I know I am not happy about the marriage per say but he's on a great loss on it too. He is stuck with me. A boring, not smart, not feminine nor pretty looking enough.

Oh well. Goodluck to us.

***

"What are you doing?"

I jump a little when I suddenly heard his voice, making me stop sketching on my pad. "Hmm?" I turn my face to look back at him where he's sitting. "What?"

"I said... what are you doing?" He stands up and makes his way to the balcony where I am sitting.

"I'm just... trying to..." I feel awkward explaining to him what I was doing.

I was just drawing yes. However, it's nothing special. I was just letting my hands move on its own as I am drowning in my thoughts about us, this marriage.

"Is that the church where we got married yesterday?" He asks as he sees my sketch pad.

"Yeah... it just came into my mind... while... I was thinking of anything to draw..." I shyly close it and hide it from him.

"You're mother told me... you love to draw and paint... and to see it in person... it's amazing." He says

I could feel his huge presence behind me. His aura feels different from the guy I married yesterday or even the guy I've been seeing the past few months for the preparation of our wedding. He sounds more soft spoken and warm. I thought he will be the strict kind or a cold hearted douche bag behind the curtain

"Thank you." I quietly answer

We're both silent for quite some time. It's not that we are that awkward but I guess both of us got mesmerized to see the beautiful sunset happening right in front of us. The sky sort of blends with the sea as the light reflect onto the water. It's out of this world!

"It's so beautiful..." I mumble as I let the crispy cool wind blew my hair off my shoulders.

"It's indeed beautiful..." he utters. He then move beside me, to sit down.

His eyes are sparkling. And a hint of smile spreads on his lips.

He really seem is a nice person. He is just unlucky he got married to me. A responsibility and a duty for his family.

"What time are we going to have sex?" I spat out

His head snaps back to look at me, stunned. "What?" And then after he processed what I just asked him, he snorts a laugh out "Right... you're mother also told me that you are a bit...straightforward."

"Sorry..." I look away. "I just.. you know..."

"And she said... you're cheeks get red when you are embrassed."

"Wow... You've talked to my mother quite a bit huh?"

"Well..." he stood up and goes behind me again. "When you were doing fittings... she made sure I was not bored waiting..."

My head follows him as he get in his position behind me. "She must've said a lot of embarassing things about me too...?"

He hums as he thinks. "Not much."then he starts to lean in a little bit, his hand goes sliding down on the both sides of the chair I am sitting on. "Just... a few funny moments when you were a baby..."

My heart is pounding off my chest. His face is just inches away from mine. His eyes are scanning me. Is he watching my reaction? What does he want?

"What are you doing?" I ask

"Nothing..." he answers softly. Almost a whisper. "I just...I..."

He is kissing me. He's fucking kissing me! Oh my goodness! Well yeah we did seal the wedding with a kiss but that was just a peck. This is our first damn kiss.

We continue to make out like it has been due but not gonna lie, him making me turn my head like this to face him is straining my neck. HOWEVER fuck that shit. He is kissing me so damn good!

He then pulls away from the kiss leaving me hanging and wanting more.

"Y/n..."

"Hmm?"

"Are you on birth control?"

"Yes..."

"Good."

I squeal as he carries me off the chair, dropping everything I'm holding.

He throws me onto the bed and starts to unbutton his shirt. "Since you asked about us having sex... I guess we could go straight into it?"

Climbing on top of me, shirtless, I am in awe how fucking fine this man is. Damn. I guess there is something good about this arrange marriage after all.

"Okay... game..." I answer, giddy.

I go ahead unhook my bra and throw it away whilst still wearing my fitted off shoulder top.

"Do you mind if I?" He point at my floral skirt

"Go ahead..." my voice is shaky

He goes down and personally takes off my skirt along with my panties.

"We'll take it slow... and..." he is so cautious talking to me all of a sudden. He must be nervous too.

"Where is the brave guy who carried and thrown me on the bed?" I tease, smiling.

He chuckles, "I am still here... just... controlling it in." He then kisses me on my cheek. "We are married... yes... and its our duty to fuck and what.. but... I still want to respect you... as a woman... and do this right..."

I put my arms around his nape. "You are doing good." I whisper.

He is massive. His length is lengthy. I am lost of words to explain it but he perfectly fits me. I think more than perfect actually. I could really feel him IN me. Full, warm, and pulsating.

"Y/n..." he cries my name as our hands linked together. "Y-you... ugh..." he is shaking and sweating like me.

"Are you trying to say... it feels good?" I kiss his cheek

"Fuck yes." He hiss.

He is sweating bullets. His eyes never left my face. He is really gazing at me, seeing me get wrecked by him. It's not weird. It's like he is admiring me also absorbing every moan that escapes my lips. If that makes sense.

We continued until both of us came and pass out from extreme adrenaline. We are exhausted but it was a blast.

"So, since I'm in birth control... we'll always do it raw?" I ask, still panting

He laughs again. He does enjoy it when I say random things and straight to the point.

"If that's what you want. But to be fair, I am okay using cond0ms."

"Okay."

***

A few months later, so far... I'm still married. Yey for arrange marriage. (Sarcastic)

Yes we started as strangers forced to be married and I thought we would be worst; fighting or being enemies like the ones I see in movies and drama but because of our one week honeymoon it shifted a little. We got to know each other a little and we talked about our bounderies. It was all good. It's like a good partnership but on a business level.

Anyways, yeah. It's all good. However, there's one thing missing in our deal lately. "Sex"

We did quiet a lot during our honeymoon. Like, a lot... a lot. I didn't even know I could do a marathon like that. And if I was not on birth control I swear I'm pregnant now. That's how much seeds I got from him.

However, after we got back from abroad Yunho became busy. His schedule is hectic and he is barely home or in the country. So we barely get the time to do it. We do a few make out sessions here and there but not on a regular basis. Their family business is on steroids like everyday is a peak season. I hate it but I can't complain about it.

I never dared to ask him for his time or even a date (not that I need a date but yeah). We just started to connect, to make this work but got drifted apart the second we got back. He became a stranger to me again. It's like meeting him for the first time every 3 to 4 days that he's back.

I want this to work. I need it to work. Because we will be together for a long time.

"Y/n!" my mother-in-law welcomes me to her home. "Thank you for visiting me..." she hugs me and pats my back. "So sad Yunho is out of town and can't come..."

"Yeah, he have been... busy." I agree, smiling.

"Come, I'll introduce you to my friends and their sons. They are Yunho's childhood friends."

"Oh..."

I follow her walk from the foyer, across the living room and out to the terrace and until we reach the gazebo where the three elegant ladies are waiting.

"Here she is." Mrs. Jeong says as we both arrive. "Isn't she lovely?"

All three ladies cheer as they see me. They complimented how I look and how I am the best wife for Yunho. I smile at each of their words but I don't know what they meant by best wife when I barely became a wife to him. He's not here.

"By the way, this is my son... Mingi." The lady with the bob hair cut says pointing to the tall guy, wearing a very loose and unbuttoned top, sitting on the fence. "Mingi! Stop smoking and come here." She calls

He jumps off the fence and put off his cigarette on the ashtray. "Mingi." He sturnly says. We both shake hands and nod at each other.

"And I'm San... and this is Yeosang." A man with broad shoulders on the other side introduces him and himself.

"Aren't they all charming." Mrs. Jeong says to me.

"They are." I smile and bow to all three

The catch up continued for quite sometime until it started to drizzle a little bit. It didn't bothered me but the ladies are not into it. They all cutely panicked and hurried their way back into the house.

I tell them that I will stay and just draw for a bit and I'm glad Mrs. Jeong allowed me. She is sweet and kind. She also supports my hobby.

I got into my zone sketching and trying to capture the beauty of the garden. I didn't even noticed that I've been drawing for more than an hour already.

"You paint to right?"

I raise my glance up and see Mingi, the guy with the deep ass voice earlier. He is smoking again.

"I do."

"Mrs. Jeong boasted about your works to my mother last week. She said... you are talented."

"She's kind. I'm just... alright." I go back to sketching whilst he makes his way closer to where I am sitting

"Do you paint people too?"

My hand stops. "People?"

"Yeah... I meant... portrait... not on people..."

I laugh at his panic reaction. "I know what you ment... why do you ask?"

"Could you paint one for me?" He blows a puff of smoke and then leans his back, crossing his legs. "Don't worry... I will pay."

"I'm not questioning if you will and can pay... but..."

"But what?"

"I don't paint... requests... for now..." I look away. "I'm trying to explore ideas... and learn more... for now... I only paint what I find beautiful...and interesting... the ones I am selling, those are old painting..."

"I see..." he flicks his cigarette on the ashtray.

"Yeah, sorry... Maybe you could find somebody else to paint your parents and--"

"Who said it's for my parents?"

I look at him, confused. "Then... who are you requesting for?"

He smirks, lightly bitting his lower lip. "Me."

"Oh."

"Will you still not paint me?"

"Ahm... sorry...but..."

"Why?" He raises a brow. "Don't you find me beautiful and... interesting?"

Fuck yeah he is beautiful. Sharp eyes and nose. Plump and rosey lips. And a nice built of body. He is huge but lean.

Yunho... my husband is leaner and taller.

"Do you really want me to do a painting of you or you are trying to mess with me?"

"Both." He's so honest. "So tell me, what can I do to peak your interest?"

Fuck. What's going on? Why is he coming at me like this? So bluntly, in broad daylight and in my husband's family home.

"Y/n..." Yunho then suddenly appears. He's still wearing his suit.

"Look who just arrived." Mingi smiled and stands up, welcoming his pal. "Fresh from the airport I pressume."

"Yeah..." both of them quickly hugs and do their handshake.

They have a friendship handshake. And this Mingi, is trying to suggest someting to me just a few seconds ago. What the fuck? Is he doing it on purpose? Is he testing me if I would cheat?

"Just met your wife..." Mingi says, "I'm asking for her to paint something for me... but she refuses."

Glad he didn't lie.

"All of a sudden? You want a painting?" Yunho asks

"Well... I just do." He shrugs his shoulder. "Plus... I want to be friends with your wife."

"Don't worry... he's an ass sometimes but most of the time he's good." Yunho says to me, smiling.

He talks to me like we've never been apart for more than a week. After not having one text nor a call from him. He's a great actor. (Why am I so irritated?)

"I just arrived and saw you two from afar so I said hi... I'll just go inside and meet mom and the rest." Yunho says

"Go ahead... and mingle with the mother earths... I'll stay here with your wife."

"Okay."

***

After the sun setting down, I grab my things and go inside where Yunho and the others were.

I cautiously emerge from the glass door from the terrace. "What happened to your skirt?"

I startle as I see Yunho. "Oh." I look down at my skirt and see the dark stains on it. "From my hand probably..." I show him my left hand that have charcoal color stains as well from me sketching.

He then comes closer and suddenly gives me a kiss on my temple. "I missed you." He mumbles under his breathe

I look up to my tall husband, "Missed me? But you never even texted me or called me this week." My brows are crunching and shows how irritated I am. We had a deal. We make efforts for this fixed marriage at least. "I texted you... multiple times asking you when will you come home... and to my surprise... you arrive today."

He snorts a smile. "Straightforward as ever." He tugs the loose strand of my hair behind my ear. "I was busy. That's all. I didn't even have time to text my mother too."

"So, every time you go abroad or out of town... should I expect cold treatment from you?"

"No..." he shakes his head, "No... it's just..."

"You told me to not ask anything about your work for your family's business... I get that. But atleast just let me know if I would sleep alone in the bed for one week. I have needs okay?"

He smiles again, "needs?" He repeats, sounding amused

"You know what I mean..." I roll my eyes and walk pass him but before I could totally leave the area he follows me and take my hand.

"Do you want to fuck later?" He blurts out, smiling

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Mingi is chuckling as he hear Yunho. "Buddy.... what a topic to hear."

"Go away, Mingi. This is a private matter."

(Part 2 of this, checked pinned post. 'I think... I love you')

Wearing a playful smile, Mingi raises his hands as gesture of surrender and says, "Fine. I'm going anyways... mom asked me to drive her home so... see you!"

"See you whenever." Yunho answer

"Nice meeting you, Mrs. Jeong." He says to me, winking.

I didn't answer him. I just bowed and looked away quickly. I don't want to react to him that much because.... well... earlier...

I don't know what fucking happened. But the next thing I know after Yunho left to go inside the house, Mingi and I argued. He kept on asking me to paint him which I kept saying no. I even asked him face to face why is he messing with me. I remembered walking away from him.

However he did follow me and well... it... went downhill after that.

Can you believe me when I say, I was hiding behind a big ass tree earlier? legs spread and being eaten by a wolf man named Mingi?

"F-fuck..." I breathe out, clutching onto my skirt for dear life. That's where I get the stain in my dress from my hand. "We... might... get... ahhhh... caught..." my eyes are leaking with tears. Even my voice and body is shaking. And I can't stop moaning. It's THAT GOOD.

I've been craving for sex or anything sensual from Yunho for the past days but since he's busy and away, I haven't had sex for quite some time and this... THIS cures the itch.

"Fuck! Mingi!" I grab him by his hair and pull him away.

He gets up and growls at me. "Do you really want me to stop, baby girl?"

I'm dying. I am aroused, needy and I fucking want more but "This is not right... I'm... I'm married..."

"So?" He smirks and then goes on to kneading my covered breasts. "You know you want it too." He bites onto my covered n!pple. "You are wet for me baby girl...you are turned on... by me..."

"I'm married... to your friend..." I'm still catching my breathe

"He does not have to know..." pushing my boob out of my bra and start sucking on it. I could feel his tongue circling over my tip.

What the fuck. This is wrong but why do my body react to it like it is the right thing to do?

"Don't you... want it...?" He's eyes are so alluring. "Me sucking you... whenever you want and need?"

His voice plus the way he speaks is so intoxicating. And the way he sucks my breast. Damn it! My breast is one of my thing when it comes to intimacy. I'm sensitive and in heaven when you play around it and I know my full breast give the other person pleasure as well.

"And this..." his long fingers goes back down to my core, teasing my already wet folds. "Can you feel how wet you are for me baby girl?"

"Ughhh..." I throw my head back.

"I can put one in and..." he slowly eases one digit in. "Do this..." he thrust his finger in me vigorously.

"Oh shit!" My mouth drops as he fucks me with it

He growls under his breathe, "You are tight... squeezing my finger. I could imagine how good it must feel if I put my c0ck in you."

"Here?!" I gasp

"No baby girl, don't worry. I won't do that..." he pulls his finger out of me and kisses my exposed breast, leaving a mark just right in my cleavage. "If we're going to fuck... I want you to feel safe and..." then he runs his tongue from my n!pple up to my collarbone. "to enjoy it as well. Remember, I am here to please you baby girl."

He thrust his fingers more. Faster. I am barely hanging on him. I could feel my nails digging onto his shoulder.

"A-ahh!" I throw my head and I could feel my hips moving along with his rythm. "I'm going to come..." I cry

"Come for me." He growls as he is inserting another digit. "Is this it?" He asks curving his fingers in me

"Holy shit!" I squeal as he hits it. He found my spot.

My mouth is open in O shape. I am barely breathing and barely holding it in. I want to fucking scream but we can't get caught.

"C'mon baby girl... let it out."

"Fuck!"

I came and collapsed on him. I can't fucking believe this! I am on high from the f!ngering he did that even though I knew this is not right, me dealing with him, but then again I said yes.

"Okay...fine." I breathe out. "I'll paint you..."

He pauses and a smile beams from his lips. He understood what I meant by that.

"You won't regret it." He lowers his head and continues to lick onto my sensitive tips

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urdariingdoll · 11 months

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#: // a unexpected meeting at a festival.. pairing: kamisato ayato x gn!reader tw: not that i know of A/N: yumyum

You've always loved attending the festivals in Inazuma, and this year is no different. You wander around the bustling streets, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the festivities. The street vendors sell all sorts of delicious treats, and the colorful lights and decorations add a magical touch to the evening.

As you make your way through the crowds, you catch a glimpse of Ayato. He's dressed in his elegant kimono, his hair styled in its usual refined fashion. You can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach as you watch him. His tall, slender frame is graceful, and there's something about the way he carries himself that just draws you in.

You continue to observe him from a distance, feeling your heart race at the thought of actually talking to him. As luck would have it, you end up running into him at one of the vendors' stalls.

He looks surprised to see you, but his eyes crinkle at the corners as he greets you with a warm smile.

"Hello there," he says, his voice smooth and refined. "Looks like we both have excellent taste. These vendors' snacks are simply divine."

You laugh, feeling yourself start to relax in his presence. "I completely agree. These snacks are the best I've tried all night!"

The two of you strike up a conversation, and before you know it, you've been talking for what feels like hours. Ayato makes you feel at ease, and you find yourself telling him things that you've never told anyone before. He listens intently, his eyes locked on yours, and you can't help but feel a growing connection between the two of you as the night winds down.

Just when you start to think that the festival is coming to a close, Ayato takes your hand and leans in close to whisper, "Would you like to join me for a late-night snack? I know a quiet café nearby where we can enjoy the tranquility of the night..."

#// . dxll ayato masterlist #genshin ayato #kamisato ayato #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #ayato x you #ayato x reader #gn!reader #oneshot

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deans-baby-momma · 8 months

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Law & Love Chapter 18

After his daughter leaves, Beau sits back in his chair and runs a hand over his mouth.

Truth be told, he often ponders if getting back together for Emily's sake was beneficial to the teenager or not?

Yes, he loves Carla and the life he has here but all he can think of is the woman who had been sneaking her way into his heart during his time as Sheriff.

Beau would be lying if he said Y/N hadn't crossed his mind at least twice a day since he'd moved back to Texas.

He could hear a song and think of her, see the sun shining and remember how it illuminated her Y/H/C hair. She was sometimes on his mind more than Carla.

And for that, he felt terrible! He wanted things to work out with his ex-wife, he really did, but he also was slowly realizing he was no longer in love with the woman who warms his bed now.

Yes, Beau grew up in a 2-parent family who loved one another and never seemed to have a bad word to say about the other, but times had changed.

For one, Beau's Momma didn't work outside the home. Her career was taking care of the chores in the home, raising Beau and his brother and being a confidante for his father. And she did it with a smile on her face and love in her heart.

And Carla is the complete opposite. She works outside the home, sometimes long hours and most weekends. There are not many home-cooked meals to be had at the Arlen house, unless Beau himself grills something for he and his daughter; Carla's portion is always wrapped and stored in the refrigerator to be eaten later.

The more he thinks about it, the more he is certain that he is not happy with the way his life is going and as much as he hates to admit it, his ex-wife needs to stay that way; as an ex.

He sits up in his chair and turns to his computer, opening a document and begins typing up his resignation.

After Geri drops the bomb that she'd recently fucked Cordi, he acts as if the news was just small talk, but I seem unable to get past it.

The bartender's words played on repeat in my head all through dinner. 'This is whose name slipped out when we slept together the other night?'

Even as Cordi reaches out his hand, asking to dance, I can't help but glance toward Geri to see if she's watching; to see if she is planning on laying claim to the tall Ranger.

But, Geri seems unbothered by our presence as she continues to pour liquor and pull beers for other patrons.

As soon as we are in his truck heading back to the Walker ranch, I bring it up.

"So, how many women are you fucking?"

"What?" Cordi asks, never taking his eyes off the windshield. "What do you mean?"

"Well apparently, you get physical with Geri often. So, I want to know, his many other pussies are you banging? Because I'm pretty monogamous. There's only been you since before I moved West."

"Really?" Cordi questions as he looks over at me. "That's what has your panties all twisted? I've not been down here pining away for you; that I fucked a woman I've known for years?!"

“You act like it’s no big deal,” I explain, trying to control my disdain. “I just don’t see sex like that. I don’t go around fucking every Tom, Dick or Harry when I get the urge. It is an intimate act to me. I take pride in the fact that other than you, I’ve only been with 2 other men.”

“Like I’m going to believe that,” Cordell chuckles.

“What’s so funny about that?” I ask, letting my rage take over.

“Nothing, I guess. But,” Cordi pauses as he turns off the main road onto the dirt lane leading to the ranch. “You and I see sex totally differently. Sex is just that, sex. It’s a means to an end. I don’t have to love the person I’m fucking. Yea, I wanna make her feel good but I want her to make me feel good too.”

As we pull up to the front of his parents’ home, Cordell shuts the engine off and we both sit still, neither of us moving to get out. This night was turning out completely opposite of what I had assumed.

After a beat, Cordell shakes his head and opens his door, stepping out of the vehicle. Before closing the door, though, he speaks. “I really thought you knew this was a casual thing for us. I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

I sit in the cab of the truck long after he shuts the door and walks toward the barn with my phone in my hand as I navigate the airport website to book a 1 way ticket back to Helena; back to loneliness and missing Beau.

“Shit!” My little mini-vacation didn't turn out like I expected.

I step out of the truck and look around for the man who lives here but am instead met with dark silence.

Seeing as he is nowhere to be found, I begin walking down the gravelly lane toward the main road. It'll be easier for the cab to pick me up.

As the asphalt comes into view, my phone dings alerting me to a message. I pull it out of my pocket and open it to see something I'd never, ever expected.

Beau: Hey Y/N. It's Beau. Looks like I'm going to be coming back to Helena. Could we meet up and talk about some things?

Instead of texting back, I hit the call button and put the device to my ear, hearing it connect and begin ringing.

"Y/N?" Beau answers with my name rather than a normal "Hello".

"It's me."

"How you been, sweetheart?"

'I've had better days….and some worse ones too. So, what is taking you back to Montana?"

"Wait, what do you mean taking me back?! Don't you still live there? Please don't tell me you've moved back East," he pleads.

Not realizing what I'd said until he brought it up, I laugh. "No, no. I still live in Helena. I'm just…..not there right now."

"Oh. Good." Beau replies and I can hear the relief in his voice. "Where are you?"

I sigh, then smile. "Uh, about that. I'm actually in Texas. Austin, in fact."

@spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @supraveng @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @purpleeclipseeggsland @kmc1989 @deans-spinster-witch @yvonneeeeeeee @tmb510 @globetrotter28

#law & love #beau arlen #cordell walker #big sky #walker #texas ranger #y/n #bean x y/n #walker x y/n #not spn

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whumpshaped · 1 year

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Chapter 1: Stray dog

Silence Masterlist

tw institutional/normalised pet whump, it/its used as a default for pets, past trauma, defiant whumpee, morally dubious caretaker

It had been days since the first time Rayan had heard the rustling from behind the big, green dumpster. It was in an alley close to his apartment, frequented by many of the strays he'd helped over the years - cats, dogs, you name it. He just loved the little guys, and when he had enough money to spare, he liked to bring them little treats until they trusted him enough that he could bring them to a shelter. He’d even found loving homes for some of them around the neighbourhood, and seeing the scared, sopping wet dogs he had fed from his palm prance around on the streets in a little dog-coat and with a smiling owner… that always warmed his heart.

In that first phase of trying to build trust, he never stuck around to wait and see what came to the bowl, allowing the strays peace and quiet. Some privacy. He knew from experience that was the best way to approach them, especially the cats, and there was a big chance this newest one was a cat. The bowl was always empty by the time he came back, and he was glad to see that his cat-and-dog-safe paste mixture was to the liking of the little critter. It was important to make it into a paste, he’d learned that the hard way. Some of these animals’ teeth were a complete mess, and they couldn’t really eat solids.

After a week or so, he decided to stay as he presented the mystery animal with yet another bowl full of food and another bowl of clean water. He really hoped it would still come out of hiding despite his presence, at least so he could see what he was dealing with.

"Here, love. I've brought you some food," he said softly, stepping away from the bowl to give it space. He crouched down and waited, eyes surveying the alleyway curiously.

Soon enough, he heard that signature rustling, and something poked its head out from behind the dumpster.

That wasn’t a cat. It wasn’t even a dog.

He watched in astonishment as the thin and dirty little thing crawled out of the shadows and dragged itself over to the bowl, eyeing him warily. Neither of them said a word. Maybe this poor guy hadn't talked to anyone in ages and didn't know what to say. Rayan was simply too stunned to.

It was a pet. An actual pet, the kind that looked awfully similar to people, with a worn, black collar around its neck and an expression that told Rayan it was not happy that he decided to stay.

Rayan had… never seen a pet up close like this before. He had learned about them in school, he had seen some famous, rich people’s pets, he had studied the rules and laws regarding them extensively, wanting to adopt one someday. With all that knowledge neatly tucked into all the crevices in his brain, he should’ve been way more prepared and way less like a kid staring at a monkey in a zoo with their mouth hanging open.

"Sorry I'm not a dog," it spat, making him snap out of it.

"Oh... no, that's not- If I'd known-"

"You wouldn't have brought me anything. I know."

"No! I would've brought you normal food! On a plate!"

It still seemed full of distrust, probably for good reason. Who knew how other people must've been treating it up until now? Strays were a rare occurrence when it came to pets, and the ones that ran away usually had a damn good reason to.

Rayan reached towards the bowl, making the other pull it closer protectively, glaring at him. "I'm not trying to- it must be disgusting! Let me bring you real food instead, please."

"Then bring it. I'll finish this by the time you come back."

He sighed and stood up. "Okay. I'll be right back, then."

On his way back to the house, Rayan couldn't help but wonder why the poor pet decided to show itself if it thought a dog would've been more appreciated - to the point where it thought it was risking its only source of food by not being one. It must've heard his voice and knew he was still there, right?

He grabbed a plate and stacked some food onto it from the fridge. He decided to heat up some instant ramen too, hoping the warm soup would help combat the chill. Logically, he should’ve called the Pet Protection Agency to take care of the poor stray. The pet probably knew this. Did it think Rayan was somehow different? If it did, Rayan supposed it was right, because his thoughts were nowhere near the possibility of making that phone call.

The only thing he could think of as a logical explanation was that under all that snark and cynicism, it wanted to be found and cared for. Of course it did. It was a pet, it needed to be cared for. But maybe, because of some odd turn of events, it might’ve wanted to be cared for outside of the system, by someone other than its legal owner. But why? It should’ve been having a blast at its owner’s. The PPA was supposed to ensure a happy life for all pets, right? If it wasn’t having a blast, it should’ve been taken away and given to someone better.

In any case, throwing itself at the mercy of another was most likely easier to bear if it acted like it wasn’t hoping for even a scrap of kindness. Like it already knew it'd be rejected, so there was no way to surprise it.

Rayan was determined to do so anyway. To shock it with just how much he already cared, after days of no-contact and a five-minute encounter.

taglist: @whumpsday @whump-queen @whump-blog @alexkolax @ha-ha-one @hidden-dreamland @looptheloup @batfacedliar-yetagain

#silence #whump #whump writing #pet whump #past trauma #dehumanisation #defiant whumpee #feral whumpee #morally dubious caretaker

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gimmethatagustd · 8 months

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falling into you (4) | kth + myg

Sometimes Taehyung thinks he loves his roommate so much it makes him sick.

↳ pairing: superhero!taehyung x superhero!yoongi

↳ wc/date: 3.9k | September 2023

↳ warnings: every chapter is just PINING, yoongi in scrubs

↳ notes: i hope you all enjoy this lil world i've created 🦸🏽‍♂️ i'm only going to tag everyone in the masterlist, and then in future chapters (chapter 5-6) cuz i don't wanna flood everyone's notifs

↳ masterlist / taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? the series playlist

The celebration with Yoongi never happens.

That night, Yoongi came home later than expected, something to do with a combat training session gone wrong that required all the infirmary staff. He looked dead on his feet with dark bags under his eyes and sunken cheeks. Taehyung had shoved the container of leftover noodles into Yoongi’s hands and hurried off to his bedroom, afraid that Yoongi might ask to eat or watch TV together. The conversation with Seokjin had left him on edge despite how confident Seokjin seemed that Taehyung would figure everything out with time.

Then Sunday came around, and Yoongi spent the day with Hoseok because Sundays are Hoseok days. Such days typically consist of Yoongi listening to Hoseok talk about his weekend sexcapades. Awkwardly, they’ve all been about Jimin lately, though Yoongi seemed supportive, which surprised Taehyung. He assumed Yoongi would advise against involvement with Jimin since Hoseok and Jimin are friends. Instead, Yoongi curled up with a blanket on the couch and told Hoseok that he and Jimin looked cute together.

Taehyung didn’t know what to do with that information but didn’t participate in the conversation anyway. Sundays are for studying.

Monday was their last day off before classes resumed. It would have been the perfect day to spend time with Yoongi, but Taehyung found himself knocking on Namjoon and Jungkook’s dorm early enough that Namjoon was still in his pajamas. All it took was one puppy-eyed look from Taehyung, and his friend let him in with an endeared shake of his head.

Needless to say, the long weekend was unsuccessful.

Taehyung is equally relieved and disappointed, though he expresses neither to Yoongi – or anyone else for that matter. As much as he wants to spend time with Yoongi, Taehyung doesn’t want anything weird to happen. If Seokjin is correct, Taehyung needs more time to develop his powers before reasonably hanging out with Yoongi.

Besides, it isn’t just his relationship with Yoongi that’s on the line. Taehyung is growing increasingly nervous about his class ranking. If he doesn’t graduate at the top of his class… everything he has done leading up to now will have been for naught!

Jungkook disagrees, but what does Jungkook know?

(Quite literally everything, but Taehyung thinks that is neither here nor there.)

The thing is, Taehyung’s difficulty controlling his powers isn’t always scary and dangerous. Usually, it’s simply embarrassing.

It’s been a week since The Vines, as Taehyung has come to call the incident. Not aloud, no way. He hasn’t spoken about it with anyone other than Yoongi, and even Yoongi seems to know not to bring it up since the apartment maintenance workers removed the vines from the plumbing.

A week since The Vines, Taehyung has successfully avoided using his powers. It’s easier than anticipated – for the most part. It’s impossible not to listen to the chitchat of the plants around him or feel their presence, but Taehyung at least stops himself from engaging with them. No communicating, no helping them grow, nothing of the sort. He lets Mother Nature handle it all as it is meant to be. On top of that, he doesn’t have any combat-based classes right now, so his ability to weaponize the toxins in his body is easily avoidable, too.

All in all, Taehyung is rather pleased with himself. Pleased as a peach on a warm summer day.

He turns his face toward the sun and photosynthesizes, as his friends say, to appreciate the rays on his honey skin. The low clouds and cool autumn breeze mute the warmth, but it’s better than being cooped up inside. Taehyung is often found in the park that borders the grounds of his apartment complex. It isn’t huge, just a swath of grass, a children’s playground in one corner, and a smattering of trees to provide shade.

Taehyung likes to sit out in the middle of the field when there aren’t children playing soccer who might accidentally step on him. Sometimes, he brings a blanket to sprawl on, though today, he lies directly on the yellowing grass. He looks like he’s sprouted from the ground from the way his yellow hair blends in with the grass, along with his yellow long-sleeve t-shirt and brown pants. Something sharp pokes at his shoulder blades, likely a twig, but he’s too content to move.

The smell of freshly mowed grass and the tang of damp dirt will cling to his hair and clothes, just as Taehyung likes it. He can let the sun bake away his worries when he lies out here until they’ve evaporated into the afternoon air. He likes to imagine his stress leaving his body and getting swept away in the wind like dandelion fuzz.

Sometimes, Taehyung wishes he could become a flower. He isn’t sure what type he’d be. Perhaps a tiger lily. Yoongi once pointed out that tiger lilies have little freckles scattered on their leaves, just like Taehyung has them scattered on his face.

Yeah, he thinks he’d like to be a tiger lily.

He ponders what it would be like to be a tiger lily (Who would water him? Would he be wild? Picked to be made into a bouquet?) until the sun is suddenly obstructed by a person looming over him.

“I knew I’d find you here,” Yoongi says triumphantly as if he’s just proven someone wrong or won on a bet.

“Oh!”

Flustered by the image of Yoongi hovering over him, Taehyung immediately sits up. The abrupt action makes his forehead collide with Yoongi’s. The two men groan, hands flying up to cover their faces.

“Fuck, Tae, you could’ve just told me you didn’t want me to hang out with you. No need to try to kill me.” Yoongi sits back on his heels and massages his forehead. His backpack rests beside Taehyung’s in the grass beside them.

“I’m sorry, hyung. I wasn’t… paying attention.”

“Clearly,” Yoongi snorts. “Here.”

Yoongi reaches out to slide his fingers under Taehyung’s bangs, brushing them out of the way to make contact with his irritated skin. Before a bump can form, Yoongi massages Taehyung’s forehead. His healing powers seep deep into his skin; Taehyung would swear he could feel it even in his bones. It’s a liquid heat like lava trickling down his spine and pooling in his gut.

Or maybe that’s just how it feels to have Yoongi touch him; Taehyung isn’t sure.

Taehyung’s eyes flutter close, and his lips part. A quiet sigh escapes his mouth, and he doesn’t even feel ashamed to enjoy the pleasure of having Yoongi so close. Eucalyptus and peppermint wrap Taehyung in a hug warmer than the sun’s rays. He’s sure that there is nothing more calming than being in Yoongi’s presence. It’s where Taehyung feels safest, he realizes as Yoongi’s breath fans across his cheeks. As heroes, they’re taught to be cautious and skeptical of everything, but Taehyung would trust Yoongi with his life.

That fact will be Taehyung’s downfall one day, he’s sure, but he doesn’t care. He leans into Yoongi’s touch as he runs his finger down the bridge of Taehyung’s nose.

“Cute,” Yoongi murmurs. The comment is so quiet that Taehyung almost doesn’t hear it.

“What?”

“This.” Taehyung feels Yoongi tap the tip of his nose, right where his freckle is.

“T-thank you,” Taehyung stutters and wills himself to open his eyes despite the heat he feels on his cheeks.

Yoongi is so, so close. His knees press against Taehyung’s thigh, and he has one hand in the grass, the other still hovering over Taehyung’s face. He looks ethereal, an angel sent to torment Taehyung’s mortal soul. The sunlight shines through gold flecks in his brown irises. The bright smile he gives Taehyung is enough to make his stomach feel queasy over how much he yearns.

What he would give to pull Yoongi into his arms, roll him over until his pretty hair is fanned out in the grass, the sun warm and golden on his pale skin. Taehyung would kiss him right now if he could. He can barely stop himself from staring down at Yoongi’s lips, so pink and with a cute little cupid’s bow. Yoongi’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, and Taehyung follows the movement like he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

Yoongi startles suddenly, eyes flitting over to look at his raised hand as if he’d only just realized it’s still suspended in the air. He brings it to his lap to accompany his other hand, no longer caressing the yellowing blades of grass.

“You’ve been gone a lot again.” It’s a statement, but Taehyung hears the question behind it. Why?

Taehyung doesn’t have an answer he can give, not out loud. Not one he’d be okay with Yoongi knowing. Sometimes, it’s in moments like this that Taehyung considers confessing. It will eat him alive if he doesn’t, right? Would confessing and being rejected be better than dying inside every single day he has to look at Yoongi and can’t express the love he wants? A part of him knows Yoongi might reject him, but he would never give up on him. They could still be friends; their relationship wouldn’t be ruined. Yoongi is too nice for that.

But could Taehyung still be friends after his love is rejected? That’s too hard to tell. It seems he’s fucked no matter which path he chooses.

“I’m sorry,” is what he says instead of confessing. It feels like he’s always apologizing these days.

Yoongi reaches up to pick at Taehyung’s hair, eventually wrestling a twig from his curls. Yoongi keeps the twig in his hands, snapping it in half, then quarters, and so on, until it’s reduced to a tiny pile. He’s silent, and Taehyung can’t see his face because his bangs fall forward when he looks toward the ground.

Taehyung watches Yoongi with his own hands occupied, though he’s focused on twisting the hem of his yellow shirt. Is it bad that Yoongi hasn’t responded? Taehyung can’t imagine what Yoongi’s thinking, and he’s never envied Hoseok before today.

“It’s alright,” Yoongi finally speaks up. He lifts his eyes to look at Taehyung, bangs still forward enough that the ends reach his eyelashes. “I just, um,” Yoongi clears his throat and averts his eyes, returning his gaze to the little twig pile. “I miss… spending time with you. I miss you. And I was wondering if–”

Despite his best efforts to hold it in, Taehyung erupts into a fit of coughing. A thick, itchy feeling crept up his chest while Yoongi was talking, but Taehyung managed to swallow down the tickling sensation in his throat. That is until Yoongi – as usual – caught Taehyung off guard.

“Can you pass me my water bottle?” Taehyung croaks out once his breathing becomes a bit more regulated. He holds his hand out, fingers with dirt under the nails wiggling in the air as Yoongi reaches for his backpack. The tickling in his throat was uncomfortable but likely nothing some water can’t wash down.

Unfortunately, Taehyung doesn’t get the chance to find out.

A surge of energy zips up the length of Taehyung’s spine. He can practically feel it leaving him feeling electric when it shoots through him. He gasps, clenching at his chest as he pants through the thickness in his chest.

“Fuck,” Taehyung wheezes and the curse word sounds funny coming from such a usually proper mouth. Shaking his head to rid himself of that strange sensation, Taehyung turns toward Yoongi to apologize again for his behavior and hear what Yoongi has to say.

“Hyung? What?”

“Taehyung-ah, are you…?” Yoongi’s eyes are wide as he gestures around them.

The entire park seems to have fallen silent, though Taehyung feels like it’s even louder than it was when he first arrived. Except this time, none of the sounds are coming from the people surrounding them. In fact, it seems as though every person in the park is staring at Taehyung, even the children who have stopped playing on the playground. They all stare at him with confusion and curiosity swirling in their eyes like Yoongi’s.

“Wha–”

“Tae, will you please tell me what’s going on?”

Taehyung’s eyes lock with Yoongi’s. He’s so focused on the look of concern on his face that he overlooks the sea of yellow manifesting around him.

Yoongi reaches out to touch Taehyung, his index and middle fingers resting on Taehyung’s pulse in his wrist. “Why are you making the flowers grow?” Yoongi whispers.

Thousands of dandelions poke through the grass across the entirety of the park, even past the trees along the border and bleeding into the yards of other buildings nearby. Some are puffy fluff balls that begin breaking into little fuzzies when the wind blows through the park. The rest of them are yellow and stand tall among the short grass. They chatter to Taehyung, but he doesn’t understand what they’re saying; there are too many. He can’t even reach them with his mind. He’s completely overwhelmed, like someone flipped on the switch to every one of his nerves. His nerves are lit up like a Christmas tree inside of his body.

Following the strange path a few of the dandelions make, Taehyung notices that they form a perfect circle around Yoongi, outlining him in alternating yellow and white fuzz patterns. It’s the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to Taehyung in his entire life.

“Oh my god!” Taehyung screeches, pulling out of Yoongi’s reach like his fingers were hot irons. Taehyung hops on his feet and snatches his backpack, flinging his arms through the straps as fast as possible. One of the pockets is unzipped, but he doesn’t bother doing anything about it. “Hyung, I’ve gotta go.”

Yoongi startles, raising his knees like he’s also about to gather his belongings. “Go where?”

“Sorry, hyung!” Taehyung calls over his shoulder. “I’ll text you!”

“Taehyung-ah!”

Yoongi shouts after him, but Taehyung is quite literally sprinting at this point. Today was the wrong day to wear his brown loafers with the backs smashed in from Taehyung, not bothering to fix the heel, preferring to slip into his shoes than put them on all the way. His steps are loud, and his heavy bag smacks against his lower back as he runs down the now-overgrown sidewalk to the park entrance.

Barely taking the time to look both ways, Taehyung sprints across the street. His feet take him in the direction of the greenhouse without him putting any thought into the decision. Taehyung can’t get his head together long enough to consider whether spending more time with plants will benefit him.

He just needs to get away.

“You alright, Taehyung?”

Taehyung nods and raises his hand in Namjoon’s direction, holding out his palm to indicate that Namjoon should stop worrying. Namjoon’s concern is understandable, though. Taehyung is doubled over and coughing into the crook of his arm. The coughing fit lasts a few minutes, and each cough is violent enough that it shudders through Taehyung’s body. He keeps his eyes closed until it eventually subsides, thickly swallowing down a now raw feeling throat.

“Shit, hyung, are you sure you aren’t sick?” Jungkook rubs a hand between Taehyung’s shoulder blades a little too enthusiastically. It makes Taehyung trip forward slightly, but Jungkook wraps an arm around his torso to keep him upright.

“Yes, I’m sure I’m not sick,” Taehyung rushes to dismiss Jungkook’s question. It’s ridiculous, honestly. Taehyung is fine. “It’s just a little cough. Nothing to worry about.”

“Little?” Jungkook snorts, finally letting go of Taehyung. He leans against the brick wall of the university dining hall and crosses his arms against his chest. He tries to look menacing, but he’s wearing giant, circular, wire-framed glasses. Taehyung could laugh.

“Yes, little. That time was just a kinda rough because I had food in my mouth.”

Taehyung takes a sip of water from his water bottle and avoids looking at his friends. The cold water feels rejuvenating, like it’s seeping through his veins, cooling him down from the inside out. Sometimes, it feels like Taehyung has something growing inside of his chest, twisting around his organs and expanding inside of him. It’s rather unsettling, but it must get much worse before Taehyung willingly tells Namjoon and Jungkook what’s happening.

Jungkook is difficult to fool; he’s too smart for his own good. He watches Taehyung try to hold in another cough, cheeks puffing up while his lips stay glued shut.

“Maybe you caught whatever I had?” Namjoon offers, though he doesn’t sound sure of himself. Honestly, it sounds like he’s suggesting something he doesn’t believe in at all but is perhaps throwing it out there for Taehyung to take the bait and confess.

As if.

Jungkook makes a noise of dissent. “No way. You were sick so long ago. You’re not contagious anymore, and Taehyung would have gotten sick much sooner.”

With a sigh, Namjoon pushes off the wall and leads the three of them toward the campus quad. It’s getting cold outside, so very few students hang out on the grassy field between the academic buildings.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon mutters as he kicks at a loose pebble. “Superviruses are weird.”

The three friends were supposed to head to the library to study after lunch. They still can if they’d just let the topic go. Yes, his coughing has become more frequent since that dreadful day at the park, but it’s only a cough. Everything else about him is fine.

Well, aside from the fact that his heart is broken because he’s going back to avoiding Yoongi again, spending all his time with Jungkook and Namjoon, and only being in his apartment whenever he absolutely has to. Yeah, aside from the pain of pretending he’s okay with ignoring the love of his life, Taehyung is doing great.

“Taehyung,” Namjoon begins sternly. “You need to go to the infirmary. Today.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like shit, hyung. I’m being so serious right now. You’re pale, and all the coughing sounds kind of disgusting.”

Taehyung glares at Jungkook because he’s rude, but he’s right.

“It’s been over a week, Taehyung-ah, and it’s getting worse.” Namjoon runs his hands through his hair. He only does that when stressed, and Taehyung feels awful for knowing it’s his fault. “Go on, let’s go.”

Namjoon firmly grabs Taehyung's shoulders and steers him toward the infirmary. The building is close to the dining hall, just a five-minute walk from where they are in the quad. In all honesty, Taehyung would have lied and gone somewhere else, perhaps to his apartment or the greenhouse, the moment Jungkook and Namjoon left him alone. So it’s a shame when the two accompany Taehyung to the infirmary lobby.

“All they’re going to do is tell me to drink more water and suck on cough drops or something,” Taehyung groans when Jungkook gives him a final shove toward the front desk. “I don’t want to be in here with all these… actually sick people,” he whispers the end of the sentence when a woman sitting in the lobby gives the three men a dirty look.

“Can you please just do this for us? For our peace of mind?” Namjoon never pleads, but he does now, his eyes bright and earnest.

Defeated, Taehyung nods. He tries not to look too dramatic as Namjoon and Jungkook bid him good luck and farewell. The two men bow a few too many times at the other patients waiting for their turn to see a doctor as an apology for being loud. They’re a bunch of goofballs, and Taehyung can’t help but smile slightly as he watches them disappear through the front doors. It’s nice to have friends who care about him, even if they’re annoying as fuck.

“Hi dear, can you do me a favor and wait in one of these seats?” The woman at the front desk motions for Taehyung to sit down. She has the office phone pressed against her shoulder. “I’ve got someone on the phone. I can check you in once I’m done.”

With a slight bow of his head, Taehyung slumps into a seat in the corner of the room, away from the other patients. He knows whatever’s wrong with him is a minor thing, maybe the tiniest of colds, and he’s not interested in getting sick with whatever other illnesses are spreading through the university now that the cool weather has hit. Taehyung is always in good health and prides himself in it, actually. Which is likely why his friends are so concerned.

Adjusting his jean jacket tighter around his torso, Taehyung does his best to get comfortable in his chair. The itchy feeling in his chest and throat is slowly returning, only somewhat bothersome now, but Taehyung knows it can get much worse. He tries holding his breath to stop himself from feeling the need to cough, too embarrassed to let it out in front of all these people. He’s not sick! It’s just a weird little thing he’s sure he’ll get over soon enough. Maybe he has fall allergies? It wouldn’t make much sense since Taehyung is immune to plant toxins; he’d assume pollen and the like should also be useless against him, but hey, who the fuck knows?

Perhaps Seokjin. Taehyung makes a mental note to ask him about it later.

With a sigh, he falls back against the chair and shifts his gaze to look through the window in the door leading to the rest of the infirmary, where patients are examined. Occasionally, a nurse will pop through the door to call on a patient to enter the infirmary for their initial check-up.

At this rate, Taehyung feels like his name will never be called.

It’s been less than ten minutes, but Taehyung is already becoming impatient. He sits with his chin in his hand and stares at the front desk woman whenever she isn’t looking at him. Whoever is on the other end of the line is causing her stress; Taehyung can tell. Still, he’s seconds away from leaving and maybe returning later.

“Kim Hyungseo?”

A girl to the left of Taehyung gets up and turns to gather her bag and giant fluffy coat from the chair next to her. She’s making a bit of a fuss, sniffling like her nose might fall off, but Taehyung is focused on the nurse who called her name.

Yoongi is cute in scrubs. His are a soft lilac in color and fit his body proportions nicely, not baggy or flimsy. The short sleeves are tight around his biceps, making his arms look full and strong. Clipped to the waistband of his pants is his employee ID. Taehyung can’t see it from here, but he knows that in the photo, Yoongi has his natural dark hair and isn’t smiling, which gives him a somewhat intimidating appearance.

Taehyung sinks further down in his seat and drops his gaze, keeping his eyes on the floor to watch the girl walk away from their corner of the room. He sincerely hopes Yoongi hasn’t seen him, though it’s impossible to know. Taehyung thinks he doesn’t because Yoongi is busy reviewing files on a clipboard as he waits for the next patient.

By the time Yoongi looks up again, Taehyung is already halfway down the hallway.

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#taegi #taehyung x yoongi #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff

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yayakoishii · 2 months

Text

Control | Henry Legolant

Fandom: Black Clover

Pairing: Henry Legolant x GN! Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Genre: Fluff. I don't think there's much, if a slight pinch, of angst?

Summary: To be able to be close to you, Henry has to learn to control his magic absorption.

A/n: Hellow!! First off, I just want to say that I never expected to actually write for this fandom, nor did I think Henry would be the first character (I legit love so many of them much much more than I do Henry) but this was the first cute idea that really struck me and I had time so here it is! :D I'm sorry if anyone is OOC, I'm not familiar with writing these characters yet.

This fic was inspired by that one scene in Ep. 113 (or was it 112?) where Henry says to Asta that he would love to meet the others when he learns to control his magic absorption.

also available on ao3!

"Henry!"

There you were again, with your bright, warm smile and genuine excitement to see him. When was the last time anyone was ever excited to see Henry? As much as Asta liked coming around to meet him, it was different from you. You, whose presence itself was like a spell of comfort, always met him like you had waited for it the entire time you had been away.

And maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, that you would want to meet him so much, but it made him so happy. That there was someone in this world who wanted to be around him freely. Everyone in the Black Bulls was kind and looked out for him, now that they knew about him, but nobody frequented his room as much as you did. You would visit atleast once a day, even if it sometimes took you a long time to find his room, except for the days when you were off on missions. Henry couldn't explain the empty feeling pressing on his heart on such days, where he spent every minute wondering if you were doing okay and when you would return.

You would always come back, relatively unharmed because your magic was more of the defensive type. But you didn't have a crazy amount of magic power and you weren't magic-less like Asta. This meant that every time you came to visit him, you would have to stay out of the doorway, far enough where he couldn't accidentally siphon your mana away. Even from that distance, he could sometimes see the cuts and bruises you sported, covered in salves or bandages.

You would tell him everything about your missions. Henry couldn't go outside and he couldn't go on missions but they way you vividly described everything, it made him feel like he was right there with you. You talked about all sorts of stuff, from the funny and crazy things the other members did to some of your personal feelings and thoughts. Henry couldn't help but feel a connection to you.

You were patient. You had to be a saint with the amount of patience you had; you had to, or else how would you be able to spend all the time you spent with him? Henry knew that he didn't speak fast enough or even at a normal pace, so having a conversation with him was not easy. But you always looked genuinely interested in what he had to say and waited for him to say it all. It had upset him so much once that he had nearly cried in front of you.

"I… just.. want… to… speak… pro-perly," he had grit out, frustrated with himself. Why couldn't he speak normally? If he kept doing this, wouldn't you get tired of him? "Don't… go… away… I want… you… to… always… stay…"

It was the closest he had gotten to revealing what he felt. That was the first time you had stepped inside his room, ignored the magic absorption and looked him straight in the eye up-close.

"I'm not going anywhere," you had said, a little breathless from the mana draining out of you. "I told you. Take your time and say what you want to. I want to hear it, and I won't go anywhere until I've heard it."

You eventually had to back off to your usual spot lest you blacked out from the mana loss. But that was the closest you had been to him and ever since then, he couldn't help but want it. He wanted to be close to you, to be able to talk to you like a normal person. He didn't want anything more– hoping for you to touch him was practically a fantasy that would never happen.

For all your kindness and compassion and genuine heart, Henry didn't think you could ever love him back the way he did you. And that was completely okay. He was fine watching you, feeling you from a distance – as long as you were happy and smiling, he would take what you were ready to give.

He just wanted to be able to talk to you properly, just a couple feet in between, instead of the large distance. For that, he needed to control his magic absorption. It wasn't like he hadn't tried (hadn't he been trying for his whole life at this point?) but your smiling face was a better motivator than any he had ever had.

He told Asta about his wish, the other guy already knowing about Henry's feelings for you. Asta had shot him a grin and a thumbs-up and said, "I have the perfect plan!"

That's how Henry started his secret training sessions with Gordon, Grey and Gauche. The latter had to be convinced a little but eventually stopped complaining when he realised that he could wax his poetry about Marie to Henry without being interrupted or told off while helping him out.

Every day, diligently, Henry put his all into trying to control his magic absorption. The progress was slow but he kept his goal in mind – it wasn't just you, after all. You were the first person he had wanted so badly to be close to, but the rest of the Black Bulls were also present in his head. He wanted to be able to enjoy and party with them too. He wanted to watch you be happy in their midst.

Henry practised on the three of them, aided by Asta's encouragement (which was mostly just yelling and doing push-ups in the corner as a weird form of training solidarity) and slowly but surely, his magic absorption zone reduced.

It took him months, but none of them gave up. Even on the hard days, when it felt futile, the rest would try to cheer him up. And then you would come, oblivious to the whole debacle going on under your nose. Your mere presence was uplifting. He could do this. If he wanted to be able to be around you, then he would have to put in effort. All that hard work for months culminated into him finally gaining control over his magic absorption.

The first time Grey managed to get close enough to press her palm against his own, the both of them had nearly cried. He did it. He managed to control it. All that time he spent on it had been worth it. Now all he had to do was wait for you to come to his room. He would surprise you for once, instead of it being the other way round.

You had surprised him with a gift on his birthday.

"It's not much," you had said shyly, handing him the scarf you had crocheted yourself. You had pressed it into his hands at the risk of draining yourself, "but happy birthday, Henry. I am so glad that you were brought into this world all those years ago. I'm glad I got to meet you."

He had been too choked up with tears to say anything. What could he have said anyway? Nothing could have done justice to explain what he felt about you. He didn't think he would ever get to hear someone say that they're grateful he was born. Frankly, he had never understood the point of birthdays until you said that.

Now, it was his chance to surprise you. To show you what you meant to him. The effect of your presence in his life.

•

The anticipation for you to return from your mission was worse than usual. He couldn't wait, feeling the impatience bouncing around inside him. When you finally appeared on the other side of his doorway, he sprang out of the bed as fast as he could. You startled but didn't step back.

You didn't know about his control. But you were willing to risk the draining effect if it was something so important to Henry that he was actually getting close to you on his own. Usually, he would be the one to tell you to stay away so if he was coming to you, then it meant it was something equally serious or important. So you waited– for him and for your magic to drain.

Except it never happened. With every step Henry took towards you, you couldn't feel the familiar feeling of mana being drained out of you. Your eyes widened in shock.

"I… learned… how to… control… it," Henry gave you a weak smile, walking closer until he was just two feet away. "Gauche… Gordon… Grey… and… Asta… helped… me… do it. We… prac-tised… for… months. I… wanted… to… talk… with you… closely… like… every-one… does. I… really… wanted…you…"

He cut himself off, cheeks pinking slightly. He couldn't do it. Even after all his effort, he couldn't tell you his real feelings. What if it ruined what you two had? What if you stopped visiting him because you didn't feel the same? Henry wasn't greedy. He was happy with how things were.

So he focused instead on whether you liked his surprise. He looked up, his light blue hair shifting out of the way as he took in your tear-stained face. Your hands were covering your mouth and you were shaking. Before Henry could ask you if you were okay, you wrapped yourself around him.

The sudden touch was overwhelming; your scent was everywhere and it was like all his senses were flooded with you, you, you. Henry nearly lost his composure and his control on the magic absorption was about to slip– but the mere thought that you would stop embracing him made him rigid. He held a tight grasp on the power; he was only controlling the magic through the sheer willpower of wanting to feel you against him. His mind was in shambles.

"You did it, you did it," you were mumbling, sniffing into his chest. Henry was sure that you could hear his heart thudding in there with how close you were. He couldn't see your face, only the top of your head but he let his arms wrap around you gently, like you were a fragile piece of glass.

All he had wanted was to close the distance. He had already gotten so much more than he had thought; you were holding him tightly, like you were scared he would slip from your fingers.

It felt like all too soon (and yet it had felt like forever) when you let him go and stepped back to look at him, your face flushed with embarrassment. Henry was pretty sure his face was much, much worse. He probably looked like all his dreams came true at once. (They did.) (You hugged him !!)

"S- Sorry," you mumbled, looking up at him shyly. Was it possible to die from seeing something too adorable? Henry felt close to it. "I should have asked you first, but… I have wanted to do that for so long."

All the practice confessions Henry had stammered through in front of Asta flew out the window at your admission. The way you were looking at him right now… Henry didn't need you to say anything out loud. For once, he let himself hope that you felt the same way– and he let himself believe it too.

"Me… too…"

°•❀•°

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#black clover #black clover fanfiction #black clover fanfic #black clover x reader #henry legolant #henry legolant x reader #female reader #male reader #gender neutral reader #henry legolant x you #i personally can't wait for the day he actually does manage to control it!#fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #fanfic

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